#that she's not alone ... and she isn't cold-hearted‚ either | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lalunanymph · 1 year ago

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୨୧ zayne decides to take matters into his own hands when he notices you've been neglecting your health lately

✧･ﾟboyfriend!zayne, fem!reader, established relationship, mentions of food, reader neglects her health, reader calls zayne 'sir' once, spanking, soft dom!zayne -> lifestyle dom!zayne, light Dom/sub elements, swearing, unprotected s[e]x, petnames (my aurora, my darling), thigh humping, size kink

✧･ﾟthought about lifestyle doms from an anon's ask and suddenly this idea came to me about zayne doubling down on making sure you're taking care of your health ugh i need this man biblically

The life of a Hunter is anything but easy, and Zayne knows that well.

However, he can't help the feelings that surface every time he sees you coming back home, tired and even more worn down than when you had given him a goodbye kiss this morning.

And this isn't the first time, either.

He notices—he always does. It's in his very nature to be trained to catch even the slightest deviation of the norm; a blip in your composure, your routine.

Nowadays, you were sleeping for 4 hours max, pushing your body everyday at work until bruises litter your limbs; skipping meals to hand in Jenna's reports before the stipulated deadline, barely finishing up your 500ml water bottle he so diligently helps to fill up every morning...

... and all of it piles onto the guilt he feels when he realizes how little he can do to take care of you.

It festers and festers and festers till he snaps the very second you come back home, exhausted and puckering your lips for his usual welcome back kiss.

"No."

It breaks his heart—truly, it does—to see the hurt shining in your eyes.

Why? You struggle to understand why he's being so cold all of a sudden. From warm snuggles to an icy cold glare—Zayne's mood shift was scaring you.

Instead of answering, he goes into the kitchen and reappears a second later, holding a cup of water.

"Drink this all up and then I'll kiss you."

His tone is deadpan, sharp green eyes never losing their sternness.

To add insult to the injury, he scoffs, "Your breath probably smells after a whole day of not drinking water. The bacteria on your tongue alone could kill off a mouse."

You gape, affronted. "Hey! Don’t be mean—"

"Drink. Up." He leaves no room for you to argue; to huff your disbelief. Deciding to not be too difficult, especially when you've already had a hard day at work, you gulp down the water dutifully; a little too quickly until you choke and he pats your back.

Once your coughing fit subsides, he tilts your head up, and like the first touch of cool morning dew on skin, his lips meet yours.

"More," you mumble, nails sinking into his soft dark hair, tugging slightly on his roots to voice your need.

Something about your sweet primary care physician boyfriend who's always yielding and gentle—restraining you from indulging in him until you did, as he said—made you throb all over.

Zayne's minty cool breath fans across your face, his voice smooth as dark chocolate when he whispers, "You need to eat first. I know you haven't had a full meal today."

Rubbing your nose against his, you whine. "If I do eat, can you kiss me more?"

In answer, Zayne wraps his arms tightly around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "Of course," he mumbles into your skin. "I'll give you so many kisses till you're sick of them."

Never, you thought. You would never get over the feeling of his lips on yours. Or the rough rasp of his palm on your thigh, gently kneading the flesh as you quickly ate the meal he cooked.

If you thought his spur of tough love would end after tonight, you were sorely mistaken.

Kisses held hostage turn into refusals of even hugging you until you promise to finish your lunch at work.

You feel Tara's stare burning holes into your side profile, brows crinkled as she looks past her desktop at your antics.

Today, your phone leans against your monitor, and you were taking huge bites of the noodle dish Zayne prepared the night before.

"Filming a mukbang?" Tara inquires innocently.

You shake your head, expression sour. "No," you quickly swallow your bite of food, and fix her with a look that speaks volumes. "Zayne."

"Ah."

Tara nods. "Dating a doctor isn't easy. I bet he tells you to pay attention to your health all the time, huh? But, you know what they say—an apple a day keeps the doctor away. At least, he'll stay off your case if you take care of yourself."

Only she could make it sound so easy.

When you were called into the city to investigate a strange flux pattern, you had forgotten to let Zayne know you weren't coming home in time for dinner.

How were you to know that the very second you stepped foot at home, he was already waiting with a scowl in place?

"Zayne—" you start when you see him leaning against the kitchen doorframe, expression impassive.

He shushes you, tall and imposing; still in his pristine work suit from today.

"Have you at least had something to eat in the last 6 hours?"

Remembering the little pact you both made, you nod quickly. "Mhm hmm! All my food is finished—cross my heart." You even remove your container from its insulated bag, shaking it lightly. "See? All empty."

A shadow of a smile graces his lips. "Good. And how many cups of water did you drink?"

Immediately, the smile drops from your face. "Uh... one? maybe two. I can't remember..."

The look in his eyes would've made you shrink away, if you couldn't already predict your boyfriend's next words.

"You are highly irresponsible with your own health, my darling."

You wait for him to nag, but back up when he starts to approach you; the look on his face is unreadable.

"What do I do with you, Y/N?" he sighs, and before you can react, cages you against the wall. The smell of his cologne—fresh and expensive—invades your nostrils.

Your head spins, all the blood going straight to your toes; your stomach falling when he leans forward, lips right at your ear.

"I guess I have to force you to take your health seriously. How do you think I will do that?"

Zayne doesn't wait for you to answer. In one swift move, he has you in his arms, using his strength to carry you into the bedroom.

"Zayne," you squeak and gasp when he tosses you onto the bed.

The mattress dips under his weight, his face inches from yours. Despite the change in his behavior, you tilt your lips up, needy and ready to feel his kisses.

But, he never gives it to you.

Instead, his large hands pin your wrists to the headboard, those sharp green eyes peering at you through half-mast lids.

Zayne licks his lips, and subconsciously, you track the minute movement, biting on your own lower lip.

The air turns heavier; sweetened with the promise of an unforgettable night.

You accidentally tick your hips up, catching the front of his slacks. Your eyes widen when you feel an unmistakable bulge digging right into your crotch; Zayne's loss of composure pushing right into the heat of your thighs, demanding for your attention.

In contrast, his expression doesn't change; an almost bored emerald gaze fixed on your every reaction.

"You do know what will happen tonight, right?"

Trying hard not to shiver, you nod.

"Yes," you mumble, suddenly meek.

"Yes, what?"

You swallow, darting your gaze over his shoulder. He grunts, squeezing down on your wrists with enough pressure to make it throb, but not enough to leave a bruise.

"Sir!" You yelp. "Y-yes, Sir."

One corner of his mouth ticks, and exhales a short huff. "Good. You still have your manners intact, I see."

Leaning up, he unbuttoned his vest. Using one hand to gather your wrists together, the free one was left to tug on his tie; Windsor knot giving way to a strip of his pale skin.

You eyed the expanse of his neck hungrily; unabashed, even when his lips curl into a sinful smile.

“It seems like someone here has missed me,” Zayne whispers, and you fight back a shiver when he leans in, close enough for his breath to stir the loose locks on your cheeks.

“I’m… sorry,” was all you could offer him weakly. Zayne’s thin lips curl into a smirk. At this point, you weren’t even sure why he wasn’t fucking you yet—what he was waiting for. “Please…” without a second thought, you clip your hips against his, trying to ease the tension between your thighs. “I need you, Zayne.”

His grunt was low—a warning. “Do you think you deserve it? I can’t keep reminding you to put yourself first, my darling. What if I’m gone? What would you do?”

Even though it was a hypothetical question, your chest couldn’t help but squeeze at the thought of a Zayne-less life. You would rather feed yourself to a Wanderer than go a day without him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, earnest this time. “I was careless. I should’ve listened to you. I… I’ll try my best to take care of myself.”

Zayne gives you a look, like he doesn’t believe you for a single second. It has you scrambling your ringing mind to say something else.

But, before you do, the world tilts, and you’re in his lap. Zayne’s lips were an inch away from yours. You zero in on them. Missing how they would feel gently slotted against your own—when you disregard the hesitation to plant your mouth on his.

Patiently, like a martyr or a long suffering saint, Zayne lets you kiss him. He doesn’t respond back, at least not like what you expect.

No flames, no passion. It was as good as kissing a stone statue.

There was no yield in his gaze; those flinty green eyes refusing to thaw.

You repress a full body shiver.

Suddenly, the coolness of the room becomes more pronounced. You feel the chill on your skin, where his long fingers wrap around your fleshy hips spilling past the Hunter-standard pants.

“I should punish you for that.”

A flurry of movement. Your face meets the downy mattress, mouthful of cotton stoppering your protests.

Sharp, stinging pain explodes across your ass. The sound of a large palm meeting skin echoes around the room again; your surprised yelp bouncing from wall to wall.

Soothingly, he rubs the ache from your tender globes, and in a voice dripping with sympathy, whispers, “I apologize for having to do this, my Aurora.”

Your back arches, the sudden awareness of your vulnerability penetrating your fuzzy mind. Pinned to the bed, his bigger frame pressing down on yours—you were trapped in the eye of a frigid storm.

“Zayne,” you whine, too aware of how warm his body felt on yours.

I promise to take care of you, his voice rings in your head. Of memories during summer nights, skin stuck to skin, your head on his chest. I can’t lose you—not to the Wanderers or your own carelessness.

Zayne ceaselessly kept that promise—his devotion unmatched. And you were carelessly throwing it away every single day, right in his face. Denying his care, his treatment.

It all became clear to you in that split second.

He was past waiting for your excuses and apologies; all he wants is to make sure you never forget yourself ever again.

Zayne props you on his lap once more, leaning back against the headboard.

“I want you to cum—”

It’s embarrassing how quickly you perk up only to be let down when he disclaims his generosity with a contradictory footnote.

“—without my help.”

He rests his head back, the arch of his neck tempting you to plant kisses down the pale stretch of skin; his Adam’s apple bobbing. The silence grows; you feel like you could suffocate from the chill spreading between your two tense bodies.

You shift forward, incredulous. “What the heck do you mean by that?”

Zayne flickers his gaze to where your crotch snugly fits on top of his thigh. “You’re a smart girl… I’m sure you will figure it out soon.”

You huff, a pout pushing your displeasure right into his face.

“You’re mean. I already said I was sorry.”

But, he wasn’t going to budge. If there was one thing Zayne would never compromise on, it was caring for you. Sometimes, it scared you—how utterly serious he took his job as your caretaker in and out of the hospital walls.

No amount of reasoning could change his mind. It was either you play his game, or walk away with that pit gnawing right at the bottom of your stomach—unfulfilled and gaping.

You lean back. Friction, burning hot, zings up your spine, and suddenly, what he wants you to do clicks in.

“Oh.”

You swallow. Outside, rain begins to splatter on the windowpane. The world goes blue and dark, holding its breath in tandem with yours.

Locking your hands on his shoulders, you lean forward. Then, shift back. And do it again and again until you feel the heat burning you up; razing your self control down to ashes as you let out a small, shaky moan.

“Good girl,” Zayne whispers into the dark of your room. “You’re so pretty like this—getting off on my thigh.”

You peel your teary eyes onto his softening ones. His jaw clenches, and a vein throbs in his temple. He fights back the urge to thrust up—to meet your sensual grinding. It was a losing battle. Every needy whimper slipping past your wet lips sends a pleasurable jolt to his cock. But, he can’t give in just yet. You had to learn your lesson the hard way.

There’s an indecent spot of wetness staining his slacks. The dark material of your pants hides your arousal well, but Zayne can practically smell you.

Sweet musk and a fragrant vanilla.

His heart thrums wildly, staccato beats that match the constant pulsing of his aching cock.

I need her so badly. He wants nothing more than to be buried in you; to watch you fall apart under his tender care.

Every mellifluous whimper dripping from your lax mouth makes him see stars; coated with ecstasy, your eagerness continues to seep into the expensive fabric of his slacks.

Zayne makes a mental note to get it dry cleaned at his earliest convenience.

It should’ve annoyed him—this extra chore on his already burdened shoulders. But, he doesn’t care much for the cost of sending his expensive, tailored suits to the best dry cleaners in Linkon City.

He would let you squirt all over them ten times over if it meant he could bring you to your zenith of pleasure and back.

Those beautiful emerald eyes never leave yours; devouring every reaction. Studying your shifts and dips. Calculating his next move in his head.

You might’ve thought Zayne was hewn from rock with how quiet he was.

But, if you would look closer, you would’ve seen how his hands were stuffed into fists right by his side. The shake in his breath when you toss your head back. How he could barely keep his jaw from tightening when you mewl out his name.

I promise to take care of her—no matter what. Caleb and your grandmother were witnesses to his solemn vow.

He would keep his word. Do everything in his power to keep their precious girl in line—even if she thought it was unfair.

“Zayne, please,” you try to beg again. He only scoffs.

Mean. He was so, so mean.

You were aching all over, yearning for it. Needing his touch and attention on your body to drive yourself over the edge.

Unfortunately for you, his self-control is immaculate. It doesn’t fold nor break. In the operation room, and outside of it, his priority was to maintain a level-headed calm wherever he went.

But, inwardly, with you on his lap; all pouty, kissable lips and pussy dripping her excitement on his thigh, Zayne finds his famed composure cracking under the weight of your desire.

“Zayne,” you hiccup. “Please. Please. Touch me.”

Large, veiny hands grip your thighs, dragging you close.

His mouth finally presses on yours, and it feels like a sparked flame striking near a mountain of straw.

He tries to keep his wits—he really does. Reminds himself not to indulge you again; to finally make you see how much he cares for you through this cruel game.

Like a fluctuation cutting through permanent winds that flow steadfastly North, only you had the power to sway his decisions.

"Zayne," you moan into his mouth.

Then, in an instant, the flame sparks. The mountain of dry yearning goes up.

Every carefully constructed ploy is destroyed.

Zayne kisses you like his life depended on it. Messy, clacking teeth, spit mixing and running down chins; hot hands grappling any inch of skin available.

Your clothes were pushed off your body and onto the floor. Zayne’s luxurious vest and button down shirt was almost torn from his body by your eager hands.

The bare lines of his torso and muscular thighs fit perfectly with yours, his body slotting in between your spread legs.

Sharp lines bloom down his back, your nails dragging down his skin; his eyes almost rolling back into his head when he sinks into your heat.

“Shit,” he cusses, almost inaudible. The sound of wetness meeting in the darkening room, your moans and his heavy pants fill the air.

Good girl. Move your hips like that. You’re doing so well for me. I love you. I love you. If you disobey me again, your punishment will be more severe. You’re everything to me, my Aurora.

“Zayne!” your cry shatters like a bullet unloading from a smoking gun. He almost flinches back when you squeal right in his ear, back tensing and arching like a taut string.

Slipping a hand in between your bodies, he nudges and plays with your clit, drawing your high to an unbearable tension.

He feels your heels digging into his hips, your sweet pussy squeezing down on his length like the world’s most precious love declaration. You bury your face into his neck; feel his pulse fluttering against your lips.

“Inside,” you whimper, as if you could read his mind. “I want you inside, Zayne.”

He grunts, his entire body trembling from the force of the tight band around his lower body.

Zayne ruts up into you, little more than an animal in heat—the ridges and bumps of your pussy gets him in a higher state of mind, delirious enough to start moaning shamelessly.

You grip his face, touching your foreheads together. Zayne’s lips find yours, and within that split second you believe something fundamentally true.

That in every life, every form, every stretch between space and time—you would never forget how his lips feel like on yours.

A shuddering breath right on your neck. The twitch of his cock nudging right on your sweet, golden spot.

You tense, toes curling—

—and shatter around his cock gloriously.

Warmth spreads deep in your body, taking over your toes and fingers. Driving you heady with the taste of him on your tongue.

Zayne finishes inside you, breathing hard against the shell of your ear.

The silence is broken by his soft gasp, and you feel the wet pull of his cock out of your puffy pussy. Immediately, he replaces the emptiness with the full circle of his arms around your tired body.

You sigh, sticky and filled with longing, face protected right in the crook of his neck.

“Zayne?”

“Hmm?”

He plays with a loose lock of your hair. Not one for many words, Zayne’s actions speak louder and sweeter than any poetry you had ever read.

Rolling you over, he hovers close, lips gently brushing your cheeks, temple and finally, your lips.

“I love you,” your confession spurs something primal and tender in his soul. He kisses you once, twice, to wipe out the dark need to claim you again and again until every fiber of your skin is written with his name.

“I love you, too.”

He presses one long kiss onto your forehead and chuckles to himself.

"Come on. Follow me to the kitchen. Don't think I forgot about those 8 glasses of water you didn't drink today..."

a/n: if this man wants me to watch for my health, i'll make sure my medical report comes back with an A+

— feedback and reblogs are loved in this house iykyk

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, translate, or claim as your own.

#need him in my guts. expeditiously 🙏🏼#zayne x reader #zayne smut #zayne x you #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #lads #🦢 writes

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dolche-tejada · 7 months ago

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You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he has Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best our MC could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

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rosenclaws · 6 months ago

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unworthy || worst!Logan x reader

summary: Even though he's in a new universe his past continues to haunt him in the form of you. You're nothing but nice but Logan can't take it, not after you died by his hands in his own universe.

warnings: reader has she/her pronouns, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, flashbacks of blood and death. Logan gets brainwashed/manipulated in his past, emotionally unavailable Logan.

a/n: I saw that one tiktok prompt and decided to write this! I really like angst and low key might write a smutty part 2 but we will see! I hope you like it thank you!!!

It's another sleepless night for Logan. He's been having a lot of those lately. Wade's couch isn't exactly comfortable either. Everyone here treats him like a hero. Praising him for saving their universe. He scoffs at the idea. He wears the damn costume but he doesn't feel like a hero. Not after what he did.

Logan stands up from the couch, throwing off the blanket and deciding he needs some air. He grabs his jacket and leaves the apartment. The door closes loudly behind him but he can't seem to care. He fidgets with a cigar as he waits for the elevator to bring him to the ground floor.

When the cool outside air hits his face he relaxes. With a finally lit cigar, he walks around aimlessly. The sounds of his past haunt him with every passing second. Sure he may have saved this world but he is far from the hero they think he is.

"Logan? What are you doing?" He closes his eyes as he hears your voice from behind.

He glances over his shoulder to see you wrapped up in a blanket, a tired look on your face. It's early, the sun isn't even up yet and you're clearly exhausted. Yet here you are, out in the cold for him. He grunts in response, turning back around. He hears you sigh and it makes his stomach turn. He waits for you to turn around and go back inside but you don't. To his frustration you stay, you can't seem to take the damn hint.

You never have, he's tried to stay away from you. Ignore you. But you're so persistent. Stubborn. It doesn't matter how little he speaks to you or even looks at you, you don't give up. How he wishes you would. How he wishes you could understand that he needs you to stay far away from him. That just looking at you hurts. Hearing your voice is even worse. And being next to you is a knife through his heart.

It's not fair that you're here, haunting him in this universe as you did in his own. Though he thinks it might just be his punishment for everything he's done. How cruel.

"Go back to bed." He grumbles, his voice is slightly muffled by the cigar in his mouth.

"No." You say simply. Staying right next to him, looking up at the sky as the sun starts to peek out. He stares at you in disbelief. Wordlessly he stomps out his cigar and turns to leave.

"Logan, wait!" You call after him and he clenches his jaw. Why do you have to follow him? Why are you chasing him? His hurt builds until all he can feel is white hot rage.

"For fucks sake! Can't you just fuck off?" His growls. "I am sick and tired of seeing you everywhere I fucking go! So please, just take the fucking hint and leave. Me. Alone." Venom dripping with every word. He watches you shrink under his angry gaze.

Words dying on your lips as you tighten the blanket around yourself. His chest heaves as his anger starts to dissipate. He watches your eyes grow glassy and your lip quiver ever so slightly.

"I..I'm sorry." You mumble out an apology before running past him. Guilt creeps up inside of him but he doesn't let it show. It's better this way. That's what he repeats over and over. Trying to convince himself it's true.

You don't understand what you've done to piss off Logan this much. To make him hate you the way he does. All you wanted was to befriend him, to help him. That's what you did with your Logan. His first friend in the X mansion all those years ago. Sure your Logan was just as untrusting and gruff at first but he learned to accept his family. He changed. Maybe it's your fault for thinking it would be the same. He's not your Logan. You have to remind yourself of that.

He looks just like him though. Talks like him, even smells like him. Your Logan yelled and had his moments but he always came back, pulling you tight and apologizing. But the anger in his eyes is something you'll never forget. He's not your Logan and he never will be. After that night you make a point to stay out of his way. Refusing Wade's dinner invitations and waiting until odd hours to leave your apartment, not wanting to even risk seeing him out in the hallways.

Eventually you ran out of excuses that Wade would accept and you were dragged back to his apartment for Mary Puppins' birthday party. At least the apartment was busy. You awkwardly stand in the corner of the room as they sing Happy Birthday. Logan and Wade are surrounded by everyone with Mary Puppins in Wade's arms. A little birthday hat on her head and somehow Wade got on on Logan's head.

As Wade gives a long, heartfelt speech about Mary and you grimace as she licks his face. Logan lets out a noise of disgust as stares at the two of them. You let out a little laugh, thinking you were being quiet enough but Logan's eyes snap to you. Nerves creeps over you as he refuses to look away. Without another word you set you cup down and leave.

Logan wanted space, so that's what you're giving him.

Logan watches you leave, a pang in his chest as he watches the joy fade from your face.

"God it's like watching a wet cat stare into the window of a loving home." Wade shakes his head disappointingly.

"Shut up." Logan growls.

"Hey don't get mad at me. I'm not the one who lashed out due to my inability to process my emotions." Logan raises his fist and unsheathes his claws.

Deep down he knows Wade is right, but he'll never admit it. Instead he puts his claws away and rips off the party hat. He weaves through the party guests to get to the door.

"Go get her Crocodile Dundee!" Wade shouts but Logan ignores him.

He knocks on your door but you don't answer. His heart begins to sink as he realizes that maybe he's pushed you too far. All he has to blame is himself. He's hurt you yet again. A part of him tells him to turn and leave. Just give up and accept his fate. But He waits and waits.

There's a small part of him keeping him rooted to the spot outside of your door, telling him that this time he can make it right. People trickle out of his apartment but he pays them no attention. Hours pass and still no sign of you. Still he remains determined. He closes his eyes and leans back. Ready to wait as long as it takes.

The morning after Wade's party sucks. You feel like shit, physically and mentally. You barely got enough sleep last night with your mind running all night. Sighing you decide the only thing that can salvage your morning is a donut. Though when you go to open your door, you're met with a very heavy resistance.

"What the?" You mumble as you push hard against the door. You hear someone swear before shuffling on the other side. When you can finally open your door all the way you see Logan standing in front of you. Was he out here all night?

"What do you want?" You ask tiredly. You're really not in the mood to deal with him right now.

"I..." Logan doesn't know where to start. How to even begin to apologize. Sighing you close your door but Logan sticks his arm out.

"Wait! Please, just, I need to say some things. You don't have to forgive me but I need to say them." Silently you open your door and let him in. He watches nervously as you make your way to your couch.

"You're dead in my world." He winces at his own bluntness.

"And I killed you." Logan paces back and forth as he tries to piece together his nightmares.

"It was supposed to be a simple mission. Recon. I don't even go on those kinds of missions but I didn't want you going alone." He squeezes his eyes shut as he remembers.

"Logan!" You scold lightly.

"Keep your hands to yourself." He smirks as he walks you up against the walls of the jet.

"You don't normally complain about where my hands go." Rolling your eyes playfully, you place a kiss on his cheek.

"Just wait till after the mission okay?" He winks and pulls you in for a kiss.

"Fine, but after this I get you all to myself."

"We walked in and everything went wrong."

Something was wrong and he knew it. Still you insisted on finishing your mission. The moment you stepped through the door he wanted to take you and run. He should have. But he acted too late. The things he saw, A wall separating the two of you. Hearing your screams for help as he couldn't get to you.

"Well well, aren't you an interesting one." He looks around for the voice but all he can see is darkness. His claws swipe at the wall as he hears your voice pleading for his help. Suddenly the wall lifted and all he could see was someone with a gun to your head. He doesn't hesitate to jump into action. Fighting with everything he's got.

"Logan!" Your scream sounds far away as he shoves his claws deep into the man's stomach.

To his confusion the world begins to melt around him. To his horror he sees you standing in front of him. Cuts and bruises on your face, not caused by the enemies, but by him.

"It's okay," You whisper. Your hands shake as you try to reach out for his face. He doesn't want to look down, knowing that if he does, he'll see his claws deep in your stomach. Slowly your body sinks to the ground. His claws retract and you cry as they leave your body. He wraps his arms around you as you grow weak in his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He repeats over and over again. His hands press on your stomach and you groan in pain. There's too much blood but he doesn't care. He can fix this, he can save you.

"Logan, It's okay my love." You brush his face with your bloody hand.

"No! I can fix this! We just have to get you home yeah?" He tries to move you but you scream in pain. It's too late, you've accepted it but he can't seem to.

"Come on sweetheart, please." He pleads desperately as he brings your body closer to him.

"Please, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," It's getting harder to breathe but strangely you're completely at peace. Logan doesn't understand how you can be.

"I'm sorry, I love you." He doesn't let go of you, repeating that like a mantra as you die in his arms.

"I killed you, I let whatever fucking asshole inside of my head and I killed you." He stops pacing and finally looks at you.

He blinks and it's like he's back in his nightmare. Blood on your face, a pitiful look on your face as you try and comfort him in your last moments. It makes him sick.

"I saw you everywhere I went, I let it ruin me. I became the monster you said I could never be." You reach out of him but he recoils from your touch.

"Then Wade found me and now I'm here thinking maybe I had changed but now you're fucking here. I see you every time I close my eyes and now I see you here." His claws come out in a fit of anger as he slams his hands against the arm of your couch.

"And you're so nice, too nice. You look at me just like she did and it kills me inside." His claws retract as he slowly approaches you.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, I don't deserve this. Any of this." Tears pool in your eyes as you watch the man break down right in front of you. Weighed down by the guilt of his past. Things begin to click together, why he's been so hostile towards you all this time.

"Logan, what happened isn't your fault." You say calmly. His breath hitches, you sound just like you did back then. Same tone and everything.

"If I was stronger, smarter..."

"You were tricked, it was an accident." You slowly move closer to him, worried that you'd scare him like a wounded animal.

"How can you be so kind about this?" He asks in disbelief.

"I killed you!" His claws come out as he brings them dangerously close to your face.

"I put my claws through you, I watched you bleed out in my arms." You gently touch his claws, moving them away from your face and bringing his hand to your chest. He resists, not wanting to touch you. Not wanting to hurt you

"I'm not her Logan. I'm here, I'm alive. You don't have to push me away." His eyes close as relents and places his hand on your heart. The steady beating grounds him back to reality. His memories slowly fade as he listens. Now only focused on you.

Ba bump Ba bump Ba bump

"I know you think you deserve the worst. But you don't. Maybe, maybe this isn't the punishment you think it is. Maybe, the universe is giving you a do over.” You two know that you're different from the ones that you loved. That no matter how much you look like each other, its never going to be the same. But the same for both of you means death, loneliness. So maybe this is a good different.

“You’ve always been too good for me.” He says.

“No, I think I’ve always been what you needed.” Logan lets go of you but he stays close.

His thumb reaches out to brush away a stray tear. He cups your face and leans in slowly. He seems reluctant to take the final leap. To truly accept that he deserves good things so you meet him half way. Tugging at his shirt you bring your lips to his.

It's soft and sweet. Like a first kiss you share on the front steps of your porch after a first date. A first kiss, a fresh start. Logan deepens the kiss, guiding you gently to the couch. His lips travel down to your neck, nipping at your skin as he mumbles apologies.

"Logan," You squeak. He sits up, worry on his face.

"Too much?" He runs his hand over where he bit.

"No, but maybe we start slower. Breakfast?" Logan almost laughs at the idea of something so domestic but a fresh start is what he wanted. It's what he's gotten and he's not going to waste it.

"Yeah, breakfast sounds good."

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #worst!logan howlett #worst!logan howlett x reader

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prael · 1 year ago

Text

c'est la vie - Kim Minju

Part 3 of folie à deux.

IZ*ONE Kim Minju x Male reader smut. (ft. a sprinkle of Wonyoung)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Masterlist word count: 10,553

c'est la vie - that's life

"I'm so fucked."

Fists clenched and eyes scrunched, you’re venting out loud to no one in particular. You repeat it, "I'm so fucked." Louder this time—to the sky. Well, more accurately, to the plastered ceiling of this little hole-in-the-wall. Either way, the solution isn't there.

It isn't at the bottom of a bottle either, but you're determined to find that out the hard way.

"Is there a friend I can call for you?" The woman behind the bar has stopped polishing off the glasses; interrupted by what she would say are the ramblings of a madman.

"There's no coming back from this." You throw your head forward, catching it in your now open hands, elbows resting on the wooden bar top.

"Sir? I'm going to call you a—"

"I don't need a cab." You draw your head from your hands and open your eyes—allowing the light to pour onto you from one of those little round lights above you. The drink sits in front of you, unfinished. Hard liquor in a tumbler just waiting to be thrown back like the three before it—a plea you can’t ignore. The large ice cube rests against your nose as you pour every last drop onto your tongue and swallow. "I do need another drink."

With the glass set back down, your body slouches and sinks. Eyes stare down at the empty glass and your face is cold to the world, cold to the woman across from you. You must reek of self-pity, the smell thick in the air.

Let’s be honest, you've had far better days.

She's got her delicate fingers around the neck of the bottle, pouring you a fresh drink and placing it on a napkin, "you know, you're not the first person to stumble into this bar wearing a face like that."

You slide your eyes over to the glass and reach for it. "I highly doubt it."

"But, few of them show up this early, even if it is a Friday." She has a point: you’re propping up the bar alone and drowning your sorrows solo. In fact, there are only two other people in this whole place, sitting together at a table. "So what’s your story?"

"Does there have to be one?" You grip the glass in your hand, giving the stranger the best smile you can fake.

She steps back and brushes her hand on her trousers as she laughs, "I've seen many broken men and women sit at this bar and spend too many hours drinking their life savings, with hearts broken, dreams smashed and most of all, mistakes they regretted. But you seem different."

"Oh really, why's that?" Your eyes stare into your drink. It stares right back at you.

"You're still young."

"Does being broken have an age requirement?"

She shifts and reaches for something, something you can't quite make out, being locked in the most intimate of stares with your drink. It’s the sound of her placing down another fresh glass that gives it away. "Actually, yes. Because you've still got time to work with."

"That's the irony. All I have left is time."

“Then you have to believe in yourself to make the most of that time.” Her words are heavy, like their meaning holds weight within her too.

She lets you dwell on it for a moment while she pours her own drink. She settles herself against the bar top, across from you, resting her head in one open hand. Her gaze burns into you like sitting in the sun. You can feel something else too, a soft vibration in your pocket.

You finally break away from your staring contest with your drink—one you lost anyway—to fish your phone out of your pocket. The screen alights with Gaeul’s name and is followed by the words ‘1 new message’.

After a swipe, it reads, ‘wtf where are you? what happened?’ but the thought of sending a reply never crosses your mind. And, just in case, you switch it over to silent.

“Is that her?” The woman gently waves a slender finger towards your phone as you put it back where you found it. “The reason you’re here?”

"Do you press all your customers like this?"

“Only the interesting ones,” she returns her hand to her glass, taking a sip of it before continuing, “and there’s sadly so few of those.”

"And if I'm not as interesting as you think?"

"Then I'll buy you a drink.” She tilts her glass at you. "For the trouble."

"And if I'm fascinating?"

"I'll still buy you a drink." Another sip from her glass as her lip gloss stains the rim, "maybe two."

"Then no, it wasn't her." And here's the thing, you don't know who to blame. Yourself? Probably. Wonyoung? Maybe. The mystery cameraman who got it all on video? Almost definitely.

“But it is another woman, right?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m not exactly rushed off my feet here.”

You sigh, unsure exactly where to begin with this whole mess. The complete story is a long one. You could tell her about your family—the trouble at home and why you had to leave—but that’s not for anyone to know.

"I transferred here. Moved here with my brother. He's at work right now, and he will be late into the evening." You pause to take another drink. Another burning sensation. "To keep food on our table and keep me in college."

Even saying so little it weighs on you, the feelings of regret and the feeling that you're saying too much. You bite your tongue and hesitate.

"So why are you here and… you know... not at college?" She pushes you for more. She flicks a finger towards you with her free hand and then brings her glass to her lips.

You drag your eyes up for the first time and finally inspect the woman across from you.

She's your age, roughly—if you had to guess. She's pretty, and that part you're more confident about. She wears her long brunette hair over one shoulder, running in a loose wave, over her slate black blazer, which sits over a small black tee, cropped at the waist. She smiles when your eyes meet hers. And maybe she had no idea, and perhaps it's all subconscious, but the tips of her slender fingers squeeze slightly against the glass now that you're paying her some attention.

"I never got your name," you say with curiosity laden in your voice.

"Minju."

"And why is a young woman like you working here on a Friday afternoon?"

"Were you not the one telling me about your troubles?" She follows her words with a soft laugh.

"Call it quid pro quo. You answer and then I’ll tell you all about it," you say.

"Fine." She stands back upright, adjusting her blouse with a few gentle touches. The way her finger glides across the collar and tugs at it slightly. It's more than a little distracting. She cuts a sleek hourglass shape out of the shelves of bottled booze behind her. "I'm between gigs right now."

"Gigs?"

"Ah." She waves a finger. "My turn."

Minju tilts her head and then rests her palm against the bar—leaning toward you and eyes focused. It’s like an inspection and you instinctively sit up straighter.

"So why are you here?" she asks.

"Expelled. About..." You bring up your wristwatch into view. "About an hour ago."

Her brows go up a fraction and her eyes narrow on you again, almost as if to accuse you of lying to her. But her expression softens almost instantly. You would never notice if not for watching every second in painstaking detail. Her widening eyes reveal to you the thoughts passing through her mind as she racks her brain for a reason you would be expelled.

"You said that you're between gigs, so what is it you do?" you say, shifting the focus back away from yourself.

"I sing. I dance. I model. I act." She pauses with a bitter look. "However, right now, I serve drinks." You get it; she looks the part. That much is clear. She's far too gorgeous to be spending her time polishing glasses and serving screwdrivers to burnouts at happy hour. She looks every bit like a woman who should be so much more, but this isn't Hollywood, and the storybook tale of the waitress who makes it is so cliché.

You swill the last of your drink around in the glass, watching the little tidal pattern inside. The way the ice cube moves with the current, it hypnotises, entrances. You speak, looking down into the amber-hued ocean within your glass.

"And you have the talent to back up the looks?"

"So they tell me." There's no joy in the words or the tone. No pride or smug sense of achievement. If anything, it's dismissive. “It’s just a slow period. That’s life.”

“C’est la vie.” You catch her gaze as you utter the phrase under your breath.

Minju continues despite you, “but things will turn around soon enough. I'm going places."

"Every actor who is going places never seems to get there." Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's because, right now, you hate this city and everyone in it, but everything that comes out of your mouth is uncharacteristically curt.

And look, you regret it as soon as it leaves your mouth but that doesn't change the way you just dismissed her. It wasn't meant personally, but it's hard to stop your thoughts from curdling into words right now.

Minju is quiet, and the air becomes heavy. You swallow deep and finally look her in the eyes again. There's something there, some little flicker of emotion untold that gives her away for a moment. She is a woman told repeatedly that she has the world at her feet, but the hard truth of it is that she's here, working away behind the bar because, in fact, life is a lot more cruel.

Absorbed by her vulnerability, you feel the need to backtrack, "that's not—"

"So what, you look at me and see nothing but a girl who couldn't cut it?" There's a flash of fire in her eyes. A burn. A spark that sets the sky alight. A very attractive spark.

The way she fires it back. The passion in her words. The tension building between you as your eyes linger on each other.

You can't explain the attraction, but you can certainly feel it.

"No," you fire back without hesitation, leaning towards her, "what I see is a woman working two jobs just to afford a place to live." Your confidence rises with the alcohol pumping its way through your system and you do your damnedest to rescue the situation. "What I see is a girl with stars in her eyes and a dream that somehow she still keeps alive where so many more have given up. I'm not judging."

Silence.

Sudden, silent, and slightly sinister.

"Yeah, you were," Minju's eyebrows arch in amusement, "but that's fine, I'll take my turn now."

As she leans forward, there are words on her tongue. She looks ready to bite back, but she's looking over you, across the room, watching the only other two people in the bar leave. And for a minute, everything is held in suspense, you are locked together in silence, the clap of their shoes echoing through it. Then the sound of the door, and the brief exposure to the outside world, it's the rain pouring and the cars passing by and then it's the slam shut. It's just you and her, Minju, alone under the dim of the lights.

"So what was it?" she finally breaks the silence.

"Hm?"

"What got you expelled?"

You could lie. There's an opportunity for that. But what's the point? Even though she's a stranger, it doesn't feel like there's a risk if you just come clean and spill your dirty little secret, besides, you owe her one now.

"I got caught fucking in the library." The truth comes out plain and simple. It’s a brazen statement to make in the middle of the afternoon to a stranger. Her gaze shoots down at you. Whatever she expected, it wasn't that.

"I’m sorry, you were caught fucking in the library?" She repeats it out quizzically as if she’s taking time to process. Minju has this way of talking—a lilt in her voice. She has a tone and a pitch that rises and falls with each word. She's amused, that much is clear, by the slight smirk that has curled a corner of her mouth to accompany her sound.

"We were alone, or at least we thought we were, and it’s not like we hadn’t done it before, but apparently, there's evidence." You gesture your empty glass at her, a secondary conversation, unspoken but clear that you need another drink before you tell her anything else.

In doing so you see how she tenses her lips together, holding in her laughter at the thought. She’s holding and you’re watching until she finally cracks, her grin wide and laughter loud.

"Now I am the one judging you. You made fun of me for trying while you're too busy swinging your cock around to even try. So, you tell me, who is the stupid one here?"

"Alright I deserved that one." Your hand had been holding the empty glass to her but now you bring it to rest against the bar top. "In my defence, it's not like I had much of a choice. That girl..."

"Here we go. Let's see how you justify this one." She finally takes your empty glass and when the edge of her fingers brushes across the back of your hand, they linger for far too long. And when she draws back, dragging away those long, delicate fingers from your own, you find yourself suddenly cold.

"It's not like I could turn her down if I wanted to. Also I would never have done it in the library if she didn't make me."

"She 'made' you. Go on." There's scepticism in the words. Her mocking tone teasing you as you watch her turn to the shelves behind her, eyes scanning the possibilities.

"No one says no to her. Never."

"Wow, sounds like quite a woman," she says, ever more playful, as she reaches for the top shelf. Her blazer is pulled up now, ever so slightly exposing her back above the waist of her trousers. Trousers hugging the subtle swell of her hips. Her small, tight, round ass is defined through the fitted fabric. You can't look away.

"Everything comes easily for her. There are literally men fighting for her affections. They would die for her," the words tumble from your mouth, as your gaze lingers.

You must have been lost in the daze and absent-mindedly following the contours of her thighs because by the time you shift focus to her face, she's peering at you from over her shoulder. Eyes sharp as daggers, as if to say it’s a little too obvious.

"Wow she sounds like a real piece of work. I know someone like that too. " Minju turns with bottle in hand, hair swirling around her as she does so. She's graceful. Unbothered and unhurried by anything. "This one is perfect. This bottle is older than me."

She pours two fresh drinks with more ice in each.

"Am I going to regret this in the morning?" you question as the weight of the glass finds your hand.

"You might. But at this moment? No."

You trust her, somehow, inexplicably; you do.

She asks, “so, what will you do now?” it’s a question as funny as it is difficult to answer.

The truth is that you haven’t got the slightest clue. You tell her as much and try to explain it as best you can, and her eyes soften as you share the details. It’s supposed to be a back-and-forth—quid pro quo—but she’s pressing you with question after question: how long have you known her? Is she pretty? Where does she see you in all of this?

“You and her. Still a thing?”

Minju is on your side of the bar now, sitting by your side with little caution about personal space; there’s not an inch of space between you. Her thigh presses against you and her upper arm is flush with your own.

"Me and Wonyoung were never a thing, not really."

Minju stops dead and chokes, holding her throat, and forcing the drink down. Her whole body shifts. She nearly falls off the bar stool and, after steadying herself, she stares blankly forwards.

"Wonyoung? Jang Wonyoung?"

"Yeah, her." The new drink meets your lips and its taste is a hell of a lot richer than the cheap stuff you were pouring down. It’s laden with a smoky taste over sweet tones.

There's a silence even after you finish taking a drink. Something untold hangs in the air. You know it. She knows it. She's here on the verge of telling you something, but what? And you sit here and wait, despite the racing of your heartbeat.

"I should have known." Minju shakes her head, laughing, but without a smile.

"Should've known what?"

"You're Wonyoung's new toy. I should have guessed as soon as I saw you, she has this effect on people."

You stiffen at that. It's always the truth that hurts the most and the fact is you really were just a toy. A convenient dildo.

"You know what you need right now?" She twists on the stool, and suddenly, you've got Minju looking straight at you. Eyes locking with you. Right there. Looking up at you. So close. Right there, leaning back ever so slightly so her chest arches towards you, accentuating her small breasts, straining against her shirt.

"Drinking helps," you reply, raising your glass.

"Yes, but so does fucking."

That’s a line. It’s one that shouldn’t come as a surprise because a girl like this probably has a lot of experience in being wanted, so who is to say she can’t turn the table for once? But in one breath you’re giddy, taken out of yourself and feeling drunker by the moment. Not on the booze, but her. She is intoxicating.

It takes you a few seconds to notice but her free hand slips on your leg, rubbing and caressing as it snakes further and further up.

"What?" You ask as if it needs confirmation and in those long few moments, you think you must have imagined it. And the same way a nervous laughter rises, the laughter spilling out of your throat, she is quick to quench the growing dread inside of you by sliding her palm across your bulge.

"Wait here." Something has switched inside her. You don’t know what, but either way, it's got her standing up and strutting towards the door. With each step, she opens her body language. A growing swagger, letting you see the sway of her hips. Left and right. Just enough to catch the eye. And oh boy, does your eye get caught. You couldn't pull your gaze away now if you wanted to.

She's swiping hands at the door now and flicking the locks. Then she's pulling the blinds shut. A giggle comes from Minju as she spins back to face you. She runs her bottom lip through her teeth and stares right into you.

You feel exposed but, strangely, comfortable. It's so very odd; with no clue as to what happens next. It has your heart pounding out of your chest.

"I thought you were alone tonight because you were upset, but no, I understand it now. You're frustrated. Angry. Stressed. She used you and got away with it."

She kicks off her heels, loses a few centimetres in height, and is walking barefoot across the floor - toward you. Her shoulder rolls to one side and then to the other as her body rises and falls, sashays with the pace of her hips. She can see that you're stuck. You’re rooted to the seat with a dumb look on your face, and yet she saunters ever closer.

“I am a little confused,” you finally say. She's so close that all your senses are lost to the approach of Minju's swaying frame. Her curves, her body, her gentle steps, the way her perfume smells—it's consuming you.

She ignores you and continues, "I’m frustrated too. I'm so frustrated that I'm wasting time in this damn bar. I'm angry at all the auditions that ended up with producers rejecting me. I know exactly what you're feeling. You're angry at the world and everyone in it." Her tone grows raspier. More raw and less stable. "You feel alone. Hung out to dry and in need of attention."

"And you feel the same?"

"Yes, and I'm hungry. Starved of any real satisfaction. You told me I’m going nowhere and I guess it means I need a little attention, too."

You watch her eyes flittering as she looks you up and down. The sultry grin she wears shows she likes what she sees.

"So what are you going to do about it, Minju? What is the solution?" You drop a look down to the soft and slender flesh of her neck.

"No strings. We get this all out of our system." Minju leans in. Lips so close to yours. She stays there. It's torture. "You let all that shit out. Take out your pent-up stress, frustration, anger."

"On you?"

"Exactly. You'll feel better. I will too. Because right now…" Her nose presses against the side of your own. Soft skin. Gentle pressure. "I need it rough."

Her hand lands on your thigh again, rubbing down the denim of your jeans.

The offer is enticing. It has your head swimming with dirty images of everything the two of you could do together, and your cock? Well, that's already twitching in your underwear.

"This isn’t going to help, it will just make things worse."

"Can they really get any worse?"

Minju brings your hand, hers and yours, to her waist. Your thumb feels the soft material of her shirt, and your fingers touch that small patch of skin below it.

"Are we prepared to find out?" Your lips graze gently against hers. The thrill. The electricity in the air.

"I’m ready. More than ready. Just this once, do what you want to do and make me the star of your fantasy. Use me. Make me everything you need." She plants her lips firmly on yours. You both go quiet, muffled by a kiss.

Nothing to do but feel.

Minju's grip tightens on your leg, and yours on her waist. The other hand slides up to her chest, finding her breast, cupping it and feeling her. She opens her mouth. And you follow. Your tongues are colliding and sweeping across one another, eager and desperate.

So you push, guiding the two of you to stand. Minju staggers back, and you're with her every step of the way. Stumbling through a kiss. Hands everywhere. Uncertain. Lost, confused, and passionate. It's an incoherent tumble that takes you both crashing through chairs, pushing them aside until you hit something sturdy. Minju's ass slams against the pool table and she grunts into your mouth.

Her lips drag away and she smiles. "Fuck me."

You grab her by the hips, lifting her onto the pool table.

"I need to see the big cock that’s got Wony all worked up. She wouldn’t settle for anything disappointing." She's fumbling at your waist, struggling with the buckle of your jeans.

"This what you want?" Your words vibrate through her. And when you take a handful of her hair and tug, there's a long, soft, desperate sigh from Minju's parted lips.

"Use me. Abuse me." Her fumbling finally succeeds and the waist of your trousers slackens. "I know how I look, but don't worry, you're not going to break me."

She's pushing at your trousers, your boxers, and when that stiff dick pops out, her smile spreads into a big, stupid grin. It's not an unattractive expression—not really. It just tells the truth. She is excited.

It’s as clear as day that you are too. You’re rock hard, stiff as hell, ready to fuck, and this, this will give you the chance to let it all out. All of it.

"Perfect." Minju grabs your cock in both hands, still warm, throbbing, and strong. "Just look at this thing."

You pull on her hair again, harder, until she breaks away from you, until she gives way—losing the grip on your cock and falling back on the table. And now you slow as if to savour the moment as you’re sliding your fingers under the waist of her trousers. Not often you get afforded a measure of control.

"C’mon, please, don't be gentle," Minju moans out through gritted teeth. The desperation is painted on her face and that’s the difference here: while a girl like Wonyoung wouldn’t let you go slow, Minju is the type of girl who makes you not want to go slow.

So you pull at the trousers of the girl sprawling out in front of you, tearing the button from the fabric, yanking them open and pulling them down those long, slender legs. The flesh is soft. And to touch, so smooth and light. Minju's breathing picks up—becoming shorter and deeper with each touch to her sensitive skin.

"I might leave marks."

Minju stares you down, hands already massaging over her panties. "I hope you will."

The thought is intoxicating, so much more so than the alcohol in your blood, as your hands paw over her legs; you knead soft skin with a kind of aggression you haven't felt before.

Minju is a rare girl.

Beautiful. And by definition, beautiful women have seen it all before.

But her?

The look she gives? Like no man has ever fully satisfied the itch within her. It's deep-set hunger. The kind that she chases endlessly for.

This hunger makes people behave stupidly, careless and forgetful of the consequences. And maybe you know that all too well but even still it's a risk worth taking. Every choice has led you here and maybe that is your solace, that it's not all downhill from here.

And as your hands reach her small satin panties, the warmth embraces you, and the urge within you grows. You hook your fingers inside and draw the panties aside to expose the tight pink flesh of Minju's cunt.

Not that you would expect anything else, but she is clean-shaven. So smooth. Not a single blemish. This is a girl who kept herself neat and pristine, and yet from her mouth spills utter filth, "just look at how wet this pussy is for you."

She's running her fingers between her lips, showing you everything she has to offer between her legs, showing you where she expects you dick will get put to use.

"This tight fucking cunt can take everything your thick cock has to give."

"Minju, you’re so..." You're standing over her, her legs spread wide beside you, blazer falling from her shoulders leaving nothing covering her but that low-cut top.

Minju stares right at you, eyes fixed, wide and eager, her chest heaves with every deepening breath she takes in. She's wild, reaching for you with one hand, stretching to hold you and then pulling at your shirt to draw you in.

"I'm so needy. Please fuck me." She's whining through closed lips as her other hand slips away from her pussy and glides over her taut abs and leaving her cunt ready to be used. She wants it, desperately, and you're drawing it out. Making it build inside her, and you hold your cock in your hand.

You're stroking, and she's watching. And for all her strain to pull at your shirt, to pull you into her, you hold back. You hold just long enough. Enough for her arm to fall limp. Enough for her to almost give in. "Please..." she trails off with a whimper.

You push the head of your stiff cock against her cunt—against her clit. Your hips roll as you run the entire underside of your cock between her lips. She gasps and breathes deeply. She's holding it all the while. All the time it takes for you to draw your cock back, so the tip is right there. Ready.

She let's go as you do. The air escapes her lungs with a sharp squeal. You let your cock sink in. Slow but persistent, you push further and further, feeling her tensing. Then the clench and tightness overwhelms. She gasps and squirms, wriggles beneath you and her nails scratch at the fabric of the table beneath her.

You push again, sinking your cock as far as you can through her wet hole.

There's a loud snap and squeal from Minju. Pretty girl broke a nail. It flew off somewhere across the room, such is her grip onto the table. "Fuck. So fucking full," she manages, barely. It's more the noise you force from her than any actual communication.

You draw your hips back and she's quick to encourage you, "again," she says.

Your hips are driving forward again, pushing every last centimetre back through her.

Minju whimpers. There's this short, sweet purr from deep within her. You feel her stretch, she moves a little, adjusting herself atop the pool table. There's a warmth that swells, tightens, and pulsates. And you feel the breath come easier. It leaves her as though her body has settled to a kind of ease and pleasure, some form of satisfaction.

You refuse to let her rest. It's not what she would want.

It's not what you want.

You run your hands along her inner thighs, past her knees until you finally reach her ankles and pull them together and hold them aloft. You lift and pull her ass up slightly from the table. She's suspended now while you fuck into her.

The shake of her small frame is completely erotic. Watching her ass and thighs jiggle as you fuck into her. That plump little ass taking slap after slap from your hips.

Her perfect skin reddens as her moans louden the longer you last. There are high-pitched squeals and low and gritty growls. They bounce around the empty bar, reverberating and multiplying—echoing back louder than before.

"Harder." She thinks she can take more. Look, Wonyoung was demanding, she wanted to control everything and push your limits, but Minju? Minju is whole different type of demanding. She's welcoming everything you have with every fibre of her being. Her pussy so eagerly taking it all, and it just seems like no matter what limit you push past, or the more Minju takes, the more she craves.

You pull her legs to you, calves on your shoulders, feet in the air, and your hands move firmly onto her hips. You steady her—ready her. Your grip bruises the tender skin (hey, it's what she wants) and then you fuck her like your life depends on it. Your cock pumping inside with reckless abandon.

"Keep going! Just like that! Fuck!" her voice rises over the rhythm of your low grunts, and the crack of your hips slapping against her ass.

Minju's face twists, red and flushed. She's so tense. Muscles tight around the neck and her teeth buried in the soft flesh of her lower lip. Her voice is low and raw, growling, as she pleads for more with words you can't pretend to understand. It's not eloquent or graceful... In fact, it's that incoherence that makes this all the better—so utterly unbothered, unconcerned with anything other than being thoroughly used, fucked and defiled.

She has that hungry glaze in her eyes when you look down upon her, a girl being exactly the kind of filthy thing she promised to be. And those eyes only draw you in, you're pushing over her, folding her legs further against her body until she's truly helpless. Pinned to the table. Bent in two. No ability, nor want, to stop you from dominating her.

"I'm gonna—" she tries to speak until you press down, right into her. She squeezes your cock inside that tight, creaming hole. Then she whines, loud.

So loud.

Her back would arch high if it could. But she can't break free. You have her completely immobilized with your upper bodyweight. And fuck does she love every second of it. She's got handfuls of her shirt, pulling it, clutching, writhing. Ecstasy courses through her and eyes roll.

And now she's rolling, you're turning her. Ankles in your hands, you have pulled out and you're flipping her onto her front, face down into the table. She’s just… accepting it. Not an ounce of fight in her. Not even a word. Just a throaty moan.

"Be a good girl for me, won’t you?” you’re ordering, “give me your hands.”

She reaches her arms back over her subdued body and lets you take her delicate wrists.

She submits.

Just lying there prone, her delicate body against the table, with that tight little ass perched on the edge of it, and that skimpy underwear still pushed aside for her throbbing cunt. Those slender legs left hanging either side of you. And go on, you're allowed to think it in the simplest of terms; Minju is sexy. In a word, that's it. Sexy. And yet, the reality is there's so much more you can say. Every soft curve of her toned body is alluring, she is magnetic and inviting, and that cute face peering over her shoulder, long hair spilled all behind it. All the words in the world couldn't do justice to describe her—couldn't properly capture the image.

"What are you going to do to me, daddy?" Oh, she says it so seamlessly, slips it in like it's been on her lips for a while - floating in the atmosphere since you took control. And now that it's finally landed, you feel its weight. It has her voice different; smokey and dripping with sex. And it hits you straight between your legs.

She licks her lips and tests it out again, just for good measure: "what does daddy think I deserve?"

One hand holding her wrists against the small of her back, another gripping her hip. Her legs sway lazily, unable to reach the floor. Helplessly dangling, waiting for her fate. And you're not a man to disappoint a girl like Minju.

"I'm going to use the needy little slut in front of me," you say as the head of your stiff cock probes at her cunt, slipping between her wet lips and sliding against her swollen clit. Teasing her.

You draw it back up again and pushing apart her ass cheeks with the length of your cock. Slipping under the thin fabric of her soaked panties.

She bites her lower lip and whimpers through her teeth. The head of your wet cock slides against her tight asshole, and her hips twitch back. "Whatever you need, take it from me." She means that. There's yearning in every word. The hunger and desire in her voice growing thicker.

You push against her, cock sandwiched between her cheeks, pushing your weight down and pressing her against the table. Her eyes close for a moment, her fingers curl into her palms.

"Yes. Fuck," Minju's desperate encouragement spills through clenched teeth.

You pull back your cock and replace it with your thumb, sliding your hand over her ass and slipping it against her puckered hole.

"Please da—" You slip the tip of your thumb just inside her ass and hold it there while she holds her breath.

Anticipation—

Waiting—

Knowing what's coming next.

Minju is completely still as you drive your cock into her cunt again. Sinking yourself in so deep—balls deep. Her hands become tight fists and her whole body is shaking. You withdraw and plunge again, and she hisses, breathing from the bottom of her lungs, ragged and shallow, and fighting to speak.

"I'm a dirty, needy, little slut and you’re going to use me—"

You spit at her spread ass, right onto your thumb, and use it to dig a little deeper. "What are you?" your question provokes an instant answer,

"I'm a horny slut. I'm a fuck-hole. That's what I am."

As if it's a reward for her honesty, you fuck her a little harder. Push your thumb a little deeper. She smiles through a howl of ecstasy, the sound swelling into the room.

"Tell me again," you command with another pump of your hips, stretching her even more with your thumb.

Her words crackle, dying in her throat with each impact of your hips, "I'm just a dumb girl who needs to be full of cum."

No sane man would refuse it. Not you, not anyone. Definitely not you at all. You couldn't resist any part of her, but especially not that filthy demand. Especially not with how you felt watching those gorgeous fucking curves ripple every time your hips slapped against her ass.

It's all so easy, how you continue, keeping pace. Thumb deep in her ass. Balls smacking against her soaked pussy with every thrust. It's a pleasure all too overwhelming—a thrill, a sensation, a powerful sense of utter fucking satisfaction and all-consuming desire—an erotic overflow inundates, a swell, an ever-growing crest inside your balls.

"Minju. I'm. Gonna—"

"Cum in me? Please." She's the hallmark of innocence-gone-wrong; the way such words roll off her tongue with playful ease. And she knows all the right ones. The ones that she knows will bring all the right reactions. To speak to you on a primal level. She's at it again, cutting into you, "Inside— Inside me."

Cutting through you like the blade of a knife, right to your core and you obey—fuck.

"Daddy please."

You're incensed.

Dogged with the pounding you're giving her, you have lost control of just how deep you have your thumb in her ass. This is so Indecent. Obscene, even. For you, or for anyone, to just... enjoy something like this. Your body is roaring with lust as her ass and cunt both squeeze on you, clamping you as you drive yourself to the brink.

"I wanna... feel your hot load," her voice comes shaking through the unabated pounding you're inflicting. "Fill me please," she's begging and it sounds a little clearer now, stronger, a little louder, no doubt because she knows it's almost done.

You tug at her wrists, pulling her arms back and her body away from the table. Her head hangs forward beneath a wave of hair. Face covered by sweat streaks across those pretty sculpted features.

"Please, I'll be a good girl and take every drop. All the fucking cum that daddy has. Make me your stupid dirty little slut," she compels, then yelps with every new slam and stroke of the stiff cock being buried into her again and again.

That tight asshole, and that cock-hugging pussy. All the relentless slamming that you have done and will do. All the desires, with the pent-up frustration, the rage and anger and tension that has built up—you release it. Everything goes as you send your load rushing through your cock to paint her insides.

Pushing everything you have in. Pumping. Driving hard.

Her squeals are like music to the soul. Relief and rapture are overflowing. And fuck. What a ride. What a rush. You pump her full until she's gasping for air, struggling in your grasp and making sure to moan each and every dirty word into the atmosphere as she fights to hold on. What a thrill. And as the two of you hit the limits of physical exhaustion and exhilaration, you pull back. Letting the girl lay there, spent, and filled, on the pool table.

Used.

Satisfied.

Sullied.

Minju to you, today, is a feeling of freedom. Fulfilment. Absolution. As she lay limp, arms out, legs hanging, hair draped over her face and pooling on the table—a girl well fucked and on display. She is satisfaction. And she is dripping with your cum.

She slips her fingers under her panties. That shrivelled piece of fabric that clings, or struggles to. Now she pushes them off her hips and they tumble over her feet.

When this beautiful girl speaks her voice has the distinct scratch of someone whose lungs have had the oxygen stolen from them, her throat sore with moaning, "I need more."

She moves to her back and you can only watch in amazement as she turns to you with that flush face. One of her small, delicate hands falling between her legs and her dainty fingers tracing around her cunt—through her pink folds, and dousing them in your leaking cum.

There's a knock at the door. It rattles in the frame. "Open up!" It's the voice of the young man seeking an afternoon drink. You think that, luckily, hopefully, between the blinds, the posters and the neon lights in the windows along with the dim lighting, he can't see in.

"Fuck off!" Minju shouts. Her chest is heaving, and there are the gentle lulls of a giggle welling in her throat.

You notice she hasn't moved the fingers away from her swollen and sticky cunt. There's a building cackle, almost as if she is going to fall into hysterics.

"Let me in! You should be open!"

"I said fuck off!" Minju's climbing from the table with a wild smile on her face. Cum is trailing from her cunt, pooling, oozing, dripping down her thigh, down her leg. Her tongue slides over her lips, she's eying you up like a tiger.

"I want to ride your thick cock." She's breathing the words out heavy and finally pulling that shirt over her head. Small round breasts exposed. Stiff dark nipples. Hard and taught. That bare torso. Tight and tone. Firm and solid. Every muscle defined under glistening, sweaty skin.

She pushes herself against you until you push between a pair of stools and your ass plants against the bar. "You made me a dirty girl, and now I can't stop."

You find her strength a little unnerving, the way seems so unphased and determined. She's running on pure adrenaline. It's hot, sure, a kind of raw passion is certainly not without appeal, but also maybe a touch too overpowering. The way that she grabs at you, a touch forceful, and the way you come together is perhaps too rough and less than elegant.

So unkempt, un-romantic, yet so insanely gratifying as her soft skin finds yours.

You take her body in your arms, lips on one another, exploring mouths with tongues. Grasping the round cheek of her ass as she lifts her left thigh up to your waist. Hand trailing between the two of you and then grabbing a firm hold of your cock, guiding the thing back to her pussy—and not letting go.

This is it. This is where she belongs.

It’s all so natural for her to be on the end of your cock, so much so that she can casually pull away from the kiss to switch her focus to finding a drink on the bar behind you. She’s taking a drink of it now and some of it spills from the corner of her mouth.There is something undignified in that, but utterly perfect nonetheless.

She's grinding against you now, swirling her hips and cooing like a little kitten, as your hands move over her ass and that silken smooth back.

Minju sets the empty glass back down on the bar, and pulls back to meet your eyes. She presses a finger to her tongue, her eyes gleaming and focused solely on you, as she guides a small, playful trail of drool to run over her glistening tits. "Fuck," she breathes through a grin, taking both her hands and smoothing that drool over her chest.

Another knock at the door. Another fist pounded into its frame.

All these fucking interruptions.

"Ugh! Fuck this. Come on, follow me." And before you know it, she's guiding you across the room. "I'm going to ride you until I can't walk. Until I'm so sore that every step will remind me what it felt like to have you deep inside me."

Your phone rings, on the floor in the pocket of your trousers. Who would call right now? Just as one interruption finally concedes at the door, another emerges.

Minju bends to fish it out of your trousers. Her little ass, one cheek marred with a handprint from your grasp, is so close you could bend forward and eat it (any other time, you would.) but it's not that which intrigues you the most. When she rises, slowly, your phone is in her grasp, screen displaying Wonyoung's name.

"This should be fun," Minju chuckles to herself. She swipes the answer button and raises the device to her ear. "Hello?"

Minju reaches out to hold your hand and pulls you toward the staff only door. "Sorry, he's a little busy right now," she says as she walks through the door with you in tow. Her head pivots. Minju stares, eyes boring deep into yours. That sultry expression. The spark of desire igniting all over again.

Minju turns on her heel, letting you go and taking a step back. Thin fingers stroke over her cum-soaked thigh, up and along her wet lips, higher and past her flat stomach, sliding between her firm tits. "He is really busy."

She points at the couch in the break room, gesturing you to sit. You oblige, a little nervous about the turn of events. She's rubbing at her perky little tits as she speaks, "do you want me to take a message?"

"Minju..." you say with warning, ready to take the phone off her. But it's so hard to ignore how utterly sexy she is, and your hand starts to stroke along your shaft. She turns her body and poses, looking over her shoulder to you, and she grins. Minju affords you all the time you need to admire her while she listens to the ramblings of Wonyoung through your phone.

Minju steps toward you, looking down at you. "You need to speak to him?" She rests a hand on your shoulder, and then she clambers over you, straddles you. Her leaking cunt right above your cock. She licks her lips and rubs her slick pussy over your stiff dick, eyes focused on you, head tilted down. "Give me one second."

She holds the phone against her collar and shifts above you, resting the tip of your cock against her hole.

"Minju, let me—"

She sinks onto your cock.

Inch by pleasurable inch, she takes you. Minju rocks forward and adjusts to settle on the length of your rod. Fully hilted and stuffed. She's a slick sheath of velvet on your stiff rod and you realise then just how perfectly she fits on you. You bite your tongue, trying to not make a noise so you don't alert the woman on the other end of the phone. Minju, however, is careless, and she lets out a soft moan as she shifts on you, readying herself.

Cum still seeps out of her cunt and down your shaft—your own and hers in some messy cocktail. The smell is sharp but unmistakable. It hangs in the air as the unmistakable evidence of what has happened and what will happen again. It’s so potent; invigorating and exciting. A reminder of everything and more, as if you would ever forget it—as if you could ever forget what she has become for you.

Minju draws the phone back to her face and, with a cocky smirk parting her lips, she speaks again, her voice breathy and full of lust.

"He's in a bit of a tight spot right now." She throws you a wink and continues, "give him ten—wait, no—give him fifteen minutes and whatever is left of him is all yours."

There's the sound of a voice coming through the phone, so unmistakably Wonyoung's but you can't make a word of it out. There's another sound, one much dirtier, that fills the air between the two of you. The soft squelching as Minju rocks and rotates those full hips on you.

"Sorry, what was that?" Minju is stifling a giggle and not-really trying to keep the naughtiness of the situation in check. "Yeah, Wonyoung,you’re right. It's me, Minju," she purrs, biting her lip as her eyes fix on you. Then her tongue flits from her lips, sweeping from left to right.

‘It's me, Minju.’

Look, it’s not really a surprise that they know each other well. It was always a possibility that Minju had just heard of Wonyoung but had never really been acquainted. Thinking back, however, the strength of her reaction to the girl’s name should have told you everything. The truth is now ever so clear.

Not that Minju is going to let you process it. She will not allow you to focus on anything other than the caress of her pussy over your sensitive cock. She's elegant with the movements of her hips—the motions subtle and slow. Her pace is sinful. She's running her tongue over her teeth and staring at you, enjoying the quiet grunts that rattle from your throat.

"He showed up in—" Her breath hitches and she catches a moan in her throat before it escapes. "In the bar, drinking alone."

There's a gasp, then another as she strokes her hands through the locks of your hair. "Yeah. He was doing that." She's laughing under her breath and looking you up and down. "That thing with his hand, yeah, it's cute."

“What? No. I wouldn’t.” You’re getting half a conversation and none of it makes any sense.

She reaches out her hand to the side of your face, thumb brushing the line of your jaw and her body leaning in. "He's got a sexy jaw line," she admits and then picks up the speed of her movement.

Her hand slides down your neck and presses into your collar. "His body?" Minju hums as her hips are churning; her body is rolling and her abs are flexing. "Yeah, I think so too."

Minju's back arches and her tiny tits bounce as her movement changes, bouncing rhythmically on your cock. She's adjusting and getting more comfortable on you. As the seconds pass, she's getting rougher and moving ever faster.

Fuck.

"Well, he's drunk, so it's no surprise."

It's been no end of strange situations over the past couple of months, but this may well be the strangest yet. The girls are having a friendly conversation, but one is on top of a cock that's dripping with her mess.You're still trying to piece it together. They're friends—that much is clear. But there's still so many questions unasked: How? Since when? And why are they having their catch up right fucking now?

Her delicate frame moves fast now and the rise and fall of her chest growing sharper leading to short breaths.

"Mhm," she utters, keeping her voice low and words at a premium. "N—No we aren't." To give her credit, she's actually very good at sounding natural. In some twisted way, it's one hell of an audition for how talented of actress she can actually be.

But that image comes crumbling down before your eyes.

Just for a moment, the picture freezes. Her mouth is half-open, eyes wide. She bites down on her lip, silencing herself, and then she drops her hand from her ear. She's hitting her fist, clenched around the phone, against her thigh repeatedly as she fights against her own body. There's another choked grunt as she is being pushed ever so close to the edge.

She draws the phone to her face again, breathing in deep and staring at you with those glossy eyes scanning all across your body, and she swallows.

"We aren't fucking," Minju denies, as your hands creep up from her slender thighs, sliding over those beautiful taut hips, gripping tight and helping pull her back and forth. It's clear, from the way she bites down on her bottom lip, the subtle trembling of her chin, she's hanging on by a thread, ready to lose it at any second.

"No. Don't—" Minju holds the phone out, and she’s looking at it—you can see it too—Wonyoung has just ended the call. "Ah fuck it." Minju throws the phone down on the couch.

She looks at you with a face that's a little lost in thought, considering things unknown to you. All while her body is on auto-pilot, still fucking down onto you.

After a moment, her face changes, an expression of indifference, of calmness. She smiles a little and rests both of her hands on your shoulders. Staring deep into your eyes, she grows ever more serious with a tinge of intent. She shifts from auto-pilot to manual, tightening the grip with her legs and slowing the pace, but fucking you harder.

Minju rides the ridge of your cock. Your whole length is dragged up and down her insides, setting every inch of you on fire. She moans every time she slams onto you.

Every time.

She's falling further apart in front of you—coming completely undone. Eyes rolling and biting that lip again. Hips shifting in all kinds of directions. A cacophony of beautiful grunting sounds that flood the room.

Minju is a woman derailed by pleasure.

"God. Your cock— Your cock is—" She's struggling now and you're only going to make it worse. Using the hands on her hips, you buck yourself up into her, bringing yourself a fraction closer each time.

"The things this cock— the things you— fuck." Minju has no power to string any kind of sentences together, no matter how many words you force from her. They grow less and less like words you can understand until all that remains are these loud and unashamed gasps.

Gasp after sharp and unstoppable gasp.

The rush of exhilaration courses through her, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. She feels it. All over. It's written on her face, in the way that she moves and in the look in her eyes. A look like that is a hard thing to fake, even for her—there's nothing else like it. Minju is cumming all over your cock and every bit of it is evident in every tense muscle, the quiver in the corner of her mouth, the sheen across her brow, the mist in her eyes as she blinks lazily and tries not to be overcome, overawed, with emotion and all the intense sensations, one wave after another, rippling through her.

You're just about there again too. You try to warn her, but you're fucking up into her with so much energy that you're not sure if the words ever left your mouth. But she knows it, somehow, because she has renewed aggression in her. Even through her orgasm, she's bouncing on your cock with such ferocity. Minju takes hold of your head and draws you into her. Nose to nose. Foreheads touch. "Cum in me again."

They're four of the best words she could have said.

She rides you faster still as you pump rope after hot rope into her cunt, your entire length filling her already overflowing cunt. You cum so hard inside her that the world seems to distort, twist, and wane.

"Yes! Yes!" she shouts in a whisper—her voice stolen by pleasure. "Fill my little pussy."

And with every last ounce of strength you have, you continue. Bucking into her, driving deeper with the last throes of your second load. It's too much. It's beyond pleasure and into pain now, as you have nothing left to give her.

You squeeze at her hips and waist, holding her down and doing everything you can to stop her fucking you.

You're panting. Tired. Done.

Done.

Minju raises herself just enough to slip that ruined and swollen cockhead from the depth of her. You watch as your combined fluids flow out of her onto your leg.

All that filth, a dirty combination of the two of you. Two loads of your cum drained into that one pretty pussy.

Minju is stroking a hand up your stomach, your chest, along your neck and jawline. Across your face and to your chin, so slowly, as if memorising your features.

You watch her body, so fucking perfect, flexing and trembling still and her breasts heave beneath sweat and exertion. Her breath is so ragged that a chuckle emerges between the hard, deep inhales and exhales. She's sweating, perspiration painting her body and strands of long hair matted to her head. So beautiful. Always so fucking beautiful.

She looks into your eyes, studying, thinking. "You feel better now," her voice has returned to the softness of before, low and sultry. "Don't you?"

With a smile, your hands move again, wandering further up. They snake their way around her slender waist. There's something strange, something new, about how they explore her—before, you were quick to set them and demand control. But not now. Now, it's tender and grateful and you have a slow, searching rhythm to the touches that skim the skin across her skin.

"Yeah." It's honest. You do. She has done her magic, she has restored the balance, and the release has cleared a space within the self, within the mind. You stare back into her gaze, "thank you."

"No." Minju brings her head forward, her face almost colliding with yours. "Thank you. This is exactly what I needed, I really—" She bites down on her lips and hesitates. She pauses for a second before she begins to move herself off you. Standing up straight, wobbling for a moment on the spot before stepping off and the sticky remains of your fucking cling to her inner thighs, glistening on the flesh, thick and trailing down from her hole.

She stares at you for a moment in some profound silence. You sit on the couch, on that musty old fabric, fully spent and staring. She's searching for something, eyes drifting over the room until it catches her eye, and she heads right for it.

You find the strength to stand and as you do, you’re still watching the sway of her body—noticing each bounce of her perfectly formed butt. Your eyes linger, appreciating the body that was given to you, enjoyed by you, and that gave so much to you. Your strength slowly builds from within, your legs are sore, your stomach and core are aching, your lungs feel crushed.

She's fumbling around on the table for something, she's leaning over slightly, her thighs pressed together. She wears sex like a crown—the pride, confidence, and accomplishment manifesting in her natural glow. Minju radiates. There's always something so electric about a woman in the post coital haze.

"You smoke?" she asks.

"No."

"You should," she says as she turns, fishing one out of the pack and perching herself on the edge of the table, crossing over her legs. "Makes you less nervous. You might need it."

There's an elegance in the way she slips the filter between her lips. An attractiveness in the casual way that she places the box down. With practiced poise, she flicks her wrist with lighter in hand so it flips open and her thumb runs against the sparkwheel. Once, twice, and on the third go the light takes and the flame holds steady. Minju lights the end of the cigarette and leans in, taking a deep draw and holding it.

It's mesmerising to watch. The way her mouth closes around the stick, how the soft glow dances upon her features. A darkness in the hollows of her cheeks as the smoke fills within, while she flicks the lighter back closed and slides it on the table.

Minju tilts her head back as her lungs empty, billows and tendrils escape into the room.

In the silence, you've had some realisation.

Minju is cool.

Like— really cool.

So you stand naked, facing her, in the breakroom of the bar she... works in? Owns? Hell, you don't even know that. Doesn't matter. And you finally ask her, "how do you know Wonyoung?"

For a long moment she just smiles, blowing smoke towards you, teasing with silence.

"We go way back," she says, and that is hardly the complete answer that you've hoped for.

Eventually, she offers more. "High school. We were friends." Minju studies the cigarette, eyeing the burning stub. "Guess you could say we were closer than that. Fuck. If not for—"

Silence.

And yet you wait.

"Well, there was this boy," she continues eventually, offering a soft and resigned smile. "My crush, and then my boyfriend. He was my first. First kiss, first date. First—" Minju looks over to the wall and inhales hard on the cigarette again. She breathes in slowly and you watch the small ember dance, the edges turning amber and glowing bright before she brings the cigarette down and flicks ash in the tray.

"What happened?" you ask, taking a seat alongside her on the table, pushing a cup aside to make space. It's not exactly hygienic, but nothing the two of you just did was.

"Wonyoung happened. Right before we left school, he left me for her and he thought he had a chance, but, well, you know Wonyoung. She's unattainable."

"You blame her?"

"Fuck no. But it didn't exactly bring us closer. He left me for her, she rejected him. What a mess."

There is always something when Wonyoung is in the picture, a messy little tangled web, something hidden behind those silky smiles. She's the reason for many lost loves and many lonely nights. You take a pause to appreciate that fact—to see what's really at the core. She’s the common denominator. Wonyoung—the arrogant heartbreaker.

"So what was all that about? On the phone?" you ask, trying to make some sense of it all.

Minju laughs aloud, tilting her head back and blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. She holds her cigarette between her slim fingers and rests her other hand on your thigh. "I wanted to play with her a little. I wanted her to know. Because well, and no offense, but you’re one of her possessions. She basically owns you. Don't get me wrong, it's kinda hot, but I wanted to see how she would react."

"So you teased her."

"Pretty much."

She laughs a little. There is some spark in her eye, born out of childish fun.

"Don't think she cares," you shrug.

You both turn toward the door that leads back into the bar. You both heard it. Out there. The knock against the front door of the bar.

Minju turns to you, crushing her cigarette into the ashtray beside her. There's a smirk on her lips and amusement in her eyes. In that look alone, there's a lot to unpack; there's an air of knowing, a glimmer of deviousness, and something else lurking beneath the surface.

"Then why is she knocking on the door?"

Next Part

#minju smut #minju x reader #izone smut #kim minju smut #kpop smut #male reader #m reader #wonyoung smut

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woso-dreamzzz · 8 months ago

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Flag III

Frida Maanum x Emma Lennartsson x Baby!Reader

Summary: When Emma and Frida found you

Frida is leaving for England.

Arsenal have been interested in her since the season began so it was only natural that she went off there to develop her career further.

But, still, Emma doesn't want to see Frida leave.

Frida occupies a space in Emma's heart that she can't put into words. Frida is everything to her, the air, the ground, the sky and the stars.

But Emma would never discourage Frida from finding her place in a league abroad.

Frida deserves everything in life, even if it's half a world away from where Emma is looking after their home in Sweden.

It will be different in the beginning, Emma knows this, but together there isn't much they can't overcome.

But, still, she'll miss the way Frida's body feels against hers. Even now, as they sneak around the back of the training centre to kiss.

It's not the most professional they've ever been but she just can't help herself when it comes to Frida.

"E-Emma," Frida says in a hushed tone, pushing Emma's roaming lips from her neck," Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Emma pulls away, glancing around for whatever errant sound Frida has heard.

"I..."

There's nothing but the breeze in the wind, the rustle of leafless branches in the height of winter.

It's absolutely freezing. It's predicted that this is to be the coldest day of the year.

"Nothing," Frida says," I must have imagined it."

Emma's lips go back to her neck, leaving dainty kisses all over her skin. Each one a labour of love, red hot in a way that feels beautiful as the snow falls around them.

Emma stops though, pulling away again.

"No," She says," Wait. I think I can hear it too."

It's faint, barely audible whimpers and whines that are getting more and more quiet as they go on.

But Emma and Frida are alone in an icy cold wasteland.

There's not even birds in the trees. Yet, now that Emma's straining her ears, she can hear the noises with crystal clear clarity.

She shivers as another freezing breeze cuts through her like a knife.

"I...I think it's coming from over there," Frida says, looking over at the clump of dense bushes over by the bins.

"Stay here," Emma says, wary of if it's some wild animal," I'll go and luck."

"Emma-"

"Stay here, Frida. I'll check it out."

She approaches the bushes carefully, slowly in case the animal jumps at her.

But there's no animal.

Just you.

"Emma?" Frida calls, watching as Emma lowers herself to her knees," What is it?"

Emma turns, a singular blanket in her hold and, in that blanket, is you.

"I...I think we need to call an ambulance," She says shakily," I-I think she's been abandoned."

You're tiny, smaller than any baby that Frida's ever seen before. You don't look good either. You're obviously freezing, little lips turning a concerning shade of purple and the cries from your mouth are getting quieter and quieter the longer you're outside.

Teammates clamber over themselves to help when Emma and Frida run in with you.

Somewhere along the way, Frida loses her top when it's clear that you're either nearly hypothermic or already developing it. Skin-to-skin seems to be what's best for you as you lay weakly on Frida's chest with layers of blankets over you both.

Now that she can see you properly, it's with a sinking feeling that she realises how underweight you actually are. You're nothing but skin and bones as Frida holds you close while they wait for the ambulance.

"They're calling her the Linköping baby," Emma says softly," The staff and the girls, that is. Word has spread pretty quickly."

"That's unfair," Frida replies, her own voice barely above a whisper as she feels your lungs inflate shakily against her," They can't call her that. She needs a name."

"They don't think she's going to survive," Emma says," Even before the ambulance gets here. She's in bad shape. They don't think she's going to make it."

"And you?" Frida finally tears her eyes away from you to look at her girlfriend. "What do you think?"

"I think..."

Your head barely pokes out from under all of the blankets, your eyes half open. You're not moving much. It seems to almost be too much effort to even breath, like everything in you is fighting to do something as basic and instinctual as that.

Emma didn't know what to expect when she looked in that bush. You were laying there, weak and unmoving in just a singular blanket and a thin onesie. One could almost mistake you for being asleep if it weren't from the stilted way your chest rose and fell and the way faint noises would escape your mouth every so often.

"I think...I think she's a fighter."

"I think so too."

Emma can tell what Frida's thinking before Frida herself even knows what she's thinking. She can tell by the way Frida's holding, you the way she's looking at you, the way she presses a soft kiss to the wispy hair at the top of your head.

Emma can tell because she's thinking the exact same thing.

"She looks like you," Emma says, starting off gently," Don't you think?"

Frida giggles a little bit. "I was thinking she had your nose. What part of her looks like me exactly?"

"Her hair, maybe," Emma says," And I'm sure once she opens this eyes of hers, they'll be like yours."

"You don't know that."

"I think I do."

"She might never open them," Frida says suddenly," If everyone is thinking she won't come out of this. They might never open."

"She will. She's a fighter."

Frida's throat bobs. "But if she doesn't...What would they even put on her grave? The Linköping baby?"

"You want to name her?"

"Everyone deserves a name. No matter how little they are."

"Then name her."

"I-"

"Ambulance is here," One of their teammates pokes their heads through the door," Medics are coming in now. They said to stay put."

"Y/N," Frida says suddenly.

"Huh?" Emma asks.

"She looks like a y/n."

You're tiny and malnourished and halfway to death's door. The possibility of you surviving the night is astronomically low.

But you have a name now and, in Emma's mind, you have a bedroom at home. A bedroom with a soft, warm crib and a dog companion who would just adore you. A bedroom in a house full of toys and soft clothes and two mothers who would adore you too.

A first name and a last name from the mothers who found you freezing cold in the dead of winter, buried in a bush as snow fell over you.

"Yeah," Emma says as the paramedics rush in," She does."

#woso x reader #frida maanum x reader #frida maanum #emma lennartsson x reader #emma lennartsson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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luveline · 1 year ago

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I LOVE YOUR WRITING IT'S SO ASDFJKFTICDHBDIGDGXSJOHCBCFG

so I wanted to request Sirius x reader where the reader is on veritaserum and has a banter/ tongue in cheek sorta relationship with Sirius. And then when she's on the truth serum she has to hold back witty comebacks because when she opens her mouth all she keeps saying is how disgustingly cute Sirius looks when he smiles, and how she just wants to snog his face off PLEASE IF YOU CAN 👉👈 🥺

REMINDER: YOU'RE AMAZING AND I'M HAPPY AND PROUD OF YOUR SERVICE TO THE FANFIC COMMUNITY

thank you ♡ —you can't hide the truth from sirius, and he doesn't want to try. 1.3k

cw spiked drink

"Why would someone put veritaserum in the pimms?" you ask James meekly.

"Shortcake, I'm really not sure. Don't get upset about it, alright? Remus is going to tear them all a new one." He squeezes you by the shoulders. "Don't worry, Jamie's here."

"You're very handsome, but I don't fancy you. Much."

James smiles. "Good to know, lovely. I don't fancy you much either. I'll assume you're saving yourself for our mutual dark-haired friend and I shan't be offended."

You slap a hand over your mouth and shake your head, but the truth comes out muffled into your palm anyways. "I really like him," you say, eyes wide with terror, "I don't want anyone else. Oh, James! You're such a dick!"

"Do you mean that, or are you just angry with me?" James asks, helping you out into the garden away from the party and your peers, who can't be trusted to leave you alone when you're set to tell them any secret they want.

"Both!"

"What's wrong?" Sirius asks.

Your neck almost snaps as you look up. James swears, trying to save it as your body instinctively answers. "Someone's spiked our girl," James says extremely loudly to mask your more honest confession, "I'm worried I'm going to tell you I like you," you say.

Sirius, sitting on a low garden wall with a packet of cigarettes in his hand, is puzzled. "What?"

"Someone's put veritaserum in her drink. Maybe in the pitcher. I've brought her outside so she doesn't accidentally tell everyone she's in love with me."

Sirius grins. "Don't be daft, Prongs, she's clearly team Black. Aren't you, sweetheart?"

"You're the prettiest of your trio," you say, sincerity like a blade at the back of your throat, aching, "I'm definitely on your team."

James squeezes your shoulder and helps you into a garden chair, the metal cool against your back. "I'll forgive you because I know you can't help it, and because I know you're dying of embarrassment," he murmurs.

"Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too, shortcake," James says easily, kicking out a chair for Sirius and flopping into his beside you. "Aren't feeling ill, are you?"

"Just terrified I'll say something too honest," you say, holding your breath between words.

Sirius sits in the chair that's been kicked out for him with a cigarette held between his lips, unlit. He lift a his hips to pull a lighter from his back pocket and you flush with heat at the motion, wondering if you're a pervert for looking, for thinking, but lately your flirty banter has your heart doing front flips, and every time you see him you're zoning in on his hands, his arms, the slip of skin at his navel when he stretches, the low sound he makes when something pops.

"Stop ogling me," he says without looking from his cigarette, the end glowing orange in the flame of his clipper.

"I don't mean to," you say.

James shifts uncomfortably. Everyone knows you like Sirius, maybe even Sirius, but he hasn't said a thing about it and you've stopped yourself (so far) from telling him. Any truth has been said under the guise of a joke.

Sirius takes a short drag and holds the cigarette out and away from you, smoke curling in the cold autumnal night. "Shall I go help defend your honour? I assume that's where Remus is. Being spiked isn't funny."

"I'd like it if you stayed here," you say.

James laughs. Sirius leans forward a touch. "Then I'll stay here. Do you need something to drink?"

"My mouth is really dry," you say.

Sirius sends a saccharine smile James' way. It's the look of an older brother used to getting his way, to which James sighs and grumbles, standing from his chair, "Don't ask her anything cruel," he says severely, kissing the top of your head quickly. "I'm serious."

"I won't. I quite like her, in case you forgot. I've no interest in torturing her."

You believe him. James departs with a pat, leaving you and Sirius alone at the garden table, still but for the little motion he does every now and then to fleck ash onto the floor.

"You sure you're okay?" Sirius asks.

"I feel fine. Warm, but that's probably because you're smiling at me."

He raises his eyebrows. "Maybe we should talk about something else. I really don't want to ask you anything too personal while you can't keep a secret. James gave me veritaserum once, when we were kids."

"He did?" you ask.

"Too much of it. I was sick, and I couldn't stop telling him how much I wished we were real brothers. Which he knows now, but at the time it was, you know, very sincere."

"You and James are real brothers," you say.

"I'm glad you can say that. It must be true," he says. "I'm lucky, even if he has tried to poison me."

"James is lucky too. We all are."

"Yeah?" he asks. He's about to continue, but your mouth does the choosing for you, and you cut him off.

"I love knowing you, Sirius, I feel lucky to be your friend, and I–" You bite your tongue hard enough for tears to catch in your eyes immediately.

Sirius' blasé fades, falls away slowly, like a moving cloud unveiling a slice of light, "Don't hurt yourself," he says, alarmed at your wincing. He drops his cigarette and smashes it with his heel, shuffling his chair closer to yours.

"I just don't want to tell you something," you say, shaking your head.

Sirius touches your hand. "Okay, I won't ask you any more questions. I'm sorry. Everyone's allowed their secrets, lovely, I didn't mean to make you answer me. I thought it would be easier to skirt around the issue."

But it's a big feeling, and it's in everything you do. You really, really like him. If you can't be honest about that, maybe you can be honest about something else..

There's no shame in finding a handsome man handsome. And maybe you can convince him that that's all it is. "I just want to kiss you stupid, Black," you say, "like, kiss you until I can't feel my mouth anymore. You look like you know how to really kiss someone."

Sirius laughs suddenly, startled. "I want to kiss you stupid, doll. You're a fucking dime piece," he says through laughter, "and that's the truth."

"You look really nice when you laugh," you further, wondering if this is the wrong thing to do.

"You look beautiful when you laugh," he says.

"Joking with you about stuff is the best part of my week."

"It's the best part of mine. I wish we saw each other more often," he says.

"Did you drink the pimms, too?" you ask.

"No. I'm stone cold sober, sweetheart." Sirius looks behind you and you follow his gaze to the patio doors, where James and Remus are arguing good-naturedly, a tall pint glass filled literally to the rim with water in James' hand.

"Has he left you alone?" Remus asks, quick down the short step to defend you. "I love you, Sirius, but I don't trust you to not ask her embarrassing questions."

"I'm starting to get offended. No, she hasn't told me anything embarrassing. Only that she wants to snog my lips off, but I knew that already." Sirius smiles at you dopily while his friends seize up. "And that's hardly embarrassing, because I want to do it to her first."

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black #luveline's 40k party

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sunasrin · 2 months ago

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☆⋆ﾟ𓂃 いとし凛 : NEW YEARS

── after a full day of preparation for New Years, your boyfriend of 4 years didn't show up.

.࣭𓆩̟࣪𓆪̟ pro!itoshi rin ‹ ˖࣪ ִֶָ ‹ fem!reader : (★) 2.4k w ──

⋅☾ IMAGINE , angst to fluff , comfort , heartbreak , happy ending

lexi's note . · ☄︎ hello! This is my first writing for bllk ! If you enjoy, please do insist on requesting !! I might make this as a mini series, but we'll see, due to college ! Other than that, here is some things that I'll like to go over with ! First English isn't my first language so please bare with me if I don't make sense or either the writing ! Second, this imagine will contain sorts of heated arguments, cussing, etc. Therefore, I wish you guys a happy new year! 🫶🏻✨️

As the sky shimmered with stars against the inky black atmosphere, the dining table gleamed under the soft glow of candlelight. Every plate was accurately placed, reflecting the anticipation and care that Y/n had poured into the evening. She stood by the door, her heart a mix of excitement and worry, waiting for her handsome boyfriend to return home. The table was set at exactly 7 pm, each dish carefully chosen to be his favorite, creating an inviting smell that mingled with the delicate scent of flowers in the centerpiece. Y/n knew Rin's demanding schedule well, his travels for tournaments and intense matches often keeping him busy. His practice was supposed to end at 10 pm, and with their home just 30 minutes away, he should have been back by 10:30. Yet, as the clock ticked closer to 11, the silence of their cozy home grew more unsettling. She tried to reassure herself, imagining Rin picking up last-minute gifts, but the unease gnawed at her. However, five minutes turned into 30, then an hour, until it was 11:59. The only sound breaking the silence was the TV, counting down from 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... ushering in 2025. A new year without... Rin. Her beloved boyfriend. Y/n's heart sank as the fireworks lit up the night sky outside, their vibrant colors mocking the emptiness she felt inside. She had spent weeks planning this night, hoping to surprise Rin with a celebration that would show him just how much he meant to her. But now, as the new year arrived, she was alone, her mind racing with worry and fear. Had something happened to him? Was he hurt or in trouble? The thoughts swirled in her head, each one more terrifying than the last. Another hour had passed, hitting exactly at 1:45 in the morning. Y/n let out a soft sigh, the sound echoing in the quiet of the house as she moved to clean the dining table.

The remnants of their romantic dinner lay scattered, the once warm food now cold and uninviting. She carefully put the leftovers into the fridge, the door creaking slightly as she closed it, then turned her attention to the dishes. The water splashed as she washed them, the warm suds contrasting sharply with the chill in her heart. She tossed the melted candle into the trash, its waxy remnants a sad reminder of the evening that had slipped away. With a heavy heart, Y/n glanced back at the dining table, now a shadow of its former charm, before trudging up the stairs to their shared bedroom. The familiar routine felt hollow tonight, but she tucked herself into bed, pulling the covers tightly around her as if they could shield her from the pain. She switched off her lamp, the room plunging into darkness, but sleep eluded her. As the clock ticked closer to 2 am, she sighed again, her eyes fluttering closed, finally succumbing to a deep slumber. Meanwhile, Rin was oblivious to the turmoil at home. It was 2025, a new year full of possibilities, and he thought little of his late return. After a lively dinner with his team to celebrate, he hadn’t expected to stumble into the quiet apartment at 3 in the morning. He sighed, the sound of his keys jingling as he unlocked the door, the familiar creak of it swinging open greeting him like an old friend. As he stepped inside, the silence wrapped around him, the only light coming from the hallway, casting soft shadows on the walls. He shrugged off the unease creeping into his chest, assuming Y/n had gone to bed early. But as he entered the bedroom, a chill ran down his spine. Y/n’s side of the bed was untouched, the sheets neatly made as if she hadn’t been there at all. A wave of concern washed over him, and he glanced at her nightstand, where her phone lay, untouched and silent. “Y/n?” he called softly, his voice breaking the stillness. The silence stretched, and his heart raced with worry. He sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Leaning over, he gently brushed a hand against her shoulder.

The next morning felt like a repeat for Y/n. Rin had early practice, and she knew he wouldn’t be home until 10 at night again. She didn’t care much; it had become the norm. To pass the time, she decided to do some chores around the house. As she moved from room to room, she stumbled upon a pair of nasty socks hidden behind the couch. “Ew, it has spider webs on it!” she exclaimed, grossed out. These were the socks Rin had been looking for for soccer. With a sigh, she picked them up and tossed them into the laundry basket, shaking her head at the dirty socks that happened to be found. She sighed to herself as she pushed the couch back to its place. She continued to work around the house, diligently moving from one task to the next. She swept the floors, her broom gliding across the wooden planks, collecting dust and crumbs into neat little piles. Next, she tackled the carpets, the hum of the vacuum cleaner filling the air as she meticulously covered every inch, ensuring no speck of dirt was left behind. With a bucket of soapy water and a mop in hand, she scrubbed the tiles, watching as the grime dissolved and the floors gleamed once more. Finally, she turned to the laundry, carefully folding each piece of clothing, smoothing out wrinkles, and stacking them into tidy piles. Just as she was about to finish, Rin comes home, his face a mix of exhaustion and frustration. Y/n didn't pay much attention to his facial features but asked, "How was your day at practice?" Rin, irritated from Bachira and Isagi's constant annoyance, responded roughly with a stern voice, "Don't worry about it." He scoffed, his irritation evident in his tone. "Well, I should worry if my boyfriend is sounding upset. Here, help me put the laundry away," she states, trying to keep the atmosphere light. Rin groans, "Why me? Do it yourself. I want to rest." He slumps onto the couch, his body language screaming fatigue. She hands him a stack of freshly folded clothes, her eyes softening as she watches him. "Come on, it won't take long," she says gently, hoping to ease his frustration.

"No, for once can you fucking leave me alone? You're all over me, it gets annoying! You're too clingy! Why can't you just do shit for yourself without asking me for help?" he screams irrationally. "Me? Annoying? Clingy?" she chuckles, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Seriously, me out of all the girls you fucking dated! Itoshi Rin, do you not notice the hard work I put in the entire day? I work my ass off just for you to sit here and discredit me? Like seriously I'm the one you should be thankful to, that you still have a clean home to come to, food on the table for you! So don't sit here and say I ask for help too much, which I don't. I understand you're upset because of practice, but lashing out at me is not okay!" she heaves, her chest rising and falling heavily with emotion. "Whatever, all you ever do in this house is nag. Without me, you wouldn't be able to pay for a roof over your head!" Rin snaps, his face flushed with anger. Y/n's eyes widen in shock, but she quickly regains her composure. "Nag? Is that what you think I do? Every day, I wake up early to clean this house, cook your meals, and make sure everything is perfect for you. And you think all I do is nag?" Her voice trembles with a mix of hurt and frustration. Rin turns away, his jaw clenched. "You wouldn't survive a day without me. I'm the one who pays the bills and keeps us afloat." Y/n takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "You think money is everything? What about the emotional support, the care, the effort I put into making this house a home? You can't just dismiss all that because you're upset. This isn't fair, Rin." Y/n just stood there in disbelief. "It's fine cause honestly, you weren't ever there for me in the first place. Example, last night. You knew we had New Year's planned out. But still, didn't even try to make the effort to show up. How is that nagging? If you had plans yesterday, I could've sworn you would've said something to give me the heads up!" She screamed, but more irritation began to set on fire for Rin. "Maybe it's because I didn't want to sit my ass home with you. You complaining, whining, and your clingy self, it's a nuisance. As a matter of fact, I'd rather go out than be stuck at home with a bitch who nags like you!" He screamed, chest heaving from the words he spat out.

Y/n just stood there, mouth agape, body shaking, and tears slipping out of her eye sockets. Her eyes tried to search for lies in his cold grey teal eyes, but all she saw was anger... no remorse. She felt the weight of his words pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. The room seemed to close in around her, the once familiar walls now feeling like a prison. The memories of their happier times flashed before her eyes, making the present moment even more unbearable. She remembered the laughs they shared, the promises they made, and how she once felt safe in his arms. But now, those memories felt like a cruel joke, mocking her for believing in something that was never real. Rin's face was twisted in anger, his eyes burning with a fire she had never seen before. "You always make everything about you, Y/n. Every single time. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of you," he continued, his voice dripping with venom. Each word was like a dagger to her heart, tearing apart the fragile threads that held her together. Y/n's mind raced, trying to find a way to respond, to make him see how much he was hurting her. But the words wouldn't come. All she could do was stand there, feeling the tears stream down her face, her body trembling with a mixture of sadness and rage. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but she felt paralyzed by the sheer intensity of the moment. Rin sighed before leaving the living room, making his way up into the shared bedroom, slamming the door shut, causing her to jump to realization. Rin sighed before leaving the living room, making his way up into the shared bedroom. The tension in the air was palpable, and each step he took seemed to echo the unresolved conflict between them. As he reached the bedroom, he slammed the door shut with a force that sent a shiver down her spine, causing her to jump in realization.

Y/n stood frozen in the living room, the sound of the door reverberating in her ears. It was as if the slam had shattered the fragile silence that hung between them, bringing to the surface all the unspoken words and buried emotions. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She sank onto the couch, her mind racing with thoughts and memories. The image of Rin's back as he walked away was etched into her mind, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between them. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. The room around her seemed to blur as she replayed the events of the past few days in her mind. The arguments, the misunderstandings, the moments of silence that spoke louder than words. She realized that they had been drifting apart for a while, and the slammed door was just the final punctuation mark in a sentence that had been written long ago. As the minutes ticked by, Y/n knew she had to face the reality of their situation. Still, she couldn't leave Itoshi Rin; she still loved him. Y/n knew that Rin didn't mean the words he spoke. It was just that they were in the heat of the moment. But... still, why did it hurt so bad? Why did his words send knives stabbing into the soft heart she let him hold on to? Just why? Y/n knew Rin's frustrations came from a place of stress and exhaustion. She had seen the weariness in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped when he thought no one was watching. She understood that his words were born out of that momentary lapse, but it didn't make them hurt any less. The sting of his accusations and the sharpness of his tone had cut deeper than she cared to admit. Her mind wandered to the happier times they had shared, the laughter and the quiet moments of understanding. Those memories felt like a distant dream now, overshadowed by the lingering pain of their recent fight. She clutched her chest, feeling the physical manifestation of her emotional turmoil. As she sat there, tears began to blur her vision. She couldn't help but wonder why love had to be so complicated, why the person she trusted most could also be the one to cause her the most pain. She knew Rin hadn't meant to hurt her, but knowing that didn't make the pain go away. It only made it more confusing, more tangled in the web of their emotions.

Even so, an hour had gone by after the argument. Rin was still cooped up in the room while Y/n was thinking about the outcome of the argument. Until she heard the door swing open from their shared bedroom. Footsteps coming from upstairs traveled all the way down to where she was seated, and then she felt a dip next to her. Y/n couldn't look. She couldn't look at his face. She knew that if she looked into his beautiful grey teal eyes, she would forgive him easily. "Baby," he started, grabbing onto her hand that was still shaking. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. You're not clingy, you're not a nuisance, you're not a hassle, you don't nag at me, you don't complain, you don't whine, and you’re definitely not a bitch." He began. "Then why did you say those words?" she spoke up with a whisper. Rin's face softened as he felt agony and guilt creeping into his body, sending chills down his spine. "I didn't mean it. I was upset from practice, and I'm sorry for missing out yesterday night. I know that we planned it out, but by the time I was going to text you, my phone died. I couldn't text you, and I honestly should've let you know about the plans that were made." Rin grabbed her chin to lift her face up, looking into her teary eyes that were now swollen red. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing. Y/n's heart ached with the weight of his words, but she could see the sincerity in his eyes. The tension between them hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the warmth they usually shared. Rin's hand trembled slightly as he held her chin, desperate for her forgiveness. Y/n's mind raced with conflicting emotions. She wanted to believe him, to let go of the pain and embrace the love she knew was still there. But the hurt was still fresh, the wounds still raw. She searched his eyes for any sign of deceit but found only remorse and a deep longing to make things right. Rin's voice broke the silence once more, softer this time, almost a plea. "Please, Y/n. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But I promise, I'll make it up to you. Just... give me a chance."

"You hurt me." She cried again, her face in her palms as she leaned forward, pressing her forehead onto his shoulder. Y/n continued her cries while Rin patted her back and whispered soft apologies. After her crying calmed down, Rin kissed her forehead, and she smiled, happy to know he owned up to his actions. "So, do I get another chance?" he pleaded. "Welllllllll..." she began, teasingly drawing out the word. "Babyyyyyy," he practically begged, his voice filled with desperation. "I'm just kidding," she smiled. "You can have it, but the trust... you're going to have to make it all up." She spoke before booping his nose. Rin smiled, a mixture of relief and determination in his eyes. "Now you're going to refold all this laundry," Y/n pointed out. "What? Why?" he whined, looking at the pile of clothes with a dramatic sigh. "Do I have to repeat myself?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "No, ma'am," he saluted, a playful grin on his face as he began to fold the laundry. Y/n watched him, feeling a sense of warmth and contentment. She leaned down and gave him a small peck on the cheek. "Thank you," she smiled before going back to folding clothes alongside Rin, her beloved boyfriend.

As they folded the laundry together, the atmosphere in the room shifted from one of tension to one of quiet companionship. The rhythmic movements of their hands, the soft rustle of fabric, and the occasional shared glance spoke volumes about their commitment to each other. They knew that rebuilding trust would take time, but in that moment, they were united in their effort to move forward. Rin paused for a moment, looking at Y/n with a tender expression. "I promise I'll do whatever it takes to make things right," he said softly. Y/n nodded, her heart swelling with hope. "I know you will. And I'll be here, every step of the way." They continued to fold the laundry, side by side, finding solace in the simple act of working together. The future was uncertain, but as long as they had each other, they knew they could face whatever challenges came their way. In the quiet of their shared space, they found a renewed sense of connection and a deepened understanding of what it meant to truly love and forgive.

#anime #bllk x reader angst #itoshi rin angst #rin itoshi x reader angst #bllk x reader #bllk #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #bllk x female reader #bllk angst #bllk itoshi rin #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader fluff #bllk fluff #itoshi rin fluff

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inmoonsblood · 3 months ago

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lover : percy jackson

book percy jackson. unspecified godly parent!reader. takes place around two years post trials of apollo. both of them are in college. 815 words.

synopsis: "like hell! the only one who can get me away from you right now is my mom." ; ft; late night rain dancing, taylor swift playing, warm towels and a shit ton of kisses from your second favourite person in the whole wide world.

note: repost 1 from my old account! i love this fic so so much, but i need to heavily stress that this (and all my percy fics) are for book percy, (17-18 year old) i don't write for show percy as of now. an old fic written before the show came out, so please, be nice to me, directly reposted from @the-ink-of-roses incase you've read it before!

percy's hands slip around your waist, your back to his chest, as he picks you up and gently sways the two of you to the beat of 'love story' by taylor swift while he hums the lyrics under his breath.

he tugs you closer and presses a kiss to your cheek and jaw, resting his head on your shoulder later. you giggle when he does that, turning your head slightly to kiss his forehead.

the playlist probably ran out ages ago, now you two are staying afloat purely on the will of the spotify lords and their music choice, but as long as it's a song that either you or percy know, it works.

(anything works, to be honest, just as long as percy's here, behind you, holding you like you're the one thing he never wants to lose. as long as you have that, you know you've won. as long as percy jackson holds your hand and kisses your cheeks, gods, you'll take anything.)

new rome is fun, it keeps life interesting in a way that doesn't risk you, him and annabeth going out on quests--and annabeth having to mock throw up every time you two kiss even if you know she's just as terrified as you two.

swords and running from medusa's sisters (or medusa sometimes. yeah aunty em was NOT happy last time you met her, apparently she still remembered the store circus thing even if it was more than seven years ago) were replaced with chasing deadlines and seeing how many energy drinks you guys can stomach.

you're in new york right now, staying at sally's (when she learnt you were going to spend the holidays in new rome, she demanded her son get you home. no way in hell is estelle's favourite person going to stay alone for the holidays), and like the two very smart heroes of olympus you two are, you're out here dancing in the rain.

it's a little silly, yeah, but in your absolute defence, this started out as percy trying to teach you how to skateboard before the rain, and neither of you are going to let that ruin a date for you (by extension let zeus ruin another date for you, even if this isn't aimed at you--probably not aimed at you), so you two made the best of both worlds, thanking the gods the speaker piper got for you is waterproof. (in hindsight, percy is also waterproof, he just likes this better. despite the inevitable cold coming in soon for both of you).

with one last strike of thunder, the rain slowly dies down, leaving you and him in the park as the spotify lords finally give up on you two.

percy drops you suddenly and you have only two seconds to squeal in absolute surprise before you're turned around to face him this time. he's grinning at you with a look of absolute mischief--you're sure connor and travis had the exact same look before they shoved you into the pool last time you guys visited camp half blood. of course, percy was in there but something tells you that was their goal.

he looks so pretty you could cry.

and this pure boy, who smiles secretly to you, looks at you like you're the one at the centre of his universe, the one who holds your heart. this same boy has given you his, asking only for your love in return, something you're more than happy to give him.

before you can ask him what he's up to, percy suddenly shakes his hair, causing all the water to fly everywhere, including on you.

you almost yell in surprise but with a small chuckle bite back. doing the same, as both of you laugh while shaking your heads to have the water droplets go around everywhere.

it's probably a weird sight to watch--two teenagers, drenched in water, shaking their heads like there's no tomorrow while holding each other, but you don't really give four fucks.

once your head starts hurting, you stop and cup percy's face, getting him to stop as well. your other hand slides into his hair, messing it up further as the hand on his face guides him for a kiss.

he lifts you up again and twirls you--no doubt to get another laugh out of you--before setting you down.

percy doesn't let go of your hand either, not when you pick up your stuff and head to sally's (your current favourite person in the world), not while the two of you are lectured by her on colds coughs and fevers in this weather, not even when warm towels are given to the two of you.

not even when you two keep sneezing the next day to no one's surprise.

#( ✸ ) half divinity #( ✸ ) pari's works #( ✸ ) not a request #( ✸ ) old works: reposted #book!percy jackson #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #pjo x reader #pjo

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8em-em-em8 · 3 months ago

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After that last chapter I've got an idea where Izuku and Katsuki ends up as acquaintance more that real friends over the years because post canon Katsuki tries to put distance in between them to try to move on. Izuku often thinks about him and what they had but thinks the fact that they fell apart is more because they are both busy with their jobs than anything else. Doesn't realise he broke Katsuki's heart and no one tells him (they know, they just don't want to get murdered by Bakugo/make it worse since Midorya apparently chose Ochaco).

Bakugo gets married 2 years later, his partner is a fellow hero, a man, and he becomes a bit of a queer icon because of course Bakugo takes no bullshit. But yeah, most informations Izuku gets about Bakugo are either on the news or second hand from their mutual friends (Dynamight's affiliated to high risks fights missions and Deku more of a rescue guy now, helping when he can, so they don't meet often on the field).

Until one day several years later, Izuku has been living alone for a year, since he broke up with Ochaco, and someone is at the door at 9pm.

Opening the door is like a punch in the face : Katsuki looks tired, and his eyes are red rimmed, and even if Izuku hasn't seen him do so often in his life, it's obvious he cried. He has a big bag thrown over one of his shoulder, and on the other is resting the head of a sleeping toddler.

Izuku's only seen the baby in pictures before but she has the same face as her father even though her hair are a strong black rather than an untameable blond mop.

''Kacchan?''

''Hey nerd.'' Katsuki sounds embarrassed, but maybe too tired to be angry about it. ''I know we- I know we're not really friends anymore but... Can we crash here tonight?''

You don't have to ask Izuku twice, and maybe he doesn't understand yet, but he doesn't hesitate one second before taking Katsuki to his room.

''You sure?'' Katsuki hesitates on the threshold. ''Were are you going to sleep?''

''I'm sure. There is not enough space on the futon for two person and I'm pretty sure you'll want to stay with her. Haru, right?''

For a second, Katsuki looks at him and it's maybe the first time Izuku gets to see such a heartbreaking emotion on his face. He looks thankful, maybe even fond, but also profoundly sad.

''... Yeah, her name is Haru.'' he confirms, kissing her little forehead- and isn't that a sight. ''Forgot you never seen her before.'' Katsuki adds before putting a knee to the bed and carefully bending down to put his daughter on the wall side of the bed. The little girl doesn't stir, and after making sure she's well tucked, Katsuki follows Izuku out.

He let the door half open, probably to be sure to hear if Haru wakes up before he goes to bed.

They end up on the couch, Katsuki with his head in his hand. And Izuku is struck by how much he doesn't know his childhood friend anymore when he goes to rub his back but holds back, not sure how it will be received.

''Do you want to talk about it?'' he asks.

For a second silence rings in the appartement, only broken by the sound of the fridge, but then Katsuki's shoulder start to tremble and just like that he is crying again.

''I made a mistake.'' He says, voice rough while he rubs furiously at his eyes. ''I made a huge fucking mistake. I should have known, we should have talked about it, I should have seen the signs-''

When Izuku sees Katsuki's fists starting to fizzle, little tendrils of smoke escaping from between his clenched fingers, it's like all caution flies out the window : he immediately grads them, trying to soothe his friend.

''Kacchan.''

''I'm divorcing my husband.'' Katsuki spits, and here is the anger. The hate is so clear in his tear soaked eyes that even tho Izuku himself never men him, he despites the man instantly.

''Did he... Did he cheat on you?'' Izuku tries, wanting to understand.

Katsuki's laugh is bitter and cold.

''If only.'' he rubs at his eyes again, but then he puts his hand back in Izuku's and Izuku is embarrassed to feel warmth at that gesture, to see that even after all these years, he can still be a source of comfort for Kacchan. ''This afternoon we... We learned that Haru is quirkless.''

Oh.

Izuku feels like he was doused with an ice water bucket. Involuntarily his fingers clench on Katsuki's hand.

''What happened?'' he asks, not even sure he's ready for the answer.

''Ueda he- it's like I didn't know him anymore. He started to shout at everyone, he insulted the doctor, called our surrogate mother all the names he could think of, as if it was her fault. As there was any fault to have.'' Izuku can feel his eyes fill with tears, his eyes bored into Katsuki's panicked ones. ''I swear 'Zuku, I tried to talk to him about it, I fucking swear. But he didn't want to hear anything, he- he called Haru useless. I thought she was in her room, I didn't want her to hear all that shit but she came out to ask for a drink and he just pointed at her and said he wouldn't have an useless kid.'' another sob breaks Katsuki's voice and now they are both gripping at each other. Their clenched hands are uncomfortable with sweat but it's the last of Izuku's problems, because right now Katsuki needs him. ''I swear she's the only reason I didn't kill him on the spot. I just took her overnight bag and we left. You were the only person I could think of.''

Izuku nods, and hesitantly he lifts a hand, just a suggestion, but Katsuki doesn't seems to think about it long before Izuku is engulfed in a desperate hug. He can feel that Katsuki is still crying, he knows it's better not to say anything about it. Instead Izuku rocks his friend, just a little.

''You did good. The both of you can stay as long as you want.''

#cue Bakugo's kid being a menace #because why wouldn't she be #spoiler alert : Bakugo never moves out #They'll have their domestic ever after #mha #mha bkdk #my hero academia #bkdk #kid fic #bakugou katsuki #bakudeku #izuku midoriya

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nightlyrequiem · 4 months ago

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hi there requiem !!!

so about being Valerias wife??? can we have some hcs on how she treats us (〃´▽`)

like how clingy, jealous, etc ^_^

throw in some smut too .. if you can (・・;)

thank you in advance!!! <3<33

-🃏🌀⭐️

Hi welcome back, happy to see your emojis in my inbox <33

I would LOVE to talk about how Valeria treats her wife. I have a few different ideas that I can't pick from

Being Valeria's Wife

I have two ideas, we'll start with the fluffier, happier ones. Then delve into the darker ones. Valeria is very doting when she has the time. She's a busy woman but when she's with you? She is with you. I like to think that Valeria's love language is acts of service. You're hungry? She'll cook for you. She'll arrange the cushions on the couch and bed for you. Valeria loves doing simple things for you.

Valeria is also a very jealous woman. She has this deep, irrational fear that one of your friends will woo you somehow and you'll cheat on her. She secretly goes through your phone. Not necessarily out of a lack of trust but just to reassure herself. She's not too clingy. Valeria loves cuddling up with you but she also likes her own space. She's perfectly fine with spending long periods of time away from you. (Not too long though.)

She's obsessed. But only because it's so hard for her to actually want someone in the first place. Not because she's guarding her heart but because she feels a lack of interest in literally everyone. So when she does finally catch feelings she falls fast, and she falls hard. Valeria is here to stay. If you're of a cheerful temperament, then everything is smooth sailing.

Valeria isn't a mental health expert though. The time and area she was raised in didn't really talk about it. So she'll struggle a bit if you have a mental illness. Not understanding certain behaviors and moods means things will be tense. Valeria will argue with you and fight with you, but eventually relents and does her own research. She learns how to help you. Offering that much needed emotional support.

She spoils you too. Even if you make your own money she will insist on paying for every date. If you want to pay the bills you're going to have to be good at arguing because she wants to pay those too.

Valeria isn't so good to you during serious arguments though. She's quick to anger and even quicker to use things against you. Then she'll give you the cold shoulder for a while. She's not great at apologizing either. In fact, she just doesn't. One day you'll wake up to her making you coffee in the kitchen acting like nothing happened. asking for an apology will just spark another argument.

That woman is also very horny. She's very attentive to you in bed. She likes being rough and borderline violent but if you don't like that she will be more gentle. That being said, she loves eating you out. In the shower, on the counter, in bed, in the car. Doesn't matter. She'll take any chance she can to use her mouth on you. She's not good at after care at first. You had to tell her that it doesn't feel good to be used and then left alone while she goes eats or something.

Now onto the darker stuff. Valeria loves you in her own way but she's dismissive and kind of mean sometimes. During fights she'll belittle, and name call you. She's jealous and a little insecure. It's not that she's not aware of her bad behavior, because she is. She always tells you and herself that she's going to change but she never does. She worries you'll eventually leave her.

She doesn't like your friends either. If you dare, try and hangout with them, she'll give you the cold shoulder. To her it feels like you prefer them over her and she's not about to beg for your attention. On the contrary, you have to beg for hers. She won't talk to you until you're in tears begging her to stop ignoring you, and even then, she's still a little icy for a few days.

She'll regularly go through your phone and delete pictures of you and your friends without telling you. She's dismissive and uncaring when you bring it up. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it somewhere, but Valeria really struggled with empathy. She knows it hurts you and she'd prefer if it didn't, but she doesn't feel all that bad. The guilt she feels is too distant for her to do anything with.

She still loves you though, it's just not in a conventional way and if she maybe went to therapy, she could love you in a healthier way.

#valeria garza x reader #valeria garza #cod mw2 #modern warefare ii #valeria garza x fem!reader

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c0eu4 · 1 year ago

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OP81 | Spider | Blurb

oscarpiastri x fem!reader

Summary: You just wanted to take a shower, but you're disturbed by a horrible spider.

Warning: spider description!!!

A/n: I struggle to write that because spiders are my number one phobia and just thinking about it is killing me.

MASTERLIST requests are close

The heat of Australia knocks you down a little more each day and the nights are real hell. Between Oscar sticking to you, because he's used to it, and the mosquitoes who are attacking you, you thought you were at the end of your rope.

You step into the bathroom, ready to take a cold shower, in a hope to cool yourself down. You tie your hair into a horrible bun and look at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds. Your skin is much tanner, but still not used to the harsh sun of the southern equator. You run your hand over your face and notice how oily and rough it is. You remove your clothes, careful not to touch the areas where your skin is red, burning. You leave them on the ground, near those that Oscar left the day before, and you turn towards the shower.

As you were about to go inside, your whole body froze. So this hell will never end? You take a long look at the horrible black and hairy creature that is at the bottom of the bathtub. Its eight legs are frozen to the ground and its eyes are fixed on you. Neither you nor the spider dare to move. Your heart beats fast and you feel your legs start to shake. You open your mouth but nothing comes out, as if your voice is blocked. Then, finally, as the spider begins to walk towards you, a shrill cry finally escapes from your throat.

You walk backwards desperately, until your back meets the wall. Your eyes never leave the spider as you feel this horrible feeling of a spider walking all over your body.

''OSCAAAAR'' You scream a second time, hoping your boyfriend can hear you across the big house. In less than a minute, someone opens the door in a big 'boum' and Oscar takes you in his arms to move you away.

''Y/n! You're ok!?'' He places both hands on your cheeks and turns your head to either side, as if to check if you have any injury. ''Why did you scream? Are you in pain? Did you fall?'' He debited his words, as if the end of the world has fallen on you.

''Spider..'' Is all you manage to say, still in shock from the big hairy bug you just saw.

''Spider?'' Repeat Oscar, with a once of worries in his eyes.

Oscar isn't really afraid of spiders. He is accustomed. But just knowing it's a spider doesn't help much. It can be a black widow or a small house spider.

He wraps your towel around you, to prevent you from catching a cold (even if the heat in the room definitely prevents you from it.) and heads towards the bathtub.

He starts giggling when he sees the 'little' spider at the bottom of the bathtub, desperately trying to get out.

''What are you doing there...'' He starts talking to the spider while grabbing it by its two back legs.

''WHAT THE HELL OSCAR!?'' You scream as he shows you the spider with a smirk. ''It's a Huntsman. They are harmless.''

''AH HUNTSMAN!? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?'' The horrible creature starts moving in all directions and tries to get out of the grip of Oscar's fingers but can do nothing.

The Australian uses his other hand to open the bathroom window and places the spider on the sill. It takes the opportunity to run and hide in the bushes below.

''Welcome in Australia, honey.'' He giggled again and leaned to hug her but she walked back.

''Wash your hand before touching me, I don't wanna have baby spiders on my skin.'' Oscar rolls his eyes and quickly runs his hands under the water before forcing you into a hug. You struggle slightly but eventually let yourself go and he kisses your forehead.

''Go take that shower, my mum and sis want to show you Sidney.'' You groan slightly but he finally lets go of you and leaves the bathroom to give you your moment of privacy alone.

Tagg: @millinorrizz

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 drivers #f1 x reader #help he's so hot #fluff #piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri f1 #op81 #oscar smut #oscar #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader

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phoward89 · 1 year ago

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Banner by me, dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

Based on this ask

Warnings: Dark!Stepbrother!Coriolanus Snow, Bigot General Crassus Snow, Implied child abuse, cussing, obsessive behavior, smut. AU of sorts.

When your mother started dating some war hero general, you didn't think much of it. Your mother's dated men, mostly officers, over the years and nothing ever came of it. So when your mother announced that Crassus proposed and she said yes, you nearly had a stroke.

Your older brother, Rein, had signed up for the peacekeepers the very next day. You think it was to get the hell out of the house, since Crassus Snow had a reputation of being a very cold, stern, and cruel man.

Not that you knew much about him. But you kind of knew his son. Well, you didn't know Coriolanus, but you went to the Academy with him.

Little did you know, Coriolanus has been secretly watching you ever since his balls dropped and his voice changed. He always thought that you were a beautiful little dove. His darling rose. He had a crush *cough* obsession *cough* with you, but would only watch you from afar.

His group of friends (rich asshole kids he had to play nice with) weren't the type of people that would accept you. You weren't from one of the great Capitol families.

But, despite not being able to be seen with you, he was determined that one day he'd have you pinned down on his bed.

How he planned on doing that if he never talks to you, well, who knows…

So, when Crassus Snow told his son that he was getting married to your mother, well, Coriolanus was over the moon. He was finally going to be able to fulfill his fantasies; pin you down on his mattress and fuck you into it until you begged for mercy.

The day after he found out you were going to be his new stepsister, he approached you at the Academy. You were talking with one of your friends, waiting for classes to start, in the main hallway. He felt that now was the perfect time to introduce you to the right friend circle to have; to claim you as his own too.

“Why isn't it Y/N Halvir, my new stepsister.”

“Your mother's marrying his father? Oh, I feel so bad for you…” Your friend whispered so only you'd be able to hear her.

Giving Coriolanus a fake smile, you simply greeted him with, “Hi, Coriolanus. Shouldn't you be with your own friends?”

“I’m actually here to take you with me so that you can meet them, now that you're a Snow.” Coriolanus replied, his icy eyes taking in every inch of you.

“Our parents aren't married yet, I'm nothing to you, but your classmate at the moment.” You reminded him, since he's never shown interest in you before; doesn't need to either since your parents’ are still planning the wedding.

Well Crassus’ mother, your soon to be new Grandma’am, was planning it while her son was footing the bill. You hope she doesn't pick out some frilly, gaudy, girly puffball of a dress for you to wear.

Coriolanus gave you a smile that was all pearly whites and sickeningly sweet. “Dear sweet stepsister, in time they'll be married, and I just want to introduce you to my friends.”

Your friend noticed the glint in Coriolanus' icy eyes and was afraid for you. She didn't know much about him, but he always intimidated her. Gave her the creeps for some reason she couldn't pinpoint. Your friend looked between you and your soon to be stepbrother, hoping that he'd just leave you alone.

Sadly, that didn't happen.

Coriolanus' large hand grabbed your arm, his long fingers wrapping tightly around it like tentacles. He leaned in close, so close that his breath was fanning your face, and gritted through his perfect teeth, “You're going to be a Snow, Y/N, so you need to start acting like it. The first step is to let me give you friends that are worthy of the Snow name.”

Your heart raced and you felt fear bloom in your chest. You nodded at him, giving into his will.

Coriolanus smirked when you turned to your friend and told her you were going with Coriolanus.

You were his now. His, and he’s never letting go.

Integrating yourself into the Snow family was easier said than done. First, you were stuck moving into their 12th floor Corso penthouse right away. Right away being mere days after the engagement was announced.

Your mother was so happy to be living in the grand penthouse, but you missed your old apartment.

At least your old, albeit smaller, apartment was warm and felt lived in. The Snow penthouse was cold and felt dead despite its large size and grand decor.

“Coriolanus, show your new sister to her room.” Crassus sternly ordered his son while standing in front of the fireplace in the main room, sipping tea.

Your mother and Grandma’am, Coriolanus’ grandmother, were sitting in chairs around a glass star shaped coffee table, sipping on tea and hot chocolate. Grandma'am was the one with the hot chocolate.

Grandma’am and your mother seemed to get along well, while Crassus didn't seem to care.

Hell, the general had a scowl on his face and looked a bit miserable.

You wondered if Coriolanus would grow up to be like his father since he already looked like him.

“Yes, father.” Coriolanus nodded. Grabbing your hand and leading you away from the adults, he said, “You'll be in Tigris' old room, little dove.”

“Who's Tigris?” You innocently asked.

“My cousin; she moved out into her own apartment not long ago.” He explained, dragging you down the hall.

You knew what Coriolanus truly meant. His cousin left after his father announced the engagement with your mother.

“My older brother just joined the peacekeepers, so it looks like we both had some family move out.”

Coriolanus stopped at a door, only to push it open and drag you inside of the room. “Mark my word, sweet stepsister, father will be pushing for your brother to take an officer's aptitude test as soon as he's eligible.”

“I don't see why, Rein's not his son.” You told the blonde as he let go of your hand and flipped on the light switch.

The room was spacious. The only furniture in it was a bed, a nightstand, and a desk with a chair. The bed linens were simple too.

The room felt more like a guestroom then a room that had once belonged to somebody in the Snow family.

Maybe it was the lack of personal decorations that made the room feel so lifeless?

But wasn't that to be expected considering Tigris has vacated the room; took any decorations and personal touches with her.

Coriolanus guided you over to the bed. “Not by blood, but as soon as our parents marry, your brother will be another son of Crassus Snow.” You both sat down on the soft mattress. You felt as if his blue eyes were studying you, taking you in like a fine piece of art, as he explained, “Being a part of the prestigious Snow family, Rein will have certain expectations to stand up to now, as do you.”

“I didn't sign up for this, Coriolanus.” You shook your head. Staring at a wall, you bitterly remarked, “My mother decided to marry Crassus, but I didn't know that meant I'd have to be some perfect, rich military brat.”

“Yes, well, we just have to make the best of our circumstances.” Coriolanus told you, his voice a bit crisp and tight. His large, pale hand heavily rested on your thigh. His face got dangerously close to yours, causing his breath to warm your skin. His icy eyes flashed with a fire as he smirked, “At least you have me to guide you, ensure that you're perfect.”

Your heart was racing wildly in your chest. Was your soon to be stepbrother coming on to you?

No. He couldn't be.

He couldn't.

Could he?

But before you could find out, Coriolanus was called by his father to help show the movers where to place your things.

Leaving you alone in your room with a million different thoughts swimming in your head.

Not long after moving into the Snow penthouse, you were asked out on a date by Sejanus Plinth. He was very cute and sweet. Plus he came from a good family.

And you accepted, much to Coriolanus' horror.

Dinner that night was interesting, to say the least.

“But father, you can't let her go out with him. He's district.” Coriolanus protested after hearing Crassus approve of your date plans for the following night.

Grandma'am’s wrinkled face shook with worry. “Coriolanus is right, Crassus. The district boy might hurt her. He’s not Capitol blood; he's not civilized despite living amongst us.”

“Sejanus is a sweet boy. I’ve heard only good things about him from Mrs. Plinth.” Your mother smiled in between daintily eating her spoonful of soup.

Correction, not soup, but a tomato lobster cream bisque that was the first of 4 courses. Which also included a desert.

Yea, dinners were a lavish affair in the Snow household. But since Crassus had a cook on staff, you guess they could be.

Coriolanus’ jaw twitched at your mother's words. He felt that she was foolish for taking the words of a district woman to heart. That she shouldn't be encouraging you to go out with that dirty district dog just because his mother- no his ma, said he's a sweet boy.

He's district and anyone with a drop of district blood in them hated those born and bred in the Capitol. Even those who were district transplants that were allowed into the Capitol as a reward for making their fortunes from betraying the blood of their own couldn't be trusted. No, not when their blood wasn't pure, but was tainted.

Sejanus Plinth, although living in the Capitol and being from a filthy rich family, was and always will be a filthy, dirty blooded, district dog. He was undeserving of you. Infact, even a boy from the Capitol was undeserving of you.

Because you deserve nothing, but the best. You were a part of the Snow family, so only the best for you.

And that was him.

Coriolanus was the best. The only one worthy of you.

He knew it was taboo, forbidden even, but he didn't give a fuck.

Coriolanus was going to have you and his father approving of your date with that damn district born Plinth boy wasn't going to stop him.

General Snow reached for his goblet of wine, only to announce in a deep, authoritative tone, “I've given my approval of Y/N’s date with Sejanus Plinth, so all protests of it will stop.” Giving his son a hard look, Crassus cruelly remarked, “Coriolanus, son, perhaps you should find a girl to entertain yourself with instead of your studies. I wonder about you sometimes, if you even like girls at all.” An evil glint appeared in the light blonde general's cerulean eyes. “Perhaps you'd rather go out with the Plinth boy tomorrow night instead of sending Y/N.”

The room went deadly silent. One could hear a pin drop.

“Crassus…” Grandma’am shook her pearl encrusted turbin covered head at her son. Her blue eyes were full of disappointment.

Your mother didn't say a word, just kept eating her soup. If she felt bad, well she didn't show it. Her grey eyes were glued to her spoon, as if the liquid in it was the most fascinating thing she's ever seen.

Coriolanus flew up off his chair, causing it to loudly clatter to the floor, and stormed out of the dining room.

“Coriolanus!” You called out after him, rising from your own chair with the intention to follow after him.

You felt bad for Coriolanus, for what his father said at the supper table. It was uncalled for. It was disgusting and rude. He was trying to shame and embarrass his son, it wasn't right.

Before you could even make it an inch away from the table, your future stepfather rose from the table and rounded on you. Roughly grabbing your wrist, he coldly said, “Let him sulk like the weakling he is. Sit down, Y/N, and finish your first course.”

Everything inside of you screamed to listen to Crassus, to just sit down and eat that damn tomato-lobster bisque, but your need to run to Coriolanus, to make sure that he was alright, won out. You don't even know why, but you seemed drawn to your future stepbrother. You couldn't just abandon him to wallow in misery by himself.

You wretched your arm out of the general’s cold, tight hold. Looking up at him, you said, “I'm not hungry anymore, Crassus.”

“You'll address me as father now, you little brat.” Crassus ordered, towering over you. The imposing war hero looked ready to kill. It seems that nobody has ever stood up to him before, but always fell in line with his command.

You nodded and went to turn around, only for your ‘father’ to grab your wrist once more in a tight hold. His grip on your small wrist was so hard that you could feel the bones squeezing painfully together.

He twisted your arm behind your back, making your wrist flare as if it was on fire while the rest of your arm threatened to snap like a twig, and spin you around to look at the table.

Crassus' voice was deep and full of cruelty as he told you, “Take a good look at your soup, dearest daughter, because your serving will be given to the Avox.”

Your eyes looked at the table, but not at the soup. No, you looked at the pair of women seated at it. Silently, you begged them to help you. Sadly, they wouldn't.

No…

Your mother was too preoccupied with her bowl of soup, or maybe she was afraid of crossing her future husband. And Grandma'am, oh the elderly woman just gave her son a pitiful look, but wouldn't dare speak up against him.

“In fact, for your insubordination you'll starve tonight.” You heard your mother's fiance chuckle cold-heartedly.

Crassus shoved you to the side, causing you to hit the ground with a loud thud. The force of your side colliding with the hard marble floor knocked the wind out of you. So much so, that you didn't even hear the sound of large, loud footsteps hurrying over to you as you weakly pushed yourself up.

You felt a large hand wrap around your upper arm, but the touch was different than before. The long fingers weren't bruising around you, but surprisingly gentle with their lithe hold.

You felt yourself being lifted up to stand on your own two feet as Crassus seethed at his son, the one helping you, “Coriolanus, take that bitch with you and keep her all night. I don't want to see either one of your disrespectful faces until morning.”

Coriolanus’ eyes were full of icy hate as he curtly nodded at his father. Without a word, he ushered you away from the dining room.

Sadly, he'd have to teach you that General Crassus Snow likes his children to be seen and not heard. That he enjoyed slinging out biting, stinging remarks to cut down his children. That he was worse then the devil to deal with. That life could either be hell or something worse then hell with the Snow patriarch.

Coriolanus Snow would teach you how to navigate life under his father's roof because you're his.

Yes, your mother might be marrying his father, but nevertheless you are his and therefore he must protect you.

“What did you do to make him lash out?” Coriolanus asked, sitting with you on his bed.

His room, you discovered, was sparsely decorated. Just like yours, all he had was a bed, a nightstand, a desk and chair. A couple of portraits hung on the walls, and a few trinkets were stacked on the window sill. Oh, and a couple of pictures frames and small items were on his desk, overlooking his school books and papers.

But, all in all, it felt as empty as your room did.

Damn…

This house was cold and empty, full of nothing but sorrow and hate it seemed.

And your mother willingly brought you here.

Fuck your life…

“I got up from the table to follow you; make sure that you were okay.” You honestly told Coriolanus, listening to the sound of his father yelling at your mother about how unmannered you were.

Oh, and they were still in the dining room.

Yea…

That's how loud Crassus was.

Biting your bottom lip, you looked at the boy with platinum curls that you were stuck with for the night, and told him, “Thank you for coming back and helping me, Coriolanus.”

Coriolanus tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Y/N, my darling, you belong to me. I'll always come back for you, help you when in danger.”

Before you could even ask him what he meant by belonging to him, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. It caught you off guard. You honestly weren't expecting his lips to be so lush, so soft. And you definitely weren't expecting him to kiss you.

He's going to be your stepbrother soon.

For Christ's sake!

He's going to be your stepbrother!

That revelation caused you to place your hands on his chest and gently push him away, while leaning your head back to break the one-sided kiss. You looked into his icy blue eyes, only to see something dark swimming in them.

Correction: not something dark, but lust.

“What's wrong, Y/N? Why did you push me away?” He asked, voice heavy with wonder. Lust blown baby blue eyes never leaving yours.

“You're going to be my stepbrother soon, Coriolanus. We can't kiss and stuff, it's not right.”

“Oh, darling, we're not blood related, so it's perfectly fine for us to kiss and to fuck.” Coriolanus assured you with a whisper in your ear. His breath was hot against your cheek as he confessed, “I've been watching you at the Academy for years, my little dove. Fucking my fist every night to fantasies of you and now that I have you with me, well, Y/N, I'm not ever letting you go.”

“You've liked me for that long?” You asked in bewilderment.

He couldn't have liked you for so many years, only to never make a move.

Could he?

It just didn't seem possible.

“Mhm…” Coriolanus hummed, only to nip at a spot right below your ear. “You've consumed my thoughts since we were 13, my darling rose.”

What? He's had a crush on you since you were 13?!

Like what?....

He's liked you for that long and never said a word? Never made a move, until now?

Wow…

“Corio-” You began, only for him to sigh and cut you off with, “Please, call me Coryo.”

Nodding, you turned your head slightly so you could look at him. “Coryo, you should've told me how you felt years ago.” Your eyes flickered to his hand, that had found its way on your thigh, and back up to his baby blues. “It's too late to do anything about it now. Our parents are getting married and I'm Sejanus' girlfriend now.”

Coriolanus did not like that remark. Oh no, he didn't like it one bit.

You're NOT Sejanus' girlfriend!

You're his girl, you belonged to him. Hell, you're part of the family now too.

His, his, his!

You're his and he's going to show you.

“You don't belong to him, Y/N. You’re mine.” Coryo darkly declared, only to kiss you.

He kissed you with so much fervor. He was a man possessed as his lips slid against yours. Kisses you as if you were the air he needed to breathe.

This time you didn't push him away. Instead, your lips moved against his. Your hands tightly fisted his shirt; pulling him closer as your lips clashes with his.

Coriolanus pushes you onto your back, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. He used your shock to deepen the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth.

His hand caressed the inside of your thigh as his tongue explored your mouth. Tasting you as if you're the sweetest treat.

Your hands ran up his chest and snaked around his neck as your tongue flickered against his, causing you both to moan. As your tongues began an intimate dance, his other hand found its way to your neck.

You pulled away slightly, catching your breath as your lips hovered close to his.

“Coryo.” You breathlessly moaned, feeling his long fingers brush against your soaking wet panties.

“You're so wet for me, darling.” He smugly told you. “You need me, don't you?” He asked, even though he knew that your entire being aches for him at this very moment.

Coryo wanted, no needed, to hear you tell him that you wanted him to fuck you dumb. That only he could take away the ache in your cunt.

Him, the very reason for your wet pussy.

“Coryo…we can't…” You weakly protested as your core aches with a fiery desire. One that you've never felt so fiercely before.

Or at least until now.

“We can, little dove.” He told you, using his fingers to slip your panties to the side. The air hitting your wet pussy causes you to shudder.

Your reaction has him smirking. Pulling your legs open wide for him, he announced in a dark, lustful tone, “I'm gonna fuck you and you're gonna like it, Y/N.”

Breaking eye contact with him as his hands ran over the insides of your spread thighs, you confessed, “I've never done this before, Coryo.”

“You’re a virgin.” Coriolanus stated, not asked. He knew you’ve never been fucked before. He would've known if you had since he stalked looked after you from afar for years.

“Yea…” You trailed off, blushing in embarrassment.

God, your skirt was bunched up and your legs were spread wide open, like a whore in heat, with your panties pushed aside exposing your dripping tight hole to your step brother. And here you were, blushing at having to confirm that you're a virgin.

Coryo took a sick pleasure in you being embarrassed about your innocence despite the wanton state he had you in.

“Don't worry, your stepbrother's going to change that.”

“God, Coryo, don't call yourself my stepbrother while my legs are spread for you. It's dirty.”

“And you're my dirty little slut because your cunt’s drooling and clenching around the air from my dirty words.” Coriolanus taunted as his hands rested on either side of your pussy, thumbs spreading open the lips to expose your tight dripping hole to him. “Oh, darling, you've got such a pretty pussy for me.” He cooed, dipping his head down between your spread legs

“Oh god…” You shakily moan, feeling Coryo lick a thick stripe up your cute with his hot, wet tongue.

You could feel him smirking against you before his tongue flickered your clit.

“Coryo.” You moaned as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked on it.

He smacked the inside of your thigh, only to lift his head away from your pussy and hiss, “Shut up, bitch. Don't wanna get caught, do we?”

“Sorry, it just felt really good.” You apologized, your voice tinted with need.

“You're forgiven, darling, but don't be loud again or else I won't prep you. I'll just fuck you face first in my pillow to muffle your screams and call it a night.” He told you, making new gush of wetness spill out of your pussy. “Oh, looks like me fucking you face first in the mattress turns you on, stepsister.” Coryo darkly chuckled, his breath hot against your aching core. “Don't worry, I'll do that to you, but not tonight. Tonight's your first time and I don't want to hurt my girl. I want to swallow your moans of pleasure, not muffle your moans of pain.” He told you before placing his mouth back on your dripping cunt.

“Mmmm….” You bite your lip, preventing your moan from being too loud, as Coriolanus sucked on your clit.

Your hands found their way into his platinum curls as his tongue teased your tight, wet hole. His thumbs let go of your pussy lips as his mouth latches onto your cunt, tongue messily lapping thru your folds. His hands grabbed onto your thighs, spreading them even wider.

Painfully wider.

But you couldn't help, but curl your toes into the mattress as his icy blue eyes pierced into your soul. He looked at you with such hunger as he messily ate you out.

It was as if he craved you; couldn't get enough of you.

As if he was starved and you're the only meal he's eaten in days.

Your hands tightened in his hair as you felt his tongue enter your hole, fucking you.

“Coryo…more…” You begged, for what you didn't quite know, as your chest began to heave up and down heavily.

Coriolanus knew exactly what you needed.

You needed your tight cunt filled and fucked.

And he was going to give you exactly what you needed.

He wrapped his lips around your clit sucking it harshly, as he slipped his middle finger into your pussy.

Coriolanus moaned at how tight your hole clenched around his long fingers. The tightness of your virgin cunt clenching around his digits had him rock hard and grinding into his mattress. Fuck, he couldn't wait to have his cock inside your tight pussy. Stretching it to its limit, making it fit around his large cock.

“Coryo…feels so good…” You panted as he fucked you with his finger while sucking on your clit.

He smirked against your clit, only to add his pointer finger into your cunt. He curled his long fingers up inside your slick walls, causing you to writhe in pleasure every time he hit that spongy spot deep inside of you.

“I-I think…” You trailed off, biting your lip to keep a moan from spilling out, as you felt pressure build up in your lower belly.

“You think you're gonna cum?” Coryo supplied for you, his breath hot on your cunt, as he began to piston his fingers deep inside of you. He knew you were close by how tight your cunt was squeezing his fingers. He couldn't wait until it was squeezing his cock.

“Yea.” You squeakily nodded.

“I want you to cum on my face like the little slut you are. Can you do that for me, darling?” Coriolanus told you, his voice raspy and thick with lust, before dipping his head back between your spread legs and sucking your clit.

“Please…make me cum, Coryo. Please, so close…” You begged, causing him to fuck his fingers up into furiously while sucking hard and fast on your clit.

He needed to taste your juices spilling out onto his chin, needed to feel your pussy tightening around his fingers. He craved it like the headmaster at the Academy craved a fix of morphling.

Your toes curled tightly in the sheets and your nails scratched Coryo's scalped as you came with the sound of his name on your lips.

He slowed his movements just enough to help you ride out your high. His tongue greedily lapped up every bit of your juices that came squirting out of your pussy.

Your hands fell out of his curls as you began to calm down from your high. You couldn't help, but smile at how messy his hair looked as a result of you pulling on it.

When Coryo pulled his fingers out of you and sat up, sucking them clean, you were horrified to see that his chin was glistening, that your juices were dripping down his chin and onto his neck. Your cheeks flushed red and you quickly sat up, trying to clean the wetness from his chin. “I'm so sorry, I-” You attempted to apologize, only to be cut off by Coryo chuckling, “Don't apologize, darling. You squirting all over my face turns me on.”

“Really?” You asked, eyes wide with shock.

“Really.” He nodded, grabbing your hand that you used to wipe his chin with. Bringing your palm up to your face, he huskily ordered, “Now taste yourself.”

You blinked, feeling your pussy begin to pool and ache again, only to obey Coryo’s command and lick his hand clean.

The taste of yourself was a bit sweet and tangy. It was also intoxicating.

Standing up and pulling you up with him, Coryo said, “We need to get undressed.”

“Okay.” You nodded, feeling a bit nervous despite having just had Coriolanus’ platinum blonde head between your legs mere moments ago.

You went to grab the hem of your dress, only to have Coryo bat your hands away and grab it himself. “Lift your arms up, darling.” You nodded and did what you were told. Quickly, he pulled your dress off and tossed it to the side. “Take your bra and panties off.” He instructed while quickly working to unbutton his shirt.

Coriolanus’ lust blown eyes were glued to you as you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra. He felt his breath hitch as you took off your simple, white lace bra.

“Oh, little dove, your tits are perfect.” He cooed while removing his shirt and tossing it to the side.

You shook your head, only to look down at the floor and sigh, “No they're not, Coryo. You don't have to say that.”

Being nearly 18, you're self conscious about your boob size. Especially since you didn't seem to be as developed as the most popular girl in school. The girl that every boy (well, maybe not every boy since Coriolanus was half naked in his room with you) wanted to fuck. The perfect, pretty, popular, dirty blonde with jewel tone eyes.

Livia Cardew.

Coryo had just toed off his shoes and unbuckled his belt when your self doubt caused him to stop undressing. He closed the small space between you and reached his hands out to grab your tits.

You shyly bit your lip as he squeezed them. “Your tits are perfect because I say so, my darling.” Coriolanus huskily told you as the pad of his thumbs roughly ran over your nipples.

“But I'm not-” You began to protest, a feeble attempt at explaining your thoughts, only for Coryo to cut you off with, “Shut up, I told you that I think your tits are perfect.” He roughly squeezed them. “As long as I say they're perfect, little dove, then they are.” He declared before bending his head and taking one of your, now pebbled, nipples into your mouth.

The feeling of his wet tongue swirling around your nipples while his fingers tweaked your other one has you rubbing your thighs together, seeking friction to relieve that growing ache between your legs.

Letting go of your nipple with a wet pop, his lust filled blue eyes bore into yours as he orders, “Unzip and pull my pants off, Y/N.”

“Okay.” You nodded before doing as you're told with shaky hands, all the while Coryo was biting and nipping at a spot on your left boob.

You knew he was leaving a hickey there and, for some reason, it turned you on. The idea of him marking you as his made something flare up in you.

You've never had somebody want you before, but Coryo wants you so much that he's putting his mark on you. Staking his claim.

Coryo pulled his head up off your chest as his pants pooled around his long legs. Stepping out of them and kicking them to the side, he smirked, “You should take your panties off. But put your kitten heels back on, I want to fuck you in them.”

“Okay.” You nodded, pulling down your lace white panties while watching him pull off his socks.

You bent over and grabbed your shoes from the floor. Putting on your black kitten heels, your eyes popped out of your head as you watched him pull down his boxers only for his big cock to spring free and slap up against his lower stomach. You've never seen a cock before, but you knew his was big. It was long and girthy. Must be at least 8 inches, had veins on the underside and an angry red head that's tip was leaking precum.

You felt yourself gushing just from looking at it. Oh my God, how is that going to fit inside of your pussy.

“Don't worry, it'll fit.” Coryo assured you, a proud grin on his angular face.

What the hell? Did you say that out loud about him not being able to fit? Oh hell…you must've.

Taking your hand in his large one, he brought you over to the bed. “Lay down and spread your legs as wide as you can for me.” He instructed.

Nodding, you quickly laid on the bed and spread your legs for him. Your knees slightly bent, kitten heels slightly digging into the mattress.

“Fuck, your pussy’s so perfect.” Coriolanus swore while kneeling onto the bed, right between your shaking thighs. “Perfect and all mine.” He said while using his thumb to smear his precum around his cockhead. He began to give himself a few shallow pumps, to coat his cock with his precum, as you stared up at him with anticipation dancing in your eyes.

“You want me, Y/N?” Coriolanus asked, lining his dick up with your pussy. “Once I have you, take your virginity, I'm not letting you go.” He told you, teasing his cock thru your wet folds. “I fuck you and you're mine forever. You understand me, my darling rose?” He seriously asked, giving you a last minute opportunity to back out, as his dick bumped your clit.

Your hands held onto his shoulders as you looked him square in his icy blue eyes and confidently said, “Make me yours, Coryo. I want to be yours.”

That was the sweetest thing he ever heard. You begging him to make you his. Saying that you wanted to be his.

Coriolanus was in heaven.

He dipped his head down and captured your lips in a quick, but needy kiss before lining his tip up with your tight hole. He leaned his forehead against yours as he surged forward, pushing his length inside of your tight walls.

Your nails clawed at him and your eyes teared up at the stinging sensation of being stretched wide open on his large cock for the first time in your life. You bite your lip, swallowing back a cry, as your walls struggled to accommodate his large cock.

Coryo was about halfway in whenever he brushed away a stray tear rolling down your cheek. “You're taking me so well.” He praised. Kissing your cheek, he said, “Just a little bit more, Y/N. I know you can handle it. You cunt's made for my cock.”

“It stings, Coryo.” You gritted out, feeling him pop your cherry before sliding the rest on the way in and bottoming it.

“I know, it does. I know it does, darling.” The platinum blonde told you in a feeble attempt to soothe away your pain. With a proud smile, he pointed between you and said, “Look, a perfect fit.”

You looked down to see that he had disappeared inside of you; the only evidence of his cock being the outlining bulge in the bottom of your tummy. You ran your fingers over the outline in awe, causing your-hell you don't know what to call him right now except for Coryo, to shudder blissfully.

Bringing his large hand to cover yours as it traced over his bulge in your tummy, he proudly announced, “My cock’s deep up inside of your womb, darling.” Lacing your fingers with his, he pinned your hand onto the mattress and began slowly thrusting into you. “I'm gonna fuck my baby up into your womb. Show everyone that you belong to me.”

His words were like a bucket of ice water being dumped over your head. The reality that you weren't on birth control and had your soon to be stepbrother's cock in your not so virginal pussy anymore had you slightly panicking.

“Coryo, you can't do that. You can't cum inside of me. I'm not on anything and our parents’ll be mad if-” You began to frantically ramble as Coryo fucked his cock slow, but deep inside of you, only for him to cut you off with a rough toned, “I don't give a fuck what those assholes think, Y/N. I'm 18 and soon you'll be 18, so they have no say over us fucking.”

You bit your lip, leaving out a mewl, as your felt his dick brush up against the spongy spot inside of you.

“Hell, come mid-summer we'll be graduating the Academy, so knocking you up won't interfere with your education cause there's only a handful of months left til the games and the graduation ceremony.”

“Coryo, were too young. Just, please, pull out before you cum.” You pleaded with innocent eyes.

Coryo couldn't grant you that. He couldn't do that for you. He's selfish and wants you all to himself. What better way to ensure that you stay with him then to baby trap you?

It's perfect, really.

Knock you up and you're stuck with him forever.

Nobody will ever want you let alone look twice at you once they see you're pregnant with his baby.

With your stepbrother's baby.

Oh, yes, knocking you up will make the perfect scandal that'll keep you two together forever.

Plus, Crassus won't want the shame of having a bastard grandchild, so he'll push for Coriolanus and you to marry in order to give the baby a legal name.

Sadly, Coryo underestimates how evil and cruel his father can be (even to his unborn grandchild). If he wasn't so pussydrunk, maybe Coryo would've realized that knocking you up would only enrage his father.

But he wasn't thinking clearly. He's pussydrunk and high on his obsessive love for you.

“I'm not pulling out, Y/N.” Coryo firmly told you. Speeding up his movements, he grunted, “Now stop whining and enjoy me fucking you.”

You didn't argue about the subject of him pulling out anymore, just nodded your head and let the feelings of pleasure wash over you.

Your breath hitched and you let out a mewl when Coryo's hands grabbed a hold of your legs and pressed them into your chest, causing them to rest on his shoulders as he began to thrust harder into you.

“Coryo…you feel even bigger…’ You muttered, the position change making him hit deeper inside of you.

“You like my big cock fucking splitting open your pussy, don't you? Fuck, your taking my cock like such a little cock slut, Y/N.” He darkly told you, lust tainting his voice, as you scratched his back and babbled his name.

“Coryo, please. I'm so close. So close…” You begged him to make you cum as your head got heavy, making you feel like you're underwater.

“I'll make you cum, darling. I'll make you cum right now on my cock.” Coryo told you, snaking his hand between your bodies only to roughly rub and pinch your puffy clit.

The feeling of his thumb roughly abusing your clit and his cock deeply plowing into your pussy has you clenching around him, cumming hard with his name on your tongue like a prayer.

Coryo fucked your thru the aftershocks of your second orgasm, only to sloppily speed up and chase his own release.

“I'm gonna cum inside your pussy and you're gonna take it all, Y/N. You're gonna drain my cock dry, little dove.” He told you as he felt his heavy balls, that were slapping relentlessly against your ass, tense up.

“Coryo, I think I'm gonna cum again.” You told him, feeling that warm fluttery feeling well up in your lower belly once more.

“Fuck, your creaming my cock like such a good little slut.” Coryo groaned at the sight of the white creamy ring you were leaving around the base of him. “Fuck…” He gasped, about to cum. “Cum with me, darling. Cum with me.” He demanded, his hips stuttering before he let out his release.

You came again once you felt his hot cum shoot up deep inside of you in thick ropes.

“Oh fuck��” Coryo panted, collapsing on top of you.

“Oh fuck…” You agreed with him, kicking your feet and causing your black kitten heels to go flying across the room.

Your legs limply slipped from his shoulders as your hands shakily carded thru his sweaty light blonde curls. All while his face nestled into your perfect tits. Coryo's softening cock was still nestled inside of you, but you didn't mind. The closeness felt nice.

Your first time was amazing. It was nothing like the horror stories you heard other girls at the Academy gossip about. You were lucky that Coryo knew what he was doing. You felt wanted for the first time in your life after losing your virginity to him.

Coriolanus felt that fucking you was the best experience in his life. Honestly, it sure beats all those stupid quickies he had with dumb whores in the alley behind the club. He'd never tell you that tho.

No, you didn't need to know about his sexual past.

All that you needed to know was that you’re the only one that he wants. The only pussy that he’s getting his dick wet with for now on is yours.

You were cuddling in bed together, blankets pulled up around the both of you. Your head was resting in the crook of his neck as his long fingers raked thru your hair.

You felt happy in this moment, but you knew that it couldn't last. That it has to end. Your parents were getting married.

You could never be together, not truly.

You were going to be stepsiblings soon. Being together would be considered taboo.

Coryo could sense something was bothering you. “What's the matter, darling?” He asked, searching your eyes.

“We can't do this again, Coryo. Despite how we feel, it's taboo.” You told him, breaking eye contact with him because you didn't want to see his reaction.

“Y/N, I don't care what society thinks about us, our situation.” The platinum blonde spat. Lifting your chin up, so you had to look him in the eyes, he swore, “You're mine and I'm not giving you up. I'll kill anyone that tries to take you away from me, Y/N.” Coryo leaned in, kissing you on the lips. “It's us against the world, my darling rose. And you know what? Snow always lands on top.”

You were tired and didn't want to fight, so you decided to give in to him, to the man whose arms you were in. “Okay, us against the world then.” You smiled, eyes fluttering tiredly.

“One day when I'm the president and you're my first lady, nobody'll even remember that our parents decided to get married. And if they do, well, they won't be breathing for long to say anything about it.” You heard Coriolanus tell you while drifting off to sleep, warm and safe in his strong hold.

If only you knew how many people Coriolanus would kill in his lifetime, would you still stick by his side?

Probably, since he was ingrained in your soul once you gave him your precious gift that was your innocence- your virginity.

After all, you discovered quickly after becoming a part of the toxic Snow family that it truly was you and Coryo against the world.

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