#well something needs to tell me what i should watch/read/listen to next

[bonivers]

no i didn’t download an app to help me decide things who said that

[feyburner]

I ??? woke up at 3am with this scene fully written in my mind palace and quickly jotted it down in the Notes app

*

Clark’s shaking his head before he realizes he’s doing it, and feels a twinge of embarrassment at his own bad manners when Bruce stops mid-word to look at him, brows raised.

“No?” he says.

“No,” Clark says, again without thinking, and again with the reflexive urge to apologize. Somewhere his mother is tutting without knowing why. But he doesn’t apologize, because he’s already saying, “No, it can’t—it can’t be that.”

“Okay,” Bruce says slowly. “Can you elaborate?”

He is, honestly, having trouble taking his eyes off the screen. The mockup design of his new suit is there, dark and sleek, ridged like tactical gear. The blue is like the last shade of evening before you can’t call it evening anymore, the color of nine PM in Kansas in July, so exact there’s a strong chance Bruce color-picked it from a photo. The yellow accents are the cool fluorescent yellow-green of lightning bugs. The red is dark as arterial blood. Every aspect of the suit has been updated—the colors deeper, the angles sharper, the S extending to the corners of its frame—but Bruce has done it without changing the fundamentals. It’s immediately recognizable as the Superman suit, just… well, a little cooler, maybe. A little more of the times. Even the tailoring is modernized. The neckline. The shape of the boots. Where the belt hits at the waist. Clark can tell just by looking that Bruce has not only spent a lot of time on this in general, he’s spent a lot of time designing it specifically with Clark in mind, Clark’s needs and preferences and the small discomforts of his current suit, things he might have mentioned offhand after a mission but never with the assumption that Bruce was listening or filing it away. No doubt the next slides of this presentation will detail all the hidden features of the new suit, and they’ll all be incredibly thoughtful if not slightly overkill, and Bruce will pretend his sole motive here was practicality and risk reduction and respond to any thanks with a curt nod.

And Clark wants to thank him. He will. It’s just.

“It can’t be… cool,” he says, inane. Bruce is watching him with that steady look that used to feel clinical, piercing, and now mostly reads as attentive. “It can’t be—like yours. Tactical, military-grade.”

“Lightyears beyond, actually.”

“It has to—Ma said once, a kid should be able to draw it with crayons. You know? I can’t look like a weapon. I have to—I want to look like a friend.”

He can feel himself flushing. It’s rare that he speaks like this, and rarer still that he does so while being stared at intently. Bruce may think of himself as the darkness, but his gaze is a spotlight: unwavering and revealing and more a little sweat-inducing, for one reason or another.

“Sometimes, when I show up, people laugh,” Clark says. “If it’s somewhere out of the way, where they haven’t seen me before. I show up and I look like a festival performer. It’ll be the worst day of their lives, and they’ve got no reason to trust my face, but when they see what I’m wearing—it goes from ‘Who are you?’ to ‘Who is this guy?’ And that’s a good thing.”

“Hard to be afraid of a man dressed in primary colors,” Bruce says, almost to himself.

“Exactly.”

“I see. Thank you,” he says, “for explaining.”

Clark tries not to show how surprised he is to hear that. Judging by the crook of Bruce’s mouth, his success is negligible. “Of course. Sorry I didn’t—I mean, thank you, obviously, for going to such trouble. I didn’t mean to come in here and—I really do appreciate it, I can tell you put a lot of work in—”

Bruce’s eyes cut away. “No. No need. I didn’t ask, before I…. It was only a first draft. If you’re amenable, I’ll incorporate your feedback into the second one.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yes, of course, but you really don’t have to—”

“If you have any further notes, I would like to hear them.”

There’s something determined in the lines of his face. Clark has the sense that this moment is important, that it’s a turning point, even if he’s not sure why. It feels like striking out into a sea of ice, a blank white expanse under which something precious and vital is hidden, has been hidden all along, just waiting for him to find it. To want to.

“Sure,” he says. He looks back at the suit and swallows, and knows Bruce will see the flicker of his throat and take some meaning from it, and wishes he knew what the meaning was. Or maybe Bruce won’t notice or read into it at all. Maybe Clark needs to calm down, in fact. “Um. I don’t want to assume, but does it… do things?”

“It does things,” Bruce confirms, after the barest pause. “Let me show you the next slide.”

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Nobody Important

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you first meet Logan you tell him you’re nobody important. But it soon becomes clear you are a lot more important than you say. 

Disclaimer: Contains descriptions of nightmares, couple of swear words, being drugged (nothing bad, just some chamomile tea). Mostly fluff moments with a hint of angst. I watched X-Men and wanted to write something for him. Reader has powers though they're not specified fully. Not Proof Read.

When Charles told Logan someone was going to pick him up from the airport, the last person he expected was, well, you. 

Compared to the pristine and fancy cars that were held at the school garage, you pulled up in a beat up old station wagon that looked like it had seen more than a couple of scratches in its time. And you weren’t dressed…like the rest of them. 

Rather than in some kind of pant-suit combo, you were wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, jeans, boots and a heavy brown leather overcoat. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” You began immediately as you stepped out onto the curb and rushed towards him. “I was at the back of the forest collecting some berries and lost track of time. Shall we get going?”

Logan looked you over. You seemed a lot more…energetic than he was. 

“Who are you?”

“Professor X sent me. To collect you. You are Logan, aren’t you?”

“That depends. Who are you?”

“Your ride to the school, unless you plan on walking for two hours in the freezing cold.”

Logan grunted and threw his bag into the backseat. You still hadn’t answered his question but the licence plate of your car matched that of the one Charles had told him to look out for. 

However, fifteen minutes into the drive, Logan asked once more. “Who are you?”

You smiled and looked at him for a moment before moving your gaze back to the road ahead. “Nobody important.”

“Okay, fine. What are you?”

You smiled again. “Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“Alright, listen bub-”

“Logan, whatever information about me you think you’re gonna have me tell you; it’s not gonna happen. I work with Charles and that’s all you need to know.”

Logan furrowed his brows. “So you’re a telepath? Like him?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with what or even who I am. But,” you reached down and pulled a file from the driver's side door before turning it over on the steering wheel and handed it over to him. “You should concern yourself about this.”

Logan took it, a little confused, and opened it up. 

“He wants you to know what you’re walking into when we get back.”

After that, the rest of the drive was silent save for one question from Logan, only to have you reply with; 

“All the answers you’re looking for are either in there or are with the Professor.”

He didn’t bother asking you another question after that. Not that you would have answered it anyway. 

Once you finally did pull up to the school, it seemed you were beside him one minute and went the next into some unknown corner of the school because he didn’t see you after that. 

But he still had questions. 

Unanswered questions. 

Like who the hell were you? 

A week later, he still didn’t have his answers. But he did run into you again. 

In the kitchens. 

The entire place was a lot messier than the communal kitchen. It looked like some mix between a witches cottage and a mess hall in a school cafeteria. But it didn't smell as bad. 

Instead it smelt of cinnamon, oranges, rosemary and cookies. 

And somehow

It was relaxing to him. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Logan looked up to find you standing at the other end of the kitchen, a bowl under one arm and a spoon in the other. Flour was dusted across your face and your hands were splotched with food colouring stains. Which matched the batch of rainbow coloured cookies behind you. 

“Err, no. I was just-”

“Here, sit. I’ll make you some tea.”

“I don’t really drink..tea.” 

Logan was still taking in the room. Every time he looked back to a spot, he found a new detail to it. Extra herbs, or ingredients, or even flowers. 

You smiled, placing down the bowl and spoon before moving across the kitchen to the simmering pot on the stove. 

“Here, try this.”

“Oh, I, uh-”

“Just drink it.” You sighed a little, with a light smile. Nobody would have to meet Logan to know he wasn’t a tea drinker. But he was also polite enough to accept a drink. 

And he did. 

“Is this where you work?”

You nodded, going back to the fresh batch of cookies you needed to start scooping out. 

“Do you usually work this late past midnight?”

You chuckled a little to yourself. “Sometimes. Mostly it’s because I think of a new recipe and want to try it out when no-one's gonna disturb me.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No. Plus, I heard you coming down the stairs. Figured it wouldn’t be long before you found another night owl.”

Logan grunted with a soft chuckle. “I don’t think it’s intentional being a night owl.”

You shrugged. “We all have our reasons.”

Logan nodded and took another gulp of his tea. If he thought he felt relaxed when he walked into the kitchen, he didn’t have a word for what he was feeling after the tea. 

“Hey, what’s in this tea?”

“Not much. Chamomile mostly.”

Logan nodded. But then something shifted. He was getting drowsy. Not relaxed. Not sleepy. Drowsy. 

“Hey, what did you put in this?”

Logan went to stand and repeat his question, but he was out like a light before he could finish. 

Logan, for the first time…ever, woke up slowly. From the light that came flooding in through his window, to slowly turning over and feeling the bones in his body crack just right to allow his joints to feel at ease, to not thinking a thing as his brain slowly turned back into gear. 

Then he jerked up. 

With a grunt, he looked around him. 

He was in his room. 

The last thing he could remember was your tea and the kitchen. 

Flinging the covers from him, he tore his way out of his room and down the hallways until he finally reached his destination. 

The Professor’s office. 

Walking inside, he found the situation entirely too calm. 

“Ah, good morning Logan. Glad to see you’re finally awake.”

“What the hell happened?” 

“You fell asleep. Y/n helped put you to bed before you collapsed on her kitchen floor.”

Logan turned at that moment to find you sat on the sofa by the window inside the office. 

“You.” Logan practically snarled. “You did something. What did you do?”

Logan approached you but where anyone else would have flinched, you didn’t. In fact, all you did was sit back further and smile up at him. 

“She didn’t do anything, Logan. You needed to sleep.”

Logan turned and looked at the Professor. “Don’t mean I have to be drugged.”

Then you stood. “It was just a little tea, Logan. The more exhausted you are, the faster and harder it works. But now you look more rested. Your skin looks less like you’ve been thrown into a washing machine for a couple spins.”

“Are you always this blunt?”

You smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Ain’t nothing charming about this conversation, doll.”

“Really? Because I’m finding this thrilling.”

Professor X smiled. “Okay, that’s enough, you two.”

“She started it!”

You just smiled again. “You’re welcome. If you ever need more tea, you know where to find me.”

With a pat to his arm, you walked past him and said your goodbyes to the professor before heading for the door. 

“Don’t worry about it, you can keep your tea.”

“Have to admit, though. I did help.”

Internally, reluctantly, he did have to. Because despite everything, it was one of the best nights of sleep he’d ever had. 

Another week rolled by and despite Logan doing everything he could to avoid the woman that he still considered had drugged him to sleep, he seemed to see more of you. 

Turns out, you taught cooking and baking classes to the students so they could at least make themselves a decent meal every once in a while instead of quick ramen noodles. And you also taught outdoor survival skills which Xavier had Logan help sub in with. 

But this also meant, much to his chagrin, Logan was actually starting to like you. 

Rather than wanting to storm off in the other direction, he wasn’t annoyed by your presence in the room anymore and you definitely had a way with teaching a group of rowdy teenagers who would rather do anything other than learn normal “camp” things. 

It was actually entertaining watching you teach your students. And even he learnt a thing or two.

Another week passed and Logan found himself back in your kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island, watching you as you lent one palm on the counter top, a pencil between your teeth and two pens behind one of your ears. 

“Want some tea?” You asked him after a few minutes of content silence. 

“Are you going to drug me again?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s store bought, Logan. I just added a couple extra things.”

“Really, like what?”

Sighing, with a slight smirk, you turned around and pulled the box of tea from the cabinet before throwing it at Logan from over your shoulder. “Read it. It tells you what to add.”

“They actually sell this stuff?”

You turned back to your messy notebook with a smile. “It helps when your grandmother worked in the tea business for forty years. All the tricks of the trade, passed down through generations.”

Logan watched you work- no, dance around the kitchen. You didn’t even have to look at what you were doing and before he knew it, there was another tea in front of him, in a glass mug with hand-painted roasting logs on it. 

Logan looked at it for a moment and then you spoke up, without looking in his direction. “Being a night owl means different hobbies can be created. Glass painting was one of them.”

Logan shrugged with a nod before drinking his tea. The effects weren’t as quick or as “violent” as the first time. Instead, it was calming, then relaxing, then just plain and simple tiredness. 

“Go to bed, Logan. Before you crash into my floor again.”

“How did you get me to bed the last time? I’m not exactly all flesh and blood.”

You shrugged. “I’m stronger than I might look to you. But, go to bed, Logan.”

“Will you?”

“Will I do what?”

“Go to bed, too?”

You turned and faced him. “Soon. I want to finish this up first.”

“What are you even doing?”

“New recipe. I shouldn’t be long. Look, I promise. Twenty minutes, I’ll be in my bed, fast asleep.”

Logan raised his brow for a moment but then stood. If he waited any longer, he might actually crash onto the floor again. 

“Okay, fine.”

And you stuck to your word. Logan heard your footsteps coming up the stairs less than ten minutes later and after that…he didn’t remember much other than just complete calmness and sleep. 

The next couple of nights followed the same pattern. And even if he still wasn’t a tea drinker, Logan was growing a (small) taste for it. 

Until one night he walked in and found you stood in the corner, changing your t-shirt. 

You already wore a cami top underneath most of your t-shirts anyway – especially in the kitchen, but your first one had gotten too messy. So you were safe when changing. Except, you hadn’t expected Logan to walk in when he did. 

He paused for a minute by the door, a little apprehensive to make himself known but also trying to do so, so it wouldn’t seem like he was just watching you change your top t-shirt. But at the same time, he didn’t want you to know he was standing there because he could finally look at you. 

More so, when he saw your shoulder. 

From your left shoulder spread and faded over the top and to your right, a mark similar to a burn. The skin was scarred, yet healed over. A forgotten memory. The strap of your top cut through the larger scar that ran directly across the middle of the scarred skin, almost in a wave. Parts were redder than others but you didn’t seem to be in pain as you pulled the t-shirt over the top of your head and down your body, covering it back up. 

Logan coughed as he entered and you turned around, greeting him as you did every night. 

“New recipe?”

You nodded, looking at the messy t-shirt in your hand. “Yeah, it didn't go over too well with the mixer.”

“Better luck next time.”

And then you both just…talked. 

You were slowly telling him a little more about yourself each night, even if you didn’t know it yet. 

“I just remember being thrown into the wall and waking up like an hour later, completely covered in green brownie batter.”

You both laughed as you told him the story, but then he asked. 

“Is that where the scar is from? On your back?”

It was almost as if you had forgotten about it, having to take a moment to realise what he was talking about.

“Oh, that. No, that…that’s nothing important.”

Logan knew to drop his line of questioning. If you said it was nothing important, then there was no way of getting you to talk about it. 

Until the day he found you napping on the sofa. 

Everyone was outside for the day considering it was winter break and fresh snow had finally fallen on the ground. Except, you had opted to stay inside, and fell asleep on one of the central sofas in one of the quieter communal areas. 

The large windows let a lot of natural light flood in, and the fire that was crackling away in the fireplace was enough to heat the room, especially when the door was closed. 

And it wasn’t long before the quiet hum of the fire and odd crackle of the wood, mixed with the heat and your lack of sleep, overtook you and you fell asleep. You didn’t even wake when your book dropped from your hand and onto the floor. 

“Hey, Y/n, they’re all-”

Logan stopped in his tracks when he saw you. 

Fast asleep. 

He was careful to remain quiet as he walked over to you, cutting between you and the coffee table to pick up your fallen book and place it safely onto the table, where he sat on the edge and took a minute to just…memorise you. 

Since he met you, you had done nothing but be moving. All the time. From the crack of dawn to nightfall, you were constantly going and running and teaching and baking and doing and…hell, for all he knew, you could be something other than mutant or human – even those two needed sleep at some point. 

Hell, even he needed sleep. 

But you were just constantly forever going. 

Lay on your left side, your elbow tucked under your head, you were lightly snoring. Logan brushed the stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face, away, his hand rested on your cheek for a moment, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone for a second. 

You were fast asleep. 

Your worn Beatles band-tee was twisted slightly around your middle, whilst the waist of your jeans had twisted in the opposite direction a little, leaving a small gap that showed Logan the redness from the indent marks of where you had been lay, probably, on your other hip for a while. 

Logan thought about covering you up, and leaving you where you were, for a moment. But he also knew you could be like him when it came to sleep. And it was best to get it when you could. So, rather than chance the kids coming back in and waking you up, he made a decision. 

You flinched a little in your sleep as he spoke to you and lifted you from the sofa. It wasn’t long before he found your room and laid you into bed before covering you up. 

Once more, he brushed the hair from your eyes as you turned onto your side again. 

He looked around for a moment before finding what he was looking for. 

A heavy blanket. 

He lay it over the top of your bedcovers and you, before moving across the room to light the fireplace. 

Only, as he did so and placed the fireguard in front, you whimpered. 

He turned around but you were still. 

Then you whimpered again. 

“No,” you whispered. 

Logan moved over to you quickly and quietly as he could. You fell silent again. 

He let out a small breath and covered you up a little more before leaning down. He didn’t know why, but he pressed a small kiss to your temple before walking away. 

Except you reached out for his hand. 

Logan looked down at his hand that was connected with yours, then to you. You were still asleep. 

But it didn’t look like it was a good dream. 

You were shaking. Your entire body seemed to be paralysed with fear, all the while you were mumbling words Logan just couldn’t quite make out. 

Then the glass of water by your bed started shaking. Then the table it was on. Then your bed. Then the floor. Whatever was happening to you was spreading throughout your room. 

A picture that had been hanging on the wall outside, fell to the floor. 

Quickly turning back to you, Logan took hold of your shoulder. He kept calling your name but it was like you couldn’t hear him. 

“Please…please don’t hurt them. Please.” You screamed and then grunted in pain. Whatever was happening in your nightmare, you were being hurt. Badly. 

“Hey, Y/N! Hey, you’re okay! You’re safe! You’re in New York. You’re at school! It’s not real, Y/N. None of it is real.”

Your head shifted. You were searching. 

“I’m right here. None of it is real. You need to wake up.”

“L…Logan?” 

The violent shaking in your room slowed for a moment.

He was shocked. Maybe…

“Just follow my voice. It’s just a nightmare. I can’t get into your head and bring you out. Just…follow my voice.”

The shaking around your room gradually slowed, but you still were. Then your eyes opened. 

And glowed. 

They were still your eyes just…brighter. 

“Logan?!”

He had stopped speaking. You were panicking. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.” Logan took hold of your hand and held it tighter. “You’re safe.”

The shaking slowed and your eyes closed again. 

Then everything stopped. 

Everything went silent. 

Logan looked at the glass of water beside your bed. It was like it had never moved. 

Then you gasped and shot up from your bed. You kicked your legs and brought your hands behind you to push yourself up and the covers from you. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey, Y/n. Hey,” 

You were gasping for breath, dizzy from your nightmare. 

“Hey, it’s me. Whoa. Hey, look at me. It’s Logan.”

He took you by your shoulders then your face. 

“It’s Logan.”

You finally calmed a little, and he watched your eyes search his entire face until you finally recognised him. 

“Logan,” you breathed. 

“Yeah…”

Your shoulders relaxed and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. His hand held the back of your head and his other round your back, pressing you further into him. He could still feel your body trembling. 

“What happened?”

“You had a nightmare.” Logan told you. “The room started shaking and I tried waking you up.”

You took a couple of breaths before moving back and pushed the hair from your face and curled your legs up closer to your chest. 

Logan, sat beside them, placed one of his hands on your knee and the other in your right hand. 

“What happened?”

You shook your head. “Nothing-”

“The entire room started shaking and your eyes glowed. That’s not ‘nothing important’, Y/n.”

You swallowed and nodded your head before dropping your gaze and shifting until you were sat up, crossed-legged. 

Logan remained where he was, sat on the edge of your bed. 

“Before I worked as a teacher and cook here, I was one of them.” The last four words came out slowly, almost like you had to convince yourself you were saying them out loud. “I was an X-Man. I was a part of the team.”

“So what happened?”

“The usual. A mission gone wrong.”

“And that’s what the nightmares…”

You nodded. “It was the mission that made me retire. They needed me to do a job, and I couldn’t do it. There were kids, mutants, being held captive. Some rich dick thought he could duplicate mutants. As the team went it, I was meant to be holding ground outside, helping them find their way through. Only, I didn’t shut off my power. We knew they had someone who could detect me if I didn’t. I got so focused on trying to find the kids, trying to make sure the team got to them that the team almost…”

You paused for a minute. You hadn’t told anyone this story. Ever. 

Logan took your hand. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You let Logan’s touch soak into your skin. A memory you’d never forget yet never truly remember why you never would forget. 

“They almost died, Logan.” You looked at him and he could see the tears behind your eyes, threatening to come forward and fall again. “Everyone almost died, because I didn’t shut it down. You asked about the scar, the one on my back?”

Logan nodded. He didn’t like where this was going. 

“It’s from that day. One of their scientists had set off some kind of power..thing. Sent me flying blocks away from where I was supposed to be. I crash landed into some old wooden panelling which knocked me down. But once I got up…their Superhuman had found me.”

“Was he the one that-”

You nodded, remembering it as if it was yesterday. “I was thrown, this time on my front. I tried to get up but then all I felt was pure fire. He was burning me. Giving me a reminder of why ‘someone like me, born with the powers of gods’ shouldn’t have them when I was clearly so ‘weak’. By the time he stopped, I realised where he was going. And by the time I got up, everything just…blew up.”

“Y/n, everyone’s safe. You’re all here. Don’t you teach some of those kids?”

You nodded. “Doesn’t mean I don’t forget that feeling. One of the kids had been watching the guards, tracking their materials to find a way out. If they hadn't done that…they wouldn’t have gotten out, Logan. And they almost didn’t. All because I couldn’t fight. I can’t be the reason why I lose my family and the people I love.”

The tears came forward now, streaming down your face at an unstoppable speed. 

“I just can’t.”

Logan shook his head, pushing himself closer to you to hold you. And you let him. Leaning into him, you felt his arms grow tighter around your body. There was a small security in his arms, one that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“None of that was your fault.” Logan told you. “I know you and I know this team. You would never intentionally hurt people. And forgetting to turn your powers off? We’ve all made mistakes in moments like that. Sometimes you get so focused on one person, you tend to lose all sense of self. But none of that was your fault. They got out. They’re all here. They’re all alive. And rich dick is spending his life as dust in the fucking wind.”

“Believe me, I’ll be the first to tell you changing your feelings on something won’t stop the nightmares.” Logan continued. “But you need to find a way to let it go. Don’t let them control you. Not when you won. Not when you’re here, with everyone, able to drug me with some store bought tea.”

You laughed a little at that, wiping your tears away before Logan did the same thing, brushing his thumb underneath your eye and across your cheek. Logan smiled a little. Others might have called it a muscle flex, but knowing Logan; it was a small, brief smile. 

“Don’t let them win.”

You nodded, your head still in his hands. 

“Logan? Will you…Can you stay?”

It seemed to take Logan a second to find his answer. What you couldn’t see was that most of that time, he was trying to figure out why his answer came as fast as it did for him. 

“You don’t-”

“I can stay.”

You looked up at him and nodded with a slight smile. 

Moments later, Logan had kicked his shoes off and was lying beside you in bed. 

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

You took his hand that lay between you both and turned your head to look at him. 

“Thank you for staying.”

It was his turn to turn his head and when he did, he felt something. The same feeling he’d been getting since the day you gave him his first cup of tea. 

Logan just nodded before lifting his arm. “Come here.”

You moved closer to him as he lifted the covers a little so you could do so. Then he dropped his arm around your back, his palm flush against its centre before it slid a little lower to hold you by your waist. 

As your head settled close to his chest, he dropped his head a little, leaning his jaw against the top of your head and as he felt you relax and close your eyes, he did the same thing. 

The moment your breathing became even, and he knew you were asleep, Logan settled back down and held you just a little tighter against him as he closed his eyes and joined you in a dreamless sleep. 

Hours passed and Charles hadn’t seen either you or Logan in hours. But when he spotted a picture frame that had fallen onto the floor, just outside of your room, he sped as quickly as he could down the hall, but paused when he saw the door open and a sight he didn’t think he’d get to witness for at least a few more months. 

From the hallway, Charles peered in to find the snow falling heavily outside of your window. The children and other teachers were still outside playing. The fire had died down a little, but even he could feel the heat from the room. 

And in the middle of the left hand wall through the door, was your bed. 

Where yourself and Logan slept soundly, almost as one. With your face and hand on his chest, and his arm around your waist, whilst his other hand held onto your arm in a soft grip, keeping your hand on him. 

Xavier could practically feel the serenity oozing from the pair of you. He knew Logan was troubled and that you yourself hadn’t felt safe or content in a long time. 

And he would never have to tell Logan of the change you brought to him, or the one he brought to you. The change that helped you feel safe again, content again. Happy again. Without the added feeling that something was about to go off kilter. 

Because Logan already knew. 

And so did you. 

And for Logan, no matter how many times you would tell him you were “nobody important”, you would always be important to him. 

[charliemwrites]

Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[disaster-writer]

Tear You Apart (Prequel)

Pairing: Dabi x Reader x Shigaraki

Summary: Before you had found out who had been drugging you, Dabi had invited Shigaraki to come and watch one of these occasions

Word Count: 3.6k

Rating: X 18+

Warnings: Dark fic, smut, noncon, drugging, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masochism… dead dove: do not eat

A/N: This is a prequel, read the first part here —>

Tear You Apart (Part 1)

Dabi took a long drag on the cigarette that hung loosely from his fingers before blowing out, the smoke billowing in front of him.

He looked over lazily at the male companion he sat with at the bar.

”You like her~” he lilted, mocked even, watching Shigaraki stare over his shoulder at the pretty woman that sat in the booth in the back all by herself.

”Like who?” He asked, not bothering to look away.

It made Dabi scoff, “Don’t play dumb, makes you look like a fuckin’ idiot.” He muttered, taking another drag.

It was odd being trapped in this limbo, not knowing what the fuck to do as the days passed, waiting for Shigaraki’s master to tell them what to do next.

But at least some of the fuckers in the league were out searching for recruits for once and the ones that weren’t were already asleep.

It was just Dabi and Shigaraki.

And you all alone in the back.

”She’s falling asleep,” Shigaraki idly commented, watching your eyes fluttering shut and then open every few seconds.

Dabi looked over his own shoulder. 

You were falling asleep.

He then looked at your drink that you completely drained.

”She had two drinks tonight,” Dabi offered as an explanation.

”She doesn’t drink alcohol. They’re mocktails.”

Dabi sucked on his teeth, “Someone pays attention, huh?” he taunted.

It pissed him off how much Shigaraki paid attention to you. Dabi was never fond of sharing.

”She said she used to be an alcoholic,” he added.

He may as well have been removing the staples from his seams and peeling the flesh back himself with how deeply he was getting under his skin.

”Or it’s just fuckin’ late, speaking of which, maybe you should go to sleep too. Huh Shiggy? Heard we had another long day of doing fuck all.”

Dabi needed him gone, he was already cutting into his schedule for the night by hanging around, staring at you.

”We have a meeting in the morning,” he muttered into his shoulder. His unwavering eyes never leaving your huddled form, curled up in the booth. “Someone should take her to her room.”

”And by someone I’m sure you’re talking about yourself, huh?” He muttered, stubbing out his cigarette in the ash tray, “Wanna try touching little miss ‘can’t touch me’ don’t’cha.”

”She has clothes on. It wouldn’t hurt.”

”Just trying to cop a feel then?”

Shigaraki didn’t respond.

Dabi tapped the bar impatiently, he was really starting to get on his nerves. 

Fuck— why didn’t you just go to your fucking room before falling asleep like last time. 

He guessed he was lucky that more people weren’t around, at least he knew Shigaraki’s thoughts were just as depraved as his… actually he wouldn’t put it past the fucking creep to think up even more disgusting shit than he does.

Dabi looked back over his shoulder.

You were asleep.

Shit.

You drank a lot of that shit tonight, the pineapple juice he spiked being the base of both drinks. He’d be lucky if he was able to get you coherent at all.

He looked at Shigaraki and he was still just fucking staring.

Dabi needed a plan to get you into your room.

Ah, fuck it.

Dabi turned back towards the bar, fingering the rim of his own empty glass.

”I slipped her something.”

At that Shigaraki was looking at him for the first time the entire night.

”Why?” 

He didn’t seem put off, just curious.

Fuckin’ perv.

“I conducted a little experiment of mine the other night and I wanted to do it again.”

”What was it?”

”I wanted to see what would happen if I touched her.”

Shigaraki eyed him. Dabi looked fine and he had listened in on some of your own depressing stories growing up, like how your mother stabbed herself to death in front of you after you touched her or how you watched a dog ram it’s head against the side of a building until it died, after you tried petting it as a child.

He didn’t remember Dabi going through any bizarre episodes like that.

“What happened after you touched her?” 

Dabi looked up from his glass, looking right into those little beady red eyes of his, “I fucked her.”

“How?” He breathed out, curiosity bleeding from the single word.

He started scratching his neck.

“Come with me and I’ll show you.”

”Okay.”

Dabi stood up, hands shoved in his pockets as he made his way over to your curled up body, sleeping with your head against the wall.

He slid in beside you as Shigaraki stood off to the side awkwardly.

”Hey, crybaby,” Dabi hummed. He grasped your shoulder, pulling you to lean on him instead.

You didn’t even hum, still fast asleep.

Fuck, you were really out of it tonight. But you were so pliable right now he couldn’t be too stressed.

”Crybaby?” Shigaraki asked.

A knowing smirk painted Dabi’s lips, “You’ll find out.” 

There was no point spending time right now trying to wake you, so instead he slipped back out of the booth, managed to pull you towards the end before hooking an arm under your knees and around your back, lifting you out of the booth.

”Let’s go,” Dabi muttered to Shigaraki as he began walking towards your room.

Shigaraki followed after, staring at your face as your head hung back with no strength to hold it up.

His cock stirred.

Reaching your room, Dabi shouldered the door open and Shigaraki shut it behind him.

Only a dim lamp was on, lighting up the room.

Shigaraki didn’t look around, he didn’t need to. There had been more than one occasion he had slipped inside while you were out quirk training, to lay in your bed… to touch himself while surrounded by your scent and the things you’ve touched with those wonderfully destructive hands of yours.

Dabi walked over to your bed, laying you down flat on your back, seating himself between your legs, dragging his hands over your clothed hips and thighs.

“Sit down or something,” Dabi snapped at Shigaraki, “I don’t need you looming over my shoulder like a fuckin’ creep.”

”I want to see you touch her.”

”You can do that from the floor you freak.”

He sat down, a bit too close for his liking but Dabi let it be. 

Dabi leaned over you, raising his hand and smacking your cheek a couple times. “Time to wake up crybaby.”

Shigaraki watched in curiosity, Dabi didn’t seem to be in any pain from touching your cheek. “Did that hurt?”

”Yeah,” Dabi grinned, watching your heavy eyelids trying to peel back, “It fuckin’ hurts all right.”

You groaned, deep in your throat as your head lolled to your shoulder. “Da… Dabi…” you murmured, trying to focus your tired eyes on him.

“That’s right baby, enjoy your nap?— hey, no“ he smacked your cheek again, harder this time as your eyes started drooping. “Look who’s joining us tonight,” he pushed your head to the side, making you look at Shigaraki.

Your face screwed up cutely, you were just so confused, “Sh.. Shh,” was all you managed to get out.

”I know,” he said condescendingly, “It’s a hard name to say. But that’s okay, you only need to know mine tonight.” He dragged his hand down, squeezing your tit and pulling out a surprised grunt from you. “Let’s get you out of these ridiculous clothes, always wearing this baggy shit.”

He pulled you up, holding up your dead weight as he started yanking your hoodie up, pulling it up and over your head, body slumping back down against the futon as it came off.

You had no bra on, leaving you in your gloves that you always wore and your sweatpants.

Shigaraki’s hand twitched as he eyed your tits.

”Ah, ah, ah,” Dabi tsked, noticing the movement from the corner of his eye, “Can’t touch remember.”

Shigaraki was getting annoyed, “Why can you?”

He ignored him, hooking his fingers into your sweats and panties, pulling them down your hips and legs until they flopped back down around him.

You groaned again.

Then came your gloves. 

And that woke you up— or at least as close you could come to waking up in this state.

”No, can’t,” you grunted, trying to pull your hands from Dabi’s grasp, “Can’t,” you whined louder.

“There you go,” Dabi sighed, pulling the second glove off, “Feel better without all those clothes?”

You were completely naked but Dabi had barely touched you, and it was pissing Shigaraki off, but he’d admit the sight of your perky nipples in the cool air did something to cool off the annoyance simmering deep within.

“Touch her,” he ordered.

Dabi raised a brow, looking at him for the first time since coming here, “You saying that as my boss?”

”Yes,” he hissed, starting to scratch his neck again.

”Fine. You got it boss.”

Dabi sighed, rolling his shoulders back. He pulled his jacket off, tossing it behind him before pulling his shirt off, tossing it at Shigaraki with a laugh who only decayed it without a word as it landed in his hand.

”Funny ain’t it?” Dabi asked, hovering above your sleepy face. He looked over to Shigaraki, “You can’t touch her because you’re both the same side of the same coin, but us,” he looked back down to you, nose almost brushing against your own, “We’re two sides of the same.” He dipped down, locking his lips with your own.

He groaned loudly against your mouth, a sharp, piercing pain erupting throughout his mouth, radiating outwards, needles being threaded in and out of his skin. They stabbed his eyes and eardrums.

It made his fucking cock throb and he needed more.

He licked into your mouth, swallowing all the little whimpers you emitted, panting into yours as he breathed through the pain.

His hands ached as they dragged along your sides feeling a sharp, stabbing pain as if two knives had been stabbed straight through his palms and he dragged them down, down, down.

You whimpered, body jolting in shock at the feel of him cupping your cunt.

You shook your head, pulling away from the kiss and looking to the side as your breathing began picking up.

Dabi started kissing down your neck instead.

Your eyes opened, looking all over the room before landing on Shigaraki.

His breath hitched as he watched you, hand slowly moving towards his crotch.

”What… What’s happenin’” you asked, staring at him with such large, watery puppy eyes.

Shigaraki stared at you, he had never seen an expression like this on you. Lost, vulnerable, seeking comfort, assurance. He started scratching harder. “Dabi’s going to show me how he fucks you, crybaby—“

Dabi tsked, “Come up with your own fuckin’ pet name.”

Your eyes lolled in your head, landing on the fluffy mane on Dabi’s head.

”How—“ you cut yourself off with a gasp, hips jerking.

Shigaraki’s eyes snapped down to where his hand disappeared between your legs. “What are you doing?” He asked impatiently, trying to inch forward and see what was going on, now grasping his cock through his pants.

Dabi dragged his lips up to your ear, “Shiggy wants to see how I make you feel good. You wanna show him your cute little pussy, show him how you cream around my fingers crybaby.”

Tears started falling, too overwhelmed by what was going on and not being able to grasp any of it.

He sat back up, leaning away from you but keeping his fingers inside. 

Shigaraki’s eyes widened, taking in every last inch of your perfect pussy, “Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth, shoving his hand into his pants watching as Dabi played with you. “Does it hurt inside?” He asked, not being able to keep the curiosity at bay. He often wondered, when he lay in your bed and stroked his cock, if the inside of your cunt would hurt as much as the outside must’ve.

”Fuck, yeah it does,” Dabi breathed, placing his thumb on your clit. “It’s like her pussy’s full of fuckin’ razor blades.”

Your hips jerked again at the sensitive little button being played with.

They both watched every little reaction you made with rapt attention. You wriggled weakly, attempting to get away as each whimper and sweet little moan climbed higher in pitch. Your fingers curled weakly against the bed sheets, head tilting back.

Shigaraki sucked in a breath. “I think she’s gonna—“

You were cumming, hips weakly humping the air, grinding against Dabi’s hand with every stutter.

”That’s it baby,” Dabi encouraged— patronized. His free hand stroking your hip. Shigaraki didn’t miss the way his hand twitched as he touched your skin. “Feels good don’t it?”

Your breathing was labored as you fell steadily from your orgasm.

Shigaraki stared intensely at the way your pussy clenched as Dabi dragged his fingers from you, covered in a shiny wet gloss, sticky strings connecting his fingers to your cunt.

”Let me taste.”

Dabi cocked his head towards Shigaraki, lifting a brow, “Finding loopholes already—?”

”Just let me taste,” he spat.

With a roll of his eyes, Dabi was reaching his hand out, to which a very eager Shigaraki shuffled forward. He grabbed Dabi’s wrist, lifting his pinky finger high in the air as he shoved his fingers into his mouth.

He sucked them clean, moaning at the taste. He had never tasted pussy before and it was intoxicating. He swirled his tongue around both digits, licking and sucking every last drop of your heady taste from his fingers.

”Alright,” Dabi scoffed, yanking his hand from Shigaraki mouth and tight grip, wiping his spit off on your futon,“I’m pretty sure you got it all.”

”Fuck her,” Shigaraki hissed through his teeth, smacking and licking his lips.

Dabi turned back to you, ”Hear that crybaby? Shiggy wants to see how I rail this pretty little pussy,” he started undoing his belt, “Ready to put on a show?”

You looked at him tiredly, eyelids drooping, watching but not really watching as he stood up and took off his pants. Your glassy eyes stared at his cock with no recognition behind them. 

You had no idea what the fuck was going on.

Realizing just how lost and weak you were had Shigaraki’s hands trembling as he undid his own pants to pull his cock out, gripping it the only way he alone ever has.

Dabi may have been able to touch you, why and how he may never know, but Shigaraki understood you in a way he never could.

You and him were one and the same.

Both his and your hands left a trail of carnage wherever you two went.

He barely registered Dabi moving, situating himself in a new position to fuck you silly, Shigaraki was too enraptured by those lost, glassy eyes. 

He could’ve gotten off to that look alone. He would’ve if it wasn’t for Dabi’s annoyingly raspy voice pulling him from his thoughts.

”If you wanna last more than two minutes, you may wanna slow down there boss-man.”

Shigaraki tsked in response.

Dabi was laying himself beside you, gripping your waist and turning you onto your side. He was acclimating to the pain, the sharp, stabbing sensations you caused to wrack throughout his body and make his head spin was dying down.

He was ready to take more of the punishing sensations only you could give him.

He pressed his chest flush against your back, causing another pleasantly painful thrum throughout his body, making his cock twitch against your ass.

He was hooking his hand behind your knee, opening you up, spreading you open with one leg raised in the air baring you so Shigaraki could see every detail, complete and undeniable proof that he was the only man that could fuck you like this.

Complete and undeniable proof that you belonged to him.

And if he was going to put on a show then he was going to make sure it was a worthwhile watch.

He bent his knee, hooking your leg over his as he lined himself up with your cunt. The sensitive tip against your gummy hole felt like a needle was being shoved through it.

He looked down at you, your glassy eyes stared at Shigaraki.

He grabbed you by your cheeks and turned your head, “Eyes on me,” he grunted, staring down at you as he lifted your leg again.

His heart started pounding against his ribcage as he remembered what happened the last time he shoved his cock deep inside you. The way he came without any ounce of self control, as if your cunt knew exactly what it wanted.

He stared down at your teary eyed face and sucked in a breath.

He drove his hips forward in one fluid motion, completely sheathing himself inside you, pushing past the resistant muscles in your cunt.

You cried out at the sudden pain and intrusion as Dabi shook and trembled beside you, hips spasming before stilling, emptying his balls into you.

”Ah—fuck,” he groaned raspily into your ear, pain and pleasure blending into one full bodied sensation, rendering him completely useless as he fell to the mercy of your cunt.

His head was hazy, barely registering a single fucking thing Shigaraki was going on about. 

He was done for if you ever figured out how much power your pussy had over him. He never wanted to be in another cunt ever again.

His eyes started focusing on your face once more, reveling in the tears that streamed down your cute little cheeks, and the way your pouty lips blubbered with sobs. 

He dipped down, meshing his lips with yours in another bruising kiss, drool leaking between your lips as you continued to cry into his mouth.

Dabi lifted your leg again, high into the air as he started shallowly thrusting, overstimulated and already starting to get hard, your unforgiving cunt barely giving him a chance to think clearly between orgasms.

He shoved his tongue down your throat, messily licking and moaning into your mouth.

Dabi completely forgot about Shigaraki practically kneeling over him, getting as close as he possibly could to the futon you were both on.

He was staring— leering at the point you two were connected. He watched as Dabi’s cock disappeared and reappeared inch by inch in your greedy cunt, Dabi’s creamy white seed gushing out of you the more he pumped his cock inside.

Shigaraki had to grip the base of his cock tightly so he wouldn’t cum too soon.

Dabi slowly started to increase his pace as he started to somewhat regain some of his bearings.

Fuck— the sounds.

Shigaraki moaned pitifully, leaning forward on one hand as the other matched the pace of Dabi’s thrusts on his own cock, listening to the wet slaps of skin on skin. 

If he focused hard enough he could imagine it was him that was fucking you, getting ready to blow his load in your tight cunt instead.

There was blood, tinting the white mess pink.

”’M gonna cum,” Shigaraki choked out at the sight, “‘M gonna cum on her.”

Dabi released your mouth, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. “Wait til ‘m done.” He grunted, “You better fuckin’ hold it.”

”I’m your boss remember?” He hissed, stroking his cock faster, “I give the orders.”

”When you can put your crusty fuckin’ dick in her without keeling over, then you can give all the fuckin’ orders you want. She’s mine.”

It would have been so easy to reach a hand out and touch Dabi— watch him decay before his eyes.

But given the circumstances and the fact that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to touch you the way Dabi could, he didn’t.

Now that he had this he couldn’t just go back to watching you around the LOV base— he couldn’t go back to only touching himself in your bed while you were out.

A particularly loud moan escaped you as Dabi angled his hips.

”Fuck, that it crybaby? That feel good?” He grunted, full attention back on you now.

He started fucking into you harder, jackhammering his cock against your g-spot.

Yours, Dabi’s, and Shigaraki’s moans and grunts bounced off the walls of the room along with the slick sounds of his cock thrusting in you to create a lewd cacophony. 

You were suddenly shaking and crying harder than before, digging your nails into the futon.

Dabi threw his head back and cursed, fucking you through your orgasm as you squeezed his cock like a vice.

Shigaraki nearly came as you squirted all over the futon.

Dabi was cumming soon after, adding more to the mess between your legs. 

The moment he came down from his own high he was pulling out in seconds, the feeling of you too intense and overstimulating now that he came twice.

”’M gonna cum on her face,” Shigaraki moaned, shuffling upwards, kneeling above you with his cock shoved inches from your face.

You stared up at him all teary eyed and lost, panting and shaking from your climax.

Seeing you part your lips, trying to say his name was all he needed to cum. White strings of sticky seed painting your pretty face and hair as his vision went white.

Refocusing his eyes he found the depraved scene before him.

It was enough to make his cock twitch again.

You sniffled, laying there covered in both his and Dabi’s cum 

“I want to touch her, how do you do it,” he panted, continuing to stare at your cum covered face.

”You don’t,” Dabi grunted, shaking beside you.

He grit his teeth. Both hands came up to scratch at his neck as he stared down at you with unforgiving eyes, watching you trembling before him. A hostility towards you and the body he couldn’t touch began growing deep within him.

”Then get it back up and fuck her again.”

”Whatever you say boss.”

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: While on deployment far away, Simon takes a little time one night to video call you and talk you through you touching yourself to the sound of his voice.

***I'm giving something new a go. This is strictly through Simon's point of view as if he is directly talking to you; he is the only one speaking***

Word Count: 5.6 k

Warnings:

The jingle plays repeatedly until the video call connects and the image of you pops up the screen, laying on your side propped on your elbow as you seem to be just waking up for the day. A few stray rays of sunshine creep in from the side of the picture and shimmer through the strands of your hair so that even in your sleepy, disheveled state you still look like a painting. Simon keeps his camera off for the moment, but his voice comes through clear as day over the speakers; the connection is actually decent this time around. 

“Well ‘ello there gorgeous. Surprised to hear from me? It’s been a fuckin’ minute, hasn’t it? I know it’s pretty early there, but I finally have a bit of time now that everyone’s asleep and I wanted to see ya.”

Simon keeps his voice low and hushed, trying not to draw attention to himself as he lays in his cot in the dark, the only light coming from the screen of his phone. His earbuds are plugged in so that he can hear everything with keen precision while keeping the others in his team from listening, just in case. 

“You been doin’ alright there, luv? Keepin’ it all togetha for me till I get back? I know this time it’s been a bit longer, but it ain’t gonna be forever. I’ll be back before ya know it and then you’ll have me all to yourself.”

There’s a look on your face, something he immediately notices. A glint in your eye, a twitch of the corner of your mouth, a shift of your body as you adjust yourself under the sheets. Your texts to him over the past week, wondering when he would have time to actually call, were getting more and more desperate sounding and now reading your body language through the camera he is able to put it all together.

“Somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart? Care ta tell me what it is? Or should I guess? Cause I think I ‘ave a pretty good idea ‘a what’s goin’ on.”

He watches you bite your lip as you look away, a heat blossoming in your cheeks that flushes throughout your face. There it is, the sign he’s looking for. There’s only two reasons why your cheeks flush like that and you aren’t known to be drinking this early in the morning.

“Are ya missin’ me real fuckin’ bad, is that it?”

You look back up into the camera and give a distinct nod. He understands it well, as he has been pining for you since the day he left. That’s the other reason he has been trying to find time to make this call: he’s been missing his girl real fucking bad and needs some special time with you and only you, even if it’s just for a short video chat now that he is on the tail end of his assignment and he doesn’t have to put as much focus into his work.

“Trust me, you ain’t the only one, sweetheart. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been able to fuckin’ see ya and there’s things I’ve been missin’ too: that pretty face a yours, wakin’ up next to ya layin’ in bed, the sound of your hummin’ comin’ from the kitchen as ya make breakfast…”

He trails off a moment with his thoughts as he lowers his voice until it’s barely above a whisper, leaning his lips into the microphone built into his headphones just in case any stray ears are listening in. Simon thought he’d be able to get through a bit of small talk before starting in on this stuff, but it seems like your need for each other cannot be contained once you’re in proximity. 

You get him riled up without even trying. He clears his throat and continues the thought. 

“...and if I’m real honest, I’ve been missin’ other things too. The more intimate things like you naked underneath me, the sensation of your legs wrapped ‘round my waist, makin’ those sweet little sounds whenever I hit the right spot. It’s been fuckin’ eatin’ me alive out here, not been able to take care of it. I swear every goddamn time I’m away from ya it’s like I can’t help thinkin’ about ya nonstop. Can ya blame me? I mean, look at ya, luv. You’re a goddamn dream. Christ, I’ve been gettin’ hard just thinkin’ ‘bout what I’m gonna do to all those gorgeous curves the fuckin’ minute I get back.” 

He can hear your already staggered breathing hitch and it makes him smile; it’s cute the way you are always so down bad for him. Just bringing up a few stray thoughts and a mention of his cock and you are already burning. But maybe you were burning a little before that too.

“That’s what you’re missin’ too, yeah? Havin’ me there with ya, doin’ what we do best? Ya don’t have to tell me, I know my sweet girl gets fuckin’ needy when I’m not ‘round to keep her satisfied. From the way you keep messaging me, trust me I know. Bet it’s been fuckin’ lonely there all by yourself; betcha been achin’ for somethin’ to help ya get some relief. I know ya don’t like usin’ your toy all the time…Is that why ya wanted me to call?”

You stutter out some objections, hoping not to sound too desperate as you don’t want him to think that’s the only reason to answer his call. Simon isn’t bothered by it one bit; he can tell you need something to take the edge off. He can always tell… and he wants to help.  

“Ya don’t have to hide it from me, luv. It’s clear as fuckin’ day; I’m already makin’ ya flustered, I can hear it as ya talk. Don’t think I forgot whatcha told me a while back. How ya like the sound ‘a my voice. Ya said it makes ya wet. Is that what ya need now, baby? Need me to talk ya through it and help ya get off?”

You squirm again under the covers, clearly trying not to make it obvious that you are rubbing your thighs together. Simon has barely started the dirty talk and already your body is responding to him in that most primal way. Who is he to deny his sweet thing of what she needs? 

“Yeah, that’s what ya want, isn’t it? To listen to my voice while ya touch yourself? Cause I really fuckin’ wanna give my pretty girl some extra attention right now. Make sure she doesn’t go without me even when I’m away. And if this is the only way I can do it, I wanna make sure ya come. I need to hear it again ‘fore I forget what it sounds like when ya orgasm ‘cause of me.”

Goddammit, Simon’s getting worked up just from talking about helping you get off, so much so that his cock begins to twitch in his pants and he has to adjust himself in the bed with a deep, muted grunt, pulling at the fabric at his crotch to give him more room to grow. He watches you get more excited at the prospect of having his attention, even if it’s only for as long as it takes for you to climax. Any bit of his attention makes you feel like the most gorgeous thing in the entire fucking world and that’s why he gives it all to you.

“But I need ya to do somethin’ for me in return. Somethin’ to help me help you. Can ya do that for me, baby?”

He watches as you nod your head up and down into the camera with enthusiasm, not even waiting to hear what it is he is going to ask you to do. Clearly, you would do anything for him, all he has to do is name it. God, he loves you needy for him, let’s him know that he is treating you right.

“I need ya ta sit up, push your computer to the edge of the bed, and angle the camera down for me. Lower. A little more, that’s it. Good girl. Now, take off the blanket and let me see whatcha got hidin’ under there.”

The computer is pushed further away so that your body is in full view and the camera is now pointed directly into your lap as you remove the blanket hiding your lower half, complying without a single word. Once free, your tank top catches his eyes as it hugs tightly to your breasts while your tiny, cotton sleep shorts leave almost all of your thighs exposed; Simon is eating up every last pixel that he can see. 

Those thick, juicy lower limbs of yours are his absolute favorite and if he could be there now he would already be between them. This is definitely a good idea.

“Wanna be able to see that you’re enjoyin’ listenin’ to me. Ya want me to see it, yeah? Wanna show me how much ya miss me, don’t ya? Course ya do, sweetheart. You’re too fuckin’ good to me. Always makin’ sure I get my fuckin’ fill of such ya; my pretty girl.” 

Simon puts a little extra breathiness into his voice, accentuating his gravelly tone to make you blush like crazy as that wetness gathers at your core. He’s gonna pull out all the stops tonight to make sure that you will be content… at least for the next few days. 

“I think we need a bit more, yeah. Get a real good view. Take off your pants and spread your legs nice and wide for me. Let me see that beautiful little pussy that I’ve been dreamin’ of. Just like that. Little wider; there ya fuckin’ go. O-oh fuck, looks like you’re already drippin’ for me.”

The light catches a faint glistening from the slit between your satiny petals and he can hardly find the air to fill his lungs as his mouth begins to salivate. Acting off of pure instinct, your hand travels down between your legs and almost reaches your cunt before he comes to his senses and scolds the action by snapping his fingers into the mic. 

“Ah, ah, I know you’re achin’ bad, but no touchin’, not till I fuckin’ say. Does my voice turn ya on that much ya can’t even wait for me to really get it goin’? I’ve barely even started and you’re already unable to stop yourself. I wanna make this good for the both of us, but I can’t do that if ya get ahead of yourself. Just breathe a minute.”

An idea pops into his head, fueled by the intense throbbing in the crotch of his pants. He hadn’t thought that he would be getting involved like this, it is risky given his current situation, but his body is saying otherwise. There’s no stopping him when you are giving him such a feast for his eyes to devour.

“Maybe ya just need an incentive to take it slow. Somethin’ to keep your ass in line. I got somethin’ for that, baby.”

The metallic sound of a zipper being undone and a sharp hiss of air between his teeth is heard over the call before the camera is turned on. Simon points the phone at his face for a moment and pulls up his mask slightly to give you a quick smirk before bringing it down to rest on his thighs as he points it straight at his lap. Through the dimness that surrounds him, the focus adjusts and through the opening created at the top of his pants that big fucking dick comes into full view on screen. 

A rush of adrenaline floods his limbs as he hears you inhale sharply, a stray ‘fuck’ escaping your lips at the sight of it throbbing into the palm of his hand. It is swollen at the tip and jumps with his pulse.

“This is all for ya, darlin’; no one else gets to have this fat fuckin’ cock all to themselves, ‘cept you. Have ya missed it? Missed seein’ how fuckin’ big I am? Yeah ya have; I bet your droolin’ over yourself, aren’t ya? Mmm… my horny little princess, always so hungry for me. Are your lips itchin’ to wrap themselves ‘round it now that ya see it after all this time? You remember how well ya gag on it, yeah? My hand on the back of your head, pushin’ ya down as far as ya can go, your spit dribblin’ from the corners of your mouth, can hardly catch a breath as ya choke...”

Simon has to stop and reel himself back in or risk getting too worked up and he can’t take care of you if he’s out of his goddamn mind. That imagery has you quaking and he can see your body vibrating as you are itching to touch yourself and that’s when he knows exactly what he is going to do to get you off. Taking a deep breath he clears his throat, putting the control over himself to the forefront of his thoughts and starts again.  

“Well, if ya wanna keep seein’ it, I need ya to behave for me and follow my direction. You and I are gonna play pretend for a bit.”

Now more settled he gives his length a stiff stroke up and down slowly, making sure that the camera is glued to his movements. You can’t look away; those big doe-eyes are locked on as if you are wishing you could reach through the screen and touch him with any part of you that you could get to it first. It takes you a couple of minutes to notice anything other than the object of your desire, but as you look up Simon’s dark gaze meets yours through the shadow. 

“Ya like this, yeah? Me strokin’ my cock like this for you to watch? Ya know what’s gonna be even better? How fuckin’ good it’ll feel havin’ it buried deep inside ya again, fillin’ ya to the brim. Ya wanna be full of me again, don’tcha sweetheart? Come on, show me, use your fingers and let me see how much ya miss this fat fuckin’ cock stretchin’ ya out.”

You insert a finger through the lips of your pussy, thrust it inside your entrance, and begin rhythmically stroking against that sensitive bundle as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen to watch Simon stroking it right along with you. He gives you a minute to get started before he speaks again.

“That’s not enough if ya wanna pretend it’s me, pretty girl, I think ya need another two fingers in there at least.”

Simon is trying to stay calm, but it is taking every ounce of his willpower to watch you touch yourself and not immediately blow his load while grunting loudly at the feeling of coming so fast; still, he tries to keep his voice down so no one near can hear him. Slowly you insert another digit and then another so that your first three fingers are now resting just inside your hole, but again that isn’t enough for him. He wants to make this as real as he can. 

“Ya need to go deeper, all the way to the knuckles. Ya know I like to fuckin’ have it down to the base until ya can’t take another inch. Need this to be accurate, like I’m really there with ya.”

You comply, pushing up inside you until the entirety of your fingers are gone and you cannot get anymore in. Simon moans deep in his chest, pleased at how well you are following his orders. It takes some force, but the stroking of his hand sticks to a steady rhythm as he sets the speed for what’s to come. 

“Good girl, that’s it. Now slow it down, keep it steady, and listen to my voice, ya got it? We are gonna do this together. I want ya ta picture me crawling into bed and movin’ right up against ya. My hand turns your head towards me so I can start kissin’ those fuckin’ sweet lips of yours. So warm, so soft, the longer I kiss ya the more I need until I run my fingers through your hair so that I’m holdin’ the back of your head in my grip as I shove my tongue nearly down your throat. I’ve been starvin’ baby and soon I have our mouths pressed so tight together ya can hardly breathe. Just eyes closed, tongues tasting each other, gettin’ absorbed in the way they feel until our mouth’s are fuckin’ raw and burnin’. Only then do I start goin’ down your jawline and neck, so much deliciously smooth skin for me to taste.”    

The sound of tiny, breathy moans hits his ears and his heart thumps heavily in his chest. He hadn’t lied when he spoke about how he misses your music and the sound of it now has him in a goddamn stranglehold. Mix that with the live feed of you thrusting your fingers in and out of your tight hole as the natural lubrication starts to drip down your fingers with each stroke and he has to bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep himself sane.

“Gotta make sure you’re whinin’ and beggin’ me to give ya more before I move on. I’ll pull your top over your head so I can get at those gorgeous tits of yours. Fuck… gonna smother my face between them as I give them the care they need, kissin’ and bitin’ all that soft flesh to leave marks where I’ve been. Each one is gonna be in my mouth so I can use my tongue to flick ‘round your nipple as ya run your fingers through my hair to egg me on until ya can feel it in your clit.”

As he speaks he watches you fall back against the pillows and lift up your t-shirt to expose half of your chest. From this angle he catches a glimpse of the underside of one of your breasts, the edge of your nipple just within view before you cup it in your hand to massage the tissue against your palm and pinch the nipples as if you are trying to make his words come to life. 

“Can ya feel it baby? Can ya feel my hot fuckin’ mouth all over your tits? Christ, I swear I can taste them now; I want ‘em in my goddamn mouth so fuckin’ bad. Got my mouth waterin’.”

He has to swallow hard to stop himself from choking on his own saliva as his lips tingle, recalling the sensation of them against your skin as his hips begin to snap his cock up into his palm harder. 

“Ya know I’m gonna be so worked up that your not even gonna know what’s happening as I shove ya onto your back so that I can move down the bed and rip ya outta your fuckin’ pants. I need ya completely fuckin’ naked so that I can spread your thighs wide open. Gotta make sure I can get between them; wanna have plenty of space to play.”

Again you mimic his words, opening your already spread legs even wider the same way you’d have to do if he were to get in between them. If Simon’s heart thumps any faster it’s going to burst out of his chest; watching you act out this made up scenario is more erotic than he could have dreamed it would be.

“Imagine the feelin’ of my lips kissin’ up the length of those gorgeous thighs. With how much ya been missin’ me they’d already be so fuckin’ sensative that you’d be squirmin’ as soon as I make contact with my mouth. Maybe I’ll even give them a nibble, just for good measure. Ya always do look best wearin’ all my marks everywhere.”

His grip around his cock tightens as he listens close and catches your hummed reply before it sounds like your mouth falls open so that you moan a bit louder as your movements on screen begin to quicken and your hand switches positions to your other breast. Your fingers are starting to furiously pound into you, the pace picking up with each passing second as your desperation spills over at the sound of his voice describing all that fucking pleasure. But Simon is there to reel it all back in.

“Ah, ah, look up at me princess. Slow it back down there. That’s it, nice and steady for me. Don’t want this to be over too soon. Keep your eyes on my hand and follow my pace. We’re gonna get there together, alright?”

Picking your head up so that you can see the screen, your eyes focus on his hand and your strokes settle back to match his, though it does not go unnoticed how you do that little whimper of protest. It’s not easy being the bad guy in this situation, but Simon knows the more denial now, the harder you’ll come and the longer you’ll stay satisfied. And if there is one thing he will never stop doing is making sure his baby is satisfied. 

“You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, sweet thing. I promise we are almost there, just a bit more. Now, where was I? Oh yes, teasin’ those gorgeous thighs of yours. See I can’t move on until I’m happy with my work and I want those little red and purple blotches to be coverin’ all that pretty skin. Ya like when I claim ya like that? Makin’ it obvious that you’re mine? Anyone who sees that is gonna know that you’re bein’ taken care of.”

An open-mouthed moan and a nod of your head is all he’s getting now as you are too out of your mind to form words anymore at this point. Your half-lidded eyes gaze back at him as if you are trying to will him to come through the screen and pound you into the mattress; goddamn he’s going to fuck you so good when he gets back.

“Since I’ve decorated those beauties, I think they’ll need to be displayed and I can’t think of a fuckin’ better place than perched right on my shoulders. Besides, ya know what’s comin’ dontcha? That goddamn sweet little pussy has been callin’ to me since I got down there and now it’s finally time to give it the attention it deserves. Such a pretty thing, those soft petals of yours. You know I’m gonna have to give them a few kisses for good measure.”

Fuck, he wants to taste you so bad now the tastebuds along his tongue prickle as tries to capture that specific sweet, tangy taste in his memory. Why in the hell do you have to be so goddamn perfect?

“You will be pleadin’ with me, callin’ my name over and over until ya feel it. My warm tongue pushin’ itself against your lips and spreading them apart to move in between them. God, that first fuckin’ taste of ya is always my favorite, sweetheart…like goddamn honey. Gonna drag my tongue up the entire length of your cunt to make sure I get as much of ya in my mouth that I can. Then I reach your clit and that’s where I stay. I’ll be suckin’ and lickin’ to my hearts content while you buck against my face all you want; I like it when ya get rough with me. Nothin’ is gonna get me off of ya though, I got ya fuckin’ secured to my face with a tight grip that isn’t gonna let up no matter how ya move.”

The sound of you whimpering fills his ears and it makes his head feel like he’s floating. Your hips are bucking against your hand desperately and he knows you want to go a bit faster, but you are sticking to his set speed like a champ. He takes a couple of minutes to just watch you, wanting to etch this moment permanently in his brain, before he continues.

“I’m waitin’ for it, that moment ya go silent. That’s when I know it’s about to happen and I brace myself to feel your thighs crush against my head and block in my ears like a vice as ya come on my tongue. Do ya know how much I fuckin’ love when ya do that? Bein’ locked to your pussy like that, I would fuckin’ suffocate on ya and not even think twice. Keep me strapped to ya as long as ya want, baby, I’m gonna sit through it all until ya have nothin’ more to give to me. My tongue don’t tire easily, as ya already know.”

Your head falls back, but Simon can still hear you clearly repeating mindlessly your enjoyment of everything that he is talking about with moaned ‘yes’s and whined pleas to Jesus. 

“Can ya picture it? Me sittin’ back up, your cum all across my face? I will probably look like a wild beast with my mouth shimmerin’ and sticky, but I don’t fuckin’ care. Ya make me feral, so deranged that nothin’ else matters ‘cept you. Everything will go faster then: me gettin’ to my knees, pullin’ your hips onto my thighs as your legs still sit on my shoulders, my tip pressin’ against those damp petals covered in my spit and your cum. Eatin’ ya out gets me hard enough there’s no need to wait. Imagine the way it’ll feel when I’m pushing my tip through the threshold and stretching ya out completely. You’ll be cryin’ out as I help ya fit me all in…right down, all the way, fillin’ that cunt.” 

He’s panting now, the vision created in his mind so vivid that as he stimulates himself it feels too real. Of course his hand would never compare to your pussy, but with everything happening it is as if his brain is being tricked into believing that he is fucking you.

“Ya know I ain’t gonna waste anytime, not when I get ya wrapped ‘round me. It’ll be so wet and tight that I just begin poundin’ and poundin’ so hard that it has our bed squeakin’ underneath us from the fuckin’ force, slammin’ into the wall, makin’ your tits bouncing up and down as I go all in, your eyes waterin’ as get so fuckin’ deep it’s almost painful. Goddammit, baby, I want to see your eyes roll back in your head as it overwhelms ya.” 

His abs are clenching, simulating the act in real time as his limbs begin to feel heavy and the coil inside his stomach tightens. Heat is now rushing through his veins like hot water, making him warm from the inside out and it only fuels his imagination more.

“Or maybe I flip ya over and help ya up onto your knees, pullin’ outta only long enough to get ya situated holding onto the wall. Visualize me tuggin’ your hair in my fist to make your back arch so I can thrust right back in. Ya better make sure ya got a steady brace cause I’m gonna reach ‘cross your body and down the front of ya to that swollen clit, strokin’ it with my fingers as I thrust into ya from behind and I need ya to push back onto me. I wanna be able to whisper in your ear all them filthy things like how no one else can make my cock feel this good and how this pussy belongs to only me.”

It’s too much, too much buildup that he is not going to be able to hold off for very much longer. This is going to have to end one way or another and soon it is not going to be a choice anymore. His hand picks up the pace. 

“Go a little faster. That’s it, faster, baby, faster. I’m about to fuckin’ blow and your gonna come with me. Come on, come on… f-fuck… you’re so beautiful like this. No one looks better a fuckin’ mess than you do. And I wanna make ya so goddamn filthy baby. Where ya gonna want me to come, hmm? On your face, on your tits, your stomach… or maybe I won’t pull out at all. Stuff ya full until it’s drippin’ outta ya and I can watch once I’m done. You just imagine it where ya want it most, sweetheart.”

His hand is furiously stroking around his cock with an iron tight grip, running from tip to base, coating his hand in precum so that the next stroke is even smoother than the last. Faint whines escape his closed lips as he tries to stifle the sound by clamping his mouth shut. The entirety of his chest feels like it’s on fire and setting the phone down a second he rips the damned t-shirt he still has on up off his torso and over his head, only releasing his cock for the split second it takes to throw it off that arm and onto the floor. Quickly he grabs the phone and sets it back up. 

“You’re close, yeah? Ya got this, just keep lookin’ at me with those pretty eyes and stay with it. All ya gotta do now is just let go. Good girl, that’s it, let go for me. Come for me, baby, let me hear it.”

Simon watches your thighs shaking and toes curling into the mattress as you call out his name in a pitiful cry and your entire body vibrates, nearly shooting off the bed as you come and come hard. The welling of pressure deep inside him reaches its peak and with the sound of your cry it causes his body to clench, sending him rocketing over the edge violently as a muted grunt echoes in his chest. He angles is cock upward towards his stomach as the warm ejaculate pumps out of his tip, coating the muscles and hair along his abdomen as he milks himself through it until he has no more cum left to release.   

Vision hazy, legs vibrating, cock still twitching as his grip loosens, Simon takes a few minutes to simply breathe. The phone gets ignored for a moment as it lays resting on his thigh. Once he is able to calm enough to function, he picks back up the device and stares into the screen. You are laying flat on the mattress now, chest heaving up and down. Your legs are still splayed open and he can see the glorious product that he helped create catching the light as it coats the outside of your lips.  

“Fuck, ya did so well for me, sweetheart. God, that was fuckin’ fantastic.”

You roll to your side and look into the camera with a crooked, sleepy smile and he mimics it with one of his own. That should be all, everything that he had wanted to happen had in the best way, but there’s one thing he has left to do, one thing he wants to see before he lets you go. One last thing to replay in his mind to give him something to daydream about along with the rest.

“Bring the camera up closer, wanna see your beautiful face all flushed. There’s my sweet girl. Looks like I’ve made a mess of things for ya, but I don’t think ya mind much. I do want ya to do one more thing for me, though. I need ya ta clean up since I ain’t there to do it myself. Nothin’ too strenuous, just take your fingers and stick ‘em in your mouth; get all those juices off with your tongue. There ya go, lick ‘em clean, don’t ya waste any of that fuckin’ goodness.”

You do exactly as he says, using your tongue to pull your fingers between your lips where you suck and lick with gusto until they come back out completely clean and you show them to him with a smile. In that moment you are a goddess, the most gorgeous being he has ever laid his eyes upon, and Simon can only stare on at you in awe that he is so fucking lucky to have such a creature all to himself. 

“Fuck, I’m one lucky bastard,”  he says, barely audible.

There’s a bit of rustling that he can hear now coming from somewhere close and he knows his time is up. At least he got to finish what he started giving you everything that he can, though he does desperately wish he could stay on the call with you a bit longer, but he knows if he doesn’t end it now he might never do it and he doesn’t want to risk anyone seeing you like this. Gotta pull the bandaid off quick or else. 

“Hate to end this here, but it seems like our time is up. Wish I could stay, but ya know how it is. If I don’t go now I ain’t ever gonna do it. We’ll talk again soon, promise. You have a good day, pretty girl, alright? Dream of me later tonight, yeah? Cause I’m fixin’ to be dreamin’ of you.”

You blow him a kiss and with that the call ends; he is left back alone in the silence of the night in his bunk- alone. He grins to himself as he puts his phone away and cleans himself up, thinking about you laying back in bed exhausted, but content, all because of him and his efforts. And he wonders if maybe, just maybe, he’ll get the chance to get you off like this again before his deployment ends. 

God he fucking hopes so.

[alotofpockets]

When your heart stops beating | Part 2 | Leah Williamson x Lioness!Reader

Where you go down on the pitch and go into cardiac arrest

Warnings: previous cardiac arrest, medical talk, short mention of ptsd A/n: thank you to the woso writers fanfic club for your ideas on this one & @dyke-medic for your advice on the medical aspect of the recovery!

Read part 1 here

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.7k

-----

As a person who is generally very active, always on their feet, and doing one thing or another, bedrest has been hard for you. You knew it was what your body needed to rest, so you listened to the doctor’s advice, still it was a struggle to not just slip out of bed and go on small adventures inside of your home.

Leah had been absolutely amazing. Without a second thought she had called Sarina to tell her that she was pulling out of camp to take care of you. Sarina had completely understood, she had been there on the pitch when it happened, and was just glad to still have you and that Leah was there to take care of you.

Your girlfriend also knew how much of a struggle bedrest for you would be, so she had been distracting you with all kinds of light activity things to pass the time. You had started with movies like on the day that you came back from the hospital, but Leah quickly realised that your brain needed more stimulation than watching a movie, to get through this bedrest. 

So, while you were sleeping, she got her mum to help her get a few things to the house. Within an hour, Amanda had been at the door with a few puzzles, two lego sets you had been wanting, some canvasses and an array of painting supplies. 

“How is she doing?” Amanda asked when Leah handed her a cup of tea and sat down on the couch with her mom. “Other than struggling to stay put, I think she’s doing fine. She hasn’t complained about any pain, though I know she has to be in some. The doctors said her chest can feel sore for up to a month from the CPR.” Amanda didn’t miss the way her daughter’s eyes turned glossy for a second.

“And how are you holding up, sweetheart?” Her mom’s concerned voice got to her. So, when she looked up to her mom, tears welled in her eyes. “I just keep seeing her down on the field and-” She had been trying to stay strong through everything for you, but now that it was just her and her mom, she broke down. Amanda was quick to pull Leah into her. “Oh baby, I know that must have been so scary. It’s okay, let it all out.”

After Leah had shared all her troubles with her mom, and cried all the tears she had been holding back, she heard something behind her. “What are you doing out of bed?” Her eyes widen when she sees you standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Baby, you shouldn’t be walking the stairs all on your own.” She rushed to your side to stabilise you. “Love, I’m allowed to do light activity if I feel good enough, which I do. So, really it’s fine.” 

Amanda saw by her daughter’s body language that everything was moving too fast for her, so she stepped in. “Sweetheart, why don’t you take a shower? I’ll keep y/n company in the meantime.” Leah sighs reluctantly. “Fine,” She turned to you next, “but you, you will sit down while doing light activities.” You knew she was just worried about you and that she meant well. “Alright love, I will. Now go take a shower, I’ll be right here until you come back, I promise.” You sat down at the kitchen table. 

“I know it might seem like she’s being too overprotective, but our girl means well.” You smile when Amanda puts a sandwich down in front of you. “Yeah, I know she means well. I was a mess after seeing her do her ACL, so I can only imagine what it’s like for her, you know?” Amanda nods, “Yeah, maybe you two should stay away from injuries for the rest of your careers.” Her joke makes you chuckle, “Trust me, I am not planning to do anything like this ever again.”

When Leah gets back down she watches from the door frame as you’re laughing with her mom, at the dining table where you had promised to stay put, now with a puzzle in front of you on the table. She knew you were in good hands with her mom, still she worried that something would happen when she wasn’t there and she wouldn’t be able to do anything.

A big part of the afternoon was spent finishing the puzzle with the two Williamson women. For the first time since you left the hospital you had felt normal. Leah also noticed that you were way more relaxed like how she had thought something more interactive would do. 

Leah saw you physically getting stronger again, and it was helping ease her worries little by little. Today was the second full day at home, and you were ready to get some fresh air. It took some convincing for Leah to be okay with you going on a walk, but with her hand tightly wrapped around your hand, you were finally outside again. The fresh air did wonders to your mood, and having Leah with you was always an added bonus.

Though the walk was nice, you were exhausted after. This time it was Leah who had to do some convincing. It didn’t take much though, to get you to lay down and take a nap. She laid with you, and let you fall asleep in her arms.

After a good nap, you felt much better again, and Leah had lined up another activity. While she intended these for your recovery, she found herself enjoying them a lot. It wasn’t often when you had the time to do stuff like this during the football season. With both of you being starters for Arsenal and the Lionesses, your schedules were rather full, and when there was some free space, you were often found hanging out with friends and family. While this time stemmed from a bad situation, you made the best of it and enjoyed the time you got to spend together.

You were putting the finishing touches on your painting while Leah was staring at you lovingly. “Stop, you’re distracting me!” You chuckled. “Hm, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You rolled your eyes in a joking manner, while you got your painting done. Leah had seen a few TikTok videos where couples would paint each other and then revealed them to each other at the end. 

“Please don’t be mad.” You looked over your canvas and to say it kindly, you were not artistically inclined enough to make your girlfriend look as beautiful as she was. “Oh, now I am very intrigued.” You showed off your masterpiece first. Leah tried to hold back her laughter, but failed miserably. “How does that look like me?” She said between tears. “Ehm, a blonde with Gunner earrings, there is no one else it could be.” You both had a laugh before it was Leah’s turn to show off her painting. “Oh my god, what are you complaining about, that doesn’t look any more like me than my painting looks like you!” 

You had also started on building the lego sets together, but you decided to do a couple pages a day to make the activity last a bit longer.

Over the next couple of days, you were able to walk further and further again. You wanted to try running again, but Leah managed to talk you down from that. “Let’s wait for the physios to be there, shall we?” You knew she was right, but you just wanted to get back out there. 

Another activity you had picked up was cooking together. Everyone knew that Leah was no chef and that you were a pretty decent home cook. So, you used the injury card to get to teach Leah some new things.

You were walking around the kitchen again as if nothing happened, and that is exactly how you felt. No more pain and no more energy loss. You were ready to get back to training, and tomorrow was finally that day.

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” Leah asked as she plopped herself down on the counter. “I'm a little nervous, but I am ready to get back out there.” You get a bit of the pasta sauce you made from scratch on a spoon and feed it to Leah. “Hm, tastes amazing, love.” Stepping forwards, you stand between her legs. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?” She puts her arms around your waste. “It should be about you.” You shake your head, “It might be my comeback, but you and the team were the ones that experienced the scary part. Your feelings are valid too, and I want to know them.” Leah told you she was nervous too, but that she was confident that the physios and the rest of the medical team would take great care of you.

The next day you felt nervous on your way to the training centre, Leah tried her best to comfort you, but nerves were bound to happen. While the doctors said everything should be fine, it was still your heart you were talking about, so every precaution would be taken. 

The moment you walk into the dinning hall, you are hugged by your teammates, who are all happy to see you. All of them had come by on short visits over the past week, but nothing compared to seeing you decked out in your full training kit.

Leah’s eyes did not leave you for even a second, as you were training to the side with the physios. With a cardiac monitor to track everything properly, you were starting training slowly. Building up step by step, and you couldn’t be happier to be working on your comeback.

During a small break, Leah was by your side instantly to ask you how you were feeling. You hugged her and kissed her on her cheek. “I feel great.” Leah smiled at your enthusiasm. “I am so proud of you baby.”

-----

Lionesses just posted

Lionesses: Things we love to see! After being diagnosed with commotio cordis following a blunt trauma to the chest last week, Y/n has made her comeback to training. She will be training seperately from the team, so we can monitor her well. A full return doesn't seem far away!

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[citrustan]

slipping through my fingers [4] (myg)

title: and the hits keep coming 2.0

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut summary: just when you thought yoongi couldn't surprise you anymore, it happens again. warnings: [other parts should be read before this one] a lot more feelings of insecurity and sad vibes, yoongi stepping over oc's boundaries, oc being disrespected yet again (nothing new nothing changed same old shit same old fucking shit)

You were tempted to ignore him, but with Nao involved, you couldn’t avoid dealing with him.

“You should go eat. I can just talk to him for you…?” Taehyung suggests as he watches you contemplate your next move.

That would be great help to you. While you couldn’t afford to avoid him forever, maybe a few days wouldn’t hurt. So, with an overwhelming and shaky sigh, you passed the phone to him.

He hurriedly motions for you to leave the room. And you reluctantly do so.

Taehyung scrunches his nose and shuts the door in your face.

Fighting the urge to hold a glass against the door, you forced yourself to wait in the kitchen till he was done.

On the other side of the door, Taehyung angrily exhales, taking his own sweet time to answer your phone. Then the call drops.

Not even a second later, the loud ringtone fills the room once again. It reeks of desperation.

“Hello?”

No response.

He tries again, “Hello?”

“…Taehyung?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

After another pause, the voice scoffs, “Figures.”

A bit taken aback, Taehyung bit his tongue, “What do you want?”

Taehyung hears nothing back. “Yoongi? Why’d you call?”

“I called _____, not you.”

“Well, she can’t talk now.”

Now it was Yoongi’s turn to bite back. “This has nothing to do with you, Tae. I just need to talk to her.”

“You can’t. You have me instead. What more do you have to say?”

There’s yet another long pause.

“How is she?”

Taehyung almost laughs in disbelief, “You can’t be serious. How do you think, Yoongi? Is the future Mrs. Min okay with you asking about your ex?”  

“Careful, Taehyung-”

“Does everyone else know already?”  

“Of course not, I went straight to _____’s. And nobody can know about it either. We’re not ready. I just…”

Taehyung grew more confused the longer Yoongi took to speak.

“I need to talk to her, Taehyung. I really… I messed up.”

“Did something more happen?”

Another pause.

“No. I just had to check in… Can I come by tomorrow? I still need to drop Mimi off.”

“Uh… right, about that. Listen…” Taehyung thinks for a second, “I think, maybe it’d be better if you just let her breathe for a moment. And I’ll come get Naomi.”

Another pause.

“Did she ask for that?”

Taehyung had half a mind to lie about it but he refrained, deciding that the truth would hurt him more. “You know she’d never. She’s too… stupid-” Stupidly in love with you. “-and you need to stop taking advantage of her; you need to hold back, Yoongi. You can’t go running to her for everything anymore.”

Yoongi knew he was in the wrong, but was annoyed that Taehyung was the one to tell him that.

Still a little in denial, he childishly spits, “Fine, bye. Get here before 7.”

Taehyung wanted to retaliate but he was immediately met with a little digital sound indicating that Yoongi had hung up on him.

A little bemused, Taehyung pulls your purple Samsung away from his ear and stares at it--- “So fucking typical.”

As Taehyung steps out of your room, he almost bulldozes you down.

“Jesus, _____.” Frowning, he asks, “Were you eavesdropping?”

You shook your head and wordlessly waved a jar of tiramisu in front of his nose.

Taehyung eyes you suspiciously, “I’m going to pick Naomi up tomorrow.”

When he says that, your face visibly drops. You didn’t actually expect Yoongi to pull away so fast. Was his girlfriend already keeping him from you now? You almost wanted to smack yourself in the head for thinking like you owned him.

Taehyung debates on whether he should elaborate or wait to see if you ask about it.

But you just gently and nonchalantly nod, “Right, of course. That’s okay. Please bring her here by 7.”

“He didn’t ask for this!” Taehyung blurts.

Your expression doesn’t change.

A little intimidated, he looked straight at his feet and explained, “I offered to pick her up. But Yoongi called because he wanted to talk to you. I just told him that I thought it was a bad idea.”

When he doesn’t hear you react, he slowly looks up at you, suddenly feeling miniscule. And he swore he could see steam coming out of your ears.

Taking a deep breath, you stare into his eyes, “You need to stop overstepping. You’ve done it once already. You need to stop.”

He almost felt the heat radiating from you.  

Almost as if he didn’t actually expect you to react so negatively, he asks, “_____... You’re really mad about this?”

You slam your jar on the coffee table and storm off into the kitchen.

“The first time you meddled, Yoongi left me. The second time, he happened to meet his future wife. What’s it going to be now?”

Taehyung was stunned, “Are you kidding me? Are you just mad that I’m looking out for you in ways you yourself wouldn’t or do you really believe that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you planned it all,” you glare at him accusingly.

Too stunned to digest what you accused him of, his eyes just widened in bewilderment. “_____. I- Planned what, _____?”

You tip your head forward in mockery, “Planned what? Take a guess.”

The room fills with silence once more.

Taehyung shook his head, “I’m going to ignore all of that. And fine, I’ll ask him to call you back then.”

“No!” – “No?” He parrots.

“I don’t want him to call me.” You almost whine. You don’t even know what you truly want. (Actually, you do.)

“Okay.” Taehyung nodded reassuringly, his hands grasping at your elbows, “He won’t. I’ll bring Naomi back tomorrow. Okay?” But you shook your head obstinately, “No, I want her back now.”

“Right now?” - “Now.”

“_____...” He looked at the grandfather clock on your wall.

Cringing a little, Taehyung attempts to reason with you, “_____, it’s Yoongi’s turn to have her.”

“Yeah, that’s a spoken agreement, not a written and notarized thing. He can’t stop me from wanting to spend time with my daughter.” You’re sure this is evil _____ speaking and it’s as if you can’t control her.  

Taehyung nervously cracks his knuckles. He doesn’t have a counter argument. You are Naomi’s mother and arguably the primary caretaker after all. He figures he owes you this.

“So, will you get her back for me?” You weren’t really giving him an option.

Taehyung knew your word was final. Either way, he wouldn’t police you on being a mother. “Let me give Yoongi a call, okay?”

“You do that. I’ll make you something to eat before you go!” You smile sweetly.

Not quite sure of your strategy here, all you knew was that you wanted your daughter with you. It was your way of gaining some control back in your life. You don’t have it in you to think of whether or not this was ethical or right. You just did not want to spiral.

From the kitchen, you could faintly hear Taehyung on the phone.

You take note of his assertiveness and slap some extra mortadella on his sandwich. He deserved it for putting up with you. You couldn’t think of anyone else who’d still be with you and handle your mood swings.

Was that normal or just sad? You do not want to think.

In your mind, you were satisfied in life. Sometimes you regret bringing up marriage with Yoongi. Maybe if you hadn’t forced the idea on him, you could’ve been in Hyejin’s place now.

The fact that you’re even in this position is ridiculous. Sooner or later you’d have to face… everything. The reason they’re getting married and you aren’t. The fact that they might have Nao be a part of their wedding and you’d just have to smile and nod, that Nao may have another parental figure, that you won’t be Yoongi’s bride or a bride at all, ever, and that maybe you’ve lost Yoongi’s companionship forever.

You had to step out for a bit.

Right at that moment, Taehyung emerges from the living room into the kitchen.

Sighing, he starts, “So, he agreed. He wants to know if everything’s okay. Of course, I know it isn’t but I told him he had nothing to worry about. And he didn’t buy it.” –

You push the little ceramic plate towards him, “Eat your sandwich.”

Taking a large bite out of it, Taehyung thanks you and adds, “--- by the way, your food is on the dining table, I didn’t actually give it away, you know?”

“I saw it,” you confirmed, “Jus’ not hungry.”

Quickly changing the topic back to Nao, you ask, “So, can Nao be back now or…?”

“Yeah. Here’s the thing…” He stalled. “Nao’s coming now.”

A gulp. You think he’s swallowing his food.

“Yoongi’s coming with.”

‘Why do you always bring me bad news?’ is what you wanted to ask. Instead, you squeak out a “When?”

“Twenty minutes? Told me Nao was already dolled up or something.” He finishes his sandwich and washes the plate.

In a soothing tone, Taehyung proposes, “Why don’t you head down to the pâtisserie? I’ll receive them. You don’t have to worry about seeing him, okay?”

You appreciated his offer but chose to decline it, “No. It’s okay. I need to tidy up anyway,” – “_____, I’ll do it for you. I know how you like it. Go take a walk or grab a sweet treat or something, yes?”

“No, it’ll take too long for you to do it by yourself. You can help me though. Just do my bed, please?” You’re already walking off.

Taehyung follows you into your room but doesn’t have a chance to stop you, you’re already stripping down and into your ‘serious cleaning’ clothes. It’s just an old dress and rubber gloves.

Sometimes, Taehyung mourns what you and Yoongi could have been. You’re perfect for each other. The two of you just needed to work on your communication a little. He’s thinking about how much of you Yoongi’s missing out on and can’t help but scoff. In pop culture terms, he really fumbled you.

Suddenly you gasp, “Did you watch me change?” Aimed at the man.

“No!” Vehemently shaking his head, he repeats, “Not intentionally! I was zoned out!”

“Wow, calm down, I don’t mind, you know that.” You smile sweetly once again.

Grabbing a pillow, he sighs. Sometimes, he thinks you toy with him on purpose. He really can’t tell.

 ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Forty minutes go by yet there has been no sign of Nao or Yoongi. No calls or messages, no updates whatsoever.

You ought to get Nao a little phone for herself. How had you not thought of this before? It’ll probably be a lot more useful now.

You were nervously readjusting the doilies in a circle over and over again when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Taehyung’s resting figure suddenly snapped upright, “I’ll get it.”

However, you were closer to the door and got to it before he could take two steps.

When you open the door, you wished Taehyung would’ve beaten you to it. You wish you had taken that walk or chosen to buy yourself a sweet drink; because you couldn’t even have guessed what was waiting for you on the other side of the door.

Nothing could have prepared you to see your ex-boyfriend with his current girlfriend and your daughter. Together. All of them. Holding hands. In front of you for the very first time. All of them.

While Yoongi had the decency of looking literally anywhere but in your eyes, you couldn’t say the same about his girlfriend. Fiancée.

Hyejin, placed between your daughter and your ex, exhaled a dreamy smile. “I hope you don’t mind me intruding, _____! Nao-chan wanted to show you our matching hairstyle!”

Bewildered and wordless, all you could do was smile and nod. You mechanically turn your head to look at Nao, who sported a baby pink lock of hair amongst her regular, natural hair identical to Hyejin’s.

You nodded and stepped aside, briefly bumping into Taehyung who looked just as uncomfortable as Yoongi, making space for the lovely family to step into your home. Your eyes were glued to your feet.

Just like always, before you take a drastic step, your daughter grounds you as she runs to you and clings to your lower half. Although, the pink strands of hair brushing against you almost make you lose it all. Almost.

Following which Taehyung breaks the tension by awkwardly, yet warmly greeting the pair, taking a load off of you.

You needed to lie down.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ how to disappear completely by radiohead ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: sorry! it probably gets better! i think this one has a few edits pending but i couldn't waitttt

[lokis-army-77]

Premium Air

mondern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.1k

It's a few days after April Foos, Eddie isn't expecting you to pull a koke but you have something up your sleve.

Warning: noting! unless you count cursing

Thank you to my beta readers @munson-blurbs and @lofaewrites

Masterlist

You loved seeing the harmless little pranks that people would play on their significant others on social media and with April first already behind you, you knew Eddie wouldn’t suspect a thing. 

It was a bright Wednesday afternoon, you were at Robin's for a much needed girls day when you decided to put your little prank into action. 

"Hey, Rob, you wanna watch as I give Eddie a mini heart attack?" You ask as you wiggle into a more comfortable position on her couch.

"Oh my god, yes!" She excitedly shuffles over to you, leaning her whole body over your right side. 

You're both a giggling mess when you send the first text message. 

Hey, so my tire pressure light just came on, do I need to go have it checked?

It takes a few minutes but he eventually responds.

Is it still driving alright? 

Bring it to the shop when you get home from Robs, I'll fill it up before I leave work.

Yeah, it's driving just fine. The screen says it's my front passenger side tire.

You'll be fine to drive back home, I'll fill it up then, baby.

You leave it be for around thirty minutes as you and Robin think of what you should say next.

So Robin said I should go get it checked out and we were worried I wouldn't be able to drive all the way to your shop so I came to the one by her house.

I didn't know air was so expensive 😫. 

It was no more than a second later that your phone started to ring in your hands. Eddie's contact photo lighting up the screen. You swiped it away and you could feel Robin beginning to silently laugh 

Sweetheart, answer the phone.

Another call that you decline.

What do you mean expensive? Answer your phone!!!

Don't worry, Eds, the guy gave me a good deal! I think it's bc he thought I was pretty.

What do you mean by a good deal? Sweetheart, how much did you pay?

You and Robin can hardly contain your laughter. Tears are running down your faces. 

"I feel so bad, but it's so funny!" You cry. 

Robin nods along, "Don't, it's totally hilarious." She wipes her tears away and points at your phone, "Don't acknowledge those questions yet, say something about how he didn't notice the pretty comment."

You get to typing, fingers gliding over the keyboard.

Wow, I would have thought you'd be upset at another man...

Baby ,that is the last thing I'm worried about. HOW. MUCH. DID. YOU. PAY.

Well he said it was like premium air so it was on the more expensive end but apparently it won't seep out as fast as regular air.

You can see the read receipt and the three little dots as he begins to type. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest as the typing stops and he calls you again only for you to ignore it once more. 

Robin is beside you, howling as she holds her stomach. "This is the best thing I have EVER witnessed in my life!"

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, ANSWER YOUR PHONE. HOW MUCH DID YOU SPEND? BECAUSE PREMIUM AIR ISN'T REAL

So the guy said it's usually 250 for all 4 but he said he'd give me a deal and give me all 4 for the price of 3... is that not how much it usually is?

You need to tell me what shop you're at. Are you still there? Put me on the phone with this fucking guy

Eddie, I'm not putting you on the phone with him.

Sweetheart, why in the world would you take your car to someone else??? I'm literally a mechanic. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN FREE!! 

Are you mad at me?

No, I'm not mad at you baby. I just need you to put me on the phone with the shop owner or someone, anyone. Air in all 4 tires is never gonna be over like 5 bucks...

I told you I'd take care of it, why didn't you just listen 

You almost double over, laughing harder than before. You could tell you were stressing him out, that he was trying to keep from freaking out. 

"Oh my god!" You cackle, "I think it's time to break it to him or else he might actually have a heart attack or maybe an aneurysm. 

Eddie calls you one last time and this time, you answer, sushing Robin as you press the speaker button. 

"Thank fuck, Sweetheart, put me on the phone with the asshole that scared you." His face was gruff, the growl of irritation bringing a shiver lust down your spine. 

"Eddie, baby, calm down." 

"I'll calm down when I get you your money back," he huffs. You can hear the sounds of his shop muffled through the speaker. 

You can't help the giggle that slips past your lips when you make eye contact with Robin. 

"This is not funny," he stresses. 

The giggles continue to bubble up, "I know I know, but I can't help it. I love you so much."

"I love you too, now please let me talk to the guy, I really don't wanna ask again." 

Robin takes your phone at that point, clearing her throat and proceeding to do her best impression of a blue collar man.

"Hey, this is Rodger, at you just got pranked garage, how can I help you?"

"Yeah, you can help me, I-" Eddie stops mid sentence. 

You've got your hand covering your mouth as you try, and fail, to cover your chortles.

"Wait a second... Robin?" All the building anger in his voice disappears as he slowly realizes what's happening.

Robin begins wheezing as you grab your phone back, "We got you!" You gleefully exclam into the phone.

"We got you good!" Robing teeters back on her legs, almost falling from the couch.

You can hear the shaky sigh of relief fron the receiver on the other end. "Thank God. Baby you had me going crazy over here. I was about to drive to every garage in town to find you."

"I'm so so so sorry, baby. I really am but we didn't do anything for April fools like we usually do and I just knew you wouldn't be expecting this."

Eddie lets out the longest sigh of relief you've ever heard. "Shit, sweetheart, I'm getting too old for these pranks."

"You're 35." You deadpan.

"And it's all down hill from here."

You can't see it but you know he has a shit eating grin on and you roll your eyes. "I'll make it up to you when I get home."

"You better."

[buckysegan]

With all my gratitude, hope and adoration John.

Summary: Everyone deserves a letter from home. John x She. Word Count: 785. A/N: we are def rolling with some historical inaccuracies in regards to letters here but sue me. he deserves it. Part Two.

"mail boys!"

the familiar call sounded through the bunks and bucky didn't even bother to lift his head from where he had been watching crank deal out the cards. he didn't need to look, he never needed to look because there had never been any mail for him. it was a well known fact among the boys, something none of them seemed brave enough to comment on. and john? well he wasn't the type that was going to dwell on such a thing with anyone other than buck.

"buck another one for you, brady, one for me....bucky." the silence that took over was almost immediate as his name was called and for a moment he almost didn't want to look, terrified how he may react if he found a smirk on murph's face. instead he was greeted with absolute sincerity and just as every other face in the bunk did, his pulled into a picture of confusion as he moved to swipe the letter, blue eyes quick to inspect the penmanship.

there it was, as clear as day, his name. lifting it to his nose the way he had seen each man do it sniffed, the rounds of taunts flying from the boys over some secret broad he'd had hidden away from them all. not that the major was listening, already retreating to his bunk with the piece of paper as buck silenced the rest of them, sending them on their way to read their own letters as he watched with quiet concern for his best friend.

he had known john long enough to know he wasn't the pen pal type, but he'd also seen the change, the longing for something that the rest of them had. it wasn't anything he had ever expected of his john, ever the class clown so he was as confused as the rest of the crew.

none were more confused than john though, as he tore, with gentleness he had long since reserved for the touch of a woman, wondering who the hell had wrote him.

"dear major egan..."

Dear Major Egan,

It's odd I find, to be writing a letter to someone when your name and rank is all I know of you. It feels terribly impersonal and honestly I'm not sure how this letter will be received so I am sorry if this feels like an intrusion on your day but the thing is...

Well the truth Major, is that it seems to have been noted that during your time in England you have yet to receive a letter. When I learnt that fact my heart broke a little and not with pity I assure you, but any man fighting for home deserves something to hold onto. You may have that, I hope you do, but just in case I wanted to offer you some form of peace.

I am with you Major Egan, for as long as it takes you to get back home. There is someone out there praying for you every night, someone waiting on your soul to make it back. I know not what your favorite warm meal is, nor what you sound like, I know not what you look like or what makes you laugh, but I would like to learn all of those things should you wish to write back at all.

In return I shall share all those things about myself and anything else should you wish to know any of it. Oh they tell me your name is John, may I call you John next time? I'm going to do it anyway.

With all my gratitude, hope and adoration John

A friend from home x

he wasn't aware the tears had welled as he finished the letter. really bucky had almost forgotten what it was like to cry. but as he scanned the page, again and again and again, he couldn't bring himself to stop the tear that spilled over his cheek, even with the silence he could feel around him again as the boys grew curious once more.

"who was it john?" the gentle voice of his best friend broke through the fourth rerun of the words, the blonde stepping forward so that the answer could stay between them.

blue eyes lifted to meet hazel, with a smile he knew that he hadn't worn in weeks really. one not dissimilar to the smile he had given buck when he had seen him behind that fence. "i - i have a friend from home." someone, somewhere was waiting for him, someone somewhere, had given him what he had forgotten about in this war. hope. she was with him and unless god himself tried to stop him john egan was going to make it home.

[itsthewritergal]

One Week - B.Barnes x reader

PART 1

PART 3

Here is part two my loves, there will be a final 3rd part,

TW: suicide, death, character death, breakup, general sadness, suicide notes, swearing.

(also I won't be making a taglist for the next part so please turn notifs on so you don't miss it!)

Bucky couldn’t watch, he had resulted to cleaning the blood from between the joints on his metal hand. The quinjet hummed slowly, providing little comfort to Bucky’s swirling thoughts.  Steve and Wanda were talking quietly, not quietly enough for Bucky’s liking. 

“Did you read yours?” Steve asked, gesturing to the letter that Wanda had clutched in her hand 

“No, I won’t. She wrote it for me to read when she wasn’t here. She is here. I don’t need to read it” Wanda said sadly, her letter was still sealed in the envelope with her name neatly swirled on the front. Her eyes fell on Y/N’s sleeping frame, Tony had taken the decision to sedate her, she had refused to be taken out of the cell, still clutching desperately to the hope of death. They had all tried their hardest to level with her, but nothing worked, everyone had tried their best, everyone except Bucky. He couldn’t find a single word to say to her as she was desperately asking everyone to kill her. 

“We will be landing at the compound in ten minutes” Tony said to nobody in particular but everyone stopped and listened 

“I think we should take her to a hospital” Nat said calmly, she was too calm for Bucky’s liking. He couldn’t understand how she wasn’t tearing herself apart for letting Y/N get to this state. 

“She needs to be at home” Tony said firmly 

“The compound isn’t her home” Nat answered curtly 

“It used to be” Wanda mused, thinking of the days that Y/N had spent wandering around the compound as she watched Bucky training, or cooking together, it used to be her home. 

“It isn’t now” Clint agreed with Nat, “A few months ago I would have said the same Tony, but now, well now she needs to be at a hospital. She needs to be given the choice to come back with us” 

“Cap?” Tony asked, 

“I agree” Steve said, 

“So do I” Sam added, 

Bucky stayed silent.

“Fine, I’ll reroute to the hospital” Tony said with a sigh. 

“Mr Stark, Dr Cho told me you were on your way, I’m Doctor Simmonds, I’ll be treating Y/N today,” A doctor said meeting Tony at the entrance door to the Quinjet, 

“You need to treat this girl as though she’s one of ours, understand?” Tony said firmly, 

“I understand” He said simply following a few nurses as they placed Y/N onto a stretcher and carried her into the hospital, “Can you tell me the extent of her injuries?” He asked 

“We haven’t examined her” Nat interrupted, “She was held for around 23 hours, we are unsure of what happened.” 

“I understand, now if you could all wait outside. I’m going to examine her and let you know what I’ve found” He said as he disappeared behind a closed door that Y/N was lying behind. 

“We should have gone in with her” Steve said, 

“He needs to do his job, and we need to wait” Wanda softly said, there was a nervous edge to her words, Bucky picked up on it. 

“Coffee anyone?” Nat suggested, a few nodded, “Bucky come help me” She said 

“You can handle it” Bucky said his gaze still on the floor 

“Now Bucky” Nat left no room for argument and Bucky followed her silently through the halls. “You need to tell me what happened” She said firmly 

“I don’t know what you mean” Bucky replied 

“When you broke up, what the hell happened?” Nat said, her eyes flaming with something Bucky didn’t want to deal with 

“We broke up” he said bluntly “There isn’t anything else to say” 

“You’ve been seeing other people whilst she’s been planning her suicide” She whispered fiercely, “What the hell did you do to her?”  It was one of the only times Bucky had seen Nat loose her cool in such a dramatic way, 

“Nothing happened” He reiterated simply 

“Don’t be that guy” nat snapped, “Five coffee’s please, black, double shot in all of them” She said to the girl stood starstruck behind the counter 

“Look, nothing happened” Bucky said “We split” 

“Who made the decision?” 

“I did” he replied, his eyes fixating on his boots once more, 

“Why?” 

“We didn’t work together, do you need a full rundown on my life?” He snapped louder than he wanted, 

“Just on your breakup” Nat replied quickly, “Why didn’t you work?” 

“I couldn’t do it, she was too much.” He didn’t mean it, he didn’t know how he could explain it in any other way to Nat 

“Too much how?” 

“Here you are” the girl behind the counter placed the coffees down, Nat muttered a thank you. 

“I like my life, I like being alone. I enjoy coming home alone. I don’t need anyone else in my life to look after,” He snapped, 

“You’re not telling the truth” Nat whispered “You forget, I used to be the best interrogator that SHIELD had ever seen. I see through you Bucky, and whatever you did to hurt that girl—”

“I told her I didn’t love her,” he whispered “I told her she was too much for me. Told her that she was naive and young and stupid.  I said that I didn’t want to deal with her or look after her or have to love her” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“Because I was scared, she is good. She is innocent, and kind, and gentle, and she kissed me as if I was good too. I’m not. So I ended things, and I said things that I won’t ever repeat because the words already haunt me enough” he sighed “I dated those girls after her because they weren’t good people, or nice people, I suited them better, there wasn’t anything to ruin. With Y/N, I was killing her slowly and she didn’t even know it” Bucky said, his chest heaving once he finished , 

“Bucky” Nat started, 

“I needed her to hate me” He said softly, 

“You failed” Tony said from behind him, “I came to help get the coffee” He explained once Nat gave him a confused look “She doesn’t hate you, she hates herself. I dread to think what she’s been thinking of herself the past few months because of you” 

“Tony enough” Nat stopped him 

“Y/N is lying in a hospital bed sedated because he was a coward” Tony snapped, “When she wakes up, you best hope that she forgives you, because if there’s a shred of anything other than forgiveness in her words I will kill you” He said turning and walking away. His words were calm, and collected, Bucky knew he was sincere. It should have scared him, but it didn’t. 

“Mr Stark?” Dr Simmonds asked coming out of Y/N’s room, 

“How is she?” Tony stood up from the uncomfortable plastic chair, 

“We need to admit her to an inpatient facility” His voice made Bucky’s blood run cold, “In order to do this I need a signature from her next of kin” he continued to explain, “I reached out to her sister, who is on file as her next of kin, except it seems that she passed away a few months back and I need to know if there are any other living relatives for me to contact for permission” The room went silent, 

“Her sister died?” Wanda parroted 

“According to our records around ten months ago” Dr Simmonds said, 

“She doesn’t have any other family, her parents died when she was little and her sister was all she had left” Bucky said stoically 

“This isn’t the answer you’re going to want to hear but without a next of kin I can’t admit her” Dr Simmonds explained softly 

“We can look after her at the compound” Tony said, 

“Tony, we can’t make a decision like that without talking to her” Steve cut in. 

“I agree with the Captain, Mr Stark. She’s still drowsy from the sedation but uprooting her in the state she’s in isn’t a good idea” 

“What state is she in?” Nat asked 

“She’s malnourished, dehydrated, exhausted. Nothing physically wrong apart from a few minor lacerations and bruising, but she’s not been taking care of herself. If you hadn’t told me she’d only been taken for 24 hours I’d have guessed it would have been at least 3 months” He explained 

“She’s depressed” Tony muttered softly 

“Without talking to her at length I can’t make that diagnosis, she’s clearly grieving her sister. Amongst other things but I don’t know what those are yet. I’ve asked for psych to come and give her a full examination just so we know what we are dealing with. But without a next of kin, my hands are tied” 

“What about an old next of kin?” Bucky asked slowly, 

“Y/N would have to sign off on it, are you a past next of kin for her?” The Dr asked, eyeing Bucky with a look of distain, the pieces clicking into place slowly. Bucky nodded, “I’d have to check with the board” The Dr explained. 

“Can we see her?” Wanda asked changing the subject quickly. 

“I will ask her, but I’m not promising anything” Dr Simmonds said with a nod, retuning back behind the closed door.  

The next few minutes were painful, nobody dared to sit down in case Y/N asked to see them. Bucky could hear muffled voices behind the door and it killed him that Y/N was so close but he couldn’t reach her, he wouldn’t dare to reach her in case of anything making her worse. 

“Mr Stark” Dr Simmonds said stepping out the room, “She has agreed to see you” 

Tony didn’t say a word and instead followed the doctor through the door and into the room. Y/N was sat in bed, restraints lay idle on the bed, untied, Tony’s eyes went straight to them. 

“They took them off about an hour ago” She said quietly, knowing what Tony was thinking. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked carefully sitting in a plastic chair that had been placed at her bedside, 

“I’m sorry” She said, calmly. 

“None of that” Tony said firmly, patting her hand comfortingly 

“I didn’t want anyone to know, I just needed it to be over” She said “And then they came and it seemed like the best way out. I’m sorry I put you through all that” 

“You don’t need to apologise,” Tony said “Let me help you, please?” 

“I’ve spoken to the doctor, lots of doctors and I’m okay. Really. I’m okay” She promised sincerely

“They want to admit you” Tony said slowly, watching as Y/N’s face fell, 

“They said”

“They can’t though, because of your next of kin. They need a signature and it—”

“She’s dead” Y/N bluntly whispered  

“I would like for you to come and live at the compound for the next few weeks, just until you get back on your feet” He said softly 

“I won’t put you or anyone else through that” 

“You mean Bucky” Tony said, he knew it was risky to bring him up but he needed to know how best to help Y/N. 

Y/N’s eyes glazed over sadly, and she pulled her knees up to her chest. 

“This isn’t his fault. Believe it or not the breakup was actually probably the least bad thing that happened this year” She said with a half hearted chuckle, 

“I’m sorry, I should have been there for you” Tony said, “everyone is here to help. Just let us look after you for a week. That’s all” 

“I promise I’m okay” 

“I know you are, I need to do this for me, let me help” Tony said, it was a lie. He needed to know that Y/N was somewhere safe and once she was there for a week he could convince her to stay longer, he was sure of it. 

“One week” 

“One week” Tony nodded. 

Tony had instructed Wanda, Bucky and Steve to set up a room for Y/N whilst he filled out some paperwork for Y/N. 

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked Bucky as they walked through the empty compound, towards one of the guest rooms, 

“I don’t think you should be asking me that” Bucky kept his eyes trained on the ground. His shoulders hunched, 

“This is as hard on you as it is on her” Wanda said 

“It’s not, I never tried to end my life. I made her do that. It was my words that forced her into that position” Bucky said, his filter had gone, he was bleeding raw emotions onto the floor of the compound and he couldn’t stop. 

“That wasn’t your fault, you can’t stay with someone just in case they get depressed when you leave. That’s basically blackmail” Steve said 

“She didn’t deserve this. I promised her I’d be with her for the rest of her life. I swore she’d never be alone again and then I left. I’m no better than anyone else in her life” 

“She doesn’t hate you” Wanda said, 

“What?” Bucky asked, 

“I read the letter, I didn’t think I was going to but I couldn’t stop myself” Wanda said pulling it out of her pocket “but she told me that it wasn’t your fault” 

“Stop” Bucky said, 

“Bucky she didn’t do it because of you” Wanda said 

“She needs some plants in here” Bucky said firmly as they opened up the door to Y/N’s new room, 

“Buck” Steve started 

“And her fairy lights, on the ceiling, she likes them to look like stars” Bucky continued. “We don’t have very long, we need to get started”

taglist

 @cookingdancingchick @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @olipiaa @scifinerd1818 @ordelixx @differenttyphoonwerewolf @unaxv @bumblingbamblingbandofbaboons @classyunknownlover @julvrs@scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @pigeonmama @sassyqueencowboy @callmissrogers @wintrsoldrluvr @weallhaveadestiny

[thetriumphantpanda]

illicit affairs | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Two attempts are always better than one, right? If you're serious about getting pregnant then you can't just hope that Joel can manage to do it by trying once every month. It might be wrong, but seeing him camped out on the couch gives you the perfect excuse to try one more time this month, without distractions.

Warnings | Joel Miller being a fucking stud as always, breeding kink, size kink, dubious moral choices by both reader and Joel, Tommy getting cucked (as usual), dirty talk, unprotected PiV sex,

Word Count | 2.7k

Authors Note | Well..... this certainly isn't how I anticipated this series going, but it makes sense, right? Can't just fuck once a month and expect to make a baby. I am absolutely feral for how much you guys are enjoying this series that wasn't meant to be a series and I hope you continue to do so in the future. And also, don't worry, Tommy is back next time in full force, I promise! If you've not read parts one and two, you can find them linked below on the series masterlist - this probably won't make much sense otherwise.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When Joel wakes the next morning, crick in his neck and lower back screaming at him for a night scrunched up on his brother’s couch, it’s the smell of bacon and the sizzling sound of something cooking in oil that hits him first. He pushes himself up slowly, running a hand over his face before his eyes search for the wall clock. It’s just after seven, he doesn’t have to pick Sarah up for another few hours. 

The next thing that strikes him is your voice. It’s quiet, like you’re trying not to wake him up, but you’re singing, or rather humming along to some song on the radio. He doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t care to find out, he just sits and listens for a while, letting the sweet sound almost lull him back to sleep. 

When Joel hears the clatter of plates being moved around, he stands, stretching out his back until it cracks in several places. God, he’s getting old. He slowly and softly makes his way to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you. You’re moving scrambled eggs around in the pan on the hob, two plates on the side that already have slices of bacon on them, and he can see slices of bread sat in the toaster waiting to be made. It’s domestic and he realizes he really shouldn’t like seeing it as much as he does. He shouldn’t be here, this should be his brother, but he doesn’t exactly hate it. 

“You didn’t have t’make me breakfast.” He speaks, you don’t jump which makes him think you knew he was there all along. 

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch all night,” You counter, looking at him over your shoulder, “I guess we wore each other out, only right I send you off with a hearty breakfast.” 

Joel doesn’t really know what he’s doing when he walks deeper into the kitchen. He’s driven by the fact that all you’re wearing is a large flannel shirt, obviously not one of your own, buttoned up over some underwear. You’re fucking magnetic to him, he knows you shouldn’t be, should be as far out of his reach as possible, but he’s only doing you a favour right? The more he repeats it to himself, the more he might believe it. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You speak as his hands play with them hem of the shirt, although your voice is teasing, it doesn’t warn him to stop, almost dares him to go further. 

Joel hears you chuckle as his hands palm your ass, “You gonna tell me to stop, pretty girl?” 

“You’re trying to get me pregnant, are you not?” You ask, shifting the pan with the eggs off the heat. 

“That I am,” Joel is now pressed firmly against your back, hands wandering underneath the shirt to rest on your hips, “But you gotta tell me if you want me to stop, just me and you this mornin’, sweetheart.” 

“I’m still good to go,” You murmur, moving your ass into him, feeling his already growing erection in his jeans, “So, give me what I want, stud.” 

He doesn’t need telling twice. Never does. He lets his big palm sink beneath the waistband of your underwear, fingers dipping almost immediately through your folds to sink down to where you’re already soaked. He knows some of that has to be him from last night, but as he drags his fingers up, covered in slick to your clit, hearing how you’re already moaning his name, he knows it’s not all him, this is your slick, mixed with him, and it drives him wild. Drives him wild that he’s marked you like this, that you’re just walking around with a piece of him inside of you. 

He's almost shocked by how quickly he brings you to the edge with his fingers this morning. Clearly, you’re still sensitive from the four orgasms he gave you the night before, something that still makes his chest puff, his male ego boosted that he went one better than Tommy for you. 

“Still all sensitive for me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” He leans down to whisper into your ear as his name falls a mile a minute from your mouth, “Gonna come for me?” 

“Fuck – Joel – ohmygod,” He can feel your legs starting to shake, he makes sure the arm he’s got pressed to your lower belly keeps you upright, pressed against him, “Don’t you dare stop.” 

“Didn’t plan on it.” He chuckles, letting his tongue lick hot stripes to you ear before he sucks the lobe into his mouth and nibbles. 

He feels your legs buckle, but that palm manages to keep you upright as you come for him. The way his name sounds in your high-pitched squeal when you let go for him has his cock throbbing in his jeans. If he was any younger, he could almost guarantee this alone would have him spilling himself into his jeans already. 

He lets you catch your breath for a moment as he undoes his jeans, stepping out of them and his underwear, though he leaves his shirt on. He has to be inside you right now or he thinks he might pass out. He drags your own underwear down your legs, kicking them to the side once you’ve stepped out of them, before he’s literally slamming his cock into you with full force. 

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” You keen, “Fuck, you’re so big inside me.” 

“I know babygirl, I know,” He stills for a moment, letting himself get used to the way your pussy is clenching him, literally pulling him in deeper, “A lot, ain’t it?” 

You let out a sigh as Joel pulls himself out before slamming back into you, “I can take it,” You whine, pushing back to meet his thrusts halfway, “Fuck me harder, Joel.” 

He brings a hand up to fist your hair, pulling your head back so you’re arching into him, “Careful what you wish for,” He moans, “Beggin’ me to go harder, filthy girl.” 

Joel can’t quite believe how good this feels. He thought, when he slid his cock into you from behind that he might feel guilty – bending his brother’s girlfriend over the stove without him knowing anything about it – but the way he’s got his hand tangled in your hair, pulling you back so you arch perfectly for him, his hips snapping into your ass in a way that has his vision blurring, he can’t find it in himself to care. Maybe that makes him a piece of shit, but you asked for this just as much as he wanted to give it to you. 

He uses the hand tight in the strands of your hair to pull your face to the side. He presses a wet kiss to your cheek before he can’t stop himself from asking for it any longer, “Kiss me, pretty girl,” He growls, pulling your mouth to within a hair’s breadth of his own, “Give me that last piece of you, I know you want to.” 

He can see you hesitate. Can sense the flicker of doubt across your face. He won’t force this, but fucking hell does he want it. Wants to feel those pretty lips on his own, wants to know exactly what your mouth tastes like. He grips your hip with his free hand, fingers digging into the skin, sure enough likely to leave bruises there, as he continues his pounding into you. 

All of a sudden, you turn your head fully, your own free hand coming up to tangle in the curls on his head pulling his mouth to yours. The angle makes it messy, more of an open-mouthed mash up of tongues that anything else, but it fucking lights Joel on fire. He pulls away and slips his cock from your tight heat, turning you around so your back is to the stove. He pulls your naked body to his own and attaches his mouth back to yours like his life depended on it. 

He can feel his cock slipping between your slick folds as he focuses his attention on his mouth attached to yours. It’s depraved, the way his tongue melds with your own, licking into your mouth like he’s a man starved. Which he technically is, he can’t remember the last time he kissed a woman, let alone one as perfect as you. 

When he pulls away from you, hands on your ass to lift you up so he can carry you to the kitchen island and sit you on top, he focuses on the string of saliva that attaches your mouth to his. He pulls away just enough that it breaks, settling on the hair on his chin. He almost busts his nut all over your lower belly when you lean across and lick it from his face, grin plastered on your mouth like you know exactly what you’ve just done to him. 

You reach down between the two of you, gripping Joel’s cock in your hand, guiding it back to your spread cunt, “I think you better put this back inside me, huh?” You whisper, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “Think you might be about to come, am I right Joel?” 

“Fuckin’ hell,” He curses, head to the ceiling, “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, pretty girl,” He takes his cock from your grip, sliding it slowly back into your slick pussy, watching as you throw your head back in pleasure as he does, “How many babies you want?” He asks, royally pushing his fucking luck now, “Tell me you want more than one, tell me I get to come inside your pretty pussy forever.” 

“You’ll have to ask your brother.” You and your smart fucking mouth, Joel thinks, looking down between the two of you where he’s splitting you open, watching as his thick cock slides effortlessly into your cunt, like you were made for him. 

“Didn’t have to ask him this morning,” Joel growls at you, hand resting at the base of your throat, “This was all you, babygirl.” 

He doesn’t think before he takes hold of the material of the shirt you’re wearing and yanks it open, buttons flying all over the kitchen surface. Joel lets it gape open, those big hands of his gripping the soft skin of your waist as he starts pounding into you again. He leans down and captures one of your nipples in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth, soothing it with the pad of his tongue, before he switches to the other side. 

“Such pretty tits, baby,” He groans, moving his lips up to kiss across your neck, “Even prettier when I put this baby inside you.” 

His cock is brutal inside you. He can see the start of the discomfort on your face, still sore and stretched from last night. Truth be told, he doesn’t think he can hold on much longer, not when he looks down at the sight of you, spread out, dripping slick onto the countertop, legs spread as far as humanely possible, tits bouncing with every hard punch of his cock inside you. 

“Want me to fill you up, babygirl?” He asks, leaning down to capture your lips one last time, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get you alone again, he knows kissing you in front of his brother would probably get him shot, so he’s going to take it all whilst he can. 

“Give it to me Joel, fuck,” You moan, hands gripping his shoulders to keep you upright, “Look at me whilst you do it,” You demands, “I wanna see your eyes when you pump me full of cum.” 

You’re looking up at him, bottom lip bitten between teeth as he stuffs his cock into you twice, three times. He looks you dead in the eye as he lets your name drop from his lips, hand gripping so hard at your skin it’s painful. He does exactly what you say though, looks straight into your eyes as his cock fills your full of his cum. Dark and dangerous, like predator has caught its pray, spread it out underneath him and fully devoured it. 

He lets out the softest of groans as he slips his cock from you, watching as his cum drips from your pussy. It’s depraved, but he takes two of his fingers and pushes as much of it as possible back inside you, curling his fingers up inside you, before he slips them out, covered in his own cum and the slick from your pussy.

He holds them up to your mouth, “You wanna taste, pretty girl?” 

Joel swears he sees the devil when you take hold of his hand and drag that perfect little tongue over his fingers. He thinks he might feel his cock begin to harden again when you take them all the way into your mouth and swirl your tongue over them to get them clean, he’s only a man, he can’t help but imagine what that mouth might feel like wrapped around his cock. 

He helps you down from the counter, passes you the underwear he discarded early and then slips out of his own plaid shirt, offering it to you for ruining the one you were currently wearing. You could very easily wander up the stairs and get another shirt, but you take it from him, wrap it around yourself and do up the buttons. 

“Sit down,” You speak softly to him once he’s got his jeans on properly, “I’ll finish breakfast.” 

Joel watches closely as you pour coffee and reheat the eggs slightly, piling a significantly bigger portion onto his plate than your own. You butter the toast and then sit down next to him, eating in silence. He expects it to be awkward, but it’s the complete opposite. It’s comfortable, warm even, just two people enjoying breakfast together before they must go back to their respective lives outside of each other. 

When you’ve both finishes, you take the plates and stack the in the sink before Joel realizes he’s still got to pick Sarah up. You smile at him when he stands, going to unbutton his shirt to give it back to him when he puts a warm hand on your arm.

“Keep it,” He says softly, “Looks miles better on you than it does on me.” 

Your head dips and then you smile, “Thank you.” 

He doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for – the shirt? Probably not. But he smiles and kisses your cheek all the same before he’s making sure he’s got his keys and then he’s leaving. 

All Joel can think about on his drive to pick Sarah up is the massive fucking line he’s just crossed. He can paint it in whatever light he wants to – normal couples fuck all the time, at every possible moment, when they’re trying to have a baby, so why should this be any different? That’s all it was, is what he repeats to himself, all fucking day, thinking of the way you begged him to fill you up again, the way your lips felt against his when you finally gave in and kissed him. But there’s still that fucking niggling feeling that he’s fucked it all up, mixed his own feelings in somewhere along the line. He should have never been with you without the knowing stare of his brother, looking out for any signs of concern. 

If only Joel knew that Tommy knew exactly what was happening that morning. If only he knew that you’d padded quietly down the stairs and found him soundly asleep on that couch, first instinct to reach for your phone and sent Tommy that text message. 

Joel seemed to stay the night on the couch. I know you’ll be driving, so totally get if not, but mind if we try again this morning? Might have a bit more luck relying on two instead of one this month. 

You’d waited just moments for Tommy’s reply, standing at the foot of the stairs, watching Joel’s chest rise and fall in his sleep. 

Course not sugar, you can tell me all about it when I get in and get you all to myself. 

[jaysgirlx]

JASON TODD AS MY BOYFRIEND HCS. smthing like how we mettt, our dynamic, and other cute things sosjsjsjwo. I need him biblically, spiritually, and physically. LOVEE YOUUU

Jason Todd Boyfriend Headcanons for my bestie Ani!!

— You met Jason at a bookstore, you'd spotted him there multiple times wandering through the classics section. So of course you went back multiple times hoping you'd be able to talk to him except he managed to approach you first. He's towering over you from behind, and you think he's going a grab a book off the shelf but instead, his hand points to a book that you hadn't seen before, Wuthering Heights, "try this sweetheart, it's a favorite of mine" and before you could even ask him his name he walks away like a smug bastard.

— The next time you see him there, you tell him how much you loved the book and while you're busy rambling you notice him smiling and he goes, "you're cute when you ramble". After a couple more times of seeing others at the bookstore, a bit of flirting, and plenty of book recommendations Jason finally asks you out.

— The two of have the greatest dynamic, you contrast each other so well that your conversations go on forever. Jason could always find something to say to whatever argument you had ready.

— Jason still loves that you ramble, even though he occasionally has to shut you up with a kiss so that you can catch your breath. He warns you about it but you don't listen cause you like it (ani is reallyyyy into this stuff guys).

— Jason slightly regrets giving you his real phone number instead of a burner because all you do is tag him in tiktoks and comment "we should do this" or "this reminded me of you". He complains about it to you but he screatly loves it and uses it as date planning material so he gives you exactly what you want.

— Jason isn't used to pda and physical touch but he loves it when you stroke his cheek and kiss any part of his face. He hasn't received any physical intimacy in a long time and he's scared of asking you to do more because he doesn't want to be needy. He eventually ends up asking you and of course, you shower him with affection in private. You kiss each of his scars while he on the other hand, finds himself kissing and ducking your neck with his hands always rubbing your hips. You got him addicted to not just your touch but how you how bodies felt up against each other.

— When you take your random naps he sits down near you and watches you, not in a creepy way but in an "I can't lose you" kind of way. He gets worried that you'll just disappear when he isn't looking because he can barely fathom how he managed to make you his.

— The two of you read books together even though your tastes differ a bit and he loves taking you to this old cafe where he always buys you whatever treat you want.

— Your relationship is very private for all the right reasons, drawing attention to Jason would be dangerous for both of you and he wasn't ready to risk it.

— Since Jason can't take you to fancy restaurants or famous places that could get him spotted he tries his hardest to be around as much as possible. You know he's the Red Hood but there's a silent agreement between you two not to talk about it.

— Jason agrees to hear your daily girl drama and do your nails but only if you watch his favorite old movies with him. Turns out he loves The Notebook and that's why he's scared of meeting your parents.

— Jason loves sleeping together every night you can, and he doesn't mean sexually he just means cuddling to sleep. Jason feels the closest to you when he's holding you because it reminds him that you chose to be here with him when you don't need to have to be.

[uzurimisery]

chapter 4: the bluff. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

Rating: Explicit

WC: 6746

Warnings: MDNI, rough sex, he's still insane and possessive, PIV, unprotected sex (this guy is never wearing a condom ever), angry sex, he's not a good guy but he's hot, not beta read

AO3 version | Series master

You slammed the dressing room door shut. “What the hell was that , Coriolanus?” pacing the length of the room, anger seeping out of you. “Did you forget what we were supposed to do? We were supposed to play it off, say we were too young. That was not playing it off! That was proposing!”

In your rage, you stumbled in your heels. He watched you curse under your breath, undoing the strap on them and throwing them across the room. Coriolanus didn’t move, cemented in his spot just past the door.

“Listen to me Y/N,” his tone was stern, like a parent scolding a child. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course you did!” you interrupted your voice tinged with sarcasm. “You always do whatever you want, don’t you? Here, the gala, the dinner. Always regardless of the consequences!”

Your words were sharp, digging in the fact that whatever was going on between you two there was meant to be a unified front, a single storyline. You were meant to be partners in the power play, both of you using each other to further your positions. All the work that went into constructing the next five years of the act was undone in an instant.

“I thought we were on the same page, Coriolanus. There was a plan for what we were going to do, but you just fucked it up!” He was always hypercritical of himself, internal monologue pointing out his every mistake, but you doing the same set him off.

“Can you shut up for five seconds! Or are you so self-obsessed that you can't let anyone else get a word in.”

“How dare you try and talk to me about being self-obsessed you narcissistic, unthoughtful-”

“There you go! Proving my point. You can’t even get off your high horse for a minute so I can explain why I did that.”

“You want to explain? Fine then, explain.” you spat.

Coriolanus’ jaw clenched. You were so hot and cold with him. He could never gauge what you really wanted in all of this, and you would never just tell him either.

“I saw an opportunity.”

“For what?”

“To play the part, to make the story so much better. Picture it, Coriolanus Snow, a man who has always been so organised and timely there are articles on how to put your life together like him, rushing into something. He’s so in love with his mentor’s daughter that he proposes to her on stage in front of all of Panem, and he doesn’t even have a ring on him because at that moment he realises that he can’t live without her.”

Your eyebrows were drawn, scanning over his face like you were looking for a fault in what he said, as you dissected it. There was nothing wrong with it though. The show was exactly how he described it. It painted him as a kind and caring man, beyond his known abilities at game making.

“You should have told me ahead of time.”

“I didn’t have a chance. I thought of it while getting ready.” he was lying, and you could tell. Seeing through lies was your speciality. He hadn’t thought about it while getting ready.

You called him on his bluff. “Bullshit. You didn’t have any plan, that was all impulse.” you were digging your finger into his chest to make your point. “You could have ruined everything we’ve been working on, made the past year pointless. What if I hadn’t followed along? What if I lost my composure for your little outburst? It’s not just your future on the line here Coriolanus. I’m leaving.”

Your shoulder bumped into his as you moved to walk out of the room, but his arm wrapped around your waist pulling you back and lifting you off the ground.

“Y/N,” he started.

“Let me go!”

“You don’t get to walk away from me. You need to listen to me.”

“I’m done listening to you, put me down!”

“Well, I’m not done talking!” Coriolanus pushed your back against the wall, pinning you in place.

Why couldn’t you just listen to him like you normally did? Why were you so upset with him? What he did was off-script but it still looked good, and it still achieved your shared goals. You didn’t get to walk away from him when he was right.

You slapped him, still able to move your arms. “I told you to let me go.” He tasted blood in his mouth. When he smiled at you, you felt your blood run cold.

“Are you done?” His teeth had traces of blood on them.

You weren’t about to be intimidated by him. You didn’t cower or beg anyone, and that included Coriolanus Snow. “Let. Me. Go.” your demands fell on deaf ears.

His smile only widened, eyes glistening with a sinister light. You thought he’d be furious with you, and hated that you were out of control, but it seemed more like he enjoyed it. That he liked it when you fought back.

“I told you Y/N, I’m not done talking.”

You moved to slap him again but were met with your wrists being grabbed and pinned above your head, utterly defenceless for whatever happened next. The expectation for him to strike you back weighing in the air. But he didn’t. Instead, his lips met yours, forcing your mouth open and letting his tongue in. You tried to fight back but he bit down on your lip and stopped you. His tongue only became more insistent. Copper on both your tongues.

You didn’t hate it. You were still mad at him, obviously, but the sexual tension that always between the two of you beckoned, its tendrils wrapping around you. Who said some angry sex wasn’t the solution to your being mad at him?

Your teeth clacked against each other as you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his midsection. Coriolanus’ free hand moved to support you. Standing like this he was able to grind his hips against yours, the friction delicious. The kiss was messy, both of you trying to prove something to the other with it.

When you pulled apart for air you spoke. “Let me go.” His breath was laboured, just as yours was, the rough makeout session leaving the both of you breathless.

“Not a chance, sweet girl.”

His grip on your wrists loosened, letting you slip free to pull at his hair, connecting your mouths once again. Your moans mixed with his own, body rolling to press your clothed pussy over his erection. Even though he had picked you up a multitude of times, it was always surprising how strong he actually was. His slim build did not give away how strong he actually was.

Everything between you was primal, driven by lust and anger.

Coriolanus brought you over to the couch, dropping you on your back. He liked you best like this, on your back and needy. Your high horse forgotten, and the only thing you rode him. The both of you took care to remove your clothes carefully, neither wanting to deal with a lecture from Tigris as well as knowing you had a dinner to attend in them after this. But that was where the caution ended.

The moment you were naked he had his fingers stretching you open with his thumb toying at your clit. His mouth was all over your skin, biting your breasts, adding to the marks already covering you. He was so rough with you and made you feel so small. But god did he know exactly what to do to you.

Your moans were sharp as he brought you to an orgasm. Everything you did drove him up a wall. Every time he thought he could move past it, ignoring the feeling, your pussy sucked him back in. It was your fault he made a mistake, that he lost his composure, that he went off script. He wanted access to your warmth whenever he wanted.

No matter how much he consumed you, he was still hungry, the type of hunger he hadn’t felt since the war. The one with claws that tore at his insides, teeth grinding into his bones. A bottomless pit that could never be filled. It clouded his mind with thoughts of you, your breasts and hips, the pout of your lips. He could almost always feel the sensation of you against him, biting into your soft flesh. It made him emotionally volatile, willing to risk everything for just a crumb. But every time he got a bite it filled him with dread.

Your perfume, boozy and peachy, a reminder that the only thing that would ever fill this hole was you. That when he was on the brink of death, starving and empty, it was you who would nourish him. Your being the very source of all his problems and all his solutions at the same time. A double-edged sword driving into his heart with every step he took towards you.

“See? Look how good you have it when you just behave.” you weren’t out of it yet, still able to spite back in vitriol.

“Fuck you.”

“Already have.” Coriolanus flipped you on your front, positioning you on your knees with your chest pressed against the couch.

Like this, he got to spread you open, look at what your body could offer him. Why did you have to be you? Why did you have to rival his mind and have such a perfect body? It ruined everything.

His fingers pressed back into you. He could watch you drip down them for hours, whiny and whimpering from his actions. Begging him to fuck you. No matter how you tried to act like you weren’t. You were just like him. Hungry and waiting.

Coriolanus lined up his cock with your entrance. Instead of easing into you, he thrust in fully, jolting your body forward. He wanted it to hurt, to make you feel sorry for blowing up at him. To show you that no matter how you acted out he could fuck you back into place.

He fucked you hard and fast, pulling your head back by your hair. It forced you up and to put your hands on the back of the couch. Your back arched, your shoulders almost against his chest. His other hand pinched at your nipples and tugged at them. It hurt, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

Moving his hand out of your hair, his fingers hooked into the side of your mouth. “Your mouth can be used for better things than being disrespectful.” your drool pooled around them, dribbling out the side of your mouth as you spoke.

“I’m gonna cum.” your speech altered from his fingers.

“I don’t care.” he did care, but he couldn’t let you know that, not right now. The biggest ego death to him would be if he was unable to make you cum. It fed his ego every time you clenched down around him, pussy fluttering from your orgasm. He didn’t slow down or let up, fully intent on taking his frustration out on you.

The air between you was hot and heavy, thick with the smell of sex. With his hands free, your waist became his new hold stone. Coriolanus didn’t even have to pull your hips to meet his, you were doing that for him, bucking backwards in time. Each trust had you panting little praises for him.

He wanted to see your face. You felt him pull out of you and then sit down on the couch next to you. “Ride me.”

You shifted, placing your knees on either side of him as you sunk down on his length. When you got to the base, you took a moment to recollect yourself, head tucked into the crook of his neck. Coriolanus’ lips found the crown of your head before he even recognised what he was doing. It was odd. This intimate act in the midst of all of this. He wanted to show you that he cared, that he wasn’t mad at you anymore. Why wasn’t he mad at you anymore? He was the type to let his anger fester, angry with infection. He waited until the moment was right and then he spread his sickness, cutting down whoever upset him. You were more useful than being cut down; however, he felt strongly towards you. The one thing he wouldn’t do is name those feelings.

The drag of your hips cut off his line of thought. He watched as you rode him, your thighs shaky but not letting it stop you. When you pulled your head out to kiss him he met you, enjoying the feeling of your lips against his. Hair and makeup would have a hay day with the two of you but the way you went all the way up, his tip the only thing inside you, to then your ass flush with his thighs made their annoyance worth it. Wanting to feel you cum around him again, his thumb began circling your clit, working you up to another orgasm.

“I’m close.”

“I know.”

Your hips slowed as you came, exhausted from riding him. But Coriolanus wasn’t done. His hand wrapped around your waist, moving you to an elevated position with his dick still inside you, and he began thrusting up into you. “Hold yourself just like that sweet girl.” You did as he told you, your head lulling to the front pressing your forehead against his. With a few final thrusts, he came inside you. You were winded, your eyes closed as he guided your bodies apart and grabbed a disposal west wipe to clean the both of you up. Finally, with that done, he could lay down and settle you on top of him, both of you naked and sweaty.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just listening to each other breathe, your head on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” apologises always felt like he was trying to speak a foreign language, his tongue struggling to make the sounds. “I shouldn’t have acted impulsively.”

“I'm sorry too. I shouldn’t have blown up on you.” his fingers traced your hairline as you lay on top of him, still reeling from the sex. “I just don’t like when things don’t go to plan, and they’ve not been going to plan between us.”

He couldn’t argue against that. Everything was so fuzzy between you. He didn’t know what you were feeling, but his feelings were you weren’t something he could ignore. When he said that he couldn’t picture his life without you it was true. He thought that speaking it out to the world would alleviate the pressure, and make it something he could keep inside himself, but he didn’t. He needed you to know that it meant it.

“Would it be so bad, marrying me?”

You picked your head up. “No,” you sighed. “It wouldn’t be.” He watched you find your original position, ear over his heart.

“We could be allies.” his heart pounded as you traced patterns on his skin. “You’re the first person I’ve met I’d consider that with. I could make you the First Lady of Panem.”

Being the First Lady was an appealing idea. You’d be able to do so much more in that position. It was a core belief of yours that the games were only the first step in binding the loyalty of the country, to furthering the control over the populace. Aid programs needed to be doled out in the Districts. People who were content were less likely to look behind the curtain and see what was really happening.

“What happens when you fall in love with someone? Would we divorce and I’d lose everything, both the games and my position?” there was uncertainty in your voice.

There could never be someone after you. You were it for him. Sure he could find a docile wife and marry her, leave her be and just have kids with her. But she could never truly know him. But you could, and you were learning the true him. And you wouldn’t make him separate his work and home life, you’d dive into it with him, lethal and cunning.

“That won’t happen,” he was blunt with his statement. “You’re the only one I could do this with.”

It felt like the weight was finally lifting off him some. The pressure that had been building and threatening to blow, to whistle like a kettle. As much as he had intended for your relationship to be a temporary political alliance, he wanted it to be permanent. He didn’t trust people, but he was growing to trust you, knowing that your goals were ultimately the same.

“But what if it does?” He had never seen you so worried about his feelings, genuine concern. “Or what if I fall in love with someone else?”

“Y/N,” his thumb brushed your lips, making you face him again. “I promise you that is never going to happen. Okay?”

“Okay.”

With a final look of determination, kissed you, his lips bruising against your own. He was hoping that it conveyed that he meant it with all his heart. He was never going to fall in love with someone else, the home you made in his heart was always going to be yours. The decor exactly how you left it if you ever walked away, waiting for you to come back. You’d never get the chance to walk away but that was the sentiment, that he could forgive you for leaving him if he took you back and you stayed with him. A dove with a broken wing was still a dove. It might not be able to soar in the slides, free from the gravity of the world, but it was still a dove. Even if he broke you and locked you up, you’d still be you.

He could never love another, not when he loved you. Coriolanus loved you. The realisation shook him, a tempestuous collision of the man he was and the man he wanted to be. The crack formed by Lucy Gray was broken open once again by you. He had convinced himself that love was a weakness, that it was something to be exploited. Over the past year of getting to know you, getting to be with you, you had challenged his core beliefs, forcing him to confront the fact that he loved you.

It was hard admitting it to himself. Just hours earlier he had told Tigris off for even suggesting the idea of it, vehemently denying it. He didn’t want to love you then, terrified at the idea of you finding out and leaving. But you had said it wouldn’t be so bad to be married to him, that you’d be willing to be allies for the rest of your life. The truth was there though, written into every interaction he had with you. The glaring reality that he could no longer ignore, lingered in his eyes like a burned-in image.

It was terrifying, the exact opposite of the control he wanted to have over those around him, to have you control his heart. The practised emotional detachment he had led his life with failed in his darkest hour. The fear that you’d be just like Lucy Gray and run. It didn’t matter that you both worked on the games, that he had seen you develop new ways to punish the Capitol’s enemies, that you had just as much darkness within you as he did. That you were as ruthless as he was. The betrayal he had once experienced at the hands of a District dog had him petrified of it happening again.

Could he erase your existence like he did hers if something happened? The thought was both horrifying and tempting. He didn’t want it to come to that, to erase you, to discard you like a broken toy. You were better than Lucy Gray, you wouldn’t betray him. He wouldn’t let you. But he couldn’t come to you with this, not yet. Coriolanus Snow needed you to break down and beg him to tell him that he loved you. When he could see you, lost in your feelings for him, then he could tell you. Not before, not after. But at the moment when you are in desperate need of him, he could tell you. Only then could he believe that you loved him too.

______________________________________

Things have been busy since then and luckily you have been able to avoid conversation with your mother too. Coriolanus and you had no time to talk about your game plan and what would've happened next as the games started. Every day you were at the Citadel, ensuring things ran smoothly. He was there too, doing his own work, but the amount you had to do kept you from each other. It wasn’t until after the games ended that the two of you got a moment alone. Of course, you had been to several events together but you couldn't talk about things there. So when the last person left the production room, you were finally alone with him.

“Did you mean what you said that night on the balcony, that it was hard pretending that you loved me?”

The two of you were in his private lab. You were sitting on the edge of his desk instead of a chair, something he noticed you liked to do. After the cameras had been turned off you had taken your hair down from the pinned updo made of a braid, letting the braid hang loose.  The heels you were wearing off your feet and lost in the room. Coriolianus’ head was in your lap as your fingers brushed through his hair. The slight stubble he’d grown over the last two days catching on your tights.

His voice was muffled by your thigh. “No.”

“No you didn't mean it or no it isn’t hard pretending that you love me?” Your fingers were putting him to sleep. It had been so long since he had been touched like this. He only had one strong memory of his mother. They had been sitting before the fire, her belly full with his younger sister, her finger running through his, much like your own, singing a song he couldn’t remember now, the melody lost with time.

“No,” he finally replied, groggy. “It’s not hard pretending that I love you”

There was a flicker of hope within you when he first confessed to you that night on the balcony. You had convinced yourself that he was being vulnerable with you then, letting you in. Was this him adding kindling to that fire or dousing it?

“Is it easy then?” Each word was laced with intrigue and tinged with trepidation. The question wormed itself into the conversation, hanging in the air like the hum of the machinery. He tensed under you like he had been unprepared for this conversation, a betrayal of how he normally was.

Coriolanus’ response was slow, deliberate and weighted, with every individual syllable chosen carefully. “No, it’s not easy either.” The threading of your fingers felt so good against his scalp, it was criminal. “It’s neither easy nor hard, it’s necessary.” He shrugged with that statement, drowsy from the long day and your actions.

It was strange seeing him like this, his head in your lap as he was half asleep. The Coriolanus you knew was a man of fronts, never betraying his persona of unwavering composure and unyielding strength. He was smart and capable, bringing the Snow family back from the brink of destruction. But now there was no front present. He was relaxed and open, the tension in his shoulders finally released as he rested on your thighs. You could see every pore of skin, every hair out of place. There was a faint scar above his lip, so blended with his skin that you had never seen it before. It had access to the same medical and cosmetic treatments as you did meaning that he had left this one there on purpose. A reminder of something that had happened to him.

You chewed on his words as you watched him. It was neither easy nor hard pretending that he loved you, it was necessary. It was a non-answer, a refusal to tell you his feelings on the matter, that itself a revealing statement. He was used to his words working on others, his honied lips spinning the sweetest lies. But you had watched him, seen him change over the years. Coriolanus was a man burdened with his own demons that sat at the table with him. There was an understanding in that. You had your own demons that sat in the corner of your room every night, watching you sleep and whispering dangerous things. Neither of you were innocent good-hearted people, both of you violent and deadly.

But his cracks were showing, and that night under the stars with too much to drink, he had let you see just how much they were cracking. You were willing to pick up the pieces and help him put them back together. Your own feelings were the same as his, you were just better at hiding it.

“My father wants us to have an engagement party.”

“When?”

“In two weeks at my family estate,” knowing your father, it was going to be a spectacle. He doted on you. “But he wants to have a private dinner before that, just your family and mine.” His only family was Grandma’am and Tigris. If you wanted to, you could count the Plinths as family, even though he hated the thought of having any relationship with them.

“That’s fine. I’m sure Grandma’am will be excited, she’s been pestering me about marrying you while she’s still alive to see it.”

“She wants you to marry me?”

He murmured some form of agreement, still out of it. “She says you make me smile like I haven’t since I was a boy. It’s annoying actually, she keeps demanding that I bring you around for lunch.” This was news. Your interactions with Grandma’am had always been under the pretence of public events, you never thought much of them, but apparently she had. More than that, she thought more of your effect on her grandson.

“You should be kinder to her, you don’t know how long she’s got left.”

Coriolanus’ head lifted from your lap, rubbing his eyes as he propped his head up on a hand. “I know,” it wasn’t nice to have to think about the fact his Grandma’am was up there in age, that she maybe had another 15 years left. If that. “I’ll tell her we’ll do lunch then.”

Your smile was irresistible. “Good. The least you can do for her is let her think that you’ve found someone you genuinely love, and who loves you just as much. She’ll never know that it's just an act either. It’ll let her rest easy knowing you’re taken care of.”

His heart sank, and his stomach dropped out and onto the ground.

“Yeah, it’s a good act too.”

______________________________________

Coriolanus paced in the foyer, stopping every so often his fingers fidgeting with the knot of his tie, loosening and tightening it. His outfit was simple and smart today. His father's button-up with a red tie, a grey pinstripe waistcoat and matching trousers. The black leather of his oxfords had been polished earlier in the morning. He felt antsy, just wanting to get this luncheon over with. He shouldn’t have told you that Grandma’am wanted this, he must have been out of his mind when he did.

“Coriolanus my boy,” Grandma’am had snuck up behind him, making him jump as she put her hands on his shoulders. “You look as handsome as always, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

His smile was weak in the mirror, not reaching his eyes. “Thank you Grandma’am.” She fiddled with the shoulder of his shirt, lining it up properly as it had been moved from his walking around.

“You must really love her if it’s got you like this.”

“I do.” The words were heavy. This was the first time he had acknowledged his feelings for you to another person. The vulnerability threatened to consume him.

“I’m glad,” her eyes became teary as she spoke. “Your mother loved your father so much. I remember their wedding day. She was so nervous, running around like a rabbit. You remind me of her sometimes.” she threw her hands up like the statement was outlandish. “But of course, you’re more like your father than anything else. Strong Coriolanus Snow.”

They rarely talked about his parents, or Tigris’ parents, like this. It was easier for them all to let the dead stay dead. A bittersweet ache spread through him.

“I’m glad.” He reached out and took Grandma's hand, offering her some comfort. Talking about her dead children always set her off. They stood in silence for a beat, hand in hand, each processing their own feelings before he shattered the quiet.

“It’s easier to let the dead stay dead.”

Grandma’am nodded, her handkerchief to her eye to clean up the tears she had spilt. “Sometimes,” she acknowledges, “the past is too painful to revisit. But it’s important to remember Coriolanus. To remember the love, the laughter, the life that was lived. To honour those who came before you.”

But he didn’t want to remember the past. The past made everything worse.

The ring of the elevator cut the conversation short. You were here, and he was nervous. This was no different than a public event, you both knew the parts to play, but it was so different at the same time. You were in his family home, eating with him and his Grandma’am, and doing it purely because you thought she deserved to think someone loved him. Doing it because you cared for her. It was here that his history echoed, ghosts of the past hanging on every wall. Remnants of the boy he once was tucked away in boxes, now dusty with age.

As the elevator doors opened, revealing you standing there, those boxes came out of storage and were placed on the table for you to sort through.

“Oh! Miss Gaul! Please come in.” Grandma’am rushed towards you, excited to have you over.

“Grandma’am,” you chided, pulling her into a hug. She had shrunk in her old age and your heels didn’t help the equation, making you bend down to do so. “I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Y/N. Plus soon enough I’ll Mrs. Snow.”

“I know, I know, I just forget sometimes. Perhaps I should just call you Mrs. Snow!”

“Now I think that’s a wonderful idea!” You took a second to greet Coriolanus with a kiss and then went back to chatting with Grandma’am taking her hands in your own.

You were so delicate with her, it pained him to watch you be so kind to her. You nodded along diligently to whatever she said and were actively engaging in the conversation. He could tell that you weren’t pretending to care and that you actually wanted to speak with his grandmother. She was so animated with you like years had been removed from her. He had spent so long trying to protect her from all that had happened, and all that he had done. His actions had severed parts of their relationship, and with Tigris not living in the apartment anymore, she must have grown lonely. But you brought her back, the vibrant woman who could connect with the world.

Coriolanus sidled up to you, arm wrapping around your waist. “I hate to interrupt your conversation ladies, but I do believe Y/N came here for lunch.” It felt so right to have you like this.

“Yes, yes, Coriolanus,” Grandma’am started, “I’ll go make sure the cook has prepared everything. Why don't you show Y/N into the dining room.”

��Of course, Grandma’am.”

Alone, he nipped at your ear, his breath making your heart skip a beat. His hands were warm, one placed on your stomach the the other on your arm. You could smell the mint on his breath when he uttered a whisper in your ear, his voice low and husky. “You look stunning today.”

You were wearing all black today, something that went against the average Capitol woman. It was a high neck mini dress, stopping a few inches above your knee. The sleeves were long, longer than your hands and instead of normal holes, the fabric was spliced up to your elbow. Your heels were lower than they normally were from press events, no doubt more comfortable. The splash of colour came from your earrings. They were red, with a velvety coating on them, and shaped like rose petals separated and hung on a chain. You had remembered Grandma’am’s love of roses.

“It’s not for you, you know.” you took every opportunity to tease him. “But thank you.”

You had no idea what you did to him. “If it were for me it’d be on the floor by now.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing this is for Grandma’am and not you.” You patted his cheek. “Now are you going to show me to the dining room Coriolanus?” When you said his name you mirrored the way his Grandma’am said it.

A crooked grin rose on his face with a small laugh. “With pleasure, my dear,” he replied biting your ear again before leading you through the grand hallways of the apartment. His hand never left your back until you were sat down. You were on Coriolanus’ right, with his chair being at the head of the table.

The table was smaller than the average dining room table in the Capitol, unsurprising given the number of Snow family members there were left. It looked to seat about 10 people maximum. It was a dark-stained wood, a style that was popular in the prewar days. The walls were a pale blue, covered in a patterned wallpaper. The signature tile flooring of the apartment was carried into the dining room, laid in a geometric style with the table in the centre. It was all a testament to the family’s long history and enduring presence in the Capitol, a microcosm of the Capitol itself.

“Have you told her about the dinner?”

“No I haven’t had a chance yet-”

“What dinner?” Grandma’am sauntered into the room, waiting for Coriolanus to pull out her seat so she could sit. “The cook prepared quite a  lunch today,” she listed out the menu after she sat down, Coriolanus returning to his own seat, arms resting on the table.

“That all sounds wonderful Grandma’am. Corio’s told me how wonderful your chef is.”

“Yes, I do agree. It took me ages to find one that I liked, so many of them are lacklustre these days.”

“Well I hope my family’s chef won't disappoint you then.” you grabbed his hand on the table. “My father wanted me to invite you to a family dinner on Friday evening. It’s just a small get-together to introduce everyone to each other properly. After all, we’ll be one family soon.

“Oh, that is a wonderful idea! I’ve always had such admiration for your father’s interior design work.” Grandma’am's voice faded out for Coriolanus as she spoke. Rambling about how your father had ‘brought back the elegance of the Capitol’ through his job. Coriolanus was focused on one thing.

You were wearing the ring. He had gone in between rings for what felt like a millennium till settling on a custom made. It was reminiscent of the one he remembered his mother wearing, covered in diamonds and made of gold. Your was made of platinum, far more durable than gold and less like the be damaged by your time in the labs and only plated in gold. The centre stone was large, 1.5 carats, an emerald cut diamond. The style of the ring was similar to an ornate mirror. There were 22 stones in total, each one glittering from the chandelier's light. He hadn't stopped with just the one ring either, he needed to decorate you in the finest jewels he could buy with the Plinth family fortune. That's why your index finger had a stack of thinner, geometric, stack complimenting the engagement ring.

It thrilled him. Wedding rings were no more than a shackle connecting you to him. A show of his authority over you. Marrying you wasn’t about companionship, it was to own you. To change your last name to his own and let everyone know that he would never leave you alone. Maybe he’d let you hyphenate your last name, and you’d like that, it went against the norm.

His thumb rubbed against his own engagement ring. His was simpler, he didn’t enjoy the over-the-top couture and showmanship of the Capitol, a think gold plated platinum band with a matching kite cut diamond flush set into it. The kite shape echoed by etchings around the placement. You had picked the ring out for him after seeing your own, saying that you wanted it to match with yours. It was ironic that you chose a kite shape. They flew high in the sky, a symbol of freedom and soaring ambition.

The luncheon was nice, you had to admit. You didn’t have a living grandmother and it was nice to talk with Grandma’am as you ate. She kept telling stories of Coriolanus’ youth, much to his chagrin. The stories, and how he treated her, were different than what you had expected. He was cold towards Tigris, but he had so much warmth towards Grandma’am. What had happened between the two that caused a rift? Grandma’am spoke as if the two had been thick as thieves growing up.

When the plates were cleared, you joined Grandma’am in the kitchen as she made coffee for the two of you, Coriolanus somewhere in the apartment answering a message on his communicuff. You had offered to do it but she insisted on doing it herself, telling you that the machine was too complicated for a guest to use. But you know exactly how to use it, but that was a secret.

When she sat across from you, both your mugs steaming, her eyes were sombre. “Can you be honest with a foolish old woman?”

“I don’t see any old women here, but I can be honest.” her chuckle was wethered and dry, telling of someone who had lived through too much.

“I know my Coriolanus is a difficult man,” she always insisted on using his full name. “He’s much like his father in that regard, and I would know having raised them both. But you’re good for him. When I see him with you it's like all the horrible things he had to live through are forgotten, and that he’s that smiling boy  running around the apartment with his mother chasing after him again.” Grandma’am’s voice broke as the spoke, teetering on the edge of crying.

You grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She loved him so much.

“I love him Grandma’am, I really do.” candour in every word you spoke. “With him, I feel like I can do anything, be anything. Sometimes I think it’s all too good to be true and that one day I’ll wake up and this was all a dream that I had. Every day I pinch myself to make sure it's still real.”

“Will you always?” 

“There’s no future in which I don’t love him. He’s my now and always. And even if one day we weren’t together anymore, I’d still love him and I’d still support him. Just like he’d do the same for me.”

As you spoke Grandma’am’s tears flowed freely, but they weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of gratitude. She saw in you that she didn’t have to worry anymore, that someone other than her would love him unconditionally. Be a sanctuary to his troubled heart.

“Thank you.” as the older woman bawled you got up to hug her, rubbing her back as she sobbed.

Coriolanus had heard the whole thing but he couldn’t tell if you had said it for her or it was a confession of your true feelings. You were always perfect at playing your part.

taglist: @serrendiipty @namelesslosers @glitteryblizzardsalad

[houseofanticipation]

You're sitting with your friend Sam at a coffee shop, catching up. She's telling you about an instagram ad she keeps getting for some audiobook streaming service. "It's just crazy," she says, "because I was just telling Lucille I wanted to start reading more books but I never have the time, and then it's like instantly I'm getting these ads all the time."

"So what," you say over your steaming mug, "you think they're listening to you?"

Sam shakes her head. "Honestly I think it's almost scarier than that. They have so much information about us, they don't even need to listen to our conversations. They just know, based on everything they've gathered about me, that I'm probably someone who wants to listen to audiobooks."

"Well they can't be that smart," you say. "Because the only ads I've been getting lately are for something called Slut Cream."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You must know I'm going to need more details."

You take out your phone and find an ad to show her. It's not difficult; literally all of the ads you see on instagram are like this. They're even showing up in other places now, on webpages you visit or apps you use. This one is one you've seen before: a beautiful woman in a crop top that just barely covers her nipples is proudly displaying a squeeze tube of the kind you'd buy sunscreen or toothpaste in. The caption says, "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle! Step up your slut game with Slut Cream! Shop Now"

"I don't even know what slut cream is," you say. "All you get when you look it up is a bunch of porn."

"Well, obviously it's a way to step up your slut game," says Sam sagely. "What does it say on the website?"

"Oh, I'm not clicking the link," you say. "I don't want to encourage them! What I want to know is why suddenly this ad is all I can seem to see!"

Sam shoots you a wink. "Maybe you're just a slut. These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."'

What neither of you know is that it's actually quite easy to buy online ad space, and they let you get pretty specific with your intended audience.

I live in the next apartment over from you. I've been watching you for a long time, studying you, listening to you through our shared wall. We've talked a few times, some terse conversation at the mailboxes or in the hall, which is how I knew enough about you to place those ads, with audience parameters so specific that probably only you and about five other people would see them. I had fun making them; hiring the model to do the photoshoot, dusting off the skills I picked up in that college graphic design course, creating a website for this fake business (though I'm disappointed you still haven't clicked through to see it). If you actually tried to buy slut cream, the website would tell you we're currently closed due to high traffic, and to check back later. Nowhere on the website does it explain what slut cream is.

A number of strange things happen to you over the course of the following day. On your lunch break you walk down the block to the deli by your office. You're in here every weekday, but today the energy here is different. People are staring you, side-eyeing you, having whispered conversations that stop abruptly when you get too close. As you're walking back to work, an old woman spits on the ground as you pass, you'd swear you heard the word "whore!" hissed under her breath. You wonder if you should say something, stand up for yourself, but she's elderly, probably confused, and you decide to be the bigger person.

In the hours after lunch, you're propositioned by no less than seven of your male coworkers. You've had to refuse a few invitations to dinner in your time, but seven in a day is completely out of the ordinary, and the things these men are offering to do to you go way outside the bounds of first date stuff. One guy tells you the conference room is empty, if you want to go for a quick fuck; another guy tells you he hasn't cum in a month, and if you sucked his cock he'd pump so much cum down your throat that you wouldn't need to eat dinner. Your boss even tells you he and his wife are looking for a third and he thought of you first, like he's offering you a big promotion. The strangest thing is that all of these men seem genuinely surprised when you turn them down. Like this sort of thing usually works with girls. One guy even says, "sorry, I was just trying to help."

It was pretty easy to hire actors for the deli and the street. You go to the same place every day, so I knew where they'd have to go and roughly when they'd need to be there. The harder part was getting your coworkers to play along, especially because I was picky about getting people who could sell the act. For a few of them all it took was money. A few of them I had to blackmail. For your boss I had to call in a favor, get his boss to threaten his job. He protested, but I think it made his cock hard, thinking about fucking you alongside his wife.

I keep this up for a few weeks. Anywhere you go I have people watching you, talking about you behind your back. I have people approaching you on the train, at the park, in restaurants, offering to fuck you like they're doing you a favor. You stay firm in your refusal—I wouldn't have expected any less from you—but I can tell it's beginning to eat at you. I watch you try to figure out what you're doing that seems to give all these people the wrong idea about you; you start to dress more modestly, talk less, even walk a little less confidently. But none of this will change anything. All it will do is make you feel more repressed.

After a month, I decide it's time to make my move. I could probably wait longer, but the anticipation is getting too much for me, and besides, you're beginning to get a little wild around the eyes. I'd hate to break you before I've had my fun. One evening, when I know you're home, I unlock your apartment with the duplicate key I had made two months ago. You're in the kitchen, washing dishes with headphones on; you didn't hear me come in. I leave the door open as I approach you, admiring the way you shake your ass to whatever it is you're listening to. I get right up behind you and stay there for a moment, lavishing in your innocence, feeling my cock strain at my belt as I imagine taking it away from you. Then I reach around front of you with both arms and plunge my hand into your panties

You shout in shock, fight back, try to push me off as the headphones fall off your head. But I've got you pinned against the counter, my full body weight against you, one hand down your pants, the other groping your breasts. Once you realize that fighting won't help, you stop struggling and ask me what I want. "Please," you say. Just hearing that quiver in your voice almost makes me delirious with lust. "Please, let me go. I don't want this, please."

I bury my face in your neck, kissing and breathing you in. You smell incredible, like fear and sweat and sex. I bring my lips up to your ear, let them brush against you as I speak. "Of course you want this, baby. You've been trying so hard to hide it, but you don't have to hide with me. Look, you left the door open for me." I let you turn your head enough to see the door hanging open just as my fingers find your clit. I'm rubbing you gently, tenderly, just the way I've watched you touch yourself through the webcam I have in your room. My other hand is under your shirt now and I'm squeezing your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers, feeling it slowly grow full and erect. You try to stifle a soft moan and I kiss your neck again. "It's okay, baby. You don't have to be ashamed. It's okay to want to feel good. Let me make you feel good."

You clutch your face in your hands and let out a cry of frustration and humiliation and agony and pleasure. You barely know me; I'm the guy next door who sometimes looks at you a little too long. The guy you speed up to avoid in the hall. But that feeling radiating from you clit... You think how exhausting it's been, doing everything you could think of to change people's perception of you, get them to stop looking at you as a slut, how none of it has done you any good anyway. You wonder if you'd have had more fun fucking Jim in the conference room, or swallowing Dylan's cum, or having a threesome with your boss and his wife. And that throbbing in your clit, the agonizing pleasure...You remember that beautiful woman in the ad: "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle!" You think about how happy she looked, how fulfilled. You remember Sam's words: "These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."

It does feel good, doesn't it? To let me touch you, pleasure you, to let go of this act you've been holding on to. Isn't it okay to want to feel good? Why did you ever let anyone make you ashamed of that? You try out another moan, letting the pleasure well up through your chest and out your mouth. It feels good, so you try another, and another, and then you're leaning back into me, grinding up against me, delighting in the feeling of my hard cock against your ass.

"Good," I say. "You're letting go of those silly hang-ups. Now we can have our real fun." My hands still around you, controlling you, I half lead-half carry your trembling body to the bedroom. I throw you on the bed, face up so I can get a good look at your eyes, see what I've done to your mind. Those same eyes that have avoided me in the hall so many times now gaze hungrily up at me, wanting me, needing me.

Who am I do decline?

I pull off your pants and panties as a single unit, letting you take care of your shirt for yourself. I kick of my own bottoms, letting my throbbing cock slap against your leg as it springs from its confinement. Don't think I don't notice the way your whole body shivers when it touches you. I lift your legs and push your knees up towards your ears; you're remarkably flexible. It must be all that yoga I've watched you do at the place downtown. I've greatly enjoyed your visits to that place, so it's nice to see they weren't in vain.

You're afraid of me, all of a sudden. Maybe some part of you is seeing sense, realizing you'd have to be crazy to let a guy like me come into your home and fuck you like this. But what was the alternative? Have me rape you? Let me tell you, darling: I would have raped you. You feel the head of my cock gliding over your skin, exploring your inner thighs and pubic area, and tremble at my touch. I want this, you tell yourself. This is what a slut like me needs.

All the same, you cry a little bit when I penetrate you. It's not because it hurts—it does hurt a bit, but you're wet enough, and it's not entirely a bad pain. It's not because you're afraid—well, maybe in part, but that's not the core of it. You cry because you're finally letting go. Letting go of the person you used to be, or thought you were. It's the relief of knowing you don't have to pretend anymore, wrapped up with the mourning you feel when you lose a potential version of yourself. I lean across you as my cock fills you up, and tenderly, I kiss away your tears. "Hush, my darling. I'm here. I will always be here. I will love you despite what you are, when everyone else turns away in disgust."

My weight on you feels good, comforting. The way I press down on your legs, stretching you out, driving my cock so deep inside you that it brushes your cervix. It hurts a little, but is that any better than you deserve? Could a slut like you really expect to find better than this? Better than unconditional love and a desire to give you the pleasure you need?

I'm speeding up now, my face something like an animal, furious and insistent as I gaze down at you. There's darkness behind my eyes, you think, something cold and cruel. You thank God I'm on your side. My hips are like a hammer on your pelvis now, and with each thrust you feel my cock bulging inside you, throbbing and pulsating with anticipation. When I finally plant my seed in you, groaning and growling and pressing you further into the bed, you find there's something comforting about the warmth of my cum inside you. Maybe my seed will take root, make you swell up with me, make you mine. As I roll off you, huffing and panting, the tears begin to stream down your face again, this time from joy.

What did a slut like you ever do to deserve someone who loves you like I do?

[peanutbubba]

The Boy is Mine

Law x male!reader, pre-time skip, smut, Sub!Top Reader, Dom!Bottom Law, unestablished relationship to an established one, jealousy, brattiness, possession, praise, riding, overstim, mentions of fingering, oral, not beta read, 3.5k words

Breathtaking, that's what you were, devastatingly easy on the eyes. It’s what pisses Law off so much, even without trying to you demand attention.

And Law hated it when you got it, even in your boiler suit, you pulled it off annoyingly well. The way that women practically threw themselves at you, trying to spend a night with you, it disgusted him.

The hand on his sword clenching tighter, these people needed to learn no meant no. He watched as you tried to get the women away from you, a nervous smile on your face as you kept rejecting them.

His eyes narrowing he raised two of his fingers in a familiar position, “Room. Shambles.”

One second you were surrounded by a bunch of women, the next you were standing right beside Law, the unamused look on his face already telling you something was up.

Surprised at how you disappeared the women look around curiously, eventually one of them pointing you out a few feet away a shriek coming from her. “It’s Trafalgar Law, the pirate rookie!”

At those words Law’s lips turn up in a grin, his half lidded eyes flickering across all the women in the bunch. “So you’ve heard of me?”

His eyes narrow dangerously, a glint of jealousy in his gray eyes. “Good, that means you can listen.”

You let out a yelp as Law catches the back of your boiler suit, pushing you in front of him. “This man here, he’s mine, got it? So leave him alone.”

A crimson tinge blooms on your cheeks, your face mimicking the looks of the women, surprised and confused.

Letting go of you, Law turns around, a disinterested look on his face once more, “Finish up shopping, Y/N, we’ll meet you back on the Polar Tang.”

Straightening up you respond immediately, “Of course, Captain!” Your verbal confirmation being all he needed before he sauntered off, not another word leaving him.

Looking behind him you saw Bepo, realizing what Law meant by ‘we’. Then your face drops, looking around you watching how everyone is instead now scared of you, shopping was going to be a hassle.

When Law met where Bepo was standing, his navigator giggling behind his white paws, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Law let out a sigh, his eyes slipping closed for a moment, heat rushing to encapsulate his face as he pushed his hat further down his head.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, passing Bepo his sword.

Bepo takes the sword and immediately down turns his head, a sorrowful expression on his face, “Sorry, captain.”

Beginning to walk towards the submarine, Law stays silent, listening to the gasps of civilians as he passes through the streets, Bepo following closely behind him.

“You know you should tell him,” Bepo starts, trying once more for the millionth time to convince his captain to confess his feelings to you.

Law simply rolls his eyes, deciding that today he’d play dumb to Bepo’s pestering. “Tell who what?” He questions.

Bepo frowns in turn, his black button nose twitching in annoyance. “Y/N! You can’t keep denying that you like him forever.”

“I don’t like him,” Law says flatly. If it was anyone else they would have been convinced, but considering that Bepo has been with Law longer than anyone else he knew how to read the man.

Bepo shakes his head at the audacity of his captain, “You literally called him yours in front of a whole bunch of people!”

“Well he is, he’s a part of my crew.” He states factually, making eye contact with Bepo.

“Yeah, well we both know that’s not how you meant it.” The polar bear mink bites back, a small frown on his face.

Law matches the frown, his brows furrowing in irritation that he couldn’t hide anything from Bepo. “I’ll tell him…”

At those words Bepo perks up, finally glad that he was starting to talk some sense into Law, “That’s good-“

“…eventually,” Law finishes his sentence off, Bepo’s happy face dropping once more.

Bepo lets out a sigh, no longer bringing the subject up as they reach the Polar Tang, the other crew members welcoming them back.

Giving Law his sword back Bepo walks away to Shachi and Penguin, deciding to give the two a hand with whatever task they were currently struggling at.

Law went to his captain’s quarter, not really wanting to be bothered at the moment with anything other than his own thoughts.

The sound of the door closing behind him immediately has him placing a hand over his chest, feeling how his heart thumps against it, as if it was going to burst out of his chest.

It was pathetic really, how much you affected him. He just wanted to sink into the ocean and never have to face you again, because even seeing you was enough to send his heart into shock, even as much as he tries to deny it.

Sucking in a breath he slowly exhales, trying so desperately to regain his grip on reality, how embarrassing it is to be this much of a mess from just seeing and talking about you.

Letting out a grunt he goes to his desk, perhaps he’d have better luck distracting himself when by doing actual work. A mix of research papers and medical books scattered around his table, both organized and messy at the same time. His fingers thumbing over pages as he compares notes, diseases, and cures.

It isn’t long before night hits, shrouding the Polar Tang in a cloak of stars and purple, not that Law really noticed it, too engrossed within the papers in his hands.

Rasping of knuckles against metal being the only thing that could knock him out of his stupor, hardly looking up from the pages in his hands as he yells, “Come in!”

The handle of the door twisting with a screech before relaxing again as it’s pushed in, revealing you with a tray of dinner resting between your hip and hand. “I brought you dinner, Captain.”

“Is that so?” He responds back, eyes skimming across a page of text, not retaining any of the information as he listens for any other movements or words you’d bless him with.

Feet shuffle over to his desk, each foot step you take having Law’s heart pounding and learching, fingers tighten on the papers as he tries so desperately to keep his composure while you’re so close to him in this enclosed space. The sound of the metal door closing by itself, the feel of paper wrinkling under his hand doing nothing to soothe him.

Brushing some of the papers on Law’s desk to the side you create an opening wide enough for the tray, on it a plate of onigiri and a mug of steaming black coffee resting neatly upon it.

The smell alone of the coffee had Law meagerly looking up, catching how the dark liquid rippled from your prior movements. Your hands release the handles of the tray, maneuvering so you were next to Law’s desk instead.

Your captain’s tired eyes going from the coffee to following you, his brows furrowing in an unspoken question.

Letting out a hum you answer his peeking curiosity, “Everyone is back on the island gathering the last of the supplies, I don’t want to be alone.”

Law doesn’t answer, letting out a sigh as he goes back to the medical page in his hand, his other free hand reaching for the coffee that you made him. Taking the fact that he didn’t kick you out immediately as a good sign you turn around, sitting down and leaning your back on the side of his desk, arms crossed against your chest.

It wasn’t like you were Penguin or Shachi, you wouldn’t purposely or even accidentally cause him trouble, something that Law grew fond of you over, which was also why he allowed you to stay. In a way it was a win win, you got to not feel alone and Law got to bask in your presence.

Taking a sip of his coffee Law almost melts in the chair, how you made a coffee taste so bitter and yet sweet enough to cancel it out he had to figure out, it was perfectly made.

His hand switched between the mug of coffee and the onigiri, eating and drinking as he peacefully studys away, you by his side. He wouldn’t have been surprised if when he died this is what he’d see in heaven, if he’d ever make it there in the first place.

Light snores taking up the silence after what Law can only assume is somewhere close to an hour, his eyes looking over to examine how your head is slumped over, your body completely still from the position you originally got in.

Seeing you sleep also makes him realize his own aching need for rest, the energy the coffee and food gave him already spent.

Pushing his chair out he stands up, stretching his arms up with a small groan falling from his lips, ecstasy reaching its grubby hands on his body since he was finally up and standing after so many hours.

Walking over to you he squats down, observing for a moment how your chest rises and falls, how even in your sleep your beauty maddeningly still clings on to your body. If god had favorites he was sure you were at the top of the list, there was no other excuse in his eyes.

Raising up two of his fingers he planned on just teleporting you to your bunk, before an idea planted itself in his head. Well, can you blame him? How many times is it that your crush is asleep in front of you, clueless as to what you’re doing?

Planting a hand down on the floor to steady his balance he leans forward, shivering slightly at how your breaths brush so lightly against his whiskered chin. Pushing himself to continue his lips meet your forehead, barely there for more than a second, just a small kiss to confess what he truly thought of you, even if you were asleep.

Leaning back away just by a little he doesn’t even realize how your snores stopped, or how your eyebrow twitches ever so slightly, too sidetracked with how heart pounds like drums, and how his other lifted hand shakes.

A tight grip on the scruff of his neck pushing him down, you looking up to meet him in the middle, a teasing smile on your face as you talk with your slight sleep laced voice, “Hi, Captain.”

Law’s face blows up in red as a response, inked hands reaching for your chest and pushing himself away from you, breathing heavily as he gets away from your suffocating presence.

Falling on the floor butt first, hands trying to find purchase anywhere on the metal floors, tilting his head down to hopefully hide some of it behind the brim. Truly he wasn’t sure if it was the fact that you scared him, or the fact that you caught him left him more out of breath.

“Y/N-ya it’s… it’s not what it looks like,” he tries in a small voice, raising his left arm so he can hide the rest of his crimson face behind his sun kissed skin.

Loud boisterous laughter only makes his eyes widen further, his mouth gaping as his heart stutters, the laugh not mocking nor meant in a bad manner, genuine humor seeping out of you.

Even your laugh was hot… God must have favorites.

Standing up you wipe imaginary dust off your boiler suit, smoothing it down under your fingers before walking over to where Law was sitting.

Leaning down and hooking your hands around his waist he was about to yell at you, a clear scowl forming on his face, before he was lifted up from the ground, standing him up straight.

Law’s scowl turning both flustered as well as dumbfounded, since when could you pick him up like he was nothing but a mere feather?!

Goosebumps racking his body at the implications of that, and from the fact that very clearly through his hoodie he could feel your strong grip on his waist, sending an uncharacteristic satisfaction and desire through his mind.

“You know, Law,” an almost purr like noise escaping your mouth, not missing how Law quivers at his name rolling off your tongue, “if you wanted to kiss me so bad you could have asked.”

As you lean forward Law’s left arm shoots out, grasping your lower face and pushing it away from him, “I don’t want to!”

“Idiot, you shouldn’t say stuff like that!” He grumbles, his other hand placing itself on your chest, just now realizing how close the space between you both was.

A chuckle escapes your lips at your captain’s behavior, a mischievous glint in your eye as you release your right hand from the grip on his waist, placing it on Law’s wrist instead to keep it in place.

Lips pressing against the palm tenderly throwing him for a whirlwind, hand tensing then relaxing, releasing his grip on your face. He gapes, your lips making it across his hand, from his roughed up palm to the inked letters in the backs of his fingers, then back again.

Each kiss makes him melt further within your arms, your eyes flickering to his as you place one last kiss at the base of his ring finger, a grin making its way on your features. “Can I kiss you, Captain?”

And Law can simply nod dumbly, too speechless with your attention on him. Your hand going from his wrist to his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, pulling him in.

Warm lips landing on his own so nicely, squeezing his eyes shut as he leans into it, tilting his head slightly as you nip at his lower lip, a soft whimper escaping him.

Parting his lips, your tongue slips in, his fingers tightening in yours as you both fight for dominance, the two of you too stubborn to give in.

Breaking away for air the two of you stare at each other for a moment, enamored by how drool dribbles out the corner of Law’s mouth. Pants and huffs fill the air, and when you go to break it further Law cuts you off, “Shut up.”

You hardly take offense to his words, your easy going nature only making you amused at your Captain’s orders, still following them ever dutifully.

Law lets go of your hand, placing his on your chest and pushing you back until your back near his desk, moving you over to his chair and watching how your knees buckle under the corner of it digging into you.

An ungraceful look about you as you tilt your head up, a look of adoration in your eyes as you admire how your Captain now towers over you.

Your hands go to hold Law's hips but are slapped away by him, an almost evil look to his face, “Don’t touch, just watch.”

Nodding your head you put your hands to your sides, holding on to the arm rests instead, allowing the man to have his fun.

He goes for your clothes first, unclasping the button by your neck, quick fingers making due of the zipper next. You pull your arms out of the sleeves to make his job easier, lifting your hips as he pushes it down with your pants under the suit, only leaving you in a tank top and boxers.

One of his hands reaches for his hat, taking it off and placing it gently on the floor, black locks of unruly hair sticking out in the air now. His other hand goes to the hem of your underwear, hooking a finger under it and lifting before letting go, a wicked grin adorning his face at the sound of the snap against your hips and the jolt of your knee.

Reaching again he actually pulls your underwear down this time, his breath hitching as your length is released into the air. Fingers reaching for your tip, smearing the precum already gathering there, a grunt leaving you as he circles his finger, your dick twitching in interest.

His entire hands wrapping around as he leans in, licking and sucking at your base while he pumps the rest in his hand, eyes flickering up to see how your face contorts in pleasure.

Leaning back up he kisses the tip of your dick wetly, then he opens his mouth, engulfing half of you in his mouth.

The hand previously on your cock reaching down and undoing his own belt and pants, his eyes fluttering closed then opening again, leaving you with enough imagination to already guess what he’s doing under there.

His tongue licks at the underside of your dick, a soft moan leaving him before he lowers himself further, throat closing around you as he chokes slightly. That doesn’t deter him though, slurping obscenly around you as fucks you in his throat, drool messily spilling from the corners on his lips.

The flecks of yellow in his irises now more pronounced as tears brim his eyes, the lust encapsulated in them only making you harder.

Your hands twitch and shake due to how bad you want to go for his hair, but you force them on the arm rests clutching so tightly as Law sucks so sweetly, moans falling from your lips.

Much to your displeasure Law only stays between your legs for another minute before standing, chest rising and falling harshly finally able to catch some proper breaths.

Though you perk up again when you notice how his hands go down on his own body, reaching for the band of his pants and boxers. Slowly he pulls them down to expose more of his skin to you, kicking them away when they hit the floor, his shoes going next.

The plush smooth skin sent you into a craze, so badly did you want to fill it with marks, though you refrained praying you’d be able to another time.

Going over to you Law places his knees beside your hip, trapping you between the chair and him, not that you were complaining.

Hovering over your dick, Law let out a chuckle, one hand grasping at your cock and lining you up with his hole, the other resting on your shoulder. “You ready, Y/N-ya?”

He hardly gives you the chance to respond though, sinking down on you, letting out a groan at Law’s tight heat. No longer being able to resist you place your hand on his hips, not missing how he glares at you, but he doesn’t say anything.

It takes him a minute to adjust to you, his hand coming to wrap around your other shoulder as well, then lifting himself up before dropping back down, both of you moaning softly at the feel.

Law shuts his eyes as his grip on your shoulders tighten, pushing himself up and thrusting down on you at a steady pace, your hips bucking up to meet him halfway.

One of your hands wanders from his hip to his stomach, going to lift the hoodie up but you’re stopped when Law goes down and your hand pushes against his tummy, throwing his head back as a loud guttural moan comes from him.

It felt like his brain was pouring out of his ears, a haze only being left in his mind as he grabs your wrist, forcing you to push down again as he whimpers.

Clenching around your dick when you do push again, fuck you felt so good, this had to be heaven. His eyes find yours again, once gray eyes now almost completely overtaken by yellow, tears well in his eyes, some spilling through his thin lashes.

Leaning down Law catches your lips with his own, a passionately messy mix of tongue and spit, Law’s lips wrapping around your tongue with a moan as he sucks.

Pulling away he presses his forehead to yours, messy babbles of, “So good!” And your name tumbling out of his spit slicked lips.

Getting closer to his climax, Law looks at you, a pleading look in his yellow eyes, “Say my name again. Say you’re mine. Please, please Y/N-ya.”

Your eyes widen at his request, grunting at practically harsh thrust before you comply. “I’m yours. All yours, Law.”

At those words Law lets out a long moan, mouth forming a perfect O as he his eyes roll back, pure ecstasy adorning his face, whispering your name like a prayer.

And it isn’t long before you’re pushed over the edge as well, Law’s hole sucking you in so deliciously as he continues to bounce on you for your own pleasure.

Overstimulation making him whine and shake as he helps you ride out your high, a soft moan leaving him as he feels you filling him up, your hot seed making his slim stomach pudge out a bit.

Putting your hand back on his hip you stop his movements, both of you sucking in air harshly for a second.

Your hands tighten on his hips a grunt escaping you when he begins grinding down on you, a devilish grin on his face. “You can go again, right, Y/N-ya?” He says so sweetly.

—

This was supposed to be posted yesterday but I both got distracted, and ended up writing WAY more details then intended.

Hope you enjoyed still, Pea’s out!