#more by afraid that she will be kicked out of the house before she is ready than out of fear that she will be irresponsible | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lis-likes-fics · 2 months

Text

Poison

Pairings: Coriolanus Snow x district!Reader Word Count: 13.3k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, technically dubcon, swearing, post-ballad, mentions of killing and death, violence, technically prostitution, oral (m and f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, sadistic tendencies, p in v sex, unprotected sex, coriolanus snow is NOT a good person. A/N: I started this a bit ago but writer's block hits hard. Reader did not remember who the enemy was...but she also kinda did. ANYWAy, I wrote this based around a song from Hazbin Hotel called Poison. All credit for the song goes to Sam Haft and Andrew Underberg. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!

PART ONE: The Deal

The knocks which echo off the walls of your house are loud, firm, assertive. You jump at the sound, watching the door like it would fly off its hinges. For far too long, you stare at the door, debating whether or not you should open it.

Who could it be? You don't get many visitors… You don't get visitors.

You stand slowly, the hairs along your arms and the back of your neck on edge. You swear that you can feel your hands shaking. You hold your breath just so you can actually hear what's going on around you.

Another firm knock is given, and you snap out of your haze.

Your feet carry you across the length of the living room. Your fingers brush the cold knob of the door, and you hesitate before pulling it open, just enough to peek through the crack to see who could possibly be visiting you.

Your eyes widen and you fight the urge to step back, both of pure shock and a modicum of fear. “Mr. Snow.”

The sight of Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow at your door was not one you ever thought you'd see. There are two Peacekeepers behind him, holding their guns tight in offense against you.

You clear your throat, looking upon his expensive suit, his white-blonde hair, the single rose in his breast pocket. You force yourself to look him in the eye, afraid to antagonize him and risk any violence, before remembering who he was. He wouldn't get violent, but you would pay for it if you angered him.

He smiles when you finally meet his gaze, but he doesn't bother to tilt his chin down to level it. “Hello,” he greets politely.

You straighten your posture slightly, opening the door a bit more out of obligation more than a desire to welcome him in. Seeing that he is the man who designed the Games that put you through hell, you would rather keep him out.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, keeping your voice as non-confrontational as possible. “Sir.”

He shrugs, pulling his hands from the pocket of his jacket and holding them behind his back. He almost seems taller this way.

“Checking up on our latest Victor,” he smiles. He motions toward your living room, “May I come in?”

You don't have much of a choice now. With a sigh, you take a reluctant step to the side and grant his invitation. When he takes his first step forward and the Peacekeepers begin to move, he stops immediately and holds up a hand. They stand firmly in their place. Snow turns back to you, smiles, and then walks inside.

He takes the time to examine the place before he ever speaks, and you close the door behind him to shut the grunts out. Snow clasps his hands behind his back once more and glances around the room like it's speaking to him. He nods slowly, humming to himself.

“How are you?” he finally asks after you've both spent far too long in uncomfortable silence. “How is the life of a champion suiting you?”

You try not to scoff, bowing your head and crossing your arms over your chest, making yourself as small as you feel.

“Well enough, I guess,” you mumble.

He glances over his shoulder at you. “You guess?” he wonders, raising a curious brow.

You clench your jaw once, “Mr. Snow respectfully, why are you here?”

He shrugs. “As I said…checking on our Victor.”

You hum. “And you do this with all your Victors?”

The corner of his lip kicks, barely perceptible if you aren't paying attention. But you are. It would cost you a lot not to pay attention.

“That's the routine,” he says. His eyes wander around the room once more, falling back on you with a cold expression. His eyes are like frost, and you shudder at the sight of them. He tilts his head.

“You don't seem quite happy with your turnout,” he suggests, his eyes narrowing slightly in a questioning manner. You feel like your blood has just run cold. The anxiety seeps into your skin. “Why is that?”

You clench your jaw nervously, clearing your throat as you shrug. You tear your eyes away from him for just a moment and force yourself to look back immediately after.

Your voice is small and your attempt at lying fails because of it. “Why wouldn't I be happy?” you ask. “I have…” You glance around, trying to find something to point out before you seem too suspicious—uselessly, you already know you've been caught red-handed. “I have...a new house and—and prize money. And fans, apparently.”

You try not to be too disgusted by that—fans gained with the useless slaughter of children. A few months you've been out of that arena. And you still see the faces of all those children in your head wherever you go, the sounds of regret and their deaths deafened by the screaming cheers of the mindless crowd that celebrated you for it.

“I'm…” you take a breath, “all set.”

He doesn't believe you. Why would he?

“Yet you've barely moved in,” he points out, making a small circle in the place where he stands. He holds his arms out, as if to emphasize his point. “No pictures, little to no personal belongings. This house looks exactly as it did when you first moved in.”

You furrow your brows, tilting your head slightly. “You know what it looked like?” you question, a gentle and hopefully empty challenge.

He raises a brow. “I was the one who approved everything here. For your comfort, of course.”

Ah.

“No one lives here with you?” he wonders.

You shake your head tentatively. “No one to live with.”

His brows raise slightly. “No family? Friends?”

You clear your throat and shake your head once more.

He hums. “A little lonely, don't you think?”

You shrug, your arms crossing tighter over your chest as you turn slightly away. “I'm used to being alone.”

His eyes scan you up and down. “That's quite sad.”

You swallow thickly. “Doesn't matter to me.”

“Here you are all alone in your little District 7,” he says. The way he looks at you, his predatory gaze, it makes you feel so small. But his voice is soft, not as mocking as it should sound compared to his diction. “No friends, no family, and no care about the way it all is.”

You want him to leave, leave you alone to your loneliness, your quiet misery. If he is just going to stand there and call you an outcast, you don't see any reason that he should stay.

“Yeah. Your point?” You don't mean to sound so hostile but you couldn't help it.

He seems to smirk. “How would you like to change that?”

You could have gotten whiplash. You blink rapidly, licking your lip as you try to figure out if you heard him correctly. “What?” you ask.

“How would you like to change that?” So you had heard him right. “Be a little less lonely, You'd have money, friends, all of your needs would be taken care of.”

You don't trust him. Why should you? Why would Coriolanus Snow offer you all of this? Comfort and stability, a life of luxury?

At what cost?

“And you're offering this to me, why?” Attempting a little boldness, you uncross your arms and straighten your spine a bit. “What did I do? I mean…” you scoff, “I won, sure, but only by the skin of my teeth. And I'm sure you don't go around offering this to all your other Victors. What's so special about me, huh?”

There's a long silence where he just…stares at you. His face is completely unreadable, devoid of any type of emotion as he watches your face too closely.

Then a smile begins to curl his lips and he tilts his chin up just a slight. “You're right,” he says simply. Then his eyes look you up and down. “Truth is, I lied.”

You don't like the change in demeanor. It's a different kind of superiority than the one he displayed before. “I figured as much,” you reply, trying not to lose your confidence, though your voice does become a little quieter. “So what do you want? Why are you here?”

He tilts his head and steps toward you. You take an instinctive step back. “You're special,” he says. You scoff but he just shakes his head. “I can feel it. I wasn't lying about my offer. I came to give you more than…” he looks around and sighs, “an empty house with no pictures on the walls. As I said…all your needs would be taken care of.” The smallest shrug raises his shoulders. “With a price.”

There it is.

Again, you scoff. You cross your arms and roll your eyes and plop down on the couch. “Have I not paid enough?”

He walks toward you, and suddenly you regret putting yourself in such a physically vulnerable situation. “You're right,” he hums. “You have. I'm not asking much. Truth is…all I need is an assistant.”

You furrow your brow. “And you're choosing someone from District instead of Capitol?”

He takes a slow breath in, shrugging. “You suit my interests. Capitol does not.”

“So I have to, what, follow you around? Take orders from you?” You lick your lip. “And I get what exactly?”

He takes his hands from his pockets. “Shelter, money, a sprinkle of fame. Anything you could ever need or want.” He stops a moment, thinking to himself with a light hum. “You'd have to sign a contract, of course.”

You sigh, a million thoughts rushing through your head as you actually consider his offer. This is the man who literally designed your hell. He is one of the very people who forced you to fight for survival, to kill for it. For months, you've lived with nightmares full of slaughter and regret.

But for years, you've lived with isolation and solitude. He would give you everything. Shelter, money, a sprinkle of fame. A chance to start over, a chance to be a little less lonely.

But you are all too aware of the chance that this could all blow up in your face. This is Coriolanus Snow. He's not to be trusted, surely.

“And if I say no?”

He stands still for a moment, so still you wonder if he'd frozen in time. You have to urge yourself to hold his gaze. You can't seem afraid of him, you just can't.

Finally, Snow lets out a long sigh. He steps close, before turning and sitting next to you on the couch. He leans back, getting comfortable as he crosses his legs and sets his hands in his lap.

“Then you stay here,” he says plainly, shrugging before letting his gaze wander around the living room of this hollow home. “In this big…empty house.”

This big empty house. Your grand solitude.

Knowing the things you know now, you wish you could say that you would go back and change your decision. You wish you could say you'd go back and choose your loneliness over the dark nights you'd sucked yourself into.

You made a deal with the Devil. And you know that if you had the choice…you'd do it again.

I'm not above a love to cash in…

PART TWO: Paradise

A week later, you found yourself standing in the Capitol, in Coriolanus Snow’s office, with a contract and a pen in front of you. You scanned over the words, took a deep breath, picked up the pen, and signed your name on the dotted line at the bottom.

Snow gave you a large smile and sent an escort to show you to your new living quarters. In his house. Down the hall from his room.

And for the next couple of weeks, you've been to two separate welcome parties, two other Capitol parties, and six meetings as Snow’s new assistant. You've handled messages, documents, scheduling, and a variety of appointed tasks that have put you in positions so far above so many Capitol members, you briefly wonder if you've signed into a scam.

At first, there was…resistance among the people. There were insults that you were an animal, a bottom feeder, a whore, a parasite. But every person who had dared to insult you had gone missing the next day. No one made any questions, or remarks, after so many people mysteriously disappeared.

And, soon, you got comfortable. Because Snow held up his end of the bargain. You were comfortable, wealthy, made some friends who had taken a moment to get used to you (you suspect they're trying to be nice to you to earn favor from Snow, but at least you aren't being insulted anymore). You don't go hungry every night, you always have fresh clothes. Sure, your schedule was a bit stressful, but that was an adjustment that could be made. Asking for more would be selfish—and insane, what more could you want?

You were, on the levels that counted…happy, content.

In just a few weeks, you had settled in like you belonged. Well…maybe not to that extent, but the work became easy and the needless parties were much appreciated.

When someone knocks on your door, you're pulling your robe over your body as you walk over to answer it. One of the servants stands on the other side, looking tired from the day's work.

“Yes, Charlotta?”

“Mr. Snow has requested your presence in his study, ma'am,” she says.

You glance behind you at the clock in your room. “Now? It's so late.” You hum, “Alright, thank you. Go to bed. You must be exhausted.”

She nods thankfully and turns away. You're quick to pull your slippers on, pulling your robe tight around your nightgown before rushing down the hall. You don't want to be late to him.

You reach his door down the hall, taking in a breath and raising your fist. Your knuckles meet the door four times.

“Come in,” His muffled reply comes.

You turn the knob, opening the door. Peaking into the room, you slowly walk inside, standing by the door. “You called?” you speak gently.

Snow is slouched over his desk, his pen scrawling away at a file of papers in front of him. “I did,” he nods. There's a moment of silence between you as he finishes up the last part of his work.

He sets his pen down and sits up, his back straight as he sets his clasped hand over his lap and turns his full attention to you. “I have an urgent matter I need you to take care of.”

You close the door behind you, establishing some privacy. It must be important if he's asking you this late. He probably needs you to run some important documents to someone, or schedule another meeting with one of the ambassadors that came to one of his meetings today.

“Yes, sir?” you ask.

“Come here,” he says, making a come hither movement with his fingers. Clasping your hands behind your back, you walk toward his desk and stop in front of him. He clarifies, “Behind the desk.”

You tilt your head, your brows furrowing as you hesitate. You begin to take your first step, pause, and then make your way behind the desk.

He turns his chair as you come to stand in front of him, your hands held tightly in front of you. He sits there, staring up at you as his eyes rake over your body.

You shift from foot to foot, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about the way he's looking at you. And again…silence.

“Get on your knees.”

All the heat escapes your body at the same time. A chill rushes up your spine. And once the initial shock has dissipated, a fire spreads across your flesh and you're burning up. You feel like your hands have begun shaking, so you shift them behind your back.

You have to find your voice again, clearing your throat timidly. “Sir?” you nearly stutter, clearing your throat again.

He shakes his head, amused by the timid look on your face. “I didn't stutter.”

You don't move, shocked to stillness. Snow sighs, standing to his feet and moving in front of you. He holds his chin up, looking down his nose at you to emphasize his superiority. You shrink underneath him.

“You're my assistant. You signed a contract,” he explains. “I take care of your needs, you take care of mine. No matter the request.”

You really should have read the fine print.

“Right now,” he continues, raising a hand to brush his knuckles over your cheek. Your eyes flutter lightly at the contact, holding your breath, afraid to breathe wrong and upset him. “My needs are for you to get on your knees and put your pretty mouth to good use. Then I'll do the same for you.”

Another shudder rushes through your spine. He pretends not to notice, but his smirk does deepen. Your lips part as you try to speak, unsure of what you'll say. “I…”

He drops his hand, lifting a brow expectantly. “Is there a problem?”

You clear your throat one more time, shaking your head and glancing away from his eyes, his intense, cutting blue eyes. “No, sir.”

He smiles. “Good.”

You glance up at him. His hand reaches up and grasps your chin. In the next moment, he's pulling you in as his lips crash down against yours. It's a possessive kiss, deep and devouring—controlling.

You have no choice but to kiss him back, letting your hands fall at your sides and lifting them up to his arms. You don't know where you're supposed to put them.

Just as you're leaning into the kiss, he pulls away from you and takes a step back. His lips, still parted and smiling, are wicked. He lowers himself into his seat, his legs wide open and his hands clasped in front of him. “As you were.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Taking an unsteady step forward, you slowly kneel to the floor. You hold your breath, avoiding his gaze as your shaky hands reach for his belt.

You undo it, pulling open his button and unzipping his pants. Exhaling, you nervously dip your hand into his pants and feel the warmth of his length against the pad of your fingers. You shudder, braving him as you pull him out of his pants.

And he doesn't disappoint.

Your eyes widen and you don't feel like it's real as you hold him in one hand. He's long with a nice enough girth that he will stretch you a bit. You curse under your breath, licking your lips as you glance up at Snow.

He smiles, watching you closely. Suddenly you feel naked. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, not cruelly.

You tear your gaze away from him, looking back down at the pink tip of his cock. You let your lips part and let your tongue fall to the edge of your lip…

The soft red light of Coryo’s lamp glows dimly on your skin as his strong hand cards through your hair, balling into a fist to grip your locks at his own need. Your moans stutter deep in your throat where his cock sits, the tears spring to your eyes.

His tongue plunges inside of you, licking the honey from your folds as you arch your back and moan his name. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans into you at the sting of his scalp from your insistent grasp.

His lips press kisses to your back as you white-knuckle the headboard of his bed. His fingers dig into your hips, creating crescents in your flesh that crater your skin. He fucks you in long, hard strokes of his cock. His teeth are bared like a beast, his hair falls over his forehead, his groans are rough with lust.

The crashing of waves drowns you, explosions are set off deep within your body. His liquor fills your mouth, your throat, your belly. It's warm and sating, and he pulls you close to make sure you never stray from his hold.

And through the night, his arms never leave your body, his claws never leave your flesh…

It wasn't hard to get cocky after that. The Capitol was lavish, and it had a way of turning people to bathe in the lap of luxury. You slowly began to learn what kind of position you truly held here, and after months of being high-seated in the Capitol, you had begun to sink into your role.

Snow is the Head Gamemaker, you are his assistant. Everyone had to listen to you if they wanted to make it back home safe to their families. With a whisper in your boss’ ear, you could ensure no one ever spoke badly about you again.

Not that you have exercised that power yet, but you could. And Snow was happy to oblige.

After that first night in his room, your lips around his cock, his hand tangled in your hair, the pleasure didn't end. No, it's normal to find yourself tangled in his sheets, to find your head buried between his thighs (or vice versa), to have his name falling from your lips like you were praying to the gods that men had killed years and years ago.

You've become addicted to the taste of Snow, the smell of Snow, the feeling of Snow. It's an easy thing to overdose on.

Should you have been more careful?

Yes. Yes, you should have.

But Snow is an easy thing to get high on.

Katri spots you through the luscious crowd of one of the Capitol’s many needless parties with ease. Surrounded by nobles and benefactors, you brought your flute of champagne to your lips with a smile. A giggle erupts from your throat at one of the party-goers’ jokes—one that you didn't find particularly funny, but you've gotten really good at pretending.

Katri walks up to you, a tray of champagne in hand as she does. “Ma'am?” You turn toward her, smiling and grabbing a fresh flute from her tray with thanks. She clears her throat, “Mr. Snow has requested your presence.”

You hum gratefully. “Alright, I'll be there in a moment.”

You begin to turn around again but she insists. “He says it's urgent. He wants you immediately.”

Ah, then he's pent up. You wave a hand dismissively, sticking to your response. “Well, tell Coryo I'm busy. I'll be there in a moment.” She gives you a hesitant look, and you smile. “He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it. Okay?”

She scoffs lightly, turning away. “Whatever you say.”

The anxiety in the air around her is palpable with the fact that she would have to return this news to Snow. She finds him in the same place she left him, surrounded by diplomats with his own—now empty—flute of champagne.

As she approaches him, he smiles politely. “Where is my little assistant?” he asks.

Katri clears her throat as she switches his glass out for a fresh one. “She said she'll be here in a moment.”

The shift in his attitude is so slight, it's easy to miss. But she notices the slight clench of his jaw, the faintest clutch of his fingers. “Did she now?” he questions, his head tilting a bit to the side.

She nods slowly, switching her tray to her other hand. “Her exact words were…” She clears her throat once more, not wanting to recite your words back to him. You must have been out of your mind. “ ‘Tell Coryo I'm busy. I'll be there in a moment.’ ”

He seems to know there's more to it because he bids her to continue. Her eyes glance away from him as she does. “She said, ‘He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it.’”

She can tell there's something else he wants to say but chooses not to as his smile becomes tight. “Thank you,” he says simply, politely.

She nods. “Yes, sir.” She walks away.

PART THREE: Reality

You smile a bit when you feel Coryo’s hand land on the side of your arm, grazing up the length of it to reach your shoulder. You look up at him, immediately noticing the stiffness of his grin.

I shoulda guessed that this would happen…

“Coryo,” you greet with a smile. He nods toward the people surrounding you, greeting them politely. He doesn't look at you, just begins to lead you away from them as he ducks his head nearer to your ear.

“My office.” His words are firm, with no room to refuse.

Still, like a fool, you say, “In a moment please? I–”

His smile does not falter, but his voice is a demand as he speaks through his teeth. His grip on your shoulder becomes tight. “Now.”

You clear your throat, your smile still intact but not as professionally kept as his own. You nod once, “Yes, sir.”

He walks away, but not in the direction of his office. You watch him leave, clearing your throat discreetly and dismissing yourself from those who try to speak to you. You go straight to his office, not daring to refuse him again.

When you're there, you find yourself pacing the length of the room uneasily, waiting for him to join you. But he doesn't join you, not immediately. He makes you wait, he makes you stir. You stew in your own anxieties, cursing yourself for being so stupid as to tell him to wait.

Him.

Coriolanus Snow.

He interrupts your thoughts ten minutes later—you know, you counted—opening the door and shutting it gently behind him. He doesn't meet your gaze as he walks past you dismissively. He rounds his desk, pulling open a drawer that holds his personal scotch.

In silence, he pours himself a glass. In silence, he takes a sip. In silence, he savors the taste on his tongue and refuses to look your way for even a second.

You bow your head as you wait for him to say something, anything.

And when he does speak, you suddenly wish he hadn't.

“You're ‘busy’?” he questions.

“Sir?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

He smiles, turning to finally look at you. “ ‘Tell Coryo I'm busy. He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it.’ ” He licks his bottom lip, scoffing as he shakes his head at your audacity. “You let those words come out of your mouth?”

You clear your throat as quietly as possible. “I…didn't think it was a big deal… I was on my way.”

He stares at you, unblinking. Then he takes another sip of his drink and sets it down again. He walks from behind his desk, rounding to the front and leaning against it.

“Do you think you're special or something?” He furrows his brow, as though he's confused. You want to sink into the floor, to let the world swallow you whole, to disappear. “What, because I fuck you, you can talk to me any way you want?”

He puts venom behind the word, enough force to ensure you felt it. You swallow thickly, wanting to step away but knowing that if you did that, you would only make matters worse.

“Look at me,” he demands. And immediately, you obey.

You speak quickly, trying to fix your mistake before it can get worse. “Coryo, I'm sorry. I–”

“You're not special,” he cuts you off, advancing toward you. He grabs your wrist, pulling it up sharp and pulling you close to his face, inches away. You can feel his breath on your cheeks. “I own you. You belong to me.” His voice is low, dangerous.

But you've still got some pride left over. And that would be your downfall…

“I don't ‘belong’ to an–”

“You're mine!” he exclaims, though he doesn't shout. There's force behind his words, and his voice raises to a more stern, more possessive growl as he shoves you back. You stumble to the floor, grunting from the pain that shoots up your arm from landing on your elbow. You look up at him, your eyes wide with fear.

I shoulda known it when I looked in your red hot eyes…

“That's what it says in your contract, or do you not remember?” He takes a step closer, standing over you. His voice is low and dangerous, but he has no use for yelling anymore as he speaks to you. “You take care of all my needs—no protests, no complaints. Those words say that you do whatever I want, whenever I want it, however I want it. And if you complain, I take away everything you know, drop you back in your sad little district, and put your name back in the raffle one hundred times over.”

You should have known it from the beginning. A deal so good had to come with a hell of a lot of strings. From the very beginning, he had been lying to you with the idea of a shiny new life.

Spewing all your red hot lies…

He stares at you, his jaw clenched, his breath slowing to a gentler seethe. He lifts his chin, collecting himself as he takes a steadying breath. He kneels in front of you, resting his elbow on his knee.

His voice is a whisper. “You belong to me.” His tone is final, definite. “If I say speak, you say?”

Your breath trembles with a mix of anger and fear as you look up at him, tears threatening to well in your eyes but refusing to breach the surface and give him the satisfaction. Your lips part, though you hardly give yourself space to speak.

“Yes, Coryo.”

“If I say jump, you say?”

“Yes, Coryo.”

His hand wraps around your throat, pulling you forward enough so that your faces are once again only inches apart. “And if I say open your mouth, you get on your knees and drop your jaw.”

You stare at him, your gaze so close to blurring as you sigh, choked up from his suddenly poor treatment of you. “Yes, Coryo.”

The smallest smirk creeps over his lips and threatens the rest of your already weak composure. He pulls you in and his lips press hungrily against yours. It's all teeth and tongue, biting your bottom lip and licking the top of your mouth. You want to resist, but you can't. His touch, however wrong, however killing, is addictive.

When he pulls away from your lips, you nearly seek him out, releasing a breath like he'd filled your lungs with smoke. Your skin picks with red hot spite at the tiny moan that slips through your lips.

He holds your throat a little tighter, not enough to stop your breath but enough to make the tips of your ears tingle. Enough to make the heat in your core grow.

“I own you,” he whispers. “You belong to me. Do I make myself clear?”

Your lips part and shallow breaths pass pathetically through them before you finally respond, a whisper of your own. “Yes, Coryo.”

“I can't hear you.”

“Yes…Coryo.”

His grip loosens. “Good.”

He lets you go, standing to his full height once more as you take in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as your hand flies to your throat.

You watch his hands find his belt, undoing it with deft hands. “Now open your mouth,” he commands.

You swallow thickly, slowly adjusting yourself to sit on your knees. You glance away as you drop your jaw and stick your tongue out over your teeth.

“Look me in the eyes.”

You do, immediately. His blue eyes, hiding so many lies behind them that they brim with color. “Good girl.”

Your jaw ticks as you raise your hands to pull his cock from his pants, already hard from the power he holds over you.

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself.

You wrap your lips around the tip, laving your tongue against the head before slipping it underneath him. Stroking the rest of you, you take special care in providing his pleasure as you let your lips suckle around him.

Up and down his length, you go, giving him your hot, wet mouth as he likes it—as he needs it. His hand tangles in your hair and grips it tight, guiding you just a bit to take him deeper down your throat. And you do. You take him as far as he'll go, keeping the gag awaiting at bay as you swallow around him.

I know you're poison. You're feeding me poison.

And when you think you've gone far enough, he holds you down and shoves the rest of him farther inside. Your lungs are tight, they burn with the lack of air. But you just hold onto his thighs and hope he grants you enough mercy for breath.

And when he pulls out enough for you to snatch that merciful breath, you can taste his precum on your tongue. And you waste no time in taking him again, up and down and up and down. Just like he likes it—just like he needs it.

He curses under his breath, holding you tighter as his desperation grows and grows. “Fuck, just like that,” he huffs, fighting to keep his eyes open as your tongue caresses the vein along the bottom of his cock.

His lips part, his eyes shut. He shoves you farther down on his cock as your good work pushes him over the edge. The warmth fills your mouth, down your throat in generous amounts of pent up stress. And you drink it up. Every drop. Like liquor.

Addicted to this feeling I can't help but swallow up…

You catch your breath as he collects himself once more, his chest heavy with the lust simmering down in his belly. He tucks himself away, back into his pants. And as he watches you, you lick your lips free of his poison.

He smiles wickedly, cupping your chin in his hand. “Good girl,” he praises again. You stare at him and say nothing else. He inhales, exhales, and straightens his back. “Come. We have a party to re-attend.”

You stand on unsteady feet, wiping your face clean just to ensure you aren't going back to the party with Snow’s cum on your lips.

He pulls his arm around your waist and leads you back.

At the first sight of you and Snow, the vultures swarm. “We were beginning to think you weren't coming back down,” one of them jokes.

Snow smiles, “Of course not. I just had some business to take care of. Isn't that right?” He turns to you expectantly.

You let your smile widen across your lips as you nod. “Yes, Coryo,” you say.

You can see the wicked beast glint happily in his eyes. Pleased, he turns away from you again to look at his hand, realizing it lacks the champagne flutes each of his guests hold in their hands. He smiles at you once more.

“Would you mind getting drinks for me and my guests?” he requests.

You avoid the clench of your jaw that you long to grant him, instead deciding to pull your smile into a wider grin and nod.

“Yes, Coryo.”

“Thank you,” he grins. He lifts a crooked finger to the underside of your chin, tapping it lightly. “And cheer up… It's a party.”

You give him a tight smile and walk away in the direction of the kitchens, which is currently bustling with people making another batch of the well-loved appetizers and refilling more glasses for the guests.

You pass by the champagne entirely to get to the, quite large, liquor cabinet. You pour yourself a hefty glass of scotch and gulp it down, braving the burn of your throat as you finish it with a sigh.

You replace the scotch, claim a tray, and walk out with the requested beverages. You hand them to Snow and his guest, a glorified waitress.

Taking your own flute, you hand the tray to a passing server and let the effects of the scotch sink into your bones.

You wouldn't call the rest of the night a blur, especially because you are completely aware of what was happening as you continued to mingle with the guests. You kept a hold of your wobbling tongue, and you remained civil and polite. Snow could tell there was something off—and of course he knew what it was—but you hadn't embarrassed him yet, so he let it slide.

And that night, when the guests took their leave and the party came to a close, you met Snow in his bedroom once more so he could more thoroughly remind you of who you belonged to.

And like the addict you are, you happily obliged.

PART FOUR: Lap Dog

You made sure not to forget your place again.

Weeks turned to months, months turned to years, and you were still seated at Snow's right hand as he climbed the ladder, dragging you along through the journey. You did everything for him, anything for him. That was your job. Whatever he asks of you is considered done as soon as the request passes his lips. Whatever he wants, whenever he wants, however he wants. No matter what.

You sold your soul to the Devil, and you were addicted to the madness of your deal.

“I need you to give this to Snow.”

You're stopped in the middle of the hall by some woman with a stack of files in her arms. She's got a smug face, and you immediately don't like her as she grabs the file at the top of her stack and thrusts it out toward you.

You sigh, taking it as you begin to flip it open. “What is it?”

She pinches the top corner closed, shaking her head. “It's not your business to know, is it?”

You scoff, smiling as you tilt your chin up. The same way Snow does when he wants to stress his rank over another person's head. “Actually,” you wave her hand away from you, “as President Snow's assistant, it is my job to know anything and everything about what goes to and from his desk.” You take a step toward her, looking down on her just as he would. “So I ask again, what is it?”

There's a long pause as she stares at you, her eyes dark with the hatred and prejudice that bleeds from her gaze. Capitol taking orders from District? It's unheard of…

You would think, since you've been here so long, that they'd learn that you rank higher than they ever will. They don't have to like you, but whether they like it or not, they have to listen to you.

It wasn't hard to become cocky, but cocky was something you learned. This woman, whoever she was, was born with it. And that was a plague that would be the end of her.

She huffs quietly. “It's the request he made for some documents.” Your brow furrows slightly. A mistake. Now she believes she knows something you don't. Now she believes she has the upper hand. Her tone betrays her. “Something about the Games’ Victors.”

You don't know what this is. You've heard nothing of the sort.

But she keeps saying “something”. You want specifics. Does she not have it? “You don't know?”

“Of course I know,” she lays a delicate hand over her delicate chest. For a moment, you wonder if she's ever had to do any kind of work (you know she hasn't). She wouldn't last a second…

“And I'd elaborate,” she continues, pulling you from your thoughts, “but I, quite frankly, don't want to tell you, and you probably couldn't read it to figure it out for yourself.” Your jaw tenses at her unfounded insult. You don't respond. “I mean, that's why you want me to explain it to you, isn't it?”

I got so good at being untrue.

You sigh forcefully, a long, deep sigh to try and control yourself. “Excuse me?” Does she truly dare to challenge you in such a way?

“You heard me,” she replies, unblinking.

Clearly, she thinks you're an idiot. A stupid, incompetent idiot. You want to take her words and shove them back down her throat. You want to grab her by the hair and drag her around like the dog she seems to think you are.

But you can't. You must remain civil, so the only way you can try to hurt her is through your words.

You don't need trouble with Snow for embarrassing him…

“Ah,” you scoff, lifting your chin again to keep your superiority. “So you're stupid?”

The blatant insult has her clutching her pearls. Obviously, she wasn't expecting that kind of bluntness from you.

You smirk at her reaction, no longer collected. You have the upper hand once more.

“You really think it's a good idea to talk to me like that? Me? President Snow's second hand?” You don't love playing that card, but it's a play that will almost always work for you.

No one would dare object to President Snow.

She hums, trying to seem unphased. “You're right,” she says, “I probably shouldn’t speak to Coriolanus Snow’s little pup like that.” Her face contorts into one of mocking sorrow, her lip jutting out and her brows furrowing. “She might get sad and go tell her master on me.”

Little pup. Little pup.

Flashes of late nights spent in Coryo’s room, nights where his stress gets the better of him and he decides to take it out on you, nights where he spanks you and calls you names and takes you hard and rough, cross behind your eyes. “My dumb little girl, my pathetic little whore, my pitiful little pup.”

And you would let him, you would encourage him. You would moan and writhe and bend to his will. And your fists tighten at the memory. They clench with rage and regret and the desire to be more than an animal.

You aren't an animal, you are a human fucking being.

I got so good at telling you what you wanna hear. I disassociate, disappear.

Baring your teeth and losing composure, you huff. You're seething as you speak. “I am not his pup.”

She chuckles, finally striking a nerve as she lifts her brows. “Aren't you? His little lap dog.” She puts emphasis on each word, ensuring the ‘G’ hurts. She walks toward you, but you don't move. You stand your ground. You aren't scared of her.

You're going to fucking kill her.

Foolishly, she continues on. “You think just because you won the Games and he decided to take pity on you, that gives you any real power?”

You scoff. Pity. He doesn't know the meaning of the word.

“You're his whore,” she spits. It doesn't anger you because it's true, it angers you because no one even knows about that part of your deal, and she's accusing you of being a whore because of who you are.

Her face is inches from yours, her voice trying to be lower, though it's so naturally snooty that it's hard to reach that threatening level. She sounds like a child. And her sneer makes you want to treat her like one.

“You're a fucking slut. Just a little District animal who got lucky.”

Your anger flares. You grit your teeth. You lower your voice, successfully, and nearly growl.

“You wanna say that again?”

She smirks wickedly. “You are a whore.”

You walk toward her. She's standing so close that she is forced to step back with the stutter of her heels scraping the floor.

“You forget,” your lips turn in a venomous smile, fueled by rage and violent tendencies you're trying your best to hold back, “I fucking won the Games. I killed tributes with my bare hands, and you want to challenge me?”

And you see the flash of fear behind her eyes at the reminder, though she tries to hide it. But you know fear. You've felt it slice your flesh, you've used it to slice other's flesh. You know the biting and the tearing and the clawing of fear, and you can see it clear in her eyes even as she tries so hard to hide it.

Being afraid is the smartest thing she's done since she decided to open her mouth.

“You aren't going to do anything,” she says, as a defense more than an accusation, a reassurance for herself more than a taunt for you. “You'll just tuck tail and run to master–”

You're done being civil. You're done rolling over and showing your belly. You're done bowing your head and taking orders.

If they are going to treat you like an animal, you'll behave like one.

And she meets the blunt end of your rage with a fist to the face. Stacks of files smack loudly in a pile on the floor. You clip her cheek with the ring on your finger, and you huff at the pleasure that comes with defending yourself.

Her face whips to the side. It's a full body reaction. She staggers, crying out as her hand flies to her face, unable to take the heat of your violence. She looks back at you, her eyes wide with fear, too much to have room for anger.

You don't give her the chance to make room for it either. You punch her again on the same side, this time letting your fist connect with her brow. And when she stumbles again, you shove her back so she falls to the floor.

The sounds of her pain are loud and evident. But the bliss you gain from them is only so perfect because she deserves it.

And as you straddle her body, you can smell her fear just as well as you can see it. You can taste it like the blood she tastes on her tongue as you hit her again, and again, and again.

“What is going on here?”

You're off of her in an instant—and it's no scramble. You maneuver off of her with ease and scoop up your files once more, straightening your spine as you stand back and join Snow's side with one hand behind your back, bloodied knuckles and all. You sniff, the rueful look on your face taking a moment to dissipate as you replace it with civility.

You are a human being.

You don't look at Coryo’s face. You know it's covered with anger and disappointment. It's worse if he's stone cold. You can salvage this…

The woman rolls over onto her side, holding her nose delicately as she struggles to her feet. Tiny gasps and painful moans slip from her lips. She got what she deserves.

“Sorry, sir,” you say, obviously lying.

Suddenly, you feel like you should have punched her one more time. Because she begins to laugh. It's a bubbling laugh that you're sure is hurting her.

You can't do anything now. Not while Snow is here.

She shakes her head, licking her split lip and wincing through her laugh. Snow finds that more offensive than your empty apology, more offensive than even your savage display of violence.

“What's your name?” he demands.

She straightens up just a bit more. She also doesn't seem to understand the situation because she has a snarky grin on her face that says that she believes she's coming out of here on top. But those odds are not in her favor.

“Ellyn Halper,” she says.

“Ms. Halper.” He watches her, looking her up and down, his eyes strict and cold. He makes her squirm, even as she looks confidently at him. “You're fired.”

The news hits her like a train. She steps back, faltering, the horror crossing her face. “What?” She scoffs, glancing between the two of you as she shakes her head. “She attacked me!”

“And she wouldn't have attacked someone unprovoked,” he raises a brow. You try not to smile at him taking your side—and it's easy, because they talk about you like a misbehaved pet. “She must have had good reason. Clean out your desk and get out of my sight.”

She lingers, disbelief painting her features and mixing with her anger. When she doesn't move, Snow tilts his chin down and glares.

“Now.”

It's here that her rage outweighs her sense. She loses it. “You're going to protect this animal over Capitol?” she yells, pointing at you.

Still riding the high of your violence, you bare your teeth. “I'm not–”

“Quiet,” Snow snaps.

You shut your mouth.

Ellyn shakes her head, her lips twitching. She looks straight at you, sighing. She steps forward, stopped by Snow's warning hand. She leans in, “You're a disgrace.”

Snow can't have such blatant disrespect.

“Pack your bags, Ms. Halper,” he says. “I'm sending you to the districts.” Her horror is palpable. “We'll see who the animal is. I'm sure they would love to get their hands on Capitol.”

Snow doesn't give her any more attention. He turns and walks away, your impending punishment terrifying as you listen to his steps. You huff gently at her, slowly allowing your lips to split into your triumphant grin.

Snow calls your name. Your lips fall. You turn.

“Lap dog,” she spits.

Your jaw ticks. You turn again, and watch her step back. Your lips part, but before any sound can actually breach your lips, Snow calls your name again, firmer this time.

You huff, harder this time, and leave. You try to wipe the sight of that terrible smile on her bloodied face from your memory.

“What was that?”

He's pissed. His jaw ticks as he sets his hands on his hips.

But there's enough anger to go around.

Smacking the files on the desk, just as loudly as before as you jut your finger out towards them in accusation, you counter, “What is this?”

He dismisses you carelessly. “That's my business. Not yours.”

Before he can speak again, you cut him off, speaking quickly and concisely. “In my contract, it says I take care of your needs. It also says that I am your secretary and personal assistant. I handle your accounts, your documents, everything—so that means this is my business.” Stepping close to his desk, you lean forward toward him and lower your voice. “What is this about?”

Instead of answering you, he straightens his back and lifts his chin. With an amused scoff, he smirks lightly. “You actually read your contract.”

You don't appreciate his taunts. You read the full extent of your contract years ago, and you make sure to reread it every month to ensure you've memorized every detail. If he's got you on a tight leash, you need to know how much room you actually have to move.

“Coriolanus,” you huff. You wish you could say you won't say it again, but he'd make you repeat a million times if he felt like it. And you would have to obey. “What is it about?”

He's silent as he thinks to himself, contemplating. How does he answer your question without giving you the power and the luxury of a response?

But it's easy for him to remember that he will always have the power. He will always have the upper hand.

He breathes in, and you watch his lips curve. “The Victors.”

“I heard that,” you say. “What about them?”

His smile grows. The mischief and cunning lights up in his eyes. He places his hands in his pockets, rounding his desk as he leans back on it, crossing his ankles as he does. “This deal between you and I works pretty well, I'd say.”

You clench your jaw, unhappy with where this conversation is leading. You shake your head, “And?”

“And,” he shrugs, “there are and will be plenty more victors out there fit to do the same.”

You lose some of your bravado, your anger and confidence replaced by hesitant disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Sometimes you forget that Snow was, in truth, an evil man. Between your nights of passion and unnecessary gifts, it's easy to forget about the monster underneath his façade of fancy suits and beautiful roses.

He circles your body, like predator to prey…as always.

“I make sure people stay interested in the Games. And people like to keep up with our Victors,” he turns toward you suddenly. “I mean, they seem to take plenty of interest in you.”

You shake your head, your voice weak, “Coryo.”

He ignores you, continuing on. “These Victors are interesting. And some are considered to be quite…attractive in some senses.” He stops in front of you, smiling evilly. “A contract here and a signature there–”

“Coryo,” you try again, your voice trembling this time.

“–and these rich cats can have a Victor all to themselves.”

“Coriolanus.”

He stops, watching you expectantly as you try to wrap your head around his vile proposal.

They didn't deserve this. These Victors have already been through so much and he wants to add more grief and misery to their lives?

You were already lost the moment he stepped foot in your house, the moment you signed that contract, the moment you fell to your knees in his office and had your first taste of him. There was no hope for you now.

He'd gotten you addicted a long time ago…

“These are people,” you all but beg, clasping your hands together in hopes of persuading him away from his sadistic plans, “they're human beings. They aren't animals for you to sell.”

He makes a face, smiling wide as he leans in. “They are animals.” You expected this response, but it still hurts for him to say it so indisputably. “And they're for me to do whatever I want with.”

You clench your teeth and watch him turn away again, reclaiming the file and dropping it into a drawer he pulls open. “And besides, they won't be sold indefinitely.” He looks up at you with that sly grin of his. “The Capitol should be able to have their fill…”

You scoff. “Oh, so they're not just your slaves, they're your prostitutes.” You can't believe him, though you know you should.

He’d done it to you. What was stopping him from doing it to the rest?

Hopefully, you.

“They're my pets,” he counters. He leans forward onto his desk. And he's so tall, that he manages to lean in so much that he can see each little fleck of your irises as you stare unblinkingly at him. “Just like you.”

You nod, pursing your lips. “Okay, then I'm your pet.” You lean in as well, this time. You lean in so close that he has no choice but to shift away from you. “Not them.” You lick your lip and round the desk, wanting so desperately for him to hear your voice for once.

You plead, because it's the only thing you can do. Your voice is quiet, desperate, weak. Just the way he likes it.

“Let them go. You do enough to them, they don't deserve this.”

He doesn't hear you. He doesn't care.

“They deserve whatever I decide.”

Your jaw tenses, your thoughts scrambling to figure out a solution. Any solution. You just need to persuade him, to change his mind. This doesn't need to happen.

But his eyes are so cold, so stoney, so lying. There's no sympathy there and there will never be sympathy there. So you try to sway him in the way you know best.

You drop to your knees, skilled and shaky hands grasping his belt as you begin to undo it quickly. “What are you doing?”

The metal clinks as you work at it, pulling it free from the first loop as you begin to take the latch from its adjusted position. “Changing your mind,” you answer plainly. As you loosen the belt, tugging on it to remove it from the loops of his pants. “This is what you want, isn't it? You're just trying to rile me up to get me to do what you want. I'll do it–”

“Get the fuck off me.”

He pushes you away, shoving you onto the floor like you're nothing. And to him, you are. Nothing.

He doesn't seem angry, just annoyed at your audacity… And then he seems amused. His face lifts and he begins to smile. His smile turns to a chuckle, and he shakes his head as he looks down at you, purely amused by your attempt at persuasion.

“Oh, I get it,” he laughs, walking toward you to properly tower over your meek body. “You think that because I fuck you that I actually care about what you want.” He pronounces the F to hurt, punching it while also saying it with such disregard that it truly shows how little it means to him… Nothing.

He kneels down, resting his arm on his knee and watching you with those taunting eyes. “This isn't about you,” he whispers. Though his voice is soft, it cuts like a knife. Your hands tremble as they lift you up.

He spews his poison without restraint. “You are an animal. And yes, you are my lap dog.”

He feigns sympathy and remorse that he isn't capable of. “You think I swooped in earlier and punished that stupid girl because she talked down to you? I punished her because you're mine, and if I let someone get away with disrespecting my things, no one will respect me.”

He spews all his hatred, and you take it all. “I couldn't care less that she called you an animal or a whore or whatever the fuck else because you are.” It's a slap in the face each time as his voice becomes more and more hateful. “You're my pet, and you're my whore. You belong to me.”

So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp.

You stare at him, your face fallen as you seem to learn your lesson for the thousandth time. You're nothing to him. You're just property, and you mean nothing.

He smirks, standing to his full height once more as you remain tossed to the floor. You stare at him, your fight diminished.

“Speak.”

Like a dog.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Obedient.

“Smile.”

It looks like a sneer.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Well-trained.

Your lips part as you open your mouth, dropping your jaw as you've been doing for years.

And though that satisfies him beyond all belief, that satisfaction is all he needs. “Close your mouth.”

Nothing.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Your monotonous tone falls silent as you await his next command, a dog waiting for orders from her master.

He bends down, grasping the front of your shirt in his fist and pulling close. His face is inches from his. You don't fight him, you don't resist in any way. You let him move you as he pleases, staring blankly at him.

He looks about the length of your face. His smile is wholly evil. “Don't forget what you are.”

Quiet, broken, weak is your voice. Just the way he likes it.

“Yes, Coryo.”

He hums, letting you go. “Good girl.”

PART SIX: Addiction

You hear the footsteps coming down the hall and ignore them all the same. Flipping the next page in your book, you sigh gently and pull your legs closer toward you. Just a couple more sentences is all you ask…

Your door opens without a knock, and you aren't surprised. This is his home, you are his pet. Why ask permission for something which belongs to him?

You force yourself to meet Coryo’s gaze, the exhaustion in your eyes clear. He's in the same clothes as before, though his hair is more relaxed and his shirt is looser, the top few buttons undone to let his chest peek from its hiding spot. With one last sigh, you close your book.

You slip off the bed, easing down to your knees. Letting your hands rest in your lap, you allow your jaw to drop open wide, ready to receive him as you push your tongue out over your bottom teeth.

He smirks lightly, his chuckle even lighter. “Down girl.” You close your mouth.

“How do you want me?”

He sighs gently, closing the door behind him and slowly walking inside. “Believe it or not,” he says, his voice gentle, “I'm not here for me, I'm here for you.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed and suspicious. “Why?”

Your attitude amuses him. He shrugs, taking a seat at the edge of your bed and looking down at you. It doesn't feel as condescending as it usually does. “Making up.”

Foolish hope sparks in your chest, but you don't let it show. “So you're not going through with it.”

“No, I am.” He hums, “But I can't have my pet neglected, now can I?”

You sigh, turning away from him. You don't know why you asked.

He pats the spot next to him. “Get back on the bed, my flower.”

You look down at your hands as you rub at your pinky. “Yes, Coryo.”

As you sit up, taking the spot next to him, he tuts gently. “Now, now. No need for that tonight,” he says, closing the gap between the both of you.

You look up at him, your attitude fully present still. “Yes, Coryo.”

He sighs. Coryo sets a hand on your knee, turning toward you. “You're upset,” he says. You scoff. “That's understandable. I upset you.”

You want to say something snarky, but you're on thin ice from today, and you don't need to make it thinner. You turn away, but he catches your gaze as he takes your chin with his crooked finger and turns you to face him again.

And you hate yourself for feeling cared for.

“Let me make it up to you.”

You hate the way you nearly melt. “You can make it up to me by letting them go.”

He hums, shrugging. “Or I can eat you out.” You feel like you might shake at the idea. When you don't speak, he raises his brows. “Unless you just want me to leave…”

He's manipulating you. You know he is. He's been doing it since the beginning. You'd think you had some sort of defense against him at this point, but he's had years of practice in bending you to his will, in getting you hooked on him.

He knows. He knows what you are.

You're feeding me poison.

And you give in. Because you've never been strong against him, not even for a moment. You give in because you're so addicted to him that you'd die without the taste of him on your tongue…

With a long sigh, you lay back against your pillows and spread your legs. His smile spread across his face in such a wicked way, self-satisfied and fully amused.

He sets a hand on your knee and shifts himself to kneel in front of you. He slowly pulls your panties down your legs and pushes your nightgown away, teasing you and increasing your still-there frustrations.

Yes, you've lost the ability to resist this man and his sexual prowess, but that doesn't mean you want to draw this out. It's shameful enough…

He knows this. That's why he does it.

His lips press to the inside of your knee, then further down your thigh, and then right back up. You huff silently, annoyed with his antics.

He gives you a disarming smile. “Come now, my flower,” he tuts. “I may be spoiling you but that doesn't mean we don't still have our manners.”

You lay your head back, sighing as you let your eyes shut. You lick your bottom lip. “Please, Coryo.”

He hums. “I am sure you can do far better than that.”

Maybe you should cry. Maybe if you cry, he'll think you're ugly and leave you to live back in your lonely home at Seven. He'll think you're too worthless to go back into the Games. You could sober up the hard way… He'll leave you be.

But you know Coriolanus, which means you know that would never happen. He'd tsk, tsk, tsk and tell you how perfect you look crying. He'd hold you down and fuck you and tell you to be a good girl and keep crying for him. And you would. You know would.

Besides, if he did cast you out, he would just choose someone else to take your place. Then he would do this to them.

Better you than someone else.

You look up at him, screwing your face into a self-pitying expression. Your voice is small and meek when you open your mouth.

“Please, Coryo,” you whisper, “I'm yours.”

Just the way he likes it.

Pleased, he presses another kiss to the inside of your thigh, and then lets the flat of his tongue lick along the seam of your pussy. A whimper slips from your lips at the feeling, and you let yourself fade into the pleasure.

You forget that this man is your captor, your master. You forget that he's the reason for your nightmares. You forget that he's dark, cruel, sadistic, that he does not truly care for you.

You lose yourself in the fantasy that he is a loving man who only wants to see you happy.

“Coryo,” you moan as he suckles eagerly at your clit, a man starved of his sweet wine. Coryo. Not Coriolanus. Not Snow. Your Coryo. Your gentle, loving Coryo. The man who held you when he wasn't forcing you to your knees and bidding you to be his good girl.

His fingers stroke inside of you, two long fingers curling with you as his tongue flicks at your clit. The stretch of his fingers is welcome, and you look down at his head nestled between your thighs. You whine at the feeling of his tongue, hungry and searching.

His dull nails dig into the flesh of your thigh. As his tongue delves inside of you with his lips suckling around you, you feel his nose press deliciously against the sensitive bundle of nerves, which aches for release.

Circling his head, your legs wrap around him and squeeze, the tension tightening in your belly as he works eagerly at your pleasure. You're helpless to him as sounds rise from your throat like a gentle hum. Again, you whisper his name, lost to the feeling of him. He grunts into you, your body warm with the vibration, with the warmth of his mouth, with the warmth of his hands on your thighs.

“Coryo,” you whimper as you feel your pleasure rising within you, tingling in your legs and in your toes. Your open-mouthed breaths make your throat dry, but it’s hard to focus on that when each breath you take fills your chest with more and more desire. “I’m so close,” you gasp. “Please, can I cum?”

Instead of answering, he just sucks harder on your clit, prying your thighs further apart as he licks you up. As that coil tightens in your belly, your legs tremble and almost fight against his grip keeping them apart. You grind your hips up to meet his face, he holds you down.

You know how he likes it—the grinding, the moaning, the pleading, the strength. And when the pleasure crashes down on you, your clit pulsing against each lick of his tongue as he continues to work you, you shut your eyes and let out the breathy moans he loves so much. Your chest is full of warmth.

I’m choking on this feeling I can’t help but swallow up.

“C-Coryo,” you mutter, the sensitivity becoming too much as your legs continue to tremble. You arch away from him, but he holds you tight and pulls you closer. He forces your legs apart still, not quite finished as he continues to suckle around your sensitive bud.

You gasp when he finally pulls away, satisfied with the taste of you. “What a good girl you are,” he murmurs, smiling almost wickedly—though you replace it with one full of love and care. One can only dream.

He crawls up your body, stalking like a predator as he leans in, his face inches from yours. You bring your hands up to his cheeks and pull him down to meet your lips, kissing him with all the passion you can muster. He cares, he cares, he cares.

He cares as he traces his tongue along the seam of your lips. He cares as he smooths his hand along your soft thigh. He cares as he brings your leg up against his side and grinds his hips against you. He cares as he digs his dull nails into your flesh like the claws of a lion. He cares as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip like the fangs of a wolf.

He definitely cares as he brings a strong hand to your hair and tangles his fingers there with every intention of tugging you back to see your face. You whimper lightly, sinking into it and pretending the burn of your scalp is just the heat of your desire.

I made my choice and every night I’m wasted like there’s no tomorrow.

“You’re so pretty,” he smiles, and you fully understand the unspoken “like this�� that follows his words but you choose to ignore it.

He kisses you again, this primal, devouring kiss you gladly mistake for ardor. He takes the bottom of your nightgown in his hand and pulls it up and over your head. You let him take it off of you. You let him strip you bare as his greedy hands smooth along the length of your body. Tentatively, not fully committed (you would be perfectly content with his lips on yours, kissing him forever under the illusion of simple intimacy), you pull at his belt. He undoes it and pulls it off entirely. You think he’ll toss it away, but it doesn’t.

“Open your mouth.”

Obediently, you do. He wraps the belt around your head, fitting it in your mouth as he loops it behind and pulls it tight. You nearly wince at the feeling, but he’s done worse. He unbuttons his pants, leaning down as he presses his lips to your neck. He kisses and sucks and nips at your throat, and you both let out deep moans that rumble in your chest when he presses inside of you.

You lean your head back, giving him more space to paint your neck in his claim. The taste of leather is strong on your tongue. Each breath you take is full of the earthy scent of his belt. You set your hands on his waist as he braces his fists on either side of your head. His thrusts are deep and rough. You feel his hips as he moves, his slender waist fits perfectly between your legs.

Your moans are muffled by his belt. As you dig your heels into his back, encouraging each thrust as he gives them, he grunts at the way you tighten around his cock. His hips snap into you with a greed that makes you crazy, that drives him wild. Taken by the pleasure, he grabbed the belt behind your head and pulled it in a way that made you look up at him.

His lips are plump from kissing you so roughly, his hair is loose and falling in delicate locks across his forehead, his breath fans gently across your own face. He looks pretty like this. Even with the predatory gaze in his eyes, he looks pretty. You want to kiss him but you don’t. You can’t.

He breath stutters in his throat after a particular thrust, and your eyes flutter shut as you moan at the feeling. He continues to fuck into you, like it’s the last time. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing sweet or nice or careful. He fucks you to his own need, but knows you well enough that it would fill you with so much pleasure that it doesn’t matter if he does it for him.

And he knows you well enough that the lack of care he has in his thrusts fills you with so much longing that he doesn’t need physical pain to be sadistic.

He pulls out of you suddenly, his breath coming out in hot puffs as he leans back on his haunches. “Turn around,” he orders, though his voice is quieter—there’s no real need to bark with you.

Anyway you want me, baby, that’s the way you got me.

You do as you’re told, ignoring the discomfort in the loss of him inside of you as you sit up and move as quickly as you can with the sluggish nature of your desire for him mixing with your depletion. As soon as you’ve turned around, he doesn’t care to give you time to adjust to the new position before he’s grabbing the belt again, wrapping it around his fist, and taking your hip in his other hand as he shoves his cock into you once again.

You go to hang your head, the feeling too great, but you’re stopped by his grip of the belt. Setting the quickened pace at the beginning, he fucks into you fast and rough. The sound of his skin smacking against yours fills the room. A light sheen of sweat coats your body as the heat fills you inside and out. His name is muffled on your lips, but his grunts are clear in the air.

His hand on your waist circles around as he presses his fingers to your still-sensitive clit. He rubs fast circles against it, building you up, up, up. You can’t help but whine, you can’t help but feed his hunger as he fills you with pleasure. Your legs tremble, and with his skill, it isn’t long until he hurls you into your second orgasm.

You throw your head back and moan, the sound rough with your desperation. But he doesn’t stop. He isn’t finished. He fucks your sensitive cunt. His eyes flutter at the tightening of your cunt.

You feel so weak, tired from the exertion but not fully satisfied until you’ve given him all that he needs. You’ve been with this man for years and the conditioning settled in a long time ago.

I’ll be yours.

So, yes, he keeps going and keeps going and keeps going. He takes you on your back, he takes you on your hands and knees, he takes you against the wall (front and back), he takes you in his lap, and he never stops each time until you’ve come apart in his hands. Pent up with so much stress and spurred on by the fatigue in your eyes, he lasts through it all.

You don’t know how long you’ve been going by this point. All you know is the rhythm of his hips thrusting in and out and in and out as he pushes you down into the bed with your ass pulled up against his hips and your face buried in a pillow. His hands push against your back, keeping you down still. You can hear his breath, heavy with his own nearing exertion. His thrusts are beginning to lose their rhythm, becoming more and more desperate with his nearing release.

You can hardly keep your eyes open. All your breaths have been reduced to shallow whimpers, and as his finger presses against your clit again, a mewl slips from your throat as it pleads for relief and release alike. You hear him begin to curse under his breath, his thrusts rougher though not as steady. And he presses you further still as he moves closer, seeking his relief as it gets so close, he can taste it.

And, because you know him just as well as he knows you, you tip him over the edge as you let your lips part. Your voice is small and meek and whiny, a needy little cry that he hears because he craves it. “Coryo.”

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

He fucks you hard in the first few seconds that he spills into you, his cum hot and plentiful as he moves himself farther against you as if he could go deeper still. And as his fingers flick at your clit, you accompany his needy moan with your own as you cum as well. You’re blinded by the feeling, left mewling as your eyes well with tired tears. It’s almost uncomfortable and you wince slightly when he presses a little too deep into you.

Coryo lingers there, his breath evening into a steadier rhythm as he eases off of you. You take in a full breath as he pulls out of you, closing your eyes and going limp against the sheets. Your body is so heavy, full of the exhaustion that has haunted you for years, exhaustion that comes with belonging to Coriolanus Snow. You wish you could slow down, take a breath, but whatever Snow wants, Snow gets.

My story’s gonna end with me dead from your poison.

Coryo runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh. He picks your nightgown up from the floor and wipes the both of you clean with the smallest modicum of care. You feel his knuckles brush against your shoulder and you shiver as he lets it graze gently along your spine. He stops it at the dip of your back.

Coryo turns off your bedside lamp, crawling into the bed as he shifts behind you, a gentle hand falling to your side as he pulls you into his body. And you actually find comfort in his arms as he pulls you closely to his body. His head rests in the crook of your neck, your body is pulled flush against his. His warmth seeps into your skin and you let your eyes flutter shut as he pulls the covers over your bodies.

And for a moment, everything is perfect. For a moment, you trick yourself into believing that this man can be capable of love.

But you feel his arms tightening around you until your lungs are so tight that it’s nearly impossible to breathe. You feel his nails, eager and greedy, digging into your flesh, and you wince at the terrible sting of them. He pulls you closer, not just seeking your warmth, but seeking full control and possession over something that already belongs to him. You silence your whimper.

I’m drowning in poison. I keep fillin’ my glass but it’s always hollow, full of poison.

When you can get past the pain of his embrace, you manage to lull yourself to sleep. You rest in his clutch and indulge in the false security of his empty arms.

But your rest is short-lived. Because halfway through the night, he wakes. Coryo opens his eyes and loosens his hold on you. You rouse from your own sleep but you stay perfectly still with closed eyes and steady breath. He lets go of you completely, getting out of the bed and leaving the room with silent steps. He has work to do.

I’m sick of the poison.

Once the door is closed, you’re left cold and alone. You curl up in on yourself, turning your head into the pillow as you feel the dam break. And like an idiot, you cry into your pillow. Your chest stutters with all the pain and weariness and hopelessness you carry with you through the day, through the night. You let it out, but it never seems to fade. And as the fatigue takes over once more, you let it take you into a sleepless kind of sleep where your nightmare of holding love in your hands plays in your mind over and over and over again.

Wish I had something to live for tomorrow.

Coriolanus Snow taglist: @the-nerdy-goddess Tag yourself here...

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader smut #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #fanfic #fanfiction

503 notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 9 months

Text

LOVE AND TOUR

A/N: im so excited to post this fic bc *drum roll* it's a collab with @harrysfolklore !! the post tour depression is still kicking our butts so we decided to team up for a story that features LOT! hope you guys will like it and as always, make sure to head over to her blog to check out her fic that features all social media posts for this story!

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

SUMMARY: Y/N and Harry were once friends, but his career pulled them apart. Then in 2019 Harry decides to invite her to ONO London and so their story begins or more like continues.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

2010

The handmade banner hanging over the white board in the classroom is crooked and two balloons have popped already. The sign reads ‘Good luck, Harry!’ and every letter is a different color. The desks and chairs were pushed to the side to make room in the middle and the teacher’s desk is full of snacks and drinks the kids brought in for the little impromptu party the class decided to throw before Harry’s big day.

He is going to his big X Factor audition this weekend and though he is not convinced he will make it, everyone in school is rooting for him. If anyone deserves the success it’s Harry, the goofy, kind boy who makes everyone smile and always helps whenever he can.

The soon-to-be rockstar is mingling with his friends and classmates, music is playing in the background and the chatting is nonstop. Everyone keeps asking Harry if he’s nervous or ready or which judge he is afraid of the most. He tries his best to talk to everyone and be everywhere, though he keeps an eye on one specific girl.

Y/N has been staying in the back for most of the time, sipping on some soda, listening to her friend as he enjoys the spotlight. She’s been friends with Y/N for quite some time, they live just a street away from each other, they often bike to school together and whenever one of them is sick the other one can be expected to show up at their house with the homework.

Good friends. That’s what they are. But deep down, Y/N is definitely feeling more than just friendship towards the curly haired boy who is now set to step his foot on the road to fame.

When the party is over and everyone has headed home already, Harry and Y/N are the last ones to walk out of the school’s building.

“So, be honest, are you nervous?” she asks as they are walking home , pushing their bikes this time. Harry said he hurt his ankle at PE today so he better not get on the bike, but in reality… he is just trying to spend more time with Y/N.

“Kind of, yeah,” he admits with a chuckle.

“I’m sure you will crush it.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” she smiles at him and his heart skips a beat.

Harry has been trying to work up his courage to ask Y/N out since probably the sixth grade, but he just never got to the point. Now he tells himself that if he gets into X Factor she will see him in a different light and that’s when he should ask her out, but little does he know he doesn’t need to be in a talent show to have her like him enough to want him.

Reaching her house she wishes him good luck and even hugs him before he waves goodbye and continues his way home. Y/N stands by their front door and watches him get farther away, hoping that whatever happens that weekend won’t change their friendship.

2013

The tour bus is quiet, everyone is asleep. Everyone, except Harry.

Lying in his bunk bed, his face is illuminated by his phone as he aimlessly scrolls on his social media apps, checking out posts by fans, reading news, just killing time. He knew he shouldn’t have had a nap earlier, because now it will be way too late by the time he can fall asleep and won’t be rested enough when they arrive in the next city.

He opens up Instagram and goes through his feed, he posts a picture he took of the crowd at the show the other day and then watches the likes flood in like crazy.

Going back to his feed he goes through his friends’ posts, it’s just the usual, parties, vacations, hanging out, everyone seems to be living their life even though Harry often feels like time has stopped since he’s gotten on the road.

He can feel himself growing sleepier and he is just about to put his phone down when he comes across a post that wakes him up.

Y/N is not one to post often, she is not like most girls he knows who want to share every and any moment of their life. Last time she uploaded something was probably weeks ago. This time she was snapped in her graduation gown, her hair flowing in the movement flawlessly and he recognizes her parents’ home in the background. It totally slipped Harry’s mind that in a life he left behind graduation was happening these days.

He scrolls down to the caption and all it says is “Soon” and then a crown emoji. It’s enough for him to know she’s going to King’s College London, that’s what she always dreamed about and it seems like she hasn’t changed her mind.

Before he could think about it, he double taps on the picture liking it, completely oblivious to how fans can see his activity and they instantly start guessing about who the girl is whose graduation photo was liked by Harry Styles.

2014

The screaming intensifies wherever Harry goes on the stage, he is jumping and shaking his long hair to the music while his bandmates are singing ‘Steal My Girl’ and the girls are going crazy, the energies are insane, Harry loves performing, this is truly his element.

He’s been on the road for what feels like forever and if you asked him what day it was, he would have no idea. It’s a miracle he knows which city he is currently in.

Walking to the side of the stage he stops for a moment right before the bridge that’s his part. He lifts his mic to his lips and starts singing when the music dies down right before his lines.

“She knows, she knows, that I never let her down before…”

His voice fills up the stadium, thousands are singing together with him and he runs his gaze over the sea of people in front of him. He sees so many faces, some are even familiar, Harry tends to remember fans he sees over and over again at their concerts, but most of them are new. The song carries on and the boys start singing along with him, Harry is about to move back to the middle of the stage, but then he sees her.

He sees Y/N.

Or so he thinks. It’s hard to tell, because it’s dark and she is so far away from the stage, it could be just someone who resembles her, but something in his gut tells him it’s her.

He does a double take, losing the familiar face for a moment but then he finds her again and a shiver runs down his spine. He hasn’t seen her in years, life has been simply way too hectic to keep in touch, last time he met her was probably in 2012 when he went home for Christmas, they ran into each other in town and promised to talk soon because they were both kind of in a hurry, but they never followed up with it. Y/N went to college, Harry’s career was skyrocketing, it was impossible to stay as close as they were before X Factor and Harry always regretted not trying harder, because now he has no idea what’s happening in her life.

Niall walks up to him and pats him on the back and Harry’s focus shifts to his friend for just a moment, but it’s enough to not find her again when he looks back at the audience. Did she duck down? Walk out when she realized he was looking? Or did he just entirely imagine seeing her and it was just a mirage?

He can’t get her out of his head for the rest of the show and he finds himself looking for her over and over again, but he doesn’t see her again and his consciousness starts to convince him she wasn’t even there.

It was just a cruel trick his own mind played on him.

2019

Why does he feel like he is sending out an invitation to the Queen of England? Why is he so nervous to hit send on an email? This is nothing Earth shattering, nothing will happen if he sends it out and life will go on even if she never replies.

One Night Only is set to happen in a few weeks and Harry is now sending out his invitations to his friends and family, he wants everyone who matters to be there on such a big night. Making the list was no hard task, but then he thought of inviting Y/N as well even though they haven’t talked in so long.

The other night, Harry found himself stalking her Instagram which he is still following. She has been posting once or twice a month, tiny glimpses into her life that doesn’t include Harry anymore.

But he wants to change that.

“Fuck it,” he mumbles under his breath and then adds her to the list of people who will get the invitation and then he just hits send and it’s officially out there.

Harry is not necessarily one to get overly obsessive about something, but the next few days he finds himself checking his inbox every hour, scrolling through the new emails, looking for one particular address to show up, but he has to come to the conclusion every time that Y/N hasn’t answered.

Days go by, Harry’s enthusiasm fades and by the end of the week he is convinced she won’t be there and soon he doesn’t even have time to think about it.

One Night Only arrives to London in december. The venue fills up with excited and devoted fans, but no one is more nervous about tonight than Harry.

He is ready, his band is ready, everything is perfectly in place, but he knows he won’t feel fully calm until he is on stage, performing to the people who gave him this amazing life.

It all goes as planned, Fine Line is finally officially out there (it has been for about a week if we are being exact) and Harry couldn’t be happier. Coming off the stage he is still high on adrenaline, taking all the congratulations the crew and guests are giving him relentlessly. His smile is so wide, it’s starting to hurt his face, but it’s a pain he could happily deal with for the rest of his life.

He hugs his mum and sister, all his old friends, they do a group hug with the band and he is sure he has greeted everyone by now, but then he spots one specific figure in the back of the room.

At first he thinks he is just imagining it. That his mind is playing the same trick on him it did a few years ago when he thought he saw Y/N at one of their concerts. Blinking a couple of times he is ready to watch her disappear like a ghost, but as the seconds go by he realizes that she is truly there.

Y/N is standing across the room with a nervous smile, looking all grown up and most importantly fucking beautiful. Even though Harry has seen plenty of pictures of her from recent times, it’s still a shock to have her stand in the same room as him.

His body moves before his brain could process it. His feet start to carry him towards her and before he even realizes he is running and when he finally reaches her he wraps her in his arms, twirling her around, making both of them laugh.

“You’re here!” he breathes out, still hugging her even when he has put her down.

“I am, you invited me!” she chuckles and they finally lean back enough to look at each other.

“I know, but… you never replied, I didn’t think you’d come and… You are actually here,” he repeats.

“Sorry I didn’t reply, I wasn’t sure until the very last minute if I would come,” she admits nervously.

Harry’s invitation was all she could think about since the morning she got the email. It was more than unexpected, for a moment she even thought it was just some kind of prank, but it came from Harry's old email address, so she had to believe that it was genuine. She hesitated until probably a few days ago when she woke up one day and just knew that she had to be here tonight.

“It’s okay,” he smiles at her softly, taking in her every feature. The girl he knew is still there, but she changed a lot, she looks so much more mature and her features have definitely gotten a lot more feminine.

She looks gorgeous.

Suddenly it all comes down on him clashing, all the questions, the feelings, he wants to know everything, but he fears they don’t have enough time.

“How long are you staying?” he then asks.

“I took a couple of days off, I’m staying for three more days.”

He sighs in relief.

“Come on,” he smiles, his hand taking hers. “I want to know everything.”

“Everything?” she chuckles, ignoring the tingles wherever his hand is touching hers.

“Harry, don’t assault the poor girl! She almost didn’t come!” Gemma chimes in. Harry stops, his eyes snapping back and forth between Y/N and his sister.

“Wait, you knew she would be coming?” he asks Gemma, who is sipping on some champagne with a knowing smile. She shrugs.

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” he scoffs, hands on his hips. The sight makes Y/N laugh, because she can see his sixteen year-old self in the pose so vividly, it’s insane.

“You never asked,” Gemma says and walks away. Harry turns back to Y/N.

“She messaged me if I got your invitation,” she admits.

“So you’re telling me, all I should have done is to send you a message and ask for confirmation?”

Y/N just chuckles, shrugging her shoulders innocently. Harry exhales as he shakes his head.

“Alright, now you truly have to tell me everything.”

2020

“Can you hear me?” Harry asks, as the FaceTime finally loads and Y/N’s pixelated face fills his phone’s screen. He leans back on his plush couch and he tries his best to ignore how fast his heart starts pounding in his chest when he hears her laugh.

“Yeah, I can hear you,” she answers and it seems like she just sat down somewhere too.

Struggling with the unstable connection they share how their day has been so far, though Harry has been up just for a few hours while Y/N’s is almost over. The time difference has been making it hard for them to keep in touch, but Harry has learned his lesson and he bends his schedule around these talks, because there’s no way he would waste even a moment he could spend talking to her.

ONO and the days that followed changed everything. It didn’t take long for Harry to realize that his boyish crush is still very much present and after seeing her it quickly evolved into something more mature. Seemingly, Y/N has been sharing these feelings, because it appears she enjoys spending time with Harry in any way possible just as much as he does.

It took them quite some time to catch up and it feels like they still haven’t shared everything they missed in each other’s life in the past years, but they know they have all the time they need, even if the circumstances might not always be the best. They are both trying their best.

There’s a comfortable silence in their call where both of them are just staring at each other through the screen. The unsaid things have been hanging there between them, they know it’s more than just their old friendship rekindled, but saying the words out through a FaceTime call wouldn’t be right.

“I miss you,” Harry finds himself mumbling the words, kind of to himself, but she hears the words.

“I miss you too,” she replies, biting her lip as she adjusts the phone in her hands.

“Can I… Can I see you before I go on tour?”

“That’s like… in three weeks,” she chuckles.

“I know. But I want to see you.”

“I don’t know, I have a regular, mundane job, I’m not an international rockstar who can just travel whenever it’s convenient,” she reminds him jokingly.

“Okay, then let me visit you.”

“You’re way too busy to come here.”

“I’m never too busy for you.”

She gasps at his words, the pink clouds so thick around her mind it’s almost sickening. If only she could reach out and through the screen…

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow and if you still think the same, we can… figure something out,” she smiles shyly. Harry knows he’ll feel the same tomorrow and the day after and forever. So he just smiles and nods.

They chat some more until Harry has to leave. Unwillingly, but they end the call and return to their separate lives.

Y/N stays on her couch, her phone still in her hands and Harry on her mind. Her TV is on, but it’s been muted, the screen is the only thing illuminating her in the dark room. With a tired sigh she reaches for the remote and turns the volume back on.

The news are on. She stands from the couch and starts cleaning up, not even listening to what they are talking about on the screen.

“... therefore COVID-19 has been officially declared a pandemic. WHO warns everyone to wear a mask in all public places, countries with a high number of cases are urgently discussing what other safety measures should…”

Y/N is questioning her sanity. She has been for the past week that was spent packing her suitcase, she took three covid tests in the last two days and now she is about to board a private jet at an airport that’s scarily empty. The last part shouldn’t be surprising, the whole world is under lockdown because of the pandemic, Y/N has spent her last month isolated in her apartment, right until one day Harry begged her to fly over to him.

“Y/N, please. I will settle everything, I’ll send a private jet for you, pay for it all, just please… please come here and be with me!”

There’s probably nothing she can deny from him. So here she is, escorted onto a private jet by an airport worker, they are both wearing their masks, just like everyone she has seen in the past week preparing for her travel.

Just as she settles in her seat on the jet, her phone buzzes from a text.

HARRY: Everything alright? Are you boarding already?

With a smile hidden under her mask she types her reply.

Y/N: On the plane, we’re taking off in 10.

HARRY: I can’t wait to see you.

Last time she traveled overseas was for a vacation years ago. She flew commercial then and it felt like hell, wedged between an obnoxious little boy and a middle aged woman who complained about everything. Now it’s just her and literally one single stewardess who is there to serve her. It’s a whole different experience for sure.

Luckily, the journey feels a lot shorter when she’s comfortable, she can get up anytime and eat excellent food instead of some weird frozen meal on a plastic plate. By the time the jet touches down she feels rested and most importantly excited to see Harry again. It feels like forever when they had to say goodbye in december and in all honesty, it took them way longer to reunite, but it’s all because of the pandemic. It’s late april now, they were planning to meet about a month ago originally at the end of march before his tour was set to kick off. By now he was supposed to be on the road through Europe, but instead, he has been under lockdown just like the rest of the world.

She walks through LAX as if it was zombie land, it’s so eerily empty she is expecting zombies to round the corner any minute, but it never happens. She reaches the car waiting for her, the driver loads her begs to the trunk and then they are off to Harry’s place.

It’s her first time at Harry’s LA home, and naturally it still baffles her to see where he’s gotten from his old life in Holmes Chapel, one that included her.

But his life includes her now as well, she reminds herself just as the car rolls up the long driveway. Getting out of the car she is about to grab her suitcases from the back of the car when the front door flies open and Harry sprints out. Literally.

He is running towards her with such speed, she almost gets knocked over when he finally reaches her and locks her in his arms, twirling around in the air.

“You’re here!” he breathes out, making her laugh.

“Were you not expecting me?” she teases him when he finally puts her down, but his arms remain around her.

“It’s just… I’m so happy to see you,” he smiles widely, taking her in. She hasn’t changed much since December, maybe her hair has gotten a little longer, but she looks the same.

However their feelings are nowhere near the same.

He thanks the driver and then grabs all her bags, urging her to come inside. Y/N wanders further into his home exploring it right away, already migrating towards the pool outside. Harry sets her luggage down in the hallway and walks after her, watching her stop by the sliding doors, admiring the enormous backyard. She turns around and catches him staring.

“What?” she asks, nervously laughing.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. “I’m just really happy you’re here.”

2021

He’s nervous. There’s no use in denying, anyone could see it. But no one can blame him, it’s been so long since he last stood on a stage, he’s afraid he lost his groove, though the people who know him beg to differ.

Washing his teeth in his fluffy robe he is eyeing his outfit for tonight that’s hanging in the corner. He knows his fans will love it, the color pink alone would make them go feral, but the sparkly vest with no top underneath will be surely like they won the jackpot.

He spits and rinses his mouth just when there’s a soft knock on the door and just by the rhythm of it he knows who it is.

“Come in!” he calls out, wiping his mouth with a towel just when Y/N pokes her head inside, her body following a second later.

“Hey,” she smiles shyly, taking him in for a second as he moves around the room.

“Told you, you don’t have to knock when you come in,” he chuckles.

“But, what if you’re… naked or something?”

He stops and stares back at her, giving her an ‘Are you kidding me?’ look that gets her all flustered in an instant so he decides to take it even further.

“Nothing you haven’t seen, baby. In fact, you can see it right now if you wanted to.” He starts untying his robe, but she stops him laughing and taking the opportunity of having her so close now he wraps her in his arms and kisses her.

It never gets old. The feeling he gets whenever he gets to kiss her, whether it’s a good morning kiss right after he wakes up, or a tired kiss at the end of the day, a needy kiss when he just wants her more than anything or a make-up kiss after a fight, which doesn’t happen often. He can count it on one hand how many times they got into an argument since they’ve become an item in April 2020, when Y/N spent most of the lockdown with Harry. Originally, she planned to stay only for a couple of weeks, but she didn’t return home until the start of June and she was back by July.

Now it’s September 2021, so it’s been almost one and a half years since then and they are still just as in love as they were during lockdown.

“You’re nervous,” she mumbles against his lips and it’s not a question. She knows him, all of his looks, his movements, she knows what he thinks about most of the time if not always, she can read him like a book.

Harry hums and just goes in for another kiss.

“You’ll be amazing, don’t worry,” she smiles at him, patting his chest as she pulls back. “And even if you make a mistake, the pink sparkles will distract everyone,” she jokes, nodding towards his outfit.

“You’ll be out there?”

“Of course. I’ll be the one screaming the loudest.”

“As loud as last night?” The cheeky grin that stretches across his face is proof that he is not that nervous if he can make dirty jokes.

“Shut up or I’m going home,” she laughs, poking a finger into his chest teasingly. He grabs her finger and pulls her back for another kiss.

“Nope, you’re stuck here. With me,” he smirks, lips coming over hers again.

2023

The bittersweet feeling has been lingering around the crew not just all day, but probably for a week now. Everyone knew that the end was coming and now that the final show is officially here, the emotions are overflowing. Everything they are doing, they are doing it for the last time on Love On Tour. It’s the last stage, the last sound check, last time Wet Leg takes the stage before Harry and it’s the last time Y/N is sitting in his dressing room, watching him put on his outfit of the night.

She can sense that he is different than he usually is before a show, he seems antsy and his eyebrows have been furrowed probably since lunch. Y/N watches him pace the floor back and forth in his sparkly outfit, nervously fixing the wire behind his neck even though it’s exactly in the same spot it usually is.

“Do you want me to help?” she asks and Harry stops in his tracks, as if he just realized what he’s been doing. His hands fall by his side as he exhales sharply.

“Sorry, just… fidgeting.”

Y/N stands from the couch and walking over she absentmindedly fixes his fringed vest, planting her palms onto his chest gently.

“It’s okay to be sad, H,” she reminds him. Harry tends to hide his big, sad feelings, because he feels like it would bother others. He is always so considerate about dealing with everyone else’s feelings, but this time his emotions should be in focus as well.

“I don’t want to be sad, that’s the thing. It was a great experience, sadness should not be a thing when I think of Love On Tour.”

“But that’s why it’s okay to be sad. Because this amazing experience is ending and it’s natural that you’re mourning it. It lasted, what? Like almost two years? And if we count in the planning, this tour has been part of your life since 2019. That was four years ago, no one expects you to just let go of it laughing.”

Harry nods, his arms snaking around her waist as he pulls her into his embrace, needing to feel her close in this overwhelming moment. She’s been his anchor, the person he could turn to no matter what during this insanely long tour, he’s convinced he couldn’t have done it all without her.

Not even Harry can slow time down, so the moment to step onto the stage for the last time in this tour finally comes. Y/N stands with his family and friends at the side, holding Anne’s hands whenever an emotional song is played by him. He puts one thousand percent into it, just like every time on this tour and Y/N’s chest swells with pride when she realizes that it’s one hundred thousand people screaming at her lover.

Or fiancé, to be exact.

When Harry sings Falling, to his fans’ surprise, she notices him looking for her in the crowd. The song is melancholic and it was written about a time he felt at his lowest, but to look in his eyes tells it all to Y/N.

He is not there anymore, because he has her.

She’s twisting her diamond ring around her finger as tears dwell in her eyes while she sings along to the song, hoping that her expression tells him too, that she is happy to be the person who brought light into his life, because he did the same to her.

Then the time comes for Harry’s thank you speech and no eye is left dry after his words. Y/N has to swallow back her sobs when he turns to her and addresses his words straight to her.

“My love, thank you for everything, you were such a big part of this journey and I hope that our journey will continue forever.”

The fans are screaming, phones are pointed at her, recording her reaction as she just nods eagerly, one hand covering her wobbling lips.

For his final piano piece Y/N moves backstage to watch him from there and be there when he walks off the stage for the very last time in the history of Love On Tour. She is standing there with the proudest and most emotional expression on her face when Harry jumps down the steps and he smashes into her arms right away, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She can feel his tears against her skin and she gently keeps combing her hand through his hair, giving him as much time to recover as he needs.

When he finally lifts his head his eyes are glassy, but there’s a smile on his lips.

“You did amazing,” Y/N tells him, gently wiping his cheeks with her hands.

“And you did too,” he says and his words make her laugh.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did the absolute most, Y/N. You gave me your love and support and I couldn’t have done it without those.”

Her heart melts as she pushes up to her tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You’ll forever have those. You’ll forever have me.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

1K notes · View notes

coquettexnightz · 2 months

Text

| Innocent Enemy |

Finn Shelby X Oswald Mosleys daughter!Reader

( WARNING: 18+ content, Raw sex, loss of virginity, breeding kink, enemies to lovers, innocent! Reader, mean! Finn, exhibition kink, cream-pie, getting caught, superiority complex, barely a hint of Michael Gray, etc. )

—————————————————————————

Finn only hated the girl because he was told to. She was barely younger than him, only by a couple of months, but she was Oswald Mosleys daughter. So, she was not exactly an enemy in public. She was more of a foe, especially when she was catching on to Tommy Shelby’s plan.

But despite his hate for her, he grew jealous as he watched his cousin, Michael Gray, trap her in a corner with a smirk on his face. He curled a piece of her hair around his finger, blowing his cigarette smoke above her head.

She wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, because Michael Gray was undeniably good looking. But there was two problems. One, he was married. And two? Well, Y/n hated to admit it…but she was sweet on Finn Shelby, the youngest Shelby brother. Her favorite. Even if he acted like he hated her.

But where did it all start? Well—

—

Finn had come into his brothers house late, drunk. Not noticing that Tommy was currently in a tense meeting with Sir Oswald Mosley.

Fortunately, he didn’t bother them at all. Only— Mosley’s teenage daughter. Who was sitting on the couch, one leg propped up on the couch, her knee pressed against her chest. Her heels long gone to wherever she had kicked them.

Finn stood in the doorway, leaning on it as he stared at her in silence. Her head was laid onto the head of the choice, making Finn want to walk up and wrap his hand around her thin throat.

Y/n was extremely tired, she had been waiting almost an hour for her dear father to end the meeting. She only came because she believed it would be quick, as all of his other meetings with the Shelby’s typically were.

Now, this particular occurrence was before the attempted assassination on Sir Mosley.

“Tired?” Finn spoke up with a smirk, sticking his hands in his pockets. Y/n slowly looked forward, taking her head off of the couch. She simply stared at him, her hair slightly falling into her tired, pouty face. “It ain’t safe to fall asleep here…y’never know what someone may do to someone like you.” Finn spoke mischievously.

Y/n sighed tiredly, rubbing her face gently. She dropped her leg back down onto the couch, her legs parting, “Someone like me? Is that supposed to be an insult, Mr. Shelby?” She mumbled, her eyes closed as she dropped her head back onto the couch. “I do believe I am quite the good girl. My Daddy says so many times per day.” She hummed with her eyes remaining closed.

This particular act had shown Finn that she was not afraid of him, which made him angry. He clenched his jaw and began making quick but quiet strides over to her. Why do his brothers get to have all of the fun? He thought.

Y/n had yet to notice him, only opening her eyes out of shock when he forced his knee in between her thighs. “Hey!—,” She began, almost catching the attention of her father who was just in the other room.

But Finn lunged forward, too drunk for his own good as he gently but firmly gripped her jaw and tilting her head upward to stare into his darkened eyes. “Yer cute…acting as if you aren’t afraid of me.” Finn laughed bitterly.

She pouted, “I’m not.” She replied with no hesitation.

Finn breathed outward deeply from his nose, “I could shoot you right now, I could do anything I see fit to you. You’re just a small, little…spoiled posh girl.”

Y/n brought her smaller hand up to hold softly onto Finns wrist, “So are you. We’re the same.” She whispered sweetly. “We are both children of God, are we not?” She spoke so innocently, making Finn bite his lip and loll his neck.

—

And that was their first impressions on each other.

Now, they were once again at Tommy’s house. Michael only being there for the meeting with Tommy, Arthur, and Oswald Mosley.

Oswald had picked Y/n up from her Catholic private school just fifteen minutes before their arrival. Her uniform had long dried by then but her hair was still damp and lying in her face.

Making her more attractive as she stared nervously up at Michael through her eyelashes. Michael glanced over his shoulder and sent Finn a smirk, causing the younger boy to come storming over.

Michael at least expected for his cousin to say something, but Finn only slid his hand through the small gap in between their bodies and grabbed Y/n’s wrist.

Y/n made no attempt to pull away from Finn, simply letting him drag her down the halls and up the stairs of Tommy’s manor. She didn’t even question him as he pulled her into a bedroom, but not just any bedroom. Tommy’s bedroom.

Finn didn’t bother to lock the door, dragging her toward the bed and giving her a gentle shove. She fell on her butt, onto the edge of the bed. She stared at up Finn blankly, her hands conveniently placed perfectly in her lap.

Meanwhile, Finn knew nothing of Personal space, standing so, very close to Y/n. So close that his crotch was almost in her face, but if the seemingly innocent girl had noticed, she sure hadn’t made any indication that she did.

“Yes, Finn?” Her voice came out so softly that Finn couldn’t resist the urge to pick her up and toss her higher onto the bed.

She yelped in surprise as he did just that, Finn crawling toward her. Subconsciously, she spread her legs for him, making him smirk. “Mm…Already so obedient, eh?” He teased, placing his hands on her knees.

Y/n remained silent, staring up at him with doe eyes as he slowly slid his hands down the soft skin of her legs until he reached her ankles.

Finn placed his legs on her own, keeping her pinned down onto the bed by her lower half. Finn took it upon himself to grab the hem of her dark, plaid school skirt and slide it up her legs. Revealing a short, ruffly under skirt, matching with white garters that had a bow on the back of each.

Finn groaned, “You wear this to school?” He wondered, leaning down and rubbing his nose softly against the sensitive skin of her neck.

Y/n shivered slightly, nodding with a pout, “Daddy bought a whole set of ‘em for me.” She mumbled, embarrassed.

“Course’ he did.” Finn chuckled in response. “I hate to say it but— it’s time to take them off for the day.” He spoke huskily, his fingers working to unbuckle the garters.

Once he had successfully done so, he ever so slowly rolled each sheer sock like tights down her legs. Throwing each across the room before moving his hands up to the hem of her skirt. He held in a laugh when he realized the zipper was on the back.

He gave her no warning, lifting his body weight off of her before speedily flipping her onto her stomach. He stood on his knees, quickly unzipping her skirt and pulling it down her butt, along with her cotton panties.

“Fuck, can already see how soaking you are, Love.” Finn licked his lips, placing one hand on the small of her back, slipping his hand into her light pinkish white blouse.

“Finny?” Y/n breathed out, resting her cheek on her crossed arms. Finn only hummed in response, moving to flip her over for the last time in order to unbutton her thin blouse. “I am a virgin.”

Finn looked into her eyes, leaning down to kiss her lips softly. “I’ve known.” He informed her lowly as he unbuttoned each button leisurely. His free hand running through her now dry, soft hair.

Once the two teens were fully undressed, lying together as if they were a puzzle, Finn promised himself that he would make Y/n cry. If she had yet to be afraid of him, then he’d use his power in this situation to make her cry and beg. That way, he could imagine that she was practically terrified of him.

“So much for being Daddy’s good little girl, right? Now? You’re my little girl.” Finn whispered contently as he sucked and licked her neck. Y/n let out a moan as Finn grabbed his cock, rubbing his tip in between her sticky, virgin folds. “I’ve never ‘ad a virgin.” Finn mumbled against her swollen and bitten lips. “S’gonna hurt.”

But he gave her no time to process this, very slowly pushing in, inch by inch. A sly grin was plastered on his face as she began whimpering in pain, her eyes tearing up. “Finn, it hurts.” She began to cry, leaning up off of the mattress, sliding her arms around his neck.

“I told you it would, Silly girl.” He teased quietly, his eyes slightly rolling back as he bottomed out. “Fuck.” He tried his damndest to stay in place, but as Y/n wriggled below him, he wanted so badly to slam into her repeatedly.

Y/n gasped, “Move, move. Please, Finn.” She spoke desperately all of a sudden, catching Finn off guard.

Finn didn’t need to be told twice, slowly pulling out, looking down to be met with his blood coated cock. He gripped the fat of her hips as he thrusted into her tight, hot walls. “You’re so tight. But so dirty, letting Daddy fuck you in a gangsters bed.” Finn chuckled, Y/n crying out and trying her best to pull him closer to her.

“M’sorry— just…please? Please go faster?” She begged hopelessly, her hand moving up to his hair.

Finn did just that, his hips slamming into hers. If anyone were to stand outside of the room, they’d hear the mutual moans and cries from both parties, along with the wet squelching and slapping of skin.

It was so lewd. So nasty. So risky. How could she lose her cherished virginity to a Peaky Blinder Gypsy and let her maidenhead blood bleed out onto the white sheets of the boss’ bed.

Y/n knew it was a sin, but she couldn’t help it. It felt too good as Finn slammed into her. Finn let out a louder, deeper moan, still thrusting in but slightly slower now as his hands flew down to Y/n’s plush thighs. He gripped them, practically throwing her legs around his waist.

Due to the lack of stability, Y/n’s body was sliding up and down the bed.

“Feels s’good!” Y/n cried out, accompanied by Finns even louder and careless moans. Neither seemed to realize that everyone in the house could hear them from all the way upstairs.

“Yeah?” Finn softly spoke. “It’d feel even better if I came deep, deep into your little tummy. Filling you with Shelby babies? Gypsy babies. Would you like that?” Finn cooed, sliding his hand under her body. His hand splayed out on the middle of her back, pulling her upward so that they could be chest to chest as the two grew closer and closer.

“Yes, yes.” Y/n nodded blissfully, not even understanding what was going on. “Fill me, Finny.”

“Oh, I will. Then when you swell up with my baby, you’ll have to marry me. No matter what happens.” Finn grinned widely, cutting himself off with an unexpected groan as Y/n clenched on him. “She’s practically sucking me in, Love. Just asking to be fed.”

As they neared, so did Mosley and Tommy. Curious as to where the yells and cries were coming from.

Y/n wrapped her arms tightly around Finns neck as he slowed his pace. He slowly pushed in and out of her, one arm wrapped around her back, his other free hand cradling her head in order to keep in the crook of his neck.

“I can feel how close you are, just let it go. Then I will too, and you’ll be full to the brim with my babies.” Finn whispered, placing endless kisses to the side of her head, rubbing the back of her head with his thumb.

Y/n nodded, her jaw slack as she rested her almost limp head on Finn’s.

Finn sped up in his last few seconds worth of thrusts. And just as both teens felt their climax come flying forward, the bedroom door flew open. For Mosley had thought that someone was hurting his sweet little girl, judging by the cries that were heard from just outside the door.

But as him and Tommy stopped midway through the room, their eyes landed on Finn and Y/n. Bare naked, not even bothering to cover up with the sheets as they fucked.

The two noticed the older men immediately, and despite their embarrassment, Finn couldn’t seem to stop his hips from moving. Riding out their highs as tears flowed down Y/n’s cheeks. Finn focusing on pushing his cum deep into her womb.

“Well…it seems as if we may need to arrange a ceremony?” Mosley began with a smirk as the teens settled down. Tommy glared at Mosley for a short second, making the man shrug. “What? I can’t let people think my daughter’s innocence was taken before her wedding night.” Mosley snickered happily.

435 notes · View notes

callofdudes · 5 months

Note

Hiya! How are you doing? Hope you doing okay. Btw, if you have time, can I request TF141 with Fem! Reader who is emotionless. The men’s went to visit Y/n place for her birthday but they heard loud bark in her house. When Y/n open the door the men’s are pin down by a lot of puppies. They though she has scary dog only to meet cute puppies. Imagine when the men’s see Y/n cuddle/hanging out with her puppies and she her smile a bit during her birthday they be like ‘Dammit! So cute!’ And almost faint seeing the light above of her like an angel.

Thank you for being so patient anon, I'm trying to get these done, ahh!

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost is pretty used to how you act on base, and while he doesn't exactly trust the whole emotionless thing (that's his thing, back off his permanent emo phase) he does give you space and respect you.

So much so when you invited him to come over after a long mission needing a break from life, he just decided to except. To hell with it, at least he knew you wouldn't bother him.

And plus, it was your birthday in a couple days so what was the real harm in saying no??

So he shows up with his bags a couple days later, not expecting anything special until he rang the doorbell.

Now.

Simon.

Loves.

Dogs.

There are few things he loves more in this world than tea, arson, and dogs. So when he hears a bunch of barking he rightfully assumes you have a dog, unless you just have that playing to scars people, which he wouldn't put it past you.

You come to the door, struggling to open it before he's bombarded at the glass screen, seeing a bunch of tiny puppies jumping and wagging their little tails in excitement to meet a new person.

And Simon nearly dies of how utterly fucking cute that is. You open the door and their jumping at his legs, yipping as he comes in and puts down his bag, on their little legs rushing to sniff the new item in the home.

"Sorry about them." You apologize.

Simon shrugs, melting. "That's alright."

The puppies are pretty adorable, one of them even wants to sleep on his bed with him. And Simon gets used to them, pulling them into his lap and stroking them, cradling them, occasionally following you when you take them for walks.

But when you're both sitting in the living room, Simon scrolling through his phone and you on the TV. He can't help looking over and seeing two of them curled up on your lap and passed out. The others all snuggled close as you barely cling on to the TV remote.

He stares, lip turning up slightly under his mask, seeing how cute the scene was. It was pretty damn adorable.

And he's going to miss those puppies when he goes home. But now he has a nes perspective on you as well. He knows you're gentle.

You pretend not to have emotions, and in your line of work he understood, but he saw the gentle side of you. The nurturer, even if it was too a bunch of cute puppies.

Also.

Let him see your puppies again.

Please.

He's begging you.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Now, Johnny probably would have declined your offer to stay at your house if he knew you had dogs. Johnny hates dogs, and is not afraid to kick one on the spot.

But you wanted to throw a party for your birthday and he couldn't just.. decline to go to your birthday. That was horrible, he was invited, he had to go!

He doesn't want to be cruel to dogs or go out of his way, but they scare him. And he doesn't like being near them.

He grabbed his bag and knocked on your door, immediately tensing when he heard the sound of yips coming toward the door.

Please don't let it be a big dog, please don't let it be a big dog.

You rushed to the door, struggling to open it and Johnny was suddenly swarmed by tiny puppers.

He tensed a little and you apologized, herding them back inside and letting Johnny in. Luckily they were distracted by the scent on his bag long enough he could make it to the living room.

"Sorry about that, should have told you."

"Oh ah, no no that's alright..."

He chuckles softly as the puppies get excited from the new guest, some scrambling to hop into his lap when he sits down and you have to gently remove them from him so he can get settled.

You smile softly as you pull them off and gently, lovingly scold them on crawling all over him. He can't help a little smile when you pick one up, drawing the rest to follow you to the couch.

You flop down, tossing Johnny the remote as the puppies crawl up to you, yipping and snuggling up.

Johnny puts on some YouTube video for experimental slow motion capture explosions for a bit.

Eventually looking over to see if you're even interested, only to see you passed out on the couch with the puppies all curled up.

He watched, smiling softly seeing you so relaxed. You were gentle and kind and now you were soft, all curled up like the world was calm. He grabbed the throw blanket and gently laid it over you, turning off the TV.

One of the pups squirmed out from under your arm, yipping as he moved to the stairs. Johnny shushed the pup softly so you could continue to sleep and he headed down to his room.

You were pretty cute like that, all curled up with a bunch of puppies.

Just... It might not be as cute when they get bigger.

But for now, absolutely adorable.

And now he thinks he might try to get you to open up a little more. Because clearly you aren't simply what you want to be seen as. And he wants to know you. That gentleness he saw that day with your puppies.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle doesn't feel any which way about either animal. He's slightly more of a cat person but would say he likes cats and dogs equally.

He didn't really have any particular thoughts about you either. You were on the team, you got the job done, and that was good. You were quiet, like Ghost, and that was something he could appreciate.

He might have declined the offer to stay over, but it was you'd birthday and you had offered. And what's a week in someone else's home he didn't have to worry about rent and resources? (Gaz math)

So he found himself at your doorstep with really not much idea of what to expect. He didn't think much of it when he rang the doorbell and heard a bunch of yips and little barks.

You must have dogs. Or puppies from the sounds of it.

And he was right, looking down as you opened the door, seeing puppies skittering around and wiggling excitedly. You opened the door, nodding to Kyle, who nodded back.

"Sorry about them, off." You commanded, helping Kyle to put his bag down on the kitchen chair. He watched the puppies dance around between and around his feet.

"That's a lot of puppies." He put his hands in his pockets.

"And I love them all." You smiled softly, cooing them over to the couch. Kyle watched all of them waddle over, yipping and scrambling to get up into the couch.

You curled up in a blanket with them all, one of them staying back to sniff Kyle's pantleg and nibble on it a little.

Kyle watched the little puppy, bending down to pick him up and felt his soft coat. He was very cute puppy, very light too.

"They are beautiful... What breed??" He looked up, noticing your eyes were closed. The light from your blinds casting on you in just a way he could tell it had been a long day.

He smiles softly, thinking how cute it was paired with your earlier words.

He attempted to put the one puppy down but it scrambled back, following him as he took your advice and also went to pass out for a nap.

Eventually waking up with that same pup curled up with him. He went upstairs to see you still sleeping, and he couldn't help thinking it cute s second time.

You were soft, gentle with the small animals. So comfortable with them. He couldn't stop s small smile. So this was the real y/n... He'd like to see more of you.

And he thinks your puppies are adorable.

John Price

Price is like Kyle in that he doesn't really prefer one species over the other, he vibes with both. Though he's leaning more dog person.

You on the other hand, your skill alone is what got you on the team. Price wishes you would be less 'emotionless' and try to open up even a smidge to the others. Even a little bit of teamwork can lead to a lot of success and smoothness.

But oh hell he picked you all...

That's what he couldn't help thinking as he drove down to your house for your birthday. It was mid leave and Price was headed over to celebrate the day with you and make sure you wouldn't be alone.

Showing up at your door, he didn't his little dad shoulder roll and knocked. When he got no response he rang the doorbell, immediately hearing loud barking and yipping.

His eyebrows raised slightly. He didn't take you for a dog person. Unless he's at the wrong house, in that case, fuck him.

But he's reassured it's you when you open the door, giving him a half a smile for effort. "Captain, sorry, I was trying to put them away."

Price chuckles when the small puppies jump up at his legs and run around him, smelling all the new smells on him.

"That's quite alright."

You open the door further and let him inside. Price steps in, the small puppies yipping and jumping. You try to gently scold them off but Price doesn't react, letting them do their thing.

"Sorry, I can make you tea, we can sit down??"

Price nodded. "That sounds lovely actually, thank you."

You nod, grabbing out two cups and getting the kettle ready.

You two pass time talking until you get to the couch, Price crossing a leg over, one of the pups hopping up into his lap, yipping at him and snuggling up to his stomach.

Price can't help chuckling again as you talk. The rest of the puppies curl up with you, you'd arms wrapping around them all, trying to squeeze your love gently into their tiny bodies.

The quietness somehow seeping in along the way until Price looks up from petting the small puppy to see you nodding off against the arm rest.

The sun through the window hits you nicely and Price sighs softly. Seeing how tired you looked, how gentle you were.

Price always knew it, he knew the soft soul under those faces. And now he saw it, seeing how utterly adorable you were curled up with your puppies.

He walks over, setting down the pup from his lap against you, having a feeling he'd feel better there.

He pulls the throw blanket over you, rubbing your arm gently. Guess he's making dinner to give back for making him tea.

He looked back into the living room, seeing you still passed out. Maybe, with some more work he can get you to open to him. He liked seeing you so cuddly up.

You were so gosh darn adorable, almost as adorable as the puppies themselves.

(sorry it's short, it's late and I wanted to at least get something out, blep.)

907 notes · View notes

lokis-army-77 · 7 months

Note

OK, so I know I *could* write this, but my WIPs are ridiculous, and you wrote Demon Eddie so well that he lives rent free in my head.

I was thinking Incubis Eddie, where reader thinks shes just having very horny dreams with this thing, and then he visits her when he thinks she's asleep but she's not...

Feel free to add your own flavours, or ignore this horny thot entirely up to you babe x

Hunger

Incubus!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 2k

A demon awaits you in your room when you arrive home from a night out.

Warning: 18 +. multiple orgasms, some licking (f reviving), fingering (vaginal and anal), CNC?, some hair pulling, blood.

And thank you to @lofaewrites for beta reading 💗

Masterlist

He had started showing up in the dark corners of your room only a month ago. It was after you had watched some horror movie with a friend and instead of being afraid like every normal person in the theater, you were turned on.

In the dreams you had of him, you weren't scared either even when he came into the light and bared his two rows of needle-sharp teeth, even when his horns made him appear taller and the wings stretching from his bare back made him look broader.

Each night he visited you was another wonderful exploration of your wants and desires. You couldn't get enough of him and when you woke only to find that the pleasure and the pain had all been a dream, you sulked to yourself as you missed the feel of those long, clawed fingers scratching at your skin.

You had come home way later than you usually would on a weeknight. Only coming through your front door at around three in the morning. A long-time friend of yours had gotten married and the reception had gone on longer than you would have liked. The bride and groom had left at around twelve but the party raged on without them. You called it quits when the ache in your feet could no longer be ignored and instead of conversation, all you could do was yawn.

Trudging through your front door you kick your shoes off and throw your bag onto the table in the entryway. You’re exhausted and all you want is to go to bed.

As you walk through your house, everything seems normal, until you flip the lights on in your bedroom. You freeze when you see it. A dark mass by the head of your bed bent over and pulling at the clumped-up sheets.

The creature whips around, its hair falling into its face as it growled. Its wings spread out to make itself look bigger and it bared its rows of sharp teeth. You take a step back, fear gripping onto you. But then, as you look at the strange form, you are met with a familiar feeling. This wasn’t a strange creature, no it was what visited you in your dreams.

Confusion fell over you then. He was just a dream. He wasn’t real so why were you seeing him in your room? You don’t remember falling asleep anywhere. Shaking your head, you pinch your arm, thinking it might wake you up like it does in the movies but all you feel is the sharp pain it brings to your forearm.

Cautiously, you take a step forward, hands out, showing the creature you didn’t intend to do anything rash. “Hello,” you speak softly. His eyes slit as he stares at you. “Uh.. what are you doing here?” You ask. He had never really talked to you in your dreams before but it didn't hurt to try.

“You aren’t supposed to be awake.” He answers, voice deep.

You take a deep breath. "What do you mean?" you ask.

He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again. "You know what I mean."

When he steps toward you, you step back, only to run into the door. Where there should have been a sense of dread, there was only a spark. A tingling sensation coiling up inside of you the closer he came.

He reaches out his hand, claw-like nails giving him a more sinister look, and brushes back the strands of your hair that had fallen out of the updo you had been wearing for the wedding. You shiver when you feel his nails tickle your skin.

You can feel your heart beating faster as he shuffles closer to you, his larch body towering over yours. A gasp leaves you when he unexpectedly grabs you and hoists you over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Your voice wavers as he walks you over to the bed and throws you down. Your body bounces at the force and once you settle, you try to back away from him.

He huffs, frustrated. “You aren’t this much of a hassle when you’re sleeping.” He takes hold of your ankle and drags you back down the bed. You try to wriggle free, but he is too strong. He grabs the other ankle and pulls you towards him, trapping you between his body and the mattress. He presses his body against yours, his hands roaming over you.

You can’t help the flood of arousal that washes over you as you struggle against him. He’s smirking like this is a game to him and it’s only making you more flustered.

Leaning down, his lips press into yours and his tongue slips inside your mouth. It’s forked, just like in your dreams, but now, with what little he’s said, you wonder if they were really dreams at all.

The kiss is fierce, full of strong emotions and wandering hands. He tugs on your dress and you can hear the fabric beginning to tear. You try to pull away and to stop him but he’s so much stronger than you.

You feel the needle-sharp tips of his teeth nip you, drawing blood from your bottom lip. He laps it up, humming at the metallic taste. Your fingers drag lines over his back and sides as you fall deeper into the feral, primal instincts now controlling you.

His hardened length can be felt pressing into your thigh as he ruts into you. His kisses are rough and desperate, and you can feel his heart racing against yours as he pulls you closer. He whispers in your ear, "Let me take what I need and I will let you sleep.”

You’re nodding before you can stop yourself. The growing need for him is too much to resist now.

The creature hums, satisfied at your submission. Soon, your dress is finally ripped off of you, along with your undergarments. You are left completely bare to him, nipples pebbling in the cool air of your room and thighs snapping shut at being so exposed.

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest and he’s quick to open your legs up. Long, deft fingers trail down your exposed skin, goosebumps coming up in their wake. He takes his time, coaxing you into a more relaxed state with gentle caresses and warm lips sucking marks into your skin.

“Ah.” A moan leaves you when you feel him bite at your collarbone. Tiny pinpricks that draw the smallest amount of blood. His tongue laved over the wound and he let out a groan.

His hand finally reaches between your legs and you let out a cry of relief when his thumb rubs over your clit. His other hand moves up to cup your breast, his fingers teasing your nipple. His mouth moves over your neck and he whispers in your ear, “You are so sensitive.” His fingers slid through the wetness faster over your clit.

Your hips move in tandem with his hand, bucking and writhing. He lets you take what you need. His fingers move faster still as you begin to moan and gasp. His other hand moves down to your hip and grips as your body jerks with each wave of pleasure. “Fuck-” you breathe. You can feel the all-too-familiar sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it. Give it to me.” He whispers into your ear as your back arches and your toes curl.

Your breath hitches as your body tenses. Your voice breaks and you cry out in pleasure as you reach your peak. His grip tightens as you collapse onto the bed.

The creature moans into your neck and he keeps rubbing his fingers into you, slowly moving them down from your clit to circle around your soaking-wet entrance. You whimper in his strong grip.

“Please,” you gasp. He doesn’t stop, he pushes two of his fingers into you, pulling a wail from your lungs. You are clamping down around him, cunt practically sucking his fingers.

There are squelching sounds coming from the fluid motion of his fingers roughly bounding into you. Your pleas and moans accompany the sounds and it’s like music to the creature's ears.

He fingers you with abandon, pushing and pulling with force and speed. Your orgasm builds with each thrust of his fingers, your pleasure becoming more intense with each passing second. Your body goes rigid in his hold and as you cum for a second time.

“No more,” you mumble, spent and exhausted.

You hear him chuckle, “I’m not done with you, pet.”

When his fingers leave your used cunt, a whine leaves you at the loss and you feel yourself clamping down around nothing. He is turning you onto your stomach before you know it. Your head is buried in the sheets and your body lies like a board.

With closed eyes, you can only assume what he is doing behind you as you feel his body atop your own. Thick fingers push apart the fat of your ass to expose you. The tickle of his hair as he leans down to lick a thick stripe from your pussy to the tight ring of your ass makes you twitch, a small bit of exhausted laughter pushing through you.

He pulls back and you can feel his thumb toying with your ass, circling and pushing in just slightly. He has moved to his legs are on either side of your closed thighs. You can feel the hardness of his cock resting along the seam of where your legs meet. He’s hot and leaking pre-cum.

Wiggling your hips, you encourage him to keep going. He then guides his cock closer, pressing the tip through the sticky wetness and into your waiting pussy.

You moan into the bed at the stretch, hands gripping the sheets. He’s so big that he makes you feel so full without being completely inside you.

He keeps pushing into you, grunting and hissing at the feel of your cunt spasming around him. Once he is fully sheathed inside you he begins to piston his hips. In and out in and out. He’s fucking you at a brutal pace. Giving you pleasure but also taking what he wants from you.

His thumb is still circling your ass but as he keeps going, he finally pushes past your tight rim. You cry out into the open air of your bedroom. His thumb is thick and stretches you open where you have never been stretched before.

“Fuck, yes.” You mumble into the sheets below.

He grins. “You like that pet? Like when I use this pretty ass?”

You nod, hair tangling under your face as you do. “Yes, yes, yes.” It's the only word you can get out of your mouth.

Listening to your words he begins to thrust his thumb in and out of you at the same unwaveringly fast pace that his hips have set.

You can’t help the guttural groan you let out. It’s all becoming too much. So many sensations are filling your body, some familiar and others new. The strings of your orgasm have been pulled taut and are slowly breaking one by one. Your fists clench and your legs spasm. The creature reaches to your head and pulls on your hair at the base of your neck. Your head is forced up and with a half cry half moan, you cum around him as he releases thick stream after thick stream into you.

As he keeps himself buried within you, he leans down and bites at your ear before speaking. “I may have to visit you when you are awake again, pet. You take me so well.”

He pulls out and moves away, fast and unexpectedly, leaving you to drop, spent, and used on the bed. You turn slowly to look for him but your eyes find him nowhere in your room. It was empty, he had vanished into thin air.

Soon he will return, hunger no longer sated by the sexual energy that you have given him tonight.

#incubus!eddie munson #demon!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #fem reader #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader

761 notes · View notes

angelbaby-fics · 4 months

Note

Daddy stucky x little reader x little Peter where the reader is in babyspace and want to give them paci kisses and everytime she does she start to giggle 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Paci Kisses

Word Count: 640

A/N: Eeeep this idea is so so cute, thank you for requesting it!!! I don't know what else to say about this one other than I had a sweet time writing it & I hope you enjoy! 💕

Steve and Bucky were so very in love, and they weren’t afraid to show it. Every morning when Steve put breakfast down on the table, he’d kiss Bucky on the lips before they each began eating, their own little way of saying grace. Peter would always giggle, usually regressed around that silly age when kisses meant cooties, but you were too little to understand. Every time one of them left the house, they’d share a kiss; sometimes even just when one of them left the room. You were so tiny, you didn’t fully comprehend what it meant, your brain only really working in concepts. All you knew was that daddies meant love, and daddies kissed a lot, so kisses must mean love too. You wanted to return the favor.

That morning, you were woken up by Steve’s strong arms lifting you out of your crib. You blinked sleepily and smiled at him from behind your paci, your cheeks rounding out and your eyes squinting as you did so.

“Good morning angel, I love you,” Steve greeted, always wanting the first thing you heard every morning to be words of love. He kissed you on the forehead and shifted you into the crook of his arm so he could carry you out into the living room with one hand. As he did so, you leaned forward, tapping the plastic of your pacifier against his cheek.

“Woah, what was that, baby?” Steve asked with a slight chuckle. He didn’t think you’d really be violent with him, but he wasn’t sure what you could be doing when you clumsily headbutted his cheek.

You were too small to explain it, your little brain couldn’t find the words. All you could think to do was kiss him, over and over and over.

“Mwah, mwah, mwah!” You mumbled softly from behind the paci, softening your taps in the hopes he’d get the memo. And boy did he. “Is that a kiss? Are you kissing daddy?” Steve asked with wide, excited eyes and laughter in his voice.

You nodded, giggling as you kissed him again, again, again. Steve kissed you back, planting his lips on the plastic, which made you giggle even more. Then, he carried you into the living room where Bucky and Peter were, with a huge grin on his face.

“Buck! Look what our baby can do!” He said with glee, and then tapped on his cheek, motioning for you to kiss him once more, which you did joyously.

Bucky cheered and clapped for you, getting up from the couch to give a standing ovation, which made you beam even harder from behind the paci.

“Can I have one, babydoll?” He asked eagerly, and you nodded, reaching out from Steve’s arms towards Bucky’s.

You happily kissed your Baba all over his face, giggling after each one until eventually the kisses devolved into you just nuzzling your paci across his cheeks like a puppydog. Steve joined the cuddlefest on the couch, pinching your little round cheeks. Peter had been distracted from his toys since the moment you entered the room, watching your interactions with captivated awe, but he finally couldn’t stand it anymore. He stood up, letting a toy car fall from his hand with a clatter.

“‘S not fair! I want kisses too!” He whined with a pout.

You didn’t want your Petie to feel left out, you loved him just as much as you loved your daddies of course. You reached out to him now, kicking your little feet with delight as he ran over to the three of you. Now your whole family was together on the couch, and you took turns kissing each of them, and each of them took turns kissing you. You’d already mastered your newest skill, and you couldn’t wait to keep practicing every single day.

#little!reader #stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky #bucky x little!reader #steve rogers x little!reader #daddy!bucky #daddy!steve #cg!bucky #cg!steve #cg x little!reader #peter x little!reader #little!peter x little!reader #marvel agere #agere fic #chloe's fic

568 notes · View notes

dilemmaontwolegs · 5 months

Note

would you write something about charles from the bucket list after she passes!

The Bucket List - Two Years Later || CL16

Warnings: mentions of grief Main Story || Death Scene || Two Years Later || Bucket Moments

“Why are you so sad?”

Charles looked up from his hands, limp and lifeless on his lap. He cast his eyes around to see he was sitting on a bench at the edge of a park, a cold winter breeze biting him through his jacket. He couldn’t remember how he got there, he had just started walking, needing to get out of the house before he truly drove himself crazy. This time of year was always hard, even now, two years later.

Finally, his eyes landed on the little girl who waited patiently for an answer. She swayed side to side like there was music he couldn’t hear and he looked around for her parents, but the park was mostly empty at this time of year.

“Where is your mother?”

She shrugged but didn’t seem worried that she was alone, she was more interested in getting an answer. “Why are you sad?”

Charles swallowed and twisted his wedding ring around his finger, the habitual movement a way to distract himself. “I lost someone very dear to me.”

“Do you want me to help you find them?” She held out her hand and Charles almost smiled at the sweet innocence.

“I’m afraid she’s somewhere we can’t go, she’s in heaven now.”

Her hand fell back to her side as she smiled brightly. “Then she’s not lost, silly. You know where she is.”

“Angel!” Charles turned to the frantic voice coming from the footpath that wound its way through the park. The woman rushed towards the bench and dropped to her knees in front of the little girl as she assessed her for any scrapes or bruises. “Angelique, what have I told you about running off? You scared me to death.”

“Sorry, mama,” she apologised as her face fell. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s my fault,” Charles found himself saying, feeling sorry for the little girl as tears began to well in her big brown eyes. “She was checking if I was alright, she’s very kind.”

“She is.” Her mother smiled and pulled her into a hug but Charles could see the worry linger in her eyes. “And are you alright?”

“I’m better now,” he admitted with a weak smile. “I’m Charles.”

“Grace,” she said as she shook his hand, “and this is my Angel.”

“Charles was sad his friend went to heaven. I don’t know why anyone would be sad about that, it’s heaven! But I guess he just really misses her,” Angelique rambled quickly, recapping her mother with the conversation she had missed. Grace sent Charles an apologetic smile, her eyes catching on the ring he spun on his left hand. “Do you think she knows papa?”

The question sent a pang to Grace's heart and she stood up, brushing the leaves from her jeans. “I don’t know, mon ange, I imagine it is a big place.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Charles said as he caught the same pain across her face that he felt everyday. Looking at her hands he saw a ring on her finger too and sighed. “I should let you get back to your day.”

“Wait, Charles,” Grace called as she quickly caught up to him on the path. “How long?”

He kicked the stones at his feet and instinctively knew what she was asking. “Two years, you?”

“Three and a half. Everybody tells you it’s going to get easier, don’t they? Just give it time.” She wrinkled her nose at the idea.

“I’m still waiting for that part,” he chuckled humorlessly.

“It doesn’t get easier,” she said softly as she looked at the trees but her eyes were unfocused. “But I have found that a bottle of wine, or talking to someone who looks at you with something other than pity, does help. I can’t remember which it is that actually helps, but we could try both - if you want?”

Charles laughed, a sound that had been foreign to him this week as your anniversary came and went, and he found himself nodding. “I’m not sure about your selling technique but at this point I will give anything a try.”

“Free wine always works with the French,” she joked as pulled out her phone to get his number.

“The Monegasque,” he corrected, making Angelique giggle.

Turning her phone around she showed him the contact to make sure it was right before calling him: Charles Le Monegasque.

“It’s actually Leclerc.”

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction

438 notes · View notes

iamanoccasionaldoodler · 9 months

Text

Thinking about Wake's last words rn. She claims in Harrow that she died smug and satisfied with her work, enjoying getting to die in front of Gideon the First, who couldn't. But when the Ninth house brought her spirit back from the dead, she /screamed/ for him. It was all she would do before she ran off to go hide in her bones! She screamed for him in such a way that the nuns apparently thought she was screaming for her /baby/ and therefore that the baby must be named Gideon. Which makes me so insane. What was she thinking? What was she feeling in that moment? Was she afraid? Was she angry? Did she want him to come down here so she could kick his ass? Did she want him to save her?

The fact that the nuns assumed that baby Gideon was who she was screaming for makes it sound almost like she was afraid for /him./ Was she afraid he would tell John? Was she afraid he had gone too far and would break his own heart against his sense of duty? Did he have some other plan we don't yet know about?

Like, from a more meta standpoint here, Muir could have had Wake say a lot of different things here. But all she does is call out for him. It's so maddeningly opaque. But it's just like them. It's not actually about what she's feeling - if she loves him or hates him or fears him - she just can't bear for the conversation to be over. Now that she's free of the mission she had in life, the only thing she wants is to talk to him again.

#commander wake #awake remembrance of these valiant dead #awake remembrance of these valiant dead kia hua ko te pai snap back to reality oops there goes gravity #i just wanted to see if it would fit in a tumblr tag lmaoo #gideon the first #gideon the ninth #tlt spoilers #tlt #the locked tomb

627 notes · View notes

sopebubbles · 8 months

Text

Master List

Fourteen

Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Chapter summary: Your second heat with the pack begins, and Yoongi, Jimin and Hoseok promise to make it better than any before.

Warnings: talks of past trauma, nightmares, SMUT (I honestly didn't think this was gonna happen), penetrative sex (female and male), use of sex toys, unprotected sex, LOTS of kissing and touching, lots of pet names.

WC: 14k

"Mmm, you're in preheat," Yoongi said against your neck. He could smell you getting sweeter and sweeter. He'd noticed it a couple of hours ago, but let you keep sleeping. His heart dropped when he felt you tense up beneath him, knowing you were going into distress, souring just a little. "It will be alright, princess. We're here to help." He did his best to soothe you, but when you remained still, he pulled you back against him, away from Jimin.

"Jimin, go get Hobi," he instructed, and the beta got up without asking any questions. Yoongi rolled you over so he could see your face even though you wouldn't look at him. He smoothed your hair back as he spoke softly. "We should have done this sooner, but we're going to talk with Hobi and make a plan. Everything will be alright."

He began to feel a little panic when you didn't respond, and he wondered if maybe you didn't trust him completely yet. Maybe you were still afraid of him a little. Maybe you feared that he wasn't going to keep the promises he had made you on the day you finally became his. His heart broke a little, although he could never blame you. But he didn't know what he would do if you kicked him out to go through your heat alone. He couldn't let that happen. He'd lose his mind.

"I don't understand why she's so broken up about it," Jimin heard Namjoon say as he walked down the stairs. "If I were her I'd be thrilled the bastard is dead."

"Because she's a good girl who doesn't want to be a murderer," Hoseok replied. "I'm sure she'd be happy if she didn't feel responsible. I wish she could see that she isn't."

All heads turned toward Jimin as he entered the kitchen where they all sat, drinking tea, or in Jungkook and Namjoon's case, beer.

"How is she doing?" Tae asked urgently.

"She feels like shit. But we have a different problem. Hobi, Yoongi wants you upstairs."

Hobi stood up and set his mug heavily on the table. "What's wrong?"

Jimin frowned. "She's in pre-heat," he replied before turning to go back up the stairs.

"Taehyung, I need you to go to the grocery store to stock up. Take Namjoon with you," Hobi said before following Jimin.

"But-"

"No buts," he said curtly and disappeared.

"I'll go, if you don't want to," Jin told Namjoon softly.

"Or the two of you can go and I'll stay here," Taehyung offered, not at all wanting to leave the house while you were becoming more vulnerable by the second.

Namjoon sighed. "If the two of us go we won't come back with any of the things we actually need. And Hobi probably needs you here, Jin. It's fine. I'll go."

Jimin knocked on the door before opening it, startling both you and Yoongi. When you saw Hobi behind him, you both sat up to be able to talk to them properly. He sat on the edge of the bed and touched his hand to your forehead.

"You're hot as hell, but you smell like heaven. How are you feeling, pup?" He asked, but you merely shrugged.

"Hobi, Y/N told me a while ago that she doesn't like dealing with her heats. She said they hurt. I know we should have worked it out earlier, but I was hoping you could help us come up with a plan or something. You're the expert and I…"

Yoongi didn't need to finish his sentence for Hoseok to know just how lost he felt. It was clear in his eyes, though he was trying to hide it. He looked from your alpha to you and smiled. "Heats aren't bad if you manage them right, pup. We'll get through it fine. Can you tell me what you normally do for your heats?"

You shook your head and pulled your knees toward your chest. "Nothing. I haven't been having them for a couple years. I don't know."

"Well, what was your best heat like?"

You looked at him blankly. "My best heat was the one I had last time. With you."

His heart ached. That couldn't be true. The struggle he'd watched you go through couldn't have been the best of an experience that Hoseok often found actually quite enjoyable.

He swallowed, steeling himself to dig into what he guessed was going to be a lot of trauma. "Sweetheart, can you tell me about your first heat?"

You broke eye contact with him, lowering your gaze to your knees where the old jeans you were still wearing were worn thin, ready to rip apart. You shook your head.

Yoongi rubbed a hand down your spine, still tense, and begged. "Please, princess. I know it might hurt, but we can't make it better until we know what's wrong."

You breathed in deep and pushed it out. Your voice cracked when it first came out. "I was sixteen when I had my first. I didn't know what was happening at first. No one had ever told me what it would be like, and I was so old, I thought at that point I was a beta, like Eli." The words caught around the lump in your throat, but you swallowed it down. "When my m-mother found me. Sh-she she dragged me from the nest I made." You hadn't realized you'd begun to cry until Jimin took one of your balled-up fists in his hand to relax it. "She and my father took me out to the back of the farm and left me outside the property in the woods. It was the last time I saw them."

Hoseok wanted to tear them apart with his teeth, but it wasn't about them right now. He wiped your cheeks. "That must have been very scary. You were so brave. What did you do?"

You sniffed. "I was pretty out of it. I stayed in the woods until it was over because I didn't want s-someone else to find me," you hiccuped. "There were other animals out there and–"

"Y/N," Hoseok interrupted you. His voice was so firm you had to instantly look him in the eyes. "You are not an animal. No matter what they told you, you're a person. Got it?" He watched your eyes glass over before you nodded. "Sorry, pup. I didn't mean to sound so angry. I'm not…I'm not mad at you." You lowered your eyes again, and he couldn't help but feel bad and wonder if he was helping at all. "I'm sorry. Go on."

You cleared your throat. "After it was over, I hitchhiked to the nearest city, an hour or so away. I was on the streets for about six months, so like two heats bc they were farther apart then. You can imagine how that went."

Hoseok did his very best not to imagine it. Jimin's grip on your hand tightened as he recalled the night they found you, what they stopped and what he feared could have happened. He never thought you might have already lived the worst things he could think of. Yoongi on your other side was deadly silent.

"Anyway, then I met Sebastian and Roxy, and I think Yoongi told you about what that was like already." You looked at Yoongi for the first time since you'd started telling your story, but he didn't look at your face. When you looked back at Hoseok, he nodded. "When I went to jail, they made me take heat suppressants and since then I've pretty much stayed on them. It's been…better."

Hobi swallowed down the bile rising in his throat as he tried to look for something to say. Before he could think of anything, Jimin spoke.

"Y/N-ie, can I hold you?" He asked softly.

You looked at him in surprise. "Y-you want to hold me?"

He nodded. "I think it will make you–no, I don't know if it will actually make you feel better, but if it's alright with you, I'd like to try. I think it would make me worry less," he admitted. "It's okay if you don't want to. I won't force–"

You stopped him by moving closer, between his legs. "It always makes me feel better. And I don't want you to worry."

For a brief moment, Yoongi forgot his anger and concern as he watched Jimin wrap his arms around your waist and you leaned your head on his shoulder. He almost smiled. Then he looked at Hoseok, who had finally composed himself.

"Pup," he started softly, pulling your attention away from Jimin's collar to look up at him, but you didn't move an inch. You looked tiny in Jimin's arms, and something about it made his heart swell. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sad you had to go through all of that alone. I promise that for the rest of your life, anyone who tries to hurt you like that will answer to me personally." His eyes slid briefly over to your alpha and back to you, but Yoongi didn't seem bothered by the threat. "That's not what heats are supposed to be like, and I'm going to make sure that you can see that someday. I know it won't be perfect this time, but I think we can make it better."

"How?" You asked softly.

"For starters, the four of us will be the only people allowed in this room. I'll do what I can to make sure you don't even smell the other alphas, and they won't bother you. Would that make you feel safer?"

"You'll be in here with me?" You looked at your alpha.

"We're not going to let you be alone this time, princess. We'll be here to make sure you stay hydrated and eat when you can. We can help keep you calm and make you as relaxed as possible," he said.

"But what about…will you…will we?"

He shook his head. "I made you a promise, pup, and I'm going to keep it. I'm not going to breed you. I'm just going to keep you company."

"But what if I…" You shrank into Jimin's chest and picked at your nails. "When I'm like that, sometimes I–" they all waited patiently while you tried to get the words out. "Sometimes I want it, even if I think I don't want it. It's like my body just…" your voice was strangled by the shame in your throat.

"That's completely normal, sweetheart," Hobi told you. "That's the whole point of being in heat. Everyone wants a knot. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Still, you flushed. "Then why don't you want to?" You asked Yoongi.

"I do!" He answered quickly and then tried to swallow his enthusiasm. "I mean, it's not that I don't want to. I don't want to, but not because I don't want you. I want you so much, princess, honestly. But I want you to feel safe and comfortable and to trust me way more than I want to satisfy some basic instinct for either of us."

"You're still attracted to me, right?" You asked in the shyest voice he's ever heard.

"Yes, princess. We talked about that," he grinned. "But that doesn't mean I need to breed you. Even if you beg for it."

"There are other ways to satisfy those needs, if they become overwhelming," Hobi interjected to point out.

You turned your attention back to him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Typically parents don't really want their adolescent omegas to go around breeding before they're ready. My parents let me use other methods, like plugs and dildos to scratch that itch. It's not the same, but it helps a little with the discomfort," he explained.

"Hobi, I don't know," Yoongi responded when you curled into Jimin's chest to hide your face.

"It's just a suggestion. It might help. I agree that you shouldn't be giving her your knot this time around, but she shouldn't have to suffer." He took your hand and made you look at him. "You've been taught that your body is something you should be ashamed and afraid of, but it isn't. The things you feel are normal and natural. It's okay to feel wary of an alpha. The two of you are still getting to know each other. But it's time for you to stop being afraid of yourself. Understand?"

You nodded slowly. "Can Yoongi and Jimin still like, hold me and kiss me? Or is that off limits too?"

Yoongi chuckled. "Of course. You can have all the cuddles and kisses you want, princess," he told you, stroking your cheek.

Hoseok nodded thoughtfully and sighed. "If there's nothing else, then I think you should go get a shower. Cool, not too hot or cold. A hot shower will pull you down faster, but a cold one will throw you off balance. After, you can put on something soft and new. I washed it all and put it in the wardrobe. If you feel up to it afterwards, then you can come down and eat with us. If not, I'll send the boys up with something."

You agreed and let Jimin help you off the bed, stumbling a little into him and finding that your coordination was already suffering. Hoseok gathered up the blankets in your nest.

"Jimin, you'd better go clean up, too. I'll go get some things washed and ready. I'll get Jin to order some pizza for dinner," Hobi said as he left the room.

"I've got to go out for a bit," Yoongi said, walking out after him.

Your soft whine stopped him in his tracks. "Do you have to work tonight?"

He looked softly down at you. "No, princess. I was off until Wednesday anyway, but I'll be calling in sick until it's over."

"You're coming back, right? I-I didn't scare you away?" The tangible fear in your voice shattered the last intact pieces of his heart. He walked back to where you stood in your doorway and placed his hand on your shoulder.

"Of course not. I'm just going to get a couple things for you. I'll be back in less than an hour. I promise." He kissed you on the forehead to seal it. You whispered an okay and watched him follow Hobi down the stairs before you walked across the hall to the bathroom.

"Are you really going to leave your omega when she's in pre-heat?" Hoseok asked when he heard the bathroom door close and they had reached the first floor.

"I have to. We're going with your plan, so I need to get her some things. Clock's ticking," Yoongi said as he searched around for his wallet and keys.

"Tae's already out. I can call him and have him make a stop," Hoseok said casually as he walked toward the laundry room.

"Taehyung is not buying my omega a knot plug," Yoongi said firmly and loudly. A little too loudly. In the kitchen, Jungkook choked on his drink and sputtered onto Jin.

"A what?" The beta asked as he wiped at his face.

"Don't worry about it," Hoseok said as he walked by. "Go on, Yoongi. I won't waste your time riling you up for my own amusement tonight. Hurry back."

Yoongi grumbled something unintelligible before he left the room.

"What was that about?" Jin asked after the front door closed. "Why does she need a knot plug when she has her alpha now?"

"She's not ready for all that," Hobi said softly. "And that's all anyone needs to know."

"Is it going to be like last time?" Jungkook wondered.

"For the four of you, pretty much. I'm expecting you to show some self-control. I'll be helping them as much as I can, so I won't be able to keep you in line. I don't want you or Namjoon so much as looking at her door. Not that it will be much of a problem for you," Hobi mumbled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jin asked.

"I know you don't like her much. Hopefully that makes it easier to stay away."

Jin sighed. "I don't have anything against her, honestly. I'm staying away for Yoongi, and because I know she's scared. Joon–well, l don't know how he feels about it, but you don't have to worry about him. I'd worry about Taehyung if I were you."

"Why?"

"He's sniffing around her. I know you've noticed."

Hoseok shrugged. "Tae likes her. He won't do anything about it though. He knows she's fragile, and he won't do anything until she wants him to. He's harmless."

"If you say so," Jin shrugged. "Do you want me to stick around this week, just in case?"

"That's not necessary. We can handle it. I would bet on you needing to make time for me by the end of the week, if it's anything like last time," Hobi told him and the alpha nodded, trying not to look too excited about it.

When Yoongi returned forty-two minutes later, you and Jimin were both sitting at the kitchen table eating pizza, dressed in silky soft pajamas. Hoseok stood behind your chair, gently combing out your hair while Jungkook stood over Jimin with a towel, wringing the water from his hair. But what struck Yoongi was how happy the two of you looked. Jimin must have scented you a bit because that was the only time you ever looked so giddy. The beta, too, looked very giggly, but Jungkook always had the ability to make him that way.

"Did I miss something?" Yoongi asked after he stashed the bag he'd brought in by the stairs instead of bringing it into the kitchen.

"Nothing really. Just some sweet smelling pups," Hobi smiled. Yoongi could tell he was living a dream come true with your hair in his hands.

"My sweet smelling pups," Yoongi responded.

"Yeah, yeah." Hobi bent down to your ear, but spoke loudly enough for all to hear, "Alpha's so territorial."

You swallowed, but couldn't hide the heat in your cheeks. Yoongi replied with a non threatening growl.

"Yoon, your hair is wet, too," Jungkook said, walking over with the towel he had used on Jimin.

"I'm okay, Kookie." He ducked the towel coming for his head.

Jungkook shushed him. "Stubborn alpha."

"Is it raining out?" Jin asked.

"Pouring. It's supposed to storm off and on all night. You can't hear the thunder?"

They all shook their heads. They'd been laughing since the pizza got here. Over nothing even. It seemed like your scent in the air had loosened them all up, almost like they were intoxicated by you. Your sweet pheromones had become like a social lubricant, making everything easier between all of you. Something sick and familiar twisted in Yoongi's gut. He should be happy everything was so harmonious—and part of him certainly was—but it grated against his own jealousy that wanted to hide you away for himself, just a little longer.

"Come eat, alpha," your sweet voice broke through, and his dark clouds cleared. "You can sit by me," you added shyly, as if he wouldn't want to.

Without giving a second thought to the feelings of a moment ago, he did as you suggested and sat to eat. He'd need every calorie to put every bit of energy into looking after you. You pulled your chair closer to his and he looked down at you surprised.

"I'm glad you came back," you whispered while the others talked.

"I told you I would," he replied.

"I know, and I tried really hard to believe it. I was just scared and I…i don't want to lose you," you admitted.

Yoongi gave you a tight smile as he stroked your hair. "You won't. No matter what happens, in the next few days or in the future, I'll be right here. I'll be yours. You don't have to worry."

He placed a gentle kiss on your lips and pulled away to see you smiling, a little dopey, your eyes shining bright. "Okay."

You let him eat, but stuck close by his side, swatting at Jimin's hands when he tried to pull you away. Yoongi grinned like an idiot and teased him about being your favorite.

"She's in heat, and you're her alpha. It doesn't mean anything," Jimin grumbled back.

When he noticed you begin to sag, not less happy but beginning to look more tired, Hobi grabbed your purple blanket from the dryer and whisked you upstairs. It was time for your first heat nest, as well as your first nest for your pack. They looked on from the hallway, your alpha and beta, but you tried not to look back at them.

"Do you think…?" You felt very nervous, afraid you wouldn't be able to provide the comfort they were used to.

"Don't think about it," Hobi told you. "Remember, the nest isn't for them. It's for you, and they're just lucky to be there. Only worry about what you need tonight."

Maybe your nest ended up a little asymmetrical as you tried your best to make it bigger for the three of you. Only you and Hobi noticed, and no one said a thing. It was cozy and warm and enough for your pack. That was all that mattered right now. When you had each pillow and blanket where you felt it should go, you turned to the boys. They only looked back at you, so you walked to the door and grabbed Jimin by the wrist to pull him over to the bed. Never one to pass up the opportunity to tease, he merely stood there, waiting for you to puppet him into position, to place him like one of your soft pillows. When you looked up at him with large pleading eyes, he still didn't respond. You huffed and pushed him on the bed, to which he only giggled as he flopped over. Yoongi was much more eager to please. His smile looked like it might crack his face in half as he went to his designated spot. Then you looked back at Hobi.

"All that's left is you, pup," he smiled softly at you.

You bit your lip before you found your voice to speak. "Is it good?"

"That's for you to decide, and for that you have to get in," he urged, gently guiding you to the side of the bed where you had put Yoongi. "But from here it looks very good, little one."

You looked doubtfully at your nest for a moment, wondering how to go about getting into it, before Yoongi grabbed you by your waist and lifted you in to lay between him and Jimin. The beta didn't waste a second wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling into your neck playfully.

"This is definitely one of the best nests I've ever been in," he said as he probed your scent gland with his nose.

Yoongi smiled at the two of you before he looked back at Hobi. He thought the omega looked almost longing, as if he wished he could be in there, too. "Thank you, Hobah," Yoongi said softly when he caught the alpha watching.

"I didn't do anything," Hobi replied.

Yoongi shook his head. "We wouldn't be here without you. You've helped a lot."

Hobi sighed, "Well, I'll just be down the hall if you need anything."

Before he could leave, Yoongi reached out to take his hand and pulled him closer. He placed a kiss on the omega's lips and whispered another thanks.

"Goodnight, pups. Sleep well," he said before leaving the room, but Jimin was already taking your mind far away.

The thunder didn't start up again until you were already asleep, well and deeply off to dreamland after Jimin and Yoongi scented you into a happy puddle between them. Jimin's lavender had been getting stronger over the past couple of weeks. He might not have noticed it, but you had. As he drove your scent higher and higher, his own followed suit. Tonight, his soothing smell soaked the pillow under your head as well as the air around you, and maybe that's why your usually awful dreams were just slightly less so.

Maybe you had taken some of the power out of the memories when you told the three of them earlier.

Maybe, for once, you just felt safe.

You always dreamed about that first heat every time after that. It was one of the things you wanted to avoid when you decided to use the pills to escape the endless cycles. Sometimes you dreamed that when you were alone at night in the woods, animals came and tore you apart with their teeth. Sometimes other villains from your past waited to give you fitting punishment for the transgression of being what you were born to be.

Tonight, after your parents dropped you off at the edge of the trees, the sky grew dark with rain clouds, and thunder cracked loudly overhead. You screamed, and a hand reached out to grab your shoulder. As you tried to squirm away, hiding your face to avoid a blow, you heard his voice. Quiet and steady.

"It's okay, princess. I'm here." It was Yoongi's voice speaking to you in the darkness, and he took you in his arms. "It's just a storm."

He pulled you to your feet and you began to walk deeper into the forest.

"Where are we going?" You asked as you stumbled along beside him.

"I'm taking you home," he answered.

Another loud clap of thunder rumbled the whole house, and your eyes snapped open. Your fists tightened around Yoongi's shirt.

"It's okay, princess. It's just a storm. I'm right here." His soft voice was followed by lips pressed to your forehead.

"Where are we?" You asked.

"We're at home. We're in your nest. It's safe and perfect. You did such a good job pup," he complimented, his arms secured around you.

You relaxed against him, letting go of his t-shirt, and pressed your forehead to his collarbone. "I'm really glad you like it."

Yoongi hummed appreciatively. "You're my favorite part though."

Butterflies rustled their wings in your stomach and you pressed yourself closer "Sorry for waking you."

"You didn't. Go back to sleep, little one. I'll be here, watching over you."

You couldn't fight the command, either because you were eager to do as he asked or because your eyes were already heavy and closing on their own. It really didn't matter.

Yoongi wasn't naive enough to believe that the next several days were going to be easy for him. He knew it would take a level of self-restraint that he'd never had to possess before. But it would be worth it if he could make you feel safe.

He hadn't pictured waking up with his leg between yours while you grind your heat against his thigh. Your mouth was wet and warm as you kissed and licked at his collar bone. At first, he didn't know what he should do. He didn't mind. Not in the slightest. He was more than happy to lay there and offer you any relief he could. But he was cognizant enough to realize that your actions might progress into more complicated territory, if he let it, and the farther you got, the harder it would be to stop or change course.

Yoongi turned more onto his side, raising his hand to your back before sliding it up to your hair. His grip was firm but gentle as he held you a few inches away from him.

"Good morning, princess," he said softly and watched you smile. Your eyes were completely glazed over, but you looked so happy. He kept you there for several more seconds before you started to whine.

"Alpha," was the only word to pass your lips, and it came out desperately. Your hips, which had paused before, began to move in circular motions again, and your whines deepened in pitch until they became moans. Warm, gooey apple pie coated his tongue and his skin as it fluffed out from your scent glands. The deep primal place within him that mirrors yours began to rumble in his chest, a satisfied growl that told him this was right. You were his omega, and he had you oh so close at last. He brought your mouth to his in a teeth-clashing, devouring kiss that you happily reciprocated. Yoongi's other arm wound around your back, pulling your chest against his. Nothing but the thin fabric of the soft pajamas you both wore stood between your bodies. He couldn't get enough of you, and he wanted you to get all of him that you needed, so he held you firmly and let you continue your writhing against him.

It wasn't long before your movement woke Jimin, too. For a moment, he was confused, having never woken up in your nest before. But he turned over to see you pressed against Yoongi, both oblivious to him as you kissed. He sat up quickly, wondering if Yoongi had already lost his self-control so quickly and was relieved to see you both had your clothes on still. A smirk crossed his lips at how greedily you kissed Yoongi. With Hoseok, there were always so many partners to focus on, so many other bodies in the room. He never looked quite as hungry as you did now. And Yoongi never quite got to have his way with Hoseok the way he was with you now, giving you his complete and undivided attention. At least until Jimin reached out and touched your waist, at which point he pulled away just far enough to let out a feral growl.

You let out a sound, half whine, half moan, but Jimin just laughed.

"Calm down, hyung. It's just me," he said as he ran his fingers into Yoongi's hair and pulled slightly. "It's just Jiminie."

In response, Yoongi gave a happy grumble and raised his head to get a kiss from Jimin. The beta nipped playfully at his lips that you had kissed swollen and pouty. He could taste you all over Yoongi's mouth, and you were as delicious as you smelled. Half laying back down beside you, Jimin pulled you against him, creating a little distance between you and your alpha. He held you firmly at your ribs, just under your breast. A sigh slipped past your lips as Jimin's mouth met your shoulder. His teeth pinched your skin before his soft lips soothed his bites away.

Yoongi, however, wasn't too pleased with having his plaything stolen away and slid down to press kisses to bits of skin that your thin tank top left exposed. Hungry, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbones led to red-turning-purple hickies blooming on the swells at the top of your breasts.

And that's how Hobi found you when he came to bring you breakfast, only to discover you being devoured. He couldn't help a little laugh.

"Look at the three of you, humping like a bunch of horny teenagers."

Three sets of eyes, all black-pitted with arousal, turned in his direction, startled but not alarmed.

"Sorry to interrupt, pups, but I think I did you a favor. You need something to eat and drink." He set a tray at the end of the bed and knelt on the wooden chest to chat with you all. Well, with Jimin and Yoongi. Their eyes were slowly returning to normal while yours remained somewhat clouded, too far down in omega space to come up simply because someone brought in food. Yoongi helped you sit up, though it was really more like leaning you against him. Jimin pulled up the top of your shirt, but it did nothing to hide the darkening bruises.

"How was last night?" Hoseok asked as Yoongi plucked a tangerine from the tray of food and quickly peeled the rind in one piece. He tore away a slice and pressed it to your lips.

"Eat it," he chuckled when you only looked up at him, and you opened your mouth just enough for him to slide it past your lips. "It was fine. She had a couple nightmares, but I think it was the storms, and she calmed down soon after."

Jimin hummed as he took a sip of coffee. "It would make sense that she doesn't like storms," Jimin thought aloud, as if you weren't there, and in a way, you weren't. You didn't process much of what they said but only stared at Yoongi's lips, waiting to be given another bite. It wasn't the food you craved, but your alpha's attention.

"Why?" Hobi asked, watching you fixate on Yoongi. He wondered if he looked that cute and absorbed in his alphas.

"I mean, all that time she spent on the street, she probably has weathered a few bad ones. And then there was the night she came home…"

Hobi shuttered at the thought of you alone and wet. But sitting as you were now with Yoongi, there was nothing but happiness and safety visible around you.

"You're safe now, aren't you, pup?" Yoongi cooed as his thumb lingered over your bottom lip.

"See if she'll take some of the eggs," Hobi suggested, handing him a bowl of scrambled eggs. "She needs protein, too. Sometimes you guys forget."

There were forks on the tray, but Yoongi didn't bother with it. The eggs were firm enough for him to grab a bite with his fingers. Now you eagerly opened your mouth for him, lightly licking his fingertips when they touched your tongue. It could have been gross, but if the way the three men watched you was any indication, it was clearly erotic. Hobi watched Yoongi feed you a couple more bites before he snapped out of it.

"How is she handling…her urges?" He asked, struggling to find a way to put it delicately. Normally he wouldn't bother, but with you the whole topic felt more sensitive.

Yoongi shrugged.

"They were already all over each other when I woke up," Jimin answered.

"She was all over me when I woke up!" Yoongi defended. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Control yourself a little, maybe?" Hoseok suggested.

"I was! I would have stopped it before it got any farther," Yoongi said, but he wasn't completely convincing.

"Yoon." Hobi looked into the alpha's eyes deeply and they stared at one another for a long moment.

"Don't worry guys. That's what I'm here for. I promise not to let him go too far," Jimin interrupted.

Hobi sighed and lowered his eyes to the tray of food. "Can you guys handle this?"

"We can!" Jimin answered. "I promise. We've got this. I'm not going to let her get hurt."

"Well, then I guess I'll go get her dildos ready for when the time comes," Hoseok said with an eye roll as he hauled himself up from his seat.

"I didn't buy her dildos! There will be no fucking! It's just to ease her discomfort," Yoongi responded.

"Gosh, you're so sensitive right now, Yoongles," Hobi snickered. His mocking was all for Yoongi, not for you. Yet deep down, the omega was proud of him for making these choices for you. Most alphas probably wouldn't. Most would either try to convince an omega to do something they weren't comfortable with or leave the omega alone to deal with it themselves. The fact that Yoongi, and even Jimin, was willing to go through the discomfort of not being able to care for you in the traditional way filled Hobi with pride.

He left the room, picking up the black bag Yoongi had brought home last night on his way to the bathroom across the hall. With the door shut, he removed not one but two silicone plugs. At the store, Yoongi had realized how unprepared he was. He didn't know what size you would need. One the one hand, you were so tiny, it didn't seem like anything but the smallest would fit inside of you, but on the other, his inner voice had told him you'd need to feel nice and full to be comfortable. In the end, he chose a smaller one and another he thought was comparable to his own size and rushed home. But at least he'd thought about getting the special cleanser, too. The pack wasn't big into sex toys, having more than enough appendages of all sizes to go around. Hobi carefully removed the plugs from their packaging and cleaned them thoroughly. Then he placed them in a soft, clean towel and took them back across the hall, setting them on top of your dresser.

He sighed and wiped his hands on his pants. "Okay, so, they should be ready…whenever you need them."

He went to go grab the tray off the bed, which the boys had mostly cleared off. Yoongi watched the omega while chewing the inside of his check. When their eyes met, he decided to speak.

"I was kind of hoping you'd be here to help," he said quickly and softly. His cheeks heating with shame and a flurry of other emotions. Yoongi could fuck with the best of them. Of the alphas, only he and Taehyung had ever been with women. But Yoongi was still at a loss of how to do this, and how to handle you. In his heart, he was terrified of hurting you, or scaring you and ruining everything. Maybe it was wrong to use Hobi as a crutch, but he needed it.

Hoseok froze, half crouched with the tray in his hands. His eyes slid from Yoongi over to you where you buried your face in Yoongi's shoulder. He was uncharacteristically speechless, and spent several long seconds searching for words.

"Oh…um…well. I didn't realize you'd actually need me for that part," he admitted. "I have some things I need to do right now."

"Not right now, no. I don't think she's there yet. It might not be until later. But I–I think we need you, Hobi." The desperation in Yoongi's vice only made things more difficult for the omega.

"I don't know, Yoongi. Jin…I don't know if he would like it."

Yoongi hung his head. He couldn't argue with that. There wasn't necessarily any reason for Jin to disapprove. It wouldn't interfere with anything regarding Hoseok or Jin's pack. Not really. But you were part of Yoongi's pack, and Hoseok was not. And you weren't Jin's either. This was new and uncharted territory, but Yoongi realized he really wasn't in a position to ask this much. Seokjin had been as good as he could be expected to be in the last few weeks, and to ask any more might be pushing their luck.

"Right. I understand," Yoongi sighed.

"It's not that I don't want to help, Yoon–"

Yoongi held up a hand. "No. No, I get it. I shouldn't have asked. It's too much to ask. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry," Hoseok said softly.

"No. It's alright. You can go." Yoongi said it quietly enough that Hobi knew he wasn't mad, but he could help feeling that the alpha seemed defeated, and his stomach swirled with guilt. He lowered his eyes and backed out of the room. Just before the door closed, he heard Jimin's voice:

"Don't worry, hyung. We'll work it out."

Hobi carried the tray down to the kitchen and set it on the counter next to the sink. He inhaled deeply and exhaled to release the tension in his shoulders. Instead of immediately starting on the dishes, he decided to seek out Taehyung.

Although he hadn't seen the youngest alpha get up, he'd seen the pack's bedroom door open, so he knew he must be around somewhere. He wasn't playing games in the living room, so Hobi looked for him in the sun room at the front of the house that had been granted to him as his art studio. But he wasn't there either. So Hobi went to the backdoor and slipped into someone's slides. Noticing the door to the detached garage was open, he set off across the spacious backyard in that direction.

Inside the dusty outbuilding was an assortment of things that Hoseok either hadn't yet found a place for or wasn't willing to let go of, alongside tools and Hobi's ambitions for a blooming garden by the time summer came around, but no cars. He did, however, find his alpha. Taehyung must have been lost in thought because he jumped a little when Hobi spoke.

"What's an alpha like you doing all the way out here?" He asked in that teasing voice he seemed to love using most on Tae.

"I thought I'd get started on your garden finally," he said flatly. "If we keep putting it off, the season will go by."

"You need to start today?"

"It's a beautiful day," Tae countered. Hoseok didn't miss the fact that the alpha hadn't looked at him once since he walked in, so he stepped forward to place a hand on his cheek. The two men were almost exactly the same height, so it wasn't difficult for Hobi to meet him eye to eye.

"Is something on your mind?" He asked. Tae closed his eyes and took a breath, breathing in the scent of you.

"It's just kind of strange, y'know. Spending time with her yesterday, I guess I felt like I was on the inside track, and now I feel so far outside. I just want to see her and talk to her and…"

"Fuck her brains out?"

"I'm not a pig, Hoseok…. But I am an alpha so like just a little bit. Yeah, I guess," he chuckled while his ears reddened. "I just want to spend some time outside until the others come back, so you don't have to worry about me."

Hoseok smiled as he placed his other hand on the other side of Tae's face and stroked his beautiful high cheekbones. "That's fine, baby boy. It's good to keep yourself busy," he agreed before he kissed his lips gently. "You're doing a great job. And I'm sure as soon as this is all over, you'll be right back where you were with her."

Taehyung's eyes sparked with hope. "I hope so. How is she doing?"

Hoseok attempted to keep his smile in place, but Taehyung knew it well enough to see how the corners of his lips drooped. "She's getting through it. It's not easy for her. It doesn't mean to her what it means to us. Not yet anyway."

Taehyung frowned. "Do you ever see her and think how lucky you are that you got to grow up with your family?" Hobi hummed. "The ways she doesn't know how to be herself are more heartbreaking than the scars of how people have hurt her."

"I'm trying my best–" Hoseok's voice broke at the thought of continuing your life as you'd been living it.

"You're doing so well with her. Sometimes, I think the luckiest thing will be her having you. Not to disrespect Yoongi hyung, but he can only make her physically safe. Which is important but…I don't know if it would ever matter if you weren't there to stop her from hurting herself on the inside."

Hoseok lowered his eyes and shook his head. "Sometimes the things she says make me so mad, if they came from anyone else, I'd slap them right in the mouth."

Taehyung laughed. "Well, don't do that, and I think she'll keep learning from you. You're good for her."

"I'm just doing my best. I can't fix her."

"You don't have to fix her. I know you love her. That's enough."

Hobi thought it over for a moment. "I guess I do…like I would a child."

Tae snorted. "Sure, hyung. Like a child."

Hoseok went back into the house to take care of the dishes from the morning. There were no sounds coming from upstairs. Your scent filled the house, but it remained even. Maybe you had fallen asleep in your pack's arms. Regardless, he couldn't keep his thoughts from you. His help was needed, and he wanted to give it, but how far could he go to do that?

Yoongi and Jin had drawn lines around you that were clear and solid for the members of the two packs living in his house, but not for Hobi. No one could exactly tell the pack omega what to do, not even Jin, but that didn't necessarily mean he would do whatever he pleased. Even though helping you through this ordeal wouldn't impact Hoseok and his upcoming heat in any way, that didn't mean he was free to lend himself out for…sexual services. But it wasn't like you were an alpha or that Hobi would get any gratification from helping you. His head spun with the ramifications, and his stomach twisted into knots as he scrubbed dish after dish.

Finally, he decided to do the only thing he could do when he struggled to make a decision. He called his husband.

"Hello, my love. Is everything okay?" Jin asked when he answered his phone. It wasn't common for Hoseok to call him in the morning at work.

"Yeah, everyone's fine," Hobi answered, but he couldn't hide the shake in his voice from Jin, and the silence that lingered after didn't help to sell it.

Jin smiled. He knew if something was really wrong that Hoseok wouldn't hesitate to say it, so there must be something on his mind, and whatever it was made him shy. "What is it, Seokkie?"

The omega blushed at the infrequently used pet name. It made him feel like a boy again. It had been Jungkook who started calling him Hobi, and now Jin only used 'Seokkie' when they were alone or he wanted to be particularly intimate. It reminded them both of just how long their love story was and how deeply they knew one another. Hoseok explained your predicament to his husband in a rush of words, like ripping off a bandaid.

"I see," Jin responded when he'd finished, not knowing what else to say.

"If you don't want me to do it, then I won't," Hobi added.

Jin chuckled. "You're asking for my permission? Since when?"

"This is serious Jinnie."

The alpha took a beat to appreciate that. Hoseok was right. He'd explained your history to Jin last night, so he knew just how fragile you were on the subject. He didn't expect to hear how Yoongi struggled. "Do you want to do it for Yoongi or for her?"

Hobi sighed. "Both? I don't know. I want her to feel okay. I want to help him avoid doing something he'll regret later. I want everyone to feel happy. Including you. Including me."

Jin considered that. He tried to consider how Yoongi must feel, only being able to offer his omega this small bit of relief instead of what he would naturally want to give you. But he knew that Yoongi wasn't really the obstacle to helping you. It was him. It was knowing that you were Yoongi's in the way that Hobi was his. And as much as Hobi could go his own way on things, he'd never disrespect Jin or disregard his feelings. "Do you think she'll be part of our pack one day? Is that a possibility?"

Hobi's tone brightened. "I really do! She's trying very hard, Jinnie. She's listening and learning. And I think she trusts me. I think she could trust you."

Jin conceded. "I'm not going to stop you, my love. If you want to help them, it's fine with me. But only if you're comfortable with it, and not because Yoongi is in over his head."

Hoseok felt some of the pressure lift off his chest. "Okay." He took a deep breath and sighed. "Look, I don't know if this will even happen today, let alone when. So I might be busy when you come home."

"Don't worry, love. I'll take the other boys out for dinner. We'll get our time with you later this week." Hoseok could hear the happiness in his tone, but he didn't dwell on it. Those feelings would have to wait a few days. They said their goodbyes and hung up with Hobi feeling a bit lighter. But he'd be lying if he said Jin had alleviated all his worries.

He had permission now, but that didn't mean that he would be able to do.

Hoseok had never been with another omega before, let alone a woman. And he knew Yoongi said it wasn't fucking, but was still intimate and sexual, and he didn't think he had any idea what to do down there, with you. He knew you weren't that different, but you were different enough for him to feel scared.

But even that wasn't the real issue that he was afraid of facing. Hoseok cared for you deeply. He wouldn't say it to your face because he's just not serious like that, but he could even think he loved you. Maybe not quite in a paternal way, but as a mentor, an older brother; as someone whose job it was to teach you about life. He didn't want to see you as an object of attraction. He didn't want to acknowledge how his heart fluttered yesterday as you tried on outfit after outfit, or how his breath catches when he sees you really smile, much less how fucking good you smell during your heat, when your scent coats the back of his throat, or how sexy your lips looked touching Yoongi's fingers this morning. Hobi wasn't ready to be attracted to you or in love with you. It wasn't on his list of things to do with you.

Footsteps on the stairs pulled Hoseok from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Jimin round the corner with his phone to his ear, giving him a remorseful look. He took his cue to go upstairs and check on how things were going. It had been about an hour since he'd left your room, and he wondered if something had happened. He opened the door quietly and poked his head in.

"Is everything okay?" He asked.

Yoongi's attention snapped from the phone in his hand to the omega. "Yeah, fine. I was just about to text you. Jimin had to take a call from work, and I really have to go to the bathroom. Would you mind staying with her for a few minutes? She's asleep, but I don't want her to wake up alone."

"Of course. No problem," Hobi nodded. Normally, for him, there were enough packmates that he would never be left alone. Not that he couldn't be left alone, but it was a bit distressing, particularly during the headier moment of heat, to find oneself all alone. And given that this was your first heat in a while to not spend alone—your first one to spend with them—it made sense that Yoongi wouldn't want to leave you in your own. It would cause him a different kind of distress to do so.

Yoongi gently rolled you off of his chest so that you lay on your back and he could free his arm. He got up quietly and quickly left the room. When you were alone, you rolled into your other side and whimpered softly. You bent one leg up towards your body, while the other one stuck straight out toward Hobi. He couldn't help but be fascinated by your little feet. They seemed too small to be able to carry you through the world, yet their wear and callouses showed they worked hard to do just that. Seeing how tiny they were reminded him of how quietly you moved through the house. He was still trying to learn the sounds of your footsteps and of your breathing so that he'd be able to recognize you just by that, the way he could the rest of his pack.

It wasn't a secret even though he was trying to hide it, that Hobi already thought of you as his. He'd waited a long time for an omega like you. Someone like him that he could share this pack with, through its highs and lows and day to days.

He didn't realize he was holding onto your foot, stoking his thumb over the bulge of your ankle, until you spoke his name.

"Hobi?" You asked, voice gravelly and thick with sleep.

"It's just me, pup," he nodded.

You looked around at your surroundings and noticed he was right. It was just him and you. The air around you felt cold, sending goosebumps down your arms despite your internal heat. You weakly raised a hand toward him. "Will you come lay with me?"

Hoseok swallowed and stood up slowly to walk to the edge of the bed on the side Jimin took. When he looked in your eyes, they were clearer than they had been this morning. He stood silently, looking at you, for a long moment before either of you spoke. "I've never been in your nest before, pup."

"I'm inviting you in now. Please come lay down," you said so softly he could barely hear it.

But he took it genuinely and climbed in over the perimeter to where you laid. He settled several inches from you, but you scooted closer, forcing him to hold you. He knew you'd never do that if you weren't in your current condition, but he didn't refuse you. Instead, he managed to get one arm under your head while the other stroked up and down your back. You pressed your head into his chest and breathed in deep.

"Have I ever told you how much I love your scent?" You asked. He shook his head, unable to form words around the sudden tightness in his chest, as if his heart and lungs were too big for his ribcage. "It's so warm and comforting to me. Your scent is on every surface in this house, and it smells like love."

Your voice was so dreamy, Hobi wasn't sure if you knew what you were saying, but it filled him with warmth regardless, and his scent fluffed around you. Your hands fisted around his shirt, and you buried your face in him. He liked you like this, uninhibited, taking what you wanted and needed without feeling shy. It was easy to wrap his arms around you and hold you closer. He could only hope you felt as safe with him as you truly were.

Yoongi returned pleasantly surprised to find both of his omegas tangled up in your nest. You had already fallen back asleep and Hobi appeared to be studying every hair on your head. His eyes turned up to meet Yoongi's and the alphas wide smile broke across his face.

"You certainly made yourself at home," Yoongi teased as he closed the door.

"She invited me."

"I know you wouldn't be here if she hadn't."

"What are you looking at?" Hoseok asked when Yoongi continued to stare.

"Just enjoying this moment. Jin would be so jealous if he knew what I had all to myself right now."

Hobi rolled his eyes. "It's not a competition."

"We're alphas. It's always a competition."

Yoongi placed his knees behind your back and leaned over you to kiss Hoseok. The omega's lips were dry, but Yoongi licked across them and they parted, letting him deepen the kiss.

Hoseok chuckled and pulled back as much as he could in his position. "What are you doing?"

Yoongi shrugged and moved to lay behind you. "Just telling you I love you." He laid his hand on the curve of your side. "She idolizes you, you know?"

Hoseok's eyes widened. "I don't think so."

"She does. She talks about the things you teach her and tell her, like you're some revered master. She wants your approval. Even more than I think she wants mine." Yoongi's eyes roamed over your body, wondering if you heard them.

"It's not about my approval," Hobi whispered.

"I know that. She said to me a few weeks ago that she wants to be good so she can stay. I think she's starting to get that there isn't anything she can do that will make me send her away. But she is afraid of disappointing you. I know she isn't perfect, but don't be too hard on her, please?" Yoongi locked eyes with him, and Hobi could see his sincerity in those depths.

"Tae mentioned earlier that she makes him feel lucky, I guess because even if he lost his family, he still knew them, and he learned enough from them not to let the world get him down. She doesn't have that. I don't want her to be exactly like me. I just don't want her to be all the things they've made her believe she is. It hurts too much. And if it hurts me, with all the advantages I have, I can't possibly imagine how much damage it does to her," Hobi concluded. He gently brushed hair out of your face with the lightest of touches, relieved to see that you were still soundly asleep.

Before Yoongi could find any way to respond, the door opened once again and Jimin entered.

"Is everything okay?" Yoongi asked.

"Everything is fine. Just some alphas who need to work their shit out, but it's not my problem today, and that's what I told them." Jimin climbed over the chest at the end of the bed and up to the perimeter of your nest.

"They gave you a hard time?"

Jimin shook his head. "Taehyung on the other hand…well he's getting very sweaty in the backyard right now, and it was a little distracting," he giggled.

"I'm sorry for taking your spot, but I dont think I'm allowed to move," Hobi said without an ounce of remorse.

Jimin shrugged as he moved over the perimeter and laid at the bottom of your nest. "I'm fine right here."

Alpha.

You'd been asleep for a long time. It was your primary mechanism for getting through your heats when you couldn't avoid them. If you were sleeping, you might have bad dreams, but you could avoid the physical sensations associated with your condition. Your sleep since last night had been relatively peaceful, which you could only contribute to the soothing scents of your pack and even hobi, which surrounded you as you slept. But now Yoongi was missing from your nest, and you needed him.

Not just needed him there, but you needed him.

Need alpha's knot now. Please. Your tiny voice in your head begged. You could feel it, the ache between your legs. You could feel the thick, warm slick leaking from you, ready and waiting for your alpha to give you what was yours.

"Alpha," you whined brokenly, alerting the others that you were awake. You had begun to murmur his name a little while ago, seeking him out with your hands and your mouth before you were conscious enough to make a real effort. Hoseok could see that you were now. "Where's alpha," you cried.

"I'm over here, princess," Yoongi breathed from the chair in the corner where he sat, apart from you, but still keeping watch.

"In the nest," you whined.

"I can't be with you right now. I'm sorry," he told you. If you were fully yourself, you'd be able to hear the regret in his voice, but you didn't.

"Why? Give me a knot, alpha. Promise I'll be good. Just need your knot."

Yoongi's hands gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white. "I wish I could, baby." You began to cry, and the sight of your tears made him ache in a way so much stronger than the strain in his muscle to keep himself off of you. He knew it would be hard to deny himself, but he didn't know how hard it would be to deny you. "Hobi, Jimin, please," he croaked.

Suddenly a hand on your ankle grabbed your attention. You looked down and could make out Jimin's face through your tears.

"It's okay, sweet thing. Hobi and I are going to make you feel better," he said soothingly.

"Alpha…doesn't want me."

A growl came low from Yoongi's corner, but you didn't get a chance to look in his direction because another hand was holding your face and demanding your gaze.

"That isn't true," Hobi said firmly. "Your alpha wants you too much for his own good. But he's doing this for you. He cares for you so much, he doesn't want to hurt you. You'll understand when this is all over."

If possible, your features turned even more sad. "When will it be over?" You rasped.

He wiped away your tears with his thumbs. "Hold on for me a while longer, little one. Can Jimin and I help you?"

"Help?"

"We can help make the aching go away. But you have to stop crying first," he told you softly as he continued to dry your cheeks.

You sniffed and scrunched your face, as if you were physically shutting off the tears. Your eyes finally cleared and you looked at Hobi expectantly. "I'll do anything."

He smiled as if he were amused and kissed your cheek. "Good girl. We're gonna make you feel nice and full, okay?"

You gave a muted squeak of excitement. "First let Jimin take off your shorts, okay?"

You nodded and laid back on the nest. Hobi moved away from you, which startled you at first, but Jimin distracted you with his hands, gliding them smoothly up your legs from your ankles to your hips. He hovered over you to capture your mouth with a kiss. His lips were warm and wet. His kiss wasn't shy or chaste, but messy and ravenous as he licked into your mouth. His fingers dug into your thighs as you kissed him back. You lifted your hips up when he gripped your waistband and pulled the shorts down your legs without taking his mouth from yours. Meanwhile, Hoseok got up to grab the smaller of the two fake knots they had prepared for you. When he returned, Jimin redirected his mouth to your neck, giving you soft sucking kisses.

"Okay, little one." He held the plug in front of your face. "This little knot is all yours. I'll help you put it in, and you can keep it as long as you want."

He could see you were a little confused. You looked to your alpha, who was still holding himself back, but looked a little more at ease. Instead of digging into the upholstery, he held his fist around the pair of shorts Jimin had tossed his way.

"Go on, princess. Let alpha see how pretty you look when you're full," he said, his voice coming from deep in his gut.

"Let us see, sweet thing," Jimin hummed in your ear. "You'll feel so nice."

You turned your eyes to Hoseok and nodded your consent.

"If you want a knot, you'll have to ask for it, pup," he said evenly. He was teasing, but he also wanted to make sure you really wanted it.

"Please, please give me a knot," you begged pitifully, rubbing your thighs together as you continued to ache for it. "I need to feel it. Please."

Jimin lapped hungrily at the scent gland under your chin while Hobi moved to your lower half. "You've never smelled sweeter, sweet thing. I wanna eat you up," Jimin teased, making you giggle, distracting you from Hoseok prying your legs apart.

Hoseok can say unequivocally that he's never been this close to a pussy in his life—with the singular exception of when he was born. He was surprised to find himself thinking how cute you are. Your sweet little hole didn't really look like his, but you were just as wet and messy and sweet as he gets. Your labia were puffy and he was sure they ached to feel relief. He took a deep breath to steady himself before he dared to touch his fingers to the rim of your entrance. At the lightest pressure, you clenched around nothing, and Hoseok felt the most unexpected shock of arousal ring through him. He didn't need to think before he pushed the tips of his two middle fingers inside of you. It might be more prudent to start with one, but you were in heat and you were more than ready to take him.

Your answering moan filled the room, and Hoseok was glad that Jin took the others out for dinner because you sounded so heavenly, he didn't think the three of them would be able to stop the other four from barging in.

"Such a pretty sound for me, baby," Jimin cooed while Yoongi melted in his chair, wishing he could be closer, but so happy to hear you were being pleased.

Hoseok pushed one more finger past your slick walls and nearly moaned himself when he felt you squeeze around him.

"You're doing great, little one," he praised as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, feeling your muscles loosen little by little. "Are you ready to take your knot, pup?" He asked when he felt like you'd opened up enough. He took your garbled moan and the way you clenched as a yes.

Hobi spread some of your slick from his fingers onto the plug, though it was hardly necessary. Your hole was dripping with it, and he had felt you gush onto his hand before. He looked up to see your face.

"It might hurt for a second, little one. Tell me to stop if you want me to stop," he instructed, and you nodded your head.

Jimin trailed his mouth down to your breast, pulling down your top to expose a perky little nipple, which he sucked into his mouth. Hobi rubbed the head of the plug over your entrance to coat it with your slick before he slowly pushed it inside of you. Your moans were deep and throaty, and he had to bite back his own arousal as your walls closed in around the silicone head. Despite his fears of hurting you, the toy slid in easily until it was buried fully inside you. It wasn't as long as a real knot, and it didn't have quite the same girth as your alpha, but it fit snugly within your walls, and he could tell it was doing just what they'd wanted when you let out a happy sigh.

Hoseok came to lie at your side and turned your face so he could see your eyes. They were fully glassy and happy as they rolled to look at him. Your debauched expression threatened to steal the better part of his sanity.

"How does that feel, little one?" He breathed.

"So full," you answered and your body wriggled beneath them, but there seemed to be some words hanging, left unsaid, but Hoseok didn't quite know what.

"You can touch yourself, if you want to, sweet thing," Jimin rasped in your ear.

Don't you dare.

You shut your eyes tight and shook your head. "Can't," you hiccuped.

Understanding dawned on Hoseok and he touched your face. "Look at me," he ordered and you obeyed. "You're doing so well, little one. Such a good little omega for us. You can do it."

You shook your head again. "Can't. Bad," you choked out. "Bad."

"No, pup."

"Let me in," Yoongi said, suddenly standing over Hoseok's shoulder.

"Yoongi…"

"I'm not going to do anything I said I wouldn't," Yoongi argued, but his eyes were locked with yours. "Let me hold her."

"Alpha," you whispered, holding a hand out to him, and Hobi had no choice but to relinquish his spot beside you, though he didn't move far.

"I've got you, princess," he soothed when he was pressed to your side with one arm behind your head. "Does it feel good to be so filled up?"

You nodded your head into him, seeking out his neck and his thick scent. But he wouldn't let you turn into him.

"I know, baby. You were made for this. Your body does it so well. But you don't feel totally better yet, do you, princess?"

"No."

Yoongi smiled and kissed your forehead. Taking your hand he murmured, "here, let me show you. It's not bad. It will feel good. You've been so perfect, princess. I want you to feel the best you can."

With his hand covering yours, he guided you down between your legs. He brought your fingers far enough to feel the silicone base of the plug where it was buried inside of you.

"Do you feel that, baby? Alpha gave you that. Do you like it?" He purred in your ear. You whimpered and nodded your head, utterly incapable of forming words with the way his body, his scent and his voice wrapped around your being.

Pulling your hand back just a little, he pressed your fingers to the puffy, sensitive flesh just above. You mewled in pleasure, moving your hips as you squeezed around the knot. He began to circle your fingers around your bud, appreciating the delicate sounds of satisfaction you made as he guided you. When you moaned, Jimin reclaimed your mouth with a kiss, claiming your sounds for his own. Yoongi left his hand on yours but let you set the pace while at the same time letting his other hand cup your breast, squeezing it harshly. Another set of hands—they must have been Hobi's—held your legs apart when they threatened close so that he could continue you watch as you pleasured yourself. When your moans got higher and he knew you were close, Yoongi pressed his fingers down on yours, adding pressure and ensuring you didn't give up until you reached completion.

"Almost there, princess. You've done so well for me. Come for me, and you can keep my knot in you as long as you want," he urged, and you followed where his words and fingers led you, over the edge and into a chasm of pleasure.

Watching you spasm around the knot took Hoseok's breath away. He'd never imagined or wondered what that might be like, but he thought it was beautiful. He wanted to give you orgasm after orgasm just to see your pussy take it again and again. Your legs wanted to close, and he let them. You curled into Yoongi, taking gasping breaths as he held you tightly to his chest and whispered soft praises. Jimin stroked his hand down your side and up again.

By the time Hoseok had cleaned you up with a warm, wet cloth, you were falling asleep in Yoongi's arms once again, the plug still tucked safely away inside of you and a satisfied smile on your lips.

"I'll go get dinner ready. I'm guessing we're all pretty much starving," Hobi said softly, gathering a few things to take out with him to tidy up the place.

As he opened the door, Yoongi transfered you into Jimin's arms. Luckily, you didn't wake, and Yoongi followed the other omega into the hall. Hoseok was just entering your bathroom when Yoongi went in with him.

"What's wrong, Yoongi?" He asked, looking at him with startled eyes. The alpha was disheveled and his eyes were still dark with lust, something Hobi found irresistible.

"Nothing,"Yoongi breathed heavily. "I just wanted to say thank you. You didn't have to help, but you did, so thanks."

Hoseok smirked. "I didn't do it for you, alpha."

"I know. But I wouldn't have been able to get through it without you."

Hoseok's eyes grew darker, his smile more mocking. "Did you get through it, alpha? Looks like you're still pretty worked up to me." He trailed his fingers down Yoongi's chest.

Yoongi's breath turned ragged as Hoseok stepped closer. "Can you blame me?"

"No. It was certainly eye opening," the omega purred. He gripped the front of Yoongi's shirt and pulled him closer. Their lips crashed as he shut the bathroom door.

Yoongi's hands went to the other man's hair as he was pushed against the door. Hobi's teeth nipped the white flesh of yoongi's neck as he palmed fervently at his thick knot, trapped uncomfortably in the confines of his gray sweatpants.

"It's cruel, you know, to flaunt a knot like that in front of an omega."

"I don't need to flaunt anything to drive you crazy, do I, Hobi?"

"You think I'm worked up because of you?" He chuckled and pulled Yoongi's cock free. "Think again, buddy."

"Are you into my omega?" Yoongi smiled against his lips. Nimble fingers pulled a sigh from him.

"I've certainly been into her more than you have."

Yoongi threw his head back with a short laugh. "Trying to make me jealous?"

"Would that get you to shut the hell up and fuck me?"

Yoongi turned the omega around and pinned him to the wall. "That's what you want, omega? Should make you beg for my knot, huh?"

"I'm not opposed. Poor little thing doesn't know what she's missing, though," he smiled as Yoongi shoved down both their pants. "She's so small and tight, alpha. That plug isn't nearly as big as you. Wonder if she can take it."

"Maybe you can show her how to take it next time," Yoongi growled as his fingers found Hoseok's hole. "Fuck, you're wet."

"Not as wet as she was. The sweet little cunt on your omega. Never seen anything like it." A wordless growl echoed off the walls of the bathroom, answered by Hoseok's high pitched moans as Yoongi's fingers found the right spot. "Fuck! Enough. Want your knot alpha. Give me everything you can't give her."

"Don't want to hurt you," Yoongi said, voice gravelly.

"You won't. I know I can take you. Need you, alpha."

Yoongi didn't waste a moment. He pulled Hoseok's hips out, forcing his chest down, so he could align himself at his wet, pink entrance. Once he entered him, he plunged into Hobi's depths with ease. The omega braced himself against the wall as his alpha set a brutal pace. His cries of pleasure were not quiet, but only you and Jimin were there to hear, and you were dead to the world.

"Fuck, yes. Have to teach her to take you like this. Would you like that, alpha? Want me to teach her everything I know?"

"Ah," Yoongi groaned as Hobi clenched around him, his slick making a mess of them both and dripping down his legs. "Don't think she'd ever learn to talk like you. You've got a whore's mouth, you know that?"

"You love it."

"I do. Now shut the fuck up so I can come. I'm fucking close, baby."

Hoseok stayed stone still while Yoongi pounded into him, burying himself to the hilt when his knot began to inflate and he came with tired breaths.

"Are you okay, baby?" Yoongi asked, stroking down his omegas back as he waited. These moments when he connected to his mates were always the most clear, filled with tenderness and love, no matter what words or deeds had brought them there.

"Feel perfect, Yoon. You always make me feel so good. Missed you."

"I'm sorry. I know I've been distracted lately." He pressed a soft kiss to Hobi's spine as an apology.

Hobi shook his head as he leaned heavily against the wall. "Didn't say it to make you feel sorry. It's been a while since we had a moment like that. Like that I can be free with you. Makes things so fun."

"We do tend to have fun," Yoongi agreed. "Come here," he said softly when his knot had deflated. He brought Hoseok to the edge of the bathtub and began to fill it with warm water. Then he helped him in and got in behind him, letting the omega lay his back against his chest.

"You don't have to stay here with me. I know you're probably anxious to get back to her," Hobi told him after they'd been sitting in the water for a few minutes.

"I am, but I'm not anxious to leave you. The truth is, I've missed you too. I know things never quite went back to usual and now, things will never be the way they were. I feel a little…guilty." Yoongi cupped water in his hand and let it wash down his lover's chest.

"Don't. It's true, she'll change everything. But everything wasn't so good. Maybe it was a change we needed. I believe it will be for the best, in the end."

Yoongi hummed. "I also feel guilty because I won't be there for your heat."

"I know," Hobi answered, dragging his fingers up the legs that encircled him. "It's not a big deal. I have everyone else. It's not a big thing to me anymore. You need to focus on her."

"I love you, you know that?"

"I do. And I love you too."

After quickly washing, the pair left the tub, lingering a bit longer over each other's bodies as they dried off before they fetched new pajamas.

"Go on and be with her," Hoseok told him at the top of the stairs. "I'm gonna go put together something to eat, and I'll be there soon."

Yoongi slipped back into your room, quickly meeting the eyes of a very smug looking Jimin.

"What?"

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Jimin asked as he petted down your arm.

Yoongi scoffed. "Did you? Why are you both shirtless? Is she still asleep?"

You moaned and turned a fraction toward his voice as he climbed back into the nest.

"She took her shirt off herself and it seemed rude not to join her. She gave me a couple hickies, too, so now we really match. Isn't that right, sweet thing?" Jimin asked with a light pinch to your side.

You giggled softly. "Mini nice."

"What did you do to her?" Yoongi asked with a smile as you turned to him with a bright, if dazed, one of your own.

"Nothing. It's just the hormones. She seems to be enjoying all the touching."

You managed to move onto your knees, tottering a bit when the plug moved, but you kept it from slipping out. "No," you said with a cute but firm pout as you tugged at the hem of Yoongi's shirt.

"You want my shirt off, too, princess?" Yoongi asked innocently. You nodded and continued to pull. "That's no problem." He tugged the garment over his head and threw it onto the chest where your extra blankets were stored. Then he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you against him. "Better?"

You nodded and maneuvered yourself into his lap, pushing him into a reclining position with you on his chest.

"My alpha," you whispered after you rested your cheek against his shoulder. Yoongi's heart stuttered, feeling at once the weight and the joy of the trust you placed in him.

Fool. You let them make you feel safe. But they're just preparing you to breed. They'll need to know if you can handle it. Why else would Hobi be there? He needs a baby, and he's going to get it from you.

You had awoken to a dark room. Your packmates slept beside you. Only a few hours ago had they decided they were ready to sleep and helped you get cleaned and ready for a good night's sleep. You'd kept the plug in for hours until you felt truly sated. But already you were feeling the emptiness ache at you. Your voices had no problem filling the void.

Would that be the worst thing? I need it. Need alpha.

And when you fail? Will he still be your good alpha then? Or worse, what if you die this time?

"Stop it. Shut up!" You called out without thinking.

Yoongi, who had turned on his side away from you, flipped over in an instant. "What's wrong? What happened?"

To his horror, you pulled away, just like you did your first time with them, until you collided with Jimin on your other side. "What do you want?"

Yoongi's voice softened in the darkness, although you couldn't see more than a shadowy figure. "Nothing, princess. Just want to make sure you're okay. Did you have a nightmare?"

"No."

A light clicked on behind you. Yoongi's features were soft but full of worry. He held his hands open to show you he wasn't a threat. But the dissonance of the danger your mind wanted you to fear and the gentle man in front of you made your head buzz. You struggled to make sense of what was real and what was your imagination. Was it possible that Yoongi was truly a good man who kept his promises and wouldn't hurt you? Or were your voices correct, warning you that his behavior was all to lure you into security so he could do what he wanted with you? Sometimes, your own brain could be your biggest enemy, but there was no denying that it often tried to keep you out of danger as well.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder, followed by soft lips on your warm back. You jerked away, scrambling backward and almost over the edge of the bed. Yoongi caught onto the only part of you he could reach, your leg, to keep you from falling. In the light, he could see that your eyes were the clearest they had been all day, and yet they were full of fear. Fear of them. He let go of you immediately.

"Baby, everything is okay. You're safe. You're at home with us," he tried to ground you with his voice, afraid that touching you would make things worse.

He could do it now. He'll push you down into the mattress and make you submit. And then he'll–

Yoongi watched you close your eyes as you tried to shut out the voices. He gotten better at recognizing when they filled your mind and confused you with paranoid thoughts.

"Princess, listen to my voice." You opened your eyes to peer at him, and your gaze was heartbreaking. "I'm here, not them. They're only in your head. Tell me what they're saying."

Your lips trembled as you hesitated. It was the same thing he had heard a dozen times. The same thing you thought about every day. You didn't want to tell him again, but his words were a command, and you couldn't resist giving him an answer.

"You're–" Your voice cracked from so much disuse and you cleared it to begin again. "You're making me f-feel safe but really y-you're preparing to breed me again."

Yoongi frowned but tried to squash his disappointment. He wanted nothing more than for you to trust him. He thought he'd done everything to prove he was worth it. But he should have known trauma wasn't so easy to erase. After all, it was the family that raised for sixteen years that first taught you to be wary of security. He took a steadying breath and looked you in the eye.

"I made you a promise, Y/N. It was my first promise and I won't break it. Have I given you any reason to think I would?" You shook your head without hesitation. "Do you trust me?"

You wanted to. You were almost certain you did. You nodded your head.

"Good. You can trust me. I know that these voices have tried to keep you safe in the past, based on your experiences. But this is not your past. It won't be the same, and if you trust me, you need to believe that."

You thought about his words for a moment, and they felt right. The past few weeks were like nothing you had experienced ever in your life. There had been so much safety, and honesty, and affection that it looked like something out of a fantasy. And maybe that's what made it so hard to believe in, but you knew that it was real. Yoongi was real, while the malicious whispers in your head were only that. They were less than air.

Suddenly, you crawled forward, straight into Yoongi's chest. You felt his arms wrap around you immediately and began to weep.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I got confused. Don't be mad," you cried into the shelter of his body.

He shushed you as he held you tight, rubbing circles on your lower back with a firm hand. "It's okay, princess. I told you that I would always tell you what's real. What you feel now, my arms around you. This is real. Out here is real. Everything is okay."

Yoongi let you cry yourself out on his chest, unbothered by his damp shirt. Jimin cuddled close, too, wrapping an extra arm around your trembling figure to shield you from any more worry, if only for tonight.

A/n: Wow. It's been like, over a year since I wrote any smut, and I've been very anxious about it. I would love to hear any small thing you liked about any of this chapter. I think Hobi was the shining star of her heat, tbh. I love him an indescribable about.

Permanent taglist: @lilacdreams-00 @wholockian1 @babycoffeefire @bri-mal @jikooksgirl19 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @marvelfamily3000 @borahae-reads @yoongiigolden @staerryminimini @valhallawhispers @m4gg13-g @i-have-no-life-charlie @hellokittiesxbae @pamzn @skyys-universe @nicholedobre-blog

Taglist: @ellesalazar @rinkud @osakis-gf @scuzmunkie @queen-in-the-shadows @toughbook @btskzfav @chansbaybygirl @cryingpages @alex--awesome--22 @singukieee @welcometomyworld13 @juju-227592 @bangtanflirt @wittyreader @nyrovieeie @welcome418 @lifeistooshorttowasteyourtime @moon-cupcakes @passionandsuga @m0v3m3ntsblog @kykyxstandler @ladyalicesbookstore @yoonseokerist @deejay08 @momoasenthusiasticreader @littlestarstinyseven @bittersweetbaylee @im-sinking-in-mud @iloverubberduckiez-blog @someshinesomedont @kungsoonie

690 notes · View notes