#stop being the eyes of capitalism and be the hands that pull others up

[naamahdarling]

Labor, on its own, has no inherent value. The willingness or ability to labor does not translate to virtue. It can confer financial value, since everyone should be compensated for their labor, but it absolutely does not have inherent moral value.

Disabled people are not obligated to perform for you. They are not required, morally, to break themselves in order to earn some sort of personal value and prove their "worth" to society. They do not need to exhaust every possible means of survival to warrant aid, or spend the entirety of their existence pursuing the same amount of production as others even though it takes everything they have and leaves no room for anything else. They are not obligated to push their limits.

If that pisses you off because YOU have to work to the limit, or beyond, your problem is that you are not being paid enough or you are being asked to do the work of more than one person. Not that disabled people get help for "nothing".

You deserve better, too, you lovable dingus! Every single thing that benefits disabled people will benefit you and the ones you love, either immediately, or eventually. All of it!

[gladiatorcunt]

- DO LEVIATHANS DREAM OF ALIENS? | 1a.

this is a low flying panic attack (cybersex is holy)

cw: kinktober prompt (aliens made them do it - bc he asked them too), nonconsensual voyeurism, extreme dubcon, yandere jacaerys, reader has a pussy, 4.6k of porn with plot, getting your back blown out in the 2001: a space odyssey trip scene, inspired by the mentioned movie, old valyria lore and obvious au where the valyrian gods are aliens, restraints, stray mpreg mention at the beginning, world building before the fucking, pussy slapping, piss kink mention

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

2 BC, Gaelithox Star System inhabitant number 616. Subject Name: Earth (Human Outreach Base)

In the wake of doom, the world smoldered. Every realm, known and unknown, was reduced to scalding ash. Except for a volcanic island guarding the entrance to Blackwater Bay by the name of Dragonstone. A century later in his eternal wisdom, Lord Aerion Targaryen set his three children, Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys to take to their dragons and scour the vast emptiness for a miracle. In another universe, there were countless bounties to acquire and lush land to conquer, gilded crowns to pass on to the heirs shared between them. However, this was not to be. Visenya’s sharp eyes spotted gigantic chunks of metal in the narrow sea that resembled castles. One was as black as her brother’s dragon’s, Balerion, scales and as all encompassing as the volcano Valyria’s capital city was built in. The other, a muddier brick red with specks of green and even bigger than the former. She shouted to her siblings, pointing and informing them that she was going to land Vhagar on one of them. Rhaenys and Meraxes followed quickly after her, then Aegon and Balerion.

The violent winds assaulted their skin as they dove down, their blood rushed to their hands and caused a pounding sensation in their ears. It felt akin to a leap of faith, they were lighting a match and tossing it onto a pile of Godswood. Blasphemous and crazed. When flayed open, Targaryens are revealed to be plundering leeches with flaming branches for veins. Birthed from white fire, they are harbingers of calamity and tragedy, some say the heat slowly singes their bones and then their brain until they die. Ripping through an ill-omened husk that wails tears of blood and exhales soot.

All three dragons hissed as their claws kissed the unfamiliar material. It was only for a moment, and strangely they titled their heads up and roared into the skies in unison, a jubilant chorus as if they were connecting with the truest parts of themselves. Visenya and her siblings watched in confusion until they were done. Then their focus shifted to the ginormous metal ovals beneath their feet, Visenya and Rhaenys were on the smaller one while Aegon was on the largest of the two. He walked along the cool surface and stopped at what appeared to be a window of sorts, an opening into the inner workings of the beguiling monolith. Before he could consult with his sisters, he tossed them a self assured grin, pulled open the hatch, and jumped boot clad feet first through it.

When he landed with a harsh grunt and the feeling of his bones being briefly jostled, he discovers that the inside closely resembles the innards of a ship. Unlike the traditional boats that traverse on water with their sails made of flax and their hard wooden bodies, this one seemed to be purely metal. Sleek and shiny, light coming from the opening bounced off of his sword as he used it to gain a feel for his surroundings. It was just as massive on the inside, he had the thought that you could very well fit every major family of Old Valyria in there along with their dragons. Though he did not mind being part of the only ones who could benefit from it, perhaps it was the gods' choice to allow only them to survive.

There were many flashy brightly colored knobs, and Aegon felt out of his depth at the sheer amount of them. A command center maybe, a gravelly voice inside him whispered, controls the entire ship and every single facet of it. He would have to explore this specific mechanism further with Visenya, his eyes wandered elsewhere down the hall to his left. The shadows beckoned him forward, and forward he went.

As he explored the ship, Aegon mentally noted the presence of personal quarters, kitchens, places in which one could conduct work, and all the things one would essentially need to live a happy life. It bore familiar cornerstones of Valyrian architecture, winding spiral spires and exquisite detailing. There was even its very own dragon pit resembling the Bojurlion arena that once sat parallel to the palace in the civic center of Valyria, stables and all sorts of riding equipment and armor included. He strongly felt that such a thing surely proved that this was the miracle his Lord father had sent him to find, from the teats of the gods and into the lap of their chosen one. They must have delivered them a shelter and a way to blaze their trail anew, this time the flip of the coin was in the Targaryens’ favor.

To the Targaryens in the long gone days of Old Valyria, survival was a choice when you were doomed to be the middle of the pack, never soaring higher or lower than where the gods put you.

He climbed through the same opening hours later, eager to catch up with his sisters. It turns out that they had an adventure of their own, their ship was similar to the one Aegon had explored, though they described it as having a much lighter energy and a deceptively cozier atmosphere. The three siblings climbed aboard their dragons and took to the skies once more, carrying hope and fierce determination in their hearts. Lord Aerion was relieved to hear of the gods’ saving grace, and in no time at all, their belongings, dragons, and servants were all ushered into either of the two ships after numerous exhaustive back and forth journeys. Remnants of Old Valyria, maesters, descendants of blood mages from the Anogorian, workers from the bathhouses, soldiers who served in the Valyrian navy, and even merchants from the street markets.

It was quite the shock when the ships shook terribly as soon as their doors closed, and gasps wrung out when the main area was flooded with white light as the vessels rose into the heavens and beyond them.

Soon both ships teemed with life, Honorary Queens Rhaenys and Visenya were wed in Dragonstone’s church. They even had biological children with the help of maesters and the ship’s wildly advanced scientific center. A miraculous device allowed their DNA to mix together and be planted in Rhaenys’ womb, with no need for a man’s contribution. Two sons were born, Maegor and Aenys. On The Red Keep, King Aegon found love with the son of a blood mage newly finished with his apprenticeship, and soon they too were wed and bore heirs of their own. Three daughters, one named after Aegon’s first love, a Baratheon. As the centuries went by, these communities in space grew much like they would have on the ground, however they do dock on Dragonstone island occasionally. It was agreed that life would be better spent among the stars than battling to live to see the next day in the dirt. They took all their human ways with them though, buried under their jewels and extravagant lifestyles, their hierarchy and ruling class and debatable penchant for fire and blood.

124 AC, Gaelithox Star System inhabitant number 460. Subject Name: Valyrian Peninsula Cluster (Interior Quadrant)

It is said that The Red Keep eclipses the Earth’s sun but Dragonstone intimidates it, depicted as having a presence so foreboding that any celestial body dims when the insidious ship passes them by.

Hopeful Would-Be-Prince Jacaerys kneels before a marble statue of the Mother.

“There is something very wrong with me, Mother.” His shake, an icy chill floods through his veins in the lukewarm temperature controlled chapel. “A sickness… a hunger… today I nearly bent my servant over while they drew my bath and tongued their cunt, I do not know if their resistance would have stopped me.”

Their tears would have looked transcendent in the reflection of the steaming hot water.

The statue’s eyes glow and emit a monotone beeping sound, standard routine for every prayer and confession.

The usually pleasant and well mannered prince frets, chewing at his fingernail in thought. Artificial breeding is all too available an option, these days one merely has to go to a maester and undergo the procedure, creating almost spontaneous life from the DNA one already possesses. Such things do wonders for couples with incompatible reproductive organs and those that want to be parents on their own, but it’s not enough for Jacaerys.

You could still be distant. There is no corner of the ship where you are free from his reach, but the prince would very much prefer it if you did not feel the need to scurry off at all. He thinks of himself as a wondrously different young man in comparison to his uncles and stepfather, Jacaerys loves you like a dragon loves a sleep. Helpless to the fear of being devoured by his hunger, but he’d keep you and roll you into a cotton ball in his mouth, savoring the pristine hairs left behind in the grooves of his forked tongue.

Wrestling you and bringing your body to the maesters, watching as they plant his child in your womb, would be meaningless to him. He wants to say he’d conceived your children in your marriage bed, as his family had done for generations before him. The advancements in technology had caused a decline in the tradition’s popularity, and that is precisely why Jacaerys wishes they had never set foot for the stars. You’d be more capable of succumbing to him if you were made to endure the pleasure he knows you could feel, without the miracle procedure. You have not yet mentioned a desire to carry children, not that that topic typically is shared between a servant and their liege.

The population on the ship is declining, the Targryens not producing the numbers they have in the past and various deaths in the family and amongst the smallfolk being a couple of the reasons. Madness from a lifetime of staring out floor to ceiling to wall windows of the same sparkly abyss, the traditionalists who spurn the technological wonders of the gods and grapple with complications in childbirth, the murders brought on by cabin fever. Unfortunate events have given Jacaerys the answer, the gift of a perfect reason to have you. To indulge in the murky facets of his soul, nursing from your bitter burning cup of wine and you in turn his.

If he were to be so goddamn lucky as to be in the same room as you, you would stumble out of there with a tummy full of triplets and a bounty of stretch marks.

“I would give all I am and have to be a loving husband, a dutiful father, if you would see it fit for that to be my path.” He bows his head and brown curls cascade around his face, an angel in the mouth of the guillotine. “At least cure me of this ailment if not, I can hardly stand the teasing from my uncles when I lose focus during the training simulations.”

Nightmares are becoming dreams in my darkest hours.

“My deepest thanks for hearing my prayer, I… I apologize, it is rather foolish I admit. I am not sure what’s come over me.”

The statue's eyes dim and it whirs as it powers down upon the prince’s exit. A most trouble occurence for one of their very own, but once this message is approved and received, the Gods will know the apt solution. Dragon eggs are their own star systems too, the cracks betwixt specks of color in the scales their own constellations, and the men born from them are the apples of the gods’ chromatic rainbow eyes.

A ghostly roar nips at Jacaerys’ heels as he strides towards his chambers, kicking off and throttling the silver pipes.

“For what it is worth, I am of the opinion that your brown hair and brown eyes suit you. Being around your family is no different than going for a stroll in the snow, but you stand out as the tree of solace in the middle. Sturdy and warm in its own way, something you rest on when you grow weary of the world around you.”

Your widening eyes are the first things he sees when he next wakes up. Jacaerys is content to consider this a dream until he moves to brush some of his hair away from his face and is stopped by a harsh clang.

The universe is howling.

He looks down to see valyrian steel chains dragging on the floor attached to cuffs around his wrists. The chains are of considerable length, he imagines that he could walk around the entire room and never get the bindings to go tight. His cuffs are so loose they hardly serve their purpose at all, but his flesh stings when he attempts to touch them. They would likely singe his skin off to the bone if he was their true prisoner and resisted. You have similar ones, but as soon as Jacaerys relaxes his chains vanish and he sits up to take stock of the room you are being held in.

Something sort of like an atrium, gleaming metallic tones with high ceilings and a large divot in the floor where the bed you both are on stands. Tall pillars showcase scrolling led screens, high valyrian scrawlings are preserved and repeated in scarlet pixels. The walls are replaced by windows into the vast openness of space, but it is different from what Jacaerys is used to. Outside is a sea of pure black, neon colors make up the waves, they seem to continuously bleed and fold into each other at the midpoint. There are no stars, no planets, but if Jacaerys squints and pays close attention he can just about make out the heavy flap of leathery wings.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright.” The prince whispers, turning his focus to your panic and stroking a finger down your cheek. “If we were supposed to be dead, we would not even be having this conversation.”

“The princeling is correct. You are safe in *indistinguishable*, this designated facility, our audience chamber, so long as you comply with us and our own.” A chorus of deep and crackling voices boom all at once in both of your minds, their syllables and inflections in their speech overlapping and melding together. “We have heard his prayers for your companionship and have decided to grant Jacaerys Velaryon his heart’s deepest desire. For he has raised valid concerns, this blessing is a multi purpose one.”

“Think of it as a bedding ceremony, and all that that name implies. Once conception is confirmed, you will face the brunt of a painful headache as we leave you. When you stumble into slumber, whether wrapped in an embrace or seperate, vessel number *indistinguishable* Dragonstone will house you once more.”

You gasp as the voices go quiet, and Jacaerys knows you must be aware of the feeling of being watched. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and gives you goosebumps down your forearms. Goose-pimpled flesh that Jacaerys traces with his fingertips, it’s the least he can do to give you a moment to calm down and get your bearings. Perhaps this is a sign that he has gone truly mad, because he can’t find the same trepidation in your expression within himself.

How often do prayers get answered? Yes, having a swarm of otherworldly all knowing beings witness your love making is quite unusual, but there is nothing Jacaerys would not put up with to form an everlasting covenant with you and your body. So he lays beside you, watching the fabric of your uniform shift and swish as you stretch your legs, a bumbling baby deer finding its footing.

He would smile and laugh, because he’d truly believe no one had ever been happier in their lives than he, but you probably would not take it all that well.

You shut your eyes tightly, either coming to grips with the bizarre reality you now found yourself in or desperately clinging to the hope that this was all a dream brought on by contaminated rations.

“M-my prince… this is not how i envisioned this moment.” You murmur at last, your eyes opening to meet his.

He wonders what you mean by that, could you really have wanted him in all the ways he has wanted you? Surely not all of them, but in the most basic and carnal of them.

Suddenly he knows in his bones that is what the two of you are meant to do, that this is so impossibly right that it must be woven in the grand fabric of fate’s design.

Jacaerys tuts and extends an offering of peace, entertaining his fingers with yours, “I’ll be gentle, this is my first time as well. It was not like I could practice without you finding out about it, I did not wish to hurt your feelings.”

Your brows pinch as he speaks, an instinctive coo gets trapped and tangled in his vocal chords. That expression is precisely why he is glad to be relying on scandalous hologram demonstrations and enticingly hedonistic data scrolls, amusingly numerous and often exuberantly descriptive. His confidence is triple what it was once years past, and Jacaerys would dearly love to lead you by example.

Fake it till you make it, but he is cocky enough now to believe you will never have to pretend in the first place.

A lock must have opened inside you, an opening made ready for him, because your brow lines smooth out and you go lax on the bed spread. You blink up at him as if trying to eat your nerves with your eyes by overindulging on the sight of him. Your face must be hot to the touch, as brave of a front as you’re putting on, you are not immune to embarrassment or fraying nerves.

Jacaerys sharply inhales and takes the tentative first step, settling a hand at the top of your chest and dragging it downward. His fingers catch on the buttons in your bodice and he undoes them with only a couple minor fumbles here and there.

“Ah.” The prince groans, peeling back the black panels in your uniform to uncover the skin beneath. “These breasts are wasted on servant rags, they’re so beautiful. You’re so very beautiful, my love.”

Your teats are round and perky things, so over encumbered with themselves that your flesh pushes out in between his fingers as he squeezes them softly. You softly moan and recline even further on the bed, as much as you are able with the chains still holding onto you. Jacaerys chuckles and lifts each one as if here debating on which decorative jeweled necklace weighed more, the rubies or the emeralds.

“Thank you, my prin- Jacaerys.” You sigh, never forgetting your well taught manners, and then gasp, “Wait, do not just grope them like that- Gods-“

Upon further investigation, the ruby, your right breast, is marginally heavier and bigger, but Jacaerys refuses to have favorites so resolves to love the emerald just as much. He rolls them in his palms for a bit before departing with a loving pat to your nipples.

His palms softly fall to bracket either side of your head, caging you in. “Now come, grant me a kiss, your nerves will fade with practice. What is there to be afraid of?”

His voice grows shakier than he’d like it too, a genuine hint of uncertainty shining through. In this he knows, at least, that it would do you a world of good to take your own leaps of faith. It would have been cruel to ask you such a thing when he had been sitting farther away, but now he is oh so close, the tips of your noses brush against each other is a shy sort of kiss.

Your eyes flick down to his lips and before he can say anything else, you’re leaning forward as much as you can and pressing against them. Jacaerys is pleased that his earlier assertion of your temperament was correct and turns his head, deepening the kiss and slotting his lips in the empty spaces left by your own as they part.

He laughs when the kiss is broken, airy and on the wings of a more formidable beast than love. The beings watching must already be impatient, for when he presses his chest further into yours, he notices a sudden lack of clothes. As if the Gods had grown tired of waiting for you to undress each other properly, not that Jacaerys minds all that much.

The prince snakes a hand in between your bare bodies, slipping down to cup your mound. He sweeps you up in another kiss so as to not afford you the opportunity to shy away when his digits sink into your slick.

“This cunt is overflowing, is this where it feels best? My thumb is right on your pearl just. like. this.” He teases and sketches tight circles on your bud, shifting his body weight to keep you down when you kick out your legs reflexively.

You keen into his open mouth, a high pitched bottle rocket about to go off and explode into bursts of bright color “Yes! Jace, just like that, don’t stop, oh my Gods- I’m so wet, how am i so wet?”

You ask him about your own body like you’re genuinely bewildered and Jacaerys is so charmed, so in love. He wouldn't peg you as the type to go a long while without slithering your hands up your skirt and delivering an unsatisfying orgasm, this much liquid must be drowning you. He takes his sweet time, flicking and playing your pearl in an obsessive fashion, taking your plush breasts into his mouth as his tongue lavishes them in saliva.

You’re making such melodic sounds, one of the songbirds must have escaped from the automated menagerie and fluttered their wings into his arms. Pinks and oranges and greens and purples and oranges spill across the void in his peripheral vision, but this bastardized marriage bed is the only thing Jacaerys cares about. It doesn’t matter that there is no sound save for the squelch of his fingers in your cunt and his rose petal pink lips popping off your tits repeatedly.

Jacaerys has seen many moons during the ship’s travels through the vastness of space, but the way your hips are arching off the bed in search of more of his touch would make any one of them bleed red in embarrassment.

Amused, he teases you now, slowing down his concentric circles into loose ringlets. “So this is not enough?”

“Jacaerys, please- You know it’s not.” You glare but still grind your hips up into his hand, not even bothering to address him by his title, he’ll let it slide in this instance.

He dips down to press a few last kisses to your breasts, nipping at your pebbled nipples and sliding a finger into your cunt. He crooks his fingers, going at a leisurely pace and waiting until you’re near tears to insert a second.

“Mmh, who knew i’d come by such a hungry cunny, almost carnivorous in its attempts to keep me inside its snatch.” Jacaerys grins and pumps his fingers, going faster as he slips a third and then a fourth one in, feeling how your walls cling onto their shape.

You’re like a leech, suckling at his flesh to the point of blood loss.

“ ‘m not…… don’t talk about it like that. Fuck, yes- Jace- take what’s yours already, i’m burning up.”

He kisses you again and abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, slapping your clit in one heavy strike. For all his efforts of taking things slow and keeping the atmosphere gentle and loving, you inspire such a deep teasing streak in him. He could never seriously hurt you, but quick smacks resulting in your eyes flashing with lightning aren’t off the table.

You whimper, wetting yourself under the heel of his palm. The intense colors around you swirl into a psychedelic kaleidoscope pattern, rhythmic beeping comes from the pillars and the atrium seems to hold its breath. You don’t notice when your mind begins to unravel, babbling about needing it being too much and you need to pee. Because there’s a drop of shame that your intuition injects in you, something more than being on the brink of a climax.

“You’re so sensitive, my love, did the slaps make it worse?.” He coos, serving you slap after slap after slap, nothing worse than what would make his hand and your mound sizzle. “Good, you can piss if you need to, there is nothing to be embarrassed about with me.”

You’re so cute, he could never understand how people could stand marrying for anything other than love. The worry that his heart will expand too quickly and splatter around the rungs of his ribcage, that you feel when you lay with someone you love, is a sensation he would slay his kin for. He is aware of its luxury, that he is lucky to experience it at all during his life on the spaceship he will live and die in. He sends a brisk thank you to his ancestors for taking yours with them when they departed and took flight from Earth, the beauty of your swollen tits and stomach will honor them.

And oh, how he wants to make you come on his tongue and around his fingers and every other way possible. In the depths of his soul, Jacaerys wants you to feel as if you were falling from a very high tower, a royal with no choice but to fall skull first into the great nothingness of the beyond. The fragments would adorn the cobblestone just like how your tears frame your lashes.

No, the first time you shatter and crumble to nothing will be around his cock. Stardust sprinkled over the void, scattered like ashes.

Perhaps the worst sin Jacaerys will commit tonight is that he is too impatient to continue the foreplay. He knows that no amount would prevent you from enduring any pain, but he also knows that he did not do enough. He, and the celestial Gods hidden in the stellar bushes, wants you to feel the burn of his cock stretching your walls. Commencing a wedding of sorts between your cervix and his throbbing tip.

“W-wait, ah!”

“Be pliant for me and take my seed, stop being so stubborn and let yourself have this, allow it to blossom and it can just be us for the next round, sweetling. I swear it.”

He will guide you through all the details later.

The neon waves crash against the windows, and the led scrawlings on the pillars glitch and scramble and unscramble themselves as you come together. The atrium dissolves into numbers after you’ve fallen asleep for the final time in the chamber, Jacaerys’s hand clutching your belly and your head pillowed on his chest. Giant wings cradle the pair in their center, ghastly creaking and groaning as they slice through the shifting rainbow patterns. Each moon along the journey is full and winking.

Jacaerys thinks he sees a comet fly over your heads when he’s halfway to consciousness, and he traces the valyrian letters for ‘I love you’ into the bloated skin of your stomach.

The chapel has mysteriously changed places on Dragonstone by the time of your actual wedding, the statue lies dormant.

[ozzgin]

I was 100% thinking of the Shinsengumi when the brainrot struck, but let us assume a more generic, unnamed circumstance for this. Random, uh, elite group of swordsmen working for the shogunate in the Edo period. Here's the awkward, horny himbo I had previously mentioned. Content: female reader, historical setting, crossdressing, NSFW

Yandere!Captain commands his group with an iron grip. Many people in the Capital know his name, whether it's fellow warriors or petty merchants, and not without reason. His unmatched skill with a sword had even reached the ears of the court, and he was quickly appointed as the head of a newly formed group of samurai meant to maintain order in the city.

As if keeping hot-blooded thugs under control wasn't enough, he is now stuck with an even bigger issue: you.

"We can't have women in here", he declares with a grimace.

"I can pretend", you counter stubbornly, pulling your hakama pants up by the sash, almost in an act of defiance. "In fact, I don't see any woman here. I came to apply."

Yandere!Captain’s reputation does not only revolve around his intimidating strength. Among his underlings, he is known for being completely and utterly uninterested when it comes to women. Will he join his group for drinks after a long day of work? Absolutely. But that’s where the fun stops. When the others begin to slip away with smiling courtesans, he remains at the table with a somber countenance. It is a running joke that nothing can deter this man from his duty.

Thus, your presence at the headquarters should make no difference. He had to begrudgingly accept that you spoke the truth when you'd said you can handle a sword. It's not uncommon for women to keep a small tanto underneath their obi for additional protection, but your knowledge doesn't stop there. You arrived with your own katana and backup wakizashi, swiftly proving their worth upon your first city round when you slashed the arm off a street hooligan.

Well, that's one less worry for the captain. Except, to his great shame, it's not as simple as that. He is the only one aware of your secret, which means that he is the only one available outside of working hours. He was terrified to discover the hesitation in his hands when bandaging your ribs after a stabbing incident, or the halt in his step when he happened to find you switching to a night gown. Oh, how deplorable! Have his morals crumbled into nothing? His latest perverted thought nearly caused him to draw a blade across his stomach.

It is with this faltering confidence that he greets you before the bath one evening.

“You don’t have to do this”, you tell him. "I can wait until you're done."

His struggles haven't escaped your observant eye. You were initially amused by his rather obvious awkwardness; then, a certain idea insidiously made its way into your mind, impossibly tempting: for how long could he keep this façade?

You find yourself going out of your way just to tease your poor captain, perhaps secretly hoping he'll soon break down and give in to his yearning.

“They will become suspicious if you never join us. I do not care for your nudity. Undress at ease”, he says, throwing away his own towel and lowering himself into the hot water. “Get in whenever you want.”

If he insists.

You nonchalantly follow suit, sitting across from him with your arms resting against the rocky edge of the hot spring. You can tell his eyes have wandered involuntarily. His face is red, and he’s wearing a humiliated frown.

“You’re awfully quiet, Sir.”

His lips are pursed indeed. The tall man shuffles briefly, avoiding your gaze. A smirk crosses your features as you decide to approach him.

"In fact, I'd go as far as you say that you're in dire need of help."

To your surprise, he doesn't protest when your hands stray to his lower half, feeling up and down his erection. The small grunts escaping his mouth encourage you to pick up the pace, now equally aroused.

Soon, you feel his heavy arm wrapping around your waist, forcefully throwing you out of the water and onto the cold ground. You open your mouth to complain, but it's quickly shut back by his hot lips, suckling and biting in a desperate hunger to have you.

“It’s improper for a subordinate to take the lead”, he finally says in a low, breaking voice.

He can only hope no one else decides to use the hot springs, though that’s as far as his concern currently goes. He’s much too preoccupied with other pressing matters, holding onto your folded legs for support as he thrusts into you in a depraved, delirious need. His movements are jerky and erratic, with an almost predatory glimmer in his eyes. You wonder how often he imagined this happening. All of his shame and guilt, coming undone at once.

Days later, during one of the hangouts, you find him whispering to one of the courtesans.

“What, you suddenly have a taste for women now?” you question discreetly, unable to hold your tongue.

You’d hoped to be on the receiving end of any future lust-driven gestures from the captain, not some common worker.

He appears to hesitate, twiddling his thumbs and glancing away.

“I was just…asking how you properly please a woman”, he finally confesses.

If he’s going to continue fucking his subordinate behind everyone’s back, he may as well do a good job while at it.

[More Original Works] | [Yan!Swordsman Concept]

[reidmaniac]

perfume. || spencer reid x afab!reader.

warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI. couch sex, breeding, use of pet names (baby, my love), unprotected sex, afab reader, pussy eating, fingering, riding, thigh slapping (at like one part) dom!spence. not proofread! i think that’s all, if i missed something lmk.

summary: spencer needs to leave for work, but you tried out a new pheromone perfume.

comments: i was too lazy to capitalize so it’s all lowercase, there also may be grammatical mistakes because i wrote this half asleep and didn’t proof read. this is also my first time publishing work so i hope you enjoy! reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

- - -

you and spencer sat on the couch of your new apartment. you two had been seeing each other for months and had finally moved in together. you lift your head of from your book when you hear spence’s ringtone.

“dr. reid,” he answers,

“okay, be there in 30” and he puts his phone down.

“work?” you ask, head back in your book.

“i’m sorry, i asked for the weekend off. important case in new york” spence replied, a tang of sorrow in his voice.

you put your book down and crawl over to him. “it’s okay love, let me just hold you while you’re here” you say, and pull him onto your chest.

your perfume almost immediately engulfs spencer’s nose, and he begins to kiss on your neck. you giggle and wonder why he’s being so affectionate, and then you remember. you had been wearing this new pheromone perfume you bought from the store.

as spencer begins to kiss down your chest, you ask, “spence baby, why are you all over me?” a joking tone in your voice. “smells so good baby, is it new?” he says in between kisses. you go to reply when spencer lifts you up and you’re now sitting on his lap straddling him.

“yes baby, it’s new. i bought it last time i went to the store.”

he couldn’t have enough. his lips ran all over your body like a hungry animal. his hands now began to make their way towards your waistband as you entangled your fingers in his hair. his hand entered your shorts and began to rub on your soaked cunt through your underwear.

“need you spence” you said softly. his eyes made contact with yours and you knew, you were fucked (literally). with those words spence moved your underwear out the way and rammed two of his digits into you. a gasp escaped your mouth and you threw your head onto his shoulder.

spencer felt intoxicated. your smell, this new perfume, drove him insane. ‘fuck baby,” he said as his fingers continued to ram into you, “you’re so tight and wet.” you buried your head into his neck from embarrassment.

using his free hand, spencer grabbed your face and made you look at him. “uht uht my love, look at me” spence said, making eye contact.

your hips began to grind against his fingers, his pace driving you insane, and you glanced at the clock. spencer only had 25 more minutes until he needed to leave.

“spence, baby” you mumble out through moans, “you have to leave soon.”

“25 minutes is enough for me. i’ll make you feel good baby, just relax” he replied, as he lifted you up and put you on your back.

you let out a small moan when he places you down on the couch. his hands immediately removed the shorts and underwear from your body, leaving you exposed from the waist down. he puts his head between your thighs, trailing soft kisses up and stopping right before your dripping cunt. you begin to get desperate and start to move your hips. this gets you a slap on your thigh, causing you to release a moan.

“stay still y/n. i didn’t say you could move.” spencer says following the slap. “just need you spence, now” you reply, looking down and the man between your legs. that was all he needed to hear. he immediately dives down and his tongue begins to lap between your folds. your hands jump to his hair, gripping and pulling, while you let out a string of moans.

spencer’s speed does not slow as he begins to ram two fingers inside of you. “f-fuck! spence baby stop! ‘m getting close” you moan out, feeling your brain begin to go numb. “cum for me baby. please my love” spencer replies while sucking on your clit.

that was all you needed to release. you close your legs around spencer’s head and he continues at the same speed, while you ride out your orgasm. “i-i’m cumming baby, can’t take it” you yell out between moans.

spencer then sits up and you see the bulge in his pants. you instantly climb on top of spencer, and undo his belt. you remove his cock from his pants and slip it inside. spencer places his hands on your hips and guides you. “fuck baby, you feel so good” he says, as he helps you move faster.

you push your lips onto spencer’s, both of your moans drowning between. “fuck, y/n, i’m close” spencer says, finally breaking the kiss. “inside me! finish inside! please spence baby” you moan out desperately. you and spencer both climax at the same time, the sound of your sex filling the room.

you climb off of him and glance at the clock. “go get changed baby.” you say and give spencer a kiss on the forehead. he gives you a kiss on the forehead before standing up and walking to the bedroom. you simply wait on the couch for him to leave.

“okay baby, im leaving now. i love you” he says, and gives you a kiss. “i love you more. be safe baby.” you reply, kissing him again before he walks out.

[steddie-as-they-come]

Eddie's hanging out in Family Video during Steve and Robin's shift, just being a general nuisance, when it begins.

The other two are talking in low voices in the back corner, discussing something Eddie can't hear. Normally he'd get up and go over there, insert himself into the conversation, command their attention, but he's too busy judgmentally rifling through Family Video's paltry horror movie supply to care that much.

He sneaks a glance over, and then he sees it.

Steve presses a kiss to Robin's forehead.

Eddie has to drop the tape he's holding before he does something stupid like break it out of jealousy.

And he knows, okay, he's heard it no less than eight million times, they're platonic with a capital P. That doesn't stop the little green monster in his chest from rearing its head.

It doesn't stop there, either. Eddie starts to see Steve kiss the rest of the Party. Simple little forehead kisses and temple kisses and kisses on the crowns of their heads, like he's their parent, which, well, he is. He does it when Dustin needs comfort. He slings an arm around Lucas and pulls him close for a kiss on the temple when Lucas makes a particularly good shot for basketball. He does it to Max, on one of her bad days. He even does it to Mike absentmindedly, who makes a feral screech like an angry cat before everyone starts to laugh at him. And of course, he and Robin are always all over each other.

But he won't kiss Eddie.

It's stupid that he expects it. They don't know each other. Steve's been with this group, been saving them from monsters and scientists and torturers for forever.

Eddie still wants in on it. If only to indulge his pathetic little crush on the former King of Hawkins High.

One night, Steve hosts a movie night, and Dustin invites Eddie along. He goes, because of course he does, and takes a seat on the end of the couch as Steve puts in the tape.

Eddie immediately forgets what the movie is, because Steve sits down next to him. His entire brain is a fuzzy kind of static that only intensifies when Steve scoots closer.

"Sorry," is the first word Eddie registers out of Steve's mouth, and he hastily tries to collect his thoughts. Steve moves closer, which doesn't help.

He peers around Steve and sees the kids all trying to squish onto the couch. "Scoot over, Eddie!" Mike shouts, and Eddie moves as close as he can to the arm of the couch. Steve follows, arm around him and thighs pressed close together.

Okay, then. Eddie can die happily tonight, apparently.

Something jumps at the screen, and Steve flinches.

Eddie learns a new thing about Steve that night. Apparently, when Steve gets frightened, he pulls everyone within reach towards him, like he's trying to shield them with his body. Eddie finds himself hugged to Steve's chest and has to employ breathing exercises to get rid of his new little...problem.

He somehow makes it through the movie without spontaneously combusting, a feat nothing short of a miracle. The kids run to the kitchen and Eddie can hear Dustin pick up the phone and say, "Hello, Paulie's Pizza?"

Steve sighs and gets up. "I did not say they could order pizza," he grumbles. He extends his hand to Eddie, and after a second of bewildered staring, Eddie manages to grab it and pull himself to standing.

Robin's sitting on the couch still (she had been on the other side of Steve), and she watches this interaction with an unreadable expression on her face.

Well, unreadable to Eddie, anyway. Steve and Robin proceed to have an entire conversation with just facial expressions, and Eddie is left in the dark about it.

Steve finally rolls his eyes and stalks into the kitchen. He distracts Dustin with a kiss on the top of his head, then steals the phone. "Hi, yeah," he says, and Eddie recognizes that voice as his King-Steve-takes-what-he-wants voice. "No, that's right. Two medium pepperoni pizzas and a side of garlic knots, yep."

He listens, then says, "I'll be over to pick it up," then places the phone back on the receiver with a click.

"I'm going to get the food." he announces to the room at large. "Eddie, you coming?"

"Sure?" Eddie slings his leather jacket from the back of one of the kitchen table chairs and slides his sneakers on.

The drive is quiet. Multiple times, it looks like Steve wants to say something, but he never does. When the two of them walk in to get the pizza, Steve grabs both boxes. "Can you get the door, Eds?"

Eddie wants to tease him about the new nickname, but he chooses not to, opting instead to nod and say, "Sure thing, Stevie." He pulls open the glass door and says, with a mock bow and a grand gesture, "Your majesty."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Thanks." He (finally!!) goes to kiss Eddie.

However, Eddie is not as short as the kids (and Robin) who Steve normally does this to. Eddie's pretty sure the kiss is supposed to land on his forehead.

It lands on his mouth.

Pretty shoddy kiss, as it were. Mostly, Steve kisses the corner of Eddie's mouth.

Both of their faces burn red. If not for Steve's sports-playing, monster-killing reflexes, the pizzas would be on the ground right now.

"Sorry!" Steve says, hurrying out to his car and tossing the food in the backseat. "Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking."

Eddie slides into the passenger seat. "Finally!" he says.

"What?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Steve, I've been the only one who you haven't been bestowing kisses upon for weeks now. Sorry if I'm excited to be included in the group."

Steve starts the car. "But...those are all platonic kisses."

Eddie scoffs. "What, and kissing me wouldn't be?"

Steve is silent.

"REALLY?" Eddie yells. "Wait, wait-" He leans over the center console. "Steve Harrington, if you wanted a kiss, a romantic kiss, you could have told me before cuddling with me all night!"

Steve sighs. "Fine. Eddie Munson, I'm going to kiss you romantically."

And he leans in.

Eddie's obsessed with the curve and dip of Steve's mouth against his. He greedily cups his hand against Steve's face, his other hand propped up against the center console. Steve tastes like the soda he was drinking earlier, mixed with something richer and deeper that's wholly, entirely Steve.

They break apart at a small crackle from Steve's inner pocket.

"Henderson," Steve says exasperatedly. "That kid is so damn impatient."

"Steve!" Dustin's voice comes from the walkie Steve pulls out. "Have you gotten the pizza yet?"

"Yes, you little shit, we're coming back now." Steve sighs. "Oh! Henderson, find Robin. Tell her it happened."

Eddie shoots Steve a confused look, but Steve just holds up a placating hand, a slight smile on his face.

"OH MY GOD STEVE!" comes Robin's voice on the walkie. "HELL YEAH!"

Steve cackles and leans back in to kiss Eddie, who happily accepts.

[sistertotheknowitall]

Some Guy on Fear Gas (can apparently turn invisible)

Masterpost

“Danny was supposed to be in class today.”

There was a round of sighs in the coms. See Danny didn’t react in the same manner as the rest of the population when exposed to fear toxin (or in general, but they were mostly used to that). See Danny didn’t scream, he didn’t cry, he didn’t get violent. He got unnervingly paranoid.

He got so unnervingly paranoid about being watched, specifically by the government if the muttered and whispered words were to be believed. His eyes tracked nothing while he slowly moved around invisible people. It wasn't like dealing with someone in an active hallucination experiencing a psychotic break. It was like dealing with someone in a paranoid delusion. He wouldn't let any of the bats near him and often took off, disappearing into the chaos.

Four months into seeing this kid everywhere and their suspicions were confirmed when he literally disappeared after the second time being poisoned.

Danny was a meta and he was afraid.

That’s not the reason for the exasperation felt by this family though. It was what always happened after. The first time he ignored every vigilantly when they tried to bring it up. After the second time he attempted to avoid everyone, extended family included.

(He had asked Kate if she was also Batman’s kid. “More like their aunt.” “Oh okay so it really is a family business. Like that show Unnatural. You don't happen to have also lost your parents at a relatively young age and now go on to fight a dark presence in their honor, do you?.” Kate had stared passively at him, the others had warned her. “….. okay… are you more of a Zuko honor type?”)

However, it was like the universe conspired against Danny. Even Bruce agreed that there had to be some god or being doing this (nothing is ever a coincidence). They kinda felt bad for him. He was very obviously trying to avoid them and he was either really bad at being evasive or a deity was laugh at him. Once he had thrown himself behind a lamp pole smaller than himself and closed his eyes to avoid Stephanie.

(It was very awkward. He could turn invisible and knew they knew so why…..? She had politely continued past so not to embarrass the poor guy further. Cause this was embarrassing and they both knew it.)

Finally it was Duke who pulled them all out of limbo. He had come across Danny on the roof of another bank. A lesser known capital union closer to crime ally this time.

Danny hadn’t been avoiding Duke in the same manner as everyone else. He still stopped to give Duke food but he never spoke and he ran after. Duke thought it would be weird to chase him but it was also weird to turn around, have an orange shoved into his hands then watch his friend run away.

However, this time Danny didn’t run as Duke approached so Duke sat next to him. Pulling out a granola bar, he handed it to Danny, “that’s why you feed me all the time right? Cause you know how many calories we need as metas.”

Danny had laughed, “no actually, that was a bit that morphed into a habit. I just thought it was funny.”

“….what.”

“Don’t get me wrong, now that we’re friends I am more than happy to feed you but yeah. The first candy bar was a thank you and then the second time I thought ‘I have fruit.’”

“….. wow… okay.” There went his plan of empathizing. They sat in silence as Duke tried to reorganize his thoughts.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you all.” Duke turned his head to face Danny, who kept his eyes forward, “you know no one cares that you’re a meta.” “Obviously. It wasn’t the invisibility that I was upset about," Danny said.

“The muttering. The paranoia.” Danny grimaced and didn’t say anything.

“You don’t have to tell us till you’re ready, man. Just let us know if you need help. Please, are you safe?”

Danny nodded and Duke nodded back and they had both continued to sit. When they parted ways Danny handed Duke a small bag of chips.

Danny had apologized everyone one at a time even though they had heard it from Duke. Danny never explained nor did he want to talk about his it. His power of invisibility was also a subject off limits. All of them were worried but they didn’t want to force him to talk about it. They had to trust that he would one day feel comfortable doing so with any or all of them. (Still, it was hard seeing their friend so paranoid that he flinched back from them. )

Post Six

[thought--bubble]

Things We Cannot Change

Dark Aemond X (Strong Niece Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 1,938

Aemond (Canon Era) Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners & Dividers by @arcielee

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Reader's hair is brown. That's the only descriptor due to the request received, Breeding kink, Targcest, Virginity Loss. Mental abuse, mentions of character deaths.

On your knees.

A place you thought you would never be, but alas here you are. On your knees looking up at the cold, cruel face of your uncle.

Once a boy you played with, read with, considered a friend. Now, he holds the life of your youngest brother in his hands. The only member of your family you have left.

"I ask you, Aemond-" He interrupts you with a cruel chuckle.

"King Aemond, my dear"

You cringe at the title. The war that ravaged both of your families put him on that throne. The thought of all you had lost made you sick.

"I ask you, your grace, to please spare my brother and I. There are so few of valyrian blood left." You keep your head bowed, your knees aching against the cold stone beneath them.

The both of you go quiet, you could still smell your mothers burning flesh, hear her screams as she was scorched and eaten alive in front of your very eyes. All for nothing, you thought. Your entire family is dead for Aemond to be the one to ascend the throne.

Your mother had been executed immediately, no court, no trial, just a woman and a dragon. Aegon II had demanded that you be executed as well, but luckily for you, he did not survive the trip back to the capital. Thus, your younger brother and you had been delivered to Aemond as traitors.

Followers of the false queen is what Aegon II had called you. Worthy of a public execution.

"On that front, we can agree bastard" He places his fingers delicately under your chin and tilts your face up towards him.

"I fear that dragon riders may become a thing that history boasts about if we are not careful in our decisions." He rubs his thumb gently across your bottom lip.

"So you and I shall marry, to preserve the bloodline," you audibly gasp at the absurd statement. You were now a mere strong bastard not fit to be queen.

"B-but your grace, I have been stripped of all royal titles. Surely I am not worthy to marry the King"

"You are not." he says curtly."But, preserving our dragon blood is of higher importance than that of courtly titles." He removes his hand from your chin and steps back, clasping his hands behind his back.

"The choice is yours, dear niece. Marry me or face the blade. If not to breed you, I have no further use of you."

You gulp audibly as your eyes begin to well. "I shall serve my duty to the realm your grace."

The betrothal was announced to the realm with mixed reactions. Some houses understand the reasoning others are very upset that a bastard would be queen and not one of their highborn daughters.

All concerns fell upon deaf ears because Aemond knew what he wanted, and he wanted you. As king, he would have exactly what he wanted.

Your life changed very little after the announcement of the betrothal. You were given chambers instead of being in the dungeons, but you were not trusted.

You were escorted everywhere you went, and the incoming title of Queen did little to garner you any respect.

Everyone knew what you were. A vessel to breed valyrian blooded babies and nothing more.

What was worse was the embarrassment.

Aemond made sure to embarrass you at any opportunity. He would have you serve him at meal times instead of servants. Pull his bath for him. Even perform his ridiculous hair care routine. All of it meant to demean you.

You had hoped that after the wedding, he would stop this disgusting showcase and allow you at least a modicum of comfort, but even in that thought, you were mistaken.

After the two of you had been escorted to your marriage chambers and left alone, Aemond ordered you to pour his wine and stand in the corner. Once again, as if you were a servant and the treatment had finally become too much for you to bare.

"I'll take the sword," you say after moments of silence have fallen between you.

"Pardon?" Aemond lifts an eyebrow and looks up at you.

"I will take the sword, i do not wish to live this way for years and years." You stand with conviction. "I ask only that you spare Aegon so that he might have children in the future."

Aemond chuckles and sips his wine. "The offer has expired, dear wife. You are mine now, to toy with as I please."

"I was kind to you!" The words almost echo throughout the room. The connotation is clear.

"You were." He simply nods and continues to look into your eyes, no clear expression on his face.

"Then why do you treat me like this? Like a-" You search your mind for the words but come up empty.

"Like a traitor? Because you are a traitor. You knew the laws of the world in which you live. You did not at any time attempt to talk my dear sister out of war, did you?" He stands up from his chair and stalks towards you.

"My sister Helaena took her own life, my nephews murdered in the cruelest of fashions." His breath is heavy as he glares at you with his one eye. "You were complicit in their deaths. How should i treat you?"

"As if I lost nothing? You killed Luke. You weren't complicit in it. You did it with your own hand!" You can feel your rage bubbling up in your chest and try to suppress it to no avail.

"You killed Rhaenys and Daemon. There is far more dragon blood on your hands than mine. " You regret the words as soon as you say them, expecting his wrath to be swift and harsh.

He clicks his tongue and looks away from you. "That may be true, but there will not be anymore dragon blood spilled by me. Least of all yours."

He walks toward you but stops when he sees you backing away from him and sighs. "There are things we can not change. The war. The losses we suffered." He continues to advance on you but moves much more slowly.

"Although I believe I can change this, your fear of me."

"I am not afraid." You attempt to sound convincing, yet the shake to your voice gives you away.

"Let me try," He says gently as he gets close enough to cup your face. "This needn't be a marriage filled with fear and hate. We are all that is left of the house of the dragon. Let us rebuild, together"

Your heart cramps in your chest at his words and soft demeanor. This is the Aemond you remember. The boy who was always gentle with you, kind. Not the monster who murdered your brother and countless others in a ruthless pursuit for the throne.

"I have known fear. I do not wish to spend the remainder of my days being the cause of yours." He presses his forehead to yours and kisses the tip of your nose.

"Will you stop? The public shaming?" A tear trickles down your cheek at the thought of continuing to live in this manner. The abuses mounting, the shame unbearable.

"Yes. twill not happen again." He takes your face in his hands and lifts until your eyes meet. "This i swear."

He gently kisses your cheek where the tears have started to fall.

"We have all shed enough tears for a thousand lifetimes." He wipes a tear from your other cheek with his thumbs. "No more."

He pulls you close to his chest, gently swaying from side to side. "Shhh." He tries to comfort you as he strokes your hair.

He very softly brings his lips to yours and whispers. "Let me be more than the monster, I implore you."

You press your lips to him in desperation. Do you love him? No.

Will you ever truly trust or forgive him? Most likely not, but you want to feel something. Anything other than the dull ache that you have carried in your chest since the day Luke died.

If Aemond was aware of your true feelings, he did not let on. He reciprocated your neediness with hungry kisses of his own before lifting you and carrying you over to the bed chamber.

"I always wanted you to be my wife," He admits between kisses. "Always"

You choose not to respond, instead pulling at his clothes. He drops you down onto the bed and rucks up your skirts. Pulling your small clothes down quickly.

"Close your eyes," He whispers huskily, kissing up your inner thigh. You comply with his demands, closing your eyes and turning your mind off. Surrendering entirely to the physical sensations you are experiencing.

He brings his hand to your heat, pushing you open before bringing his tongue down upon you. The feeling is overwhelming at first, and you can't help but cry out.

He tightly grips your thigh as he nudges his nose against your clit, running his tongue along your tight entrance. Never before have you felt something like this and as if your body is controlled by an invisible force your hips buck up towards his face.

He chuckles and grips your hips, holding you in place. "Patience my love, patience" He circles your clit with his tongue, the gentle flicking driving you to near madness.

"Oh gods," you bite your bottom lip as an unfamiliar pressure builds up in your lower stomach. "Aemond!" You clench at the bedsheets beneath you, the breath tight in your lungs as a searing fire moves throughout your entire being.

"Gods!" You arch your back as the feeling hits a peak before dropping back on the bed, your breath coming out in short huffs.

Aemond chuckles as he removes his breeches his hard cock slapping against his stomach. "Im going to fill you with my babes and everything will be better."

He moves on top of you prodding your entrance with the tip of his cock. "Hold onto me, this may hurt for just a moment" He warns, gentleness in his voice.

You head his warning, wrapping your hands around his back, as he begins to push into you, the stretch painful, not excruciatingly so but shocking nonetheless.

"eeeek," you can't help the slight screech that escapes your throat.

"Shhhh, it is alright." He comforts while he continues pushing into you until his hips meet yours.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his breathing labored.

You are ok. The pain, the fullness. It is something, and after so long of feeling nothing, the something, even if it is pain, is relieving.

He thrusts his hips against you, steadily increasing his pace. "You will be with child soon. We will be happy then, " He huffs.

You close your eyes and hold his head to you as he buries his face in your neck gently kissing at the sensitive skin there, and for the first time since the war began you feel calm.

His grip on you tightens as he buries himself to the hilt in you again. "We will be happy. we will" he grunts into your ear as the pressure once again builds up in your lower stomach.

As the two of you reach your peaks together, trembling and smiling you allow yourself to believe.

Even if just for a moment. That he is right. He is telling the truth.

That even after so much death and loss, the house of the dragon can stand tall and be happy once again.

To be added to taglists click HERE

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Finnick and maybe like arguing in the arena that turns into a kiss?👀

It's been a few months since I got this but since I'm in my Finnick era, I thought I'd finally write this!

"You need to slow down," Finnick mutters under his breath and reaches out to grab at my wrist, stopping me in my tracks as I nearly trip over a branch that's stuck in our path. My head whips around to look at him with a deadly look at he pauses before his cocky grin takes over once more.

"Maybe you need to pick up the speed." I snap, tilting my head at him in a calculated way and he laughs, shrugging his shoulders brifely before looking around at the others with a tired look on his face. We're twenty minutes into the games and we're already at each others throats.

You should've seen us in training.

"You know, when I agreed to team up with you and the others, I didn't think I'd be bullied the whole time." He crosses his arms across his chest with his nose in the air and I scoff, rolling my eyes at his taunting behavior.

"I'm not bullying you. Pointing out that you're too fast is a fact." He shots back and laughs and I turn to look at Katniss with a dumbfounded look but she just gives me a shrug but I can see Peeta attempting to hold back an obvious laugh.

"Finnick, shut up." I finally say, huffing shortly.

"You guys sound like a married couple." Peeta adds and I look to him with wide eyes and Finnick gives him a similar look with a small gasp.

"Shut up!"

I let the thought infiltrate my head for a moment, picturing Finnick and I, standing hand in hand, smiling instead of biting each other's head off every five seconds whenever we're in the same room together. We've known each other for years, through the capital and what they used us for, but now that I think of it, I don't think we've ever had a serious conversation.

"You guys can go ahead, I need to slap some sense into this kid." I wave the rest of the group away from us and they all give the two of us a hesitant nod before moving along the trail, still ever so careful, leaving Finnick and I behind.

"You have me alone. It's what you've always wanted, right sweetheart?" He flirts and I can't deny the way it makes my stomach flip and for a moment I can feel my cheeks heat up under his weighted gaze and I swallow deeply.

"You're insufferable." The words come out more breathy than I want them too and I almost want to tell them that now is not the time to decide to flirt with me and sweep me off my feet. There's more time for that, when we're free and the revolution has begun. But apart of me is selfish.

"You're beautiful." He takes a step towards me with a sinister smile and I feel my breath being sucked from my lungs as his hand reaches up to cradle my cheek softly and he gives me a small wink before leaning in and I panic.

"Finnick." I place my hand on his chest and he pauses for a moment but I don't push him away, instead, after just a moment of hesitation, I give him a gentle nod.

He leans in and presses his lips to mine, my lips instinctively parting to deepen the kiss with a smile, his other hand wraps around my back, pulling me closer to him and I can only imagine the cameras zooming in on us and all our sponsors cheering and sending us goods as we kiss.

He pulls away with a smile, his eyes staying closed for just a moment before they open, blue hues focusing on mine as I raise my hands to my cheeks, concealing my giddy smile.

"Shut up."

[gojobbg]

ravish | reader(f) x bf!yuji

pairing: reader(f) x bf!yuji (aged up)

synopsis: after days being gone for a mission, yuji comes home and loves on your body, particularly your mouth

warning(s): face fucking

a/n: just a small thang. to those who have sent asks, im working on them! school/work drains me but ive been making progress in all of them, i swear xo also do we prefer proper capitalization or all lower case writings? just tryna gage based on other smut ive seen.

It was a mystery to recall how you ended up in this predicament.

Your pink-haired lover had you stripped, the entirety of your body exposed before him. Your back was pressed against the cold wall of your bedroom, with your knees digging down against the beige carpet. And before you was your lover, your beloved curse user. And his painfully hard cock.

You couldn't hold contact with his eyes, but whenever you did leave sight of his tantalizing limb, you'd be met with dark, hungry eyes. Those jade orbs had you in a chokehold, especially with how many days its gone without looking at you. You could tell Yuji was preparing to pounce you, as his pensive expression worsened the small pool developing in your flower. He was admiring you, as it has been a week since he couldn't.

"you're so beautiful, m'love," he murmurs quietly. "how is my girlfriend this beautiful?" You shake your head shyly, unable to accept his compliments. But your face goes crimson when his toothy grin disappears, and his lips straighten. "m'gonna show you how beautiful you are..."

Gently, Yuji puts one of his hands on the back of your head, cushioning it against the hard wall behind you. With the other hand, he holds his twitchy cock and looks down at you adoringly. "let me in, love." Obediently, your lips separate.

"Good girl," he whispers before completely filling your mouth. He doesn't ease it in, his tip quickly reacquainting itself with the back of your throat. Tears well up in your eyes, your breathing comes unsteady. Muscular thighs and toned abs fill your blurred view as the taste of salt dragged along your tongue. Squelches from your salivating mouth supplemented the silence alongside Yuji's satisfying grunts. "you... take my cock so well, pretty girl. god, mmph, i missed you and this pretty little mouth of yours."

His member slid in and out of you with ease, his cock shining gloriously from your saliva. You could feel your honey spill from your flower, your cunt eagerly waiting its turn. You could barely breathe now, relying on your nose to keep you going. Albeit this fact, you didn't want Yuji to stop. You wanted him to use you as he so desired. To be loved and ravished by him.

"babygirl, your mouth feels... so fucking, ah good-!" He proceeds to go faster, his balls slapping your chin with each thrust. You moan around his cock, which earns you a throaty string of curses from your insatiable partner. "more... god, i want more."

He then grabs you by the base of your ponytail, pulling you away from the wall. With both hands to the sides of your head, he continues to face fuck you. His hands guide you, bobbing your head up and down his desperate shaft. Your thoughts were fucked empty, you could no longer think. All you knew was this cock, and nothing more.

"your mouth is so fucking hot, y/n, holy shit," he praises through grunts. Your chin began dripping with saliva, your hands holding onto his thighs in struggle. He chuckled at your nails digging into his legs, knowing you were reaching your limit. You could feel his veins shape into your cheeks, and on your tongue. "i'll fuck you as soon as you get me to cum in your mouth. help me out, will ya?"

You finally hollow your cheeks, your mouth completely coating his cock. Yuji hisses in ecstasy, his hands moving your head just a bit faster. His tip keeps hitting the back of your throat, now causing you to swallow each time. He feels the walls of your throat close, wanting nothing more than to shoot cum right down it. "baby, i'm gonna cum..." He warns you, sweat beginning to bead on his abs.

You hum around his cock in affirmation. He chuckles again before looking up, profanities jumping from his tongue. With one final thrust, he forces his entire shaft into your mouth, part of it housed in your throat. Your eyes widen when you felt his hot load burst and roll down into your throat. Your eyes itched from tears, and you kept gagging on his cock. He was so big, you couldn't handle it. It's only been a week, and your mouth was virgin to his length.

He pulls out slowly, with his tip bouncing off your bottom lip. "come," Yuji's warm smile welcomes you, with two hands being offered to you. You take his hands and rise, your knees burning from the carpet. "you did so good for me, baby," he murmurs, his index and thumb holding your wet chin. Your lips were pink and tender from his relief, and he quickly mends them with a passionate kiss. Calloused hands find their way to your ass, his fingers teasing your pussy a bit with precum ornate on his tips. "looks like your ready for me, baby."

You nod your head shyly, unable to get the words out. Yuji chuckles, a toothy smile illuminating your world. With a kiss on your head, he lowers himself to one of your ears. "since you sucked me off so well, i'm gonna fuck you until the sun comes up. does that sound like a plan, princess?"

[pedantic-poison]

promise? | LN4

part 2

pairing: fem!reader x lando norris

warnings: smut sort of?, suggestive, 18+ MINORS DNI, some touching and mentions of being tied up, language

word count: 1.5k

author's note: I've never written for f1 drivers or written smut before so any feedback you have would be greatly appreciated!! might do a part 2 if y'all like it we'll see

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying (and failing) to focus on the plate of food in front of you. Without realizing, you found your gaze traveling yet again to the man seated to your right, admiring your boyfriend's profile as Lando spoke animatedly to his teammate seated across from him. Usually, you loved McLaren's team dinners, but tonight your mind kept wandering to Lando and rooting itself firmly in thoughts that you could not entertain when you still had another hour left to go before you could start to head home.

Lando caught you staring out of the corner of his eye, turning to place a chaste kiss on your cheek, hand falling to your thigh. "You alright, baby?" he asked, giving your thigh a squeeze that caused your breath to hitch ever so slightly. The cheeky grin on his face told you that he knew exactly the effect he was having on you, and he was enjoying it, waiting for the usual nod and tight smile you would give him whenever you started to get worked up when you two were still in public.

Instead, you schooled your features into what you hoped was an unaffected expression, turning to Oscar.

"You look great tonight, Oscar. Is the suit new?" you motioned to his outfit, feeling Lando's hand still on your thigh and reveling in the way his eyes narrowed at you.

"It is, actually! Do you think it looks alright? I only got it back from the tailor's today and I'm worried it's a bit snug." He rolled his shoulders, demonstrating how the fabric pulled taut if he moved too much.

You allowed your eyes to follow the movement, knowing Lando would catch it, before answering, "I think it fits you quite nicely, you've just got such strong shoulders is all."

The comment went right over Oscar's head as he continued talking about the tailor and his woes with formalwear, but judging by the way his grip on your thigh tightened along with the muscle in his jaw, Lando caught it.

Content that you had paid Lando back for his own teasing, the rest of your conversation with Oscar returned to its normal level of innocuousness. Lando rejoined you two after a few minutes, hand relaxing but remaining firmly planted on your thigh as his thumb circled the exposed flesh there. You tried your best not to squirm at his touch, eyes jumping back to the clock on the wall behind Oscar constantly.

Only another forty minutes to go.

You suppressed a groan of frustration, sipping from your glass in a fruitless attempt to cool yourself. Lando's other fingers had slowly joined his thumb, tracing gently and slowly over your inner thigh, which did nothing to ease your growing impatience.

And he knew it, too. Traces of that cheeky grin quirked up at the corners of his mouth, eyes alight with mischief. At this rate, Lando would have you crawling out of your skin by the time you were leaving.

Refusing to let him get anymore of an upper hand against you, your own hand reached up and gently squeezed his bicep, causing him to turn and gently press a kiss to your temple in response, expecting you to keep your hand there as you often did. You caught the surprise in his eyes as your hand instead ghosted down the side of his torso until it met his own thigh, fingertips brushing over his dress pants.

His own fingers stilled in shock, and you capitalized on it, brushing further up his thigh until you landed on the bulge in his pants, keeping your touch featherlight as you traced the outline of his cock through the fabric. His Adam's apple bobbed rapidly, his senses returning to him as his hand tightened fiercely on your thigh, issuing a clear warning to stop, which, naturally, you ignored. You allowed your fingers to apply more pressure, watching Lando's chest rise and fall more harshly in response. Palming him through his dress pants, your palm began to press down onto him, rubbing up and down the quickly hardening length.

Lando's grip on your thigh was joined by a firm one on your wrist, stilling your hands movements as he waited for a lull in his conversation to lean over to you. "Keep your hands to yourself, or I'll tie them up," he whispered, hot breaths landing on the skin of your ear and sending shivers racing down your spine, straight to your core. The hold he had on your thigh had almost turned bruising as he returned your hand to his bicep, patting it twice as if encouraging you to keep it there.

Turning your head to catch him before he could pull away, you just barely brushed your lips against his ear, "Promise?"

The harsh exhale he released told you that he had gotten as worked up as you, excitement building at the thought before it came crashing back down at the sight of the clock.

Thirty five more minutes to go.

As your eyes dropped away from the clock, you caught Lando staring at it too, though he was looking at the clock like it had somehow just insulted him personally.

"Mate, I'm so sorry, but y/n's just told me she has a nasty headache," Lando told Oscar, who looked over to you with concern while you blinked at him, confused. "I think I ought to go ahead and get her home," he finished, fingers tapping on your thigh to signal you to stand with him. Realization dawned on you, though you hoped it didn't show too obviously on your face as you apologized to Oscar, telling him how terribly your head hurt.

"Oh no, please do go ahead and go if your head's hurting so bad, I'll make sure I tell the team goodnight for you both," Oscar offered, genuine sympathy in his voice.

"Thank you, Oscar, you really are the sweetest," you told him as your boyfriend hauled you up and out of your chair, allowing your voice to turn sickeningly sweet at the end, which Oscar yet again seemed not to notice as he waved you both a goodbye. Lando's hand moved to your waist, firmly holding you to his side as he led you out of the restaurant.

"Really?" Lando asked as you waited outside for the valet to return with his McLaren.

"What?" you feigned innocence, enjoying the tick in his jaw as you did so.

"Flirting with my teammate to try to get me worked up? You're lucky Oscar's so oblivious," he muttered, stroking your waist, touch still holding his usual affection despite his aggravated tone.

"Try to get you worked up?" you questioned, turning to stand in front of him, faces close as your hand trailed down his chest, landing once again on his bulge, even more prominent than it had been before. "Feels like it worked pretty well to me." You offered him a devilish grin as he caught your wrist again, stopping you from stroking him any further.

"I'm not telling you to keep your hands to yourself a second time," he ground out, pulling your hand back up to his chest even as his other arm wound around the small of your back.

"Then don't," you whined into his mouth, words taking on a begging tone as you leaned forward to catch his lips, whining even louder when he pulled back. Before you could complain further, he'd turned to take the keys from the valet driver, pressing a tip into the man's hand with a quick thank you and a nod. Stepping to the side as he turned you around, Lando opened the door to his McLaren for you, offering you his hand as you slide in, making sure your feet were all the way in before closing the door wordlessly.

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply as he opened the driver's side door, trying to regain what little control you'd just had over the situation. The smell of Lando's cologne hit you, eyes shooting open to find his face inches from yours as one hand reached out to hold your chin, turning you from looking out the windshield to looking directly into his eyes.

"It's usually a ten minute drive home. If you can promise me that you'll behave, I can make it five." His thumb stroked your chin delicately, all traces of his earlier frustration gone, or at least under control for now. "Can you do that for me?"

His eyes bored into yours, beautiful and piercing as always, with an added fierceness that always seemed to follow whenever he took control. The combination of his gaze, his touch, and his proximity caused something in your brain to short circuit, and all you could manage to do was nod, any thoughts of trying to regain power dissolved into that warm feeling you always got with Lando.

At his softly raised eyebrow you realized he was waiting for a verbal answer, your nods insufficient. They always were, but you somehow always managed to forget that the moment you had his hands on you.

"Y-yes. I can do that."

His cheeky grin, more impish now than before, returned.

"Promise?"

a/n: thank you so much for reading! lemme know what y'all think and if anyone wants a second part to this/to be tagged in that if so!

[themillsdaughter]

a privilege I deprive myself of

Synopsis: you would rather chew glass than see Melissa yearn for something and not have it delivered to her. the thing, however, is that your life is a shitshow, and what was meant to be an act of kindness upends any effort you've made throughout the years to keep your feelings hidden.

or slightly insecure! Melissa and traumatized! reader in a Valentine's Day au inspired by this prompt.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Talks of body image.

Also, my first time dabbling in this fandom and character, so... Hope you like it!

This isn’t ideal.

Valentine's Day has never been your favorite. Truthfully, you think it’s only yet another excuse for Capitalism to suck some extra cash out of millions of pockets.

You’ve thought this your entire life, regardless of being in a relationship or not. The thing, however, is that you live in a capitalist society and escaping the emotional reliance on the holiday is damn near impossible. So, throughout the years, you’ve come to terms with at least doing something for partners on the day.

Well, that is, until you’d walked in your apartment one day and found your girlfriend straddling a woman you’d never seen before.

This year, you’re single, so the whole thing had just slipped into the background, a red and pink festival more than anything else, really.

“You’re not doing anything?” Janine had asked a few days before in the teachers' lounge, brow furrowed, pity shining in her eyes. Dear God. “You know, Galentine’s Day is really popular now.”

“Honey, I barely want to celebrate the day when I have someone. Why would I make a fuss now that I have an out?” You’d gone back to grading, trying your damnest not to roll your eyes.

“Well, Tariq used to be like that, too. Even though we were together. Sometimes he would forget and go on trips, and those times were pretty lonely… You know, with all the hearts and chocolate and candles and couples around. Not that that’s the case this year, you know. I’m with Maurice, and he’s super attentive.” Her uncomfortable fidgeting had made her chair squeak. As sweet as she is, she should really learn how to stop projecting. “Anyways, I just worry about you. I don’t want you to feel lonely.”

“I don’t.”

“She doesn’t.” Melissa had said, at the same time as you. Looking up from the papers, you’d shared a grin with her. “She has enough wondering thoughts to keep her company.”

Finally, you’d given into your urge and rolled your eyes.

So this really isn’t ideal.

“I think this one is too tight, though.” The voice coming from your phone said. You turned the heat from the stove down, placed a half-lid over the pan, and picked up the device from the counter. On the screen, you saw something that made you pull out a stool from your island and thank God that the woman on the other side of the line was too busy looking at herself in the mirror, brows furiously furrowed, to notice.

Melissa had her hair up in a messy bun, her old pair of glasses hanging in the middle of her nose, and a dark red dress on that stole the breath from your lungs.

The material was soft, with satin-like finish, puffy long sleeves, a square neckline that showed her cleavage to perfection and a skirt that hit her a few inches above her knees.

Nervously, her hands tried to smooth over the creases formed on the dress by her belly.

“Maybe I could wear some spanks” she sighed. “It’s too tight, right?” She turned back to where the phone was, asking you directly.

For a few seconds, you struggled to think of something other than ‘uh’ to say. Melissa is stunning and, in those moments, you wished you’d been braver back when you’d had the chance. Maybe, she’d be asking Barbara this, getting ready as a surprise for you, not for somebody else. 

In a breath, you swallowed that feeling, locking it away with all the ones of its kind, somewhere deep, deep in your soul.

“Hun? It’s too tight, isn’t it? Who the fuck do I think I am trying on something like this.” She’d taken your silence as disapproval, and if she only knew you’d only want to see that off of her if you’d taken it out yourself…

“Shut up, will you?” You finally said. “It’s gorgeous, it looks awesome on you.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s the nicest one of the bunch.”

“I don’t know if I have spanks short enough for it, though. And I need something to get this under control.” She pushed her belly in again, and it enraged you.

“Anyone who doesn’t find that hot is not someone you should listen to.” You said, holding back the rant that always appeared on the tip of your tongue when she said shit like this.

Honestly, the struggle of straight men to like women is mind-boggling.

“You might just be too gay for this.” Melissa snorted, going into her drawer in search of the spanks.

“Well, fuck you very much.”

She barked out a laugh, and you let go of your phone to stir the food you were cooking, glad for a break from the glory of the woman you did not love like that.

Which is yet another reason why this isn’t ideal.

You don’t really care for Valentine's Day, but on the morning of the 14th, Melissa had seemed off. You tried touching on the subject while you two got coffee, as weak as Abbott’s brew always was, however, Gary walked in in all of his mustached glory and her attention immediately shifted to him.

He’s her boyfriend, it’s Valentine's Day, it was only logical.

She gave him hint after hint, pushed her shoulders a bit back, highlighting her breasts just slightly, cocked her hips some while leaning against the sink, licked her lips more than usual, everything to get an ounce of attention back. The absolute idiot fussed over the vending machine, mumbled a few words to her, eyes not even moving in her direction, before leaving with a “see ya later” tossed behind him.

The look that had taken over her face then had made your heart sink.

“He’s been like this all week.” She said during lunch break in your car. “Barbara thinks he might be planning something, says he’s not cheating, but I don’t know… I tried fooling myself with getting the perfect outfit, getting my hair and my nails done, but he hasn’t mentioned any plans, and he’s been so fucking distant, he doesn’t even seem like himself. And I really can’t handle another Joe situation.” Taking the last bite of the Shepard’s pie you’d brought her, she leaned her head against the rest.

To nearly everybody else here, she shows her angry, reactive, gray side. It’s easier for her, something that still makes her an outcast, but firmly protects her inner-self. But some magical, all-powerful, incredible being out there had made it so you were the one she chose to show her other side to, the one that is not always confident, not in her worth or her looks or her ability as a teacher.

The one that loves so intensely it scares her, and the one that has so many scars she spends half her time trying to heal them, or, at the very least, stop them from bleeding all over the place and being visible to the outside world.

“What do you think?” She said, bringing you back to the inside of your 2010s Honda. “You’ve always been better at these things.”

“Do I think he’s cheating on you?”

She nodded.

“Well, first of all, if he is, he is an absolute deepshit who doesn’t know how to count his blessing for you even giving him the time of day.”

You looked into her eyes while you said it, and she turned her head after, staring at the Tupperware in her hands. You thought you saw a blush creeping up on her cheeks.

“But I don’t think he is. Hey, maybe he’s just seen Valentine’s Day for what it is!” You nudged her arm with the back of your hand. “Maybe you’re the one who has to get on board.”

She relented a smile then, but it didn’t last.

“Mel, I think you’ll just have to ride this one out. Wait until the end of the day, so then you can actually have a conversation with him. If he really forgot or if there’s really something wrong, you’ll find out, but, honestly, me? I think he might just have some goofy-ass surprise planned.”

Melissa nodded while keeping her gaze out the window.

There’s a beat, then another, and you thought perhaps you’d convinced her, and she was only taking some time to absorb it.

“You know, you may not feel lonely with this kind of stuff, but…” She paused, voice tired, heart bearing all those tender scars, “I think I’m more like Janine than I’d thought.”

So, hm, this isn’t ideal.

You’d be damned if you let a man who didn’t realize the one in a million he had found ruin Melissa’s day.

Even if Valentine’s Day was traumatic for you, even if it was silly and forced and the world would be better off without it, Melissa was Melissa, and she deserved everything she wanted out of life. You’d thought Gary would see it, but if he didn’t, it’s up to you, even with all your emotional limitations.

So you wrote a little card. Nothing much, just made out of a fancier piece of purple paper you’d had lying around the classroom, with a heart-sticker you’d found at the bottom of your purse decorating the front page. Inside, the note wasn’t all that special, just enough for her to know she would never be alone. That you loved her. That she’d always have you, even if one day she didn’t have anyone else. That she’s your favorite, and if she wanted to, you’d take her out for dinner yourself.

As a friend, of course. Truly.

The fact she made your chest inflate and your pressure drop and a flock of butterflies run a full marathon in your stomach were not things that were included.

After sending the students home, saying goodbye to everyone else (Gregory and his Legos, Janine and her designer bag she knew nothing about, Ava and her many flings and Jacob and his slam poetry), you’d walked to the lounge, where you’d seen Barb and Mel walking towards only a few minutes earlier.

On the way there, you’d seen a bouquet of gerberas discarded on the hallway floor. You’d wondered if a poor kid had gotten broken up with on that day of all days, or if the bouquet held any card of its own. You’d picked it up, deciding to bring it to the compost pile later.

You hadn’t realized how it looked until it had been too late.

“Hey, Mel, I have something for…” You’d started, rounding the corner to enter the room.

“I love you too.” She’d said, looking into Gary’s eyes. In a split second, you’d registered there was something off about her voice, something lacking.

And now here you are, in this less than ideal situation.

All three look at you, standing in the doorway with a card and flowers, calling after another person’s girlfriend. Shit.

“What do you have for her?” Gary’s hand tightens on her waist just so.

So, yeah. Not fucking ideal.

“Hey, look at that. I uh…actually forgot the… ah… The book I was lending you.” You mumble. Spinning on your heels, you walk as fast as humanly possible without breaking into a sprint.

Stupid-ass, invented, asinine holiday.

******

You’re more than half-way through a bottle of Merlot when your doorbell rings.

“Fucking finally!” You shout, jumping from your couch, your belly clenching painfully. Opening up your front door, though, your shoulders drop. “You’re not Postmates.”

“No, I am not. You know what else I also am not? Enjoying this beautiful night with my husband.” Barbara floods you with words, walking past you into the living room.

“Why is that, exactly?” And maybe you’re starting to get drunk, because she seems furious with you, and you can’t remember the last time that ever happened.

“Because I cannot possibly enjoy what was supposed to be a romantic moment with Gerald when I get a desperate phone call from my best friend’s partner asking me if I know where she is.”

It’s too many words too fast, so you sit back down and blink hard, trying to focus.

“What are you talking about?”

“Gary called me. He doesn’t know where Melissa is.”

Melissa. Suddenly, the reason you’d started drinking comes back to you. Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Have you seen her?” Barbara seems to take pity on you, be it for your drunkenness or the way your face scrunches up at the name.

“Not since this afternoon, no. What happened?”

“Gary says she went after you, came back in a different mood. Then they got into an argument in the middle of dinner, because she didn’t seem to be enjoying it, which is strange considering she spent the day worrying he wouldn’t do anything special, as we both know.” She sits down on the futon in front of you. “He says she broke up with him right then and there, and left.”

What?

“What?”

“I don’t understand it either. What did you say to her in the hallway?”

“Nothing, I didn’t talk to her in the hallway, or at all.”

Barbara looks away, shaking her head with an incredulous smile on her lips.

“You two are… God forgive me, but infuriating.” She turns back, sighing. “Did she text you? I’ve called and called, but she hasn’t picked up. She’s not at her house, either.”

“I don’t know.” You pull your phone from the middle of the cushions. “It’s been on focus mode the whole night, I only got notifications for my food.”

“Can you try her? Maybe she’ll pick up if it’s you.”

“You’re starting to freak me out.”

“Yes, well, at least we’ll be on the same page.”

The line rings three times before going to voicemail. Then, there’s someone pressing your doorbell again. Your stomach aches.

Again, not Postmates.

“You’re an asshole!” It’s the first thing out of Melissa’s mouth. As the second person today pushes her way into your home, Barbara jumps up from her seat.

“You’re alive, you’re whole?” She turns Melissa over, taking advantage of the woman’s confusion at seeing her here. “Are you stupidly drunk?”

“Uh… No. Why…”

“Are you going to make any decisions that might land you in jail?”

“No.”

“Thank you, Jesus!” Barbara shouts, letting go of the redhead, lifting her hands in praise, and walking to the door. “Please, resolve your issues and let me have my steak in peace. I’ll call your boy-“ She looks Melissa over. “I’ll call Gary, let him know you’re okay. Goodbye. Also, you’re both on probation until further notice.”

She closes the door behind her with a bang, and the two of you are left alone, staring at each other.

Her make-up is smudged, as if she’d been crying, and that beautiful, beautiful red dress shines under the light. The vision worries you at the same time it sets the butterflies off.

Once more, with feeling: this is not ideal.

It feels like forever goes by, just like this, with neither of you moving or speaking or looking away.

Until she unclenches her fist, and you see your card, the one you’d lost on your rush to leave.

“You couldn’t have picked a better moment?” Melissa asks, placing the piece of paper on your entrance table. Her anger, so explosive moments ago, is low and dangerous now, simmering with the hurt in her eyes.

“Listen, I know how it looked-“

“Any other moment.” She keeps going, incapable of stopping now that she’s started. “Maybe one of the endless times when we sat on that fucking couch watching those boring movies you like. Or… Or maybe one of the nights when we spent hours pouring over project ideas or education strategies. Or really any other time before I made the decision to move on.”

Her heart is there, right in front of you, in the tears that drown the gorgeous green of her irises. Somehow, you feel like this is the cataclysm of thoughts and words and feelings you had both held back for years. 

“What?” You mumble for the second time tonight.

“I found every excuse in the book to avoid this, to avoid looking for someone else. And some of it was true, really. Joe did a number on me, which you know – which is why that just hurt worse.” She points to the card, bent in half and slightly crumbled. “But most of it was crap, and I knew it was crap, but I convinced myself it wasn’t because you weren’t ready, but you are amazing, and maybe it was better to wait just a little longer to see if you ever got your shit together, if you ever got over what that ex of yours did. But you never, ever did.”

“Melissa, the flowers…”

“Yeah, gerberas, my favorites, I know. That was a nice touch. You probably knew he wouldn’t remember that detail.”

“No, Mel, I didn’t buy them.” You step forward, past the table, close enough to reach out and touch her arm, if you were brave enough. You never are.

“What, are you gonna tell me you grew them too?” She snorts, humorlessly. “You know, the worst part is that you encouraged me. You told me to go after him, to let him woo me. Even this morning! You told me to wait for him, just to pull this crap.”

She raises her hand, wipes her eyes, and Christ, what the hell have you done?

She breathes in, and it would be wondrous if it weren’t terrifying, how she puts her heart away, takes the part reserved just for you to see and hides it from view.

“I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know, and this whole time you’ve been leading me on, never really letting me go, no, but still pushing me away.”

In love you with you. In love you with you.

I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know.

It reverberates inside your brain as if an echo in a museum. In love with you.

The person who lights up your days without a fail, the woman who’s made every single potential partner pale in comparison, a staple in your life so important that the mere thought of risking something that could make you lose her had forced you to bury all warm and fuzzy feelings. That woman. This woman. Melissa. Your Melissa. In love with you.

You feel your past is too broken to believe her, but still the thought of her being this hurt is unacceptable.

“Mel, I didn’t write the card to steal you away.”

You risk it now, because you feel her slipping through your fingers, and not seeing her heart when she looks into your eyes makes you feel the loneliest you ever have. You risk reaching over, placing one hand on each of her upper arms. The fabric there is so soft it surprises you.

She flinches, but allows it.

“Just to keep me from giving up, right?”

“You know me better than that.” You try, throat tight. You damn sure hope she does. “I wrote it because you seemed really hurt, and just in case Gary messed up, I wanted you to know you at least had me. You’ll always have me.”

She shakes her head, eyes welling up again.

“What a great pal you are.” Melissa whispers.

“I found the fucking flowers on the floor, I was gonna take them to the trash.” You lose your patience for a split second, because maybe you were tactless, but this is a bit too far, even for such a stubborn woman.

She raises a brow.

“I’m not trying to cover my ass.”

“’You’re the person I think about the most’” She quotes the card. “Did you mean that?”

“Of course.” You say without a thought.

“As a friend?” She challenges.

No. Yes. Maybe. It’s on the tip of your tongue.

If you risk this next step, will you lose her eventually? Like you have every other woman you have loved like this? Will you lose yet another person, yet another soul you feel you can rest beside?

You let your hands travel down slightly.

“Mostly.” She breaks eye contact, frowning. “I cherish our friendship so much, Melissa. But part of me wanted to say more. To say things that weren’t purely platonic. I didn’t mean to steer you around.” You sigh. This is… a lot. “I want to see you happy, Mel. More than anything in the world, you deserve that. And I just felt like allowing myself to feel all those things for you would jeopardize that. You’re an explosive, hot-headed, weird, outlaw Italian with a great mind and a huge, huge heart, and you’re definitely too good for me.”

She shakes her head again, but looking at those amazing, gorgeous, breathtaking green orbs, you find a glimpse of that other side of hers, even if the tears are still there, hiding underneath the surface.

“Today, I only wanted to make sure you would be okay. And I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. I truly didn’t want to ruin that moment for you.” Finally, you reach her hands, and she holds yours back. You fit. “And I have only ever encouraged you to go out there because I really believe you deserve to have the fullest life you can possibly have, and that’s probably with someone… less damaged. Someone good and kind. Someone like Gary.”

Melissa mumbles to herself in Italian.

Forse sarebbe più facile.

“But I don’t love Gary.” She says simply, in English, relaxing into your touch, sending your blood pressure through the roof.

I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know.

“I know.” You say.

You had seen it in her eyes when she’d returned his declaration earlier, the emptiness, the masking, the guilt for lying. She wanted to love him so badly.

She’d looked at you back then and, for a split second, before the confusion and embarrassment that had followed, she’d seemed relieved, as if saying there’s the one who sees me. And something more.

Now, the something more is clearer.

“I know you’re scared.” She whispers again. “And you always, always try to protect me from these things. Never when I get myself mixed up with family business or get into fights…”

“Well, I trust your right hook for that.” You can’t help yourself. She snorts very, very softly, and maybe there’s hope yet.

“But you always try to keep me safe from this, even from you.” Melissa lets go of one your hands, placing a palm against your cheek. Oh, so that’s what it means to have a heart attack. “But I have never, ever, been afraid of your baggage, you jackass.” The spark of defiance that flashes through her expression pulls a smile from you.

If someone had asked you yesterday if this happening was something you thought possible, you’d have laugh them out of the room.

“I just wish you’d given me that god-damn card before I’d wasted this dress on somebody else and had broken a man’s heart for nothing.”

“Poor Gary,” you whisper.

“Yeah… Poor Gary.”

So, perhaps it’s not ideal, with the tears and heartache and being on Barb’s bad side, but she leans up on her tip toes, squeezing your hand, palm migrating down to hold your neck, and despite not being ideal, it does feel oddly right.

“I don’t give a fuck if you hate Valentine’s Day and you think this is corny. You better kiss me before I lose my nerve, or I swear to…”

For the first time in your adult life, you forgo your mind, trying something with risks that may far outweigh the good. With a tug, you pull her in, leaning down, breath catching in your throat when your lips connect, and you find you don’t give two shits about the risks.

Heaven.

Of course, your doorbell rings not five seconds later. Fucking Postmates.

[rubra-wav]

Vox x reader drabble

A/N Idk, man. I just wanted to write sumn softer with him, and this came out. Couldn't figure out a name for it

Cw: SFW, Gn!reader, use of the petname dollface/doll, bully him bully him bully him

You sat in Vox's lap as he worked, head on his chest, listening to the oddly comforting sound of his internal mechanisms whirring away under ear.

It had been rather tiring of a day for you to say the least, and although the demon had been rather surprised you had dare ventured into his observation room, he hadn't exactly been against you taking up the current position you held against him so long as you didn't distract him until he finished up.

The arm that had wrapped around your waist to pull you to sit in the space between his thighs had taken up residence on your hip, gently rubbed circles against it absentmindedly while his other hand typed rather loudly.

As you had been pulled against him, you'd practically melted into his embrace. The observation room was very cold so as to not cause all the technology (including Vox himself) to overheat, and he was much warmer than said room.

Your tired eyes cracked open, and you looked up at him through your lashes as you pressed your chin against his chest upon hearing Vox let out an irritated his.

His red eyes narrowed at the monitor before him, brows angrily furrowed as he grit his teeth. He could feel your gaze on him as his lip curled and somewhat pushed himself to calm down a bit.

"You okay?" You asked.

Vox sighed, eyes somewhat softening as he forced himself to look away from the screen displaying numbers in front of him. The ghost of a smile spread across his face as the light from his monitor illuminated your sleepy expression.

The demon would never be able to quite admit the way just seeing and feeling you pressing against him, looking up at him with somewhat messy hair and eyes, which shone with adoration made him feel.

He was sure you were aware anyway, as embarrassing as that was.

"I'm just peachy, dollface. Stocks are down slightly from last year, is all." He said, bringing the hand on his keyboard to rest on the top of your head, running his fingers through it to smoothe out the wayward strands.

You hummed at the contact, it petering off into a slight snicker as you considered his words. "You're loaded already. Would losing some really be that bad?" You watched his smile fade as his expression soured again, his hand in your hair coming to a stop.

"Yes. Yes, it would be." He said pointedly. You laughed at the way he said it and moved around to sit facing towards him, knees on the soft leather of the seat in between his legs as you leaned up towards his glowering expression.

Vox's cheeks tinted light blue as your face stopped just before your nose pressed against his monitor, your hands resting on his shoulders casually. "I know you're capitalism king, but you really ought to stop being so greedy, baby~" you cooed at him, grinning as his sour expression became irritatedly flustered at your tone.

"You know damn well what stock prices falling could mean. What if there's a crash or somethi- oh-!" he stopped short as your lips made contact with his monitor once on his cheek, then again and again and again - peppering him with kisses.

"Doll- (Name)!" He exclaimed, glitching slightly as you felt his display heat up under your at your sudden onslaught of affection. You chuckled as you felt his hands grip onto your hips as if he were trying to steady himself.

When you finally stopped kissing him, you leaned back with a somewhat smug look on your face as you looked at his pouting and flustered expression.

"It's not funny." He grumbled.

"Yeah, it is actually." You said. His pout only deepened, prompting you to tilt your head at him, laughter quieting to slight giggles.

Vox admired the way your eyelids drooped again, you looking at him with a mischievous smirk in a way only you were allowed to.

He sighed deeply, urging his heart to stop racing in his chest and tried to sound disappointed in you. "And would you look at that? You distracted me from my work. I ought to tell you to shoo." He said with a raised brow, expression now calm.

You raised your eyebrows right back at him, smiling as you already knew the answer to the question. "But are you gonna?"

You two engaged in a silent staring contest for a good 5 seconds before Vox grumbled a 'no' under his breath as he turned away from you bitterly.

You burrowed your face into his neck with a muffled proclamation of 'thought so', snuggling into him all the more and him begrudgingly reciprocating.

I'm probably gonna post this, then notice a ton of spelling or grammar errors tomorrow, but who cares~~ (morning me will)

Masterlist

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Understanding

Ok I have a new hyper-fixation...

Summary: You are betrothed to Coriolanus Snow, rather against your will. At your engagement party you bitterly protest the attachment and so Coryo has to bring you around...

Warnings: Uh yeah, full on smut. R18. Dub!con/non!con. Bad Coriolanus.

Word count: 2,041

Part 2 on its way!

The marriage with Coriolanus happened so fast, it was completely out of your control. Your parents had, of course, been thrilled when they were proposed with the offer, the Snows were once again on top of the world, with Coriolanus joining the increasingly prestigious group of Gamemakers for the 13th annual Hunger Games. 

Now moving into his twenties, it was expected that the man found a suitable wife, and as the newly 18 year old heiress of one of the most wealthy old families still functioning, you supposed you must have been at the top of his list. 

You had not known Coriolanus in school, him being a few significant years older than you, but you had heard of him. His name had been everywhere even then. The handsome and reclusive Snow, with top grades in everything and not even a single scandal to be whispered down the gossip line. Until Lucy Grey. Until the games. Until those months when he disappeared from all sight before coming back with a splash. New heir to the Plinth money, apprenticeship under head gamemaker Dr Gaul, and on the unmistakable path to power and presidency. 

You didn’t much care for all that. You only cared that he had barely spoken to you, and yet your engagement party loomed, and you were set to move in with him that night. 

Your mother hung a dress above your closet for the occasion, a patriotic Capital red, you blanched slightly at the neckline and the dangerous slit on the side. Surely this would not be appropriate. “Mama, are you certain you have collected the right dress?” You asked entreatingly. 

“Yes dear, Coriolanus sent it himself, what a gentleman!”

Your heart plummeted, what a joke. 

By the time you were ready your car was already waiting outside, you had a feeling you had left slightly late, if the frowns of your parents were anything to go by. No matter. You doubted you would be much missed. You hadn’t been allowed a look into the arrangements or the guest list, you guessed it was just another opportunity for your ‘fiance’ to socialize with the upper classes, with his colleagues.  

But contrary to your growing feelings of insignificance, as you pulled up you saw the figure of a familiar young man. Coriolanus wore a fitted three-piece black suit with a bright red rose at his lapel. His blonde hair had been wrangled into respectable curls and his blue eyes glinted in the moonlight. But what truly took your breath away was the expression on his face. It was so tight.

As your car slowed to a stop, he moved for the door, first giving his aid to your mother and guiding her out, exchanging pleasantries and suffering her excited chatter, before moving to reach you. His hand was soft but gripped yours so hard as he all but pulled you out of the vehicle.

“Is it your habit, Y/N, to arrive so… fashionably late?” 

It sounded like a reprimand and made your heart beat into attention. The glamorous suit and charming smile that he wore on his face to your parents had such a threatening glint under the surface. You wondered at how they didn’t notice, chuckling softly, saying that yes, yes you had always been somewhat ignorant of keeping time. 

You saw the way his jaw clenched and you felt his firm grip on your arm now. “Well, let’s not keep your guests waiting. Shall we?” How dare he pose it as a question! He was already dragging you into the fold. 

It began in a blur of names, shaking hands and congratulations, all of which flew right over your head. Instead of paying attention to your audience you had instead attempted to track down some posca, soon nursing your glass in one hand, and letting yourself be led with the other. 

“And what a beautiful dress Y/N, perfect for such an occasion!” A couple from Coriolanus’ work had cornered the two of you by one of the tables and engaged you in conversation. Coriolanus smiled his twisted and charming smile, he, of course, remembered their names, asked after their children, her mother. 

It sickened you the way he played people, the way he played your parents. “Really?” You said in reply to the man’s compliment, “I wasn’t sure, it’s a bit bright and not entirely my style.” 

The man blinked at your dismissal of him. And Coriolanus went still. So you wanted something darker, he thought? He could certainly give you that. 

“What she means to say is that she wanted to try something new and special for this party, to begin this marriage as she means to continue it.”

By wearing his selection of dresses? By letting him control your every move? You flinched as he kissed your cheek. 

“Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Whatever you say.” You laugh and take a swig of your drink. His face stays mostly calm, but only you, in such close proximity to him, notice the twitch in his eye. 

From then he keeps a much stronger grasp on you, his hand never straying from your lower back as he trails you through the hoards of people, his trophy to show off. 

Walking past a buffet table, you lean over to grab one of the many sweet snacks, it was one of your favorites, a puffy red cube covered in icing sugar. Coriolanus was watching you, and he grabbed your wrist before you could place it in your mouth. 

“You’ll ruin your lipstick, you’ll be a mess.” He grimaced, a look of disgust crossed his face at the mere thought. You relished in it. You moved your hand back to the table, as if to put it back, causing him to release your arm. Just as he turned away to converse once again with some colleague, you snatch the treat back up to your mouth and revel in the tart rosy taste of it, feeling your lips coat with the white powder. 

His eyes caught the action and followed it as your tongue licked away the powder, his cheeks flush red in stark contrast to his growing frown. It brings a most dangerous light to his face, one that makes your body shudder as you clock eyes. 

He squeezes your waist threateningly. “Excuse us, please.” He says to the men he’d been talking with. He dragged you away through the crowd, not stopping for anyone else, only flashing that smile, faking an incident or rendezvous with his fiancee. He takes you down the side of the building, and stops, pushing you against the wall.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He hisses at you, face inches from your own. 

His closeness sent you spiraling, and his strength began to make you panic. He truly had you trapped there, hsi to interrogate. 

“I… I don’t know.” You gasped, his forearm against your throat, cutting off air.

“Are you so determined to sabotage me?”

“Why shouldn’t I be? You’ve given me no reason to support you.”

“No reason?” He says quietly, “No reason?” His voice increases in volume, “You are my wife, that is your only reason, your only job.”

“I am not your wife yet.” You almost spit it into his face. 

“Oh really? That’s not what the paperwork says.”

You shook your head desperately, “I haven’t signed anything.”

“Why would it need your signature?” He sounded genuinely confused, as if the thought had never entered his mind. A contract, your life had been given away on a contract. “The wedding is but a formality. You need to come to terms with this or I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

His furious eyes blaze into your own, so full of righteousness, of power. It terrified you. You were so certain that he would act now, hit you, or scream at you, that you didn;t expect what happened next. You didn’t expect his lips to be on yours. 

He kissed you harshly, banging your head into the brick wall behind you, making stars swirl in your head, behind your eyes. It hurt as he dug his fingers into your waist, as he searched for the slit in your dress, and yanked it up your body. It hurt as he grabbed your thighs, picking you up effortlessly and holding you up completely. And then it didn’t. And then nothing did, and your body filled instead with an intense wave of unrelenting pleasure. 

“You’re unbelievable,” you gasp.

He barely let you breathe as his mouth attacked yours and his fingers ravaged your clit through your panties. It felt so good. Despite everything it felt so good. You whispered as much and moaned whenever a break in the kisses occurred. 

He didn't stop, didn’t slow until your body relaxed, until your forehead fell against his in a silent unwilling gasp. 

“Don’t you see it could be good?” He whispered right next to your ear. He kissed the soft skin underneath it, “It could be so good.”

And then he dropped you, and as your legs were weak from your orgasm, they failed to catch you, and you fell onto the ground. You looked up at him, your hooded eyes full of confusion and lust and desperation. There was a smirk on his face and desire was still lighting his eyes. 

“If you let me do whatever I want to you, y/n. If you accept that you belong to me.” He said it so simply, so matter of fact. He offered his hand to you, clearly ready for you to be compliant. So you swat it away, and stand up by yourself, ignoring the slickness between your thighs and the shaking of your body. 

It was clearly the wrong move. Fury burned in his eyes once again and he grabbed you by the waist. Twisting you around and turning you to face the wall. Your hands snatched out to stop your collision with it as he once again worked at your skirts. His breath was hot on your neck and you couldn't help the way your body was already reacting to this change. You could hear his every move, your heart raced as you heard him undo his belt. 

Working down your underwear, he kissed your neck lightly, surprisingly gentle when he eased himself inside you from behind. It was too much, it felt much too good. One of your arms reached back to try and touch him, and he responded by grabbing your hand in his before placing them both against the wall as he started to thrust inside of you.

“Are you going to be good for me?”

All you could do was moan as he settled himself deep inside of you, hitting all the right spots with a relentless precision. His grip tightened on your hand at your sounds which only got louder as he pounded into you. Tears leaked from your eyes, from pain or pleasure you couldn’t decipher. 

“Shut up. Shut up, or do you want them to see you like this?” He slowed his movements, returning his mouth to your neck. “Do you want them to see me using you? It’s not like they don’t know it already. You seem to be the last one to catch on” 

He released your hand and moved both of his to your waist, he pulled you backwards, making you bend even more obscenely against the wall. From this angle he was hitting you deeper, and it took all your effort not to let out a guttural scream. 

He seemed to enjoy this angle too, speeding up and becoming harder by the second, you could feel it. You felt all of him with his every movement and it was intoxicating. It became all too overwhelming when he came inside of you, it was blindingly hot, you felt all too full as you clenched around him in response. You scrambled for purchase against the wall but he pulled you back up to him, embracing you from behind to catch his breath. When he stepped back to pull out of you, he did so slowly, to watch his cum slide out of you onto the floor, to watch it trail down your legs. 

“Do you understand now?”

[euphemiaamillais]

nsfw alphabet with coriolanus snow 🎀

cw: 18+//mentions of sex, cum & other bodily fluids

an: i’ve tried out something new—i hope you guys enjoy it!!!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he’s not one for affection, but once you or he have finished, he brushes your hair out of your eyes, and presses a few soft kisses to your neck. but typically, he goes back to his cold self. not that you mind, he gets out all his affection as he fucks you senseless—you know he loves you more than any other woman

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he loves your neck, how his hands look around it, how tiny it is as he chokes you out, especially when you’ve been disobeying him. he adores leaving bruises with his fingers, as well as marking you up with his mouth—another reminder that you are his, and that he owns you

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

coriolanus’ favourite thing to do is to cum inside of you; fucking you full of his spend, knowing that you’re all his and nobody else’s. however, he also likes it when you swallow his cum, and he makes sure that whenever he fucks your throat you lap up every last drop, like the good girl you are

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he loves it when you beg for him like a little whore, but he dreams of you squirming under him, pleading for him to stop. he has this fantasy of kidnapping you, taking you away from the world so only he can look at you, only he can touch you. he’d make you the perfect wife, and whether you liked it or not, he’d get to fuck you whenever he pleased

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

coriolanus isn’t the most experienced man, having had little time for sex while at the academy, but after his stint as a peacekeeper in 12, let’s just say he knows what he’s doing

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

while he adores seeing your fucked-out face as he pounds into you in missionary, his favourite way to have you is in doggy. bending you over, having you on your hands and knees, elicits something primal in him. the way your ass bounces as he drives his cock into you, and how he can grab your hair to pull it if you’re being a bad girl

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s a very serious man, and not prone to humour even at the best of times. you’d never catch him cracking a joke while he fucks you. no, you’re all his and he’d never let you forget that

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

although he’s famous for his bleach-blonde waves, the downstairs hints that perhaps his blonde tresses aren’t natural. that’s to say, he grooms occasionally, but he’s not one for the strange beauty regimens in the capital. he’s not bothered by how you choose to groom yourself, only that you know that it’s all his

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

coriolanus likes to be very intimate. he’ll spend hours touching you, winding you up, so that when it’s time to fuck you, you’ll have already been begging him for hours. in the moment, he can’t stop reminding you that you belong to him, that your body is his and his only. outside of sex he’s one for romantic gestures, such as buying you flowers—roses are a favourite of his—but he also likes giving you expensive presents, such as pretty bags or dresses to wear to fancy dinners. in public he has to keep his true feelings at bay, but you know he adores you

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he would rather have you instead, but when he’s away, or he’s had a long day in the office and you’re sound asleep (that’s not to say he hasn’t woken you up at times), he’ll jack off in the shower, not wanting to dirty his expensive sheets, and finish in his hand to the thought of your wet cunt clenching around him. he doesn’t do it often though, making sure you’re always satisfying his needs

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

he’s definitely got a breeding kink—he already loves cumming inside of you, and the thought of you growing his child inside of you, that you’ll have to be his forever now, makes his cock hard. however, he’s also quite into consensual non-consent. he’d never do anything to hurt you, no, but he loves the thought of spoiling you, bending you over while you beg him to stop; too fucked out from overstimulation

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

because he’s one for appearances, coriolanus prefers to keep things in the bedroom. that’s not to say that he won’t fuck you over his desk, or have you on your knees, sucking his cock prettily while he attempts to complete his work

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

whenever you walk around in your tiny little skirts, ass barely covered, knowing that you’re only doing it to tease him. you find that his hands are on you instantly, having you which ever way he pleases. he also gets turned on when he sees other men staring at you; wanting to fuck your brains out, but he knows you belong to him, and that they’ll never get to fill you with their cum. no, that’s his job

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

while he likes spitting in your mouth, and cumming on various parts of your body, he’s too much of a clean-freak to like the thought of other bodily fluids being involved. he’s also not one for you being dominant; always having to have the upper hand—after all, you belong to him

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

coriolanus much prefers receiving; enjoying nothing more than the sight of you on your knees after a long day at work, the way you wrap your lips around his cock and relieve his tension. you’re so pretty, the way you gag around him, your eyes watering because you can’t take him all in. but he’s very good at giving, and when you’ve been a good girl and obeyed him, he’s more than happy to eat you like you’re his last meal, paying particular attention to your sensitive clit, and the way you squirm as he laps at it with his tongue

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

most of the time, he likes to take you roughly, reminding you that you belong to him, and he gets to do whatever he likes to that pretty little cunt of yours. he isn’t fast though, taking his time to thrust into you, feeling the way your tight walls stretch around him, taking you all in. however, if he’s in a particularly good mood, he loves making sweet love to you, kissing you all over, calling you his ‘good girl’ and not finishing until he’s made sure you’ve cum. however, these occurrences are rare, but you relish them everytime

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

coriolanus prefers to stretch out the foreplay, teasing you for hours, making you beg for it, but when he’s had a rough day, or he’s got an extra long lunch break, he’ll find some place to have you quickly, whether it’s across his desk or up against the wall in a tiny closet. you’re there to satisfy his every need, after all

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’s not one for big risks, but sometimes if you have guests over, he’ll slip a finger in your cunt and watch as you try your best not to squirm and make a fool of yourself in front of everyone. if you’re a bad girl, he’ll make sure to take you back to his rooms and fuck some sense into you, making sure they can hear your screams, knowing that he fucks you so well; that the president’s pretty life wife is always obedient

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

usually once is enough for him, especially with how tired he gets from his work, but on a good day, he can take you two or three times until he’s completely exhausted. it helps to relieve the stress of being the president of panem, after all, and you’re more than willing to oblige

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he’s against the use of toys, much preferring to use his hands, mouth, or cock on you. once he found you pleasuring yourself with a vibrator, crying out his name as the toy rubbed against your clit. needless to say, the vibrator didn’t get to finish you off… coriolanus made you spread your legs like a good girl, and he fucked you until he was sure you were spending all over his dick.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’s a terrible tease. he likes to wind you up, playing with your hair in the mornings, touching you a little too much when you’re out at events, hand ghosting your ass. he likes to nip at the sensitive skin behind your ears, caress your arms. when he’s going down on you, he takes his time to press kisses up your thighs, his breath hot against your skin. if you’ve been particularly bad, he won’t let you cum, enjoying the way you beg for him, how you’re left whimpering and trembling as he fills you with his cum; but leaving you completely unsatisfied

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s not the loudest, but he loves telling you how tight you are, hearing the squelching of your wet pussy as he pounds into you. he groans quite often, but you’re the loud one in this relationship, crying out his name, screaming with pleasure as he takes you so well.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

coriolanus loves when you suck him off while he’s busy working, knowing that you’ll always be there to satisfy his every need. oftentimes, you’ll sneak into his office while he’s hunched over piles of paperwork, and crawl under his desk. he knows you’re there when you unzip his trousers, and wrap your pretty lips around his head. it doesn’t take much for him to get hard, and you suckle and lick until he’s cumming all down your throat. sometimes he likes to pull at your hair, or push your head down, delighting in hearing you gag around his cock. he finds that this helps hone his concentration in afterwards, and he’s able to get his work done much faster

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

coriolanus is big. he’s not one to boast about it, and you wouldn’t have guessed. his ego suggested to you that he was small, but boy, you were wrong. his cock is one of the biggest you’ve seen, at least eight inches, and it has pretty veins running up it. you love to run your tongue over them, watching as he groans as you tease his sensitive shaft. he’s so big that it still hurts, sometimes. and the first time you fucked; you could barely take in half of him—he was delighted to know that you were a virgin, and watched you squirm as he stretched you out.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he doesn’t seem it to the public, but behind closed doors he’s desperate. he has to fuck you at least once a day, but most of the time it’s more. whether it’s an early morning blowjob to get him ready for the day, or an evening spent fucking you on the sofa, coriolanus snow has a high sex drive. his favourite time is when he gets you with your face down in the mattress, slamming into you as you beg him to fuck you harder; pounding your cunt until you can’t take it anymore. he likes that you’re willing to do anything for him, and you’ll never say no

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

when he’s especially exhausted, he’ll fall asleep almost instantly. but most of the time, he’s up for a while afterwards, always busy and having to settle some sort of affair. he comes back to bed with you eventually, and although he doesn’t like to be too affectionate, he’ll wrap his arms around you to fall asleep. he thinks you don’t know about his little secret, but each morning you wake up feeling his warm embrace—he almost looks like a poor puppy, so gentle as he sleeps—and you rest assured knowing that he does actually love you

—

taglist: @personalque @justacaliforniandreamer @jacesvelaryons (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[luveline]

For Eddie and Roan, can you write a ficlet where Roan wakes up sick and goes to Eddie's bed to wake him up and tell him she doesn't feel good and he's worried and takes her temperature and sees that she's fever, so he stays at home taking care of her?

eddie and roan ♡

Roan's head feels heavy as a bowling ball. She focuses very hard on not falling over, and so she doesn't realise you're awake and sitting up until she's climbing onto the bottom of your bed. 

“Hey, princess,” you whisper, holding your finger to your lips, “daddy's still sleeping.” 

She loves you, but she ignores you. She loves you, capital L, but she needs her dad. You don't try to stop her, the book on your thighs closing as you let your hiked knees fall. “Ro?” you ask. 

“Dad,” she whines, “I need you to be awake.” 

Eddie puts his hand up to her face. Roan groans and tips her head back as he feels along her head to the soft crop of hair at the base of her neck. “Why?” he asks hoarsely, pulling her in blindly.  

Parcelled against his chest, Roan can hardly breathe. “Daddy,” she says urgently. 

He lifts his head on the pillow, eyes peeled back painstakingly slowly. “What's the matter, Ro?” 

She knew he'd know there was something wrong. Her dad knows everything even when he says he doesn't, and her eyes fizzle with tears in the gentle embrace of his arm. He rubs her back accordingly. “What's wrong, baby?” he asks, adopting his softest of tones. 

Roan hides her face in his chest shyly. “I feel bad…” 

Eddie feels suddenly and extremely worried at the sight of her. He panics hard, heart in his mouth sort of panic, but then you touch his elbow and he remembers he's not doing it alone anymore. 

“What kind of sick?” he asks. 

Roan curls into her pill bug shape on top of him and cries about her head feeling weird and her tummy aching. He puts his hand on her stomach and finds it bloated despite it being rather small otherwise. He has no idea what it means, but he assures her it'll be okay the way he always does, murmurs said between teeny kisses pressed to her temple and his fingers raking down through her hair one rumpled curl at a time. 

Your second alarm rings. 

You get dressed quickly and Eddie doesn't move. He knows he can't go to work, not when she's like this. He can't imagine sending her to school, and can't imagine leaving her home this sort of sick without him. He remembers all those years ago feeling sick as a dog wishing Wayne could stay home just to keep him company, and he remembers being smaller, his mom on the couch, his sweaty head in her lap.  

You hop into one of your socks, smiling at him over her head. He smiles back. What can you do? it says. 

Perfume sprayed, hair done, you stand in the doorway brushing your teeth. “I can go get you some stuff before I go to work if I rush. Sorry, I wasn't thinking. She likes the cream of mushroom soup, right? Or is it cream of chicken?” 

“Both. Mushroom’s her favourite. And white rice. And cranberry juice.” 

“I know she wants cranberry juice,” you say around a mouthful of froth, waving your hand, “don't insult me, Eds.” 

He feels her forehead. She'd felt warm enough to guess she was sick, but her forehead is ember hot. “Aw, god,” he says, sitting up despite his twinging back, Roan held tight to his chest. “Can you get me a hand towel? Soak it in some cold water?” 

“Sure thing,” you say, rushing off. 

“This isn't cool, Ro, you weren't gonna tell me you're a human furnace? Thought we told each other everything?” he asks, brushing her hair back from her face. 

“I'm hot,” she says. 

He taps the tip of her nose. Her eyes focus on his finger, so he figures she'll be okay for now. “I know. I can feel it.” He'll hold a cold hand towel to her head for a bit to give her the chance to calm down, and if she doesn't cool he'll give her a lukewarm bath. There will be things to do, taking her temperature, calling the school, calling the doctor, rubbing her small back, but he's done it before. He can handle it without you. 

“I'm just a phone call away, okay?” you say, passing him the wrung towel carefully. “If you need anything, just call me.” You kiss his cheek, then Roan's. “Promise?” 

“I'll call you,” he says honestly. “But we'll be okay, won't we, babe?” 

Roan mumbles something unintelligible. Eddie's pretty sure she's saying we'll be fine. 

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Watergate Pairing - Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Summary - Dustin has a theory that there's a new gate, and Nancy has a suspicion of where it might be. The best swimmer needs to go to the bottom of Lover's Lake and check it out. Unfortunately, much to Steve's displeasure, that happens to be you. Word Count - 3.2k Warnings - Language and violence Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Masterlist

You could feel Dustin glaring at you from the shore as Steve settled in beside you at the last moment. “You said four!” He called after you. 

Steve let out a quiet, “Sorry,” while you just waved at him with a grin. 

“If he thought I was letting him that close to a possible gate, he’s out of his damn mind.” You said, glancing at the compass that he had tossed you. 

“Bedtime at nine kiddos!” Robin yelled to them. “Miss you already!” 

Dustin flipped you all off. 

While you had been one of the first ones on the boat, you couldn’t deny the way your heart was beating hammering in your chest. What the hell were you guys going to do if you actually found a gate? Would you have to go into it to destroy Vecna? You glanced over at Eddie who was rowing at the front with Robin, and then back at the shore where Dustin, Lucas and Max were now barely visible. You knew you would do it. Whatever it took to save both of them, you would do it, but it didn’t make you any less scared. 

“Hey, the compass.” Steve’s voice interrupted your thoughts as he shone his flashlight down at the instrument in your hands. 

Eddie and Robin stopped rowing, and you all bent your heads towards it, watching as it spun around wildly. All of the sudden you heard Dustin’s voice coming through the walkie. “Guys, what’s going on? Come on, talk to me.” 

Robin grabbed the walkie and replied, “Uh, Dustin, your compass has gone from wonky to wonky with a capital waahhh.” 

Steve reached out and started taking his shoes and socks off. “Steve . . . what do you think you’re doing?” You asked him. 

He didn’t meet your gaze. “Somebody’s gotta go down and check this thing out. Unless one of you can top -” He looked up at you then, realizing his mistake. 

“.3 seconds, Harrington.” You reminded him. 

“Woah, wait, you can’t go down there.” Eddie said, being the first to catch on. 

Steve looked like he wanted to agree with him. “Remember what happens when we separate?” He replied, and you did. The memories at Starcourt flashed in your mind as well as the ones from last night, watching that body snap while you had been in the lake completely helpless  with Eddie, thinking how that’s what would happen to Max . . . 

“We’re not separating.” You said as you started to pull off your own socks and shoes. “I will be a few feet below you. That’s it.” You stood up and took off your sweatshirt, handing it to Steve. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Are you sure that you want to do this?” Nancy asked you. 

You nodded, “Eddie hand me that flashlight. I won’t be able to see shit down there.” 

“Are you fucking shitting me right now? You’re going to let her go down there?” Eddie asked Steve. 

“Oh, let’s not pretend she needs Steve’s or any other man’s permission.” Robin told him, rolling her eyes. 

You knew that Steve would never stop you. He’d do his damn best to convince you, then protect you if necessary, but there must have been something in your eyes that told him it’d be futile. “I don’t like this.” He said, while Eddie cursed in the background, taking the flashlight  and wrapping it in a plastic bag. 

“Well that makes two of us.” You said, glancing at the water again. You took a step closer, getting ready to dive, but stopped when you felt Steve grab your hand. 

“Be careful.” He said, his eyes pleading, worried, and you wished you could reassure him. 

But you wouldn’t lie. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and turned back to the water. Thinking about Max, thinking about Eddie, and saving both of them, you shoved your anxiety deep in your gut, and dove. 

The calmness and easing of your muscles that you normally felt when swimming never came. Lover’s Lake wasn’t super deep, but the blackness that surrounded you still made you feel uneasy. You used the flashlight to glance across the bottom, looking for anything out of the ordinary when something white caught your eye. You swam over, and found the skeletons of several fish which only served to confuse you. If the fish had died . . . Wouldn’t their bodies still remain? Or had they been down there that long? 

That was when the red light caught your eye. You tried to force yourself to remain calm, and swam over, stopping above it. You had seen a gate once, back deep in those Russian tunnels last summer, but it was a sight you'd never forget. This was much smaller, maybe three feet wide, but unmistakable. Nancy and your brother had been right. As you leaned down to get a closer look, a vine smacked against the other side of the gate. 

Your heart took off and so did your body, swimming away as fast as you could until you breached the surface. 

“Oh Christ!” You heard Eddie say as they all jumped at your sudden appearance. 

“It’s there.” You said, grabbing a hold of the edge of the boat. “It’s a gate.” You looked at Steve and Robin. “It looks like the one we saw in the tunnels, just smaller.” 

“Great, now you can get out.” Steve said, grabbing a hold of your arm to help pull you back in the boat, anxiety lacing his tone while Robin told Dustin the news over the walkie. 

That was when you felt the first tug. It dragged you under for the briefest moment before you kicked it off, and you didn’t even have another second to react. All you did was share a glance with Steve, who looked increasingly panicked, and then you were dragged under again. You felt Steve above the water still holding onto you, trying his best to pull you out, but your hand was wet, and slid right out of his grasp. 

It was like two years ago. You felt the vine wrapping around your ankle, dragging you down faster than you could ever hope to swim, and a scream left your throat as you tried to find anything to grab a hold of, but no matter how hard you tried the gate keep getting closer and closer until it spat you out on the other side, still dragging you along as you screamed and your fingers tried to find purchase on something, anything to stop you. 

A big huff of air left you as your back slammed into something and the vine had to let go. You kept your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath for a moment, when your brain caught up with the sounds surrounding you. 

You had never been to the Upside Down. The closest you had ever gotten was senior year when you, Steve and the rest of the kids had set fire to that hub. Without opening your eyes, you knew this was worse. The sounds, the smells, all of it was so . . . wrong, and when you did open your eyes . . . The world was too. It was dark . . . desolate . . . You could almost feel the hopelessness that hung in the air. You stood up on shaky legs, thunder crackling and the sky flickering with clouds of red lightning. A screech of a creature behind you had you turning around, terrified of what you might find there, and you saw what looked to be some sort of bird or bat flying towards you. 

Then you heard the sound again, and again. Everywhere you turned those creatures were headed in your direction and all you could think was run. 

You didn’t get very far before a tail wrapped around your neck. You screamed again, clawing at it violently as the force of it tugged you to the ground. No matter how hard you tried, the creature's grip only became tighter and you began to choke, your eyes widening as you caught sight of more of the creatures surrounding your body. You yanked harder at the tail around your neck when pain exploded through your stomach. 

Looking down in horror you saw the bat-like creature stabbing into your skin and attempted to slap it away to have another one do the same to your opposite side. You kicked and thrashed every way possible trying to dislodge the creatures, but it was no use. As soon as you knocked one off, another would attack from the opposite side. You screamed, tears of pain streaming down your face as you tried to fight them off.

You couldn't die like this. You had to help save Max and Eddie . . . You had to lounge around your room with Robin and laugh at everything even when it wasn’t that funny . . . You had to play Dungeons and Dragons with Dustin again . . . You had to tell Steve you loved him every day for the rest of your life . . . 

Another choked scream of pain and terror left your throat as you looked down at the creatures eating your flesh, when suddenly, one was knocked away. 

You looked up to see all of them. Steve, Eddie, Robin and Nancy. They had all dived in after you. 

And the fighting began. 

Steve was vicious. You’d never seen him that violent before as he yelled at Robin to stand on the tail of the one that was holding you while he stabbed it over and over again with an oar. Nancy and Eddie tried to keep the bats from the three of you, but when one of them got Nancy in the back, Robin had to help. 

Tossing the oar he had been using to Nancy, Steve landed beside you, tugging at the tail again, and finally the two of you were able to make it release you. Taking deep gasps of breath you watched as he held the tail tight in his hands and used all his strength to throw the bat against the ground over and over, and the bastard still wasn’t dying. With shaky hands, you grabbed the broken top half of Eddie’s oar, and the next time Steve threw the bat down you stabbed it with all the strength you had, holding it in place while Steve literally ripped it in half. 

There was a beat of dead silence for a moment, and then you were wrapped up in his arms. You clung onto him with everything you had, sobs racking your tired throat as Steve held you, his hand cradling the back of your head while your face hid in his shoulder. God you had almost lost him. You’d almost lost everyone. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” You cried, needing to get the words out. You weren’t sure if you’d told him today, or if he could even understand you with the way you were hysterically crying, but you vowed never to let there be a day when he didn’t hear those words again. 

His arms gripped you so close you could barely breathe, rocking you back and forth as he held you. “I know, I know. I love you too. So damn much.” 

You pulled back for the briefest moment so you could kiss him, desperate to feel his lips on yours and reassure yourself that you were still alive. He was here, you were here, and you were both breathing. Judging by the way he kissed you back, his need was as extreme as yours, his fingers digging into you so hard it was painful, but you didn’t dare want him to stop. 

The sound of the creatures made you flinch, pulling away from his lips and clinging to Steve’s chest as he helped you to your feet. There were more. At least six or seven, and they landed around the gate, blocking all of you from going back out. 

“All right. There’s not that many. We can take them.” Steve said, his arm wrapped protectively around you. 

Then you all caught sight of the swarm. “You were saying?” Robin said. 

Your shaking hand gripped the arm Steve had around you. “We’ve gotta get out of here.” You said, your eyes locked on the bats, panic rising in your throat once again. 

“The woods!” Nancy said, and you all turned around to see what she was referring to. “Come on!” She took off running.

Steve glanced at you, a question in his eyes, and you nodded. You could make it. The two of you took off running after her, Steve holding your hand in his grip as Eddie and Robin trailed behind you. 

You didn’t start to feel weird until the five of you were hiding under the Upside Down’s version of skull rock. The adrenaline had started to wear off on your body, and you could feel any ounce of energy that you had fading away as the swarm of bats flew overhead, all heading to the gate. Dizziness started to make the ground in front of you fuzzy, and you squeezed Steve’s hand, trying to focus on something else. 

“Okay, that was close.” 

“Yeah, too close.” 

It was Robin and Eddie talking, you could tell that much, but it sounded like they were underwater. Taking a deep breath, you let Steve pull you out from under the rock, and immediately the world went out of focus. You felt yourself start to stumble, but Steve grabbed you moments before you hit the ground. “Woah, I got you.” He said, and you grabbed a hold of his biceps, using them to steady yourself. 

“I’m losing too much blood,” You admitted, after you felt steady enough to look up at him. “I need to stop the bleeding or - or you guys are going to have to carry me around on your backs everywhere.” You said, able to muster the smallest grin as you slid down to the ground. 

“We’d do it for you, sweetheart.” Eddie said, giving you a grin as well, but you could see the worry in his eyes as he glanced down at all the blood on your shirt. 

Steve sat down on his knees in front of you, his hands gentle as they tugged on the bottom of your tank top. “I need to see -”

“How bad it is?” You interrupted with a hoarse chuckle. “I thought I was the future doctor here, Harrington?” 

“You really do have the worst timing for jokes, you know that?” He said, shaking his head at you as he started to ease your shirt away from your skin. 

Eddie turned away, attempting to give you some privacy, and your humor faded at the pain as the shirt tugged at your shredded skin. You let out a breath that sounded more like a hiss that made him stop, but you gestured for him to keep going. You needed to know how bad it was too. 

And it was bad. “Shit,” Steve said once he had gotten the bloody tank top over your head and onto the ground. 

You were going to need stitches. Several stitches actually, and while every building that existed in your Hawkins also existed in the Upside Down, there was no chance you were going to use any sort of medical equipment from here to try and heal you. 

Steve’s hands hovered over your wounds, and it was then that you noticed they were shaking. “What-what can I do?” He asked, looking at you. 

“I need to stop the bleeding.” You said, glancing around. “Do we have anything we can -”

“Here.” Nancy was already tearing at part of her shirt, and you spared her a smile. 

“So the good news is I’m pretty sure wooziness is not a symptom of rabies.” Robin spoke up, and she bent down beside Steve. “But if you start having hallucinations or muscle spasms, or you start feeling aggressive, like you wanna punch me, let me know.” 

You had to admit, the thought of rabies hadn’t occurred to you, but that was a worry you didn’t have time for right now. “Robin, if I had rabies, symptoms wouldn’t be setting in this quickly.” You told her. 

“What if I kinda want to punch you?” Steve said, clearly irritated  that she had brought up another thing for him to worry about. 

“I’ll chalk it up to stress.” She replied, but then turned her focus back to you. “You know - it’s - It’s not so bad when you look closer?” She said, giving you a lopsided smile that wasn’t even remotely convincing. 

You shook your head at her. “You’re a terrible liar.” 

By this time Nancy had finished tearing off the fabric and handed it to Steve. She gave Robin a look, and the two of them left to give you and Steve some privacy. 

“You’ve got to tie it around me tight, okay? It’s the only way to stop the bleeding.” You told him, placing your hands on his shoulders in anticipation of the pain this was going to cause. 

He frowned, but nodded, stretching the fabric out in his hands. “You ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” You replied, sitting up on your knees and biting your lip as he wrapped the fabric around you. It hurt like hell, but you allowed yourself a tiny whimper as he secured the fabric. 

Of course he noticed as soon as you did and stopped, leaning back to look at your face. “Is it too tight?” 

You shook your head. “The tighter the better.” 

At your words, he went back to work, tying off the fabric and leaning back to look at you once more. Once he seemed satisfied, he looked down next to you and your ripped shirt, and didn’t hesitate for a second to pull off his sweater, gently putting it over your head and tugging it down your body before you could even protest. The scent of him blocked out everything else and you let out a sigh as he pulled you close once again, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead that sent tension melting from your body. “I thought I was scared shitless this morning when I got to Reefer Rick’s and all the cop cars were there.” Steve said, his voice as gentle as his kiss. “That was nothing compared to just then.” He took a deep breath as you wrapped your arms around him, and his nose bumped against yours. “I thought I lost you.” 

“I thought I lost you.” You whispered back. “I thought I lost everyone.” God, you had never been more terrified in your life. “I fucking hate this place Steve.” You told him, tears filling up your eyes as you looked at him, thinking about how close you had come to never being able to look into his eyes again and see that deep love that he had for you there. 

Steve brushed away the tears that had started to fall down your face. “We’re going to get out of here baby.” He said with conviction, kissing you on the forehead once more. “If I have to take on every one of those damn bats by myself, I’m getting us home.” 

You held him tighter, hoping to God he was right.