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kasagia · 5 months

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Losing your memory

Pairing: Young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: He used to be your Coryo. Now he has become the man you don't know. The Plinth heir. The future president of Panem. You pray every day to forget about the sweet boy you fell in love with, on whom you could always count. To forget who he was and lose the memory of the past. Just like he did. Well... not exactly. Unfortunately for you, he still wants to remember you. Inspired by: "Losing your memory" by Ryan Star Word count: 7,2 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You've been avoiding him ever since you found out he was back in the Capitol.

A month ago, this news would have aroused great joy and ecstasy in you. Your Coryo is back home. He managed to shorten his exile and gain Dr. Gaul's favour again.

But the man who returned from District 12 was not your dear friend or lover. This wasn't your sweet Coryo, with whom you walked hand in hand to school. This wasn't the boy you shared your lunch with. This wasn't a boy who cared about your well-being above his own. This wasn't a boy who joked about snobbish children spoiled by the richest people in Panem with you and Sejanus at the end of the day. (Although he talked with them, trying to keep up good appearances—he used to call that one of the responsibilities of being Snow.)

The man who came back was Coriolanus. The new Plinth heir. The shell of someone you knew. The ruthless, cold pet of the mad creator of the Hunger Games you despised.

Sejanus' death didn't hurt you as much as the transformation of Coriolanus from the person closest to you into someone you barely even recognized. And from the tearful, sad, resentful, and disappointed stories you heard from Tigris, you had an accurate picture of the man who took your Coryo's place.

And you hated him with all your heart.

Especially after what he promised you when you stayed at his apartment for one snowy winter night.

You lay wrapped in the various blankets and quilts Coryo and Tigris could find. It was winter, and they didn't have much money for additional heating, so they mostly walked around the house in several layers and slept under piles of clothes.

You didn't know about that that night.

Tigris lent him her quilt so that he wouldn't have to be ashamed of the poverty his family had fallen into since you were supposed to come to sleepover with him after the argument with your parents.

Cuddling up to your blonde boy, you tried to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat. You frowned at the sound of it being a little faster than usual.

You lift your head and look at him carefully. His gaze is distant and thoughtful as he lazily draws patterns on your back as he presses you against his chest.

"Coryo?" you whisper, cupping his cheek in your hand tenderly and forcing those blue irises you have loved so much to look at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He sighs long and presses a kiss on your forehead, the tip of his nose stroking your hair, as he is inhaling your scent. "I just... I just think about the fact that you deserve so much more. My grandma and Tigirs deserve much more than... this." he says with disgusting pointing at the room you were in.

"This..." you say, clasping your hands together and pressing a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "Is more than enough. You are all I need. And one day, when you are President of Panem or any other important figure in the Capitol, none of you will lack anything. This is a temporary state. You are too smart to be anything less than great, Coryo. You know it."

You see him hold back tears. He pushed your head onto his chest to rest his chin on your head. He is not crying. He almost never cries. But you know how close he is to it by the slight quiver in his breathing.

"I know I don't show it often enough... but you mean... everything to me. I can't imagine how I would go through these all without you by my side."

"I love you, Corio. Just promise me you won't forget this. What you went through, what you experienced. Don't forget your struggle. That's something you should never be ashamed of." he tenses at your words but leans in to kiss you passionately and hungrily. Putting all his unexpressed emotions into action and into that kiss that warmed you more than any blanket or radiator could ever.

"I promise. I will never forget how you kept me sane. When you were the only shelter I could go to and the only support that could bear the boundlessness of my troubles and doubts. How you were my only moonlight in the worst of my darknesses." you laugh softly, recognising part of his words.

"Quoting poets will get you nowhere, Coriolanus Snow." you say teasingly, rubbing your nose against him, at which he chuckles, licking his lips.

"Well... I've learned that in some situations, it gets me somewhere. And it's a very cold night tonight, don't you think? I can't let you freeze to death." he says as his hands go under your shirt—actually, his shirt that you stole from his closet.

"Well… I guess there's nothing left for me… but to place myself under your solicitous care." you sigh softly as he pins you underneath him, making sure the cocoon of blankets is still tightly wrapped around the two of you.

"I couldn't have said it better." he whispers and presses his lips against yours, stealing your breath countless times. He pulls away just a little to say against your lips, "You're mine. We belong together. No matter what."

He makes you shiver as you eagerly agree to everything he says. You don't realise how, in the future, you will curse every single intimate, sweet moment you shared with him.

Ironically, you realise how deep he has gotten under your skin the moment he returns to the Capitol, and you have to avoid him, not when he is sent into exile.

It was probably because when he was gone, you were too distraught to bother leaving your room, opening the blinds, or wiping the tears that somehow kept leaking from your eyes to notice how almost every place reminded you of him. If you could, you'd go back in time and tell yourself there's no point in crying over the asshole he's become.

Although maybe you already felt that your Corio was leaving, and it was a way of mourning him?

Anyway, you saw him everywhere. Not Coriolanus. Coryo. He stalked you in the library, the park, the cafe near the academy that you two and Sejanus liked to go to, and of course the Academy itself. Kudos to your parents for not letting him into your house. At least he didn't pollute your room with memories of him.

Involuntarily, you wonder if he also sees you, for example, in every corner of his apartment. Or maybe he renovated it beyond recognition to erase all traces of his past?

You didn't know.

And you didn't want to know.

The information about him that Tigris gave you when you met her at your house when Coriolanus was at the university for classes was sufficient.

Just because it didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean you would abandon your only real friend. And just because things didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean she would stop (more or less subtly) encouraging you to go back to him.

"We talked about you." she says, making adjustments to your dress that she made for your birthday party thrown by your parents. Another one of the unpleasant responsibilities.

"You and your grandma?" you ask, trying to avoid HIM as a topic as much as possible.

"No. Me and Coriolanus." she says, pinning something to your waist—some decorative strip of fabric or something—you're not sure; you're too focused on the window and the bustling city as you are trying to ignore her words. "You know… I think… I think I saw in his eyes… the old Coryo. For a brief moment, but… maybe if you came back to him, he would come back to himself too."

"I'm sorry, Tigris, but I think he went too far on his path to simply go back to who he was. Surely not because of me."

"I understand… I just really miss him." she says it in a soft, broken tone, and your heart breaks at it. You hug her with all your strength, uniting with her pain that you also felt so deeply.

"Me too." you whisper in her ear as she cries into your shoulder.

Tigris was a very strong woman. She always impressed you. You wanted to be as strong as her. But even the toughest had to cry sometimes.

After all, there comes a time when even the snow melts... even if only for a little while.

You held him tightly in your arms as Corio cried into your chest.

His grandmother fell ill. Hard. Without a doctor, she definitely wouldn't be able to get out of this on her own, and they didn't have the money to pay for one, let alone the medicines.

Your boyfriend spent the whole day planning, thinking, and getting any money, but it was not enough even to buy the cheapest antibiotic.

However, you didn't expect that after you found out it all from Tigris and ran to him as fast as you could with the chicken soup prepared by your servants and all your pocket money, he would start crying.

Coriolanus Snow cried like a little baby.

You handed the money and soup to Tigris, who, after feeding up their grandma, quickly ran out with her to the doctor. At that time, you were holding your boyfriend in your arms in the other room, who simply fell apart from his helplessness.

"Shh… it's going to be okay, Coryo. She will live, falsify that stupid hymn and hate me for not being enough for you just as she used to." your attempt to comfort him didn't help. If anything, he only cried more, holding onto you tighter and tighter.

"I should be able to take care of them... I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. I'm pathetic and weak. I'm not worthy of being called Snow."

"Hey, my sweet boy, look at me. You are strong. You are the strongest man I know. You are looking after me all the time; you literally give me everything you have, the last piece of your food, to keep me happy, safe, and full when I forget to bring a damn second breakfast from home or don't have time to eat something. You love me, and I love you, and that's how it works. We care about each other. And I have never, ever regretted being with you. Because what we have… is more valuable than anything else in this world. I trust you implicitly, and I will always be by your side. You are not alone with your problems and suffering. Not as long as I am here."

"But for how long will you stay? For how long will you endure with me?" he asks, and after one look at those a little red from crying, beautiful blue iris, you answer without a shadow of hesitation.

"As long as you love me and I can trust you. As long as I breathe. As long as I am in your mind and heart. I am not going anywhere, Coryo. Money can be earned, but what we have... you can't buy it. What I feel for you is more dear to me than any treasure in this world and I will never exchange it for anything else." you promise, stroking his hair tenderly to help him calm down.

You should've then wondered why he doesn't agree with you then. Why doesn't he say that he also feels this way and that he also values you more than money, glory, and honours?

But he blinds you by telling you for the first time that he loves you.

And you cling to him, wiping the tears from his face with your lips and foolishly believing that your love is pure and eternal.

Like a driven snow.

You knew this day would come someday. The day you let your guard down. But you hoped it would take a little longer before you came face-to-face with Coriolanus.

You are completely unprepared for this. You just freeze like a deer in headlights when you see his face at the end of one of the university's corridors as he walks forward, looking for something in his bag. Before you can even think about running away, he looks up, probably feeling watched, and his blue, icy eyes meet yours.

You both stand there transfixed, looking at each other, taking in the changes in your appearance since the last time you saw each other, which was after you broke up with him, when you saw how tenderly he treated Lucy Gray and how comfortable he was around her. And after someone politely informed you that he had kissed her.

"Y/N!" Coriolanus calls out to you and takes a step towards you, but you quickly step back and run through the crowd of people to get away from him. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't give up that easily. He never does. "Y/N! Wait!"

You have no intention of doing so. You run as fast as you can, bumping into several students along the way. You don't even bother apologising; you just run, hoping that Snow will stop being hot on your heels. Which, by the way, was a miserable dream after how fit he was after his training and the time he spent as a peacekeeper.

On the way, you notice a woman's bathroom and immediately run into it. You lock yourself in a cabin, thanking God or whoever is up that you managed to get an empty cabin and hide in it. You hear his quick footsteps and the door opening, followed by the screams of other women in the bathroom. You sigh in relief as you hear him obediently leave the room.

You're not leaving, though. You are not stupid. You know he's waiting at the door for you to come out. You decide to wait here until the end of the break between classes and hope that he will drop the idea of continuing to chase you and talk to you, and he will attend the lecture instead.

As the bathroom begins to empty, you realise that the next lectures must be soon. You stand silently on the toilet seat, listening carefully, waiting for the right moment to emerge from your miserable hiding place.

Just as you are about to reach for the doorknob, the bathroom door opens. You shiver as you hear heavy footsteps echoing off the tiles of the empty bathroom. And you think that you can smell the subtle scent of roses in the air.

"Come on, Y/N. I know you're here. I just want to talk."

Said the snake moments before eating the bird alive.—you think, mentally mocking how gentle he was trying to present himself. As if he could still be your Coryo.

"I have time. I can play hide-and-seek with you, if you want to. After all, you always liked to play this when we were kids. And you always lost."

You roll your eyes, listening carefully to his footsteps. He was opening the first cabin. You were in the middle one—the one a little closer to the door (and him).

"We'll have to talk eventually. You can't avoid me and ignore me, no matter how good you are at it lately. Let's stop this ridiculous, childish behaviour and go talk over coffee and some of your favourite cookies at the cafe near the academy. Just like the good old days. Well, this time all your orders are on me. What do you say?"

You would have snorted if it hadn't immediately revealed your hiding place to him. How dare he invite you to the place where you, he, and Sejanus spent the most time? To the place where your first unofficial date was.

He wanted to manipulate you, to make you believe that your Corio is still there and lives behind the façade of the rich, arrogant asshole he has become. But you knew better. His eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Even without Tigris' help, you realised that he... was a completely different person. He turned into somebody you only used to know in the past.

"Seriously? Still nothing? So you prefer the hard way, then..." he says, opening another cabin. You wait patiently for him to come to yours.

You breathe as quietly as you can, trying not to let him know which cabin you're in. You listen to his slow, measured steps as, with the incredible confidence and calm that is typical of him, he opens each cabin door, moving inexorably towards you.

Your heart quickens, beating madly, when you see his shoes in the whole, under the cabin's door. He reaches for the door handle, and before he can open it, you push the door against him with all your strength.

You hear him curse, taking a few steps back in a daze and holding his nose. You take the opportunity and run to the exit of the bathroom as fast as you can, not looking back.

"Fuck! Y/N! Are you insane?!" he shouts, running after you.

You reach the door just in time and slam it behind you, sprinting out of the university. You get in your car and drive away with your tyres screeching. In the rearview mirror, you see him leaving the building and following your car with a furious glare.

"I can't believe you invited Snow." you huff, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your father is buttoning his cuffs, and your mother stands next to you, also putting the finishing touches on her appearance. "You hated him when we were together."

"He is an ambitious and clever boy. Plinth did well to make him his heir. You should reconsider whether he really is that bad. This match would have opened many doors for us. Not only among Plinth's allies but also among Dr. Gaul. God knows how she favours this boy. Who knows? Maybe one day he will be president of Panem."

"If so, I will run away abroad." you say it bitterly, putting your lipstick back in your purse and adjusting the necklace around your neck to make yourself look perfect.

"Don't be stupid. Snow wouldn't be so bad for you. Since you are our only child, we must marry you well. Make sure your husband doesn't blow our fortune in a week. And Snow is a thoughtful boy. He wouldn't let you live below the poverty line."

"And he's quite handsome." your mother adds, straightening your father's tie. "Still, he's not a womaniser. I heard he turned down the... special attention of Crane's daughter and a few other Capitol's girls. I guess he's been alone since your breakup."

"Hmm. Great. He wouldn't cheat on me with other snobs in the capital, but he would fuck with whores in the district. The perfect candidate for a husband." you scoff, walking with them to the next room, where the photographers were waiting to take a photo of you together.

“Language, Y/N. You are a lady. Besides, it is not certain whether he and this Lucy Gray actually had something between them. After all, she's a woman from the district.” your mom says this, smiling for the cameras.

The flashes blind you a little, but with your father's and mother's hands on your shoulders, you somehow manage to keep your pose, fake, pretty smile, and opened eyes.

Your father thanks them and leads you out of the room and into the corridor leading to the great hall where the ball was to be held.

"And even if he did, it's good that he had some fun. It will make him appreciate the treasure that you are and see that you are irreplaceable." he says, taking the box out of his pocket. He hands it to you with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, my treasure."

"We've already given her..." your father shushes your mother. You send them a confused look as you open the medium-sized box.

You find a tiara there. A small diamond tiara.

"It will match your dress perfectly." your father says proudly. You nod and walk to the mirror to put it on, despising the object in your hands with all your heart. You may look like a princess, but you've never felt so... disgusted with yourself before.

This feeling intensified even more when, after a toast and receiving wishes from several of your friends and more powerful families, you managed to sneak out to the balcony. Not long after you, all the single, young men of the richest family on the Capitol entered, with Coriolanus among them. They each took a cigarette and started smoking, gossiping about the events of the week…

And their topic of conversation was exactly what you were afraid of when you got that fucking tiara.

"Have you seen this? I bet they're pure diamonds. Old Y/L/N wants to marry her off so much that he's using every trick possible."

"He doesn't need to do much. She is beautiful in her own right. But this character… it's easier to train a dog than such a stubborn cow."

"What Snow? Are you now regretting that the Capitol's Diamond slipped from your hands? I heard she wants nothing to do with you. How unfortunate that it happened at the moment when you started to count in the eyes of the elite, and now you really have any chance of grabbing this precious gem for yourself."

The Capitol's Diamond. You shudder, thinking about the nickname you've been given.

That's what they called you. The sole heiress to your parents' fortune. Diamond of the Capitol, the best match in the city, with a dowry greater than any other woman. Anyone who won your hand was guaranteed to reach the top and success with your family's connections, your charm, beauty, and brain. And these vultures knew it perfectly well.

You were curious how the new Coriolanus would react.

Your Coryo only took advantage of your position in society when he had to. He didn't ask you for money or for you to convince your father to whisper a good word about him here and there. Maybe it was because of his pride; maybe he really didn't care. You have no idea. But Coryo despised that term as much as you did. You wondered if that had changed as well.

"I'm still in the game." he replies evasively, sipping his drink. The others laugh and he frowns in displeasure.

"Sure. Because the way she ran away from you today when you approached her with a gift says exactly that." they mock him. You see him clench his jaw, glaring at them coldly as he considers his next move.

"Enjoy it while you can. Your good mood will end when our cat-and-mouse game is over and the Capitol's Diamond hangs proudly on my shoulder." you huff, shaking your head in disbelief. You come out of hiding, and all the men on the balcony tense up and look at you in surprise.

Especially Coriolanus. Suddenly everyone is staring intently at the garden of your estate, too shy to look at you. Except Snow. He drills a hole into you with his gaze as he thinks of a way to undo what he said.

"Gentlemen." you scoff, walking past them and ignoring Coriolanus' glare. "For your information, I would rather live in one of the districts than marry any of you. Enjoy the party." you add sweetly, walking back to the ballroom.

The party is in full swing. You are talking to Thomas, using a sweet boy in a shameful way—to scare other men away from you. Just as you expected, they started flocking to you like flies to a fire.

So you chose the least spoiled of them. Thomas was nice and funny; you had a good time talking to him, and dancing with him was even better.

He wasn't rich; he wasn't part of the cream of society. You were really starting to enjoy spending time with him. And most importantly... he looked nothing like Coriolanus. He was nice for the eyes, but his dark hair, eyes, and sweet, shy personality made him drastically different from your ex. So he was the perfect break from your dramatic love life. Boring, nice change.

You danced to a waltz with him. He held you gently, close but respectful, not invading your personal space. He was a perfect gentleman. The man of your dreams.

If only Coriolanus' icy eyes weren't focused on both of you like a predator waiting for its prey to stumble, you would be able to enjoy Thomas' company to the fullest.

You are with him at the buffet, sipping drinks, when suddenly the last person you expected to meet here approaches you.

"Mrs. Plinth." you whisper in shock as he stands in front of you.

She looks—probably the way she feels. Nice on the outside and devastated on the inside. The dark circles under her eyes cannot be fully covered by makeup, and the deep black of her dress is a clear reminder of what she is still going through.

You can't imagine the pain he's going through right now. And you wonder why the woman decided to join her husband for your birthday party. Since Sejanus' death, she has rarely left their apartment.

"Y/N. Can I steal you from this young man for a moment?"

"Of course." you say, not even looking in Thomas' direction as you and Mrs. Plinth walk to one of the empty living rooms in your mansion. You close the door behind her and point to the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? Or to eat?"

"No. There is no need, darling. I just… I just came here to give you something." she says, pulling a thick letter out of her purse. "I… the letters from Sejanus are still reaching us. The flow of information between the districts and the Capitol is… very heavy and long. Especially when the peacekeepers are now checking every one of his correspondence. He sent it to you. Or rather, he wanted you to send it to him. Or rather, he wanted you to have it, just in case he couldn't… I'm sorry."

Your heart aches with sadness, seeing her on the verge of tears. She probably has no one to talk to about her son except her husband. After all, Sejanus was a traitor of Panem…

"He was a wonderful friend. The best one somebody could have. I could always count on him. Thank you for... taking the trouble to give me a letter from him. That... means a lot." you say, fighting the urge to hug the woman. The Capitol is not famous for acts of tenderness, mercy, or compassion. You had to keep up a facade. Always.

You take the letter from her and walk her to the exit. You give her one sympathetic look—everything you could afford in your position—and close the door behind her.

You sit on the couch and open the letter with trembling hands, trying not to look too closely at the way he wrote your name on the envelope. You know that will remind you of how you taught him how to decorate letters in his first days at the Capitol. Because everything here had to be perfectly beautiful. Even the fucking handwriting.

A bracelet falls out of the envelope and onto your lap. It is not particularly beautiful or sumptuous. It is a simple strap holding a peg-shaped pendant with some black, crushed stone placed behind a piece of glass.

You place it on the coffee table and open the letter with trembling hands. You already feel that after all this you will have to fix your makeup, which you will probably ruin with tears, but Sej's letter cannot wait until the end of the party.

Y/N, If you are somehow reading this letter, it means that I am not at your 20th birthday party, which makes me very sad. (You know how I love celebrating in your garden away from these Capitol's snobs.) Coming back, you know that I wish you all the best (along with Coryo. He's too big of a stick up his ass to write to you, even though he misses you and can't stop thinking about you. Take pity on me and write to this stubborn idiot, because I don't think I can stand another tirade about you and your perfection. Seriously. Our boy is getting mad because of this despair. I don't recognise him at all.) So, my dear friend, I wish you the best. I don't have any trinkets, interesting books, sweets, or anything suitable as a gift here, so I hope you'll be satisfied with what I came up with. I am not a poet, so don't laugh at me. I shall hear... or not. I made the bracelet, which you've probably already seen, myself. And that stone that is inside (and I hope it survived) is coal. I wanted to give this to you as a symbol of who you are to me. Everyone sees you as a diamond, something precious and beautiful. But for me and probably other people close to you, you are something more. This shiny diamond facade hides carbon. A simple coal, an ordinary soul like many others. But you made something more out of that ordinary coal. You are a diamond. Indestructible, the most durable of all. The purest form, preserved among the other gems and stones of the Capitol, because that's what all these power-hungry assholes are—coals that have decided not to change, to choose what is easy for them. I hope now you can see why I liked that nickname for you, diamond. So I hope you always stay true to yourself. No matter what. That's what I learned here, and I want to pass it on to you. Although I hope that by then the three of us will meet again in the Capitol. Do not wait for us both, Sejanus P.S. I miss you too.

You fold the letter and put it back in the envelope. You wipe away the tears that remain on your cheeks with your hands and take a few ragged breaths, trying to calm down.

You freeze when suddenly someone's arms wrap around you. The scent of roses hits your nostrils.

You get up from the couch like you've been burned and push Coriolanus' arms away from you. The feeling of sadness quickly turns to anger and pure fury as you stare at Snow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you growl through a clenched jaw, extremely glad that there's a couch between you, or you'd hit him. And it was easier for you to explain your tears and smeared makeup than your red knuckles.

"Sweet, kind Plinth, giving you thoughtful gifts from beyond the grave. You love the dead Sejanus so much and ignore the living me. It must be hypocrisy on your part, don't you think? You accuse me of forgetting about Sejanus when you treat me so shamefully, worse than a dog. Should I die so that you can finally stop giving me the silent treatment and running away from me?"

"Believe me, you don't want to hear what I have to say to you." you huff, taking the bracelet and the letter. You hide them in the bodice of your dress and go to the mirror to fix your smudged makeup.

"You do not have to do that. Your boy isn't at the party anymore anyway." he says, standing so that you can see his reflection in the mirror.

"What?" you ask in surprise, turning to face him. You both stare at each other. In fact, you're only now getting a chance to take a good look at him. And you notice with dissatisfaction that the bastard found out from Tigris what your dress would look like, and he chose a suite so that both of you would match. "Where is Thomas?"

"Your little boy toy? Do you think he's enough of a distraction? That he can replace me? That he'll make you feel what I feel? Maby, that he can even protect you from me? Only I know you. I'm the only one worthy of your fucking attention and affection." you push past him, but he grabs your elbow.

"Touch me again and I'll cut off your hand and shove it down your throat." you growl, breaking away from his grip.

"Such aggression… I don't remember you from this side." he mocks you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You step away from him and cross your arms, staring at him defiantly.

"I will ask you one last time. Where is Thomas?"

"Let's just say that your mother and I caught him stealing your jewelry. We were merciful enough to solve the matter quietly. You will never see that garbage on the ball or any gala again. Certainly not on yours."

"Were you the one who framed him for this?" his silence and the calculating, self-proud look of the cat that caught the canary (or, in this case, the snake that choked the mouse) tell you everything. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you ask furiously.

You want to move past him, but he pushes you back, making you bump into the wall. He closes the gap between you in one step, pressing his chest against yours.

"You're mine. You've always been. You shouldn't lead this loser on or give him false hopes. We both know we will end up together."

"I broke up with you." you remind him, not caring about his intimidating attitude.

"A mistake I intend to fix." he says, leaning towards you.

His nose brushes against yours, and you shiver. You lift your leg, trying to kick him in the groyne, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees your sudden movement and grabs your thigh in a tight grip. If it weren't for the thick layers of material, he would probably leave bruises.

"You... you have nothing to fix. There is no longer us. I don't even know you anymore, Coriolanus."

"Don't." he growls at you angrily. You can see the desperation and madness in his eyes at the fact that you're using his name and that you wrote off your relationship. "It was always you. You were always mine, Y/N, and I was always your Coryo."

"Things are changing quickly. We are not the same, and now we have nothing in common, nothing to talk about."

"We have EVRYTHING to talk about. I still love.."

"DON'T!" you interrupt him. He freezes. You rarely shout, especially at him. That's why he takes a step back before putting on his impassive mask again. "Don't even say that. You have no idea what love is. Sure, you may feel attached and even desire me at some point, but you have no idea of unconditional, true love. So for old time's sake, leave me alone."

"What about you? Do you think you are so holy and blameless? That I'm the only bad guy? You lied to me. You promised you would stay with me, no matter what."

"I promised it to my Coryo. Not to you, Coriolanus. My Coryo died in District 12 with Sejanus—maybe even in the Hunger Games—when you let Dr. Gaul brainwash you in the name of fame, money, and position. You think that old hag didn't tell me why Sejanus is dead? That I don't know that your songbird has disappeared? That I would believe that Highbottom just got high or drank himself to death?" he clenches his jaw and fists at your words. You can see how furious he is, but he holds back, still controlling himself.

"Everything I did, I did for us. For you. For Tigris and Grandma." you laugh, wondering who he's trying to fool—himself, you, or both of you at the same time.

"No. You're doing it for yourself. Only for yourself, Coriolanus." he gets even more angry and pins you to the wall again. His cool blue eyes are raging with rage, and you try hard to push away the feeling of fear he has stirred in you.

"Do you want a reason to hate me? So you and Tigris can still gossip about my madness? Then maybe I should let this old man pursue her and sell her as a wife to one of them for good money."

"KEEP HER OUT OF IT! It's Tigris, Coriolanus! Tigris! The woman whose sacrifice you owe your entire fucking life to! A woman who went out of her way to give your ungrateful, selfish ass something to wear. Who sacrificed the love of her life in the name of maintaining the façade of Snow's wealth?! You can give a damn about me, Sejan, and even that little songbird of yours, but if you fucking ruin the life of your cousin—the only goddamn person who still cares about you—I promise you, in memory of OUR dead friend, that there won't be a fucking hole where you could hide from me."

You stare daggers at each other, both openly expressing your resentment towards the other. You have no idea why he still cares about you—is it because of your money, position, or some sick fantasy he has in his head, or maybe he actually still cares about you?

You don't think about it when a more important issue arises.

Suddenly, he grabs your face in both hands and pulls you towards him, greedily kissing you as he connects your lips after a very long time of separation. He caresses your lips with his and kisses you with such fervour as if he craves you like a hermit starving for water.

And for a moment, you feel like you were with Coryo, when all that mattered to you was the other one, when you could get lost in each other, forgetting about the rest of the world and the worries that were waiting for you.

And that's exactly what he's doing now. He makes you forget about anything but him.

You can't help but moan into his mouth as he presses his body against yours. When he releases his strong grip on your cheeks to grab you around your waist and press you against his body, his leg is between yours.

He kisses you more hungrily, groaning too at the familiar warmth of your body against him and the feeling of your soft, silky skin pressing against him. The scent of your perfume mixes, creating a perfect combination of roses and your favourite flowers. Your hands automatically go to his hair as you hold on to him and press him to you. You don't like the gel on your hands from his hair, but you ignore this new, irritating feeling by biting his lip.

You don't think at all. As well as Coriolanus. You both just kiss each other, your tongues joining, as you both let your desire for one another take control of the situation.

You only come to your senses when your lips break apart. You gasp, trying to breathe again, as he fucks your exposed collarbones with kisses. Your brain comes back to you as he leaves a hickey on your neck. He bites you, making you moan so needily that a wave of shame washes over you with his tongue, soothing the bite. You push him away from you and place your hand on your chest, trying to regain control over yourself.

"See? We belong together. There is no other way, Y/N. We are all we need."

"Bullshit." you gasp, trying to ignore the possessive, smug feeling blooming in your chest when you see his messy hair and your lipstick smeared on his lips. "Since you are that good in losing your memory, then forget about me too."

"I can't. I just can't. You think I haven't tried? That you don't haunt me every damn step I take? Everything I have and everything I know is saturated with you. With the memory of both of us. I forgot about what I had with that songbird and my friendship with Sejanus, but I simply CAN'T forget about you. I haven't spent a single damn day without thinking about you. NOT EVEN ONE. And I know you felt the same way. Do you know why I didn't kill that stupid boy who was clinging to you? Because I knew it would make you hate me even more. I was alone without you at 12, and you know how it ended. You are my conscience. Without you... there's nothing holding me back. Without you, there is nothing to distinguish me from the Hunger Games tributes. I have no borders, mercy, compassion, or anything that makes people human beings. And Gaul knows it. That's why she told you all of my crimes; that's why you're paranoid now that I'm someone completely different. But it's still me. I. Am. Still. Your. Coryo." he says it firmly, taking a step closer to you with each word.

"Don't turn me into a fucking cricket for your Pinocchio. I am not, and I do not want to be your conscience. I will not take part in your lies, games, and manipulations." you say as you both stare at each other, neither of you wanting to concede to the other in any way.

"I will have you. One way or another, but I will. Even if it is the last thing I do, I will have you by my side. Just where you always belonged. I promised you to be my First Lady. And I intend to keep that promise."

"You must become president first. And believe me, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. Maybe you can't forget about me. But I can. I do not need you. I never needed you. How ironic to be able to lose the memories of everyone except the girl who will be the end of you, isn't it, CORIOLANUS?" you mock him, a smirk on your lips, making him a promise.

You walk past him, and this time he lets you go, knowing full well that he won't do anything more with you today. At least he got his kiss and a little taste of you, a reminder of the reward that awaits him when everything finally falls into place. When he finally has you in his arms and is at the top of Panem—his rightful place.

"The game has just begun!" he shouts after you, staring at you as you head towards the bathroom to touch up your ruined makeup. It gives you satisfaction to think that this bastard will probably have to clean himself up after your little make-out session, too.

You think that maybe Gaul was right about the Hunger Games being the whole world. But the reality was that there could only be ONE winner.

And among the people of the Capitol, only you and Coriolanus had a real chance of winning. It has always been like that. And even lost memories that do not want to go away so easily are proof of this.

Part 2

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scuderiahoney · 5 months

Text

Always Walk Me Home

Max Verstappen x Reader // Strawberry Wine Pt I

Strawberry Wine Series

Masterlist

Summary: You and Max are keeping things casual. Sooo casual. You can be casual. Right?

Word Count: 4.3k

a/n: Heeeeere we go, his number is in my bio for a reason, it’s my other favorite boy! This one is heavily inspired by some of the prompts on this list. anyways enjoy!

Warnings: alcohol/mild intoxication, mild sexual references, google translated Dutch

Things with Max are… brand new. Everything is still fresh. Everything he does gives you butterflies, makes your heart skip a beat. It’s the honeymoon phase, as everyone calls it.

It’s so brand new that nobody knows. Nothing is… official, yet. You’ve just been on a few dates, had a few movie nights. You’ve stayed at his place a couple times, waking up with his arm around your waist and Jimmy and Sassy curled up next to you. It’s casual. You’re keeping things casual. Max seems content to feel things out, to keep seeing you without labeling it. You’re trying so hard to be casual about it that it’s almost embarrassing.

You feel like everyone sees straight through you. On top of spending time alone together, you and Max are friends, so you see each other at group outings and clubs and dinners with your other friends. Max acts the same there as he always has- kind, courteous, and friendly. You won’t lie, sometimes you wish he’d hold your hand or pull your chair out for you or something, anything to show you that you’re not the only one feeling less than casual. But you’re scared of scaring him away, so you keep your mouth shut.

…..

You’re out to dinner with friends, somehow ending up sitting next to him. It’s nice, really nice. You can smell his cologne, can feel the warmth radiating off of him at the packed table. You have to fight the urge to nudge his foot with yours, to press your knee against his. That wouldn’t be very casual of you. You can do this, you can be normal.

He’s saying something to the person next to him, laughing and leaning towards them. You want to be the reason he’s laughing, want to be in on the jokes. You keep your mouth shut and look at the menu instead.

“What are you going to get?” Max asks.

He’s suddenly in your space. He’s leaning close, his shoulder brushing against yours. Be normal. You shrug, sliding your finger down the menu.

“Probably the shrimp scampi,” you say, pointing at the item.

Max nods. “You love seafood.”

You blink, breath caught in your chest. He’s right, but you didn’t know he knew that. Let alone for him to say it as fact. It’s not like he’s whispering either- someone else could hear. It’s silly, because it’s such a small thing, but you’re overanalyzing everything about it.

“I do,” you agree, turning and smiling at him.

“I remember things,” he says, a soft smile on his face, and now your face is growing hot.

Someone draws his attention away, and you look back to the menu. You nearly yelp in shock when something brushes your knee, but- it’s Max, you realize with a start, his hand searching for something. You hold your breath. His fingers find yours, and he interlaces your hands, palm to palm. He keeps them resting on your leg.

You try to take even breaths. He’s holding your hand in public, with your friends right next to you. Sure, it’s under the table, but this is the most you’ve gotten from him in a setting like this. He’s held your hand on dates, done much more in the privacy of his home, but here it feels overwhelming. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, and you resist the urge to hold on so tightly to him that he can’t let go.

Eventually the food comes, and you both let go so you can eat. But it was nice while it lasted.

…..

Max’s apartment is spacious and cozy, despite the fact that he’s gone from it so often. There’s a warmth here, an aura that just screams Max. His cats roam freely, though while you’re there they have a tendency to follow you around.

“They are traitors,” Max accuses as Jimmy and Sassy weave around your ankles in the kitchen.

“Maybe I’m just better than you,” you say.

“Oh, you are,” he says, sending up a swirl of butterflies in your stomach. “But I feed them. So they are traitors.”

You laugh, leaning down to pet the cats. They nudge their heads against your hands and legs, paw at your socks, and when you walk into the living room, they follow after. Max just watches with disappointment.

By the time he joins you in the living room, drinks in hand, both of them are curled up in your lap. He lets out a huff and sets the drinks on the table. Then he’s nudging at the cats, and you cry out when he pushes them both off your lap.

“Max!” You say, appalled.

He laughs, lays down on the couch, and promptly placed his head exactly where the two cats had been. He stares up at you with a wide grin, eyes squeezed nearly shut.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you answer.

He reaches for one of your hands. He squeezes your fingers softly before bringing your hand up to his hair. You laugh and take the hint, start running your fingers through the blonde strands. He lets his eyes fall shut. Then you watch as he brings his hand up, purses his lips, and points at them.

You take that hint too, lean over and plant a kiss on his lips. When you try to pull away, he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and keeps you there. He deepens the kiss, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of your neck to hold you there. It’s not the best angle, but it’s nice, always nice to kiss him.

He finally lets you go and collapses back into your lap, a satisfied smile on his reddened lips.

…..

“I can’t open it!” You squeak. “What the fuck, how do they make it look so easy?”

You’re holding a bottle of champagne in your friend’s apartment, trying to get the cork out. It doesn’t help that you’re scared- one too many horror stories about someone getting a cork to the eye, or breaking a window. You huff and try again, gently. No use.

“Lando slams it on the ground,” your friend suggests, her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, and he also shattered one of Max’s trophies,” you say. “So maybe not the best example.”

You hear familiar laughter, then, and you drop one hand to your side, still holding the bottle in front of you with the other. Max makes his way through the kitchen, a smile on his lips that paints his whole face. You hold it out to him, pouting.

“No, no,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

He wraps his hand around yours, around the bottle. You can’t lie, your mind goes somewhere else for a second, but you tamp those thoughts down and try to focus.

“See, you put this hand on the cork,” he instructs, “and this hand on the bottom.”

His hands are warm over yours. Your face feels hot. Does he feel the sparks when his skin touches yours, too? Or is this normal for him? Is it just a friend helping another friend? You wish you knew, wish he’d say something to quell your worries and calm your racing heart.

“-and then you twist, like this,” he demonstrates.

The bottle hisses, and you jump, but there’s no dramatic pop, no shooting of the cork. You just pull it out, and you stare at the bottle with wide eyes. Oh. That was-

“Easy, right?” He says. “You are already a pro.”

You laugh, shake your head, and hold out the bottle to your friends, standing there with their empty glasses. You want to study their faces, ask them if they noticed anything. You want to ask if they saw the sparks, too. Someone takes the bottle, and your hands fall to your side, the cork still between your fingers.

Your knuckles brush against something- when you look, it’s Max’s hand. He’s still standing there, watching as everyone passes the bottle around. You swallow tightly, bump your hand into his. Deliberately. You want to look up at his face, want to gauge his reaction, but you resist the urge.

Max reaches his pinky out and hooks it with yours. For just a moment, standing in the kitchen, surrounded by your friends, you’re linked. The sparks run from his finger, up your wrist and arm and straight to your heart. Your chest fizzes like the champagne, bubbly and overflowing.

…..

You weren’t even planning on seeing Max tonight. It’s a girls night, one that’s been suggested over and over, each of you being too busy to make it happen until tonight. You’re at your favorite bar, bass thudding in your chest, your friends all around you.

And then, there’s a tingling feeling in your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Someone is watching you. You turn over your shoulder and lock eyes with Max.

He’s leaning against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other. He has a black t-shirt on that’s always been one of your favorites- it hugs his upper arms and his chest so perfectly. He’s watching you, a soft smirk on his lips, a drink in his hand. Everyone is moving around you, but you’re stuck on him.

You smile, wave, and force yourself to turn back to your friends. You like him, you want to spend time with him, but you’ve been neglecting your friendships because of it. Your friends have been teasing you all night about how you’ve been too busy, how you keep checking your phone, how there must be a guy. You’ve denied it at every turn. You can’t leave them now. Ditching your friends for the guy who isn’t even your boyfriend would be the opposite of casual. You force yourself not to look at him, but you swear you can still feel him staring.

Ten minutes later, a bartender appears with a tray of shots and lime wedges. “For you,” she says, pointing at you, and your friends squeal in excitement. She points behind you, then. “From him.”

You turn over your shoulder again. Max is watching, and waving this time. You laugh and wave back, and your friends all do the same. He’s far away, too far to make it in time as you each grab a shot and throw them back in unison. You put the lime between your lips and turn to look at him again, raising your brows. He laughs, eyes lit up so bright you can see the blue even across the room, you swear. Then he juts his chin in the direction of the hallway when nobody else is looking. A message just for you.

You find him out there ten minutes later, trying not to make it obvious and taking the time to come up with an excuse- you fake a phone call. The hall is empty when you walk out, and you wonder if he’s given up on you- you know you saw him walk out. Then he pops his head out from around a corner and waves you over frantically.

He’s leaning against the wall, the same way he was in the club. You stand against the wall on the other side of the hallway and stare at him.

“I’m not leaving right now,” you say. “I promised I’d stay out late.”

“I know,” he says. “Just wanted to see you.”

You tilt your head. “Yeah? Seeing me across the bar wasn’t enough?”

The tequila running in your veins has you feeling braver than usual. It doesn’t seem to scare Max. He just grins wider, brow quirked.

“No, it wasn’t,” he says. “You’re pretty from far away, but even prettier up close.”

Your face feels hot. He pushes off from the wall, leans towards you. He could box you in if he wanted, could pin you right there, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes your hand in his and pulls you away from the wall, too. The kiss he sweeps you into is sweet. He wraps his arm around you, and you sling yours around the back of his neck. One of his hands cradles the side of your face as he deepens the kiss. Out of all of it, you’re much more focused on the feeling of his thumb on your cheek than the feeling of his lips on yours. It’s strangely intimate, strangely soft, the way he holds you as he kisses you in the hallway of a bar. The way his nose nudges against your cheek, the way he pulls you closer and closer like he can’t get enough.

He pulls away, leaves you gasping for air.

“You taste like lime,” he says.

You nod, dumbfounded.

“You should go back to your friends,” he suggests, kissing your temple. “If I keep kissing you I won’t want to let you go.”

You breathe out a laugh and slap his shoulder. “If you keep staring at me in the club I won’t be able to focus on anything else.”

He laughs. “I know,” he says. “That’s what makes it fun. Besides, you’re fun to watch.”

…..

Three days later, Max is holding your purse. He’d taken it from you when you were all standing in the lobby of the restaurant and your friend dragged you into the bathroom. He’d promised to keep it safe. Now you’re back, your friends are gathering their things and saying goodbyes, getting ready to go home. You’re watching him.

The little black bag looks even smaller in his hands. His fingers are wrapped around the clutch, thumb rubbing back and forth across one of the stitches the same way it had on your skin the night before. He’s talking to someone else, but when there’s a break in the conversation, you nudge him.

“I can take that back,” you say, holding your hand out.

He tilts his head, blinks softly. “That’s okay. I’ll carry it.”

You’re sure you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights. “Okay, but I’m leaving, so I need my purse.”

He nods. “I thought maybe I could walk you home. If you wanted.”

You nod in response, feeling a bit dumbfounded. The two of you exit the restaurant, waving goodbye to your friends. He takes your hand the second you’re outside, your purse still in his other one. Your fingers knit together like second nature, now. You could predict the pattern of the brush of his thumb against your skin like clockwork.

Your apartment isn’t far, but you find yourself walking slow on purpose, prolonging the moment. You pass people on the street and you know that to them, the two of you look like a real, actual couple. It’s nice to pretend. You lean into his shoulder, and he stumbles and laughs and keeps both of you upright. The two of you talk the whole way there, about everything and nothing and all the stuff in between.

When you reach the apartment building, he finally holds your purse out to you. You open the clutch, digging through it to find your keys and the front door access card. He watches in amusement as your fingers fumble through the bag.

“D’you wanna come up?” You ask. “I have some of that wine you like.”

You pull the card triumphantly from your bag. You look up at him, and he’s smiling softly, something sparkling in his eyes that makes your breath hitch. Makes the champagne bubble in your chest all over again.

“That’s okay,” he says, softly. “I’ve got to get back to the cats. But can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?”

You blink, card still pinched between your fingers. “Yeah, sure.”

He tilts his head at you. “Maybe brunch. You are going to need sleep. How about you text me when you wake up and we’ll go from there?”

You nod. He nods back. Then he reaches up, cups the side of your face in his hand. He’s so gentle about it, more so than he normally is. When he presses his lips to yours, he tastes like gin and he kisses like… like he cares for you. Like this isn’t leading somewhere else, like he’s not going to pull you into his lap and start trailing kisses down your neck. He kisses you just to kiss you, just to say goodnight.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says when he pulls away. “Goodnight, liefje.”

You smile up at him. “Goodnight, Max.”

He smiles back. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead softly. You swear you’re melting into the sidewalk. You must be a puddle under his feet. You want to press yourself into his chest, tell him to wrap his arms around you, ask him to never let you go.

But you’re trying so hard to be so good at being casual, so you kiss his cheek, turn around, and walk inside. You take the elevator up, leaning against the wall and covering your giddy smile with your hand. When you get into your apartment, kick off your heels, and drop your bag on the counter, your phone buzzes. It’s a call. You look at the screen and see Max’s face.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Did you get in alright?” He asks.

Your heart squeezes fiercely in your chest. He sounds so soft, asking it. You walk over to the window, peel back the curtains, hoping you’re right about what you think you’ll see. There he is, still standing in front of the entrance, phone to his ear. He’s staring up at your window. When he sees you, he waves.

“Yeah,” you say. “You didn’t have to wait, you know.”

But I’m so glad you did.

“Yes I did,” he says, voice soft and scratchy from the night out. “Had to make sure you were safe.”

“Okay,” you breathe. “Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“I will,” he says. You watch as he waves again, smiling up at you. “Goodnight.”

…..

He picks you up for brunch the next day. By the time you’re in his car, it’s nearly 10:30. He drives with his hand on your knee, like always, fingers dancing across your exposed skin below the hem of your sundress. You like watching him drive, like being here with him. He pulls up to the restaurant and runs around to open your door for you, leaving you laughing. He hands the keys to the valet. Then he slips his arm around your waist and leads you inside.

You’ve been on dates with him, but none this fancy, none where you feel a little out of your element. Max seems comfortable, though- it’s moments like these where you’re reminded he’s not just your-friend-Max. He’s F1-world-champion-Max-Verstappen. Of course he can get a reservation here with such short notice. They’re honored to have him here.

A waiter leads you to a booth in the back. The restaurant is bright and airy, fresh flowers on every table. Max asks for a pitcher of water and orange juice before the waiter leaves. He pulls your chair out for you, pushes it in when you sit down. Your palms are sweating, heart beating rapidly. It’s just- this is the closest you’ve come to feeling like you’re actually dating him. Suddenly, it’s terrifying.

You ask him what’s good on the menu. He points out his favorites- the French toast, the eggs Benedict, the omelettes. He tells you he’s going to order a fruit sampler for the two of you to share, and you smile softly.

“They always have the best strawberries,” he tells you, eyes lit up. “You love strawberries.”

“I do,” you tell him, warmth filling your cheeks. “You do too.”

You’d bonded over that, when you first became friends. A strawberry wine that nobody else wanted to drink. Too sweet. You’d split the bottle with Max and went to bed with a sugar rush, your lips still tasting like strawberry. Ever since, for every special occasion, the two of you have gifted each other that same strawberry wine. It’s a running joke, among your friends- you’ll open the bottle, ask if anyone wants a glass. They’ll ignore you, but Max will come running.

He opens his mouth to say something, but over his shoulder, you spot something that makes your blood run cold.

“Shit,” you mutter.

He looks at you in concern. “What is it?”

“Nothing, just-“ you sigh. “Your coworker is here.”

Charles Leclerc has just walked in the door, a girl on his arm. The waiter is pointing in your general direction, towards an open table a little ways away. There goes your whole morning. He’s going to want to leave now.

Max turns to look, brows raised. “Oh. At least it’s one I like.”

You can’t help the laugh. “Should we go?”

Max turns back to you, perplexed. “What, get up to say hi? I don’t like him that much. He’ll come over here when he sees us.”

Us. You wish he meant it how you want him to.

“No, like-“ you sigh, gaze flickering down to the table. “You don’t want people to know, so-“

“What?” He asks, wide eyed. “What do you mean, I don’t want-“

“You didn’t want to tell anyone,” you say, quietly. You can’t look at him. “We haven’t even really talked about this, and… I figured you…”

You trail off, because you can feel him staring at you. He reaches over and tucks his finger under your chin. He tilts your face upwards towards his. His gaze is soft, a small smile on his face.

“Schatje, you have to be joking,” he says, and you stare back at him. “Of course I want to tell people. I have wanted to tell the whole world since I kissed you the first time.”

You blink. “But you- you didn’t want to put a label on it. You never…”

“We never talked about it,” he says. “I was giving you time. I’m a lot. Dating me is a lot. You are… I was following your lead.”

“Oh my god,” you blurt out, a giddy feeling in your chest. “Oh my god, I’m so dumb.”

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment. His eyes are bright and sparkling, his smile spreading across his whole face. You’re so done being casual.

Charles appears at the end of your table seconds later, smiling at the two of you. “Max, hi, good to see you. And I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” he adds, turning to you.

“Charles, this is my girlfriend,” Max says, reaching across the table to take your hand.

When you greet Charles, you can’t wipe the giddy grin from your face. It stays there the whole rest of the day- through breakfast, through a walk through a park, through a late lunch at Max’s with the cats winding around your ankles. Every time it starts to fade you think of Max, bright blue eyes, his finger under your chin. You fall asleep still smiling. You’re pretty sure it’ll be there when you wake up.

…..

The next time you go out with your friends, Max carries your bag the whole night. He also keeps his hand on the small of your back nearly constantly. He orders and pays for all of your drinks, includes you in all the conversations, and brushes his lips against your temple every time there’s a lull in the talking.

Nobody questions it. None of your friends even bat an eye. You find out why when you end up in the bathroom with the girls, a tradition as old as time itself.

It turns out they all already knew.

“Max told us all the day after he kissed you the first time,” someone tells you. “And then he told us we all had to act like nothing was different, because he didn’t want to scare you off.”

You collapse into a fit of laughter, bracing yourself against the sink. All this time, you were worried about it, and he’d told everyone right away. You’d thought you were the one struggling to be casual. God, you’d have saved yourself so much trouble if you’d only asked. If you’d only told him straightforward what you wanted. If you’d only been up front.

You’re giddy with it, then. You can feel it coursing through your veins and buzzing in your fingertips. You won’t call it love yet, at least not out loud. It’s too soon, right? It can’t be love. But it’s something, and now you want him next to you. You want his lips on yours again. You’re missing him even though he’s just through the door, waiting for you, your bag in his hand.

When you return to his side, you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. You watch his smile grow and his cheeks turn red. You place your hand on his shoulder and put your lips against his ear.

“You should take me home,” you tell him.

His cheeks get even redder, and he turns to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say with a nod. “You’ll walk me home, right?”

“Always,” he agrees.

He takes your hand, squeezes lightly. You feel like you’re glowing brighter than the neon lights above your head.

…..

You slip up over your morning cup of coffee three days later. The cats are in your lap. There’s the perfect amount of cream and sugar in the mug, he’s made it exactly right. The sun is shining through the windows, bouncing off his hair and painting his skin in golden light. You weren’t going to say it out loud, you really weren’t, but it slips past your lips anyways.

“I love you,” you say.

Max laughs, takes the mug from your hands, and kisses you.

Then he says it right back.

read the prequel/ sequel, Someone Sane

okay, now I’ve got my three favorite boys in the masterlist! thanks for reading! come say hi, or check out more of my writing here. drop an ask or a dm to be added to the tag list!

taglist: @4-mula1

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #formula one fic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #max Verstappen #fanfic #max verstappen fluff #fluff #honeywrites #mv1 #strawberry wine verse

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targaryenluvs · 5 months

Text

— photograph

pairings: luke castellan x hades!daughter!reader

summary: as much as you loved luke, you were beginning to believe he’d rather keep you a secret than love you in the open.

warnings: angst babyyy, arguments, jealousy, selfishness, insecurity, manipulation, violence, fights, makeups, makeouts, tension

a/n: based on this request - you guys i’m currently reading the books bc i’ve never and i only grew up on the movies lol i will be more accurate soon i hope! i’m not the best an angst bare with me. this can also fit photograph!! hope you liked it anon!!!

your relationship with luke was amazing.

you’d never dated anyone before, but you weren’t sure how you could ever move on from him. he was nothing short of a gentleman as well as your bestfriend. he confided in you, as you did him, you held eachother and loved eachother. the only problem was that it wasn’t open. being two of the most well-known people at the camp, luke expressed his desire to you to have something to himself, you, to himself.

and at first you didn’t mind.

you loved sneaking away with him late at night, longing stares from across the room, and stolen moments whenever available. no one found out, and he wanted to keep it that way.

of course there were moments where the two of you messed up. accidentally wearing his shirt, the longer length drawing some stares but you’d brush them off, no one exactly was going to call out the daughter of hades. where your hair didn’t exactly cover all of the marks he’d left the night before, his hands were in your hair, his clothes were in your sheets.

and the two of you were always able to keep it hidden.

until you didn’t want to anymore.

you wanted to love him in the open, show everyone just how much you loved luke castellan. you’d bring it up to him when you spent time together, the idea of letting everyone know was foreign and unnecessary in his eyes, but it was all you wanted. just to be able to show how happy you are with him and so neither of you will get asked out anymore. but his kisses on your neck and trailing hands seemed to draw you away from the thought.

you kept telling yourself you were fine with it.

but a girl can only hold on so long, you were done with it, with him. it broke your heart, even thinking of not being with him anymore but you’d rather be free and sad then unknown and happy. the two of you were sat together, stargazing in the forest, your own hide out, deep in the woods, a clearing for the two of you.

he seemed so happy, with you. the whole night he chatted away with you, holding your hand, kissing you, hugging you. you loved him so much, he was your other half, your luke. you felt as if you’d implode. your heart clenched at the idea of being away from him. you knew you couldn’t live like this, “luke?” he turned your way, still smiling, “what’s up babe?” his smile dropped at the sight of your teary eyes and trembling lips, “hey, hey what’s wrong?”

you swallowed, “i— i can’t do this anymore, i can’t be a secret. i hate having your nights and being ignored in your mornings, i hate looking at all the girls fawn over you, knowing your mine. i hate not being able to tell you how i feel during the day, not being able to walk up to you and hug or kiss you. i hate it, and i hate myself for hating it. i just want to be with you.” luke’s eyes were glistening, his hand resting on your cheek, “don’t do this, please. you agreed to this, to our relationship. please don’t ask for more, isn’t this enough? am i not enough?”

he held your hand, pressing it to his chest. you could feel his heartbeat, the rhythm you listened to most nights, lulling you to sleep. you could see the gorgeous face you adored, and listened to the heavy breathing of the man you loved. your smile ignited a flicker of hope in his heart, “no, it’s not. i don’t want to be a secret. i want to be able to tell everyone how much you mean to me, i want you to tell everyone what i mean to you. to be able to talk about our future and our life, plan out the biggest of adventures and our wildest dreams. i can’t do that with someone who’d rather love me in the dark of night than the light of day.”

and with that, luke’s heart was beating faster, a tear falling down and his relationship with you in pieces. all he could do was watch you walk away, a part of him with you. he wanted to get up and chase you, tell you how much he truly loved you, but he sat and stared.

the next few weeks were miserable for both of you. sleepless nights, missing the other, no one to stare at anymore, no one to pass love notes to, no one.

luke had the attention of the entire camp, everyone but the person he wanted.

you had the love of everyone but him.

you tried your best to hide it, the pain in your chest, the tears you’d rid your body of at night, the bracelets and necklaces you hid at the bottom of your jewellery box. trying to eradicate any memory of luke castellan from your eye and life.

whereas luke found himself seeking you out. the horrible drawing youd made of him, the beaded bracelet with your nickname for him on it, the chapstick you left behind and your favourite shirt of his. it still smelled like your own perfume. his favourite photograph of the two of you, a polaroid, you kissing his cheek, with both of your matching necklaces on display.

luke seemed fine to everyone else, of course he did. why would he be any different? whereas you were less chatty, energy drained, and happiness gone. no one seemed to ask, too scared of the reply.

three months, without him.

it still hurt, seeing him. but day after day, it tended to get easier to get up. your friends were your saviours, and strength. they could infer the reason behind your sadness, but they didn’t push you. everyday became a routine, get up, get ready, eat, get through the day and relax at night. you thought you were doing better, until you saw him. happy and uncaring.

and all of a sudden you were back where you started. you were so tired of feeling unwanted, always getting frustrated when you cried, you were crying over someone who couldn’t care less.

so when one of the hermes boys approached you with a smile and a drink offering at a secret party in the woods, you were more than willing to take it. he was nice, and funny, and into you. whilst you laughed away with him, occasionally drinking and eating, luke was across the campfire from you, grip tightening on his cup. all the voices around him were muffled, he couldn’t care about their conversations when the girl he loved was right there.

it was one thing for someone to approach you but from his own cabin? it felt as if the guy was trying to piss him off, and he couldn’t stand for that. luke was trying his hardest to hold himself back, but then the guys hand was on your waist and the cup in his hand was crushed within an inch of its life.

suddenly, luke appeared out of nowhere, his eyes burning with jealousy. unable to control his emotions, he confronted the guy. “what the hell do you think you’re doing?” luke sneered as the boy, derek, looked at him confused, “what’re you talking about luke?” luke scoffed, his patience was wearing thin, and the stupid look on derek’s face looked so punchable, so that’s what he did.

the situation escalated quickly, and before you knew it, a full-blown fight broke out between luke and the derek. as chaos erupted around you, you began to realize the depth of luke's feelings. you knew him better than anyone around, you saw the pain in his eyes, hiding behind the rage. luke wasn’t overtly violent in his daily life, let alone starting a fight, all for you.

derek was holding on for sure, a few hits in but again, no one was really a match for luke. the crowd around you had grown, chanting and cheering mixed in with laughter. “luke! luke let him go.” you shouted at him, but it wasn’t really any use, you implored his cabin mates to pull him away, and after a few seconds of contemplating they agreed. derek scrambled away, running with a few friends, whether to chiron or the cabins, as long as it wasn’t near you, luke was happy.

you stormed over to luke, clutching him by his shirt, “let’s. talk.” a plethora of ‘ooh’s’ rung out as luke shrugged off all the hands holding him back.

you’d found a quiet spot to talk, and with tears streaming down your faces, you talked. for the first time in three months, you held a conversation. it obviously wasn’t breezy, yelling and shouting, shoves from you, a slap or two. “you ignore me for three months, and then you beat the shit out of a guy just because he talked to me? what the hell is wrong with you? you were completely fine after we broke up, why did you do that?”

luke took a step closer, “you thought i was fine? i was anything but, every single night, all i wanted was you. you drive me insane, do you get that? not having you, not being able to hold you, to be with you.” his hand held your waist tightly, pulling you into him.

you were looking up at him, nose to nose, heaving chests and an unbelievable amount of tension in the air. “to kiss you.” he whispered, before kissing your neck. your hand tangled itself in his curls as his hand tightened around your waist, the other holding the back of your neck. the two of you ended up pushed against a tree, roaming hands and messy kisses.

“does this mean you’ll take me back?” luke whispered, forehead against yours, “are you willing to go public?”

he smiled, “for you? anything.”

#luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x y/n #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #Spotify

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pursuitseternal · 2 months

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“Knowledge is a dangerous weapon:” Bookworm!Tav, Vampiric Spawn Powers, and Breeding—“Bites” Update 📚

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 4.6K of banter and breeding

Based on an anonymous prompt

(HBD @lipstickghoulie )

Summary: You have always loved your books and a challenge, when your Vampire Rogue learns his starvation has kept him from his full powers, you take him up on his challenge to teach him the skills that are his due. As you draw closer together, he finds that one bit of information you have failed to teach him… how to make a dhampire

CW: light mocking of Astarion’s ditziness, Spawn Spidercrawl, catching powers and feelings, flirty touching, creepy silent vampire moves, Breeding talk, no babies just breeding, Mating Press™️

Ao3 link | Series link | Masterlist

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You always knew he was… dumb. Thick headed. Unobservant.

Okay, at times the comments from his thick, rosy lips were just plain stupid. “That lever… must do something…” That was a wonderful moment, one that earned him your eyes rolling so far back in your skull they hurt. “We have some words and some… circles…. Wonder what they do….” Another example of his unparalleled intelligence.

Not to mention the countless times he failed to remember any of the major gods and their shrines as you passed through crypts and defiled chapels.

For as handsome as he was, for as sultry and seductive as you found him, he was… smoothed-brained. But as your journey forced you closer together, you couldn’t help but think some of it may be merely pretense, he was a magistrate after all. He was abused and tortured for centuries, surely that does things to one’s mind. And he was always reading. Every day, every night at camp, his beautiful aquiline nose stuck in a book, crimson eyes devouring the words at a breakneck speed.

One to even rival your own thirst for knowledge.

Maybe it was that you allowed the poor Spawn a chance to drink living, thinking blood for once. Your own. Maybe that was what began to take his little, stupid moments and turn them into something endearing.

Not that he was gracious when you corrected his ignorance. Every time, he gave that adorable, grumpy harumph and then defended his comments, or… since he started feeding from you, he’d just look at your neck still freshly marked and lick his lips. That really shut you up. Set you on fire.

But it wasn’t until you needed him to reach that last little chest up on the crumbling ledge inside some dank cavern that you realized his ignorance wasn’t wholly pretend.

Astarion, vampire spawn, didn’t know just what he should be capable of. He looked positively befuddled when you told him to just climb the brick wall. His sass had been sharp, “I’m not some spider, darling.”

“But you can spider climb, you dolt,” you had laughed imitating his tone, trying to call his bluff on skills he should have, at least according to what you had read in your book. A Spawn should scale such a wall with immense ease.

He just narrowed his crimson eyes at you, a snarl on his lips as he shook his head. “I have never performed such an act, darling, nor have any of my brothers and sisters, those of us Cazador kept for his bidding. Better check your precious facts in your precious tomes before you throw your assumptions on my prowess… dear.”

You still shiver at that night. Back at camp. When you ignored the way he bristled as you approached him in front of his tent. He had sneered at you, readying his next acerbic quip for you… Until you sat so close beside him, settling the heavy book in his lap. Leaning in, you point to the page. Traits and Strengths of the Vampiric Spawn.

You felt him cease breathing, his left hand clutching at the edge of the book growing even whiter. “Astarion,” you breathed. Leaning in more, you looked into his eyes, his gaze scanning the words so quickly on the aged vellum. And then he shoved you by your cheek out of his sightline. He needed to finish this.

“Why, I should be positively remarkable, assuming your book is correct,” he sighed, as if he saw a vision, a dream fulfilled. One where he was powerful.

You nodded as his crimson eyes flashed at you, wide with wonder. “You mentioned Cazador never let you feed enough, and not from thinking creatures.” He nodded, skeptical even as his eyes fixated on your lips. “Well, what you did not know was that denying you a sufficient diet meant also restricting you from your full powers, even as a Spawn, Astarion. You should be able to climb up walls and ceilings, move swifter, lift boulders too much for even Karlach to manage. You should be able to heal almost instantaneously, without potion or feeding.”

“And now?” he replied, that little tremor of hope in his voice unmistakable as his hand traced over the page of your book.

“Well, it’s a difficult deduction, since you have our unwelcome illithid parasite. But now that you are feeding regularly, even from thinking creatures, you should find the effects more than just making you feel… happy,” you rambled on. Even as you kept talking, his eyes glued their gaze to your neck, your lips. If you weren’t mistaken, they even dipped down the v-shaped cut of your tunic.

“So… the more I drink from thinking creatures, the stronger and more powerful I will be?” he murmured, a slight grit in his throat as his eyes definitely darted down your bosom now.

“Y-yes,” you rejoined, sliding back just a touch.

And he slid that touch closer, and then some.

“You’ll help me, won’t you, darling? You’ll help me learn these skills? Give me all I require to access my full potential….” His eyes looked wet, the ruby irises glowing in the flickering firelight. “Please?” he adds with that smirk and that single arching brow of his made you stomach flutter and heart thump so hard in your chest.

“I…” you started, but he only seemed to lean ever closer.

“You know, when I was a Magistrate, back in the City, I would have craved someone with intelligence like yours. We would have been rivals, colleagues…” his eyes dip once more shamelessly up and down your seated body. “Perhaps lovers even,” he breathed. “I always surrounded myself with those of highest intellect, darling. Intelligence is so… undervalued by many, and knowledge is a dangerous weapon, but I see you, my darling. Won’t you please come to my aid now?”

“We… we can try,” you had whispered, barely able to the let the words from your lips with how you seemed to seize under the intensity of his stare.

“Wonderful,” he purred, catching your cheek, your chin in his cool palm. “I just hope we don’t have to wait too long…”

You squirmed as his thumb began to brush beneath your lip.

“…to put my new strengths to the test I mean, of course.” He smirked that little bit more twistedly. More seductively. And you knew he heard your heart beating in your artery, your blood rushing under his touch in your veins to pool lower. It was his nature, and you knew more of it than he did.

“Of course…” you breathed. “I’d be happy to help.”

“Then it’s settled,” his voice was thick in his throat, you relished the way his other arm stole around you, clutching at you back to bring you all the closer under his heady spell of charm and seduction. “All that’s left is to seal our new arrangement somehow…”

He pushed that heavy book off his lap, sliding to bring you into completely flushed against him. You’re sure your pulse was raging so loudly, it’s deafened his pointed and twitching ears. That chilled, corpse-cold touch under your chin tilts you up just… so…

You melted, closing that distance between your lips. Every logical thought dispersed in the wind of your desire, that panting breath that passed from your lungs into his.

That’s how this all began, and where it had brought you to this moment, where he clings to the ceiling of a massive cavern filled with both the stink of Gnolls and the vile creatures themselves. Dagger gripped in between his glinting fangs. He readies himself with a look of pure and dark excitement. He loves this. He misses this when it’s just you all back in the quiet of camp, where he tests his ever growing strength and climbing abilities, where he drinks from you every night before he hunts in the dark.

Where he slowly makes you more and more aware of your awakening body the more he touches you and caresses and kisses you. Always every night. Always between your increasingly intellectual discussions about vampiric powers and the moment he sinks his fangs into your skin to feed. He always leaves you after dark, his own belly sated, while you… you grow all the hungrier. Needier. You want more debate, more analysis, more of his body covering yours as he drinks you down.

But not anything more. Not yet. Even as you knew he was edging closer to asking you for sex. Even if he didn’t know all the… implications. After all, knowledge was a dangerous weapon.

You shake your head to free yourself from the longing thoughts of past nights and burning expectations of the night to come. You give him the signal, watching him release with flawless precision, dagger in hand now, as he falls from his spider-perch.

The Gnolls never see you coming, not before your endearingly ferocious Vampire Spawn lands with preternatural grace on their heads and vivisects them before you even reach their location.

He pants as you get at least one good shot from your bow, right for the last twitching body on the ground.

It’s not until you smile, satisfied, you notice that Astarion’s pale skin is riddled with scratches and tears from the beasts’ claws. He holds out his arms, rolling up his sleeves and smiling. Enjoying the sight of his vampiric body healing before his eyes. That crimson gaze practically glows as he looks at you over the carnage. “See something you like, my sweet?” he purrs, arching that brow, just for you, as if the others in your party aren’t even there.

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, turning to find the coveted chest of supplies, that Zhentarim sigil on it is no deterrent to you. Not when your Vampire Spawn can charm anyone to do anything now. “We better head back to camp,” you kneel before the strong chest, trying your hand to pick the iron lock.

“Tch,” his voice brushes your ear, physically tickling the small stray hairs that make you gasp. “You know I’m far more skilled with my fingers, especially when it comes to slipping inside…” You shudder to feel him crouching right behind you, his thighs pressed against your ass, his waist brushing your lower back. “…Slipping inside chests, locks, that sort of thing,” he adds louder, just to appease your unease. That dexterous touch has only grown all the smoother and stronger and sneakier now that he has fed well for a while.

He is so sneaky in fact, only one of his hands actually works the lock pick for a moment, the other quickly skates up your leg, tracing the inner seam of your buckskin breeches almost to the peak of your thigh. He laughs in your ear as you muffle a noise under your own palm.

“Soldiers, you really need four hands to pick one lock? Haven't you gotten better, Fangs, now that our fearless leader has let you suck on her and tutor you in being a Spawn?” Karlach chortles, her feet swaying side to side in that perpetual motion dance she seems to do.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Astarion throws the barb over his shoulder, letting you bury your face to hide the tweaks of ecstasy at the corners of your eyes as his fingers keep moving higher… higher. “Some silent performance only you get to savor, it seems?”

“If I didn't know better…” Gale’s pedantic voice draws closer.

“There now,” Astarion crows like the proudest rooster of them all, his hand quickly leaving the edge of your mound to twist that pick and pop the lock just as Gale peers from behind. “Look at all this loot,” he groans and stands, satisfied as he folds his arms over his chest. “Good thing you have a strong, well-fed Vampire to bring it back with us. Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

He smirks down at you, hand extended to help you to your feet. Back to the rest, he flashes you that fang-toothed smirk that he knows sets your pulse galloping out of control. Pulling you up, he has to steady you in your legs, near boneless as they are with just that tease of pleasure. “Calm yourself darling, you're making my undead heart hurt sympathetically from all that… excitement,” he rasps right into your ear once you’re on your feet before him, releasing you in favor of bags of treasure and potions and loot to stuff in his pack.

Your mind is racing as your trod back towards your little camp well off the Risen Road for good measure. Thoughts scramble, worries peak their heads up, and you can’t stop thinking about the rest of what you have learned reading about vampires. Necessary research for you, particularly since Astarion has seemingly added flirtation and seduction into your witty repartee this last tenday. So far, you’ve managed to keep his wandering eyes from those pages when he glances through your tomes. He seems to prefer every little dip of your skin where he can see it at any rate. So far, you’ve managed to keep his hands in places on your body that are not too dangerous, yours on his as well.

But something inside you knows that tide is shifting. He wants to offer you more in exchange for more… and… well, if it doesn’t just make your body thrum with life in ways no books had and no previous interests had either.

He has beaten you back to camp, haphazardly tossed the loot for the rest of you to sort out in the center of camp. You know he’s waiting in his tent, now that the sun has begun to trek lower and lower. It’s time for your research, for your indulgence of his strength, and… whatever else might happen.

His tent is dimly lit as you enter, a mess of blankets and pillows, some fine and some in tatters. Stacks of books in the corners have replaced the blood bank bottles you first found here to clutter his space.

But no Astarion.

You tilt your head confused, settling down on one pillow, more or less intact, reaching for an apple he keeps in his stash of food just for you. Just to replenish you between his own feedings. As you bite into the hard skin, as the juice fills your mouth, you reach for a book, some ancient law book he found in the ruins of that village. Must make him think of his old life.

The pages are old and soft in your fingers, your eyes absentmindedly skimming the long words and complex sentences as you chew.

Peaceful. Until you realize it’s far too quiet.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, that feeling of being watched creeping up your spine. Turning, mid bite, you peer into the shadowed corner of his tent behind you.

Two glowing red eyes stare at you from the dark, just a hint of glinting teeth as he smiles and drinks in your fear and surprise. He laughs to hear you hiss as you jump in your seat. “There you are,” he croons from his darkened corner. “I’ve been waiting.”

“F-f-for what?” you force a smile and force your breath to steady all at once. He slides closer, settling down right beside you, and you notice your worn book in his hand, the smile on his face is sultry.

And predatory.

And for a moment, you regret teaching him as much as you have about his untapped powers.

“When were you going to tell me about your little bit of… research… on the side?” his voice is chilling, his brow arching as he flips the book open right to the back.

Right where you had been trying so hard to prevent his eyes from skimming, his ambitious brain from devouring the knowledge.

Your body is hot and rigid, and you know from the way his pointy ears twitch, he hears your pulse. You know from the way that his nostrils flare that he smells your arousal, the slick that dampens your underthings just to be this close to him again after his little stunt today.

“If my observations are correct… and they usually are…” he purrs, even though the stack of evidence to the contrary is vast. But you bite your tongue as he continues, your heart leaping at the topic he is about to breach. “You sound and smell eager to discuss this topic if dhampires, my darling.”

You swallow, watching so heated and frozen as he slides so gracefully to place the weight of that tome in your own lap, his fingers removing the half-eaten apple from your fingers to toss to the side. Then he brings their sticky, juicy tips to his mouth to suck them clean.

You moan, unbidden, at the wet and vigor with which his tongue cleans every crevice of those digits.

“Now, I’d hate to be left wondering just why my intelligent, little darling would withhold such a vital… potent… part of my unrevealed powers as a vampire?” he sets your hand back on your thigh, a little extra brush of his fingers, returning to trace that seam inside your breaches as he had before. “Is she… curious? Afraid? Is this why she has been just so hesitant during our…” he grips your chin, turning your head with commanding force until there is nowhere else to look but his deep crimson eyes, “…late night trysts?”

“It’s not something one just… brings up, Astarion,” you try to flatten your tone, even as that one hand still traces up and around your thigh. “It’s just not… done…”

Something about his eyes softens, “It would be important to discuss, you know, for there is more that I would like to share with you than just witty banter and blood…” his tone dips low into a rumble. “It’s not something I would have known, not a concern I would have shared until I knew of it…”

“There’s more to it than you might know,” you squeak as his fingers press into that slot between your legs. “Now that you’re well-fed, you’ll feel actual….”

You swallow the word. His touch presses hard enough into your folds through your breaches to make them soaked. And you, wanton you, you give a breath and a buck of your hips to keep his fingers there.

“Pleasure,” he smirks, eyes scanning your face as your force your eyes back open, halfway at least. “Yes, I gathered as much. The more I feed, the more I come alive… alive enough to perhaps even bestow a new life…” he squints a grin at you, your mouth slack as he draws that touch just as hard again, “…perhaps one day.”

You arch your body, trying to slip closer. Your secret is out, your anxious thoughts over clandestine information dispersed in the air. And so, the next words from your mouth just build on all that you had been swallowing down.

“Yes, perhaps one day…” you sigh, leaning back on your hands to try to give him full access to your cunt. “Perhaps one day, we could test out those powers together.” Your voice shakes with excitement, it’s pressed with the sincerity you feel for him.

“Oh, my love,” he smirks and reaches both arms around your waist. That newfound strength pulls you flush into his lap, until your molten, silk-soaked center presses against where he’s hardening. “You always know what to say… Seems like quite the power that will take much preparation and proper timing…” He brings your fingers back to his lips as he kisses them softly. “I’d have to feed on more than just a bear and more than just sips from my little treat, sweet as you are…”

You nod, once or twice, before losing yourself in the bliss of his tongue on the tingling inner skin of your wrist. Barely more than a lap before his fangs pierce your skin and suck you down. Your very essence, your living blood pools in his belly, you feel it coursing in his veins. It fills him and hardens him beneath your hips in an instant.

“Well, practice makes perfect you know,” he croons, bloodied lips barely hovering off your own. “I can tell from your scent you are not… in season…. And I have only had the single little taste.”

You pant, writhing at the scratch of your clothing, you long to rip it off and toss it where your book has long since been abandoned. “Sounds right to me,” you hiss, arms tucking around his neck to lower those arrogant stupidly handsome lips to your mouth.

Astarion’s throat rumbles with a growl, the taste of your blood fresh in his mouth as he rolls you on your back. Primal. Feral. He’s your powerful vampire, blood in his body, lust in his brain. And you want to put it all to the test—your own little experiment to match his enthusiastic desire for you. His touch is lightening fast and strong, pulling off your clothing, swift and sure and careful until every inch of your bodies are bare.

Strength hums in his muscles, even as his hands gently caress your cheek, your neck still sore from all his feeding. His body presses you into the pile of blankets that cover his plank of a bed. His hips grind your belly, your thighs are pulled almost against your chest until you’re spread wide open for him. But for every jolt of his cock as it prods above you and drips his early cum on to your belly, his kisses on your lips are sweet, gentle. A silent movement of gratitude for all your willing aid. Those fingers drag their slightly warmed touch around your breast, kneading it tenderly. With every arch of your back, you can almost catch the base of his cock inside your folds.

And you shake. You quiver. You’d had a few lovers, mostly boring and few and far between. But never has your body burned for anyone like it does for him.

As if his vampire touch is calling your blood to pool beneath it. Not one traditional strength, but with Astarion, you aren’t totally sure he doesn’t have some unnatural ability to command your body. To make your blood pound and sing just for him.

“What a good girl,” he rasps, a grind of his hips to send that cock near your navel, over your skin. “I can feel your heat for me from here. Just waiting to be fucked full.” His mouth descends quickly but carefully, only taking a single nipple in his lips. Sucking hard, he pops off with a loud wet noise.

Almost as loud as your moan.

“So ready, aren’t you?” His question weighs you down, your eyes half shut to savor the way he drags back with that length, sliding it in just an inch or so into your aching sex. “I’m waiting…” he growls, and you sob as he pulls even that little bit of his tip back out.

“Yes, hells below, yes,” you pant, hands flying to claw into his ass. Pulling him towards your throbbing core.

That blunted tip prods just barely inside you again. “You want me to fill you?” he rasps.

You nod, your teeth biting your lip hard enough to bleed.

“You want me to fill your belly like you let me fill mine with your sweet blood?” he grips his arms around your shoulders, pressing harder into, cock sliding in another little bit. “Fuck you so many times, my cum will drip from you for days?”

“Yes, Astarion…” you breathe, his mouth devouring your words, ready to swallow your cry as he does, finally, fill you.

You feel the gravity of his body crushing you, his legs braced with every tendon taught as he snaps his hips into. It’s so deep, so driving the way he fucks. And every thrust slaps your flesh and smacks his balls against your ass, but you love it. His breath dampens your collarbone, arms wrapped so tightly around you, you can do nothing but hold on for dear life. Your thighs burn from how they’re bent into your stomach almost, your folds leaking with arousal, and the drag of his cock touches every part of your walls and slams against your channel’s end.

He licks your shoulder, wet tongue lapping up to the artery in your neck. Where it pulses and dances in time with his beat inside you. Flushed and boiling, speared on his length, you pant, suffocated deliciously until you burst. Your visions swimming and muscles contorting in his press, you scream for him. You can hear your arousal, your slick, coating his thighs as his thrusts only increase with speed.

Lifting his head, he sweeps a hand down your sweat-drenched belly, palm bracing just below your navel. His push is relentless, hard and gradual enough you feel it behind your belly, how he gives you resistance from outside against that constant ramming of his cock at your deepest point. It’s enough to throw you into another coil of bliss instantly. “Good girl, so wet and dirty and waiting to be filled…'' he finally speaks through his panting. And he pushes on your belly once more, grunting with each fuck as he comes undone.

As he thrusts and spills his seed, prodding the full length of him to the deepest point yet. You can feel it almost sticking through your skin as he pulses. As he spills, burst after burst, he still rams that end of your cunt.

Beads of sweat drip from his forehead as he looks down your body, and how your skin is wet and flushed and marked from where he gripped you so fiercely.

He smiles and licks his lips. You try to clamber out, but his hand only comes to rest on your shoulder. “Ah ah,” he tutts his tongue at you, slipping out, only to take two of his fingers to play in your mix of cum, slipping it back inside you over and over again. “You’ll need to practice too, and you’ll need to rest to keep all of me inside of you.”

You shudder, a smile wide on your mouth, aroused and embraced, half hidden behind the back of your hand as you cover your face.

“Tch,” he chides you, pulling that hand from your face, “none of that, my darling. I’ll watch every bit of your blush darken your cheek until you’re ready to go again.”

“Again?” you choke. Your hips already feeling stretched and sore, you lay them flat and try to ease the aches.

“Oh yes,” he purrs, “you’ll have to build your strength the old fashioned way, my treat. Now,” he gives your ass a little smack on the side as he lifts it, “on your knees, darling…”

You finally take a breath, freed from his wiry, heavy frame. One cool hand settles between your shoulder blades to have you rest your head on his bedding. But that other hand pulls your hips up, slipping through your juices and teasing your clit until you buck back against his belly. You breathe contentedly, savoring the way his fingers caress you, worship you.

You close your eyes, wriggle your hips, already craving that stretching fullness inside you. A future with him at your side during the day as your strong, well fed vampire… and on your back and knees and belly and any way he would want you during the long nights with your virile lover.

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augustinewrites · 11 months

Text

alhaitham almost walks right past you in the hall, too engrossed in whatever he’s reading. it takes you gently grasping his wrist for him to look up, expression brightening briefly before diving right back into his papers.

“is everything okay?” you ask when you notice the knot that’s formed between his brows. “i’ve hardly seen you all day.”

“i’m fine,” he tells you, which lets you know that he’s certainly stressed about something. he sighs, returning the correspondence to the envelope tucked underneath his arm. “i just don’t understand why dehya won’t accept the akademiya’s job offer.”

in his capacity as the acting grand sage, he’s been trying to get her in the akademiya’s employ for weeks, but the mercenary’s been as tough to wear down as the wall of samiel itself. “ah. still having trouble recruiting her?”

“i’ve already offered a generous salary, benefits, a signing bonus, even a housing stipend. she’d practically be working side by side with the general mahamatra.”

“well, working with the matra means she’d have to spend a great deal of time in sumeru city,” you point out. “that’s probably something she doesn’t prefer.”

“why not?” he asks (because while your man is smart beyond belief, he can be a little dense sometimes). “we have everything here.”

“that’s true, but we’re also quite far from aaru village,” you say slowly, hoping he picks up on what you’re implying.

“i appreciate the geography lesson, but that doesn’t help me figure out how to hire–”

“i was trying to be obscure,” you press, drawing a breath. “because being in sumeru full-time means that she’ll have to spend time away from candace.”

he stares at you blankly, waiting for you to elaborate.

“haitham–” you say, pressing your hands together and glancing around quickly to confirm no one is within earshot. “dehya and candace are knocking boots.”

he seems taken aback by what you’ve just whispered, pausing in his stride to process it. “wait, what?”

“it’s an old expression from mondstadt that means–”

“i’m familiar with the expression. i’m just asking why you’re so positive that they are having… relations.”

“because i just know. they have crazy chemistry. nilou sees it too.”

“do either of you have evidence?”

you hesitate. “no…”

“then you’re not positive. you’re only speculating.”

“i’m not speculating,” you insist with a pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “i just know–”

“oh, like you just knew that kaveh was only going to stay with me for less than a month?”

“that’s different,” you argue. so what if kaveh’s been staying at alhaitham’s for more than six months? that was due to various, independent factors that had nothing to do with you. “but the way they are around each other–”

“gossip is an unreliable source of information,” he says flatly. alhaitham, as a rule, did not deign to entertain gossip. it was a premise built upon the unsteady grounds of conjecture, and he could not care less to waste his time surmising about other people’s personal lives.

“but–”

“therefore, your advice is redundant.”

you take the files from under his arm, reaching up and smacking him on the back of the head with them. “my advice is always relevant. you can trust me on this.”

alhaitham adjusts his headphones with a sigh, a pained but contemplative look on his face. He knows you’re right, and he knows that he’s hit a wall with this proposal. “fine. i will utilize your…advice, to adjust my proposal.”

“that’s what i like to hear.”

the two of you continue walking in silence, yours smug and his pensive. then, after a moment,

“you realize you just hit the acting grand sage, right?”

“oh please, you don’t scare me.” you meet his amused stare with open defiance, getting up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his jaw, then his cheek, and finally his lips. “and when dehya accepts this job proposal, i can think of a few ways you can repay me.”

_____

“you want to offer me what?”

“you heard me,” alhaitham shrugs, leaning back in his plush desk chair. “the akademiya is willing to offer you compensation of up to ten thousand gold for any and all travel between sumeru city and aaru village.”

alhaitham may be in charge of the entire nation at the moment, but he doesn’t quite feel like it when dehya is in the room. she leans forward, resting her elbows atop the highly important documents on his desk as she stares at him. “why would you do that?”

“so you can stay in contact with your loved ones.”

the mercenary scoffs at that. “alhaitham, come on. i know you’ve done your research. i don’t have any family in aaru village.”

moment of truth.

“i was actually referring to…significant others.”

dehya’s brows raise in surprise.

_____

when he returns that night, the first thing alhaitham does when he joins you in bed is take the patient files from your hands and place them on the nightstand.

you frown, reaching for them. “i wasn’t done with those.”

he doesn’t argue with you, instead climbing on top of you and caging you against the bed, a knee pushed between your legs. he merely chuckles when you push at his chest, cause you’re not really trying.

he simply chases after you, and any fight you had to get back to your work dissipates when he presses his lips to yours.

“oh…” you sigh, quickly looping your arms around him to drag him closer, patting your lips to let him deepen the kiss. you gasp when he moves down to press kisses to your shoulder, slowly trailing more up your neck, your jaw, the shell of your ear.

“dehya must have accepted the offer then,” you breathe, your eyes beginning to flutter shut.

“part time only,” he murmurs. “but she signed on.”

you hook your leg around his waist, grinning “oh, so i was…what’s the word?”

he nips at your ear in reprimand, only making you laugh as he mutters, you were right, under his breath.

“oh, don’t pout, baby,” you tease, hands roaming the well sculpted planes of his chest. “let’s just—"

“if you say ‘knock boots,’ i’m going to leave you here and sleep on the couch.”

#alhaitham x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #alhaitham x y/n #genshin drabbles

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glossgojo · 3 months

Text

farleigh start oxford bf brainrot is real

18+ under the cut! (manhandling, hand kink idk i’m sorry, afab reader, fingering, dirty talk, service top far)

or in which farleigh distracts his stressed girlfriend the way he knows best

you were in your room at oxford working on your laptop, deep in the throes of your thesis paper. you were so focused that you didn’t even hear the door unlock nor your boyfriend huffing at the sight of your narrowed eyes. he always thought you looked so hot in your glasses, he wished you wore them more often. he knew you had been stewing away, your responses sporadic over the phone and with it being near the end of term you were rushing to perfect your work.

he could tell you that it was already perfect and you didn’t need to reread it for the sixth time. farleigh, despite his academic record, was incredibly smart. he just never applied himself, until you slightly forced him to. you had goaded him into caring about his studies the only way you knew would work, by making it a competition.

“hey baby,” you jumped in the spot where you sat on your bed. your back was leaning against the bedframe and it hardly looked comfortable as you craned your neck to look at your laptop. your glasses slightly slipped down your nose from your jerking and farleigh cooed at the sight, pushing them back in place as he climbed onto the bed. your cheeks were warming from his attention already and your lips pouted at the scare he’d given you, you looked fucking delectable.

due to the state of accommodations at oxford, your bed was never big enough to fit both of you comfortably and you let him move you to his lap as he did dozens of times before. your back rested against his chest while your legs lay over his own, outstretched with your laptop on your lap.

“hey far, i’m almost done just reading it again.” you pressed a kiss to his cheek as you turned to look at him, he nodded at your words, hand splayed on your hips as he looked over your head at the words on your screen.

“read it out to me.” he could easily read the words but you didn’t bother questioning him, you’d read to him before and he liked hearing your voice. you began from the beginning of the section hoping that would be enough context for him to understand. you didn’t know that farleigh had practically memorized your paper and could see the words flashing in his head before you even said them. yet you kept reading.

his legs slowly spread, taking yours with him and you stuttered in your reading as you felt the laptop slip off your lap, you picked it up quickly so you could still read. you didn’t let farleigh’s motions distract you, he was just getting comfortable and you clasped your legs together again. farleigh regrettably realized you had no idea what his intentions were, he’d have to be clearer. you were still reading constantly, the words all familiar to him as he pressed a open mouthed kiss to your neck, drawing a gasp from you. and then he bit at your neck, curling his head around the side of it to leave a mark where others could see. you stuttered again and farleigh could see your grip tighten on the laptop.

“far you’re not listening.” it was a whisper, a departure from your reading and he hummed at your words, one hand snaking down your front to part your thighs. you shuddered in his hold as his cold signet ring grazed your bare skin, his fingers splayed on your thigh looking gigantic. you willed away images of all the times he’d put those large hands to use on you.

“i am, your voice is enough to drive me crazy baby.” you scoffed at his words, he was always so needy for you, you imagined if you wore a cardboard box and ski mask he’d have popped a boner from your eyes alone. you weren’t looking especially sexy in your oversized hoodie and loose shorts.

“you’re sick.” he huffed a laugh at your words, you both knew this was the least unsavory turn-on both of you had expressed. he hadn’t missed how you stiffened as his hands roamed your body.

“just let me make you feel good, keep reading it helps to spot errors.” he knew you wouldn’t find any, but it served his purpose. if he could hear you stutter and gasp while reading in that stern academic voice he might just see god.

“o-okay.” you conceded, and he deftly stripped you of the shorts you’d likely stole from his closet. he groaned at the sight of your pussy, he’d have to steal his shorts back if he knew you were wearing them without underwear. you hissed as cool air hit your sensitivity, goosebumps rising on your skin.

“so pretty, always so pretty.” he murmured and the vibrations rumbled your chest, you barely had time to continue reading before he was licking his own fingers and spreading the saliva on your folds. your legs were spread wide and his own were caging them. you started reading again, long fingers sliding saliva and cool air making it feel all the more sharp. you hissed as his thumb found your clit, grinding slowly as a finger teased your hole.

you knuckles were turning white as you continued to read, a gasp breaking your vocation as the thick finger pressed into you. his thumb combined with the feeling of his now hard cock pressed against you, made you get slick easily. his finger slid into your wet heat, curling up to where he knew you wanted him.

“one must wonder if Kant-fuck Farleigh!” you moaned as he fucked into you fast and hard, the obscene sound of your pussy filled the room, you clenched around his finger sucking him in. farleigh was losing his mind on how tight you were just around one of his fingers, you could take him to the knuckle, but your warm walls hugged his finger tightly. he slipped another into you, earning another moan from you.

“so fucking tight, you can’t even take my fingers how will you ever take my cock?” he punctuated his question with another harsh thrust, you were grinding down on his knuckles as your slick slipped down his hands. you whined at his words, one hand gripping his hand now as the other continued to hold your laptop for dear life. you steeled yourself as best as you could and kept reading, the background noise of your wetness making your cheeks burn. you were so wet farleigh was fighting every urge to flip you around and devour you. if you ever put down your laptop maybe he would’ve.

his fingers curled against the front of your walls, his thumb resumed his ministrations and fucked you deep and intentional. you were sure you had never been so fucked out from just his fingers and you were now stuttering through every sentence.

“oh shut the fuck up.” farleigh had had enough, prying the laptop from your hold quite easily with his free hand sticking his fingers into your mouth. you groaned at the intrusion of three large indexes pressing against your tongue, you began to grind against his hand as a third finger teased your entrance. it was your last straw finally giving in and you sucked on his fingers like it was his dick, sloppy and desperate. farleigh twitched against your back at feeling of you grabbing his hand with both of yours and forcing him further down your throat.

his stupid large fingers bullied your cervix as his thumb rubbed vicious circles along your clit, your mind was numb as his third finger slipped inside and stretched you deliciously. you would definitely have to change your sheets after this, a steady stream of slick had been dripping down your ass. the overstimulation became too much, you were so close and farleigh knew it he was keeping you on the edge as he moved away from the spot you needed him most.

your legs threatened to clamp and he slipped his hand from your hold, to pin one of your thighs open. you had properly drenched them and it made his hold a little difficult but he managed. “stupid girl, so eager to come. i thought you wanted to work?” he muttered harshly into your ear and you groaned, you could tell he was enjoying this from how rock solid he felt against your back. your drool had fallen out of your lips and the emptiness made your tears prick so you craned your neck to kiss him. he gave you what you wanted instantly, letting you suck his tongue and you bounced fervently on his fingers.

finally when he could feel your tears wetting his own cheek, he hammered against the fleshy spot against your sopping walls and a string snapped inside of you. you jolted in his hold, gasping against his mouth as you jerked away and you squirted onto the sheets in front of you. the sheets definitely would be changed now. you had never done it before and it felt like a pressure lifted off your shoulders as heat flooded your system. you squirmed as he continued to fuck you through it, pulling as much as he could from you until a puddle formed on your sheets. you were twitching and whining for him to stop. releasing his grasp on your legs and removing his fingers he let you curl in on yourself.

“that was so fucking hot, we’re doing it again.” he licked his fingers clean, humming at the sweet taste of you and you stiffened at the sound. farleigh might as well have been sucking a lollipop if you didn’t know any better.

“farleigh i have to-“you started to pick up your laptop, it had fallen to off the bed and he pulled you back into his lap as if you’d tried to walk out the door.

“i love you baby but you are going to lose your mind if you try to improve upon perfection.” he cut you off, tapping yourcheek to draw your gaze to him and you could smell your ichor on him. you found his eyes were sincere and it only added to your confusion. he could see the cogs turning in your head, his eyes flashed in amusement from how unaware you were. you were the smartest person he’d ever met and you had no idea. “you were about to cite Foucault right? i know your paper as well as i know her,” he patted your pussy making you wince, “trust me when i say no amount of time will make you find a flaw. let me distract you.” your eyes glazed over from his compliments, it was rare for him to so genuinely praise your intelligence since you were always competing.

“you mean it?” you let him pull you over him by your waist, his warm hands eased your hoodie off your frame as you looked into his eyes from above. you were lying on top of him, naked save for your bra and still talking about your paper. you would be the death of him.

“i’m serious baby, you’re overthinking it.” one of his hands cupped your cheek, swirling patterns of comfort into your skin as you found adoration in his warm brown eyes. you loved when he called you that, when he called you his in any way really. you both loved each other endlessly but farleigh was still so private and enigmatic you wondered if you would ever know him like he knew you. you could feel him against you, painfully hard and fully clothed. you were again overthinking, a new victim for your mind.

“i love you, please distract me” you resigned, resting your forehead against his as he unclasped your bra and finally gave in to the desire burning through him all day.

#farleigh start #farleigh catton #farleigh saltburn #farleigh x reader #farleigh x you #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start x you #farleigh start smut #farleigh start imagine

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vigilante-3073 · 4 months

Text

My Love Mine All Mine

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Slow dancing with Bucky in the aftermath of one of Tony's parties.

TW: Fluff, slow dancing, drinking.

The charity gala Tony had thrown in Avengers tower was slowly winding to a close. Most of the people had gone home, leaving only a few stragglers at the bar, huddled around the pool table or sitting in the various seating areas. Bucky had taken up residence on the couch in the far corner of the room. Some of the party-goers were still wary about Bucky joining the Avengers and tended to give him a wide berth.

The hushed conversations and nervous looks being thrown his way made Bucky want to disappear. He knew that there would always be people in the world who only saw him as the Winter Soldier. Bucky thought he would be used to it by now, but it never seemed to get any easier.

The feeling of being watched like a rabid animal whenever he moved weighed heavily on him. When Sam and Steve moved over to one of the pool tables, Bucky decided to settle himself in a corner where he would be least likely to draw attention.

He had been sitting on the couch by himself for most of the night, hands folded in his lap as he watched the people around him silently. Steve had come to check on him a few times, but Bucky had waved him off and sent him back to the party.

Bucky wished he was anywhere else, but Steve wanted him to come and he didn't want to let his friend down. Bucky looked up as Y/N made her way over to him with two drinks and a soft smile.

"Mind if I sit?" Y/N asked, Bucky nodded.

She sat down beside him with a sigh, crossing her legs and holding out one of the glasses to him, "You looked thirsty," She said.

"Thanks, doll," He said, taking the glass from her hand.

"Are you okay? I feel like I haven't seen you at all tonight," She asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Bucky shrugged, looking down at the glass in his hand, "Just not in the party mood, I guess," He stated.

"We can go if you want, things are starting to wind down anyway," She offered.

"It's alright, there's a couple over there who've been watching me like I'm gonna fly off the handle at any second. It's better if I just stay here," Bucky said.

"I'm sorry, Bucky. I didn't know," She said softly.

"It's fine. They're not doing any harm," He said, taking a sip of the drink she had brought him. He was pleasantly suprised to find that it was his favorite whiskey.

"They're making you uncomfortable in your home and that's not fair," Y/N said. Her bright eyes quickly finding the couple that looked over at Buckey nervously every few seconds.

"Sweetheart, don't worry about it, I'm fine," Bucky assured, hand resting on her knee and pulling her attention back to him.

"I just- I wish they knew you like we do," Y/N said, resting her hand over his.

"That's a sweet thing to say, doll," Bucky said.

A new song started playing through the speaker systems, a bit slower than the rest as the party was coming to a close.

Y/N gasped softly, "I love this one... Will you dance with me, Buck?" She asked.

His cheeks flushed, looking around the room warily, "I'm flattered, doll, but I don't know," He sighed.

"Just right here, you don't even have to go far," She assured, setting her drink on the table.

"Alright, I'll dance with you," He agreed, placing his drink down beside her's.

Y/N stood up, pulling Bucky along with her as they stepped away from the table. Bucky held her hand in his as his metal hand rested on her waist lightly.

He guided them in a few steps before pulling away and spinning her with a smile. Bucky pulled her back in, hand sliding around the curve of her waist to rest on the small of her back.

Y/N rested her head down on his chest as they swayed, humming along to the music as they moved together.

Bucky pressed his lips to her forehead gently, "Thank you for saving my night, doll," He mumbled.

She smiled, "You're welcome, Bucky," Y/N said.

...

Steve and Sam watched the pair dance with knowing smiles on their faces, "How long do you think it'll take him to tell her how he feels?" Sam asked.

Steve sighed, "Knowing Buck, centuries," He said, taking a sip of his drink.

"Seriously? Wasn't he some kinda ladies man back in the day?" Sam questioned.

Steve nodded, "He was, but he's different now and she's different," Steve said, shifting the beer bottle in his grasp.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, turning his head towards the supersoldier.

"Bucky definitely flirted back in the day, but I don't think he ever looked at any of them the way he looks at her," Steve replied.

Sam turned his head towards Bucky and Y/N, watching him laugh at something she said while they swayed together.

"He's got it bad for her," Sam stated, Steve nodded.

"What are we talking about over here, boys?" Natasha asked, leaning up against the wall beside Steve.

"The lovebirds," Sam said, tilting his head in the direction of Bucky and Y/N.

"Wanda and I have been trying to get them together for almost a year, but nothing has worked yet," She sighed, crossing her arms.

"Wanna combine forces?" Sam asked.

"Is that a serious proposal, Wilson?" Natasha asked, narrowing her eyes.

Sam nodded, "Hell yeah, I'm always down to play matchmaker," He said.

"Or you could always just leave them be and let them work it out themselves," Steve suggested.

"We'll work on her, you deal with Bucky?" Natasha proposed, completely dismissing Steve's attempt to dissuade them.

"Deal," Sam replied.

"I'll tell Wanda," Natasha said, walking off to try and locate the witch.

"Sometimes I ask myself why I even try to stop these things from happening," Steve sighed.

"Isn't that your job? You're like the fun police," Sam questioned, taking a drink from his glass.

Steve shot him an offended look, "I am not the fun police. I can be fun. I just think meddling in other people's lives is juvenile and unnecessary," Steve said.

"Whatever you say," Sam smiled, patting Steve on the shoulder before making his way over to the bar.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #the avengers #avengers imagine

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pandoraslxna · 1 year

Text

Special friends - Chapter 2

adult Neteyam x female omatikaya reader

Words: 3.8k

Summary: You’ve been such a good girl, helping Neteyam out when he was in pain. Now it’s time for him to repay the favor, don’t you think?

Warnings: explicit smut, oral sex, vaginal fingering, corruption kink, manipulative behavior, innocent virgin reader, best friends with benefits, they’re having a sleepover

The air in his marui was filled with natural scents, the lingering smell of leaves, grass and later that evening, something sweet too.

Neteyam thanked Eywa for the little hunting trip your parents went to. They had left the village for a few days, knowing their precious daughter would be safe and sound in the care of the olo'eyktan's family. You and Neteyam were like two peas in a pod, never one without the other anyways. And Jake and Neytiri assured them that their oldest would look after you, that he would take care of you and your needs until they were back and that he was to be trusted with this responsibility. He was their golden child for a reason. And Neteyam couldn’t believe his luck.

A soft body was now laying beside him, an arm was placed under your head to serve as a pillow, his tail possessively wrapped around your hip and your back against his chest, pressing your bodies even closer together. Soft hair were tickling his cheek as Neteyams head was buried in the crook of your neck. Having you this close felt unbelievable good.

No words could describe that feeling when you had finally agreed to move your sleeping mat closer to his, when he had successful lured you to sleep on your side so he could spoon you.

Something was on your mind, Neteyam could tell by the way you were chewing your bottom lip all day. He watched very attentively, how you kept avoiding his gaze, how your cheeks would turn pink whenever he did catch you looking at him. And how you tossed and turned on your sleeping mat, laying just a few feet away from him. Something was definitely on your mind and he was determined to find out what it is.

"Can’t sleep, hm?", he had asked you after watching how you had no control over your tail trashing and tapping on the woven floor for hours. You were either really nervous or extremely excited, but whatever it was, it kept you sleepless.

In the dark, he still saw the way you turned around to face him, nodding and biting your lip as you looked at him from across the room.

"C‘mere peach", he reached his arms out for you to settle in between them, "tell me what’s troubling you." You were hesitant for a good while, much to his surprise. You had never denied him something before, so he was actually relieved when you finally moved to lay beside him.

A content hum was slipping through your lips as warm fingers brushed ever so lightly over your sensitive skin, tracing the stripes on your sides. Neteyam moved his head just enough to press a lazy kiss to your jaw every once in a while.

"So? What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"I don’t know…", came from beside him, your voice soft and uncertain and he knew that tone all too well.

Propping himself on one elbow, he looks down at you with furrowed eyebrows, "You know you can tell me everything, peach. I thought we would always share our secrets with each other?"

You sigh, knowing that sooner or later your best friends was always able to draw the words right out of you, so better tell him now. Last time you kept a secret from him, he was denying you kisses for two days straight. You almost went insane!

"I’ve been thinking about… about that day", you admit so quietly, you almost whisper.

"About what exactly?", he tilts his head questioningly and you completely miss the teasing tone in his voice.

"You said you had that tingling feeling in your belly from kissing and, uhm…", you squeeze your eyes shut as you proceed to let the words fall out of your mouth like a waterfall, "You know that I feel it too sometimes but… but now I have it even without kissing you and it’s just there all the time when I see you and it’s strange and I’m feeling weird and it makes my head all fuzzy and–"

"Oh", he simply says. You open your eyes again to look at him, but his facial expression’s are really hard to read right now. It makes you squirm and hide your face in your hands and you regret that you had even bought this up, feeling dumb for admitting something like this to him. You had no idea what those feelings were, why they were spreading in warm waves from your belly down to your core and simultaneously clouding your head enough so you could barely focus on anything else but him. Because what you did, how you helped him out, that moment has been playing in your minds eye nonstop for the past few days.

"That’s so embarrassing, I’m sorry, I– I shouldn’t have said something", you mumble against the palm of your hand that was covering your face.

"It’s not embarrassing, skxawng", Neteyam then chuckles, surprising you enough to lower your hands and take a peek at him. "It’s not?"

"No!", he shakes his head, loving the way your eyes soften when he caresses your cheek affectionately. You really had no idea what was happening with you. Neteyam bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning like some perv before he continued, "Look, you’ve been such a good girl, helping me out when I was in pain. Maybe I could help you out too?" Your eyes widened slightly at that, nodding along his words like he was lecturing you on something. "I can make that weird feeling go away, peach. Would you like me to help you? Just say so and I’ll do it."

A smile formed on your plumb lips and a sign of relief was clearly written on your face. Neteyams face lowered enough to hover just inches from yours and for a moment you think that he may kiss you, leaning in to let him capture your lips but he doesn’t move. "Use your words, pretty girl", he just teases, loving the way you squirmed underneath him.

"Can you help me, Teyam? Pretty please", you giggle. "Anything for my best girl", he smiles and then you’re rewarded with him actually leaning down to kiss you, soft and tender, and you sigh against his lips.

This was the perfect setup, Neteyam knew it. Adrenaline coursed through his body and he could hear his heart thumping in his chest. He could see that you were a little nervous, uncertain about what might happen now. But there was something else in your eyes. Trust. You trusted him with your whole heart and fuck, did that make him hard underneath his loincloth.

"Lay down on your back for me, yes?", he ordered and you happily complied, shifting so you laid flat on your back. Neteyam laid on his side next to you, propped on his elbow to get a good view of your body laid out before him like a desert.

"Perfect, you’re doing so good, peach", he praises you, making you blush. His eyes drift to your lips, tongue sneaking out to lick his own as he leans down. For a moment he lingers, like he can’t decide whether he wants to keep kissing you or move down to your neck. He decides to go for both, kissing your lips first and then your neck. You can’t help but giggle, his tongue tickling you as he sucks and licks on your skin.

Soon, there’s this warmth spreading in your stomach. And it’s like he feels it too, because he pulls back to look at you, smiling a very different smile now. His eyes shift from your own, to the way his hand had caressed your belly, his fingertips barely touching your soft skin as they move over your stripes. He moves lower and lower, until he’s passed your navel and reaches the cords that’s holding your loincloth together.

"Where are you feeling weird, is it here?", he asks, his fingers teasingly playing with the woven fabric covering your private parts, where a wet patch was already forming. You nod weakly, not trusting your voice enough to speak, especially when he moves your loincloth to the side and exposes your most treasured part to him.

"Feeling all special down there, hm?", Neteyam chuckles when you attempt to close your thighs.

You squeeze your eyes shut when he spreads your legs, draping one of them over his own thigh to keep them apart. You whimper at the foreign feeling when his middle finger glides through your folds, collecting your slickness on his digits. "Open your eyes, peach", Neteyam kisses your temple, "Need you to see how pretty you look, such a beautiful girl. Look how wet you are, that must’ve hurt, hm? So desperate to get touched and you didn’t even know."

You can’t help the shiver that runs through you at his words. The look he gives you this time is much softer, but it still makes your blood run hot, makes you feel like the electricity in your nerves are sparking just under your skin. You turn your head to the side to look at him properly. His pupils are almost completely blown black now and without missing a beat he grabs your chin lightly, guiding your gaze back to your lower half. Heat rushes up your neck and to your cheeks when he spreads you folds. With his index finger, he expertly finds that little nub that’s so sensitive to touch and gently presses down on it.

"Teyam!", you gasp his name, your hips unintentionally moving and bucking up against his hand. "T-That felt…"

"Good? I know", he chuckles. Neteyam continues teasing your clit, rubbing it in tight circles, smearing your slick over the little bundle of nerves so he can glide over it more easily. He rolls it, taps and rubs and you‘re so focused on what he‘s doing, that you barely register how embarrassingly loud your moans have turned. You’re whining and writhing against him, not even trying to look dignified at this point, the sensation verging on overwhelming and it’s foreign and strange, yet it’s so, so good.

But suddenly it’s gone and you whine in protest. For a moment everything is still, and you realize for the first time that you’re panting heavily.

You’re stretching up, wordlessly begging him to kiss you, to do something, but he doesn’t relent. He just holds you there, with a smirk on his face, like he’s plotting something.

"I‘m gonna put a finger in, okay?", he asks you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth, "Think you can take it?"

A finger? In like... inside? Inside you? There was no way this was going to fit. Were fingers even supposed to go in there? His hand is so much bigger than yours, surely this wasn’t possible!

"I- I don’t know if I can—", you manage to stutter out and your breathing seemingly increased.

"Hmh I think you can, peach. I promise it’s gonna feel good, don’t you trust me?" His words are soft and calming and you do, you trust him completely. Neteyam would never hurt you, he would never ask anything of you that you weren’t actually capable of. He knew you better than you did yourself. When you nod, he runs his fingers back through the slick between your thighs, teasing a finger against your slit and you can’t help but tense a little. Neteyam coos beside you, whispering sweet praises in your ear that actually help you relax, before he pushes his middle finger inside, ever so slowly and you hold your breathe.

He’s carful, taking a deliberate breathe like he’s trying to compose himself. You’re completely unaware of how painful hard his cock is, neglected from any sort of touch and the combination of his loincloth restraining him and you writhing and moaning next to him was starting to become unbearable.

His thumb still rolls over your clit, while he pushes his finger inside you to the last knuckle. It’s a tight fit, but that was to expected. You’re warm and wet and tight and fuck he can’t help but groan once he can’t push his digit further in. Your velvety walls clamp down on him and oh how good would that feel around his cock, he thinks to himself.

"Oh great mother, you’re so tight. I love you so much, peach", he mumbles likes he’s drunk, drunk of the sight in front of him, "Fuck, see how well you’re taking my finger? You’re so perfect, my favorite girl is doing so good for me."

You work to steady your breathing, reveling in the feeling of his touch and the sweet praises he mumbles but the feeling when he finally moves his finger inside you is something else. It’s confusing, the way he makes you feel. But it’s amazing.

He thrusts his finger in and out, slow at first but his speed increases the louder you moan. Neteyam hums thoughtfully, still rubbing your clit, grinding the palm of his hand against it too, every time he pushes deep inside you.

But Neteyam had a hard time doing all of this. Literally.

His mind was fuzzy, clouded with the squelching sounds of your pussy and the delicious sight of your juices running down his knuckles and the way you squeezed him, moaning his name with your hips bucking up and unintentionally chasing his hand whenever he moved just slightly away. He wanted to push another finger in, hear you whine and cry out because that would definitely be too much for your needy little hole. After all, you’ve never done anything like this.

Sweet, innocent girl has never had anything inside of her before, except for his finger. Neteyam was determined to be your first with everything and having another mile stone completed in this very second, has him drooling and thrusting his cock up in the air. This whole situation was making him harder than anything ever before and he couldn’t wait for the day he would finally make you his. But not now. Not like this. Right now, he wanted to do something else.

You just looked way too delicious right now, your clear arousal smearing between his digits like honey and fuck he wanted to taste it so bad.

"Remember the reason why I call you peach?", Neteyam asked lowly, gently blowing air against the shell of your ear where he had previously nippled and licked your skin, making goosebumps appear all over your body. You squirm when the movement of his finger slows down, until he only grinds his hand against your pussy.

"Because you.. you said I’m sweet like a peach", you tell him panting and he chuckles at your desperate state.

"Have you ever tasted one?", he asks with a smile.

You look at him questioningly when he moves to sit up, retreating his hand from between your thighs to settle himself there instead. Furrowing your brows, you’re met with a sharp grin as he lays on his stomach between your legs, hooking them up and letting them rest on his shoulders with his hands on either backside of your thighs.

It takes a moment for you to remember that he had asked you question, shaking your head you answer him, "N-No, of course not. It’s a fruit from earth."

You gasp when he kisses the plush inside of your thighs, his fangs lightly grazing over your soft skin making you shudder.

"Exactly", he grins from between your thighs, "I’ve never tasted a peach before either. But since the day I found out they exist, I’ve wanted to taste one. I could only ever imagine how they taste, how sweet, so delicious and juicy. That’s why you’re my peach."

And with that, Neteyam lowers his head and completely catches you off guard when he licks a long stripe between your folds. You gasp, fisting the woven mat below you and try to arch your back, away from his tongue, but you’re met with the resistance of Neteyam hands holding you in place.

"N-Not there!", you whine embarrassed, your cheeks flushed a dark red, "Teyam don’t— that’s dirty!"

"S‘not dirty", he slurs before he presses the flat of his tongue against your core again, "Fuck, you taste so sweet."

Neteyam is sloppy, desperate as he buries his face between your thighs and licks long stripes from your entrance to your clit. He’s lapping at that little nub, drooling all over it while he kisses and sucks and it’s too much for you. You can’t help but whine and moan loudly, squeezing your eyes shut because you’re simply embarrassed by the act. Neteyam, your dearest friend, was using his mouth on you– on such a private part of your body.

Meanwhile, he groans as he laps up some of your slickness where it leaks out of you and his eyes roll all the way back into his head from your taste. Neteyam can’t help but grind his hard cock against the ground, desperate to get to his release himself as he eats you out.

If you would just take a second to look at him, you would’ve realized how much he was enjoying this. He was gripping your thighs to keep them apart, clinging to you and wrapping himself up in your body, smothering himself with your legs and your puffy pussy. He doesn’t even want to breathe it seems.

Your thighs quiver in his hold and your hips jerk completely unintentionally, like your body was trying to get him to where it feels best to you. At this, Neteyams tongue slides over your entrance and dips inside, as far as he can reach, and your eyes fly open to look at him. There’s this look on his face, like a predator catching sight of its prey. His eyes are completely focused on you and then his tongue moves to thrust and you almost choke on a sob. "Teyam, s-slow down", you whimper, but he doesn‘t listen. If anything, his pace seemed to increase even more. At one point, one of his hands comes down to rest on your pelvis, pressing just slightly down while his thumb begins to circle your clit again. He suck and kisses and groans against you and it just sounds so obscene to your innocent ears.

"Hm, filthy girl you’re moaning so loud", you hear Neteyam chuckle, kissing your clit hard enough to make your whole body jerk. "It’s okay, peach you’re doing great. Feels good, right?"

"Hmh", you only hum. It’s barely a response, but it seemed like he had successfully sucked your vocal cords and every rational thinking thought out of you. If that was how he had felt a couple of days ago, you were impressed with how composed he was when you helped him out, especially compared to your current state. You were a mess.

"I can tell that you’re close, peach, just let it happen. You’re gonna feel so much better soon, I promise."

Neteyam was more than happy to keep going, enjoying the warmth of your arousal coating his tongue as he continued. You were trembling with pleasure, lightly grinding your cunt against his soft lips as his tongue pushed deep into you, exploring every inch and loving it.

You couldn’t fight it anymore, the way you arched up into his touch, whimpering in response to the way his tongue was thrusting into your pussy, only stopping to kiss your clit eagerly, as he slid his hands up and down the soft of your thighs, gently massaging and kneading your flesh.

It felt heavenly. You couldn’t deny it anymore. It was wrong– so, so wrong, because Neteyam wasn’t supposed to lick and kiss you at such a dirty place, but by Eywa did it feel good.

Unbeknownst to you, Neteyam was still grinding his cock against the floor. He was so on the edge that it was almost painful. You can feel him moan against your spit slicked clit and the vibration only adds further to the stimulation. He can’t believe that the sheer taste of you and the act of eating you out was enough to make him cum to quickly. He bucks his hips against the ground in the same rhythm of the thrusts of his tongue inside you, almost edging himself because he wanted nothing more than to come with you. Together.

Good thing you weren’t far behind him, squirming and arching your back, with you pussy clenching around nothing. When he glances up from between your thighs, he spots tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and that’s when he decides it’s enough. He shifts his arm so he can comfortably slide his middle finger inside you, curling it as if he’s beckoning to you, just right to hit that spongey spot that finally makes you fall apart for him.

"Teyam, Teyam stopstopstopstop", you try to wriggle away, not knowing what’s about to happen and when you finally come, your whole body tenses, choking on your words you suck in a sharp breathe. With his lips secured on your clit, he helps you through it, let’s you ride it out on his digit while his other hand holds you firm on the ground. Neteyam feels how you hold you breathe, feels how your legs tremble and then you gasp, loud and wanton. Immediately, your hands find purchase on top of his head, tugging on his braids when he doesn’t stop lapping on the slickness that pools around his knuckles. "C-Can’t", you whimper softly, "Teyam, s-stop, please."

He’s so lost in the taste of your cum, that he didn’t even realize he just came himself. It’s only when your legs begin to twitch in overstimulation and when the sticky mess smearing between his cock and his loincloth becomes too uncomfortable, that he finally withdraws from between your legs to sit up on his heels.

In all of the years Neteyam has known you, he’s pretty sure he’s never seen you this beautiful before. Your chest sinks and heaves in big pants, face flushed and your skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. Your lips are slightly parted and your eyes half lidded and he can’t help but lay down right on top of you, with his waist comfortably between your spread legs. Neteyam rests his face on top of your chest and relishes in the comforting sound of your rapid heartbeat slowly returning to normal.

Pressing a tender kiss to the space between your breasts, he then tilts his head to look up at you, "How are you feeling, peach? Better?"

"M‘good. So good“, you slur, smiling at him weakly, "thank you…"

"No need to thank me, pretty girl", he chuckles, pressing his face against the soft swell of your chest just a little tighter. "But promise me you’re going to say something, next time you feel strange. Just tell me, no one else, okay? Otherwise I can’t help you feel better."

#neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x female reader #neteyam #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #neteyam x y/n #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #atwow neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam x omaticaya!reader

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aphroditessaturn · 11 months

Note

u asked for smutty thoughts abt miguel o'hara? squirting. there's not enough content about him reacting to/making reader squirt and it's honestly a little tragic

oh my god. yes. please. I need this, like right now. we need more of him and squirting, it's not tragic anon...it's a crime!

pairing || miguel o'hara x fem!reader

warnings || smug obviously, squirting, oral (f receiving), Miguel being a menace, overstimulation if you squint

note || send more, I need more of Miguel! that man is a walking sin, please comment/reblog and follow!

BLOGS | WEBSITE | AO3 | WATTPAD | TAGLIST

Pleasure, pleasure was the only thing you could feel. Miguel lapped on your cunt like a starved man, his hands gripping your thighs.

Your hands were threaded into his brown locks, holding onto them for support. He pushed in as deep as possible, concentrating on curling his tongue against your sensitive spot which had your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“You taste amazing, cariño,” he mumbled into your drenched cunt, face glistening with your juice. Miguel pressed his thumb on your bundle of nerves, drawing tight circles.

Wanting to buck your hips up against him but being quickly shut down by the hungry man between your legs, “you stay right here,” he ordered.

A tight knot formed in your body, one you couldn’t quite place as it wasn’t the usual orgasm feeling. No, it felt stranger but still like a feeling that needed relief and just as the thought of relief crossed your mind your juice spilled out against Miguel’s face.

You didn’t react, you didn’t know what had just happened, your mouth was wide open and everything that came from your mouth was a loud moan. The feeling of finally letting go overtaking you.

Miguel looked at you with pure adoration, “mierda,” he groaned, continuing working on your cunt. It was pure heaven for him, you tasted divine to him and he could never get enough.

"Making such a mess for me cariño," he said with a smirk. Your moans had turned into cries and tears streamed down your cheeks. Everything was too much, Miguel didn't stop his movements.

If anything you squirting spurred him on, "Miguel, fuck," you nearly screamed when you felt the feeling again.

Your mind was too hazy to know what you did, you only knew how good it felt. The burning sensation made you tighten your walls around Miguel's tongue. Said man knew exactly what was about to happen again.

Pulling away from your cunt he replaced his tongue with his fingers. Instead his mouth latched onto your thigh, sucking on your skin.

Your whole body twitched, back arching, hands gripping the sheets. God, you couldn't string one thought. Miguel saw it on your face, the way your eyes scrunched together, lips parting to release each cry.

He could swear it was the most beautiful sight he ever saw, but he needed you to squirt again. Needed to taste you once more.

Without hesitation he bit into your thigh, with his sharp fangs. No venom was to come from them, but oh, how you loved the pain they brought you, practically thriving in it.

"Miguel, please, I-," you were never able finish that sentence as your second orgasm washed over you. "Look at you," Miguel whispered as he watched your juice spraying from your cunt. He pushed his mouth back on your cunt, making sure to catch every last drop.

"Yes, yes, make a mess of my face cariño," you couldn't even hear him, your ears felt numb, your body filled with exhaustion, "just like that," he mused, his cock now rock hard from the sight of you.

"I need to make you squirt every time now, cariño," he told you proudly.

You mumbled something that no one could understood, too fucked out by him. However he didn't care, no he hosted you up on his lap. Your sensitive cunt hitting his cock, "god, Miguel." A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, "there is no god cariño, only me and I'm gonna have you squirting till the sun rises."

That was a promise he intended to keep…and did.

and I —

please comment/reblog and follow!

BLOGS | WEBSITE | AO3 | WATTPAD | TAGLIST

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara drabble #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fic #vee's thirsty 👀✨️

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too-much-tma-stuff · 11 months

Text

Home for the First Time

It was early when there was a knock at the door of Wayne Manor, Bruce was still in his nightgown because even though it was nearly noon he’d been out late. He stayed back while Alfred opened the door, curious to see who it was and hoping he hadn’t forgotten he was supposed to meet with press or something today. But no, it was two children, nearly identical besides the fact one had blue eyes and the other green.

“Hello,” The blue eyed one greeted with a bright, charming smile, he had one arm out slightly, subtly shielding the green eyed boy who was hanging back a little, a serious look on his face and a stubborn set to his jaw. “My name is Danyal Al Ghul and this is my brother Damien. Perhaps Bruce remembers an ill advised dalliance with our mother Talia roughly 11 years ago? We are the result, and she says it’s time we meet our father and learn what we can from him.”

“Of course we’ll submit to a DNA test to prove our lineage,” The green eyes one, Damien, put in. Danial didn’t look at the boy as he nodded along.

Behind Alfred Bruce choked on his coffee and started to cough. Alfred was unflappable as always and simply nodded once. “I see, why don’t you two come through into the sitting room? The paternity test shouldn’t take long using our equipment, we’ll just need a bit of your hair,” Alfred said as he stood back and usured the kids in. Bruce deciding now would be a good time to disappear and compose himself before he had to meet these unexpected children.

---------------

Danyal was nervous and excited as they sat in the drawing room, cradling mugs of tea neither of them had drunk. Damien was probably suspicious of an attempted poisoning, but Danyal was just nervous! Not that he showed it, his hands didn’t shake and an impassive little smile stayed on his face as he observed every inch of the room. That was the difference between him and Dami really, Damien had been raised the heir to the Demon Head, Danny to the Bat and Wayne industries. They had gone through the same physical training of course but they had different behaviours ingrained in them.

Damien had been taught to repress all emotion and not show it at all where as Danny had been taught how to mimic them. Hide his true emotion and show the appropriate ones. A ‘press smile’ as they say, to charm and manipulate and give just the right half answers that truly gave nothing away. He excelled in science and technology which would be perfect for running Wayne Enterprises, so it mattered less that his reading skills flagged behind Dami’s a bit, or that he had been the weaker combatant.

Had been, until he had been struck by lightening and then revived by Lazarus. It had been a disappointment, but thankfully not something he could have been faulted for, an act of god to punish their grandfather for his avoidance of death and because even the gods feared who they would become. He remembered the strike, the unimaginable pain of it, and the aftermath as he lay on the ground, his heart stuttering and thumping to hard, then not, then fluttering, then not, then nothing as he had passed out.

He did not remember being dropped in the pit, but he did remember waking up within it. It burned through his veins, seeping in to the hand that had been struck holding his weapon, racing up along the fractals of energy, collecting the currents that still had him twitching uncontrollably and curling together into a hard ball in his chest. A wash of cold spread over him from his new centre, soothing the burn of the acrid, acidic pit. It made drifting there… comfortable.

He knew it shouldn’t have been, he had seen multiple people break the surface, gasping and screaming and clawing their way to shore, but it wasn’t for him. Then again Ra’s bathed in the pool, so maybe this was alright? It made him wonder about the people who never surfaced again, did they choose to stay because this was how it felt to them too? Drifting listlessly in comfortable… What? What was this feeling. Danny had turned and dove deeper into the pit, seeking answers as he always did, even when it wasn’t wise.

He didn’t know how long he swam before he could see the edges, the pool narrowing closer and closer till he could barely make it through, and then he found an exit. It was small, a porthole into a void of stars and doors. It was unlike anything he’d seen and he realised immediately it was calling to him, that was why he had dove. It wanted him to enter, it called it was where he belonged, it terrified him. When something far to large drifted by his little vantage point he fled back towards the surface, the life he knew, and the broken family he still loved.

He was a bit surprised to find that Damien and mother were still there but grandfather had already left. That was fair really, Danny didn’t know how long he had been down there, but his brother and mother are still there. It seemed Damien was being allowed a rare moment of weakness, on his knees by the edge of the pond, staring blankly into the water with their mother crouching next to him, rubbing his back though Damien’s eyes were still dry. They were… grieving him.

He burst through the surface of the glowing pool, gasping for air he scrambled up onto the bank, coughing up the disgusting liquid clogging his lungs. His ears were ringing and his sight narrowing to a green blur, completely unaware of what was going on around him until two hands, one the size of his own, and one larger land on his body. The smaller set held back his hair while larger rubbed his back, slowly sound returned and he heard his mother’s soft cooing and Damien’s panicked breath.

He gasped for breath and looked up at the two of them, the green retreating from his vision as he blinked rapidly. “Damien? Mother?” He had gasped seeing the relief overtake both of their faces that Lazarus hadn’t stolen his mind.

It hadn’t, in fact he was just as sharp as ever and had found that since then no one could detect him when he wanted to remain unseen, no door could stop him or keep him out. He was what any assassin dreamed to be, but it had also come with new awareness since he had been overhearing things no one would usually let him hear. He had heard the conversations Grandfather had with mother going back and forth about which of them should go to their father, since it was always meant to be Danyal but now with his new abilities he was clearly chosen by Lazarus so maybe he should be the true heir.

Danny known Grandfather was manipulative for as long as he could remember, not like Damien, who still had faith in the league and their grandfather. Damien was smart, and talented, he was suspicious enough for both of their physical safety, but he had a much harder time realizing when they were being manipulated, or when they were being used. That was alright, Danny could make up for this weakness as Damien had done for his unwillingness to kill. It had taken him a while of carefully planted seeds in both Grandfather’s ear and Mother’s to bring them around to the idea of both of them going to father.

Danyal didn’t know if father would be any better, but he would probably be easier to escape from then the league and maybe with some distance he would gain the courage to point out to Damien how it was wrong.

That was how life found them both sitting on their fathers couch, Danny’s tea long since having grown cold. He surfaced from his thoughts, seeing his eyes shimmering unnatural green in the reflection within the cup, as it usually did when he thought about his death.

He blinked it away in time to look up and see Bruce entering the room, he put his smile back on and stood, Damien following suit and looking sullen. They had agreed Danny would take the lead, but Damien still didn’t like it. “You must be Bruce, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Danyal said offering his hand to shake. Bruce blinked looking a little startled and shook his hand, Danny did his bast to give a good, firm handshake, hopefully his hands were too cold. “Mother always speaks highly of you, and even Grandfather admits there’s much we can learn from you,” He said, stepping back to let Damien shake Bruce’s hand as well.

“And anyone who can impress grandfather must be half a god,” Danny joked causing Damien to hiss and elbow his side as he usually did when he though Danny was speaking out of turn. Danny made a little oof sound and then gave Bruce a conspiratorial look, pleased to see he had made the stoic man crack a smile.

“It’s good to meet both of you as well, I’m sorry I didn’t know about either of you until today. The paternity test confirmed that you are my sons, Alfred is already setting up rooms for you next to each other in the family wing. In the mean time how would you feel about meeting a couple of your siblings? I believe Tim, Cass, and Stephanie are home at the moment? You’ve had a long trip, if you’d rather wait till tomorrow then I understand.”

“We’d love to meet them,” Danyal said, a little louder then usual to cover his brothers scoff. Damien scowled at Danyal who scowled back just as fiercely and tried to step on Damien’s foot, he knew the other boy would move out of the way before he could but it would make his point not to be disrespectful! It was clearer then clear that their father didn’t care much for blood given how much he loved all his adoptive children no matter what Grandfather thought. If Bruce wanted a biological heir he could have easily have gotten one, their blood might give them a slight advantage but they would have to prove their merits. But of course Damien believed everything Grandfather said still.

Damien dodged and then kicked back, Danyal rolling his eyes and dodging as well. Before a full fight could break out they both heard Bruce chuckle at them, Danyal gave the man a sheepish smile and while Damien blushed and looked down at the floor sulkily. “Alright, well then follow me. I’ll call Dick as well, I’m sure that when he finds out he has two new brothers to meet he’ll come running, I’m sure he’ll be here for dinner as well.”

“We’ve heard a lot about him too,” Danyal said with an impassive smile, they had to know about those who might be their competition after all. Danyal knew a bit more then Damien but they both knew what they needed to, like strengths and weaknesses. Danyal wondered if he was going to have to come to their adopted siblings defences, he fully expected Damien would try to assassinate them, whether or not it was actually wise to do so.

“Alright, then lets go see Tim first, he’s playing video games in his room. Steph and Cass are in the studio together,” Bruce said as he ushered Danny and Damien out of the sitting room and up a set of back stairs into the family wing of the manner. Danny and Damien following, having a silent argument of signs and dodgable blows about how exactly they should be handling this. What finally ended the argument was Danny flashing fang, his eyes glowing green and baring his teeth at Damien. Both to remind Damien of his true strength and to show how important this was to him, which made Damien relent for now he wasn’t sure.

Either way they had sorted it out by the time Bruce opened the door. “Tim, how do you feel about two new brothers?” Bruce said almost sheepishly and Tim groaned, pausing his game and spinning around in his chair.

“Damn Bruce where did you find these two?” He asked giving his adopted father a tired glare.

“On his doorstep,” Danny said promptly.

“We’re his biological sons,” Damien said at almost the same time, then glared at Danny who shrugged, both were true.

“Damn really?” Tim asked as he finally got up, examining both of them.

“We already did the paternity test,” Damien said with what Danny would call an unwarranted amount of pride.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Danyal. You can call me Danny if you want,” Danny said, stepping forward and offering Tim a handshake and his best smile. Tim blinked and shook his hand. “I’ve never played a video game, they didn’t allow such frivolities in the compound. They look like fun though, perhaps you could teach me?”

“Uh sure, sounds fun. What about you? You want to learn other little bro?” Tim asked looking to Damien.

“Why would I want to learn a skill with no practical use,” Damien scoffed. “My name is Damien, and I do not approve of nicknames,” He said, giving Danny a haughty look as he shook Tim’s hand. Danny just rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say little D,” Tim scoffed. Damien gave an indignant squawk and before he could go for a weapon Danny grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back.

“Okay that’s enough of that,” Bruce said, grabbing a knife Danny had missed Damien drawing and twisting it out of Damien’s grip as Danny got his brother in a headlock.

“Sorry about him, the League of Shadows doesn’t care much for social graces, I barely escaped being just as feral as him,” Danny joked before letting out an oof as Damien elbowed him in the side and escaped his hold.

“Eh it’s not the first time a brother has tried to kill me. I can look after myself,” Tim said, which was clearly a warning to Damien judging by the look. Danny knew that Tim could, but also knew he was still underestimating them, and he hoped that wouldn’t bite him before he figured it out. “Let me know if you change your mind, I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do with tech and media, I’ll be happy to be your guide.”

“Tt,” Damien scoffed and stomped out of the room.

“Well I’m looking forward to learning about all of that, I think it’ll be fun! Ignore him, he’ll come around. Just, uhh, watch him, That won’t be the last time he tries to stab you. If anything it’s a bonding activity for him,” Danny joked as lightly as he could before hurrying after his twin, Bruce on his heels.

Part 2: here

#damien wayne #Danyal al ghul #danny phantom #tim drake #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #demon twins #dc x dp #talia al ghul #Stabbing is Damien's love languag #Danny is gifted by Lazarus #we're skipping the fentons #DC stands for disregard cannon #I don't know much about DC so my writing is vibes based #part 1 of idk how many #Idk how much of this I'm going to write

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feyhunter78 · 4 months

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This new sweet, nerdy Miguel has me FERAL!!!!! HE'S SO CUTE I CAN'T —😩😩😩😩

I need some jealousy from him~ How do you imagine he acts when he feels jealous? He gets quiet and aloof, trying to avoid y/n so she don't notice? Or he gets angry and tries to mark territory? Hehe

AHH THANK YOUUUUU

I definitely want to write a full jealousy fic for him but I’ll give you a sprinkling of my thoughts while I plan for a full fic🫣

So, in the beginning before y’all get together he’s very quiet, really draws into himself, tries to act normal but is just a lot more reserved.

He’s afraid to voice how he feels because he doesn’t want to creep you out. (Gabriel got in his head. Bless his heart the poor boy is trying to help his brother, but he’s going about it the wrong way)

Very much a situation where he’s absent from class for a week or so because he gets sick and when he comes back he realizes another guy in class has been helping you with your notes.

You smile at the new guy, thank him in that sweet way you always thank Miguel and his stomach just churns and his chest starts aching. For a second he thinks he’s still sick, but when you smile at him and ask how he’s feeling the pain in his chest disappears.

He brushes it off, thanks you quietly for your concern, and throws himself into his work. For the first week you shrug it off thinking he’s still not feeling well, but after a while you end up confronting him which leads to:

“I just—I saw you and Brett, and, I’m glad you got help with your notes but you know you could’ve come to me.” He’s leaning against the wall, the wall you’ve trapped him against with your determined attitude and your inability to register when you’re invading his personal space.

“Miguel you were home, sick, and I didn’t want to bother you.” You remind him, your voice soft, tinged with concern.

He looks down at his feet, his shoulders hunched, his whole body curled in on itself. “You’re never a bother, not to me, so don’t—please don’t go looking somewhere else.”

But, when y’all get together???? Game changer. He’s still shy and he’s still the same Miguel you knew before but he’s more confident, he knows you won’t find it weird or creepy that he feels territorial over you. Now when a frat guy looks your way a bit too long in the courtyard he simply tilts your chin up with one finger and kisses you.

Of course his face is bright red after that and he buries it the crook of your neck, his big strong arms crushing you to his chest, and every time he does this you think it’s so cute.

If y’all are in private though, and say you have to go to a party or you’re going to be doing some joint event with a frat, he definitely likes sitting you in his lap and mouthing at your skin. Nothing too crazy on your neck, but he does leave a few large hickeys on your breasts, ones that sticks out from beneath the neckline of your shirt.

Just a bit of:

“Miguel! Come on, you know I didn’t bring any concealer.” You whine, your fingers tangled in his hair as his warm lips ghost over your skin, his tongue tracing the blossoming marks that trail down from your pulse point, dipping beneath the neckline of your shirt.

“I’m sorry mi dulce, I couldn’t help it, you look so pretty.” He says, as he dips his head biting down on the soft flesh of your breasts, his large hands holding them, pushing them up, his fang-like incisors scratching against your skin deliciously.

“I have to go, I’m going to be late for the mixer.” You try to tell him, your hands leaving his hair to lightly push at his chest.

One of his hands leaves your breasts, and spans your upper back keeping you pressed against him.

“Just one more? Please?” He asks, looking up at you with such adoration in his eyes you nearly grab your phone to text your sisters you’re not going to make it.

You sigh, but it’s halfhearted, playful, indulging. “One more.”

He smiles and captures your lips one more throughly distracting you as he lays you down on the couch under him.

#meg talks #mail time #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #nerd!miguel o'hara #nerd!miguel #nerd miguel #college!miguel #college!reader #sorority!reader

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Text

Just Friends, Chapter One:

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ ONLY, mutual pining, age gap (joel is 56, reader is 34), angst??, masturbation (m))

wc: 2k

joel masterlist | series masterlist

Joel feels weak when he sees you.

That’s the best word for it. Weak. A complete lack of control—of power. Logic and reason are nothing but incoherent mumbles in the background every time you’re in the same room as him, even worse when you look into his eyes and speak his name.

He hadn’t felt this sort of tug towards someone in years, and the unfamiliar sensation of needing to simply see you at least once a day in order to function properly was beginning to consume him. He didn’t know what to do to rid himself of this infatuation, avoiding you was impossible and so was getting closer thanks to that 30-something year old patrol ranger you called your boyfriend.

He watched the two of you together as though it was his job. He watched the way you seemed to keep him at an arm’s length when the two of you were out together, always sandwiching yourself between your friends rather than beside the man you were supposed to love.

He couldn’t help but wonder what the two of you were like in private.

It couldn’t be a very passionate affair, that much he knew. Real passion wasn’t so easily concealed. It was consuming, drawing you like a magnet to your partner, burrowing beneath your skin, creating an itch to be near them—to be touching them. It couldn’t be an affair of passion.

Just now, he’s sat in his usual seat in the corner of the bar, his back pressing to the padded walls of the booth, his hand holding a crystal glass filled with whiskey, his brows drawn together, his eyes locked on the back of your head as you ordered a drink, your friend next to you. Joel wants to stand up, walk over, and offer to buy your drink right in front of him just to see the look on your face.

Would you tell him to fuck off? Or would you say yes?

The laugh you let out in response to something your boyfriend whispers into your ear stops Joel from finding out.

“God, I need a drink,” Ellie sighs as she emerges from nowhere, her backpack being shrugged onto the floor as she sits down across from Joel.

“Tough day learnin’ your ABC’s?” he quips, his tone still flat from the war jealousy was waging inside of his head.

“Ha-ha,” she replies, just as dry. She knocks her knuckles on the wooden table as she watches his eyes drift back to you, now seated at a table just five or so feet away from him—too close for his comfort. Downing his drink, he shifts his eyes back to Ellie in time to catch her chuckling at him.

“What?” he asks, tilting his head at her as though he were begging her not to read him as easily as she does.

“Nothing,” she shakes her head and laughs again before reaching over the table to swig the finger of whiskey left inside Joel’s glass.

“Hey,” he calls as he catches her mid sip, stealing the glass back. “They got rules about kids drinkin’, you know that. You itchin’ for another lecture from Maria about followin’ the rules?”

“No,” she replies. “It’s a bullshit rule anyway.”

“No, it ain’t,” he sighs as your laughter fills the room again, his chest panging causing him to physically wince. “I’m ready to go home. You comin’ or you stayin’?”

“Staying,” she says, grabbing her backpack and setting it on the table. “Have homework to finish and your sad country music being blared through the house isn’t going to help keep me focused.”

“Don’t disrespect my sad country music,” he warned playfully as he stood up with a grunt, finishing the little whiskey left in his glass in one gulp. “I’ll see ya back at home by curfew.”

“About that…” Ellie looked up at Joel with a hopeful smile. “Dina invited me over to spend the night—“

“Dina can spend the night at ours,” he argued, that protective streak of his making it’s usual appearance.

“Dina and I don’t wanna watch you drink and sing along to George Jones, dude,” she replied, frowning up at him until he broke.

“Fine. But you’re back in time for breakfast tomorrow.” Ellie grinned as she nodded at him, his eyes rolling and a chuckle escaping his chest. “Spoiled.”

As Joel starts to make his exit, he stops at the bar to deliver his empty glass and pay off his bill. That’s where you find him.

“Hey,” you start, hoping to conceal your deeply hidden crush on the older man with friendliness. Joel’s head turns to you so quickly you swear you hear his neck crack, his unreadable eyes locking on yours as though you were some sort of apparition he was almost certain wasn’t actually there. “I just wanted to come over. Say hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, choked and unprepared. Clearing his throat, he tips his head towards your table. “I saw you were with your friends, otherwise I would’a came over and said somethin’.”

“You can always come over and say something,” you assure, fighting the urge to bat your eyes at him as you give him a smile. The man whose coat you’re wearing lingers in the back of your mind as you stare at the man you’ve wanted since he arrived.

“How’s the new fence treatin’ ya?” he asks, a smile creeping onto his face as he leans a shoulder onto the bar and faces you. You think back to the weekend he spent building your white picket fence last month, free of charge. The way his arms looked in a t-shirt as he sawed away at the wood still makes you dizzy.

“Well, it’s still upright so…you must’ve done a good enough job on it,” you offer with a smirk, earning the slightest of chuckles. You always wondered why everyone seemed to think he didn’t have a sense of humor, he seemed to find you funny enough. “I, uh, also came over to invite you over to my place tomorrow evening.”

You watch as Joel’s brow lifts with interest.

“Oh yeah? You throwin’ a party or somethin’?” he asks.

“My birthday,” you shrug. “Figured I’ve gone twenty years without celebrating it, might as well.”

“That’s what this place is supposed to be about,” he says. “Doin’ normal things again.”

“Exactly,” you smile, ignoring the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when he mimicks it. “So, can I count you in?”

“Long as you got somethin’ to drink.” You laugh and nod in reassurance. “Well, I’m in, then.”

“Alright, I’ll let you escape before someone else comes up and tries to talk to you,” you offer, reaching your hand over to touch his arm. Joel looks down at the contact before meeting your eyes again, something unreadable lingering in his dark irises that makes you flustered enough to pull your hand away. “I’ll see you.”

“See ya,” he replies, quiet as he taps the counter with his knuckles before turning and walking off. Your eyes couldn’t help but lower to his fist as it hung by his side, clenching and unclenching. With a subtle but deep breath, you turn around and walk back to your table—back to your boyfriend and all of his perfection that bores you beyond belief.

“Why did you go up to him?” Josie, a friend of yours, asks as you return to your spot at the table and reach for your beer to wash down the lingering desire.

“I invited him to my party,” you replied, shrugging as you gave her a confused look. “What?”

“Babe,” your boyfriend, Will, chuckles. “He’s…old.”

“And an ass,” Josie adds. You roll your eyes at them, knowing that neither of them ever had a real conversation with Joel, making their opinion of him mute. “Did he say yes?”

“Yes,” you chuckle, amused by the shock on their faces. “We’re friends!”

“Since when?” Josie asks with a hearty laugh.

“Since always,” you reply with a shrug before continuing, “I helped show him around when he got here since I’m right across the street.” Josie looks to Will and then Will looks to you, a look of amused confusion on his handsome face. “He’s a nice guy when you get to know him.”

“Maybe, but he’s also old enough to be our father,” Will argues. You roll your eyes at the reality of the age gap between you and your secret crush, twenty-two years to be exact.

“There are only so many people our age in Jackson, honey,” you say, irritation thick in your tone. “And besides, just because he’s older means I shouldn’t be friendly to him? We’re just gonna start shunning every person in Jackson above what, fifty?”

“You know what,” Will starts, reaching his hand over to rub your back, his warm touch only making you feel colder. “You’re right. We’ll be friendly to him too. Okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, lifting your beer up to your lips, wishing more than anything that the man touching you was someone else.

Joel’s in bed, his drunk thoughts centering around you. Around the way you smiled up at him as though you had no clue that his heart was beating out of his chest. Maybe you didn’t, but how could you not notice his sweaty palms, the nervous twitch of his lips when you forced a smile onto his face?

He was sure he was going to lose it completely when your hand came to rest on his arm. He wanted to run and at the same time wanted to get closer, to feel you too. But, the falter in your smile once his eyes met yours and your hand leaving his arm so abruptly it hurt grounded him back to reality. The one in which you were a taken woman and he was a man twenty years older.

It makes him feel sick when he tries not to think about you, so he doesn’t bother as he reaches his hand over his briefs and grips his swelling girth in an attempt to soothe the throbbing ache there. He grunts as he strokes himself through the fabric, just enough to build himself up slowly.

He thinks of you. He thinks of that weekend he built your fence. He thinks about the way you looked in the sun, the green grass beneath you as you sat out on the lawn and kept him company. He thinks about your legs, bare in the summer heat, your denim shorts cut short enough to make him turn red when you rolled over to lay on your stomach.

As he rubbed his thumb over the now weeping head of his cock, he imagined what it would be like to take those shorts off of you. To lay claim to what lies underneath. He moans as he imagines the sounds he’d pull from you.

Pulling his briefs down enough that his cock was springing free, he licks his hand and grips himself at the base, another choked moan slipping free as his fist glides up and then down again, over and over.

He wonders what you’re like in bed, how you like it, if you’d let him take control or demand it for yourself. It didn’t really matter, he remembers, not when he’d never have the chance of finding out.

When he cums, he groans, his fist stroking up and down, gathering his spend to help ease the glide of his hand until he’s finally had his fill. With a sigh, he lets his head fall back against his pillow, his eyes on the ceiling fan spinning above him.

“Get a fuckin’ grip,” he curses himself.

It doesn’t work.

•

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller reader insert #joel miller tlou #just friends

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