that---one---kid

[that---one---kid]

Konig with a bratty college student reader who plays tennis and is a total daddy’s girl? thoughts?

[that---one---kid]

Thermite x Neighbor! Reader

Sorry for the long hiatus y'all, I started college and shit has been ROUGH, this story is a bit more raunchy, more of my own fantasies so if you have issues with an older guy or a younger girl I'd sit this one out. And I apologize for the writing. It's kind of all over the place and weirdly written, but it'll get better as I get back into writing. N/N-nickname ex-Megan, meg

It was wrong, Jordan knew that, he didn't need that pestering devil on his shoulder reminding him, but God, did it feel right. Coming home from a long-way mission to his empty house in a quiet, perfectly cookie-cutter suburban neighborhood. An otherwise boring home to come back to, if it wasn't for you.

Summer in Texas isn't usually something to be excited about, but ever since he actually met his neighbors last June, Jordan can't help but fantasize about summer all year long. It started when he came home and actually stayed for a while. Harry had been killed, Deimos was on the loose and Rainbow was in shambles, but for the time being it was disbanded until Gustave, Eliza, Yuniko, Taiana, and himself could figure out what to do with their respective squadron. Stepping out in the morning to get the paper instead of coming home to it being piled up, same with the mail, was strange, and seeing neighbors he'd lived next to for years that he knew nothing about was even stranger. Little did he know, the people across from his house would soon be his favorite neighbors, a nice perfectly cookie-cutter couple, a dad with a high-paying corporate job, a wife who did menial work and spent most of her time gardening or out with friends, a son in his twenty-somethings starting a family close by, and a daughter in her sophomore year of college. Jordan obviously didn't see either of the two kids much, only in passing did he hear of the daughter, Y/N, when your mom would complain about you or praise you, or both.  But summer had rolled around faster than he had noticed since you came home from college.

In hindsight it was a bad idea, weird on his part to even talk to some 19 year old, but, God, were you hard to resist wanting to talk to. Young, smart, full of life and beautiful by all means. Innocent conversations when you'd walk out to your car, small talk when you'd water the front yard turned into longer talks. He knew it was wrong, God, it was wrong, but damn it all if it wasn't worth it.

It started out with him inviting you into his house on a hot day, offering sweet tea to cool off when he caught sight of you on a run.  "Oh, um, yeah, thank you, Mr. Trace." 'Mr. Trace. Jordan always hated being called 'Mr. Trace'. It made him feel old, a reminder he'd rather go without, but something about it coming from your plush lips, your smooth youthful voice made him like it. You take the glass from him, the condensation running down your hand as you bring it up to your mouth, plush lips parting for it, small water droplets falling onto your chest and sliding into your sports bra. Jordan takes a gulp, his mouth having gone dry suddenly as he rips his stare from following any further. You sigh as you finish your tea, flushed face looking at him so sweetly. "Thank you, Mr. Trace. I really appreciate it." The way your tongue darts out to lick your lips and the way you look at him is enough to make him shift uncomfortably in his seat. "Of course, N/N." And that was the beginning of his downfall. He knew it was creepy and bordering-no, WAS, stalking, but he made a point to take note and memorize your running schedule. And like clock work he'd coincidentally be outside to chat with you, either watering his lawn or reading. He didn't only get closer with you, though, he got much closer with your family. "Well, we were planning on going to the beach house in South Carolina for awhile," Your mom says, motioning to your dad. "And we were wondering if you'd be willing to keep an eye on the house while we're gone." Your mom asks almost sheepishly and it takes Jordan by surprise for a moment. "Yeah that shouldn't be a problem, is Y/N going to be gone most of the time? Or going with y'all?" Your mother almost sighs, "No, she has her sports conditioning this summer, but I just don't want her sneaking in her little boyfriend or friends. I know it's short notice but we'll be leaving next week and if you could just shoot me a text if you see anyone who isn't her i'd really appreciate it." Boyfriend? You had never mentioned one. The slight sting of jealousy Jordan feels rising in his stomach is completely unfounded, but not completely foreign to him. The same feeling arising when he'd see you chat with some neighbor boys that seemed to also be home from college. "Of course, it'd be no problem really."

The next day on your run you actually stopped and initiated conversation for once. "I hear you're my new babysitter." You say sarcastically while taking off your headphones. Jordan looks up from his book, his breath briefly catching in his throat as he takes in sight of you. It was an unusually hot day and you were dressed for it. Tinier spandex shorts than normal that perfectly outlined your hips and a tight sports bra contrasted beautifully against your sweat shinned skin that looked more tantalizing than usual. "You don't have to actually watch me, Mr. Trace, I don't know why they treat me like a kid." A slight smile graced your lips, afterall it was somewhat endearing. Jordan peeled his eyes away from your body only to get lost in your face, fantasies running wild as he can't help but do a once over of all of you.  "Aw, it's really no problem. Your mom just told me to keep an eye out for a boyfriend." Jordan teases. Your face turns more red than it already is. "Haha, I wouldn't call him that, but fair enough-" You're cut off when you trip on an uneven pavement while walking up towards jordan. With his cat-like trained reflexes he jumps up from his seat to grab you. Jordan catches you, one hand lands on your lower hip, thumb resting oh-so-close to your bikini lines. His other hand wrapped around your back, pulling you sweat slicked body as close as it could get to him. "You okay?" Jordan says, concern evident in his voice, his mouth so close to your ear that you can feel his hot breath tickle the skin. A shiver runs down your spine and suddenly your knees feel weak and you feel the sudden urge to kiss him. "Uh, yea, sorry." You say somewhat breathlessly. Jordan makes sure you're alright before his brain processes where his hands had just been. "Sorry, I didn't mean to uh," Jordan gestures his hands vaguely towards you. "Oh no! It's totally fine! Sorry I didn't mean to put you in that position." You laugh awkwardly while finding your footing.  Before Jordan could tell you that it was completely fine and that he'd love to let his hands wander your beautifully sculpted body again you were already on your way back to your house. "I'll see you later, Mr. Trace!" You yell before turning back to your jog. Jordan was thankful that you didn't notice the hard on he was sporting, your absence leaving his mind to wander as much as he desired. Turning heel he quickly retreated inside his home to relieve himself.

    Quickly, he walked into his house, shutting the door with urgency behind him. Making his way to his bedroom, he slips off his shoes and unbuckles his pants, shimming them off just enough to slip them half way down his thigh before falling back into bed, releasing his throbbing cock from his boxers. Rough and calloused hands tease the tip of his weeping cock, his thumb swiping over the sensitive tip, smearing his precum with it. Grabbing his length whole, he lets out a shuddering breath. His thoughts wander back to you, the way your skin felt in his touch, soft and smooth. How smooth your toned legs looked, how they would feel wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you. Your pillowy lips spilling out sweet ecstasy as you beg for him to fuck you. Jordan quickened his pace, feeling his pulse in his throat. Imagining what you would look like underneath your tight sports bra, how your perky breasts would look as he slammed you into the mattress as you moaned his name. Thinking back to how you said his name, Mr. Trace, you begging for his cum, the way your flushed face looked and how it would look while you choke on him. Jordan's grip tightened as he released with a soft moan of your name. Lying on his bed he lets his shallow breaths fill the silent room, the sound of rushing blood and his own heartbeat is all he hears. After some time Jordan throws his legs over the side of the bed, sliding off his pants the rest of the way off and walks towards his bathroom. Wiping off his stomach Jordan splashed the warm water in his face, staring at his reflection and sighing. "Ughh, Y/N, you're going to be the death of me."

    The day your parents left came and evening came sooner. Jordan had been pacing patiently waiting for you to get back from swimming at 7. He never paced. You had sent him a text asking him to come over for dinner earlier that day, telling your parents that it was a nice way to thank him for watching over the house and you while they're away, of course your mother agreed, thinking it was a lovely idea. Jordan glances at his phone again, checking the time, 6:42 glared back at him. Groaning, Jordan walked back to his bathroom to stare at himself in the mirror. Looking at his trimmed stubble Jordan fiddles with his hair, despite slicking it back with his usual gel it doesn't seem to want to stay, small hairs falling into his face, finally deciding just to leave it. After swishing mouthwash for the 4th time that night Jordan feels his phone vibrate. Quickly fishing it out of his pocket he reads your message. "Back from swim come over whenever🏊‍♀️" Jordan smiles nervously, God, he felt like he was in high school all over again. Why oh why was he so nervous over this? Taking one last look in the mirror he grabs his phone and sends a quick, "Coming" text. Jordan grabs his keys and heads out the door, hitting a light jog across the street.

Walking up the stairs Jordan takes a deep breath, settling his nerves before knocking twice. The solid wood door feels heavy even as he knocks and it's not before he hears footsteps running downstairs. The door opens quickly, revealing you, a tight tank top, sports shorts and wet hair. Jordan takes a sharp inhale, hiding it with a smile. Your cheery face greets him, the soft smell of chlorine is noticeable even at the distance he's at, not an unpleasant aroma. "Hey! C'mon in!" You say while leading him in, closing the door behind you. Walking through the living room you guide him to the kitchen. "Sorry, I just started making the spaghetti-it's the only thing I really know how to make, haha," Jordan smiles, taking a seat at the bar seats across the kitchen counter. " So what do you survive off of in the dorms?" He asks, feeling somewhat awkward and unsure of what to talk about. "Mostly redbarrens, it's kinda a goated dinner. Especially the supreme pizza." There's more light banter until you declare that the clearly overcooked pasta is done. After serving you both a plate you excuse yourself. "Oh, one second," You say while walking across the kitchen and out of sight into the butlers pantry. "Do you like Pinot Noir or Chianti?" You call out. Jordan stands up, walks over to the kitchen sink area, and rests his back against the counter. "Are you even old enough to drink?" He asks in a playful tone, a smirk pulling at his lips. You pop your head from around the corner, smiling and holding a bottle of wine. "Depends. Are you a snitch?" You say in a half-joking tone. "Do me a favor and grab some glasses from that cabinet closest to you." Jordan does as told and grabs two wine glasses, setting them on the counter. You open the bottle and pour you both a generous glass. "Is this a normal pour back at school?" He asks, half laughing. You smirk, leaning over the counter. "Usually, yeah. It's not common to have such nice wine, I've grown accustomed to Coors banquet." Jordan's eyes trail down your sternum. Eyes half lidded you give him a sly smirk.  "Well, I wouldn't want the food to get cold." You say, grabbing your glass and heading to the kitchen table, Jordan following close behind.

After dinner and a bottle of wine later you're both on the living room sofa, watching some hallmark movie. The wine was really setting in now, a warm fuzzy feeling filling both of you as you sit next to Jordan, feet propped up on the coffee table. You take another sip from your glass, slurring your words slightly as you suddenly sit up, leaning dangerously close to him. "Do you want another glass?" You ask, a small laugh follows. Jordan smiles lazily, feeling the effects of the wine himself. "I think I'm all good, thank you." His voice comes out smooth, it sends chills down your spine.Jordan can't help but look at your parted lips, the alcohol flushing your cheeks and swelling slightly parted your lips. The way you look at him is almost predatory. "Y'know, Mr. Trace," You say, shifting so that you're on your knees facing towards him. Jordan shifts his body slightly to face towards you, his heartbeat beginning to quicken and cheeks feeling impossibly hot. "I've alwaaays thought you looked so gooood when you're doing yard work." You're clearly drunk but Jordan can't bring himself to think of anything other than your pretty words and how your nipples are hard beneath that thin, low cut tank top. "Yeah? You think so?" He says, "Yeeeaah," You smile, putting both your hands on his chest, you push him against the soft cushions, throwing right your leg over his thighs, straddling him you pull your face close to his, lips brushing against his. Jordan's breath hitches at the sudden closeness. "Y/N..."He breathes out. This is wrong. So wrong. But, God, does it feel so good. "I've seen the way you look at me, Jordan," He shudders at your words, his cock growing achingly hard underneath you. Part of him hoped you wouldn't notice and the other part wanted to bend you over the coffee table and destroy you. "We shouldn't.." He says, mentally kicking himself for doing the moral thing. It's too late though because you're already taking off that tight little tank top and jordans grabbing your waist for a heated kiss. You slam your lips into his in a frenzied kiss. Gasping as you pull away wrapping your hands around his neck, standing up you pull him up with you without breaking the kiss. The height difference now an inconvenience, you hitch your leg onto Jordan's waist. Taking this as a sign, Jordan reaches down and grabs your ass, giving it a squeeze before lifting your weight. Jumping up, you wrap your other leg around his waist. Jordan trails his kisses down your neck as you throw your head back in a gasp. "Th-the room around the cornerrr-" You cut yourself off with a whine when Jordan hits the sweet spot on your neck. He readjusts you and carries you to the bedroom. Letting you down, you break the kiss, taking his hand and leading him  to the large, cushy canopy bed. Jordan takes a second to look around. "Is this your parent's room?" He asked while you pull him down into the bed with you. "Don't tell me you want to stop." You pout, saying it so sweetly that it almost absolves him of the sin he's about to commit. As if he could care less.

Jordan quickly rips off his shirt, hastily unbuckling his belt while you slip off your shorts, revealing a lacey red thong that barely covers anything. Jordan's mouth water at the sight. "God, you are a minx." He says, his voice dripping with lust. You bat your eyes at him, "less talky, please," You say, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him back in. Jordans' hands trail down your body, thumbs caressing your lower stomach before trailing lower, hooking them around the hem of your panties. You moan into his mouth, feeling your own desire building in your stomach. "Please, Jordan, I need you," You say breathlessly into the kiss. Jordan groans at your words, feeling his own hardness,  rutting his hips against your clothed cunt, the wetness evident. "You want it, baby.." He asks, pulling away to drink in the sight of you completely undone below him. "Please, Jordan, I need you to fuck me." With a final plea, Jordan pulls down your panties, rubbing the head of his cock against your heat. "Fuck..are you sure?'" he asks a final time, barely able to contain himself from ramming into you. Silence follows, slight concern settling into his stomach. You shift nervously under him. "I've just never...gone this far with a guy before..." You mumble, embarrassment heating up your face. Jordan was taken by surprise. "Oh, did you want to-" "No! Uhh, no, just..be gentle, please." You quickly cut him off. Jordan's gaze softens, hands caressing your face. "I don't think your first time should be with-" "But I want it to be you!" You whine. "All I hear about guys my age is how much it sucks, I really want someone hot and who knows what they're doing and..." You trail off, hands roaming Jordans' toned torso. "Someone who..?" He continues, eyes locked on your lips.  "Someone older.."  Jordan smirks. "Hmm, you want someone who knows what they're doing?" You nod sheepishly. Jordan captures you in another kiss. Slowly, he brings the head of his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing in his head into your tight hole. You let out a whine, squirming from the foreign sensation. "J-Jordan, mmgh, you're so-ugh-big!" Jordan groans as he pushes in. "You're doing so good, baby," He coos into your ear. After a moment to adjust he pushes the rest of his length in. Jordan lets out a moan, your tightness feeling heavenly. "Plea-please! Keep moving!" You let out a whine. Jordan obeys almost immediately, slowly at first, the sound of wetness and your moans filling the room. Jordan leans down, his breath hot against your ear as he continues to pump into you. "Ah-I think, i'm gonna-mmmmmff-" Jordan kisses your neck, sucking on your sweet spot. "Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby?" Your panting tells him all he needs to know as he feels your muscles contract around him. "Ugh-Jordan!" You let out a yelp as you cum. "Oh, God!" Jordan grits out through clenched teeth as he holds your body close, his thrusts becoming erratic as he finishes.

    Panting, Jordan pulls out, collapsing next to you. Holding you close, he props himself up on one shoulder, taking in your fucked out expression. Sweat shinned and flushed face, you look at him and give a weak smile. "That was amazing, Mr. Trace." You say softly. "Please, call me Jordan." He chuckles and smiles back.  Your phone ringing cuts off the intimate moment, you scramble across the bed to grab it from your shorts. "Hey mom! Yeah everything went great! Yeah, I'm going to bed soon, it's been a loooong night!"

[that---one---kid]

being in college and doing college things honestly has really helped me grow out of my fanfic phase but i occasionally think of my favorite characters reacting to my day to day. How would an elf from mirkwood (haldir my love😫) would react to getting up at 5 am to jump into a freezing cold pool for lap practice with a bunch of other girls, how would a jedi react to sitting through an ochem lecture or what an r6 operator would think of a college girls day to day compared to their day to day, but then i realize I’m nearly out of my teens and I’m being weird again :)

[that---one---kid]

That was Coachella week one. Let's see what Lana brings us next week. 🌴

[that---one---kid]

Berlin | 2010 | 📷 by Guido Karp

[that---one---kid]

💕

the girls that get it get it

[that---one---kid]

rb if you’re still active on edblr january 2024!! moots? happy new year! 🎉

[that---one---kid]

This guy 👱🏻‍♂️

[that---one---kid]

The cold snow

Coriolanus x Reader

AN: Sorry it kinda progressed really fast and I should’ve wrote him getting gradually more obsessive, but I’ll write another like that. Do yall think reader should relate more to teens nowadays though? Should I put her hitting a vuse in the next fic?

Smut, non-con, dub-con, arranged marriage, dark!Coriolanus, baby trapping, mentions of murder, threatening, reference to domestic violence, drugging, loss of virginity

Not once did you feel love for a man. Not once did you plan on getting married. And not once did you ever consider marrying a man from the capital, they were all the epitome of stuck-up, heartless and cruel bastards dressed up to hide it with a thick veil of elegance, but, alas, when did things you wanted ever go your way. You hide a scowl as the man you had heard far too much stood in front of you next to your father. “..and I'm sure she’s looking forward to the dress!” Your father laughed. “I’m quite sure my cousin is just as excited to help with the design.” The snow-haired boy- no, monster, said, turning to face you, his cold blue eyes look unnerving in the dim light of your dining room. You wondered if he had that same look in his eyes as he came up with ways to monetize innocent deaths. You give a forced smile, directed towards your soon-to-be husband. “I can’t wait to see what she comes up with!” Your voice sounds more strained than intended. Your father's hand lands heavy on your shoulder and he gives you a squeeze before speaking. “Coriolanus, it’s been an absolute pleasure as always, but I hate to keep you too late. University I’m sure is tiring enough and you’ll have Y/N to talk your ear off soon enough.” You shift your shoulder and shake his hand off. Your father gives you a look and Coriolanus smiles before taking your hand and raising it to his lips, bowing slightly he kisses your hand softly, the feeling of his lips on your skin makes a chill run up your spine. “Right again Mr. L/N, but I do look forward to having someone else to talk to aside from Gran’mam and Tigris and Y/N is a wonderful conversationalist.” Your father makes his way to the front door alongside Coriolanus while you snake away as they’re too preoccupied with a conversation of politics and wedding arrangements. You quietly make your way upstairs, narrowly missing a maid in your hurry to slip out of your dress and into a bath, washing the filth you felt from that monster touching you off of your skin. You weren’t naive to Coriolanus Snow. Despite a year his junior plenty of people had talked of the tenth games, of Coriolanus’s ideas, and even reminiscing on it made your blood boil even more so the fact that your father would not only condone his actions but praise them. He talked nonstop of Coriolanus’s genius and innovative brain, paired with an influential name is precisely why he was so eager to offer you up as a bride for this up-and-coming president. A soft knock on your bedroom door alerts you. “I’m in the bath!” You yell. Hearing a soft creek, footsteps slowly follow. “Hello?” You yell, a brunette female avox holding a silk robe enters your bathroom. You shift to cover yourself, despite having servants since childhood you never did get used to their lack of speech and dead stare. If your tongue got cut out you wouldn’t have much light in your eyes either, you suppose. “Thanks, just leave it on the counter.” The silent woman robotically moves towards the counter and places it down before leaving, swift footsteps and a quiet door closing signaling it was time for you to get you. Quickly standing and pulling the drain, the cool air on your skin gives you goosebumps. Slipping on the robe, there's another knock on your bedroom door. “Yeah, just one minute…” You pause, trying to recall the avox’s name, but drawing a blank.

Had even you dehumanized these indentured servants so much that you never learned their names? “Y/N?” Your head perks up from the thought. “Uh, you can come in, Mother, I just got out of the bath.” The door closes and you make yourself decent before walking out into your bedroom. Your mother sits at the edge of your bed, her thin frame barely sinking into the plush sheets. Your mother, although barely giving out any more than the bare minimum of maternal comfort, had always been a confidant for you. Rarely speaking unless spoken to, dressed to your father's liking, and eating the rations for a mouse on your father's request, you had always had a soft spot for her. You knew from a young age you wanted nothing to do with men, and never wanted to be trapped in a marriage like your mother was, loveless and cold it was no wonder you were an only child. She motions for you to sit next to her. “Grab your brush and let's talk.” Grabbing your brush off the vanity beside you, you walk over and stiffly sit next to your mother, handing her your brush. She grabs a lock of your hair and begins working her way through the tangles. This goes on for a few minutes before she breaks the silence. “I know you’re not happy about the marriage.” You roll your eyes and let out a huff. “Forgive me for not wanting to marry the malicious Mr. Snow, I know I’m sooo lucky to get a shot with someone who can make such a spectacle of child murder.” The sarcasm that made you bite your tongue around your father was let loose around your mother  She brushes out a knot with more force than she should, making you let out a wince. Sighing she continues on to another section of hair. “No need to be smart.” She puts down the brush and turns you towards her. Her pale, perfectly curated mask of makeup cracks up close. Her tired eyes and creases from many nights of poor sleep cannot be hidden, no matter how much concealer and powders are applied. “I was much more naive than you are when I married your father. I had the stories and the glory days of the capitol, but I was wrong. I know we haven’t set the best example of marriage for you, but please take this away if nothing else.” Your mother looks at you with a stern and pleading gaze. “You need to submit yourself to this fate.” Her voice is desperate and you can only give her a deadpan stare, “I’m not like you, mother, I have no interest in-” A stinging pain floods your senses, your cheek beginning to get hot accompanied by what you're sure is a brilliant red handprint. Your mother composes herself, fumbling with her hands in her lap, a blank stare adorns her tired face. “Unless you want to feel that and much worse from a hand much heavier than mine, I suggest you heed my advice.” Quickly and quietly, your mother stands up and walks to the door while you sit still in a somewhat shocked state from the normally docile woman's slap. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, I don't want you to go through what I did.” And with that she leaves, leaving you to recover and slip into a nightgown before lying in bed, a futile attempt to make sleep come quicker as your head swims through questions, realizations and your inevitable fate of entrapment.

A week comes and goes, you fill your time with work from the academy, struggling to get through dinners and talks with your father about marriage and the upcoming wedding. Your mother, to her credit, uncharacteristically changes the subject from time to time, giving you few and far-between sympathetic glances. You're grateful for that, at least. “I have business to attend to in District Two for a while, your mother and I will be away for at least a week, maybe more.” Your father says in between bites of sirloin. “Will Arthur be coming around?” Arthur was your uncle, a distant relative your father would like to forget, but it was the one fight he lost to your mother, her absolute refusal for him to isolate her completely from her eldest brother was what a majority of their fights were about in your childhood. Despite that, Arthur always made things more lively, less constrictive, and was the rare times you saw your father intimidated. Your father pauses before speaking again. “He is not, I see it fitting that Coriolanus comes and stays with you while we are away. He will escort you to school and come with his driver to pick you up after his university classes.” You clench your fork, and anger and something akin to nervousness twists in your stomach. Steadying your mind before speaking, you look to your mother who sips her wine, refusing to look at you. “Does that not seem improper, Father. I mean we aren’t to be wed for two more months. What image would that look like?” You try finding any loop, using the family image as leverage wasn’t ideal, but it was a last-ditch effort. “Since when have you cared about your public image? It sets a strong front up for the two of you. I want you to be seen with him as a young respectful woman from a strong house, someone the people can see as the first lady of Panem and I trust you will do as told.” There’s emphasis at the end of his words, more like a threat. Your mother clears her throat before excusing herself to the restroom. The rest of the dinner was sat in tense silence.

A knock at the door causes you to shoot your head up from your book in the living room.  Your parents had left early in the morning and it was now early afternoon, you tried easing the building nerves in your stomach by reading non-stop since before the sun was up, with time put aside to make sure your hair and makeup were perfect because despite hating you fiance and dreading his arrival, some small part of you still wanted to be desired by him.  You set down your book before whispering yelling at the avox passing by. You could see a small glimpse of Coriolanus waiting at the door from the window, but the tree would make it hard for him to see you. As childish as it sounded you asked the avox to wait until she heard your bedroom door from upstairs to close before letting coriolanus in. Like a child caught sneaking down stairs to get a glimpse of Santa, you ran quickly and quietly upstairs, praying silently that Coriolanus didn’t look through the windows next to the door only to see you scampering upstairs to hide in your bedroom. As quickly as you could you make it to your bedroom and slam the door just loud enough so that it could be heard downstairs. From there you crawl into your bed and under the covers of your bed, but instead of hiding from the monsters under the bed like when you were a child, you’re hiding from the monster downstairs, the one who comes to strip you of what little freedom you had left. Hearing the stairs creak makes the dull anxiety turn into panic as the creaking disappears, meaning they’ve now made it to the second floor, meaning they, who you were hoping weren't Coriolanus, were most likely heading for your door. Thinking quickly, you feign sleep, hoping that the oldest trick in the book will work on whoever came to disturb you.  A knock on the door makes you flinch, but still you lay as silently as possible, trying to control and calm your breathing. The door knob turns and the door is pushed open ever so slightly. A heavy footstep echoes through your quiet room followed by a closing door.

Glass against glass is heard before being placed by your bedside followed by a weight on the bed and hot breath tickling your ear. “Sleeping at noon? Come on now, Y/N, I’m not an idiot.” Coriolanus’s voice comes out smooth like honey, but cold like the harsh whip of winter air when you first step outside. You turn over, bleary eyed and fake yawning. “What are you doing in my bedroom uninvited?” Your voice is meant to be accusatory and confident but comes out meek and wavering. Coriolanus backs up, his perfectly slicked back hair doesn't falter even when he brushes it back, a smirk that spells nothing but no-good unnerves you. “I’m your fiance, I think we’re past courting formalities, Y/N, plus, I’ve brought you tea.” Smiling Coriolanus gestures to the white porcelain cup. “Thank you, Coriol-” “Call me Corio, please, the formalities and all are far behind us.” You smile, picking up the tea cup and taking a sip out of it to try and fill the awkward silence that weighs heavy in the room. The bitter taste catches you off guard, scowling as you take another sip, trying to gauge what kind of tea it is. “Corio, what is this, it's such a..strange flavor?” Smiling Corio pushes the cup up to your lips again. “It gets better with taste, and old recipe Grand’mam taught me.” Downing it as fast as possible as to not offend his Grna’mam’s tea you feel yourself get light headed as the world gets blurry. “Corio, what is this..” You trail off, your words are slurred and speaking feels like a chore. Your senses are so numbed that you don’t think twice when Corio gently pushes you back against the feather pillows. “Don’t you think it’s funny that we are engaged and haven't so much as kissed yet?”

 Even through your haze you can see the way the blonde is looking at you. His eyes are hungry, like a predator eyeing up its prey. “I’ve been thinking about you like this for a long time, Y/N, by my side, taming you and your defiance.” Coriolanus slips off his shoes and begins unbuttoning his shirt as he climbs on top of you. “I’ve been eyeing you up for awhile, Y/N, before the arrangements, at the academy, the way you look in your uniform, the way you think outside of the box..” Slowly he begins shedding his shirt, his hands snaking their way up your thigh, hiking up your skirt. “And I see the way the other men in the capital look at you, young, beautiful, rich, pure as snow…you’re a very desirable girl.” He’s made his way to the top of your skirt, slowly pulling it down, leaving you in your top and lacey panties. Now shirtless, Coriolanus begins working at undoing his own pants, leaving him in nothing but boxers on top of you. You try moving your legs but they give up after a few tries. It takes all of your energy to fight to stay awake,your heads not spinning anymore, but even if you could move, Coriolanus would easily overpower you. “S-stop.” You muster out weakly, trying and failing to push him off you, your weak arms are pinned to your side quickly by his own. “I don’t like the thought of another man but your husband taking you, and I intend to fulfill my role as your husband before you retaliate.”

Using one hand, Coriolanus unbuttons your shirt, button by button you feel your cheeks heat up and a growing arousal in your panties throws you off. You had never been touched like this by anyone other than your own hands in the dead of night before. Coriolanus swears under his breath as he exposes the rest of you, eyes wandering back down to your panties. “I’ve known about you far longer than you have of me, Y/N. I’m ready to have a loving marriage w​​ith you, but you just need to accept me.” He trails off as he unclasps your bra, rambling more about how he couldn’t wait and all the long dinners with you were driving him mad. Now fully exposed and more out of it than ever you feel his hands cup your breast. His erection pressing hard against your stomach as he leans down for a desperate kiss. He’s rough, trying to take in as much of you as possible.. Panting, his hot breaths send shivers down your spine, you feel your own wetness as you feebly rub your thighs together, weakly and with as much force as you can you push on his shoulders so he is sitting up straddling you. You tell yourself it’s to get him off of you, but in reality if so he’ll give attention to the rest of your body and not just your now abused lips. Coriolanus has the eyes of a madman as he quickly sheds his boxers and pulls down your panties. Using his thumb to tease your clit, you jolt slightly. Feeling foreign hands on you was a strange yet pleasurable experience. “Corio..” your soft moan of his name made him all the more possessive of you. He wanted to only ever hear you say his name in such a way, and he wanted to hear more of it. Taking out his hard cock, he lined it up with your entrance.  Coriolanus leaned back down, kissing you much more softly as he pushed into your virgin cunt. You moan into the kiss as you feel his cock pushing into you. “God, you’re so tight, you were made for me.” He moaned, head spinning Coriolanus wasn’t sure when, but he was holding your hips down as he fucked you, the way your breast bounced and your hair fell in your face as you moaned his name in breathy gasps made his head spin. “Corio-ah, fuck, Coriolanus..” Your meek voice just made him want to fuck you harder, to draw out more symphonies of his name, to make it known to not just you, but the world that you were Y/N Snow, and nobody except him could take you this way.  In between moaning your assailant's name and begging for more, you had a few moments of clarity, where you knew this was wrong but your body betrayed you. Moving on instinct you lift your legs towards your chest, begging to take the blondes’ cock deeper into you. In Coriolanus’s mind, you were begging for him to make you his, for him to not just claim you in name, but claim a life, a life that both of you created. Slamming your hips against his own Corio could feel himself coming undone, letting out breathy moans of your name you felt his hot cum spilling inside of you, begging for your own release which soon followed. Coriolanus fell on top of you, feebly keeping himself stable above you before rolling over to look at you. Rosy cheeks and a thin sheen of sweat cover you as your hair curls and frames your face in an almost angelic way. You were exhausted, trying to think but coming up blank, the drug affect starting to weigh on you, you allow yourself to block out the blonde lying next to you and let your heavy eyes close, drifting off to an inviting deep sleep while Corio stares at you, content with himself and that you’ll never be able to leave him now, especially with the child he and you would have, tying you to him forever.

[that---one---kid]

avoir dix-neuf ans, c'est bizarre, j'ai créé ce blog quand j'avais quinze ans

[that---one---kid]

Rammstein-Ohne Diche Live in Amerika Tour MSG

Till needs a manicure👇

[that---one---kid]

just want someone to spiral into my ed with😩

[that---one---kid]

reblog to give the person youre reblogging from a big strong hearty platonic masculine brotherly man hug

[that---one---kid]

Happy birthday!!

Thank Youu!!

[that---one---kid]

libre

Le soleil du matin envahit la chambre, jetant une lueur dorée dans la grande salle. Vous vous êtes réveillé de votre sommeil et vous vous êtes assis. "Un autre jour, un autre plan d'évacuation." Tu pensais. Cela faisait deux ans que ce blond dérangé, Giorno, t'avait kidnappé, ou comme il aimait à le dire, « t'avait sauvé ». De quoi ? Eh bien le monde bien sûr ! C'était un endroit horrible après tout, bien trop dangereux pour quelqu'un d'aussi délicat que vous ! Même la pensée de lui vous rendait nauséeux. On aurait pu penser qu'au bout de deux ans, on s'y serait habitué, mais il semblait que plus le temps passait, plus on devenait méprisant, et plus on commençait à perdre l'espoir d'être un jour libre de lui. Vous étiez à votre point de rupture, désespéré de trouver une issue, quel qu'en soit le coût. "Ah, te voir tous les matins me fait mal au cœur, il mio amore." Vous vous tournez pour faire face à la porte alors que la blonde psychotique entre. Vous ne retournez pas le sourire radieux qu'il vous donne, vous n'avez pas souri depuis un moment, il n'y avait vraiment aucune raison de le faire. Giorno se dirige vers le lit et s'assoit à vos côtés. « Je vais avoir des réunions aujourd'hui, il mio amore, mais je promets que dès qu'elles seront terminées, je passerai du temps avec toi. Giorno continue de sourire, il prend ta main dans la sienne et la serre fermement, une vaine tentative pour que tu le reconnaisses. Vous continuez simplement à le regarder, le visage glacial et un regard distant dans les yeux. Giorno lance un dernier regard avant de se lever et de partir. Vous laissez échapper un soupir, reconnaissant qu'il soit enfin parti pour que vous puissiez mettre en œuvre votre plan. Vous jetez les couvertures en soie et sortez du lit. En marchant vers les portes de la salle de bain, vous les ouvrez et entrez dans la grande salle de bain. « Enfin », dites-vous à voix haute en ouvrant les tiroirs du meuble-lavabo. « Tout cela peut être terminé, je peux enfin être en paix. » Vous prenez une lame de rasoir de rechange et vous vous dirigez vers la baignoire en porcelaine sur pied au milieu de la pièce. En entrant, vous prenez un moment pour vous asseoir en silence. Vous pensez à votre vie, à une période plus heureuse avant que Giorno ne l'envahisse. Vous vous souvenez de vos amis, de votre famille, de vos animaux de compagnie et de tous les endroits mémorables que vous avez visités. Oh, comme vous souhaiteriez pouvoir dites au revoir à votre famille et à vos amis, ils pensent probablement que vous êtes déjà mort. "Combien de douleur cela leur a-t-il causé? Combien m'ont-ils attristé?" vous pensez qu'en dépit du fait que Giorno s'est débarrassé d'eux, il a toujours été paranoïaque envers quiconque vous cherchait et vous aidait à vous échapper.

Des larmes silencieuses coulent sur votre visage alors que vous pleurez ce qui aurait pu être. « Et si je finissais l'université ? Et si je quittais l'Italie comme j'en ai toujours rêvé ? Et si je n'avais jamais rencontré Giorno ? Les pensées envahissent votre tête sur les possibilités de la façon dont votre vie aurait pu tourner si l'univers ne vous avait pas abandonné pour rencontrer ce monstre. Vous laissez votre esprit dériver dans le fantasme d'une vie parfaite. Une vie où vous n'avez jamais rencontré Giorno, vous étiez heureux et avec votre famille, une jeune femme réussie, parcourant le monde, rencontrant de nouvelles personnes et expérimentant de nouvelles cultures. Un sourire doux-amer se dessine sur votre visage alors que vous amenez le métal froid à la rencontre de votre poignet. "Bientôt je serai loin d'ici, et je serai de retour dans tes bras aimants. A bientôt maman, papa." Dis-tu, voix sortant d'un murmure de cheval. En fermant les yeux, vous fendez votre poignet sur une tranche rapide et propre. Vous vous sentez engourdi avant qu'une douleur et une chaleur sourdes et piquantes ne parcourent votre bras et votre corps. Vous grimacez en sentant l'air sur votre blessure, c'est comme si des dagues de glace piquent le long de votre bras. "Bientôt, tout sera fini avant que vous ne le sachiez." Vous dites en serrant les dents. Et assez vite, vous commencez à vous sentir somnolent, vos pensées sont à peine cohérentes, pas que vous ayez quoi que ce soit de mémorable à réfléchir de toute façon. Votre tête a commencé à se troubler et vos paupières étaient lourdes. Il ne servait à rien de le combattre, il suffisait de fermer les yeux. Giorno reviendrait et s'occuperait du reste. Du repos. Cela sonnait bien maintenant, même si tu venais de te réveiller il n'y a pas longtemps, tu avais besoin de repos. Tu laisses la tête en arrière, tu fermes les yeux et tu t'abandonnes à l'obscurité. Enfin, après deux longues années, tu étais enfin libre.

[that---one---kid]

Free

The morning sun invaded the bedroom, casting a golden glow in the grand room. You awoke from your sleep and sat up.

"Another day, another escape plan." You thought. It had been two years since that deranged blonde, Giorno, had kidnapped you, or as he liked to put it, 'saved you'. From what? Well the world of course! It was a nasty horrible place after all, much too dangerous for someone as delicate as you! Even the thought of him made you nauseous.

You'd think after two years you'd have gotten used to it, but it seemed that the more time that passed, the more you grew to despise him, and the more you began to lose hope of ever being free of him. You were at your breaking point, desperate to find a way out, no matter the cost.

"Ah,seeing you every morning makes my heart sore, il mio amore." You turn to face the door as the psychotic blonde walks in. You don't return the beaming smile he gives you, you haven't smiled in awhile, there was really no reason to.

Giorno walks over to the bed and sits on your side. "I'm going to have some meetings today, il mio amore, but I promise as soon as they're over I'll spend some time with you." Giorno continues to smile, he takes your hand in his and gives it a firm squeeze, a vain attempt to get you to acknowledge him. You simply continue to stare at him, face stone cold and a distant look in your eyes. Giorno gives one last lingering look before getting up and leaving.

You let out a sigh, grateful for him to finally be gone so you can enact your plan. You throw the silk covers off of you and get out of bed. Walking to the bathroom doors, you throw Them open and walk inside the grand bathroom. "Finally,' you say out loud while opening the drawers on the vanity. "this can all be over, I can finally be at peace." You grab a spare razor blade and walk over to the free standing porcelain tub in the middle of the room. Getting in you take a moment to sit in silence. You think of your life, a happier time before Giorno invaded it. You recall your friends, family, pets and any memorable places you had visited. Oh how you wish you could say goodbye to you family and friends, they probably think you're already dead. 'How much pain has this caused them? How much have they grieved me?' you think despite knowing Giorno got rid of them, he was always paranoid of anyone looking for you and helping you escape, so the only logical solution was to get rid of them before they could even try.

Silent tears stream down your face as you mourn what could have been. 'What if I got to finish college? What if I moved out of Italy like I always dreamed of? What if I never met Giorno?' The thoughts swarm your head of the possibilities of how your life could have turned out had the universe not forsaken you to meet that monster.

You let your mind drift off into a fantasy of a perfect life. A life where you never met Giorno, you were happy and with your family, a successful young woman, traveling the world, meeting new people and experiencing new cultures. A bittersweet smile spreads across your face as you bring the cold metal to meet your wrist.

"Soon I'll be away from here, and I'll be back in your loving arms. See you soon momma, papa." You say, voice coming out in a horse whisper. Closing your eyes, you slit your wrist on one quick and clean slice. You feel numb before a dull stinging pain and warmth runs up your arm and through your body. You wince as you feel the air on your wound, it feels like ice daggers poking along your arm.

"Soon, it'll all be over before you know it." You say through gritted teeth. And soon enough, you begin to feel drowsy, your thoughts are barely cohesive, not that you had anything memorable to reflect on anyways. Your head began to feel cloudy and your eyelids felt heavy. There was no use in fighting it, all you had to do was close your eyes. Giorno would come back and deal with the rest. Rest. That sounded nice right now, even though you had just woken up not long ago, you needed rest. You let your head lul back, you close your eyes and surrender yourself to the darkness. At last, after two long years, you were finally free.

[that---one---kid]

Beau-père Barbe noire

Beau-père Craig Jenson (Barbe noire)

-Votre père est mort quand vous aviez 4 ans dans un accident de voiture pour venir vous chercher à l'école

-Votre mère voulait une figure paternelle dans votre vie, alors quand vous aviez 6 ans, elle a commencé à voir Craig

-Dans votre jeune esprit, Craig était la personne la plus cool du monde

-Il était attentionné et gentil, non seulement c'était un ami qui était toujours prêt à poser des poupées ou à s'entraîner avec, mais il était un soldat!

-Tu as adoré Craig, pour toi c'était la seule figure paternelle que tu connaissais depuis que tu étais si jeune quand ton père biologique est mort 

-Après environ un an de fréquentation, Craig a demandé ta permission de demander à ta mère de l'épouser, et bien sûr était un oui écrasant

- La première fois que Craig vous a entendu l'appeler papa, c'était quand il vous déposait à une fête d'anniversaire de camarades de classe

- "qui est-ce?" «Oh, c'est mon père.» Craig a dû faire une double prise quand il a entendu que vous le présentiez comme votre père, c'était honnêtement l'un des jours les plus spéciaux de sa vie

-Il vous fait un très long câlin avant de retourner à la voiture et de laisser une larme couler le sien. joue, raconte définitivement tout à votre mère

- Craig est très certainement le genre à garder tous les dessins que vous avez faits et à les accrocher au mur, y compris les projets d'école -Il

essaie d'être aussi impliqué que possible, mais malheureusement, il le peut ' t être toujours là compte tenu de son travail

-Il lui a fallu beaucoup de temps pour être bien quand il était de nouveau déployé

-La première fois qu'il a dû partir pour un déploiement, vous avez pleuré et l'a supplié de rester, cela lui a vraiment brisé le cœur de partir, mais le câlin qu'il a eu à son retour a valu la peine de chaque mission

-Craig vous a encouragé à vous mettre en forme en tant qu'enfant, principalement parce qu'il voulait se vanter de la houe que vous y étiez

-Une fois que vous avez vieilli et que vous avez commencé à sortir, il était définitivement le protecteur taper quand il s'agissait de rencontres

- Peu importe si vous vous étiez un homme ou une femme, Craig n'oserait pas laisser une âme vous blesser un cheveu

-Votre mère a dû le distraire la première fois que vous êtes allé à un rendez-vous parce qu'il voulait vous espionner

-Craig s'est présenté à chaque match quand il n'était pas occupé avec le travail

-Le genre de père pour vous encourager depuis les gradins et vous faire des câlins après le match, il s'est toujours assuré que vous saviez qu'il vous aimait et qu'il était fier de vous, que vous ayez gagné ou perdu

- Il a été la première personne à qui vous êtes venu avec des problèmes ou la première personne à consulter quand il s'agissait de décisions importantes dans la vie

-Lors de votre remise de diplôme, il a pleuré, il était tellement ému de vous voir tous grandi 

-Assure de vous dire que votre père le ferait. sois si prudent s'il pouvait te voir maintenant

- te regarder partir à l'université était l'une des choses les plus gratifiantes et déchirantes qu'il ait dû endurer, d'une part tu suivais tes rêves et t'améliorais, mais d'autre part son précieux petit fille / garçon grandissaient et n'avaient plus besoin de compter sur lui