#wait is he actually smiling it looks like it but i could be wrong

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 4)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

(Prologue and Ch. 1) // (Ch. 2) // (Ch. 3)

Rafe had his head down on the rusting metal table. The sheriff’s deputies had all taken turns trying to interrogate him about the events of the day before, but none of them had succeeded in getting him to admit his father was on that plane. His hands were still bloody from the fight and he was exhausted, having been awake for nearly 48-hours.

The door creaked open again, but he didn’t bother lifting his head, anticipating another round of questions he wasn’t going to answer.

“Well,” Shoupe said with a sigh. “You’re free to go.”

Rafe raised his head with a smug smile. “What’s the matter, Shoupe? Couldn’t make anything stick?”

Shoupe rolled his eyes, “just stay on the island, alright? We’re not done with you yet.”

“Actually, sounds like you are,” Rafe stood and patted Shoupe’s shoulder condescendingly as he started walking towards the door.

“Funny, I didn’t think there was anyone left on this island who cared enough about you to wait in the station lobby all night, but apparently I was wrong,” Shoupe said as Rafe opened the door.

Keeping his back turned, Rafe stood in the doorway with his brow furrowed. He didn’t want to give Shoupe the satisfaction of knowing he also had no idea who could care enough about him to be there. 

As he passed the rest of the officers, standing there watching him in disgust and disbelief that he was getting away again, he gave them a smirk and a mocking salute, “a pleasure as always.”

You shifted in the uncomfortable lobby seat, continuously fidgeting both from discomfort and panic at the idea of seeing Rafe. When you had approached the front desk and told them you were here to post bail for Rafe Cameron, the woman behind the counter looked at you annoyed and informed you that you couldn’t, as Rafe hadn’t officially been charged yet.

“Charged with what?” You asked.

She rolled her eyes at your naivete and returned to the sudoku she had been working on.

“Okay, then,” you said as you took a seat in the empty waiting area. 

That was six hours ago, but you figured if he hadn’t been charged, they would have to release him eventually, and you’d be here waiting. You had no earthly idea what you would say to him when the time came, but you’d be here, and maybe that would be enough.

He strutted into the lobby like he owned the place, his cocky walk coming to an abrupt halt when he looked up and saw you sitting there. You rose to your feet, shocked at the sight of him even though it was all you had been thinking about since you ran out of the cemetery hours ago.

Rafe looked at you with an expression you hadn’t seen before. In his eyes, you could see his brain at work, like he was calculating. What choices he was weighing, you weren’t sure, but you certainly didn’t expect the move he made next.

“Hey, baby!” He called out, striding toward you quickly, pulling you into his arms. Just as you opened your mouth to respond, he kissed you. It was sloppy and crude, his tongue invading your mouth as hands grabbed your ass, lifting you into the air. Your face burned with shock and embarrassment, knowing all of the cops in the station could see you two. Then it clicked - that’s exactly why Rafe was doing it.

Before had a chance to decide if you were going to play along or slap him, he broke the kiss and threw his arm around your shoulders, walking you toward the front door.

“Later, Shoupe!” Rafe called over his shoulder, turning the two of you slightly, allowing you to get a quick look at Shoupe standing with his hands on his hips, red in the face. What the fuck did Rafe do to make Shoupe look at him like that?

You stayed silent as Rafe walked you through the door, leading you down the block and turning onto a side street. The second you were out of sight of the station, he pulled his arm away and took several long strides to create as much space between you as possible.

He looked at you for a long moment, once again calculating his next move. You froze in anticipation as he opened his mouth to say something, heart dropping when he changed his mind and closed it again. Silently, he turned and started walking away from you down the street.

“My car’s the other way,” you said, feeling stupid for saying such a mundane thing in such a heated moment.

“Have a nice walk then,” he called back sarcastically.

“Where are you going?” 

“Home,” he was almost too far for you to hear now. You started after him, needing to jog a bit to catch up with him.

“Let me give you a ride,” you panted once you had caught up to him, stepping in front of him to stop him from getting any further away.

“Think I’d rather walk,” he said dismissively. 

“It’s 10pm, and you’re gonna what? Walk through The Cut in the middle of the night? I know I’ve been gone for a while, but I don’t think they’ve changed their opinion on having Kooks in their territory,” you were pulling out any logic you could think of to get him into your car so you could finally talk to him.

Taking your point, he rolled his eyes and turned around, walking in the direction you had indicated your car was in.

You drove in silence for what felt like an hour, but couldn’t have been, as you knew the drive to Tannyhill was fifteen minutes tops. Rafe was looking out the window, hands anxiously rubbing up and down his thighs as he kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat, like he was fighting against some invisible restraint. You were trying hard to keep your eyes on the road, but couldn’t control the way they kept drifting over to him, eyeing the blood on his battered hands. The remnants of what was clearly not a good forty-eight hours all over him.

You had so many things you wanted to say, so many questions you wanted to ask him, that you almost couldn’t think straight. You were still reeling from the news that his father had died, and now the sight of him walking out of the sheriff’s station covered in blood. If so much could happen to him in just a few weeks, you didn’t even want to think about how much of his life you missed in the last two years.

After a while, the silence so tense it almost hurt, you decided to dip your toe in the water.

“Is it yours?” You asked, forcing your eyes to stay on the road.

“What?” He mumbled as he ran his hands over his buzzed head, still not looking at you.

“The blood,” you clarified.

“Some of it,” he answered honestly.

You nodded, as though this was all super normal. “And the rest of it?”

He threw his head back on the seat and let out a forceful sigh, pointedly not answering your question. You decided you’d tested the waters enough and remained silent the rest of the drive.

When you pulled up to the gate at Tannyhill, you rolled down the window so you could reach the box to put the code in, looking at Rafe expectedly. Your attempted nonchalance didn’t work, he rolled his eyes at you, pulling out his phone. As he typed the code into his app, he used his other hand to cover the numbers from your view. Long gone were the days he’d text you the code the second Ward changed it so you could sneak in and out to see him whenever you wanted. The days he’d hold you until you fell asleep, whispering to you about how someday he’d inherit this house and share it with you. As you watched the gates slowly open in the glow of your headlights, the future you once believed in so fiercely had never felt further away.

You drove slowly down the long drive toward the house, surprised to see it was completely dark.

“Where is everyone? Where’s Sarah?” You asked. 

“Just drop me here,” Rafe ignored your question.

You stopped the car a few yards from the front door, and Rafe immediately climbed out, closing the door loudly behind him and walking toward the house. You weren’t exactly expecting him to invite you in, but this non-goodbye was so abrupt you felt cheated. Your mind raced with all the things you still wanted to say as you watched Rafe walking toward the house, your chance to finally say them going with him.

You snapped out of your haze and threw open the car door, not bothering to close it behind you as you ran after him calling, “wait!”

He turned on you quickly, making you stop in your tracks a few feet from him. Suddenly, all the things you wanted to say disappeared from your mind and you swallowed hard.

“What do you want?” He prompted, looking annoyed at how long it was taking you to form a sentence. “Why the hell were you at the station?”

“I just…” you could feel him preparing to turn and keep walking back towards the house, you needed to say something, fast. “Your dad.”

Rafe clenched his jaw, he didn’t know what you had heard and wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

“I’m…” you took one step towards him. “Rafe, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He left the question open ended, forcing you to reveal exactly how much you knew.

“I saw his plot, at the cemetery,” you didn’t need to tell Rafe what you were doing at the cemetery, he had been there with you on multiple occasions, including the day they buried your own father.

Rafe just shrugged, looking at the ground to avoid your empathetic gaze.

“Rafe,” you said quietly, the sound of his name on your tongue sending chills through you both. When he still didn’t look up at you, you stepped closer. He tried to dodge your eyeline, but you reached up gently and placed your fingers under his jaw, looking him straight in the eye as you asked, “what’s going on?”

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, chest to chest as you searched each other’s faces in the glow of the moon. If he’d let you, you would stand there for hours, just studying him, trying to read it all on his face. You used to know the meaning of every expression he made, every glint in his eye, every twitch of his lips. The two of you used to be able to have full conversations without saying a word. Now, your eyes searched every inch of his face, and you were coming up with nothing. 

He snapped his head back suddenly, ripping it away from your hand like you were burning him. He shook his head, and he wasn’t sure who he was saying no to- you or himself. 

“Just go home, y/n,” he said, arm outstretched, gesturing towards your car dismissively. 

“I can’t,” you spoke into the darkness. 

Rafe caught himself before asking you why, trying to preserve the image that he didn’t care. He assumed it had something to do with your mom. He had spent countless hours of his life listening to your stories of fights with your mother, even being present and involved in several of them, often being the source of the conflict. He swallowed the temptation to ask you what happened, pushing away the desire to have you laying with your head in his lap, gently playing with your hair as he let you rant as long as it took for you to feel better. He pushed the memory away, an action that was muscle memory to him at this point. 

“Well you can’t stay here,” he told you.

“But I just want to-”

“Just leave! We both know you know how to, you’re a fucking professional at it!” His booming voice echoed through the evening air and shot straight through you.

Tears sprang to your eyes, the sound of his raised voice so jarring. He had never screamed at you like this. Even in moments of frustration, just the thought of making you cry was enough to break him. 

You closed your eyes, letting the tears slip through and slide down your cheeks. You turned from him, but he’d already seen them. Guilt and fury battled in his chest, wanting to hold you and push you away at the same time. He hated the sight of your tears, but being able to release the hurt and anger he’d been feeling for two years felt somewhat satisfying, too. He felt like he was two completely different people, not sure he wanted to be either of them.

You sniffled and wiped your tears with the backs of your hands, gathering yourself before turning back to him.

“I know that I hurt you,” you said. “But I have my side of the story, too.”

“The story?” he scoffed. “You said you’d love me forever and then you didn’t. You said you wouldn’t disappear into the night and that’s exactly what you did. You’re a liar. That’s the story.”

Every day for two years, you had broken your own heart. You had never stopped trying to fight the demons of that night. You had devoted your life to trying to figure out what the hell had happened that could’ve ended with you on a train, riding off into the night against your will. For two years, you’d spent your nights praying to any God that would listen to let you go back in time, to undo this twisted fate. 

But none of those agonizing nights hurt quite like this. He really thought you had wanted to leave? That you just up and stopped loving him? You knew he had no way of knowing what really happened, but you were still clinging to some small shred of hope that he’d give you the benefit of the doubt. Clearly he hadn’t. 

“Is that what you think?” You asked in a small voice.

“That’s what I know,” he corrected. 

No words came to you as all of the tiny cracks in your heart you had worked so hard to fill ripped open again. Rafe only took your silence as confirmation.

“Let it go, y/n,” he said, turning to walk towards the house. “I have.”

With that, he closed the door firmly behind him, the lock clicking loudly.

So that was it then. Seven years of friendship, five years of wild love, two years of heartbreak. Fourteen years of him gone, the rest of your life without him a sprawling void ahead of you. The kiss you shared in the sheriff’s station would be your last. Your last kiss and it wasn’t even real, the agony of that thought pushed you ever the edge and the tears you’ve been trying to stifle flowed free. Shoulders shaking with your sobs, you forced yourself to walk back to the car, no idea where you’d go once you were in it.

The door was still open, but the light had gone out. Once inside, you turned the key and the engine sputtered meekly as you tried and failed to turn it over. 

“Shit!” You screamed, slamming your hands against the steering wheel. Leaving the door open must’ve killed the battery. You cursed your mom for insisting on still driving this piece of shit even though she could easily afford an upgrade.

A professional leaver, Rafe had called you. The irony that just minutes after he said that you were literally unable to leave made you chuckle humorlessly. All of the emotion of this week weighing on your shoulders, you sat and cry-laughed into the darkness, feeling completely unhinged. What was supposed to be a quick, uneventful trip to your hometown had turned into a complete shitshow, you don’t know why you expected anything less.

You sat in the dark, giving up on trying to start the car. What were you supposed to do here? You could either knock on the door and chance another verbal bruising from Rafe, or walk home in the dead of night and face your mother. You fell asleep trying to decide which was worse.

Seven Years Earlier…

There were so many people packed into your house, you assumed nobody would notice when you slipped out and hopped on your bike. You were wrong. Rafe saw your bike lying on its side on the path leading down toward the beach, you hadn’t even bothered to put up the kickstand. 

He followed your footsteps down to the water. It was chilly and raining, the beach completely clear of people. The rain was falling hard, washing your footsteps from the sand, but he managed to follow what was left of them to the abandoned lifeguard tower you used to climb on as kids. There you were, sitting underneath the wooden structure for shelter, feet digging into the sand as you hugged your knees to your chest. Rafe stopped short, he hated seeing you upset, but he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do to make you feel better. He had never been very good at feelings.

He decided he would approach you anyway, not saying anything in order to avoid saying the wrong thing. He ducked down and slid between the stilts of the tower, finding a space on the ground next to you.

You didn’t have to look over to know who it was, you could feel him. You were relieved when Rafe didn’t say anything, you were so overwhelmed by the chaos of the day, you couldn’t form words to explain it if you tried. After a few minutes, you couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and they began rolling down your face in big, fat drops. 

“Hey, hey,” Rafe said, startled by your sudden outburst. He put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him. You laid your head on his shoulder and he awkwardly rubbed his hand up and down your back. “It’s…it’s gonna be ok,” he said hesitantly, terrified he’d somehow make you feel worse.

The soft fabric of the black dress your mother had chosen for you to wear to your father’s wake felt nice under his fingertips. His hand grazing softly up and down your back felt nice as you let the tears fall. You let Rafe soothe you for a few minutes, before taking a deep breath and wiping your tears away with the back of your hands.

“Sorry,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” he assured with a sincerity that almost made you start crying again. 

You looked over at him for the first time, his hair messy and wet from walking all the way here from your house in the rain. His cheeks were pink from the chilly air and the bashfulness he was feeling from sharing such an intimate moment with you. You had always thought he was cute, but in this moment, you realized you absolutely adored him.

“I just didn’t want to be there anymore,” you explained. “I don’t even know half of those people and everyone just kept hugging me.”

“I wouldn’t want to be there either,” he reassured you.

You nodded, sniffling, and giving him a thankful smile. Without really thinking it through he reached out a shaky hand and wiped the remaining tears off your cheeks. His hand lingered, and you placed yours on top of it, squeezing gently with appreciation. The contact made both of you blush and you looked away from each other. You had been friends since you were both six-years-old, of course you had touched before, but something about this time felt different.

“I know how you feel,” he said in a voice so quiet that you could barely hear it over the pattering of rain on the wooden structure above you and the crashing of waves. 

That’s right. In the storm of your own grief you had almost forgotten that Rafe had once lost a parent, too. It was about a year after you got to the island, he had missed two weeks of school in the third grade. When he came back, he started his still-running reign of principal’s office MVP.  

“I know it feels like maybe you won’t ever be happy again,” he looked out at the ocean, afraid you would notice the water starting to collect in the corners of his eyes. “But you will be. You’ll find something that makes you happy, and soon it won’t hurt so bad.”

“Did you?” You asked.

“Did I what?”

“Find something that made you happy again?”

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

Rafe looked down at his feet shyly, his hand scratching the back of his neck in discomfort. You teasingly elbowed him, making him laugh. He swallowed hard before mumbling, “you.”

Your stomach flipped and your face went beat red, completely caught off guard by his answer. Once again, your heart ached with the affection you felt for him. You reached out and lightly tucked your fingers under his chin, pulling his face up to meet your gaze.

“You make me happy, too,” you confessed. 

You had never done it before, and you weren’t really sure how to, but you knew that you just had to kiss him. Rafe had the same idea, and met you half-way with his own lips puckered. 

It was quick and innocent, the first of a million kisses you’d share. You didn’t know how it was possible to feel so sad and so happy at the same time, but you felt as though you could face anything now that you knew you wouldn’t have to face it alone.

Now…

TAP TAP TAP. Your eyes flew open as you lifted your head from the window and took in your surroundings, unsure of where you were. As your blurry surroundings came into focus, you were pulled down from your post-sleep haze by the looming figure of the man on the other side of the window. Rafe stood outside your car window, holding up a steaming mug of coffee. 

You rolled the window down, smiling shyly at Rafe as you blinked rapidly in the soft morning light. 

“Hi,” you said weakly.

“You sleep here?” He asked with neither amusement nor annoyance in his voice.

“The car wouldn’t start,” you explained. “I think the battery died.”

“You could’ve told me, I could’ve called Triple A,” he chided.

“I wasn’t sure you would’ve opened the door if I knocked,” you pointed out.

“That’s fair,” he agreed. The gentleness he was speaking to you with now was in such stark contrast to the tone he’d used last night. You didn’t want to say anything, scared to disturb the calm waters.

He handed the coffee to you, which you accepted gratefully. You took a sip, two creams and one sugar - he remembered. 

“Thank you,” you said softly.

“You can come inside while I call someone to come jump the car,” he offered.

You were so confused, but didn’t want to question it. You simply nodded as he opened the car door for you so you could climb out without spilling the coffee. 

After calling Triple A, Rafe joined you on the back porch, now with his own cup of coffee.

“Still take yours black?” You asked.

“The way coffee should be?” He teased. “Yes, yes I do.”

You smiled and you shook your head at him, clutching your coffee and looking out at the sun rising over the sea. The two of you sat in silence for a while on opposite sides of the wicker patio couch, sipping your coffees and avoiding each other’s eyes. 

You thought through the events of yesterday, remembering everything Rafe had said, and everything you wanted to say but hadn’t been able to. Rafe’s words were so cruel, but you got the sense he had fully believed everything he said. You thought you would never get the chance to respond to his accusations, but your car troubles had given you this extra time with him, and you didn’t want to waste the second chance. Should you make a joke? Try to tease him some more about his coffee preferences? Should you ask about his dad, or the reason he had been taken in to the sheriff’s office for questioning? Rafe clearly didn’t want to talk about his dad, and if this was your last chance to talk to him, you didn’t want to waste it on small talk. You decided your only option was to talk about yourself, about how you are feeling, and let him decide if he wanted to hear it or not.

“You’re wrong,” you said, sitting up to look at him. 

Your direct words startled him and he snapped his head to you, also sitting up straight.

“About what?” He says defensively. 

You look at him, hoping he can’t tell that your heartbeat is spiking and your throat is tight with anxiety. You need what you’re about to say to come out confidently, you need to say it with your chest or you may as well not say it at all.

“I never lied to you,” you told him. “And I never stopped loving you.”

Rafe’s face went pale, not at all expecting you to say that. He set his coffee down and got up from the couch, walking quickly back into the house and leaving you sitting alone, heart in hand. 

You followed him into the house, feet padding on the wooden floor behind him.

“Please just talk to me,” you pleaded.

He rounded on you, forcing you to step back.

“Don’t say shit like that!” He yelled.

“Don’t yell at me!” You matched his energy. “You never used to yell at me.”

“You left, y/n! What was I supposed to do, stay exactly the same and wait patiently for you to come back from God-knows-where like a good boy? No!” He jammed his finger into his chest, “I grew up! I became a fucking man! And now you wanna just waltz in like nothing fucking happened? It’s too late for that!”

You didn’t cower, but got closer to him with each proclamation he made. You found something in you that you hadn’t had last night, something like courage.

“You’re fucking right you changed! You know how I know? The old Rafe would’ve listened to me for two fucking seconds so I could explain!”

“I don’t wanna hear any fucking excuses-”

“I’m not making excuses! If you’d let me speak for two fucking seconds, you’d know that!” 

“There’s nothing you could say that would make me not pissed at you,” his voice was lowered but still filled with vitriol.

“You know what? Fine,” you shot back. “Be pissed at me. But I’ve had a long, unbelievably shitty two years and I’m not gonna stand here and let you scream at me as if you’ve never done anything wrong, ‘cause we both know that’s far from the truth.”

Rafe looked at you like you had smacked him, surprise flashing across his face. Of course, he knew you were referring to the accident and the things that happened before you left, right? His face smoothed over with recognition, maybe even relief.

“You’re talking about the accident,” he confirmed.

“Yes, I’m talking about the accident,” you crossed your arms over your chest. “What else would I be talking about?”

He shook his head, “nothing.”

“Unless there’s something you want to tell me?” Like maybe why you were held for questioning by the police for 24-hours, covered in someone else’s blood. 

Rafe studied you for any sign that you knew what had really been going on the past few months. You were looking at him so intensely, it was impossible to read your face. He couldn’t bear the thought that you knew what he’d done, what he’d become. And even though he was still pissed at you, still hurt, no matter your supposed explanation for leaving, he was desperate for you to remember him as the person he was before. He needed you to believe he was good. 

He drank you in for a long time, standing there with your arms crossed, looking up at him expectantly. Your hair was still messy from your night of tossing and turning in the car. You definitely looked older, but you were still so essentially you. He knew you wouldn’t let him stall much longer, that he would need to respond eventually. So he did.

Rafe stepped closer to you, his tall frame requiring you to tilt your head back to look up at him. He grabbed each of your forearms, pulling them apart, forcing you to uncross them and lose your defensive stance.

“There’s a lot of things I’ve wanted to tell you,” he whispered in a low voice, sending a shiver down your spine. “And things I’ve wanted to show you.”

You feel your new-found courage faltering, but try your best to maintain your confident facade as you respond, “like what?” The small amount of air between you is so tense, you’re being pulled to him like a magnet. You know, you know, you shouldn’t do this. There is so much you need to talk about, so many things left unresolved. But then he licks his lips, an action that used to mean I want you in your own secret language. And fuck if you don’t want him too.

to be continued

a/n: y'all. not me making myself cry with this one. your support has absolutely blown me away and made me so happy to be posting my writing again!!! Doing my best with this taglist but if you asked and I left you off please let me know!! ch 5 on it's way!

taglist: @maybankslover @dark1paradise @lmg-stilinski24 @idkdudsworld @mimipanini09 @patis643 @readingsmuts @nymphetkoo @xoxohoneymoongirl @hangmanscoming @azrielsgirll @laniirackssss @rubixgsworld @sweetienans @dasguccier @brain-palacee @ymnizuh @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesgiirl @thewalkingdeadsmut @themindofmoe @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @aerie717 @kickenkricken @st0rmyt @sage-burrow @adoreleeknw @mudisgranapat @sugarmelonwater @blue-greener-weiner @vilentia @sunny1616 @namelesslosers @groovycass @zizuras @lifeonawhim

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #obx fic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #obx smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fanfic #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Head Canons:

My Kind Of Love

Yandere Hanayama Kaoru x Fem Reader

TW: arranged marriage/ forced relationship, yandere, stalking, etc

You were the adopted daughter of another yakuza family, one that was engaged to Hanayama Kaoru since birth. Your fate long decided for you…

Hanayama wasn’t a bad person per se, for the son of a yakuza family. The only issue was that he hardly spoke. Nope. Hanayama often stared at you while you did all of the talking… he was a silent yet intimidating presence. Especially as the two of you grew older.

As a child, he’d often sit beside you. You used to think he was shy, so you’d talk with him in a soft tone. You were gregarious compared to his taciturn self. Yet you never made him feel unwelcome so he would always turn up for every ‘play date’ your parents set up. It made you think he tolerated you… how wrong you were.

When he grew old enough to get his back tattoo, he had spoken to you briefly. “I have something important to do, but I will be back.” You had thought that was odd, but you smiled at your fiancé. “Okay, Hanayama. I’ll be waiting for you then so be safe.” You thought it was kind of cute how his ears turned pink… who knew he could blush.

When you saw him again, you were shocked by all of the scars that littered his body, yet you didn’t nag him. No, you simply held him and smiled at him. “Thank you for keeping your word.” You failed to notice how his heart hammered in his chest when your fingers lightly traced over the scabs on his face. “Those will be some pretty gnarly scars, but they’ll make you look cool.” You had no idea what you did to this man…

When his mother’s health began to deteriorate, he had you at his side. He was such a large teenager, yet he looked so small when he’d fold himself up into your lap. You often ran your fingers through his dark locks and softly reassured him. He still hardly spoke, but you finally caught him with a small smile on his face.

When his mother passed, he was prone to bursts of anger yet he never showed that side of himself to you. No. You were precious to him… more precious than anything in the world. And you deserved to be protected and pampered. He began to seek advice from Kizaki about romance after that.

Now that the two of you were in your twenties, he’d often pull you into his lap. He still hardly spoke but he would make you be near him in anyway possible if the two of you were alone. It was quite odd.

Sometimes you’d swear you would spot his men trailing behind you if you were out and about, yet they were gone when you’d turn around. There was no way your stoic fiancé was stalking you… right?

He’d gift her bouquets of roses and invite her out to dinner with outfits he’d pick out. You would receive handwritten notes of love that borderlines obsession. There was no way Hanayama wrote those, you didn’t even know if he actually liked you. Hanayama hardly spoke after all…

His stabs at romance were interesting to say the least. Hanayama’s actions were loud. His gifts were extravagant and borderline gaudy, yet you didn’t mind. They were engaged after all. And that wedding date was rabidly approaching…

The wedding was grand, large, and heavily guarded. And Hanayama’s hand tightly gripped yours in an inescapable hold. It was nerve wracking to say the least.

And the minute it was time for that honeymoon, you were rushed off quickly. Hanayama practically dragged you to the suite, his breathing ragged, his scarred face flushed, and his black hair a bit disheveled. Was he okay? You’ve never seen him so expressive.

It wasn’t until he had you all alone that he began to rip at his clothes like a madman. You barely had the first button undone before he was on you. His fundoshi the last garment on him. His lips eagerly pressed against the side of your neck.

“Hanayama? We really don’t have to-“ your voice was stuck in your throat when he pulled away to stare at you with his dark eyes.

“I’ve waited so many years to hold you like a man.” Hanayama muttered. “I’ve held back for so long and now you’re finally mine.”

You’re peppered with more impatient kisses while his thick fingers made quick work of your wedding dress. “I love you so much, my beautiful wife.”

How were you to know that your fiancé actually loved you this entire time? Not to mention, how sore his kind of love would leave you after tonight…

#baki the grappler #baki hanma #baki son of ogre #baki x reader #baki the grappler x reader #yandere #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere baki #female reader #baki dou #baki #baki headcanons #baki kaoru hanayama #kaoru hanayama #hanayama kaoru #Yandere Hanayama Kaoru #Yandere Baki x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere yakuza #tw.yandere #yandere x reader #arranged marriage #forced relationship #power imbalance #baki fanfic #Baki fanfiction

[coloursflyaway]

Good Enough

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.000

Read on AO3

So, Edwin is in love with him.

Edwin loves him, and Charles genuinely never even considered the possibility of this, of them, before.

It might be because, back when he was still alive, his dad would have beaten the notion right out of him, but then again, his dad has been wrong about most things in his life, so fuck him.

So, Edwin is in love with him.

It’s… quite flattering, actually. To think that Edwin, who is beautiful and intelligent and educated, who can recite his favourite Keats poem by heart just as easily as tell you his favourite Mozart aria (it’s Konstanze, dich wiederzusehen from Die Entführung aus dem Serail, Edwin told him that, years ago), who knows spells and can read ancient Aramaic, who is the kindest, most brilliant person Charles has ever known, would love him.

Now, Charles knows that he is easy enough on the eyes, good with words and people, and has one hell of a swing if you give him a cricket bat, but the only reason he knows any Mozart aria is because Edwin showed them to him.

The only reason he knows Keats’ poetry is because Edwin would read them to him on slow, warm summer nights in the early 2000s.

The only reason he is here, is because Edwin let him stay.

So, it’s special, having someone like Edwin love him.

It’s fucking terrifying.

Because Charles is now holding the heart of the person he loves most in the world, and it’s a bigger responsibility than any he has ever taken on before.

He can’t fuck this up.

The thing is that nothing changes between them at all.

Charles isn’t sure if he expected it to, but what he is relatively certain about is that it most likely should. After all, it was an unexpected revelation, probably to both of them, definitely a shift in their relationship.

And yet, when Charles looks at Edwin, who is reading a novel whose name he cannot make out, curled up on the couch they have gotten for Crystal (and sometimes Jenny), he doesn’t feel different at all.

It’s still Edwin, his best mate, the boy that read to him when he was dying so he wouldn’t have to do it alone, who tries to smile whenever Charles shows him a new song he has fallen in love with, and occasionally fails hilariously at, who Charles would protect with his life and his soul and his cricket bat, no matter how high the stakes.

I love you the most, Charles thinks to himself, and smiles, because nothing about that has changed, either.

He has told Edwin that they would have forever to figure out the rest, and it’s the truth, technically speaking.

However, Charles doesn’t, because it’s Edwin and he has given Charles his heart and he doesn’t deserve to wait that long for an answer. It would be cruel in a way Charles cannot comprehend, and if there is anyone who doesn’t deserve more cruelty in their existence, it’s Edwin Payne.

The only problem with that fact is that Charles doesn’t know the answer.

He’s been thinking about it a lot, but the thing is, he’s never been in love before.

So he doesn’t really know what to compare his feelings for Edwin to, because, of course, they are greater than for anyone else, of course, Charles would sacrifice anything and anyone for Edwin, especially himself, of course, making Edwin smile is his favourite part of any day.

Because he loves Edwin, everything about him.

But is he, could he be, in love with Edwin?

Charles doesn’t know, nor does he know how to find out. It’s not like he hasn’t tried, but every novel he has paged through, every silly romcom he has watched, has been talking about butterflies in someone’s stomach, of seeing them in some new, golden light, of hearing violins playing when they speak, and Charles very much doubts that Edwin feels any of those things for him.

Otherwise he wouldn’t raise his eyebrows like that when he thinks Charles is being an insufferable little prick, he wouldn’t roll his eyes and tell him, “I know, Charles, you have told me a thousand times before”, whenever Charles brings up how much he wishes he could still taste things, or groan whenever Charles attempts to convince him to just try and let him put on some eyeliner.

(It’s just that Edwin would look so pretty like that, some kohl to bring out the warmth of his eyes, making them stand out even more than they do anyway.)

So all this talk of violins and sparkles and the need to give someone roses, if Edwin doesn’t feel that when he says he is love with Charles, then it’s pointless to consider, and anyway, those books and films describe people who have just met, not those who have known each other for twice as long as they were alive.

Maybe if he had just met Edwin, he would be hearing violins, Charles definitely thinks it’s possible.

Especially the violins in Konstanze, dich wiederzusehen.

“I just need some time alone”, Crystal says, putting on her jacket, while already opening the door. “And I am aware that that is a novel concept for the two of you, since you are basically attached at the hip, but for me, an alive human being, it’s really important to occasionally have a second of peace between almost dying and whatever we will have going on next.”

She stops to put on her shoes, almost falling over in the process, and Charles and Edwin share a look, a smile, and Charles thinks, I love you the most.

“Don’t follow me”, Crystal tells them, especially Charles, and it’s kind of cute, actually. “I’m going to get the biggest frappuchino Starbucks is legally allowed to serve me and I will not tolerate any ghostly company while doing that.”

Charles holds up his hands, still grinning, indicating his surrender in a battle he wasn’t aware they were fighting, and Crystal gives him a single nod before she walks out.

“So”, Charles starts, and turns around to face Edwin, who is already looking back, “what do we think this frappuchino she was talking about, is?”

Actually, there is one thing that changes between them after all.

It’s subtle, at least at first, but looking back, Charles isn’t quite sure how he managed to miss it for the few weeks that have passed. Maybe it was the shock of almost being forced to move on to the afterlife, the chaos of getting Crystal and Jenny settled in London, the fact that it seems to increase only slowly, incrementally.

Edwin has never been a physically affectionate person, completely contrary to how Charles is.

If it had been up to him alone, he would have hugged Edwin much more often, would have leant against him when they were looking through a book together, would have held hands to keep them from losing each other when things got hectic. But it wasn’t, and that was fine, so it was occasional touches instead, a hand on Edwin’s upper arm, his back, ruffling his perfect hair when he was doing something kind of dumb, kind of cute.

(That one always made him duck his head and smile, glance up at Charles through his lashes and allow a second to pass before he started fixing his hair again.)

Now, however, it’s… it’s not getting better, because there was nothing wrong with it in the first place, Edwin’s aversion to physical affection, but it is changing now.

It’s less that he initiates it, more than he allows it to happen more frequently. Sitting down next to Charles on the sofa instead of taking the armchair, allowing Charles’ hand to linger on his arm for a moment longer than expected, letting their shoulders brush when walking.

He’s not asking to be touched, not really, but something about it still makes Charles irrationally happy as soon as he catches onto it. Because Edwin deserves all the affection the world can offer, and Charles will always be here to give it to him.

So he reaches out in the morning, when the sun has just started to rise, and puts his hand on the curve of Edwin’s shoulder, right where it meets his neck, and points out that the clouds are turning the most beautiful pink. He throws his legs across Edwin’s lap when they settle down on the sofa at night, a book in Edwin’s hands, the tablet Crystal made him buy in Charles’. He pushes his fingers through Edwin’s hair, not to ruffle it, but just to pretend he can feel its softness against his skin.

It makes Edwin duck his head again, give Charles a little smile when looking up, and Charles thinks, I love you the most.

And thinks, I want to love you the most in every way you will have me.

“Jenny, I have a question”, Charles starts as soon as he has phased through the walls of her new butcher shop. It’s to her credit that she hardly reacts; the first time he had done that, she had thrown a meat cleaver right through his head. “What do you know about love?”

Instead of a knife, Jenny just throws him a weary look, an eyebrow elegantly arched. It makes Charles think of being scolded by the headmistress, a sensation that should be much more unpleasant than it is.

“Nothing”, Jenny answers and brings her cleaver down with a dull thud, separating flesh from bone, before looking up at Charles again. “No one ever knows anything about love and if they try to tell you otherwise, they are lying.”

There is a certain sense of finality in her voice and Charles knows he has been dismissed, no detention this time, but don’t dare to push it.

“Great”, he mutters, more to himself than to Jenny, “that doesn’t help me at all.”

“You should look at this, Charles”, Edwin says and turns the book towards him.

It’s late at night, Crystal having long since gone home and they are sat on the sofa, shoulders touching while they do their research. A new case has come up, and Edwin is trying to learn more about ancient Celtic runes, while Charles is pouring over a map of London’s underground; now, he looks up and at the page Edwin is showing him.

“We could add this to your bat”, Edwin explains, “it’s a rune for physical strength. Supposedly, it doubles whatever force you put into a hit.”

“Edwin, mate, are you trying to tell me I need help with hitting people?”

Charles is grinning, obviously teasing, and Edwin just scoffs, rolls his eyes.

And that is what Charles means; this isn’t birdsong and candle light, this is just how they always have been. This is what makes them them, even.

“Charles, do be serious”, Edwin replies, but there is affection in his voice, there is love. “I am perfectly aware that you can hit things very well, but that doesn’t mean that hitting them even better wouldn’t be an advantage.”

“I know. This is brills”, Charles concedes, and on a whim, nothing more than that, presses a quick kiss to Edwin’s cheek.

For a moment, he almost expects Edwin to admonish him, because this isn’t exactly something that they do, but instead he stares at him, before he ducks his head; Charles isn’t sure how he knows this, but if Edwin could, he would be blushing.

And it does something to Charles’ head, the thought that he would be able to make Edwin blush. It makes him stop dead in his tracks, look at Edwin not like he is seeing him for the first time, but like he could be looking at him for the rest of his existence and not get bored of it.

“Do you wanna do the honours of carving it? Since you were the one who found the thing?”, he asks just to say something, aware that his voice sounds slightly off, and thinks, I love you the most. I love you the most. I love you the most.

“Very well done, Charles”, Edwin tells him and clasps a long-fingered hand on Charles’ shoulder, peering down at the leprechaun he knocked out clean with his bat a few seconds before.

The rune really makes it pack a punch.

“I don’t think this will pose any further problems”, Edwin continues even as he crouches down to examine the passed-out form crumpled on the ground. He prods at it gently.

“It fucking better”, Charles replies, resisting the urge to pull Edwin away from the leprechaun, just in case that touching it might have some kind of magical side effect. “And if not, I’ll punch it right back out. I’ve got an Edwin Payne-improved bat after all, it won’t stand a chance.”

Just for good measure, he twirls the bat around once, twice.

This has always been one of his favourite parts of the job, the simple pleasure of knocking someone out before they get the chance to hurt his friends.

Edwin looks up at him from where he is crouching, and Charles grins at him, metaphorical adrenaline running through his non-existent veins still. He would punch out a bear if Edwin asked it of him.

Before he can say anything else, though, Crystal clears her throat from behind him, sounding decidedly less impressed.

“That’s really cool, yeah. New bat, I get it”, she says, walking around Charles so she, too, can see the unconscious leprechaun. “But you do remember that we actually wanted to talk to him, right?”

They get to talk to the leprechaun in the end, who turns out to be about as obnoxious as expected, but does admit to stealing the heirloom they were looking for for his pot of gold.

He even gives it back, but only after Charles has started twirling his bat again.

“And another satisfied customer”, Charles comments as they return to the agency, flinging his backpack into the corner.

“Client, you mean”, Edwin corrects, but still smiles at him, and pats the space next to him as soon as he sits down on the sofa. Charles flings himself down without a second thought, legs landing somewhere across Edwin’s laps, one of his hands settling on Charles’ ankles.

This is new, at least to some extent, and Charles loves it, the feeling of Edwin’s fingers on him. It feels right, somehow.

I just really love you the most, he thinks.

“Yeah, whatever”, he concedes and looks over at Crystal, who is watching them with something in her eyes that Charles cannot quite place. Not bad, per se, just…. Strange. “Doesn’t sound that good though, does it? And anyway, the most important thing is that they’re satisfied, right? Passed on right to the afterlife, no worries keeping them here any longer.”

“As if it’s only worries that could keep one here”, Edwin replies, his tone as dry as the desert, but making Charles laugh anyway. “We should be the best example for that.”

“You know what I mean!”, he shoots back, “It isn’t like with us, is it? Don’t think that the client was kept back by meeting the love of their life, were they now?”

It spills from his lips like nothing, without Charles thinking about it for a single second.

He’s still laughing, but Edwin’s fingers have stopped where they were gently stroking across the arch of his foot, and then Charles realises it, and for the first time, hears silence.

For the first time since they got back from Hell, they part when Crystal leaves.

The conversation had been stilted after Charles’...slip up? blunder? confession? and although it had been obvious that all three of them had been trying, it had been impossible to get things back on track.

So, Charles leaves with Crystal, telling Edwin he will walk her home, although that is something he has never done before, and Crystal lets him, although he is fairly certain she wouldn’t under normal circumstances.

She doesn’t need anyone protecting her from the city she grew up in after all.

“How do you know you’re in love with someone?”, Charles asks after they have walked in silence for a few minutes. He can’t think of a way to cushion the question, how to make it less awkward to ask, so he doesn’t bother with it at all.

“This is about Edwin?”, she asks, seemingly to clarify, and Charles nods mutely, not looking up at her. “I’m not sure. Especially not when it comes to the two of you. For Edwin, I could have seen from miles away that he was in love with you, even if he hadn’t reacted like he did when we first met. For you… you love him, anyone with eyes could see that, but if you’re in love with him, I think you have to figure that out yourself.”

“Do you know how it feels, though? Being in love?”, he asks, just in case Crystal can at least tell him that.

“I’m not sure”, she answers after a moment, then links their arms together, pulling Charles closer. “I think that’s different for everyone. But I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out what it feels like to you if you let yourself.”

He walks Crystal home, but when she asks if he wants to stay, Charles just shakes his head.

Edwin is back at the agency, and Charles isn’t sure exactly in which state, what he is thinking, and Charles cannot allow that. At least not for long.

What he does, though, is taking a little detour to the park not too far from their building.

It’s the first time he really pays it any mind, even if it’s most likely not the first time he’s been there, but now, Charles lays down on the grass, looking up at the night sky.

London is too bright for him to see many stars, but there’s a few of them; Edwin would surely be able to point out a constellation or two.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it.

Edwin isn’t here, and yet he is with Charles anyway, always, in every moment of his existence.

Sighing, he scrubs a hand down his face. There’s no way around it, it has to be now, and it has to be the right answer, the one he truly means, because Edwin deserves nothing but that.

No false hope, and no heartbreak that might be taken back along the line.

So, he thinks of Edwin, of his elegant hands and the swagger in his walk when he feels confident, of the colour of his hair and of his eyes, of the curves and slopes and sharp cuts of his face.

He loves that face, has seen it with every possible expression painted across of it, and still loves it.

The stars above are dim and partly hidden behind the clouds, so Charles lets his eyes slip shut, and imagines coming home to the agency and taking Edwin’s hands in his.

They would be just a little smaller than his own, his fingers slender and yet so capable, and if he could still feel, Charles is convinced they would feel cool against his skin.

He imagines pulling Edwin close and holding him like he has always wanted to, burying his face against the side of Edwin’s neck and pretending he can breathe in his scent. Having Edwin sneak his arms around Charles’ waist and cling to the back of his jacket, like he doesn’t want to let go again.

In his imagination, it feels a little like the hug they shared after being granted asylum on Earth, but it would be entirely different, because it wouldn’t be out of relief.

Instead, it would be just them, embracing to feel the other close.

And he thinks of pulling back from the hug, seeing Edwin smile and kissing the curve of his lips, nipping at them until he can make Edwin laugh and teasing his mouth open to lick into it.

It would be like kissing Crystal, kind of, only that-

Only that it wouldn’t be like that at all.

He runs back to the agency, as fast as his spectral feet can carry him.

Edwin is sitting right where he left him, almost like he hadn’t moved an inch since Charles walked out of the door, and he hopes to all deities he can think of that it isn’t so; knows, at the same time, that it is.

“Hi”, Charles greets, because he doesn’t know what else to say, and Edwin nods and gives him a smile, brittle and unsure and hopeful, all at once.

“Hello, Charles. Did Crystal get home safe?”, he asks, and it’s so painfully polite it makes Charles cringe.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, of course she did”, he responds, trying to figure out how to begin saying what he needs Edwin to know, but Edwin beats him to it.

“Did you mean it?”, Edwin asks, breathes out the question like he still has lungs to do so, and it’s in that moment that Charles is more certain of his answer than anything else he has ever thought, because Edwin sounds small, sounds vulnerable and breakable and yet so fucking hopeful, and Charles wants to pick him up and cradle him against his chest and never let go again.

“Yes”, he says, and it’s sunrise and violins and bouquets of roses all at once, it’s a single word that changes the world around them. “Kind of. Let me explain.”

And Edwin nods, sits back with his hands in his lap and all Charles can think about is that those same hands belong holding a book, resting on the top of Charles’ legs, which should be flung carelessly across Edwin’s lap, just because Charles wants to be near him.

“You’re the love of my life, no matter what”, he starts, crouching down in front of Edwin so he can take his hands; they look so lost. “You have been for decades. I love you the most of anything in the world. I will always love you the most. Every time I look at you, it’s just that on repeat in my head. I love you the most.”

He ducks his head, laughing softly, because it sounds silly now that he says it out-loud, but when he looks back up, there are tears brimming in Edwin’s eyes, making them shine even brighter.

His lips are parted and for just a moment, Charles thinks about kissing them.

“And you know, I still can’t say that I am in love with you back, because you don’t deserve a lie, but what I can say, what I can promise you, is that I could fall in love with you. And that I want to. More than anything.”

A single tear rolls down Edwin’s cheek, glistening in the dim light, and Charles looks at him, and thinks, I do. I am. I love you the most.

“Could that be enough?”, he asks, squeezing Edwin’s hands in his. “At least for the start?”

And Edwin nods so frantically that more tears spill over, wetting his face, and Charles can’t help but laugh; how strange to think that making Edwin cry for once is not his biggest fear, but something that fills his heart with joy to the point of bursting.

“Okay. Brills, that’s-”, he replies, and can’t keep himself from smiling so wide it would hurt if he was still alive. “So, um. Can I kiss you? I really want to kiss you right now.”

Again, Edwin nods, and he is smiling, too, looks so happy that Charles thinks heaven must be overrated, because nothing in the whole of existence could compare to this.

He thinks of the scene he pictured in the park of holding Edwin close and how much in pales in comparison to this, to holding Edwin’s hands and watching him glow with love and hope and warmth.

And leans in to find out if the same is true for kissing him.

(It is.)

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dbd #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #i have written 10k for them now it has been 4 days since i watched the show #what is happening

[midnightsxblue]

TASTE

carl grimes x reader

tags: slighttt suggestiveness methinks MAYBE IDK

masterlist here!

─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ───

Carl was beautiful, there was no denying that. It seemed all his features were absolutely perfect, although you admired him for all his other qualities obviously. You also couldn’t deny you had an infatuation with his hands. Yeah, that’s right, his fucking hands. You can’t say his hands aren’t something to marvel at.

You didn’t really realize how someone’s hands could be attractive but there was one day that caused you to notice. You were at his house in Alexandria and you were sitting at the table with him. He was teaching you how to clean your gun because weirdly that was a hobby of his he would indulge in when he was bored.

He instructed you and showed you how to do certain steps, how to take things apart and put them back together. While watching, you couldn’t help but notice how fucking pretty his hands were. They were relatively large but looked soft and comforting. You’d held his hand many times before, especially since you guys are dating but this realization opened your eyes in a new way.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking at you weirdly. You realized you zoned out and have been staring at his hands for who knows how long. “Oh- yeah sorry. I guess I just zoned out or something.” You smile a little awkwardly before continuing to take apart your gun. You try to focus your attention on his instruction but considering you were handling a weapon you tried your hardest to focus on the task at hand. Which didn’t work out, he had to put it back together for you.

When both of you were done, you walked over to the kitchen to wash your hands of all the oil and whatever it is you used to clean your guns. Again, you couldn’t pry your eyes away from his hands. Seriously you feel insane, how have you not realized this before? Now you wonder what it’ll truly be like the next time he touches you. If we’re honest, a part of you really wants to taste-

“Hello? What is up with you?” Your thoughts are cut off by him once again. You try to muster up some sort of answer. “Just tired I guess.” You reply shortly. He looks at you a little longer, trying his best to decipher what is going on in that brain of yours. “If you need to talk about something you can talk to me, you know that right?” He looks at you intently and you’re completely frozen. You’re gonna have to say something at some point.

“It’s um…” You shut your eyes, building up the courage to actually say it out loud. “It’s your hands, Carl.” His eyebrows furrow and he looks down at his hands, expecting to see something wrong. “What?” He flips them over, looking at his palms and that honestly did it for you. “It’s stupid I don’t know how to explain it but-” The door to the house opens and you feel like you’ve been caught, you finish your sentence and go back to washing your hands as Carl greets whoever just walked into the door.

You feel so embarrassed, how are you meant to explain yourself? From then on, you helped prepare dinner and didn’t exactly have time to be alone with Carl. During dinner you felt ashamed but you didn’t let that stop you from staring at his hands. He might’ve noticed though, which was the only issue. You’d deal with it later.

Back in his room, you settled on the edge of his bed while you waited for Carl to finish getting ready for bed. You sat with your arms back, propping yourself up. When he was done, he walked over to you, standing between your knees and looking down at you. You sit up properly and look up at him. His gaze drops to your lips and he smiles. You continue to look up at him through your lashes which only pushes him the last inch he needed to lean down to meet your lips with a gentle kiss.

Oh my god your insides are burning from the inside out. (mine are tf) Carl prolongs the kiss by lifting his hand to hold your neck as he kisses you deeper. That was it, the touch you’d been waiting for since you noticed his hands.

He pulls away and he lets his hand linger on your neck as he smiles down at you. His hand glides up to hold the side of your face. “You’re so sweet.” He tells you, his thumb instinctively swiping over your lips. He keeps his thumb over your lips, wondering how far he could take it. His head tilts a little as he looks down at you and he slowly presses his thumb into your mouth. His head lifts slightly in awe at the fact you’re taking his thumb in your mouth. Now he knows.

“This is what you wanted?” He asks as you swirl your tongue around his thumb, sucking it gently. You nod as you look at him with his fucking thumb in your mouth, his breath faltering at the sight of your cheeks caving in. He could drop dead right then. You thought this was hot, sure. But he thinks it’s even hotter. He breathes in heavily.

“Jesus.” He murmurs. “You drive me nuts.” He slides his thumb out of your mouth and holds your chin so you’re staring at him.

“I’m well aware.”

─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ───

a/n: i’m feral for him and he’s not even real -_- whatever anyway i hope u guys enjoyedddd it’s kinda short so i’m sorryyy :( anon i hope u liked it thank u for requesting :P guys I WANT HIM! it’s so funny bc i was like going insane about this with mac abt his hands and like how he’d touch like a bit before i got this request so thank u

REQUEST SOME MORE YALL!!

#carl grimes #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #the walking dead carl #carl grimes angst #twd carl #carl grimes smut #twd fanfiction

[sl0t4matt]

smut w marc guiu where some boy is trying to talk to the reader in a party and marc gets jealous and then reader and marc end up doing things in his car please🤭

m. guiu | jealous looks good on you

warnings: smut

marc annoyed the shit out of you today. he’s been such a bitch, fighting and complaining about any minor thing you did wrong. you know your boyfriend can be sassy at times, but today he’s been extra.

you’re supposed to be the girl in the relationship not him and he’s the one acting bitchier than you. today you got especially tired of it, so you called your friends and brought them to the club, bringing you to now, sitting on a chair beside the bar, waiting for your friends to come back from dancing.

you didn’t join them because your legs gave up on you a few minutes ago when you were dancing, like your life depended on it.

you decide to get on your phone, check a few messages, before they get back, so you get on instagram, immediately noticing that hector posted a story.

you click on it seeing a booth of the club you are exactly in. you keep watching the video scoffing at seeing marc in the corner of it, he’s not alone though. a girl is sat beside him, talking to him. a little too close for any girlfriends liking.

“what the fuck.” you mutter, huffing at him finding a new girl exactly after you fought. pathetic really. she’s not even close to your level.

“hi, i’m diego. i saw you dancing a few minutes ago, you looked stunning, could i buy you a drink?” an attractive man sits down beside you. he looks like he’s in his 19s or maybe 20s, with dark skin and dreadlocks.

if marc can talk to other women, what should stop you to? maybe you could even get him jealous and make him see how much he actually needs you. “yes i would love that, actually.” you smile at him.

“perfect, what would you like?” he grins back, his pearly white teeth peeking through his lips. “i’ll take a negroni, thank you.”

“a negroni for the pretty woman beside me, please.” he winks at you. you innerly cringe at his words but don’t let it show. you get the drink in a heartbeat since it only had three ingredients. you smile at the bartender, taking the drink.

“so, are you new in barcelona?” he asks, leaning closer to you. “i moved here a few years ago, for uni.” you answer, sipping on your drink. “nice, what university do you go to? i go to esade.” your eyes widen. esade is one of of barcelonas elite, also super hard. “you study law? that’s like suicide.”

he laughs at your reference. “yeah, it’s a lot.” he nods, agreeing with you. “oh sorry. i go to the university of barcelona.” you answer his previous question.

“you’re good. did you come alone or with friends?” you look around trying to find your girlfriends, but failing immediately, the crowd in the dance floor being way too big to see them. the nightlife of barcelona really is something else.

“i came with my friends, i can’t find them right now, though. they’re probably dancing.” you answer, giving him a tight lipped smile.

you keep looking for them, when you suddenly meet eyes with a certain brown eyed boy, you call your boyfriend. his brows are furrowed and eyes piercing on the guy beside you. if looks could kill, alejandro would be five feet under for sure.

he gets up from the spot in between hector and the girl on the video and walks towards you. “oh fuck.” you mutter. alejandro glances at you. “what’s wrong?” he asks, but marc is already in front of you. alejandro furrows when he sees him.

“hermano, can i help you?” alejandro asks him. “yeah, you can get the fuck out of my face.” marc spats, turning to look at him. “who the hell are you?!” alejandro gets up pushing marc’s chest slightly, you still sitting dumbfound beside the bar.

“i’m her boyfriend, you dumbass.” marc isn’t the one to act nice. you know he could throw a whole fit in here as well as seriously hurt the guy if he really wanted to, so you get up, getting in between both of the boys.

maybe project making marc jealous wasn’t such a good idea, since you know exactly how mad marc can get when jealous.

“marc lets go.” you pull on his hand, making him look down on you, with gritted teeth. he scoffs, taking your hand and dragging you to the exit of the club.

you see hector on the way out, him laughing at marc’s outburst.

he takes his car key out of his pocket, opening it. “get in.” he demands, after opening the door to the passenger seat. you scoff, getting into his car. he turns around to get into the driver seat, walking like a mad kid you think.

“did you want to make me jealous, is that it?” he huffs. you turn to look at him, rolling your eyes. “did you? with that blonde girl?” you ask him back. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“oh please. so you’re telling me you weren’t all up on that girl beside you, taking to her.” you scoff. he can’t deny the fact that she was eye fucking him the entire time.

“fucking hell, i wasn’t all up on her, she was the one flirting with me and i literally told her i have a girlfriend.” you roll your eyes. “she was the one? because i’m sure, i literally saw that you were laughing with her on hectors story.” he scoffs.

“see! you always fucking do that shit. you don’t trust me.” you laugh, sarcastically. wow this just is really hilarious. “oh my god! i don’t trust you? you literally dragged me out of there because i was talking to a guy.” you yell at him, finding it rich coming from him.

his hand makes its way to his forehead, massaging it. “because if i didn’t, you would’ve ended up in that guys bed.” he reasons, shaking his head. “are you even hearing yourself? what the hell are you saying? bro just shut the fuck up, honestly.” you scoff, also shaking your head.

“fuck you.” he spats. “fuck you!” you yell back, turning to look at him, meeting his eyes. his eyes move from yours down to your lips, licking his own. “i hate you.” you mumble, as the both of you lean into each other, meeting your lips in a heated and aggressive kiss, taking out your madness on each other in a kiss.

his hand moves to his thigh, squeezing it. his other grips your neck, clutching around it and pulling you even closer if thats possible. your hand slips into his pants, finding his already hard cock. “fuck.” he moans into your mouth.

you start to jerking him off, collecting his pre cum with your thumb, making him tense at the sudden touch.

he pulls his seat back, mentioning you to straddle him. so you do so, each of your legs in between his lap as you feel his already throbbing cock in between your legs, begging for release. he winces, as you grind on him, while you lock lips again, feeling his stubble slightly tickle your chin.

his hand glides in between your legs, pulling your panties down. you’re already soaking and you’re sure he’s very aware of it, your juices already rolling down onto his pants.

you attempt to open his belt with a rush but fail miserably. he helps you, opening up his belt, following with sliding his pants down his hips. he hurries with taking off your top, his hands instantly gripping your tits.

you hoover over his tip, biting your lip when you feel his tip slightly touching your soaked hole. he rocks his hips upward, making his dick stretch out your cunt. you snake your hand around his neck, clutching onto his sweaty hair.

you whine, when you feel him fully inside of you, collecting all of your juices. “you’re so tight, ma.” he groans, as he takes ahold of your waist, squeezing it.

your lips hoover over his as you roll your hips back onto his, feeling his dick pulsing around you, your breasts bouncing up and down. he groans at the stimulation, panting heavily.

you quicken your movements, thrusting into him more laboriously. “marc.” you breathlessly moan his name, arching your back at the feeling, feeling closer to the edge.

you tremble from above him, clutching onto his shoulders, your nails digging deep into his skin, forming cat like scratches. “fuck. gonna come.“ he groans before filling you up with his warm sperm.

your legs shake around his cock before you come onto him, drenching his thighs in your come.

your head leans onto his shoulder, tiredly. a smirk forms onto his smug face, as he sees your juices all over him. “not a word.” you speak, knowing he was going to make a smart ass mark.

“for a person you hate, i can make you come quite alright, don’t you think?” he winks. “oh my god.” you shake your head.

“what did you say the last time? jealous looks good on me?” he chuckles. you hit his chest before getting back into the passenger seat. it does look good on him. you can’t lie.

#fc barcelona #barca #pablo gavi #hector fort #joao felix #marc guiu #fermin lopez

[imshii-kin]

Good Luck

Chapter # 2 Welcome to the Mansion

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

I made this a bit ago so have mercy :,)

Wattpad

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2 (You are Here), Chapter 3,

The only thing I like about rich people is their money. - Nancy Astor

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

"Welcome back Master Bruce. Oh? I see you brought a guest with you."

Bruce and Y/n arrived at the mansion, the air around them a little lighter with Alfred there. Y/n takes a quick look around, admiring the large building.

"Alfred, can you call Richard and tell him I need to see him tonight?" Bruce asks as he guides Y/n into the mansion. "I need to introduce them to our guests."

She follows Bruce, shooting Alfred a smile on her way in, and Alfred returns the smile with one of his own.

──●◎●──

Bruce takes Y/n over to the dining hall, where food was already prepared and set on the table. The food looked heavenly from the medium rare steak to the soft fluffy mashed potatoes.

There were already two boys sitting at the table, enjoying the meal prepared. A shorter boy with tan skin and black spiked hair who looked to be around Jon's age (17-18), and a taller boy with a paler complexion and flatter hair, looked like a young college student (20-21).

Damien and Tim.

Tim glances up, hearing familiar footsteps of his father, but does a double take when he sees Y/n walking alongside him.

"Bruce, why's Y/n here? Don't tell me you convinced Clark to allow her to become a Robin." Bruce looked over at Tim with a stern face, not finding what Tim said funny.

"No. She's here because she mysteriously lost her memories this morning." Both boys give Bruce looks of disbelief. "Clark believes that this memory loss is targeted." Bruce finished.

Tim looks at Y/n, curious. "Wait, you actually don't remember us?"

She shakes her head, "No, sorry." A silence hangs over everyone while Bruce and Y/n both take their seat.

The food was good, but the mood in the room ruined it. It was tense, and Y/n could feel eyes boring into her, what kind of relationship did she have with the Wayne family? Clark didn't seem to be fond of them, but they seemed to know her.

Did something happen between Clark and Bruce recently?

"Y/n," Bruce interrupts Y/n's internal thoughts. "Most of the rooms here are taken, so for the next month you'll be staying in Jason's old room."

...are you fucking serious.

──●◎●──

After a quick tour, Bruce had split off, allowing Y/n to continue by herself. She had wandered over the library and decided that some light reading would be a welcomed distraction.

Looking at a few shelves, Y/n spots ' The Great Gatsby ', a classic from where she comes from. Y/n gets on her toes, trying to reach it, but fails. Gods, she already misses being adult height.

"Need help kid?"

Y/n swirls around, looking to see who was talking to her. A much taller man with a brown leather jacket and black hair with a splotch of white in it stood behind her, his green eyes were piercing, so vibrant and... alive.

"Oh," Y/n muttered to herself. This must be Jason. He smiled and lowered himself to her level (The audacity) and smiled at Y/n.

"Something wrong Y/n? You look like you've spotted a ghost."

──●◎●──

Bruce runs his hands through his hair as he stares at the computer. He should have known this would happen.

Picking up a file, he looks through the blueprints inside of it. He doesn't have a lot of time, Clark was going to get suspicious soon, and if this is interrupted then they will lose everything.

"Please, forgive me Y/n. I swear I only do this to protect you."

#batfam #platonic yandere #yandere batman #yandere bruce wayne #yandere clark kent #yandere damian wayne #yandere dc #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere justice league #tim drake #yandere superman #yandere robin #yandere red hood #yandere red robin

[doctor-dusk]

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

you and a certain riddler (eycte!alex) have some fun at a halloween party.

warnings: unprotected sex (piv), veeery soft dom!alex, i think that's it lol

word count: 4.6k

english is not my first language, so sorry if there are any grammatical errors. also this is my first smut posted here, i'm fucking nervous :v

‘’so, you think it will take a while for her to arrive?’’ 

alex heard miles' question sound far away as his eyes were fixed on the partially busy street. they were at the entrance to the hotel exactly ten minutes ago for a costume party, after all, it was halloween.

‘’perhaps. it wouldn't be her if she wasn't late, eh?’’ he replied, looking at his wristwatch and avoiding rubbing his eyes in frustration, as he didn't want to smudge the perfectly done eyeliner on the waterline of his eyes.

alex had planned this for over a month, not just because miles and other friends would be at this party, but because you would be there. well, at least that's what you told him three days ago, when he asked you for the umpteenth time if you were really going. turner knew you well enough to know that you could change your mind in the blink of an eye. you weren't the type to leave the house, so seeing you be anywhere other than your apartment was like a huge event that he really didn't want to miss.

‘’you can go ahead if you want. i'll wait ‘ere.’’ alex turned to kane when he saw him adjust the platinum wig on his head. he couldn't say exactly what miles' fantasy was, but he didn't think it was bad. it suited him.

‘’nah, i don't think it will be necessary.’’ miles pointed with his chin in the opposite direction, making alex turn his head. his eyes caught sight of the silver toyota prius arriving at the rotating parking lot. alex breathed a sigh of relief mixed with satisfaction when he knew it was you.

he didn’t look away for a second, not even when the valet came around the car to open the driver’s door so you could get out. he thought he forgot how he breathed when he saw you tiptoe out of the vehicle, wearing a strapless leather dress, highlighting even more your clavicle and well-defined shoulders; the black leather boots didn't shine any more than the chocker-style necklace wrapped around your neck subtly, not looking so tight; your voluminous hair was down, finished impeccably, and turner thought for a moment that was the reason you took your sweet time. as you approached as if you were parading on a catwalk, he noticed how the femme fatale makeup fit you like a glove, your entire face seemed more highlighted with the catty eyelashes.

he definitely couldn't stop looking at you. and he didn't even want to.

‘’what kind of fantasy is this, miles?’’ it was the first thing you asked after you handed over your car keys to the valet to park your car in a space in the underground parking lot. ‘’i don't know, a mix of elvis presley and niall horan?’’

‘’yeah, yeah, very funny.’’ miles forced a laugh without a hint of humor. ‘’this is art, okay? ric flair, better known as the nature boy.’’ he said, taking a walk while you let out a laugh. ‘’of course ya’ don't know, just want to know about lovecraft and allan poe.’’

‘’and what's wrong with that?’’ you rolled your eyes in amusement, then resting them on turner. his smile grew even wider when he saw you so close and so… tempting. you never thought you'd actually need to see turner wearing eyeliner until you saw it before your eyes. ‘’oh, and you must be…’’ you said, sliding your index finger over qlex's covered shoulder, making him smile.

‘’c’mon, darlin’. it shouldn't be that hard to know who i am.’’ alex extended his arms, also doing a little turn so that you could look at him up and down and caught your lip between your teeth just in time, before he could complete the turn and look back at you. ‘’what does a liar do when he’s dead?’’

‘’he lies still.’’ you replied immediately, seeing alex smile as he nodded. ‘’well, 's not bad, al. such a perfect riddler. better than a certain someone…’’ you mumbled under your breath as you gestured to miles, making turner hold back a laugh.

‘’yeah, just pretend i'm not here. bullying can be avoided, ya’ know?’’ he lightly pushed you by the shoulder, making you laugh. you couldn't help it, but you knew that deep down, it was all just a joke. you and miles got along very well, especially because you had been friends for a long time and it was through him that you met alex. it couldn't be better.

‘’c’mon, you know i love you, mi.’’ you hugged him over his shoulder, gently rubbing the palm of your hand on miles' chin, feeling his sparse beard tickle your open palm.

‘’okay, okay. and who are you, by the way?’’ he asked, now paying attention to your costume.

‘’neither do i know. something close to the characters in the books i read, a mix of dracula and… i don't know.’’ you said, shaking the vampire cape you wore. turner couldn't help but let an almost invisible smirk appear. he knew you would choose something like this, it was as if he knew you like the back of his hand.’’

‘’i liked it. ‘s just like you.’’ alex said, seeing you smile without showing your teeth, your cheeks flushed as the smile was still present on your face. ‘’looks like you’ve been flashin’ triple A passes at the cemetery gates.’’

‘’oh, here it comes. we don't have time for that, let's go ‘cause the night is young and it grows fast.’’ miles gestured in mock boredom, opening the way for you to enter. obviously you and alex followed him side by side, and alex didn't pass up the opportunity he had by wrapping his arm around your waist, resting his hand there. 

of course, you didn't stop feeling that ravenous shiver, even though you tried to hide it as best you could. you just loved alex's touch on any area of your body. literally any area.

‘’thought you weren't going to come.’’ alex whispered in your ear, even though the room was filled with loud music, you were able to hear and smile.

‘’i thought about giving up, you know me. i hate leaving the my cave.’’ you laughed through your nose, looking at him. alex awakened something inexplicable in you, even more now. the clothes, the hair, the makeup, the way his jaw was so marked as if it could cut diamonds, the eyes marked by eyeliner seemed more enigmatic even in the partially lit environment, the mouth that seemed to invite you for a kiss in a hidden corner... all of that was capable of taking away what little sanity you had left and making you insane, even if you hadn't drunk a drop of alcohol until that moment.

‘’oh, sweetheart, you would break me heart if you didn't come.’’ turner pouted amidst his slurred voice, letting his thumb run up and down your waist, giving you an almost imperceptible caress. you held your breath subtly, trying not to lose your self-control.

but in front of alex turner, you had anything but self-control.

‘’it's not like you won't have fun here without me.’’ you joked, taking a drink from the waiter who passed by, serving drinks on a golden tray. the party was packed, more than expected. miles had already gotten lost in the crowd, not that you cared about that. you’re fine just in each other's company.’’

‘’it wouldn't be that funny, love.’’ alex laughed, letting his nose run over your bare shoulder, feeling the fragrance of your perfume invade his nostrils, absorbing a smile that was impossible to hide. ‘’you and your mysterious energy like someone with an unkind of ravens and murder of crows fascinate me. i couldn't do without you ‘ere.’’ he finished, taking some of his drink to try. his throat burned with the first sip, but nothing he wasn't used to.

‘’me and my mysterious energy? this one is new.’’ — you raised an eyebrow, a little curious. alex couldn't explain exactly what caught his attention.

he knew that you were kinda different from the other girls he had ever met. fascinated by lovecraft and edgar allan poe, further denoting your small obsession with death. your favorite films were horror films, especially the italian kind. you could spend hours and hours listening to the soundtracks while driving your prius through the city streets in your dark leather clothes, living your life the way you wanted.

he loved your authenticity. you weren't afraid or ashamed to be like this. maybe that was what excited him so much that he wanted you so bad.

alex laughed instead of giving you an answer, pulling you onto the dance floor. at one point, they met up with miles and other mutual friends, you drank, had fun listening to some music from the 80s. you felt free to do whatever you wanted as the drink got more to your heads and the zeros lined up on the clock.

in fact, you don't usually go to these places, you'd much rather be at home under the covers and in the company of a good book. but when you were with alex and miles, everything seemed to get better. or more specifically, when you were with alex. even though he was completely the opposite of you, turner was seen as a kind of magnet, impossible to ignore, especially when you had already taken enough shots to lose track of each other and the sexual tension increased with each exchange of glances.

little did you know that even though he wasn't your type, alex was completely willing to try something.

‘’what do you think we get out of ‘ere, baby?’’ you heard qlex's voice drawl when he brought his mouth to your ear. you thought he did it on purpose, just to make every hair on your body stand on end. and well, it really was on purpose.

‘’where?’’ you asked, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling him closer. turner looked around for a moment, trying to adjust his blurry vision. you could go to any room in that hotel, but he had a better idea in mind.

‘’your car.’’ he suggested. you gave a roguish smile, finishing your drink in one gulp. oh, you knew exactly where this would take them, and there was no way you were going to back down now. not when turner is absurdly irresistible and you're in an overwhelming mood.

‘’what about miles?’’ you dared to ask, looking over his shoulder, seeing your friend dancing as if there was no tomorrow, not caring about the two of you there.

‘’don't give a shit about him right now.’’ turner said, tilting his face a little to give you a soft kiss without using his tongue, already being able to awaken even more that insane desire in both you and himself. ‘’just want you, darlin’.’’ he finished in a whisper, biting your bottom lip.

you didn't need to respond any further, leading the way immediately, passing through the euphoric and drunk bodies, gripping alex's hand who was following right behind you, also eager to get out of there as soon as possible. you got your car keys from reception, and soon the two of you were heading to the parking lot, stopping to exchange some caresses that you thought were urgent since you couldn't do it while walking.’’

‘’oh, i love this car.’’ alex comments in an ecstatic sigh, letting his hand slide over the sparkling silver bodywork of the trunk of your toyota prius.

‘’more than me?’’ you asked, leaning your body against the warm hood of the car, practically lying on it. alex watched the scene in slow motion with a roguish smile. and for him it was impossible not to walk towards you, leaving your bodies almost glued together, his hands were firm on your waist while he used one of his legs to create a small space between your legs.

‘’no, no more than you, honey.’’ he replied in a purr, his thirsty lips trailed across your chin in a drawn-out kiss, making you gasp as you felt the light pressure of his kiss on your neck.

soon enough, the kisses on your neck stopped when you felt the need to feel his lips crushing yours, becoming as urgent as the touches on his neck and waist, bringing him closer to you, his sneaky hands moved down to lift the skirt of your dress so that you felt freer to open your legs a little more and he could be in the middle, pressing more against you. the rough kiss had an alcoholic taste, not that you minded that, in fact, it made everything even more delicious when mixed with the heavy breathing and racing hearts.

‘’fuck, you're so…’’ he murmured amid the kiss, feeling your hands loosening the black tie he was wearing around his neck. even though he was a musical genius, words always seemed to escape him when it came to you. and you loved it.

‘’so…?’’ you laughed, biting his lip softly before turning your face away to look around. you didn't know if anyone was nearby or if there were cameras in that parking lot. but deep down, you both loved that adrenaline.

‘’so dark. but i want you hard.’’ he said, grabbing your face by the chin and forcing you to look at him. his hair that was previously combed back was messy, and that made him even sexier in your opinion. ‘’so hard…’’ he repeated as he kissed you again, as if somehow he couldn't live without feeling your mouth against his and your tongues tangling briefly.

‘’how much? do you have a percentage?’’ you teased him as you felt his hands squeeze the warm skin of your thighs, sliding a little lower. every touch and sensation was so electrifying that any little thing could make you even more aroused.

‘’fuck the percentage, i want you so much. so fuckin’ much.’’ he laughed, dragging his slightly drunken voice. you laughed too, you liked that it was always in moments like this that you managed to get a hearty laugh out of each other, and so soon you were in the backseat of your car.

within moments, you were sitting on his lap, feeling his hands on your back and the cold breeze from the air conditioning on. turner relaxed his body against the back of the backseat, wrapping one hand around your waist while the other pressed the back of your head as you trailed kisses on his neck. he gasped with each touch, each time he felt your tongue snake up his neck to his earlobe while your hands had the agile job of unbuttoning his shirt and getting rid of his belt.

you had an immense desire for each other, and every second seemed to increase your desire even more, especially when you kissed him again, so deeply that you lost your breath, even more so when you moved your hips in his lap, feeling him pant against your mouth.

you quickly unzipped alex's pants, sliding them down enough with his help as he lifted his hips so that you had an easier time taking off not only his pants but also his boxers, revealing his throbbing erection pulling out of his confines.

you give a smirk, not hesitating to place your right hand there, causing a drawn out sigh from him. your touch was all that he needed, he was craving it for such a long fucking time.

‘’i’m not going to lie, it's the first time i've done this in a car.’’ he said, still panting as he felt your hand slide up and down his cock, seeing you sit a little below his belly so that his leaking tip gently brushed against your belly. you were stroking him so deliciously slow, making him clench his fists in anticipation.

‘’same, i don't even know if this will work.’’ you laughed softly, feeling alex’s hands lower the top of your dress a little just to see the sight of your breasts exposed in front of him, leaving him more aroused than he could have imagined.

‘’let’s make it work, love.’’ he replied, moving his hand to your panties, not feeling the need to take them off, just using his index and middle fingers to form a hook and pull them to the side, leaving them free so he could test the waters a little, teasing you just like you did to him. ‘’oh, you’re so wet, baby.’’ he smirked, using his thumb to ghost over your clit, his touch was as light as a feather, and it was torturous for you. ‘’we didn't do anything and you're already soaked, eh?’’

‘’and it’s all your fault.’’ you grumbled, pressing your thumb on his fat tip, spreading the precum all over his throbbing cock. he let out a growl, he wish he could eat you out until you’re screaming his name and your moans echo throughout the parking lot, but he was kinda desperate to feel you around him.

''lift your hips, babe. need to feel you.'' he commanded, still holding your panties firmly to the side with the hook he formed with his fingers.

you obeyed immediately, raising your hips a little, rubbing his tip through your folds, spreading your wetness over it, closing your eyes as you sink down on him, feeling him bury his cock completely inside of you, throwing your body back a little, placing both of your hands on his knees while he helped you move by putting one hand on your waist and the other were still occupied holding your panties to the side.

your movements were slow, lifting your hips up and bringing them down again, making alex have the privilege of seeing his cock coming out almost completely to the point of seeing his tip out and then disappearing completely inside of you, your walls feeling like home for him. and you did this with such precision, increasing the pace a little more with each bounce, both of you panting with each firm thrust.

‘’f-fuck, al, feels so fuckin’ g-good…’’ you barely have the voice to whisper in his ear when you lean your body towards him, making him place one of his hands on your lower back. alex kissed your neck, already free from the necklace when you took it off earlier, leaving a trail of saliva with his tongue until he reached your jawline.

‘’you feel so fucking good, darling. so tight…’’ alex hummed, satisfied with the feeling of your tits against his chest, your hard nipples poking his skin. ‘’you ‘ave no idea how much i want you on all fours right now.’’ he said, sucking the air tightly between his teeth, his hand moved to give you a hard slap on your left buttock, making a noise that would certainly echo through the room if you were in one.

‘’let’s make it work, love.’’ you repeated his line, seeing him smile as he caught his lower lip between his teeth as he caught one last glimpse of you above him. you had an idea, knowing that you could fold down the backseat, doing so by pressing the small latch in the corner of the car, folding the seat down and creating more space.

now you were able to reverse positions, and soon you were on all fours towards him, letting your ass up so that he could take you from behind. the car was silent, you only heard the sound of his breathing and your own breathing before you felt him pulling down your panties until it reached your bent knees, your hole were clenching around nothing, feeling so empty without him, but soon this emptiness were filled when he entered you again with no warming, making you gasp.

his hands grabbed your waist after traveling a path along your thighs and buttocks, respectively, feeling your skin shivering at his touch. you pressed the upholstery of the seat with one hand while the other was leaning against the window. whoever was passing by could easily see the prints of your fingers and palm because of the air conditioning on. 

even though the pace was slow at first, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the delicious sensation of feeling him fucking you so deep , his tip kissing your cervix repeatedly, even more so when he held your shoulder, making you lift your head a little and feel his warm and alcoholic breath hitting your hair as he leaned his body a little more over yours.

turner had a smile on his lips, he liked the sight of having you in all fours at him, and even more so when you were so lubricated that it was even slippery, he could pull out his entire cock and bottoms out with such ease and did it several times, not only because it is extremely pleasurable for him, but also for you. 

he loved seeing you so cockdrunked, he love to see you arch your back as you contorted your body whenever he hit your g-spot to the point that it made you feel a small twinge, just like a cramp.

‘’oh, fuck, alex.’’ you growled, grabbing his wrist, making him look at you while you turned your head enough to look him in the eyes. you had bright eyes, a flushed face, your lipstick was completely smudged and your chest was rising and falling with heavy breathing.

‘’yeah?’’ he asked cynically, leaning his body more to leave a small kiss on your shoulder, watching you struggle to reach his lips to try to give him a kiss.

‘’are you sure i'm the dark one around here?’’ you mumbled, and alex gave another smile. he knew you wanted more. he might as well make you beg for it, he liked being in control, and that turned him on even more.

‘’shh, you are very impatient.’’ he tilted his body more so he could kiss you while he remained still inside you, then returning to his starting position to continue thrusting slowly for a few more seconds, just for fun.

he kept his eyes closed, feeling his adam's apple throb and even though he tried to ignore it, he couldn't help but respond to your requests for more. the position made the penetration deeper and, when he realized that you were more comfortable and wiggling your ass to match his pace, he sank his fingers into your hips as he began to thrust harder.

there was a moment when you didn't know which was louder, whether it was their moans or the sound of his hips bumping against your ass, and turner didn't hesitate to close his fist around your hair, making you roll your eyes under your eyelids, needing just a few more thrusts so he could notice your arms failing to keep you fully on all fours, announcing the arrival of a orgasm.

alex wraps his arm around your waist, his palm resting on your belly, making you partially kneel while he is pounding hard, just to hear you moan his name madly, feeling your nails scratch his arms wrapped around your torso. 

his other hand roamed to your front, moving down so his middle and ring finger could rub your clit tirelessly, making your knees even weaker as you grabbed his hair for your dear life. you're just a babbling mess, and he liked the effect he had on you.

‘’what’s the matter? you wanted it hard, so you’re fucking getting it.’’ he growled, biting your shoulder as you gasped for air, your cunt was clenching hard around him, you’re really close.

‘’fuck, fuck, fuck, alex, ‘m gonna cum, please…’’ you moaned breathlessly, feeling his fingers keeping its ministrations on your sensitive bud.

‘’mhmm, that’s right, baby, cum for me.’’ he encouraged you, and you just loved it when he talked to you like that, and it didn't take long for you to cum on his cock, he kept fucking you through your orgasm just to prolong this overwhelming feeling.

and of course, it didn't take him long to follow suit, letting go of everything he was fighting to hold back just for the feeling of pleasure to linger, his hot load coated your walls, filling you up so good. soon he was breathing deeply as he tried to adjust his blurred vision, his grip on you still tight.

he let his limp body fall onto the bench, seeing that you did the same. now you’re concentrated on regulating your own breathing. you had a smile on your face, running your tongue over your lips as if you couldn't believe what just happened.

his half closed eyes still captured the moment when you reached the dashboard only to turn off the air conditioning and open the glove compartment, taking out a cigarette pack and a black lighter. every movement you made was slow, from the moment you brought the unlit cigarette to your full lips until the moment you took the first drag, blowing the smoke outside through the small crack in the window you opened.

‘’why are you looking at me like that?’’ you asked curiously, your bent legs swinging from side to side in a distracted way. turner shook his head, taking a drag on the cigarette you offered him next.

‘’i just like looking at you.’’ he replied after releasing smoke from his mouth. you both stayed in a comfortable silence for a while longer, just looking at each other and enjoying what you had. and you wouldn't trade it for anything. ‘’we should do this again.’’

‘’maybe in a bigger car.’’ you added, looking inside your prius before taking another drag, taking your hand to the outside of the car to get rid of the cigarette ashes. ‘’but I really want to do it again. not here.’’ you raised one of your eyebrows, sliding your foot over turner's bare and sweaty chest, letting him know that you weren't satisfied with just this quickie. and he wasn't either. he would never get tired of doing this to you wherever he went.

‘’my place or yours?’’ he asked with a smirk, seeing you shrug your  shoulders. 

‘’odds and evens?’’ you asked and alex laughed.

‘’fair enough. evens.’’ he responded by closing his hand and you did the same, and they soon showed the chosen numbers. alex showed one finger and you showed two.

‘’guess i won this one.’’ you giggled, touching the tip of his nose, implying that you were going to your apartment. and then, they were putting back your clothes and getting ready to leave the parking lot in the car.

‘’are we really going to leave miles ‘ere?’’ he asked, laughing as he combed his hair with his fingers. you laughed, nodding.

‘’miles knows how to manage without us for a night.’’ you replied, allowing yourself to speed up the car as you left the hotel, moving further and further away. ‘’i just know that i want you so hard.’’

‘’how much? do you have a percentage?’’ alex asked, hearing your hearty laugh echo through the car while the wind that came through the window ruffled your hair and made you more graceful.

‘’fuck the percentage, i want you so much. so fuckin’ much.’’

alex laughed, being quick enough to steal a peck from you as you took you both to your apartment or wherever. alex didn't care about having a certain destiny as long as he was with you.

after that, all you saw before your sparkling eyes while you both were inside the prius was an empty avenue on a halloween night in los angeles.

#alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #alex turner #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #doctor says

[dira333]

A plush for a lover - Oikawa x Reader

Angsty fluff, trying something new

Haikyuu taglist: @lees-chaotic-brain

"Oh," Tooru pauses at the little display behind the Couch, "You've got plushies."

"Yes, I..." You're obviously flustered by his comment, yet you did not put them away before he came over, "They mean a lot to me."

"Really?" He picks one up, admires its soft fur and cute features, "It fits, you know?"

"You think so?" You step a little closer, your warmth seeping into him. Is he allowed to pull you in? Or would that be too forward of him?

"Yeah." He turns the plush so that you're face to face. "It's cute. Like you."

-

"I don't have to put it up," he claims, but your smile tells him that you don't believe him. Okay, fine, he wants his trophies where people can actually see them. So what? He worked hard for them.

"We could put them on Display over there," you gesture toward the wall. "So that everyone can see them when they walk in."

"Next to the plushies?" He asks and you halt, only for a second, but it's there, he saw it.

"I wasn't..." You start but he tuts as gently as he can.

"Nonsense. They've been a part of your life longer than I am. Not that I'm jealous or anything..." You giggle and he can't help but join. "But you should showcase them. They mean a lot to you, right?"

"Yeah." You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, an unusual sign of shyness.

"You never sleep with them, though," Tooru can't help but comment. "Why is that?"

"Oh, I do..." You confess, face turned away, "But only when I feel lonely."

-

He's not surprised to find you curled up when he gets home. He's even less surprised to find you hugging a certain plush. It reminds you of your mom, you told him once, because it used to belong to her.

Tooru lets you sleep, knows you need it. It's never easy to have a loved one in the hospital, even less when you're too far away to help in the way you want to.

"Hey," he mumbles softly when he sees you blink an hour later, "I made you something to eat."

"Did someone call?" You ask, voice raspy from sleep and emotions.

"No." His hand cards through your hair, trying to take the anxiety from you in any way possible. "But no news is good news too, right?"

-

The Missus: Hey, I'm on my way home, what do you want for Dinner?

Tooru❤: Shit, sorry, I had my phone on silent. I only got out of training now. Did you wait up?

The Missus: Honey, Hajime called to ask about our next trip. Can you call me back?

The Missus: Hey, I'm sure you're training hard. Don't forget to eat.

The Missus: Love you, going to bed now. Sleep tight.

...

Tooru barely manages to catch the door before it falls shut. The apartment is dark and the cars driving by give barely any light. He finds the light switch blind, a testament to too many nights spent coming home late. Something's wrong, but he can't really put a finger on it as he slips out of his shoes, hangs his jacket where it belongs.

He's tired and hungry, but too tired to eat. Still, he prepares a protein shake, watches the hands of the clock above the TV move as he drinks.

In a minute, he will get ready for bed. In a minute, he will slip into the bedroom as quietly as he can. But he needs a break, just for a second, where he doesn't have to think.

His eyes move around the room, looking for the one thing that's out of order, the one thing that keeps bugging him.

The plants are where they're supposed to be. Even the throw blankets are perfectly folded and placed away. He switches to his trophies, counts the numbers, and - there it is. The ugly little stuffed pig he won you at a festival, a sweet little fellow you named "Oinkawa" and called your favorite - it's gone.

He puts his half-empty shake down and tiptoes toward the bedroom. His heart thuds awkwardly in his chest as if it knows how guilty it should feel.

But when he opens the door, allows a sliver of light to fall in, you're not curled up around a certain pig. You're stretched out, back turned to his side, his own sheets untouched. It looks so foreign, all of a sudden like he's only just realizing that this isn't how it's supposed to be.

He opens the door a little more, eyes widening when he spots a lump on the floor. Oinkawa, he finds, hasn't made it into bed. Or he has, but the little pig has tried to make its escape... only to get hurt on the way.

Tooru picks up the plush. He wonders when you've last had to sleep with it. Was it during his last away game? No, that was last season and you told him on the phone each night that you were cuddling one of his shirts. Was it- He thinks of you, curled up around your mother's plush, and his throat closes up.

This isn't how it's supposed to be.

"Baby?" He asks, his voice a fragile thing in the dark room. You don't move.

"Baby?" He asks again, a little louder this time, grasping for your body. You wake with a shudder and a groan.

"Tooru?" You ask, confusion audible in your voice. "What's going on?"

"Don't leave me, okay?" He begs, "I'm an idiot, but I love you."

He presses his face against your neck and you, merciful as you are, pull him in. Maybe in the morning, you will cry, when the fog of sleep has lifted.

But as for now he gladly takes everything that you're willing to give.

#my writing #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #oikawa fluff #oikawa #oikawa angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n

[hyukassubi]

Even in the company of clouds, she feels so alone...

Pairing: Friend!Huening Kai x Menlancholic!Reader

Genre: Angst :3 with a dash of fluff at the end (or some form of healing because all of us need it blows nose on handkerchief)

Warnings: Reader is feeling depressed, these two friends are navigating through their mix of negative emotions together (Otherwise nothing TOO triggering).

Synopsis: Huening Kai goes over to your place uninvited because you’re not doing your best and it shows. You don’t know how to put your feelings to words, but you care about Huening Kai and this friendship, so you make an attempt to not completely shut down in front of somebody you genuinely feel comfy around.

Content: Reader is kinda avoidant at first, mentions of animal crossing, low-key anxious (but determined) Kai, one platonic hug <3

Wc: 708 words

- Masterlist -

Kai didn't know what he was doing when he walked down the cold, empty neighborhood streets.

Alone. All by himself without a hand to hold. Everything just feels so ... cold.

Is this what you felt like when he invited you over to his house to play video games you didn't even like? To hang around with a friend group you didn't quite vibe with?

To be with... him?

He felt shivers from the heels of his feet to the arch of his back. All over his body, it's all just goosebumps and cool air that didn't sit right on his skin and the overwhelming thought of 'I haven't been the bestest friend no oh no what's wrong with me what’s-'

The house at the end of the lane is just a couple steps away, dimmed and ghost-silent.

Your house.

He had to get there.

"Why are you here?"

It was a simple question Huening Kai didn't have the answer to, at least, not at the moment.

Lights off but you remain wide awake, the moon high above the clouds casting a lonely shade of indigo into your bedroom. You hug your knees... Pretending it's somebody hugging you not just your limbs but an actual somebody there to reciprocate the emotion and hug you-

"You look like you could use a little bit of company." The statement wasn't supposed to sound like a question.

You waited, in the dark, feeling kind of guilty you didn't cast the happiest expression when the man brought him and his full 183 centimeters to your front door. Or when you brought him to your room and all you did is sit on your bed, staring off into the grim shadows in the corners of the room that mimicked blackholes.

And now, as he stands there, fingers fidgety and grasping each other, asking you questions, being there for you... You have nothing to say?

Kai broke the silence yet again, "Hey... It's okay if you don't want me here." A pause. "I mean- it's technically curfew hours? A-and our parents are all asleep and I don't mean to disturb you but I just thought-" Even in the dim lights, you could see the curve of his brows, the twitch on the corner of his lips. "I'm sorry."

It was the first time that night, you looked up at the princely figure bestowed upon you.

"What?"

"I'm... Sorry." This time, the statement did not come out as a question. "I... Noticed your absence. Well- not that you weren't there but... Physically speaking, we're together but... I felt like your mind has been... Drifting? Lately?” A furrow of his brows, a feeble step or two closer to you but not too close because he cares enough to not get too close to you but still close enough. “Is it my friends? Do you not like playing Animal Crossing with my friends?"

A pause.

Your hand pulls away from the top of your knees.

A fragile pat on the side of your bed ensues, as if saying, 'sit.'

Huening Kai didn't know why, but he smiled at that, happily sitting next to you.

"..."

"..."

You were the first to speak. "See the moon, Kai?" A soft, raspy chuckle. "It looks so pretty tonight."

He looked up, out the window, beaming at the full moon, not at all knowing where this conversation would go but as long as he’s with you and you keep talking to him, he’s more than happy to be by your side. Literally.

"Yeah... Yeah, it's pretty."

"Ever wonder how lonely she gets?"

He didn't respond.

You continued, "She feels like her partner is so far away... how she could never reach the sun. No matter how fast she runs, they're a pair that can never be together. Even in the company of clouds, she feels so alone..."

Huening Kai didn't know what got over him, what demons possessed him at that very second but his heart ached because he knows yours ached too and- "Oh my God I'm so sorry- was that how I made you feel? I... I'm so sorry I just-"

With a tight embrace, his words falter, and all that previous unwanted coolness that swept the surfaces of his skin seemed to have vanished.

Be it the moon or the sun, that single hug felt like an eclipse.

"No, Kai, no... You make me feel like the moon could finally stop chasing it's lover."

Tag: @itzzz-yerin my biggest fan tbh 🤧🤧

A/n: ... I have no words. HONESTLY. I BLACKED OUT ONE NIGHT AFTER TAKING MEDS AND JUST WROTE THIS AND IT FELT LIKE A WHOLE THERAPY SESSION GOD DAMNNNN. guys I think I fell in love with writing again hrheheheehhee. (Ps I wrote this author's note half awake too okay byeee *smooches my readers*)

#txt fluff #txt #tomorrow x together #tomorrow by together #txt x reader #huening kai fluff #huening kai txt #txt huening kai #huening kai x y/n #huening kai x you #huening kai x reader #txt angst #tomorrow x together fluff

[facecollapsedthroughentropy]

Fake Plastic Trees (M.H Sneak Peek)

An aspiring florist, a problematic rockstar and a meet-cute straight out of "Nottinghill". What could possibly go wrong?

Here's a small Sneak Peek of my up and coming Mini-Series, "Fake Plastic Trees"! What do you guys think of it? Also, fair warning, this isn't really proof-read... Enjoy!

Matty was stressed out. First of all, he had just finished recording with the band and was starving after not eating the whole morning. And second of all, he was in desperate need of a gift for his dear Mum.

Hurrying down the streets of the quiter part of London, his eyes darted around in search for a florist. 

He stopped in intrigue as he read: Fake Plastic Trees — and below it, windows full of blooming, fresh flowers and plants. How ironic, he thought to himself as he giggled and walked across the road, into the small boutique.

"Hello! Welcome to "Fake Plastic Trees". If you need any help, let me know." a voice rung out, in tune with the chiming of the bell that announced his entrance.

Matty bid a quick hello and thanks, before browsing around the store. He quickly realized how helpless he actually was, overwhelmed by the amount of selection the store offered. Flowers and Blossoms from everywhere, with exotic names and appearance, some looking to be straight out of a Sci-fi movie.

"Don't think I would go for those if you're looking for a Mother's day gift." Matty heard a voice speak behind him, slightly startling him.

"Hm?" he hummed out and turned around in confusion.

"The orange lillies you were looking at. Beautiful, I know. The meaning? Not as much..." she elaborated with a grin on her face.

He opened his mouth to ask further, but was quickly shut down when he saw who was speaking to him.

Gleaming eyes, a crooked smile, slightly freckled skin leading to a pierced nose and a small dimple on the upper-left cheek. She looked like the first day of spring, with a septum piercing.

His brain short-circuited as he kept closing and opening his mouth, blubbering out a "Why?" after an embarassingly long wait.

"To keep it short, it symbolises hatred and disdain. So, unless you have a complicated relationship with your Mum, not my first choice." she explained with a small laugh at the end because of his antics, he really seemed out of it when he first caught sight of her.

"That's definitely not the type of vibe I'm going for... Anything you would recommend?" he chuckled out in slight embarassment, a rosy hue dusting his ears.

"Maybe another colour variation? Pink lillies for example! They symbolise femininity, admiration and love, often the one between parent and child." she ranted excitedly.

Seeing someone talk about something they genuinely loved was one of the most adorable things in Matty's eyes. He could listen to her going on and on about the mysteries of the flower language all day, if it meant seeing that grin and dimple.

To be continued...

#matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy imagine #matty healy x reader #the 1975 fanfic

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c9 preview.

simon riley x original character.

abstract: listen, I don't even want to hear it. yes, it's Simon. I told you already, I'm gathering intel during this part. don't think too hard about it, this doesn't mean anything. and yes, I think she was telling the truth. I follow my instincts and they only failed me once or twice…

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs.

song to listen to when reading this: Cool about it, boygenious

When the routine settled back in, she felt like the Al-Jareena mission was a thing of the past. A week had gone by, she had no news about the mission. Or Arash. She was snapping her fingers following the rhythm of the music. 'And one, two, balancé!' she watched as the girls rehearsed in front of her, moving in pairs, one from each side of the room. They had been going on and on for an hour, the poor girls were exhausted.

When she got to work the next day, she was surprised to see a special someone waiting for her beside her door. No fucking way. She stopped in her tracks when he saw him, bag hanging from her shoulder, boots clicking on the floor. What are you doing here, how do you know this is my office? Did you ask around? Are you following me? She approached him and he took a step towards her. He had a blue jacket on, no skull mask today, simple black one. She could finally see his hair colour, dirty blonde. He needed a trim. 'Can I help you?' She said. Well well well. 'Not really' he replied, crossing his arms against his chest.

'How did the mission go?' she asked even if she already knew the answer. She was just making conversation. He didn't want to stay too long. He thought about seeing her, he thought about talking to her again and now that she was there, now that he purposely went to her office to talk, he wanted to run. 'Good. Good, yeah, thanks to you, actually'. He finally sat down. That was what patients saw then. The desk behind her, the windows and her, on the leather chair. He tried to imagine her during sessions. Her back straight, compassionate eyes, maybe a notebook on her lap. The window on her right illuminated only half of her face. Making her half an angel. She wasn't commenting on his answer, she squinted her eyes. 'Are you saying I was right and you were wrong?' she asked. Cheeky. She wasn't smiling, cause she knew she was right all along. 'I'm saying you got lucky.'

He reached for her hand, glad he was wearing gloves this time so he couldn't feel her skin. Less of her to think about. She looked at him, then looked down to their hands, still holding it. Her soft, caramel skin, with those dainty black nails against his skeleton printed gloves. She turned his hand so she could see the skeleton print and smiled, with her head tilted down. A smirk. She had dimples.

taglist:

@ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

#ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #ghost fanfiction #cod x reader #cod fic #call of duty #cod modern warfare #simon ghost x reader #ghost headcanons #simon riley fanfic #ghost call of duty #simon riley #ghost mw2 #ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon ghost smut #simon riley call of duty #call of duty x reader #mw2 ghost #simon ghost x you #simon ghost fluff #cod 141 #task force 141 #tf 141 #tf141 #modern warefare 2 x reader #call of duty modern warfare #gaz call of duty #johnny soap mactavish

[sonicattos]

always thinking about this….,,., they make me extremely mentally unstable… look how happy shadow is.. he’s having so much fun,,..,. i don’t think anyone else can make him this excited,,,….,,,.. b bbesties

#notice how shadows looking at sonic for approval #wait is he actually smiling it looks like it but i could be wrong #whatever he is no convincing me otherwise #sonadow #team sonic racing #kinda gay to have competition be one of your favorite activities and have a rival who feels the exact same way and has fun with you and and #earlier in the comic shadow was like “focus on your opponent—me.“ like?? okay?! #alright shut up

[luveline]

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡ 

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago. 

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch. 

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you. 

“I wanna see Max.” 

“She has to be here somewhere.” 

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest. 

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here. 

Steve frowns at you worriedly. 

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers. 

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips. 

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Is it awful?” you ask. 

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult. 

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask. 

“Dustin. He’s outside.” 

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.” 

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes. 

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?” 

“Like you like him.” 

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?” 

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?” 

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings. 

“Looks like something. Are you dating?” 

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.” 

“He was touching you a lot.” 

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely. 

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh. 

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s— 

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder. 

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug. 

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly. 

Oh, boy, you think. 

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy. 

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet. 

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.” 

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.” 

“Steve.” 

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.” 

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty. 

“What?” he asks. 

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles 

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.” 

“I sounded weird?” 

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.” 

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it. 

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do. 

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.” 

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.” 

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something. 

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie? 

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged. 

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews. 

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way. 

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused. 

“You were in the way of the light.” 

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself. 

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?” 

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks. 

“It’s good.” 

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.” 

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you. 

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise! 

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this. 

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing. 

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs. 

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes. 

“You okay?” he whispers. 

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek. 

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen. 

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.” 

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.” 

“I thought…” And of course he did. 

���I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.” 

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.” 

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes. 

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.” 

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.” 

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.” 

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks. 

“I like you too!” he says loudly. 

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?” 

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again. 

“You okay?” he asks tightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?” 

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.” 

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?” 

You nod vehemently. 

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm. 

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.” 

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you. 

“You can be my parasol.” 

“Your what?” 

“It’s a sun umbrella.” 

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up. 

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay. 

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur. 

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?” 

“That’s perfect.” 

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly. 

“No… I’m thinking.” 

“Nothing good ever comes of that.” 

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight. 

“It’s a question.” 

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world. 

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.” 

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.” 

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.” 

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start. 

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem. 

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur. 

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it. 

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke. 

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble

[tender-rosiey]

“IT’S LAUGHING?! IT’S ALIVE?!”

— gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, and toji hearing the baby’s first laugh (f!reader)

a/n: guess who's back, back again then I will be gone again (probably)

GOJO SATORU:

your husband is, admittedly, a very funny guy.

his humor always manages to get to people one way or another, so even if he doesn’t get a laugh, he certainly gets some sort of reaction.

not with his little angel though, the one person that he would die to see her laugh.

no matter how much tickling or raspberries he blew, it was never a laugh, merely a smile or a very short giggle if he was lucky.

he would come across a ton of videos of babies having hearty laughs and simply wished to be able to get the same reaction out of his daughter.

it is the reason he is currently burying his face in your chest and whining, “I feel like she thinks I am just not that funny.”

“satoru, she is still a baby,” you hum, fingers carding through his hair, “you know that babies have different views about what is actually funny; actually, I saw baby not long ago at a photo of number eleven. it was so cute!”

“but I tried everything! even the unusual!” he huffs, standing up to retell all of his failed attempts, “I tried dropping stuff, quickly stirring a liquid, lightly touching her with a balloon—everything!”

he looks at his daughter with his best puppy eyes, “come on, d/n! isn’t there anything that would you laugh a belly laugh?”

a little idea pops into your head. giggling, you sneak off leaving your daughter trying to comfort her wailing papa the best she can.

d/n is caught up with satoru until you finally come back and she smiles, “mama!”

“hi baby!” you grin before smacking your husband—lightly but not so lightly—with a roll of newspaper.

he yelps, “y/n! why would you do that?!”

but he is cut off by his little girl laughing, and I mean laughing so hard she kind of leans back.

you wait until she is quiet again before smacking him with the roll one more time, and she, once more, starts laughing heartily with small little wheezes and a long breath in the end when she calms down.

your husband, mortified, picks his daughter up, “d/n! you’re not supposed to laugh when papa gets hit! you’re supposed to get sad!”

she starts giggling and kicking her feet, putting her hand lightly on his nose. she tilts her head confused, and satoru thinks he knows what she is waiting for him to say. he shan’t falter!

at least, that’s what he thinks.

d/n takes matter into her own hands and smacks him on the forehead, resulting in him yelping and her going into a laughing fit that lasted a minute or so.

how unfortunate that his most precious takes pleasure in him being hurt.

his head snaps towards you, but he guesses that it makes sense since you also love teasing him so much.

a bunch of devils he says! two cute devils he laments.

GETO SUGURU:

geto is convinced that he was blessed with two angels, her cute little twins from his beautiful wife, you. he is also convinced that they would do no wrong—which is like what wrong can a baby a couple months old do anyway.

he ignores how gojo screams about being bullied by the girls, how that one mean babysitter was yapping about how they most definitely threw their toys at her intentionally, and how miguel syas that the girls always hide his glasses because they love seeing his stressed face.

to geto suguru, his daughters could do no wrong.

aside from that, he also noticed that his daughters love playing with hair, sometimes eating it which makes him scream but oh well.

for the most part, they know to treat their father’s hair gently as they watch you and himself do it.

that’s why he never thought that his darling angels would get their first belly laughs by pulling on his freaking bangs.

each twin holds one of the bangs and with all their baby power, they pull and pull almost like they want to tear it off his head.

and while he adores that his daughter are laughing so much—for the first time too—that they stumble back almost turn red, but he really doesn’t want to bald before heat least reaches his 50 or something.

another problem is that you never interfere unless he straight up screams for your help.

that made him realize how much of a common occurrence it is and he finally decided that he needed to put his foot down.

so he sat his girls down—including you because you’ve tolerated the violation of your husband’s hairline so much—and took a deep breath.

“girls, we need to learn that papa’s hair is fragile and we shouldn’t pull on it so much,” he turns to you with the quirk of an eyebrow. “right, honey?”

you barely hold back your smile before nodding and loyally supporting your husband, “why, of course, my love!”

he rolls his eyes, “so, be good girls and don’t pull on my bangs, please?”

one of the twins, while the other frowns and starts fussing. you lock eyes with your husband, and you both try to telepathically figure how to handle this, until your other twin starts crying.

now, you have two crying babies.

congratulations!

so your husband concedes and kneels in front of them, bravely offering his bangs. almost instantly, they stop crying and start pulling the bangs on their respective sides.

they start laughing and squealing again, and geto starts to think that balding is a small price to pay for his angels’ happiness.

he should probably stop calling them that though.

NANAMI KENTO:

now, in constrant to nanami, his daughter came out all bubbly and smiley, and it had nanami going as soft as a marshmallow.

it also didn’t help that d/n is convinced that her dad is indeed a marshmallow in which that she could only touch him softly.

she would gently pat his cheeks, press clumsy little kisses to his forehead, and squeal in order to cuddle with you or him. she also is extremely empathetic and starts crying whenever she sees someone hurt or genuinely frowning.

that was also the reason why gojo adored her since her crying cut anyone’s session of bullying him short. though, of course, he buys her a ton of toys to make up and comfort her.

he fails to realize that the true way to comfort her is to place in your arms or nanami’s.

like that one time when she bumped her head lightly and started crying profusely, throwing punches at gojo who was supposed to be babysitting her—poor choice but who am I to judge. she screamed and squirmed, demanding she be comforted.

however, none of the toys gojo bought were working.

and the two of you were called into a mission, so he literally is rendered helpless. that is until nanami returns a tad bit early than planned, and satoru couldn’t have been more relieved.

he hurriedly places d/n in kento’s arms, and the little girl takes a few seconds to realize who is holding her now.

she looks up, smiling at her dad. he instantly smiles back, “hey there,” he hums, “did you miss me?”

anyway back to what i was saying: a very sensitive and empathetic baby, right?

so when one day, you have your girl perched on your lap and nanami is going all out with scolding gojo, no one expects your daughter to burst one laughing.

you giggle, looking at her, “d/n, you like seeing papa scold uncle gojo?”

gojo gasps, “what?!”

you usher your husband, “babe, try it again!”

nanami nods with determination and gathers everything gojo ever bothered him with and translates it into a bunch of very child-friendly insults.

with each reproach, gojo deflates and d/n starts laughing more, squealing and wheezing. your husband abandons the crushed gojo and goes to hold d/n in his hands, “you okay there?”

she squeals and reaches for her feet, eyes never leaving her father’s. you coo, “she is so cute!”

“I never imagined my daughter would laugh at the sight of me, out of all people, scolding gojo.”

a very wounded gojo screams, “well I sure did! you family of haters!”

your husband frowns, but before he can talk, d/n cups his face and starts babbling a bunch of nonsense. nonetheless, your husband hangs onto every bit of said nonsense. 

gojo takes that chance to flee to the hills.

meanwhile, you’re holding a camera and recording the lecture(?) your tiny angel is giving your husband.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

your baby is the son of the all-mighty king of curses.

the man who sends terrors throughout the lands, the mere sight of his face is enough to cause someone to pee themselves.

everyone cowers in front of him, except you and more recently his son. on the contrary, in fact, your son can’t help but cackle whenever his dad puts on his “scary” face.

the first time it ever happened was when you were strolling the palace with s/n in your arms.

you know not to enter the throne room whenever sukuna has the villagers over to “hear their complains” as it almost always ended with him slicing one part of their body off.

you figured that it would be okay to at least pass by it since they always had the door closed—that started when you gave birth—but to your surprise, the door was open this time, giving you and your son a front row seat to sukuna degrading his subject.

“you’re wasting my time,” your husband states, and the villagers starts panicking.

“a-apologies my lord, pl-please grant me a-another chance!”

your husband scowls, “and now you’re ordering me around?”

the villager starts crying and kneels to the ground. on the other hand, your son couldn’t have been laughing more. his laugh echoed so loudly in the room that it drew everyone’s attention.

sukuna stares at the baby in your arms and scowls again, “y/n, why is he here?”

your son squeals and starts laughing again, hiding his face in your chest. you light up at his laughter, and sukuna finds himself livid at how the scene makes him feel content—until he notices the villager staring at you as well, what a short-lived happiness.

swiftly, sukuna slashes the villagers into cubes, and your son—who came out of his hiding spot—bursts into a fit of giggles that has you wondering just how much of sukuna’s sadism was passed to your darling son.

while you ponder over that, sukuna quickly makes his way to you, dismissing all the servants and tasking them with taking out the trash.

when your husband is right in front of you, you look up at him with a frown, “my son is laughing at torture, sukuna.”

“he is probably laughing at how pathetic the man looked,” he says as he smirks and pulls you close.

you huff and bounce s/n lightly, “shut up, old man.”

sukuna quirks an eyebrow and leans to be on your eye level. his hand is placed on your head, and he threatens, “you’re insulting your husband?”

s/n gasps lightly before harshly latching on sukuna’s face, fingers digging into his second pair of eyes. sukuna does not give any reaction except standing up to his full height.

your son, however, is relentless and is still hanging onto your husband’s face.

you don’t know how to react. sukuna doesn’t know how to react.

s/n just lets out a series of battle cries.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

if there is anything that toji is doubtful of is whether his son actually loves him or not.

why you ask? well, the only thing that gets the kid laughing—aside from you laughing or smiling—is literally any inconvenience that happens to him.

he remembers that one time when shiu was over to discuss some business, nothing out of the norm. megumi was on just sat on his high chair beside toji since you were at work.

toji was just sipping on his coffee when he burned his tongue, “gosh damn it!”

shiu was about to make fun of him, but megumi beat him to it as he started laughing heartily, even taking breaths in between to calm down but to no avail.

toji’s eyes widen as he stands up to go to his son, “no way you’re laughing at me getting—what the hell?!”

toji groans after he bumps into the table, glaring at his son who starts laughing all over again. meanwhile, shiu chuckles and teases toji, “I think your son just loves you so much, doesn’t he?”

your husband rises to his feet, quickly carrying megumi and lifting him in the air. he grumbles, “I want my wife back.”

another time was when you guys grocery shopping.

you had most of the list crossed out and the only thing left was the frozen vegetables. easy, right?

so you, your husband, and son quickly made your way to the section—since megumi wanted to go to the park later to play with yuuji.

megumi stays in your arms, while toji goes to grab them. considering how unlucky this man is, the bag slips from his hand and falls flat on his face, and it freaking stays there.

to your darling son, comedy had never reached this peak, so he lets out a guttural laugh.

you want to join in on the laughter, but you noticed that toji is standing still, with the bag on his face.

so you walk to him, gently taking off the bag and teasing him, “you okay, champ? that made quite the noise.”

“don’t even start,” he groans and buries his face in your shoulder, ignoring the wheezing megumi. he then starts complaining, “they keep whining about how he is a quiet and shy kid, but he sure ain’t with me.”

“isn’t that a good thing? It’s important for him to feel free around his dad.”

he turns his head towards you, a frown plastered on his face, “no kid laughs whenever his dad gets ridiculed by life.”

“you told me that you laughed when your dad fell down a flight of stairs,” you deadpan.

“that’s because my dad is an ass; I am not,” he pauses, “for the most part.”

apparently, megumi senses his dad’s distress and starts slowly patting his head, albeit shyly. he lowers his gaze and mumbles, “so’y.”

toji’s eyes widen and he is frozen in place for a moment. your son takes note of that and starts staring him in the eye, waiting for his reaction.

your husband doesn’t take long for a small smile to break out as he lets a small sigh, “’s okay kid,” he hums and pets his head.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @girlnamedutsu

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #geto x reader #geto x you #geto suguru x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #geto x y/n #nanami x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk x y/n

[etfrin]

⤷❝The Study | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | riding, toxic relationship, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating (no actual cheating occurs), riding, dom sub undertones, degradation (he calls you a slut once), hair pulling, edging if you squint, crying, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), creampie, dry humping, clothed sex (you were still wearing a dress) | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: A video of you flirting with an elitist goes viral and Snow calls you to his study to confront you about it and it ends up in sexy times ;)

⇢☾A/N: btw for those who doesn't get why Snow asked reader to mark him, it's to show the Capitol that despite rumors, they are actually very close. And uhmm I hope you guys like this!

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune >

< tags: @roryzzz @stelleduarte @strengthandstay @skywalker1dream >

The marriage was a facade, a show for the Capitol that the president didn't stand alone. The people in the manor were the only people who knew how fake the marriage was. Some of the elite of the Capitol could also tell. People can fake everything but not love, never love.

You learned early on Snow wasn't capable of love. A lover wouldn't do half of the atrocities Snow committed as he got to power but he had never done anything to you. You didn't exist for him in the manor and he was always respectful when you were by his side.

It was manageable, the life you had, nobody could mistreat you, not as the First Lady of Panem. However mistreatment and flirting are very different things, and the people of Capitol aren't a stranger to wandering hands and lustful eyes.

You didn't think Coriolanus would mind that you sometimes let the hands linger. That you would bask in the attention you were so deprived of from your husband. You were proven wrong as a video of you and an elitist was going viral all over the Capitol.

You didn't cheat on Snow, but you were too close to the stranger. His hand on your waist and your smile too wide. Cheating or not, it wasn't any less inappropriate.

A remainder by your servant made you walk to the study in which Snow spent most of his time. You were wearing a knee-length white dress, something that clings to your curves. It was a desperate, pathetic attempt to distract Snow. A part of you knew it wouldn't work and would make your mistake more obvious but it was an attempt better than none.

You knocked at the door and you could hear him say come in. So you did. Your hands are behind your back, and your eyes look at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

“Do you know what you have done?” He asked, you still couldn't look up to meet his gaze. Your fingers fumble behind your back as you bite your inner cheek. You give him a nod.

“And what have you done?” He questioned, his voice like the calm before the storm. “I created unnecessary gossip that isn't good for your reputation,” you mummer.

“What else?” He said, his tone suspicious and waiting for the confirmation. That's when you look up at the most beautiful demon you have ever seen. He looked all glorious with his suit and hair slicked back. “I didn't cheat,” you said, firmly, your eyes fierce and reflecting the truth of your words.

When Snow didn't reply, you insisted again, “I. Didn't. Cheat. It's a line I will never cross, Coriolanus.” Again, he didn't say anything, instead, his gaze went up and down your body, his expression unreadable. You flushed from his stare, not sure if wearing this dress was the right move after all. The man had always surrounded himself with those stupid white roses and this was the symbol that you had noticed.

“Come and sit.” You begin to walk towards the chair only to be interrupted by his words, “No, not there, in my lap.” You freeze from his words, but your brain tells you to obey his every word.

You make your way to him, your heels clicking against the marble floor. Your hands are sweaty and your heart is in your throat. You reach him before you straddle him without a word being uttered. Your dress hitching up to your thighs. Your hands around his shoulders as you wait for further instructions from your husband.

“What do you think we should do to make the rumors go away?” He asked, his voice deep and so seductive. You weren't even sure he realized the effect his voice had on you. You let out a small gasp when his hands held your hips, cementing your place in his lap.

His hands were warm and perhaps maybe it was biased but you thought they would be ice cold. Instead, his palm laminated heat against the thin fiber of your dress making your skin warm. Your former flush turns into a deeper shade of red.

“We could…” you couldn't focus, how could you when he was touching you like this? When he was so close. He was never this close to you before. Ever. His touch reminded you of the fact that despite everything he is a man and your husband at that. A demon in human flesh.

“We could do more PR,” you mumbled. He raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. “I mean if we do it right, I am sure it will work,” you fumbled. He gives you a nod.

“Take off my shirt,” he demanded. Your eyes widen and you hesitate. “Do it or I’ll make you.” he threatened and you know not to take his words lightly. With shaky fingers, you unbutton his shirt. The process was slow, meticulously slow. His toned physique comes into complete view, making your breath hitch. Fuck, he was a Greek God of tragedy and sin.

“Mark me up,” he said, his tone emotionless. “What?” you questioned, surprised. “You think you’re acting innocent?” he sneered, “You heard what I said, my wife. It's because of your suggestion. Mark. Me. Up.”

You swallow down your nervousness and bring your lips forward to his cheek. You pressed a soft kiss there and felt him tense underneath you. You drag your lips to his jaw and nip the skin, the tip of your tongue soothing the small teeth mark as he lets out a grunt. It was music to you. A masterpiece of symphony and you needed more, so much more. Snow had you deprived for months and it's time to take.

Your lips continue to nip at his jaw, placing sloppy wet kisses as his breaths get heavy. You moved down to his neck, a moan leaving your lips as you attacked his skin with your teeth. Sucking onto his pulse point and moaning when the salty taste of his skin hits your taste buds. Your hand goes to his neck, tilting his head to give you more access. All the while he lets out quite controlled sounds. You licked his Adam's apple before wrapping your mouth around it to suck a purple bruise. Marking him up just as he wanted.

His hand on your waist gave you a firm squeeze which made you bite harder and made him hiss. You lean back panting, as you admire your artwork of teeth marks and red love bites. You pressed down into him and moaned as his hard bulge pressed right against your clothed cunt. Your panties were soaked by now. “Snow,” you whimper.

“Corio, call me Corio” he whispered. His eyes briefly turned to a white bouquet of roses before he met your gaze. You didn't think much of it and whispered, “Corio.”

“Corio,” you tried the name again on your tongue and watched his eyes darken. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his. “Let me kiss you. Let me make you my husband, please,” you whispered.

You waited for a verbal answer but all you got was another squeeze on your waist. You were desperate enough to take what you could get. You started by grinding against his bulge. The juices that made your panties soaked are now ruining his pants.

You let out a breathless moan as you gained delicious friction against your pussy but it wasn't enough. There's no hell and heaven for which this would be enough. You crashed your lips to his. The kiss was all carnage and desire. Uncoordinated, something so unlike Snow Corio that it made you moan into his mouth. Your hands are in his hair, pulling him closer. Your lips glide against each other perfectly. His tongue took over your mouth, not leaving any place unexplored, untouched by him.

You break the kiss with a gasp. Your hand going towards his pants to unzip. The motion stopped as Corio held your wrist and you looked up at him. “You’re my wife, you're my right,” he said, “but do you deserve it?”

It was more than a question, it was a promise waiting to be made, a bond waiting to be sealed. “I…” you begin to speak, you meet his eyes, sea blue you wanted to drown in, “Never again, Sn- Corio. Never again.” “Please,” you added for extra measure. You had his taste already, no one else could ever compare. He had to know that too because he gave you a sharp nod.

You get up from his lap, taking off your panties first, not bothering with the dress. You knew he liked it now, more than you thought so he would. You find your rightful place in his lap again, his pants and boxers past his knees.

His cock was hard and twitching, the length had an angry tip with its slit profusely leaking pre-cum. It looked painful and it was because of you. You. You wondered if you had power over him now for a brief second but you shake your head clear of these thoughts.

Instead, you catch his lips again, the kiss slower this time. You raise yourself a bit so his cock can align itself to your entrance. Your dress is raised to help you. Even if his cock was on the girthy side with veins on the underside of his cock. You knew your pussy would stretch around him, that your walls would be a splendid fit around his length. You were too impatient for any sort of foreplay, you wanted the stretch, you wanted him to make you dizzy with his cock splitting you apart.

You let out a whimper as you began to sink onto his cock, your eyes flicked to him and his eyes were zeroed down to the place you both were connected now. His hands are on either side of your hip, guiding you down on his length. It was after his cock was fully stuffed in you, that his self-control allowed him to let out a groan.

“I respected you like a lady but sluts don't deserve respect,” he said, his lips parted as he let out a heavy pant. You let out a whimper, your mind hazy as your cunt tries to get used to his length. “I.. am sorry,” you whine, how many times do you need to repeat? When will he be satisfied with your apology?

“Prove it,” he said with a smirk, “Prove that you deserve to be my wife and the First Lady of Panem.”

You follow Corios’ command. Your hands are on his shoulders to support yourself. Your fingers fist his shirt as you begin to ride him. Raising yourself a few inches before slamming down on his cock with a loud moan escaping your lips. He reached the deepest spot inside of you like this. His cockhead grazing your spongy spot as you fucking yourself on his cock. Your arousal and his pre-cum being smeared all over your thighs.

The sight made his breath hitch, something you didn't notice as you were too busy with your eyes closed and taking his cock like a good wife. You looked completely debauched like this, your hair wild, your lips red and swollen, your hands digging into his shoulder. Your nipples are hard and obvious through the white dress.

He wasn't supposed to lose control, this was happening for a reason. No matter how many deem him God or devil in the end he was a man. And no man is perfect. He pulled you closer to him. One of his hands is on your back, pressing you to him. Another of his hands in your hair, tugging the strands without a care about how rough he is being. It makes you moan, your head on his chest now. His hips raise upwards to fuck you as he now lets out more vocal sounds of enjoyment.

His pace was slower than yours. Each thrust of his was made for his indulgence in your velvet walls. The drag of his cock was perfect, his speed however was making you feel insane. You needed him, faster, harder. Used would be a much more correct term. You wanted to be used by your husband. And right now, you were but it wasn't enough.

You let out mewls and whines to make him break his languid pace but Corio gives you no mind. His fingers interlanged in your locks, his hand still pressing you in and his strength made it so you couldn't take control. He was drunk in the pleasure your pussy gave, his head resting on his headrest, his lips parted to let out a grunt with every thrust.

You weren't a person for him, not right now, a fleshlight perhaps. It didn't matter what you felt, it mattered what Snow felt. Snow felt amazing, he felt stupid for denying himself this for months on end. He would never make the same mistake again.

Time passes and you don't know how long Corio has you like this, your nerves raw as your pussy impossibly sensitive. Tears were falling from your eyes and staining his shirt but moans slipped your lips every time he pushed in again.

“Corio, please,” you try to plead, raising your head to look at him. “Please, please can't anymore.” He turns his head to you, his fingers that you seemed to have forgotten were in your hair tugging your strands roughly.

That was it. You gasp out as the pain becomes a trigger to make you cum on his cock, your pussy tightening around his cock like a vice as the orgasm washes over your body. It was intense and you had snapped. “Sorry! Sorry!” You begin to sob, “I won't ever look at a man that's not you! Sn- Corio please!”

His languid thrust had sped up, his arms caging you to his chest. The last thing you heard before he spilled his seed inside of you was, “Snow lands on top.”

#character x reader #x reader #x female reader #fem reader #scenario #oneshot #smut #x you smut #x reader smut #x you #arranged marriage #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas #tbosas x reader #tbosas x you #tbosas smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes movie #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #corio snow #coriolanus snow #Coriolanus #president snow #snow x reader #thg x reader #thg fanfiction #the hunger games

[cherienymphe]

Everybody Knows That I'm A Good Girl, Officer (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

WARNINGS: Dub-Con, power imbalance, abuse of power, degradation, manipulation, slight stalking, choking, semi public sex, mentions of cockwarming, mentions of gun kink, dom/sub elements, free use elements, jealousy

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies

summary: ...and everybody knows. Everybody knows...that he fucks you.

~

You didn’t know a thing about Coriolanus Snow.

Not until he quite literally cornered you in the meadow one day.

Peacekeepers came and went, especially in District 12, so you never took it upon yourself to pay attention to any new face that appeared on the streets of your district in those blue uniforms. In truth, you never took it upon yourself to pay attention to any of their faces. They all perfectly blended together into one faceless being that was merely a puppet of The Capitol, anyway.

However, standing in front Coriolanus Snow, you wondered how you missed him. Not because he was handsome—and he was—but because there was a hard glint to his blue gaze that told you he wasn’t the average capitol dog. Gun tight in his hand at his side, he stared at you like he wasn’t at all surprised to find you there.

He wasn’t.

You learned that Coriolanus Snow liked to watch you, silent footsteps shadowing yours as he wondered what you were up to when you crossed the district line. He liked to watch you pick flowers and write underneath a tree and bring back the occasional caught animal for your ma and pa. He watched you play with the children in your district and help that old neighbor with her window…and steal food on occasions when your family couldn’t afford it.

“You could get into a lot of trouble for that.”

His tone was even and strong, but something about it told you that he didn’t want you to get in trouble for that.

“I know,” you told him, jutting out your chin as if challenging him to do something about it.

You said nothing, merely pressing your back to the tree when he moved closer, the gentle breeze ruffling the tall grass around his feet. You said nothing when he stood so close that you could smell him, wondering to yourself what a peacekeeper could possibly have access to that would make him smell so good. You even remained quiet when his free hand reached for yours, the softness of it shocking you, a sharp inhale when he turned your hand over.

Your palm was lightly stained from the bird you’d killed.

You curiously eyed him, a slight frown between your brows as he studied the skin. You drank in his prominent nose, full lips, and those unsettling blue eyes. Staring at them for too long actually made you uneasy, and when his gaze lifted to meet yours, you couldn’t look away fast enough. It only then occurred to you that you were out in the woods alone���with a peacekeeper who could do absolutely anything he wanted to you.

His next words surprised you.

“If someone other than me were to catch you…I can’t imagine what they’d do to you,” he murmured, making your frown deepen. “So, I would advise you to stop.”

By the way the corner of his mouth twitched, you knew that your shock and confusion was all over your face. When he dropped your hand, he pointed his gun at your catch of the day in a gesture for you to get your things, waiting for you to grab your dinner and your book.

You thought that he was letting you off the hook.

You thought wrong.

You learned that Coriolanus Snow was not a good man.

“Your daughter dropped these, ma’am, and I knew she’d kick herself if I didn’t bring these home.”

That smile on his pink lips was perfect, blue eyes twinkling when your mother thanked him profusely for bringing home your groceries—groceries you both knew you didn’t buy. When your eyes met his over her shoulder, that charming smile didn’t move an inch, and the longer he stared at you, the more uncomfortable you felt.

“Thank you,” you told him the next day, seeking him out.

He wasn’t technically on duty, and you found your gaze lingering on the dog tag around his neck. However, you found your gaze lingering on his face instead when he took a step closer, gaze unreadable.

“Anytime.”

It was a strange thing to say about bringing you food that you didn’t buy, and when he took another step towards you, your face pinched ever so slightly. You were all too aware of your close proximity, and when you felt his chest lightly brush against yours, your lips parted in realization. The moment it clicked had your blood running both hot and cold, uneasy and conflicted.

As you stared at each other, there seemed to be a lot of unspoken words between you, Coriolanus with one hand on the wall and you with one hand fidgeting with your shirt. You looked between his eyes, looking for some hint of hesitation, some evidence that deep down this wasn’t something he actually wanted to do…but there was none. There was a resolve in his gaze that felt all too familiar. It was the same determination you were sure was in your gaze anytime you swiped food for your household.

The same determination when your desperation won.

You took a deep shuddery breath.

“Anytime…?” you wondered, keeping your eyes on him.

Something in his face relaxed, evening out as he completely crowded you, now.

“Anytime.”

When his lips met yours, you didn’t exactly know what to do, feeling both unsure and sure at the same time. You were sure that you wanted to live comfortably and not have to wonder how you’d get your next meal, but you were so unsure of how this would end and what this would mean for you. You wouldn’t be the first girl to give herself to a peacekeeper or the mayor or whoever else she needed to just to ease the weight in her chest.

Coriolanus kissed you like he was the hungry one, lips moving against yours in a way that left you breathless. His hand wouldn’t stop kneading into your waist through your shirt, and his other found a home on your face, thumb brushing over your skin and tilting your head back. The only thing to pull you apart was a noise coming from inside the building you were pressed against, and when the blond man told you to hurry home, you did.

You learned that Coriolanus Snow liked obedience.

He wasn’t the kind of man who enjoyed repeating himself, and you learned that quickly, so now when he told you to get on your knees, you didn’t hesitate. When he told you to open your mouth, you did, and when he practically begged you to look up at him, you did. Coriolanus would never beg, he would never do that, but it was evident in the way his voice strained—the way the words left him breathlessly.

Or maybe that was because you had your lips around his cock.

With a hand in your hair and a hand on your chin, he gently guided you to take him into your throat again and again. You were no virgin, but there were still a lot of firsts to be had for you, and sliding your tongue over the tip of him was one of them. The feel of his fingers massaging your scalp soothed you, made this less nerve-wracking, and to your surprise, it even stroked a slowly burning fire between your legs.

There was such a stark contrast between the gentle touch of his fingers in your hair and the harsh hold of his hand on your chin. It wasn’t the easiest to take all of him into your mouth, and you couldn’t swallow down the noise that escaped when he hit the back of your throat. His smooth baritone reached your ears when he gently shushed you, softly telling you to use your hands.

“Wrap them around me,” he whispered in the otherwise quiet room.

Coriolanus liked obedience…so you did.

Your hand slid along his length in time with your lips, twisting around his cock, an easy task with the help of the mess you were making. He didn’t seem to mind though, only groaning above you, and when you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes, you took in the way his head was thrown back, the skin of his throat straining and bobbing as he swallowed.

When he lowered his head, you started to look away, but the tightening of his hand in your hair told you not to. You kept your eyes on his as best as you could, sucking your cheeks in and flattening your tongue against the side of his cock. Every bob of your head made him shudder, and you dropped your hand when his hands came to rest on both sides of your head.

Remaining still for the man standing over you, you kept your mouth open as he slowly began to push his hips forward. With every surge of them, his cock dipped into your waiting lips, sliding over your tongue and against the inside of your cheeks. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks as he lost himself in his movements, blue eyes gazing down at you as he filled your mouth.

You didn’t know why—couldn’t understand it—but something about his outright use of your body and your lips had you squeezing your thighs together. It made heat settle in the pit of your stomach, twisting and burning violently until your not-so-subtle movements became noticed by him. In between his uneven breathing, a soft chuckle reached your ears.

“You’ll get your turn.”

…and he was a man of his word.

With the taste of him still on your tongue, Coriolanus had one forearm completely pinning your hips to the bed as he pressed his face between your thighs. Another first ripped away from you, wide gaze on the ceiling as you fought to keep from squirming. The feel of his tongue inside of you was jarring, and you couldn’t stop your toes from curling at the warm feel of it quite literally lapping at you.

Your hands came down to rest on his short blond hair, hips attempting to lift from the mattress, chest arching upwards towards the ceiling. When he hummed between your legs, you felt it all over, and you couldn’t stop the moans that climbed out of your throat. With him holding you down, the only appropriate thing to do was claw at whatever you could, turning your head from side to side.

It wasn’t enough for you to come into his mouth once. Coriolanus needed to know that he was the best you’d ever get, and even when you were out of breath and exhausted and overstimulated, he didn’t let your thighs go, only using them to drag you closer as he knelt between them. His perfect teeth winked at you when he leaned in to kiss you.

If your ma and pa wondered what kind of job you lucked out with to afford all of the food and clothes you started to bring home, they didn’t ask. Although, something in you suspected that they had an inkling of just what you had to do to bring home the freshest bread and the warmest clothes they’d ever had. You started to suspect that everyone did.

Coriolanus wasn’t exactly the most discreet, and you learned that he didn’t intend to be.

On the off chance you crossed paths in the street, he stopped you for all to see, voice lowering as he got really close and asked you how you were. You would feel the eyes of his peacekeeper friends on you as the unspoken questions lingered between you. Did you need more food? Did you need a new dress? You would tell him that you were fine, code for you didn’t need anything at the moment, and he wouldn’t try to hide his perusal of you, those unsettling blue eyes slowly dragging over your frame.

He didn’t seem the kind of asshole to brag about such things, but you weren’t stupid. Even without saying it, he made your arrangement abundantly clear. The way he talked to you, studied you, and ran his fingers over the back of your arm without a care as to who saw. Coriolanus had staked a claim on you, an unspoken display of ownership, and you wrote it off to some sick power trip.

…but you learned that Coriolanus Snow was a very jealous man.

That revelation struck you as odd because you didn’t think anyone would have anything he’d be jealous of, and you certainly didn’t think he’d be jealous over you. You were some average thieving girl whom he exploited the first moment he saw an opportunity to do so. Considering that he was willing to do it to you, you didn’t doubt that he was willing to do it to someone else should he find himself unable to have you anymore. That was what you believed anyway…

Until his fist was ruining the face of some District 12 boy you’d grown up with. You were far from friends, but he’d been a familiar constant in your life for years, and so sharing a drink with him while everyone danced to the live music on stage seemed like nothing at all to you. You didn’t even think there were lines to cross, a sentiment that was quickly corrected.

With one hand curled around your throat—holding you in place—there wasn’t any other option but to take Coriolanus’ thrusts. The sound of guitars and flutes and fiddles bled through the thin walls, everyone quickly moving on from the brief display of violence they’d witnessed. You could still remember the shock on your face as other peacekeepers pulled him off of the unsuspecting man who’d never been anything more than an acquaintance, really.

Your horrified gaze had met that of a familiar blue, and there wasn’t much time to do anything before Coriolanus neared you, reaching for the back of your neck as he walked you away from the crowd. It had been hard to ignore the numerous eyes following your movements, and you wondered now if they quickly moved on from the display because it was nothing or because they were too nervous to get involved with Coriolanus and the girl the whole district knew belonged to him.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out in some back room, your chest pressed to the table.

Your eyes were squeezed shut as he stretched you out, cock pushing into you and throbbing with every push of his hips. You knew that the words wouldn’t change anything, but you felt compelled to say them, anyway. His fingers were tight against your neck, and every time you reached up towards them, he only squeezed tighter. Despite the discomfort, you couldn’t stop your stomach from squeezing, coiling tight as you gripped him.

When he pulled you up so that your back was firm against his, his hold on your neck loosened a bit, and you took a deep inhale. His thumb was pressed to your jaw, and he brought his face down to rest on the other side of your neck where his arm didn’t rest, pressing open mouthed kisses there.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for,” he whispered against your skin.

It was the truth, and at your silence, he squeezed your neck again.

Your nails scraped against the table he fucked you on, upper body straining as he kept you upright and against him, hips lifting to push his cock into you with the kind of thrusts meant to make a point. When his teeth grazed your skin, you shuddered in his hold, and despite the fact that you couldn’t hear his laugh, you felt it deep within his chest.

“He can’t give you what I can…”

You started to tell him that you knew that, but Coriolanus didn’t let you.

“…so, don’t go thinking he can.”

“I wouldn’t…”

Your words died in the air when he pushed you back down, completely pressed against you and pinning you between him and the table.

“Wouldn’t you?” he hummed, his free hand trailing over your visible cheek. “Everybody knows your price.”

The demeaning words made your stomach turn, but the way he curved his hips against you only had you clenching down on him at the insulting insinuation.

“They see the nicer clothes…the better living conditions…and they know why. They know what you did to get that.”

His lips brushed against your skin with every word, and as if it make his point, he reached down between your legs to brush his thumb over you, making you gasp. With the circling of his fingers, you fidgeted beneath him, toes pushed to the absolute tip to get some reprieve and lips parted as you scraped and clawed at the table.

When he came inside of you, something he never did before, he held you down, forcing you to milk his cock until he was completely satisfied. The nice dress he’d gotten sewn for you was ripped, and you reached up to touch it with trembling lips the moment he let you go. He was so determined to get his hands on you the moment the door was shut that you liked to think it was an accident, but the way you were forced to wear the jacket of his uniform as you walked out made you think otherwise.

Even though Coriolanus was nowhere near you once you rejoined the crowd, his presence was still loud and clear. No one needed to be a genius to figure out where you’d been, and as you glanced around, you realized that he was right. The discreet looks and nervousness around you… Everyone knew.

…and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

You learned that Coriolanus Snow liked to have you whenever and wherever he wanted.

Whether it was in his bunk when he should’ve been on duty or in your room during the early hours of the morning when your pa was in the mines and your ma was asleep or between the openness of the trees when you were only amongst the grass and the birds. He didn’t like disobedience, and so, he didn’t like the word no. So, you never uttered it.

Even when you wanted to.

“Good girl,” he purred into your lips when you did as he wanted, reaching down between you and sliding yourself onto his cock.

It was late when he knocked on your door, gently telling your ma to go back to bed when you answered it. You didn’t know if you wanted to see the look on her face when you left with him, afraid of what you’d see. There was a rare stillness about District 12 when you crossed the district line, Coriolanus’ fingers brushing over your neck the entire way.

The only light was from the moon, his soft hands gripping your hips and guiding you over him. His gaze alternated between your face and his lap where you two connected. Occasionally he lifted his own hips, driving his cock up into you and making you gasp. His hands ran up and down your frame, kneading your skin and basking in the thin layer of sweat that clung to you—to both of you.

“Show me how bad you want it,” he’d murmur in the darkness, completely letting you go.

He opted for leaning back on his elbows, his own pink lips parted, blue eyes glinting under the light of the moon as he watched you fuck yourself onto his cock. Your hands pressed against his chest, keeping yourself upright as your lashes fluttered. There was a burn in your hips that ached too good to stop, the sound of you squeezing him and sliding up and down him loud to your ears.

“Make yourself come,” he’d whisper, refusing to touch you as his voice lowered. “Work for it.”

When you finally did tense on top of him, shuddering and pressing your nails into his chest, the blond man wouldn’t hesitate to circle his arm around your waist, flipping you before you could even catch your breath. Back pressed into the grass, he snapped his hips against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the air.

Under the cover of darkness, Coriolanus allowed himself to lose control, holding your throat and pushing into you—taking full advantage of having you at his mercy. He plunged his cock into your walls, praising how wet you were for him and how snugly he fit inside of you.

“Whenever I want,” he told you.

“Whenever you want,” you agreed, nails digging into his back.

When you returned in the early hours of the morning, your ma never acknowledged it. She never acknowledged how the house stayed stocked with food despite you never going to the market. Her only acknowledgement of the clothes sewn for her were quiet ‘thank yous’…but she knew. Everyone knew.

…and it bothered you less and less until it didn’t bother you, at all.

It couldn’t bother you.

…because if it did you would have to say no when Coriolanus wanted you to rest in his lap, cock fitting snugly inside of you as he held you there. You would have to say no when he brought you another dress he had made or the freshest groceries you would’ve never been able to afford. You would have to say no when he asked if you were his good girl, demanding you prove it as he slid his gun between your legs, telling you to remain completely still.

…but you didn’t say no to any of that because it didn’t bother you—because it couldn’t bother you. Even when the discreet looks were hard to ignore or your ma started to ask if you’d be out late or you started to feel cheap and used. You couldn’t let it bother you.

You were his good girl, and that was what he told you when he tied a pretty delicate ribbon around your neck for all to see one evening.

It was soft.

White.

Just like snow.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #hunger games imagine #hunger games fanfiction #tbosas #tbosbas #tbosbas imagine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosbas fanfiction