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lis-likes-fics · 2 months

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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

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vhstown · 4 months

Text

super short london slang guide !!

i haven't got a scooby doo about cockney so this is mainly gonna be mle and like the way 14 year old secondary school boys talk oookay let's go (just so yk i am a londonder!!!!!)

direct things to call people (or avoid calling people)

bruv, blud, man, mate, fam (can use in replacement of a pronoun like he, she, you and i or for emphasis — "man's got a meeting, bruv!")

more on "man" it can be used in plural too — "us man" or "them man" or "you man"

my g, my guy (for referring someone you are friendly/friends with)

bossman (something you'd call a shop or business owner — "aye bossman get me the 3 wings and chips yeah")

big man (usually used in a sarcastic friendly but kind of demeaning way, the older cousin of "big guy" — "oi big man what you sayin' cuz?"

i wasnt going to put these here cause of personal preference but 😭 people are gonna use them anyway so i might as well tell you what they mean:

peng (adjective cute/pretty — "her? she's peng!")

leng (adjective hot/sexy — "rah, he's leng you know?)

nouns

ting (usually to refer to a girlfriend but can also just mean "thing"... or a knife? — "don't chat to my ting fam!")

grim (very outdated word for a promiscuous woman — "she's a grim bruv!")

skeng (gun)

shank, spinner (knife)

paper, Ps, pronounced "peas" (money)

ends (neighbourhood, area — "if i catch you in my ends yeah")

mandem (group of friends — "having a laugh at the pub with the mandem" aha)

gyaldem (group of women / female friends)

ganja (weed)

blem (cigarette)

pagan/paigon (snitch or untrustworthy person, not a super common you might wanna use "snake" or "snitch" instead)

wasteman (someone who's useless, a lowlife)

pussio/pussyo (pussy, coward)

other common words and phrases

wagwan, or "wag1" in text (what's up, what's going on)

bare (a lot — "i got bare problems with him!")

gassed (prideful, full of yourself — "im actually so gassed, man got promoted"

"and that" (instead of "and stuff" — "i got links and that")

"allow it" (let something slide — "i forgot my wallet allow it bossman")

safe (like "alright cool", or as a bye — "aight safe")

"pattern up" (fix up, get it together)

hard, tight (cool, good, though "hard" is also used in an offensive way — "bro thinks he's hard, pussio")

blam (to get shot, not actually very common to hear in my experience)

sheffed (up), shanked (to get stabbed)

ahlie (used as an interjection when in agreement with something, similar to phrase "am i lying?")

non-mle specific words i hear sometimes

thick (dumb, stupid)

clapped/tapped (ugly, weird, unattractive)

merk/murk (kill, beat up)

slag, sket (slut)

chav (used to refer to someone of the low social status, associated with violent or rude behaviour)

taking the mick, taking the piss (being annoying)

mad (means crazy obviously but people use it a lot, can have positive and negative connotations — "that's mad!")

nonce (literally means pedophile / sex offender, do what you will with it 😭)

dickhead, bellend (similar to douchebag)

wanker (used towards someone you dislike, or in a joking way)

geezer (usually to refer to an old man)

also!!!

depending on which communities are predominant in the area, words from other languages can come in / have come in

some words are common with US slang too because they share origins 😁 ain't that cool

there's a lot of influence from jamaican patois due to the history of british jamaicans in london for ex in words like "ting" or "mandem" or "wagwan" (hence why mle is sometimes referred to as "jafrican") and its not strange to hear "bomboclaat" or "bloodclaat" here either

in communities where there's muslims and arabs (especially in east london) you might hear arabic terms like "wallahi", "khalas" or "astagfirullah" (though people debate whether that's cultural appropriation or not)

south asians have also had an influence with words like "gora" or "ganja" though again this is largely area based and the impact of hinglish is also found a lot outside of london

some people have a mix of different dialects! i mainly alternate between mle and estuary (sometimes yorkshire don't ask it is very easy to pick up...)

you're not gonna hear every single word here all the time the usage varies throughout london. the way north and west londoners speak can be v different for example

uhhhh if you wanna learn properly just listen to some grime or sutn . listen to londoners speak!

for some more resources in-depth PLEASE check out these guides made by other british people ! (one and two)

ok that's it bye bye british ppl & londoners feel free to add on! it is midnight rn so ive probably missed stuff lol... dms are open in case you've got any questions or want any help :p

#vee rants #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #spider uk #hobart brown #hobie brown #hobie brown x gn!reader #british accent #london accent #potential to be edited

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zephyrchama · 4 months

Text

Listening to Magic Moment on a non-stop loop has forced me to write this.

Writing Prompt: MC giving "free massage" tickets to the brothers.

Under the cut. Gender neutral MC, second person, one section for each of the 7 brothers.

Warnings: Nothing hardcore but there is suggestive content (every person has different boundaries so I don't know whether to classify it as some or a lot?). One section almost has a violent outburst (guess who lol it's satan's part), that might be unsettling to some.

The Seven Rulers of the Devildom had expensive taste. Must be a side effect from being some of the most powerful and influential millennia-old entities around.

The student council gave you a regular allowance and there was some side change from various part time jobs, but no way could you afford a custom designer brand gift for each of your housemates. When probed for details about what they’d like, they always say they’d gladly accept anything from you. That’s surely true, but you wanted to gift something they’d actually use and appreciate.

So after weeks of thinking, you got a bag of nice craft paper and some cute stickers that reminded you of the brothers. You holed up for an evening with a Do Not Disturb sign on the bedroom door. Late at night a couple days before Christmas, you snuck into the festively decorated living room and dropped your gifts into the brother’s stockings. Those were also your idea, and technically a gift with some little snacks inside, but now they also contained an extra surprise.

On Christmas morning everyone would wake up and discover your “Free Massage” tickets. One use per ticket. Valid forever.

Lucifer ---

You assumed Lucifer would use his ticket quickly, given how exhausted he often was. Despite being as busy as ever, he showed no intention of using it. Perhaps he thought the gift was beneath him and forgot about it entirely. Perhaps he needed hints to remind him.

For days you would check in on him more and more frequently. Send him a text, inform him that you were around if anything was needed. “Don’t forget to take breaks, ok? I’m here if you need me!”

One evening you boldly slipped into his room on the pretenses of returning a book. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. A sleepy Lucifer was towel-drying his hair after a shower. He sat on the corner of the bed, clean pajama shirt folded neatly beside him.

You took a seat on his other side. The book was large enough to occupy a third space. “Thanks for lending this to me. It was a surprisingly helpful reference.”

“I told you it was, didn’t I?”

He sounded amicable to conversation. Time to go on the offensive. “Do you need any help with that? I have a nice hair dryer from Asmo.”

“No,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I have the same one. I just prefer simple routines like this before bed.”

One rejection wasn't enough to deter you. “How was your day? Did anyone cause you trouble?”

You would have known if one of his brothers had acted up, but maybe something else was on his mind you could take advantage of.

“It was particularly uneventful. Quiet, for once. I’m glad to have this evening off, I have to be up early tomorrow.”

Shot down again. Now Lucifer was reaching for his shirt. Before he put it on, you grabbed his shoulder and weaseled your arm under his armpit and around his back. Not the smoothest move, but he stopped to humor you.

“Is anything on your mind?” he asked.

“It’s just that you’ve been so busy lately, I’m worried about your health. You’ve got to take it easy from time to time.” You rubbed your palm over his back. “I’m sure you get sore when you’re overworked.”

“Indeed. However, it’s something I’m used to.”

He re-folded the shirt and got up to put it away. “Would you like to stay the night? You must miss me, seeing as I’m so busy.”

“Absolutely!”

In the spare moments it took for Lucifer to hang up his shirt, place the returned book on its shelf, and walk back to the bed, you already made yourself at home in the sheets. He chuckled, “someone’s eager.”

The lights turned off and he slid into bed by your side. After only a couple of minutes, Lucifer shifted to face the wall. He already appeared asleep. He must really have been tired after all. Under the warm blanket, you reached to stroke his back again.

A novel idea formed in your mind. If all your attempts failed while he was awake, maybe subliminal messaging while asleep would be effective. You snuggled up close and whispered into his ear, “massage ticket… Use… the massage ticket…”

You weren’t expecting a reply, but Lucifer’s deep voice whispered back at you, “why would I waste such a valuable gift?"

"You're awake?" you gasped. Lucifer's prank had been unexpected. You began softly punching his back. "I thought you fell asleep."

"I'm awake, and I wasn't planning on using that ticket. Especially when you go through the trouble to do interesting things like this.”

Mammon ---

Mammon’s ticket had been confiscated. He no longer had it because he got up early, the most excited out of everyone to receive his shiny new presents, and once he saw what was in his stocking he knew that each of his brothers had one too.

Beelzebub walked in on him rooting around in everyone’s stockings to snag their massage tickets for himself and tackled him, as he thought Mammon was stealing Christmas chocolates. The commotion attracted everyone else and Mammon’s ticket was vetoed in a unanimous vote. But he still deserved a gift from you.

Instead of letting him choose a day and time like the others, you visited Mammon’s room when you felt like it. He was still pouting.

“You know I’ve been on my best behavior all year. S’not fair!” He punched the couch in frustration. He really had been getting into less trouble lately. It felt bad seeing him so down.

“Do you want one now? A massage, I mean. Don’t tell your brothers. It’s a limited time offer since you don’t have a ticket.”

“Ya mean it?”

You nodded, and his misery turned into excitement. He literally jumped up. “Well, do I get a little somethin’ extra too? Since I don’t have my ticket, ya know. Somethin’ to make up for that. I’ve got this nice little outfit you could wear that’s-”

You quickly cut him off before the Avatar of Greed gave too many demands. “Limited time offer with terms and conditions. Take the massage right now as-is or leave it. Up to you.”

“Aaarghh alright, alright. I’ll take it. Feel honored! I’ll humor your little massage for a while!”

Mammon dramatically pulled his shirt off but kept wearing the silliest, smuggest smile. He really was cute when trying and utterly failing to act tough. He sprawled himself out on the couch, “let’s see what you’ve got!”

Since the greedy demon hogged all of the couch space, there was nowhere to sit next to him within arm’s reach. With a “don’t mind if I do,” you decided to crawl over Mammon’s legs and sit on his butt.

In a moment of shock he wiggled out from under you. You would have toppled over the side of the sofa had Mammon’s famously fast reflexes not scooped you up, now placing you atop his chest. “Whaddya think you’re doin’, huh? Who said you could do that?”

“You did! How else was I supposed to… Look, do you want this or not?”

His scowl, no matter how big, couldn’t hide the blush on his face. “Yeah, ok, but just… warn me this time… Ok?”

Leviathan ---

It had been nearly a week since you last heard from Leviathan. After Christmas, you thought you might not see him at all until the new year. There were so many holiday game events happening, after all.

“Think I’m stuck,” read the message that popped up on your DDD late one night.

“Can’t move. Requesting reinforcements. And food.”

Concerned, you popped into the kitchen for whatever palatable finger foods you could assemble on a plate and began making your way to the third born’s room. You knocked, but there was no answer. It had been a while since he gave you a password, but it didn’t seem to matter now. You just walked in.

Leviathan was slumped over in his gaming chair, surrounded by roughly ten different screens. Each had a different game and one was streaming some idol talk show. His trash can, while still relatively contained, was almost overflowing with energy drink cans and snack packages. Levi didn’t seem to notice you walk in. He had been gaming for days. You set the plate at the edge of his PC desk.

“Dang. You live like this?”

Bleary-eyed and vitamin D deficient, he still shrieked. “Whuh? Don’t scare me like that!!”

“I came to answer your distress call. You’re stuck?”

“Oh, right. I did send that, didn’t I.” He turned back to the monitors briefly to pause a few things and save a few others. It was impressive how much he could multitask.

“My back’s turned into a pretzel. I thought I’d finally take a break, but when I went to stand up I couldn’t. I think I’m stuck to the chair, lol. If I, uh, use the massage ticket, could you help me?”

“’course I will. Here, drink something.” You slid him a juice. The gamer chair was pretty tall, blocking all access to Leviathan’s back, so you started tapping away at his shoulders. He scrambled to take his headphones off, which helped.

“Sorry to call you in for such a stupid reason. I know this is a disgusting sight..”

You shook your head, though he couldn’t see it. “How’s your game progress?””Oh, about 80% done everything? 85? But it’s mostly the daily quests now, I’ve maxed out on all the top prizes from the main event stories. Look, I even got this Christmas bow set. It has trash stats but looks like a tree and fires little candy canes.”

A big burly warrior with a Christmas hat on one of the screens demonstrated the weapon.

“Uwaah, you know that really helped. I think I can try to stand now.” Leviathan made a made show of setting his legs on the ground and leaning forward, only to magnificently slide back into the chair. “Ow. Ok. That, uh, wasn’t what I planned.” He turned away. “Don’t look at me.”

“No! Don’t give up!” You spun the seat around and he squeaked In astonishment. “We’re gonna make this happen. Levi! Do you trust me?” It was all or nothing. You dramatically reached out your hands. You knew you could do it. You were going to pull this demon out of the gamer chair.

Steeling his resolve, Leviathan nodded and grabbed your hands. You asked, “ready?”

He confirmed, “Ok… Ok lets go! One!”

“Two!”

As you shouted “three!” in unison, you tugged back with all your strength. Maybe you could have pulled a little less, as the two of you went flying backwards. There would have been some real damage if Levi didn’t cushion your head from the tiled floor with his arm.

“Woaaah it woooorked! We did--”

Mid-celebration, he seemed to notice he was in a compromising position on top of you. After barrel rolling off to the side, his voice got noticeably quieter. “We did it… yeah, uh… Sorry about--”

Leaving no room for negativity, you reached around his back and hugged him before he could finish the sentence. “I really missed you, y’know? Come out of your room more often, Levi.”

His face wasn’t visible, but you’re sure it was bright red as he stammered a soft “alright.”

Satan ---

Satan texted, asking if he could redeem his massage ticket after a long and tiring day. Said it was urgent. His presence was always in demand at social events, galleries, and book shop unveilings. After five busy events in one day he just wanted to return

home to relax with a book, but some idiots were running around the library playing war with rubber band shooters. His fuse that day was incredibly short. So he retreated to the comfort of his room, but each thudding footstep down the hall sounded irksome and brought Satan one step closer to snapping.

When you knocked at his door, wrath was seeping out the cracks into the hallway. He practically screamed at you to get inside. Satan was shaking on the edge of his bed, crushing an unrecognizable object in his hand. The room was dreadfully cold. You rushed to his side, practically jumping into the empty space next to him.

He barely acknowledged you. Rubbing slow, small circles on his back had a quick effect though. Upon hitting between his shoulder blades, his tense muscles loosened and he leaned against your side. You could hear him grinding his teeth. After a long minute passed he exhaled in relief.

You scooted back a bit and guided his head to your lap. Stroking continuous circles, one hand was in his rich blonde hair, the other against his shirt fabric. “Thank you for coming,” he muttered, rubbing a cheek against your thigh.“You really saved me there.”

“Any time. Do you want to talk about your day?” Your voice was low and soft.

“No. Just keep going.”

Gently pulling at his shirt collar, you loosened it to caress the back of his neck. He was still in his outdoor attire. He’d tell you about it in time, once fully calmed down. He tried to apologize for the outburst, though it wasn’t your fault and he didn’t quite know what to say. You brushed his hair back, combing it away from his forehead to let him know things were okay. It became your personal mission lessen the stiffness in his back. You’d work your way down his spine until he relaxed.

“Maybe I could read you a book, too?” You suggested, squeezing his shoulder. Satan shifted his hand to rub your knee in appreciation.

Asmodeus ---

Asmodeus set aside a whole spa evening to use your massage ticket. It was special. He filled his bath with high-end fragrances so his skin would be extra silky. He extended an offer for you to join him in the water, heated with magic to be the perfect temperature, but you said you’d wait in his room. Those baths can take hours. You’d be too pruny to feel, let alone massage anything. He had plenty of interesting magazines to flip through in the meantime, and you got to enjoy the plush sheets on his bed.

He waltzed out of the bathroom in a magnificently fluffy robe, another Christmas gift he’d received from somebody. “Thanks for waiting! Were you lonely? I’m allll ready!”

A brand new skincare set waited on the vanity, stocked with creams and masks for you to try together. Asmo plopped into a seat while you pulled up a spare chair behind him. “What are we starting with first?”

He rifled through the packages. “This!” A matte purple, gooey liquid. “I tried samples of this before, it smells divine. Come here!”

You let him plop a dab of the gloop on your nose and rub it into your cheeks. “There! Give it a few minutes and then wash it off. In the meantime, shall we begin? Hm?”

He turned to face the mirror and wiggled impatiently for his massage, cheekily sliding the robe off his shoulder. “I know you probably can’t wait much longer.” You both laughed. With the robe around his waist, you got to work redeeming the ticket. Pounding against his back didn’t seem to phase him at all, and Asmo hardly moved from the strength of your fists as he rubbed another cream under his eyes. He launched into a story about some fan who sent him a thirty page letter the other day.

“They described my beautiful eyes really well. It was even scented, and each page was another scent. Isn’t that wild? Do you think they did that themselves, or are the pages sold like that?” His eyes peered at you in the vanity mirror. “Hey, can you rub a little harder?”

“Oh, sure!” Knowing it would be hard for you to physically hurt him, you put a bit more force into each tap. “What scent was your favorite? Like, could you distinguish them?”

“Actually, yeah! There were lots of fruits like cherries, strawberries, one was pine scented, and a rose one of course.” Asmo glanced away from his own reflection once again and he shifted his weight back towards you. “Hey, hon? Harder?”

You obliged, squeezing his back muscles with as much strength as you could muster. “Is that… Was it the longest fan letter you’ve gotten?”Asmo let out a barely distinguishable moan. You almost thought you imagined it.

”Hm… Not by far…” He started, but trailed off. With a big breath, he moaned louder and leaned back further. “Oh, come on, harder… ” He wrapped his arms around his chest and wiggled.

“Asmo!? What the-- are you…? Gross!” You lifted your hands in shock and he burst out laughing. Without anything supporting him up, he fell into your lap in a fit of giggles. “Did you think I was serious? Ahaha! You’re so cute when you’re flustered!”

Beelzebub ---

“I ate something that didn’t agree with my stomach, can I redeem that gift for a massage? It might make me feel better.” That’s what Beelzebub asked one afternoon, stopping by your room after noticing the door open. It’s rare for something to upset Beel’s stomach. It must have been really rancid.

“Yeah, of course! You wanna do it here or your room?”

“We’re already here. If you don’t mind.” Beel walked in and made himself at home, smoothing out the covers on your bed.

You got up to shut the door, but wondered if a run to the kitchen would be useful.

“Will ice help? Or any kind of medicine?” Maybe even normal food would cancel out the bad stuff and make Beel feel better, but he declined. Beel already propped his head up on your pillow and laid down.

“You’re gonna lay face up? How am I supposed to rub your back?””My stomach hurts. I thought you could rub that, and I would feel better.””Oh.” Nobody else had been able to look at you directly while giving massages. This was more embarrassing.

Beelzebub realized he hadn’t taken his shirt off, but didn’t want to stand and repeat the process again, so he just pulled it up to his chest. His breathing did seem more labored than usual. Out of pity, you didn’t roll him over. “I haven’t done this way before, so tell me if it’s uncomfortable.”

The demon was so much bigger than you, it was hard to find a good starting spot. “You can sit here,” he said, patting his waist. “Only if you want to. I don’t mind.” So you scooted on up, placing your legs to the left and right of him. Beel is so muscled it was like sitting on a warm rock.

“Where does it feel uncomfortable? Here?” You prodded a bit around his stomach, careful not to make him sick.

“Pff, haha, yeah. That’s it.”

“That tickles?”

“Yeah.”

While Beel softly giggled, you worked your hands along the soft spots between his ab muscles. “What did you even eat?”

“A bath bomb.”You couldn’t help laugh along with him. Beel continued, “I didn’t know that’s what it was until Solomon told me though. I thought I maybe I accidentally had his cooking. It looked delicious. But I think it started expanding, and caused an ache.”

“I can’t blame you there. I almost ate soap once.”

“Really? You?” You were always the more level one when it came to food. “Did it look good?”

You nodded. “Boy, did it. And it smelled amazing, I could smell it from across the room. You probably smelled the bath bomb the moment you walked in that building, right?”

He vigorously nodded. “So you do get it!”

Beel reached up and pulled you into a big hug, catching you off guard so you practically fell on top of him. “Thanks for making me feel better.”

Escaping from one of Beel’s hugs was no easy feat, so you happily went along with it. “Any time. If you ever see one of those fake cupcakes again, maybe we can put it in the bath water and see what it does together.”

Belphegor ---

“I’ve got a fun idea. Meet me in the observatory?

When you showed up to Belphegor’s summons he was counting stars. The observatory was dark but the stars were bright enough to illuminate his silhouette standing in front of the window. He greeted you with a warm smile.

“I brought my ticket. I have a special request though.” Waving the massage ticket in

his hand, he came to meet you in the middle of the room. As your eyes adjusted you could make out that an old telescope was set up next to the fountain.

“ A special request? I guess I could hear you out since I came all this way.”

The two of you took a seat on the floor. For several moments, the only sounds were your own breathing and the soothing flow of water. When he didn’t start explaining, you were afraid Belphie might fall asleep in the peaceful silence. “Are you really gonna wait for me to ask what it is?”

“Yeah. If you wanna know, you should hurry up.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“What did you want to do?”

He reached to adjust the telescope in front of you at your eye level while explaining. “I thought we could stargaze together, but instead of just talking about what we see, we could draw them on each other’s backs. If you draw the constellations I can tell you what they are. When it’s my turn, I can show you what they look like and tell you stuff about it. What do you think?”

If your eyes could have stars in them, at this moment they would. “That sounds like a really fun idea.”

“Hehe, right? I told you. So take a look, what do you see?”

Belphegor turned his back towards you while you excitedly peered through the telecope. It was easy to focus and you quickly found a target to study.

“Two there, and then… Ok, I think I’ve got it. What’s this?”

You started to replicate what you saw with little knocks for stars, and connected them by slowly drawing arcs between the points. Belphegor’s jacket would slide over his shirt though, messing up the curves.

“Hm…” He sighed. “I thought I would be pretty good at this, but it’s hard to tell what you’re drawing.”

“This might be easier without the jacket,” you admitted.

“Really? I’m too tired to take it off though. Take it off for me?”

His brothers spoiled him too much, just like you did, so Belphegor didn’t move a muscle when you tried to peel off the warm jacket. You had to get in his personal space and lift his arms up for him. You told yourself the struggle would be worth it when you finally wrestled it off of him and could wear it yourself. He was being too uncooperative though, and eventually suggested “how about we switch? I don’t want to take this off, I’m comfortable now.”

Dejected without your warm prize, you agreed. The telescope stand rattled against the ground as he readjusted it and you turned away from him. “Do you still really want to use your massage ticket if I’m not the one doing it?” you inquired.

He hummed and hawed, mulling it over while gazing up at the sky. “Yeah, I do, if it lets me do fun stuff like this with you. I got one, let me know if you have this star sign in the human world.”

The first couple pokes sent tingles through your skin. The stars were really far away from each other, drawn on opposite sides of your lower back, but you weren’t prepared for such a delicate touch and had been distracted. “I don’t… think so? Hold on, draw it again.”

“Don’t you know? It goes like this.” He poked again, a little lower. You let out an

“eep!” and subconsciously scooted forward.

“Wait, I’m not done.” He was clearly holding back laughter. “I haven’t shown you this other one yet.”

The next constellation felt less like the trace of a star, and a lot more like Belphegor just wanted to tickle your sides. “Do you know what this is called?”

“Khh hahaha, no, I don’t.” The laugh-riddled admission further encouraged him. He wiggled lines all over your sides and crept his way to your stomach.

“I guess we have a lot of constellations to talk about then. Good thing the sky is so clear tonight.”

527 notes · View notes

oakbuggy · 5 months

Text

Liar, Liar chapter 1

Recom!Neteyam x female OC

Summary : Tala of the Tawkami gets captured by a familiar face and to both of their misfortune, they are trapped together due to circumstance. They are extremely vexed by this and each other and also very horny.

Warnings: Minors DNI, non-con+dub-con, explicit smut, dirty talk, authority, power struggle, mentions+depictions of blood, minor violence, character death, marking, biting, scenting

!! Each chapter will have images throughout the chapter, only the AO3 will have the NSFW-uncensored versions. Please keep this in mind as you read !!

Chapter 1 (NSFW) ~5.2k words

AO3 Link Here!

Prev Chapter / Next Chapter

Tala grimaced every time a bullet was fired, noisily ripping through the greenery no matter where it was aimed.

She stayed huddled in a thicket, eyes darting through the leaves and flowers and rain.

Everything had gone so wrong so quickly. They were supposed to be the scouting party, that’s it, it wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. But the tawtute sterile and foul scents proved otherwise.

The sudden downpour helped to mask all individual Navi scents, but it also made it harder to know where anyone was. Seeing a cluster of roots with just enough space for her smaller body to fit, Tala slid into the safety of the crevice, disturbing only blades of grass.

At least, that’s what she hoped.

And she was glad her years of alchemy training didn’t fail her because through the blood, ash, and mist, she smelled a much less offensive sterile scent. The rain was dampening it, but the odor of tawtute fabric stuck to their skin. Just her luck to have a dream walker hovering so close to her, but better her than another. She was technically a warrior, as all alchemists of the Tawkami went through the same rites of passage, but she honestly barely qualified as a fighter. Tala would’ve wildly preferred being someone’s pretty mate and just experiment all day for new recipes and poultices.

Tala stayed absolutely still, her green eyes glued to the entrance of the roots. She looked down at her hands, her entire body folded into the smallest ball she could be, frowning a bit at the scars and scuffles. She could imagine her friend scolding her for paying attention to such things when she was being actively pursued-

A gun’s barrel burst through the entrance of the roots and shot through her hair.

Tala screamed and thrashed, kicking the gun out of the way she forced her body outside of the root’s crevice. She reached into her satchel on her hip and flung coarse powder into the assailant’s face. The rain solidified on the soldier’s face and she scrambled away through the jungle.

The RDA soldier coughed and hissed behind her, empty-handed save for one of the pink flowers that were decorated throughout Tala’s hair. He crushed it and gave chase, abandoning the gun. He didn’t need it.

Tala jumped through all manner of branches and foliage. If she had time to think, Tala would be praying to Eywa now to save her, air burning her lungs.

The dream walker was insufferably graceful, talented at keeping his eyes on her. Tala dared a look back and gasped. She didn’t realize until too late that her foot stepped on only air beyond the edge of a steep glade.

“N-Netey-OOf!” The soldier fully pounced on Tala, which only sent them toppling. Large hands clawed into her sides as the two of them rolled down, slowly coming to a painful stop of groans and blooming bruises on their heads and limbs. Immediately the soldier got to his feet while his target was violently backing away, clawing through the grass. It couldn’t be him, he’s been dead for years now. It was a trick of the light, the rain entered her eye, she was being delusional, desperate.

As if a cruel trick of Eywa’s, Tala found herself back in the start, she had burrowed into a large and hollow tree trunk and was again trapped inside it. From the darkness outside, a hand burst through the entrance and clawed at her hair, impartial as to whether it wanted to pull her out or claw its way inside.

She was slapping, thrashing, the soldier’s large gloved hands were searching for her neck through her thick, loose curls. Her nails caught on the soldier’s green military headband, ripping it off to reveal a large, star-shaped scar on the left side of his forehead. He snarled but now so close, Tala froze.

Sunlillies and tree bark. A nostalgic smell.

She stopped, letting the soldier squeeze her neck, as her wide green eyes blinked upwards, staring at his face.

“Neteyam? Is it really…?” Tala started to whisper, she felt around at his hands. Four fingers, not a dream walker. She kept trembling eyes on his face, it looked so much like him. Even the way his forehead wrinkled when his brow raised in perplexity, now a large scar resting right above it. Yellow eyes met green and all the terror-induced adrenaline Tala had pumping through her was now going straight to her heart.

The soldier had also long stopped, stunned. Stunned by her scent, of spiced honey and rose, scents that he attributed to the environment than to her. The hammering pain he felt in his skull, from his scar, had dissipated drastically. He realized who he was holding.

“Tala.” His voice was low, uncharacteristically unsure.

She wanted to open her mouth and ask all the right questions, the smartest ones, but her mouth stayed silent. The soldier slowly loosened his grip. She looked at the name tag on his uniform. ’T. Sully’.

He allowed some minute bit of space between them, their breaths warming each other up from the cold of the constant rainfall. Tala eyed his scar, blackened and old.

“You’ve been poisoned.” Her throat was dry and her heart was pounding. As if simply saying something was enough, the RDA soldier lunged back into her, his face in her hair and arms encompassing her. She made a strangled, distressed noise.

“N-Neteyam! What are you-“

“Shut up.” It felt like a shadow covered her body, snuffing Eywa’s light on her. The voice, low, husked into the shell of her ears. Cold. It was very cold. The usual comfort she’d feel hearing his voice was missing.

When Tala tried to pull back, Neteyam’s hands tightened painfully around her body, squeezing her impossibly closer. His head hasn’t felt this at peace since he ‘awoke’. The headache was mercifully lessened each time he breathed in the Tawkami girl’s scent. Months felt like decades of torture, something for him to shoulder with each waking moment. Everything hurt his head, it was constant and numbing but somehow, with her…

A whine cried out of her throat, her breath felt constricted. Tala tried to scramble her fingers around the sleeves of his black shirt, clawing at the fabric and trying to push him away but to no avail. His tactical harnesses, both on his chest and around his legs, dug into her skin painfully.

“Let go of me.” Tala weakly hissed into his hair even though her arms, though tense, felt so weak. Brittle.

Neteyam hissed.

“Just stay still. Don’t you understand how easy it is for me to kill you?”

Tala stilled, confused. She was used to being admonished, by many people, yet she’s never known the Omaticayan to waste time for a kill. She noticed though the shallow pressure of his broad chest against hers, the lowest and quietest inhale.

He was smelling her.

This na’vi may no longer be Neteyam, a shadow that shared his name, but still, something stirred in Tala when she realized this. Stupid feelings she thought were buried and dead.

“Killing me by smelling me then, are you?” She mumbled, taking the gamble. No matter how overpoweringly soothing her scent was, Neteyam felt irritation rise at her words. That’s right, she’s always been sort of a pain to talk to… They’ve met twice before and both times left him feeling embarrassment and indignation. For what exactly, he couldn’t recall.

Still, his tail swished irritably now. He sat up to see her face to catch a glimpse of those green eyes that constantly taunted whoever had their attention.

Great mother, he wished he didn’t remember her so the thought that she’d only gotten prettier wouldn’t enter his head.

“Don’t push me, Tawkami. How haven’t you changed at all?” He snarled, venom dripping from his maw. Tala frowned and sunk her claws into his uncovered bicep, earning a small hiss. His hands curled again around the column of her neck, lightly squeezing.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she started seeing spots in her vision. Somehow, the universe both gave her a gift and a curse. Eywa returned his body to her, but not his mind. No more gentle hands, no kind eyes, no bashful expressions, or the comfort of his silhouette. She felt so entirely bitter to have hoped at all.

“Maybe I’ve not changed at all…” Tala felt like the headband in her hand was suddenly too heavy, she didn’t want it.

“But you’ve changed too much.” She finished, her stare was acidic.

“I died. And now I’m back and I’m forced to bear the consequences of it.” His voice was stern but quiet. Tala’s brows furrowed. Then her eyes went back to his large scar. From her studies, it truly looked poisoned, festering, and painful but the skin on top was healed. She was confused, na’vi were not the type to hide scars.

Tala reached around and placed his headband slowly back around his forehead. Delicate fingertips felt like burns along his skin and Neteyam was ready to crack her neck at any sign of force.

“The poison?”

No response. She scowled.

“Poison’s made you a bore too?” Tala let out a loud gag when his large thumbs momentarily dug into her throat.

“Still so foolish and mouthy.” The soldier growled. ‘Poisoned’ was a strange way to call his ever-present migraine, but seemed close enough. Unfortunately, the cure to that headache was another one in the form of an incredibly annoying woman. His patience was thinning.

“But you still find me so pretty, don’t you? Otherwise, what’s taking so long, hmm?” Her tone and smile were sickly sweet, just the way he always hated it.

The consequences were immediate, Neteyam nearly buried Tala into the ground, knocking whatever little breath she had left. He forced her legs around him in the struggle and went for her neck to suck and bite. She yelped when rough fingers clenched at her hair and pulled her closer to him.

Her words incensed him and now he knew that Eywa cursed him, why did this loathsome woman have to smell so good, and have to smile so lovely and be so soft?

“You’ve always been so fucking-“

She could feel Neteyam’s tongue and fangs scrape over her neck. Her strangled yelps stopped when Neteyam roughly pushed the stiff tent of his pants against her thigh.

“Annoying, so fucking full of yourself-“

She saw only a flash of golden eyes glaring at her before she felt lips crash onto hers. Fangs clashed against each other and Neteyam stuck his tongue into her mouth. Tala was mortified when she could immediately feel a heat pool in her belly. The musk of his arousal was so dizzying even through the thick camo fabric.

She wanted to say she struggled heroically but in shame, Tala’s will crumbled quickly. The kiss was just so bruising, so angry, she stopped struggling to focus on twisting his tongue and stealing his air.

Neteyam didn’t break the kiss as he ripped the gloves off his calloused hands, now feeling desperate to lose himself in her smell and her softness. He groped at her waist and squeezed the roundness of her hips, now her smell was intoxicating, tinged with her desire. He moaned at the contact, practically rutting his clothed cock against her. Tala could feel slick gather underneath her tewng, she knew for sure a wet spot was already leaking through it.

His hand stilled and Tala could finally look at him, tense. Neteyam seemed only to revel in it, his pupils enlarging further, brows furrowed, he looked near enraged. With him or with her, Tala figured it was probably both.

“What are you doing, Neteyam?” She rasped, conflicted and now hot and bothered. Her only answer was him sucking her clavicle hard, hands now groping at her tits wantonly.

Sense returned to Tala’s head and she started kicking at him, kicking around his much larger, muscular waist.

“Get away-oh!” She screeched when suddenly he was picking her up, making her back bend uncomfortably around the roof of the hollow tree, she was practically sitting on his shoulders now. His head was between her thighs and the wet muscle of his tongue was digging through her tewng, getting her wetter and wetter. She smelled divine here and he licked a long strip over the thin cloth, he could feel her heat on his tongue.

Unable to keep her balance she gripped the back of his head, his neck, the slope of his back, just anything so she wouldn’t topple over. Squeezing her thighs around his face only seemed to goad him on further.

“Neteyam!” Tala said, choking on her drool as the heat of her core rose exponentially with Neteyam’s sudden worshipping.

“I’m going to taste you. Don’t stop me.”

The announcement makes her cunt clench around nothing and she stills. Her face is on fire, she is so conflicted by the way he was squeezing her ass and how completely and uncomfortably drenched her cunt was- Neteyam pushed the tight fabric of her tewng to the side and started lapping at her pussy lips.

“Ooohh, oh, fuck!” She moaned, feeling just so filthy. His rough and wet tongue pressed against her hole, licked long strips against it and he dug for deeper, more of her juices. The more those juices dripped down his face, the more he lapped it up hungrily. He was just fucking gone, nothing hurt anymore and only extreme pleasure was left in his wake. His ego preened as he listened to her muffled whimpers like a favored song, she was not so annoying when his tongue was deep in her cunt like this. He thinks he prefers her like this, hanging onto him desperately, legs wide for him.

Neteyam felt like he could cum from just the sound of her desperate whines alone.

“Net-Nete…” She whispered his name harshly but could barely form it. The coil of heat in her belly was tightening oh so much, and when Neteyam’s nose burrowed further onto her clit, her eyes glazed over in pure ecstasy.

He sucked at her clit and groaned at the sweetness that exploded on his tongue. In his mind, it was his private feast and the satisfaction he got from making this irritable woman melt in his hands was simply an appetizer.

Her eyes rolled back, the spring snapped and she closed her legs impossibly tight around his face as she came so hard she saw white. Her body stiffened, even her tail squeezed tightly around Neteyam’s bicep, and after agonizingly long seconds, her body went limp.

To her vague surprise, he was still completely supporting her despite her relaxing her whole weight over him.

To the extreme surprise of her nerves, he was still swallowing all her excess liquids, now sucking over her reddened and puffy cunt for just a bit more savory sweetness.

“N-nete- I-came…” She said in broken mewls and weakly pawed at his back, eyes starting to water from the overstimulation. He, of course, didn’t stop, he didn’t even hear her. “It’s too much, stop…” She said a bit louder and dug her nails deeper into his back, but still Neteyam didn’t budge.

He basked in massaging her twitching, sticky cunt, the way it pulsated around his tongue, and flinched at every light scrape of his teeth. He only wished he had enough space to soak his fingers in her until she was hiccuping and the pads of his fingers were pruney.

Tala felt another orgasm crash through her and this time she wailed, body staying limp, hair cascading over her and over Neteyam’s back. Her cunt was now hurting and she was struggling to keep conscious.

She blinked at the distance, seeing the flash of yellow plastic. The Compass. She had pressed random buttons in the struggle, trying to get the dog tags or his uniform name as she knew the device could record nature, likenesses. Tala continued trying to blink away tears but before she knew it, her eyes clamped shut and everything went dark to the constantly stinging and tingling texture of Neteyam’s tongue.

It was maybe 20 minutes before the RDA na’vi noticed her noises were considerably muted and her body felt boneless. He swallowed the rest of his fill, he had practically licked her clean before he let her body completely relax on the jungle floor.

He stared down at her figure and took another deep breath, his migraines truly were gone.

She had said that he was poisoned. Neteyam clicked his tongue as he readjusted her coverings and hoisted her over his shoulder.

To the detriment of both of them, she seemed to be the only cure he had for now.

–

When Tala came to, it was as violent as she had never hoped it to be.

She screamed, static coursing through her entire body and when an RDA soldier shut it off, her whole body felt numb. She could barely see the bright white linoleum floor as two combat boots came into view.

A large hand forcefully tilted her head up and she grimaced.

“Well, outta all the biters you could’ve brought back, you chose a pretty one.” The dream walker said, his face was aged and his hair was cut extremely short. He had a square jaw and aged features, along with thick eyebrows. He let Tala’s face fall carelessly as he stood back up straight.

“That better not be the only reason you chose her, Corporal Tom.” His voice was hard. Tala was vaguely aware of her body being strapped vertically onto a table and only able to move around her neck, though she barely had the energy to lift it anyway.

“No, sir, Colonel Quaritch, sir.” It was Neteyam. Voice cold and unfeeling, just like how he had first talked to her. No sunlight, no warmth. “She is of the Tawkami clan and has knowledge of all of Pandora’s natural resources as an alchemist and healer. She will be of use in identifying plants still undiscovered.”

Quaritch simply stared hard at Neteyam, or, Corporal Tom, and grumbled quietly. The Phoenix II reconditioning program had worked almost miraculously well, but the older soldier still had his suspicions. He was somewhat aware of the change he himself was facing since the Skirmish at the Three Brothers years ago, so he had to keep a close eye on the former Sully boy.

It’s been a fast year since his reawakening, and to Quaritch’s knowledge, he was pretty sure the kid spent his ruts alone and barely interacted with those outside of the Recombinant Squad if even them. The… experience left him angry, which was great on the battlefield. Not for making sure his head was all there even in downtime though.

The colonel kneeled low to look at Tala’s face clearly, her head still hanging. Easy on the eyes at least, would it be so bad for him to have his own little fucktoy? It wasn’t regulated, but some prisoners became favored partners of the Recoms or other reawakened Na’vi, if at least to help with their monthly biological needs.

“I know you can understand me doll face, most of the Tawkami does by now.” He started with a cold hostility in his tone. Tala kept silent, trying to steel herself. She didn’t want to die, but she’d welcome any return to Eywa with open arms before helping these demons.

“To make everything crystal clear, I’m going to say this once. You make a peep of trouble, we shoot you. You fuck up, we shoot you. We’re not animals mind you, you play by our rules and you can live a reasonable life of use to us. Just don’t give us a reason to kill, and we won’t, sweetheart.” His seethe ended in a cruelly humored smile and Tala was feeling her blood run cold looking at him.

Quaritch rolled his eyes emphatically when she stayed silent.

“Gonna need to hear that you understand, doll face.” He rumbled and she pursed her lips. She nodded.

“…yes. I do.” Tala said, English heavily accented but understandable all the same. Quaritch stood to his full height, carelessly letting go of her face.

He turned to Neteyam with a scowl.

“Well, you got your fucktoy, Corporal Tom. Enjoy it.” He meanly snarled, getting close to Neteyam. The younger didn’t flinch, both of them staring intensely into the other’s glowing eyes. Maintaining eye contact, Quaritch waved his hand and another blast of shock scorched Tala’s body, making her scream in pain. Tala balled her hands and felt tears burn down her face as pain shocked through every bone in her spine.

Quaritch searched Neteyam’s face for any ounce of care, even the faintest inclination to help her. The colonel didn’t want any emotional bullshit conflict, he had his own to deal with.

Not even a flicker towards her figure, despite her screams getting shriller. Quaritch sent the operator a glance and finally, Tala was given a break from the torture. Her whole body sunk, the restraints digging into her skin, though she couldn’t feel it. Tala breathed hard, her body still twitching from the pain. It felt like her eyes and ears were bleeding, she wanted to vomit.

The older soldier smiled lightheartedly.

“Just a little welcome present,” Quaritch said, then passed by the younger and clapped his shoulder. “Look alive, soldier. Get her ready and cuffed. I’ll ask the eggheads which lab needs a hand. Don’t take too long.

When he left the room, Neteyam nodded his head at the operator to also make his exit.

Now they were alone. His footsteps towards her were silent, she only knew he was so close because his shoes came into view.

Tala twisted her head to at least be able to peer up at his face. She was aching thoroughly, but the soreness of her crotch especially made her sport quite a mirthful smile.

“Did you like the taste enough to keep me?”

Neteyam scowled then smirked.

“Almost as much as you liked creaming on my tongue.” He taunted back and his smirk grew as he saw Tala’s pretty smile get wiped off her face instantly.

A surprisingly soft grip supported her chin, and she raised her head to meet his eyes. While he still wore the harness and cargo pants, he was no longer wearing his tactical vest. She could clearly see the broadness of his shoulders, how sculpted and wide his chest was under the tight black shirt. Eywa really picked favorites.

Neteyam’s nose twitched, as it usually did with irritation.

“Be thankful I didn’t kill you. At least now you can be of use.” His voice had a sharper edge that made Tala glare at him. The stale light of fluorescent bulbs didn’t seem to suit either of them.

“Of use? Like you are to the vrrteps(demons), kavukte(traitor)?” Tala hissed, green eyes flashing with indignation. She wanted to bite his fingers off. Neteyam’s jaw tensed.

“What are you planning, Neteyam? What do you want?” She pushed, her voice much more hoarse than she thought it would be.

“I’m saving this planet by ending the Na’vi people’s resistance, Tawkami. They are being manipulated by Eywa, it’s not their fault, but they refuse to listen. Eywa keeps the People from growing, and she is the reason they suffer now. The humans will save us.” Neteyam said with such finality and clarity that it unsettled her, like lines practiced over and over again.

“Eywa keeps the balance, Neteyam, the vrrteps are selfish, they take and take. You know this, I know you do.” Her voice was pleading now, nerves heightened. She wanted desperately for him to listen to her and see reason.

“Then even this is part of Eywa’s plan, no? To let the sky people take and take. It was the sky people that saved me, not Her.” He said with a growl.

Tala couldn’t bear to listen anymore and ripped her face away from his grip, squeezing her eyes shut.

Wretched words, cruel thoughts that didn’t sound truly like his.

“The vrrteps did not save you, Neteyam. They were the ones that killed you! Lo’ak-.” Four fingers clamped her mouth shut and the amber pool of his eyes seared into hers.

“I remember everything. And my life was over far before Lo’ak’s stupidity got me shot.” He seethed, pupils in threatening and aggressive slits. Tala scowled, ears pinned to the side of her head.

“What are you talking about?”

“Jake. He ended my life long before that battle. Then replaced me before my body even turned cold, and now I live every single day in torture!” His words suddenly erupted in anger, violently surfacing above. Resentment emanated from every word and his hurt was suffocating. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get through to him, she was not the person he needed now. He needed Kiri or Tuk, he needed his family.

Tala was suddenly reminded of how small a part of his life she really embodied. At most a week’s worth of memories, years stretched in between. Barely any history.

She wanted to entertain that maybe it was her good looks and charming personality that made her memorable, but Tala wasn’t completely dumb. Neteyam had always been surrounded by attractive, talented navi, better yet, members of his own clan he could court.

Those infuriatingly beautiful eyes, making her think unnecessary things right then. Because that time was over, and these feelings didn’t matter. They never have.

“So your life is over, and now you’re ‘Corporal Tom’. Why does the Corporal want me?” Tala wondered out loud, biding for time as she scanned the room. White, eye-achingly so, metallic, plastic, unnatural, sterile, cold.

His waw tensed as he didn’t answer.

“Honestly, it’s looking like you’re obsessed with me.” Tala said with an entirely syrupy sweet and contemptuous smile. A fire started growing in her mind.

He lived every day in pain. And the scar looked blackened; poisoned and now hidden. Navi don’t hide scars. And suddenly he’s smelling her and eating her out as if she was his ambrosia.

Tala crinkled her eyes and batted her eyelashes at him.

“Oh, does being around me help with the hurt, poor sky demon warrior?”

When Tala saw his tail swishing in angry large strokes, she knew her answer, unable to contain how pleased she was now. It was laughable, for both of them, truly! She went through her mental alchemy compendium, considering what and how effected him. Relief through her scent, then arousal? Or minor dosage of comfort through scent then a substantial through oral consumption?

Tala sighed internally, this would have been a wonderful opportunity to experiment with the effects of this mind poison if it wasn’t for all the guns and threats and torture.

Neteyam suddenly and wordlessly stripped off her floral top.

“Neteyam!” She screeched, though his eyes just wandered along her chest, tits soft and dotted with dark pink nipples. Tala flinched violently away when large fingers pinched at her flesh, but still they continued to play and bruise the sensitive buds without care. Tala strangled a mewl in her throat, mortified. He had stayed too silent all this time, she should have known something was boiling in him.

And indeed there was, he hated her insolence and her overactive brain, how she pieced things together so damningly quickly.

“Nothing will get you to shut up, will it.” Neteyam mused out loud, rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger. He pinched it hard and Tala yelped.

“Remind yourself that you have no power here, Tawkami. At most, you’re a stress toy.” He said in a deceptively simplistic manner. As if to make the point stick he stuck thick gloved fingers in her mouth, pushing teeth and tongue. Neteyam stared, daring her to bite him. She didn’t.

“Smart toy, good toy.” He mumbled then, eyes narrowing in self-satisfaction. Tala’s face went hot but she kept compliant.

“Stay good, and I won’t break that thin neck.” Neteyam said, pushing his fingers in her mouth deeper. She gagged and Neteyam felt a familiar throbbing in his pants.

He stopped and then leaned over her like a predator, almost growling.

“I can smell how bad you want me. If you’re good, I’ll fuck the brat out of you until you’ve had your fill.”

Tala closed her eyes, just so completely humiliated yet so aroused, it made her fume. Neteyam smiled smugly when he saw her expression. He liked seeing her when she was too frustrated to do anything else but let her face turn red.

Tala grumbled something under her breath. His ears caught something about him being a horny psychotic asshole. So he proved her point.

“AH!” Sharp fangs sunk into the crook of her neck. He was-he was biting her, marking her! Neteyam was nearly crushing her small shoulders still as he bit down, blood beading and staining her skin.

“Great Mother, what is wrong with you?!” Tala was screaming, now jerking her body this way and that. She didn’t care that it made it more painful, she didn’t care that flecks of her blood were landing on his face and the rest of her body.

But neither did he, he let his fangs stay sunk into her skin, he seemed to be enjoying her struggling, the fucking asshole-

When Neteyam finally stood up, there were thin dribbles of saliva and blood running down his chin and he wiped it off with the heel of his glove carelessly.

Tala was breathing hard, confused and so horribly aroused, she didn’t even want to know how much of a mess she looked then. Her skin was on fire, she was barely aware of the tears running down her cheeks, tears of anger.

Her green eyes shined brighter in her shock, pink lips parted in terrible confusion. Her hair was a mess, braids no longer neat and curls in her face, sticking to her cheeks with her tears. And now the side of her neck, bitten into and punctured, like a pearl necklace of blood.

Neteyam thought it was the prettiest he’d ever seen her. And by Eywa his head felt the most relieved it’s been by far.

“A horny, psychotic asshole, right?” He said smugly, daring any more rebellion from her in his tone and she glared viciously at him. Neteyam merely kept his head raised and roughly pulled up her top.

He turned away and left once the doors slid open, whispering something to the tawtute waiting outside. He didn’t take any look back, he didn’t need to.

Tala felt hostility bubble in her gut, marking was for mates, not whatever the hell this was. Not from whatever he was!

The scientist walked in and pulled out a needle, making her ears pin to the back of her head. The injection went in so quickly, Tala could only remember those yellow eyes, searing into her.

It made her want to gag.

tag list: @xylianasblog @itchaboi-itchyboy @hotdsworld @pandoraslxna @luvv4j4ybe11 @neteyamsyawntu @akoyaxs @whatevenisagrapefruit @teyamsatan @justcaptiannoodles @theblueflower05 @neteluvr @neteyamssyulang @plooto

pls lmk if u want on/off the tag list!

#doodle #smut #fanfic #recom neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar way of water #fanart #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #neteyam x oc #the spicy stuff #finally begins!!#hehehe

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holylulusworld · 1 year

Text

Little Red Riding hood lost in the woods

Summary: You knew it was a mistake to go into the woods at night.

Written for: This is my dark and mordern interpretation of Little Red Riding Hood for @boxofbonesfic 𝒪𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒰𝓅𝑜𝓃 𝒜 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒…challenge. Congratulations on your milestone again.

Square G2 filled for @allcapsbingo: Claim fuck

Ship: (Alpha) Werewolf!Bucky Barnes x Omega!(LittleRedRidingHood) Reader

Tags/Warnings: angst, chasing, fear, dark!fic, werewolf trope, a/b/o, scenting, marking, mating, huge cock, dub-con, non-con due to monster fucking (yes, you heard right; we will get the big bad wolf this time), smut, unprotected sex, implied breeding kink, biting, blood, transformation, manipulation, implied kidnapping, the reader is an adult and at age, this story is 18+

Words: 1,8+

A/N: Please consider I stepped out of my comfort zone and wrote something dark this time. Head the warnings and read at your own risk. Don’t like, don’t read.

Little Red Riding Hood.

That’s what people call you. You found it cute when you were younger, adorable even. Now that you are a grown woman, a feisty and stubborn one, it’s not adorable anymore, it’s an offense.

You’re still wearing a red hooded cloak in honor of your grandmother. She passed away some years ago, and you just can’t forget about her, or the fairytales she told you.

About wolves lurking in the dark. Finding their mates by watching, searching, and sniffing around humans. She warned you not to go into the woods after dark. You could only visit her cabin nestled deep in the woods during the daytime.

All your life you listened to her warnings. Never enter the woods after dark. All your life, until tonight.

Grief held your heart in such a tight grip that you had to visit her cabin.

It’s not too far from your home, and you believe nothing will happen to you if you follow the path you know by heart. The one framed with wildflowers and the sigils your grandmother carved into the trees. For protection – she always said, while mumbling words you didn’t understand.

If only you listened to her.

Now you are on the run, chased by a man-sized beast. You only got glimpses of the beast hunting you, but it was enough to know it would kill you if you let it get closer.

“Omega,” it snarls in your direction, knowing that you are hiding behind another tree. “Come to me.”

You gasp as the large wolf-like creature stops in front of the tree. It looks directly at you for a moment. The wolf throws its head back and howls loudly.

“Go away,” you whisper more to yourself than the creature. You place your hand on the tree trunk, praying that the sigils your grandmother carved deep into the tree will protect you from the beast.

The sigils are faded, but the beast won’t get close.

“Omega.”

The wolf snarls at you. It waits and waits as you remain behind the tree. You hold your breath as it steps toward the tree.

It whines, and you swear its features are twisted in pain for a second before the wolf steps back again.

“No.”

“You’re mine,” it says. Or at least you believe the wolf speaks to you as it moves back. The wolf sits down, waiting patiently for you to come closer. “Come here.”

You violently shake your head. “Go away, beast,” you reply. You’re still out of breath from all the running and try to find a way to escape the wolf without running again. If there is a way.

“You’re scared,” a deep guttural noise leaves the beast’s throat. You still have no idea how you can understand its words. “Good.”

Your eyes widen as the beast stares back at you. Up close it looks even taller than before, and you know you won't stand a chance.

“Come here,” it insists.

When you don’t move a muscle, the beast stomps its forepaws on the ground. The ground shakes violently. You scream in terror as the tree protecting you from the beast splits into two halves.

All you can do is jump out of the way to avoid being hit by the tree’s branches. You land on your back, crying out in pain as the beast purrs in your direction. “I will tame you, feisty omega.”

You’re shaking in fear. Whatever the beast is after, it’s not its next snack. That wolf wants something else, so you fear.

“Go away.”

You stare at the beast, watching it tilt its head. It listens to your ragged breathing and silent whimpers. Whatever the beast in front of you is, it knows you already lost this fight.

“Go away…just go away,” you chant. “Please let this be a nightmare.”

The wolf watches you for a heartbeat, and another before howling again. This time, the beast straightens its back. It keeps its eyes on you.

It rolls his shoulders back, whining low as you hear bones crack, and muscles tear. You can’t look away, you can't run as the wolf turns into a human-like beast.

The beast stands on its hind feet and clenches its fists. Even though it looks more human now, it’s still a beast ready to devour you.

“No.”

You stand up and go for a sprint. Panic rises in your chest as you hear the beast follow you close behind. You look over your shoulder, screaming in terror as the wolf chases you again.

Its speed is inhuman. You can’t compare. While you aimlessly run through the woods, praying you’ll find one of the trees your grandmother marked, the beast is right behind you.

“Stop now," it calls for you. “I’ll be kind to you. I won’t hurt you.”

You keep running, but the beast won’t have it. It stomps his left hind foot again, shaking the ground. You fall to your knees and crawl away.

“These woods belong to me and my kind. Our ancients walked these grounds ages before your kind was born. Soon you will be one of us, my omega and mate.”

“Leave me alone. Please just go away,” you sniffle as you scramble to your feet. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

"I smelled you from a mile away."

He stalks toward you, chuckling darkly. “I like the cloak, take it off and put it aside. We don’t want it to get dirty when you are on your hands and knees for me. Be good, and I won't hurt you.”

You’re frozen to the spot. It feels like your body obeys the beast’s orders. “Do it now, omega.” You unclasp your cloak with stiff fingers. “Good girl. Now put it aside and come here.”

It’s a struggle not to scream as the beast pounces on you. You end up underneath the enormous beast, trembling as it's nose buries into your neck. It inhales your scent, snarling and purring as its claw-like hands rip your clothes to shreds.

“You’re mine.”

You sniffle silently as the beast manipulates your body. It runs his furry hands all over your body, as you try to let your mind wander. One of its claws pushes your upper body down and holds you to the muddy ground.

You struggle to not lose your mind. The last thing you want is to feel the beast spread your legs or his face buried in your cunt. Its long tongue teases your folds, making you whimper at the odd sensation. This monster forces you into submission with every swirl of its tongue.

“No,” you whine and scream, hoping someone stops the beast. It’s no use. The wolf slips its long tongue into your cunt, slowly fucking you with the skilled muscle. “Oh god, no. This can’t be…no.”

Its hot breath fans over your exposed ass while his tongue slides in and out of you. You have never felt so helpless before. A beast pushes its tongue inside of you, and all you can do is drool and moan.

You writhe on its tongue, hips rolling on their own as you chase a high you didn’t ask for. The beast growls against you, greedily drinking your juices when you gush over its snout.

“Good omega,” the beast purrs as you feel like in limbo. A boneless body, getting lifted by the beast. You feel it shift behind you. With its enormous, dense body, it covers your trembling form. Its fur tickles your skin as the wolf wiggles its hips. “Have all of me now.”

Your eyes snap open the moment you feel something bigger prob at your entrance. You took a big cock before, even a knot. But the thing slowly pressing into you is far from normal. “No…too much…stop.”

“You can take it, omega,” it purrs in your ear. “Take me. All of me.”

The fight is over. You must surrender.

The beast slowly inches its way inside your body. You cry as the wide stretch is painful. It's too much of the beast, and it still pushes further in. “Almost.”

Tears spill from your eyes as the beast snaps its hips into your ass. You are entirely at the beast’s mercy. It covers your body and presses you into the ground. Its huge cock is nestled inside your body, and all you can do is let it have whatever it wants from you.

“So good.”

The beast starts to move, and it feels like it tries to be careful. It doesn’t make sense. The wolf was chasing you, and now it forced its cock inside of your body. “Relax, ‘mega,” you hear his voice turn softer. “You are doing so well for me, Y/N.”

You gasp. How can the beast rutting into you know your name?

“How…?” you choke out a moan as the beast angles his hips, now hitting that spot making you see stars. Your vision becomes blurry as the beast on top of you starts to slam into you in abandon.

“You’re mine.”

Your body surrenders first. Your walls tighten around his thick cock, and you feel slick run down your thighs. It’s over. The beast got what it wanted and will kill you after it’s done with you. You’re sure of it.

“Mine.”

A scream tears from your throat when the beast’s teeth sink into your neck. It breaks your mating gland, growling against you as you pass out.

The last thing you feel is the blood running down your neck and its cum filling your abused cunt. “Mine…”

You wake. It’s odd, but you wake.

After what happened last night you didn’t expect to breathe another day. But here you are sleeping on a soft mattress.

“You’re awake, good.”

Your eyes widen in shock. You recognize the voice from last night, but it's not the wolf standing in front of you. It’s one of your regulars from your library.

He often comes to town to borrow books. His name is James or Bucky.

“What?”

“You must be very confused,” he bares his pearl-white teeth while speaking to show off dominance. “You will adapt soon, doll. I had to mark you before anyone else got the chance. You were ripe for harvest and I’m alpha prime, the one who can choose his mate first.”

“I-I don’t understand,” you whisper as you touch your neck. There is a scar in form of human teeth, but nothing else. “What happened…it must’ve been a dream.”

“Not a dream.”

Bucky morphs his face.

“No! No!” you scream as the beast looks back at you. “This can’t be…why?”

“Because you are mine and this is your new life. You never have to go back to town ever again. Soon my pups will grow in your belly. We are going to be a big happy family.”

Your blood runs cold as you press your hand to your belly. “No…no…”

“If we didn’t make it this time,” he grins wolfishly, “I love trying…”

I won’t do tags for this story because it’s a dark story. I don’t want anyone to read a story which isn’t their cup of tea.

#bucky barnes x reader #werewolf!Bucky Barnes #allcapsbingo #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #tw: a/b/o #alpha!bucky x omega!reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!alpha Bucky

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whatsaninterestingplacethisis · 3 months

Text

Fallingforyou

Imagine

Luke Hughes x Latina!reader

synop: a few moments where y/n mistakes Luke's kindness for being best friends, but they mean something more, it always does.

a/n: besties to lovies, the notebook is mentioned ofc, my work feels rusty but hopefully u enjoy ;)

cw: reader gets black eye in non-violent type of way, one cuss word I think, joke about being mugged, drinking, sweetie pie & Lu pet names hehe

You were one of the very few to see Luke Hughes. The turtle under the shell. It took time to see the real him but quickly over time he peaked out every now and then. He didn’t know why but he felt a different kind of my comfort around you. A comfort where you knew wouldn’t judge him. Maybe as a joke you would tease him but both of you knew you didn’t mean any harm. So he let walls come down to a complete stranger. A stranger he had just met, a stranger that he would fall in love with over and over again.

“You need to be more careful."

It was any other game day that you could attend. Wearing his number after you persuaded for him to buy for you. “Who else am I going to represent? Certainly not Jack…no offense.” you joked years earlier when you first started to cheer for him in person. He was surprised to hear you to bring up the idea but quickly got you your jersey the next day.

It was any other game day besides the slowly bruising black eye your friend gave you hours earlier. It was childish really, you two were messing around and dared each other to wrestle on the living room floor, and one maneuver led to your left eye hitting the couch’s arm rest. It hurt like a bitch on impact and the stinging after but the ice your friend placed on your face helped.

You knew Luke would say something so you showed up to the arena with sunglasses, taking them off to see the game clearly but putting them back on to see him after.

“Nice assist Lu,” you hugged him after he changed

“Thanks, what’s up with the shades?” he laughs poking at your glasses

“I thought they looked good with my outfit, what do you think?” You knew you weren’t fooling Luke, you were wearing jeans and his jersey, the basic outfit didn’t really need the sunglasses.

“How could have you seen my assist if you were wearing sunglasses?” His brows raise waiting for your response

You were about to come up with another excuse before Jack runs by snatching said glasses off your eyes, “Nice shades!” He yells as he jogs away, revealing your reddish purple turning bruise right under your eye.

“What the hell happened!?” Luke asks as he steps forward to get a better look, gently turning your head into better light.

“Nothing really, I was messing around and hit my eye on my couch. Don’t touch it.”

“Did you put ice on it?” He asks

“Of course I did Luke. Looks crazy though right?” You were kind of proud to have such an injury, it would heal eventually so why not be proud of it.

But Luke was not on the same wavelength, “Here. We gotta put ice on it." he grabbed your hand, dragging you towards the team's med room

"Luke I have ice at home."

"Just come."

The doc checked your shiner out by Luke's request and to no ones surprise, you were fine. He gave you an ice pack and Luke interrogated you on the way out,

"So what actually happened? You didn't just fall into your soft couch and get a black eye... No one hit you right?" you saw how his eyes slightly squinted

"I got mugged for my phone." you deadpanned. His eyes widened and his fists clenched, "But they clearly didn't win." you waved your phone in front of you with a big grin on your face.

"Thats not funny y/n." his features finally softened

You sucked in your smile into a flat one, "Sorry, me and y/f/n were wrestling and it ended with my face into the couch's hard arm rest and boom." you clapped for dramatics.

"You and y/f/n need to be more careful." he whispered in a stern voice making you smile of how many times Luke has said to be careful. Too many times than he would like that's for sure.

“Yes I can imagine.”

One of the many things Luke had to put up with to be your friend were the late night calls. You always watched your shows and movies at night. Sometimes with him but other nights when he was at his own place, you would call him to rant and give your movie review. This night you couldn't decide on a new movie to watch so you rewatched The Notebook for the nth time and it left you hollow like always.

You dialed Luke’s number mid sob after you finished the movie,

"Y/n what's wrong?" his voice was filled with concern as he heard your cries.

"Luke, you have to watch the notebook." you choke out, mindlessly staring at the rolling credits.

He paused in silence, "I already have y/n, I saw it with you, twice." he emphasized the word twice.

"Then you have to see it a third because it's just too good," you hiccup a sob before you started, "I mean- can you just imagine the love of your life writing you a letter everyday for a whole year and not knowing they existed!? god! it's heart wrenching. Noah Calhoun is the standard." Luke heard the same statement you have made many times before and with the same strong conviction. The change in tone in seriousness had him smiling on the other line holding in a laugh.

"Are you imagining?" you demanded after some silence,

"Yes I can imagine." he said in that sweet voice of his. He did imagine a love like Noah and Allie had. He would write a letter everyday to the love of his life if he knew for sure it wouldn't scare her away. He continued to hear your rambles he had heard before because it's the closest thing he can have insight on your views on love.

“I wish we met when we were kids.”

You were having a very small party for your birthday. You had the night off and wanted a quick but memorable celebration so you and close friends had dinner and a birthday cake in your cozy dinning room. You had help from your friends and Luke to decorate the place and it turned out better than imagined.

After dessert, and recreational drinking, gifts were handed out and it was Luke's turn. The one person you were excited the most to receive. He had gifted you a vinyl record of your favorite album,

"Thanks Lu but I don't have a record player" you laughed nervously

"That's why he bought you one too." Jack who had also been invited, carried a medium sized wrapped box that sounded heavy as he placed it in front of you.

"Dude she was supposed to unwrap it." Luke nagged at his brother spoiling his gift

"Oops, I thought it was obvious he would buy you both." he just shrugged his shoulders.

"I love it. Luke, you sweetie pie, thanks." Luke blushed as you called him his favorite nickname you gave him years ago. You hugged him before unwrapping the second gift. Behind your back Jack gave his little brother a wink.

The rest of the night consisted with setting up the record player and playing the album, playing board games, and more drinking than you should have if you wanted to remember the night. It was a bit too late when Luke had cut you off but the night was ending when people were leaving.

He was half-carrying you to bed when you drunkenly admitted, "You’re a good friend Luke, any girl would be lucky to have you that’s for sure.”

“Thanks,” he whispered as he helped you tuck into bed

“Can you stay with me? At least until I fall I asleep? I always feel lonely when I sleep alone, especially on my birthday.” you asked without any embarrassment.

“Of course.” He kicked off his shoes and got comfortable next to you. It wasn’t uncommon to be so close to one another but Luke always felt his heart race.

You were already under your covers, “Shouldn’t I change into my pjs?”

“You already did y/n.” Luke noted that you were very intoxicated and you wouldn’t remember the next moments.

“Oh crap, when did that happen!” Alcohol also made you delirious.

“An hour before people started to leave, you said you wanted to be comfortable, so now you're wearing your grinch pj pants."

You caressed the soft material, "I love my fuzzy grinch pants." "Hey don't you have a pair too?" you asked Luke from a lingering memory

"Yeah, we have a matching pair," he confirmed

"Because of last christmas... gosh that was a fun break, remember the snowball fight we had! we stayed out so long that your mom forced us to stay inside for the rest of the weekend."

“I remember. That was my favorite christmas.” He admitted,

“That was my first Christmas with all of you guys.” you realized out loud with some clarity.

Luke cleared his throat as he pulled out a small box from his pocket, “I have one more gift for you.”

“Wow. Three gifts. I must be important or something.” you joked as you took the box from his hands,

“You have no idea.” He whispered to himself but you were too preoccupied with untying the box to hear.

You opened the box to find a dainty gold swan necklace. Intoxicated or not you knew what the swan symbolized.

“Is this- what is this?” you asked in disbelief

“You know.” he stated softly

“If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.” You recited the line that always brought you to tears as you traced the minuscule details.

He watched how your tired eyes blinked slowly, “You can wear it in the morning.” He took the box and reached over to put it on your nightstand.

“Thanks Lu. You are way too kind. Scares me sometimes.” you snuggled into his side as a hug

"I wish we met when we were kids," you said.

“Why?” his arms found themselves around you caressing your arms.

“Because I would have spent more time with you. Having the title of growing up with Luke Hughes.”

“You wouldn’t have liked me then.” he said flatly

“I don’t believe that. Some friends of mine weren’t that great but you,” you point into his chest, “you are a true friend everyone should have at least once.”

“I was annoying as a kid.” he tried to deflect your words but it didn’t help.

“All kids are annoying. But you were probably the same sweet shy kid and I would have loved you for it like I do now.”

Luke had wondered the same, if, you two grew up together. Would things be different? Seeing and knowing you for longer than a few years. Luke didn't have to think too much before realizing he would have fallen for you inevitably.

You had cuddled closer to his torso if possible and started to close to your sleepy eyes.

“You should sleep,” he says

“Goodnight Lu”

“Night” he whispered softly

Once you fell asleep, he stayed in your bed a little bit longer. He thought of the nice words you said about him and thought of the possibility of you liking him back. He imagined at least 1% could have been possible. All he knew for sure, all that was admitted and shared that night would be forgotten on your part. He eventually left your place after leaving pills and water next to the gold necklace.

“I fell for you, hard.”

You woke up the next morning, almost afternoon, gulping the pills and water immediately. You noticed the dainty necklace and smile. You don’t remember exactly how you got it but you knew who gave it to you. You wore the necklace for the rest of days ahead.

A few days after your birthday you and Luke had plans to take a night ferry ride to see the city from the water. Another, belated, gift from Luke since you mentioned the idea a long time ago that you don’t remember bringing up.

You two ate dinner at your favorite spot and then headed out to the port.

“And I thought this was my last gift,” you fidgeted with the jewelry over your sweater.

He smiles at your recognition, “You never know, I might have another one after this one.”

“No more gifts please. I can’t compete when it’s your birthday.” you two shared a laugh as the ferry cruised by the city lights.

“As embarrassing it is, I don’t remember you gifting me this.” You motioned to your neck,

“I knew you wouldn’t remember. You were pretty gone by the end of the night.”

“Yeah I’m starting to regret that.” You leaned against the railing staring at the city

“How did you it was me who gifted you it?” He asked following your movements but not staring at the city view.

“Who else knows about my notebook obsession better than you?” You turned to face him, looking up at him even though he leaned down for you.

“Y/n.” his face drops into a serious one

“Luke.” you mimic his tone but with a smile

He breaks into a smile and laughs towards the water.

“You make me go crazy.” he says through a smile still looking ahead

“I didn’t do anything.” you laugh along at his demeanor

“Exactly.” his voice drops again

“I don’t get it.” you chuckle again but with uneasiness

“The night of your birthday. You said you would have loved younger me like you do now if we met then. What did you mean by that?” he turned to you this time.

“I said that?”

“Yes you did.”

“I guess I mean I would love you then like I love you now. You just said it yourself.” you scrunched your eyebrows in confusion leaving Luke frustrated.

“But what does that mean? When you say you love me now.”

“You don’t know what love means Lu? C’mon now.” you were deflecting in humor

“I know what love means. I want to know if we’re talking about the same type of love.”

“What type of love are you talking about then?” you asked in the same tone he had been using.

“The one where I gift you a necklace from your favorite movie. The one where I take the girl I’ve been in love with for years to see the city lights. The one where I would write you a letter everyday for a year.” he talked so fast it surprised you.

“You would write me a letter everyday?” is all you could get out.

“In a heartbeat. But I wouldn’t want it to come down to that because in the movie they breakup and that’s when Noah starts writing—“

He rambled off his reason but he was cut off when you pulled him in for a slow and soft kiss that quickly turned passionate. A loud a boat horn interrupts the moment and pulls you both away.

“Why didn’t I see this coming at all?” you asked yourself in his presence

“I don’t know. I thought I made it pretty obvious.” His comment would have made you laugh but you were still digesting that you kissed your best friend.

“I always thought that was you being you. The sweet Lu you always are.”

“I think you’re the only person who has ever seen that ‘sweet Lu’. You’re the only one who calls me sweetie pie.” he laughs as he rubs his neck.

“I mean that why I fell for you. How couldn’t I?”

“Right after we first met, I knew I was falling for you and falling hard.”

“I wish this happened sooner.” you said with teary smile.

He pulled you in and cradled your face, “I’m glad it happened at all.”

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #latina!reader #jells🪼imagines #luke hughes x y/n

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