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flowerandblood · 2 days

Text

Refinement (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x little sister • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, oral sex, smut, angst, sexual tension, obsession, mention of arranged engagement ]

[ description: During her Name Day, his younger sister wants to run away to the city. Things don't go according to plan, however, and he, as her older brother, wants to comfort her. Anon request. ]

Part 3 of the Appearances, can be read as standalone story.

My other works: Masterlist

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To his delight, the months before their nuptials he and his younger sister spent in each other's constant company, growing closer to each other. At first she would shyly visit the places he usually frequented, the library or the courtyard, and he was content to interrupt his own affairs by having at least a short conversation with her.

Although he resented discussions about nothing, usually tired of them, with her he could have a light conversation all the time − her questions and answers were always thoughtful and balanced, sometimes filled with a sweet naivety or curiosity from which he felt the heat in his lower abdomen.

"Today is my Name Day, lēkia (big brother)." She cooed sweetly, grasping his fingers in hers − his hand against hers seemed rough and large to him, hers, on the other hand, smooth and delicate as silk.

He murmured under his breath, looking at their intertwined fingers thinking back to the evening the day before, when he had guided her hand under the material of his breeches again, as usual demanding relief, which he then reciprocated with his characteristic devotion.

He wanted her to be convinced that he would make a good husband.

"I know, dōna hāedar (sweet little sister)." He replied calmly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, thinking of the gift he had prepared for her, a beautiful necklace created especially at his command. A girlish, happy smile appeared on her face, a kind of excitement and anticipation emanating from her that intrigued him.

Something was going through her mind.

"There's one thing I've been dreaming about." She whispered, and he leaned back, stretching comfortably in his chair; they sat together under a beautiful, ancient arbour surrounded by a garden, opposite them only the view of the sea, spreading low beneath the walls of the keep, the sound of wind and leaves all around them.

"What is it?" He asked lowly, fiddling with the small ring on her finger which he had given her just after their father had officially confirmed their betrothal.

A symbol that she was meant only for him, the sapphire eye surrounded by a frame of intertwined golden stems and leaves shone brightly in the sunlight.

He heard her twist in her seat, delighted apparently that he had asked the question. She grunted quietly.

"I wish to escape to the town tonight." She said lightly. He looked at her with a smirk full of amusement and indulgence, convinced that she was teasing him.

"On the dragon?" He asked mockingly and pressed his lips into a thin line, swallowing hard when he felt her take her hand from his grasp, her gaze clouded, her brow arched in pain of humiliation and disbelief.

She stood up from her seat and, shocked, he watched her silhouette disappear between the tall shrubs with his lips slightly parted, wondering what had happened. He moved behind her immediately, sighing impatiently − as he got closer he grabbed her arm and forced her to stop. She looked him straight in the eye, tears of rage in her eyes.

"− forgive me, I didn't wish to −"

"You can leave the keep whenever you desire. You can fly on Vhagar whenever you desire. But I can't. I am a prisoner of these walls, our mother does not allow me to travel anywhere. Is that what amuses you so much? Is that what you mock?" She asked in a shaky, embittered voice, wiping the tears from her red cheeks with her free hand, her lower lip quivering with nerves.

He touched his fingers to her cheek, but she rejected his hand, making him put more strength into pulling her close − she hissed in discomfort when his fingers tightened on her waist covered only by the thin material of her soft gown.

"I would never mock you, sister. However, you know it is not a matter of our mother's bad will, but of your safety." He replied slowly, trying to say each word with reason so as to explain to her that he did not intend to offend her.

He understood what she desired, but he would have gone mad at the thought of her leaving the keep only in the company of the guards.

"What danger would I be in if my betrothed accompanied me?" She muttered with a bitterness from which he felt his throat squeeze, only now understanding what she was trying to convey to him.

She wasn't complaining to him.

He swallowed loudly and hummed under his breath.

"Is this what my future wife desires?" He asked quietly. She looked at him with a pained expression and nodded, looking into his eyes with hope.

Having no other choice, albeit reluctantly, he agreed.

They made arrangements to meet at one of the side passages that were rarely patrolled by guards − both of them sneaked down the narrow stone steps clad in grey robes and cloaks under the cover of darkness, the sky above them cloudless and full of stars.

"You are to stay close to me. Understood?" He asked warningly, and she nodded quickly, looking up at him happily, her plump cheeks red with excitement and joy.

He murmured low, delighted when her warm, soft lips clung to his in a tender, sticky kiss − he locked her in the strong embrace of his arms, cupping one of her cheeks in his palm, her fingers stroking his neck and jaw making his manhood throb hard in his breeches. He pulled away from her and sighed heavily, tense.

"Let's go."

It seemed to him that as they stepped out into the main courtyard of the town, lit only by torches and bonfires kindled by night merchants and bards, she was intrigued by everything that was happening around her − his fingers entwined with hers as they walked arm in arm around the crowds of shouting, noisy people. She looked up at him with a wide smile and hugged her cheek to his shoulder when she noticed his anxious, grave face.

"− I am grateful to you for your dedication, my love −" She said softly and he sighed heavily, kissing the top of her head.

He wanted to return to the keep as quickly as possible, fearing for her safety, but she insisted that they move towards the various stalls, watching intently as the men roasted meat over large fires, which they then sold. They stopped hearing a theatrical play from a distance, men dressed as women pretending to be his mother and their stepsister, Rhaenyra.

"You will not take the crown! My son the drunkard will sit on the Iron Throne!" Thundered one of the men in a too-tight green gown, his voice pretending to be high and feminine − a third actor appeared on stage, a blond-haired young man who was apparently supposed to be Aegon.

When the man began to pretend to vomit while clutching their mother's breasts, loud, mocking laughter echoed all around them. He saw that his sister looked away, her lips pressed together, her eyebrows arched in confusion and embarrassment.

"Let's go." He said lowly, regretting that she had seen this, but believing on the other hand that even if he had wanted to, he could not keep her unconscious forever.

The kingdom had no love for them, and their safety was apparent.

"I regret asking you to do this. Forgive me." She muttered as he escorted her to her chamber, the joy and contentment gone from her face, replaced by sadness and disappointment. He lifted her chin with his finger for her to look at him, recognising that he should better prepare her for what awaited them.

"The kingdom is divided. The only thing that unites our family now is the person of the King. Nothing else." He said lowly, and she blinked, thinking about his words, swallowing hard after a moment.

"And our blood? Our heritage?" She asked uncertainly, and he involuntarily snorted at her words, shaking his head.

"If our sister had our heritage, dignity and the future of our lineage in mind, she would not have made her bastard son her heir to the throne." He hissed coldly, looking her straight in the eye − he knew something had changed in his face, from which she twitched all over, in her expression something he recognised well.

She was afraid of him.

"− sister −" He whispered softly, stroking her soft cheek with his thumb, wanting her to understand that although filled with anger, he would never harm her.

"Against good customs, will you stay by my side? Will you let me fall asleep in your arms?" She asked quietly, and he swallowed loudly, feeling his manhood momentarily swell and pulse in his breeches, betraying an overwhelming desire to comply with her request.

He hesitated, wondering what their mother would say, but seeing her pleading gaze and her need for closeness, he decided that he could not deny her his presence when she articulated that she needed him.

He was to be her husband and she was to be his wife.

His place was with her, always.

That was why he agreed and followed her into her quarters, looking around beforehand to make sure no one would disturb them. They both pulled off their cloaks − his sister turned her back to him, startling him completely when she untied her breeches and the simple grey tunic he had brought her earlier, staying only in her snow-white nightgown.

He looked away, embarrassed, feeling his heart pounding like mad, not knowing what to do with himself.

He had never seen her in such a negligee before, and although his whole body screamed to look at her and admire her beauty, he wasn't sure it was appropriate and worthy of her honour before their nuptials.

"Come, brother." He heard her soft, warm voice once she had laid down on the bed, extending her hand to him.

He moved towards her, pulling his boots off his feet, laying down beside her with his heart in his throat, involuntarily noticing the outline of her sweet breasts under the thin, translucent material of her shirt.

He sighed quietly as her whole body snuggled into him instantly, seeking protection and comfort − unwittingly his arms locked around her waist, his hands sinking into her hair and buttocks, his lips placing a warm, lazy kiss on the top of her head.

It was her Name Day, and she was distressed and frightened, to which he had unwittingly contributed.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling involuntarily guilty, not knowing what he could do to comfort her, to turn her thoughts again from what the future might have brought.

He, her husband, was supposed to protect her and their future children − it was his role to worry about what fate would bring, not hers.

He shuddered when he heard her quiet voice, combing through her soft dark hair with the tips of his fingers.

"If I am to become your wife, why do you treat me like a little child?" She asked regretfully, and he felt his hand stop in mid-motion, the air stuck in his lungs.

"I do not follow." He replied lowly, feeling discomfort in his chest hearing her words.

She raised herself up on her elbow, looking up at his face − her eyebrows were arched in sadness and uncertainty, her full, shiny lips clenched into a thin line. He dared to touch his thumb to her cheek, wanting to soften whatever was about to leave her mouth.

"If war is coming, you may need me and Saraxes. Just because bloodshed is not my desire does not mean I am blind. Do you think I'm not a true dragon because I don't have your white hair and violet eyes?" She asked in a trembling voice with a reproach and pain from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.

The thought that she had felt rejected and left out by everyone all this time like himself made him quickly lift himself up on his arm, pressing his nose against her soft face, her hot, trembling breath enveloping his face.

"No. No, my love. You must understand that it is my weakness towards you, it is my fear that makes me wish not to endanger you." He muttered, horrified at how she perceived the whole affair and his actions, that he, gods take pity, thought her foolish or incapable of understanding such complicated, male matters.

She read the same books as he did, spoke to him as an equal on subjects from which he would never have expected a woman to have extensive rhetoric, not because he thought them incapable of it, but because they rarely delved into it.

Yet here she was, well aware of the importance he attached to sword-fighting, knowing as much about his history of the various weapons, their parts and how they were used as she knew about poetry or philosophy.

She swallowed quietly, her eyes shining in trust, in hope, as his mouth brushed hers encouragingly, her lips parted invitingly, allowing his tongue to slide deep into her throat.

She moaned sweetly, innocently as the tips of their tongues licked each other tentatively with a quiet clicks again and again − she sighed as he gently pushed her to lie on her back, trailing his fingers over her soft face, the wonderful scent of her oils filling his entire lungs, her lips fleshy as sweet fruit.

"− brother −" She murmured between their loud, tender kisses, her fingers entwined in his hair, one of her hands removing his eye patch from his face with an impatient, confident motion.

He looked at her, at her pretty face without fear or shame, sure for several moons now that the sight of his scar, his sapphire eye did not frighten her, that she loved him whole.

His sweet, tender, devoted sister.

She pulled him to her by the neck, her lips, impatient that he had pulled away from her for so long demanded another warm caress, his slick tongue ran over her palate making him, though he tried to control himself, completely hard.

"− take me −" She whispered and he felt the air stuck in his throat − he broke the kiss, looking at her with eye wide open in shock, panting heavily, her cheeks flushed with shame, her gaze pleading, full of desire. "− please −"

"− I − gods, you know, you know how much I crave you − but we can't, not before our nuptials −" He muttered wearily, once again seeing on her face that cruel expression of embittered disappointment that was breaking his heart.

He suddenly remembered what Aegon had once told him about, how a man's tongue was capable of giving a woman wonderful pleasure, and though he was ashamed to ask him for details, he decided in an act of desperation that perhaps it would help.

His gift to her, proof of how much he cherished her.

"− let me do something else − do you trust me? −" He asked in a trembling voice − something in her gaze changed and she nodded quickly, her fingertips ran over his cheek in a gesture so tender he felt his throat clench with emotion.

She was perfect.

"− spread your thighs − do not fret −" He added quickly, seeing that her whole body had gone breathless and tensed at his words, uncertainty in her eyes. He heard her swallow hard as she obediently followed his command, she drew in a loud breath as his hands lifted the material of her nightgown higher, above her hips.

"− ah −" She mumbled, in some subconscious, innocent gesture trying to cover herself back up, horrified that he wanted to expose the most intimate part of her body − his hands stopped her, his gaze fixed on her face flushed with emotion.

"− let me, my sweetest − let me take care of you − I won't hurt you −" He whispered, and she pulled her hand back, placing it beside her face, her puffy lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

She trusted him.

She trusted that, as her future husband, he knew perfectly well what she needed.

He let out a loud breath through his mouth, trying to hide his own nervousness, his trembling hands gently exposing her swollen, leaking womanhood that he had caressed so often with his fingers.

He involuntarily licked his lips at the thought that her folds looked like the flesh of a fruit and indeed when he ran his thumb over them, they were as usual wonderfully moist and warm to the touch.

Her body arched backwards as he began to gently tease her puffy bud with circular, slow motions of his thumb, in some subconscious involuntary reflex her thighs spread wider in front of him, making his aching cock pulse hard in his breeches.

Gods, how much he wanted to take her now, to sink deep inside her, to feel how tight she was.

"− close your eyes −" He commanded, knowing that if she looked at him he would never do what he wanted out of shame − he heard her swallow loudly before closing her eyelids a moment later, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

She trembled when she felt him lean in, his warm breath enveloping her now swollen folds, glistening in the starlight from her own wetness − something about the sight, the smell of her made him run the tip of his tongue over her slit, her hands clenched in his hair, her body arched back, wanting to escape, a loud, surprised moan escaped her lips.

"− g-gods − brother − what are you −" She whimpered and cried out as the fingers of his free hand tightened warningly on her plushy hip, pushing her back to him, his thumb squeezed and rubbed her pearl making her squirm before him in pleasure and disbelief.

"− be quiet −" He ordered impatiently, sinking his face into her soft, warm womanhood, his tongue ran over her folds again, invading between them for a try, teasing her swollen bud with his finger.

He sighed loudly as he felt how hard her legs trembled in his embrace, heard her tighten her lips and stifle the moans that wanted to escape her throat, felt his cock twitch hard as her fingers pressed him closer to her bare flesh.

She wanted more.

"− brother −" She mumbled, spreading her thighs wider, wanting to feel him deeper − encouraged, he forced his tongue inside her, invading the very tip of her upper wall and the spot where he usually dug his fingers in, teasing her pearl with strokes of his thumb. He felt her fleshy, hot, tight core begin to throb, the wonderful taste of her moisture spreading across his palate, making him gasp in delight.

He could already understand why Aegon had spoken of it with such enthusiasm.

She tasted wonderful, like the flesh of a ripe fruit, ready to sink in and bite into it.

His sweet sister.

"− mmm −" He gasped out, pushing his tongue all the way into her, feeling her hips begin to respond to his movements with rocking of her hips, reaching out to meet him. He licked and sucked her pearl, rubbing it with the tip of his nose, still pressing it with his thumb, a quiet, lewd sound of slurping and clicking of her wetness all around them.

At last she fell apart, a long, intense fulfilment shook her lovely body, sweet, girlish, innocent whimpers erupted from her lips − she begged him, babbled his name, calling him, pressing his face against her leaking cunt, delighted that he was licking devotedly everything that spilled out of her.

"− my sister's sweet nectar −" He gasped with devotion and delight, again and again rubbing her opening with his rough tongue. His hand slipped down to his breeches, sliding under them, grasping his swollen, aching cock, squeezing it at the base, not stopping his caresses, intending to pet her like this all night and come on his own hand.

"− brother − no more −" She mumbled out, terrified that he wasn't stopping, her over-stimulated, sore insides clenching greedily around nothing, her hands trying to gently push him away but to no avail − he only hummed under his breath, stunned by the warmth of her flesh, her closeness and her scent.

She smelled like sin.

"− I'm afraid I intend to fall asleep tonight with my face between your soft thighs, my love −"

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blueywrites · 2 days

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eddie frequents the curtained adult area of family video and steve always complains that he knows far too much about munsons kinks.

curiosity overwhelms you so you go over to smoke with him and lightly tease him about it. he shows you a super hot porno full off butt stuff on the woman AND the man.

this was fun to explore! cw: butt stuff, mutual masturbation, unedited.

You fancy yourself to be pretty sexually liberal - it doesn't phase you to talk about dirty stuff with friends, including their personal escapades. So when you hear Steve grumbling about all the dirty videos Eddie checks out, you know you're gonna tease him about it next time you see him. You don't really expect him to narrow his eyes and challenge you back by offering to pop in the one he just rented, but hey, why not? You shrug and say sure, not even bothering to ask what it's about, which Eddie seems amused by when he plops back down beside you on the couch, closer than he normally would be if he wasn't high. The film is typical - a 70s era tint, exaggeratedly sensual music, a ridiculous premise to lead into the fucking. You both giggle at the punny innuendos, muttering little quips back and forth, then finally fall quiet once the film makes its shift, leaning forward with interest. His elbow is hot when it brushes against you as he makes himself comfortable; you pull your legs up cross-legged, and when your knee nudges his thigh, you leave it there.

And that's where you thought it would remain: a smidge of lightly-loaded touching and some new fantasy material to touch yourself to later. What you didn't expect was for the guy to go from the standard 'two in the pink' while he eats her pussy to slipping his middle finger in her ass, pumping it in and out as she moans and fists her hand in his hair. Your clit throbs, and your belly tightens with a tingling heat, and you can't help but steal a glance at Eddie to see whether you're the only one affected. He's got his head tipped back against the couch while he watches the TV with a bloodshot, half-lidded gaze, and it's pulling the cords of his pale neck taut and making his adams apple look so prominent all of a sudden. Why is that erotic? you ask yourself, your eyes snapping back to the television when his chin nudges toward you like he's sensed you're looking at him.

"Uh--" You hear him clear his throat, just the tiniest bit hesitant, and you look back at him again. "How would you feel if, like..." Eddie wags his head slowly as if he's trying to find the words, though clearly he gives up going for subtlety when he finally finishes, "I jacked off right now?"

The thought makes your clit positively ache, but you play it cool, shrugging again as you tell him, "Sure."

The next moment he's fumbling eagerly with his belt like maybe he'd been feeling as needy as you are. You try not to look when he pulls himself out, but between the guy on screen burying himself between her legs and the constant moaning, you really can't help yourself. Eddie's cock is real ruddy at the tip, so much redder than his hand when it disappears into his fist, and the way he flicks his wrist with such practiced ease makes you think about how many times he's likely sat on this couch touching himself like this until he cums all over his twitching abdomen. God, that's fucking hot to imagine.

And it wouldn't be weird for you to touch yourself too, right? Like, obviously, Eddie wouldn't care. And it's no big deal, really, touching yourself next to your friend, especially when you're already watching porn together. So you shove your hand down your pants, sighing quietly as you swipe the tips of your fingers over your clit, letting that tingle center and build there.

So there you are, sitting next to Eddie while you both watch this porno, pretending you're not listening to the tiny sounds of each others' pleasure and sneaking quick glances at your arms moving rhythmically over your own laps. It's already more than you would've expected when you came over thinking about teasing him. And you haven't even gotten to the good part yet: when the guy on screen turns over, spreading his legs so the girl can run her hands up the back of his thighs and nestle close to lick his ass.

Cause then you start thinking about something you never would've ever fuckin' thought you'd think of before. Namely, what it'd be like to see Eddie like that - on his knees, moaning for you while you lick his ass.

Fuck.

You glance to the side again and catch Eddie's wide brown eyes. He's looking at you too, and with the way he's biting his lip through a crooked grin, you're about to say 'fuck it' and ask if you can do it here and now, damn the implications to hell.

Sexually liberal, indeed.

#blueysnaughtynights #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut

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storiesoflilies · 3 days

Text

cherry cola, cigarette kisses

pairing: guitarist!toji fushiguro x singer!reader

warnings: slight age gap (reader is 25, toji is 30), mentions of drugs and alcohol, smoking, swearing.

a/n: a little drabble for the ‘jujutsu journal’ collab by @ayyy-pee. dividers by @/benkeibear. toji drabble collection here.

people came to see the band live really just to catch a glimpse of the two of them in person.

of her, with her cream linen summer dresses, lips painted red like the cans of cherry cola she drank on stage between sets, dainty gold rings adorning her fingers, silk red ribbons tied in pretty big bows on her wrists, and matching platform heels. her with a voice so cool and suave, like ice, that it made all the boys go crazy for her.

and of him, toji fushiguro. with his cigarette smoke voice, all husk and fire, and veiny hands that held his guitar with practiced finesse. with his guitar solos that made you want to throw your head back in ecstasy, and his rolled-up sleeves to expose his corded forearms, driving the girls wild with desire.

people came to see them play and see the way they moved together.

when she sang, toji would close his eyes and tilt his head back, lost in the ecstasy that was the privilege of listening to her art. plucking the strings of his electric guitar along to play a tune to support her voice, like a flowing stream carrying along a floating feather. he let the vibrations of the bass through the speakers and reverberate into his bones, feeling the thrum of the crowd with their phone lights flashing and swaying, and inhaling the scent of sweat and dreams in the air.

god, his girlfriend was so fucking cool, and they all didn’t even know the half of it.

they didn’t know how pretty she looked when she danced naked in the dark in front of their penthouse views of the city lights below. with red wine swirling in her glass amidst a smokey haze, he’d exhale a big fume of his joint, and think to himself that he was so goddamn lucky to have picked up that crumpled, wet ‘guitarist wanted’ flyer all those years ago.

of course, the world didn’t know just how lucky toji was just yet.

she’d sing such pretty words, especially about the world thinking you were too young to understand the things you felt. words about everyone telling you that you couldn’t possibly grasp the way things were supposed to work, when in fact, you actually did – perhaps better than everyone else did. toji had been one of those things for her before. their bandmates had been adamantly against the older man pursuing her when they first met four years ago. she was their sweet little cherry, and they didn’t want the ash of him and his cigarettes falling on and ruining her delicate skin.

“she’s too young,” they’d all said. “too dumb to know what you are, fushiguro.”

toji had let their words get to him, the indignant and prideful fire within razing everything to the ground, and disappeared into his studio apartment with only his bong for company. he’d been there for a long time, refusing to answer any of her or the band’s calls, until she showed up knocking at his door in the middle of the night. her makeup was smeared and her vanilla scented perfume still lingered, while he was lost halfway in a dream of minefields, complex labyrinths, and booby traps.

“don’t leave me too,” she’d begged, a tumbling mess of tears, and practically collapsed as she gripped his arms for all she was worth. “not you, please.”

he melted into her right there and then.

toji shushed her softly, holding her close as they lay there in a tangled heap on the floor. he watched as his tears landed on her hair, feeling his high crashing down. “but i’m no good for you, babygirl.”

“nobody is good for each other, toji. love is fucking awful and tears your heart apart, but i still want to do it with you.”

and that was that.

but nobody else knew about them.

they’d been a secret for two years now, and toji had decided that this was it – she was it. his best girl, no other woman would ever compare to her. but she was so nervous, always so good, about what their bandmates and the fans would think. she didn’t want to break anybody’s heart, but toji didn’t care about that anymore.

they belonged to each other, and fuck, the whole world needed to know it. and if they didn’t like it? well, they could go and choke on it.

she swayed back and forth, staring at toji with heart eyes, and and teasingly stuck her tongue out to the side. that was his cue, and the fans knew it too, for him to take control of the music with his fingers and let himself and his guitar run wild. of course, it was to put on a good show, but he knew it was really because she loved his guitar solos more than anyone else did.

“i want you to play guitar for me all the time,” she said one time, teeth stained gray from the wine, twirling in lazy circles as toji strummed his acoustic guitar. “especially when i die, so i can hear the sound of heaven before i go.”

toji abruptly stopped playing and frowned, “don’t even talk about something like that. i’m supposed to go before you anyways, y’know i’m the old one.

“shut up, i can’t live without you.”

he stared at her as he played, never taking his eyes off how she danced and swayed. he watched as she went over to their drummer and pressed a kiss to their cheek. a hot flare of jealousy coursed through his blood, and toji picked up the pace, forcing their drummer to focus and step it up a notch to keep up with him. sweat dripped from his forehead, his dark hair sticking to it in stringy strands, and he licked his lips, tasting salt.

“yeah,” toji thought. “it’s do or die now.”

she took a swig of cherry cola, lipstick stains on the rim, as toji coaxed his solo into an earth-shattering crescendo, sending the crowd into a frenzy of whoops and cheers. still, he never took his eyes off her, following her every movement as he stopped the music suddenly in a dramatic conclusion.

the crowd clapped for the end of the song, and toji lit a cigarette to settle his buzzing nerves, his chest heaving with exertion. she floated over to him, smiling softly, red lipstick slightly faded from the cola, licking her lips as she tilted her head at him. he knew she could read him like a book; she knew something was wrong.

“what is it?” she whispered, being careful not to face the crowd directly.

“let’s do it, babygirl,” toji rasped, taking another long drag from his cigarette.

her eyebrows shot up, and she gaped. “now, toji? right now?”

“yeah, c’mon. let’s drive ‘em all crazy,” he chuckled, blowing his smoke away from her face.

“you mean it, toji?” she frowned, her pretty little heart so goddamn nervous about everyone else’s feelings but her own.

toji flicked his cigarette, adjusted his guitar to his side, and smiled. “let’s not think anymore, let’s just do.”

with that, he pulled her in by the waist and planted a kiss right onto her plush lips. bitter cigarette and sweet cherry flavors mixed intoxicatingly as their mouths danced together, eliciting shocked gasps followed by an almost deathly silence.

and then, it exploded.

the camera flashes went astronomically wild, accompanied cheering that bordered on plain screaming and raving, as a thousand hearts broke and millions swooned. she relaxed into him, putting her hands onto his broad, sweaty chest, flushed from the heat of the moment and the thrill of performing. they pulled apart, his lips swollen and hers tingly, and it was just the two of them amidst the eyes of thousands. she giggled, a nervous bark at the revelation of how their lives were going to change now, and toji beamed.

“you’re trouble, toji fushiguro,” she breathed out, chin on his chest as she gazed up at him in adoration.

toji chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead and mumbled, “i’m your trouble.”

general taglist: @tadabzzzbee

#JujutsuJournal #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji fluff #guitarist toji #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #jjk au #fushiguro toji #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen au #jujutsu kaisen

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cameronspecial · 23 hours

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Hiii, love your writing 🩷

I was thinking about Single!Dad Rafe x reader. Like, how would they meet, how would his child react to reader and so on.

The Gymnastics Coach

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

It smells like feet. That’s the only thing Rafe can focus on as he stands with only his socks on whilst his daughter patiently stands on his feet to wait. He holds her small hands in his and he wonders how he let Sarah convince him to sign Sloane up. Although, he knows it was quite easy for his sister to do because he would do anything for Sloane, except for maybe family gymnastics. Not only does the feet smell turn him off, but the stares from the older women are off-putting to him. Since Sloane was born, his playboy days are past him and he definitely isn’t going to start an affair. “Daddy, time for gymnastics?” the small blonde wonders, her big blue eyes blinking up at him. Rafe is glad there is no trace of his ex on his baby girl’s face. That woman doesn’t deserve any ownership of his girl. He checks his golden watch which is out of place to see there are still two minutes until they are called in. He smiles at her, “Almost, Little Warrior.” Her head flicks up and down and she goes back to looking forward. It was a mistake choosing the class that is during the work day. His tie causes him even more discomfort and he decides that he won’t be coming back. He’ll just sign her up for ballet instead or Sarah could take Sloane to the other classes. Rafe does prefer taking Sloane to her classes though because he wants to be there for his daughter.

Right at eleven o’clock, the door to his right opens and his breath is taken away by the beautiful woman who walks out of it. She may be wearing nothing special, her red work t-shirt and yoga pants, but she somehow makes it look like she is wearing a dress made for the red carpet. Her hair is thrown up in a messy bun with strands framing her face. All he wants to do is twirl those strands around his finger. “Welcome my little gymnasts and their parents! I am Y/N and I am so excited to lead you in Family Gymnastics,” a melodic voice greets and Rafe swears he has never heard anything so sweet. Hmm, so this is Sloane’s coach. He might have to keep her in the class after all.

———

Y/N doesn’t know why she is so nervous. She is Sloane’s gymnastics coach, so she has met and interacted with the young girl before. However, this time is different because she is going to be talking to the girl as her boyfriend’s daughter. She takes a deep breath as she knocks on the large door. A soft giggle falls past her lips when she hears the loud swears coming from Rafe’s lips and can see his panic through the glass door. Sloane comes running to her father’s side with a wide grin on her face. He takes her hand in his and they both walk to open the front door. “Hey,” he salutes with a stressed smile on his face. Seeing the state that he is in causes Y/N’s nerves to completely disappear. The only thought she has is how to remove his distress. She steps through the doorway and gives him a peck, “Hi, what’s wrong?” Before the fellow adult can answer, a tiny tug on Y/N’s dress causes her to look down. Sloane looks up at her coach with big eyes and her arms are out, demanding to be acknowledged.

The older woman smiles and picks the two-year-old up into her arms, “Hello, Sloane. How are you today, Pumpkin?” The girl grins at the kiss placed on her cheek and wraps her arms around Y/N’s neck. “Good! Daddy and I are making dinner for his girlfriend, Coach Y/N. But Daddy isn’t doing a very good job,” she tattles, causing her father to grimace. Y/N chuckles at the revelation, “Is that so? Well, maybe I can help him with that.” She carries Sloane to where she assumes the kitchen is in because it is the direction Rafe came from with him following behind her. The sight in front of her truly is a show. The pot is overboiling and there is a slight burnt smell wafting through the air. This causes Rafe to begin cursing again as he runs to the oven to pull out charcoal disaster. He gives his girls a sheepish look, “This was supposed to be chicken parmesan.” Her heart flips at his attempt to make her favourite meal for dinner. “It’s okay. If you have the ingredients still, then I can help you this time,” she offers, placing the girl on the counter.

After an hour, the trio are able to whip up something edible and eat at the dining room table. “Daddy, where is your girlfriend?” Sloane questions. Pasta sauce is smeared across her face and Rafe knows he’ll be finding it in odd places during bathtime. Y/N takes it upon herself to answer, “Well, Pumpkin, I’m your daddy’s girlfriend.” Silence falls over them and this causes her breath to hitch. Sloane looks between her dad and her gymnastics coach, trying to process what was said. The tension is cut when a massive grin slashes across the toddler’s face and she throws herself into Y/N’s arms. “Yayy! I love you,” Sloane exclaims.

———

The approach of pitter patters causes Y/N to stir. She has been living at Tannyhill for two months now; however, she hasn’t gotten used to having so many people around her. Her eyes flick toward the window to see the moon is still out, so curiosity fills her. The footsteps finally reach her bedside and she feels the poke of a small finger. “Mommy, I had a nightmare,” the three-year-old whispers. Y/N will never tire of hearing Sloane’s new name for her. The mother turns over to see her daughter, “It’s okay, Pumpkin. You can sleep with me and Daddy.” She helps the girl into the bed and nestles the young one between her two parents. The both of them try to go to sleep, yet it doesn’t befall them. “I’m still scared, Mommy,” Sloane informs, cuddling into Y/N’s side. The adult sighs and looks at a bedside table to see a pen. This forms an idea in her mind. She checks to see if her boyfriend is sleeping and he still is. How he can sleep with their movements is beyond her. She reaches for a pen and turns them both toward Rafe’s bare back. He is facing away from them, so his back is a perfect canvas for the two of them.

The two of them spent the night drawing on his back and giggling. Y/N had no idea how he didn’t wake up throughout the night. However, what the two of them didn’t know was that he had been awake the whole time. He stayed silent because he loved that the two people he loved the most in the world were bonding. So, when he woke up the next morning with new tattoos on his back, he pretended to be surprised and secretly grinned at the quiet laughter the two let out.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

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megistusdiary · 24 hours

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can i interest you all in figure-skating coach!arlecchino?

(longer post utc. no smut, just fluff? - tw slight age gap and also idk specifics on figure skating, i just like the idea 😚)

she's a well-known figure-skater, having gone to the olympics for snezhnaya for several years, each time bringing home the gold for her nation.

she's elegant in her movements yet calculated down to each singular motion to pull it all together in beautiful displays on ice. her outfits are always perfect down to the very threads sewn together.

the way she carries herself at conferences, on camera she's stoic but professional, and pretty enough to have both men and women at her feet when she performs.

that is until the incident.

a chronic back injury she's sustained from pushing her body too far. her coach was always relentless. even when she was miles ahead of her fellow competitors, her coach wanted more.

her coach demanded perfection from all her trainees, yet arlecchino was different. held on a pedestal for all to see.

but don't get it twisted. arlecchino herself would often be found practicing these challenging routines all alone at 3 in the morning. she would be exhausted, limbs aching, and relentless to achieve the cleanest routine.

that back injury changed her life. she disappeared for a few years from the skating world, leaving many of her fans in shock and fear.

luckily, for them, she returned soon after with an apprentice of her own. a younger man by the name of tartaglia with a rather charming theme to all his performances.

unlike arlecchino, he was bolder in his performances. a little sloppy, by her standards, but he made up for it in his flair. she could see even the judges swooning over him, the fans' attention now on him rather than her.

or so she had assumed.

she meets you when her old coach introduces the two of you. she's a good several years older than you, and you still carry that sweet, fresh-faced, joyful look on your face.

as you practice your routine for the both of them, her old coach leans over, suggesting arlecchino take you instead.

she snorts uncharacteristically at the suggestion, watching how your spins are slightly wobbly, the way you look just a tad too small on the ice. she wonders how in the world she could make you a star.

it isn't until she sees you perform with your music, with your passion, that she decides to train you.

she grows annoyed by how starkly different her old coach's methods have become. unlike when arlecchino trained, you clearly haven't been sculpted to perfection. she wonders how, at this point in your career, you wouldn't be there. though, she supposes your smile and demeanor make-up for some of your faults.

she trains you harder, scheduling extra lessons for you outside of your normal hours, watching you yawn and rub your eyes when she calls you in at midnight.

many of her students often leave, saying the pressure was too great. how she was too demanding. she never offered extra lessons, expecting people to bring her talent to work with in the first place.

so why did she give you extra attention?

why wouldn't she just let you leave?

no. she didn't want that... she wouldn't let that happen. she'd rather take extra time to not only make you competent, but a fierce competitor.s

she's even put you in ballet classes. even more remarkable is her own talent in ballet, which you can't help but admire.

the first time she ever finds herself looking at you closer than she imagined. she stands next to you, demonstrating stretches, her hand running up your spine to adjust your posture.

you exhale so softly, almost imperceptibly, but it makes her touch falter, landing just a little too tenderly at the base of your spine before she pulls away. she watches you the rest of the lesson, adjusting your legs and arms to the proper position, her hand trailing up to graze over your jaw.

she tilts your head upwards. "stop looking down." she comments, low and sultry, seeing you swallow thickly. "you're being trained by one of snezhnaya's most renowned figure skaters. act like it."

she gently squeezes your jaw before releasing you. "we're finished for the day." she leaves you panting, entirely embarrassed and internally screaming out.

unbeknownst to you, she sits in the car, staring at the hand she used to touch your jaw, a hardened look on her face. she clenches her hand, a soft blush appearing on her normally dull cheeks as she waits for you so you may both leave the ballet studio.

when you finally do perform at competitions, she finds herself growing much more vocal. oftentimes, she remains quiet, only cringing at her other students' stumbles and deductions.

but not with you.

your moves have become much more elegant, and everyone can see. the commentary surrounds how you seem to emulate the epitome of what your coach stood for herself, but in a much softer tone.

your performance leaves her enraptured, your routine completely clean, garnering you praise and showers of applause.

yet you leave the ice with only one person in mind, your hand brushing over hers when you walk past her to find your water bottle.

and, for the first time, she finds herself wanting more. even when you're sweaty under your glittering dress, hair a mess, makeup starting to smudge. she wants you. her perfect apprentice.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin wlw #fem reader #💐─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 #🪷─𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 `♡´#arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x y/n #arlecchino

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vivwritesfics · 2 days

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Bleeding From The Storm

Chapter Three - Maxie

After the death of his son, the head of the Dupont family wants his daughter protected. He moved her to Monaco, the safe zone, and has her protected by Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen was never supposed to meet her. He didn't even know who she was. But he knew she was beautiful, and he knew he wanted to know more, much to the horror of Charles Leclerc.

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For three days, Max went back to that café. On the first day and the second day, Bunny wasn't there. She was nowhere to be found around Monaco. Max tried to search for her, but his search came up empty.

On the third day, Max was ready to give up.

He still went back to the café as he had every day since, hope slowly dying in his chest. As much as he wanted to taste one of her fruity drinks on his lips, he couldn't bring himself to order one, not unless it was her hands passing it to him. Max had stuck to bitter coffees that he didn't much like the taste of.

As he rounded the corner, walking towards the café, he stopped. After three days of desperate searching, there was Bunny.

She was in a different dress this time, a pink one that made her look positively angelic. Her pretty lips were wrapped around the straw as her fingers, nails pink like her dress, wrapped around her glass.

Max flattened himself against the wall around the corner. As long as she couldn't see him. If she was alone, Max would have sauntered up to her, full of confidence and asked her out. He wanted to give her his number, to get to know Bunny even when he wasn't there in Monaco.

But she wasn't alone, was she? Max hated that he recognised the person she was with. Charles Fucking Leclerc. What the hell was she doing with Charles Leclerc? Did it mean she was from their world, too?

Max waited. He regularly checked around the corner, waiting for Charles to just piss off. He was getting antsy, and time was running out. Fuck, why did Charles have to be there?

At last, Charles stood up. He said something to Bunny, said something Max couldn't hear, and left. As soon as he disappeared inside of the café, Max pushed away from the wall and went striding towards her.

"Hey, Bunny," he said as he strode over to her and sat in Charles's seat.

Her eyes went wide and she looked at up him with a pretty smile. "Max, right?" She asked, her head resting in the palm of her hand.

He leaned forward, hands held together in front of him. "Listen, Bunny, I've got to go away for a little bit. But I would like to see you and I do want you to have my phone number," he said, pulling his phone from his pocket and passing it to her.

"Where are you going?" Bunny asked as she put her number into his phone and sent herself a text. "Anywhere nice?" A sultry smile crossed her lips, one Max was sure she didn't even realise she was wearing.

Max let out a chuckle and leaned back in his seat as he took the phone back from her. "I wish," he said with a chuckle, but he didn't elaborate further. He checked the time on his watch. "I've really got to go, Bunny. But I'll be back soon, I swear."

She sucked her smoothie through the straw and batted her lashes at him. "Goodbye, Maxie," she said and wiggled her fingers at him. It was an image Max never wanted to forget as he left, rushing away before Charles could catch him.

Not that Bunny knew. She kept watching Max, looking in his direction even after he'd disappeared. Her smoothie was quickly finished, just in time for Charles to sit back down opposite her.

"Was someone here?" He asked, immediately noticing the far away look in her eyes. She shook her head and went to drink more of the smoothie she had already finished. "Don't lie to me, Bunny."

"Nobody was here, Charles," she insisted. She looked down at her empty smoothie. "Can I get another?"

But Charles shook his head. "Sorry, Bun. But we've got places to be." He stood up and offered her his hand. She walked with, arm linked through his as they headed away from the café.

Charles led her to his car. He pulled open the passenger side door for her and held her hand as she climbed in, her free hand holding the skirts of her pretty pink dress down. Her head was against the window as she hummed along to the radio, leaving Charles to concentrate on driving.

How long had it been since Bunny Dupont had been back in France? She didn't know. But the scenery didn't look familiar as Charles drove her towards her fathers house.

Her phone buzzed in her little purse, but she didn't pick it up. Max was her little secret, for now, and she didn't want Charles to know. Charles would just put a stop to it, even if Max was a lovely guy. She drummed her nails against the purse in her lap as Charles pulled up to the gates that guarded her fathers house.

"Charlie," she mumbled, looking towards him. Charles out a hum, never tearing his eyes away from the road as the gates swung open. "What does he want this time?" She mumbled, eyes cast down at her lap.

Charles parked outside of the house, but he didn't climb out. He let out a sigh and turned towards her, his eyes kind. "I know, Bun," he said, his hand coming to rest on her thigh. It was more comforting than anything. "I'll be with you the entire time."

She climbed out the car and slipped her purse over her shoulder. Charles placed his hand on her shoulder as they walked up to the house.

It was incredibly strange that Charles had a key and she didn't. He let them into the house and pushed the door shut, locking it as soon as they stepped in.

She hated coming back to the house. The walls were lined with pictures, portraits of her brother. While her father was obsessed with her brothers death, he hadn't dwelled on it. After a year of desperately searching for his killer, they gave up. The statue of Louis Dupont she could see out in the garden had her shivering.

Charles kept his hand on the small of her back as he led her up the stairs. She had her own room in the house, but it had been untouched for years. The door remained partially open, revealing the pink and the soft toys that covered the room. It was a child's room, one she'd never felt safe in.

Her fathers office was at the very end of the hall. Charles knocked for her. He stood with his hands behind his back as they waited to be welcomed in.

As soon as Dupont called, Charles pushed open the door and let Bunny in. She pulled her skirts down as she approached her fathers desk.

"Hello, Darling," said Dupont. He stood from his desk and walked around to her, bringing Bunny into his arms. "How have you been?" He asked and kissed the top of her head.

Bunny stood, stiff as a board as her father returned to his chair. She didn't have much to say to her father; their relationship hadn't remained the same after Louis died. It had only gotten worse. "Listen, Bunny." For some unexplainable reason, she hated hearing her father call her that. "We have been invited to the Netherlands and I want you there with me."

"Mr Du-"

But Dupont fixed Charles with a look, one that had him falling silent.

"Papa," Bunny said as she stepped up to the desk. "I've never gone on a job before. Why do you want me?" She asked. "Why not take mom?"

Dupont let out a laugh, a mocking one that had Bunny's blood boiling. She hated it here. "Your mother used to be cut out for things like this, Bun, but not anymore. If I want to put my best foot forward, I have to bring my prettiest girl."

She couldn't stop the feeling of the bile rising. "Can Cha come with?" She asked as she reached her hand towards Charles.

A frown covered her fathers face. "Cha?" He asked. But then he saw the way she grabbed Charles arm. "No, Darling. Charles cannot come with us."

With her hands on her knees, she leaned over and threw up.

right so i've just discovered all of my tags on the last part didn't fucking work and i'm so mad about it

Permanent Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @minseok-smaus @formulaal @hiireadstuff @urfavnoirette @goldenharrysworld @andydrysdalerogers @hrts4scarr @llando4norris @evlkking @lilymurphy03 @hollie911 @customsbyjcg-blog @honethatty12 @nikfigueiredo @darleneslane @not-nyasa

Series taglist (CLOSED): @doofensmirtzevil-inc @styl1shl1v @dreamsarebig @bokutos-babyowl @minmira95 @booksandflowrs @spookystitchery @purplephantomwolf @minchedchilli @starssfall @mellowarcadefun @the-ghost-lovwr @solidalibi @graydahlia21 @st4rshine @iloveyou3000morgan @vicurious28 @evie-119 @bigratbitchsworld @closestthingtocoffee @maximofflove @sillygoose5 @purplephantomwolf @thehufflepuffavenger1 @thatsusbitch @annispamz

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scoutswritingcorner · 2 days

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Gala Night

PolyVees x GN!Reader

TW:Valentino. I do not condone his actions at all.

A/N: CHAUFFEUR READER IS MAKING A REAPPEARANCE!!!!

You quickly moved out of the way as a secretary rushed past you holding the phone to your ear as you tried to listen to what Valentino was saying, “Carino~ You wouldn’t mind going to see Velvette before you grab the limo? She has something waiting for you.” He purred through the phone as you tried to rush to the now closing elevator. “Son of a- those bastards.” You hissed out looking around, guess you’ll be running up twenty flights of stairs then wait 5 minutes for the next elevator, “Yes, go see Velvette and then go pick up the limo.” You repeated back to the Overlord who happily hummed before he had to abruptly hang up as he yelled at someone.

You opened the door towards the stairs and growled, Velvette was gonna be pissed at you for being so late but so be it. You started your ascent up the staircase, putting your phone back in your pocket and ignoring how it buzzed with texts from multiple people. Of course, Vox had called you in on the day of one of hell’s special occasions. The Overlords Gala. Where Overlords throughout the whole 7 rings of Hell get together at Lucifer’s palace. You had the day off originally but Valentino got a little mad and killed off the other chauffeur that drove them around that morning so everything was an hour behind, you were still in your pajamas and had barely grabbed your wallet and phone for the day.

It took a few more moments until you were on the twentieth floor, busting through the door and quickly running down the hall towards Velvette’s Fashion Department ignoring the looks of models and random demons in the hallways. As you walked in still out of breath and practically wheezing for breath you could hear Velvette yelling at some poor model before she moved them away. Janette whispering something to her before she whipped her head towards you, “Where the fuck have you been?” She asked storming over as you stood tall, “Running up twenty flights of stairs,” you replied before she rolled her eyes and pulled you towards the podium. Velvette’s eyes stuck to your outfit like glue before her glare darkened and her frown deepened. “What the fuck are you wearing?” She growled out as you looked down at the ‘Voxtech’ shirt and pajama pants you took from the gift basket (one of many) that Vox sent over to your apartment.

“..my pajamas.” You slowly replied before she scoffed and flicked her wrist as your pajamas disappeared and you were fitted in your normal outfit but the subtle difference was it had the V’s logo embroidered on the chest pocket as if they were planning to show you off and you weren’t just gonna drop them off and then go busy yourself with whatever you could find. Velvette walked over and fixed the jacket from looking lopsided, “Don’t run down those fucking stairs. You’ll tear something or fall and we don’t have time to fix another fucking mess.” She said before reaching up to brush your hair back, “Yes ma’am, no running down the stairs.” You repeated watching as a smile replaced the sneer on her lips. She patted your arms and waved you off to go do whatever else you needed to do.

It didn’t take you long to get down the flight of stairs and down to the parking lot where Vox kept the limo and other cars you were asked to drive. Quickly showing your ID to the scanner on the door, Vox was really careful about everything. Even one small misprint on your ID would send him an alert that someone was breaking in, you walked into the large garage and looked around seeing the limo sitting near the back of the garage. You walked towards it to make sure everything was okay.

It wasn’t until an hour later as you were making sure the inside of the Limo was cleaned and restocked for the three of them that Vox had called you to tell you that they were about to leave. You got situated and drove the limo to the front of the tower ignoring how demons gathered around to see the Vee’s before they left for the Gala. But bodyguards had blocked the crowds as you rushed to the other side and opened the doors for the three Overlords, who looked like they stole a piece of Heaven with their matching outfits. You were not drooling over your bosses, focus. This is a big night and you’d rather not have a bullet in your head before the night is over. Keep your mind from drifting.

The drive was silent and long, only a few times did Valentino bother you which was weird but you didn’t pay attention to it much. As you pulled to a stop at a redlight, you softly tapped on the steering wheel as your eyes drifted around. You were liable to fall asleep if the silence continued like this, it wouldn’t hurt to play some music while they weren’t paying attention to you, maybe it’d get them to relax a bit too..even if they didn’t hear it due to the partition window. You turned the radio on, turning it down so it wouldn’t be too loud for them to hear as you started to drive down the road once more.

It was another few minutes before you drove past the giant golden gates, you felt weird about being around such a place. Especially since this had to be the first Gala in years after The King’s absence, you felt..unworthy of being in such a place. As you pulled to a stop in front of the palace doors, you parked the car and moved to open the door for all three of them. Valentino was first to exit, then followed by Velvette and finally Vox exited the Limo, his arm slinging around your shoulders. “Are you ready for a fun night?” He asked pulling you closer to his form as cameras flashed all around you. You blinked once..twice before it hit you..Vox was talking to you. “W-What?” You asked looking up at his screen seeing his smile grow wide at the question as he closed the limo door with his foot, his arm moving comfortably around your waist.

If you were anyone else there would be a sure chance he would’ve killed you right there for questioning him. But you weren’t anyone else, you were the Vee’s chauffeur. You were under their protection and you weren’t bound by any soul contract, you had free reign to do whatever you wanted. “The party~ You’re our guest~” Valentino cut in gently grabbing your chin and making you look towards him, oh boy the rumors will be running on for days now. You just whispered a soft ‘oh’ before looking away at Velvette who winked at you.

There goes your plans to go to that diner downtown and eat dinner for cheap.

Taglist: @aboyscriminalrecord cause I know you thrive on the Vees.

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hidden-poet · 2 days

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Commander Snow; 8

Commander Snow

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

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

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

The door was fixed with great haste. Before you knew it, you were back in the apartment playing housewife again. Coriolanus’s distrust of you grew to a new level. He no longer trusted you to remain home by yourself. Edmund was still not found, and Coriolanus was certain he would reappear and take you away.

You now worked with him, slept with him, and ate every meal with him. The fence line seemed like an impossible goal with him being so suffocating. You were pretty sure the broken chain was not found. He would have said something, would have taunted you with how close your freedom was. It meant you had something up your sleeve against him.

But you had no way of getting to it. You had tried to disappear during his work hours, when he was most distracted, but the only time you seemed to be out of his sight was when you showered. If there had been a window in the bathroom, you were sure that he would have been in there too.

You tried your best to soften him with affection. When you had the chance, you baked him the oatmeal cookies he loves. He ate whole plates in one sitting.

But as his work increased, your work decreased. Long days spent at his office were hard to fill. He sat behind his desk and never seemed to stop working. Sometimes there was mending you could do, or shoes to shine but most of the day you sat on the couch reading what was on hand.

You had taken to organizing the books in alphabetical order, then grouped them according to color. You worked quietly and slowly. Careful not to make any noise to disturb Coriolanus from his work. You had taken them down again just moments ago to reorganize them by subject when Coriolanus' assistant came in carrying a tea tray and a large parcel.

She drops the parcel down on the table in front of you, amongst the books. You look over it to see your name neatly scribbled on the recipient's information.

The receptionist doesn’t look at you as she puts the tea tray in front of Coriolanus.

He thanks her but her response is drowned out to your ears by the opening of the box.

“Is it from Tigris?”

You wait until the receptionist shuts the door behind her to respond.

You confirmed it was, as you pulled a soft silk nightdress from the box. It was light pink which was uncommon for the districts. Dark pink lace trimming boarded along the bottom and top of the dress. You run your finger across it. It was the most expensive material you had ever felt.

Another dress was folded in the box and you take it out.

It was light blue with yellow birds flying across it, made of a soft cotton material that would fall around your ankles.

“You like them?” he asks.

“They are beautiful,” you admit.

You look in the box for more to see a small pouch filled with sweets from the Capitol.

Tigris was too kind. If things had been different, you would have been a good friend to her. But as her cousin's captive, you were now sworn enemies. The box of treats didn’t change that.

You return the items to the box and see parchment paper protecting soft material at the bottom.

“There's a shirt for you.” It was a long white dress shirt with gold stitching running in horizontal lines down it.

He comes from his desk to collect it. Taking it gently from your hands, he brings it up to his nose and inhales the scent.

“You really miss home,” you comment, watching him breathe in the scent the shirt carried.

“I do. More than anything.” He returns to his desk with it still in his hands.

“You’ll be home soon.”

“We’ll be home soon”.

You smile thinly at him. “That’s what I said.”

“You should see the Capitol. Clothing, culture. Actual buildings, not these pieces of tin. You’ll be able to breathe much better in the Capitol.”

The scratching of his pen picked up where his sentence had been incomplete as he began his work again. The shirt lay across his lap.

“I have the day off tomorrow,” he said without stopping his work, “I was thinking we could visit the waterfall again. It will probably be the last time before Ravinstill dies.”

The thought made your stomach drop. If you don’t make it beyond the fence, it would in fact be the last time you ever saw your favorite place. The time was better spent within the compound waiting for an opportunity. He would never let you get too far in the district.

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Why?” he questions with a hard tone. He continued to write but the pen pressed firmly into the paper.

“I am behind on my chores, and I haven’t made anything in a while. The food in the fridge will go bad if I don’t get to it soon.”

“Let it. The Capitol is full of food.”

You realize now that Coriolanus had already made up his mind to do the activity. You wondered why he chose it. He hated the heat and the bugs.

You walk over to the tray of hot tea and pour out a cup, making it to his liking and placing it down in front of him.

“We’ll go if you want to.”

“Why don’t you want to go?”

“Why do you want to? The walk up there will take us nearly the whole morning in the hot sun.”

“I thought it might make you happy.”

He was trying to win your approval before he ripped everything you had ever known from your finger tips. It was something to use against him. Coriolanus responded best when he was in a position to be a hero. He would do anything so long as he felt he was the only one who could do it for you.

You lean down and wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your face against his neck.

“You know what would make me happy? Some vanilla extract so I can send Tigris some shortbread cookies back”.

He responds positively by wrapping his hands around your forearms. He liked you looking out for Tigris.

“She’s been asking to meet you.” He says, his hand gently wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “I have a call with them next Friday afternoon. Maybe you’d like to come with.”

You retract your hold now that he was in a better mood.

There was only one answer you could give him when it came to his family.

“I’d love to”.

You had a deep hate for Capitol people but Tigris seems different. In any case, you were sure you could remain civil for an hour-long phone call.

Pouring yourself a cup of tea, you return to your spot with it and Coriolanus returns to his work.

———-

You stood out in the sun with Coriolanus as he discussed the new recruits' performance with another high-ranking officer. They were splitting them up into areas of work. The strong and fast became foot soldiers, the slow were put on kitchen duty, and the ones who showed a inclination to aggression were watchmen. He spared a couple to the infantry to learn basic medic care and help around the hospital. You couldn't work out what sent those recruits apart. It seemed random but you knew nothing Coriolanus did was without great care and strategy.

All the men seemed equally angry and you wondered if Coriolanus was the same when he was a Peacekeeper.

The sun felt nice upon your skin after so long. It was late afternoon and it had just begun to set, leaving behind a nice cool breeze.

You thought about your mother and Edmund. Were they enjoying the sun too?

The sound of a vehicle approaching ruined the moment of reflection. Coriolanus took your hand in his as soon as the tires upon the gravel could be heard as if you were to be run over if he didn’t.

It surprisingly stopped in front of where you stood. A transport car with no doors and a large trunk carried two men. A younger man wearing a District 12 peacekeeper uniform and an older man who wore a Commander uniform set apart by its light purplish color.

“Commander.” The older man greets as he swings out of the car.

“Vongurt.” Coriolanus uses his spare hand to offer a handshake which is strongly and fervently taken.

Another Commander had come to see Coriolanus. You doubted he was any better than the last.

“This is my wife, Y/N.” With his hand, he leads you in front of him to show you off to the Commander.

You were stiff with shock as the man's disapprovingly raked his eyes over you. He too felt jarred at the label of wife. District women weren’t wives. They were barely considered human.

But he smiles nonetheless, something you couldn’t return.

“Pleasure.” With a kiss placed upon your hand, the Commander's attention was turned back to Coriolanus.

“Your compound is impressive, Commander Snow. It has to be the largest I’ve seen.”

Coriolanus seemed unimpressed by the comment. He turns back to the Peacekeepers watching them as they leap, and fight.

“A palace of scrap metal.”

He waves over a tall man in a high-ranking uniform, who quickly makes his way over from across the field.

“Your apartment is only slightly better. Sergeant AJ will take you there.”

“I was hoping that we could talk. I’ve come all this way from District 2.”

“Later, Commander. The conference room at 7. You’ll have my undivided attention there.”

The man nods back and follows his guide back into the car.

Coriolanus makes a comment to his officer about a recruit and the man jotted down all of his thoughts.

You wanted to get away. Break free from his hold and bolt to the fence line. His delusions had reached a new height, with him now openly telling lies to men with power.

Your body moves to your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized you were twisting your hand away from him until he tightened his hold.

He turns to you, asking if you are ok.

“I need to go home” you respond. Home to my mother. Back home to normalcy.

“Take whoever we missed today and regroup them tomorrow morning” he directs the man next to him. A whistle is blown and the recruits stop their training, instead they congregate in front of you.

Coriolanus turns as his officer begins to dish out instructions, taking you back to the apartment.

“The heat can get to you,” he says.

You had lived in District 12 all your life if anyone was to know about the heat it was you. But you verbally agree and apologize for taking him away from his work.

He hushes you and it ends the conversation for the walk home.

He lets you go as you enter your prison, and you take off without him to the bedroom.

You hear his voice wafting down the hallway telling you to lie down. You shove your boots off and get into bed. Every day your window closes. It won’t be long before either the broken fence is found or you are carted off on the train.

But he had called you his wife. Not just to anyone but a Capitol Commander. Even if you got away, the idea that he would leave you here for the presidency is just a fantasy.

How long would you need to live in hiding before he forgot you? Could you bear the costs of it for as long as needed? What work could you do in the mountains to support yourself and your mother?

Wife. Why did he have to say wife? You weren’t that. You were his captive, a victim of his need to be cared for.

Coriolanus enters the room with a wet, cold rag and runs it over your forehead. A victim of his need to pretend he was capable of caring for something.

He sits on the bed beside you running the cloth over your forehead and into your hair.

“Do you feel alright?” he asks as you take the cloth off him.

“I am fine. Just a little lightheaded.” You throw the cloth on the bed stand and he takes it as a signal to get up.

“I’ll get you some water.”

He disappears and you're thankful for the space to think. Could you tell him you just need a walk around the compound by yourself to think? No, he would take it as an insult.

You had to get out. The fence was so close.

You don’t notice him as he sits back down beside you. Only the glass to your lips made you see him.

“I won’t go to the meeting with Vongurt if you are unwell.”

You sit up straighter at his words, pushing the glass away from you.

“No!” you say harshly, “No, you should go. I am fine.”

“You don’t look well.” You were sure you looked terrible after you had the shock of your life.

“But I feel fine. Just too much sun.”

He looked annoyed that you were arguing with him so you switched tactics.

“We need his support to get back to the Capitol. Maybe you could just leave the door open for some fresh air?”

You had pushed too hard, and he got up

“If I am not here, the door is shut.”

“Of course,” you breathe with a soft smile at him, “I’ll be fine by the time you have to leave.”

Coriolanus hovered around you for the next hour and a half before he had to start getting ready for his meeting. He took a shower to wash the sweat off him from the day and changed into his official outfit. It fit snugly, his broad shoulders carried the uniform well.

He attached the dressings of his uniform as you watched him from the bed.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go tonight. What if you feel unwell while I am away?” His fingers were still on the badge he was trying to put on.

“I am fine,” you assure him, “I feel fine.”

“We should invite him here. That way if you need me, I am here.”

You cringed at the thought of serving Commander Vongurt.

“I won’t need you. Besides the conference room is much nicer.” You get up to help him put on his badge and send him on his way.

“I haven’t felt unwell since dinner.” Coriolanus stood over you as you cooked, convinced that the heat in the kitchen would make you unwell again. With a knife in your hand, it was a dangerous time for Coriolanus to tell you what to do.

“You’re sure?” he pokes.

You were tired of saying it so you just nodded your head.

“Go to the bathroom then.”

It was an odd request.

“What?” you question.

“Go to the bathroom and take a shower. Get changed into your night dress.”

He checks his watch once before motioning you forward.

There was no other option for you then to follow his request. You thought maybe he just wanted to complete the bed time routine. He wanted to know you were washed and dressed for bed for his own comfort. You never knew what made him tick.

You complete the tasks quickly and return to find he had placed a glass of water and a packet of dried mixed fruit.

You quiz him on it but he doesn’t answer. He takes your wrist in his hand and tugs you to the bed.

Taking out his handcuffs, he clips your wrist into the cuff, pulling it up to the headboard where he attached the other cuff.

You tug against it in protest. “What are you doing?”

“Just in case, Edmund comes back.”

“He won’t! Please unlock me.” you beg.

“I left your book there if you are not ready to sleep yet.” He stands tall and readjusts his uniform.

“Coriolanus!” You say in a serious tone, “Get this off of me.”

You pull against it brutally and he captures your hand against the headboard.

“I left you one hand so you can read. I don’t have to.”

“Please, don’t leave me here like this!” He ignores you, bending down once more to flick on the lamp.

“You’ve had a big day. Try and rest. I’ll be home soon.”

“Coriolanus!” you call out watching him leave. He flicks off the main light as he goes.

“Coriolanus!” you yell.

You had never felt anger as you lay trapped in bed. He dictated when you worked, when you rested, when you ate. Nothing was yours anymore. Every breath you took was only because he allowed you to take it.

There was nothing to tell the time on. It felt like years waiting for him to come back and release you. You didn’t read, only plotted.

Could you feed him something to make him sick? Surely he would request you to come see him in the infirmary. You could break away when returning from your visit. What if he caught you trying to poison him though?

Friday provided the perfect opportunity. While he was distracted with his family you could sneak away. The communication building was on the other side of the compound but at least you would be outside of the apartment.

But how would you get away far enough to make a break for it? You thought about what was in the surrounding area of the communications building. Nothing would be a reasonable excuse to pardon yourself.

Could you excuse yourself to the bathroom? Surely one of the surrounding offices would have one. Would he let you go alone? Sacrifice time with his family to take you. Would he even let you go or just expect you to make do until the phone call was over?

You came up with twenty different scenarios of escape routes, each one ended with Coriolanus catching you.

You wished you didn’t shoo Edmund away now. He could have got the door opened in time. It was only your fearfulness that stood in the way of your escape. You could be with him now, with your mother. Up in the mountains, safe and sound.

God, you hoped they were safe and well-fed.

You wished for nothing more than to tend to your mother, to ensure that she was alright.

The care that was supposed to go to her was now unjustly turned towards Coriolanus, who was adamant to wring it from your hands.

Edmund had always taken whatever care you gave him with great appreciation.

Never demanded more, and then took it with force.

He was kind and patient. Two things Coriolanus is not.

And now you have dragged him into this mess where his life is at great risk. Still, he had never demanded any more from you.

When his lips first met yours, they were placed almost in questioning. It was up to you to accept and beg for more.

You wished you had seen his affection for you sooner. But he was your brother's best friend, and the main protector of you and your mother. If Coriolanus never entered the picture you doubt he ever would have acted on it.

But he had, and you had returned the affection. It was the start of something new and beautiful or the end of years of friendship and familiarity.

Once Coriolanus went back to the Capitol, your new life would begin.

You hoped it would be alongside Edmund. You would pay him back for his bravery.

You would be a good girlfriend to him, then wife, and then mother of his children. You would never ask him for anything, and take great care of his family life. You would ensure his happiness, as he ensures your life now.

You almost forget you were chained to the bed of the Commander as you daydream of brown-haired babies. But the sound of Coriolanus arriving home was a solemn reminder. His boots against the hardwood floor soften as they reach the bedroom door.

You still had a great challenge before you got to nurse Edmund’s children.

You had to get away from Coriolanus, and the only way you could do that is if he had no idea that you planned to.

The door creaks open and you sit up straight to watch him enter.

“I am sorry. Did I wake you?” He places his coat on the foot of the bed and crawls over to where you lay.

“No. I was waiting for you.”

He smiles down at you as he unlocks the cuff from your wrist with the keys in his pocket.

“You seem happy,” you comment. You could smell the whiskey on his clothes as he leaned over you.

“I am. I have you. I have Commander Vongurt’s support behind me, and Ravinstill is not expected to last the winter. We’ll be home before you know it.”

Throwing the keys on his bedside table, he leans down to kiss you before resting his head on your collarbone.

“That’s not long,” you comment.

“Three months at the most.”

You drowned in your anxiety quietly as he rested.

Three months and your life was over.

He takes your silence as a quiet contemplation.

“Are you thinking of your mother?” he runs a curled finger along your nose.

“Yeah. I’ll miss her”. You hope to never have to know the pain of missing her again. These past few weeks have been unbearable.

“You’ll write. I’ll organize a time she can come to the compound for video calls.”

You were sure he was going to let you write and call. For how long was another thing. You could see it already, your calls being cut short, your letters ‘lost’ in the mail.

“Yeah,” you respond again.

Your mind races with ideas of escape. You could fake a sickness and be sent to the medical camp. No, he wouldn’t send you there. He panicked today over a supposed case of heatstroke.

He lowers his head down closer to you where you can smell the evening on him.

“You want to know what I was thinking?” he asks playfully.

You could start a fire during dinner time. He was sure to open the door to let you out before dealing with the flames.

“Yeah?” you entertain. Fire could go wrong for a number of reasons. Besides you would have to fight your way to the oven. Especially now that Commander Vongurt was here. Coriolanus would be too busy to wait for you to cook something.

“I was thinking I hope we have a boy first. Then two girls, then another boy.”

Your eyes shoot open as his hand reaches out across your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt and he lays a warm palm over your belly.

Then again, a big enough fire might kill him. Was it worth a shot?

“You called me your wife today. That’s not true.”

“What else should I have called you? We sleep together, eat together, wake together. We look after each other. The only thing missing is an official title but as soon as we get back to the Capitol, we’ll fix that.”

You turn away from him to your side. Now that the talk of the Capitol was becoming a more serious threat, you felt sick.

“Did I scare you with talk of babies? It wouldn’t be for a few more years yet.”

His rants did scare you. That would be your life if you didn’t figure out a way to the fence. Nursing Commander Snow’s babies in the Capitol. Away from your mother. Away from Edmund.

Still, you had to perform. You couldn’t let any more distrust between him and you grow.

“You didn’t scare me. I am just tired. I’ve waited up all night for you.”

You feel a soft kiss press against your ear before the weight of the bed was shifted as he moved.

“Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He leans over you once more to flick off the light. You hear him walk out to the bathroom to take a shower.

Could you force him to give you the keys? The chain was still dangling from the headboard. If you could somehow get his wrist caught, you could threaten him with a kitchen knife. You shake the thought from your head. You couldn’t hurt him with a knife. You were sure even one-handedly, he could take it off you if you tried.

You just needed a distraction, just two seconds when his attention wasn’t on you to escape.

Wet, salty tears rolled down your cheeks as you lay in the dark, but you made no sound.

You were still awake when he returned from his shower, dressed in his pajamas. Thinking you are asleep he is slow and quiet as he rejoins you in bed.

He curls up against your back and rests his hand on your stomach as if there is something already inside. He wasn’t going to wait a few more years. He said it purely for your comfort.

He dreamt of being a young President with a baby on the way. And another one close after that, and another, and another. He would undo history. He would have as many baby Coriolanus’s and Tigris’ as it took to heal the past.

Watching you nurture, feed, and play with his children would overtake his memories of fighting for his life when he should have been nursed by his mother.

He felt as if he was in the area but soon to be crowned Victor. President Ravinstill just had to die before he could have it all.

His destiny that had been interrupted when his father died but was now back on track. From birth, Coriolanus Snow was supposed to be the man who had it all. Not some impoverished boy, hanging on to his father’s legacy.

When he died, he would be remembered as his own man. Not as the shadow of his father.

Coriolanus Snow; Beloved President of Panem, star pupil of the Academy, Plinth Prize winner, devoted husband and father, and Victor of the games. Coriolanus would be remembered as the man who had it all.

You lay awake under him. The smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of his soap. It burnt your nose as you inhaled.

President Ravinstill could die tonight. There was no guarantee that he would even make it to winter. You had to get out. If you made it to the Capitol, you would never get back home.

While he was intoxicated was your best chance. He seemed so still now, you could take the keys off the nightstand and go through everyone. You were sure he wouldn’t wake, not until it was too late. You remember when your father drank on special occasions, he would sleep for 14 hours at a time. Coriolanus was sure to sleep for at least half that.

You wait until you can’t feel him twitch before you rise from bed. Very slowly, very carefully, you peel yourself from him, shoving a pillow in your place. He doesn’t move from your actions so you continue over to his nightstand where his key ring is laid.

Rows and rows of keys looped together. They jingle as you pick them up. Panic runs like ice up your spin as you turn back to see Coriolanus; unmoved and unknowing.

You wrap your hand around as many keys as you can to stop further noise and make your way to the door. Checking every few steps to ensure he wouldn’t turn up behind you.

The floor creeks as you pass the hallways to the living room but no other sound follows as you cross the kitchen to the door.

You start at the very first key. It slots in but refuses to turn. Moving on to the next, and the next in methodological order, bypassing the ones that were too big or small to be entertained.

You try numerous times but the right key is buried among the many.

Feeling as if it had been hours since the first key, you felt confident that it was coming up.

You stuck a key in with no resistance. The hope that died in you reappeared as the lock turned with the key.

But all too soon it died again, as you felt a hand snake into your hair. It yanks your head harshly back and you find yourself pressed against Coriolanus.

“That key will get stuck in the door, and it’d be a great pain to get it out again.”

His hand in your hair pulls you back.

“I was just going to the kitchen to get some ingredients for a hangover cure. I was coming back.” His hand twists unforgivably in your hair as you make your plea.

“Don’t lie to me,” he seethes.

“I am not!” You protest, trying to break free from his grasp.

“You think I am some type of fool?”

Reaching over you, he takes the keys out of the door and leads you back to the bedroom.

“Coriolanus. Please just listen to me.”

“If I had listened to you, I would have left the door opened. You spoiled, deceiving, little bitch.”

He was still drunk. You could smell it from his breath.

You thought it would make him complacent but it instead made him more violent.

“I was getting you my father's hangover cure.”

You stumble as he pushes you over the doorway.

“You need to trust me, Coriolanus.”

He shoves you until you are back to your side of the bed.

“I don’t.”

He throws the keys hard across the room to free his hands.

“I trust you.” You don’t fight him as he recuffs your chain, instead you willingly go along with it.

For good measure, you place a kiss on his cheek which throws him off guard.

“I don’t trust you.” he reiterated softly.

“That’s ok,” you state, “One day you will. We’ll have a happy life together. You, me, and our children.”

He looks perplexed at your words but makes no further comment as he lays down by your side, resting his head on you.

“I’ve tried my best to take care of you. To make you happy.”

“You have.” you console. You were no longer worried about President Ravinstill lasting the night, but rather yourself.

“Then why-”

“I wasn’t running. I was trying to take care of you.”

His face turns into your skin. You bring your free hand up to his head and press it down.

“Everything is ok. Just go to sleep. You’re drunk. You don’t mean it.”

You run your fingertips up and down starting from behind his ear, down to the bottom of his neck, and up again. You do it until you feel his shallow breaths upon your skin, only then do you release the tears from your eyes.

When you wake the next morning, your wrist is free and Coriolanus is not in bed.

You rise to find him in the kitchen, frying bacon. Maybe he was too intoxicated last night to remember his anger towards you.

“Good morning,” you offer. He doesn’t return the greeting. Maybe he did remember last night, and you were in a lot of trouble.

“How are you feeling?” you try again.

“What’s your father's hangover cure?”

“Two eggs, hot sauce, milk, salt, pepper, and honey”. Your father did not have a hangover cure and it did not include hot sauce or honey, both of which were considered luxury items in the District.

He looks for the ingredients, slamming the cupboards he turns towards you. “All here.”

“Oh,” you comment, “That’s good. Did you want me to make you one?”

The bacon pops in the pan and you rush over to distract yourself with it.

“Sit down. I’ll take over cooking”. The bacon was overcooked to the point where it would be barely edible.

“So what did you need for the compound kitchen last night?”

“I didn’t know we had the items. It's been that long since I cooked, I just assumed we were out.”

“You assumed you wouldn’t get caught.”

You sigh. Coriolanus in a bad mood would only mean bad things for you.

“I wasn’t running. I was trying to help. Are you always going to doubt me?”

“Yes.” he answers, pulling the pan back off you.

He dumps the bacon onto a plate and takes it to the kitchen table. You begin to clean up after him as he sits and eats.

The plate is still full by the time he is telling you to go get ready for the day.

You put on the blue sun dress he likes which acts as a two-second buffer for his anger when he sees you.

He had paused in the middle of throwing his bacon into the trash. Such a waste of food. You thought.

But he was determined to stay in his mood. He slides the empty plate across the counter.

“I am late for work,” he says.

It was unusual for him not to hold your hand as you walked to his office. You would have to work hard today to please him.

His tea was already sat upon his desk when you arrived and you rushed to pour him one.

He doesn’t drink it. It goes cold as he does his work.

You try extra hard to be quiet. There was sewing left from yesterday which you begin to complete.

“We still haven’t found your mother,” he says out of the blue after a morning of not speaking or looking at you.

His words filled you with confidence. If you could get to the mountains, at least you knew you were safe.

He doesn’t look up as he speaks.

“Edmund hasn’t returned to his house but there was a rumor that he was swapping meat for medical supplies just yesterday.”

What would he need medical supplies for? You wondered. Was your mother okay? Was he okay?

You needed to see them to make sure.

“He’s probably hiding with your mother in what’s left of the forest. Don’t worry. We’ll find him and bring your mother home.”

It was a disguised threat. He was trying to get a rise out of you.

“Good,” you comment. Keep searching the forest while they remain safe in the mountains.

“Good.” he repeats back.

A comfortable silence returns as you both go back to work, but it’s interrupted by his secretary bursting through the doors.

“Sir! Sir!” she gasps. Coriolanus shot up from his chair.

“Commander Vongurt is angry!”

You follow him without a word out of the office.

“The courtyard!” the secretary directs.

You fall behind his fast pace and reach for him blindly to keep from falling too far behind.

A crowd had formed by the time you reached the courtyard. You could hear the familiar sound of flogging and painful cries.

The crowd parts as Coriolanus approaches. In the middle of the bystanders was Commander Vongurt and a young boy curled on the dirt floor.

Coriolanus looks upon the same boy who failed to hit the target on the hot day.

Grabbing the baton from the Commander, he throws it to the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Commander Snow,” Vongurt was out of breath from exerting himself in his beating, “This boy is a disgrace to your legacy. I caught him passing scraps to the prisoners through the bars.”

With the protection of Coriolanus, you felt safe enough to speak out, “He’s just a boy.”

“Take him to the jail. He can sleep there for a week if he likes their company so much.”

“Coriolanus!” you take his arm and tug it. He gives you a harsh look and you know you won’t be able to persuade him.

The boy cries out and begins to beg as he is carted away by two others.

“Coriolanus, please!” You tug his arm once more and he hits you harshly across the cheek.

You stumble upon the impact. The men shuffle away from you as you try and regain your footing.

Coriolanus takes your arm in a harsh grip, pulling you back in the right direction but he is turned to speak to Vonngurt.

“District 12 is my district. Next time you feel like taking discipline into your own hands, don’t.”

The older Commander nods his head, but you can see he is displeased to have been spoken to in such a manner.

“Let’s go.” He was now talking to you and shoving you forcefully in front of himself back to the office.

You tear yourself free as the door shuts behind you.

“You don’t dictate my decisions.”

Your nose is clogged from your tears. You couldn’t tell if you were crying out of pain or anger. Your brain was still trying to catch up.

“Calling my name,” he says astonished, “It doesn’t matter if you disagree with my decision. Your job is to support me.”

He catches you as you try to make your way from him and he tosses you to the couch, where he stands over you.

“You embarrassed me. Vongurt already thinks I can’t control my Peacekeepers, now he thinks I can’t control my women as well.”

You cup your bruised cheek. This wasn’t about Vongurt. He was still hurting about your attempt last night. All day he was looking for a reason to lash out, Vongurt only provided the opportunity.

You were put back on defense. With only at most a month before you were carted off to the Capitol, mistakes couldn’t be afforded.

“I am sorry.” you choke out.

He squinted his eyes, bringing his hand up to his head before throwing it back again, “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t!” you spit. There is no sincerity in your voice.

“Look at me when I am talking to you.” He takes your chin into his hand and pulls it up to his eye level. “Ravinstill is expected to die shortly. This behavior of yours cannot be brought back to the Capitol.”

“It won’t be. I am sorry.” Your fists clench by your side.

He turns your chin to expect your cheek.

“I did it too. That’s the only reason I spoke out. I would have been thrown in jail too.” you contend.

He lets go of your chin and stands up to full height, “You think a Peacekeeper would get the same punishment as a District? No. You would have been hanged. Yet another reason to be loyal to me. I’ve saved you.”

“I am loyal to you. Grateful for you.” You get up and follow him as he makes his way to his desk.

“Coriolanus, please don’t be mad at me. I was only ever trying to help.”

You sob ugly causing him to spin around. Your cheek hurt, and you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders trying to get away within such a short time frame. You were overwhelmed with the whole scenario and the thought of dealing with Coriolanus as he looked for opportunities to lash out was too much to bear.

He softens upon your unraveled composure, taking you into his arms.

“Stop crying. It’s okay”. You feel him rest his head on top of yours. “I am just a little wound up trying to get everything in order. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I am sorry.”

You smile slightly, he is back on defense.

—------

Friday came quickly. The call wasn’t until the afternoon so you spent the whole day as a ball of anxiety.

But at least you had a plan. On evening walks you took more notice of the building surrounding the communications tent, and saw a nurse carrying a load of blankets into a building of washing machines.

There were few things Coriolanus let you do alone, washing was one of them.

The washing machine in the apartment would need to be dealt with. But the long hours spent in his office meant that the dirty clothes were piling up. He would demand a fresh uniform for work. If you left it close to his phone call with his family, he was sure to let you go.

You push it out for as long as you can. He had wanted to leave ten minutes ago but you kept pressing him for one more minute.

You had taken small rocks from the ground during your afternoon walk, telling Coriolanus you would like to take a part of home back to the Capitol with you. He had allowed you to collect a small jar, you picked the biggest rocks you could find.

Big enough to jam the pipes of the washing machine.

“Darling, please. We have to leave.” He bangs on the door of the washing room.

You finish shoving the rocks as far as they would go down the pipe. It made an awful sound as the washing machine ate them up causing the water to rise.

“Coriolanus,” you call. As soon as you open the door, he grabs your arm, ready to yank you out.

“Coriolanus. The machine is broken. Look.”

He barely glaces at it, “ I’ll send someone to fix it. Let’s go.”

“I need to do the washing,” you pick up the basket as he pulls you from the room, “Can I use the compound washing machines?”

“That’s fine. Just move, we are late.”

You struggle to keep up with him as he rushes along the compound. He hated it if his phone call was cut short by even a second. Now he was two minutes late and he was almost running to make up time for it.

You reach the building in record time. He lets go of you to pick up speed, leaving you by the door as he hurries.

He rushes to the small screen, not bothering to sit down on the wooden chair as he twisted the knobs. “Tigris, Tigris? Can you hear me?”

He must have heard a voice on the other side as he broke out into a smile. It was a pretty, genuine smile that you had not seen before.

“Hey,’’ he laughs. You watch from where you stand by the door. He seemed almost unrecognizable. A young boy sent away to a summer camp instead of a ruthless and ambitious Commander. “I am sorry. The washing machine broke. How are you?”

His tone is light and happy as he talks to Tigris. You wonder if he had forgotten he even brought you. He didn’t glance at you as he spoke, giving her his full attention.

You wonder if it is best to make your exit now but his words stop you.

“She’s here.” he waves you over. You drop the basket in coming to him. You wondered what Tigris would look like. What she would sound like.

Coriolanus holds out the receiver for you. You peer at the screen to see a blonde girl in colorful clothing before you put the receiver to your ear.

“Hello,” you greet.

“Oh!” Tigris croons. She pulls the receiver away from her mouth to lessen her shout, “Grandma’am come see!”

She smiles as she turns her attention back to you, “Oh, Coryo has talked so much about you.”

“What is she saying?” Coriolanus places his hands on your hip and pulls down so you are sitting on his knee.

“She’s said you’ve talked about me,” you answer.

He smiles gently at you, turning the receiver in your hand out between you.

An older woman comes too close into the frame and Tigris pulls her back.

“Is that her?” the old woman asks Tigris who nods.

“Girl-Girl.” she talks into the speaker.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“You must be grateful he is sending you back to the Capitol. Don’t ruin it like the last one.”

Coriolanus snatches the receiver away from your ear to soften her words but you heard them any way.

“Grandma’am is unwell,” he tells you, “Pay her no mind.”

Tigris takes back the receiver and positions it in a similar fashion to Coriolanus.

“Did you get the dresses I sent?”

“I did. Thank you. I was hoping to send you back some shortbread but Coriolanus has been busy with work.”

“He was saying you cook. Grandma’am and I are so excited to meet you!”

“Me too,” you lie. “I hear the Capitol is wonderful. I look forward to exploring it with you.”

Tigris laughs. She was beautiful, you thought. Perhaps too popular to be showing you the capital. You felt foolish for even lying about it.

“We’ll have a ball. I’ll show you all around.”

“In time,” Coriolanus interjects. The chains around you would not loosen just because you were in the Capitol. “The Capitol is big. There’ll be time to see it all.”

You let Coriolanus take over the talking. Only offering agreements or soft smiles as the Snow women talk.

The family soon falls into a comfortable way of talking. You had said next to nothing for the last 10 minutes, and it had gone unnoticed. It was time to make your way.

You slowly rise from Coriolanus who latches out on your arm.

“I’ll just put the washing on. That way it will be done by the time we finish.”

He tugs you back down causing you to fall into him. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Tigris almost cringe.

“We’ll do it later,” he demands.

“We’ll be washing well into the night if we leave it any longer. I’ll just pop it on. I’ll be five minutes.”

His face twisted with his words but you kissed him to stop them from leaving his mouth. It was the first time you had ever kissed him on the lips. You could tell by the way his mouth stilled that he was surprised.

“Five minutes.” You kiss his bottom lip to quell any fight he has in him. Grabbing the phone in the meantime.

“Tigris. Grandma. I’ll just be 5 Minutes to put the washing on”.

Tigris smiles at you, letting you know that it is fine. You could just barely hear Grandma’am make a comment about how the people in the Capitol don't do their own washing but it is cut off by you shoving the phone back in Coriolanus's hand.

He cups your face to bring you down for another kiss.

“Five minutes,” he repeats.

You smile at him as you pull away. It was too easy, You had won.

It felt like victory as you picked up the basket and placed it on your hip. You turn back halfway out the door to see he has gone back to talking to his family.

You don’t make it to the tent. Five steps away from the door and you had dropped the basket and taken off at a fast pace.

You walk to try not to draw attention to yourself. It worked for the most part. Hardly anyone gave you a glance. You could see the bins coming into sight. Your freedom is just behind them.

“Hey!” you hear someone call out. You ignore them at first, not thinking they could mean you. But a harsh hold on your arm spun you towards a Peacekeeper.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What? Nothing”. Your freedom lay not ten feet away but was hindered by a zealous guard.

“Where’s Commander Snow?” He held you too tight. It interfered with your clear thinking.

“The communications tent.”

“Is that where you should be?”

“No,” you try and tug your arm away from him but his nails dig in. “Let go of me. Let go!”

“Let’s go ask Commander Snow what you should be doing.” The man starts to drag you along as you dig your feet into the dirt.

“Let go!” you shout. He was sure to notice you gone soon if he hadn’t already. Time was running out.

In frustration, you slap the Peacekeeper across the face.

“How dare you touch me. I’ll tell Commander Snow about this. You’ve hurt me.

You feel his grip loosen on you but he doesn’t let go completely.

“No, I haven’t!” he says somewhat fearfully,

“Commander Snow has asked me to get something for him, and not only have you stopped me from doing that but you hurt me in the process. How do you think he will react to that?”

You manage to tear free from him and give yourself some distance.

“I am going to do as he asked me, and you are going to do your duties like you should be doing. Otherwise, I’ll report you to the Commander."

The Peacekeeper mulls over his course of action before raising his hands.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. Excuse me.”

You turn your back on him and quicken your steps to your destination. Making sure the coast is clear, you crawl behind the large bins. You couldn’t see any broken fence behind it.

Did they find it? Have you just made a fatal mistake?

You continue to crawl, placing your hand on the metal for any movement.

The chain bends showing cut wire as they bend. Relief washing through you.

It digs harshly into you as you pull yourself through.

You could have kissed the dirt on the other side. Freedom. Edmund.

The guard in the tower above you looks out across the field. You keep under his eyesight as you slide across the fence as quietly as you can.

It runs out, leaving ten feet of open field before the safety of the forest. Ten feet and then you were free. There was no cover, meaning that the guard could easily spot you if he was looking.

You say a silent prayer that the guard will keep his focus straight before you take the chance of discovery.

You leap across the field, throwing yourself upon the first tree you touch. The bark smashed your bruised cheek as you waited for the sirens to sound.

He mustn’t have seen you. You had got away.

You take a second to laugh as quietly as you can. Run, a voice in your head told you. You regain your breath and do. You run as fast as you can, taking the backroads back to your home.

Your lungs burn, willing you to stop but you keep going until your house is in view. You only slow down to stop drawing attention to yourself.

People had started to return home from work. You could see them as you walked along the back of their houses. You're careful not to be seen.

The back steps of your place come under your feet, and your caution disappears as you fling yourself into your home.

Edmund was sitting at the kitchen table dressing a rabbit he caught.

He stood up. Turning his knife towards you thinking you were an intruder.

You knew he would never hurt you so you throw your arms around his shoulders despite the threat.

The knife drops and he takes you into his arms.

“I was so worried.” he breathed.

“We have to go. We need to leave,” you state but make no attempt to pull away.

He does pull away, throwing the rabbit into his hunting sack and picking up his knife. You take his bloody hand and he leads you back out the back door and into the forest.

The walk to the mountains takes well into the night. You both do it silently. What was there to say? There was still a long road to safety.

You stay as close as you could to him. Always holding his hand or latched onto his arm.

The mountain trail is tough and you wonder how he made it up with your mother on his back. He knew the way well, having worked in the mines nearly all his life. He warned you of which boulders were loose, and when you tripped over he caught you as if he almost expected it.

You were worn out by the time you reached the campsite. Rows and rows of small wooden houses for the miners. All were empty this time of year as it got too dark too early and not light enough too late for the hours they worked.

You saw a freshly put-out fire and knew that your mother was close.

“Your mothers in that one,” he pointed to the right cabin, “My family’s in the next one.”

For the first time in the hour's walk, you tore free from him and ran into your mother's cabin.

It was a relief to see her sleeping figure. You throw yourself on top of her and begin crying.

She wakes in fright but knows the figure of her daughter well. She throws her arms around you and joins you in crying.

You were home. You were safe.

—---------

As soon as the door closed, Coriolanus felt as if he had made a mistake. He trusted you.

You were better now. Doing well. He could trust you.

But Tigris’s words made no sense to him. You were coming back.

He tried to focus on his family but he eyes the door expectantly.

Dread fills him. How long did it take to put on washing?

“Coriolanus?” he hears Tigris call.

He dashes out of his chair. He had made a very big mistake.

“Coriolanus?” the receiver resounds.

Upon opening the door he is met with his washing by his feet. He takes off running to his apartment. You were sick the other day, maybe you had fallen ill again and taken to bed.

He pushed past Peacekeepers as he ran to his steps. Taking them two at a time he reaches the top and pushes open the unlocked door. It was only ever locked to keep someone in, never someone out. He calls out for you but is met with silence.

He opened every door along the way to the bedroom, hoping you were just hiding.

He calls your name again and again until falling silent upon the empty bed. You weren’t here. Coriolanus had made a big mistake.

Clicking the radio built into the collar of his shirt, he demands that the compound is shut down.

“Has anyone been through the gates?” Both leading officers of the two entryways confirm that no one has. The Peacekeepers are diverted into searching the compound for you.

Coriolanus joins too. He didn’t trust the ability of his Peacekeepers. He searched every nook and cranny of every office and building he could find. His temper flared the longer the search went on.

You had to be in the compound. How could you have got out?

He returns to his apartment. Maybe you had returned upon hearing the sirens.

A cat catches his attention as it sits meowing and eating bits of food from the ground that the birds had managed to pick out.

He had never seen a cat in the compound before. Could it have got in the same way you got out?

He walks over to search it for any clues it might have but it runs off as he comes closer.

He chases it behind the bin where he watches it slip through the bent wire in the fence.

You had got away. Now at large in the districts.

He sighs deeply before taking his rage out on the back of the bins, bashing and kicking at it until he is forced to lean against it to catch his breath.

A search party would be sent out, interrogations would be issued. Someone had to have seen you along the way. He would find you and he would bring you home to him.

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#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #commander snow #dead dove do not eat #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth #hunger games

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metalomagnetic · 2 days

Text

Snippet Canis Major

Voldemort remembers the other Sirius. Also, a little glimpse at Orion/Walburga, because I never tire of this toxic couple.

(-)

Usually, it was Arcturus or Pollux that showed up when their children got in trouble. Cygnus, especially, was often in trouble, so Pollux’ face was the most familiar to the students.

In Voldemort’s sixth year at Hogwarts, Atticus Bulstrode, the Head Boy, invited Walburga to Hogsmeade, the last in a lengthy string of boys asking her out. Only this time, she accepted.

When he heard, Orion challenged him to a formal duel. Atticus laughed, rolled his eyes at his fourteen years old opponent.

“Quick!” He was shaken awake by Abraxas, in the middle of the night.“Orion is killing Bulstrode in the trophy room! You have to stop him!”

He reached them just in time, he disarmed Orion, and rushed Bulstrode to the Hospital Wing, where they found Dumbledore asking the Matron for a sleeping potion.

Atticus was lucky- Dumbledore was more often than not away from Hogwarts, chasing Grindelwald, rumour went, but he was there that night, apparently suffering with insomnia.

The professor kept Atticus alive until the Healers from St Mungo arrived and took the boy with them.

“It wasn’t me,” he said, hurriedly, stained in Bulstrode’s blood, lingering in the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore peered at him from under his half-moon glasses. Dumbledore always liked to blame everything on him. “I only brought him here after-”

“I know,” Dumbledore assured him.

The next morning Atticus’ father came thundering, his yells easily heard from where Voldemort was spying, near the Headmaster office.

He wondered if maybe this will be the time when a Black actually suffers consequences. After all, Bulstrode’s name was ancient, they were a rich, influential family, and surely, at least on account of that, Dippet would do something more than detention and points taken, which was the usual punishment for Blacks.

Only, this time it wasn't Arcturus that came to fix his son's issues.

It was the infamous Sirius Black. A tall man, with wide shoulders, long black hair hanging around his face, deep circle under his too intense eyes, mouth twisted in a snarl. Orion walked behind him, his gaze fixed on his older relative. Voldemort watched them, hidden by a pillar. Orion never seemed small; he carried himself with such arrogance and pride, his head held so high he seemed a foot taller than he was. Yet right then, Orion looked small, trailing after his grandfather, quietly, as Voldemort observed them disappear up the stairwell leading to the Headmaster's chambers.

They left Dippet’s office not even a quarter of an hour after they entered it.

As soon as they emerged from it, the gargoyles closing the door behind them, old Black slapped Orion, the noise echoing down the hallway.

“Next time you pull something like this, do it on a weekday, you fool! If I’m woken up again at this ungodly hour on your account on a Sunday, you will be very sorry for it.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” Orion answers, in that unfazed tone of his.

The old man narrows his eyes. “What was it about, anyway? How did he provoke your ire?”

A second worth of silence. “He tried stealing from me.”

Orion gets hit again, harder this time. The heavy family ring rips the skin at the corner of his left eye, and that pure blood of theirs makes an appearance.

“Then why does he still have hands?” the old man hisses, enraged. “If someone attempts to take what is yours, you cut off their hands, boy!”

He slaps Orion again, just as harshly.

“Yes, Grandfather.” Orion doesn't take his eyes off his grandfather, doesn't wipe away the blood running down his cheek, his hands held behind his back.

Sirius Blacks huffs in displeasure, before turning on his heels and marching down the hallway. “Weakling,” he mutters.

Nothing happened to Orion. Not even the usual detention. No points taken.

Sirius Black insisted it was a formal duel, that the challenge had been accepted, and it was all done honourably, Slughorn told Voldemort, when he called him into his office to give him the Head Boy badge, temporarily, until Atticus recovered and would be able to return to Hogwarts and his duties.

“When Armando reminded him duels are illegal at Hogwarts, formal or not, Mr Black said rules are just words on parchment; that he’s a wizard, and he follows laws of magic, not of men.” Slughorn sighs, rubs at his temples, and then he takes a caramel out of his newest bribe-sweets bag that Abraxas gave him. “He told Mr Bulstrode that if he wants justice, then he should challenge him to a duel, and solve it like wizards ought to. Of course, Mr Bulstrode has more than one brain cell, so he refused and let it go.” He sighs again, points a sugar coated finger at Tom. “This is why I always told you not to seek trouble with Blacks. We’re lucky he’s apparently taken to drinking lately, locked up in his Manor, that he lets Arcturus handle most of their affairs, who is much milder and reasonable. But, once in a while, he gets out and you do not wish to run afoul of him.”

No one in the common room talked of it; only Walburga complained she was looking forward to going to the newly opened teashop in Hogsmeade, and demanded to know what was Orion’s problem with Atticus.

“A Quidditch thing,” Orion told her, with a shrug. “Don’t worry, Waly. I’ll take you to Madam Puddifoot’s.”

“I don’t want to go with my baby cousin, don’t be ridiculous! Malfoy, you will take me!”

Abraxas backs away, slowly. “I can’t, Walburga. I’m busy, I have to study,” he says, hastily, when Orion glares at him from behind Walburga.

It was the only time mild-tempered, well behaved Orion did something so outrageous that his unhinged grandfather had to come and solve it, so it was the only time Voldemort saw the man.

#my writing #it runs in the blood #canis major #black family insanity #Orion would commit murder for the chance to take Walburga on a date #wizarding world corruption #Blacks should stop naming boys Sirius because they all turn out insane

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taduki · 3 days

Text

Fun-Sized HCs: M6 walking in on MC hugging a pillow in their sleep

Asra: “IT SHOULD’VE BEEN MEEEEEE”, sobbing at the doorway before promptly spooning you. Honestly, Azz probably does the same thing too. It just hits different seeing you do it now that they know you might be imagining it’s him. 💕

Julian: Flustered for a moment before clasping his hands and watching you. Debates whether to leave you to rest and pester you about it later or join you. Do this when he’s very deprived of sleep and he might just give in!

Portia: Zero hesitation to remove the pillow and replace it with herself. Does so very carefully, as excited as she is. She’s so warm, you might not notice even if you’re a light sleeper. Teases you about it later.

Nadia: She’s used to being out and about, so she opens the door to her chambers secretly hoping to see you like this every time. It warms her little romantic heart! Starts spritzing a bit of her perfume on the pillowcases when you aren’t looking.

Muriel: As if you weren’t already beaming with cuteness… Fighting the urge to nap next to you in fear that he might wake you. He catches himself staring and goes to occupy himself until you’re awake. Is way more inclined to give you hugs now. 🥰

Lucio: Covers his mouth and hunches over the mantle, trying not to squeal. Gently gives you a kiss on the cheek either holds you or removes the pillow and snuggles into your arms. He claims he can’t do magic, but the pillow has disappeared after that…

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badbtssmut · 1 day

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y/n and her friend are having a sleepover at her best friend house, and sleeping together in the same bed. suddenly y/n starts to hear some noises, wakes up to find her fucking her boyfriend Jimin right next to her, so she joins them. ( if you don't like writing yn with other girls, the girlfriend could just be looking at them)

https://twitter.com/24hrplayhouse/status/1769263108563071436?t=Tr9qUU0-xE0Ezlt1Bjvbag&s=19 imagine this but in their bed? or they could just move to the jacuzzi

“Y/N sucks cock so well, doesn’t she? Look how pretty she is while doing it.” Your best friend, Ara, cooed, caressing your hair as she watched you suck off her boyfriend, Jimin, who groaned in pleasure as you sucked him off.

You moaned around the hard length in your mouth. Your panties have gotten soaking wet, even more so when the couple caught you when you touched yourself under the blankets as you watched Ara getting fucked by her boyfriend. They pulled the sheets off you and Ara told you there was no fun in getting off all alone. “So pretty.” She giggled, leaning in to kiss you against the forehead. “Want his cock, y/n?

You pulled back from the cock you were sucking and looked at the handsome man that was watching you. He licked his bottom lip, nodding his head to show you he approved.

Ara then took hold of his cock and kissed her boyfriend’s shaft up and down, before she sucked on it as well, Jimin’s cock still slippery from your saliva.

Ara then pulled his cock out and nudged it towards you, and you leaned in and started to suck again, feeling how the male underneath you shivered. You took him deeper into your mouth, bobbing your head, as Ara leaned in and started to lick the shaft that wasn’t taken into your mouth yet. Ara moved up and started kissing you, before both of you went up and down Jimin’s cock, meeting at the tip to kiss.

Ara then patted your ass, signaling for you to get on top of him, and you did, crawling over to Jimin, before getting on top of him. His hands immediately grabbed your thighs, and he looked up at you, his eyes hungry for you, before he slid a hand between your legs, feeling your dripping pussy. You whimpered, not expecting him to go straight for it.

Your best friend wrapped your hand gown into her hand before tying it into a knot, tucking the fabric underneath your chest, leaving your lower body exposed.

Ara then pulled your panties to the side and Jimin slipped two fingers inside, pumping them in and out, while his thumb rubbed your clit. You couldn't help but moan and grind against his fingers. You were already soaking wet, and Jimin knew too, so he decided to give your pussy what it craved.

His fingers slipped out, and his cock rubbed against your wet folds, preparing you for what was to come. You looked down, seeing his cock disappear into you, and you let out some shaky breaths.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” She giggled, wrapping her arms around you from behind, slipping her hands under your bundled up gown and groping your chest.

“Yes…” You leaned back against her, whining at both Jimin’s cock fucking into you and your friend kneading your breasts. You leaned back against her, at which she started to kiss you.

You started to ride him, bouncing up and down, feeling how his cock filled you perfectly.

“Shit.” Jimin cussed, gripping onto your thighs tightly, as you bounced on his cock, which you did for a few more minutes, until he guided you off his cock and got on top of you.

He positioned himself between your legs, and slid inside, making you moan out. He gripped your thighs and spread your legs as far as they could, and started to fuck into you, and you looked at him as he did, getting wetter at the sounds of his rock hard pole stretching your hole; the sounds your pussy and his cock were making were so fucking dirty.

“Jimin… Jimin…” You barely managed to whimper out as his thrusts increased. Fuck, he was such a fucking machine, how did he had enough stamina to first fuck your friend and now you? “Ah! Ah!” You cried out at every rough pounding into you, your tits shaking up and down as your body bounced on the bed. You gripped onto the sheets, feeling your body burn up as you were close to reach your orgasm.

Ara smiled, scooting closer and caressing your face. She leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, her hand caressing your stomach. You moaned against her lips, your eyebrows furrowing together as your body was feeling hotter by the second, getting close to cumming. One look at Jimin, who was rolling his eyes back in pleasure, did it for you.

When your orgasm hit, you threw your head back and cried out in pleasure. Ara giggled and petted your hair, praising you. Jimin allowed his cock to be massaged by your walls as you came, and once the feeling wore off, he pulled out. You laid there taking steady breaths, watching as Ara jerked Jimin off, soon his cock sputtered out ropes of his white semen, coating Ara’s face and your stomach.

#bts smut #bts x reader #bts requests #bts smut requests #bts fanfic #bts smut fanfic #jimin x female reader #Jimin x yn #jimin x you #jimin x oc #jimin smut #jimin smut request

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bunnliix · 3 days

Text

The Point of No Return - Hongjoong x reader

I am in an angsty mood so here we go. This was born out of the need for angst but also Ateezchella so this is what happened.

Pairing: Hongjoong x reader Summary: Hongjoong had invited you along with them to Coachella, not wanting you to miss out on this experience with them. However, things don't go to plan. wc: 3k AU: n/a Genre: Angst, Hurt/no comfort Nets: @newworldnet warnings: Death, blood, kidnapping, disappearances, crying, descriptions of a dead body, it's basically just really depressing and sad. it's hurt/no comfort for a reason

You had followed the boys to Coachella for their performances, partially because your boyfriend wanted you to experience this with him and the rest of the members. You had watched their soundcheck, cheering as loud as you could in support of them, which left a smile on Hongjoong’s face. You thoroughly enjoyed the set list they chose for the festival, jumping along to every single song and sometimes attempting the choreography, making the boys try their hardest not to laugh. You weren’t exactly a dancer, so sometimes the moves ended up looking a little funny, but you were having fun and that’s all that matters.

Today was D-day, the boy’s first performance at Coachella, and the boys were a bundle of nerves, and so were you. There was nothing any of you could really do, except try and relax, and you were told by all the boys to go and enjoy the performances for the boys since they weren’t able to roam around before their set. You roamed around the festival grounds, enjoying the atmosphere and the vibes, and just soaking in the energy around you. You went to attend Sabrina Carpenter’s set, which was one of the few that day that you were excited to watch live. There had been a couple times you almost had the chance to see her live in concert, but then life or Ateez things had come up and blocked those plans.

Being that you were a part of the Ateez entourage, you normally wouldn’t have security, but Hongjoong was concerned about sasaengs and other dangers that could happen at the festival, and added you as a part of the security team’s list of people to protect. So you had two members of the team with you at all times, despite your insistence that you would be fine by yourself.

“Won’t the boys need you back with them soon?” You asked one of your bodyguards.

“We’re supposed to stay with you until you meet up with the staff before their set.” He informed you, the other nodding along in agreement.

“Well, I don’t really need both of you here, I’m only going to Sabrina’s set, and then I’m going to head over to the Sahara stage to wait for their set. Maybe one of you can head back then?” You suggested to them.

“We’re really not supposed to leave you with only one of us, Mr. Kim told us that we’re both supposed to stay with you until you meet with KQ staff.” The other bodyguard spoke up.

“But if I’m only going from one stage to the other, what could go wrong?” You said.

“If you’re sure you’ll only need one of us, then I’ll head back.” The second bodyguard told you.

“I’m sure. The boys will need you more than I will.” You told him, a tone of finality in your voice.

Watching the guard walk away, you turned to the remaining man, telling him that it was time to head over to the stage for Sabrina’s performance. He walked closely behind you as you made your way through the crowds, weaving through the groups of people, quickly navigating the festival grounds and arriving just in time to Sabrina’s set. You didn’t mind being farther back, it allowed you to have more space to move about, and room to breathe.

Singing along to every song she sang, you were having the time of your life. You had more than a couple people look over at you during the entire set, not that you cared. Though, there were more than a couple times that a couple different sets of people bumped into you, which you quickly shook off, not thinking anything of it except that people wanted to get closer to the stage and were not aware of anyone around them. You didn’t let some rude people ruin the fun and excitement of finally seeing Sabrina live.

Eventually the performance came to an end, and it was your time to head over to the Sahara stage, to find both one of the staff members that you were meeting up with, plus to get a spot for the boys’ performance late that night. You once again started weaving your way through the festival grounds, stopping for some food and a drink along the way. You waited in line with your guard right next to you, and after getting what you paid for, you headed over to the Sahara stage, ready to start the long wait till your boys’ set. Once you got close to the stage, you waved off the remaining bodyguard, telling him you could make it the short distance to the staff member by yourself, and he reluctantly left, heading back to where the rest of the security team was situated.

Time skip to the performance...

Hongjoong was having the time of his life on stage, soaking up the atmosphere around him, feeding on the energy coming from his members and the crowd, and knowing that his girlfriend was somewhere out there as well, cheering him and the others on just as she had the day prior. All too quickly did it end, and despite the mix up that was the failure of the boys to exit the stage the way they planned to, the rest of their performance couldn’t have gone better.

Arriving back at the backstage area for performers, they quickly took photos, before finding somewhere to sit down and just relax after the adrenaline rush that was their performance. The minutes ticked by, Hongjoong growing worried and impatient that you had yet to show up backstage. Had staff not done their job? Had they not made sure you were allowed back here? Should he send their manager out to grab you? He checked his phone, but you hadn’t sent him anything. Maybe your phone died? These questions swirled inside of his head, until the staff member they had assigned to meet you came rushing into the area, and over to the group's manager. Hongjoong got up, making his way over to the two, when he heard his manager exclaim to the staff member.

“What do you mean she never showed up?! Why didn’t you say something hours ago?!” The manager half yelled at the staff member, who started making excuses.

Hongjoong stopped in his tracks, the words constantly replaying over and over in his head. You had never shown up and made contact with the staff member? He knew your bodyguard came back, he saw the man return, but he had assumed that meant you had found the staff member who was supposed to be responsible for you during your time spent at their stage.

Seonghwa came up beside their captain, a worried look on his face. “What do you mean she never showed up? Where is she then?” He inquired, to which no one had answers for him.

Hongjoong stayed silent for a moment longer, before launching into action, moving to find the men responsible for your safety. He quickly found the two men, barking out at them, “What the fuck were you doing? No one can find my girlfriend, the woman you were supposed to be protecting?!” He yelled at them, throwing any pretense of being calm right out the window.

The guard who he had seen return started talking first. “I escorted her to the stage, and once we were there, she convinced me that she could find the staff member on her own, and so I returned here.” He told Hongjoong.

“You should have stayed with her until she made contact with our staff. Now she’s missing and it might be your fucking fault!” He yelled, getting close to the security guard until San and Jongho pulled him away, the entire group having followed their captain on his warpath.

“I didn’t think she could have gotten into danger in the couple hundred feet it would have taken her to get to the staff member.” The guard justified his actions, and indirectly, your choices to tell the guard to leave.

“Well you made a wrong decision. Now get out there and go look for her, you assholes!” He screamed at them, the two quickly leaving with the rest of the security team to scour the grounds for you, or any hints as to where you’ve gone.

The members convinced Hongjoong to go back to where they had been, and wait for news. Hongjoong couldn't sit still, pacing back and forth until he heard that they had found you. He wouldn’t be able to handle anything less than you showing up in front of him. He couldn’t bear the thought of them not finding you, of never seeing you again.

A security team member came jogging in, trying to catch his breath once he stopped. He raised a hand, and Hongjoong immediately knew it was your phone. He’d recognize that case anywhere, he hand painted it for you after all. Sunflowers, the flower you reminded him of. The reality of the situation started kicking in at that moment, and he knew that you wouldn’t have just left your phone hanging around. There was no way you would have, you protected your phone like it held the codes for nuclear bombs.

He fell to his knees, knowing something had gone horribly wrong, and he felt responsible for it all, seeing as he was the one who pushed for you to go out and enjoy the festival. He should have kept you here with them, shouldn’t have let you out of their, out of his sight. If he had kept you here with them, it wouldn’t be like this right now, you would be safe here with them, not out there alone, or worse.

Yunho moved to take the phone from the security team member, using the code they all knew to open it. Finding that once he did, the notes app was left open, and as he read the text on the screen, he felt his stomach drop.

‘She doesn’t deserve you. No one deserves you. You’re too good for her. It’s okay, you’ll be better off without her. Atiny will make sure she stays far away from you. You don’t need to worry about her. She’ll be an eternal attendee of Coachella.’

Mingi looked at the text from over his friend's shoulder, and could help but let out a sob. This alerted the others that something was wrong.

“Yunho. Mingi. What’s going on?” Seonghwa questioned, and Yunho could only shake his head before he turned the phone towards Seonghwa, who quickly read what was on the screen, tears falling from his eyes as his hand came to cover his mouth.

Hongjoong, coming back to the present, quickly stood up, losing his balance and Jongho rushed to steady him, before he shrugged off the maknae’s help.

“What’s going on?” He asked, looking between the three men.

“Hongjoong, I don’t think you should know.” Seonghwa tried to persuade his best friend.

“I need to know. Show me now!” Hongjoong said, before just snatching your phone from Yunho’s hand, looking down at the text on his lover’s phone. His face paled as he read further, the phone eventually dropping from his hand, dropping right down to the ground. Yeosang rushed to pick it up, finding that the screen had been shattered, the text on the screen still readable, though the fairy-like man couldn’t find it in himself to read it, not after seeing his friend’s reactions to what was contained on the phone.

Hongjoong himself collapsed, his body falling to the ground not long after your phone did. Where were you? He couldn’t believe that their fans, no they weren’t fans, not if they did something to you. They could never be fans if these were the actions they decided to take, that they felt he was too good for you. He was in a state of shock, he couldn’t process anything going on outside of the thoughts in his own head.

Thankfully Seonghwa stepped in, ordering the security team and their staff to go searching the grounds, making sure they knew to cover every single piece of the festival, and they all set out. Yunho and the others were already huddling around Hongjoong, trying their best to comfort the man, their friend whose girlfriend is currently missing and more than likely, in danger. From those who claim to be their own fans.

None of the boys have any sense of time, seconds feel like minutes and minutes feel like hours, until the sound of an incoming call comes from one of their phones. It’s Seonghwa’s phone that’s ringing and he answers it, hoping for good news. As the other boys watched him step away and listen to what the person on the other side was saying, they saw him freeze before he dropped to the ground as his hand holding the phone fell into his lap.

Yeosang and Wooyoung hurry over to their hyung’s side, Yeosang hugging the older man while Wooyoung took the phone, pulling it up to his ear to find out what happened, interrogating the person on the phone. Soon he fell into the same state as Seonghwa, sobs bursting out of his mouth as tears flowed down his cheeks, his head shaking as he repeatedly denied the knowledge he had just gained. This signaled to the others that whatever news their staff had, wasn’t good.

“Seonghwa-hyung, talk to me. What did they say?” Yeosang tried to get his friend to talk, but his friend wouldn’t say a word.

“They found her.” Wooyoung whispered, everyone turning to him, the silence so loud you could hear a pin drop, despite the roaring of the crowds not too far away.

“And?” Mingi asked, daring to hope that they would get some good news tonight.

“She’s dead. They killed her. She’s gone.” Seonghwa managed to get out, before he doubled over, unable to say anymore.

‘She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.’ Those two words echoed in Hongjoong’s mind, and he wouldn’t, he couldn’t let himself believe that. You couldn’t be dead, he saw you only hours ago. There’s no way they would have killed you. Why would anyone want to hurt you? He stared down at his hands as they sat in his lap, feeling as if he just believed you were alive and this was all a big joke, it would become true.

“They want one of us to come confirm it’s her. They’re sending a member of the security team to come take one of us to her.” Yeosang spoke up, having just hung up the call with whoever had informed them of this news.

Silence reigned over them for a couple minutes, until Hongjoong spoke up. “I need to see her. She can’t be dead. She just can’t be.”

“I don’t know if that’s wise Hongjoong-hyung.” Yunho said to the older man, “I think it’s probably best if one of us goes to do that. You don’t want to have your last memory of her like this.” He told his friend.

“She’s not dead, she’s just fine. I’ll see her and we can get her some help and she’ll be okay.” Their captain continued, deep in denial.

The rest of the group looked at him with pity in their eyes, they knew he wouldn’t believe that you were gone until he saw it for himself, but they didn’t want to see him destroy himself once he realized the truth. They knew exactly how much their friend cared for you, and this would destroy him. He was planning to propose to you next weekend, after they finished their performance. And now he’d never get the chance to.

Finally the members of the team arrived to lead whoever wanted to take the burden of confirming that the body was in fact you. What they arrived at, was the boys on the ground and cries and sniffles coming from those who realized it was time to go see you. Seonghwa stood up, assuming the responsibility, though Jongho joined him, and soon it became the entirety of Ateez, surrounding Hongjoong at the center of them all. He had insisted on going, and none of them could tell him no.

They made the trek over to the spot where those people had left you, and sadly, it wasn’t far from where the backstage area was. It was a deserted area, where very few people would stumble upon, leaving the perfect place for those demented people to take you.

San was the first to see you, where you laid on the grass, with so many people surrounding you. His steps faltered, and that caught their attention until they saw where San was looking, and gasps and cries came from the group as they processed that it was really you. That you really were gone, that your lifeless body laid there on the grass, almost as if you were just taking a nap instead. Hongjoong scrambled over to you, everyone moving out of his way to allow the idol passage.

He fell to the ground next to you, a shaky hand reaching out and touching your face, flinching away at how cold you felt. This was when it all started to kick in for him, that you were really gone, that he’d never get to see you smile again, never get to kiss you, never get to hear your voice call his name.

“You can’t be gone, you can’t leave me like this. We were supposed to spend our lives together!! You have to come back! Please, just come back to me.” Hongjoong cried out, leaning over your body, the shirt you were wearing was his, he picked this outfit out for you this morning. God, that was the last time he saw you alive. He’d never get to wake up next to you in the mornings, never get to go on another date with you. Never get to see you walk down the aisle towards him wearing a wedding dress and saying yes to being with him for the rest of your lives. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.

The rest of Ateez gathered around Hongjoong and you, both mourning your passing and trying to be there to support their captain, their friend. You were a special part in all of their lives, how were they supposed to move on from this?

If you wanna see a beautifully written continuation to this fic, check out this fic by @vent-stink, which I consider a very canonical ending to how Hongjoong would react after all of this.

Taglist: @bethelighthalazia

#newworldnet #hongjoong x reader #ateez x reader #hongjoong angst #ateez angst #kim hongjoong #hongjoong

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