#they’re pocket sized too

[ventique-genshin]

Sleepy cat

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. bragging about your oh-so-perfect boyfriend to your friends certainly has its (welcomed) consequences. . .

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff & smut. p in v -> unprotected. missionary. sweet but also nasty and condescending. creampie. body worship. size difference / - kink. nicknames ‘(little) princess, baby’. name calling once. not proof read bcs im sleepy. wc. 2k+

“right! he’s so thoughtful,” you sigh dreamily as you chat with your friends over the phone. you’re laying on satoru’s bed, kicking your feet up while you remove your make-up. of course, you had to call your girls to tell them all about the little date you just had with your boyfriend.

satoru’s in the shower, so you’re taking the time to relive the experience.

“here she goes again y’all,” one of your friends sighs dramatically, to which the others follow with giggles of their own. they know that you can go on and on about your partner. they’ve heard all of it before.

you grin and roll your eyes, rubbing the cleansing wipe over your lips, removing the light pink gloss you had on. you’re all giddy as you recall what satoru has done and given to you this evening. you’ve been pampered—spoiled rotten.

“hey! don’t blame me,” you retort with a chuckle. your friends laugh and urge you to go on since they’re only joking. the stories you tell are always either adorable or heartwarming, and thus they’re happy to listen. plus, debriefing you on your love life is free entertainment.

it’s not unusual for you to stray from the main story. you ramble about the restaurant you’ve visited, the pretty green scenery you’ve walked past, the museum you’ve visited, the way satoru paid for everything and how he made sure to pick activities you’re interested.

you get an occasional ‘aww’ or ‘cuteee’ when you mention your boyfriend’s loving gestures. from the enormous bouquet of flowers he’s gotten you, to the fact that he carried you back into his apartment the moment you told him your feet were hurting.

walking in heels wasn’t the smart move you thought it was, though luckily you had a thoughtful lover by your side.

“he’s just so handsome ‘n stuff. god—“ you squeal, not even bothering to dampen your excitement. you hide your face behind your hands for a split second, gaining a few fan girling squeaks from your friends as well. they’re happy that you’re being treated like deserved.

you don’t hear the door of the bedroom open since you’re too busy gushing about satoru. you’re focused on your small pocket mirror, careful not to forget a spot on your face. you notice that your friends have gone quiet, but you don’t question it.

“his gentle personality is honestly such a turn-on,” you mumble as you rub off the concealer from under your eyes, “and his subtle yet possessive touches? phew, don’t get me started.” you continue to babble on about how hot satoru is when he gets mad, unable to point out a flaw.

you’re about to comment on your friends’ sudden silence when a hand lands on your shoulder. you freeze and finally make eye contact with no one other than satoru—hovering over you from behind. he’s smiling down at you and mumbles a quick, ‘hey, baby’, before kissing your forehead.

you try to explain the situation, yet have no idea where to start. you can hear a friend of yours snickering and another faintly whisper an ‘oh, girl. . .’

before you have the ability to get another word out, satoru cuts you off, waving at your front camera for a second. his smile reaches his eyes and his dimples show;

“hey ladies, mind if i steal my girl from you?” satoru asks as he puts an arm around you. he places his cheek against yours, awaiting an answer. your friends are left speechless at the sudden turn of events.

the white-haired man appears extremely good on screen. he’s basically blessing them with his handsome looks. the towel hanging over his head indicates that he just came out of a fresh shower. there’s a visible vein running down his neck—nearly bulging out of the skin—as if satoru’s holding himself back.

once your friends snap out of their daze, they greet satoru and nod, exchanging quick ‘see you later’s. your boyfriend thanks them with another one of his charming smiles. he waves at the camera again, “bye bye, thank you.”

the call ends and the bedroom falls quiet. you stare at your screen which fades to black, completely dumbfounded. you quickly sit up—your mind a chaotic mess full of thoughts.

“satoru, i uhm, i didn’t know—“ you attempt to form an explanation, though you realise that it’s likely futile. satoru’s probably heard every word that left your mouth. you look up at him, your voice a quiet whisper, “how much did you hear?”

the sorcerer grins. he’s so enamored with you; everything you do is adorable. he grabs your hands and holds then into his larger ones—thumbs gently rubbing your skin. he pulls them up to his lips so he could place chaste kisses on your knuckles.

“everything, princess,” satoru hums, rotating your hands to place kisses on the inside of your wrists. there’s a subtle blush on his cheeks that even reaches his ears. no matter how calm and collected he may seem, he’s still but a complete sucker to your love, “talking about me to your little friends, hm? how cute.”

a shiver runs down your spine. you feel your tummy turn as you’re slowly guided onto your back. multiple kisses cover your body—from head to toe—like a canvas getting painted on. satoru’s taking his sweet time, admiring the art that’s your physique.

every piece of clothing that comes off is a step closer to the grande revelation. the masterpiece that is you. moving from one empty spot - filling it with his kisses - to another. sighs of content leave your lover’s mouth with each reveal, as if he hasn’t seen the sight of your naked body before.

“does this turn you on, baby? my ‘subtle touches’?” satoru mutters against your breasts, remembering your earlier words. his blue eyes stare up at you through his white lashes. not wearing his blindfold may overstimulate him due to his abilities, but he’ll risk anything if it’s to admire you the best he can.

he chuckles when you nod. your boyfriend kisses your hard nipples—taking his time to swirl his tongue around both of them just to feel your back arch off the mattress. your hands holding onto him for life is extremely thrilling. “it turns me on too,” satoru confesses quietly. his slender fingers reach the hem of your panties, “you turn me on so fuckin’ much.”

your breath hitches when your underwear gets tossed somewhere across the room. you’re dripping, obviously. there’s no way you couldn’t get turned on by the way satoru’s been worshipping your entire being.

you can also see the effect you have on him; he’s sweating. the vein on his neck seems to grow more visible when your cunt is revealed to him.

“there she is,” satoru grins in satisfaction. he seems to be in a daze for a second before he regains composure. he looks at you for a quick check, needing to know if he has your consent before he continues. the moment you nod, your lover separates your legs.

you sniff and try to hide your embarrassed expression behind a hand. satoru’s quick to pin your wrist above your head so you wouldn’t have the chance to do any of that. “keep your eyes on me, yeah?” he leans in to place a swift kiss on your lips.

“mhm,” you nod after returning the peck. the white-haired man utters a small ‘thank you’ and undoes his sweatpants with his free hand. he fumbles with his boxers—unable to keep himself from trembling in pleasure from the view alone.

your small body underneath him is a sight he’ll never get tired of. that face of yours morphing into one of pleasure whenever you’re intimate is one of his favorite things to witness. thus why the missionary is his go to position.

“c’mon,” satoru kisses your cheek as he manages to pull his erected cock out of his underwear. it’s standing tall, the tip pointing right at the place it wants to be buried at—your wet, warm and inviting pussy, “you were so loud when talking with y’r friends ‘n now you’ve gone quiet on me.”

satoru pouts, “it’s not fair. i wanna hear my princess too.”

you almost choke on your spit because of how whiny yet demanding satoru sounds. you feel his fingers intertwine with yours, firmly holding your hand down above your head. you’re still flustered by the entire situation. you open your mouth as tears gather in your eyes, “i’m sorry, i’m jus— ngh!”

you can’t even get your words out. the lewd feeling of satoru rubbing his tip between your folds completely catches you off guard. he grins, as if he planned on doing that the moment you tried to speak. he’s such a tease.

“shh, shh, i know,” satoru coos mockingly, acting like he’s not doing it on purpose. you can’t blame the man; he’s been rock hard ever since he heard you praise him so openly through the phone. your lovely voice speaking so highly of him was driving him nuts.

you’re so appreciative for all he’s doing and it makes the sorcerer want to spoil you even more. to give you the love and affection you deserve because of how precious you are—even if you don’t realise it.

he wants to give you more. more, more, more.

without thinking, satoru pushes his cock right through your tight cunt. he shudders at the sight of your poor, small pussy struggling to take his fat dick. he can’t hurt you, he knows. especially with the amount of times the bulbous head of his cock nearly bruised your cervix.

though, it’s difficult not to go all out. you’re so accepting of everything he does—satoru can see that by the way your eyes stare at him. it’s all love. the light reflecting in your pupils makes them sparkle beautifully. he cusses under his breath, “y’re so pretty, baby. fuck, fuck, fuck. y’re making it so hard.”

satoru tries his best not to plunge his cock all the way to the hilt. he reaches halfway with each thrust, the thwacking sound increasing by the second. your legs automatically wrap around his waist and your fingers squeeze his.

“toruuu, fmhh, so big,” you babble, the drool forming in the corners of your lips threatening to drip down your chin. each soft yet firm thrust seems to resonate within you, evoking a sense of pleasurable contentment.

satoru lets out a haughty chuckle at the sight of you going cockdrunk already. he’s still trying to hold his urges back by focusing on your satisfaction alone. “i’ll give you something else to brag ‘bout to y’r friends,” he pants with a confident smirk, kissing your jawline as he ruts into you,

you’re embarrassed by your current predicament. despite that, you find yourself enjoying every consequence that your actions have caused. your moans echo in satoru’s ears, each slap of your bodies connecting sounding twice as loud.

his thick cock is stretching you out so well. your cunt is working overtime to make space for every inch. your boyfriend gently bites your bottom lip, his breath faltering when you clench around him in response.

“‘re ya gonna tell them?” satoru asks through a guttural moan. his hips move non-stop, aiming to please you until you lose your mind. he’ll live up to the expectations set no matter what. he kisses the swell of your breasts, “are ya gonna tell ‘em how you let your ‘lovely’ boyfriend fuck you like this? how y’re a complete slut for his cock?”

you don’t know how to react to his dirty talk. it’s getting you wetter, that’s for sure. your thighs shake around his waist and your tummy feels like it’s doing flips. satoru doesn’t leave it there, “gonna tell them about how good i fill you up, yeah? dirty little girl telling all her friends about our private life, tsk tsk.”

it’s overwhelming. the sudden increase in dirty talk makes you want to cum on spot. you feel like you’re being degraded, however satoru’s touches make you feel appreciated and loved. his hand holding yours above your head never leaves you—a sign that this is still him making love to you.

“am—am not gonna,” you hiccup. the words simply roll of your tongue without much thought. you’re mindlessly responding to your lover. “am not gonna tell them anything,” you continue before cutting yourself off with a string of whiny moans when satoru plays with your clit.

satoru shakes his head, increasing the pressure and speed in which he’s pumping into you. he loves the view of you being so helpless—succumbing to the pleasure he’s granting you. “sureeee, i believe you,” your boyfriend snickers and pushes his pulsing cock in further. his tone is soft but condescending, “i’ll trust my little princess to keep her mouth shut f’me.”

you’re getting so close. your nails dig into his skin and your noises get louder. you’re right on the edge of euphoria. the clit stimulation along with the feeling of being filled to the brim is enough to make you see stars.

satoru nods at your desperate whimpers that alarm him that you’re close to climax. “i got you, baby. cum f’me—i got you,” he places sloppy kisses all over your face and rams his cock in and out of you in a stronger rhythm. there’s nothing satoru wants to do in this world more than to flood your insides with his cum.

his cock doesn’t stop prodding at your sweet spots and it’s making you approach that peak; the peak of pleasure that’s going to push you over the edge. you hold tightly onto your lover and he doesn’t hesitate to return the embrace. “it’s okay, do it f’me,” satoru encourages you once again through a husky whisper.

you’re thankful that you have such an attentive partner. he can go from teasing you to comforting you and it’s the most reassuring thing ever. you’ve never had a man hold you so intimately while he’s balls deep into you.

“g’nna cum,” a strangled moan leaves your throat when you try to speak. your chests are pressed together and your heartbeats match—like the perfect pair you are. satoru feels his balls clench with an aching feeling, needing to release every last drop they have stored into your tiny cunt.

just thinking about the way you were bragging about him again, is enough. “take it—fuuuckk—take it all, baby,” the white-haired man takes a deep breath in and can’t help but bury his entire dick inside of you, that one last thrust making you yelp.

you reach your climaxes at the exact same time. your fluids mix as you feel satoru’s thick spurts of cum coat your insides a sticky white. your body spasms and your boyfriend instantly soothes you by rubbing your back. his own legs are trembling a little, but you’re far more important.

you don’t utter a word and simply focus on regaining your energy. all that you can say are incoherent babbles. “easy,” satoru kisses the corners of your eyes and relishes in the fact that he’s fucked you full of his cum. it’s a reminder of just how much he loves you.

a few encouraging words and hugs later and you’ve calmed down. you don’t fully grasp the reality of the situation until the adrenaline and other hormones drop down to a normal level.

you’re suddenly reminded by your previous words and this time, you succeed in hiding your face into the crook of satoru’s neck.

it’s certain that he’s greatly enjoyed overhearing you talk about him to your friends, but it’s still a somewhat embarrassing memory you wish to forget. “not a word, please. j-jus act like you haven’t heard anything,” you mumble quietly now that you’ve come down from your high.

satoru laughs softly. he can’t help but tease you after that—it’s a given. you’re still so caught up on what happened and it’s endearing.

however, satoru wouldn’t be him if he didn’t tease you about your little comments. without pulling out, he tilts his head back and stares down at you with a faint grin, “do i have to act like i haven’t fucked you silly just now too?”

“satoru!”

[titaswrld]

Hi! I like your Deadpool as your boyfriend post, can you please do Logan as your boyfriend next? 😄

logan howlett (wolvie)

…as your boyfriend!

description: wolverine, logan howlett as your boyfriend!

pairing: wolvie x you!

|an: my man my man he love me!

- he’s so big and so tall and scruffy and so mmm. that’s your man! and u want everyone to know it

- like i keep mentioning, he is manhandling tf out of you no matter ur size, all the time!

- he thinks it’s soo cute that he can pick you up in his arms with ease and he loves to hear squeal out a “logaaan!” as he throws you on to the bed

- he’s so standoffish and kinda shy when you’re first around each other bc he’s sooo into you and he thinks you’re so cute

- but once he founds out you dig him too ooo girl

- he grows such a big soft spot for you, you’re the only person that ever sees him vulnerable. and he’s such a silly goose.

- he becomes so much more himself, he’s messing with you all the time throwing teasing insults with a smirk on his face just to watch you get all riled up from him.

- he’s also flirting with you 24/7 girl he’s hot and he knows it. sometimes he’s rather crude but you like it. so it’s okay!

“nice shorts you got there little lady” he said with a teasing tone as you walked past him into the kitchen to grab a quick snack.

“god they’re not even that short!” you’d said, pulling them down a bit. they were that short. but hey, they did the job.

and by job, you mean drive logan crazy.

- but once you become his omg…

- you’re his. nobody is touching you and he’ll make sure of that. and it’s pretty hot.

- if anybody even has body language that even slightly seems like they’re into you oh girl….

- they’re becoming a new scratching post!

- not only are you his, but he’s yours. super loyal! and if he can’t get someone off his back, you bet your ass you will!

- you always feel so protected and he always makes you feel so protected because you are! he would do anything for you and to make sure his lover is safe and sound.

- he’s so obsessed with you and he’s not afraid to hide it, he’s not overly affectionate but he is in fact a cuddle monster.

- he’ll hold your hand, or shove a hand in your back pocket, or lend you his jacket to let people know your his, but he saves the good stuff for back at home.

- you’re also his drinking buddy, he isn’t a fan of the tequila like you are, he’ll stick to his whiskey. but he always takes care of you after a night out and makes sure you’re snug as a bug!

- he is the biggest dom ever omg it’s so hard to get him to sub out for you but when he finally does it’s the best night of your life.

- all the noises he makes that you’ve never heard from him are music to your ears.

- a MUNCH. need i say more? thats why he got that damn beard!

- oh and we know those abs are like a pack of buttered up hawaiian rolls and you wanna go for a ride!

- of course he’ll let you! anything for his babygirl, lick em, touch em, fuck em, anything his baby wants. as long as he gets to watch and as long as you feel good.

- he also loves the praise as you ride yourself out on his abs.

- he loves attention and praise, especially when it’s about his figure.

you and logan lie in bed, his figure cradling yours as he slowly felt you slot your head between his craned arm.

“your muscles are so big babe. give me a lil flex.” you stated, holding on to outside of his forearm with your neck between the underside his forearm and bicep.

“you’re crazy bub.” he states, chuckling and lightly flexing his arm, not enough to hurt you but enough to satisfy you and make you giggle as his big muscles squished your cheeks together.

- you’re always touching his muscles, they’re so hot. and hey, he doesn’t work out like that for nothing! he loves it when you cling to his biceps, or run your fingers down his chiseled back.

[baby-yongbok]

One Last Time

Ex-husband!Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✦ Genre: Soon to be exes to lovers [18+ MDNI] ✦ Summary: Petty claims of possession lead to one last night of pleasure.

✦ CW: Choking/ light breath play, pussy spanking [for a second], Unprotected sex [wrap it up party people], Size Kink [for a second], Oral (f rec.), Chan is... aggressive(??), Chan is referred to as Chris, He calls you a bitch once. only once. ✦A/N: Bang Chan made me do it. There's barely any plot in sight. I wrote this in 4 hrs in the middle of the night. Enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

✧ Masterlist ✧

It’s funny how things change. Day turns to night, hot to cold and love to pure seething hatred. 

Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic but you swear that that’s all you can feel swarming in your chest as you sit across from your soon to be ex-husband. 

He made a show of things at the settlement meeting this afternoon. He pushed back on every negotiation you made which has led you to where you are now. Each of you on your side of the bed with a pile of stuff littering the Egyptian cotton sheets that he just has to take with him. 

“There. Are you happy now?” You throw the last item on top of his pile and Chris stares down at the item with that damned smirk that you used to love. “Almost.”

He stands from the mattress, dark eyes on something behind you. He grabs it before you can turn. “I bought you this purse.”

The muffled thud of his hard bottom shoes against the carpet is all that you hear before he turns the black designer bag upside down. The contents clatter against his shoes, items rolling in different directions as you watch with a clenched jaw. 

He’s circling back to his side of the bed as you call upon the might of the gods to keep yourself calm. After being married for five years Chris has learned each and every one of your buttons and how hard he needs to press them just to tick you off. 

You’ve decided not to give him the satisfaction of making a scene. That’ll only feed his ego. Besides, he has buttons of his own, some that you installed yourself.

“Now I’m happy.” He drops the bag into his pile, smiling before you like he’d just gotten away with a million bucks. “Yeah?” 

Two can play that game. “I bought you that suit.” The smirk on blushed lips transfers to your painted ones as you stare over at him with arms crossed over your chest. 

“I’d like it back.” With an innocent bat of your lashes Chris smiles. It’s gone just as fast as it came and it doesn’t reach his eyes. He's pissed. 

“You’re fucking serious?” You hold your hand out to him. “Dead serious.”

Dark eyes are staring into darker ones as he holds your gaze. You’ve gotten used to him challenging you. You’ve gotten used to him being a petty asshole and you’ve learned how to play him at his own game. 

You watch as he pops the button of his suit jacket. Tongue in cheek while his fingers work to free him of the fabric. His eyes stay on yours as he peels the smoky threads from his shoulders. He shimmy’s it down thick arms, pulling at the cuffs until he’s free of it. He’s left in a skimpy t-shirt before you and you take the liberty of letting your eyes wander. 

“Want the pants too?” Chris throws the jacket over into your pile before his hands start to fiddle with the metal of his buckle. “Keep ‘em. They’re the nicest thing you own now.” 

He mumbles something incoherent under his breath, his hand comes up to rake through his hair as his eyes wander the space you used to share. His gaze stops at your vanity, busy eyes study your open jewelry box then look back to you. 

“I gave you those earrings.” He stalks towards the table, snatching the gold studs off of the surface and slipping them into his pocket. “And..” 

The muffled thud of his shoes is all you can hear over the thick tension pulsing around you. It’s all that you can hear over your own enraged heartbeat. “This necklace.” The clasp is snapped from around your neck before you can breathe a protest. You gasp at the sudden pressure of your chain being ripped from you. 

“What the fuck.” That smirk is stolen  back when he slips the jewelry into his pocket. He stands in front of you, barely an inch between you as your chests rise and fall in unison. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“Me?” He fakes a pout, blinking over at you. “I didn’t do anything” 

“Whatever, you got your stuff, get out.” You’re hissing at him, heart racing and blood bubbling with the annoyance you’ve been harboring for the length of this insufferable process. “I’m done with you.”

“Not so fast.” he says slowly, his hands finding your waist before you can step around him. You attempt to shrug off his grip and fail. “I bought you that too.” 

His eyes trail from your eyes to your lips. His tongue darts out to lick over his own as he stares. “That lipstick.” His eyes find yours again.

“Fuck off, Chris.” There’s a bite to your tone that makes him smile. He’s always loved a challenge. 

“I bought it.” He pulls you into him by your waist. Your body is flush with his and one of his hands quickly abandon the plush flesh to wrap around your neck. “ I wan’ it back. I think that’s fair.”

It’s dark on dark as he leans in, eyes searching each others frantically as Chris closes the gap and kisses you gently. It barely makes a sound, it’s feather light and quick. 

“You want it back?” You whisper against his lips and he nods. “Then I want the pants.” 

That fucking smirk pulls at his red stained lips and his mouth is on yours in an instant. It’s hot and messy, drowning out the previous softness. You grab at his arms, clawing down the flesh while his fingers dig into your hips. 

He licks into your mouth with a desperate groan as you turn your heads left and right, his tongue explores your mouth as he takes in the taste of you one last time. Your arms wrap around his neck as one of his hands grab at the swell of your ass.

 “Fuck.” He groans against you, stealing another kiss before you catch his bottom lip between your teeth. “Up.” With a firm smack on your ass you jump up and his hands find purchase on the curve of your bottom over your dress. 

You fall into a mess of tugging and moaning. The tension you once felt in your chest melts into pleasure as his hands wander your bareskin. He drops you onto the mattress, pushing the sorted piles out of the way and hovering over you in your ripped dress as you lay sprawled out on the sheets before him. 

“Gonna miss this.” Chris’ mouth is stained cherry red with your lipstick, it’s smeared over your cheeks and it compliments the bruises that he’s sucking into your skin. You bunch his shirt up his back, scratching along the way and leaving your own marks as you please. 

“Shut up, eat my pussy.” You pull him back with a fist full of his hair, he hisses a moan through clenched teeth as his own hand finds it’s way around your throat again. He squeezes this time. It’s just enough to have your eyes flutter shut, just enough to get you right where he wants you. 

“Can’t you be my good girl for one more night? Can’t you stop being a bitch for just a second, baby?” Chris leans down with a tighter squeeze. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, your nails digging into the flesh. “Did you already forget who the fuck I am?”

He loosens his grip giving you the satisfaction of that blissful rush before squeezing again. “Do you see how small you are?” He whispers, placing a kiss by your ear. “Do you feel how strong I am, baby? Don’t you know how this goes?”

A moan is all he gets as he pulls back to admire you. Your pretty mouth is parted with a silent moan as your thighs press together in a desperate attempt at cumming. “I should make you suck my cock.” His knee wedges between your legs and presses hard against your core. 

“I should fuck this pretty throat. I should get you back for being such a fucking brat through all of this.” The hand that was around his wrist scratches up his arm as he lets up again, letting the blood rush and giving you the dizzy feeling he knows you love. “I should -”

Your fingers wrap around his neck before he can finish his thought. Fierce eyes stare up into his as your other hand moves to unbutton his pants. “Just gimme what’s mine.”

Your hand slips into the waistband of his underwear as you pull him closer to you. “Wan’ my cock?” He moans at the soft feeling of your fingers wrapping around the tip. Eye’s fluttering shut as he attempts to take a breath against your grip.

 “‘S mine.” You lean up to his ear. “Isn’t it daddy?”

It was quick when he pinned you against the mattress. Both of your wrists were in his grip before he shifted them both to one hand to free his cock for you. “You’re a fucking tease. You’re so fucking predicatable, you know that?” He’s hissing as he fights with the fabric of his pants and your dress. 

“You want a reaction outta me, huh? Wanna rile me up, sweetheart?” With a shift of hands and a grunt he’s turning the two of you over. You follow him with a gasp, straddling his waist and sitting over his cock with your clothed cunt. “C’mon I’ll let you. Use me, get what you want.”

Your resolve sinks as his cock twitches against your core. Chris is lying beneath you looking like a sin personified and you feel compelled to indulge in his offer. He is still your husband after all. 

Your panties are pushed to the side in an instant. Chris’ wrists are pinned over his head while you grind your cunt over him. Sloppy sounds of you working over his leaking cock swirl in the hot air and Chris watches it all with drooping lids as you work against him. “Put it in, lemme watch it.”

You ignore him, slowing your grind to counter his request. “C’mon, baby, lemme feel you. I can make you feel so good. Let daddy fuck you, c’mon.” He watches you, head reeled back and moans dripping from your lips like drool as you  do as you please. 

“Fuckin’ tease.” He breaks free from your hold, hands wrapping around your waist and guiding the grind of your hips just as your clit catches on the head of his cock. “I asked nicely.” 

His cock catches at your entrance as he controls you. The push of him against your pussy has your mouth open in a silent scream as he bullies his cock into you. “You keep forgetting who I am, hm?” He sits up, landing a firm smack to your ass to match his brutal thrust as you settle in his lap.

“Chris, shit, just fuck me. Fuck me.” Your nails are in his back, drawing lines that could surely draw blood. He hisses at the pain, smiling with a bite of his tongue as he fucks up into you. 

His hips snap into yours, gradually picking up the pace until you’re falling apart against him. Chest to chest, you’re panting into each other. Littering the thick air with profanities as he splits you open on his dick. “Oh my fucking god, Chris. More. More more more, please. C’mon.”

“Take it.” He growls below you, allowing you to push him back against the mattress and ride his cock to your heart's content. “That’s it, take it. It’s yours, all yours.”

Your nails dig into his pecks, leaving marks on the flawless skin and you use him for leverage. The loud smack of skin against skin decorates the air accompanied by your moans.

 “Don’t hold back, baby. Enjoy that fucking ride.” He thrusts up into you, meeting you halfway. “Let loose, just like that.”.

Chris is rambling under you, mumbling under his breath and growling praises when he fucks deep into you. 

“Fuck me, fuck me harder. Wan’ it harder.” It’s dark on dark again. Hooded eyes stare into each other void of rage, the only priority is pleasure. You’re only here to take advantage. 

“Wan’ me harder?” He fucks into you, moaning at the squeeze you give. “Wan’ me deeper?”

With a lift of his hips Chris flips you over. “Be good for me, yeah? One last time, be a good fucking girl and lay on your back for me. Lemme eat this pretty pussy.” He rips your dress down your frame with a grunt. Your panties get the same treatment before he’s falling to his knees before you. 

“Gonna miss you on your knees.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring down at him behind a fucked out haze. “Lookin’ so pretty for me with a mouth full of my cunt.”

With a smirk Chris licks a wet stripe from your hole to your clit. He swirls his tongue around the bud, sucking it between red stained lips and flicking it. Your head drops back against the mattress with a loud moan. Your hands comb through and grab at his damp dark locks but he quickly repositions you to hold yourself open for him. 

“Watch me eat it.” He reaches up, brushing your chin with his fingertips. He lays a flat wet lick to your pussy, hooded eyes staring up into yours. “Eyes on me. Eyes on daddy.”

He spreads your cunt with his fingers, holding you open for him while he spits down onto your clit. He collects it all on his tongue, licking it over the nub before spitting it back. Sloppy slurps against a drooling pussy is all that fills the room. “Daddy, please, wanna cum on your cock.”

He pulls back with a pop, spitting back down onto your cunt. He watches it drip down to your hole, following the stream with his fingers to press it into you. 

“You wan’ me deep right?” His middle and pointer fuck you open as he coos. “Want me to spread this tiny cunt on my dick?” You’re moaning. Panting confirmations and whining pathetically into the air. 

“Then hold it.” He kisses your clit, sucking it in then releasing. “Don’t cum.”

“Please.” You moan a plea, unraveling little by little with each suck and flick of your clit. His fingers fuck you open, curling into your soft spot and pushing you further towards the edge that you’re trying to avoid. 

You could just cum. You could just take what he’s giving you instead of following the rules but it’s so good like this. He’s so good like this. You miss him giving you what you want.

“Chris, ‘m gonna cum for you. I can’t. Please jus’ gimme.” He blinks up at you with pussy drunk eyes as his kiss bitten lips move against you despite your begging. “Daddy, please. I wan’ your cock.”

"Don't cum for me yet" he speaks against your cunt before licking a wet kiss up to your clit. 

"I can't, Chris. I can't, I can't, I'm gonna cum." Your eyes are glued to the way he licks up and down your swollen pussy. Taunting you with the skill he's gained over the years. He's pushing your buttons again.  

"Daddy, daddy, daddy, please you have to let me. You’re gonna make me cum. Your mouth, your fucking mouth, please let me cum."

You're babbling, you know you are. You’re slipping through the cracks quickly and you can’t do a thing to stop it. There’s no going back and Chris knows it but he still smacks the inside of your thigh. Warning you to be good for him and let him build you up a bit more before you take his cock again.

"Don't." He kisses your clit. "Cum." He sucks the bud into his mouth and swirls his tongue over it with a moan. He's a madman if he thinks you could survive that. 

"Fuck, 'm cumming. I'm cumming, 'm sorry." You’re shaking, your nails dig into your thighs as you keep yourself open for him.  "Cumming, 'm cumming, I can't stop cumming, I can't stop cumming."

He moans into you as he laps up every drop of arousal that you're giving him. He commits your sweet taste to memory with one final swipe of his tongue before he’s kissing up your stomach. 

His lips trail up the valley of your breasts. He licks over the mound, sucking your nipple into his mouth and swirling it with a hum. Once he’s satisfied he moves to your shoulder, kissing and licking his way over to your collarbone then finally his lips are back on yours.

You’re gasping as you tremble through your orgasm, aftershocks wash over you as you taste yourself on his tongue. Chris smirks, whispering against your lips. "No one else will make you feel this good, baby. No one else will make you cum like this.”

The head of his cock slips through your dripping folds, catching against your clit before he’s pushing in. “This is mine. All mine." He sinks in to the hilt then slowly drags his cock back against your walls. 

“This is what I want.” He straightens up, looking down at your pretty face contorted in pleasure. 

“All of that other shit doesn’t matter.” He moans, holding your thighs back to get a perfect view of you.  “I wanna watch it. Wanna see the way my pussy opens up for me. ‘S mine, isn’t it, baby? Tell me this shit is mine.”

“Yours, it’s yours. Fuck, ‘s fucking yours, please, you’re gonna make me cum.” Chris slows his strokes, grinding deep into you and dipping his hips to hit the soft spot that turns you into putty for him.

You’re drooling at the feeling. Tears threaten to fall from the corners of tired eyes as you watch the way he admires your cunt. The corner of his bottom lip is tugged and held firm between his teeth as he fights back his moans so that he can hear yours clearer.

“Shit, You’re gonna make me cum. Gonna make me fucking cum, make daddy cum.” The precise snap of his hips grows sloppy as the seconds pass. His once slow grind is now erratic. He’s purely seeking pleasure, sinking deeper into the haze with every drag. 

“Fuck, squeeze me. Yeah, just like that, that’s my girl. Pretty fucking girl on my cock.” Each thrust is met with a slap to your clit. You jolt at the contact, back arching off of the mattress. “Cum for me. Cum on my dick.” 

With one more flick of your clit you're trembling beneath him. Your cunt sucks him in and he takes it all with a loud moan. Chris lets your legs fall so that he can hover over you. He holds himself up on his elbows as he kisses you through your climax. You moan into it, shaking with each thrust and twitch of his cock. 

“Shit, that’s good. So good, baby, ‘m gonna cum.” The frantic bucking of his hips against yours comes to a halt as he falls apart. 

Moans tumble forward as he does. His muscles tense and his eyes roll back as he drives himself deep into you, filling you with every drop of himself that he has to offer. Chris collapses on top of you, his weight pinning you in place. 

You pant below him, coming down from your high as aftershocks wash over him. He kisses your neck, breathing heavily into your skin. 

“Now.” He pulls back slightly, gaze catching yours. “Now I’m happy.”

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[tasteracha]

kinktober - day sixteen

kink: sex toys with jilix

warnings: smut - MINORS DNI. sex toys, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, afab!reader. mention of hentai (typical jlix things). 3k.

it’s something that felix and jisung bring up all the time. throughout your entire time as roommates slash best friends with benefits they’ve talked about it, but they’ve never followed through with it. 

they want to ruin you. stretch you so far that you’re left with your pussy gaping, fill you up so far that it feels like your breath is taken away. the thought of it sends you into a dizzy spell if you think about it too long, but it’s always just that. a thought. you’re not sure why, since every other kink that’s been brought up has been tried and added to the ranked bulletin board in your room.

handcuffs? yes, enthusiastically. 

petplay? no, much to jisung’s poorly concealed disappointment.

stuffed full of sex toys? TBD.

but no matter how many times any of you had brought it up, whether it be giggling into a glass of wine or holding hands in the dark under your covers, they never made any moves to make it become reality. 

so, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

it’s almost too easy to sneak an excessively large order of sex toys onto jisung’s credit card, the one he had given to you with a wink and a whispered you know what to do with this. you hadn’t known what to do with it, but you pocketed the card anyways, saving it for a rainy day. maybe this is what he had meant when he said that to you - you’ll find out soon, probably. 

by the time it arrived you were almost sick with anticipation, the thought of it not leaving you as you obsessively checked the tracking of your package every possible second. when it finally arrived they weren’t home, and you opened it without abandon, ripped pieces of cardboard littering the floor. they looked…daunting. almost scary. incredibly exciting.

“tomorrow,” felix says, more to the contents of the box than to you. “tomorrow, we’re going to ruin you with these.”

“tomorrow?” both you and jisung whined together, and you exchanged a fist bump over the box as felix huffed at you. 

and yet, with all of the impatient waiting you did in the past week (and jisung in the past day), tomorrow came sooner than you could catch up with. you were naked on the mattress before you could even blink, cunt clenching around nothing as you watched them lay out the materials that you had so meticulously picked out.

it might be a little too soon for an endeavor like this, it would be smarter to try out every toy first and make sure you were comfortable with all of them, but they’ve kept you waiting too long for this for you to think about being smart right now. 

they lined the toys up at the foot of the bed, all washed and sanitized and ready for whatever filthy use they were going to be put through. there’s four of them, varying in size, girth and length, color, and vibrations and thrusting ability, and you’re already a bit overwhelmed just looking at them. 

or rather, a lot overwhelmed. 

they make eyes at each other over you, having some kind of silent conversation in the creepy way that they do. felix nods and moves to sit by your head, moving you around until your upper body was half in his lap. jisung, on the other hand, picks up the first toy and examines it, twisting it around in his hand. 

“relax, baby,” felix’s voice rumbles through you, and you melt into him a bit when he runs his hand through your hair. 

jisung’s eyes are fixated on your pussy now, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he imagines how wrecked you’re going to be once they’re done with you. 

“jisung, come on,” you whine, wriggling a bit in felix’ lap. 

“let me enjoy this,” he bites back, sending you a playful glare. 

“i think i’m the one who’s supposed to be enjoying this,” you pout, relaxing back into place when felix tugs at a strand of your hair. 

“oh trust me, you will,” felix’s voice grumbles from behind you, vibrations from it dousing your body just as jisung finally touches you. it’s not quite where you want, his hand is tracing up and down your thigh, but it’s something. 

he takes his time mapping out your skin, planes of smooth flesh that he’s seen and felt and loved before, but never this slowly. never this reverently. it’s almost frustrating, but felix begins massaging your neck and shoulders and you’re too relaxed to provide any protest beyond a frustrated huff of breath as your eyes flutter closed. 

“no, stay with us,” felix coaxes your eyes open, and you almost giggle at how funny he looks upside-down from where you’re laying. it feels like time is moving in slow-motion as jisung uncaps the lube and drizzles it on the toy, the smallest one you had chosen. it’s thin with a bulbous head, created specifically to hit right at your g-spot, a smooth metal with a lustrous purple finish. it’s beautiful, even more so when he runs the cool metal head up and down your folds, warming it up. when it gets to your hole you nearly swallow it up, the glide almost too easy from the lube and your wetness that’s been building since before you even took off your clothes. 

“eager, are we?” jisung teases, and you just snarl back at him, too impatient to deal with being in a sarcastic argument with him right now. you usually love his playful banter during sex, but that’s when you’re in a mutual push and pull dynamic. right now the only thing you want him to push is the toy into you. “fine, i’ll give you what you want, but remember that you asked for it.”

all at once, he’s thrusting it in and out of you, twisting his hand just right so that it hits your spot every single time. it’s already almost too much, and you push up against felix to try and get away from the sudden onslaught. he just laughs, pinning you in place as jisung keeps going and going and going. 

it only takes a few minutes for your orgasm to approach, expectantly fast with how keyed up you’ve been since you woke up. you’re just starting to come when — in one quick move — jisung removes the toy and replaces it with his fingers, crooking them up right where he knows you like it best, over and over. the change in pace makes everything so much more intense, and you can’t stop your body from arching off of the bed, your head pressed into felix’ thighs. it feels like minutes before you slump back onto the mattress, panting hard and twitching from aftershocks. he removes his fingers, holding them up so you and felix could see how slick they are from being inside of you. he sticks them in his mouth, sucking at them a bit like a lollipop, and lets out an appreciative noise at the taste. you hide your face into felix’ leg, embarrassed at his actions. 

jisung doesn’t let you recover before grabbing the second toy, a bright pink vibrator complete with a thrusting head. he forgoes the lube this time, choosing to scoop up your wetness onto his fingertips and spread it across the toy instead. you whine when his fingers brush your clit, overly sensitive even though it hadn’t been touched yet. he settles the tip of it against your hole, rubbing at it in tiny circles.

“what a greedy fucking pussy,” jisung says, almost clinical in the way he looks at felix with an arched brow. like he’s not talking about a person. “just came and she’s already leaking for more.”

felix just hums, dark eyes fixed on the way your bottom lip is stuck between your teeth as jisung slides the second toy into you. it settles in perfectly, leaving you so comfortably full that you think you could fall asleep like this, especially after coming as hard as you just had. 

“what did i tell you?” felix says, accentuating his words with another sharp tug to your hair. “stay with us, baby.” 

“i’m - ah,” your breath leaves you as jisung flicks the vibrator on. even at it’s lowest setting, it sends pulses of pleasure swimming through you, and you feel hot all over. the heat intensifies when he pushes the toy just a little further into you and presses the button for the thrusting to start. it feels strange at first, the rubber head so different to jisung or felix’s cocks, but then he angles it upwards just so and there it is. 

every time you clench down onto it you feel your toes and fingertips tingle with pleasure, little pricks of static taking over your limbs. jisung holds the base close to your entrance, keeping in place as it thrusts into you in a perfectly delicious rhythm. 

“this one might be my favorite,” jisung says, and he sounds like he’s kneeling down to worship something rather than kneeling to absolutely wreck you. you try and reply, but your words get swallowed by a series of sounds that escape your throat. “felix, find a way to shut her up, will you?” 

it’s almost comical the way jisung turns into a control freak when it came to sex; you weren’t complaining though, even when felix hooks his thumb into your mouth and presses down on your tongue. jisung turns the vibrations up and you come for the second time, your eyes rolling so far back that you’re almost scared they’ll get stuck there. he keeps the toy there, letting you ride out your orgasm, and he only turns it off when you start to twitch with oversensitivity. 

“is it my turn now?” felix takes his thumb out of your mouth and strokes his hand down your face, leaving a trail of your spit down your cheek. “i want a turn, you’re hogging her.”

“whiny baby,” jisung tuts, but he stands up from where he had been kneeling in front of you. he drops a kiss to your inner thigh before switching spots with felix, settling in behind you. 

while felix had let your hands wander, clenching in and out of fists as you got more and more into it, jisung had no such notion to give you freedom. he immediately traps your wrists into one of his hands once he was sure your head was comfortable in his lap, and his other hand comes to rest at your collarbone. it’s possessive, the way his fingers curl up just a bit like he’s waiting for a reason to run his nails down your skin. 

the third toy that felix picks up is a normal dildo, clear glass in a respectable size and length, and you’re almost glad for a little normalcy right now. 

“should i eat you out first? make you come on my tongue before using this?” he asks, mouth so close to your clit that you could feel his breath hitting it. it made you shiver. 

“if you do that i might not last,” you groan, trying to clamp your thighs shut but you were stopped by felix’s hands. “you’ll have to scrape my body off of the bed.”

“i’ll have to do that anyways when i’m through with you,” he teases, drawing back a bit. “but you’re right. i want to see your face when i ruin you, and it’s hard to do that from down there.”

the slide of the dildo entering you was almost undetectable after jisung had dealt with you, the only thing you could feel was the coolness of the glass and the fullness in your lower belly. 

you sigh, letting your head fall back into jisung. maybe felix would go easy on you for the first one? you let your body relax so felix could push it all the way in. 

you regretted that almost immediately though - felix, with all of his dancer’s grace and control, knows exactly what to do with his hands. knows how to twist his wrist just right, how to speed up and slow back down in perfect timing, and it doesn’t matter that it’s just a normal dildo because he isn’t a normal fucking person. 

he alternated between an insanely fast and agonizingly slow rhythm, never letting you get used to one before switching to the other. every time you got close, he’d angle it just away from your spot, leaving you teetering on the edge of an orgasm over and over. 

if jisung wasn’t holding you down you’d be thrashing against the sheets right now. 

when felix finally let’s you come it’s with his mouth sucking at your clit and your body taught as a rope. it feels like hours before you come down, wave after wave of boiling pleasure burning through your veins, taking over your whole body. 

“okay?” jisung asks as felix pulls the toy out of you, shushing you when you whine at the feeling. 

“guh,” you let out, the most intelligent response you can offer him right now. he lets go of your wrists to intertwine his hands in yours, keeping you close but knowing that you needed the grounding. 

the last toy was really for them. you know that they’re little freaks inside, and you couldn’t stop yourself from selecting it - a bright green and red silicone toy, shaped like a tentacle. it’s wide at the base, about the size of your fist, and that brings up another idea that you store in your head for later. the tip is tapered, and little faux suction cups line the entire surface of the toy. it isn’t too long, but god it’s thick. 

felix picks up the bottle of lube and coats the thing generously, and you’re grateful for it. for how big it is, you weren’t sure if your body was capable of slicking it up without some help. 

“can’t,” you stutter out when he places the tip at your entrance, teasing it inside of you. you wanted to move away but you couldn’t, jisung made sure of that. 

“you can,” jisung coos at you, the first time he’s spoken since switching places with felix. “you know what to say it you really can’t. but i think you can, baby girl.”

he’s right. through all of this, your safeword hadn’t even breached through to your consciousness. you still wanted this, as insane as it was. 

“fuck, you’re stretched out,” felix curses, pushing the toy into you. you can feel it all the way in your throat, even though it was only a little over halfway inside of you. god, was he going to try and get the whole thing in?

the answer was yes, he was. he twists his wrist, letting your body get used to the girth of the toy for a moment before pulling it out almost all the way. he slowly slides it back in, and the squelch of the suction cups dragging in and out makes you flush so hard you feel lightheaded. 

jisung is breathing hard behind you, and you revel in how affected he is right now. you chose well, you did good.

you’ve never had something inside of you that felt like this; it wasn’t moving but you could imagine if it was, in the ways that tentacles did in the hentai jisung made you watch - you never understood the appeal until now. you wanted it to completely engulf you. you had almost forgotten that it was attached to felix’s hand until he started pumping it in and out of you, absolutely obscene sounds filling the room from both it and your own mouth. 

when you come for the last time it’s a fragile thing, slow rolls of heat washing over you, less intense but no less pleasurable. you feel floaty even felix removes the toy carefully, dumping it on the floor and pressing a flutter of kisses to your thighs. your head is sailing through the clouds just as your body feels weightless, the only thing keeping you tethered to the bed being their hands on you. 

“let’s get her cleaned up,” jisung says, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“no, ‘m not done,” you mumble, half into jisung’s arm where your mouth is now squished. there’s a line of drool running from your lips down his skin, but you’re too exhausted to care about something that would normally send you into a fit of embarrassment. 

“oh, she’s out,” felix sounds almost in awe, like he can’t believe the state the two of them had pushed you towards. that he couldn’t believe that, even though you couldn’t move a single limb in your body, you were still asking for more. felix reaches to the nightstand where he had placed a cool water bottle with a straw peeking out, and he holds it up to your mouth so you can suck small sips. the water feels heavenly, soothing your parched throat perfectly. did he put magic in this water? it sure feels like he did. 

you didn’t realize that you were talking out loud until they laugh, the sound of it sending happiness throughout your entire body. you made them happy. 

“hi baby,” felix materializes at your side, cradling your face in his hands so you are looking at him instead of the ceiling. “bath or washcloth?”

“can’t move,” you replied, hoping he’d understand. when he comes back with a washcloth and starts cleaning you up, you know he did. he knows you so well. 

you let out a series of whines when he cleans around your pussy, the burn of overstimulation bordering on painful now. jisung soothes you with a kiss for each one, his hands still intertwined with yours. 

you fall asleep before felix finishes, and you miss the way they both look at you with nothing but adoration in their eyes. 

—

kinktober masterlist

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you sacrifice your strawberries and eyelash wishes for the boy knocking at your door.

idol!jungkook x reader, strangers to friends (?) to lovers / fluff and a pinch of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: allusions to death and grief / jungkook is a cutie patootie and a blushing hopeless romantic mess / he wants to kiss oc so bad (me too bro) / oc is a sunshine <3 / they do chores and watch movies together :((( / in one scene he was worried oc would think of him as a perv lmao / they’re dorks and i love them / seokjin cameo hehehe

> in which masterlist!

note: to make up for the pain i may have caused and will cause <3 LOL. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing :D as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! come chat w me. ily 🌼

—

“it’s so cold,” you mutter through chattering teeth.

the grocery bags sit on the hardwood table with a thud— the careless bringer too hasty. you shove your icy hands in the deep pockets of your jacket, breathing in and out with a sense of relief.

you are not granted the mundane euphoria for much longer, however. the doorbell rings and you are padding across the floor against your will. the cold air hits your face before it enters your apartment.

however, the happy smile that greets you blankets your heart with a type of warmth that is difficult to describe.

if you had to guess who was behind the door, you wouldn’t say the boy you’ve been fiercely pining over for the past month, but it is certainly who you’d be hoping for regardless.

“good morning!”

“oh! wait there for a moment!”

jungkook stands motionless by your open front door as you disappear into your apartment. confusion accompanied by curiosity, he tries poking his head inside, but then decides that he shouldn’t.

upon your return, his face lights up again.

“here you go!”

he accepts the jar of honey faster than he could think.

“w-why are you-?”

you tilt your head, lips forming a small pout. “isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“uh, actually-” he awkwardly pauses, hand that carries the heavy paper bag behind him suddenly feeling weak. “i came here to give you something.”

your eyes animatedly expand in surprise of the size of it, not at all expecting to receive a gift from him today. you do know that he’s fresh from japan, as you converse on the phone almost everyday… why would he come here almost immediately? and didn’t he say they weren’t given the chance to roam the city because of their work schedule?

“i just grabbed things i thought you might like. i hope i got most of them right?” he explains with a nervous chuckle as you take a look inside.

a diverse array of snacks; a beautiful journal painted with cherry blossoms; a hello kitty plushie; stickers, muji pens…

“oh my god, jungkook… these are too much. you didn’t have to.”

oh, curse the hopeless fluttering of your heart.

“wow, gifting your merch- that’s real idol behavior for you.” you tease him, referring to the hooded jacket that has their group logo on its plastic packaging. “thank you!”

“no but it seriously warms you up! i have one too!”

“jungkook, why are you so cute?!”

“ah, shut up! i’m getting embarrassed!” he whines, blushing. “just look at them later after i leave, how about that?”

“let go! it’s mine!” you glare at him, hugging the paper bag to your chest to deny his advances on snatching it away. “are you not leaving? don’t you have work?”

“i told you— it’s my rest day.”

“you did?”

“while we were texting last night.”

“oh,” you blink. “i don’t remember reading that.”

“you? what are you doing today?”

you bite back the smile threatening to give away the thoughts running in your mind a thousand miles per hour. why does he want to know?

“nothing special. just chores the entire day.”

jungkook puts his hand inside the pocket of his coat, an attempt to appear casual as he offers you his valiant effort. “do you want some help? i’m good at doing chores.”

you stare at him, perplexed, as if he just said the most ridiculous sentence you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

“it’s your rest day and you want to do chores?”

“sure,” he grins playfully, not at all seeing how that could be wrong. “why not?”

“you know…” you pause— observing his expression, considering shutting your mouth, but that plan rarely ever works out. “you can just say that you want to spend time with me, right?”

your bluntness sends his heart racing. you’re a danger to his health.

he sinks his perfect teeth on his bottom lip, bringing his dimples into view. to be honest, you didn’t always have a thing about dimples. you didn’t consider them all that special. but why do they make him look cute and sexy at the same time?

his cheeks become tinted with a pale scarlet. you’re wearing that friendly beam again; he doesn’t know how to act. he never knows whether you are joking or not.

“well, now i know.”

—

jungkook sets down the jar of honey on the table as he settles in the living room, fascinated doe eyes darting around every inch of your place. it’s not his first time here, but somehow, it looks different each time. the two frames hanging above the sofa captures his attention all over again, colorful drawings against the plain white wall. gifted to you by your siblings, you said.

a tall castle with a happy family. a little boy slaying a dragon to protect a princess from its savage fire.

he is blissfully unaware of the knowledge that the drawings are the lone survivors of a school bus and a tragedy. you want it to stay that way. you want people to feel the opposite of the sadness you feel when you look at them. that is how you seek your peace.

“are you wearing toe socks?”

“huh?” he makes a sound of confusion, only processing your question upon seeing your gaze trained to his feet. “ah- toe socks- yes.”

“i’m only noticing them now. they look funny.” you scrunch your nose, chuckling.

“don’t laugh! they’re so comfortable!”

“really?” your eyes widen with genuine interest. “i should try them then.”

“yeah, you should!”

he whips his head around as he jokingly voices out an observation.

“but ____, your house kind of looks different today… it’s almost like it’s cleaner than the last time i was here.”

you bury your face in your hands with a high-pitched wine, hiding from him in humiliation. you did not plan on inviting someone over that night, and he had to watch you run around organizing and picking up things— the scattered books all over the table and the floor; the jackets that have created a big heap on the small couch; the jewelry box that ended up on the dining table for some reason.

he laughs in endearment, unable to take his eyes from you. even the way your hair bounces as you furiously shake your head is pretty. wait, does that sound weird?

“that’s right, it should look different! the first thing i did when winter break started was clean up my mess.”

“what’s the first chore on the list then?” he catches the grocery bags in the kitchen from his peripheral. “were you putting away your groceries?”

“you really want to do chores? you don’t want to watch a movie or something?”

“aigoo, it’s fine!” he waves off your reluctance. “stop worrying! i already said i’d help you.”

“but it’s embarrassing…”

it’s either jungkook is denying your advances or he is simply dense. but the fact that he showed up at your door unannounced on his day-off despite complaining about his exhaustion from their hectic work schedule, you want to lean towards the latter and believe that he is… as good at chores like he claims to be.

“you must like fruits a lot.” jungkook comments as he is squatted infront of your fridge, sheltering the freshly bought perishables one by one.

kimchi, lettuce, strawberries, tangerines, shine muscat, apples…

this is an entirely different world through your lens.

it feels strange to watch another person restock your fridge for you.

“they’re easy to eat and i’m lazy to cook.”

he chuckles as he looks back at you, who is sat on the dining table, airy and carefree as you snack on a bag of assorted chocolates from the paper bag he brought. almost all of the white chocolates are gone, he notes.

“not because they’re nutritious?”

“that’s the bonus!”

“what is this?”

“cranberry juice.”

“and this?”

“oyster sauce.”

you energetically hop off the table, an idea lighting up the bulb in your mind.

“i have another recipe for you. french toast with strawberries, then drizzle some of the honey. should i make it for you?”

“ah!” he gasps as if he is in pain, but the truth is his mouth is watering. he hasn’t eaten breakfast, and he wanted to eat more for dinner last night but sleep proved to be much more enticing than food. “that sounds so good! i’m starving!”

“stand up!” you begin pulling at the back of his sweater, forcing him to remove himself from the floor. “i’ll make it! just go relax in the living room, okay?”

“but you just said you’re lazy to cook.” he tilts back his head, meeting your gaze. “i’ll help you.”

“i’m not lazy when it becomes to being a host.”

you bend down with a sweet smile, merely inches away from him, and jungkook swears the earth has stopped spinning on its axis. your face is natural and bare, except for the sheen of lip balm across your lips— and dear heavens, having you this close, you are so breathtakingly beautiful.

“they’re playing christmas movies on channel 36.” you announce, giving him the bag of chocolates. “and the remote is… somewhere on the sofa… or maybe the floor.”

and as he gets practically kicked out of the kitchen, your hands roughly pushing his back, he daydreams of kissing you and tasting sugar on your lips.

—

the sweet, addicting smell of the french toast— strong hints of butter and cinnamon— invades every corner of your apartment. consequently, it also compels jungkook to break your rules and insert himself in the kitchen again.

“you never give up, do you?”

“i don’t,” he agrees, nodding eagerly. he has successfully stolen the task of washing the strawberries, and then slicing them after. he endures the freezing water rendering his hands numb. “it’s a known fact.”

“are you saying i should study harder?” you cross your arms, expression painted with faux vexation.

“yes! exactly!” he humors you, grinning of amusement. “what’s my favorite color?”

you sigh, looking at him from head to toe.

“anyone can guess that from a mile away, jungkook.”

“fuck, okay. that’s fair!”

the sound of his laughter reminds of you reasons to stay through the cycle of the seasons. you don’t understand why, but for some reason, it has finally begun to feel like christmas. the only comfort that comes along with the cruel winter that nips at your skin; the blanket over your heart that provides a type of warmth one can travel to seek but will never be able to find alone.

“what’s my height then?”

“aren’t you six feet?”

the silence that follows is an answer enough for you. the noise of the television emerges now that none of you is talking. he pretends to be too busy to speak, transferring the strawberries over to the chopping board.

“yes, you’re ri-”

“liar!” you point an accusatory finger at him.

and he winces, guilty as charged.

“you hesitated!”

“tsk, i should’ve said yes faster! i wanted to experience what it’s like to be tall!” he regretfully purses his lips, eyebrows knitted as if he just lost the lottery. “but haven’t you read it online? even my shoe size and weight are there.”

“what? why do people even need to know that…?” you exclaim, flabbergasted. “i mean- of course i’ve searched up your name, but it feels like cheating on a test. does that sound silly…? it’s just more fun learning about you from you.”

you briefly walk away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and jungkook is left at the counter with fondness blossoming in his chest, bleeding into the chopped strawberries staining his hands red.

he calls out your name.

“mhmm?” you hum in question, muffled by the water in your mouth.

“want to hear a fact about me?”

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, eyes expanding with fueled interest. “what?”

“i’m actually very good in the kitchen.” he boasts his skills with the kitchen knife, quick and precise, the blade against the wood creating the satisfying click you usually only hear from cooking shows. “are you seeing this? huh…? what do you think?”

“so i’ve noticed. i want something new!”

at that, his shoulder sags in disappointment. to his demise, there goes another failed attempt at making you acknowledge that he is boyfriend material.

“what do you want to know? ask me questions.”

“what’s your ideal type?”

being in your presence for the past hour has gotten jungkook re-adjusted to your personality— straight-forward, bold, smart— so vivacious that it’s dizzying. you make him nervous and comfortable at the same time, and he doesn’t quite know how to explain it either. but you’re a breath of fresh air, the change that he has been anticipating to disrupt his routine.

“why do you want to know that?”

you shrug coyly, smiling like the troublesome vixen that you are. you rather enjoy the tension that has hung in the air. if you’ve learned something from the past: men are easy to get, not easy to keep. because they relish in the chase, getting strung along like this. so, shouldn’t you have your fun too? but even if jungkook’s intentions were pure, you can only imagine that seeing someone whose life revolves around their career is… the perfect recipe for disaster.

“i think who you like also says a lot about who you are as a person.”

“i like someone who is kind and funny…” he hums in thought, unconsciously slotting a piece of strawberry in between his lips. “and passionate about the things they love… mhmm, someone who can be honest with me.”

his words form a constellation named after you, unbeknownst to you, and he wants to say more but anticipating what comes next after you connect the dots makes his stomach twist. he doesn’t feel like an adult yet. he’s still just a young boy with a gorgeous crush and high ambitions that coalesce in his dreams.

“i like someone who has a really pretty smile, too.”

and he should probably stop staring, erase the dumb lovesick smile on his face. for fuck’s sake, it would be easier for him if you would just do the same. behind the sparkles of your eyes, there is something he’s been dying to decipher.

“okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

because you are so pretty, especially when you smile.

“nothing,” he replies innocently. “you? what’s your ideal type? who do you like?”

“i don’t know… no one has captured my heart yet. they’re not trying hard enough!”

every romance you’ve had so far has been a letdown.

“but i’m still looking. i’m young, and hot, and the universe is vast.”

“mhm, i see… that’s true, but maybe… you don’t want to be looking too far.” jungkook suggests.

you smirk. “so you agree that i’m hot?”

“you know. you don’t need me to say it.” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“but i want to hear you say it.”

“you’re very beautiful, ____.”

“but that’s not-”

“the food is ready! let’s eat it before it gets cold!”

he runs to the living room without waiting for you, and you seize the opportunity to squeal without a sound, punching the counter without actually punching— releasing the giddiness threatening to spill from the seams of your heart.

you don’t know if this is heading somewhere, nor do you expect it to, but where you are right now is a good place to be.

—

the movie playing on the screen has become more of a white noise to you, a family comedy far less fascinating compared to jungkook drizzling honey over strawberries and bread from a spoon. you wonder if he is aware how often he creates sound effects while he is doing something.

beside you, his body quakes with cackles during the scenes that an editor would definitely insert the classic sound of an audience’s collective laughter and holler. you stumble upon the understanding that his happiness lies in a myriad of things, and you would envy him for it if not for the fact that he is currently sharing that happiness with you. you laugh when he laughs, and being becomes a little less heavier at that moment.

another commercial break rudely interrupts and jungkook turns towards you. the two of you sit cross-legged, knees knocking against each other as you occupy nearly the entire sofa.

“hi!”

“hi.”

“what are your plans for the holidays?”

“my best friend’s family invited me to stay with them for christmas until the new year. it’s kind of been a tradition since…”

the end of your sentence hangs suspended in the air. you still can’t say it out loud.

jungkook knows they’re gone and you’re alone: only the plain and brutal truths.

the reminder that this is the third christmas you will not spend with your family; the thought that this would be the third christmas they would spend without you if the afterlife was real— they bring tears to your eyes at once, but you forcibly blink them away, shoving enthusiasm down your throat.

“how about you?” you take a bite from your toast, attempting to divert your thoughts to… anything else. “are you coming home?”

you hide so well behind a smile. it doesn’t occur to jungkook that his question rubbed salt on an open wound.

“i miss my mom but i can’t go home yet.” he pouts. “i have work on christmas day as usual. we’ve been preparing hard for it.”

“oh, that’s right! gayo daejeon?!”

he nods in confirmation.

the music festival has been an annual event for his group since they debuted, and he never feels the need to complain because not everyone is given this kind of opportunity. what’s extraordinary for most has become his ordinary, and what was once his ordinary like everybody else’s has simply become a thing of the past. nevertheless, he does not have regrets. he is living a good life, one that he believes is his fate. as long as he has a voice and it is being heard, then his existence has meaning.

“your family will surely watch you, so they’re still celebrating it with you in a way. making them proud is the best christmas gift you can give!”

and right now, in his life, you are the cherry on top. you were so cheerful and supportive about the final shows of their tour as well, raving about how amazing it is to perform three nights in a row at gocheok skydome.

“i’ll watch you too!”

he can’t help it— you’re driving him to be better at what he does. childishly, he wants show off and be the one to capture your heart.

“ah!” he groans. “that means i should work harder at practice tomorrow! i can’t mess up infront of you and my family!”

“why not me? you want to make me proud too?” you interrogate him jokingly.

“of course, it’s my job. it’s what i do best. i’ll make you see!”

“use me as motivation then. you can’t mess up, okay? you have to do well, jungkook! you better not make a mistake! my eyes will be focused on you only!”

his face is reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights— the headlights being your wide, threatening eyes.

he releases a shaky sigh in dramatic fashion. “i don’t feel motivated, though? i’m getting pressured?”

you wheeze; the plate over your lap tilts along with its contents.

“this is tough love!”

jungkook nearly staggers to his feet. “…love?”

you roll your eyes, small corners of your lips still cheekily lifted. “was the french toast good?”

jungkook is interrupted before he can form a response.

“but if it tastes like shit, just lie to me!”

“what are you talking about?!”

oh my god, you’re too fucking good at making him laugh.

“you’re eating it too! you know it’s delicious!”

“maybe you got a bad batch!”

—

“i’m going to the laundry shop across the street. i’ll just be a minute.” you announce, hauling a laundry basket to the living room.

your strained grunts prompt jungkook to look up from his phone, and eventually to stand up with urgency and relieve you of your heavy, heavy burden.

“shit, how heavy is this?”

you’re not given a chance to protest as the basket is immediately stolen from your grasp; your lips part open but no words come out.

“i’ll come with you!”

“well, hopefully not more than twelve kilos.”

it’s definitely heavier than usual; mainly comprised of the thick and layered clothes you’ve been wearing to shield yourself from the unforgiving cold.

“let’s go.”

jungkook wraps his hand around your wrist, gently tugging. the butterflies in your stomach wakes up earlier than spring’s arrival.

“this thing is bigger than you.”

an extremely obvious exaggeration.

“i’ll be the one to carry it.“

—

jungkook wears a cap and a face mask underneath his hoodie, eyes barely even visible in his all-black getup for the public to see; and somehow you also find yourself with a scarf around your neck, pulled up over the bridge of your nose.

when the year 2017 rolled in, you predicted that more crazy, life-altering stuff would happen. it has been an on-going theme, a relentless domino effect that has brought you to your knees time and time again. but you never would’ve fucking imagined that this is how you would be wrapping it up. how the hell did you cross paths with a famous idol, and why is he carrying your laundry basket right now?

“wait here for a bit.” you bring both hands to the basket’s handles, coaxing him to let go. “i’ll just bring it inside.”

“are you only dropping it off? that’s expensive!”

“what?” you stare at him in bewilderment, not expecting him to utter such statement at all. “you’re talking like you’re not rich!”

“i’m not! and still,” jungkook becomes flustered underneath his disguise. “it’s good to be practical. anyway, we have a lot of time.”

“you sound more like a mom than my mom did.”

“shhh!” he shushes you, putting a finger over his face mask. “let’s just do your laundry ourselves.”

“why would you do laundry right now? you’re supposed to be resting in the first place!”

a tug of war ensues infront of the laundry shop. strangers doesn’t know better. you look like a married couple bickering over who should take responsibility of the chore.

“____, just let me, mhm? i’m a pro at doing laundry too! we’ll be done before you know it!”

“how are you good at everything? honestly, it sounds like a scam!”

“how dare you doubt me?” he gasps in offense. “i do my own laundry!”

“seriously?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“i’m serious!”

“i don’t think i believe you, though…”

“if you search online, you-” your voice echoes in his mind, and subsequently, jungkook cuts himself off.

‘it feels like cheating on a test. it’s more fun learning about you from you.’

“oh, nevermind. let’s go inside already. i’m freezing!”

“jungkook!” you whine, stomping your feet on the ground as you refuse to let go of the basket despite jungkook beginning to head inside.

“why?” he copies the childishness of your tone, and although you can’t see his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you enough.

“we can’t…”

the adorable sight of you appearing to be so shy is foreign to him. he can’t help but to chuckle. “why not?”

your lips form a pout.

“my panties…”

you bring a finger to point at the basket.

“they’re in there too… i was only going to drop them off today because you came with me…”

“ah…” jungkook awkwardly freezes, unblinking. “wait, you’re right?”

why didn’t he think of that? he’s a fucking idiot. of fucking course. what if you take things the wrong way and you’re creeped out by him now?!

“fuck, sorry. i’m sorry. i wasn’t- um, i swear i wasn’t trying to…”

his tongue becomes tied, struggling to search for the words that won’t make him sound like a damn pervert.

yeah, way to go, jungkook. you’re not the fucking boyfriend yet and you’re ruining your chances.

“did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry. it probably looked li-”

“hey, breathe, calm down. it’s alright, jungkook.”

you giggle in amusement, placing a hand over his chest— his heart. it’s meant to ease him, but the knowledge that you’re feeling his racing heartbeat only causes it to further intensify. he swallows the lump in his throat, dumbfounded by the turn of events. he wants the ground to swallow him whole, but he also wants to stay in this moment a little while longer.

“it’s alright. i’ll go bring this inside then i’ll treat you to lunch at the restaurant over there! don’t run away from me, okay?”

—

“the yukgaejang looks good.” you utter absentmindedly, admiring the spicy beef soup with plentiful vegetables from afar. “i’m jealous of you.”

the other tables are already having a feast while you and jungkook are waiting for your take-out to be prepared.

“then you should’ve ordered it too.” jungkook scolds you lightheartedly. “should i go?”

“no! i’m not good with spicy food. spice makes me cry.”

he smiles softly. once again, you complete the picture from his eyes. “what is there to frown so sadly about?”

“i feel like i’m missing out.” you complain, the pout on your face almost permanent. “spicy food is like one of the trademarks of korea, you know? but i can’t handle it!”

“so cute…” jungkook has decided to give in to his impulses, it seems— the evidence is him pinching your cheek for the very first time, and with the discovery of its delightsome softness, it will definitely not be the last.

“oh, oh, oh! an eyelash!”

his doe eyes glisten with pure wonder and excitement, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended when his hand moves to tenderly cup the side of your face. as he is absorbed in capturing the tiny eyelash that has fallen and glued itself on your cheek, your mind reels with the size of his hand, the sensation of his innocent touch against your neck.

“aaand-” jungkook takes your hand, passing on the eyelash to your index finger. “there you go. make a wish!”

your eyes flicker down, and none of you speaks for a moment or two.

a wish…?

what does one wish for when they have given up on wishing for miracles?

“did you do it?”

you peek at jungkook, nodding. at last, you blow the eyelash away, outside the window, where it becomes one with the snowflakes that came from the same sky where wishes are supposedly granted.

“what did you wish for?”

“i’ll tell you when it comes true.”

—

jungkook eats so well— you feel full just by watching him eat. so when he asked you, eyebrows knitted and legs bouncing, if he could have more rice, you were left with no choice but to plug in the rice cooker for the second time today. you cooked only enough for two meals today: brunch and dinner for one. you’re more than happy to have given him the dinner portion. you like that your apartment is providing warmth for another soul, despite the old times that it housed ones that ended up haunting you.

“are there any more chores to do? while we wait for the rice?”

you gaze switches from him to the living room.

the boy who was knocking at your door is now vacuuming your floors.

you sit on the couch with your legs hugged to your chest, chin propped on your knees. an unexplainable feeling swims in your chest, but your heart calls to welcome it. not to be delusional, but technically, isn’t this a marriage proposal?

it falls on dear ears— the infuriating sound of the cheap vacuum cleaner your landlord lended you and never came back for. underneath it is jungkook’s mellifluous voice, humming and singing, and it’s all you can hear.

the only use you knew of honey is the magic it does with tea for a sore throat. when you learned about his demanding occupation, he is all you can think of in relation to the elixir. since then, you’ve been taking the god awful amount of honey your pesky neighbor provides without any complaints.

this is nice… this is good. you are glad that you opened the door.

—

after a hearty and satisfying meal, you and jungkook retired to your previous spots infront of the television screen. more of the snacks he bought for you ended up being shared. near your stacks of books are colorful food wrappers and half-empty glasses of water. two mediocre yet entertaining movies later, you tell jungkook that you should pick up your laundry before the shop closes in an hour. however, after he has excused himself to the bathroom, he is greeted by the sight of you peacefully asleep on the sofa.

once more, a new side of you is laid bare, and his affection grows. he doesn’t know when he can admire your face this close again without melting from your stare.

heedful of disturbing your much deserved rest, he carefully places a pillow beneath your head, and he pulls down the blanket you’re wrapped in to cover your cold feet.

with one last stolen glimpse, he grabs your key and receipt from the bowl and leaves.

—

“is it time for you to leave?” you delicately rub at your eyes that are still half-closed; voice quiet, barely there.

you were awoken by the front door opening and closing, but nothing has quite registered to your fuzzy brain yet, except for the coat that you neatly kept and is already re-worn by its owner.

and he knows you’re most probably just sleepy, but the way you’re gazing at him as if you’re sad to see him go makes his heart clench.

“no, i picked up your laundry.” he enlightens you, consciously speaking with refined tenderness, as to preserve the serenity that has enveloped the atmosphere. “i can stay until eight. is that okay?”

you release a weary sigh, nodding. “of course… and you’re such a nice friend, thank you.”

he plops down on the sofa, filling the jungkook-shaped space beside you.

tired… you’re so tired… despite the given privilege to finally sleep to your heart’s content, you’re still so tired. your forehead lands softly on his shoulder, and unbeknownst to you due to your stupor, jungkook’s breath hitches— the polar opposite of the steady rise and fall of your chest. you make him swoon. he deliberately ignores the fact that you just called him a friend.

you peer down at the floor, past the curtain of your disheveled hair, slowly blinking. those ridiculous toe socks… you giggle in secret.

“jungkook?”

“yes?”

“are you cold?”

“freezing.”

you lift your head and he knows— you have to be playing games with his heart, bringing the temptation to kiss you so painfully close. “do you want some tea?”

—

the performance has commenced but the passionate screams of the audience still rings in jungkook’s ears as he runs backstage, chased by the staff attempting to wipe the sweat he is practically bathing in. he squeezes one eye shut as beads of sweat threaten to enter it. his chest heaves with exhaustion and his heart pumps with overwhelming adrenaline. most of the time, this job doesn’t feel real. he feels high. this is the textbook definition of a dream.

“where’s my phone? please? does anyone have it?” he yells in the midst of the chaos and clamor as he completely strips off his in-ears.

a hand reaches towards him with the device, and his expression of gratitude gets lost somewhere among the repetitive reminders of the remaining time before they should have returned to their designated seats.

he allows the hair and make-up stylists to do their jobs, him as their doll in need of a retouch. on the other hand, he impatiently waits for his phone to power on.

the tapping of jungkook’s foot ceases, and from his glowing reflection on the vanity mirror, the clueless people surrounding him witnesses love strike.

guess my eyelash wish worked like a charm. your performances went really well

and you looked so cool on stage ☺️

merry christmas jungkook ❤️

“jungkook-ah, what are you smiling at?!”

seokjin cackles. jungkook didn’t even notice him roll his chair so close. he then decides to play dumb to tease their youngest one.

“wow, who is this ____ you’re texting?”

“hyung!” jungkook panics, hissing underneath his breath. “lower your voice!”

“ouch!” seokjin yells, rubbing his arm that was hit as a punishment.

he allows a moment of silence.

his expression goes blank and he avenges himself.

“ah!” jungkook gasps as the slap on his thigh resonates, forced to be ripped away from overthinking a text message. “hyung! you better start running!”

Draft: i know it’s late.. but can i see you later?|

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[j2hoes]

Intimate Treasures. (Steve Harrington x Adult Store Worker!Reader)

Word Count: 4.5K

Y/N works in an adult store and Steve can't seem to stay away.

Warning: Smut, p in v sex, cunnilingus (m and f receiving), dirty talk, knife kink, sex toys, mature language

Weekdays were always slow at Intimate Treasures, most people either working their regular 9-5’s or simply too embarrassed to be caught in an adult store mid week. Opting to discreetly shop on a Friday or Saturday night, hoping nobody will catch them. I often find myself amused by the actions of our customers, ninety percent of which seem to be ashamed of themselves for purchasing such ‘dirty’ products, as they like to call them.

Upon the opening of the store, many citizens of Hawkins were vocal of their displeasure at the presence of such a place. Believing that there was no place in the town for us. They argued that by opening within the Starcourt Mall, we would be indoctrinating their children into believing that sex is something that should be enjoyed and explored freely. Rather than an act of love that should only be taking place once married for the sole purpose of reproduction. There have been numerous occasions when I’ve argued with people about this, lecturing them on the importance of sexual liberation and safety rather than shaming people for their choices.

It was during one of these arguments that I met him for the first time. Wrapped up in a heated debate with none other than the local priest who was offering to save me from hell, I almost missed the mop of fluffy brown hair that hesitantly crossed the threshold of the store. He was trying to act casual, as though being here was no big deal, but I could tell he was nervous. Fumbled movements causing him to almost knock over a display of free condoms. To which he pocketed a few in the shorts of his little sailor outfit.

“What you are doing here in this store is sinful, I am only looking out for you young lady.” My eyes snap back to the priest who is glancing around the place in utter disgust, one hand gripping the cross around his neck, the other clutching a Bible.

“If you think this is sinful, you should see what I do in bed, old man.”

Despite losing sight of the sailor, I hear a muffled laugh coming from down one of the aisles and I can’t help but feel pleased that I’m not necessarily alone in this argument.

“You could be doing so much more with your life! You don’t need this filth, the Lord can set you on the right path if you would just let me cleanse you of your impurity.” The man pleads, his words failing to provide the impact he is hoping for.

Resting my elbows on the countertop, I lean towards the priest, hoping he pays attention to me. “Listen, I know for a fact that the Bible doesn’t specifically mention anything about sex toys or masturbation and not all of us are lucky enough to be in a relationship. Though I’m sure your wife isn’t exactly thrilled with her sex life.” 

He gasps at my words, shuffling towards the door whilst muttering about ‘young dirty girls of today’. 

“Be sure to send your wife in, her first vibrator is on me!”

As the door swings closed behind him, I let out a sigh of relief. Completely fed up of having the same arguments over and over again. My eyes fall back down to the stack of boxes by my feet, filled to the brim with new lingerie sets that need putting out on the shop floor. 

Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly add the inventory to the system before hanging the black latex to the hangers. I won’t deny, it’s a gorgeous set. Shiny black bralette, so thin that the strap of fabric is only big enough to cover the nipple, with a matching thong, which also happens to be just as small. It leaves very little to the imagination, and I would be tempted to spend my paycheck on it, had I anybody to wear it for.

Finding a spot in one of the aisles, I begin to hang the various sizes on the wall. Careful to make sure that they’re all in size order so that they’re easy to find. A shuffle of feet towards the end of the aisle pulls me from my thoughts, the sailor intently staring at different wand vibrators. Every few seconds picking one up before putting it back with a shake of his head.

“Need some help?” I ask, hanging the last of the lingerie up and strolling towards him.

His eyes widen as I stand next to him, a deep red blush rising on his cheeks and I can’t help but smile softly at his awkwardness. I’m never one to assume, though I’m fairly certain this may be his first time in any adult stores. If his blush is anything to go by.

“Sorry, I just don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“Something for your girlfriend?” I push, the question slips off my tongue easily, one I generally ask all the male customers that look in need of assistance, yet something in me is praying that he answers with a no.

I won’t deny that he’s attractive, even with the unfortunate attire that he appears to be sporting. He has a boyish look about him due to the costume, it’s cute and soft. However, his chestnut brown eyes are dark and I can tell that he is very much a man. 

“No, no girlfriend.” He admits, shoving his hands in his pockets, as he does so I’m able to catch a quick glimpse and notice the large size, backs of his palms displaying very prominent veins and I can’t help but squeeze my legs at the sight.

I’m not entirely sure what’s wrong with me. Never usually finding someone so attractive upon meeting for the first time, yet I’m practically drooling over the man in front of me. Even if I am putting on a very cool front.

“This is kind of awkward to admit but I wanted a vibrator you know for when I do have girls over. Just for something different I guess, in case my performance doesn’t cut it.”

I’m taken aback by his admission, most men refusing to believe they couldn’t be absolutely incredible in bed and insisting they’re only getting a toy because their wife wouldn’t stop pestering. To have a man so open about possibly not being perfect is refreshing and I realize I’m most definitely going to need some ice cold water then this customer leaves.

“Oh wow, that’s so thoughtful of you.” I tell him, moving slightly closer to the wall of products in order to assist him as best I can. Carefully, I grab a hot pink box, offering it to him. “So this is the newest wand vibrator we have, it has three different settings and a very long battery life. Trust me any girl would love it, it only took me about five minutes to cum when I used it for the first time.”

His eyes are focused on the box, teeth catching his bottom lip as he reads the information on the back. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, truly reading everything about the product in his hands. Something about him intrigues me, whether it be the sailor outfit or the fact that he truly cares about his sexual partners, I’m not sure.

“I’ll take it, thank you.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second time that the interesting sailor entered the store was only two days later. A Thursday evening, most of the stores in the mall were closing for the day, not us however. Opting to stay open later for more of a sense of privacy.

I’m idly flipping through one of the latest editions of Playboy magazine, staring down at the women sprawled out on the pages. They ooze confidence and sex appeal, something I could only dream of. Whilst I wouldn’t say I necessarily lack confidence, I most certainly do not have a string of guys desperate for my attention like the women in the magazine.

Completely wrapped up in my own thoughts as I turn the page, it’s only when a handful of products are placed on the countertop that I glance up. Boredom evident on my face, I’m counting down the minutes until I can close the store and head home for the night. That is, until I realize who the customer is.

“I didn’t think girls were into Playboy.”

Running a hand through his perfectly styled brown mane, he smiles at me as he speaks and I struggle to hide my excitement at his return. Though there is still a hint of red on his cheeks, he seems calmer this time, clearly less embarrassed by his visit.

“I don’t know if you can tell, but we don’t exactly stock academic reading material.” I joke, beginning to ring the items through the till.

Bottle of lube, metal handcuffs and black bondage tape. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to the kinky items that I ring out on a daily basis. Yet, something about the handsome sailor buying them has me weak at the knees and I have to look anywhere other than his face as I bag everything for him.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you by the way.” Finally making eye contact with the man, I can’t hide my confusion at his words. “For your help last time, the vibrator was a big hit.”

“Oh right yeah. No problem at all, I’m glad I could offer my assistance.”

My smile falters, why am I jealous? I shouldn’t be jealous, I should be pleased that I could help another customer. Pleased that I’m allowing others to enjoy their wants and desires. However, something about knowing the stranger has already used my suggestion on another woman hurts. I sound desperate, it’s not like me to get hung up on a man I have only briefly interacted with twice and yet here I am.

“No seriously, it was the most intense hook up I’ve ever had and it’s all thanks to you.” He rummages through his pockets as he speaks, before sliding a piece of paper across the countertop.

Free ice cream on me - Steve.

“I work at Scoops Ahoy, figured I owed you one.”

“Now the sailor outfit makes sense.” I laugh softly, carefully folding the piece of paper and slipping it into my pocket.

“I know. It sucks, does not help me woo the ladies at all.” He smiles bashfully, handing me the cash to pay for the products.

“I think it’s cute.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop myself and my head drops to the floor, shaking it lightly, humiliated by what I just said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it’s just-”

“Good to know, I’ll see you later.” He looks at me expectantly, awaiting my name, as he makes his way towards the exit.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll see you later Y/N.”

The moment the door closes behind him, I slide to the carpeted floor, head in my hands, afraid I may have just completely made a fool of myself in front of Steve. Doing my best to get over how mortified I feel, I quickly stride to the door and flip the sign to closed, not wanting to humiliate myself further in front of any more customers tonight, even if I am technically supposed to be open for another hour and a half.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to God John, if you take these home and add them to your wank bank, I am going to kill you with my bare hands.”

This week seems to be one embarrassing event after the next, standing in nothing but the new micro black latex lingerie, I pose awkwardly in front of the only blank wall in the building, allowing the store owner to take photos of me on the polaroid. 

“Listen, we need to advertise what we have on offer, putting these pictures in the window is bound to gain more customers. Not to mention the added benefit of being served by the hot girl plastered in the window.” He states as though it's obvious, shoving a large kitchen knife into my hand which I take reluctantly. “Now spread those legs and lick the knife.”

Dropping to a squat, I spread my legs wide open, raising the knife to my mouth and seductively licking a stripe down the edge, careful not to cut myself. I may as well be completely naked with how little the lingerie covers, moving the knife to cover my vagina, I feign a gasp as he snaps another photo.

“You’re a natural, I’ll put these in the window and then I’m off for the night.”

I throw the knife on to the counter as I watch with folded arms how John sticks up the photos by the door. No doubt we’ll have complaints as each photo has me in increasingly compromised positions. It’s borderline pornographic.

Catching glimpses of the photos every couple of seconds, I can admit that I do look good. Incredibly good. They’re sexy and I feel empowered, it’s just a shame that they have to be on display for everybody to see. I’m all for being sexually liberated, I’m just not sure I believe everybody should be allowed to see me in such a vulnerable environment.

John leaves with a quick wave in my direction, flipping the sign on his way out so that I can finish my closing tasks in peace. Throwing myself down on the couch beside the window, I feel the shame start to flood my body. I begin to feel dirty and used, allowing my boss to take advantage of the fact that I have to follow his orders. 

Is this how the women in Playboy feel? Never once have I questioned if selling dirty magazines is unethical, believing that the woman in them felt free and proud that they can be so open and sexual. Now I’m starting to think that perhaps that isn’t the case.

With my head resting against the back of the couch and my eyes fixated on the uneven tiles on the ceiling, I hear the door click open beside me. Internally sighing, I don’t avert my gaze as I speak.

“We’re closed!” Voice snappier than I intended it to be, however, I make no effort to apologize.

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just hoping you’d be here.”

Swinging my head to face the direction of the door, I match the voice to the speaker. Steve stands awkwardly in the entryway, eyes trailing over my body as I stand to greet him. His mouth drops open slightly, rubbing a hand over his plump cherry lips. Glancing down, I remember that I’m still only wearing the lingerie and heat floods my body.

“Shit, sorry. One second.” 

I awkwardly jog to the back of the store as best I can in the heels strapped to my feet, I’m careful to wrap the long satin robe tightly around myself before making my way back over to Steve. Who stands in the same spot, unmoving. Eyes focused on me as I lean against the counter, arms crossed over my body in an effort to keep the robe covering me.

“So what can I help you with?” I ask, voice shaking every so slightly due to the interaction only moments ago.

“You look incredible in that.”

Although my eyes are firmly fixated on the ground, I smile nervously at his words. Hearing the shuffle of his feet, I look up only to see him standing just a couple of feet away from me. Clad in his sailor uniform once again, I allow myself to gaze over his physique. Thick legs that wear the shorts well, tight in all the right places. Arms defined showing off the muscles he has built. Pulling myself from my thoughts, I round the counter, hoping that the distance between us will ease the ache between my thighs.

“Steve I really should be closing, did you need help with something?”

I notice his eyes fall to his shorts, an impressive tent having formed and I have to hold my breath so as not to drop straight to my knees. Without a word, he slowly reaches across the counter, gently knocking the robe from my shoulders, exposing me to him once again.

“Just tell me to stop and I will.” He speaks quietly, so quiet I almost don’t catch it.

There’s a look of animalistic hunger on his face, one that is new to me. A stark contrast to the boyish smile he usually sports. Within seconds he’s leaning across the counter, capturing his lips with mine, one hand tightly grasping the back of my neck for support, whilst I grip at his shirt. His kiss is fuelled by passion and while it’s rough there’s a feeling of comfort that I can’t describe.

Without thinking, I’m striding back around the counter, pushing him backwards so that he flops down on the couch. Allowing me to take a seat on his lap, his erection firmly pressed in between my thighs, if I weren’t so focused on the moment, I’d most certainly be embarrassed by the wetness that begins to drip down my thighs.

Grinding myself slightly, I tug at his top, pulling it over his head quickly before throwing it behind me. His lips attach to my neck and I can feel him sucking gently, determined to leave a mark. A moan escapes my lips before I can stop myself, sparking a fire in his eyes as he grips my hips, guiding them to roll over his clothed length even harder.

His fingers move with haste as he works at the knot holding the flimsy bralette together, prying it off my body the moment the ties become loose. Grabbing his jaw, I pull his face back to mine, kissing him with burning desire as his hands move to palm my breasts. Our tongues entwine as his fingers brush over my nipple, releasing a soft gasp from me, to which he takes advantage. Dipping his head to suck and bite marks into my chest, I grab his hair tugging softly with every moan that he extracts from my body.

I can hear a groan escape his mouth, to which he covers it up quickly by dragging his tongue over my nipple. His hands playing with the other so as not to focus all his attention solely on one. Steve sucks gently, drawing unholy moan after moan from my body as I continue to feel the heat between our bodies.

Tipping my head back and pushing my breasts further into him, I find myself pushing a hand between our bodies. Slipping under his shorts and offering a short squeeze, causing the man to murmur a soft fuck as he continues to play with my nipples. From feeling his length in my hand, I can tell he’s big, bigger than I anticipated and much bigger than I’ve ever had. It scares me equally as much as it excites me.

It’s only when I begin to start delicately stroking up and down, that he pushes me to the side. Throwing me onto the couch gently so that I am laid on my back with him standing over me. As he smiles down at me, I can’t help but find the contrast between his soft smile and the dominance he has just been displaying amusing. A cheeky grin evident on my face.

“Where’s that knife?” He asks, fingers brushing over my throat as he stares down at me.

“Knife?” 

“From the pictures.”

Nodding my head towards the countertop, I watch eagerly as he grabs it, clenching my thighs together as my mind drifts to what he is going to do with it. Much to my surprise, he gently pulls my body up so that I’m sat upright, before settling on his knees between my thighs. Pushing the thong to the side, he presses the blunt side of the knife to my heat, trailing it between my folds. When he removes it, it glimmers with the slick that is now definitely dripping onto the couch.

“Lick it.” He raises the knife to my mouth and I brush my tongue against it as directed, immensely turned on by the entire situation. “You’re such a good girl.”

If his words didn’t make me moan, I do when his tongue makes contact with my clit. Head falling back as I close my eyes, focused only on the pleasure he is giving me. Despite not having my eyes open, I am acutely aware of Steve reaching up to my throat and holding the sharp side of the knife directly on my neck. Pushing it gently, though not so much to draw blood.

“God, you’re such a good girl.”

He switches between sucking and licking my clit, his free hand moving to push two fingers into me ever so slowly. The sounds are inherently sinful, the way he’s lapping up everything I can offer him is downright filthy and yet I feel like I’m in heaven. He devours me as though I’m his last meal, moaning against me, vibrations adding to the already exhilarating pleasure I’m experiencing. God, if this is what he can do with his tongue, there was no reason for him to buy a vibrator.

As he continues to push his fingers into me at an unruly pace, his tongue swirls circles against my clit, pushing me further and further to the edge. My stomach feels tighter and I try to close my thighs, though he reacts by pushing the knife closer to my throat, reminding me of its presence.

“Holy fuck.” I whisper, coil within me snapping and my legs twitching as he continues to lick up anything I have left.

With a pleased grin, he pulls himself away from me, rising to his feet and even in my post orgasm daze, I drop to my knees. Hurriedly pulling his shorts down to his ankles, I grab his erection with both hands. Mouth falling open in shock as I wrap both my hands around him.

“Jesus Christ.” My voice is almost silent yet Steve still hears me, chuckling at my words.

“You gonna be able to handle it?” He asks and I waste no time in nodding, gazing up at him, eyes filled with lust. “Yeah you are.”

In an attempt to calm my nerves, I hesitantly lick from the tip to the base, mouth watering as I hear Steve’s breaths become shakier. Wrapping my lips around the tip, I slowly begin to bob my head up and down, unable to take the whole thing but trying my hardest. I allow myself to coat his member with my spit, using my hands to stroke whatever I can’t fit in my mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily with a deep guttural moan and I can’t help but gag, eyes watering as he hits the back of my throat. 

Pulling back with a gasp for air, I continue to stroke him with one hand, the other reaching for his balls. As I lean in to go for round two with my mouth, he grabs my hair softly, pulling me to look up at him. With mascara streaks running down my and saliva falling from one corner of my mouth, Steve smirks.

“I’d let you do that forever if I wasn’t so desperate to feel you.”

He helps me up, pushing my body over the countertop, before pulling the thong off me completely. I spread my legs for him, allowing him to see the effect he has on me, he circles my clit with one finger as his other hand grips his length. The tip smacking against me as he nervously rubs it over my hole. 

“Steve please, I want you so bad.” I beg, feeling myself clenching around nothing as he teases me.

“Fuck you’re perfect.” He cautiously pushes the tip into me, my hands gripping the wood of the countertop at the stretch and I squeal slightly, from a mixture of pleasure and pain. “My perfect girl.”

He continues to push himself inside of me for what feels like an eternity, just when I think I’ve taken him all, he pushes further. I’ll admit it has been a while and with Steve’s size, the stretch burns and yet I want nothing more than to feel him inside of me forever.

The gentleman he is, he stills once completely sheathed within me, awaiting confirmation from me that he is able to move.

“Steve please fuck me now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice and instantly pulls himself out, almost completely before slamming back into me. Balls slapping against my clit in a way that teases me as he practically rips me in half. One hand pushes on my back, firmly holding me down against the counter as he continues to pound into me. The other grips my hip, knife still in hand though neither of us seem to pay any attention to it. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you.” He states between moans, slamming into me at an almost brutal pace.

I’m able to slip one of my hands between the wooden surface and my body, bringing it to the space between my legs and gently teasing my clit, resulting in a string of profanities falling from my lips. Steve notices this and bats my hand away, taking over himself. His fingers are like magic and combined with the way he is ramming himself into me, I can feel myself on the brink of cumming once again.

“Oh my god, Steve I’m so close.” 

Upon hearing this, he pulls my body upright, peppering kisses along my shoulders and the nape of my neck as he continues to drill into me at the same rough pace. Within a matter of seconds, I find vision spotting as I fall over the edge. Thighs sticky and wet with the remnants of my second orgasm. Steve allows me to fall back onto the countertop, continuing his assault on my vagina and the overstimulation drives me crazy. I’m a complete moaning mess and by the time he stills with a soft grunt, I have even more tears in my eyes.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He murmurs, pulling out of me gently and pressing yet another kiss to my neck.

Turning around to face him, he has a lazy fucked out grin on his face and I can’t help but feel proud that I’m the reason for that smile. I smile at the thought, and at the feeling of his cum beginning to spill out of me and down my legs. Steve takes my hands in his and flops back onto the couch, wrapping his arms around me as I rest my head on his chest.

“You know I actually came here hoping I would work up the courage to ask you on a date but this was so much better.” He admits, nuzzling his nose into my hair.

“Wow so I missed out on a date?” I tease, hugging into him even tighter.

“I mean, we can always break into Scoops and go have that date now.” He suggests, voice soft as though he’s afraid I will reject him.

“That sounds perfect.”

[xxsabitoxx]

Fusiguro Toji NSFW A-Z

Part of my 20k follower celebration (past due)

Warnings: if it isn’t abundantly clear, this is smut :)

A/N: in honor of hitting 20k followers a while back, I’m going to be posting 10 NSFW alphabets for JJK men — scheduled post 12 :)

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

Toji can go one of two ways after sex… either he’s snoring before you can even find the strength to push yourself into a sitting position or he’s already up and getting things to clean you. His aftercare depends wholeheartedly on how much he likes you to be honest. If you’re just a hookup, don’t expect anything from him in return. But if you’re together, he has feelings for you? He’ll make sure you’re cleaned up and comfortable and even ask if you want pain meds because he’s sure you’ll be sore in the morning if you don’t take anything now. He cares, as gruff as he can be, he does care and wants to make sure you’re good after. 

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

Toji is an ass man all the way, I’m sorry I don’t make the rules. He loves you ass, he loves to hold it, squeeze it, smack it, the whole nine yards. He loves how it looks when he fucks you, how it recoils and jiggles every time his hips slam into it. He loves how it looks in cute underwear and tight pants, he loves how it feels when you sit on his lap or grind against his cock. He’s shameless in his love for your ass, often sliding his hand in your back pocket when you’re in public… and if you don’t have a back pocket he’s just going to grab your ass and hold it. 

On himself, Toji is quite proud of all of his body, he worked pretty hard on it. He’s buff, broad, built, and has a slutty little waist. Though he has to admit, he’s pretty fond of his shoulders and biceps. The sheer size of them is enough to have men and women looking twice as you two walk pass. They’re huge, covered in muscles, and way too tempting to touch… he knows you love them too. Especially with the way you cling to them as he fucks you, the way your nails rake down them as he nearly forces you up the bed with his thrusts.

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

Toji is fucking filthy, he will cum where ever you allow him to and he will make sure to ruin you thoroughly. He is partial to coming on your ass, pulling out during doggy to paint your lower back and ass in his pearly white cum before plunging back into your tight heat because he never goes down after one load. He’ll creampie you if you ask him to, but he needs to make sure you’re on proper preventative medication if you’re able to get pregnant. He also likes coming on your chest and face but damn is he into coming on your ass and back. 

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

This man has a scent kink… yeah. He loves the way you smell… yeah sure the perfume or cologne is nice and the body lotion smells good but… he loves the smell of your natural musk. If you’re working out together and he gets horny because you’re teasing him by doing squats? He’ll nearly pounce on you because he knows you're sweaty. He is addicted to it, shamelessly dipping his head between your thighs and running his nose along your inner thighs, inhaling so deeply it makes you squirm because you know what he’s doing but you can’t get the words out. I’m telling you, he’s a filthy, freaky mother fucker… the dirtier the better… but not too dirty, ya know? 

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

Considering the man is a father, it’s safe to say that he knows what he is doing. Toji knows his way around the male and female body and he can navigate it with ease. He’s able to hit all the right places without even needing to be guided. He can tell simply from the noises you make and the expressions that cross your face. He’s able to make you cum in record time, to the point it feels like your head is spinning from the intensity and speed he was able to push you over the edge. It’s utterly fascinating and will leave you weak in the knees.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Toji is all about doggy style in any form. Either the typical on your hands and knees, or with your face pressed into the mattress below you, hands limp by your sides and back arched. Truthfully, he loves anything that lets him grab your ass, so cowgirl and reverse cowgirl are also up there for him. Toji is a sucker for face sitting, 69-ing and bending you over any surface. 

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

He can be unintentionally funny but for the most part Toji is 100% serious during sex. Anything related to humor is usually a snarky, sarcastic, or teasing comment. He’s more into dirty talk than anything so really you won’t get a joke or laugh out of him when he’s balls deep.

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

It’s mildly unruly down there I won’t lie to you. He washes it when he showers but he doesn’t really trim it… he hasn’t since his wife passed honestly. But if he finds himself in a new relationship with someone he really cares for, he’ll take the time to clean himself up down there. 

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

Toji gets kind of awkward with the romantic aspect of sex, he usually expresses it through praising you and dirty talk but that’s about it. He’s not really one to sputter out an “I love you” while he’s fucking you… he’s not really an “I love you” kind of guy in general. That’s not to say he never says it, he just has his ways of showing it more so than speaking it out loud. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Any day, any time, doesn’t matter. If he needs to get off and you aren’t present, he’s grabbing your lotion and he’s looking through videos he’s taken of the two of you fucking and he’s jerking himself off to them. You’ve come home to him mid-masturbation and teased him for it, but he gets his revenge pretty quick by pinning you to the wall or mattress and getting the both of you off opposed to lamely jerking himself with his own hand. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dom/Sub, BDSM, spanking, choking, cock and ball torture… yeah I said it. Toji totally enjoys the pain realm of sex and is not afraid to admit it. Hell he’d go and get his nipples pierced if he didn’t think he’d pop a boner while it was happening. As mentioned above, he has a scent kink, so olfactophilia. Toji likes to gag you and be gagged, along with breathplay like I said above. He enjoys humiliating you but doesn’t like to be on the receiving end. He’s also a voyeur.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your bed. But also anywhere private or not. Toji will totally fuck you on any surface in your home, he will fuck you in your car if you have one, he’ll fuck you on public transportation and in public spaces. He does not give a fuck about where he fucks you to be honest… but his personal favorite is your bed. People may not be able to see you… but they’ll certainly hear you. 

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

Breathing… I’m just fucking with you. Toji really likes when you do mundane things together, like cooking dinner or watching TV together (sir then care for your son–) for some reason those mundane tasks get him going. Maybe it’s because of the simplicity of those actions that allow his mind to wander, but yeah they really get him going. He also enjoys when he walks in on you in the shower or fresh out of the shower or just about to get in the shower… you naked turns him on okay? He’s a simple man with simple needs. Don’t ask him why, but something about red lipstick on your pretty lips gets him going too, he really doesn’t know why. 

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

No age play, no daddy kink, no breeding if there is a potential it could actually work. This man is a father, he does not see the appeal in age play, nor does he like the daddy kink. He’ll totally breed you if you’re unable to get pregnant or are taking proper preventative measures but even then he’s not really fucking you with the idea of breeding you in mind, if that makes sense. 

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

Oral-giving-god to be honest. Toji’s tongue is long and mobile, he knows how to use it and loves using it. He’ll spend hours below your waist pleasuring you if you let him, he uses it as a way to unwind from the stress of the day. He likes when you go down on him too of course but honestly he prefers giving rather than receiving… kinda shocking, no? 

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

Another man that can and will break the bed frame. Toji’s pace is naturally rough and hard, so hard that you’ll often have bruises where his hands are holding you as he thrusts into you. Not only that, if you bruise easily you’ll likely see some bruising around where his hips are meeting the back of your thighs. Bringing a whole new meaning to being unable to sit the next day. You didn’t even know something like that was possible until meeting and sleeping with Toji. 

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

Not a fan, but will never decline. He’s not one to decline your request because you’re usually pestering him while out in public, being cheeky just to get a rise out of him. He loves it, don’t get him wrong, but he really doesn’t like quickies because he knows he can’t hold back. Sure, go ahead and tease him while clothes shopping. Yeah, he’ll follow you into the dressing room and take care of your little attitude. But no, you will not be walking out of there. Rather you’ll be limping, which makes it all the more embarrassing for you. That’s his main reason for disliking quickies, because you’ll bitch and whine after (he loves it who the fuck is he kidding?) 

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

Toji isn’t one for experimenting, he knows what he likes and he is hesitant to stray away from that. Sure he’ll take a risk, I mean fucking you in public is already risky enough. But experiment wise? Toji isn’t really into trying new crazy things. If you whine enough and bat your lashes at him, you may just get him to cave. But overall, Toji is sticking to what he likes. 

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

Toji has had enough practice to build his stamina. On average this man can go anywhere from 6-12 minutes and even then he doesn’t always soften after coming once. You like to joke around and call him an old man, saying he must have taken a pill for that to happen. To which he smirks and plays along. Toji can also go about 3 or 4 rounds before calling it quits because he’s tired. The man is honestly a force to be reckoned with and you learned the hard way. 

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

He’s not against them but he’s also not for them. He doesn’t really see the appeal in them until you bring one into the bedroom and show him how versatile they can be. Toji can’t lie, he was pretty damn amused by the suction cups and vibrators. Even the “suckers” piqued his interest. He understood your interest in them after nearly torturing you for two hours with a “magic wand” vibrator… one that plugs in so you didn’t have the saving grace of the battery dying. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he’s evil. If you didn’t get that idea from what I just said above, Toji will damn near torture you just for his own satisfaction. He’s so mean to you in bed but he’ll make sure you cum. So I guess you can’t necessarily say he’s “unfair” in that aspect. 

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

He groans and moans but you really can’t get a breathier noise than that. He’ll curse and whisper in your ear as he fucks you, making you squirm from the varying sensations. Toji definitely won’t try and silence his noises, letting them come out as loud as they want to but that’s really it. 

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

Toji records the two of you fucking and uploads them to pornhub for extra money. He’s careful with them though, making sure neither your face or his are present in any of the videos for the sake of anonymity. Honestly, the two of you are quite popular on the site and manage to bring in some decent checks for your “home made” tapes. You’ll spend hours reading the comments on the videos and laughing at the people getting off to the two of you. Though, somewhere amid all the creepy “Fuck them even harder” and “Bet his cock feels amazing” comments are people with genuine suggestions for new videos that you and Toji can’t help but try out. 

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

This man is hung… in my humble opinion. When soft, Toji is just shy of 6 inches when soft and when he’s hard he’s just shy of 8.4 inches. He knows he has a big cock and he’s even prouder of the fact that he knows how to use it. He’s still got his foreskin, but please ignore the stinky allegations, he at least cleans under it I swear. He’s tan and girthy with pretty veins running along his shaft and his tip is a pink/mauve color (think #c26d83 … yeah I’m going in on Toji idk)

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

Wild and not at the same time. He prefers to have sex every night but he also won’t throw a hissy fit if you aren’t in the mood. He can control his needs pretty well and even then if he really wants to get off, he’ll just take a quick shower to handle his issue. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Toji can knock out in 10 seconds or 10 minutes. It depends on how rough he was with you because he’s trying to get better with aftercare. He wants to at least clean you up and make sure you’re okay before knocking out and snoring like a bear for the next eight hours. 

[astrophileous]

Derek giggling when Bug starts to waddle due to pregnancy 🤭 she doesn’t find it funny or endearing at all but he literally cannot stop watching her. He tells the team about it too and they just.. kinda smile and nod because they’re just happy that he is.

Somewhat a continuation of this other Love Bugs blurb. Thanks for the request love! (and apologies for the delay because I've been very focused on The Countdown lately)

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer stretched his back at the mysterious and unfamiliar sound. Next to him, JJ's eyes squinted in concentration.

"You hear that, too?" JJ mumured as she studied her surroundings, trying to pinpoint where exactly the sound was originating from.

Spencer nodded in confusion. "Who the hell—"

The question died in his throat when his eyes finally landed on the figure sitting across the room.

"No way." Spencer's elbow jabbed JJ's side, snatching her attention. "It's Morgan."

"Morgan? Derek Morgan?" JJ craned her neck to see around the partitions that blocked her direct line of sight. "What is he—don't tell me. Is he... is he giggling?"

As if confirming the ridiculous notion, Derek proceeded to cover his mouth and broke into, not laughter and not even a chuckle, but a series of giggles that made his broad shoulders shook. JJ and Spencer exchanged an incredulous look before they meandered sneakily towards him.

"Someone's happy," JJ quipped as she leaned back against the conference table, right next to where Derek was sitting.

The man in question looked up at the sudden interruption.

"What are you even watching in there?" Spencer asked curiously, trying to take a peek at the screen of Derek's phone that the latter man had been grinning at for the past few minutes.

Instead of tilting his phone away, Derek unexpectedly faced the screen towards his two coworkers instead, giving them an unobstructed view of what appeared to be a video of you.

"Penelope sent it to me." Derek grinned before pressing replay. "She waddles."

The video started playing then, showing a footage of you walking like a penguin as you struggled to carry the various snacks inside your arms. You looked up to the camera at the sound of Penelope's laughter, your face twisting into a pout when you noticed that it was pointed towards you.

"Peennn," you whined childishly. "Are you filming for him again?"

"He said he wants to see one where you waddle, Beets."

The scowl you were wearing was clearly visible through the screen. "Tell him to stop. It's not cute."

"I don't know." Penelope hummed. "It's pretty damn adorable from where I'm sitting."

The video ceased to black after that, and Derek retracted the device without ever wiping the smile off his face.

"You've been watching this for the past ten minutes?" Spencer questioned.

"Yeah."

The younger man looked as if he had something else to say, but he never got the chance to, as Derek was quick to immerse himself back in the video and watching it so earnestly as if it was the greatest movie in the history of mankind. Spencer and JJ shared a look before making themselves scarce. It was definitely weird seeing Derek act this way, but they didn't mind it one bit if it implied Derek's unadulterated happiness and your guaranteed safety.

For the rest of their stay in Louisville, Kentucky, the BAU became witness to Derek's blooming glee as it incessantly doubled in size with every video Penelope sent his way. More often than not, he'd let the team watch the videos as well. After all, they had also been missing your presence in their midst since you began your maternity leave, and every single one of them couldn't wait to finally welcome your baby boy into the world when the time finally came.

Derek was buzzing with excitement the moment they boarded the jet, impatiently counting down the minutes until he would see you again as the jet started its ascend. An hour before they were supposed to land, his phone began to ring in his pocket, flashing with the affectionate contact name that he had assigned for the team's tech analyst.

"Yeah, babygirl? What?" The sudden raising of his voice caught the attention of everyone on the jet. They watched from their respective seat as Derek sat up straight, running a frantic hand over his face. "Okay. Yeah? And how is she? That's good. Alright, thanks for calling. Keep me posted."

The call ended after that, and Derek, uncharacteristically, proceeded to sit in silence for the following minute as if he had been frozen in time.

"Everything okay?" Rossi asked, voicing the question that was circling everyone's mind.

"That was Penelope. It's (Y/N)." The atmosphere shifted. "She's going into labor."

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow; 9

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death, sexual assault

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

chapter 9

Chapter 10

When you woke in the morning, the feeling of crushing weight had been released from your chest. The cold mountain air was easy to breathe, and you were now at ease with your loved ones so close. 

It had been three weeks since you had escaped. Not a soul had bothered you here. The mountain was too steep and difficult to search. 

You felt safe with Edmund here. Like the nightmare was finally over. 

Each morning when you woke, Edmund was the first you would look for. You often found him just outside your cabin door by the campfire.

This morning was no exception. 

“Good morning,” he greeted. He was chopping large blocks of wood into smaller pieces for the fire.

“Hey. Did you need a hand?” You walk down the steps of the cabin to where he worked. 

“Sure. Can you make a pile from the wood?”

You trip over the sole of your broken boot. They were too old to survive the mountains. Edmund stops his work to watch you trot over, trying to kick your shoe back in place.

“I was going to go down later this morning to pick up some more flour, and fruit. I’ll see if Vincent’s daughters have any spare shoes.”

You hated when he went down the mountain to get more supplies. Always sure that he wouldn’t return.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” you comment.

“Even if they’re not your size, it’d be better than what you got.”

“I meant to go down. It’s dangerous. Peacekeepers are still looking for us.”

“Ah, I’ll be right.” Edmund takes up his work again, swinging the ax down, “They’re looking in the wrong spots anyway. I had Frances tell a guard you were hiding in the canal beneath the wash house. They’ll be searching for weeks.”

You imagine Coriolanus wading through dirty water and laugh at the thought.

“In any case. My shoes will be fine. I don’t want you wasting your money on me.”

“My money? It’s you who got Snow to send the money to your mother. Boy, was I glad to get that letter!”

He stands tall and pulls an imaginary letter out of his pocket, pretending to read it.

“Dear Edmund, I think of you every day. Wishing, wanting, waiting for you to come to me. I dream about how handsome you are. Strong and smart too.”

You laugh at him. 

“I think Snow wrote that one.”

He laughs with you but all too soon the mood turns back somber.

“I was really worried about you, you know? We all were."

He reaches out to take your hand into his. 

“I was so worried about you!” You twist his hand so you can place a kiss on the back of it. 

“I kept thinking about you trapped with him. I had no idea what he was doing to you.”

You knew what he was insinuating and the thought of it made you shudder. You were his. Would he want you less if he believed that Coriolanus had already touched you? Was that why he had reverted to treating you like a kid? He hadn’t touched you like lovers do since you have been here. Was it because Coriolanus had already marked his territory?

You push his hand away, irritated at the thought. 

“He didn’t do anything to me.”

He reaches back and brushes over the almost healed bruised spots on your neck. You recoil in embarrassment. The night in the kitchen fills your mind. You felt a pool of embarrassment form in your stomach. You should have hated it all but as you remember it, your legs squeeze tighter. It felt good, and you didn't feel like  a victim because of it. 

“You know it doesn’t matter. What he did or didn’t do. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Shut up,” you beg. “Let's just agree to never talk about him again. He’s gone, or will be. Dead to the district and to us.”

“Okay,” Edmund agrees. “I am sorry.”

 You felt bad for lashing out at him when he was only trying to help. You had promised yourself just days ago to be the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

“I’ll go cook breakfast, alright? ‘’

Edmund had caught some fish just yesterday. Even scaled and prepared them for you. And this is how you repaid him?

You go back into the cabin and start to warm up the hot plate in the corner. Coriolanus was far away, yet he still seemed to haunt you. Sometimes you felt his fingertips graze your skin. 

He came to you at night mostly, when Edmund wasn’t around to distract you.

You would wake up swearing that you could feel his weight on top of you. You would wake up checking for bruises from where he held you down but your skin was clear. 

You thought the clear air would push him out but he was stuck and you couldn’t shake him out. 

Would it always be like this? Would your life with Edmund be plagued by thoughts of Coriolanus?

 No. You just need to focus more on Edmund. Time would take care of the rest.  

You push any other thought apart from cooking the fish out of your head. Preparing the food to perfection would exonerate you from your earlier thoughts. 

—- 

Nights were colder up in the mountains then at the compound. Edmund lent you a jacket but it did little to keep out the cold. It added to your sleep troubles. Some nights you would only get an hour or two. Some nights you wouldn’t sleep at all. 

You toss and turn next to your mother, trying not to wake her. You felt unsettled. Too unsettled to sleep. 

Edmund slept on the floor beside you thinking that it might help you sleep. 

You found yourself wanting to be held. After nights with Coriolanus you had gotten used to being coddled. 

You move off the bed and onto the floor next to Edmund. 

“Hey, stranger,” he whispers. 

A lazy arm is thrown over you but it isn’t enough. 

You push closer. “Tighter,” you demand. 

He obliged but it still wasn't enough. Coriolanus would hold you so tight, you felt like it was hard to breathe. You used to hate it but as it turns out you can’t sleep without it. 

Edmund smelt nicer. A soft woody smell. 

He treated you nicer too. Let you choose what you did. You could be angry with him if you chose to. He wouldn’t seek to punish you for it. 

Coriolanus tried to buy your love. Edmund tried to earn it. 

You would learn to sleep without needing to be held in time. 

In the meantime Edmund would be there to support you.

—-----

You sit with Edmund by the campfire while the others sleep. Edmund had paid a informant handsomely to relay District information. He came once a week, late at night to avoid being caught. 

You throw a stick into the fire, your boredom and irritation building the longer it takes. 

“Do we have enough money for him to keep coming up here to tell us the same thing? Peacekeepers are still searching, Snow’s angry. I could tell you that.”

“Roger has his use.  He only needs to give us one piece of crucial information to make the money worth it.” 

“And if we run out before he gives it to us?”

Edmund throws his own stick in the fire, watching it burn. 

“We’ll be right. We still have the three panams from Snow. I have a little left in savings, by the time all that runs dry, it’ll be mining season again.

“Mining season? Surely this will be over by then. We can’t hide here amongst everyone.”

“What choice do we have, Y/N? The Peacekeepers haven’t let up. We can’t go back to the District. When you mine together, you become family. They wouldn’t betray me.” 

Betray him, sure. But you were no one to them. You open your mouth to argue this point but the sound of kicked rocks draws your attention. 

A little man in gray, worn clothing and a cap covering his bald head is lightened by the fire. 

“You’re late.” Edmund comments. 

“Yeah well, Peacekeepers have doubled patrolling the area at night. I come late or I don’t come at all.” 

“Well?” Edmund pushes. He stands up with the coins in his hands. 

“Ravenstill’s dead. Snow’s gone back to the Capitol,” the man spits out on the grass before continuing talking, “Saw him get on the train this mornin’ myself.” 

You sigh in victory. He was gone. Now all that was left was to wait out the attention span of the Peacekeepers. 

“Hold on now. I didn’t say he was staying away. Peacekeeper tells me he’ll be back by the time the week is out with the new Commander.”

“But then he’s gone, right? District 12 can’t have two Commanders?” You rise next to Edmund. 

The older man shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe. He’s offering a large reward for your capture.” 

“Yeah, well I’m offering your life.” Edmund’s voice is hard and threatening. He throws the coin pouch at the man who catches it. 

“Settle, boy. I ain't no traitor. I am just saying it seems unlikely that he would offer up such a price only to walk away.” 

“Keep us updated on the movements of Snow and the areas the Peacekeepers are targeting.”

The man opens the coin pouch to look inside before nodding his head and turning back the way he came.

You take hold of Edmund’s arm. You worried for his fate if you were found. You worried for your own fate. He was unbearable when you failed to escape. Now you have succeeded, what laid ahead if you were to return?

—------

You began to have nightmares of Coriolanus finding you. You would wake with your mother's arms wrapped around you, and Edmund calling your name. 

The dreams always ended the same, no matter how they started; with everyone dead at your feet. 

You would run and hide from him in the forest like the night at the cabin. He would find his way into the cabin late at night and crawl on top of you while your protectors slept. One time he dropped from the sky. 

But you woke to find he hadn’t found you yet.

You avoided going to sleep. Your mother joined in solidarity, despite your protests. She would stay up with you to chase the bad thoughts away. 

Edmund's mother stayed up too. She didn’t want to be the only adult asleep. 

You all wait for the update Roger will bring. 

You sit next to Edmund watching the flames. You don’t hear the man approaching until Edmund's mother greets him. The man offers a head nod back but his attention is for Edmund. 

“Peacekeepers are still searching. Mainly in the city blocks. Rumor that she was seen selling cupcakes in town.” 

You scoff at the thought. At least it kept the Peacekeepers preoccupied. 

“Alright,” Edmund throws the money to Roger but the man doesn’t disappear, “Was there something else?” 

“Her brother,” your heart stops beating. “They got him locked up in the Capitol jail.” 

You shoot up from the log in a panic. 

You feel Edmund grab your hand but can’t hear the words that he is telling you. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright,” he finally breaks through, “They won’t hurt him. He’s all the leverage they’ve got.” 

“God. Edmund, what if they do? It’ll be my fault.” Your tears choke you as you speak.

“They won’t. He’ll be safe, okay. He wouldn’t kill him unless he knew you knew.” 

“What are we going to do? I have to go back. He’ll let him go if I-”

“Don’t be stupid. If you go back now, he’ll use Archie to keep you in line forever.” 

“We can’t leave him there.”

“We won’t. If he wants the presidency he’ll have to go back to the Capitol. We wait him out, and when the new Commander comes, he’ll see Archie was kept for no reason and we will buy him back.” 

Your mother sat sobbing and you joined her. 

Dear God, what have you done?

“From what I was told, they ain't hurt him.”

“See?” Edmund says, “So long as you stay hidden, there would be no point in hurting him.” 

Edmund’s mother comes over and wraps her arms around her elder son. Archie was special to her too. 

You had put all her sons in danger. In her heart, there was no more room for you.

—------------

The news of Archie’s arrest had dampened spirits. The days were long and everyone was irritable.

Edmund feared for his friend. You feared for your brother.

He had spent all his life protecting you, now only for you to get him killed. You wished you were still a little girl waiting by the door for your older brother to come home from work. It was a similar feeling to now. The dread of him not coming home filled you.

You wondered how Coriolanus got him on the train. Was it under threat? Did he beat Archie into submission? Or did he lie and deceive Archie?

Your mother was adamant that his capture was not your fault. Even if that was true, Archie’s detention was. You knew Coriolanus would let you trade yourself for your brother. But Edmund was right, if you folded now your family would always be ready for capture to be used against you.

Edmund’s mother was less sympathetic to it all. You had dragged her family into this and now the boy she considered a third son was rotting in jail because you were too precious to submit to the Commander like the rest of District 12.

She was cold to you, never speaking directly to you and only offering glaring stares. Being treated so terribly oddly felt validating. People should be angry with you. You had put them in danger.

You look at Edmund's little brother across the other side of the campfire. He clung to his mother's skirt, resting his head on her lap. He was just a boy, you couldn’t bear it if a hair on his head was harmed. And yet you have asked him to hide in a mountain with you. Leave his school and his friends behind.

No one had spoken for hours as you sat together around the camp, so when Edmund moved suddenly it caught everyone's attention. 

He shoots up from where you rested upon him on the log to gaze out as smoke ringlets circle the sky. 

“Get your things. Make sure to leave nothing behind.”

None of you move, perplexed at his outburst. 

“Now!” he shouts, “Move!” 

His anxiety caused you all to jump up and follow his command. He kicks dirt over the campfire to make it look unused while the rest of you pack what little you have. 

 You came with nothing so you focused on the pots and pans, and stripping the beds. 

He joins you as you work with his mother and brother to clean their room. 

“What’s going on?” His mother demands but doesn’t stop her work of shoving clothes into a sack held by her youngest son. 

“Peacekeepers are searching the mountains.” 

“Where are we going to go?” you panic. They would search all of the mountains. 

“The mines. They won’t search there. Too unstable for people who don’t know what they are doing.” 

He takes the bag of pans off you and throws it over his shoulder. 

The mines were a dangerous place to hide, and there was no certainty that the Peacekeepers wouldn’t search them. If they did you would be trapped. They would just keep pushing forward until your group reached a dead end.

Nevertheless, Edmunds leads the group to the trail that leads into the mines. 

You couldn’t decide what would be worse, dying by a Peacekeeper or in a mine like your father. 

But with Edmund’s hand in yours, at least the rocks of the mountain would let you keep him. The Peacekeepers would tear you from him only in death. 

Even with the bags of stuff, the trail is tread quickly.

The cave is dark and so, so cold. You hide in the shadows with your group. Edmund stands to the front once he has herded the group into safe standing. 

It is completely silent for what feels like a lifetime. Nothing but the birds in the trees and the wind. It lulls you into a false sense of security. Maybe Edmund was wrong. Maybe his source on the other side was mistaken and blew the smoke prematurely. But soon a distant sound of heavy tire treads could be heard rolling up the hill.

You ignored the first sign of people approaching. But as they got heavier and the talking got louder, it got harder to assure yourself that you wouldn’t be found.

You clutch Edmund's arms. You feel it move to reach for the pocketknife in his pocket. 

Peacekeepers call to each other. They were close, you could hear clearly as they spoke. 

“Hey, let's go.”

“Commander Snow said every inch”.

“You lookin’ to get killed? Those mines collapse all the time.” 

You hold your breath waiting. Should you walk out now to save everybody else?

“Come on, man. No one’s here. We’ve still got half the forest to get to. Come on.”

You feel Edmund relax under you as the Peacekeepers walk away. 

None of you move. The threat remains in the woods. None of you were safe until the Peacekeepers were out of the woods and had reported to Coriolanus that nothing was there. 

The mountains were large, you wondered how many Peacekeepers had been spared to search it. Even if thirty men, it would take a whole day at least.

It was a whole day spent in the cave, waiting for the Peacekeepers to come back. But no sound was ever heard.

Night falls before Edmund makes the call to investigate. 

His mother kisses him before he leaves. 

You cringe under her stare. You had put her baby boy in danger. It was your fault that she now had to hide in the mountains away from her home. 

It will be a rocky start once all of this is over. How could you work to earn back her affection after all the pain you have caused her? 

Edmund's little brother had taken over the role of protector. He stood at the front of the cave, tall and fierce like his brother had. He clutched his knife and looked out into the night with a hunter's eyes.

Edmund was gone for hours but his little brother never tired of his role. If Peacekeepers turned up, the little boy was ready.

You watch over him as his mother makes what little she can from the food.

A dark figure cast into the cave, and you grab the little boy, pulling him back against you to protect him. It was too tall, too broad for Edmund. You shrink back into the shadows as it approaches, reaching down to pull the knife from the boy. On instinct, you open your mouth to scream but it is Edmund's voice that calls you. 

“They are gone. Cars are gone, and there are no markings to pick up the search. They won’t return.”

You shake the fear out of you and release Edmund's brother from your protective hold. 

Coriolanus had weaved himself into your mind. Every shadow; every sound was him. 

You needed Edmund to take his place, but he often acted like a ghost to you, touching you only in reproach. 

You wanted to keep something from Coriolanus' reach. To give some shred of you to Edmund that could never be given back. 

You started by hugging him tight. 

—---

You had decided to sleep with Edmund at the first opportunity after the scare yesterday.

It was hard to pin him down between his hunting, working around the camp, and his family. 

You felt like his shadow as you lingered, trying to single out his attention. 

He would offer you a smile every time you saw him but wouldn’t stop his work. 

You followed him into the woods but his brother would insist on coming to learn how to shoot. 

Back at camp, his mother blocked you from his attention. It seemed impossible to gain an audience with him. 

You tried to tell him what you wanted but the words would never form in your mouth. He was always too busy to hear them anyway. Telling you to wait until back at camp to tell him what you were trying to say. But camp was too crowded so you always pretended to forget what you wanted to say. 

It took three days of pining before the mothers took the washing to the lake. It would take them all day to rinse and dry the clothes and sheets. Normally you would go and help but today you had a goal in mind. 

You hide Edmund’s catch from this morning and tell Edmund’s brother that another animal had run off with dinner tonight. You had asked him to go catch fish but he was determined that he could catch actual prey. He was a hunter like his brother, he insisted. 

Whatever got him lost for a couple of hours. He didn’t actually have to catch anything but you hoped he did. You would boast about him at dinner. He was a good kid and deserved more attention. 

“Hey,” Edmund greeted you. He had gone to collect more firewood and you had grown impatient waiting for him to get back. 

“Where is everyone?” 

You don’t answer him. He looked so handsome, slightly covered in dirt from his work. 

You wanted this to be the moment you remember forever. If Coriolanus did find you, you wanted to at least have this memory of Edmund. 

He looks confused as you grab his arm and pull him into the cabin but follows your direction. 

You slam the door shut and push Edmund up against the wall, cementing your body like what had been done to you on so many occasions. 

You kiss him hard, letting him know how badly you need him. 

He stills you with a firm grip on your shoulders, tilting his head higher out of your reach. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I want it to be you. Not him.” Even on your tippy toes, you could not reach him. 

“Not now,” he scolds. 

“Yes now,” you refute, “I can feel him getting closer every day.” 

Edmund looks down upon you, taking your face gently in your hands. 

“You’re safe. He’s not going to get you. I’ll keep you safe.” 

You knew he would try but you felt Coriolanus in your bones. You knew he would catch you. 

“Please,” you whine. Your hands reach for his belt but he traps your hands. 

“You are not going to give me this under threat. He’s not going to persuade you to do something you’ve had the past few years to do yourself.” 

“I want to,” you protest. You manage to capture his lips again and he mercifully kisses back. 

His barrier was weak. You were sure you could break it down. His hands held your hips and not your wrists, almost giving you permission. 

“Edmund! Edmund!” The sound of his little brother's voice was heard only seconds before the door opened. 

You separate. Edmund looked almost relieved. He eyes you by his side but gives his attention to his brother. You had broken down his wall but he was saved by the bell. 

“Look!” the little boy proudly held up a small dead rabbit. You wished you insisted on the fish. 

“Good job, buddy.” Edmund moves from you to his brother, straightening his jacket as he walks. 

“I’ll help you dress it.”  Edmund doesn’t look at you as he leads his brother back out to the open. 

“I can do it!” The little voice demanded. 

“I know, buddy. But we can’t afford to lose any meat.”

You could cry at the sense of rejection. Edmund wouldn’t give you another opportunity. You had just wanted to show that you loved him but he would have to settle for words. 

—----

You were cold to Edmund the following days, even as you tried to let it go. You wouldn’t look at him as you passed him his meals. Would only speak to him to answer a question. You wouldn’t say more than what was needed. 

He still slept on the floor next to you despite your behavior.

You knew he was trying to protect you by his rejection but it stung. 

Coriolanus had made you feel desirable.  He performed extraordinary measures just for a kiss. And here you were throwing yourself at Edmund, begging him for just that, only to be tossed aside. 

Was Edmund's affections real or just a product of Coriolanus interference? 

You felt stupid for making the first move. You should have just forgotten the whole thing. Edmund was loyal. He just got confused, and you played the fool. Now you had put him in an uncomfortable situation that could risk any relationship with him after this ordeal. 

 You loved him but you should have stayed silent about it. 

Half of you hoped that Coriolanus would find you and take you away. Maybe Edmund would feel guilty about his rejection, and regret it. 

You roll over in bed towards where Edmund is lying on the floor. 

No, that’s not true. 

You’d rather be Edmund’s doormat than Coriolanus' bride.  

—---------

Coriolanus stood backstage at the presidential show. They would perform now for the audience. Answering questions, and charming the crowd. Coriolanus should feel on top of his game. He was known for being charming. It was all he had for the longest time. 

Augustus stood at the other side of the stage, Coriolanus could see him through gaps in the curtains talking to his campaign manager.

Coriolanus couldn’t bear to talk to anyone until he was forced to. 

His thoughts were occupied with you. All of the District was searched, and all he received from it was rumors. A few whispered leads but nothing to truly go on. 

He needed to shake you out so he could focus on his night. 

He hated you now more than ever. It was one thing to betray him, it was another to interfere with his presidential campaign. You should have been here now to support him. 

But instead, you had run off with another man. He should have killed Edmund when he had the chance. Coriolanus had kept him as a pawn but Edmund had turned himself into a knight. 

Lucky was warming up the crowd to introduce the candidates. Coriolanus couldn’t be thinking of this now. You were here. You had gone back to the apartment and he found you there. There was no hole in the fence Peacekeepers failed to find, and Edmund was dead. 

When he went back to the Snow penthouse tonight, he would find you there. Drinking tea with Grandma’am and Tigris. 

Coriolanus hears his name being called and he enters the stage with a smile.

District 12 was a small place, you couldn’t hide forever. Coriolanus would take the first train back tonight and follow every lead himself. 

—----------

You were adding spices to the stew when wildflowers popped up under your face. 

Edmund stood behind you with a shy smile. 

“I am sorry. Please stop being angry with me,” he begs. 

You take the flowers from him to show you are not hostile. 

“I am not angry. I just-” you pause your words unsure on what to say, “You haven’t kissed me or even really touched me since I’ve been here. If you don’t feel the same way that's fine, Just-”

“You’re really stupid. You know that?” he cuts you off. He takes a step towards you. You take it as an invitation to place your hands on his arms. 

“I’ve loved you since I can last remember. And you take me giving you a little space after you’ve just spent a ridiculous amount of time as a hostage to a man who thinks torturing is the same thing as courting, as a sign I ain't interested?”

You kiss him gently and he allows you to. Your heart swelled under his words. He loved you. 

“I meant what I said though. I ain't touching you under threat. When the time’s right, and it’s just the two of us, I’ll give you anything you want. But allow yourself to heal first. I don’t want you to regret anything.” 

You kiss him again to show your gratitude. 

“Thank you. I am sorry, Edmund. I love you.” 

“I love you too, stupid.” 

Coriolanus shakes Lucky Flickerman's hand as the crowd cheers for him. Presidency was close even if you were far.

—------

Despite not having a choice, camp life was agreeable. You worked closely with Edmund, helping him where you could and supporting him where you could not.

Your mother seemed happy too, despite her son being in the Capitol jail. But plans were already forming to get him out. And he was safe, or at least relatively safe. You had no idea what he faced but you knew it would not be death. Not yet. Not without Coriolanus knowing that you knew what had happened to him.

The new Commander of District 12 was sworn in yesterday. Coriolanus was there to hand over the title. Roger had said he seemed uptight and disinterested in the affair. You were sure Coriolanus would be gone soon.

Back to the Capital where he belonged. An air of victory floated around you. He would be president and you would return to District 12 where you belonged, but as Mrs. Flair.

You no longer had nightmares of Coriolanus. Soon this memory would fade into a distant dream.

But it all happened so fast; a loud banging noise woke you, and dozens of pairs of boots stomped across the floor. Edmund woke too, tried to fight them off but there were too many of them. All in protective gear and all with weapons. 

They drag him and your mother out. None of the Peacekeepers touch you even as you hit and yell. 

It was early morning, the sunlight had just been cast over the mountains but the ground was still frozen and wet with condensation. 

Edmund and your mother were thrown on the ground and held down while their hands were cuffed behind their backs. Edmund's mother and brother soon followed. 

You grapple with a Peacekeeper trying to cuff Edmund's hands. He does his best to avoid you but no one pulls you away. Your hands remain free and none of the Peacekeepers make a move to trap you. 

“Please,” you beg amongst the crying and Edmund’s yelling. 

You almost don't recognize him. His hair had grown out, and he wore an expensive red coat instead of his Commander uniform. 

But his eyes remained the same. Blue and fierce they gazed down at you. You had run straight past him without noticing.

You rush to him in panic, falling at his feet and grabbing his black pant leg in a tight hold. 

“Coriolanus, please,” you beg him, “Please I’ll go back. Just release them.”

He ignores you. Nodding to a Peacekeeper who takes a long length of rope from his belt and throws it over the branch of a tree. Another two bring Edmund to his feet, pushing him as he resists.

His mother wails, joining your begging. 

“No! No! Wait please!” They continue to set up the rope. 

“Coriolanus, please!” you had time to beg as the Peacekeeper does the knot. 

He continues to watch Edmund, listening to Edmund's insults rather than your cries. 

“Commander, please. I won’t ever do it again. I’ll be perfect.” 

He still ignores you. Not even glancing at you as you beg him from the dirt. 

“No, no.” The Peacekeeper finishes the knot and fastens it around Edmund's neck.

You go to reach him. You would hold him up if you had to, but Coriolanus caught you by your hair and held you in place. 

Edmund kicks like a fish out of water as the rope is pulled by two Peacekeepers on the other side. 

You pull against Coriolanus' hold, almost yanking your hair out trying to reach him.

Edmund looks at you as he struggles. His hold body shook, and he kicked at the air in hope. His lips half form your name but it never quite parts from his lips.

Coriolanus does let you go but it was too late. Edmund had stopped kicking. Stopped blinking. Stopped breathing. 

You run to him anyway, dropping where he hung. 

You reach out and touch his foot as it sways. 

“Kiss your mother goodbye, and let’s go.” His voice shoots ice down your spine. 

You wanted to scream and yell and cry, but you could do nothing but stare at the dirt in front of you. The sound of crying filled your ears. Dear god, this was all your fault. 

Coriolanus doesn’t ask you again, just grabs a fistful of hair and yanks you to movement. 

You felt too disorientated to fight back. 

He drags you past Edmund's crying mother and brother who couldn’t tear their eyes away from the tree. 

You wanted to reach out to say something, but Coriolanus was in a rush to get back to the Capitol. 

“Mum,” was all you could call out as you pass her.

He drags you along to a parked patrol car and throws you in the cage used for rebels. 

It felt as if the earth had swallowed you whole. There was no fight left in you. All you felt was despair.

Coriolanus had no pity for you. He barely glanced at you as he locked the cage and closed the door. 

You lay in the back in your borrowed nightdress and Edmund’s jacket. You bring it up to your face as you sob. He was dead. All hope of a happy future was gone with him. You would remain Coriolanus’ slave until the day you died.

The journey throws you around as they speed down the hill and back to the city section of the District. 

You sob the entire way. Edmund was dead because of you. Your brother was in jail. Your mother is now all alone in this world. You wanted to die too. It would be kinder than this existence. 

Edmund was dead because of you. His family left without their provider because of you. Your heart ached. Your grief suffocated you. You gasp for air but your sobs block any from reaching your lungs.

What have you done? Why did you think you stood a chance of escape?

You begged the universe to turn back time. You wouldn’t go to the jail. You were trying to do the right thing but your kindness had led to your world being ripped apart.

Why did you have to do it, you thought to yourself. Life could have been so sweet if you weren’t so foolish.

What would your life be like now? Coriolanus wouldn’t be taking you back to the Compound now there was a new Commander. Were you going to the Capitol so soon?

You had a hard time adjusting to life at the Compound. How would you ever survive the capital?

Would you survive the Capital? After Coriolanus had finished with you, would he keep you around after you had betrayed him?

He seemed a different man. Could he still say he was in love with you? Or has that game now ended?

The car stops at the train station. Talking and car doors slamming cut through the business of the station.

The harsh light enters when the door is yanked open by Coriolanus.

You don’t want to get out, hoping to get shot for your resistance. 

Coriolanus drags you out by your ankle, taking a tight hold of your arm as he gets you upright and pushes through onto the train. 

You don’t struggle against him as he leads you through the busy station. What would be the point?

You enter first class, and the doors get locked by maids behind you. 

The only word you can say is “no”, over and over again. 

This couldn’t be happening. Was this just another bad dream? Please, just let this be a bad dream. 

Coriolanus shoves you into a booth, and you slump against the window. He sits next to you trapping you in. You had no energy to move. Only sob against the cold glass. 

You should have just saved yourself the trouble and stayed. Why did you have to anger him?

With the most important passenger on board, the train moves out of the station. 

“Enough,” he tells you. But you couldn’t follow his command even if you tried. 

You watch the District shoot past you. How you wished you could open the window and throw yourself out. 

The rocks pass, and the trees begin to blur into one another. Coriolanus is silent for hours as you cry against the window still. 

You could feel him sometimes looking at you but otherwise, he just sat there. Fixing the jewelry he wore. A gold pinky ring with your ring stacked on top of it. His coat buttons were dipped in gold. He had a new watch, a present from Tigris for returning home. 

It was only when you shifted from the window and slumped over the table did he speak. 

“We were supposed to be in the Capitol weeks ago.” 

The Capitol. His presidential run. You had just lost everything you had ever known and he talks about being behind schedule.

You sit up to face him. He was no longer the Commander you knew but something far more fearsome.

“You think I care about the Capitol?!” You cry, “You took everything from me! You ruined my life,” you scream at him.

He grabs your jaw in his hand and pushes your head back against the glass. The glass is solid and cold as you are pressed against it.

“Your mother has joined your brother in the District 12 jail. I would be very careful what you say to me. Did you think this was a game? Did you think I wouldn’t search for you? Wouldn’t find you?” 

The door slides open and Coriolanus releases you. A servant walks in with breakfast, and another behind her with juice and pastries. 

They set the food and cutlery down in silence. You notice they don’t look up or around, only at what they are doing. 

Coriolanus doesn’t thank them as they leave. He doesn’t eat either. 

“Coriolanus, are they going to be okay?”

“We could have just left, Y/N. No one had to get hurt.”

You turn back to the window as you speak, “I know.”

The food sat at the table for five minutes untouched before Coriolanus called for it to be taken away again. The servants come quickly and the food is taken away in the same manner it was delivered; quickly and silently. 

“It’s three days to the Capitol.” he stands up as he spoke to you, “Two days after that they will announce the new president of Panem. Whatever this is, it’s finished. You do the slightest thing to displease me and your family will follow Edmund.” 

You flinch at his name. Edmund would haunt you for the rest of your days. You hoped he would. 

“Do you understand me?” he asks.

“Yes, Commander.” 

He flinches at the name but doesn’t comment. He clears his throat and walks away into the other carriage. 

You pick up on your crying again. You should have known that your rage only ever backfired on your loved ones. 

Your throat ached and your eyes were puffy, soon you had no more tears left to cry. 

You try a door to see where it leads but it must have a sensor on it because it didn’t open as easily as it did for Coriolanus. He had trapped you in the room. This was your life now. Waiting for Coriolanus to decide what to do with you.

You curl up on the seat and let the train lull you to sleep.

The servants must have come back in during your nap for when you woke the table was filled with food again. A large jug of water sat on the table. You finish all of it and lay back down again.

Coriolanus returns much later, around dinner time. 

“You’re still there,” he observes as the door lets him through. 

“Where else could I go?” 

His hand presses a large button and what you thought was a wall slides to reveal a bedroom. 

“You should wash up for dinner. You have dirt all over you.” 

You did want to take a shower, but you didn’t want to lose Edmund’s jacket. 

Coriolanus steps forward to grab you, but you rise upon seeing him move. Nothing he said was ever a suggestion.

The room was large, with a queen-sized bed decorated in a rich, heavy fabric of deep blue. There were four large pillows and a set of smaller ones with the Panem emblem on them.

A wall was built to hang clothes. You could only see three sets of Coriolanus’ clothing and a dress and a nightgown for you.

On the other side, there was door to a spacious bathroom. You had thought the commanders apartment bathroom was impressive but now you could see why the Capital looked down at the districts.

This bathroom alone was almost as big as the bedroom in the Commander's quarters. Beautiful gold and white titles lay across the floor. A white marble sink with a gold tap. You reach out to touch it.

‘‘Take your clothes off.” Coriolanus demanded. He reaches for the buttons on his own shirt causing the panic to rise in you again.

What would it matter what he did to you? But still, you felt too frozen to move.

He gets halfway through the buttons on his shirt to see you still dressed. His eyes darken as he reaches out to you.

You shrink back against the marble countertop as he yanks Edmund's jacket from your shoulders and throws it to the ground. Your eyes follow it there, as Coriolanus slips your borrowed nightdress off.

You expected more of a reaction from him after all this time. But he seems uninterested in your naked body. He takes your arm and pulls you to the shower head where he fiddles with the tap until the water is to his liking.

He throws you under the hot water while he finishes undressing. The clothes are left on the floor as he joins you in the shower.

You move out of his way to let him have the water but he pulls you back under and reaches for a soft sponge hanging against the wall.

“Look at you,” he mutters. He scrubs the sponge under your nails to get rid of the dirt that had caked under them.

Satisfied he scrubs the sponge up your arms to your neck and down your back. He scrubs too hard. It feels as if he is peeling off your skin.

He is quick along your stomach. Not spending too much time before moving on.

You flinch when he crouches down to scrub at your legs but he stops mid-thigh and returns to full height, dragging the sponge up your leg and resting on your left hip.

“Are you going to do it now?”  It was important that you were clean for him, you supposed.

He drops the sponge, using his hand to wrap around your throat and force you back into the glass.

You don’t look at him as he stares at you. He steps closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and bring you against him.

He rests his forehead against your collar bone, the steam filled the air and fogged your view. He is so still and silent. He had made no move to grope you. You couldn’t tell if he even looked at you. He just held you close and breathed deeply. 

The room became hard to breathe in as the water turned into steam. But you were too scared to voice even that complaint. He moved from your collar bone to rest his chin on your shoulder but then went still again. 

“Coriolanus?” His name was barely a breath on your lips. 

“I am so angry at you,” he said softly. You feel the hand on your throat tighten.

“How could you do that to me?’’ He lifts his head off of you to look you in the eye.

“Augustus has been opening hospitals and amongst the Capitol people, while I have been chasing you around District 12. Do you have any idea how that made me look?’’

You think of your family in jail as you speak. “I am sorry.”  

“You’re sorry? Not good enough.”

He looked so different with his blonde wet hair pressed down on his forehead. The ends curled slightly towards his face.

“You won, Coriolanus. What more do you want from me?”

“I don’t feel as if I have won. I feel as if I have been betrayed.”

Your eyes twitched with irritation. He felt betrayed? You were astonished you that he felt like the victim after causing you so much pain. He was the only bad thing to have happened. The cause of his own misery.

“You killed Edmund,” you sobbed, “You killed him.”

You bring a fist against his shoulder, but it landed without true force.

“I let him live once. Remember?”

The memory of target training at the train station flashes through your mind before you could block it.

“What made you think I would make the same mistake twice?”

He releases you to turn off the tap. You stood frozen as he dries himself.

His anger had lit yours so when he exited the bathroom, you followed, wet and dressed only in a towel.

“Edmund was a good man.”

Coriolanus was readying himself for bed. He spared you a irritated look.

“And now he’s a dead man.”

His sentence stung you.

You wiped the running tears off your eyes. “He was a good man,” you repeat.

He was the only man for you. The love of your life, now dead and gone.

“How did you know? Did Roger rat us out?” you ask.

“You did,” you wait for him to elaborate as he dresses in his pajamas, “Your letter to your brother. People disappear all the time up there.”

You feel your heart drop at his words. A new wave of guilt comes crashing over you.

“He was smart hiding there. He knew the area well. And the smoke signals? Very good. I never did find out who was sending them, but what use are they if you don’t see them.”

Was. Knew. No more.

 “Well enough to fool my Peacekeepers, but I thought, why would she put that in a letter to her brother? Unless it was to warn him. Why else tell him not to come back? You love your brother, of course you would want him back.”

Tears well in your eyes again.

“Is he okay? Have you hurt him?” you accuse.

“It would serve me no purpose to hurt him.”

His movements are hard and sharp as he puts on his satin button-up shirt.

“So you’ll release him? Both of them?” They served no purpose to him in the Capitol.

“When I can trust you again.” He spat.

It could be years before a paranoid Coriolanus decided he trusted you.

“You can trust me. I promise. I’ll make it up to you, just please let them go.”

You walk over to him, reaching out to touch him. It normally worked to disarm him. He is receptive to you, taking a hand and placing it against your face.

“You know why I can trust you? Because I have your family locked in a cage.”

He disappears along with his touch, going over to the cupboard and throwing a deep blue matching nightgown on the bed.

He says nothing else before returning to the dining room and leaving you in the bedroom alone.

You cry as you dress, and don’t stop as you throw the small pillows across the room and sink into the mattress.

Everything you did was wrong. People were hurt because you weren’t smart enough to protect them. Your mother and brother sat in a dirty jail cell, and you had put them there.

They bore the consequences of your stupidity.

Your mind ran and ran with your anxiety. Images of your mother and brother being beaten in a small cell. Edmund’s family slowly starving to death without him. The memory of Edmund as he swayed from the rope.  

You wallow in bed for an hour before Coriolanus rejoins.

You feel him slip into bed beside you. He wraps his arms tightly around you and for the first time in months you fall asleep easily.

You woke the next morning with the feeling of crushing sadness.

Coriolanus was awake next to you. You could hear him practicing a speech as he laid beside you. You don’t move. You weren’t even sure if you could.

A knock on the door stops him, and he bids the person to come in.

You don’t have to look to know it was a servant with a breakfast tray.

Coriolanus reaches for your shoulder to turn you over. You follow his direction and he props a pillow up behind you so you could sit up.

You thank the person as they put a small table over your lap.

You felt nauseous just looking at the food. But asking them to take it away may cause trouble for them so you wait until they leave to reject the food.

You place the table on the floor and roll back onto your side. Your bones felt like cement, and your eyes welled with tears but you didn’t have the energy to cry.

Coriolanus said nothing to you as he eats.

He mutters his speech between sips of coffee. Soon that was finished too, and he rose for the day.

He crosses your eyesight as he approached the wardrobe, and you watch him dress. It seemed odd to see him in anything other than his Commander uniform.

You had never seen Capitol fashion before. It was full of layers and tiny details. The buttons on his shirt had a silver swirl design that caught the light. His shirt was crisp and white with a design of two black flowers on either side, reaching from the end of the shirt to his shoulders.

“I have some work to do. Interviews and thank you letters. So, if you decide to come out be quiet.”

You had no plan to leave your spot, but you nod in understanding.

He doesn’t look or speak to you again as he leaves the room.

You felt as if you had died too. There was no life in you anymore.

You lay for hours in the same spot. Occasionally you could hear Coriolanus as he spoke.

The weight on your shoulder caused it to ache but you couldn’t make yourself move.

The only time you shifted during the hours was when the servants returned to serve you lunch. They took the dirty dishes but also the dirty laundry.

You lunch up to stop the women carrying out Edmund’s brown coat.

“Wait, please!” you grab the worn material off her, “Not this. Leave this.”

The two women look between each other, unsure.

“Mr. Snow said to take everything.”

You swing the jacket over you, positioning yourself in it.

“He didn’t mean this.” Edmund’s faint scent lingered on the fabric. He gave it to you to keep warm at night. You had come to associate it with the feeling of protection.

The young girl bows to you and the other follows suit. As they leave, you know it’s to tell Coriolanus.

You sit and wait for him on the bed.

Coriolanus storms in not moments later.

“The jacket,” he demanded.

“No, Coriolanus. Please let me keep it.”

He launches at you, tearing at the jacket trying to pull it off you. You fight against him, cementing your arms to yourself and trying to wriggle free.

He gets it half off your shoulders. But he grew too frustrated to finish the job. He pulls you up towards him by the collar of the jacket.

“Take the jacket off or I’ll tell them not to bother feeding your mother tonight.”

Edmund was right. Coriolanus was always going to use your family as a weapon.

But the needs of the living overtook those of the dead. You had to make sure they were as safe as you could make them.

He gets off you and you get up to give him the jacket.

As he takes the jacket with one hand, he smacks you with the other.

You make a startled sound but Coriolanus is gone before you finish it.

You return back to your spot and sob into your pillow.

With the jacket now gone, you had truly lost every piece of Edmund.

And with him, you have lost every piece of yourself. Only Coriolanus remained.

 ————

 Three hours after lunch, Coriolanus came to sit on your side of the bed next to you.

“I’ve brought you a cup of tea.”

“Thank you. I don’t want tea.”

Coriolanus’s face is tense as he places the cup on the table next to you.

“They tell me you didn’t have lunch either. Is that your plan? To starve yourself to death before we reach the Capitol?”

“I have no plan,” you admit.

 “Well I do. I have lots of plans, and you’re through with delaying them. So Sit up and drink your tea.” 

He reaches out to your neck to help you sit up. The tea is placed into your hands but it is him you stare at. 

“You look so different.” 

His hair was a soft white color as it grew out. His clothes were fashionable and colorful. Nothing of the District 12 Commander remained. 

He runs his fingers through his hair, combing it back. 

“I am still the same.” 

“I don’t think that’s true.”  You didn’t think it was possible but he was colder, held himself with somehow more confidence. This was the new leader of Panem. 

“What would you know? You never bothered to get to know me.” 

“I think I know you better than anyone else.” 

He showed you parts of himself you were sure he hid from others. The nightmares. The secret yearning to be taken care of. The heartbreak he carried from the loss of his mother. 

“Think, think, think. What have I told you about thinking? You’re no good at it. I’ll do it. Now drink your tea.” 

You take a sip of the scalding tea. It quenches some of your thirst. 

“Will I ever go back to District 12?” you ask. 

You weren’t really sure you would want to. 

“No.” 

“What’s going to happen to me once we reach the Capitol?”

He sighs, ‘‘That depends on you.” 

“Will it be like the compound?”

He laughs humorlessly, “Nothing is like the compound.” 

“I meant being locked indoors.”

“Will I let you roam free around the Capitol? No.” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks. His eyes move around the room, looking at the subtle details. 

“But if you are well-behaved, and do enough to earn it, I will show you all the Capitol has to offer.” 

His eyes move down, back to you. 

“You’ll grow to admire the Capitol. You won’t hate it forever.” 

You go to refute his statement. Nothing in the Capitol could fill the gaping hole left in you from being torn from your home and family. But a servant knocks on the door, taking Coriolanus’s attention. 

He commands them to come in but the small girl only steps upon the threshold and never through it. 

“Sir, you have a call.”

“I’ll be right there.” He answers back. 

She bows and doesn’t rise until the door is shut again.

“Duty calls,” you taunt. 

“Yes.” His eyes are back to being everywhere but on you, “I want that tea finished before I get back.”

As soon as he leaves, you get up and pour the tea down the bathroom sink. 

—----

The next morning was the same. You laid in bed for hours, unmoving. 

Only this morning they didn’t bother to bring you breakfast. You wondered if you would have eaten it, if it was offered, but your guilt still felt so heavy. 

Lunchtime came around and Coriolanus disrupted your wallowing. 

“Get up. We reach the Capitol soon.” He orders. 

He plucks a dress off the rack and lays it across the bed, just under your feet. 

It was a blush pink satin gown that tied in a low ribbon at the back. Matching heels that wrapped around your ankle were placed on the floor below. 

You sit up to touch the fabric of the dress, and Coriolanus sneaks behind you with a hair brush. 

He begins to untangle your hair but he pulls it too harshly. You could feel the tender spot on your head from where he had pulled it just two days before. 

“There will be cameras when we step off the train. Fashion is very important in the Capitol. You’ll have to get used to not wearing the same dress every day.” 

He pulls a knot too harshly and you let out a cry of pain. 

His hand moves yours from the spot and massages it gently. 

“That wouldn’t have happened if you had gotten up at some point.” 

He returns the brush to the carry bag and returns to you, holding out his hands. 

You take them and he pulls you up out of the bed.

His hands move to your nightdress and he pulls it off to place the pink satin gown over your head. He spins you around so he can tie it in the back. 

“Put on your shoes and meet me outside.” 

He places a kiss on the back of your shoulder before leaving you. 

The shoes are hard to walk in. While not overly tall, the heel itself was narrow. Trying to walk felt like a balancing act. You could only manage small steps. 

Coriolanus sat at the booth looking out of the window. 

The landscape had changed from long stretches of dry dirt to tall buildings. 

You sit down opposite him and gaze out the window at it all. 

It seemed unreal. 

Every building shined. The Panem flag was hung wherever possible. The sky seemed extra blue. 

You had never felt homesick but now you realize why Coriolanus was so eager to get back home. 

The scenery disappears as you enter a tunnel and stop at your destination. 

Your hand is tugged as Coriolanus heads to the exit with the servants and the bags just ahead of you.

You could hear a commotion as you got closer. Voices overlapped and snapping sounds of flashing cameras joined the noise. 

The lights were blinding as you exited the carriage. 

Coriolanus seemed in his element. He waved and smiled as he lead you through the sea of cameramen and reporters. 

They all shouted at him as they held microphones up to his face. But he didn’t stop to make a comment. 

More people surrounded the outside. Peacekeepers made a path to a sparkling black car with their bodies blocking the crowd. 

He was hailed a king here, and a tyrant back in District 12. All for the same thing. 

The scene was overwhelming. Not only were you in a foreign place without your family, but you felt yourself suffocating amongst the crowd. If one were to break through, the rest would follow ending in a catastrophe. 

You were a stranger, an enemy. You did not belong here. 

You wanted to turn back to the train but Coriolanus’s hold prohibited such action. 

Someone opens the car door for him and he lets you enter first. 

The silence that greets you helps to settle your nerves. With a final wave, Coriolanus joins you in the car, and it takes off from the crowd. 

He sighs and readjusts his jacket so it falls in front of him. 

Your hands shake so you keep them clamped together on your lap.

Coriolanus doesn’t speak to you as you peer out the window. 

You felt as if you had stepped onto another planet. 

The streets were colorful, both in design and people. Cars gilded next to you and in front of you. There were statues and water fountains on every corner. 

All gained from the hard labor of the Districts. 

Still, you couldn’t take your eyes off the passing scenery. You are hypnotized for the 20 minutes that the car drives. But it soon stops in front of a large brick building. 

“Do you live here?” Was this your new home? You wondered. 

“No one lives here,” he answers shortly. 

He exits the car, holding the door open for you. Following him out, you hear the voice of a man greet Coriolnaus. 

“Mr. Snow. Welcome.” 

The man was a little overweight in a suit that was finely tailored to him. He had bleached his eyebrows and mustache, and wore many pieces of jewelry.  

“Thank you for meeting with us.” Coriolanus shook the man’s hand but returns it to yours as soon as it ended. 

“Of course, Mr. Snow. We were happy to accommodate you. Please, follow me.” 

The man leads you both into the building and through the halls but only talks to Coriolanus about the history of the building. 

It was a beautiful building that housed artwork and portraits along the walls. 

You could tell Coriolanus didn’t care but remained civil. His fingers squeeze yours as he is ushered into a room. 

Like everything in the Capitol, it is unnecessarily large and grand. Gold candle holders, rows and rows of pews made of expensive wood, oil painted artwork of important men loomed down at you. 

“Just over this way, if you would please.” 

The man leads you to a table on a small front stage. There was only one chair in front of it which Coriolanus pulls out for you. 

The man passes Coriolanus a pen and tells him where to sign. 

He does so quickly and elegantly. 

“And now for you, Madam.” 

Coriolanus passes you the pen but only small writing covered the page and you were hesitant to sign it. 

“What is this?” You look up to the man, who rocked slightly side to side.

“It’s a marriage certificate.” Coriolanus answered for him.

“Marriage?”

Did marriage in the Capitol have the same meaning as marriage in the Districts? What did marriage in the Capitol truly entail and why was Coriolanus so eager to have you sign it?

“Yes. Marriage. Now sign the paper.” His hand curls around yours so you don’t drop the pen.

“Coriolanus-” Your words are cut short when his hand latches itself under your chin and yanks it up, keeping your hand directed at the paper. He forces your hand closer to the line.

“Sign the paper,” he commands. With his hand enclosed around yours, you sign your simple signature next to his cursive.

He releases you once you do.

“If you wanted a wedding then you shouldn’t have run off.” He spat at you. 

Your hands shake uncontrollably and your eyes water but no sympathy is given by either man. 

“You’ve robbed the Capitol of the wedding of the year, truly!” 

“I think the Capitol will survive.” You feel Coriolanus tug you up, and the man follows his lead out the door. 

“I am sure you are eager to get home and rest before election day.” the man spoke. His voice echoed through the large halls. 

“May I just say what an honor it was to marry you two today! You two kids will set a trend. I’ll have young lovers knocking my door down to elope.” 

You sob at his words. 

“Forgive her. The journey was long.” 

“Of course.” 

With only three more steps until the door, the conversation died. 

Coriolanus is quick in pace, and propelled you to move faster than you could in your heels. 

You could hardly see through the tears in your eyes, so you reach blindly until you feel the car underneath your fingers. 

“Thank you, sir.” He shakes hands with the man once again. 

“Anything for our future president.”

Coriolanus opens the door and guides you inside as he says goodbye to the man. 

He allows you to cry until the car pulls up outside of the apartment, at which he tells you to stop. 

He pulls a handkerchief out of breast pocket and wipes the tears from your face as they fall. 

From the outside you could hear the driver collecting the bags from the boot. 

“You need to stop crying. We are home now.” 

You take the handkerchief off him and dap your own tears. He longingly stares out the window. 

He almost bounces in his seat. Eager to get up the stairs and back home. 

Marriage is not the worst thing to have happened to you, nor the worst thing he could do.

It didn’t really mean anything, you told yourself. The Capitol probably wouldn’t even recognize a marriage between a Capitol citizen and District. 

You push his patience as far as it would go before you are able to collect yourself. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

You give a curt nod and he swings the door open. 

The driver passes the bags to a servant dressed in the same white dress as the ones on the train. They take them back into tall metal building. 

It reached the sky in height, and a whole community of District 12 in width. 

Coriolanus knew his way well. With all the wall ways, and feature spaces of the hotel, you were sure you would get lost escaping the building, yet alone the Capitol. 

An elevator you knew as you stood in front of it. They had them in large government buildings that you would sometimes ride as you delivered material from work. 

The elevator door opens and he hits the top floor. 

 As it goes up, you feel your stomach drop. Once you reached the top floor, would you ever go down again? Was your life now confined within this building?

It reaches the penthouse too fast. Your feet refuse to move as the door opens. 

Coriolanus tries a gentle tug but as the doors try to close again, he motions turn into a pull. 

“We’re almost there.” He digs in his pocket for a key. 

His key ring that used to carry so many keys now only held three. 

The sound of an opening door is met with a loud pop of streamers. 

You flinch as the colorful tissues attack you.  

A high pitch scream precedes a weight being thrown at Coriolanus but he catches it easily and with great joy. 

You take the chance to jump back out of the way. 

“Hey,” he laughs.You watch the cousins embrace. You had once promised yourself that letters would be as close as you got to Tigris and now she stood in front of you. 

“Coryo! You’re finally home,” she captures his face in a loving embrace and he smiles back. 

A crooning sound overtakes the moment and an old women takes the spot of Tigris. 

“My boy. Future president of Panem.” 

He leans down and kisses her on the cheek. She turns her head for him to do so, coming eye to eye with you. 

She turns to you as Coriolanus releases her. 

“Don’t just stand there, child. Come forward, let me take a look at you.”

 Grandma’am eyes you, causing you to curl further into yourself. 

Coriolanus clears his throat and places his hand on your lower back to move you forward. 

“May I introduce Mrs. Snow.”

“Mrs. Snow! Oh Coryo!” Tigris gasps, “How could you?” 

“We had too. The media would never have left us alone if they knew. But-” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small jewelry box, “We saved the most important part for you: the rings.”

He takes a ring out of the box. Your hand shakes but he holds it steady as he slides the ring on. 

Fifty small rectangular diamonds cover a gold band. It was shiny and heavy on your finger. 

Tigris gasps upon seeing it but you have no reaction. 

He then passes you a gold band and holds his hand out to you. 

You push the ring on his finger quickly. 

It was enough for Tigris who claps and jumps. 

She wraps her arms around your neck while her grandmother lifts your hand up to inspect the ring. 

As they give you space, Coriolanus takes it, bringing you back into his arms. 

“I want to hear everything!” Tigris says.

She walks to the living room table and takes a bottle of champagne out of a bucket of ice.

It could have been the lack of food and water over the past three days. It could have been the pure overwhelming feeling of it all. But as the cork of the champagne is opened, your knees give way and you collapse unconscious. 

Coriolanus manages to catch you and you feel his hard arm under your head. 

You hear him call out to you before the darkness fades your vision. 

—----------

You wake at midnight in a fright. 

You knew you were in a bed but everything was pitch black. 

Was everything a dream? Was Edmund alive and just below you?

The answer was no. Coriolanus woke with your fast movements and worked quickly to pull you into his arms. 

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re alright.” 

You struggle against him in a panic. 

“You’re alright. You’re safe,” he consoles. 

“No, no, I’m not.” You feel his face under your fingertips and push against him. 

He retaliates by capturing both your wrists in his hand, pulling them down. 

“Stop it. Calm down now. You’re alright.” 

His weight tugs on your wrists as he leans back to flick on the bedside lamp. It cast a yellow light in which you could see him clearly. 

He had gone to sleep in only his underwear again. His old Commander ways were still clawing on. 

You register that you had been re-dressed into cotton pants and a large top.

“Please, Coriolanus. Let me go. I haven’t done anything,” you cry. 

He pulled you closer by your wrists so your body was leaning against his. 

"Please, I am sorry,” your tears soak his bare chest but he doesn’t move, “I am so sorry.”

He moves his arms around you so you were cradled but it did nothing to help soothe you. 

“No, no, please,” you struggle but his hold was tight. “I never did anything wrong.” 

You tried so hard to be good. Now you were being punished for it. 

“I know. I know that,” he insisted, bringing you closer. 

“It’s okay. Just go back to sleep.” 

You can’t. The image of Edmund swinging in the wind haunted you. 

“Oh Edmund,” you cried. It wasn’t his fault. He was only trying to protect you. 

Coriolanus made no comment given your state. 

“It’s alright. Everything is alright,” he repeats. He hums softly, a song that his mother used to sing when he was a child. He was surprised he still remembered it, or most of it at least. 

He used to hum it during his school years when academic pressure hindered his sleep. 

It rose his anxiety levels just from the association with those years, but it worked to settle you so he continued. 

Your mother used to hum you to sleep as well. When you had bad dreams, she would sit on your bed and run her fingers through your hair as she hummed. 

It was easier to pretend that you were only a child back in your bed with your mother next to you, protecting you from all the horrors of the world. 

—--------------

 The next morning you woke as Coriolanus finished dressing for the day. 

Your movement gains his attention, he finishes putting on his coat and comes to sit next to you on the bed. 

“Hey, how’d you sleep?”. 

He runs a warm hand over your face. You sit up to brush him off. 

“I’ve told Tigris and grandma’am to leave you alone today so you can rest.”

Your stomach drops at the thought of being isolated again. You couldn’t be left alone with your thoughts today. 

Already it’s racing with guilt. 

You latch onto his arm. 

“No. Coriolanus please, don’t lock me in here.” 

He looks to weigh up his options before deciding.  

“I won’t. But you need to show me that you can behave. I won’t have you upsetting Tigris or Grandma’am.

“I won’t,” you promise. 

“They don’t need to know the full extent of us. Only that we are happy to be here together.”

“Ok, Coriolanus.” 

You shove the thick blanket off and swing your body off the bed. 

You follow Coriolanus to the kitchen table where Tigre’s and grandma’am sat eating breakfast. 

Tigre’s rises as you enter into the room. She keeps her distance so not to overwhelm you. 

“Y/N, how are you feeling?” She asks. 

“Much better now. Thank you. I am sorry if I offended you yesterday. I wasn't feeling well.” 

“No! Of course not.” Tigris exclaims, “God, you’ve been through so much. I couldn’t even imagine how you are feeling right now.”

Your eyes flick to her. Coriolanus had made it seem like her and Grandma’am knew nothing of the truth, but could she know at least part of it?

“You must have been so frightened when those rebels took you to the mountains,” Grandma’am commented between a scone. 

Your eyes shoot at Coriolanus, who was already looking at you, silently telling you to be quiet.  

A twisted truth is as good as the truth itself in his books. 

“Yes, I was. Everyday. But I knew Coriolanus was coming.”

“Our Coriolanus isn’t scared of coward rebels!” Grandma’am exclaims. 

Coriolanus was quick to change the subject at the first sound of silence, “Tigris, she hasn’t had breakfast yet.

The breakfast table is near silent as everyone ate. 

It was a relief when Coriolanus kissed you goodbye. The company of Tigres was much easier to keep. 

—-----‘

Coriolanus was busy now that he was home. Interviews and meetings took most of his time now that the elections were coming up. 

You saw little of Grandma’am, but Tigris almost always was in the apartment. 

She tried to be kind to you. She often went out of her way to check on you. But you avoided her. Staying in the room you were placed in. If you said the wrong thing to her, it was sure to make its way back to Coriolanus, and your family was to pay for it. 

Your days before Coriolanus returned home were filled by looking out the window, or preparing an item of clothing for Coriolanus. He always wanted to have at least one thing on that you had some part in preparing. 

He tore off his buttons so you could sew them back on, you shined brand new shoes that didn’t need it, ironed shirts that had already been ironed for him. 

You didn’t argue when he asked you to do it. 

If you performed an action in the way he wanted, he would give you updates on your family. 

From what you gathered, they were fed and allowed an hour outside together. 

 The day of the election came fast. 

It felt as if it happened overnight, but it had been three days since your arrival in the Capitol. 

The election was called at eight o'clock which meant the entire day was filled with buzz.  People came in and out all day. Coriolanus spent the entire day on the phone, or in between breaks talking to the people in the room.

You sat in his chair as he worked standing. You watched the people as they came in and out. They looked different from people back home. 

They all had something unusual about them. Funny color hair, a piercing that stuck out of their face. One thing they all had in common was their high quality clothing. Nothing like the sacks District clothes are made out of. 

Grandma’am and Tigris had gone out to prepare themselves for the election. It was nearly night but they had been gone since the morning.

Coriolanus was in the middle of getting a haircut when two females came up to you and requested that you followed them. 

Coriolanus told you to do so from where he sat. You didn’t ask why as you followed them to the bedroom. 

With the door shut, they tell you to shower and come back so they can dress you for the election. 

The news causes you to tense. You were not ready to face the Capitol. 

But with no choice, you take a shower and return for them to do their work. 

They only talk to each other as they work. 

They dress you in a white strapless gown that split up the side to show more white sparkly tulle, and white heels that were shorter and easier to walk in than the pink heels that you had at the train station. 

They gossip about elite members of the Capital. Who was cheating on who. Who wore what. 

One burns you with a hot iron as she curls your hair because she leans forward to laugh. No apology is given as she continues to talk. She pins small white roses throughout your hair. The pins scrape your head as they enter your hair but you make no complaint. 

You were grateful when they finished dressing you. As soon as they begin to pack up, you exit the room without a goodbye.

You run into Coriolanus, still with his team in the living room. He stood in front of a tall mirror as you had taken the main bedroom. 

He matched you in white. Admittedly, he looked gorgeous in a double-breasted suit with his white shirt peeking out from it. The first few first buttons were undone and a silver chain with your ring hung around his neck. 

He was fixing a white rose to his chest pocket when his eyes caught you in the mirror behind him. 

“We are finished here,” he tells the room, who pack up immediately. 

He looked nervous, and you supposed he should be. All his life had been leading up to this moment. 

He talks low to you so the others don’t hear as they leave, almost whispering in your ear. 

“Just a few more hours and you’ll be looking at the President of Panam.” 

Your hands shook, and you flexed them to try and shake the nerves out. 

Coriolanus, always hyper-aware, noticed, capturing your hands and bringing them up to his face to kiss. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one shaking?” he jokes. 

“I don’t want to go. You don’t need me there.” 

“I do need you there.” He releases you, annoyed at your resistance. 

You sit down on the couch as the people make their way to the door. 

“Do I need to remind you that your performance tonight is crucial to your family's survival?” 

“No,” you say softly, “That’s never left my mind.” 

He crouches down in front of you, resting his hands on your waist. 

 “Good. Now people know you are District, but you’re not to mention it. If anyone mentions it to you, you tell me straight away.” He flicks your chin up so you are looking at him and not at your lap. “Hey, straight away.”

You nod your head in understanding. You had no plan to talk freely with any of the Capitol brood anyway.

“As first lady of Panem, you’ll be required to attend performances like these from time to time. I need to know I can trust you not to embarrass me when you do.”

You nod your head once again, “You can.” 

You remember Ravenstill’s wife. All she did was smile and sit pretty. You could do the same, regardless of the pain you felt. 

He raises himself slightly to press his lips against yours before rising entirely. 

“The car is waiting down stairs.” You rise with him and he takes your hand in his through the walk. 

The car ride is silent. Coriolanus began to practice his speech again as you stared out the window. 

The Capitol seems quieter than usual. No car buzzed around as you drove. One or two passed but they seemed to be in their own rush. Not a person roamed the street.

All of the Capitol held their breath as they waited for their new President. 

The car stops in front of a huge fountain surrounded by a large field. It was out of place amongst the sky scrapers. It was filled with people, all wearing peculiar colorful clothing. Nearly all of them wore a white rose upon their chest.

They surrounded a large stage lit up with bright lights.

Rows of chairs were lined across the back of the stage.  People hovered around them, all wearing white like you. They greet Coriolanus as he walks through. Some of them even greet you, but you hate them all the same.

You see his grandmother and cousin sitting directly behind the podium. He seems to be trying to make a beeline to them, but people keep interrupting them.

He keeps his temper, politely dismissing them as he wades through the crowd. 

His grandmother jumps up to kiss him. He uses his spare hand to bring her in close.

“President Snow, we salute you,” she says sincerely.

“I’ve not won anything yet, Grandma’am,” but his smirk told that he knew he was about to.

Grandma’am wore a hat of white roses but a simple white dress suit and pearls.

Tigris rose as well to hug her cousin now her grandmother was out of the way. Her strapless white dress hugged her curves right down to her ankles where the dress dissolved into white tulle. You could see the outline of white roses on her dress too. Her makeup was centered around the pale pink eyeshadow that was blown out towards her temple.

Finishing with Coriolanus, Tigris turns and hugs you, but you couldn’t manage it back.

Coriolanus leans down to whisper in your ear, “All you have to do is sit down next to Tigris and smile. Can you do that?”

Your families life depended on it, so you smile back at him to show that you could.

The Panem national anthem began to play bringing a hush over the audience as they all go back to stand in front of their seat and sing.

Coriolanus stood next to you, still holding your hand as he sung. The camera flashed in your face and you decide it was better to sing along.

The song finishes and the large screen behind you switches to a man with a microphone on one side and another man in a field similar to Coriolanus. You assumed the latter was his political opponent.

It was the cue for the people on stage to take a seat. You take yours next to Tigris and Coriolanus walks up to the podium.

Smaller screens are prompted up along the front of the stage so that no one on the stage was facing backwards.

You watch as the man with the microphone gives his introduction, introducing himself as Lucky Flickerman before the screen flashes to Coriolanus, and then cuts to Augustus.

You eye the open field. The guards were all focused to the front. There were a few people off the side but they looked mostly like stylists and operation managers. They would hardly put up a fight for you.

You could make it. At least on to the street. But how would you make it back home? How would you free your family? How could you live with yourself in District 12 without Edmund?

Tigress reaches out and entangles your hand with her in comfort. It brings you back to the election.

Lucky performs a few magic tricks as the final votes are counted.

“Now for the moment we have all been waiting for.'' An assistant runs up and places an envelope into Lucky’s hand.

“The results are in people! Who has Panem chosen to be our new leader? The savvy businessman or the fearless Commander? Let’s find out!”

Not a word was spoken as the man opened the envelope. It must have been the result he wanted, for he broke out into a grin and began to shake his head.

“Just as I predicted. Ladies and gentleman, the new President of Panem: Coriolanus Snow!”

The crowd erupts in cheering around you. Loud popping sounds precedes colorful confetti dropping from mounted cannons. Tigris lets go of your hand to clutch Coriolanus.

She sprang up from her seat and captured his head between her arms. His grandmother is next up to crowd him. He brushed off people quickly, he had a speech to make.

You wonder if you should get up but there were already too many people around him. You would only be in the way.

He makes his way to you, bending down to place a kiss on your cheek before turning back to shake hands with those around him.

The win came as no surprise to him but he wore a large smile, and seemed almost giddy at the news.

He turns back to the podium and people quieten as he gives his speech. You heard him mutter it a million times. You could almost recite it for him.

“Today is a new day for Panem,” it began.

You eye your freedom just down the stairs but remain seated and smiling.

You’re not sure how long Coriolanus spoke for, but the applause and cheering told you he had stopped.

Before you knew it he was standing in front of you with an outstretched hand. You take it and he stops to kiss his family, giving them instructions as to where they should now go before he leads you down the steps and into the crowd.

You shrink back as they gather around him. His grasp hurt. Your bones in your hand felt as if they were about to pop out of place. But it was too easy to get lost in the crowd, so he wouldn’t loosen it.

Too many voices overlapped to hear any single one. A few pats on your shoulder was all the attention you received while Coriolanus was drowning in a sea of people.

You couldn’t make out his words over the people and the music. You let yourself be overtaken with the senses.

You smiled and nodded at people as you passed them. It was Coriolanus’ big night, you couldn’t even fathom the punishment if you were to make a mistake tonight.

You stay close to him, just over his shoulder.

He looks back to check on you one or two times but never opens his mouth.

Confetti had been hidden in his curls. You focused on counting the pieces.

The whirl-pool of people seemed to never end. As soon as one person faded another took their place.

It must have been half an hour before Coriolanus made the small distance to the apartment block.

It was 30 stories with a roof top bar that was pumping with lights and music.

The rest of the people would mingle down below with food and drinks. Huddling around the colorful glass standing tables.

You reach the entrance, guarded by two peacekeepers, and Coriolanus leads you in front of him as he presses the button for the elevator.

It was quick to come and Coriolanus pushed your hips to make you move inside.

He lets go of you as you enter and gives a wave to his fans as the door closes.

The elevator is dead quiet. Only the faint sound of pumping music could be heard.

You think he is too wrapped up in his victory to pay you any mind now you were out of sight of the public.

You were relieved almost to be out from under his attention. But he moves quick to push you up against the wall and smash his lips onto yours.

His hands steady your face as he assaults your lips.

He leaves you out of breath and grins at you widely for it.

The door dings open, and he pulls back from you. Only taking a loose grip of your hand.

Another cheer for the President was heard over the music as he steps out.

You look around the room at all the people in white. Supporters of a maniac.

Tigris and Grandma’am were offered a lounge chair as they ate and drank.

“Look,” he spoke to you, taking a green drink off a tray offered to him, “The apple pie drink you wanted. I requested it especially for you.”

He passed you the drink as a man approached him.

You managed to get a “thank you” out before the stranger began to talk.

Coriolanus paid you no more mind the rest of the night. He spoke and joked freely with the party goers while stringing you along behind him.

A few spoke to you about mundane things but Coriolanus was quick to end any longer talk then a few seconds.

The drink did taste like apple pie. A low rate apple pie. You could bake one much better. But for a drink it was fine. You ended up drinking three before Coriolanus snatched the fourth and placed it on a nearby table.

Tigres caught your eye a couple of times. You knew she was making sure you were alright. She was kind, and so ‘un-Capitol’.

Grandma’am was more true to her up-bringing. She insisted on teaching you the ways of the Capitol, and training you out of your ‘District ways’.

“It'll be our secret,” she told you over breakfast this morning, “I’ll defend you against the District rumors.”

In a way you supposed it was sweet of her. Although her intentions could very well be for Coriolanus' benefit rather than yours.

The later it got, the quieter it got.

People began disappearing. Others passed out on sofas and lounges.

Coriolanus' energy never seemed to drain, but Tigris’ and Grandma’am’s did.

Tigris had come over and interrupted Coriolanus' conversation. She offered to take you home with her and Grandma’am but Coriolanus was resistant.

“She’s fine, Tigris. I’ll bring her home with me.”

If you had been on equal standing with Coriolanus, you would have protested and just left but you were mud under his shoe, so you smiled at Tigris and told her you would see her in the morning.

Tigris kissed both of you goodbye. You hold on to her for too long. You could tell from the way Coriolanus squeezed your hand.

The party continued long after she had gone.

Your legs hurt from standing in the heels and your dress was too tight to have eaten all you did over the course of the night.

Coriolanus could sense that you were nearing the end of what you could take, so he began his final lap of victory around the room.

You were beyond grateful when he ushered you into the car.

You sighed as you sunk down into the plush leather seats, taking off your heels instantly.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said as the car entered the main road which had returned to its normal state of business even late at night, “You were very well behaved.”

“Congratulations on your win,” you return.

“Snow always lands on top,” he talks softly as he gazes out to the city.

The car rolls through the city smoothly. Coriolanus watches it pass from the window.

You feel half-asleep resting your head back on the seat.

You feel him move you down to a lying position and your eyes shoot wide open. His fingers brush your skin as he slides the skirt of your dress up.

“What are you doing?” You catch his hands and he lowers his head.

He hushes you as he slides your panties off your hips, “All the drivers talk.”

Trapped in a car in a city that kills your people for entertainment, you lay back and don’t make a sound.

You clutch the back of the seat in a tight hold as Coriolanus begins.

Edmund was barely cold in the ground and here you were, being eaten out by the man who killed him.

You try not to focus on it as Coriolanus' lips and tongue work. It pulls a moan from you and Coriolanus hits your thigh.

You press your tongue between your teeth to avoid making noise. A hand makes its way into Coriolanus’ curls and tugging on them gives you a sense of satisfaction.

It encourages him however and his movements become more targeted and passionate.

The car pulls to the curb in front of his house by the time you had made a mess in the backseat.

You lay back with your legs spread as you come down from your high.

A chill shoots through you as the door is opened by the driver but Coriolanus pulls it closed before he could see the scene.

You get up despite not being ready too. Coriolanus grabs your shoes and pockets your panties, taking your hand when its free.

You both emerge from the car as if nothing had happened.

It was late and cold. You thank the driver as you pass him.

The building was huge. Nearly all the floor was covered in titles and your feet made a sound against them.

You try to slow your walk to quite the sound, but Coriolanus was eager to get up to the apartment.

He storms across the lobby, and courtyard before reaching the steps that lead to the elevator.

He presses the button too many times. It doesn’t make it come any faster.

The house is dark and silent as you enter. The women went to bed hours ago, and you were hopping to follow suit.

Coriolanus leads you to his bedroom which is large and not yet decorated.

You pull free from him as you enter. Immediately you tear all the pins and roses from your hair.

You hear Coriolanus drop your shoes.

He clears his throat to gain your attention.

“Your brother and mother have been freed from the compound.”

Your fingers freeze in your hair. It felt as if he had lifted a great weight off your chest. You turn to him in gratitude.

“Thank you, Coriolanus.”

He smiles down at you before stooping down to your height and placing a firm kiss to your lips.

You push back against his shoulders after the kiss continues past a normal amount of time.

He pushes back, bracing you against the bed with him on top of you.

His lips turn to your neck as he unzips the back of your dress.

“Coriolanus, please don’t,” you beg.

He slides the dress’s straps off your shoulder as he responds, “Please, just give this to me. Don’t make me take it.’’

The dress is taken off you, and Coriolanus strips it off with kisses.

Only when a kiss is placed on your hip do you begin to struggle.

This man had tormented you for months. Starved you. Robbed you. Killed the man you loved. You would give him nothing freely.

You kick and push him away, but he is stronger.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” He pulls you upward by your wrists to the pillows.

“No! Get off of me!”

“Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads.

You continue to fight but he persists.

 “Please, don’t make me do this.”

“No. No. Edmund! Mum!”

“Shut up,” it was less of a command and more of a plea, “Please, shut up.” 

You do. What would your resistance gain you? A few more seconds until the inevitable. 

His grip loosens as you are still beneath him. 

With only a weak hold of your wrists, he pulls off his clothes. You can hear the movement but can’t force your eyes to open. 

Tears leak down your cheeks but you refrain from making a sound. 

“It’s alright. I’ll take care of you.” 

He lines himself up and pushes in with ease. The pain was subsided due to your wetness from the car ride but the first slow thrusts felt slightly painful and uncomfortable. 

You whine slightly as you adjust to the intrusion. You fight to release your wrists from his hold, you wanted to push back on his shoulders, feeling as if he was too deep. 

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit,” he promised, continuing his slow movements. 

He kisses you as you let out another whine. 

Soon the pain did stop, and an enjoyable sensation began to form. 

Coriolanus tried his best to remain slow, but as he got lost in his own lust, he forgot about your pain. 

It felt as if he was bruising you. But his mouth never left yours so you couldn’t voice a complaint.

Your hips jerk away from him, trying to ease the pressure but his spare hand stills your hip, making you take the full brunt of what he wanted to give you. 

He pulls his head back from yours and groans.

“Ah,” he grunts. 

“Coriolanus-” you had wanted to ask him to slow down but you feel yourself tightening around him as you come. 

His hand moves from your wrists and intertwines with your hand. He presses his weight down as he picks up his pace to chase his own high. 

“Wait, wait!” you were through. Every second after was too much. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he grunts. 

You groan from the pressure as he continues. 

“Almost there, darling.” 

His last few thrusts are hard but the pressure turns into a warm pool between your legs. 

Coriolanus is still as he rests his forehead upon your shoulder. You don’t move either, unsure of what to do. 

A few moments later and he raises his head, repositioning himself so his arms cage around your head. 

 He drags a finger down the bridge of your nose and it runs off your cheek like a tear. 

“Welcome to the Capitol, Mrs. Snow.

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[hyperobsessedd]

Joost Klein NFSW Alphabet 18+ MDNI

a/n: it’s only been a day but I’m finally done with the nsfw version of the alphabet. also I kinda want to write a fic inspired in the style of yuck by Charli xcx but I don’t know if I should. thoughts?

cw: a lot of sexual content; bathroom sex, shower sex, breath play, bondage, panty stealing, mentions of boobs, a lot and I mean a lot of mentions of jerking off. I did not proof read this. And as always a butt ton of cursing

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

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

He is so sweet and soft after. He’ll always try to run you a warm bubble bath with all of your favorite scents. If both of you are too tired then he’ll carry just to the restroom, place you on top of the toilet and wipe down your most sensitive parts with a warm rag.

Once he’s done he’ll place you on the bed and tuck you in before getting you a bottle of water (if your still awake that is).

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

Joost loves his hands and arms, mainly because of you. He first noticed you taking a liking to his hands when you two were on some random date; he was talking to you and couldn’t help but notice that you’re eyes weren’t focused on him but on his hands, he kept the moment to himself but he tried to keep it in mind whenever he hung out with you. He also loves how big his hands are compared to yours, well he just loves the size difference between you two in general. He is obsessed with putting pressure on his neck when fucking you, your little fucked out face is just too pretty and he can’t resist.

He love love lovesss your thighs and ass. Just watching your ass move when you’re walking gets him hard and don’t even start with your pretty little thighs. If he could he would stay between your thighs for the rest of his life, not in a sexual way (mostly). Your thighs are just to soft and supple and he can’t help but just lay in between them. Obsessed with the idea of fucking himself with your thighs while he gropes you and sucks at your pretty little neck.

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

Joost cums a lot, although I can be hot when it happens cleaning it up/ wiping it off sucks. He isn’t picky when it comes to where he cums, he’s fine with deep inside you, on your ass, on your face, literally anywhere you want him to.

He loves making you cum, the faces you make while you release turn him on even more (if that’s even possible), the little moans and groans you make while he pleases you also make him want to but faster. On another note he loves creampies, just watching his cum drip out of your gaping hole makes him want to go another round.

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

He jerks off to you, like a lot. And by a lot I mean an insane amount. He jerks off to the thought of you during his morning shower and at night right before he goes to sleep.

He is also an avid panty sniffer and stealer. When he first found your underwear he really didn’t have any bad intentions, he would just leave it in the dirty laundry and forget about it. Just as he was walking to hamper he heard the door open, he was scared of you seeing him with the underwear so he just hid them in his pocket. Now he is obsessed with your scent, he just loves jerking off while putting your sweet little panties up to his nose.

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

He’s had a couple of partners before you so he knows what he’s doing but he is still trying to learn and understand what you like and what your limits are.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying

A very close tie between cowgirl and doggy. He loves cowgirl because he gets to see your pretty little face (he also likes seeing your tits bounce but that doesn’t rlly matter). And he loves doggy because he gets to see the arch of your ass + he gets to see your ass jiggle when you move back and forth.

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

Joost is the definition of unserious so most times he’ll be joking around. He loves praising you and your during the moment and even more so when he about to cum.

If you start to get emotional he’ll stop joking around and try to comfort you if different ways such as kissing you passionately while rutting inside of you or just sitting in silence while he fucks you real good

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

He hates shaving just because it’s such a hassle but he does trim every so often. His pubes are a bit darker than the hair on his head and they are much curlier.

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

As stated before joost can be a bit silly during sex but the second it starts to get more passionate he’ll be staring bar you in the eyes with a straight face, no smile, no slight smirk, nothing. He’d be very gentle with you towards the beginning and he might get a rough toward the end but fuck it feels amazing.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This mf jacks off a lot. It is very much an everyday occurrence.

While we’re on this topic we need to talk about how easily joost gets hard you could just be talking to him on the phone and you would hear a zipper unzip and some squelching coming from his side of the call, you didn’t freak out to much because you already knew that he was a fucking perve. (Phone sex fic anyone?)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Feeling like that one chalant sonic character rn

He’s highkey a kinky fuck, there are so many kinks I think of right now but I’m only gonna lay out three; bondage, orgasm control/ denial, and breath okay. (I’m about to go off bitch)

In regards to bondage he likes tying you, I mean it’s fun I guess but nothing compares to you tying him up; his hands behind his head, his legs tied together, and his favorite part; you jerking him off, just the idea of you being the one to control his pleasure turns him on so actually doing it is a dream.

Imagine him fucking you in missionary, your legs wrapped around his hips while he thrusts into your tight hole. Just as you feel your release coming you feel joost’s strong hands around your throat, the oxygen loss made your orgasm feel 10 times stronger than it ever had before. Safe to say that you begged him to do that every time he fucked you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

First place would always go the bedroom because doy but having bathroom sex wasn’t to uncommon. If he was feeling super horny after a show he would drag you to his dressing room, lock the door, and rearrange your guts while telling you to shut up before anyone else hears you.

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

Everything you do, you could just give him a quick smile and he’d be as hard as rock (harder than that tbh)

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

He wouldn’t do anything that put you, him, or anyone else in harm. He also would hate the idea of very public sex, the most he would ever do would be like inside of a locked storage room or a locked restroom, likes the idea of getting caught but he also really does not want to get caught. Also anything to do with bodily fluids (such as piss, shit, and vomit) would immediately turn him off but that’s a given.

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

He loves giving and receiving tbh. He obsessed with the way you suck on and fondle his balls while stroking his dick. In the words of mother cupcakke “put it so deep I can’t speak a sentence”. If you can deep throat trust that your voice will be gone and the dentist will ask you about your bruised throat at your next appointment .

Dis man is a munch, eater, whatever you want to call that’s what he is. He is an expert in the art of eating ass and pussy; he knows exactly what you do and don’t like and what makes you cum.

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

It depends on the day, where you are, and you how he feels. Like if it’s early in the morning and both of you just woke up he’d be all slow and soft but y’all are at some closet in a janky club then he is for sure gonna go fast and rough, maybe even French you if you’re lucky.

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

Loves him a good quickie. Quickies are very common for him just because he’s always horny and always has to be somewhere. Although he does love to be nice and gentle with you it just really isn’t possibly if he’s rushing to leave the house.

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

He’s down bad so he would probably be down to do most things you ask of him. He might take risks in the bedroom but he would ask you if you were okay with it before hand. He also enjoys semi-public sex, he’s fucked you in so many public bathroom it’s honestly insane.

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

Oh hunny, by the times he’s done with you you’ll be hearing shapes and seeing sounds. Joost has so much stamina it’s insane; the longest he’s ever lasted was 6 rounds and even then it was because you fell asleep (remember sleeping people don’t want tea). If he could he would have you on his lap at all hours of the day.

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

Well yes! Both of you own many toys, the majority of your collection is from when you were still horny, lonely, and single (everyone reading this is all of this things if we’re being real) and joost starting buying toys towards the beginning of your relationship. He loves using vibrators on you because he just loves the noises you make, your facial expressions, and he’s obsessed with the way you squirm when overstimulated.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s such a tease. He likes to make fun of how much you blush and moan while doing it. Don’t even try to hide your face because he’ll grab you by the chin and force you yo look at him until you finally cum.

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

He’s annoying loud and vocal, he is just a yapper in general but even more so in personal moments like that. He moans and groans with the occasional growl if he going at a super fast pace.

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

Joost loves mutual masturbation; watching you rub one out already gets him hard and the idea of you getting off to him gets him even harder.

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

His dick is really pretty. 7 inches, a thickness that stretches you out perfectly, the head has a mushroom shape and is the perfect shade of pussy pink, the base is #F3B492 (tan if you’re to lazy to search it up) and it curves up.

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

Extremely high. He’s always down to fuck and if your not in the mood then he’ll probably go to the bathroom to fix himself or just wait u til you fall asleep to jerk off next to you. Overall he’s a horny mess who needs you real bad.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’ll stay up like an hour after or just wait until you go to sleep so that you don’t have to deal with his snoring.

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

Reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated and thank you for reading

[namedaftercommunists]

'Promise?' Daisuke (Mouthwashing) X Reader -TwoShot

[Story is set before he boarded the Tulpa] [Fluff] [Platonic and - or Romantic] [Gender Neutral Reader]

“-like, I don’t know man. Should I be worried?” Daisuke asks with a sigh after a long rant about something you guiltily didn’t pay too much attention to, leaning his head on the wall of his bedroom. His hands keep fiddling with the Rubix cube he still hasn’t solved yet since buying it two weeks ago.

“About?” You ask with a raised brow, turning your head to the side to see him, still laying flat on your stomach on his bed, your hands on your phone a you look for new shoes to buy on the internet.

“The future, my career, everything my folks keep talking to me about.” Daisuke elaborates, still thoughtfully fiddling with his Rubix cube. “And? You weren't worried about -that- before.” You ask again, Daisuke wasn’t one to worry often -so when he is, it’s most probably something that’s been bugging him heavily.

“But it’s all they ever talk about these days, you know? I can’t be -not- worried.” He explains, with a scratch on his head, his long hair sticking out in whichever direction as he looks at a random corner in his bedroom with another sigh.

You've always thought it was a nice place -despite its smaller size. Daisuke’s bedroom walls were filled with posters of bands and games he’d been interested in over the years. Instruments he’s learned during his youth were laid out on the other side of his bed, with academic books he half-heartedly reads stacked atop it -it’s very ‘Daisuke’ for lack of a better term.

You just wish he learned the habit of putting his laundry in the basket and not just have them lying atop his study chair and bed so that he can re-wear them for another day.

“I get that. My parents are the same.” You empathize with his plight, taking an e-cig from your pocket and taking a quick puff. Vanilla fills your lungs and the air.

“Oh- come on! Not here! You know my parents are going to kill me.” Daisuke half-heartedly scolds you, waving his hand around in the air to get rid of the smell, the action making you chuckle. “Sorry -sorry, couldn’t help it.” You say with a half-serious shrug making Daisuke groan in slight annoyance. You pocket the stick back -for his sake.

“You’re also getting scolded?” He asks with a tilt of his head after simmering down. “More like getting nagged.” You correct with a scoff and roll of your eyes, and Daisuke only softens some more at this.

“Right now I’m just doing what they’re telling me to do -studying for a major I could care less about but still have to pull all-nighters for because God forbid I get anything less than perfect.” You go on a small rant, ending it with an exasperated sigh and a dramatic roll of your eyes.

Daisuke combs at your hair with his fingers at this, petting you as if you were some antsy cat. It’s an action you’ve long gotten used to, and you'll never admit to this -but it works in calming you down.

There’s a short comfortable silence before Daisuke speaks again. “My mom got me an internship.” He says, his voice softer as he continues petting your hair. His words gain your attention.

“Really?” You ask, wanting him to elaborate, your tone curious. “Yeah.” He says with a nod, opting to look to the ceiling now.

“An internship as a mechanic on the Pony Express.” Daisuke expands, making you cringe. “Isn’t that -that shady delivering service company though?” You ask, a sour taste in your tongue as you turn your head to the side to look at him again.

“Can you believe they put up hiring flyers looking for orphans to apply? Only a company that doesn’t care about their employees would specifically look for people like that.” You continue with a scoff.

“Yeah.” He says again with a shrug. “Why would your mom get you to apply for something like that?” You ask, your brows furrowing. “She means the best, you know? She just wants me to get some experience, try something new, do something productive.” He says, getting somewhat defensive over his mom.

"Oh spare me, you sound just like her." You say with a dismissive wave of your hand, despite being apologetic for your words and what they were implying. You know Daisuke's parents just wanted the best for him -just like yours did for you, but it just overwhelms you both sometimes -their care sometimes causing more harm than good.

He scoffs at your comment, taking his hand away from your hair as if punishment. You purse your lips in annoyance at his hand's retreat -but don't express it verbally.

"I'm going to be gone for about a year." He says, and that instantly gets you to sit upright on his bed in surprise and shock. "What?" You ask, facing him.

"What do you mean 'you'll be gone for about a year'?" You repeat, your brows furrowing in confusion. "Like, I'll be gone for a year." He repeats, not meeting your eyes, and guilt slowly creeping up on him. "I'll get deployed on the first day for some actual on-hand experience." He continues, and you can't help but feel a hint of betrayal and worry fill your chest.

"What?! But you barely know your way around the back of a fridge, much less a literal carrier ship." You say, your breath becoming more labored. “No offense.” You quickly add, and Daisuke only waves his hand in dismissal at this. Not taking it to heart. "I'm not going to be alone," He says, still not meeting your eyes. "I'll just be learning from the actual mechanic, like, look over his shoulder and copy what he does -you know?" He continues.

"For a full year though?" You rhetorically ask with an exasperated groan. "Are you even getting paid for this -or is this one of those 'you get paid by experience' bullshit people do?" You ask, and Daisuke can only awkwardly purse his lips at this. Just from that, you already know it's the latter, you let out another groan at this.

"It's not that bad. Look on the bright side, at least I don't have to pay my folks rent while I'm up there." He jokes with a chuckle, but you can only deadpan at this, worry furrowing your brows. It's his turn to sigh at this.

"Look, I'll be fine, man." He says, sitting straighter and closer so that he can pet your hair again. "You don't gotta be -this- worried for me," Daisuke says with a chuckle, meeting your eyes. It's your turn to look away this time.

You continue to stew in your combined feelings of worry and slight betrayal before inevitably hitting him on the side of his face with a throw pillow. Daisuke lets out a small 'oof' at this, but is overall already used to getting hit with his pillows by you.

"Hey now, that hurt." He dramatically says, despite not being hurt at all. "Like hell it did." You say with a roll of your eyes, hitting him in the head with his throw pillow again.

"You're going to die up there." You voice out your worry, disguising it under an irritated tone as you get up from his bed to just pace around his room. Your feet hit his soft carpet as well as the usual discarded sock that he can never seem to find the other pair of.

"Oh come on, that's a bit much don't you think?" Daisuke says with a chuckle. "I'm already going on a spaceship. You didn't have to wish death upon me to add to that."

"I wasn't wishing you death." You say with a roll of your eyes. "I'm just -saying-, nothing good ever comes from being stuck in a ship with how many strangers for a whole year in space." You continue with a dramatic motion of your hands, looking through the catalog of books Daisuke had lying around on his 'study' desk.

"You say that as if you've already been to space with a bunch of strangers for a year," Daisuke says with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, parroting your words. "I don't need prior experience to know that -that's what's going to happen." You say with a huff.

"Call it off." You continue, almost sounding like a command. Daisuke can only sigh at this. "You know I can't. Mom already set everything up." He explains. "Besides, even if I could -I don't want to." He continues, catching you by slight surprise. “What do you mean by that?”

"This could be good for me, you know? Like, maybe -this- is my calling." He says, looking a bit more hopeful. You scoff some more at this, looking to the side with your arms crossed to your chest.

“You’re going to die up there.” You state again, worry eating you alive. “Stop it -you’re manifesting at this point.” Daisuke half-heartedly scolds.

“I’m not manifesting anything!” You raise your voice, becoming more and more agitated. “Think about it, man! These people could be crazies or just outright mean. You could be stuck with sickos and creeps for a whole year!”

“-or, they could be normal. Ever thought about that?” He counterargues, and it just makes you even more frustrated -throwing your head back with a groan and facing away from him to stare at a random corner of his bedroom.

Your eyes just so happen to land on an old picture of the two of you -little kids smiling in their wonky Halloween costumes where they felt like the coolest kids in grade school.

Your smile is missing a few teeth, but that’s fine in comparison to Daisuke’s missing eyebrow. A failed attempt at giving himself an eyebrow slit to look like the cool older kids from before.

“Hey-” Daisuke starts, and given the sound of rustling sheets and feet hitting the carpeted floor, you already know he’s walking towards you –even with your back turned to him.

“I’ll be fine, promise.” He says, putting a hand on your shoulder and slowly turning you to look at him. Daisuke had grown just a few inches taller than you over the years, it annoyed you to no end since you two had always been the same height before.

“Don’t say that -you can’t promise something like that.” You say with a roll of your eyes, still facing him. “Like -I’ll try and keep myself safe.” He says something more doable. “There -happy?” He jokingly asks, and you can only deadpan at him.

“I’d be happier if you didn’t go.” You admit with a sigh, and Daisuke puts a hand on your cheek to keep your eyes on him. “I’ll keep myself safe.” He repeats, sincere, brown eyes slowly but surely softening your demeanor.

It’s hard believing Daisuke -it really is. You’ve known him for far too long for you to not to know that he has the intrinsict need to be needed. Too enthusiastic to help, to the point that he’ll throw any doubt or apprehension in his mind just to be of service to anyone.

Nonetheless, those brown eyes of his and his boyish smile slowly chip their way through your resolve, and your shoulders slump in defeat. “Please do.” You say, your voice softer in defeat.

“Nice,” Daisuke says with a grin before doing a dramatic fist pump in the air -you can only deadpan at this.

“Be serious, man! You need to keep yourself safe!” You say, getting a little more exasperated at his carefree nature. “I am -I am! And I will -promise!” Daisuke defends himself with a chuckle.

“Just trying to lighten the mood, you know?” He says with a smile. “Trying to get that frown off your face. You already got enough wrinkles as is.” He teases, and you kick at his shin at this -making him yelp.

“You’re an ass.” You say with a huff, and Daisuke can only grin through the pain.

There’s a short comfortable silence before he speaks again -his voice soft. “I’ll miss you…a lot.” He confesses, and you can only weaken by his tone.

“I’ll miss you too.” You reply, your voice just as soft as his. You two have been joined at the hip since -forever. It’s a terrifying thought to be apart, for nearly a year no less.

“I’ll write letters.” He says. “I won’t be able to send them to you or anything -I think? But I could write in my notebook, like, a diary or something, and give it to you after.” Daisuke continues.

“Just my day-to-day on the ship, you know? So it’d be like you were there with me.” He says with a softer smile, and you can only chuckle at this -the tips of your ears burning at the thought of him going through such an effort.

“I doubt anything interesting would happen in a delivery express ship.” You say, still chuckling a bit. “But I’ll do the same.” You continue. “I’ll write about my days here too. So you aren’t left out on anything either.” You say with a smile that matches his.

“Promise?” Daisuke cheekily asks, still grinning, his cheeks slowly burning red as well. You nod at this, committing his face to memory for the year you won’t be seeing him. Not that you could ever forget his face. “Promise.” You parrot back with the same softness.

[jolalibrary]

take you to the hilltop, and tell you you're pretty

francisco morales x f!reader | my frankie masterlist

summary: you book a guided hike tour for one when on your trip, not at all expecting your guide to be so damn hot.

warnings: just fluff. hike guide!frankie. flirting. questionable preparation for a hike from you. wordcount: 2.8k an: written for @secretelephanttattoo's secret springs from the spin-that-wheel. i know nothing about nature or hiking, so, Vans would also be what i would wear.

You swear it should be illegal to be up at this time.

The alarm rudely yanks you from dreamy sleep, dragging you out of warm bedsheets and onto the cold wooden hotel floor before you groggily find yourself under lukewarm water that washes away the last remnants of sleep. Stepping out of the steam somewhat more awake and fresh than you’d anticipated.

The walk to meet him, though, is still a struggle.

Your overfilled water bottle sloshing around in your bag, likely flattening your store-bought sandwiches into pancakes as you turn from the cobbled street to the gravel parking lot, finding him—the guide from the photo on the website.

He’s waiting, leaning casually resting against the side of his truck, the dried mud flakes, dirt and dust, all standing out like badges of past expeditions.

Francisco, you hum to yourself. The name given to you on the email confirmation, along with the instructions and directions of where to meet.

Damn, he is cute. Cuter than the website has him looking—broader too.

You can’t help but smile when you approach, kicking at a stone, wincing from it and the bright morning light.

“Morning,” he calls out.

Squinting your eyes, you spot him lifting his aviators before he’s frowning, head tilting forward as though zooming—

“No.”

Snorting, you continue walking to him. “Good morning and nice to meet you too.”

“You can’t wear those.”

“Say it with more disgust why don’t you.”

Shaking his head, he scoffs again. “Where are your hiking boots?”

“Oh, those? They’re back at the hotel. Thought I’d wear these instead, make a blood vessel pop in your neck.”

“Do you know how far this hike is?”

Sliding your phone from your pocket, swiping up as the email illuminates, you smirk. “No. Because when you claim a hike guide voucher, it says all information related to your hike will be sent to you twenty-four hours ahead of your hike by your guide.”

His muttered curse proves he recalls as much. Removing his sunglasses, threading an arm through the collar of his t-shirt.

“You can’t do this walk in Vans.”

“Well, it’s all I have...”

Kicking off from his position, he shakes his head, opening the trunk of his truck, making more noises and emitting harsh sighs, before he’s holding a pair of boots and a small flask.

“Take them off.”

“Please.”

“Please.”

You narrow your eyes but comply, toeing off your shoe before pressing the back of the opposite, until you’re slipping out of one and he drops down to a crouched position as he hands you the flask. No words, no gesture, just a silent command as your hand snakes around the handle.

For his brutish movements with the flask, he’s surprisingly careful, cautious, with your feet. More than you’d have expected. Meticulous, easing, taking your ankle gently and sliding it into the boot, the breeze blowing his curls—showcasing the slithers of silver that wraps inside the blends of browns.

“How’d you know my size?”

Snorting, Francisco looks up as he laces you, as he pulls on each and makes you almost jolt. “The paperwork you filled out.”

It’s your turn to remember.

Shame floods your cheeks, not knowing where to look to look before you stare at the ground. Choosing to take in the little pellets of dirt that make up more dirt, rather than linger on the way his hair curls around his ears—how one needs tucking more behind.

Swallowing, you shake your head. Focusing instead on the flask warming your hand, trying to fill the void of quiet with any sort of comment back, but they’re all lost on your tongue, vanished from the back of your throat before hearing him. All low-voiced, almost gruff—speaking into your laces—about how they keep backups, just in case, bad weather, losses—

“People lose their boots?”

Snorting, he looks up and somehow, unknowingly, you forget how to fucking breathe. Wearing the evidence of it too. Almost parading that you’re so single that a mere five-minute interaction has you almost ready to declare this a date only for him to then fuck with your emotions even more by smiling.

The soft kind that spreads into his eyes and makes them warmer—make his eyes more doe-eyed, round, all warm brown with flecks of caramel.

“Be surprised on some of these walks.”

Now, he’s tapping your booted foot, moving to the other, and you’re just watching. Ogling, admiring. Your tongue thickens in your head as you curse the gift voucher, as you both love and loathe that you’re ridiculously single because you’re out of practice.

“Ready?”

Nodding, you pull yourself from your thoughts, offering him the flask.

“It’s for you.”

“Oh.”

Picking up his bag from close to his tyre, he shoots you a smile. “It’s an early one. Thought you might appreciate the extra helping hand.”

Then he shrugs. As though the act is nothing, almost meaningless.

“Come on,” he says, snapping the clasp on his bag over his chest—somehow making himself appear even more broad than you know it is.

You have to admit, the view is pretty—and you don’t just mean him.

The landscape is breathtaking, a thing you almost admit when the two of you come to a stop to eat. But, then you find him staring, watching, as though seeing it through your eyes is a thing he both craves and needs.

Somehow, even with how good the hike has been, you don’t wish to relent that just yet. Don’t wish to let him know he was right, that your earlier grumbling about nature just not being for you had very much vanished now you could appreciate it like this.

Francisco, or Frankie, is funny.

Sometimes not always obviously, more in a dry way that takes you a second before a scoff merges with a breath when you try to keep up with him. Drips and drops of him slipping out as you purge him for information, weaving and needling him until he cracks open and spills everything.

It passes the time, the sun rising in increments through the trees before the two of you come to the clearing you’re paused at.

“Shit.”

“What?”

Shaking your head, you zip up your bag, tears pricking at your eyes as you stare off at the rolling hills.

“You not eating?”

“No,” you say, “Not hungry.”

Clearing his throat, sighing. “Water bottle leaked?”

“How’d you fucking know?”

He laughs and it echoes. Vibrating out of him as you stare at him almost dumbfounded, his shoulder pressing more intently against yours as his hand clutches his chest, head thrown back, eyes crinkled shut as the laugh begins to tickle one from you too.

It’s loud—his laugh. But not in a way that’s annoying or too much. But one that you could bet on recognising from a room away, maybe even over the water and clearing if it was as quiet as it is now. Your eyes flick over him, taking in the wiry hair around his jaw, and the curls that wrap around his ears.

“Alright, alright,” you prod, his laugh dying, throwing a fake roll of your eyes when you feel him watching.

“You’d be surprised how many have the same thing happen.” His hand vanishes, digging into his bag before he retrieves more foil-wrapped food coming out with it. “Here.”

“You always share your food with those you take on a hike?”

Elbowing you lightly, your fingers unfolding the foil as you grin. “No.”

Smirking, gaze flicking over him. “Are you making an exception in nature?”

His eyes glint, the corner of his lips rising into his cheek. “Don’t tell the trees.”

Before you take a bite, hovering it close to your lips, you look at him, finding him already watching you from the corner of his eye.

“Your secret is safe with me, Frankie.”

“You owe me.”

Is he flirting? You wonder, adding a snort. “Oh well, you let me know how I can repay you.”

You don’t miss the low way he shyly mutters that he will, or how it seems to make you press your thighs together on instinct.

On the descent, you learn more about him under trees that cast shadows and through wildflowers of pastel shades.

Frankie used to be a pilot. He’d needed a fresh start, a new beginning, found one here as a tour guide. He likes dry nuts but not in baked goods and he prefers his coffee dark, more often without milk.

You notice, some of the things he spills fall from him with jagged edges, as though much of it has been a well-kept secret. A thing he’s kept close to his chest, somehow crumbling under your earlier questions to now openly just sharing.

When the two of you come to another pause, you almost gloat at it—go to ask him if he’s usually this talkative, or if you’re special. But the words fade, dissolve, right on your tongue when you learn what it feels like to have his chest pressed to your back. When you discover how broad he is, solid. How he’s ridiculously warm as he points over your shoulder to a clearing, as the other hand rests on your waist for stability, giving some indication and story about what is so important about where you’re stood.

But you can’t hear him.

Too busy, too focused on how good he smells for saying you’ve been hiking for hours—and how inappropriate this might be if he’s just doing his job.

Because there’s a distinct musk scent that’s sliding into your nose, all but woven itself in woodiness, an earthy almost peppery scent that seems to smother over any scents of nature.

“—it’s one of the prettier spots on the trail. So, thought you might like it.”

You’re prettier, you think.

Sighing with your thoughts until you hear him cough, clearing his throat.

It isn’t an intention to turn to face him, to find yourself up close, but you do. Eyes fixed on his, chest pressing to his chest as you take a nervous swallow.

“Did I…”

“Say that out loud?”

“Shit.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” he reassures, hand scratching at the back of his head.

Something thrums, a second pulse beating between your thighs when he drags the tip of his tongue across his lower lip.

“I did mean it—that you’re prettier.”

And fuck, even his shyness is endearing on him. Rosy pink spread out across his cheeks, even over the bridge of his nose. A mumbled thanks leaving his lips as he continued to linger on your face, not turning away, not giving any signs that you’d overstepped too much.

“Anyway, what’s your favourite spot on the trail, Frankie?”

His mouth opens, words set to spill, but they’re swallowed, hidden. Figurative walls come down before he blinks and looks around, weighing his options as he takes another glance at the watch on his wrist—the practical one. The one you assume could get wet, could hit against a rock and even be set on fire and would still work.

“I can show you?”

“If… you want to?”

He cocks his head, slides his jaw. “I’ve got nowhere else to be today, do you?”

With a smile, you shake your head and you swear his eyes smile, even before his eyes do.

It turns out Frankie’s favourite place on the trail is a little coffee truck with table and chairs overlooking a cliff edge with greenery, crystal waters and what you suspect is a rocky bit of beach.

“This isn’t a usual spot on the trail, is it?”

Blowing on his cup, he shakes his head, lips sliding perfectly into his cheek.

“I’m going to start thinking I’m special, Frankie.”

He shrugs, placing his coffee down on the wooden table before tracing his thumb over his lower lip. “Your voucher has expired now.”

“Oh, so this means I have to amble back by myself or?”

Shaking his head, leaning his forearm on the table, fingers inching closer to yours. “No. It means I can say that maybe you are. Special, that is.”

Heat floods your cheek, kisses the tips of your ears, as you whisper an oh. Your heart thumping a little, quickening in your chest, staring at him as you try to take a measured breath—to think of something, anything, to say—

“Anyway,” he says, and you wonder if it’s a nod to your earlier slip-up, “You think you’d do another? Hike, I mean?”

Taking a sip from your drink, scrunching your nose at how warm it is—the steam tickling your lip. “Maybe. Not sure they’d be as informative as you.”

“Yes, I think many wouldn’t be able to go, trees, water, don’t slip and watch out for boulders.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “You did have to hold my hand when we walked over that edge, not sure another guide would do so with as much patience.”

His eyes glisten, stare momentarily dropped before it’s back on you with the warmth of a thousand suns. “Couldn’t let you fall.”

“Because it’s bad for your rep?”

He takes a sip of his coffee as he smirks.

You take the moment to blow on yours, inhaling the scent of it, somehow finding it’s not able—even with how strong it is—to know the scent of him from your nose. Not even as the tip almost touches the steaming liquid.

“Hey, you think you’d be okay to walk with that?”

Squinting, hand coming up over your brows so you can see him as the sun peers from around the trees. “I think I can manage. Or, I’ll try not to force you to grab my waist to keep me steady again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s his turn to snort before he slides his sunglasses from his nose, offering them out to you.

“Frankie, you don’t have—”

“If you burn yourself by slipping on a rock, I’m liable.”

Taking them, placing them on your nose and pushing them up, you stare at him through them—finding him smirking, taking another sip.

“I thought my voucher had expired.”

He says nothing, just shoots you a smirk.

You’d never admit it, but you’re disappointed the journey from his spot to his truck is short. The coffee in your cup is now just mere dregs, his own gone before the two of you had even begun your descent back, and his sunglasses are tucked into the collar of his tee again.

Lingering, hovering, you watch as he removes his bag—having unclipped it from over his chest—placing it down as he fusses for his keys before his truck beeps and he’s back in the trunk.

“So, do I give you your five-star review here or do I wait for the email?”

He laughs from inside the vehicle, the tinted glass hiding whether he’s grinning or if he’s shaking his head as you undo both laces and slide your foot from one boot as he emerges, placing your shoes back on the ground close to you.

“Seriously,” you continue, motioning to return the boots and put your familiar ones back on, “I had a nice time.”

“Told you nature wasn’t all that bad.”

Snorting, you hand him the boots back, trying not to react when you feel the current in your fingers when he brushes yours. Trying not to show that your heart skips a beat when you flick your gaze up and find his already on you.

“Hey. So… I don’t usually do this.”

Pulling your hand back, you slide it around your bag strap, shifting on the spot—feet happily wiggling back in your Vans—as you blank your face, smear innocence over it. “A line so many people say.”

His lips curl, teeth biting as he takes a breath. “Do you think I could see you again? Not on a voucher.”

Smiling, letting it open out as your lips part. “Can it be inside?” Shrugging, he nods. “Then, yeah. I’d like that.”

“Good. Cool.”

“Oh, just so you know, Frankie. I leave in six days.”

His brows lift, creasing his forehead as you watch him swallow. “Oh, right.”

“So, what I mean by that is, if you want to see me again, maybe… it can be tonight?”

Your stomach knots. Nervousness barrages in your veins as you try to keep your eyes up, your back straight—ignoring the way your pulse now pounds in your chest, in your throat, in your ears.

Because you don’t do this either.

Tightening your grip on your bag, taking even breaths as he slowly, but surely, beams.

“I know a place.”

“Inside, right?”

Rolling his eyes, smirking—the sign of a dimple threatening to show. “Not exactly, but it’s a bistro.”

Stepping forward, all caution thrown to the wind, you press a kiss to his cheek—soft, gentle, almost a blink and you’ll miss it. “I think I can do that.”

Pink smothers his cheeks, his hand almost rising to touch where you’d kissed before he drops his hand and flexes it. “Do you… you think I could pick you up from your hotel?”

Nodding, and swallowing, you smile. “Okay.”

[hellish-sunsets]

Lucier or Alastor or both (separately plz) with a palm sized reader? Somehow they got chibi-fied and the boys magic can't turn them back for roughly a day? (Maybe someone spiked their drink while they were out with Angel and Cherry or something?) Could be cute and funny!

Thank you for your ask! That's such a cute idea!

Alastor and Lucifer With a Chibi!Reader

Angel is hesitant to approach. Cherry ditched before they even got back to the hotel, leaving poor Angel with the job of breaking the news. 

Which is to say, he doesn’t really break the news, more like he just sort of plops you in front of one of them and runs off with a, “Sorry, it’ll wear off!”

Alastor-

Alastor is irritated and pissed at whoever thought it was a good idea to mess with his own, but he can work with this. 

He does think it’s cute, but mostly it means you’re weak, and he pretends it’s fine but deep down that scares him.

When he isn’t able to immediately turn you back, he goes into protect mode.

You will be spending most of your day riding in his coat pocket where he can keep an eye on you and still go about his work.

Will feed you cookie crumbs and juice. He isn’t the best at taking care of anybody, even Niffty largely took care of herself, but he does recognize you still need sustenance. 

Won’t sleep until you’re back to normal. He’s afraid he’d squish you by accident. 

Doesn’t let you in his room, just in case you fall in the swamp or something. You squeak out that you can swim, who cares, but it’s like the buzzing of a mosquito in his ear. 

Will not take you seriously until you’re back to normal. 

Once you are back to normal he is a bit more cheery but otherwise acts like nothing happened.

Lucifer-

Is angry at first at whoever did this to you, but once he calms down he’s elated.

You’re so cute and little!!!!

Definitely spends a bit of time taking pictures. You happily pose with his rubberducks, pretending to ride them and pet them and stuff. Needless to say, he has a new screen saver. 

He makes you a little bed to sleep in on his night stand so you can sleep safely.

Lot’s of head kisses! Well, he did that when you were normal size too, but now he did it all the time. 

Let’s you ride on his hat all you want, or his shoulder, or a pocket, wherever you wanted.

Will make you tiny, tiny pancakes. They’re still too big for you, but you don’t care. You think it’s funny and he thinks it’s adorable! 

Once you’re back to normal, he will give you all the hugs and kisses and snuggles that you missed out on in the last day and will show you all the pictures and videos again to smile and laugh together.

[thebigbadbatswife]

OCT 3rd - Double Penetration In One Hole

Pairing(s) - Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader, Captain John Price x F!Reader

Title - Simply Too Sweet (Not To Share)

Summary - There’s no better way to get rid of some stress than with your Captain and Lieutenant.

Warnings - Military Inaccuracies, Double Penetration in One Hole, Shameless Smut, Porn without Plot, Large Cock, Size Difference, Threesome, Dirty Talk, Creampie, Unprotected Sex

Word Count - 1.9k

You have dreamt of nights like this. Way more than you will ever willingly admit to anyone. Dreams that have left you waking up with panties ruined from your slick and a throbbing from your core that your hands and toys just can’t satisfy. No matter how many times you try. They simply leave you more and more desperate than you were before. Until you’re dripping with sweat and your sheets are ruined and you’re so overstimulated that your legs won’t stop shaking.

It’s been a nightmare hiding your dishevelled state from your teammates and superiors. They’re all so perceptive all of the time you hoped that maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t notice anything this time around. And you really thought you got away with, until Ghost suddenly pins you against the wall.

You are the only ones in that hallway as he towers over you. Up until this moment you’ve never been intimidated by the difference in size between you two, but right now you are very much aware of it. As well as the way he was looking at you. It’s definitely not how a superior should be looking at their subordinate and it has your stomach doing all sorts of front and back flips.

“You seem flustered, Sergeant,” he says. His voice is deep and gravelly and there’s an edge to it that goes straight between your legs. You swallow thickly as you hold his gaze. What are you supposed to say to that? He’s seen through you completely and nothing you can say will dig you out of this hole. That much, you’re sure of.

Ghost’s balaclava moves in a way that you’re sure he’s raising an eyebrow at you, but says nothing about your silence. Instead he gestures with his head. “Follow me.” It’s not exactly an order. More of a suggestion, by his tone of voice, but you listen like it is one. Curiosity killed the cat, you think. 

You follow him down the hall and through the base. He checks each corner like he’s on mission and not currently walking through the safety of said base. At one point he pulls his phone out and texts someone, but it’s so fast you can’t see the name of the contact. Almost as soon as the phone leaves his pocket, it’s been swiftly returned. 

Before you know it, he’s pulling you into a room then shoving you forward, while he closes the door behind you both. The first thing you see is the bed. It’s big enough for two people, perhaps even three. Slowly, you turn to face him. Ghost is standing by the door still. 

“Not gonna do nothin’ you don’t want,” he tells you. “Neither of us will, yeah?”

The meaning of his words is more than clear and you quickly realise who he must have texted. The thought of having both of them, at the same time, adds fuel to the fire that has already begun to grow within you and between your thighs, from the moment that Ghost pinned you to the wall. For the second time you swallow thicky as you nod. 

The ball is completely in your court. You’re sure that, if you wanted to, you could call an end to it all before it even begins. Things are definitely going to change if you go through with this and, honestly, the thought excites you. 

“And what is it that you think I want?” 

He chuckles and steps toward you. “Seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at me. At the Captain too. Hard not to,” he says. He doesn’t stop walking forward until he’s towering over you again. You have to crane your neck up to look at him. “Must be bloody fuckin’ miserable to know you can look and not touch.”

“But I can touch now.” You raise a hand and press your palm against his chest. His eyes glance down at your hand before coming back up to meet yours.

One second you’re gazing directly into each others’ eyes, the next he’s moved his balaclava up to reveal his lips and they’re crashing down onto yours.

The kiss is rough. A clash of lips, tongues and teeth. Not that you were overly expecting gentle. At least, not from Ghost. Everything about the man screams hard and rough, not soft and gentle. And you’re definitely not looking for the latter. In truth, you wouldn’t mind if he split you in half.

Before you know it, his hands are, not only on your body, but they’re undoing the button and zip of your trousers. He shoves his gloved hand into your panties and you gasp as his fingers come into contact with your engorged clitoris. He presses his fingers more firmly against it, the rough material of them drawing a soft moan from you this time.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked,” he comments as he starts to rub your clit. “Would be downright stupid to send you on a mission in this state.”

You agree adamantly. It really would be. But you cannot voice that agreement. All you can do is moan as his fingers play with you. The pleasure that it brings you is almost dizzying and you haven’t even reached your peak yet. His fingers really do feel so much better than your own have recently. You quickly lose yourself to the feeling. So much so you don’t notice when the door opens and someone else enters the room, locking the door behind them.

You only become aware that your Captain has entered the room when Ghost is removing his hand from your underwear, making you whine in the process, and steps aside.

From the moment that you meet Price’s gaze, and you make it clear that, yes, you want this, everything becomes a blur. 

Before you know it, you’re completely bare to both men, with your back against Price’s chest and the head of his cock pressing up against the entrance of your cunt. You sink down onto his cock, your mouth dropping open at the feeling of the stretch. He’s a lot to take in, far bigger than anyone you have shared your body with before. They both are. Ghost is watching you both intensely from where he sits at the edge of the bed. His eyes once again all you can see of his face as, even in a situation like this, he refuses to move his balaclava. His hand is wrapped around his cock, stroking and teasing it.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Price groans as he bottoms out. His hands have a bruising grip on your hips, stopping you from moving before you can even think to move. “Don’t know if you’re going to fit, Ghost,” he chuckles.

Your legs are slung over Price’s thighs and uses that fact to spread your legs wider, giving Ghost a very good sight of your sopping pussy that’s begging to have his cock filling you up as well.

Suddenly, Ghost is in your space. His balaclava pulled up like it was earlier, so you can see his lips. 

“We’ll make it, won’t we lovie?” 

It’s a rhetorical question, but you nod anyway. You desperately want to feel both of them inside of you, filling you up in a way that you never have been before.

Ghost presses the head of his cock against your entrance. He kisses you as he slowly starts to push inside of you, alongside Price’s cock. This kiss is far softer and gentler. A stark contrast to the kiss that you shared with him earlier. The stretch aches and burns, pleasure and pain throbbing through you, as he eases his cock into you, making you gasp against his mouth. 

Rough, calloused fingers press against your clitoris and start to rub it. His beard scratches against the soft skin of your earlobe as he leans in close.

“Relax, girlie,” Price tells you. “It’ll make it easier on both of ya.”

You do your best to listen. You take a deep breath and force your body to relax. It works and Ghost’s cock slides in without any further resistance. Both men groan as you clench around them. Fuck. It’s almost overwhelming how full you feel from being filled to the brim by your commanding officers, and you’re enjoying ever second of it. They’re ruining other men for you right now and you don’t give a damn. 

You’re completely at their mercy as you wait for them to start moving. Price’s lips move against your the skin of your neck, while Ghost is giving attention to your breasts. His tongue swirls around your nipple as his fingers tweak your other nipple, which has your back arching. 

They’re giving you time to adjust to their size, but, honestly, it’s the last thing that you want right now. Numerous sleepless nights and, now that you have them right where you’ve always wanted them, you’re impatient. You just want them to fuck you. 

They both chuckle and that’s when you realise that you actually said it outloud instead of just thinking it. There’s no time to be embarrassed as Price speaks.

“Well, it would be rude to leave her waiting, wouldn’t it?”

Ghost agrees as he starts to slowly pull out of you. Each time he pushes back into you fully, he pushes against something that has your toes curling and draws soft moans from you. Price remains still, giving you chance to adjust to the feeling of one of them moving. His hands stay busy. Playing with your tits and continuing to rub your clit, while his mouth moves along your neck and shoulder, kissing and gently sucking at your skin.

Ghost’s pace doesn’t remain slow for long. Each thrust grows, not only faster, but harder as well. He’s doing exactly as you want and you’re absolutely thrilled by it. Your fingernails dig into his forearms as you try to ground yourself from being too overwhelmed by the pleasure that’s building up inside of you.

Price takes you completely off guard as he shifts beneath you. It takes him and Ghost a moment, but they quickly find a rhythm with each other that has you mewling. His hand covers your mouth immediately. 

“Do you want the whole base to hear you?”

You shake your head, but he clearly doesn’t trust you to keep your noises quiet anymore as Price keeps his hand across your mouth, muffling every sound that you make. Which is just as well as they continue to fuck you, making you feel almost deliriously high as they move in sync with each other. It’s official, you decide in your pleasure filled haze. Price and Ghost have completed ruined men for you. You’re never going to be able to go back to those meaningless one nights stands you often have during leave. How could any of those random men ever make you feel as good as you do right now? 

Your heart is thumping harder and faster against your chest as you can feel yourself rapidly approaching your end. Your cunt is squeezing and clenching around their cocks more and more, drawing the deepest and sexiest moans and groans from both men. They sound great and you really wish they weren’t quite so quiet.

Your body shakes as your cunt clamps down around them, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and a muffled cry leaving your lips as you hit your climax. Ghost and Price aren’t long behind you. Ghost pulls out and fists his cock, covering your lower stomach his cum, while Price buries himself as far as he can go, overloading your pussy.

You collapse against Price, breathing heavily. Ghost strokes the the top of your thigh.

“You alright, lovie?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’m good,” you reply. 

“Good,” Price says. “You’re in for a long night, Sergeant.”

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

Another Vox enthusiasts I see? Well if I may...

Vox with a GN Hacker reader who was turned entirely digital after manifesting in hell. They don’t even have a physical form they’re completely stuck within Hell’s databases, their skills are obviously useful to him so he offers them a place on the team which they immediately accept on the condition that Vox makes them a vessel to inhabit because holy shit are they going stir crazy.

I’m not entirely sure how Vox’s abilities work but given he can at the very least project himself onto screens and the like I get the feeling that he’d plug himself into the system whenever they talk. Mostly because it keeps them grounded, they’re alot calmer when he’s actually next to them and not looking in through a screen.

I hope this didn’t get too wordy or long I just wanted to be thorough because I have massive brain rot for this techno mf-

Take your time with this request! Kisses darling <3

-📽

Dude, does anyone else remember having Shimeji's or that internet episode from Fairly Odd Parents? Cause that's what I'm about to write!

Digital Pet [Vox x Digital Reader]

When you first manifested in Hell, you were completely unaware that you had ended up in Hell itself. Because instead of manifesting in the overcrowded circle designated for sinners, you instead found yourself in a digital landscape. Countless screens surrounded you like a million portals. You could see the different shapes and sizes of the devices being used in hell and could even alter whether or not you saw what was being displayed on the screen or what the screen could see itself like a window to Hell.

At first, you had a massive meltdown. From what you could tell, you were the only one in this digital Hell custom-tailored to leave you isolated despite having access to every device in Hell. You wondered what you did to deserve the extra punishment layered on top of not being good enough for heaven, especially since you hadn't done anything particularly evil when you were alive.

You lost track of how much time passed. You entertained yourself by jumping from system to system. You'd watch shows that sinners binged, and you'd watch the city from large advertisement screens that overlooked the sinner's circle of Hell. Anything to stave off the loneliness.

One day, that all changed when you felt an electric buzz make the hairs on the back of your neck stand. You heard the voice of someone swearing and immediately pulled yourself away from the screen you had been sticking your nose into. When you turned, you saw another demon who was still sparking with some bright electric energy as he dusted himself off.

For a moment the two of you just stared at each other in shock. As far as you and Vox knew, you were the only ones who could access the digital realm of Hell's database. Vox is immediately wary, but you are thrilled as you approach him quickly.

"H-Hi, oh my god!" you breathe as you look him over. He didn't look new to Hell, but you had never seen anyone else in the same pocket of space as you before. "Did you just die? Have you seen anyone else? Did you just get here? It's been so long since I saw another person that wasn't on a screen!"

Vox blinked as you rapid-fired questions at him. He looked you over as you rambled something about the irony of his face being a screen when he finally shook his head and held up a hand to stop you.

"Woah, woah, woah, slow down," he started. "What are you talking about? How are you even here? No one else should be able to traverse through the database of Hell but me."

Vox's interest only grows as you explain your situation. "I see," he hummed as he looked you over with new intrigue. "I wonder if you have similar abilities to mine and just got caught in the in-between..."

It was easy enough for him to lure you into a deal. The sheer amount of panic you expressed when he pretended he was going to just leave you there was hilarious at the time. In exchange for you "surfing the web" for him, so to speak, he took you on as an apprentice of sorts. Vox trained your abilities and helped you hone your magic. While you had every hope of one day figuring out how to manifest in the physical realm the way he did, Vox cleverly avoided any pursuit of the possibility.

He liked having full power over you and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't starting to grow attached. While you hadn't learned anything about manifesting physically, you had learned how to appear on his screens. He'd never admit it to you out loud, but he found the tiny image of you running around on his devices and talking with him to be pretty damn adorable.

Despite his manipulation, the two of you actually slowly became friends. He found himself genuinely proud of you whenever you popped up to show him something new you had learned. There was a weird warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest when you would bounce with excitement at your new discoveries.

Sometimes you'd ask him to play a certain show or song for you. Even after you learned how to control inactive devices so you could look up anything you wanted, you still liked to ask him to play things for you just so you could watch them in his presence. You'd send memes to each other and Vox had to quickly excuse himself when you sent him a crudely drawn image of Alastor slipping on a banana peel while he was in the middle of giving a presentation at a meeting.

Vox was emotionally constipated, but he wasn't stupid. He could tell that the warm feeling in his chest was growing and he knew you were the source. He clutched his chest as he stepped into his lair and saw you sleeping on his desktop toolbar, waiting for him to come home after a long day at work. He had promised you that you'd watch the new episode of a show you'd been watching together, but his gameshow had run late.

He sits down with a sigh and traces over your sleeping form, feeling something twist inside of him as his claw only met with the cold, flat surface of a screen. He wondered what it would be like to hold you. To touch you. To have you in his arms while the two of you lay on the couch while you made him watch stupid shows instead of...

"Fuck," Vox whispered to himself as he pulled away from the innocent image of you. He clutched his face as he slumped forward in his chair. He had a decision to make.

And so do you, dear readers! I want to make a part two to this, the real question is: