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after-witch · 5 months

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The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Title: The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Synopsis: You're a District 2 school graduate who comes to the Capitol with her father before the 11th Hunger Games. You don't expect to meet anyone kind, especially not someone named Coriolanus Snow who offers you his arm, his smile, and treats in secret.

Word Count: 5270

notes: yandere, abusive relationship, non-graphic descriptions of torture and death (not against reader); uses a mixture of book and movie canon

The Capitol was not as dazzling as your father described it but then, he had seen it before the war. Though perhaps it was your own bitterness that made you ignore the signs of returning prosperity that sets it above everywhere else.

The repaired elaborate buildings, the fresh pungent smell of plaster and paint. The cars pumping exhaust fumes into the air. The low rumble of garbage trucks that pick up bright green garbage cans, some of which are actually teeming with plastic trash bags. Such waste was unheard of, even in the oh-so-loyal District 2, where only the lowest of the low find themselves starving.

Although not-starving didn’t mean that everything was plentiful.

You, though, were lucky enough to avoid the lima bean heavy diet that some of your classmates (now former--graduation was months ago) lived on. Or were you? The meat that graced your family’s dinner table, the pats of butter on toast, were all courtesy of your father’s immense talent in building creative weapons that allowed the Capitol to stamp out every last bit of rebellion in the Districts. That allowed them to regain control. That allowed them to create the Hunger Games.

Which is why you were in the Capitol now. Oh, not to participate in them. Your father’s status in District 2 had seen to that; it would be a scandal if the name of his beloved daughter were to ever be pulled.

You were there because your father had been given a lucrative contract, one that was sure to cement your family’s wealth for generations: a contract to build high-tech weapons for the Hunger Games themselves.

They would still be killing. But on a much smaller scale, you supposed, than the weapons your father designed during the war.

Still. Blood was blood. And if it had to be spilled, well, there was nothing you could do about it except hope they died quickly. Especially the ones from District 2.

Last year’s Games’ had been awful enough. Your family had watched the Games on a modest television set in the privacy of your living room, sent courtesy of the Capitol.

You wondered if you would ever get the sight of Marcus’ battered, bloated face from your mind; if you would ever unhear the way his body thumped to the ground when that girl had killed him, out of mercy. If you would ever stop imagining what it must have felt like in those last moments.

But it wasn’t all horror. You’d liked Lucy Gray well enough, even though she was from 12. She had a wild way of dressing and the singing--it was practically theatrical, compared to what you’d heard about the previous games.

Maybe that was why your father got this contract: theatrics. Maybe the games would be more dramatic from now on. Maybe they wanted tributes like Lucy Gray, who sang and spit and poisoned her way to Victory. It was strange, really, that there’d been hardly any talk of her since her win.

“Father?” You asked, quietly as you could.

Both of you were standing in the foyer of the grand university in the Capitol. The outside was still a little ravaged, but inside, it was perfectly lovely. Walls lined with books--perhaps some of them were fake--and marble floors and marble busts dotting the sight lines.

“Mm?” He replied, eyes scanning over his clipboard. He flips it, here and there.

“I was just thinking. About last year’s games. About Lucy Gray, and how the Games--”

Your father rounded on you, eyes suddenly serious and blazing.

“Quiet. Weren’t you paying attention on the way here?” Admittedly, you were not. You’d been daydreaming about what you might do now that you were done with school. There was no university in District 2, and your father hadn’t even mentioned a job. “You’re not supposed to mention--”

“Not supposed to mention whom? Ah, ah, ah. Lucy Gray Baird?” called a voice, almost in sing-song.

Your father stood up stiff, and the life seemed to drain from his face.

Both of you look towards the sound of the voice, and now it’s your turn to stiffen. The voice came from a woman standing in the doorway of the very office that your father was waiting to enter. She was wearing an elaborate jacket made of what looked like rainbow snake scales. Her hair was gray and curly. She had, you realized, two different colored eyes.

Your father swallowed, and you could see the apple of it bob up and down. It made you think, abruptly, of suckling pigs.

“Dr. Gaul,” he said, in a voice far too tight to be relaxed. “I apologize for my daughter’s insubordination, I assure you, she meant no--”

Dr. Gaul waved her hands at him and approached you.

“Did you like last year’s games?” She didn’t look angry. No, she looked delighted.

“I…” It was your turn to swallow, your turn to feel that tightness. “It-it was the first time I’ve watched them, ma’am.” You want to ask this woman: do you think I liked watching someone from my District 2 so horribly? Or any District, really? Did I like it?

Her smile grew wider.

“I’m glad. You’ll be watching them every year from now on, I hope. We have big plans.” Her eyebrows raised high. “Big changes. Thanks to men like your father.” She glanced at him and you saw disdain flicker across her gaze.

And then another door opened, and you heard the sound of polished shoes on the marble floor. Dr. Gaul’s attention dropped away from you like you were nothing at all. She turned to meet the sound of these footsteps, and you did too.

It was a young man. Probably your age, you thought, with light blonde hair and eyes that your mother would have described as “baby blue.” He didn’t look at you, or your father. But that was nothing new. You’d only been in the Capitol for 2 days, and you’d already gotten used to being treated as lesser than. Though, at least, you were not so far down on the food chain that you lost your tongue.

“Ah, my protege,” said Dr. Gaul, giving the young man a grin. The smile on her face almost looked warm, which was somehow far more terrifying than her manic smile from earlier. “Ever the earnest student. Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying the day off, Mr. Snow?”

The young man, this “Snow,” chuckled and lowered his gaze. “I couldn’t stay away once I heard you were discussing some of the new prototypes for this year’s games.”

He finally looked at your father, and then at you. But only briefly.

“Can I assume that this is…?”

Dr. Gaul nodded.

“Yes. My little designer from District 2. And his daughter.” Her voice dropped a few octaves when she referred to you. She probably didn’t want you here, you thought. You weren’t supposed to come, but your father had begged the Capitol for a pass; it would probably be your only chance to see it, he said, so you may as well take advantage of the chance.

Snow nodded to your father. It was a surprising gesture, almost respectful. But cold, too, like it was done from necessity rather than anything else.

Your father stammered a bit and nodded back, and you felt shame begin to creep into your bones. It wasn’t fair, to be lesser-than. But weren’t others lesser-than you in your own District, where you ate better food and never worried that your name would get picked, that your blood would be spilled?

Everyone

But when Snow turned to you, he smiled. It gave him dimples.

It was the first kind smile anyone in the Capitol gave you.

“My name is Coriolanus Snow. I doubt you’ve heard of me, but if Dr. Gaul’s teachings have anything to say about it, perhaps one day you’ll know me as a Gamemaker.”

You didn’t know what to say. Congratulations, one day you’ll be coordinating Games that kill people? Instead, you gave your name, voice squeakier than you meant it. But it was fitting, you supposed. Here, you were a mouse, hoping you would get a bite of cheese and make it home unpoisoned.

Dr. Gaul’s face seemed to react slowly, as if she couldn’t decide what she thought about his words or your interaction, but a small smile grew on it, eventually. “I do have high hopes for you, Mr. Snow. Now, shall we?”

She gestured for your father to follow, face once again impassive with a sprinkle of disdain, as she led the two of them into her office.

Snow gave you a smile and a nod before he left.

You waved, stupidly.

Your father didn’t even look back.

I’m dead. I’m dead. I might as well be dead.

Your heartbeat kept time with your racing thoughts as you went up and down corridors, begging your shoes to be silent, wishing your breath would catch and stop coming out in terrible pants.

You were lost. You weren’t where you were supposed to be. If someone found you, if the wrong person found you, they would think you were running, trying to get lost in the Capitol; they’d think you were a rebel. They’d shoot you.

Just when you thought you might collapse and die from your own nervous exhaustion, you heard the most wonderful sound in the world.

Your name.

It was only the moment after that you realized it didn’t come from your father’s mouth, but the lips of--what his name--Coriolanus Snow. The young man who was a Gamemaker-in-training, or so your father said. But that’s all he would say. He kept tight about anything that went on behind closed doors.

But this Coriolanus Snow smiled at you, and didn’t look at you like you were some kind of insect he might want to pin on a board, and so when you whirled around to look at him you were smiling.

Ah--for a moment. For just a moment, you saw his muscles tense. You saw the expression on his face falter in worry. Like he thought he was about to miss a step on a staircase, and corrected himself; like he thought you were a wolf and you were only somebody’s dog, off their leash.

But it wasn’t too surprising. You knew most people in the Capitol thought anyone from the Districts wanted to rip out their throats.

Well, the worry was mutual. Except in your case, you were forced to walk around with the living proof of that worry--all those “Avoxes,” they called them. Without tongues, without freedom.

But you swallow all that. Because he smiled at you. Because maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend. Especially right now.

“I’m--I’m lost,” you tell him, giving a shaky smile. “I was waiting for my father, but you see, I got to thinking, and I started to wander around and now I’m… well. I don’t know where I am, actually.”

His smile wasn’t very deep, was it? It was like the gloss of paint on the outside of the Capitol buildings. Pretty to look at, but there must be more underneath.

You expected him to lead you right back to where you’re supposed to be.

Instead, he asked you something.

“What were you thinking about?

You couldn’t tell him. Could you? But something about

“About… the Games.”

You don’t tell him that you were thinking about Lucy Gray and all those snakes, and the way that Dr. Gaul’s outfit that first day made you think of them. Because your father had slapped you across the face when you got back to your lodgings that night, and told you to never, ever bring up Lucy Gray Baird or the 10th Games unless you were directly asked. And you would probably never be asked.

Coriolanus gave a little snort through his nose. You liked it. It was nice to know that even Capitol people could seem a little dorky.

“They aren’t for another 3 months. Are you that eager to see them?”

You didn’t know what expression you made, exactly. It was so instinctive and fast that you didn’t have time to control it.

You only knew that it made him shake his head and offer you a sympathetic look.

“I apologize. That was rude, wasn’t it?”

And then he did a strange thing.

He offered you his arm.

Like you were Capitol, like you were a real person, and not some visiting District wench walking on the coattails of her arms-dealing father.

“Let me walk you back to the waiting area.”

And the stranger thing?

You took it.

You and your father were quickly moved into a small apartment within the university, once it became clear that he would be staying in the Capitol through the duration of the Games. It was best, he said, because ordinary people in the Capitol didn’t really want to see new faces from the Districts mingling around unless their tongue had been cut out first. It made them nervous. The rebel bombings, and all that.

You didn’t mind, because it meant you didn’t have to be flanked by Peacekeepers on the streets.

And, well.

You got to see Coriolanus more often. Sometimes he greeted you, sometimes he didn’t. He did it less often when Dr. Gaul was there, unless she was talking to your father and it gave him an opportunity.

He asked you things, too, when he caught you walking back to your father’s little apartment. Like what you did back home. What you liked to do. Whether you went to school, and what you planned to do now that you have graduated.

This morning, he caught you drawing while you waited in a chair outside Dr. Gaul’s office. Sometimes you waited there--you would admit to no one that it was to catch a glimpse of the kindest person you’d met in the Capitol--and other times you stayed in your temporary home.

“What are you drawing?” He asked. But he had a way of speaking that you’d quickly clocked into. He can make a demand sound like a polite little question. Oh, he wasn’t mean about it, but it reminded you of the way your father talked to his underlings back in District 2. On his home turf, he was far smoother than he was here, where his voice stammered and sweat beaded on his neck.

So you handed it over, even though, to your greatest embarrassment, you’d drawn… him.

“Why me?” He had a smile on his lips. His smiles were nice. Kind. The kindest you’d seen since you came here. But they always felt like that fresh coat of paint; like you didn’t know what he really meant by them, and that was how he liked it.

“You’re… important,” is all you could come up with. You felt small, then. He would dismiss and probably never want to talk to you again. What a stupid answer from a stupid girl.

But he just smiled. It was like paint peeling a little. You could see underneath that he liked what you said, although you weren’t exactly sure why. And his expression tightened up so quickly, protecting what you’d seen, that you weren’t entirely sure if it was real or not.

“I’m just a humble student at this university. Not so important. Not yet.”

You were really going to die, now. This wasn’t some panicked imagination gone wrong, some flight of fancy that took a wrong turn.

A pair of stony-faced Peacekeepers had walked up to where you sat in the waiting area near Dr. Gaul’s office and ordered you to come with them.

You asked to talk to your father. They said no. You asked where you were going. They yanked you up.

And now they were leading you down hallways that you’d never seen before, where there weren’t even Avoxes roaming the halls with brooms and dustpans.

They didn’t even answer, just spun around and walked back the way they came. You pushed the door open reluctantly--what the hell was going to be on the other side?--and it was--it was--

It was Coriolanus. Standing there in a nice suit, eyes downcast on a book. Until the door creaked and he looked up.

“What--why did you bring me here? Did I do something wrong?” The thought went through you, that perhaps this had all been a test, to see if you were loyal to the Capitol and he’d found you wanting.

“No,” he said, simply enough. He set the book down and gestured for you to step inside. You did, because what else were you going to do, in some strange room in a Capitol University where you’d been forcibly brought by Peacekeepers.

Snow studied your face. Your eyes darted around, from him, to the room, to the door.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, a little softer. “In private.”

“Me?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “But… why?”

He smiled. “Come now, you’re a smart girl, even if you aren’t in university.”

You really didn’t know. Not at first. But then you watched the way his expression softened, and you remembered it, or glimpses of it, that he’d given you before. When he complimented your drawing. When he said your name. When he escorted you back from the maze of hallways. And his smiles, all his smiles, although you were never sure how much they meant coming from home.

He took a step closer. You didn’t dare step back. You weren’t sure if you wanted to step back, but it didn’t matter, either way.

He pressed his lips to yours and took your first kiss, in a secluded little study in the heart of the Capitol University.

Your days became routine, although the routine was strictly forbidden and could have probably gotten you executed or at best, gotten you a one-way ticket to a tasteless existence.

You wake up. You stay in your apartment. You wait for the Peacekeepers. You get summoned here and there, always private rooms, secret rooms, rooms out of the way. You meet Snow--Coriolanus, he said, call him that--and you talk (well, mostly him) and kiss and sometimes a little bit more. He gives you gifts. Trinkets, necklaces that you can only wear under your shirt. Food, flaky pastries made with mountains of sugar, sandwiches made with cream and cucumber.

But how much longer could it go on? The Games were going to start soon. As soon as they were over, you were going back to your District. There would be no more meetings, no more kisses. No more wondering how far he wanted to go or why he liked you or even if he even liked you as anything more than someone to keep him busy.

You didn’t dare talk about the Games, but you did talk about this. In the kindest way you knew how for such a sensitive subject.

“I’ll miss you,” you told Coriolanus after one meeting, when you’re both sitting on a sofa and he’s got your fingers tightly wound in his. He squeezed them tight.

“Miss me?”

“After the Games,” you clarified. “We’re being sent home right after.”

He squeezed your fingers until it hurt a little. Then he looked up at you. To see if you would say something? Or did he not know how strong he was?

“Oh, that. I can arrange for you to stay.”

Your chest began to feel sick.

“Stay? In the Capitol?” You were torn about Coriolanus, but you didn’t want to stay here. You couldn’t.

“Yes,” he said, as if it was the simplest answer in the world. “You wouldn’t be the first person from the District granted such an extreme privilege. I’m sure I could--”

“But I don’t know if I want to stay.”

His gaze narrowed and you felt your stomach clench. He looked at the necklace you’d pulled out as soon as the door was shut, at your lips where a dollop of strawberry cream still rested.

“I treat you so well, and you don’t know if you want to stay with me?”

His voice was calm, and that scared you. It would have been better if he flew off the handle.

Instead, he simply stood up and gently sent you out the door, and called the Peacekeepers to bring you back to your apartment.

Every night for the last week, you have cried yourself to sleep. Because every day for the last week, Coriolanus Snow has not sent for you. Not even once.

What if he told someone? What if you got sent back early, and your father was shamed? What if they broke his contract? Or--worse, worse, worse. There were so many worse things than merely being sent back to District 2.

And then he sent for you, and it was the longest walk of your life, though it was no farther than any of the times you’ve been escorted to your secret meetings.

This time, when you pushed open the door, Coriolanus was not alone.

There was an Avox in the room.

It was someone from District 2.

You didn’t know her. Not personally. But you saw her, before. She worked in one of the munitions factories and you watched her walk to work from your classroom window sometimes. Then she stopped showing up, and you thought perhaps she got married.

That delusion was shattered the moment you saw her, eyes downcast to the floor, wearing a simple gray tunic.

It’s not until Coriolanus tells you to hurry up and come in that you’re able to move. Even then, you weren’t sure how your body did it; how your arms managed to gain the mobility to shut the door, to twist the lock; how your legs moved, one foot in front of the other, until you were standing stiffly in front of him.

The Avox--you wish you knew her name, but she couldn’t give it to you now, even if you asked--moved seamlessly to a table set up nearby. There was tea and sweets. The sort of thing that you and Coriolanus had been enjoying together for the past few weeks. The sort of thing that you were sure would sit sour in your stomach, now.

The cup shook in your hands when she handed it to you, and your tears dripped right into the tea.

Coriolanus glanced at the Avox and waved his hand. She left obediently. She would never tell the secret she witnessed in his room, that much was certain.

And then he looked back at you.

“Don’t cry,” he said. Soft but firm. A command, not a coo. “You shouldn’t cry here, in the Capitol. You should be grateful to be here. You should be grateful that I’ve arranged all this for you.”

“I am,” you whispered.

“Then show me that you are.”

And you did.

You said what he wanted and looked to him to show you how he wanted you to act, and did just that. You didn’t argue, even to lightly banter. You kissed him and nodded along when he told you about how things would be after the Games, when he had arranged for you to stay.

All you had to do was keep him happy until the Games were over, and then you could go home.

Bitterly, all of this made you realize just how much of your father is in you; he knew how to appease the Capitol. You could do the same with Coriolanus Snow. At least until the Games were over. Just keep him happy until the Games were done and the blood was spilled, and you would go home.

They wouldn’t let him keep you here after the games. You were sure of that. You’d overheard some of Dr. Gaul’s assistants murmuring how glad they would be to send the District profiteers like your father home once the Games were over. And you? You’re just his useless daughter, an appendage he brought like an unwelcome suitcase. Why would you be allowed to stay?

The Games were over. The winner was from District 1.

You were going home any day now. Just as soon as your father finished tinkering with the designs, gave his notes on improvements that might be made for next year.

The thought gave you a delightful bounce in your step. It was like having a pat of sweet butter in your shoe on a day when you needed good luck-- District 2 superstition, although the strict rationing meant most people didn’t have even a pat to slip into their shoes anymore.

The sweetness didn’t even disappear when the Peacekeepers showed up to bring you to Snow. It was going to be a bittersweet farewell, you were sure. He might be angry. But you would kiss him and tell him that there was nothing he could do, and how sorry you were not to be able to stay, but that was how things had to be.

Except they didn’t bring you down a maze of corridors that led to a secluded room.

They brought you right into Dr. Gaul’s office.

Breakfast threatened to evacuate your stomach with every step. Not just because of nerves, but because of what you saw. Rows of experiments in glass tubes; some of them move. You walk by a room with a half-open door that showed someone strapped to a gurney, face contorted in a silent scream as they fought against restraints. You almost did lose breakfast, then.

But somehow you made it to the desk of Dr. Gaul without a dribble of vomit to show for it.

The Peacekeepers left with no fanfare and you stood there, ramrod straight. Did she know? Was she going to tell you that you were going to be strapped to one of those gurneys, now?

“I’m keenly aware,” she said, keeping her hands primly folded, “on how much you’ve enthralled my star pupil.”

Toast. That’s what will come up first, you thought . The toast.

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.” Your voice was so thin and tinny that you didn’t even believe yourself.

And then the prim facade cracked, and Dr. Gaul threw her head back and grinned.

“You really think I don’t know everything that goes on within these walls? I know every time one of my lab assistants runs into the bathroom to throw up after a particularly nasty experiment. I know every time one of our university professors sneaks into a closet to down a vial of morphling with a student. And I certainly know when my newest protege is having an adorable little District girl brought to him for… canoodling.”

You weren’t even embarrassed. No. You just felt terrified to the bone. You only hoped that you’d be killed, shot against a wall, instead of made into an Avox. Let there be some mercy in this world.

”He’s asked to keep you, you know.” Her voice was low, almost a drawl. She tapped her fingers on her desk rhythmically.

“My Coriolanus Snow wants a bird of his own.” Her smile turned darker. “Not a songbird, though. Oh, no. I think he’s had enough of those.”

Her gaze bored into yours, each color magnified by her intense expression. “I think if I let him have his pretty caged bird, he’ll be happy. He’s more productive if he’s happy.” She smiled. “I like productivity. It keeps the Games more interesting.”

She looked you over one more time, and then waved you away.

“I’ve granted his request. You’ll be staying here indefinitely, courtesy of one Mr. Snow. Your father has already been told.”

You were wrong.

It was not the toast that came up first, but the sweet butter you’d patted on top.

You still had your tongue, but you felt as though it was useless, stuck to the roof of your mouth, as Coriolanus fussed over your outfit. Or rather, as he directed an Avox to fuss over it for you. He could afford his own personal servant, now, he told you. He’d almost flinched after he said now, and you didn’t dare press him on it. Had he not been able to afford one before?

“We can’t walk arm-in-arm in public,” he said, walking around you, making sure the outfit was just-right. “But you can stand by me if I stop and direct you forward.” He reached over and fixed one of your buttons. “Don’t speak to anyone unless I’ve told you to, or they speak to you first. Always address someone older as ‘sir,’ or ‘ma’am.” He pointed at your hair, and the Avox began to fuss with it, eventually covering it in a colorful wrap that Coriolanus said was popular right now. “Address someone our age by the last name and Mr. or Ms.”

When he was satisfied with your appearance, he sent the Avox away. You liked it better that way, it was one last reminder of the horrors in the Capitol, even for someone “privileged” like you. You’d only been without your father for 3 days, but you felt like your nerves were continually on fire. You wanted to go home. You wanted your family. You wanted out of this place.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

For now, you were still living in the small university apartment the Capitol had given your father. Coriolanus insisted on it, until he could figure out how to move you into his own sprawling apartment that he shared with his cousin, Tigris (who, at least, genuinely sounded lovely) and his grandmother, Grandma’am. She was the sticking point, or so you were told, with a thin smile. She hated Districts, and she ought to, he said. They killed her son. His father.

She would hate you, too. Even if Coriolanus wanted you enough to make you stay with him; wanted you enough to keep you. But for how long? And would he change his mind, if you couldn’t fit in?

He said your name, and you snapped yourself out of your thoughts. He held you by your shoulders. Gently. Like one would an unruly child that hadn’t yet learned that there were such things as salad forks and dinner forks, as polite conversation and etiquette.

You got the feeling you wouldn’t have long to learn all of those things and more, to make him happy.

“Remember,” he said. “You’re District. You’re here because the Capitol has recognized that your loyalty can benefit us in some way. Be grateful.”

“I am,” you said, reflectively.

“Be happy..”

“I am,” you said again, your chest hitching.

He smiled at you. Was it real or not real?

You smiled back, regardless. And he liked that, evidently, because he leaned forward and kissed you. Then he scrutinized your face and wiped at your lips with his thumb--the kiss had smeared your lipstick.

“Good.”

He gestured towards the open doorway. This time, he didn’t take your arm. There would be too many people lingering in the university hallways, all making their way to the soiree held to celebrate the end of this year’s Games and discuss what improvements might be made for the next year.

You dutifully walked behind him, just like he said. And you would do exactly what he said in all respects. You would stay quiet unless you were spoken to, you would certainly never bring up anything confrontational or controversial, and you would make a good impression. You would be a loyal, grateful District citizen who was given the opportunity of a lifetime thanks to the graciousness of Coriolanus Snow.

Of course you would.

Your life depended on it.

#yandere coriolanus snow #yandere hunger games #yandere #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #/slaps trunk #this baby can fit so many references to the books & movie in it.#... well not SO MANY #but enough

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sorrowsofsilence · 3 months

Text

Diagnosis

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Smut (18+, fingering, female!receiving), PnV pls wrap it b4 u tap it, male!recieving, choking, doctor x patient (uncomfy situation so pls don't read if the idea of a doctor being unethical isn't your vibe- it is also not my vibe but yk, Dr. Davis can do anything to me lol)

Prompt: You had no idea your past highschool school hook-up would be your substitute doctor during your annual check-up; but let's just say you were in desperate need of a physical.

Author note: LOL I AM GOING TO HELLLLL - but also I've seen so many Dr. Davis ideas I had to create one myself; so thank you to especially (@valiantroeagleangel) whose work inspired me. You are wonderful. And shout out to some sexy phrases by @loveisanimaginarydagger3000 - I’m weak

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @gretaswhore28 @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13 @somewhere-diamond @talialovesmiw @auratheopossumwitch

(I wasn't sure who I should tag, and if you would like to be tagged in one-shots please let me know! If you’d like to me to remove you as well pls also let me know!! I just took some tags that I've had in past one-shots, and those I think would enjoy! <3)

You picked at your fingernails nervously as you sat in the waiting room, your leg bouncing up and down rapidly.

Something about Doctors’ offices always made you nervous, especially when it involved a doctor that wasn’t your own. You were getting a routine check-up and your first pap smear, scheduled with your regular doctor, but she had a last-minute family emergency. This meant you were going to be inspected by someone else, and that thought made you slightly uneasy.

You played with the mask that covered your nose, pinching at the metal band that rested on the bridge before tugging at the string.

The old woman next to you watched your anxious wading with curious eyes, and you simply shifted in your seat, avoiding her gaze.

Your name was finally called and you followed the nurse, allowing her to check your height, and then leading you into a room located at the end of the hall.

She sat you down, your legs crunching beneath the paper as she placed the blood pressure bump along your arm, squeezing until it tightened and let go.

“Your blood pressure seems to be a little high?” She said, eyebrows furrowing.

You rubbed your hands nervously between your thighs, “I’m just a little anxious.”

Her eyes smiled, indicating a soft grin beneath the mask she wore, “You’ll be just fine. Dr. Davis is a fantastic doctor.”

His name rang off her tongue, piquing your interest. Davis. You knew someone with that last name in high school.

“You can take your mask off in here by the way. Just set it on the side.” She nodded before leaving and you sat there for a few more moments, nervously shifting in your seat.

After a few minutes, you heard a soft knock on the door and you sat up straight, anticipating the man who would be taking care of you today.

The door opened and a man with soft chestnut hair that fell slightly in front of his face walked in, thin-framed glasses sat promptly on top of his nose, covered by a black mask. He hadn’t looked up from the clipboard that was in his hands as he kicked the door closed with his foot gently, tattooed fingers holding up the top page as his eyes skimmed rapidly over the words.

“How’s it going? I’m Dr. Davis.” His voice fell from his lips in a firm but gentle tone and your eyes widened in surprise as you remembered the faint lisp at the end of his ‘s’, and the twang in his accent.

“Hi,” you whispered as you absorbed his image, eyes skimming over his white coat that draped down his long body. The light-blue button-up sat tightly against his neck. You swallowed gently at the ink that crawled just above the collar, sinched between a black tie traced with binary code as the pattern.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” He asked with a curious tone, gaze immediately leaving the page as his orbs met your own, and your heart raced as his ochre eyes bore into yours.

His professionalism dropped slightly as his eyes skimmed over your face in recognition, and your lips parted slightly. He stood still, frozen in remembrance before he coughed, setting the clipboard on the counter and taking a seat next to his computer.

Noah Sebastian Davis is your doctor.

He immediately avoided your gaze as your face began to warm, and you crossed your legs, feeling vulnerable under his authority as he sat there, distracting himself with his computer.

Your high school hookup is your doctor.

“Well,” He began typing, a soft waver barely evident in his voice, “It’s been a long time.”

“Thirteen years,” You licked your lips quickly, smiling shyly as you stared at your legs, glancing up every so often to steal a look at your doctor. You felt even more nervous than before as the man who sat in front of you eventually turned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he watched you intensely.

“Look, let’s just keep this professional. If you’re more comfortable with someone else I can get another doctor in here.” He said monotonously, leaning over his lap as his elbows rested on his knees.

You mustered a small smile as your chest hammered, eyes grazing across the tattoos embedded into his fingers Memories of the way they used to dance along your skin left your stomach swirling.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind…” Your thoughts trailed off as you looked at the ground, “if you don’t mind?”

Dr. Davis maintained strict eye contact, his voice proper and fixed, “It’s my job to remain professional and competent. I strive for nothing but efficiency, and I’ll have you in and out Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Miss,” You corrected quietly, picking at your nails again.

Something flashed across his eyes at the realization, and your ears flushed as you adjusted yourself on the examination table.

He turned on the chair again, fingers tapping on the keyboard.

“Let’s go through some medical history to clarify things under your files. It seems you usually have Dr. Thomas, am I correct?”

You hummed in confirmation, nodding along.

“Any health concerns to bring up in your visit today?”

You shook your head, “Just a routine check-up and a pap smear.”

Dr. Davis nodded along, shifting in his seat at the mention of a pap, his hand reaching to pull against his collar as if loosening the tension that was building within the room.

“Any issues regarding mental health?”

You shook your head.

“Eating and drinking well?”

You nodded.

“Any allergies?”

You shook your head.

“Sexually active?”

You noticed his voice hither slightly, as he glanced over at you briefly, before fixating his eyes on the computer again.

“Not like, regularly.”

He shifted in his seat, nodding.

“Multiple partners?”

“Uhm,” you began to stutter nervously at his questions, “A few. Not frequently changing.”

It was a routine check-up, you reminded yourself. Doctors asked these questions.

You shrugged, eyes skimming up towards him again as his eyes bore into you once again, your abdomen clenching as his gaze darkened.

“How many since me?”

You coughed, caught off guard as you stared at him in disbelief, “P-pardon?”

He didn’t repeat the question, but instead continued typing, clicking away at your file.

“Three,” You then said, watching him carefully and he hummed in response.

“Anything else you think I should know?” He asked, returning to his cool, professional composure.

You shook your head again, watching as his chest heaved slowly as he stood up. He grabbed the stethoscope that hung around his neck, and you watched as he placed the ends in his ears before standing in front of you, maintaining a distance.

“Let me check your lungs… can you take your jacket off?” He asked, watching you carefully as you peeled off the layer, placing it to the side.

Dr. Davis then sat next to you on the examination table and your heart began to pick up pace at the proximity of his body, his cologne melting into your senses.

His shoulder brushed against yours as he leaned behind you to place the end of the stethoscope on top of your back.

He asked you to take in a deep breath, and you inhaled swiftly, attempting to exhale in a slow, controlled pattern; but the breath that left your lungs was shaky and uneven.

“Sorry,” you whispered, and he ran the stethoscope across your back again, this time placing it underneath your shirt, the cold metal causing a shiver to run down your body.

“Three more,” He asked gently and you obliged, each breath faltering again as your heart raced.

There was no doubt he could hear the thump of your heart pick up as his warm fingers gently skimmed your skin as he controlled the stethoscope; knowing how nervous his proximity made you.

He pulled away, staring at your flushed face before leaning behind you to grab an ear otoscope.

“Just going to check your ears,” he said as his warm hands pulled along your ear, his warm breath creating goosebumps along the skin in your neck as the hairs stood up.

Your stomach butterflied as he then grabbed a wooden popsicle stick, standing in front of you now, placed between your legs.

“open,” he commanded and you obliged, sticking out your tongue and making an ‘ah’ sound.

Dr. Davis held underneath your chin to look up at him as he placed the wood on top of your tongue, pressing down slightly. Your abdomen clenched as a rush of emotions ran through your body, making eye contact with the tattooed doctor as he stared back, not even looking at the back of your throat as your mouth was agape, open widely for him.

You wanted nothing more than to reach up and pull against the fabric of his mask, greedily wanting to expose his lips to see the rest of his face and smile, to see how handsome he had gotten with age.

Your chest heaved as his fingers slid from underneath your chin, trailing down your throat with firm but gentle fingertips, the tension between you building as seconds passed by. He pulled back his hand, along with the popsicle stick, and your mouth closed slowly as he took a step back.

As he turned from you, the way he slid his hand into his pocket to readjust himself didn’t go unnoticed, before he faced you again, nodding curtly.

“I’ll let you get undressed from the waist down. You can place this blanket over yourself, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He averted his gaze as he opened the door, closing it gently behind him.

You let out a breath as your mind began to race. The way your mind kept tracing back to years of messing around with him in high school sent your stomach into a lustful spiral, the warmth of his inked fingers relighting years of memories he engraved into your skin.

Noah had given you years of orgasms, some of the best you ever had. None of your other lovers had compared to him, and your body knew this, sparking complete excitement at his presence once again.

You shifted on your feet embarrassed at this, peeling off your jeans as you folded them neatly on the chair. You slid off your black panties, placing them on top of your pants before lying down on the bed, the cool air causing you to shiver.

Or perhaps, it was the fact Noah was going to be extremely close to your intimate space after so many years of deprivation.

You two hooked up on and off for years during adolescence, never forming a relationship beyond that; even though you always wanted to.

You always had feelings for Noah, but you knew he wanted nothing more than to fuck you senselessly, and then part ways. No strings attached.

After high school graduation, you two parted, never speaking to each other again. You had always wondered what he had gone off and set to do, and being a doctor was honestly the last thing you’d think he’d do. Noah had always been extremely smart, but it still came as a complete shock when he was the one who walked through that wooden door just fifteen minutes prior.

You covered yourself with the thin blanket and a moment later Dr. Davis came through the door again, glancing at your exposed legs before turning to grab a pair of gloves from the counter.

You watched him intensely as he pulled the latex over his fingers, almost drooling at the thought of them running along your folds. You shook away the thought, knowing that you would be completely dripping by the time he would be sitting between your legs, examining you.

The last thing you wanted was for him to know the effect he still had on you, even after all these years.

He made eye contact with you again, tugging at the tie around his neck once again as he took the chair, rolling it to the edge of your feet. Before sitting he pulled out the stirrups.

“You can rest your heels on here,” He pointed to the plastic, and you noticed how his ears began to flush red, his chest rising and falling quickly as he glanced into your eyes once again.

When he looked away you glanced down at his black slacks, swallowing harshly at the bold outline of his erection that was extremely evident, through his tight pants.

You swallowed as you slowly lifted your legs, exposing yourself to the man who now sat at the end of the bed, the thin blanket sliding down your thighs gently, leaving your body on display for Dr. Davis.

“Fuck.”

The word was barely audible. He had whispered it so quietly through gritted teeth, but you still managed to hear the four-letter word, and it sent another rush of warm lust through your body.

“I-I’m just going to examine you before inserting the speculum.” Dr. Davis’ professional tone faltered briefly, and you wanted to look down at him so badly.

You knew that he was aroused, but you had no idea how badly Noah wanted to tear into your pussy right then and there.

For years Noah wondered what happened to you. After years of dedication to med school, he didn’t have much time to form relationships, and he usually had a quick fuck here and there to tie over his cravings. He reminisced frequently about how good you felt wrapped around his cock, all of his past flings never making him feel quite how you did.

This morning when he agreed to substitute at the clinic he had no idea what to expect. You were the last thing he thought would happen, and the second he read your name on that piece of paper as he entered your room he felt his mind begin to spiral.

How was he supposed to remain professional around you?

His biggest regret was never pursuing anything further with you years ago, worried that if feelings got involved he would lose the best thing he ever had. In turn, he fucked himself over in the end, because he had lost you either way; but now, you were right here in front of him, naked and on display.

The second he saw you sitting on the exam table he felt an immediate rush to his pants, his mind racing as he began to sweat, the room suddenly feeling stuffy and tight. He couldn’t help but watch your lips as they parted when you talked, memories of them wrapped around himself as your tongue slid up and down his length leaving him unable to concentrate as he attempted to read your file.

He watched as you shifted nervously in front of him when he checked your lungs, heart racing rapidly under his touch. He wanted to rip your thighs apart, slipping his fingers into you, wanting to leave you begging.

Noah wanted to pull his name from your lips; leaving you worshiping him, needing him.

He kept reminding himself that he was a professional now and that it was unacceptable to push the boundary of client-patient professionalism. There was a code of conduct and ethics he was required to follow; but he wanted to forget years of practice, just to get a taste of you.

You lay there, trying to keep your heavy breathing quiet; but you immediately gasped as one of his covered fingers spread you open, barely touching your skin, afraid to go further.

You closed your mouth tightly, biting the inside of your cheek as you scolded yourself.

Don’t fucking moan, don’t fucking moan. He barely touched you.

“I’m going to insert the speculum now,” He said quietly, and you heard him whisper another sentence to himself, “God, you don’t even need lube…”

You knew that he knew how turned on you were by just his presence alone, and you closed your eyes as Dr. Davis inserted the plastic into your body, the feeling of fullness causing you to chew on your bottom lip.

Dr. Davis clicked the hinges as the speculum opened you up, and you covered your mouth with your hand, something Noah had noticed.

“Are you in pain?” He asked gently, and you shook your head.

“N-no, I-I’m okay.”

He hummed again, and it was quiet for a moment.

There was a lack of movement for a second until you felt a gloved finger brush across your clit slowly, and you furrowed your brows in anticipation.

Fuck, that had to be an accident, right?

You tried to think rationally about the situation, but your thoughts trailed to dirty places, silently pleading that Dr. Davis would press against your intimacy again.

Noah had listened for your reaction as he sat before your legs that held you splayed open for him, his mind battling. He swallowed hungrily.

You felt his fingers brush against you again and your thighs jolted to his touch, before you felt the pad of his finger press firmly against you, tracing small circles as he tried drawing a moan from your lips.

Your mouth fell open in satisfaction as your body clenched, Dr. Davis’ fingers rubbing faster and faster.

You couldn’t help it as a gentle whimper crawled from your chest, and with furrowed brows, you bucked your hips into his touch; giving him the permission he desperately wanted.

You felt the speculum being removed, and seconds later a wet swipe trailed up along your folds.

“Oh my god,” You whispered and Dr. Davis hummed, his lips latching onto your sweet spot before two gloved fingers slid into you, curling upwards.

You began to moan again, pulling the blanket away to see the brunette devouring your body. He looked up at you with lustful eyes, his mask pulled underneath his chin.

You ogled upon seeing his entire face, brows furrowed with desire as he remained stone cold.

“If you moan loudly one more time I’ll stop.” He said as he began licking your body once again, eyes fixated on your own.

“Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?” He said, pulling his mouth away as he continued to pump his fingers in and out rapidly, taking his thin glasses off and placing them on the table.

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl,” he praised, burying himself between your legs again in famish, devouring you feverishly with complete craving.

Your legs began to shake from his praise and you covered your mouth with your hands as your hips pushed into Dr. Davis’ touch, completely engulfed with euphoria.

You didn’t know that he was palming himself through his slacks as he ate you out, desperate for friction, desperate for you to be the one touching him instead.

“Cum.” He demanded, and in a second his tongue swiped along your folds you felt the knot that he built release, elation washing through you as you choked back a desiring cry.

Your free hand gripped Dr. Davis’ hair as you pulled him closer, rubbing yourself along his face as he ate you until it became too much, pushing him away.

He stood up, mouth agape and wet from your release as you watched him with yearning, both your chests heaving.

He hastily began pulling off his white coat, throwing it to the floor as you watched him loosen his tie. Sitting up you beckoned him over and his fingers gripped your throat, pulling you towards him as his forehead rested against your own.

You looked into each other’s eyes as unspoken words danced between you, both of you needing each other but too afraid to speak.

He held you firmly for a moment before pulling your lips to his own, kissing you completely with need and hunger, forcing you to taste yourself

You groaned quietly into his lips as your tongues ran along each other, your fingers shaky as you began unbuttoning his blue dress shirt.

His fingers tightened around your neck as your hands trailed to the hem of his black pants, tugging at his waistband as you pulled apart his belt, sliding the zipper down slowly.

He moaned softly as your fingers slid along his abdomen, threatening to dip in to grab where he needed you.

“You’re in no position to tease princess, remember that,” He squeezed your neck again as he towered over you in authority, and you smiled.

“This is wrong.”

“So wrong.” He mumbled before kissing you in desperation again, your minds fogged with nothing but lust and arousal.

Dr. Davis’ hands pulled your shirt over your head as he pulled back, taking in the image of your exposed body, ready for him.

His covered fingers found their way to your core once again, slipping in and out as you pulled down his underwear, his body hard and ready to devour you.

You licked your fingers, smiling up at him as he watched with lustful eyes, before grabbing hold of his erection, pumping up and down as he thrust into your hand in eagerness. He pulled his fingers in and out of you quickly, your mouth falling open as you watched each other, pleasing one another.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Dr. Davis pleaded, and you opened your thighs farther.

“That’s it… Wider,” He whispered, before pulling his hands away from you, wrapping them around himself as he positioned his body to yours.

Dr. Davis didn’t hesitate any longer before he pushed into you, a loud whimper leaving you. His eyebrows furrowed angrily as his gloved hand covered your mouth, pushing you back into the wall.

“Be fucking quiet,” He said through gritted teeth, his chest heaving as he continued to thrust into you, filling your body, claiming you as his own.

He tore into your skin with his motions, the feeling of him pulling out before pushing back in deeply causing your legs to clench shut. He pushed them open with the hand that wasn’t covering your mouth.

“I said to spread them,” He scolded, fingers digging into your thigh before he slapped the top of your intimacy, earning a yelp from you as your body jolted from the contact.

He remained cold and composed, attempting to keep up his professional facade that was beginning to crumble before you. His eyes squeezed shut as he pushed your thighs back towards your chest, opening you as he fucked your body with possession.

You watched his head tilt back, exposing the tattoos on his neck as his lips fell open in complete satisfaction.

Your body felt perfectly wrapped around him, years of need ready to release into you.

Dr. Davis wanted to flip you over so you stood in front of him, one leg lifted onto the bed as he gripped your ass and pounded you; but he knew that right now, he needed to watch your face contort in pleasure for him, from him.

Your body clenched around him, “Dr. D-Davis,” You whimpered, still trying to remain quiet so as to not be heard by the rest of the clinic.

“Noah,” the brunette growled, bringing you into a kiss and you nodded, murmuring his name back to him against his lips in a plea.

He was close to his release, but he held back, waiting to pull another orgasm from you before he would bring you to your knees, ready to cum down your throat.

“You can do it, that’s a good girl.” He praised and you melted at his words, letting go as he thrust into you one more time, your body completely enveloping him as your mouth was covered by his hand once again to mask your screams. Your body shook through the orgasm Noah offered you.

He slid in and out slowly, before pulling away. His fingers were threaded through your hair as he guided you to the floor, placing you on your knees.

You took him into your mouth mercilessly, sucking and bobbing along his length before he gripped your face, pulling you closer.

You gagged along him, tears forming as a deep growl rumbled from his chest, signalling he was close.

Seconds later Noah’s release coated the back of your throat, and you swallowed his orgasm, looking up at him in commitment.

“You’ve always been mine to ruin,” He said, panting as he pulled you off of him, and you sat on the ground, smiling up at him.

The two of you got dressed in silence, the hormones lingering in the air as he pulled off the gloves, grabbing his prescription notepad and a pen.

“I wasn’t able to get a good enough sample to send off to the lab,” He said, scribbling away, “I’ll need you to meet me at my office this weekend.”

Dr. Davis handed you the note and you looked at the paper, staring at the phone number and address as he nodded toward you, opening the wooden door and leaving the office.

hshshgsghshghsshgh ok i am a mess

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian davis #metalcore #dr davis #Dr. Davis #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #smut #bad omens smut #Doctor Noah Sebastian

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mediumgayitalian · 1 month

Text

“Piper?”

“Here.”

“Damien?”

“Here.”

“Clovis?”

No answer. Nico reaches over and pokes him, hard, and the son of Hypnos startles awake long enough to manage a garbled, “Present!” before nodding off again. At Chiron’s nodded permission, Connor procures an airhorn from what appears to be thin air, grins, and blares it right next to Clovis’ face. He shrieks, flailing off the chair, and would have slammed his face in the ground if Nico hadn’t caught him by the back of the shirt.

“Thanks, man,” he says, yawning.

Nico hauls him back upright, patting him on the shoulder. “No problem. I’m gonna let you fall next time.”

Clovis eyes him warily, shifting at Nico’s too-wide, sharklike grin.

“Noted,” he mutters, sitting straight to try and stay awake. “Jerk.”

Nico pats him on the shoulder again. “There, there.”

Chiron continues with the attendance.

“Butch?”

“Here.”

“Miranda?”

“Yep.”

“And…” Chiron sighs, peering through his reading glasses. “Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…” He glances down at his clipboard, slowly tapping his pen on the edge of it. “Where is Will?”

A groan ripples through the gathered campers.

“Just start without him!” someone shouts, sinking into their chair.

“He always takes forever!” another person agrees.

“Almost like he’s busy running the infirmary that keeps us all alive,” Lou Ellen says drily, but her one vote of confidence is drowned out by several dozen other voices, all complaining.

Before Chiron has to deal with too much of a coup d’état, the rec room door creaks open, and Will comes strolling in after it, ignoring the heaps of boos and launched ping-pong balls at his tardiness. The beam of sunlight from the one dusty window seems, suddenly, to become a great deal stronger, highlighting the blonde of Will’s hair and strengthening the gleam of his easy grin.

“Perforated artery,” he explains cheerfully, settling down in the one empty chair. “Rogue Ares cabin mine went off. Had to do emergency surgery.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth does he kick off his flip-flops, curl up in the rickety wooden chair, place his head on the nearest shoulder — Pollux, this time, who rolls his eyes affectionately and shifts to be more comfortable — and immediately starts snoring.

“Well,” says Chiron after a moment. “Let’s begin.”

“Wait,” Clovis complains, “how come he gets to sleep?”

Instead of answering, because there is no delicate way to say because he’s my favourite and I am a giant hypocrite, the centaur moves on. He gracefully avoids the various mutterings and calls for mutiny, instead running through the usual cabin check-ins at the speed of light to delve into the more interesting — and therefore distracting — things, such as Personal Grievances. This portion of monthly head counsellor meetings is Nico’s favourite, because he gets to sit back, be silent, and watch a bunch of teenagers yell at each other for his own personal amusement. On especially great days, he communicates with Connor through a series of complicated hand gestures to coordinate betting pools. Today, he is up seventy-two dollars. (Did he throw the pool by betting against himself and then inventing a fight with Chiara? Yeah. Did he cut her a deal for halfsies beforehand, making this technically fraud on two counts? Yeah. Can anyone prove it? Absolutely not. Suck on that, Stoll. You wanna be beat at your own game any day of the week? Nico’ll beat you at your own game any day of the week.)

As he’s accepting three dollars from a huffy Nysa (obviously the physical altercation count was going to reach six, c’mon, doesn’t she pay attention to these things), a hoof stamping the ground makes Nico jump.

“Boys,” Chiron says tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “that’s quite enough.”

Both campers immediately burst into louder arguments, continuing to flail and smack at each other as their voices get more and more raised and illegible.

“Boys!” Chiron stamps his hoof again. This time, they fall silent, staring at the old centaur with flushed, guilty faces. “Sherman, get Malcom out of that headlock. Malcolm, we are not building a pig pen in the dining pavilion so the Ares cabin can ‘eat in an environment more suited to their mannerisms’.” He pauses, nodding in acknowledgement. “As funny as that was, it was entirely inappropriate to say. Apologise at once.”

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Malcom grumbles.

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Sherman repeats, mockingly. “Gods, it’s like you’re asking for me to jump you.” At the immediate catcalls and jeers that follow, he reddens, hastily shouting, “Like mug! Jump like mug him, guys, like beat him up! Shut up! Shut up, or I swear I’ll —”

“Sit down, boys,” Chiron says, banging his hoof again. “For Hera’s sake. It’s like you want to embarrass yourselves further.”

Nico snickers with the rest of the counsellors as Sherman and Malcolm return to their seats. In their desperate attempt to separate from each other to assure their status as Heterosexual, Guys, Please, they manage to bump into each other, losing their balance and collapsing on a heap on the floor, more tangled than before. Predictably, this makes the flailing worse, which is unfortunate for them and their misery but a source of great entertainment for everyone else. Among the hooting and hollering and camera flashes, Chiron sighs, putting his head in his hands and muttering something about teenagers and being too old for this shit. Or something.

“If everyone’s quite done,” he says finally, ignoring Connor’s quip about how he could watch a few more minutes, actually, “I would love for this meeting to end. I have to do something that doesn’t involve teenagers for several hours. All of you exhaust me.”

“Except Will,” Sherman says petulantly, scowling at the still-sleeping medic. Pollux, who by close proximity has become endeared to the human disaster (Nico knows the feeling; he’s still convinced Will has weird powers that mess with one’s oxytocin levels by virtue of smiling as there is no way that someone so annoying can be so simultaneously endearing), glares somewhat protectively.

“Sh,” he hisses, at the same time Chiron says, “If the rest of you spent less time trying to kill each other and more time trying to fix the consequences of said attempted murder, I would be more lenient.”

Lou Ellen speaks up. “Also, Will has that whole cute, can’t-stay-mad-at-me thing.”

Various campers nod and mutter in agreement.

(Nico knew he wasn’t the only one.)

Nyssa clears her throat. “If we’re ready to return back to the actual meeting, I have a point of discussion.”

Chiron nods, gesturing for her to continue.

“The vans are breaking down,” she says bluntly. “Again. Because they’re, you know, older than everyone in the room.” She glances at Nico, frowning. “Well, except for him.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “Youngin’s, these days,” he says, shaking his head disdainfully. “No respect for their elders.”

Chiron raises a bemused eyebrow. “…Indeed. Nyssa?”

“I need parts again. Preferably from that place in Virginia? They don’t ask questions and price fairly. That would be best. Only I need the van to go get the parts, so. You can see the conundrum I’m in.”

“Easy fix with the chariot,” Chiron decides. “Can someone wake Will?”

“Gladly.”

“Without the airhorn, Connor.”

“Aw. I’m not doing it, then.”

“How tragic. Pollux?”

Gently, the son of Dionysus taps Will’s cheek, shaking him until he blinks awake.

“I was totally paying attention and I think we should go with the second option,” he says, yawning.

“Not asking you to settle a debate, but nice try,” Pollux says.

“Well, shit. That one usually works.” He flicks still-tired eyes around the room, smiling when his gaze rests on Nico. Nico rolls his eyes, willing down the heat to his cheeks. Judging by the teasing edge Will’s grin takes, it does not work. “Whattaya need, then?

“The chariot,” Nyssa says. “Vans are breaking down again. I need a part from a shop in Roanoke.”

Will straightens. “Like, now?”

“In the next day or so, yeah.”

“There’s a strawberry delivery on Saturday,” Miranda pipes up. “So sooner rather than later.”

Will nods. “Yeah, that works. Hell, I can probably be back by —” he checks his watch — “late tonight, honestly. Just gimme the part number and —”

“I kind of meant that I could go,” Nyssa interrupts, looking at him strangely. “I know what the part looks like. I just need to borrow the chariot.”

Will presses his clasped hands to his face, inhaling deeply.

“I would absolutely love to lend you the chariot blessed by my father who has gone totally silent,” he begins, in a tone that makes Nico think that he would not, actually, absolutely love to lend out the chariot blessed by his father who has gone totally silent, “only that the last time I lent someone this super important chariot it came back in pieces.”

“I remember.” Nyssa levels him with a look. “I fixed it.”

“Exactly! So you appreciate how much I would like it to not be broken. In fact —”

“Alright,” Chiron interrupts, holding up a hand. “You’ve made your point, Will, the errand is yours. Choose a buddy to lower the chances of you dying and check in before you leave.”

Predictably, this choice is not well-recieved. Because why would things be easy?

“Totally not fair,” Sherman protests, the loudest of all complainers. “Will’s no less likely to break it just because his cabin thinks they own it —”

“Finish that thought and I will curse you in twelve different ways for the next eight months, Sherman.”

The Ares counsellor snaps his mouth shut, sensing the new, hardened edge in Will’s voice. “Noted.”

“He’s got a point, though,” Damien hedges. At Will’s glare — boy, is that chariot a sensitive topic, Nico is noticing — he holds his hands up, shrugging his shoulders. “We draw straws for small errand-quests, Will, you know that. It’s not fair that you just get to call dibs.”

Will takes a long, slow breath, fingers pressed to his temples. When he looks back up, his expression is flatter than the entirety of the Midwest, jaw set and eyebrow raised. He narrows his eyes, contemplating, then clearly comes to a decision, nodding to himself. Everyone watches with bated breath as he climbs up to stand on his chair, folds his hands together, clears his throat, and says, voice carefully controlled, “Who can guess how many surgeries I’ve done in the last week?”

For a long moment it’s so silent that Nico can hear every rustled shirt as people fidget, every aborted cough and uncomfortable swallow. Will’s eyes are piercing, and he takes the time to stare at every individual counsellor until they meet his eyes, squirming, and look immediately away.

Nico’s impressed. Sometimes he forgets how godsdamn rigid Will’s backbone is.

Finally, someone offers a guess.

“One?”

“Try four,” Will corrects, smile more like a bare of teeth. “I have not had a circadian rhythm since I was thirteen years old. I sleep when I can. And yet, somehow, you clumsy fucks manage to near kill yourself at the exact moment my subconscious even considers approaching REM sleep, every single time, and then I get to spend my next several hours piecing your sorry ass back together by hand, since hymns barely work right now. If I have to see another surgical pin I am going to stab it through someone’s eye. Am I making a point?”

No one answers.

“‘Cause I can make it clearer,” Will drawls.

“No need,” Chiron says hastily. “The quest remains yours, so long as there are no further objections.”

Wisely, no one speaks up.

“Perfect. Nyssa, if you’ll stay behind with me to iron out some details, everyone else — dismissed.”

The tense air immediately evaporates as people practically spring out of their seats, sprinting for the door. Nico is among the last to leave, having to stay and stop several fleeing demigods to collect his wares. On his way out, a heavy arm slings over his shoulders, and he’s suddenly enveloped by the intoxicating scent of lavender body wash and pure sunshine.

“Get off me, Solace,” he complains immediately, coming up to wrap his hand around Will’s forearm in the guise of shoving him off. Will is entirely unfazed, holding him tighter.

“But I have a proposal.”

“Take it elsewhere.” He ducks out of Will’s hold and sweeps his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling with an oof. Unfortunately, he doesn’t look any less sunny and smiley from the ground, somehow making it work for him, actually. He settles against the soft grass, sighing, hair fanning out like a golden halo. He pats the spot next to him, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in the late morning sun, and Nico swallows roughly, joining him.

“You wanna come with me to Roanoke?”

“Yes,” Nico says automatically. Will grins, and he flushes. “I mean, I guess if I have to. Loser.”

“Ever so grateful, Neeks.”

“You should be.”

He keeps his voice prim and superior, attempting to uphold his image, and since he is delusional he convinces himself he’s successful. Will, though, is entirely undeterred, lazy smile still on his face and arms stretched above his head, the picture of unbothered. A sliver of skin shows where the hem of his shirt rises and Nico ignores it. He doesn’t even glance at it, or the glint of Will’s belly-button piercing, at all. Nor is he aware of Will’s shorts riding up, or the curve of his calves as he crosses his legs. All of these things go unnoticed. Obviously.

“I have a proposal for you, if you’re done checking me out.”

Nico shoves his flaming face in his knees. “Did you know that in all the corners of the Earth I have been to, I’ve only encountered three things uglier than you?”

Will’s grin only gets wider. His eyes, even, start to get squinty as the force of his smile squishes his cheeks. Entirely unsubtly, because Will is the least subtle person alive, he reaches out and sends a wave of calming energy into Nico’s body, slowing his rapid heart rate.

“…Right.”

“Three things, Solace.”

“Of course, of course.” He removes his hand, graciously allowing Nico the space to breathe and remind his lungs that their job is not voluntary. “I’ll come pick you up in a half hour? Wear a jacket.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Nico pauses. “Yes.”

“Stellar.”

“God, you say such nerdy things unironically. How do you have friends?”

“I dunno.” He gets to his feet, brushing the dirt and grass from his shorts. “You tell me.” He leans down and presses a smacking kiss to Nico’s hair. Nico presses his fingers into his eyeballs until they hurt, screaming silently into his palms.

He waits until the smacking sounds of Will’s stupid flip-flops retreat before braving the world outside his little ball of misery, squinting at his retreating form.

“I think I should get a lobotomy,” he says out loud to himself, because, realistically, if his braincells are already spilling out of his ears like loose quarters every time Solace so much as smiles at him then there’s not much to lose, is there? and stomps off to his own cabin.

Out of spite, he chooses the New York Giants jacket he got from Percy, just because he knows Will hates it.

That’ll show him who’s bossing who around.

Totally.

———

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thebearer · 10 months

Note

PLEASEEEE write about carmy trying to put a baby in reader 🙏🙏🙏

minors dni 18+ also i'm doing two versions of this, this is just the first one since i had another ask for this lol

Carmen barely looked up, seeing you walk through the swinging doors back into the restaurant. Normally, he'd be worried that you were here, coming in unannounced before the dinner rush, his mind would race and tell him something was wrong. Today he knew better, he knew exactly why you were here.

"Hey, Sydney." Carmen muttered, scraping the prepped vegetables into the container, his eyes locking with yours. "I need you to cover for me, Chef."

"Ok..." Sydney muttered, looking from you and Carmen. "Are you good, Chef?"

"What? Yeah, no, yeah. I-I'm good. I just... Gotta order some stuff, and-and I just got a lot of office stuff I need to do." Carmen rambled, cheeks heating with each stammered word.

Sydney was suspect, especially with the way you were looking at each other, but she shrugged it off. "I got it, Chef." She nodded, checking off his prep on her clipboard.

"Good. Uh, if you need me just uh, knock and I'll come out." Carmen nodded, ignoring how her face contorted into disgust, practically sprinting to his office.

You were already waiting inside, dropping your purse on the couch, eyeing Carmen hungrily when he shut the door, twisting the lock behind him. "We don't have long." Carmen muttered, tearing off his apron.

"I don't need long." You hummed, pushing your shorts to the ground, letting them puddle around your ankles.

"You gotta be quiet, baby." Carmen looked at you, eyes glued on your puffy lips, drooling and teasing him when you bent over the couch, nose practically touching the wall.

"I can't promise that." You grinned, looking over your shoulder at him. "Hurry up, Berzatto. Before they need you. I need you."

Carmen snorted, palming himself through his boxers, shuffled steps over towards you with one last look over his shoulder. "I got ya, honey." He muttered, pulling himself out and stroking his length. "You sure this is supposed to work?"

"They said as much as possible when you're ovulating." You huffed, wiggling impatiently. You and Carmen had decided to try for a baby, ditching your birth control only last month. Truthfully, you were using the baby making as an excuse to fuck as much as possible, not that you needed much of one when you were ovulating.

"Never thought I'd hear you complain about having sex." You grinned.

Carmen snorted lightly, letting the head of his cock glide between your folds. "Not complaining." He muttered, teasing your entrance gently. "Never complain, baby."

You started to reply, a sharp, witty reply on the tip of your tongue, cut short by him sinking inside you, pushing into you with one long stroke, stretching you out for him. You gasped, pushing your head into your hands, hopeful to muffle the sound coming out of you.

Carmen's hand sunk into your waist, gripping the fat of your hip to bring you back to him, hips rocking slow and steady against yours, the sound of skin slapping skin one he hoped was muffled through the thick walls.

"Fuck, baby, you feel good. So fuckin' good." Carmen grunted lowly, fingers curling around your hip, jaw clenched to keep himself from groaning.

"Oh! That's the spot, Carm, fuck." You whined, back arching further at one particularly hard thrust, jamming that sweet spot inside of you that had your vision blurring, mind blanking in pleasure.

"Shh, be quiet, baby." Carmen hushed, leaning forward, one hand propped on the wall beside you. "Gotta be quiet. Can't let them- shit- can't let them know what we're doin'."

Carmen's hands curled around your waist, cradling your lower belly, feeling the way it flexed when you clenched around him. He could see it, see you all swollen and big with the baby- his baby. The baby he put inside you. It made Carmen's teeth grit, fucking you harder and harder with a new found vigor, a free hand covering your mouth to muffle your cries.

"Can't let them know I'm fuckin' a baby into you." Carmen rasped, hot breath tickling your ear, leaving you shivering. "Gonna put a baby right in here, hm? That's what you want right?"

"Yes." You whined, tears pricking your eyes. He was making you feel so good.

"You want a baby? Want me to give you a baby, huh?" Carmen growled, his hips snapping further and further, pinning you against the couch.

"Please, Carm. Please gimme a baby." You cried, letting your head fall back against his.

"Since you asked so nicely." Carmen smirked, hips snapping up into yours. "Shit, I- you close? You close, baby?"

You nodded, reaching to move his hand, pushing it further until it was cupping your mound. Carmen got the hint, pinching and rolling your clit until you were gasping and writhing in pleasure, his free hand cupping your mouth while his thrusts got sloppier around you.

Carmen pulled you back, pressing on your spine so you were face first into the couch, ass up and high for him while he pounded into you, chest pressed to your spine, until he was spilling inside of you. Pressed so he was flush to your ass, Carmen emptied his load, hot and filling deep inside of you.

"Hang on, hold on," Carmen muttered when you started to move, hands pressing softly to your side. "I didn't... Fuck, we didn't think this one through. You gotta put your legs up, right?"

You nodded, eyes still glossy, skin still flushed and glowing. Carmen snatched the pillow from the other side, setting it in front of you. "Ok, I'm gonna pull out, and I'm gonna catch it, ok? You just, you lay down. Hips on the pillow."

Carmen pulled out slow, pointer and middle finger catching any dribbling release, pushing them back inside you. You whimpered at the sensation, still sensitive, while you moved to lie on the pillow, his fingers still inside you, propping your legs up on the edge of the couch.

"Shit, I forgot a towel. Fuck, let me just, uh, let me go grab one-"

"-'s alright, Carmen." You hummed, looking at him through fluttering lashes that made his heart skip. "I'll just keep it in. The longer the better."

Carmen tried not to gawk, but he knew he was given away by the rise in his cheeks, heat flushing his skin. His groin ached, a dull throb that had him twitching with heat at the idea. "O-Ok." Carmen muttered, pulling his pants up fastening his jeans.

"Let me grab your clothes, baby, I'll put them on for you." Carmen muttered sweetly, gently putting your panties and shorts on, trying to keep your body as still as possible.

Later, the two of you were walking hand in hand into family, giggly and touchy- you could feel him leaking out of you with every step. It made your tummy trill with heat.

"This smells good." You grinned, eyes batting up at Carmen.

"Yeah? I'll get you a plate. Don't worry 'bout it." Carmen muttered, nodding towards a seat for you.

The room had stilled, eyes on the two of you, suspicious and a little questioning. Carmen looked around, blue eyes darting furiously.

"Oh no fuckin' way." Richie cackled, breaking the silence in the room. "Cousin, no way-"

"What? What are you-"

"-Look at you! Both of you!" Richie leaned back, clapping his hands in laughter. "You're sick, cousin. Sick!"

You blushed, the snickers from Fak and Sweeps, the knowing glances from the others. Carmen blushed furiously, glaring at Richie fiercely. Tina smirked, shrugging when she looked at you.

"I'm sure this building's seen worse with Mikey." She muttered.

"That obvious?" You mumbled, looking around the room, shrinking into your seat.

"A little. You got the glow, honey. At least that's a good thing." Tina grinned, nudging you gently.

When you announced your pregnancy three months later, the entire staff swore baby Berzatto was conceived in the office. "Right there, on that fuckin' couch, cousin!"

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coryosmin · 3 months

Note

nurse!reader and peacekeeper!coryo in district 12… coryo keeps making up injuries to see her and finally she just gives in to him 🤭

nsfw | mdni

being a nurse for the peacekeepers was never an easy job. especially when a certain peacekeeper kept coming in with fake injuries. as you walked back into the hospital wing after your break, you saw that blond buzz cut peacekeeper, coriolanus snow, sitting on the hospital bench, looking at his nails. but as soon as he noticed you, he gripped his left arm as though it were hurting.

you rolled your eyes, walking over to him. “what is it now, private snow?” you asked, gripping a clipboard with a medical form on it.

the blond looked at you, taking in your beautiful appearance. your hair was done in a bun, your skin looked soft and warm, your eyes were just so pretty. he stopped himself from smiling, keeping his face neutral. “i think i hurt my arm,” he murmured, looking down at his left arm.

“let me have a look at it,” you sigh, placing your clipboard down and taking a seat in front of the hospital bench. you gently grabbed coriolanus’s arm, lifting up his sleeve and taking a look at the skin. “how do you think you hurt it?” you asked, glancing at his face.

“uh-“ he said, unsure of what to say. “overuse, maybe?” coriolanus bit his lip as you looked at his arm.

you examined it, moving it around a bit. “there seems to be nothing wrong. perhaps you just pulled a muscle.” you exclaimed, putting his arm back down. “it’ll likely go away within a few days.”

coriolanus nodded his head, licking his lips. “you know…i have another problem too.” his voice was thick as he spoke.

you quirked an eyebrow. “and what might that be, private snow?”

“please, call me coryo,” he said, grabbing your hand. “i have a problem…here.” coriolanus brought your hand to his crotch, making you feel his hard on.

you frowned, taking your hand away quickly. “that’s hardly appropriate, private snow,” you chastised though your voice certainly lacked a heat to it.

coriolanus couldn’t help smirking. “maybe not,” he said. “but it won’t go away,” he fake pouted. “can you help?”

you couldn’t deny that private snow was quite attractive. he clearly had been faking injuries just to see you. so really, was there any harm in helping him out? he had a problem and truthfully, as his nurse, you’re required to help him. you bit your lip, nodding your head. “fine, i can help you,” you said, taking a deep breath. “unzip and you must be quiet.” you spoke, licking your lips.

coriolanus nodded his head, doing as he was told. he didn’t say anything as he unzipped his pants, taking his cock out. you couldn’t help the small gasp that left your lips at the sight of coriolanus’s cock. it was much bigger than what you’re certainly used to. coriolanus smirked at your reaction. “everything okay?” he asked.

you nodded your head, moving to your sit on your knees in front of coriolanus. “just shut up and be quiet,” you murmured before leaning your head down to lick the tip. coriolanus let out a shaky breath, bringing his hand to your hair. you began easing your mouth onto his cock, making it about halfway before gagging from the size. coriolanus couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped his mouth from the feeling, bringing his other hand to his mouth to muffle his moans.

you bobbed your head up and down slowly, getting used to his length. you looked up at him through your lashes, seeing the flushed look on his face and the way he was breathing heavily. you brought your hand to cup the base of his cock, jerking off what you couldn’t fit into your mouth as you moved your head faster.

coriolanus hissed in response, bucking his hips in pleasure. he bit back his moans, throwing his head back. you tongued the tip of his cock, causing coriolanus to shutter. he gripped your hair with his fingers, messing up the perfectly done bun. but you couldn’t find yourself to care much. you adored the way you were making coriolanus snow feel. you felt his cock stiffen in his mouth, signaling his release was coming soon.

you quickened your pace, using your other hand to cup his balls, massaging them gently. and within seconds, coriolanus was cumming down your throat with a low groan. you swallowed his cum, relishing in the taste. you took his cock out of your mouth, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. you stood up, licking your lips.

you cleared your throat. “if you have any more issues, private snow, please visit me in my personal quarters.” and with that, you smirked, walking away from coriolanus, who was sitting on the hospital bench, breathing heavily from the mind blowing orgasm he had just had.

#minsasks #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #thg #thg tbosas #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #peacekeeper coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #pookie bear asks

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axelsagewrites · 8 months

Text

Roy Kent*Bus Buddy

Pairing: Roy x reader

Word count: 2511

Warnings: pure fluff, Jamie flirting with reader, protective Roy, swearing

Masterlist here

at the same time that Ted got hired Rebecca had also decided she needed an assistant to enact her perfect revenge, so the boys often saw you walking around Richmond or at press interviews. Any time you entered the locker room wolf whistles from Jamie rang across the room followed by a loud ‘shut it’ from Roy. Usually, you’d object to Jamies actions, but the routine had become so common you found it funny especially when Roy dogged him into Keeley one time, and you saw him drag Jamie by the ear.

You weren’t sure why the tough and silent Roy Kent was so protective of you, but you were grateful to know walking into a locker room filled with men that he had your back. the longer you were around the team though you realised none of the boys would even hurt a fly.

still locker rooms or crowded hotel lobbies could get rowdy, and Roy almost acted as security, weaving you through the crowd and telling everyone to fuck off. any thanks you gave him were met with grunts, nods, or two-word answers.

sometimes you had to talk to Roy though, but you never complained. whenever you had forms for him to sign or events you wanted him to attend, sadly only on a work basis, he gladly complied without fuss. feeling his hand brush, yours as he took the pen from your hand or getting to secretly glance at his face as he filled out the forms was enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

you’d convinced yourself your crush was harmless. after all he was Roy Kent, an absolutely loaded footballer with an exterior tougher than diamond. its not like you flirted with him or stared at him. well not on purpose at least.

this weekend saw Richmond visiting another stadium a six-hour drive away for their next match. usually, you travelled with Rebecca but due to some other things she had to get done this weekend, aka a spa trip with Keeley you were secretly so jealous about, she had decided to send you as a representative. however, this also meant you got to arrive at Richmond Friday afternoon with a packed bag and a bunch of rowdy footballers.

“Well look who our newest bus buddy is,” Ted said, putting his hands on his hips as you approached the gaggle of men. “Hope you don’t mind being down graded to ride with us bunch of savages,” he joked as he ticked your name off his clipboard. you really did appreciate Teds soccer mom vibes.

You laughed as you dragged your suitcase up to stand by Ted at the bus, “Please how bad can it be? it’s just a bus,”

“Yeah, but with these twats,” Roy’s voice made Ted jump, but you just turned and smiled, ready to say hi, but Roy just walked past you. He picked up his suitcase, tossing it under the bus before turning back and picking yours up and placing yours in with far more care than he had with his own. When you said thanks, Roy just nodded before heading onto the bus, assumably to secure the most isolated spot he could.

Ted let out a low whistle as Roy walked off, “He’s a charmer alright,” he said, his eyes scurrying around before leaning down to whisper to you, “If I didn’t know any better I’d think he’s sweet on you,” You laughed but before you could even try to deny it Ted was pointing at your face, “and if I’m not blind you my friend are blushing,”

“Shut up Ted,” was all you managed to say before Nate walked over and thankfully Ted knew better than to keep going in front of him.

while you were talking to Nate and Ted the bus all the players had arrived and assembled on the bus. you were the last to climb on the bus since even though you knew it couldn’t be that bad six hours on a bus was still a dire experience. “Oi need a seat love?” Jamie hollered from the back of the bus, already tossing his bag to his feet.

“There’s a seat by me,” Dani pipped up from a few rows in front of Jamie.

you laughed, trying to think who would be the least awkward seat mate. however, as you went to move forward, figuring Dani would be less out right flirty than Jamie you were stopped by Roy standing up from his seat and stepping into the aisle.

when you looked up at him, expecting him to say something, he just looked down at the window seat he had just given up. you smiled as you moved to sit down, “Thanks,” you said squeezing past him, “Thanks boys but I prefer the front of the bus,” you said before settling down for the ride.

Roy dropped into the aisle seat and while you knew he was trying to keep in his seat the bus seats were only so big, so your thighs were bumping into each other, “Thanks for saving me,” you whispered to him.

Roy chuckled under his breath, “Really think I’d let you get tortured back there like that?” he whispered back making his voice sound even sexier if possible. the bus set off only a few minutes later and now you were trapped in a bus with 25 rowdy men who instantly started talking amongst themselves and playing bus games. “Bet you wish you’d never got on this bus,” Roy said in a low voice but with all the noise at least you didn’t have to whisper.

“Nah I don’t mind, honest,” you said, settling into your seat, “Sitting in a silent plane with Rebecca can get awkward,”

“Sorry I’ve not got any champagne for ya,” Roy joked and for the rest of the ride you actually talked the whole way which is the longest you’ve ever spoke to him for. you were almost sad when the bus pulled up outside the hotel.

without a word Roy had grabbed your suitcase and his, walking into the hotel still wrapped up in a debate about which ice cream flavour was superior. “Checking in together?” The receptionist asked making you blush, and Roy clear his throat.

“Eh no, separate,” he said, glancing down at you but you wish he hadn’t since you knew your cheeks were flaming hot as you gave the woman your information. however, after getting checked in Roy still carried your cases, taking them up to your room with you in silence. He sat the bag down in front of your room for you as you unlocked the door, “I’m just down the hall. 203. so eh if anyone gives you bother or these twats are too loud tonight give me a knock,”

“Will do captain,” you said, trying your best to stay composed as you got into your room, shutting the door behind you so you could freak out.

the next day was too hectic to even think about flirting with Roy or even catching a glimpse of him off the field. however, Richmond had managed to secure a tie which for them right now was a big win. however, what was not a big win was the fact that you had to get back in the coach that day since the team had a bunch of press to do tomorrow at Richmond.

between the game, the press interviews, everyone showering and getting into clean clothes, and checking out you weren’t even set to leave till 10pm despite the game kicking off at 1:30pm. you were already yawning as you came down the lift to the reception.

most of the boys were also absolutely shattered. running for 90 minutes straight at full speed was tiring enough without also having to pack and do press. you had got to sit during the game, but you also had the job of Rebecca all day so now you really understood why she needed that spa weekend. “Bus said it’ll be pulling up in five minutes,” you yawned as you sat your bag down, “Head count time,” you said.

you felt like a primary teacher, but you didn’t care as you walked around, counting each player as you put your hand on their head. they were all too tired to complain and even Issac let you touch his hair. “twenty three,” you said, counting Dani before stopping, “Wow your hair is soft,” you gasped before continuing as Dani beamed from his seat, “Twenty four,” you said, reaching up to pat Roy’s head but you were too tired to see the way he smiled at you when you did, “Twenty five,” you finished, putting your hand on your own head making Roy chuckle quietly. “We didn’t lose anyone, great job team. now shift it, I wanna sleep,”

“You heard her twats, get moving,” Roy said, his loud voice shocking everyone including the hotel staff. at least it got the boys moving though. Roy cleared his throat as he glanced down at you, “Need a seat buddy again?” he asked as you filed out behind all the boys.

you smiled up at him, “Yeah that’d be nice. Its your turn for the window seat,”

“I don’t mind, you keep it,” he said as you finally got to the bus. the boys were all tossing their cases in and filing into the bus with very few mumblings between them. you were silently thankful everyone was exhausted, “Just don’t fall asleep standing,” Roy’s joke snapped you back to reality as he loaded in your cases.

“Fine but I make no promises about the bus,” you said as you walked to get on, Roy offering for you to go first. a sweet gesture to you and silently Roy was grateful for the chance to check out your ass. “This seat, okay?” you said, plopping down into the first available seat. Roy didn’t even reply as he sat down next to you.

Ted was the last to get on and while you usually loved his speeches today you just did not care. “Now all yall try get some shut eye. Six hours of sleep would do you all the world of good right now,”

“Yes coach,” rang out in a sleepy chorus as everyone settled in to nap on the bus for the night.

as you looked around you saw Jamie in the seat across from you with a blanket already pulled over him and Dani a seat behind you with an eye mask on, “I am clearly not prepared,” you joked quietly to Roy.

Roy looked over, seeing his fellow teammates who were used to these late-night busses, “You can borrow my jacket if you get cold,” Roy said quietly making you inwardly melt, “Not much of a blanket but it’s warm,”

“I’ll think about it,” you yawned, making Roy smile as he saw how you stretched away your sleep. or well tried to. the ride set off and you could already hear soft snores across the bus. any of the boys who couldn’t sleep had headphones in and you had never been more grateful.

you sat in silence, looking out the window as the head lights of other cars went past and let yourself sink further into your seat. you barely noticed when Roy shrugged his jacket off or realise how close to him you were getting but you could feel your eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment.

Roy however had noticed the soft snores coming from you when your eyes had finally closed, unable to fight sleep off anymore. he was thankful everyone was asleep or not paying attention as he got to look down at you sleeping on his shoulder with a soft smile. after a few minutes, sure you were asleep, he gently pulled his jacket over you like a blanket.

he wasn’t sure when he had fell for you or why, but he’d known for weeks now that he liked you. hell, more than liked. there was just something about you and right now you looked downright adorable as you nuzzled further into him. Roy slipped his arm behind your back, allowing you to properly sleep on him and his hand to rest on your waist.

usually, Roy was far too tense or pent up in rides home to sleep on the bus, especially with a team he just knew were desperate to draw something on his face, but Roy was surprised when he opened his eyes and sunlight blinded him.

the bus was pulling up to Richmond at an ungodly 4 am when Roy realised, he had fallen asleep, his head resting on top of yours. without thinking, still in a sleepy state, Roy pressed a kiss to the top of your head as he moved to sit up. however, when he saw you stir awake, he kicked himself internally, “Are we here?” you yawned, pulling away from him and Roy already missed the feeling of you curled up to him.

“Looks like it,” Roy said as you looked down to realise it had been Roy’s jacket covering you, “You uh looked cold,” Roy said, clearing his throat and thankful he had a beard to cover the way his cheeks grew hot.

“Thanks,” you said, a sleepy smile playing your lips as the rest of the team started to wake. “Did you manage to sleep?”

“A bit yeah,” Roy said, and it was as you shuffle forward Roy realised his mistake when you looked down at his arm, “Sorry bout that,” he mumbled, quickly pulling his arm out from where it had been wrapped around your waist.

“It’s alright I don’t mind,” you said, a smile toying your lips as you stretched to try wake up.

without anything else said, really by anyone, you all filtered off the bus and Roy went to get both your suitcases. Roy cleared his throat as he went to pass yours to you, a nervous habit you’d only just really noticed, “Do you need a lift up the road? my cars just over there,”

“If you don’t mind that’d be great,” you said, so relieved you weren’t going to have to sleep in Rebeccas office, “Don’t hate me if I fall asleep in the car though,”

“Couldn’t hate you if I tried,” Roy said as he took the suitcase back and began to walk to his car. you blushed as you followed behind him, climbing into the passenger side as Roy loaded the bags in, “You all set?” Roy asked as he hopped into the driver’s seat.

when Roy glanced over, he couldn’t help but laugh when he noticed you were already asleep in the car. Roy reached over, buckling you in before getting ready to hit the road. he’d dropped you off a few times from work so he knew the way already, but Roy couldn’t stop himself stealing so many glances at the sight of you. there was no avoiding his feelings now. Roy Kent was in love.

#ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso x reader #ted lasson smut #ted lasso season one #roy kent #roy kent imagine #roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #roy kent x y/n #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fluff #roy kent fanfic

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bindeds · 2 months

Text

✦﹒ ．𓈀 willy wonka x reader nsfw headcanons (+18) — thank you so much for the love on the last post, here’s another! as always, gif credits go to @thisgameissonintendo ! dialogue is at the very bottom, thank you!

mlist. requests. general wonka headcanons.

he’s into a specific kind of bondage; he likes tying you up using ribbons, usually only on the wrists but would tie other parts of you if he’s pent up.

DEFINITELY talks you through it, especially if you’re the one who’s pent up

glances at you across his shop while he’s working, and it’s the type of glance where his head is hung low as he’s talking to customers but he’s looking up to give you a knowing look, something you knew all too well; you are definitely doing it in his office later.

one time, he had a small piece of chocolate hanging between his teeth as he was jotting something down on a clipboard. You asked him innocently about what he was doing, and he said he was testing his own samples. You said you wanted to test them out as well, and went ahead and bit the other end of the chocolate. He went ROUGH on you that day, but now every time either of you have a piece of chocolate hanging from your lips, the other takes it as a sign that they’re in the mood.

he’s very hands on and LOVES biting you everywhere—your neck, shoulders, thighs, breasts, nipples, you name it

that being said, he is also very much into hickeys, too. something about biting then sucking the sore spot to soothe you … it was almost like you’re his personal chocolate; not something he made but something made for him. By the end of it you’re always covered in bruises, but he makes sure to bite you only where the sun doesn’t shine UNLESS you’ve done something to make him jealous

speaking of jealous, he’s definitely not the jealous kind EXCEPT when it comes to other performers or, even worse, the other three chocolatiers. If they were still allowed in the chocolate business, willy always pulls you along by the hand if you ever so much as look at the other chocolate shops. Oh, and going over earns you ten more hickeys on your neck.

Despite not being the jealous kind, I’d still imagine after a long day, if he knows you spent it with other people he would definitely mention it in sighs as he presses his lips on your skin.

Other times, he prefers to worship your body. To treat it like porcelain, to lay you down on his bed as such. He’s indecisive when it comes to this; he loves seeing you unscathed but tasting your skin makes him feel like you’re truly his.

if you ever do it in public (which is going to be a very rare occurrence because unlike his chocolate, he does not like sharing you with the world) he would definitely put his signature overcoat on you to cover as much of you as possible, he could care less about him being spotted but you? that was the same as letting you down, selling you off when you both vowed to be loyal to each other with pinky promises.

would put on music using a record player if you both are at home. He hums to the tune absentmindedly up until he’s on you and loving you. He loves old romantic songs specifically, and some jazz never hurt anyone. though if you don’t like it, he’s more than happy to stick with elvis presley and paul anka, and some other artists too, of course.

LOVES an abundance of contact, skin on skin, physical intimacy—the works. Because of this, he doesn’t usually opt for taking you from behind but if you ask for it, he would bend down with you, covering your back like a blanket as he whispers sweet praises into your ear, or perhaps nipping at your jaw or neck. On missionary, he can barely keep his lips from your own, too.

forehead touches!!! He loves pressing his forehead to yours, something about it is just so intimate and so meaningful to him

keeps his dress shirt on but completely unbuttoned out of habit, but he just looks so good in his slightly oversized shirt so you don’t complain

he loves what you love, and has nothing against you grabbing his hair as he eats you out. But relating to my very first point, he definitely appreciates when you let him tie your hands back so he does all the work. He likes taking his time, similar to making chocolate, eating you out has its stages and he cannot afford to rush any of them even if you are pent up or impatient.

he doesn’t like talking about your relationship with noodle. Seeing as noodle is a smart girl, he’s always afraid that she might think about these things and he likes to preserve her innocence, especially with the things they have been through. He wants her to experience what’s left of her childhood to the fullest, so even the faintest mention of you and willy being in his office sends his hands over noodle’s ears.

loves when you ruffle your hair if both of you are in an intimate position such as missionary.

He likes seeing the aftermath of just how much you do to him later on, from the crumples in his clothes to the scratch marks on his back.

definitely is a service top, as someone who grew up knowing how to please and catch the audience’s eye, he’s just so used to living for the reaction, and you’re no exception. Every moan he draws out of you is a token he keeps in his coat pocket for the difficult times.

is into begging, specifically begging you for anything. He’ll beg to bite you, beg to enter you, and sometimes he uses this to let you know it’s completely fine if you ever change your mind, but he never whines. He always keeps his composure about it.

“Oh honey, you’ll let me mark you all over, won’t you?” He asks, brown eyes heavy with the twinkles of the quiet night. “You know I can’t stand to leave you hurting. It won’t hurt for very long, just a taste.”

“What’s that now, darling?” while he’s pumping you full of his fingers

“That’s it, deep breaths,” he would say breathlessly as he sinks into you. “You can take me, can’t you princess?”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos as he’s picking up his pace after hearing that oh-so familiar whine you let out that told him you were close. “I’m coming too, angel.”

#wonka 2023 fanfic #timothee chalamet #willy wonka #wonka 2023 #wonka headcanons #headcanon #timothée chalamet #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #wonka x you #.c’est la vie #.wonka bin #.wonka hcs #◟𓂅 𓄹 splash zone.#( ࿈ archived. )

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

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Bigger Than The Whole Sky | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: WE’LL GET BACK TO FLUFF SOON. is it a promise? yeah probably. sad stuff will be put on hold after this, we’re getting back to our regularly schedule good dad and husband after this chapter lol

warnings: MINORS DNI. Miscarriage, descriptions of medical treatment, medical inaccuracies, descriptions of medical abortions, depression, cussing, loss of a pregnancy. Simon knows how periods work because he is a good husband.

summary: It’s hard to get over something like this, it’s hard to feel like this. Loss is difficult.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

“You are going through a miscarriage.”

It was like the world had collapsed into the void, a ringing in his ears as he felt your hand squeeze his. He squeezed back, looking to you but you only looked at the doctor. She moved her medical mask up her nose a little before she continued. “Since you weren’t too far along, it’s possible to pass the fetus on your own. We also have a medication that would help it go faster. If neither work after a couple weeks, we will have to do...”

Simon tuned out then, watching your face underneath a medical mask. He knew you would be biting your lip to try to stop the tears, but it was pointless - the mask was wet with the tears you had been crying for hours. His heart kept squeezing, tugging, and tearing. He’s never felt this pain before, and he had no idea how to make it fucking stop. You nodded to the doctor, hand squeezing his, making him tune back into the conversation.

“Mr. Riley, do you have any questions?”

He turned to look at the emergency room doctor, her clipboard held by her hip. He glanced back to you before looking at the doctor again. “What do I need to do to help her?”

It was apparent that the doctor was not used to the question, eyebrows twitched before she spoke, “Make sure she doesn’t strain herself, she needs to stay hydrated and fed. This is a lot for a woman, especially since this was her second baby.”

Was.

What a silly word, what a joke, he thought. That ‘was’ could have been my child.

She cleared her throat. “As soon as she passes the fetus, she will need to take a pregnancy test three weeks later to confirm that she is no longer pregnant. If it says that she still is, come back immediately.” She looked to his wife. “It’s imperative that if you feel you are in more pain than before that you come in immediately. Life-saving treatment earlier on in a failed home abortion can and will save your life.”

Simon’s other hand clenched his leg, out of sight. He pressed the balls of his feet into the floor, trying to stop himself from standing and leaving. He so desperately wanted to run out of here, disappear into the alleyway and scream his lungs out.

You nodded to the doctor, she left with a quiet condolence before the air in the room grew silent.

He couldn’t let go. He wouldn’t dare be the man his father wanted him to be, a horrible husband and father - just like him. He forced himself to sit there, to take the pain and stop himself from running like he normally would have.

Like he did when he learned about Winnie.

He didn’t let himself think on it for much more than that, seeing you distraught and in pain right now was hurting him more than losing what would have been his son. He was sure he’d feel the loss later, but he’d rather have his wife alive than a baby he hasn’t even met. He held your hand with care, moving it to his lips and pressing a small kiss to the shaking skin.

He had carried you back out to his SUV when you had been discharged, lulling your head against his chest as the medicine was making you tired. You were wrapped up in the blanket you had left with, your blood still on it and you needed new clothes to wear when you got home.

He didn’t turn on the radio when he began to drive home. He sat with one hand on the steering wheel, the other settled in between your hands. You kept his hand close to your chest as you gazed out the window.

He’s never done this before, never imagined that he would have to - especially with you. The wonderful wife that loved every shitty part of him, the person who woke him from nightmares that plagued his wicked mind. The light in the darkness, holding his treasures in your arms. He’s fixed things for you before like your grandmother’s necklace you wore all the time, the squeaky floorboard in the kitchen and repairing the water heater - all without real annoyance, only playful grumbles and a smile that you loved to kiss. He’s held you when you’ve cried about missing home, missing your brothers, kissed your tears when the postpartum depression got to be too much. There was no way he knew what to do to even ease your emotional and mental pain, but he desperately wanted to. He’d claw his way through Hell to make this easier for you.

He let out a breath, glancing over to you before saying, “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t even budge, small breaths escaping your lips. He glanced to the road, seeing that he was fine for just a second, before he moved forward to look at your face. Your eyes were closed, head leaned to the side of the headrest and his hand trapped in your clutches.

He let out a huff through his nose, looking back at the road and squeezed the steering wheel. “I’m sorry.” The words stay in the air, directed to no one. He let out a quiet, humorless laugh as he said, “Fuckin’ Hell.”

The lights were on in the house when he carried you inside, he could hear the TV going but he had no desire to investigate. He closed the door behind him with a kick of his foot, hand on the back of your head as your face was settled in his neck. His other arm kept both of your legs on the side of one of his hips, you were still crying. You had woken up in the car earlier, you hadn’t even stopped crying in your sleep. It made his chest tear in half.

“Simon.”

He looked to his right, seeing Price standing in the front room, little Mellie asleep in his arms.

Simon felt tears claw at his eyes, he kept his gaze with his friend. “Can you take the kids for a couple of nights?”

Price immediately nodded. “Yeah.” He nodded towards Simon’s wife. “Is she okay?”

Simon didn’t even look down at you, he shook his head. “Not now.”

He walked up the stairs then, letting Price go back to wherever he came from to get his goddaughter. Simon was careful when he entered the bedroom, he moved towards the bathroom so he could wash you up. He noticed that the blood on the floor was now gone, a towel sat on the side of the bathtub. He quickly sat you down on the side of the bathtub, keeping a hand on you as he turned the water on.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes flickered to yours, red and full of tears. His hand rested on your cheek.

“No need to be sorry.” He wiped tears away with his thumb. “We’ll get through this, okay?”

“It was a boy.” Was all you managed, tears streaming down your face. “Our boy.“

Both of his hands rested on your cheeks, making you look into his eyes. “I would rather have my wife than a son. I don’t care if Mellie is my last kid, because I would still have you. Don’t ever apologize for something you can’t control.”

Your face immediately went to his neck, arms around it as loud sobs erupted from your lips. He held you close to him, pressing his lips to your hair.

The hard part was helping you bathe, you sat catatonic in the warm water. The tears had stopped minutes ago, he was now draining the tub of the pink water, helping you into a towel. Gently wiping off the water from your body, moving to grab some of your clothes from the bedroom before returning. He was quick to grab a pad from underneath the cabinet, he wasn’t unfamiliar to them since you had to keep using them when he had gotten home months ago because of Mellie. He put it in your underwear then kneeled in front of you. He guided your hand to rest on his shoulder, helping you step into them. He pulled them up, then helped you into a pair of his old sweatpants - tying them at your waist. He stood, pulling one of his old band shirts over your head and tugging it on.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before bending down and picking you up into his arms, letting you wrap your arms around his neck. He let you cry into his chest, laying down on your bed and letting you curl into his chest. His arms around you, caging you into him as he tried his best to hold back his own tears.

“We’ll be okay.” He spoke into the room, right beside your ear. “You’ll be okay.”

“I want my baby.” Those four words stabbed his chest, ripping open muscle and exposing his rib cage to the biting wind of emotional agony. His hand buried into your scalp, pressing your head to his chest.

He pressed his lips to your head. “I know.”

The hands that gripped his shirt let go, now resting your palms against his chest. “No. I want my daughter, I want Winnie.”

Your husband was only gone a few minutes before he brought back his sleepy daughter, settling her right next to you. Your arms immediately went around the five year old, pressing kisses to her little face. She didn’t even grovel about it, just basking in the love of her mom.

“Be good for Uncle Price.” Your voice was surprisingly steady, the girl opened her eyes and crinkled her nose.

“I wanna stay home.”

Your hand gently pet down her messy curls. “I know, but you know when we had to sit down on the sidewalk after you skinned your knee on your bike?”

The girl nodded.

“And that I told you that you take the time to feel better and not to be scared of your bike. I told you that you didn’t have to ride your bike again, because you were scared to. Because you were hurt.”

“Yeah,” The girl whispered, hands going to rest on your arm.

“And you got on your bike the next day, even though you were scared but you had that time to feel better, and you felt safe again. I’m gonna do that.” You placed a kiss on her forehead, pushing a lock of dirty blonde hair from her face. “I just need some time to feel better, that’s why you’re going with your uncles.”

“Is Daddy going with me?”

You shook your head. “No, baby. He’s taking care of me.”

Her nose crinkled again. “Is Melsie coming?”

You nodded. “Mellie’s going with you.”

Winnie chirped, a smile on her face. “Can I eat ice cream when I go?”

You chuckled, nodding. “Yes. Tell Uncle Price that Mama said so.”

“Love you, Mama.” Your daughter moved forwards, wrapping her arms around your neck. You kissed her again, whispering your love into her ear before Simon pulled Winnie up and away. His five year old looked at his face with eyes that matched his own, her little hands settled on his shoulders. Her little eyebrows were furrowed, the look of a question on her face.

“Go on.” He encouraged, knowing that she would probably pester Price so much that he’d go into retirement.

“I want a brother.” The little one declared, her brown eyebrows furrowed. She reminded him of you. “Mama said I’m gettin’ a brother.”

One hand went from holding her to brushing her hair down, a frown on his face. “Not yet, my little love. He’s not ready.”

Winnie hummed before moving her arms around her father’s neck, resting her head on his shoulder. He glanced down at you, seeing your eyes on him.

“Maybe we’re not ready too.” He spoke. If it was someone outside looking in, it would’ve seemed like he was saying it to Winnie - but he was saying it to you. His eyes didn’t leave yours for a moment more, he then walked towards the door and down the stairs, leaving you alone in the massive bed.

Ibuprofen would help now, but you had no energy to ask Simon. Your fingers gripped the sheets, you curled into yourself in the middle of the bed. You needed to tell Winnie why she was going away, that you weren’t abandoning her. The girl already felt abandoned by her father, you could see it through the way she waits at the front door for him. The way she always checks to see if his car is in the garage, the way she leaves a little bit of water in her cup in case he comes home and is thirsty, even though he’s on deployment. Your hand hovered over your stomach before pressing onto it, pain radiating through your lower back and legs.

You had to come to terms that it wasn’t time yet. It wasn’t time for a little boy with Simon’s spray of freckles, a little boy with a smile like yours. It wasn’t time for a baby again, you figured.

Then why did it still hurt? Why did it drive a red hot spear into your chest, cracking open your ribs? Why did claws rip apart your lungs so you couldn’t breathe?

A large hand settled on your side, large legs settling just behind yours. His arm snuck underneath your chest, pulling your back into his front. The tears started again, red hot against skin you felt was cold. Your arms clutched onto Simon’s, his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your hair.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” You whispered, still not sure if you believed him. “I know.”

“Baby…”

“Simon.” Your voice cracked, hands squeezing his large arm tighter. “Please. I can’t hear it anymore.”

You wouldn’t be able to see it, you couldn’t turn to face him, but his own tears fell down onto the pillowcase. Small tears, barely there in comparison to yours.

“I love you.” His words were steady, even if his heart felt like it was crashing and burning. You were ready for this one, he would’ve been after a while. He wanted what you wanted, and his heart twisted and contorted into painful positions when he knew it was being ripped away from you. “I love you.” He pressed another kiss to your skin, he then rested his forehead on your clothed shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “I’m at fault here.”

“No, you’re not.”

“The baby was perfect at the appointment. I got sick and didn’t care for myself, so he-“

“Stop it.”

“It’s my fault, Simon.“

“These things happen, without rhyme or reason.” He pulled you just a little closer. “You’re a wonderful mother. If the baby’s not ready, it’s not ready. It’s simple. It will never be your fault.”

“But-“

“No. I’m not going to sit here and listen to you degrade yourself for something you can’t control. I can’t do it.”

“It hurts.”

He pulled the blanket farther up your bodies, up to your chin while he gently lifted his arm from your lower stomach. “That better?”

You pressed his arm into your stomach, curling your back into his chest again. You closed your eyes, trying to let go. Trying to let go of the chain you were holding in your open chest, trying to pull the weight at the end of it back up. Your hands kept slipping, the chain falling further and further into your chamber of despair. It wasn’t long before you had fallen asleep, dreamless and in pain.

Simon didn’t sleep.

He held you close to him, keeping your hair from your face. He memorized how your nose curved, the way your jaw defined your face, and how peaceful you were when you were asleep.

He felt his own pain, losing a child was not an easy feat. Simon felt acid-like tears in his soul, but Ghost had pressed his hand into them to make them hurt.

Simon would never have a son. He was grateful that he would never be like his father, beating his boys until he got bored. He was grateful that his girls were strong, loved; that their mother would never be hurt by his hand. He was grateful he would never have to fake his love for his girls.

Simon Riley was grateful he wasn’t going to have a son, so he didn’t have to stare a carbon copy of himself in the face and pretend that he loved him.

hi, i wrote this entire thing like weeks ago and the last paragraph almost made me vomit cause i was so upset

also, we’re getting a flashback for them because fluff and because i want to. i want to show how happy they were >:(

taglist: @sigynxlokiwifelover @lumpypoll @multitargaryen

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley call of duty #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x fem!reader #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium

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euphoricimagination · 4 months

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Bad Habits

Feat. Aoba Johsai

When you joined the team on your second year, after Iwaizumi had asked you for help to deal with the new first year, everything started normally, you didn’t have any problems whatsoever and got along with everyone amazingly good. But it was by the end of the year that you started to fall into your more unhealthy habits. Habits that had appeared since you entered high school, but that became stronger now that you had to care for the team too

You knew it was due stress, the end of the year was always full of things and you were terrible at managing it properly. You had started to stay up until much later, studying or working on project until way too late, barely sleeping 3 hours at max; because of that, you started to feel incredibly tired through the day, leading you into buying energy drinks often to keep you awake, on your worst days you could easily chug down 4 a day with no issues; also because of your lack of sleep, your eye bags started to become more noticeable, not even concealer being able to cover them properly; and worst of all, because of the stress, you occasionally ended up smoking, and while not an often thing, you still do it

You were able to hide it from the team for a while, but the more the end of the year comes closer, the more noticeable it became.

The first one that notice was Oikawa, who could smell the smoke in your clothes in one of his hugs, but he shrugged it off since he thought it was from one of your friends that was known for smoking. Then Iwaizumi noticed the energy drinks, especially when in one day he saw you drink it at lunch, then before starting practice and then buying two more after you part ways; but again, he shrugged it off since sometimes he has rough days too. Then Kindaichi found you sleeping in a weird position on your classroom, surprised you could even sleep like that

It wasn’t until Kunimi said something on the changing room that they started to connect things together

“Did you guys knew that Yn-san smokes?” he asks

“Yn-chan? She doesn’t, her friend does though, that’s why she smells like that sometimes” Oikawa answers

“No, no, I saw her outside with a cigarette and a energy drink…she honestly looked miserable” Kunimi adds

“Energy drink? Again? She had one at lunch” Hanamaki adds

“yeah, and she arrived with one in the morning” Matsukawa says now. They stayed silent for a few seconds, everyone thinking

“That idiot” Iwaizumi sighs “she’s stressed”

“eh? How do you know?”

“Last year I saw her smoking, I scolded her and made her promise to tell me if she needed help or anything. I hadn’t thought that she fell back on it, I should have realized when I saw her with those energy drinks” Iwaizumi sighs again, looking disappointed

“Well, she does drink them from time to time, but now she seems to be abusing it. Don’t beat yourself up for it, man” Matsukawa says as they go out the room, you were already standing there, looking at the clipboard attentively. Iwaizumi walks towards you and yanks you away from the coaches, the whole team in front of you

“So, Yn-chan, something to tell us?” oikawa looks at you, his hands on his hips

“Ehhh…nope, not really” you say confused

“I see. You know, health is the most important thing, you always tell me to not overwork myself”

“what shittykawa wants to say is, we know about your…unhealthy habits, are you stressed out? Why didn’t you tell me? Tell us?” Iwaizumi asks you

“I…I didn’t want to trouble you, that’s all”

“idiot” Iwaizumi flicks your forehead “Stop smoking, Yn-chan, and sleep more, you look terrible”

“you can drink some energy drinks here and there, but don’t abuse it” Oikawa adds

“I hate that this is coming from you out of everyone” you say, making him squint his eyes

“We love you, so take care of you just like you take care of us” Matsukawa says, all of the team hugging you tightly.

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chrollohearttags · 9 months

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rockstar!jean loves having you as his assistant. Not just because you’re so efficient and hard working but you’re an absolute sight for sore eyes. The prettiest thing he’s ever seen with a shy and bashful personality…it’s so cute how nervous you get around him, despite the fact you’ve been working for Mr. Kirschtein for three years. It really doesn’t help matters any when he tries to hold a conversation with you and all you can do is keep staring at the ground, stuttering over yourself..it only makes him want to tease you more! “You’re a big girl, aren’t you? Use your words, beautiful. Can’t know what you want if you don’t tell me.” Just making the most normal of conversations sound so sensual and sexy. You’ll be sitting in on some of his practice sessions, watching him grip the neck of that guitar and strum his tattooed fingers along the strings..having thoughts no employee should about their boss. “You like the new song or you just wanna watch me play? Maybe I could teach you sometime.” You could always get lost in thought about him or gazing at that handsome face. Catching him as he comes fresh from a workout; towel draped over his broad shoulders, sweat slicking his tanned skin and his body sculpted from the intense exercises.

a stark comparison to your curvaceous figure; pudgy tummy protruding from your skirt and big, supple breasts perched in a top that’s stretching out far too tight. He can’t help but notice your thighs ripping those stockings underneath them and he’s trying his hardest to remain respectful but he’s definitely getting some ideas of his own. Perspiring and not just from the fifty push-ups. “H-hi, Mr. Kirschtein. I just needed you to sign this for me, please.” Those doe, brown eyes hiding behind round, wire framed glasses and those plump, pouty lips stained with gloss as you mumbled to him. Big, bouffant kinky curls accenting those adorable features including those chubby cheeks he loves. He’s trying not to stare too hard but damnit, you just turn him on so much. Swallowing a hard gulp, he tries to play it cool and grasps the clipboard with said paperwork. “C’mon, (y/n). We’re not strangers..you can call me Jean, y’know? We’ve been working together for three years. I thought we were friends.” “I knowww, but I just don’t feel right, sir.” And honey, does he exploit that little habit of yours. Thinking it’s so cute how you address him. So it comes as no surprise when it’s later in the evening and you’re getting ready to leave for the night that you just so happen to catch the infamous J. Kirschtein leaving a hot, warm, steamy shower..draped in nothing more than a towel that he’s in the midst of unwrapping when you come to ask him one more question. It falls to the floor from the shock and you catch a glimpse..no! An eyeful of what he’s got to offer. “I—I am so sorry, Mr. Kirschtein!” And it’s then that Jean tells you come closer and lock the door because he can answer what you need to know and then some..you’re staring holes through him, admiring every chiseled muscle, every inch of that Adonis like figure and especially…..that!..and you’re practically salivating until he snaps you out of thought with a hand underneath that chin.

“Nothing to apologize for, gorgeous..I mean. I won’t tell if you won’t..”

if you could be completely and totally honest, you had dreamed of a moment like this; where fate would intervene and give you two the opportunity to be alone in such an intimate setting. He can see you squeezing your legs together..more than likely feigning off the twitching and thumping sensations between your thighs. That short little frame underneath him as he places an arm on the wall. If you revealed your salacious, nasty thoughts of what you wanted the famed rocker to do to you, including being hoisted up midair in his arms as he fucks up into you or wetting up his beard as you ride on his tongue, you’d probably be fired….if it were anyone else, of course! But something told you that you didn’t have much to worry about with Jean. In fact, he had a bit of a confession himself.

“You promise?”

“Of course, pretty girl. I mean, if I’m being honest..I’ve wanted you for the longest. If you couldn’t tell..”

and boy, could you tell. Especially when he so delicately nips at the tiny buttons on your shirt that are already about to burst. One more and those juicy, round titties will come spilling out. You’re so stacked and curvy just from the front..heavens knows what he’ll do when you turn around. He inches closer, grazing your inner thigh with that thick cock as you part your legs a bit more and massage his face. He can’t take it when you stare at him all cute like that. “Is it okay if I kiss you?…” gently questioning; hovering only an inch away from your lips and he gets his answer when you cup his cheeks and shove your tongue into his mouth! You’re sloppily kissing him..rutting that little clothed slit against his tip. He can tell just how desperate you are, whimpering and whining as you continue to make out. Your body’s been craving this for so long, you’re so needy and desperate for the touch of someone who can handle you. That much apparent by the stark size difference of you two. Finally bridging the space between your bodies, Jean would slightly lift you up along with the hem of that skirt. It didn’t take long for him to disrobe you down to those very thin fishnets and platform heels that made your legs look amazing.. ripping open the front of that top and eventually tossing you to the bed.

“Mr. Kirschtein, are you sure this is okay?” He couldn’t help but to laugh as he so casually pinned your legs back and snaked that pierced tongue out to run along your thighs. Never in his life did he answer to anyone and he damn sure wasn’t about to now. Besides, he was certain your doubts would fade once he spread that pretty pussy and allows that metal ball glide over your clit. Before you know it, he’s sucking gently on those folds and taking in that delicate, sweet flavor. Those same digits you’d watch and obsess over as they played some of your favorite tunes, played around with your sensitive little cunt. Watching it leak and cream all over his black fingernails and silver bands. “You tell me, pretty girl. Do you really want me to stop?” Peaking up at you over that pudgy little tummy as he rested his forehead against it. “N-no sir!” Which brings forth another toothy smile on that sexy face. He loves how submissive yet needy you are for him! Whimpering and covering your eyes but continuing to rut into his mouth..riding his tongue and creaming all the same..those big, juicy tits bouncing around and those swollen nipples erect from the pleasure and cool air. “Ahhh!—fuck..” “Look at you..cant believe I actually made you cuss. Feel that good, huh?” The same ones he’d stuff in his mouth when he finally moved up to kiss you once more and stuff you full of that stiff cock. Right after tapping it against you just to test the reaction you’d have to him. You were so wet..drenching him in slick before he even slid in. “Can I put it in? C’mon, let me hear you say it, baby..can I fuck you?” The two of you would meet and become one upon your explicit consent; lips melting once more as your arms coiled his neck and legs around his waist. Your answer was as clear as any. Not only did you want him to fuck you but not pull out anytime soon. You wanted to feel every inch…for all the nights you had lied in bed, daydreaming and touching yourself with thoughts of your boss plaguing your mind. “S-shit! You’re so tight, pretty girl. Never knew you’d feel this good.” A couple strokes in and he had you clawing into his back. And you? He’d never felt such warmth before. It were as if he were in heaven. Your flesh clashed, smacking against one another in a passionate haze. “Right there, sir! Don’t stop, please…”

that sweet voice crying out to him and he couldn’t dare quit when you begged him like this! “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you whatever you want…you can have this dick all night.” Listening to him moan and grunt in your ear as he fed you those deep strokes. In a way, you felt it couldn’t be real because there was no way you were his type but in his mind? You were all but created for him. And he’d prove it by making love to you all night…going rounds and taking you beyond your limits; from putting you in a full mating press, a full nelson to truly test that strength of his and even leaning you over the side of his bed; arms stretched back and balanced on nothing more than those heels as he gave you backshots. Drumming orgasm after orgasm out of each other until you both collapsed in one another’s arms.

He’d look over to see you trembling, breathless and in tears..not out of pain but from the overwhelming amount of pleasure. He was so happy to have shared this experience with you and never wanted this night to end. “Hey, you alright?” “Never been better..thank you sir.”

and he hoped that you’d always be by his side. For work or otherwise..

647 notes · View notes

eclipixels · 5 months

Text

His Preformer

Summary: A wealthy and privileged classmate, Coriolanus Snow, visits a strip club with friends. Unexpectedly, he discovers you performing on stage. A little OOC Coryo.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Your hands shook as you looked at your paycheck from your current job waitressing. This wasn't going to be enough to cover your groceries this month if they went towards the bills.

You'd been debating for some time now on finding a new job but it was very hard. Especially with your schedule.

"Hey girl," your regular customer came in.

"Just a milkshake, I got my paycheck today and I'm trying not to splurge." The customer spoke. Her name was Sarah and she had become a regular customer at the local cafe where you worked. Every morning, she would stroll in, her vibrant personality shining like a beacon. She was friendly, chatty, and it didn't take long for Sarah and you to strike up a casual friendship.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep working here. My paycheck just isn't cutting it, and I'm drowning in bills." You spoke as you worked up the vanilla caramel milkshake.

Sarah sighed, "I totally understand where you're coming from, girl. I used to be in the same boat."

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You were? I had no idea. What did you do to change things?"

Sarah leaned in, lowering her voice. "I work as a stripper at the club down Stover street, it turned out to be a game-changer for me. The pay is much better, and I have more control over my income. Plus, it's given me the financial stability I was struggling to find before."

You consider Sarah's words and are intrigued, to say the least. Are you sure you wanna go into this?

"How do I start?" You ask.

♡

A low whistle drags through Casey's lips once he spots the dimly lit stage. Casey was one of Coriolanus's friends along with Sejanus. Coriolanus quickly glanced around the club, observing the tables and wasted men. He followed Sejanus and Casey into the heart of the building, where red LED lights buzzed as it flared through the perimeter of the ceiling.

"Table for three?" The lady at the desk asked, pen hovering over a clipboard. The boys look over at Coriolanus, and he gives them a slight shake of his head in response. They already knew he would say no. He says it every time. They still ask.

"Just two." Sejanus answers.

"Just so you know, we only take cash here." The lady said as she looked up past her computer.

"Shit- You can cover this, right, Snow?" Casey gave him Sheepish smile.

"Yeah." Coriolanus replied, pulling the $530 out his wallet and handing it over to the woman with the tight sleek bun.

"You're all set, right this way!" She smiles as she escorts the two capitol boys into the VIP private rooms.

"Great." Coriolanus whispers to himself as he is now left all alone. Despite the type of people his friends are, it was out of Coriolanus's element to be at a strip club. But, here he was.

He decided to leave and pick up his friends when they were done. While he was starting to leave, he scanned the dimly lit room looking for an exit. His eyes widened with surprise when his gaze landed on a familiar face across the venue.

You, a fellow classmate from the academy, were on the stage, captivating the audience with your graceful moves. Your hair cascaded down your back, and your confidence was undeniable. Coriolanus remembered you as the easily angered and studious girl who sat next to him in statistics, not whatever this was. What a surprise, he thought.

He had always found himself behaving childishly with you with both your bickering and arguing. He swore that he always tried not to engage in it but he couldn't help it, it was so fun to tease and mess with you.

He couldn't help but watch you perform. Thank God there weren't many people here on Monday nights, but even with the very few people that were here, watching you, something burned in his chest. He didn't like this feeling.

After your performance ended, he made his way to the bar, trying to blend in with the crowd. Ordering a drink, he formulated a plan. He wanted no one else to see you like that. He looked at all the university boys and middle aged men in the crowd. They didn't deserve you. But, neither did he and he knew that. However, that didn't help the pang in his chest.

Coriolanus knew if you saw him, you'd kick him in the balls before he could even get out a word. So, he spotted a rack of masks for sale near the entrance and selected one that covered most of his face. It was exactly what he needed.

With the mask now concealing his identity, Coriolanus approached the reception lady and discretely handed her a wad of cash. "I'd like to purchase a week's worth of dances for that performer," he said softly, avoiding eye contact.

The reception lady, who was used to such requests, nodded and discreetly noted down the transaction. Coriolanus's heart raced as he watched her send the message backstage. You wouldn't know who had paid for your week.

As you finished your shift and emerged from the back, you were met by Linda, the receptionist, who handed you an envelope. "A masked man bought a week's worth of dances from you," She explained. "He's waiting in room 7"

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you took the envelope. You had no idea who could have done this. You opened it, revealing a substantial amount of cash.

Back in the room, Coriolanus was dealing with the consequences of his overthinking, debating whether or not to just leave a note saying he didn't want the dances and to accept the payment as a gift. But, he knew if he did that, you wouldn't appreciate it. You were a girl who only enjoyed the fruits of your labor and would never accept anything out of charity. Stubborn. That, and the fact that you would probably still perform, so he had to take up your slot so no one else could see you.

Coriolanus knew this was selfish and maybe even weird to some people. But it's a win for both parties, so what's wrong with it? You're still making cash.

The door opens and it snaps Coriolanus out of his thinking.

"So, You're the guy who rented my whole week out?" Your voice boomed through the confines of the room, he always heard you before he saw you.

God, there you were. Y/n L/n, and you were practically dripping in gold. Coriolanus never wanted an incarnation of something so desperately as in this moment. He scanned you from head to toe and a smile broke out on his lips as he watched you tap your foot and cross your arms.

"Yeah, got a problem with that– what was your name again?" He speaks.

"Angel" You huffed, not sparing him a glance. He stifles a laugh at your announcement.

"What's so funny?" You quirked a brow, hands now dropping to your hips.

"Nothing. It's just- you're anything but an angel." He laughed, throwing his head back as he leaned back on his palms.

"Who do you think you are?" You scowl, cheeks turning a shade of red, and he couldn't help but find it amusing. This whole situation humored him.

"Clock's ticking, babe." He takes a sip of scotch, gesturing with his fingers to the cool, metal pole.

"You want a show?" You smirk, walking over to the pole. "I'll give You a show" your voice saccharine as the words rolled off your tongue.

Your thighs gripped around the metal as you lifted both your feet up and twirled your body in a spiral. You gracefully flipped yourself and came back down, the muscle on your thighs and arms flexing as you did.

"How's that for a show?" You smirked, fixing yourself into a position known as the skater pose.

"Impressive. How about you strip for me now? I mean, that is what I paid for." He started to get cocky.

"Of course." You bit your lip in annoyance and gave a fake smile, swallowing back a snarky remark. You took off your fitted but revealing top and skirt, leaving you in a spaghetti strap crop with shorts that were given to you by the staff.

"All of it." He commanded sternly, resting his chin on his palm with a lustful grin. Your lips curved as you stripped into only your red two-piece lingerie. Unbeknownst to you, his favorite color.

"What a sight for sore eyes.." Coriolanus mumbled low, his heart starting to race. You looked extraordinary, like an image of a goddess and he couldn't believe it was all in front of him like that. He felt so unworthy but- fuck, was he so greedy towards wanting you.

"What? Got nothing to say now?" You teased. It took a few seconds, but suddenly, he grabbed your waist and stood up, his free hand going up to cup your face.

"Y’know, red is my favorite color, pretty girl" He states, face inches apart. So close. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours.

You didn't know what came over you, or what you were feeling for this stranger. Why did it feel like your heart was ready to jump out every time his hands wandered over your exposed skin?

"Who are you?" You ask finally, resting your hand on his neck. Gosh, you didn't realize how tall he was until now, or how his curly blonde locks of hair fell over his masked face. Who was he? Who was this man that bought out your entire week and indirectly helped you be able to pay rent for the next four months? The sound of a phone buzzing brought you back to reality from your thoughts

"Sorry darlin'," he playfully pouts, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear to get one last good look at your enchanting face.

"But, I gotta go. My friends are done." The mystery customer sighed sympathetically before grabbing his coat and leaving you inside the private room like nothing happened between you two.

You didn't know much about this job but what you did know was people came here for lustful reasons yet you felt something motivated by a different emotion behind that man.

Who was he?

♡ - a few days later - ♡

The sleep deprived woman, you, walked into class, the click of your shoes alerting the blonde haired boy whom you classified as an, 'arrogant, stereotypical asshole'.

"What are you looking at?" You snap, noticing his gaze on your ass. You were contemplating whether or not you wanted to stab him with your pencil right then and there.

"Nothing" he muttered looking away, completely dazed as his mind worked through the flashbacks of his hands kneading the supple flesh of your ass between his palms as he fucked you.

"Dumbass," You muttered to yourself.

"You're not much of an angel yourself, either.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

No one else would've thought anything of this. It was common for Coriolanus Snow and Y/n L/n to bicker the whole damn day if they ever had the time. So no one else caught it.

Except for you yourself. Dread set in as you tried not to overthink the word he used. Angel. There's no way in hell anyone knew about your new side job. How could anyone, you’d only been with one guy ever since you started. Shit, he's the only guy on your roster there.

You sighed and did you best to get over it. Besides, You'll confront the mystery customer tonight when he comes again.

In the meantime, oblivious to you, Coriolanus needed to do something about the tightening of his pants. Fuck.

♡

"Starting to think you’re wearing red more often on purpose" the mystery man spoke.

He was back there again for the fifth time this week. Same old routine and although you knew not to have sex with the customers, you couldn't deprive yourself the pleasure that came with getting fucked so damn good. You craved to have him inside you.

You roll your eyes, pretending not to be flustered by the little compliments he always gave you. It was hard for you to decipher if he was being genuine or not. Besides, what would it matter if this guy knew about you little infatuation with him. It's not like something could be done about it.

"But.." He whispers next to your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder. You shivered as a chill ran down your spine with the touch of his index finger roaming along your bare skin.

"I think," he glides the flat of his palm down from your arm to the small of your back.

"It suits you way better off." He finishes his sentence by placing a delicate kiss to your neck while unclasping your bra. The fabric fell to the floor, and a gasp issued out from your lips.

"I don't even know your name and I could get in so much trouble." You spoke as if the words that left your mouth mattered to you. You let this man fuck you before so many times within the past few days, so why was it different this time?

"You're saying you don't want me?" He pouts, trying his best to not cum in his pants from you ass rubbing against his crotch when you bent over to pick up your bra.

"Well..." You bit your lips in shame. You did, you really fucking wanted to.

"Just say the words, Angel," He whined. "and I'm all yours,"

"I-" You choked. Your brain was screaming yes.

"Don't think of the consequences." He reassured, trying his best to conceal the want in his tone.

"Okay." You answered breathly, giving in to your desires.

"Okay? Are you certain?" He wanted to make sure. "You can always stop whenever you want–" He was cut off by the abrupt kiss from your honey coated lips.

"Yes." You firmly stated. Coriolanus grinned mischievously before hoisting you up, legs naturally wrapping around his waist. Your cognitive thinking went haywire as soon as he snaked his arms around you, holding you steady.

His tongue explored the inside of your mouth and you could taste the liquor that stained his tongue. You knew he was muscular but you never truly took into account how strong that made him. His muscles flexed as he went lower and lower down your body, trailing sloppy wet kisses.

"So" kiss.

"Beautiful" kiss.

The mystery man finally placed you down on the counter of the mini bar, falling to his knees. You didn't know why, but your cheeks were burning red. No person you had sex with ever had you this damn flustered.

His kisses on your lower abdomen continued. Once he reached your thighs, your heart started to race ever faster. His platinum tufts of hair pooling against your pelvis.

"You wet for me?" He whispers into your skin, breath fanning against it and hands dangerously getting closer to your core.

"No…" You stuttered, clearly embarrassed by how much your body wanted this. Wanted him.

"Oh?" He lifted a brow as he moved your panties to the side and ran two fingers down your cunt, picking up the natural lubricant that was practically pooling.

"Why’d you lie to me, Darling?" His lips form a fake frown before he licks your juices off his fingers.

"You know I only wanna give you pleasure" He dragged his warm tongue against your folds. You couldn't help but let out a cry when his tongue flicked your clit.

"Is this good?" He asks, the words vibrating against your heat.

"Mhm," you moan, hands finding their way into his hair and using it to anchor yourself against his face, grinding your hips down on it.

"Fuck!" You moan out in pleasure. You’ve never felt this confident with a guy before. You guessed it was something about not fully knowing his identity that gave you more courage. That you can walk out of here and never see him again in your life. He only existed here and something about that made you less fearful.

"You close?" His words were muffled against your needy cunt.

"Yes." You gasp out. Suddenly, he pulls away from the grip between your thighs.

"What? Why'd You do that?" You confront frustrated.

"Well, it's not fair for you to come before you even touch me." He answers arrogantly. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he go from being so sweet to such a jerk?

"Fuck your feelings," You groan before undoing his jeans, about to pull his boxers down too but he catches your wrists before you gets the chance.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" He stares at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

"Since you're all about fairness, I'm gonna give myself a reward for all the hard work I've been doing." You state as if it's a matter of fact.

"No, what's fair is all that hard work has been rewarded with several bands." He chastised.

"So I can't enjoy my job?" You scoffed with a weak argument.

"Nothing in your job description says anything about fucking. In fact, You're strictly told not to." He chuckled. You didn’t know that he knew about the rules, how naïve.

"So you want to stop?" You challenged. Gosh, why were you so difficult?

"Do you want me to stop?" He fired back with the same tone. You turned your head to the side and scowled immaturely as a response

"That's what I thought," he conceited. He picked you up and placed you down on the loveseat. You peeked through the corner of your eye as he pulled down his boxers.

He was touching himself slowly but he really didn't need to with how hard he already was. You squeezed your legs and gripped the seat from sexual frustration. This was fucking torture. He knew how bad you wanted him and took that to his advantage.

"Want something, Angel?" He taunted.

"Need" You mumble the word.

"Oh, I know,” He mocks, pulling you legs closer to him which made you yelp in surprise. You were entranced with how he handled you, finding the delicate balance between rough and gentle to be perfect. Coriolanus committed to memory every aspect of your body, from its curves to the way it responded to his touch.

"Gonna fuck you ‘till you forget your name," He groans as he aligns his cock with your entrance.

"Yeah?" You breathe.

"Mhm, gonna fuck you so good, you'll forget any other person who's ever had the privilege of touching you like this." He says before sinking himself into your body. You didn't realize you were holding your breath until you let out an exasperated sigh.

"Tell me how much you love it." He throws his head back, hips grinding smoothly against you like sweet molasses.

"So much," your words were barely coherent and his pace unforgiving. The sound of skin slapping filled the room, and filthy noises spilled out from both your throats.

"Tell me how bad you want it." His voice was no longer as rough as it was but instead had been replaced with neediness and whimpering.

"Till I can't walk." Your mind goes blank, and you are starting to babble.

"You look so cute going dumb on my dick." He coos, swooping his head down to place sloppy kisses. You squeeze your eyes shut from the sensitive sensations of his teeth on your collarbone.

"Faster," you whine, clawing your fingers on his back.

"If I go any faster, this loveseat is gonna break," he replied, and he was right. The furniture wasn't very sturdy.

"But, if we take this to my place, maybe I could." He flashes a boyish smile.

"In your dreams, mystery man." You roll your eyes at him.

"Mystery man?" He quirks a brow, pace starting to slow.

"Well, you never really told me your name." You moan out, sweat starting to bead on your skin at the slow dragging of his cock against your walls.

"I really thought you'd know me by this point, Y/n." His lips curved into a cheshire grin and you felt your heart stop. What did he just call you?

"How do you know my name?" Your mouth parts.

The man sighs before saying, "Y/n L/n, you’re from the districts but somehow managed to attend the Academy, you’re studying economics and you sit next to me first and fourth hour."

"How do you know all this– wait. Did you say we go to school together?" Dread set into you, and you quickly pulled the blonde haired man off of you.

There's no fucking way. You went to school with this guy? Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were screwed.

For a moment, everything was silent. Coriolanus's amused look faded. All there remained was worry etched onto his face. You stood there, face twisted into that of fear and concern of the unknown. Your hands gently came up, and your fingertips grazed the plastic of the mask.

"Who are you?" You asked for the dozenth time in an almost rhetorical way. What you really meant was who was this guy that you got yourself so tangled up with.

Coriolanus shuts his eyes as you took it off. The object clatters onto the floor, and your hand quickly clasps over your mouth.

"Coriolanus? You fucking Capitol brat!" You scream. "You need to fucking leave, I don't care how much you paid, leave." Within seconds a switch got flipped off in your brain and you knew nothing but anger.

"C'mon, darling. Don't be like that." He pleaded with a frown.

"Be like what? Angry? Upset? Enraged? Because I am! I am furious, Coriolanus. Who the hell do you think you are? I bet you already told all your little other egotistical jerk friends about this. How many people know? You know what, I don't even care. I can't fucking believe this right now, I just–" This time, he cuts you off and places his lips against yous like his life depended on it. He wanted you to feel everything he felt through that kiss.

You stood shocked and fought off the way your body wanted to melt into the kiss. You wanted to give in so bad, so so bad.

He pulled away and trailed down your jaw, and you let him. His lips felt so delicate and plush against your body, like they belonged there.

"I didn't tell anyone." He whispers gently, voice fragile and genuine.

"Find that hard to believe,"

"Y/n, please." He begged, and that's when you really looked into his eyes and read his face. He looked sincere and like he was about to break.

"I know you think I'm an asshole," he starts.

"I don't think, I know." You interrupt. He sucks his teeth as a response.

"But, I would never do something like that to you. When have I ever done something like that to anyone?" He reasons with you.

"I guess... You're right." You admit. He was right, he never had done something like that. Maybe you had unjustly judged him. Now that you thought about it, you had no valid reason to hate him.

"That still doesn't answer my main question. Why? Why did you buy my whole week? Why me if it wasn't to embarrass me?" You spoke.

"I don't know, I don't know why I did it at first. But now, I just can't imagine you with anyone else. The thought of you touching anyone else or letting anyone else touch you, I don't want that." He shakes his head, not noticing how his body tensed up.

"You like me?" You question.

"Well, I don't just have sex with anyone." He frowns, a tad bit hurt.

"Doubt that." You mutter.

"I'm serious." The expression on his face is stone cold, and you could tell that he wasn't lying. Yet, you couldn't wrap your head around it. He was the mystery man? The same guy that had you weak in the knees and red in the face? The same guy that irked you every second of the day that he saw you at school?

"I believe you." You sigh, letting your crossed arms loosen and fall to your side.

"Do you still want me?" He asks, eyes looking up at you with desperation.

"Look, I'm sorry for flipping out, but I can't do this, especially with you of all people. You're lucky there's no sharp objects around me. But, fucking you would just be embarrassing to my self-woth." You proclaimed before turning around to pick up your clothes.

"Are you sure?" He asks, his whole demeanor changing. You stood back up and when you did, you felt your back against his chest and your ass pressed up against his cock that was still covered in your wetness.

"Because I remember quite fondly how bad you said you wanted me and how good it felt when I was so deep in you." His playful behavior returned, and his teasing touch was making its mark on your skin again.

"Whatever you're trying to do, it’s not gonna work." You defected, voice betraying you.

"Really?" He implored. "You don't want me anymore?"

You didn't respond, knowing that if you did, you wouldn't be able to lie. Not when he looked at you with those eyes.

"You're saying you don't wanna feel me in you again, fucking you over and over again?

You whimper in response, forgetting how to form sentences as you mind went in a haze of lust.

"Asked you a question, darling." He pressed on, giving a sharp and sudden nip to your ear with his teeth. He doesn't move, giving you some time to think.

"If we do this," You begin. "What will happen after?"

"Whatever you want." Coriolanus spoke with want and desire.

"You mean that?" You ask sternly to make sure.

"I really do." he says before kissing you once again, a form of reassurance. He couldn't ever get enough of you.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you’re in love with me." You spoke, clearly feeling the emotion he wanted the kiss to convey.

"Well, do you?"

"Do I what?" You ask confused.

"Know better." He restates.

"Coriolanus Snow, are you in love with me?" You gasp, holding a soft grasp on his shoulders.

"You have no idea..." He whispers lowly, anguish evident in his tone.

"Fine, we can do this. But I'm in charge, okay?" You clarify.

"Whatever you want, Darling." He spreads his legs for you and leans back. You get up and align yourself with his body once again before slowly sinking down onto him, hissing at the sensation.

Curses fall from his mouth, and gratification flows through him like tidal waves. He trembles underneath you, and each time you bounce back down on his thighs, it feels better than the last. He senses his mind on the verge of collapse every time, and he starts to short circuit. Pleasure has never been so satisfying as it rakes through both your bodies as you allow each other to be safely vulnerable.

♡

It's been two days since the incident and since you and Coriolanus both talked to each other. You said you needed some time to think after Coriolanus asked you if you wanted to formally court him. You weighed the pros and cons and how you wouldn't need to work at the club anymore.

"Hey, you coming to class?" The text on your phone read.

"Yes." You replied back to him. You made up your mind on your decision and plan to convey it to him in person when you meet face to face.

You walk into class and immediately notice how anxious the ivory haired man looked. His knee was bouncing, and his hand kept raking through his hair.

"Hey," You unintentionally startle him.

"Oh! Hi." He shoots you his classic Coriolanus Snow smile, charismatic and charming as ever. "You look gorgeous."

"I just got out of bed." You laugh at his attempt at flattery.

"I still think you're pretty."

"Well, thank you, Coryo." You smile before pulling out your chair and sitting down next to him. “You look pretty, too”

You catch the way his cheeks flush, but you don't mention it.

"Have you thought about what I said?" He asks, playing with the ring on his hand in anticipation, a habit he picked up since childhood.

“I have. Coriolanus, I think you're a pretty decent guy and all." You start off your sentence.

"You don't feel the same way?" He presses his lips into a line.

"Yeah." You sigh sympathetically, noticing how he didn’t catch the inauthenticity in your tone.

"It's fine, I understand." Coriolanus gave an understanding look, no matter how disappointed he actually was. What he didn't expect was the sudden laughter that followed after.

"I'm kidding! Yes, I'll be your girlfriend!" You throw your arms around his neck and give a quick kiss to his cheek.

"You're so cruel to me." He furrows his brows, "But worth it." He smiles back at you, engulfing you into his embrace.

#coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x y/n #the hunger games #hunger games

219 notes · View notes

skzhua · 3 months

Text

a price i'm willing to pay | part 14 - the sparklers.

MASTERLIST

pairing: ceo!bang chan x entrepreneur!reader

genre: social media!au, arranged marriage, fake relationship, fluff, angst.

warnings: swearing, alcohol.

summary: following a scandal threatening the survival of your business, you have no choice but to associate yourself with a competitive company.

"Wonhee will be there!" you exclaimed as you tossed your phone away.

Both Hyunjin and Minho looked at you curiously. "Who?" Hyunjin asked.

Minho was quick to hit his arm, causing the man to wince at the touch. "You've met her before, don't act like you don't know who she is."

"I would but I genuinely have no idea."

"Y/N's sister," Chan informed as he joined the three of you with a clipboard in hands. "We saw her at the bar last time we went."

"Right," Hyunjin hummed with a frown.

"Alright," Chan continued. "Hyunjin, we still have the pictures with Lix to take and then your part will be over. Jisung?"

The assistant hurried to his boss and smiled. "Here."

"Could you and Changbin change the background?"

Your best friend let out a grunt. "Again?"

"Do you want me to forgive you or not?" you said with a glare and it was plenty to shut him off and make him join Jisung at the task.

Things were advancing well with the campaign. You had much more positive feedback, even if many still believed you had tried to poison your clientele. Nonetheless, people were loving seeing you and Chan interact in such ways that they would have never thought of seeing ever. Still, he remained very unpleasant towards you, but you weren't any better so it was a fair game.

"Hair and makeup done!" Felix cheered as he walked in the studio, his GoPro pointed towards himself. "Y/N has chosen beautiful colours as you can see," he showed his eye makeup. "And, of course, Chan's new cream was used for my skin."

"Do you ever stop filming?" Jisung rolled his eyes.

"And we have our beloved Jisung who seem to be pretty grumpy this afternoon."

They continued to bicker in the background which made you chuckle as you moved on with sorting products out. You peeked at your checklist to make sure you had everything you needed and began to check the items. It wasn't long after that Chan leaned next to you on the table. With his rolled up sleeves of his black buttoned shirt, he perked an eyebrow as he watched you intensely. You did your best to ignore him but the man was not budging.

"Can't you see I'm busy?" you said between your teeth.

"Busy doing something totally unnecessary. Might I say, Y/N, I am disappointed," he said in a cheeky way.

"I prefer double-checking and being organized, is that so wrong?"

He shrugged. "I just think you're wasting time. Besides, the guys have the makeup on already. What's the point in checking?"

"In case we forgot, we can still put it– Why am I even bothering to explain this to you?" you groaned, dropping the list on the table and walking off.

This might have been the tenth encounter of this sort that you'd had with him today and knowing he was still going to be around until late at night, this was not encouraging in any way. Perhaps backing out and staying at home was a better option.

But having Wonhee as a sister meant she had to force you to come along, especially since you were the one to invite her technically. After you had went back home, washed up and changed, you were walking to the club with your arms linked. Jeongin was the one to change the destination, arguing that it would be more fun than a regular restaurant with alcohol on the side.

"So how many are we going to be exactly?" Wonhee questioned you as you were getting closer to your destination.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you counted in your mind. "Let's see... Well, Bin and Minho obviously so them plus us is four. Jeongin, that makes us five. Chan and his staff, so that's now eight... And with Hyunjin and Felix, that makes us ten," you smiled.

Your sister, however, looked at you doubtfully. "Chan's staff... Does it mean..?"

You chuckled. "Yes, Seungmin will be there."

She stopped on her tracks right away. "You didn't think of telling me that?"

"When I said everyone would be there, I thought it obviously implied Seungmin."

"Y/N, I can't meet him like this!" she shouted while looking down at her outfit.

"You look fine," you rolled your eyes.

Forcefully, you dragged her all the way to the club as she babbled about how ugly she looked — though she was very much adequately dressed for the occasion. As you walked in, it didn't take long for you to spot the tall Hyunjin who was chatting with the one you dreaded to see once again. Chan had, for once, decided to let go of his usual dark attires and wore a tight white shirt with oversized pants. His hair was slicked back and he adorned his ears with silver jewellery. You couldn't deny he looked fine as hell, especially with the lighting that emphasized the veins on his arms. The way he was leaning on the table and taking a few sips of his drink was insanely attractive.

"You're staring," Wonhee commented and you glared at her.

"I spotted Hyunjin, that's all."

She definitely did not believe you and was about to make another remark until her eyes fell upon Seungmin. Instantly, she froze on the spot with a gulp.

"Who's staring now?" you laughed and it was her turn to glare.

"And the Ko sisters have arrived!" Jeongin exclaimed as he came to join you along with Minho, engulfing you two into his embrace. "I managed to reserve a table for everyone."

He led you to where you had previously stared at and didn't let you say a thing before sitting you down next to Chan. You were about to get up and yell at your friend but a hand grabbed your wrist to pull you back down. Again, you were seated and Chan's grasp moved from your wrist to your shoulder.

"What-"

He put a finger on your mouth, shushing you. "There are people around, we're a couple right now."

As you scanned the club, you saw how some people had stopped to greet Hyunjin and Jeongin while others took pictures. Right, you were surrounded with well-known models. You hesitantly snuggled into his embrace before he placed a small peck on the top of your head. It took everything in you to not puke right there and then.

"Get a room," Felix joked as he sat on your other side. "Since when do you kiss her?"

Chan sighed. "It wasn't a kiss. Don't you have more important things to do instead of judging me?"

"I do, you're right. So? Who's paying tonight? I need to get myself something to drink."

Seungmin joined in and took his credit card out. "I don't mind paying this time."

This caused Wonhee's eyes to glow and she rushed to the man. "Seungminnie, could I get something too?"

"Of course," he said with a smirk.

You noticed Minho — who had watched the interaction with much displeasure — rolling his eyes with one hand in his pocket and the other holding his newly bought cocktail. Poor guy.

"Could you please order my drink as well, Felix?" you asked the man as he snatched Seungmin's card out of his hand.

"Yeah, what do you want?"

To this, Chan's eyes darkened at his friend. Before you could give your answer, he spoke for you. "I'll pay for her drink, you may go."

Felix gulped, getting slightly scared of his friend, but nodded before walking to the bar. You scoffed at your fake-lover and removed his arm that laid on your shoulder.

"You really are a pain in the ass," you grunted.

"I should be the one paying for you, don't you think?"

"I can pay for myself."

He scoffed. "You say that now but asked for Felix to get you something with Seungmin's card. You had no issue with that."

"It's Seungmin, not you."

With that, you stood up and headed towards where Minho was as he was the furthest away from the man you despised so much. As he saw you approaching with fuming ears, his eyes widened.

"Woah, don't be mad at me, I did nothing," he hurried to say with his hands up.

"Where's Changbin?"

"No idea, he disappeared when we arrived."

You groaned out of frustration. "Great, it's always when I need him that he disappears."

Minho faked being hurt. "Am I not a good enough? You really prefer Changbin over me?" he cried.

You deadpanned at him. "Shut up, I'm pissed and he's the only one who can calm down. Besides, you're pissed as well, you wouldn't be much help."

"I'm not pissed," he muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, right. Don't tell me seeing my sister all over Seungmin doesn't fill you with anger."

That shut him up real quick and he pouted while sipping on his alcohol. From afar, the two of you looked miserable. You watched people on the dancefloor with a bored stare. It took only a few minutes for Chan to find you again and you couldn’t help but groan again.

“I’m going to find Changbin.”

Minho nodded at your statement as to say “good luck” and you took off. It was hard to walk through the sweaty crowd but, eventually found your best friend discussing with a woman who had definitely drank more than she could handle. He was quick to meet eyes with you and abandon the lady upon seeing how displeased you looked.

“What did I miss?” he asked while you stole his beer, drinking it in one go. “Woah, take it easy!”

“I won’t when this bastard is up in my ass.”

He sighed. “You can’t be saying this here.”

“Why? Because we are in public? Weren’t you the first one to disagree with this?”

“I was but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about how a small thing can ruin you again.”

You scoffed. “I’m only speaking the truth. Now, where can I get a shot?”

Changbin didn’t want to comply to your demands as he knew you would get yourself so drunk to the point you wouldn’t be able to stand. At the same time, you were so stubborn that it was impossible to get in your way sometimes. Felling guilty already, he brought you to the nearest bar and ordered four shots for the two of you. You chugged them not even a second after getting a hold of them. Wincing at the strong liquor, you still ordered one more, and one more after.

“How many has she had?” Jeongin asked in a concerned voice, watching you dance clumsily with Changbin.

“Who?” Chan said as he hadn’t really been observing what was going on.

“Your girlfriend,” Wonhee laughed as she pulled her phone out to capture the moment in a video. “Oh, she’s so going to hate me for this.”

Chan’s head shot up from his nearly empty glass to try and find you. When he did, his eyes widened at the sight. With your rosy cheeks, you were smiling admirably to your best friend who was trying his best to keep you up on your feet. He was glad you were not alone but the way you were holding to one another didn’t look as if you were only friends. It bothered him. Only because of your arrangement, of course. Before he was thinking, his body got up from his seat and he walked towards you. Without saying a thing, he separated you from Changbin and took over with holding you. You were probably too drunk to even process the change of dance partner, but Changbin only removed himself silently. He wouldn’t bother with protesting anyway; Chan’s eyes were enough to make him want to pee himself right there and then.

“How many did you drink?” he said into your ear, and you shivered.

“I don’t know.”

“I think you had too much.”

You pouted at him. “It’s your fault.”

“Mine? You were the one storming off.”

“Because you were annoying,” you cried, which made him sigh.

He dragged you all the way back to the table where the others were drinking reasonably. He sat you next to your sister, but she wasn’t much of a help. If anything, she was only laughing at your physical state and taking pictures. Sighing again, he took it upon himself to get you water to sober up. You already seemed to be a little better.

“They’re selling cakes with sparklers if it’s your birthday!” Felix said enthusiastically while pointing at the corner of the club. “We should get some.”

At this, you pushed the glass of water away from you and clapped. “Oh, for sure!”

Chan mentally cursed at himself before glaring at Felix. “Do you really want to fake a birthday only to get some cheap sparklers?”

You slapped his chest and his eyes widened from the contact. “They’re pretty.”

“So am I and you have me for free.”

Felix and Seungmin held back a laugh while you simply shrugged. “I’m getting some whether you like it or not.”

Before he could stop you, you were off with Felix, Seungmin and Wonhee to get sparklers. Who the fuck were selling these things in a club anyway? It was bound to be a disaster. He wondered if he should at least follow to keep an eye on you but the decision was quickly made when he saw you stumble on your feet, almost falling.

You felt a pair of arms holding you and you frowned. "Why do you have to act like I can't do things on my own?" you whined.

"Y/N, you almost fell face first."

Grumbling disapprovals, you still grabbed onto him for safety until you were at the cake counter. Felix was the one to discuss with the girl in charge of the cakes and they argued a bit as she noticed it was none of you's birthday. As they keot on bickering, Chan rolled his eyes as he knew he had to step in.

"Excuse me?" he cleared his throat grabbing the woman's attention.

The moment she saw he had just spoken, her posture straightened. "Mr. Bang," she almost whispered. "What an honour to have you here!"

"I understand my friends do not fit into your criterias for the cakes but I swear they only really want to play with the sparklers."

"I'm sorry, sir, but sparklers in a club-"

"I'll take them outside for when we lit them up, I promise."

By magic, this did the trick and the woman gave you about thirty of them. Seungmin went to get the others and you all went outside to lit them up. You, Felix and Jeongin were the most excited about them while Chan and Changbin were the most worried. Nonetheless, you took Minho's lighter from him as soon as he took it out of his pocket and hurried yourself to lit your sparklers up.

You admired them for what seemed to be an eternity until you ran out of them. Hyunjin declared this was enough for the night as he still had work to do the following day. The rest ended up agreeing and you all walked home.

"I'll take her," Chan said to Changbin who was not willing to let you go.

"I'm the assigned person to take her home."

"It'll be weird if a man other than her lover does it."

Changbin, for once, didn't budge. "Listen, Bang. I get you two have this thing for publicity but she is in a vulnerable state right now. While I do get your point, you're not the one who has known her for eight years and been there when she needed someone the most. Don't think because you are supposedly her boyfriend that you get to take this from us."

And he left with you.

This might have come from a deeper place than simply getting you home but Changbin had had enough. He couldn't risk you getting hurt by this man. Especially not when he had noticed how you were warming up to him.

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bachissidehoe · 4 months

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it goes around again - nagi s.

chapter 6 of 7 in the blue lock band series. chapter 1. chapter 2. chapter 3. chapter 4. chapter 5. chapter 7.

synopsis: nagi seishiro, the fan favorite of the band, doesn't seem to put in any effort at all. especially when it comes to showing up on time for an early morning photoshoot. but when y/n goes to track him down, he has other things in mind besides getting out of bed.

warnings: smut; multiple orgasms; riding; half asleep; semi-coercion; clit stimulation; fem!reader; submissive!reader; minors DNI.

disclaimer: all songs referenced are credited to THE DEEP END

w.c 2.3k

Leading up to the last few shows of the tour, manager Mikage Reo booked plenty of interviews and photoshoots for the up and coming band. The growth they’ve experienced since bringing y/n onto the official team has been substantial, suddenly reaching wider audiences and being featured on multiple news and radio stations, and offered performance showcases on talk shows. As Reo put it, it’s important that they end the tour with the world wanting more of what Blue Lock has to offer, which will put them in a great position to announce a new tour for next year that will reach even more of an audience.

That means that unfortunately, the band is exhausted. They’ll play a show, be expected to attend an afterparty, and then wake up early for an interview before another show. Today is no different, though it is their last long day before the end of the tour. Reo has planned an early promotional photoshoot for them, which means being prepared for transportation hours before the actual appointment.

“Where the hell is Nagi?” Reo barks, trying to make some final checks before the band members’ hair and makeup appointments.

“I haven’t seen him all morning.” Y/n looks around, following Reo with her clipboard.

“I haven’t heard from him since last night.” Isagi chimes in.

“Same.”

“Yeah, me neither.” The other band members agree. After last night’s afterparty, everyone returned to their rooms and fell asleep, including y/n, who can’t even remember if she saw the band’s backup guitarist at the party at all.

“He’s probably still asleep.” Bachira looks over y/n’s shoulder at her pre-shoot checklist.

“You’re probably right.” Reo sighs, squeezing the bridge of his nose as if to relieve a headache. Nagi Seishiro can be a handful, sometimes he acts like a little kid with how often his manager has to take care of him. “I’ll have to go fi-”

“Don’t worry Reo, I’ll find him.” Y/n volunteers, figuring Reo could use some extra help in a moment like this. He’s always the one who picks up the pieces of the white-haired boy’s laziness, it’s only fair y/n offers to take some of that off his plate. He seems stressed enough anyway.

“You don’t mind?” He asks.

“Nope, not at all.”

“Everything y/n has left here I should be able to take care of in time.” Bachira offers, taking y/n’s clipboard from her.

“Sounds good y/n. Thanks.” Reo smiles, handing her Nagi’s room key. Even in the most stressful moments he maintains his sweet smiles and kindness. He could convince anyone to like him.

“No problem.” She says, hurrying out of the room and whipping out her phone to check on the hotel room Nagi’s staying in. She’s positive he’s only sleeping, all she has to do is wake him up and force him downstairs.

She knocks on his hotel room door, leaning her ear against the door.

Nothing.

She knocks again- but still nothing.

She sighs, unlocking his door herself and letting herself in.

“Nagi?” She calls for him.

His room is still dark, only a small streak of sunlight peeking in from the gap in the curtains.

“Nagi Seishiro?” She calls again, peeking her head around the corner to see him sleeping soundly under some crumpled covers. He doesn’t seem interested in changing that either.

“Hmmm.” She sighs, walking up to the edge of his bed. “Hey.” She taps him on his blanket-covered shoulder.

“Mmm~” He groans, barely responsive to her attempts to wake him.

“Sei.” She uses his nickname, trying to stress the importance of her arrival in his hotel room.

“Reoooo~” He whines, mistaking y/n for his manager. “C’mere.” He groggily reaches toward her, lazily grabbing her shoulders and pulling her forward.

Surprised, she loses her footing, falling forward into the bed, unable to use her arms to block her fall in time.

“Ugh- Nagi-” She groans. “What’s-”

He wraps his arms completely around her waist, holding her close as he rolls around with her trapped against his chest. Suddenly, y/n finds herself as Nagi Seishiro’s little spoon, with his chin resting on her head and his eyes still closed.

“Nagi?” She questions, trying to wriggle out of his tight grip. “It’s not Reo- it’s y/n-” She says, wondering why he’d be trying to spoon Reo in the first place. He must be having a dream or something.

“Seishiro! You gotta get up!” She says again, louder this time. He has a tight grip, that’s for sure. His muscles tense around her, it’s so clear how toned his body is even just from feeling his chest against her back. At the same time, the way he cuddles her is so soft and sweet, despite her being completely unable to escape.

“Mmmm~ no.” He replies in a tired, raspy voice. Y/n feels her cheeks heat up, but she can’t tell if it’s from frustration or arousal from how pretty his sleepy voice sounds. “Missed you last night, wanna have you now.”

“What are you talking about?” Y/n huffs, blowing a loose strand of hair away from her face. She can’t exactly use her hands to move it herself.

“You can take me now right? Just real quick.” The sleepy guitarist rasps.

“No- what? Nagi? It’s y/n. What do you mean?”

“Hm?” He finally flutters open his eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair. “Oh, hi y/n. You’re not Reo huh.”

“Uh, no.” She answers. “Now come on, we gotta go.” She pushes on him again.

“Mmm, can’t right now.” He pulls her tightly against his chest, pressing his crotch into her ass, his morning wood so prominent that she can’t help but feel the heat rise in her cheeks.

“Why not?” She finds herself squeezing her thighs even tighter together, the idea of being this close to Nagi’s hard cock making her start to feel the intensity of the situation. After her situation with Rin, y/n had decided to stop getting in everyone’s pants and focus on her job, so it’s been a good couple months for her. Even though it’s ultimately been better for her focus, she can’t help but find herself easily aroused in a situation like this.

“Didn’t get to fuck Reo last night, so m’horny.” He says casually, too casually.

Y/n can’t even begin to unpack that statement, and she doubts Nagi would be able to explain it to her.

“Look you can fuck Reo later if you want, we got to go.” She says, her voice shaky.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, sleepily rolling over her. He hovers over her, his half lidded eyes shining in the small bit of light that peeks into the room.

His proposition is so normal, as if he just goes around asking anyone to fuck him like it’s the most casual question in the world. But y/n wonders, as she looks into his eyes, her heart completely stopping under his soft yet intense gaze, if that is how Nagi gets so many girls into his bed, and apparently Reo. She doesn’t know if, in her current state, in his current state, it’s even possible to say no to him.

She nods, unable to force her eyes off of his pretty face. He’s known as the fan favorite of the band- he never says too much but the world goes crazy when he does. Any time Nagi has a solo, the crowd is so hype that Isagi wrote a new song, It Goes Around Again, specifically to show off Nagi’s vocal range. In fact, that’s the song they’re supposed to be doing a photoshoot for today, to promo the song and select one to be the cover for the single when it’s officially released. Therefore, it’s absolutely crucial that Nagi’s there.

But in y/n’s horny haze, she can’t be bothered to care anymore. She’s desperate, she needs something, it’s been too long. She can’t believe that out of all the band members, it’s Nagi she hasn’t gotten to. He’s so damn pretty, such a gorgeous boy.

“Nice.” He answers, dipping his head to meet her awaiting lips. His kiss is so soft and sweet, yet desperately dominant at the same time. He slips his tongue between her lips, holding his body over hers as he explores her mouth.

She completely lets him take the lead, still surprised by his advances at all. Her tongue collides against his, creating a layer of glistening wetness on both of their lips, their saliva mixing against their tongues. He pulls her tongue further into his mouth, clasping his lips around the wet muscle.

She can’t help but moan out as he sucks on her tongue, his teeth grazing her taste buds. He moves to her lips again, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth to suck on that next. It’s messy and wet, his saliva coating her lips and chin as he makes his mark on her.

“Wearing a lil skirt. Cute.” He says, reaching one hand under her skirt to locate her panties.

She finds her breath catching in the back of her throat, lifting her hips to let him slide her soaked panties down her legs. He’s not one to engage in much foreplay, not when he’s selfishly concerned with getting himself off since he so sadly missed out on it last night. And right now, y/n doesn’t care at all about how she’s treated. He could fuck her and refuse to get her off for all she cares, something about Nagi Seishiro makes her want to thank him for even considering her worthy of his cock.

He slides his shorts down too, freeing his bothered cock and gripping it in his hand. He doesn’t even give y/n time to look down and see it before he’s forcing it inside her, shoving his thick shaft between her tight wet lips before her body can process the feeling.

“Wow~” He praises. “So wet. Feels nice.” He grunts, warming his cock inside her pretty pussy. He lets it rest in there, feeling her tighten and pulse around him as he bottoms out completely.

He ruts against her, his body falling on top of hers as he lazily stimulates the base of his cock with her hole.

In almost no time, she feels him filling her, surprising her with a thick load buried into her walls.

“Fuck~” He gasps, quickly pulling his cum-soaked cock out of her filled pussy.

Y/n looks at him, confused. It’s not that it’s bad that he came fast or anything, she just didn’t get to prepare for it to be over.

Lucky for her, he’s far from finished with her perfect little hole. He holds his body upward, gripping his soaked cock and pumping it, riding out his high with the overstimulation of his hand.

“Ah, there we go.” He breathes, his cock hardening once again as he immediately stuffs it back into her.

“Nagi- hmhhh-” She groans, feeling full again as his dick becomes fully erect inside her.

“Don’t worry, will put the next load in that pretty mouth.” He breathes, burying his face into her neck, his hot breaths tickling her sensitive skin.

In a swift motion, y/n suddenly finds herself flipped upright, with Nagi flat on his back below her.

“You can ride, yeah?” He asks selfishly, his lazy, sleepy body too tired to continue his light ruts into her.

“Mhm.” She answers, leaning forward as she desperately grinds her clit onto his fully exposed body.

“Let me- you ride.” He demands, reaching to circle two fingers around her clit so she can focus on slamming her hips onto him.

Her legs burn as she rides him, picking her entire body up just to force it back down on his thick shaft over and over, the room filled with her heavy breathing and moans. Nagi expertly swipes his fingers on her clit, letting her grind on them as he brings her closer to her edge.

“Need it- please Sei-” She begs, slowing down her movements so Nagi can focus on getting her off.

“So selfish~” He chuckles, his fingers moving faster on her clit as she begins to tighten around him, the knot in her stomach threatening to burst.

“Mm~ fuck- I- cumming~” Her orgasm finally overwhelms her, her body shaking as she releases over his already cum-soaked cock.

“Pretty.” Nagi hums, holding her hips as he thrusts upward into her tired body, eager to finish himself off as well. “Getting close.”

Y/n can only whine and moan, letting him pound into her repeatedly as he twitches inside her. “Off now.” He instructs, pulling her nearly limp body off his cock.

She allows her head to fall on top of him, just in time for his second thick load of the morning to shoot down her throat. She ensures she swallows it all, not letting a single drop escape.

With a breathless sigh, Nagi pats her lightly on the head. “Thanks for that.” He says casually, as if she did some sort of simple favor for him.

“Um, yeah.” She wipes her mouth, still blushing. “I understand why you get bitches.” She jokes.

“I understand why you’ve been through the entire band.” He fires back, though he doesn’t even mean it as an insult or a snarky comment. He’s so hard to figure out, that Nagi Seishiro.

She can’t help but laugh. “We really have to get to this photoshoot.”

“Sure, but you’ll come back to fuck me again tonight, yeah?” He asks.

She blushes. “Yeah.” She says, looking at the floor.

“You know I can’t sleep when you’re calling my name.” He hums, quoting the song y/n’s been desperately trying to get him to a photoshoot for.

171 notes · View notes

edensrose · 8 months

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╰₊ 𝒔𝒚𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒂𝒏-𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 ˖ ࣪˳ ꒰ 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒐'𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂 ꒱◞ ₊˚:

. ˚◞♡ 𝒔𝒚𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒆-𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅! 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓◞ ₊˚﹕your beloved boyfriend goes behind your back and tampers with a thrown-out experiment of yours. you quickly discover that the symbiote might not be so bad after all.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ( 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 )﹕fembod! ꒷꒦꒷ angst ꒷꒦ explicit content ꒷꒦꒷ violence ꒷꒦ mentions of possessiveness ꒷꒦꒷ 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 ꒷꒦ overstimulation ꒷꒦꒷ rough fucking ꒷꒦ elongated tongue fucking ꒷꒦꒷ tentacle fucking. . . 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 ꒷꒦ penetrative sex ꒷꒦꒷ multiple orgasms ꒷꒦ 3.1k ꒱

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ( 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 )﹕can't believe my first spiderverse writing is gonna be monsterfucking but oh well, hi I'm a down bad bitch for this walking red flag. <3 I use spanish dict for translations, please correct me if necessary! ꒱

꒰ links﹕guidelines ꒷꒦ masterlist ꒷꒦꒷ miguel characterisation ꒱

˚◞❀˳ In an effort to find a way to control the powers that he found more of a curse than a blessing, the scientist part of him urged him to tamper with things he probably shouldn’t have. Miguel knew first-hand what a symbiote was capable of. If not for his own personal experiences with the slimy bastards, then from observing the canon events of other Spider-People.

˚◞❀˳ But he was desperate. Especially when you, one of his most trusted scientists, started tampering with the alien creature yourself. However, after you threw out the project and deemed it ‘far too dangerous’, he collected the data behind your back along with the samples and set to work.

˚◞❀˳ You had started to notice Miguel growing increasingly tired. While he wasn’t the most energetic in personality, he seemed far more exhausted than usual. Also far more busy. Yet whenever you, being the wonderful lover that you were, expressed your concern to him, he’d immediately shut you down. Now, you were accustomed to Miguel’s mood swings, but this felt different. Very different.

“You don’t look fine.’’

“Then stop looking.’’

His little snap clenches your heart and while his irritation grew with every second into this useless bicker, he took notice. With an exhale his tense, built shoulders roll back before he murmurs with a softer tone.

“Amor, what else can I do to convince you? You’ve clearly made your own deduction.’’

“Well it’s just —”

His annoyed sigh bleeding into the already tense air of the room stops you dead in your tracks, so you press your lips together and straighten your spine. Clipboard full of notes and ongoing projects pulled to your chest as your gaze lands on the man who barely spares you a glance. His back is to you, his front illuminated by the yellow and orange pouring from the screens that surround him daily. His towering form casts a shadow over your stiff body and suddenly — you feel tiny in the obvious presence of his exasperation.

“. . . I’m just worried, Mig,’’ your attempt is met with a crimson stare over his broad shoulder, followed by a few grumbles in his mother-tongue, before he turns back to the virtual screens. “Well,’’ he starts with a sigh. “That’s an issue on your part. I’m fine.’’

The last thing you anticipated was the cold shoulder. Alas, he gave you nothing else and simply excused you from his office. You knew that your boyfriend was cold, but what the hell was that?

˚◞❀˳ It should be harmless, is what he thinks. He’s strong-willed enough, he tells himself. Days turn into weeks of tampering with the symbiote, and just when he thinks he’s cracked the code. Tamed the monster. He is quickly reminded that the true beast is his own ambition.

˚◞❀˳ Bonding with the symbiote was an experience, to say the least. Turns out that Miguel’s tinkering with the alien didn’t put it in the best of moods. But when it was all over? He felt something that he hadn’t felt in awhile in regards to himself. . . control.

˚◞❀˳ Symbiotes feed on adrenaline — and with Miguel’s day-to-day life? It’s needless to say that the alien got more than its full. More than enough to keep it satisfied.

˚◞❀˳ It definitely took some getting used to. With this newfound power and not to mention the second voice beside his conscience. Hiding this new change from you was the hardest part. Nevertheless, he was certain that he had tamed the creature. For the most part, it heeded his command and backed down — but there was just one thing. A blaring hole in his supposed ‘perfect plan.’ Anger.

˚◞❀˳ While yes the symbiote did get its fill with his constant intake of adrenaline, Miguel’s anger was something that particularly stimulated it. This made the rage he so desperately tried to control only grow worse as the days went on. He was more irritable, snappy, and not to mention prone to going off at the smallest of things. Something that you immediately picked up on.

˚◞❀˳ In fact, the odd behaviour of your boyfriend is something that you have been noting and recording for weeks. He’s growing distant. Taking up more missions than usual, barely coming home. And above all; when he did find himself in your presence, you had taken notice of the newfound possessiveness that plagued him. All you did was give a polite, obviously awkward smile towards a waiter flirting with you on one of your rare dates — and it was enough to set him off. An argument in the car that led back to your apartment. One that resulted in him sleeping on the couch.

˚◞❀˳ While you have dealt with a jealous Miguel on more than one occasion, those situations were more amusing than anything else. This? This was abnormal. Something was wrong — and you didn’t care how much he attempted to tell you otherwise. You needed to get to the bottom of this, one way or another.

˚◞❀˳ Yet similarly to last time, Miguel denies that there is a problem to begin with. Every one of your advances was met with indifference, the cold shoulder and sometimes even a bit of an irritated snap on his end. It felt as though your relationship with your once beloved boyfriend was dwindling. Threatening to break with one wrong move.

˚◞❀˳ Lying to you was something that tore Miguel up from the inside out. With his new friend at the back of his mind and stimulating every ounce of annoyance, he felt as though he himself was walking on eggshells. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this from you — the growing distance was killing him. He tried to tell you, is what he reasons with. Numerous times. But the man who usually teamed with pride and confidence backed away at every chance he had. In time, he tells himself. He’d tell you in time.

˚◞❀˳ Unfortunately for him, the day when everything would be revealed came sooner rather than later when an attack on your lab drove Miguel into a fight-or-flight state. The last thing on his mind was keeping the symbiote hidden, not when your life was on the line.

If your eyes weren’t brimming with fear before, they were pouring with terror now. You have always felt safe in the strong arms of your beloved, but right now? You lay petrified.

The sight of blackened tendrils protruding from the blue and red nanotech of his suit, shooting out in multiple directions to throw goons away from the two of you. . . it was an image that you wish you could pry out of your very eyes.

Typically clawed hands now donned smears of ebony. Making them sharper, deadlier — and yet one of those hands still cradled your head to his chest with such tenderness. While the other had disappeared into darkness. An arm extended to shoot out a myriad of dark tendrils. Something that you could only describe as a horror show.

His breathing heavy. His eyes clouded over with crimson, no pupils nor irises in sight. For a moment you even considered the possibility that you were trapped in a nightmare — but when he looked down at you? When those abnormal, terrifying eyes softened into something only you could recognise? Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach.

“Amor. . .’’

There it is.

“I —’’ His voice is thick and the crimson bleeds out into white as his gaze takes on a more humane form. One that you know and love.

“M-Miguel,’’ the choke of his name on your lips could break his heart, if not for the look of fear plastered on your face. Yet all is eased when, despite your shaky hands, you reach out and touch his face half-stained with the monstrous creature. A delicate touch that stutters his breathing as he leans into your palm.

“What. . . have you done to yourself?”

˚◞❀˳ Needless to say you were the furthest thing from pleased upon discovering the reason for Miguel’s new parasite — or Thorn, as it keeps insisting. The mere fact that he went behind your back and picked up the project you threw out after explicitly telling him that it was dangerous. . . it was a breach of trust that he would certainly have to earn back.

˚◞❀˳ Furthermore, while you wouldn’t say it to his face: a part of you was frigheted by this change in him. Both of you were well aware of the dangers that this creature can bring. You’ve seen first-hand how it amplified Miguel’s anger. What worried you was the possibility of this thing putting a strain on your already dwindling relationship — something that he assured you he would not allow to happen as he worked tirelessly through the coming months to control this mind-bonding alien. But he pulled through and impressed you, as he always has and always will.

˚◞❀˳ You actually grew to quite like Thorn. It didn’t talk much like other symbiotes and honestly? With Miguel feeding it its much-needed adrenaline in ample amounts, it wasn’t one to throw a fit in a hurry. If anything, it aided your boyfriend in numerous ways: on the battlefield, in everyday life. . . fucking your poor little cunt sore.

˚◞❀˳ What? After Miguel established a decent control over the creature he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea of pleasuring you with his new. . . additions. He loves the way that you lay there, sprawled out for him as he pulls your thighs apart by two thick tendrils while another pair holds your wrists down. How you arch and thrash as his cock pounds you full, unable to squirm or writhe away from him. Being made to lie there and take it as he uses his new limbs to caress, touch and grope whatever he can. All that is his.

˚◞❀˳ Overstimulation becomes a staple for you. While Miguel was wild before the symbiote and often left you breathless, now he has all the means to absolutely ruin you. He’s a man who likes control, especially in the bedroom. And to see you all helpless while you babble out his name, whine for him, plead for him. It’s a rush he’ll never get over.

“Dios, look at you.’’

You try to muster a whimper of his name but are cut off by another firm thrust against that sensitive bundle of nerves. All that falls from your lips are babbles followed by the straining of your limbs against dark tendrils. Your back arches, tits jutting out with a sudden jerk of your body — which motivates smaller appendages to circle around your perked nipples. Pinching and tweaking at the sensitive flesh. Another joins to tend to your clit, eager to have you clenching and cumming all over him for the umpteenth time.

“M-Miguel —’’ a desperate wheeze couples with teary eyes. “Too much baby, pl-please. . .” Another slap of his hips to the back of your thighs leaves you gasping, especially when a rough hand encircles your jaw and pushes your head back into a pillow.

If it was not the towering form of boyfriend perfectly caging and forcing you into the mattress then it was the slew of brutal thrusts he delivered to your poor, throbbing cunt. Fucking out more slick that he had once pumped you full of. It trickles down your slit straining around his cock, dripping into a messy puddle below. In response you squirm, attempting to push your thighs together on instinct.

“Creo que no, mi vida. You’re gonna give me one more.”

Tentacle-like structures tighten and yank your thighs apart. Your punishment comes in the form of Miguel slamming his hips forward and dishing out shallow, quick thrusts that insinuated the wet, lewd noises of your sopping heat. As you splutter and whine for him, he brings his lips to your ear. “This pretty pussy’s all mine, don’t keep it from me.’’ His voice thick with grunts and groans of pleasure murmurs against your ear as his fingers tighten around your jaw.

He parts to press a wet kiss to your lips. Swallowing your moans with every feverish buck of his hips. “Eyes on me, hermosa,’’ his hand retracts in exchange for another tendril that so perfectly wraps around your jaw, pulling you to face him as he fucks you into the mattress. He purposefully fucks into that darling spot that has you spluttering and crying until you finally draw your teary, puffy-eyed gaze to him. Pretty red marks litter the backs of your thighs and his large hand joins the mix, grabbing onto the supple flesh and squeezing it between his rough fingers.

“There we go. Eyes on me while I stuff you full. . . mm, that’s it pretty,’’ you’re met with his face directly over yours. Thick brows furrowed, jaw tense and lips parting in small moans as he drives into you at an angle and pace that leaves both of your knees weak. “Eyes on me while you — fuck mm. . . — cum all pretty f’me again.’’

˚◞❀˳ Do you know what else changed about him after his bonding with the symbiote? His tongue. Miguel’s able to elongate it at will, and while it was initially a quirk he didn’t exactly fancy — the moment he had the idea of using it in the bedroom he folded.

˚◞❀˳ He already loved getting between your legs and eating you out until you were clinging to his hair, bucking into his face and whining out his name so prettily. He could stay down there for hours if it meant feeling your pretty cunt fluttering against him. Or the way you couldn’t decide between pressing him closer or pushing him away. Now that he had an extra appendage to make your eyes practically roll back into your head, there was no way he wasn’t going to abuse it.

˚◞❀˳ He’d hold you down with those strong arms of his as he normally would. Forcing you to take everything that he gives you. As he fucks you on his tongue and makes you cream yourself until you’re breathless. He could reach the spots that drove you wild. Milking orgasm after orgasm while you lay there helpless.

Calloused fingers press down into your soft thighs, massaging the blushing flesh from his once-in-awhile spanks. Face pressed between your legs. Lewd noises pouring from both your cunt and his lips as he feasts on you like a man starved.

With a hand in his curls and another clinging to the sheets, your teary eyes fix onto the ceiling. Your chest rises and falls in shaky intervals, fingers coiling further into his hair every time his mouth clamps down and hastily sucks on your little clit. “Mig —’’ you whine, palm pushing his face closer to the mess of cum and slick pouring between your thighs. He gladly accepts the invitation with arms hooking around your thighs and flushing them against the mattress. “M-Mig — Miggy, please,’’ you splutter after feeling a knot quickly tightening in your abdomen.

“Gon’ cum for me again, baby?” He slurs against your puffy clit. A crimson gaze swipes up and he looks upon you through hooded eyes and thick lashes. “Haven’t y’creamed on. . . m’ tongue enough? Fuckin’ slut.”

You barely have the means to respond before your spine’s arching and you’re scrambling for his hair. A pathetic moan splutters as you crumble to the feeling of his tongue. Elongated and skilled as he pushes it past your sopping folds without a care — his eyes fluttering from your sweet taste as he fucks you on it. Messily, carelessly, and most of all, unafraid to release his deep, pussy-drunk groans as his lips lock around your slit. Nose flushed against your clit. Breathing heavy against your cunt.

The feel of his tongue thrusting, curling and nudging against every perfect spot has you seeing stars. And every time you attempt to squirm away or beg for a break, Miguel merely flexes his strong arms against your thighs, shoves them down and buries his face deeper. All with a warning, fucked-out look in that deep red gaze of his.

He’d nearly roll his own eyes back when you clench and cream yourself on his unrelenting tongue. His hips mimicking your weak bucks with his own pathetic grinds into the edge of the bed. All while he rides out your third, fourth — fifth orgasm. Pulling away only to suckle on your needy little clit and watch as you push and claw at his head. Muttering out his name. Spluttering quiet Miggy please‘s and baby s’too much’s.

His tongue, now far longer and abnormal, coats in your slick. Dripping both your arousal and his own saliva onto the sheets. He greedily sucks it back into his mouth, savouring your addictive taste with a quiet: “So fucking sweet, pretty.’’ Before he’s diving in to make you squirm again. Eager to fuck out as many orgasms as he can with that devilish tongue of his.

˚◞❀˳ And of course, what could would all those new tentacles be if he couldn’t fuck you with them? Between tying you down, restraining every one of your limbs and spreading you out with them, he also loves watching the way you stretch and squirm on one of his tendrils.

˚◞❀˳ He will absolutely consume each and every one of your senses. Overstimulate you with finer tentacles against your clit and nipples. Pry your vision away with one creating a makeshift blindfold over your eyes. And most of all — get you using that pretty little voice of yours with one pounding relentlessly into your weeping cunt.

˚◞❀˳ He would typically use these methods if you’re being particularly bratty. It’s a wonderful way to get some of his work done and tend to you at the same time. Especially when he threatens to deny your release if you make too much noise while he ‘has to focus.’

˚◞❀˳ Double penetration is another fan favourite of Miguel’s. Whether it be fucking you from behind and allowing a tentacle to tend to your cunt or vice versa — he loves stuffing you full of him. Loves how he can drive you to a state of utter bliss. Where all you can do is mutter out broken syllables of his name and whine for a break.

˚◞❀˳ At the end of the day, while this symbiote also provides great benefits to him out on the battlefield; it also gave him new means to reduce you to a cum-dripping, mind-numbed slut for him. What better use of his new powers and abilities than to enhance his favourite indulgence with you? Overstimulation.

. ˚◞♡ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕◞ ₊˚﹕wanna join the taglist? fill out this form◞ @bluezenzennie @batsyforyou @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @miguelious

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