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atrwriting · 10 months

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more, more, more — carmy x reader

carmen berzatto x coworker!reader

listen to me. this man? this man?? so fucking slutty. so fucking slutty i can’t even think straight. i am absolutely AGHAST at how little writing there is of this man online. absolutely OUTRAGEOUS. he looks like that and none of us have done his character justice?? DISGRACEFUL.

i wrote this in direct response to how angry i am at how little there is.

as always, warnings… SMUT!, alcohol consumption, alcohol consumption with sex, smoking, p in v penetration, work relationships, overstimulation, carmen berzatto being an absolute mind blowing fuck on a table i mean in bed

also, minors fuck RIGHT the fuck off

barely edited we die like men

i stole that joke don’t come for me

anyway....

you didn’t really know how it happened.

you were once an unemployed law student, scared of drowning in bills, and eagerly awaiting a call back from anyone that would hire you — when she called.

natalie berzatto.

her voice was warm and comforting on the phone, and very eager to have you come in. she was relaying important information to you on the phone, and while you grabbed bits and pieces, it was hard to focus on anything else besides the sheer excitement of finally having a job. the job would be stressful, sure — but at least you wouldn’t be broke and stressed.

unfortunately, your first couple of shifts were a mess and a half. you took instructions well, and performed well, but in the hospitality business — that means nothing when an oven burner is out, a dishwasher doesn’t show up for a shift, richie starts barking, or when carmen’s upset.

carmen.

fucking carmen.

while soft spoken, there was nothing that could compare to the look of approval in his eye when you had completed a task to his standard. most people would consider the job of a hostess useless, or not a job at all — something to laugh at, but carmen? no. that man took your job very seriously, as he knew what it meant to provide the full experience to the customer.

however, when something was lacking in the kitchen and that experience was interrupted… carmen took the look of approval, almost gratefulness, away and replaced it with something that everyone felt like they had to walk around shards of glass.

when he was angry? oh, fuck… that could ruin anyone’s night.

the worst of it happened when his sister unexpectedly went into labor. two weeks early.

carmen had left the place screaming, and, in the process, had also left his things at the restaurant, including his jacket, wallet, keys, the lot — so to be nice you went to drop it off at his place. worried that he might be at the hospital, you texted him.

you: hey, going out for a drink. saw you forgot your stuff at the restaurant so i grabbed it because you’re otw. you home?

carmen: oh shit thanks. i’m home

so there you stood. at his front door, his stuff in hand.

you quickly adjusted your long hair, worried about your appearance. it was weird to show up to carmen’s place in your regular attire — seeing as though your regular attire on a night with your friends was black flare jeans, a tight black long sleeve v-neck that showed off your cleavage — you were concerned that he might be concerned with who he exactly employed. however, his niece was just born… he had more important things to worry about.

so you knocked.

and barely waited.

carmen was barely at the door a few seconds later before you came face to face with the man who constantly let exhaustion ride on his back.

“you good?” you immediately asked, handing over his stuff.

he nodded. “yeah, uh — thanks.”

“you look like you could use a drink,” you laughed. “want to come with?”

he shook his head, the corners of his lips somewhat curving upwards. “nah. day was hectic. you want one? come in — for a drink?”

you smiled. “i don’t want to intrude, especially after the berzatto family excitement of the day.”

“i owe you,” he sighed. “but don’t let me hold you up if your friends are waiting.”

you smiled. “one drink won’t hurt.”

one drink definitely did not hurt.

drink two and three definitely didn’t, either.

how much carmen made you laugh definitely made your stomach hurt, though. in a good way.

“you’re killing me,” you cackled. “who knew quiet carmen berzatto was such a good host.”

“you can call me carmy, y’know,” he spoke, saying his cigarette before pouring you another drink. “everyone else does.”

you shrugged. “you’re pretty professional in the kitchen. didn’t want to impose.”

“i don’t think you could impose a day in your life,” he chuckled. “i think you’re the only one that knows boundaries in that fuckin’ place.”

“says the mysterious one,” you giggled. “the only reason any of us know your nicknames is because richie likes to share your baby stories.”

“speaking of babies…” he took a drag. “thank you for helping sugar out so much. she told me to tell you how much she appreciates it.”

you shrugged. “‘s nothing.”

“nothing?” he scoffed. “you keep her sane. definitely keep me sane.”

“always got your back, chef,” you giggled.

he smiled, and ashed his cigarette once more. his long, thick fingers stretched around the circumference of his glass. one fingertip tapped against the glass and a few droplets of condensation fell to his countertop.

you were twisted around in your seat to face carmen, eyeing his attractive hands. in your peripheral vision, you saw him lift his head to cock it towards you and stare at you. the longing look sent shivers up your spine, but you gazed at him through your long lashes as you waited for his response.

“you do,” he spoke. “always have. we were lucky to find you. i - i was, i mean.”

“more like i was lucky get a call from natalie,” you laughed. “it’s so hard to find a well paying job nowadays.”

“heard,” he rasped. “you happy at the bear?”

“very,” you replied. “staff keeping you happy, chef?”

he chuckled. “when i’m not made to scream, yeah.”

“that’s fair. we’re lucky to have you.”

there was only so many things you could think of to say to carmen before you began to consider that you were imposing. you slapped your hands against your thighs — a implicit signal it was time for you to go. he led you to the door, where he reached out for your coat. you smiled at him, thanked him for the drink, and slid your arms through the jacket as he held it out for you.

you don’t know what caused you to, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was you — or maybe it was how good carmen smelled — but you glanced up and over your shoulder at the polite man behind you.

you didn’t have anything to say. frankly, you said something last — it was his turn. however, carmen’s sense of societal expectations started and ended with the door to the kitchen. but there, by his front door? basically holding you by the shoulders, and staring back down at you? he had nothing to say.

however… his eyes could share a thousand things about him. more specifically, emotions. carmen’s eyes showed exhaustion, a bit of dehydration, to keep it a buck, but there was so much intensity in those crystal irises. they were a stunning, clear blue… but with the way carmen was gazing down at you, there appeared to be no clear thought in his head.

and he did nothing.

so you could do nothing.

you found yourself disappointed at his actions, or rather — lack thereof.

you simply smiled, and went to turn away. you reached for his door knob, when you felt the slightest brush of calloused fingers against the skin of your wrist. the feeling shocked you, pricking at your nerves, but you didn’t stop until you felt those fingers enclose around the circumference of your wrist.

like they had with the glass, moments ago.

you turned back, letting your long and thick eyelashes ghost over your line of sight. all you could see was a frozen chef, standing tired, but staring back at you.

when his gaze fell to the floor, you stepped closer. he glanced up.

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you softly asked, “what’s up, carmy?”

“first time i had someone over.” his parted lips closed so he could swallow, and his eyes drifted between your lips and the floor. the words were right there, on his tongue. they were so close you could feel them, taste them. he replied, “i, um… don’t want it to end, uh — i guess.”

you smiled and turned around in place, barely inches from his face. his breaths were pushing past his lips in small, light puffs that hit the tip of your chin. it was like he was conscious of everything he was emitting; his vibe, where he was looking, even his fucking exhales. he was cautious and frozen and all you wanted was for him to be relaxed, or as close to, as he was moments ago.

“already drank you out of house and home, carmy. what else you got in mind?”

his eyes widened, but his voice stayed level. “what else i got in mind?”

you hummed in agreement with a coy smile on your face. you folded your lip between your teeth and stepped backwards. carmy glanced at your hips and feet hesitantly, shifting his weight slightly. while his eyes were trained on you, his parted lips quivered slightly which told you that there was still some nervousness lingering in him. with every step you took, carmy took one as well. you kept stepping backwards, and carmy kept stepping forwards, until your back was pressed against the wall.

carmy’s lips weren’t slightly quivering anymore. there was no hesitation in his figure when he leaned down slightly and rested a flat palm against the drywall above your head. his breath was hitting you on both cheeks — as if they weren’t hot enough already. inside you were screaming. you were screaming, and screaming, and screaming and all you wanted to do was grab both sides of his face and smash your lips to his. you wanted to, but you wouldn’t. you wanted to see if he would.

“you know,” you spoke, raising your back. your cold palm pressed against his cheek. it was burning — almost as bad as yours. “even though you’re the boss… never seen you actually taste anything.”

“no?” he rasped. the gruffness in his voice pricked at your cheeks and went straight to your core. “and what do you want me to taste, sweetheart?”

you released your grip from his cheek and brought your hand down to your face. with a manicured nail, you tapped the plumpness of your bottom lip. you stared into his eyes — a dare.

“fuck.”

with his free hand, carmen wrapped your hand in his own and pressed it to the middle of his chest. he held it there, pressed against his heart, and surprisingly it was the exact spot you wanted to hold him. you wanted to hear — no, feel his heart that was beating slightly faster than normal. when carmen finally pressed his chapped lips against yours… you saw stars.

the alcohol coursing through your veins made you melt into the man before you. his hand on the wall slid down until he was rubbing the side of your neck, and then gripping the base of your skull. his fingers, his beautiful, skillful fingers threaded through your hair like it was one of his pieces of art and he was creating something. he twisted your strands until he had your head bent back, practically supported by the heavy palm of his hand. the motion made you gasp into his mouth. carmen swallowed it whole. every. last. bit.

“y’taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he moaned against your lips.

you hummed with him. the warmth of his body engulfed your body into his until the moment started and ended with carmen anthony berzatto. you could taste the liquor on his tongue that danced with your own. with every breath he took, bits of smoke would linger between the two of you. it went straight to your head, swallowing your senses whole. you didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the cigarettes, or carmen himself, but you felt like you were swimming.

“this okay, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling away for a second. a thumb of his stroked the skin of your cheek as he stared at you, waiting for feelings of regret from you. “d-do you want me to stop?”

“please don’t stop, carmy,” you gasped, pulling him back into. “you’re perfect.”

you didn’t expect that would make carmen slide his hands down your body and grasp the back of your thighs. his fingertips pressed into your skin, pulling your legs up and around his waist. you squealed against his teeth and couldn’t believe you had found yourself in this situation.

it’s not that carmen wasn’t handsome, no. the man was drop dead gorgeous in a tortured artist way, and you always had a thing for men that looked like they needed a hug but wouldn’t admit it. but… he was your boss.

what could you do about that? it’s not like you could stop now. even if you had told him to stop, got your shit and left — the damage was done. you both had crossed the boundaries, and you were going to reap what you sewed.

in that case… might as well have a little fun with it.

he had placed you on a neighboring table. his large hands gripped the flesh of your thighs and you couldn’t help but whine into his embrace. his tongue glided over your lips and teeth and with your tongue in the messiest way possible and all you could chant in your head was more, more, more.

and that’s when you found yourself pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt.

he stepped back slightly, throwing his shirt over his head. his swollen lips were parted, and his eyes searched your face. you found your chest rising and falling with anticipation, and realized you should’ve been more concerned with how he was dealing with all of this.

“you okay, carmy?” you whispered.

he nodded, letting a few fingertips of his ghost over the skin of your cheek. his crystal eyes glanced down to your lips.

“we can stop, you know,” you whispered again. “it’s okay.”

he nodded again before dipping his head down to the side of your neck. his plump lips left wet kisses on the sensitive skin and you moaned into the open air. you widened the space between your knees, allowing for carmen to wedge himself between your thighs.

“you’re always talking such good care of me, sweetheart, so good to me,” he rasped against your throat, sucking on the skin. “but all i want to do right now is have my fingers inside you. y’gonna let me?”

“yes, carmy,” you whined. “yes please.”

“such a polite girl f’me.” carmy’s mouth was attacking your throat. moans escaped passed your lips like carmy was squeezing them from you, claiming them. his fingers traveled down the front of your clothes and stopped at the button of your jeans. sliding it open, carmen berzatto slipped his perfect hands into your jeans.

“right there, please,” you gasped once his fingers found your bundle of nerves.

his fingers dipped into your core and spread it all over where you needed him most. warmth began to spread through your hips and your knees widened for him. his drew circles different ways until he noticed that when he drew counterclockwise circles, you bit your lip and your eyes appeared to involuntarily flutter shut. you felt carmy smirk against the skin of your neck.

“what made you this wet, baby?” he hummed, sucking at the base of your throat.

“you, carmy,” you whined. “felt it as soon as i saw you when i first walked in. needed you so badly.”

he smirked again. “so bringing my things wasn’t of the purest intentions?”

heat rose to your cheeks with the sensual actions that were taking place below the belt and carmy’s accusation. you grew worried at what he would say if you said no, that you honestly just wanted to help him out… but if carmy wanted to play like that, you could play.

“n-no,” you whined as the pleasure began to spread throughout your whole body.

carmy was holding you so close to him. it was like he was your support — supporting you through such a physically vulnerable moment. your legs were practically shaking at this point, trying to take everything he was giving you and not start sobbing. you were grabbing at any piece of him you, wanting to kiss him — but he wouldn’t let you. fucking bastard.

“good,” he stated, staring you dead in the eyes. your mouth fell open at his response, a pant pushing passed your lips. “i don’t have the purest of intentions when i do this.”

carmen berzatto slid two long, thick fingers inside you ever so slowly. the motion pulled small moans out of you like you were a pathetic mess of a puddle and the sun rose and set with him. you felt his fingertips press against the upper wall inside you, while another finger worked at your clit, and all you could do was hold onto him tighter.

“it feels so good, carmy,” you whined. “i love your fingers so, so much.”

“yeah, baby?” he breathed against your ear. “you wanna cum f’me?”

“faster, please, i will,” you sobbed. you fucking sobbed as the tapping motion inside you hastened. “oh god — oh my fucking god —“

“that’s it, sweetheart? that’s what you needed?”

“yes, yes — fucking — fuck — yes.”

“f-fuck —“ he groaned broken, incoherent phrases against your throat. his breath was hot and heavy on your skin and all you could think about was how good he felt inside of you, and also how badly you wanted all of him inside you. interrupting your thoughts, he spoke, “show me how good it feels, baby. finish all over my fingers f’me.”

that broke you.

that fucking broke you.

it was like a shock of lightning hit you straight in your core and the power from the strike spread throughout your entire body. every muscle of yours went taut as you arched your chest into carmy’s.

with his expert hands, he fucked you through the orgasm. “that’s it, baby. that’s it. keep cumming for me.”

it was like carmen berzatto knew everything to say to make you shatter. you couldn’t even breathe — all you could do was give into the spreading feeling of bliss and hold your breath while it washed over you. it was wave, after wave, after wave of mind-numbing orgasm and carmen held you through all of it.

“pretty girl.”

“i know, baby. you’re such a sweet girl f’me.”

“that’s it, sweetheart. take it.”

once the waves finished hitting you, your chest was rising and falling heavily. carmen peppered light kisses along your neck, being gentle as to your state, but you were having none of it. you reached for his belt.

“greedy.”

you smiled lazily at him. “any objections, chef?”

he smirked at you, letting his fingers ghost over your sensitive core. a shiver ran up and down your spine at the almost painful action. “be careful — or i’ll make you cum again.”

you knew he wasn’t joking. you let out a slight giggle before you dragged the zipper and his boxers down. freeing his cock, you pumped his shaft.

carmy was once dominantly kissing your neck and whispering mean things in your ear, but now he was using the crook of your neck to support his forehead.

“you have such a pretty cock, carmy,” you whispered in his ear. there was something so comforting about being intimate with a man where you both could be vulnerable, and you weren’t sure if you would ever let it go. you want him everywhere he would let you have him. “i don’t know if i want it in my mouth or inside me more.”

he chuckled at that, crooning back into your embrace when you would touch a very sensitive part of him. “dirty girl — you’re so fuckin’ evil.”

you were worried the friction was becoming too much for him, but you didn’t want to raise your hand to your own lips, so you swiped some of the juices from your core and used it to lubricate the skin of carmy’s cock. it was a quick motion — you didn’t think he’d notice, and plus his eyes were most likely closed.

but when he spoke, you froze.

“do-do that again.” his voice was rough with lust. “do that again for me.”

you were hesitant at first, but you decided to make a show of it. you slowly dragged two fingers up the length of your slit and rubbed a very slow circle around the circumference of your clit. you gasped at the sensitivity, slightly jumping at the touch.

“fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned, breath humid on your neck.

you smirked at his response and reached for his cock. your hand slipped along the smooth skin of his cock, drawing a deep groan from carmen. the poor man was so sensitive — almost aching from what giving everything he had to you previously felt like.

“so big, carmy,” you breathed. “so big and pretty.”

“y’know what would be prettier?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your jaw line. “watching you put it inside you. can you do that, baby?

you smiled at him devilishly. carmy’s hands shoved the rest of your jeans down your legs and flung them somewhere in the room. your pussy was aching — dripping for the man before you. the sensitivity had left you, no longer prickling at your nerve endings. all that was left was the want for more — anything carmy had to give you.

“please,” you whined, rubbing the head of his cock against your glistening folds.

“i love when you beg f’me,” he groaned. “such a good fuckin’ girl.”

both of your lines of sight drifted down to the view of your hips. you both watched in awe as you lined carmy up with your entrance as he pushed his hips towards you.

the throws of passion and want for carmy were intense, sure — but so was the want to enjoy this while he could. he pushed in the tip of his cock, groaning slightly as your tight hole encased him. you whines at the barely filled feeling — so empty, needing more. carmy, however? carmy didn’t care. he wanted to feel every push and pull of your muscles between your hips.

carmy kept his eyes turned down at your pussy and you swallowed more and more of him inside you. he gripped the flesh of your waist, fingertips digging into you. your own hands were splayed our flat against the cool countertop of the table — a direct juxtaposition of the boiling feeling that electrified the top of every inch of your skin. you whined as carmy took his time with his thrusts, pulling back every so often when he felt resistance, and then pushing back in ever so slightly, yet slightly farther, each time.

“please, more,” you gasped, folding your lip between your teeth. “i want all of you.”

“baby isn’t patient, huh?” he asked, continuing with his motions. “gotta have it all, when you want it?”

“i can’t be teased right now,” you sobbed. it was pathetic how needy you were, but fucking christ did it turn carmy on.

“this what you want, baby?” he asked, pushing into you deeper.

your walls were squeezing him like he was the only thing that existed to you. the burn at your entrance was something so bittersweet, something so delicious — you didn’t know how you were going to keep control and make this special for him as well, let alone how you weren’t going to cum right then. but you didn’t care — you didn’t have the strength to care.

“yes, carmy — please,” you begged, bucking your hips into him weakly. “fuck — your cock feels so good.”

“yeah, baby?” he pressed into deeper. “so impatient you can’t handle it slow?”

“i want you to fuck me, carm,” you bit with lust dripping from every word. “fuck me — use me however you want — please.”

fuck.

that set him off.

carmy was a patient and low maintenance man, sure, out of necessity and convenience mostly. however, when he had the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, with a dirty mouth to match, talking back to him, and begging him to be selfish?

fuck patience. fuck ease. and fuck being selfless.

carmen’s grip tightened on your waist, and he pushed the last parts of his cock inside you.

it immediately hit you right where you needed him — that soft, sensitive spot so deep that barely anyone before him could dream of reaching. your walls gripped the smooth skin of his cock and you screamed. you fucking wailed when he finally pounded into you painfully, but so fucking sweetly.

“dirty — fucking — girl,” he grunted, thrusting upwards into your pussy.

there was nothing like the sight of carmy finally taking what he wanted. no expression of shame, or guilt, or hesitation on his face — just a man, slightly bent over before you, inside of you, holding you so close to him because, in that moment, you could give him what he wanted — needed. and, in that moment, all he needed was you.

the side of his face was pressed against yours, breathing heavily into your ear. the few groans he let escape his throat were guttural — almost animalistic. they went straight to your core, practically flooding around his cock. your whines of pleasure forced his hips forward and back faster and harder with each motion. balancing your weight and carmy’s with a firm hand of yours behind you on the table, you clamped your free hand on the back of his neck. you twisted a few stray strands of his hair around your fingers, tugging at them. every thrust caused you to pull his hair, him, closer and harder into you.

“laythefuckdown,” he spat, to your surprise.

the command startled you, sure — but it also made you bite your lip in anticipation. he pressed a wet, heavy kiss to your cheek, throwing butterflies in your lower stomach, as you released him. before you could lay down, he stopped you.

“you want to give me what i want, baby?” he whispered against your lips.

you nodded, gazing at him with dark, lust filled eyes.

“then i want your pussy to finish around my cock,” he stated. “think you can do that f’me?”

“y-yeah,” you replied, shakily, but full of trust.

you laid down and carmy regained his footing at the end of the table, keeping his cock pressed firmly inside you as he stood above you. his cock twitched against your most sensitive spot inside you, and you whined at the new angle. he gripped one of your hips firmly, but let his other hand ghost up your glistening lips.

“such a pretty fucking pussy,” he rasped, gazing at it. “takes my cock so well. but right here…”

he pressed his thumb against your clit.

you would’ve jumped if his hand wasn’t keeping you locked to the table.

“this is what i want,” he spat. “so fucking pretty.”

he began rubbing rough, fast circles on your clit. your legs were shaking from the overstimulation, and you thought you could cry from the sensation. your back arched off the table, and your hands struggled to find something to grip — to balance you as carmy tortured you.

but then his cock started working itself back into you again, hitting that spot that needed him so badly.

“think you can cum like this, baby?” he asked, taunting you. “be a good girl for me, yeah?”

“yes — !” you groaned, reaching for the end of the table with one hand. grabbing it, you tried to steady yourself, but it was no use. not with carmy. “fuck — it’s so much — it’s too much carmy —“

“gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”

you threw your head up to stare at the man. he was rocking into you like that was the only thing he knew, fucking you like it was the only thing he wanted, but there was so much focus on his eyes. so much focus on you.

“gonna give me what i want?”

“yes, yes,” you were nodding your head so pathetically, so sweetly for him. tears were practically threatening to spill over the corners of your eyes, but they glistened at him, and only him, and god did it fuck with him. “please, carmy — let me cum for you.”

“do it,” he ordered. “fuck, baby — cum for me.”

your hips were bucking against his pelvis and his hand, too erratic for him to be precise like he wanted to. you were chasing his fingertips, chasing the orgasm that even in his selfish state he was so generous to give. whines left your throat involuntarily as the intensity in your lower abdomen grew, and grew, and grew. your eyes were screwed shut as you pushed yourself to your elbows, holding yourself up as you couldn’t help but curl into yourself. carmen may have been looking at you, or something else — it didn’t matter. all you saw was the black of your eyelids, until is was white.

white. pure white.

your finger nails dug into the meat of your palms as the heat spread from your womb to the entirety of your body. every nerve ending and hair rose to the highest point of height they could, and you held your breath. the feeling of immense pleasured you washed over you — wave after wave, after wave, after wave. it hit you, it crashed into you, it fucking drowned you — it swallowed you whole until you were gasping for air. your orgasm was violent — practically mine splitting. you were shaking. you were sensitive beyond belief, beyond repair — and the prickling feeling wouldn’t stop. you were gasping for air as you looked down, only to find carmy’s hand still working between your thigh.

still rubbing those fucking circles.

“c-carmy,” you sputtered, tears wet in the corner of your eye. “please — i c-can’t.”

“shhh,” he whispered. “just keep cumming, baby. just keep cumming for me.”

your chest split open at that, throwing you back against the table top. shivers went up and down your spine as you took carmy’s torture.

“that’s it, baby. that’s it.”

his words were music to your ears as you screamed for him.

“ohh, fucking shit — that’s it —“ he hissed. “just like that. take it all for me — oh, fuck.”

you were dazed and confused on carmy’s table, basically seeing stars. absolutely useless, fucked out beyond words. you felt the weight and warmth of carmy’s body lean over, and rest against yours, as his hips sloppily rocked into you.

you wrapped your legs around the middle of carmy’s back, locking him in place. one hand went to clamp on the back of his head, and the other pressed against the side of his cheek.

against his lips, you whispered, “cum for me, carmy, please. i want to feel you inside of me.”

“good — fucking —“ he grunted, pressing his lips to yours in a farm, hard kiss as he shook. carmy’s tongue shoved itself into your mouth, and down your throat. carmy was everywhere — so deep in every part of you. you hummed with each moan of his you swallowed, rocking your hips against his and rocking him through his orgasm. gasps left his lips as he gripped any part of you he could, doing anything he could to hold onto you and keep you in place.

“holy f-fucking shit,” he gasped against your cheek, pressing kisses to your cheek and the length of your neck. “that — that was — it was so —“

“i know,” you spoke, giggling slightly.

carmy laid his head against your collarbone and you weaved his wet curls around your fingers. he rested fully against you, completely relaxed.

“fuck your friends,” he mumbled. “stay here tonight — as long as, um — you want to, that is.”

your giggle hummed in your chest. carmy’s confidence leaving him in the middle of the sentence surprised you slightly, but not enough to leave you unamused. “‘m not imposin’?”

he chuckled at that, and pulled you up from the table and into his arms. "fuck off."

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lmk what you think :) love yall -L

#carmy smut #carmy berzatto #carmy #carmen #carmen berzatto #carm berzatto #carm smut #carmen smut #the bear #bear #carmy bear berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy x you #carmy x reader #carmen x reader #carmen x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you

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punkshort · 5 days

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i know who you are | 9. the end

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel leaves overnight for a scouting mission. When he returns, you finally confess your feelings for him.

Chapter Warnings: language, amnesia, slow burn, dry humping, some dead bodies 'n stuff, fluff, feelings, smut (18+ MDNI), piv unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), soft!joel, guns?

WC: 9.1K

Series Masterlist

A/N: Two things. One: I don't have the slightest clue how memory loss works and if what I am about to detail in this chapter is even plausible but if television has taught me anything, nothing is impossible only extremely rare. Two: this is the final chapter and it makes me very sad. I wish I could have thought of more storylines to drag this out but at the end of the day, I feel good about how it all came together and I can't thank quite literally hundreds of you enough for reading this each week. It's kind of insane. So, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! Also, if anyone wants to toss some one-shot/sequel ideas my way, I am all ears. Much love.

Two Weeks Later

"Joel," you whispered, your head tilted back into the couch cushion while his mouth greedily nipped and sucked at your neck. His hips were grinding lightly against your center and you knew if you didn't stop soon, you would be in trouble. "I think we should slow down."

"Mhmm," he mumbled in agreement, reluctantly pulling his hand from underneath your shirt.

"You're lucky it's still cold enough for me to wear a scarf," you murmured into his hair. He sighed against your neck, finally dragging his mouth away and sat up on the couch while yet another movie went unwatched on the TV.

"Can't seem to get enough of you," he said with a grin, his arm stretching over the back of the sofa. You rolled your eyes dramatically but smiled, pushing yourself up and fixing your shirt before looking at the TV. "Brad Pitt's in this?"

Joel tossed his head back and laughed heartily. "Think he's the main character," he told you, and you scowled at him but he could tell you weren't actually angry.

"Well maybe if you didn't distract me every time we try to watch a damn movie, I would know that."

The past two weeks had been downright perfect. Joel couldn't be any happier. Now that things had changed between you, he craved your touch constantly. Part of him wondered if it was his way of trying to make up for lost time because you weren't wrong: he couldn't keep his hands off you. He had no desire to leave the house or see anybody. All he wanted was to stay holed up with you doing absolutely everything and nothing. He shuddered to think how crazy he would become when you were finally ready to take things further. Tommy will have to drag him by the collar from your bed for his patrol shifts.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him, leaning into his side and tucking your legs underneath you, only half listening to the movie.

"Patrol," he answered while the tips of his ears burned red from embarrassment, like you caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. He was perfectly fine waiting as long as it took until you were ready, but it didn't stop him from fantasizing about it. And the fact that he already knew what you felt like, what you sounded like, what made you come undone, worked him up even more.

"How are you feeling about getting back out there?" you asked, tipping your head up to look at him. He didn't seem worried but it was hard to tell sometimes.

"Actually, there was somethin' I wanted to talk to you 'bout," he admitted. "And if you don't want me to do it, I won't. I put you through enough shit as it is-"

"Spit it out, Miller," you said, shifting out from under his arm.

"Now that the snow's melted, I wanna take a couple guys and scout the area for any trace of those raiders," he began, watching your face closely. "I won't go far, but..."

"But?" you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"But I would be gone overnight. Just one night," he assured you quickly when he saw your face.

"Wouldn't the others have already noticed anything out of the ordinary on patrol?" you asked as anxiety began to squeeze your throat. "I don't understand why you need to go out there."

"'Cause I only trust myself to make sure we're safe," he explained. "If somethin' happened to anyone 'cause I led these assholes to our doorstep, I'd never forgive myself. D'you understand?"

You chewed on your lip and glanced down at your lap as you weighed your options. On one hand, you understood where he was coming from. And if no one else on patrol or guard had yet to see or find anything strange, then Joel would most likely not find anything, either. But on the other hand, just simply leaving Jackson was a risk. And even if Joel didn't find any other raiders, he wouldn't mean he would be safe from whoever or whatever else was out there.

Joel pinched your chin and gently tugged your lip from between your teeth, making you snap out of it.

"Can I go with you?"

Joel's face softened. "No, baby. You don't even remember how to shoot a gun. I can't risk it."

Of course, he was right. "Who would you take?"

He smiled and dropped his hand. "Tommy. Neil. George. Couple others offered, too, but I'm not sure how many we wanna bring. Don't wanna stick out like a sore thumb with ten horses out in the middle of the woods."

You relaxed a bit knowing he would be going with some of Jackson's most seasoned patrolmen.

"Okay," you agreed softly. His face lit up and he leaned forward.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sighed, looking over at the TV as the credits began to roll. He hooked a finger under your chin and dragged your eyes back onto him.

"Thank you," he whispered before pressing his lips firmly against yours, trying with all his might to pour every ounce of affection and adoration he had for you into the kiss. You giggled against his mouth as he tried to push you onto your back once again, but you playfully shoved his shoulder before breaking the kiss and scooting away.

"We told Ellie we'd meet her and Dina for dinner, remember?"

He groaned as if he were in physical pain and reached out for you but you quickly stood up, wagging a finger at him. He gazed up at you from the couch with his brown eyes all wide and gentle.

"I mean it, thank you. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

You blushed and bit your lip as you slowly walked backwards towards the stairs. "You can make it up to me one day."

Joel's gaze darkened and he dug his fingers into the couch cushion. "Just say the word, baby. Anytime. Anywhere."

You laughed and turned towards the steps. "Come on, we should get ready for dinner."

"In a minute," he said as you disappeared upstairs. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to will his raging hard on away before standing up and following you.

You inhaled deeply, your body heavy with sleep as you struggled to focus on Joel's voice.

"Sweetheart, I'm leavin'."

With a groan, you rolled over and reached out for him blindly, your eyes still not fully adjusted to the beam of light shining in from the hallway.

He smiled and grabbed your hands, wrapping them around his neck. He felt your fingers dig into the back of his neck and shoulders as you feebly attempted to pull him towards you.

You asked him to wake you up before he left for his scouting mission, so he did as you requested but you were so warm and soft and supple under his touch that he was finding it impossible to leave.

Maybe you planned it that way.

"I'll be back late tomorrow. I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your temple, taking an extra moment to savor it. When he pulled away, your fingers tightened around his neck and you lifted your chin, kissing him with an urgency he hadn't expected from your half-awake state.

"Come home to me, Joel," you mumbled, your eyes squinting at him through the darkness. He pulled an arm from around his neck and brought your knuckles to his lips.

"Promise."

It was so hard to leave but he kept reminding himself he was doing it to keep you safe. Regardless of what Tommy thought, something in his gut told him they hadn't seen the last of those raiders. He brought them into the mountains, and he was determined to be the one to finish it.

"I'm still surprised she let you do this," Tommy said a few hours into their travels. George was leading the group while he and Tommy brought up the rear. The forest was silent, save for the birds just beginning to wake in the branches above. After a long, painful winter, it was a relief to hear the first signs of spring.

"What'dya mean let me?" Joel scoffed, but when he locked eyes with Tommy, who was giving him a look that said he saw right through his bullshit, Joel grinned. "Yeah, alright, it took a little work but she understood."

Tommy nodded and went back to paying attention to their surroundings. They were officially in unguarded territory, the nearest patrol route now miles behind them. The trees had yet to fully bloom so it was still rather easy to see through the woods.

"I think you really freaked her out when you left," Tommy said, "she came runnin' to the house that mornin' in a panic. Thought she wouldn't let you leave her sight again after that."

Joel hummed and turned his head so his brother wouldn't see his smile. He didn't want to worry you, but every time he heard something like that, it reminded him how much you cared, even if you couldn't say it just yet.

"So, you two back to normal now or what?" Tommy pried. Joel shot him a look and he shrugged. "We got a long journey here. We can't talk to pass the time?"

"Yeah, mostly back to normal," Joel finally answered, shifting his weight in his saddle. He could already feel his lower back beginning to flare up. "Takin' things slow. Givin' her as much time as she needs."

Tommy nodded, reading between the lines. "Didn't look that slow the other night after dinner," he muttered under his breath, but Joel still heard him.

"She had a couple drinks, is all," he replied with a chuckle. He scratched his chin as he thought back to a few nights prior when you had draped your arms around his shoulders and your face buried against his neck for the better part of thirty minutes. It was late, all of the families had cleared out after dinner, leaving behind the adults to kick back and cut loose a bit. It reminded Joel of a time before the world went to hell. When he and Tommy would go to a bar on a Friday night, the smell of stale beer and cigarettes in the air while the patrons had to shout over a mediocre cover band playing Lynyrd Skynyrd. It was the first time in a long time he felt relaxed and at ease. He watched his brother and wife across the bar steal kisses around conversations with neighbors, grateful for a night out as Ellie had offered to babysit. He had you at his side, sipping whiskey and making a face before you switched to something else.

As the night dragged on, you got a little closer. Then your hand found his knee under the table and you tilted your head into his shoulder, quietly listening to him discuss the plan for the trip with George. He wrapped an arm around your waist but his focus was entirely on George, too concerned with the map he had spread out over the wooden table. George's wife finally came to collect him, telling him she was tired and he was too old to be trying to keep up with the younger men, shot for shot. She wasn't wrong by the way he stood up and stumbled a bit, leading him towards the door, leaving just the two of you at your table. Once you were alone, your arms snaked around his neck and you tugged him to your lips, your tongue greedily licking into his mouth, the heavy taste of whiskey and gin on your combined breath.

"You sure it was just the drinks? You don't think it had anythin' to do with Angie sittin' two tables over?"

Joel's face flushed and he cleared his throat. It shouldn't turn him on but he couldn't help it. He liked it when you were possessive over him.

"Didn't think it wise to ask," was all he said. Tommy chuckled.

The group made decent time. They had a grid in mind and they almost reached their desired destination by sundown. When morning came, the plan was they would make their way back towards Jackson and cover the northeast quadrant of the map.

As they set up camp for the night, deciding to forego a fire since the temperature was comfortable and they didn't want to risk giving away their location, Neil commented that they hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary so far.

"Not that I mind coming out here, Joel," he followed up quickly, "always a good idea to take precautions and all that."

Joel nodded and focused on spreading out his sleeping bag. "I appreciate you all comin'. Not sure if I say it enough, but I'm grateful."

Neil and George exchanged surprised looks at the unexpected appreciation.

They got an early start the next morning, and as the sun rose higher in the sky and more ground was covered, Joel began to wonder if maybe they would make it back to Jackson sooner than he thought. He really hoped they would. Even if it was just one day, he missed you. He hated sleeping without you. He hated waking up and not finding you curled up against him with your head resting on his chest or his arms wrapped about your waist, face buried against the back of your neck.

He was glancing around the forest, wondering what you were doing right at that very moment when he spotted something orange in the distance. His heart rate picked up and he whistled, catching the group's attention. He pointed through the trees and they all silently slid down from their horses. Checking their weapons, they fanned out and slowly made their way towards the scrap of fabric. As they got closer, Joel could see it was a knit cap stuck in a bush, fluttering in the wind. None of the men saw any other signs of life, each of them silently communicating with hand signals they were taught years ago.

Tommy heard shuffling and he held up his hand, bringing the group to an immediate stop. From his angle, Joel could see that the bush with the knit cap was right outside the opening of a small cave. The way the trees had grown around the rocks, it was impossible to notice it from a distance.

The perfect hiding spot.

He exchanged worried looks with Tommy before they crept closer, his rifle gripped tightly in both hands, ready for anything. The shuffling got louder and clearer and it became apparent that the noise was coming from right within the mouth of the cave. Catching Tommy's eye, he made sure to show him he was putting his rifle away in favor of his hunting knife. He always preferred a silent takedown over wasting ammunition, but just in case it went sideways, Tommy would be ready to cover him.

Joel situated himself next to the mouth of the cave while the other men, spread out amongst the trees, hid and waited. He reached down and grabbed a rock, throwing it about ten feet away to draw out whoever was hiding.

He didn't even need to see it to know what was waiting for him.

When the rock cracked against a tree trunk and he heard the telltale snarl of infected, he tightened his grip on his knife. The runner stumbled out of the cave with a shriek, jaw snapping angrily in the direction of the noise. Joel had run into his fair share of infected over the years. He knew the noise would have drawn the attention of any infected in the immediate vicinity, and when he only spotted one, he almost breathed a sigh of relief.

He took it down silently with a blade to the back of the head, then inspected the body. It looked fresh, the clothes mostly intact. The rest of the men joined him as they peered inside the cave, listening intently for any movement. When they heard none, they began to advance.

The cave wasn't very big but it was enough to house ten men. At least, that's the number of bodies they found, not a single trace of life left.

"Well, shit," Tommy muttered, kicking one of the mangled bodies with his boot. "Guess that hunch of yours was right."

It didn't exactly please Joel to know he was right, but at least it was the best possible scenario. The men were taken out by infected probably within the past week. He counted the bodies five times. Then recounted the backpacks and sleeping bags. Ten seemed to be the correct number. No one was missing, assuming the runner he had just killed was the only raider who had the misfortune of turning instead of dying right away.

They scavenged what they could from the dead bodies before trekking back to the horses.

"Keep your heads up. Don't mean there ain't anythin' else out here," Joel warned.

"The warmer weather must've thawed out some infected," Tommy mused next to him. Joel nodded.

"Probably should warn the others to keep their guard up the next few weeks," he replied. "Maybe add an extra body to the towers if we can."

Tommy nodded in agreement. The winters in the mountains were harsh but at least they saw a decrease in the undead.

"Now let's get the hell home," George said over his shoulder, the rest of the men mumbling in agreement. Joel ducked his chin to his chest to hide his relieved smile. Home.

To say you were happy to see him return was an understatement. It was closer to ten at night when you finally heard his heavy footsteps on the front porch.

"Told'ya I'd come back," he chuckled when you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight.

"I know," you mumbled into his shirt. His heart swelled in his chest and he closed his eyes, breathing deep the smell of your shampoo. You both had a lot of work to do, essentially starting over and building a relationship from the ground up, but it was moments like those that made him believe everything was going to work out.

"Are you hungry?"

"Nah, just need a shower," he said, dropping his pack by the door and kicking off his boots.

"So I take it you didn't find anything?" you asked, trailing up the stairs behind him. He walked into your bedroom to grab a fresh set of boxers and sweatpants.

"Actually, we did," he began, and your heart plummeted. He saw the look on your face and quickly shook his head. "They were dead by the time we got there. 'Bout ten of 'em holed up in a cave. Infected got to 'em first."

"Oh, wow," you breathed, slowly sinking down onto the bed. "Well, at least you have peace of mind now, right?"

"Exactly," he said, giving you a quick kiss before heading into the bathroom. "Be out in a minute."

You heard the water turn on and you glanced over at the red flannel of Joel's that you slept in the night before. Even though it was clean, it still smelled like him. You glanced at the closed bathroom door and bit your lip, your heart fluttering in your chest as you thought things over. The morning he left, you wished you had told him but you were too sleepy and you wanted it to be more meaningful. Then, when you woke up and his side of the bed was ice cold, you felt the dread begin to creep up your spine. What if something happened and you never told him how you felt?

Well, nothing happened. He was home now. Safe and sound. There was no reason not to tell him.

You heard the water turn off and you jumped up to grab his flannel and scurried out of the bedroom, across the hall to the other bathroom, shutting the door.

Joel emerged a few minutes later with his wet hair slicked back wearing just a pair of sweatpants, per usual. He tossed his dirty clothes in the laundry basket and looked around. He noticed the closed door across the hall and assumed you were getting ready for bed so he slid between the sheets with a groan. He closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate the mattress underneath him instead of the unforgiving forest floor before leaning over to grab his glasses and a book.

When you tiptoed back into the bedroom wearing only his flannel, he didn't notice at first. His focus was on the small print in front of him, blinking a few times and wondering if he needed stronger lenses when you cleared your throat. He glanced up and did a double take, his lips parting in shock when he saw his red flannel hugging your curves, the hem falling just below your ass.

You looked up at him and feigned surprise. "Oh, is this okay? I was cold-"

"Yes," he swallowed, immediately cutting you off, "it's okay."

You smiled and made a show of bending over to fix the sheets. Again, he swallowed tightly when he caught a glimpse of your black underwear and he felt his cock twitch. Before you turned around he made sure to be focused back on his book, although he was most definitely not absorbing any of the words on the page.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you peel back the sheets and with a sigh, you tucked yourself in. You glanced over at him, admiring his strong side profile and the way his glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

"I missed you," you whispered, and he dragged his eyes from his book to look at you.

"I missed you, too."

You caught the way his eyes flicked down to your chest where you purposely left two buttons undone so you exposed a little bit of cleavage.

"What are you reading?" you asked, and he laughed through his nose.

"I've got no fuckin' idea."

In a flash, his book was discarded and you were in his lap, your mouth hungrily devouring his as he carefully removed his glasses and tossed them to the side. He wrapped both arms around you and held you close to his bare chest, his tongue licking past your teeth eagerly.

"You look so fuckin' good in my clothes," he growled, sounding as if it pained him before biting at your jaw.

"I wore your shirts the whole time you were gone," you admitted, rolling your head back and grinding down on his hips. You bit your lip when you felt how hard he was already. "Almost the whole week. I slept in your bed and-"

"Fuck," Joel groaned, grabbing your face with both hands and feverishly plunged his tongue into your mouth. You moaned and grabbed his shoulders, the intensity behind the kiss growing too hot. You could feel yourself tumbling, free-falling into the abyss with the unspoken words sitting heavy on your tongue, hoping Joel would be there to catch you.

"Wait," you gasped, pulling away, but only a little. Your forehead still rested against his as you both panted for air.

"I know, I'm sorry-" he was about to apologize for taking things too far when you cut him off.

"Do you remember all those months ago when I asked how I fell in love with you?"

Joel nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you remember what you said?"

He tilted his head back, lips parted as he gazed up at you, wondering why you were asking him those questions in that moment.

"Yeah," he replied slowly, "I said you're gonna have to wait to find out."

You bit your lip and with a shaky hand, you traced one of the wrinkles next to his eyes. "Well, I found out."

His chest stilled, breath caught in his throat as he processed your words. His eyes roamed over your face, hoping and praying he wasn't misunderstanding. When you saw him nervously swallow, you smiled.

"I love you, Joel."

His eyebrows pinched together and before you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, he pulled you down for another searing kiss. This time, he went slower. He savored every second, he memorized everything he possibly could about that moment because the way you made him feel hearing those words was unlike anything he ever experienced and he didn't want to take a single second for granted.

"I love you, too," he choked. He could feel you smile against his lips when he pressed his mouth against yours again. "Fuck, I love you so much," he mumbled, his hands falling to your hips, "I'd do anythin' for you."

Your mouth latched onto his throat and you dropped your hand between your bodies, your fingers lightly stroking him through his pants. And once again, you felt his muscles stiffen and freeze.

For a moment, the self-doubt crept in. What if he didn't want to? Was he too tired? Was he not ready? Then his hand covered your wrist and you watched as he slowly dragged your hand up and down, showing you what he liked. Encouraging you to continue. So you did.

His head tipped back against the headboard with a sigh and he squeezed his eyes shut, removing his hand and letting you take control. He wanted - no, needed - you to call the shots. You needed to take it as far as you wanted to take it.

When your fingers dipped below his waistband, he tensed.

When he finally felt your soft touch on his cock, he groaned.

It was better than he even remembered. His eyes were still closed as you worked him up and down, the arousal pooling between your legs the longer you spent just feeling him and not seeing him.

"I want you," you whispered in his ear, and his hips jolted as he whined against your shoulder. You wanted him.

When he opened his eyes, he looked absolutely wrecked. You could see that he was trying his best to hold back, trying his best to make sure you were comfortable, that you weren't feeling pressured, that you really wanted it.

But when you sweetly whispered please, Joel, he didn't hesitate. He flipped you onto your back and pulled hastily at the buttons of his flannel while he cemented his mouth against yours. Your hands drifted to his hair and back, pulling and scratching as you went while he finally flung open the shirt. He instantly latched his lips around your nipple, making you moan and arch your back underneath him.

"So beautiful," he mumbled against your chest. "Tell me again."

You smiled and peered down at him. "I love you."

He breathed a sigh of relief, his exhale fanning over your skin, making your nipples tighten. His rough hands slid down your stomach, thick fingers splayed wide, trying to touch as much of you as possible at once.

You could hear your heartbeat thrumming steadily in your ears when he dipped his fingers below the elastic of your underwear, a deafening sound that made it hard to focus but when he slid a finger slowly through your arousal, your senses suddenly sharpened. The house could have been on fire but you never would have known because all you could focus on was him.

He dragged his open mouth across your chest, teeth grazing over your collarbone, tongue flicking out and tasting you as he went. His lips puckered and sucked at your skin as he pet gently at your entrance, making you squirm with need and tug impatiently at his hair. When he pulled his hand out of your underwear, you made a frustrated little noise that made him smile. He popped his finger into his mouth and you watched, struggling to breathe, as his eyes fluttered closed and he moaned like he had just slipped into a warm bath after a hard day.

"God, I missed that," he whispered, and the look on his face made you actually believe him.

"Joel..." you breathed, plucking feebly at the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Lemme just make you come on my mouth first," and before you could respond, he was shimmying down between your legs and tugging off your panties. When you glanced down and saw how good it looked with his head between your legs, you relaxed and leaned back. How could you argue with that view?

"Oh," you sighed when his tongue first slid through your folds. You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, allowing your muscles to melt under his touch. His hands held your thighs open but he didn't need to bother. There was no possible way you would do anything to stop him. Not when he felt so good, taking his time and expertly lavishing your core with his tongue. And perhaps he was an expert. At least when it came to you, he had five years of experience to fall back on. He surely must have figured out what you liked in all that time.

Your breath was growing ragged and you could feel the heat creeping up your chest. He pressed the backs of your thighs, pushing your knees up towards your chest so he could devour every inch of you, eating messily at your cunt. You pulled your knees back and hooked your hands around each one, your thighs becoming too shaky to hold open with your own strength.

It was a combination of his lips wrapping around your clit and the deep groan that rumbled through his chest that made you come undone the first time. Instant relief flashed through your body and you released your knees, letting your legs fall limply onto the quilt while he eagerly cleaned you up with his tongue.

When he sensed it was too much, he began peppering kisses along your inner thighs, murmuring praise into your skin as he went. You opened your eyes and peered down at him, your breath getting caught in your throat at the sight. His mouth and beard were glistening with your slick, his own eyes remained shut as he mindlessly nipped and kissed your skin, but even from your angle you could see him rutting his hips into the mattress, looking for any amount of friction to relieve the ache.

You reached your arms out to him and he inched up but stopped at your stomach. He sighed and rested the side of his head against your belly, listening to your breath evening out as he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around your waist. It took you by surprise that he wasn't immediately jumping at the chance to chase his own release when it was clear just a moment before he was dying for it. You glanced down at him and smiled when you saw the look on his face, simply content with just holding and being close to you. Carding your fingers through his curls, you heard him hum before pressing a gentle kiss against your stomach.

It might have been that moment when you realized he was right. What you had was special and rare. You could feel it in your bones, the way a look or touch sent a jolt right through you. The way you felt drawn to him, even from the very first day of your accident, you could sense something in him. You had no idea at the time what it was, but you were beginning to understand now.

"Joel?" you whispered, worried he might have somehow fallen asleep. Then you felt it. The first hot teardrop hit your skin and your heart clenched. "C'mere," you said, tugging at his shoulders. Begrudgingly, he obeyed. And after his arms loosened and he unpeeled his wet face from your belly, you saw the anguish in his eyes. All watery and wide and guilt-ridden.

"I don't deserve you," he said softly, his voice breaking a bit as you cupped his jaw. "Never did and definitely don't now. Not after everything I've done. Don't deserve your forgiveness, let alone your love."

You shushed him and pressed your lips tenderly against his, your thumb wiping away his tears as they fell.

"Don't tell me who I can and cannot love," you said, taking his chin in your hand and giving it a firm shake, like you were punishing him. He chuckled thickly through the tears.

You pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him slower, your tongue just barely dipping into his mouth. He groaned when you began to plant wet kisses along his jaw and you noticed with pride that his chest was rising and falling faster than usual while his hips ground into yours.

"Love you s'much," he almost sounded drunk, the feel of your mouth over his skin clouding his mind and mushing his words together.

"Yeah?" you asked before sucking a bruise where his jaw met his throat. "Then show me."

Joel kicked off his sweatpants and boxers with a grunt but when you went to remove his flannel from around your shoulders, he stopped you.

"Leave it on."

Your cheeks flared with heat at the way he looked at you and all you could do was nod and bite your lip.

It felt like time stood still when you first felt him enter you. Like nothing else in the world mattered outside of those four walls. He held your gaze and your fingers dug into his back, each of you savoring the stretch with your mouths hung open, the only sound was the occasional sharp little breath or gasp from one or both of you.

You could see it in his face again and you had a feeling you mirrored his look. It was too intense. Too overwhelming. So much had happened that led up to that moment: all the fear, sadness, laughter, arguments, long talks and shared traumas came crashing down at once. A tear slid down your cheek right when his hips came flush with yours and he leaned down to kiss it away.

"You okay?"

You nodded and wiped another tear away with the back of your hand.

"It's just a lot, y'know?" you sniffled, hoping he understood. And he did.

His eyes glistened and he smiled, his fingers brushing away a few stray pieces of hair from your face. "I know. We've come a long way."

"Yeah," you whispered, blinking back more tears. Your fingertips traced his bottom lip, your eyes flickering around his face, taking in every little crease and dimple. "Kiss me."

He did as you asked, kissing you slow and deep, matching pace with his hips. Your fingers dug into his arms, holding onto him, keeping him close. His hand pushed his flannel back, exposing one of your shoulders while your head tilted back into the pillows, momentarily breaking away for air. You moaned softly when he began to grind his hips against you, providing your clit with some much needed stimulation while he dragged his mouth down the column of your throat and across your collarbone. When he sunk his teeth gently into your shoulder, he felt you clench around him and gasp.

How's that feel?

Do that again.

Tell me you love me.

I love you.

Those sweet, desperate whispers were shared, breathed into each other's mouths, every word dragged out, every touch deliberate and slow. Neither of you in the mood to rush a thing as your fingers tightly laced together next to your head.

His other hand skirted around your back and under his shirt, palm pressing against your spine, pulling you closer to him, if it was even possible. He flexed his hips and you groaned when the tip of his cock hit a spot that had your entire body buzzing.

"Right there," you whimpered into his neck, brows pinched together and stomach tightening as you concentrated on the fire being stoked deep within you. Every one of his powerful thrusts was adding fuel to the flames. Your skin was slick with sweat and you began to regret keeping his flannel on.

"I know, baby. I remember," he whispered, tightening his grip on you. "Fuck, y'feel so good, I can't-"

"Don't stop! Please, Joel, more," you begged, tears welling up and spilling down your cheeks the closer and closer he pushed you to the edge. Your thighs tensed around his waist and his lips kissed the tears away and when you came, crying his name into his skin, he soothed you. He told you how much he loved you, how much he missed being so close to you, reminded you he was right there, that he had you and everything was okay.

Moments later, you felt his body tremble and his hips stutter. In a haze, you loosened your legs from around his waist. His lips captured yours frantically, fast puffs of exhale fanning over your cheek as he got more and more lost in chasing his climax. Your shaking fingers reached up to get tangled in his hair, ensuring his mouth remained firmly planted against your lips, muffling his groans and garbled versions of your name and I love yous, swallowing everything down until he yanked his hips away, spilling himself all over your stomach.

You both broke the kiss and looked down between your bodies, watching as each weak thrust painted your skin with more and more of his release until he finally stilled and shuddered.

After he finally forced himself to stand, he cleaned you up and slipped back into bed, one of his legs sticking out from underneath the covers, still slightly panting for air. You curled into his side, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him, his nose getting buried in your hair as you listened to each other's breaths even out. You quietly told him about a wound you stitched up at work all by yourself the day before and he told you how proud he was of you. You listened to him tell you a little more about his trip, how relieved he felt now that he confirmed with his own eyes Jackson was safe. At least, for the time being.

The last thing you remembered was him telling you how much he hated sleeping on the ground and how much he missed you while his knuckles soothingly dragged over your stomach but all you could think about was the warm glow that radiated from your skin and the delicious soreness between your legs as you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you heard birds singing outside your window. You smiled before you even opened your eyes. Spring was coming. You always loved spring. Something about it made you hopeful and calm, and that morning was no exception.

You awoke still wrapped in his arms and his flannel, your cheek pressed against his bare chest, one of your legs slotted between his, enjoying the peace and quiet the morning brought.

"I thought you died," you admitted quietly once he woke, your fingertips tracing over the scar above his hip. "When you didn't come back that day, I was so worried. So scared my last words to you were something cruel and hurtful."

He hummed and said, "Oh darlin', I'm so sorry," then kissed the top of your head.

"Don't be. In a way, it helped me realize how much I care about you," you replied, lifting your chin from his chest to glance up at him. He always looked way too handsome in the morning. It was hardly fair. "Made me realize I couldn't live without you."

He grinned and rolled his shoulder, stretching out his sore muscles. "Well, if that's all it took, why didn't you say somethin' sooner?"

You giggled and looked back down at his scar, the smile slowly slipping from your face the longer you looked at the pale jagged edges marring his bronzed skin. "God, that day you didn't come back, though," you continued, your brow furrowed as you thought, "I had the worst pit in my stomach. Almost like I knew something was wrong, you know?"

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting you talk, completely at ease listening to your voice.

"It probably didn't help I had woken up that morning from the worst fucking nightmare."

"What nightmare?" he asked sleepily.

You chuckled when you thought about it.

"It's not really funny," you explained, rolling off of him and onto your back, pulling his flannel closed as you moved. "It had started out just like this, actually. It was morning, we were in bed and we were talking... about death?" you said the last part as if it were a question. "I was asking you if you believed in heaven and I told you I was afraid we were going to hell." His eyes snapped open and he quickly rolled his head to look at you, waiting for you to continue. You laughed again and shrugged. "I guess it felt like a premonition or something. Really freaked me out, it felt so real."

"What else?" he asked excitedly, sitting up. You looked up at him and cocked your head to the side.

"What do you mean?"

"What else do you remember? From the nightmare?"

"Oh," you said, pushing yourself up so you were also sitting. You stared at the wall blankly as you thought about it. "You told me we aren't bad people, and even though I told you we had done bad things, I believed you. Then..." you felt your cheeks flush and he sat forward eagerly.

"Then what?" he urged, and when you looked at him again, any trace of playfulness was gone.

"Then... it got a little dirty but I woke up before anything happened. But I do remember you were on top of me and you said-"

"This is heaven right here?" he finished for you, and you looked at him in surprise.

"Yes! How did-"

"That was no nightmare, honey. That happened," he told you, his voice rising. He thought his heart was going to explode, it was racing so fast.

"What?" you whispered, but Joel was already jumping out of bed and tugging on his boxers.

"C'mon, get up! We gotta take you to see Nick!"

"Wait," you said, buttoning up his flannel as he flew around the room, grabbing new clothes for you both. "Joel, this was a month ago, what will going to see Nick do?"

"I-I-I don't know! But we gotta tell him. Maybe there's somethin' we can do if we know you're capable of -"

"Joel, sit down," you said, cutting him off. He froze, having just tugged on a shirt but his jeans were still left unzipped and unbuttoned. You stared at him until he took the few steps towards the bed and sat down on the edge. "I'll talk to Nick next time I'm at work, but I don't want to barge in there and take up his time. You know this is out of his area of expertise."

He looked disappointed but he knew you were right because he finally nodded in agreement and bit the inside of his cheek while he stared at the floor. You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, drawing his attention back onto you.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," you said softly. "If my memories come back, then they come back. If they don't, they don't. All that matters is this... right?" you asked, inching closer to him and resting a hand on his thigh. He smiled and enveloped your hand in his.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, staring down at your conjoined hands for a moment. "You wanna go get some breakfast? Maybe talk 'bout it a bit more?"

"Sure," you replied, then leaned forward, kissing him tenderly before standing up. "I should probably shower, though. Last night got a little messy," you said, tossing him a wink over your shoulder. He smirked and watched your ass sway back and forth in his fucking clothes as you made your way to the bathroom. You turned around in the doorway, one hand on the knob, the other braced against the frame as you looked at him expectantly from across the room. "Aren't you coming?"

All the blood rushed directly between his legs and just like that, his excitement for you recalling a memory was replaced by a very different kind of excitement.

"Hell, yes," he said, standing up and shucking off his shirt as he followed you into the bathroom. He grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his mouth against yours, kicking the door shut behind him.

Three Months Later

"Can't believe I'm the one teachin' you how to shoot," Joel muttered in disbelief as you walked back from the line of trees where he had hammered a paper target into one of the trunks. "You were always a better shot than me. Almost better than Tommy, and he was in the goddamn Army."

You laughed and shook your head, still finding it difficult to believe that you ever shot a gun before. From what you remember, you were always afraid of guns growing up.

"Maybe I'm a natural, then."

Enough time had passed and the weather had gotten warm enough where you decided it would be beneficial to re-learn how to shoot. You didn't plan on going back to patrol, but in the world you lived in, it was an important skill to have.

You sat down next to Joel on the fallen tree trunk in the middle of a small field about two miles away from Jackson. He picked up each one of his guns and inspected them, making sure they were clean so there wouldn't be much kickback.

"Have any dreams lately?"

You sighed and shook your head. "Just the one about Ellie, and that was over a month ago."

When you woke up one morning from a dream that felt all too real, you shook Joel awake to tell him about it. It was a simple dream, but it felt intense. You had dreamed Ellie sat you and Joel down at the kitchen table, and full of nerves, explained that she was seeing someone. Someone she cared about deeply. You seemed to catch on quicker than Joel because the conversation lead to where Ellie had to point blank explain to him that she was dating another girl. He seemed surprised but not overly shocked, and when he shrugged it off and still maintained that his only concern was her partner treating her right, her face broke out into a huge smile.

After he confirmed it was a memory, you agreed to see Nick. He didn't end up having much insight on what spurred your sudden recollection that day, just as you expected. But much to your surprise, Joel was perfectly calm. In fact, he made a point of thanking Nick and you even saw him smile at the other man.

And it wasn't just Nick you noticed his demeanor changing toward, either. When kids playing in the street bumped into him, he laughed and waved them off. When Jesse proposed to his girlfriend, Joel was one of the first in line to give him a hearty handshake and wished them well.

You weren't sure if his behavior changed because you were so revolted by it in the beginning, or if he was just happier in general, but you didn't complain.

"Alright, so which one d'you think we're gonna use from this distance?" he asked after he showed you his revolver and then his rifle, explaining the difference between each: how they handled, when to use them, when not to use them, and then finally, how to load and unload them.

You gave him a blank look. "The rifle, Joel. I'm not a complete idiot. I've seen movies."

He grinned and holstered his revolver.

"Good girl. Beauty and brains," he said, and you rolled your eyes.

"Don't start."

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Don't start flirting with me. You'll distract me and I want to take this seriously."

"I ain't flirtin' with you."

"Yes, you are!"

He laughed heartily at your frustrated little pout. "Can you blame me? You're so goddamn cute."

"Joel..." you whined, and he held up both hands in defeat before picking up the rifle.

"Alright, alright. Lemme shoot off a few rounds and you watch my form, okay? Watch my shoulders and where my hands go."

"Okay."

You observed him as he took aim at the target, nearly hitting the bullseye but not quite.

"You wanna give it a shot?"

"Pun intended?"

He grinned and held out the rifle, so you grabbed it and sunk down to one knee, resting your elbows on the tree trunk as you tried to imitate his posture.

"Like this?"

"Mhm," he said, "now take a deep breath and squeeze the trigger nice 'n slow."

Doing as you were told, you inhaled and blinked a few times, making sure your vision was clear and your eye was on the prize. Pursing your lips, you slowly exhaled and squeezed the trigger - only to miss hitting the target entirely.

"Shit," you grumbled, sitting back on your heels.

"You got spooked by the kickback," Joel said, "try again, but this time try not to flinch."

You shouldered the rifle and took aim, once again taking a deep breath and focusing on the little yellow circle in the middle of the target. When you fired off your second round, doing your best not to flinch, you clipped the edge of the paper, but you were no where near the center.

"Goddamnit!" you yelled angrily. Joel chuckled and crouched behind you.

"Here. Lemme help you."

He wrapped his arms around yours and pressed his chest against your back, his hands coming to rest on top of yours as he made some minuscule adjustments to your posture.

"Y'gotta be gentle, see?" he whispered in your ear. Your eyelids fluttered but you managed to nod. "Gotta be patient. Don't let her scare you. Think of her as an extension of you. Like another arm."

"Her?" you teased.

He chuckled, his breath puffing against the back of your neck. "Yeah. Her. I'm respectful and careful with all my girls."

"All?" you repeated, leaning into him a bit. "How many are there?"

"Oh, tons," he said, making you giggle. "But if it makes you feel any better, you're my favorite."

"A favorite over a bunch of guns? I'm so flattered."

"Hey, now. Didn't you just say you wanted to take this seriously? C'mon, focus up," and you knew he was right so you straightened up and pressed your eye against the scope once again.

Joel stayed behind you, his hands on your shoulders to help stabilize your upper body as you squeezed off shot after shot. His advice helped a little, you were at least hitting the paper, but you weren't getting anywhere near his shots from earlier. He could see you were growing frustrated so when you ran out of bullets, he took the rifle and told you to take a break while he reloaded.

"It's okay, darlin'. It's gonna take a bit to get used to it."

You sighed and slumped forward on the tree trunk. "Yeah, I guess," you mumbled.

For the next twenty minutes, Joel coached you while you struggled to remember all his advice at once. Keep your shoulders loose. Don't flinch. Follow through. Breathe. When you pulled the last round into the chamber and took aim, you expected it to go like all the others so you stopped worrying about it and just pulled the trigger.

"Holy shit, you did it!" Joel exclaimed excitedly. You hadn't even bothered to look, so you quickly brought the scope back up to your face. When you saw the small little circle burning a hole through the paper, nearly dead center, you squealed and quickly placed the rifle against the tree so you could jump into Joel's arms. He wrapped his arms around your ribs and spun you around while you giggled into his neck.

"Told you," he said with a wide grin after he put you back down. You grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him into you, crashing your lips together, taking him by surprise. He stumbled forward but wrapped a hand around the back of your neck just as you lost your own footing and fell onto the grass, dragging him down with you.

You laughed against his mouth, still peppering kisses all over his face. He braced both arms on either side of you, elbows digging into the warm grass, smile permanently stretching across his cheeks as he soaked up your affection.

When your laughter died down, you pulled away to gaze up at him, your fingers playing with the dark curls at the base of his neck. The sun was shining over the field and onto his tanned skin, making his sparkling brown eyes look like the color of gold. It took your breath away.

"You're so handsome," you whispered in awe, your fingers leaving his hair in favor of stroking the graying stubble dusting his cheeks. He blushed and shook his head, but before he could protest, you spoke again. "I love you so much, Joel. Sometimes it makes me sad to think we probably wouldn't have ever known each other if the world didn't end."

His eyes softened and he gave you a small smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I'll always find you. In every life, in every universe. You've got a piece of me," he tapped your chest lightly, "I don't make the rules."

You laughed and laced your fingers together with his. "Like fate?"

He shrugged. "Call it whatever you want. I already told you, sweetheart. We're meant to be together."

You pulled him down for another kiss, this one more gentle. More loving. More intimate. For the hundredth time, you mentally berated yourself for wasting so much time after your accident when you could have been with him like this, being loved and adored and cherished all along. Instead, you both had been searching endlessly for some version of yourself that you weren't sure you would ever find again. But then you realized if you never did, that was okay. Because you got to fall in love with each other all over again, and how many people get to say that?

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #ikwya fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou

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kyunzin · 3 months

Note

Hey my love, I absolutely love your writing especially with the JJK men. But spinning off of that and only if you have time, could you write a fic where each of them (whom ever you chose) react to chubby y/n wearing a brand new dress they got?

𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲

character; 𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

cw; the price doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy (f!reader)

tags; chubby reader, public sex, slight voyerism (people can hear what’s going on), body worship/ oral mentioned (f!receivng), fingering, standing sex

a/n: thanks ☺️ and I’m always happy to make time for requests

✰ so what if he went a bit overboard in buying dresses.

✰ so what if it may have drained the money he just earned from his recent mission.

✰ why should it matter if he gets to see your bright smile as you walk out of the changing room with the the tightest dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.

he sits there in front of your stall watching as you walk out in a crimson off the shoulders short dress that barely covers your ass and outlines your figure perfectly. a pait of stilettos, a small shoulder purse and a thin black neck scarf to tie the outfit together.

“fuck me”

his hand is covering his mouth so you just barely catch the end of his sentence but you can still see the beaming smile from under his hand. this is your favourite one out of all the ones you’ve tried on so far so you hope he likes it too. “what did you say baby, and also what do you think of this one”

“dont worry about what i said, i think this is the best one you’ve tried on all day”

he stands up, rubbing his hands together as he walks over to you. you turn back around looking at the way it fits on you with a conflicted look on your face. “you really thinks so, I thinks it’s a little bit tight” not a moment later you feel his arm wrap around you as he leans down to press a kiss into the crook of your neck.

“it looks perfect on you baby, I promise”

it’s only a second later that you feel something poking into your back and you have half a mind to know that it’s not his belt and you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to get your attention pressing into you further. upon realising you let out a shocked gasp “really ‘toru, we’re in public”

“cant help it baby, wanna help me out?”

you can hear the smile in his voice as he rubs up your sides and you cant say that you’re against the idea, but you’re a little nervous about being caught. “we have yo be really quite ‘toru or they’ll hear us.

he doesn’t wait a second before turning you around and picking you up, causing the bag to slip from your shoulders, bringing you back inside the small dressing room closing the door behind the two of you and you let out a surprised yelp when he pushes you against the cold surface of the mirror.

he holds you up by your plush thighs and even with your weight you have no doubt that he won’t drop you as he has proved multiple times that he’s able to hold you.

he long since got rid of your insecurities even though it may have taken hours of him spent down between you plush thighs eating you out and worshipping every inch of you body kissing and licking away any doubts of his desire for you.

your hand reaches to grip his hair as his mouth latches onto yours. after a moment his tongue darts across your lips pushing it’s way into your mouth, which you accept and moan into the kiss as you feel his fingers slide under the dress to pull your thong to the side and slide his fingers into your cunt.

the only reason he’s able to curl his fingers inside you with ease is because he had fucked you against the door before you left, pulling up your tennis skirt sliding your thong to the side for a quick fuck before you left the house. it’s like he’s insatiable, unable to keep his hands of you, fucking you on any surface he deems suitable not that you’re complaining .

hence why the two of you end up licking your way into each other’s mouths in a public space with no shame and it’s not long before you start to feel yourself cuming around he lengthy fingers only for him to quickly remove them. you let out a whine as you break from the kiss “fuck, no no no! please don’t stop. I was so close, why’d you stop?”

“you know you only get to cum on my cock baby, don’t forget that”

“then hurry up and fuck me already” he laughs at you impatience but works on completing you request by pulling your legs around his waist and you get the silent command and lock them behind his back so his hands are free. while he works on undoing his belt and pulling down his trousers you occupy yourself with sucking hickeys into his neck and collar.

you have to bite down onto his shoulder in order to muffle your moan as he pushes into you with no warning though he does let out a whispered growl as he sinks into your cunt. “oh fuck! a w-warning would be nice next time asshole”

he laughs at your irritation and lifts you up from his cock slightly before slamming you back down without warning again. the both of you moaning out a shared “fuuuck” at the jolt of his hips connecting with yours, the slap of your skin against his resonating in the small space.

you expect him to go slow but he does the opposite of setting a brutal pace, lifting and dropping you on his cock like you weigh nothing. the sound of your dripping cunt stretched around his thick cock circulating in the space, both of you panting and moaning out. he has to kiss you in order to keep both of your moans quiet not wanting to draw much attention to you two.

“oh fuck, your gripping me so fucking tight, taking my cock like a -shit! good girl, such a good girl f’ me arent ya”

you nod your head frantically moans to frequent for you to get out a coherent secret but he’s able to make out your little rambles of “fuck m’ gonna cum, don’t stop, please please please!” even without you saying it he can feel it by the way your pussy grips into his duck as he lifts it up. he’s not surprised when he hears your moans of “m’cuming. fuck fuck fuck!”

he feels as you gush around him and it almost sends him over the edge but he’s able to keep it with a harsh bite to your shoulder. he really wants to cum but he can’t because he knows that you would hate having to walk in public with his cum dripping out of you, he regrets not bring a plug with him to keep you stuffed, so he reluctantly pulls out after the waves of your orgasm fade.

“cant fucking wait for us to get home, lets go pay for these and leave”

he gently sets you down and the both of you work on fixing your appearance in the mirror though theres nothing that will hide your bite marks, not that there’s anything you can do about that. you change back into your original outfit and he picks up all the dresses you left hanging on the wall and opens the door leading the both of you out.

it’s hard not to notice the stares of the other customers and he cant help but smile knowing that everyone definitely knows how good he fucked you. the cashiers face is reddened and you notice that she fails to meet either of your gazes as he pays for the dresses, you hide behind him in shame and wait for him to finish paying before quickly pulling him out the store.

✰ so what if you hear people whispering as you walk past.

✰ so what if he has to walk through the mall with a prominent bugle in his pants.

✰ why should it matter if when he gets home he drops all the bags on the floor and fucks you against the door again and then fucks you in all the pretty dresses he bought.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@riowmie @tyunixia

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satorusugurugurl · 23 days

Note

can we please get something about satoru x reader x suguru 🤲🏻💖

i would absolutely love a third part

and fourth

and fifth 👀

Reversal!

Characters: Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru, FAB!Reader

Warning: Language, smut, Reader is fuckin pissed, sitting on face, body worship

Word Count: 1,597

A/N: I received this request and a suggestion for the reader being mad. I merged the two! As for other parts, I’m so down. Send me suggestions! 😈💚

Part One Part Two

It wasn’t very often that you were sent off on a mission alone. Usually, you were stuck in Tokyo handling curses here while your partners were sent off overseas. So imagine your surprise when Yaga and the higher-ups sent you overseas to London.

You had been ecstatic!

You were looking forward to seeing sights you’d never seen before. The wonder and woe wore off the second you stepped off the plane. You were ushered off to a tiny rural village, where not one, not two, but seven curses had been spotted. It took you a damn week to exorcize all of them. You could have finished it sooner if the stupid locals stopped getting in your way.

When you finally made it home, you were irritated, exhausted, and needed stress relief. Stress relief that involved your two boyfriends and their skillful tongues and appendages. They had no idea what was in store for them as you unlocked the door.

Satoru was happily eating a cookie when the front door nearly came off its hinges just as he passed it. He choked, raising his hand to defend himself with Hollow Purple, only to see you throwing your shoes off with a dark expression washed over your pretty face.

“Oh, my fuck!” He gasped out, coughing as cookie crumbs choked him. “You scared the ever-loving shit out of my sweetheart!” When you said nothing, Satoru tilted his head, taking note of the dark circles under your eyes, the ashy tone of Your skin, and how you gritted your teeth as you threw your suitcase to the side. “Rough week?”

No words were said as you grabbed him by the front of the shirt. “Shut the fuck up.” You snarked like a lioness on the prowl.

Satoru gulped as he was yanked down the hall towards Suguru’s room. When you reached The slightly cracked door, you kicked it in, causing the raven-haired man to jump. His eyes darted from his book to the doorway, where he found your exhausted, angry features and Satoru’s terrified face.

What had they forgotten to do when you were gone? Laundry? No, that was done. Messy house? No, the duo was always neat. Dinner wasn't made? That couldn't be it; you had told them you wanted takeout before boarding the plane home. Not knowing what was going through your beautiful mind made you ten times scarier.

Several seconds passed as scenarios crossed his mind before Suguru cleared his throat. He placed his book down on the nightstand, striding towards you with a cocked eyebrow. His movements were slow and full of caution as he approached you like you were a wild beast.

“Princess? You okay?”

You moved at lightning speed, releasing Satoru before you shoved Suguru back onto the bed. He didn’t say a word as he watched you take off your panties before bunching your skirt up to your hips. Before he knew it, you were yanking down his sweats as you onto the bed. Satoru watched in horny shock as you straddled Suguru’s face and bent down over him to stroke his best friend's cock.

“Toru, get the fuck behind me, and fuck me.” You barked out as if he was supposed to know what to do.

“R-Right!” He stripped out of his clothes as Suguru groaned underneath you. His tongue wasted no time, darting out and licking at your damp folds as you took his cock into your mouth, sucking it gently. “I guess it was a rough week.”

You wanted to snap back at Satoru, but how could you when Suguru was licking your clit like it was candy. You gasped, leaning forward, taking his cock into your mouth with a hungry groan. Satoru was half tempted to sit back and watch his two sexy partners sixty-nine, but the image of your furious face had him moving despite his desires.

The feeling of Suguru’s hot wet tongue flattening and lapping over your clit, to feeling Satoru’s cock stretch you open had you gasping around Suguru’s cock, your eyes fluttering as they rolled back at the sensation. It was so good, your clit being stimulated while your pussy was being stuffed. It was like worlds were colliding; a cosmic event was taking place between your legs, and your pussy was crying happy tears.

The warmth of your mouth and hearing the grunts from Satoru had Suguru’s cock throbbing in your mouth. The stimulation was great, but having you take control, making them do what you wanted, it was just as good as them taking out their frustrations on you. Maybe he needed to talk to Yaga about sending you out more often. Oh god, what if they sent you and Satoru out together, or you and him? The possibilities were endless.

Possibilities that had Suguru furrowing his brows as he hungrily licked and sucked at your clit. If you needed them this bad, by god, he’d give you everything you fucking wanted. You wanted to cum on his face. He’d make that happen! Once you finished, if you wanted more, he’d give you more. Suguru grabbed the top of your thighs, slamming you down directly on his tongue, devouring you.

Suguru’s sudden action had Satoru wincing, his faltering as you tightened around his cock. Your walls pulsated and clenched around him. Fuck, how the fuck were you so wet but still so goddamn tight?! He felt like you were going to squeeze his cock off of the three of you and kept going at this pace. Suguru was eating you out while you gagged around his cock. The sight was better than any porn he’d ever seen. And he was fucking loving in it!

“Fuuuck~!!” Satoru threw his head back, hips jerking forward faster. “Oooh god fuck me, t-this is so hot.”

“Mmmph~ mmhm!” Suguru moaned in agreement from underneath you, sending vibrations dancing through your clit.

You gagged on Suguru’s cock pulling back enough to breathe. “If it feels that fucking good, shut up and keep going!” You shouted, sending a glare with no heat in Satoru’s direction. He didn’t freeze up under your harsh words; no, instead, he groaned as his cock twitched inside of you, his hips moving as you instructed him to do so.

His pace picked up as you went back to sucking on Suguru’s fat cock, deep-throating him with a moan as he flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit. Already, you were feeling your orgasm tightening in your belly. Satoru could feel it, too, from the way you clenched down on his cock, your gummy walls pulsating.

Satoru wasn’t the only one to notice. Your dark-haired boyfriend picked up on the telltale signs of you being close as well. Your clit twitched, and your moans grew louder, buzzing around his cock as you gagged on him. Knowing precisely what you needed, Suguru sealed his lips around your sensitive bud, sending your eyes shooting wide. Satoru picked up the pace of his thrusts.

The buzzing hum in your head wasn’t from being buzzed off alcohol. No, it was from being buzzed off of your partners. They worked in tandem with each other between Satoru’s thrust and Suguru’s insatiable skills with his tongue. You cried out, toes churching back, arching as they worked you to the brink of your orgasm.

“That’s right, sweetheart~ we got you~ cum~” Satoru growled against your shoulder as he kissed your skin. His words drew you closer, but Suguru sent you over the edge. He was moaning, growling around your clit as his balls clenched, his cum sliding down your throat. All the while, he moved his head back and forth as fast as he could, pulling you over the edge with him.

The orgasm that ripped through you had you rock back against Satoru and over Suguru’s still-working mouth. Satoru’s dick repetitively hits your g-spot over and over, making you squirt around him and all over Suguru’s face. While Suguru hummed in approval lapping up all of the juices he could, Satoru fucks you deeper and harder as his orgasm hits him. He fucked his load deep inside of your tight cunt, making you cry out as you pulled off of Suguru.

“O-Oooh~ oh fuck yes~!” You palm your breasts as your boyfriends gasp and pant, the three of you slowly coming down from your highs.

Once Satoru is positive he’s milked himself completely inside of you, he pulls his sensitive cock out of you, allowing you to get off Suguru, collapsing in the bed next to him. Satoru smirks, chuckling roughly as he stares down at Suguru’s fucked out expression, his perfectly beautiful face shimmering with your cum. Blue eyes dart towards you, panting just as heavily, looking a million times happier than when you first came home.

“N-Now I—“ you gasped, “I get it.”

Suguru turned his head towards your voice, “Get what, Princess?” He groaned. He was rolling into his stomach to watch you.

“Why your guys fuck the life out of me after a long mission.” Their smiles are palpable as you hum happily, pulling them both to either side of you. They oblige, Satoru resting his head over your breasts while Suguru buries his face into the crook of your neck. “That was fucking great, let go again.”

Suddenly, Satoru and Suguru were beginning to wonder if you going out on missions like them would be for the best. You were fucking unfathomable hot when you took control, but they also know how passionate you were. They could only pray their cocks would survive the night to come.

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reverie-starlight · 2 months

Text

I miss knb and I wanted to write something for aomine :’) I’ve never written for him and it’s been a while since I’ve watched the show, so forgive me if you feel that his characterization is a bit off. hello from late january cause that’s when I’m queuing this 👋🏻

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. lots and lots and lots of fluffy pet names bc that’s the focus of the drabble. he calls you shnookums once just to annoy you bc he’s a little shit. that’s a warning in itself tbh. mentions of alcohol/drunk character. characters written as adults, not high schoolers.

aomine has specific nicknames for you depending on the situation you find yourselves in.

he reserves “babe” or some shortened variation of your name for when you’re in public.

it’s quick, it’s casual, and it doesn’t get him a lecture on why it’s not funny to very loudly address you as “shnookums” when you get separated at the grocery store.

(though in his defence, he thought it worked wonders. you were back at his side within seconds after straying too far on accident with a half embarrassed, half pissed off look on your face. he thought it was hilarious.)

~~~

he calls you “baby” when he greets you after a long day at work. when he’s picking you up from your classes. normally only in your presence, because he doesn’t need the teasing remarks about how soft he’s become from his teammates.

not that he really cares at the end of the day- he’ll call you what he wants to call you (provided you also like it, of course) but there’s something less casual about it that makes him want to keep it just for you.

that “something” being the time you got drunk and offhandedly mentioned loving the way it sounds in his voice. he now gets to enjoy the small, barely noticeable uptick of your lips whenever he opts for it. no one else gets to see that.

he’ll help you with your coat and press a kiss to your hairline, murmuring a soft “hey baby, missed you today”.

it’s probably the most common of the names he uses on you out of all the available options.

~~~

he saves the saccharine pet names for when he knows you’re not feeling your best. whether you’re mentally drained, physically exhausted or sick to any degree, there’s never not a time when hearing him be sickeningly sweet with you doesn’t ease the pain.

“need anything else, sweetheart?”

“how are you feeling, gorgeous?”

“yeah, we can cuddle, doll, c’mere.”

these are also the times he plays up the compliments (more than usual).

“even when you’re sick, you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. don’t let it get to your head, though. or do- I know how to deal with that just fine, too.”

~~~

he doesn’t have one set nickname for you when you visit him at practice, but when you watch him play in an official game?

as long as you’ve known him, he’s never believed in luck- he got himself to where he is with his skills, luck had nothing to do with it.

so it surprises you the first time he refers to you as his good luck charm. it’s not said in some grand gesture, not brought up in those fluff promotional interviews when reporters ask him if he has one.

it’s whispered quietly into your ear before he jogs onto the court.

a murmured thank you against your lips as soon as he’s running off again, high on a win, straight to you.

you ask him about it one day and he just shrugs. “everything is different now. I play better when I know you’re watching, it’s energizing in a way I’ve never felt before. you’re right, I still don’t believe in luck, but somehow I was able to find you. and I don’t know if I would call that luck, either, but until I find a better way to explain it you’re just gonna have to put up with that title a bit longer.”

so you do, without complaints, because it’s cute trying to watch him convey his feelings honestly and still in a very aomine way.

~~~

your absolute favourite nickname that he’s given you, though? angel.

you’re his angel.

the title is first appointed when you pick him up one night from a bar after celebrating with his team. his usually brooding expression visibly lights up when he sees you and he makes his way over. it’s been a while since he’s been this drunk, so it makes you laugh when he stumbles over and throws an arm around your shoulders.

“what a sweetheart, you really came to pick me up?”

you scoff and try to get him into the car, waving at his teammates who were staying with him until you got there. “what, baby, you thought I wouldn’t?”

he shrugs with an absentminded grin. “it’s just nice to have a… battle angel or whatever that term is. I dunno what it is.”

you can’t help but laugh. “you mean a guardian angel?”

“same thing, you knew what I meant!” his words are slurred and he’s now leaning his entire body weight against you.

“oh you are so wasted, daiki, let’s get you home.”

and it’s whispered again at home as he’s falling asleep, “my angel… thank you for taking care of me tonight.”

your heart squeezes.

now it’s reserved for only the most intimate of moments with him- he doesn’t want to overuse the name and risk it losing its meaning.

because it does hold a deeper, unspoken meaning between the two of you.

after a long time apart because of his away games? after he wins an important match? loses a match and he’s thankful you’re there with him? you get a promotion at work? you pass a difficult class with flying colours? all situations where he’d call you angel.

he has a full arsenal of names for you, clearly, and you love every single one of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this feels a bit messy. even after editing, I feel like the quality went down a bit, so we’ll see if I end up posting it. but I love him a lot and I’ve been rewatching knb, so I needed to do something for him to keep the brainrot at bay.

tagging: @dira333

#aomine x reader #aomine daiki x reader #aomine x reader fluff #daiki aomine x reader #aomine fluff #knb x reader #knb x reader fluff

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shslbunnylover · 4 months

Note

hii!! i love your fics so much. i really wanted to request a christmas oneshot with melissa x reader. where they’re married and they decide to surprise each other gifts (the readers gift to mel is the lingerie set mel has been wanting to see in the reader).

(very spicy please with some fluff and smut)

★★★𝘼 𝙜𝙞𝙛𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚★★★

Character: Melissa Schemmenti

Summary: See ask above!

Requester: Anonymous

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @lilfartbox1

Trigger warnings (DL, DI): Smut, Mommy kink, Praise, Degradation, Top Mel/Bottom reader, Dom/sun dynamics, Vaginal fingering (Reader receiving), Oral (Reader receiving), Clitoral stimulation (Reader receiving),

Genre: Smut

A/n: This was such an awesome ask! Absolutely loved this idea 🤭

Word count: 2.2k

...

You sat on the couch with your wife, laying your head on her chest as her hands fondled your hair, her nails occasionally scratching softly at your scalp. The smell of her perfume clouded your nostrils, leaving your brain foggy with only thoughts of her inside of it.

The outside smells of cookies made and candles burned were nothing more than an afterthought when your body was engulfed in the scent of your wife,

"I still don't understand how nobody at the checkout mentioned a girlfriend, like at all," Melissa's laugh broke you out of your thoughts, her eyes rolling at the ridiculous scene playing on the TV in front of you two.

"That would have been an interesting conversation, because knowing Buddy, he would have said something like 'It's for my dad actually', you know? I wish they had added that in the movie," You replied, adjusting yourself so that your head lay on the redhead's shoulder.

"I wonder how awkward that would be to film though," Melissa thought, her soft and nimble fingers wrapping strands of your hair around themselves mindlessly as if it were natural to her. "But the bloopers must be even more fun to watch,"

As the scene where Walter Hobbs is opening the gift naively given by Buddy played on the TV screen, you looked up to see your wife licking her lips with a smirk before speaking.

"Say, I'd like to see you in that," She nudged you, causing you to laugh.

"I don't think I'd look good in it," You giggled, burying your face into her out of embarrassment and the thought of yourself in such an underwear set.

"Oh come on hon," Melissa rolled her head back, looking at you with raised eyebrows and an even fatter grin. "That body of yours would fit perfectly into it, and it'd match your face, all red like that,"

You stuck your tongue out at your wife, narrowing your eyes while a new idea found its way into your head. You looked back down at the screen to watch the rest of the movie, leaving you with a miniature smirk on your lips.

You spent the rest of that week trying to find the same lingerie set from the movie, hoping to get it in time for Christmas as a surprise for Melissa.

"Damn it, why is the evil Jeff Bezos website not working?" You groaned, putting your head in your hands, closing the computer, and placing your elbow on the cold steel shell of the device.

"What's wrong hon?" Your wife asked, opening the door to your shared bedroom, only to see you visibly frustrated.

"It's nothing, my love," You smiled, pulling her in for a soft kiss.

"Alright..." Melissa looked at you with a doubtful look, squeezing your shoulder before leaving to take a shower.

You sighed, looking out the window to admire the darkness of the night, smiling softly as you noticed a couple of snowflakes stick to the window before eventually melting from the warmth of the glass.

You thought hard for a moment before you felt a lightbulb go off in your head.

"Ava..."

"So, it's usually about 40 bucks off my shop, but because you're my employee and my best friend, it's half off," Ava smiled mischievously at the situation you were in.

"Thanks, Ava," You rolled your eyes, handing her the cash before grabbing the bag. "We will never talk about this, Amazon was down," You blushed.

"Will do, baby boo," The principal smirked, shooing you away to resume watching Love Island.

You shot your friend the middle finger, shutting the door to her office, and stuffing the bag inside your purse.

When Christmas morning finally arrived after what seemed like just a blink of an eye, a warm blanket of silence covered the house. It had been such a hectic morning of gifts and surprises that the silence felt good. The two of you sat side by side, taking in the moment and the ardency of one another. The fire brought a comfortable warmth around you, and a delicious breakfast made by your wife sat untouched on the table, as it was meant for later. All that mattered now was sharing the day together and enjoying the silence. No sounds of unwrapping or exclamations of surprise, just the calm air lingering between you two while you looked through the photo book Melissa had given you.

"So Princess, do you like it?" Melissa asked, watching as you held a soft photo book from your wedding.

"I love it so much Mel," You replied, tears brimming at your eyes as you flipped through each photo, laughing softly at the goofy ones.

"But, I still have one more gift to give you," You smiled, shooting her a wink and standing up to go to your bedroom to get changed into the surprise.

Your partner sat there while you got dressed, texting Barbara a thank you for the help with the photo book, unaware of the spicy surprise waiting for her.

You swiftly pulled the straps to the lingerie onto your shoulders, your fingers moving to graze softly on the fluffy edges of the fabric.

"You almost done in there, hon?" Melissa laughed at how long you were taking while she cleaned up the wrapping paper.

"Y-Yeah I'll be out in a second!" You replied, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

Your arms folded in front of your body as you walked behind Melissa, tapping her softly on the shoulder and watching her turn around swiftly.

"So, what-" The redhead was cut off by the sight of you in the lingerie.

Her mouth was hanging slightly open, all the moisture in there going straight to her core.

The lingerie sat tightly against your body, showing off every inch of your figure. A warm red fabric with white trimming covered the top part of the outfit, clinging to your curves and framing your breasts beautifully. You paired the underwear with a pair of white fishnets and red lipstick, as you knew Melissa loved when you wore that shade of red.

"Oh...Jesus Christ Hon," Melissa gasped, walking up to you and cupping your breast with her hand and your chin with the other. "You look delicious," She practically groaned, pinching your nipple tightly to elect a whimper from you.

"F-Fuck-" You let your head fall onto her clavicle, biting your lip almost as roughly as your wife was being with your tits.

Her palm fell from your chin, pushing you back from her embrace to get the perfect view. Her soft and gentle fingers trailed over your exposed skin, your flesh raising once the tips finally left the area.

"I can't believe this is all mine, these tits, this face, everything about you," Your wife spoke in a husky tone, moving her lips to your neck, leaving soft blue marks on your otherwise [skin color] skin.

"P-Please Mel-" You pleaded, the pain causing the heat in your core to bubble up.

"Ah ah ah-" She tutted, pinching your nub tighter. "What do you call me?"

"Mommy..." You corrected yourself, pressing your body against her, moving your hips so your clit rubbed up against her thigh.

The older woman quickly and harshly swatted your button, watching with a grin as you shivered from the sudden sting.

"Good girl..." The redhead chuckled. "Now, I'm gonna take full advantage of this Christmas present," She spoke, grabbing you and dragging you upstairs.

When she finally made her way to your bedroom, she pushed you onto the bed with a simple flick of her hand, her green eyes watching how your tits bounced as your back hit the mattress like a predator stalking its prey before going to devour it.

"Please do mommy, I got this just for you," You breathed out, spreading your thighs apart to reveal your soaked cunt.

The redhead's emerald eyes widened, and an amused expression made its way onto her facial features.

"Fuck...now this is the bow on top," Melissa licked her lips, wasting no time and immediately burying her face in you, her tongue working wonders as it plunged in and out of you, only pausing to k the tips of her fingers.

Her digits swiftly went to rub on your clit, moving in circles that shot chills up your spine.

Your body was engulfed in a deep warm feeling that started from within and spread out to the rest of your body. Your brain clouded with nothing but a feeling of intense pleasure, relaxation, and even ecstasy as you cried out her name.

"Yeah princess, taste so good," Your wife hummed into your sensitive pussy, the soft vibrations adding to the waves of pleasure pulsating throughout your body

You can feel yourself breathing heavily and panting as your body began to tremble with pleasure.

"Mommy, I-I...Oh God!" You cried, your legs shaking violently from the stimulation on your sensitive button.

Your hand dug into her hair, your thighs clenching around the sides of her head.

Her tongue flicked around your folds, the sweet taste of your release settling on her tastebuds as she savored each lick she gave to your sensitive pussy. Her green eyes rolled back into her head, internally questioning how someone could taste as addicting and as delicious as you did.

But she wasn't done with you. She wanted to hold off your release for as long as possible like always. She was always such a tease, and with your new outfit, the redhead only wanted to watch your body squirm around even more than usual.

"Such a fucking whore," Melissa sighed, removing her mouth from your pussy to your dismay, releasing a laugh from her pretty pink lips when you let out a pleading moan.

The redhead ran her hand through her hair, licking her lips clean of your juices before running her hands up and down your body, squeezing at your breasts to elect more of your delicious sounds for her to relish in.

"Please, Mommy, don't tease!" You whimpered, rubbing your thighs for any sense of relief from the ache between your legs.

Melissa didn't respond to your whines and pleas, only spreading your legs with her strong hands.

"Surprising me with lingerie, knowing I'd fuck your brains out," She growled, bending down to kiss your neck, nibbling at your earlobe before plunging three of her fingers inside your tight hole.

Your toes curled tightly and your back arched, your hands that were gripping at the sheets the only thing keeping you from going completely off the edge.

"Oh f-fuck!" You choked out, your voice turning into a mixture of whimpers and cries as your wife's slender fingers rubbed up against your walls, collecting a white ring at the bottom that increased in visibility the more she pumped in and out of your tight walls.

"Yeah, such a good girl, taking my fingers with your pretty pussy," Melissa muttered, trailing her mouth down your figure before finally attaching her lips to your puffy clit, giving you the much-needed relief.

"Ahh~!! God! I'm going to come! Going to come!" You practically sobbed, your eyes rolling back into your head, the feeling of the redhead sucking on your sensitive nub too much for you to handle.

Just because of her fingers' movements, carefully perfected after years of being your partner, your body immediately became nothing more than a malleable and shaking sex puddle.

"God damn it, you're so easy hon," Your wife smirked, her expression predatory and seductive as she edged you on, her thrusts increasing in speed before slowing down whenever you were about to finish.

"Only for you- Please- Mommy, I need to come!" You cried out, wrapping your hands around Melissa's biceps for more connection to her, your fingernails leaving soft crescent moon indents in her milky skin.

"Then do it baby, make a mess on my fingers and my face," Melissa purred, giving your clit tiny little kitten licks with her agile tongue.

"Fu-Fuck-!! Mommy~!!" You screamed, your back relaxing as the relaxation from your release took over your body, a soft 'oomph' coming from the mattress once your body fully hit the soft plush.

You laid there, your eyes hooded and legs shaking, watching as Melissa sat down next to you, pulling you onto her lap.

"That- Holy shit..." You muttered, unable to say anything else due to the fogginess inside of your head.

The redhead opened your mouth, pushing one of her soaked digits inside, allowing you to clean it whilst tasting yourself.

"I think that was my favorite gift this year," She winked suggestively, pulling out of your mouth.

"I'm glad," You laughed, your head clearing up from how dumb-fucked you were. "Merry Christmas, my love,"

"Merry Christmas Amore," Melissa smiled, stroking away the hair that clung to your forehead. "Why don't we go get that breakfast I made? I don't want it getting cold after all,"

"Good idea," You agreed, attempting to stand up, only for your wife to sweep you off your feet and into her arms.

"I think you need to give these things a little rest," She teased, squeezing your thigh softly before making her way down the stairs.

...

If you enjoyed reading this, don't forget to like, reblog and comment! Thank you and you are loved <3

-Akira

#Melissa Schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti imagine #abbott elementary #lesbian #bisexual #pansexual #wlw #wlw ns/fw #nblw #nblw ns/fw #wlw and nblw only #smut #fluff #lisa ann walter #Akira writes

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estrellami-1 · 10 months

Text

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Steve slides down the wall as soon as he’s in the bathroom, hands going to his hair, gripping hard as he tries to remember how to breathe.

“Steve?” Robin says. “The door’s locked, it’s just us. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know if I can do this, Robs, I look at her and all I see is bullshit, and I know she’s got questions, and fuck, she probably thinks I’m cheating on her, which I’d never do, but she- and Jonathan-”

“Whoa,” Robin says, grabbing his hands. “Deep breaths, Steve-o, we’re gonna make it through this. I will absolutely flirt with Nancy if it helps on the accusation front. I told Eddie the kids like D&D, so hopefully…” she trails off, listening, and they both smirk when they hear Eddie, already in character. “That didn’t take long.”

“He’s a good guy,” Steve says. “And they’re good kids. Mostly.”

Robin snorts. “Mostly,” she agrees. “Listen, why don’t you break up with Nancy? Nothing else happens between the two of you, right? So we tell everyone what’s going on, you pull Nancy aside—I’ll come for moral support if you want—and explain what happens and tell her you can’t see her anymore.”

“You don’t think it’ll mess with the whole timeline thing?”

“Steve. Buddy. We’re telling a group of twelve-year-olds about something that happens four years in the future. The timeline’s well and truly fucked. You weren’t happy with her, not after Barb, right? Because the stories you told me painted you as being miserable.”

Steve sighs. Reclaims one of his hands to run it through his hair. “Yeah.”

“Okay then. And hey,” she says, moving to sit next to him. “Maybe if you break up with her now, you can do something about your crush on a certain someone.”

“Robs, c’mon,” he complains. “Even if I did, what happens after? When we go back to ‘87? Are there three years of memories I don’t have? Do we break up before you and I go back, and pick it up again four years later? And what if we fail and he dies anyways? What then, Robin?”

She leans her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I dunno, Dingus. But hey, I’m here.”

He offers her a half-smile before laying his head on hers. “Yeah. You are.”

A knock on the door startles them. “Uh, Steve?” It’s Nancy. She sounds oddly apprehensive. “Eddie’s doing a great job at keeping the kids occupied, but we’d all like to know what’s going on.”

Steve sighs and pushes his face into Robin’s hair for a second before turning back to the door to answer. “Yeah. We’ll be right there.”

Nancy doesn’t answer. The first time around, it was something Steve had found endearing. She didn’t have time to waste on meaningless words. Now, it irks him a little bit.

“C’mon,” Robin says gently. “You can fall apart again after, but there’s no use catastrophizing over something that hasn’t happened yet.”

He quirks his mouth up at her. “Right, ‘cause you’ve never been dramatic a day in your life.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m a band kid, Steven, of course I’m dramatic.” She begins to smirk. “Besides, not like you mind when it’s-”

“Okay,” he says, but they’re both smiling as he unlocks the door.

They go downstairs and he smiles at the sight of everyone on the couch, enraptured, as Eddie’s crouched on the coffee table, eyes wide, monologuing. Steve casts his eyes around, taking everyone in, and starts to frown. “Where’s El?”

Nancy’s the first to break out of the reverie. She looks around, brows furrowed, then slaps at Mike’s arm until he slaps back. “What?”

“Where’s El?”

“She’s right- oh.” Saucer-wide eyes turn to Nancy. “I don’t know.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @local-writers-corner @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

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Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @little-gae-shit

#if I should stay #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #platonic stobin #stancy for plot reasons #endgame steddie #steddie #time travel fic #fix it fic #starambles

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cvlutos · 1 year

Text

"Kindergarten Teacher"

| 01.30.23 | 1.3K | Rated PG |

DILF!NRC Staff X GN!Reader

T.Manor.Notes: @hideousvoid Void. I blame you cause im slightly a Mozus Fan.

You work at your local elementary school, a simple kindergarten teacher. Taking care of kids and children all day and doing your job well. Well enough until you catch the attention of five handsome bachelors.

♡ DIRE CROWLEY

One very energetic five-year-old son, Keiran, who is often getting into trouble. Who is also very spoiled by his father, who you assume is only in his 30s. He’s weird, always the very first parent to drop his son and the very last parent to pick up his son. Who is always kind though sometimes inconveniences you, by arriving later than he’s supposed to. His ex-wife sometimes retrieves their son, and she absolutely despises him. Won't hesitate to speak badly about him, though she seems kind enough.

“Hey-llo!”

His voice is loud and sucks you from your thoughts as you turn from the toy section and dusting off your hands. Dire Crowley has a grin across his lips, the usual gold mask covering the upper half of his face. You aren’t sure why he wears it, nor have you ever asked. You glance at the clock, 30 minutes late, again. He notices the restrained sigh and gives a sheepish grin. “I know. I know—”

You move across the room, gently shaking Keiran’s shoulders, seeing as he fell asleep. “Ill make it up to you. Promise.” The boy mumbles and shifts, before waking up with a soft yawn. “[Name]~ You know i will. How bout dinner?” You usher Keiran towards the door, holding his hand and giving the man a knowing look. You can’t go on dates with parents. “I know that look. Promise. It’s completely professional.”

You watch Keiran, half-asleep, latch to his father’s leg, before looking at the man before you. He has an earnest smile and you sigh. “Only if it’s professional. Nothing else.”

Dire is dedicated. One professional date turned into two, then two turned into five. Which was quickly spread cause of Keiran telling the next door classroom teacher, who teases you profusely about liking the elusive man. While Crowley is more than pleased and very public about him pursing you, while remaining “professional”.

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ DIVUS CREWEL

He has a sassy and quite smart six-year-old daughter, Belle, who many call Bonnie. She’s a real chatterbox and quite popular amongst her peers with impeccable fashion taste like her father. Who is very intimidating and quite punctual. Never a moment late. He’s extremely intimidating, yet most of the teachers gather for his appearance. He’s absolutely gorgeous. Same with his ex-wife, who is also quite intimidating and snappy, like it’s amazing just how well they look together even if they aren’t together.

“[Name].”

Divus’ voice seems to echo as several other kindergarten teachers watch the scene unfold. You kneeling, helping Bonnie fix her dress which some boy ruined, that had her crying, while Divus had his usual unreadable scowl. “Uh—yes.” You’ve seen other students get scolded as if children by Crewel and the last thing you needed is to be dragged to hell and back for his daughter crying. He doesn’t respond, kneeling beside you, and pulling a black and white handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his daughter’s tears.

“We save our tears for private and so none receive satisfaction.” He speaks to his daughter, smoothing out the expensive material of her ruined dress, before turning his head to you once she stopped crying.

“I would like to invite you to an event with me and Belle. She really favors you.”

You look at the girl, watching her curls bounce as she nods, a pretty smile spreading across her lips. “I want you to go.” And how could you refuse?

You smile in return, “Id love too.”

Divus is the definition of perfect and an absolute gentleman. After the event with the father-daughter duo, both treat you extremely differently at work. Bonnie was far nicer than she was before and always asks you to visit, while Divus takes a moment to greet you and speak to you, much to the other teachers dismay. Sometimes on the rarest occasions, you’ll find the freshest bouquet of red roses on your desk, which only meet Bonnie’s giggles when you ask.

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ MOZUS TREIN

Now he already has two daughters, but you see him when he comes to pick up his five-year-old grandson, Edward, and his eight-year-old granddaughter, Ana, who’s in a different classroom. Mozus makes a special appearance, always arriving posed and perfect, an older man, who only smiles at the sight of his grandchildren. You’ve spoken to him once about bullying that was happening and he applauded you for helping his grandson, who was an absolute people pleaser.

“Excellent job. I thank you for having enticing programs. I wish half the teacher taught as such.”

Delicate finger picked and plucked at the invisible dust of his refined coat, before flicking him off and looking at you lazily, almost like a cat. You give a sheepish smile.

“Of course—“

“But I do have some adjustments if you don’t mind me sharing,” he trails off, a thin smile across his lips as he watches Edward shove his school work into his bag, a chocolate chip cookie hanging past his lips as he tries to be fast. “Tea. Sometime this weekend if your free. To better enrich your curriculum.”

“I—okay.”

You aren’t into older men, at least, you shouldn’t be. Yet he has the most poise and grace. He never raises his volume, never yells, and finds tactful ways to show his own displeasure. He’s also extremely smart, giving the most useful tips for your lesson plans, all while petting his cat, Lucius, who merely stares at you.

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ ASHTON VARGAS

He’s a lot. And unlike the other teachers, you never see him pick up his son, Adam, never once. It’s only his ex-girlfriend, who is a very quiet and put together woman. You ran into Ashton while at the gym, whether for yourself or a friend, for moral support. He noticed you before you noticed him. Yelling at you with a wide grin, while surround by men. If you hadn’t known better, you’d assume he was gay.

“Ah! [Name]! Just the person I wanted to see.”

You have an uncomfortable grin while he chats away. Questioning you about his ex-girlfriend. If she was seeing someone, if she brought that scrawny dude Johnathan with her when she came. (Which she has, and he was extremely sweet, plus he and Ashton’s Ex have been together for nearly 3 years. But you’re not gonna tell him that.) He grilled you for a good 30 minutes before stopping and looking your over.

“Actually. In better lighting, you are quite attractive.”

After that, you could not get rid of him. He was adamant on picking up his son, who was just as confused as you and his mother. While Ashton flirted with the other ladies, before sending you a wave and enormous smile and going on his merry way.

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ SAM

The youngest man out of all the parents with a daughter, Tia, who is just the sweetest, while also insanely odd. She spends most of her time alone and doing her own thing. And oddly, you’re the only person she smiles at. And often bring you homemade gifts. While her father scares you every time he visits, always popping up from the shadows with a grin.

“Heyy~”

He waves, one of the later parents, always busy and just back from working, which you know from talking with Tia. Who’s also as silent as her father, appearing randomly all prepared to go. Before stopping and waving at you, with a very happy goodbye, which surprises Sam a lot, but nonetheless chuckles.

You run into in his shop for a quick snack after work, which turns into you spending nearly two hours with them. Since Tia needed homework help, and was insistent you help and not her dad, cause ‘he liked making up stuff’ which Sam never denied. You end up spending a lot of time with them.

══════ ♡ ══════

“Now. Who would you choose?”

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runningthroughthegarden · 1 year

Text

you were never mine

summary: you absolutely hated your coostar. a fake relationship was something you never expected. now that it's begun you have no idea where it will take you.

a/n: a very quick intro to a new story!! had to write it while i was motivated lol

you hated jack champion.

and not in a teasing friendship way. there was such a burning hatred for everything he did. of course, you couldn't explain it, it was just a feeling. a feeling you couldn't set aside and ignore.

ever since filming began you had made it a point to stay out of his line. unfortunately for you, your characters were slow developing love interests. you just had to remind yourself that this was nothing more than your job, a task you had to complete.

so while your character was in love with ethan landry, you hated jack champion.

as filming was coming to a slow end, the whole crew was preparing goodbyes. of course you still had the press tour left, but it was bittersweet to be leaving the set that had become home.

packing up your things from your trailer, your set assistant called you in to talk to some PR people. you thought nothing of it, half expecting to go over interview schedules and premieres. that thought was hurled out the window when you saw an all too familiar curly headed boy sitting in the next open seat. saying a silent prayer you plop down onto the seat next to him.

"y/l/n"

"champion"

no gaze exchanged, the usual uncomfortable tension arose.

"so we called you guys in today to go over some marketing moves we have planned." says the PR manager.

"as we all know, your characters are love interests which we think the fans are absolutely going to love. what we think they'll love even more is if their onscreen favorites were offscreen lovers." they explain.

you and jack sit there, no words, no glances, no expressions.

"what this means is that you two will make a couple public experiences. y'know the usual pda, hand holding, hugging, longing stares. which let me tell you, you two look absolutely ecstatic to do!" they laugh, trying to somewhat cut the tension.

as their words finally hit you, you and jack turn to each other.

"there's no way i'm doing that with him!"

"there's no way i'm doing that with her!"

"look i know this isn't an ideal situation for either of you. but we all believe this would really help sell your characters and create a buzz for this movie. just put it this way, complete this one last task, and you never have to see each other again. ever." they finish.

silently muttering agreements, the two of you exit the office ready to part ways. you can already feel anger boiling over so you try to leave as fast as possible.

"$20 bucks says you'll fall in love with me" jack teases leaning against the wall.

"in your dreams champion." you reply feeling pure annoyance.

"don't be too sure of yourself" he replies, just inches from your face.

pulling away, he walks away laughing.

your left to huff in annoyance and go back to packing up your trailer.

finishing up for the day you begin gathering your things. closing the door behind you, you shriek slamming into something. pulling away, its non other than your least favorite person. ever.

"jesus, champion what's your deal" you ask, catching your breath.

"the PR manager said i have to start getting to know you." he huffs.

"oh my god" you reply, tilting your head back.

"look i don't want to do any of this just as much as you do but god can you please make this process slightly more bearable." he asks.

you stand there pondering for a moment.

"no thank you!" you reply, cheerfully walking away.

"y/n!! cmon lets just get this over with." he pleads, pulling you towards his car.

"fine fine!! jeez"

getting into the seat of his car, jack starts the engine.

"hello?? its locked!!" you slightly yell.

"oh. is it really??" he questions.

"this was your idea please just open the door"

"just cause it was my idea doesn't mean i don't get to have a little fun" he smirks.

finally opening the door, you buckle yourself in. finding a pack of cds on the floor you start flipping through it.

"who even still uses cds" you question.

"i do. be careful with those." his mood instantly turning annoyed again.

"you have shitty music taste" you comment.

"and you're just shitty" he replies.

simply rolling your eyes at the comment you finally find a cd you like. popping it into the car you immediately skip to your favorite song on the album. head over heels by tears for fears slowly starts playing.

"i hate this song"

"yeah well it's your cd"

turning to the window, you start mouthing the lyrics to the song. jack starts tapping the beat against the steering wheel. a slight smile spreading on both your faces.

in an environment of pure hatred, something else was growing.

a/n: quick blurb of a beginning of a story :) requests are open!

#jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #scream #scream vi

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animentality · 5 months

Note

Wishing Gortash hadn’t massacred a room full of people couldn’t be me because the environmental storytelling of it is SO GOOD. You leave the great big coronation hall packed and lively, everyone cheering for their new archduke. You get back out into the city, track down Orin, get your hands on her netherstone. You return to the coronation hall, the room loads in, and wham. The entire hall strewn with blood and corpses. Dead silent. Cultists in full Banite regalia milling around openly, unconcerned. You realise that not a single one of those nobles left the hall after the coronation, after you did, because every single one is lying slaughtered where they were. And it is very very obvious that this is the work of the new archduke who you allied yourself with. For me, it was a moment of oh god, this guy is serious.

And like. You can find TONS and tons and tons of damning evidence for how horrible and corrupt and evil Gortash is all over the city, there is not a single corner of it untouched by him in some way. You have the families of an enslaved labour force imprisoned and tortured. You have that same enslaved labour force dressed up in shock collars! You have a scheme to distribute teddy bears stuffed with explosives, targeting refugee children, just for the sake of instilling more and more fear in the public. And you do get to understand pretty well that these things are all being done not by someone who just delights in violence and chaos the way Orin does, but as the utterly dispassionate, pragmatic ventures of a guy who genuinely does not see people as people (and rather as objects, tools, currency - shapes that might walk and talk but ultimately mean nothing).

But for me personally, even on top of ALL of that, no display of Gortash’s villainy made more of an impact than walking into that room as his ally.

Not because I give a shit about any of the actual nobles themselves, or think it’s technically worse than say giving explosive toys to refugee children, etc. But the slaughter of the patriars has such an impact for me because it’s not talked about. You can’t find a million clues about it or stop it from happening. Talk to any of the Banite guards and they simply tell you point blank what happened. It’s not abstract. It’s not preventable. It happens, and it’s a cold whack in the face for the unwitting player who may have earnestly allied with him. It’s the game saying “this is your ally, by the way, in case you weren’t aware. Even if you foiled his other little plots - found the undetonated teddy bears, freed the Gondians, etc - don’t think that was enough, because this is who he is.”

(And because we don’t SEE it happen, just the aftermath? You get to wonder. Did Gortash step out before this happened? Or did he stand back and watch? Did he find it messy, or did he smile as he watched his steel watchers rip people in half? Did it make him feel powerful? We can probably guess the answers to these questions.)

Anyway Gortash is SUCH a good character and I love him. And if Durge had all their faculties walking into that room and seeing all the murdered people would have brought a tear to their eye, they’d be so proud of him lol

OOOOOooooh absolutely brutally accurate description of Gortash, and YES.

That is the beauty of Gortash's evil. His pragmatism.

The way he tries to pretend he's different than you and Orin, but you can call him out, and say, you're just as bad as us.

And I would LOVE to know if he was there when he killed the patriars too.

He acts like he's so "above it all." Like he's not a Bhaalspawn, killing for pleasure...but sweetie, you are not any different just because you have a Steel Watcher crush a child rather than dissect one.

The people you try to save when you're at the Steel Watch Foundry? Those poor old people and children and families?

All of them are pretty fucking brutal. The Steel Watch are fucking awful. They're not benign robots. They are cruel and cold and emotionless, and they aren't there to protect, only subjugate.

And they're a lot like Gortash himself.

Frigid, with a black and white understanding of right and wrong, only it's flipped, and submitting to authority is the only "right" and any resistance is "wrong" and needs to be destroyed.

And just to go back to him believing he's so "above" the Chosens of Bhaal, or even everyone in general...even with Karlach, when she's enraged, and hurt, over being sold and enslaved, he says, well it was for your own good, my dear girl, let bygones be bygones - stop lying, Gort!

stop pretending you're so above everyone else, that you're this calm, logical man, whose endeavors are heroic, even noble.

They aren't.

You're getting back at a world that abandoned you.

Your entire life revolves around revenge, sadism, and wanton cruelty.

You are not saving anyone. You are dooming those who made you this way.

And that's why I like him.

He is just so...kickable. And evil.

And disgusting.

And I adore him.

He is built wrong, and I like it.

#enver gortash #its about cycles maaaaan #baldurs gate 3 #bg3

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riddles-fiddles · 9 months

Note

Can we get the dorm leaders reaction to s/o telling them that Twisted wonderland is a game in her world? She gave them plenty of proof and even showed them the game on her phone.

Riddle's confused and extremely intrigued from this piece of information

Though he's more on the confused side of things. He's not so acquainted with technology so it's a hard time for him to discern what's true or fake

And honestly, your claims are so absurd it easily slips on his side as a prank. He'll be polite and look interested the whole time, but his brain is racing against time to make reason of it all

"Cater always tells me about this 'effects' things you can add to photos and there are plenty apps for image manipulation"

Dismisses all the proof you show him as a very dedicated prank of yours, because how could he be merely an AI when he very much feels very alive? Bullshit.

He lays down on his bed for a few nights with a deep sense of dread, being unable to sleep from all the doubt that creeps on his mind. He wants to believe that it's all just a lie, but what if it isn't?

Sleeps through half your essay about how everything he knows is a lie, growing in boredom as you stubbornly shove evidence, talking like some scientist presenting a thesis

Honestly half your argument has already gone through his head at some point so he's not truly impressed

Plays it cool saying you're gone nuts and that all this magic stuff fried your brain

"Geez easy now herbivore, nothing you're blabbering about makes sense", and he looks absolutely unnafected, shrugging it off

He can't help but dwell on it for some time though, but he'll never show it on your face or hesitate for even a moment in front of anyone

No, you are the crazy one, he's very much real. His pain is real, or else all the things he feels deeply rooted on his heart wouldn't hurt this much... right?

At first he's skeptical and scoffs off at your attempts at making his mind around your little antics

He's got the mind of a businessman, he's not falling for such childish pranks, no matter how well made that photoshopped image looks. Oh, wait, it's an app? Well, you're probably just teaming up with Idia to piss him off

His interest is piqued the moment he sees the cards with his face, and as you tell him it's a gacha game, his features light up for a fraction of a second - but then he remembers that you're trying to shove some absurd nonsense down his throat. No, it's not the time for profit thinking

Though you sure did gave him an idea, and he'll be sure to talk it out to Idia some other time

Azul keeps on a composed and rational feeling to him, one he pridefully shows to everyone around him, but he's got his insecurities and doubts, and now you just sparkled something inside his heart

He can't quite grasp it, but it always leaves him choking and uncomfortable, something alike to fear and anxiety, something he used to feel when he was the pathetic little octopus with too much time alone

For the first time after many years, he finds himself pondering about life, questioning everything he knows, a sense of dread tugging at the confines of his mind. He didn't like to think that maybe you were right, that everything he might have experienced was nothing but a cruel lie

Kalim can't quite grasp the concept of his existence being literally a video game, but he's the first one to not treat it like a joke

He's very interested on everything you says naturally, but he's very impressed to know that there's a game where he is a character!

"But... y/n, how could I be a literal game character when I'm right in front of you? Doesn't that mean that you are ficitional as well?"

He laughs light-hearted, taking things surprisingly well - because he can't understand he's not truly real. No matter how many screenshots you show, his wiki page, his cards, not even playing through the whole Scarabia arch will suffice to convince him

He just thinks you're a very talented person who made the game as some kind of diary or something, being inspired by everything that happened in Night Raven College

Eventually Kalim just convinces you to brush your point off, seeing how happy and entertained he looked. Maybe it's for the best to just allow him to eat up that lie

You wouldn't want to make Kalim sad now, would you?

Vil looks at you like you have just insulted his whole bloodline and then threw all his makeup on his face

Stands there in awkward silence, processing all the information and carefully picked proof, snatching your phone to look through it

By the end of this tense moment, he shakes his head, laughing out as if finally understanding that everything was merely a joke.

But you don't laugh back, instead looking him dead in the face

Vil's unsettled by everything, from the way you look at him and the new, hard to swallow information

He asks you to go to therapy and says that he'll be more than happy to accompany you, sincerely worried about you

He doesn't want to believe the things you showed him, so just like the others, he'll just settle on the idea of you playing a prank on him for the sake of his own mental health.

Idia.exe has stopped working

"I KNEW IT!!!!!!!!!!!!" shouts out once he snaps out of his paralyzed processation so loudly you're sure everyone at NRC could hear him

He looks mortified and equally thrilled as he goes on blabbering about some underground government bullshit

Red and blue pill kinda shit, you know? Talks about simulations and how he dreamed saw the walls around his room glitch for a moment while gaming (he's sleep deprived)

Shut him up or else he'll be wailing in his fake existence and talking to you about some conspirational theories he formulated with the source of his own brain

Malleus is eerily silent as you present him with all the information you have, a perfect display of your confidence and everything that just fell right like puzzle pieces

When you're done and looks up at him, expecting an answer, he stares back, his emerald eyes deep and piercing, silently rummaging through your features though his gaze made you feel like he was reaching directly for your soul

"I know," he responds simply, an amused smile creeping between his lips

With a nod of farewell, he turns on his heels and simply leaves, unbothered to give any kind of explanation

Malleus leaves you with an existential crisis, hanging where you stood without understanding a thing

He knows? How can he know? Is he programmed to say that? Is he truly an IA?

You're not sure and will never be, because Malleus never gives you an answer eveytime you poke at the matter, simply smiling warmly before resuming to his tasks

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laracrofted · 7 months

Text

down comes the night

synopsis: on a cold midnight in the dead of winter, gotham city's district attorney is murdered.

pairing: batman!bob floyd x fem!reader (lucky)

warnings: 18+ minors and ageless accounts dni, character death (obviously), mentions of death and mob violence, language (wc: 1K)

note: while i'm not planning to write a full series for batman bob – more like connected one shots and blurbs, because i can only focus on one series – i knew i absolutely had to write this scene, which has been in my head all week.

Tears are frozen in your lashes.

You saw him on Saturday. He was alive on Saturday. You saw him.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, mussed your hair like an annoying older brother and smacked a drunken and damp kiss on your cheek. He was alive.

"Did you hear me?" Bradley asks you – no, Commissioner Bradshaw asks you. His coat hangs around your shoulders, overly large on your frame, smelling like leather and coffee and cigar smoke. He doesn't smoke, or maybe Bradley just doesn't smoke around you.

He has always been so delicate around you. You still remember when another officer in the Major Crimes Division made some crass comment in front of you, and Bradley barked out a harsh, "Watch your mouth. You're in the presence of a lady," and silenced the room.

Or at least, until Jake smirked and not even bothering to look up from his paperwork, drawled, "Oh really? Where? I don't see any ladies around here. I only see Lucky."

You shot him a withering look, and Jake grinned, green eyes glittering in the dim yellow light of the office.

Bradley says your name again, breaking you from the warmth of the memory, plunging you back into the cold of the night, like a frozen surface of a lake, cracking under your weight.

You're so cold. Swallowing is almost painful.

You look at him, cheeks cold, eyes dim and lifeless. "How?"

A croak, barely audible, but Bradley pales. He opens his mouth, but Bradley's voice isn't the one that answers your question.

"A single shot to the back of the head."

His voice is low and hoarse and if the circumstances were different, kind of attractive. He sounds like cigar smoke and aged whiskey, deep and solid.

You've only seen him a few times.

You'd come looking for Jake up here once and found him up here – up here with him. He spotted you before Jake did and sidled back into the shadows, ready to disappear, and Jake looked over his shoulder.

"That's just Lucky. She's good," Jake reassured him. He beckoned you forward with a waved palm. You quietly handed him a styrofoam cup of coffee and watched the shadows. He watched you back, silent and watchful.

You've never heard his voice before.

Under different circumstances.

You don't have the luxury of different circumstances. You only have these.

"Execution style?"

He says nothing, which might as well be a confirmation.

"A mob hit?"

You can only see the bottom half of his face in his mask. His mouth looks vaguely impressed, pitched to the side.

You recall, "He slipped a USB into my clutch on Saturday. He must've done it when I wasn't paying attention or something."

You remember Jake's arm around your shoulders, his lips warm on your cheek, on your hairline.

"He left me a video. He said..."

Trust Bradshaw and Batman. No one else. Everyone else is on a payroll, kid. You suck in a breath and do your best not to cry again. Moisture stings your eyes. Damn.

"He knew, didn't he? He was making plans. He must've known."

You know what Jake would say now.

Everyone wants to kill a District Attorney in Gotham, Lucky. We might as well make, 'Mob bosses want me dead,' the new re-election slogan.

You can almost hear his voice, can almost see his grin.

Bradley nods. "Someone always wants to kill a good D.A., but yeah, Jake knew. He always knew."

You scoff.

Of course, Jake knew.

Jake knew and didn't run. Didn't enter protective custody. Didn't do anything but show up in the court room and smile in the faces of the men who wanted him dead. Damn him and his reckless righteousness. Damn him.

"Hey, Lucky..." Bradley looks sideways into the shadows. "You should probably call in sick for the rest of the week." You look at him sharply, and Bradley holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "You could be in danger. These are dangerous people. We don't know who exactly Jake pissed off."

You could almost laugh. Who didn't Jake piss off?

"He'd want you to be safe, is all," Bradley finishes, stuffing his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. Moonlight glints off of the silver badge at his hip.

You look at him dully. "Jake didn't run. Why should I?"

"And now Jake's dead," Bradley says softly.

And now Jake is dead.

He won't ruffle your hair or grab you coffee in the mornings. He's dead. He's dead.

You abruptly shake your head, almost robotically. Cross your arms.

"I'm an Assistant District Attorney. I can help."

"No," Bradley responds immediately. "For all we know, someone in the DA's office is crooked. You start poking around all of the sudden and..."

He doesn't need to finish that sentence. You could end up like Jake.

You bite down on your lip and cast your gaze into the shadows. "You. What'd Jake say I'd do?"

Batman looks at you, serious and searching, for a long moment, which feels even longer under his gaze. "You'd help. He said, if something were to happen to him, you'd help."

You hold his gaze. "Then I'll help."

And out of the corner of your eye, Bradley sighs.

Bradley leaves before you. He gets a call and heads downstairs – but not before offering to have one of his men drive you home whenever you're ready, which makes you smile weakly.

You expect him to leave soon after. You're surprised when Batman lingers.

You ignore him, mostly, watching the glittering snow dance and glimmer and fall in the wind, pinpricks of reflected light in the darkness, almost like stars.

"He..."

And Batman hesitates.

And damn, isn't that something? Isn't it something to see a masked vigilante – a feared predator, a scourge of the underworld – measure his words?

"He was... a good man. He was my friend. I'm sorry."

You stare. You don't blink. You barely even breathe.

"Thank you."

He dips his chin in a nod – his strong chin – and in the edges of the brightness pouring from the spotlight on the roof of the GCPD building – which bears his symbol, a sign of hope and fear, depending on who bears witness – you swear you catch a glimpse of blue in his eyes.

Before you can look closer, can step closer, Batman is gone, melting into the shadows again, disappearing into the dark and bleak night in a rush of wind.

Standing here alone – without him – feels even colder somehow.

note: will i wish i'd edited this in the morning? probably. do i care right now? not at all. also, down comes the night is now the official name for this universe, which i love, but of course, batman bob is always acceptable 😌

summoning a few friends who might be interested: @sometimesanalice @roosterbruiser @callsignspark @rhettabbotts @yanna-banana @ryebecca @withahappyrefrain

#batman!bob #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fic #fic: down comes the night #bob floyd fic #laracrofted writes

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dotieeee · 2 months

Text

The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 12

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, drugging, somnophilia, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 12 Warnings:

The blackest of mails, like vanta-blackmail lolol,

Replay Level 11

Ready? Level 12 Start:

The satisfied hum on the other line almost makes you throw the receiver into the wall.

“You win, okay? Let my uncle go.” You’re unable to hide the tremor in your voice as you concede. Coriolanus lets a pause pass before responding.

“Sugarplum, I’m happy you finally see things my way, but I think that’s a conversation best had in person.”

“I think it’s fine just this way, Coriolanus.”

“Now, don’t be stubborn,” he admonishes. “I will have my driver pick you up from your home in thirty minutes and bring you to me. We have much to talk about.”

Good grief. Obviously, you’d rather put in your safe space and not face him now – hell, not ever – but he’s been holding all the cards since yesterday and his tone isn’t giving you room to argue at all.

“Nellie. Thirty minutes.”

His almost-warning is followed at once by the dial tone. Having no choice, you use the remaining time preparing to head out. The warm bath you take takes a little bit of the tension off, but by the time you get inside your ride to Hell, it returns tenfold, and nothing you do save the fidgeting on the hem of your coat gives you a modicum of comfort. You arrive at the luxury apartment building where a valet opens the car door for you, and the doorman escorts you to the private elevator.

And just like that, you find yourself ringing the doorbell of Coriolanus Snow’s – now apparently your fiancé’s – penthouse.

A maid opens the door for you and motions to take your coat, before leading you to the living room. She then disappears, presumably to call for the master of the house, leaving you standing in the middle, fiddling with the hem of your dress and half-wondering whether you should make a run for it.

“Good morning, sugarplum.”

Ah, the said master of the house.

You look up to see Coriolanus grinning at you from ear to ear, wearing a thick designer crimson bathrobe with golden damask embroidery with matching house slippers. You freeze in place, which he takes advantage of; he places his arms around you and plants a single, lingering kiss on your lips.

Pulling away as he nudges your chin, he says, “You’ve made me very happy by just coming here. Have breakfast with me; the chef should be almost done.”

If you hadn’t been at a disadvantage, you’d have reacted incredulously at the nerve, as if he’s invited you here for mere casual chitchat.

“I thought you said we were going to talk,” you say.

“And we shall,” he replies. He puts an arm around your waist and, steering you into the dining room, he adds, “But first, you need to eat. When was the last time you ate anything, sugarplum?”

The smell of bacon coming from the kitchen invades your senses, and to your absolute mortification, that’s when your stomach chooses to betray you by grumbling audibly. Coriolanus laughs heartily, and for a moment you’re reminded of the days you spent with him as friends – and yet here you are now, ensnared and trapped by that friendship which you now know was just a front.

“I can’t have my future wife starving herself and risking her health,” he says with a smirk, pulling back a chair for you to the left of what you assume is his seat at the head of the dining table.

The table has been set lavishly with silver cutlery and fine chinaware, and in a few moments, you’re both served by the maid a steaming cup of tea, followed by a plate of eggs benedict with arugula salad on the side.

Breakfast breezes by quietly, with your eyes fixed on your plate as you chew mechanically while he steals glances at you in between bites. He urges you to finish off your plate, which you comply with just to get the entire thing over with. Once he’s satisfied, he motions for the maid to clear the table and gives her one final order as she curtsies.

“Clean up, and then you’re free to go home for the day, as is the chef. My betrothed and I will need the privacy.”

You wish he’d stop referring to you like that, but it’s not like you have a choice in the matter.

Coriolanus takes you back to the living room by hand and offers you the loveseat. He then takes his place beside you with a contented sigh as he turns to face you with his legs crossed and his back leaning against the backrest.

Well-fed in his bathrobe and slippers, he paints this relaxed, almost cheerful picture you could only hope to achieve. You scoot a little more away from him as much as the two-seater couch allows you to.

He takes your trembling left hand in his cold ones and kisses the back of it before placing it on his knee as he speaks.

“We have so much to do, so much to talk about, but first, let’s discuss the matter of our story.”

Ah, yes. He can’t really tell the public about ‘winning your heart’ by way of coercion, can he?

“I told Mr and Mrs Plinth that I have good news for them, so they invited us for afternoon tea and dinner.”

With his grip impossible for you to wrench away from, your hand remains on his knee, clenched at the prospect of revealing this devastating news this quickly.

“But, why now?” you ask. “Can’t we…I don’t know, wait? Isn’t this a little bit too sudden?”

He tilts a corner of his lips as he responds, “The twelfth Hunger Games is just two weeks away, and the Capitol will surely be happy to know that the two gamemakers responsible for its success are now tying the knot. I plan on announcing our engagement as soon as it finishes. There is no better timing than this, sugarplum.”

How typical of Coriolanus Snow to use the Games to further publicise this farce of an engagement and shift the limelight to himself. All that aside, however, you have only one focus which he hadn’t yet touched.

“And what of my uncle? Has he been released?” you insistently probe.

“That depends entirely on your cooperation today, sugarplum,” he says as he draws circles absently on your hand which he still clasps. “If you follow my instructions, if you stick to our story, word per word, I might be inclined to let him go home by tonight, just like nothing happened. If not…”

His grin grows colder and wider – an ominous sign that this isn’t going to end well for you and your uncle if he doesn’t get his way.

“Your uncle will stay detained, and by tomorrow I will give the order to have him exiled somewhere in the Districts. I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let you take your pick, save District 3, of course.”

His other hand reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear before asking, “So, will you be good today, and do exactly as I say?”

Numbly, you nod once. He just tuts and tugs your hand to bring you closer.

“Use your words, sugarplum,” he whispers.

So, you swallow that lump in your throat, your voice shaking as you say, “Yes, Coryo.”

As an approving smirk grows on his face and victory dances in his chilling blue eyes, you get an overwhelming feeling that you’re going to have to get used to saying that more often.

“Good girl,” he praises.

He gets to his feet at once with a quiet order for you to stay put as he exits the living room. Before you could even know what for, he returns after but a few moments clutching something with his hand you can’t see. You watch, confused and increasingly dumbstruck, when he bends on one knee. With your faces now level, he peers into your eyes as he reveals what he’s holding in his hands:

A red-velvet jewellery box, the lid of which he flips to unveil a ring; at its head is the largest emerald-cut diamond you’ve ever laid eyes on, with its white-golden band accented with smaller round diamonds at its shoulder.

Clearly pleased at your reaction, he uses your momentary stupefaction to explain, “I could’ve done this more properly and in a better setting in the near future, but I suppose this will have to do.”

Coriolanus pries the ring off its case and very gently slips it on your left ring finger, where it stays there in its glimmering radiance, weighing down your hand and almost mocking you with its implied permanence. As if to seal your fate further, he captures your lips with his in a searing kiss that raises the hair on your arms and the back of your neck. His tongue pushes past your lips insistently to make you respond – instead, you turn your head away and break it off. You’re breathless, partly because of the kiss, but mostly because this is now happening – you’re going to have to get used to kisses like these and you’re really now engaged to Coriolanus Snow – and any chance of getting away from him is smaller than it has ever been and will likely vanish entirely as soon as the Games is over.

He lets out a sigh of displeasure the moment you break the kiss.

“Sugarplum, when I said, ‘do everything I say,’ this is part of it,” he chastens, but he lets out another exhale and shifts to his previous carefree mood. “But like I said, I’m feeling a little more lenient at present, so I will let that slide.”

He then smooches your exposed cheek instead before adding, “Disobey me again today, however…” he trails off with a suppressed chuckle – a warning not to fuck up again in his eyes – and briefly stroking your cheek before settling down once more on the seat beside you.

From there, he begins giving you his instructions – how to act and react, how to respond to anticipated questions, and most importantly, how to defer to him when it comes to matters you haven’t brushed over. He gives you room for questions and objections, but to these, his explanations are clipped – and since he won’t allow opposition, you try to keep your dissent at bay no matter how much his orders appal you. He doesn’t stop pressing you until your performance is every bit as perfect in his eyes. You don’t finish until about half-past twelve, when he asks if you’d prefer going out to eat for lunch with him or have it ordered in; both of which you refuse at first, but you opt for the latter the moment you see his eyebrows start to furrow.

Once the food arrives, he says something about getting ready to go out for an important Sunday errand before sauntering away. He leaves the apartment, but not without a kiss on your forehead. You let enough time to pass for him to have left the building entirely before you run to the door and shake the knob open, only to find that he’d locked it from the outside, and no matter what you do with the keypads on the inside, it would not budge.

No way out of this glorified cage, it seems.

You get the inkling that you’re going to have to get used to being locked in this apartment from the outside more often.

“Oh, my goodness, Nellie, my dear!”

You’re encased in a huge, warm embrace the moment a delighted Ma Plinth sees you cross the threshold of their Corso home. You return the hug gladly, almost melting into her arms.

“Ma, I’m so happy to see you,” you whisper in an almost pained voice. You needed that hug so badly, you realise.

Ma pulls away to cradle your face as if to get a better look at you. “Oh, it’s always a pleasure to have you,” she beams brightly before that smile turns into a small, worried frown. “How are you? Have you been eating and sleeping well, sweetheart? You’ve lost a little weight.”

“I have?” you mutter absently. Not that you really care what you look like right now; you’re just glad to be with a friendly presence for once in your Uncle Cas’s absence.

From behind you, however, Coriolanus places a cold hand on your shoulder, overwhelming the warmth Ma exudes.

“I’ve made it my personal mission to make sure she’s taking care of herself, Ma, but my sugarplum can be stubborn at times,” he says teasingly.

Ma lets out a lilting laugh before him in for an embrace. Once the maid has taken your coats, you follow the two into the lounge, paying their animated conversation very little mind as you go over in your head silently the things you’re supposed to say and the topics you’re supposed to avoid and defer to him. The three of you are eventually seated at a small round table by a tall window overlooking the Corso circle, where you’re served hot tea and an assortment of teacakes and pastries, which both Ma and Coriolanus urge you to eat as much as you’d like. Mr Plinth arrives shortly, so you and Coriolanus pay your respects by getting to your feet and greeting him. Plinth senior returns the gesture by shaking Coriolanus’s hand firmly and pulling him in for a brief one-armed hug and a clap on his back.

“Strapping young man, as always,” he comments with pride. Turning to you, you extend a hand to him as well, but he says, “None of that, my dear girl, we’re practically family!”

He gives you the same one-armed hug and smiles warmly at you, before motioning everyone to take their seat.

After he’s served some tea by the maid, thus begins the inquiry.

“So, Coriolanus, what is this news you bring? I can tell it’s something good,” Mr Plinth asks with a bright, expectant smile. Like he already knows what it is but he’s waiting for your companion to spill it. Ma wears the same look, sipping her tea but looking over her cup excitedly.

Coriolanus’s right laces with your left hand – the one bearing the token of imprisonment masquerading as an engagement ring – over the table where it’s clearly visible to the Plinth couple. You force yourself to smile at him like he had instructed, which he returns. He seems over the moon, a genuine display which you’re mildly surprised he’s still capable of, when he starts to explain.

“I suppose it could’ve waited until dinner, but I was too overjoyed at the news.” Pausing to lick his lips, his posture straightens as he continues, “Just the other night, Nellie made me the happiest man in the world by accepting my bid for her hand in marriage.”

Under duress, you inwardly add.

The gasp that Ma lets out is immediately drowned out by her husband’s loud ‘Ha!’ and if that doesn’t tell you he was expecting this bit of information, he says jovially, “I knew it, I kept telling everyone that you two children were bound to get there.”

Ma lets out a teary ‘oh’ while she clutches her chest, gushing over the way Coriolanus grips your hand and gently runs the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. She bursts into quiet sobs while Strabo pats her on the back and holds her hand.

“Oh, you kids!” she exclaims amidst tears of apparent joy. “I’m sorry, I’m just so happy you two have finally decided to settle down together. It’s just so obvious you’re meant for each other.”

Strabo pulls a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and hands it over to his wife, who proceeds to wipe her tears demurely, and says, “About time, too! Congratulations, both of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Coriolanus replies.

“I’m just glad Nellie finally gave you a chance! I was starting to think your famous charm had finally found its match, my boy,” Strabo teases.

Coriolanus’s eyes twinkle when he catches yours and kisses the back of your hand to further drive this image of a couple head-over-heels in love with each other that he wants to portray. And just like he wanted, you give him a smile, which is getting increasingly harder to do while you battle with your inner self to keep you from breaking character.

For Uncle Cas, you remind yourself.

Your fiancé goes along with the jest. “I’m certainly lucky she did, sir. I would’ve otherwise resorted to other measures to make sure she ends up with me.”

This earns a laugh from the married couple across the table, making them miss the rather knowing glint that passes over Coriolanus’s eyes.

Jokes are half-meant, so they say.

When the joyous tone dies down a bit, Mr Plinth brings up a topic that Coriolanus had anticipated and trained you with.

“What of Acacius? Does he know? Your uncle should be here as well, should he not?”

Those blue eyes tell you what you don’t need to be reminded of: don’t fuck it up.

With your hands on your lap, you slowly say, “He’s aware, sir, but it’s...a little complicated.”

“How so?”

“My uncle didn’t approve, and we’re currently not on speaking terms,” you explain with rehearsed ease. Just like he told you to.

Back at his apartment, he had ordered you to stay away from your uncle, which he claims is to corroborate with the story of him not approving the match. To you, however, it’s likely just to keep you and your uncle from planning ways of escaping his clutches.

As if on cue, Coriolanus holds both your hands on your lap and squeezes, making it look like he’s trying to comfort you.

“Oh, you poor dear,” Ma whispers empathetically.

“Well, that is absurd,” Mr Plinth nods to himself with his brows stitched together. “Acacius should know better than to interfere with the decision of two consenting adults! Quite frankly, I’m disappointed in him, given his speech back...” he seems to catch himself, possibly to refrain from mentioning a certain meeting you weren’t privy to.

“But, never mind that,” he amends. “Perhaps I should have a word with him.”

It’s Coriolanus who speaks this time. “I appreciate the gesture sir, but Nellie and I have decided to give Mr Innis time and space to come around. If that’s what he needs to accept our decision, we’re happy to give it to him.” Then he adds with a soft smile directed at you, attempting to lighten the mood, “The last thing I want is to put pressure on my future in-law.”

Mr Plinth hums to himself and bobs his head in affirmation. “You have a wise head on you, my boy. I think that’s for the better.” Turning to you, he says, “I’m sure your uncle just needs time to think. After all, it’s understandable – to him, you’re his daughter, and he loves his little girl too much he can’t bear the thought of losing you, even if it’s to a man who clearly loves you.”

“Thank you, sir,” you say.

Ma mirrors her husband’s words and adds, “Nellie, once he sees how genuine the love is between you two, I’m positive he’ll give you his blessing.”

Coriolanus thanks both for their support and takes this time to veer into another matter he’s rehearsed you with.

“I’d like to also announce, Ma, sir, that I’ve taken it upon myself to let my Nellie stay in my apartment for the time being, given the circumstances; this is my way of giving you a heads-up.”

Another one of his mandates which just cements your initial idea that he wants to keep you under his watchful eye to prevent you from running away. It’s despicable, but like anything he does, it’s efficient and well-thought-of. The idea, however, is met by silence, followed by the couple exchanging unsure looks. You can only hope that their more traditional views would mean they’d be against Coriolanus’s rather bold move.

Ma, who seems hesitant, asks him carefully, “Why would there be a need for Nellie to move into your home, Coriolanus? This...this is a huge, uh, step, even for engaged couples.”

Once more, Coriolanus’s eyes find yours, and he gives you this look that you interpret pretty well: ‘Do it exactly as I said.’

So you swallow any reservations in you and explain the ‘mutual’ decision.

“After I told Uncle Cas the news that Coriolanus and I got engaged that night, we got into an argument. He said a few things that didn’t sit well with me, so, I decided to just pack my things. I ran away yesterday at dawn. I didn’t think I could live with my uncle anymore, not when he couldn’t see fit to respect my choice.”

Lies. All lies. And you’re getting to be quite the good liar, yourself. Then again, you’re learning from one of the best out of all of them.

“Oh my,” Ma says as she places her fingers over her lips in distress. “I’m sorry, my sweet girl…” She reaches over to you to clasp your hand momentarily before letting go.

This is Coriolanus’s turn to interject. “I caught up to her that morning trying to board a train to her aunt in District 3.”

Ma lets out a gasp of shock and Mr Plinth raises his eyebrows in alarm. To appease the couple, you add, “I admit it was a brash move, but I had nowhere else to go.”

“Nellie,” Ma says in a chastising tone. “The Districts? It’s not safe, even if you have family there. You could’ve gone to us instead.”

“I’m sorry, Ma – ”

“Nevertheless,” Coriolanus cuts off, as he once more reaches for your hand over the table. “We talked it out, and I made a choice to offer her my place. I am willing to take her in, as is my duty as her future husband. Besides, better that, than gambling her safety in the Districts. I’d be more at ease if I knew she’s safe and I can protect her should the need arise.”

The Plinth couple, visibly concerned with your predicament, exchange looks, as they contemplate their verdict.

Please say no. Please say no.

Finally, The Plinth senior lets out an audible exhale and gives Coriolanus a firm nod.

Rats.

“A wise decision, then,” Strabo says with a smile of approval. “You have my wife and I’s full support, Coriolanus. I’m proud of you for stepping up, young man.”

The young man in question sighs in relief – another point on his proverbial scoreboard – as your insides wilt inwardly. To you, this just means you’d never get to interact with your Uncle Cas anytime soon, given that he’s now been painted as the villain in this fictional love story.

“Well, then, let’s not let this joyous day be eclipsed by mere unfortunate events,” Strabo declares. “We should be celebrating. You two youngsters, most especially!”

Ma continues to sip her tea and says cheerfully as her hand finds her husband’s, “Indeed, this is a wonderful occasion. Can you believe it, dear? It seems only like yesterday since Coriolanus announced over dinner that he’d set his eyes on Nellie, and now here we are!”

As you sip your tea in silence, your fiancé chuckles heartily over a bite of a chocolate macaron. “I know, Ma. Time does fly by. But so you don’t feel left out, sugarplum, I told them about a year ago that I planned on marrying you.”

You smile at him like a trained pet, but knowing he planned this a year ago, probably even more, is nothing but jarring.

“And have you talked about when the wedding will be?” Strabo inquires.

His honorary son and his wife seem to pass each other knowing smiles, before Coriolanus responds, “Yes, sir. I originally intended for us to marry by January, but we’re now leaning towards the end of the year, perhaps by December, if all goes well.”

By the end of the year. You’re not even close to graduating college yet.

A lighthearted conversation ensues until five thirty, with everyone entirely oblivious to your inner turmoil. When Ma excuses herself from the table so she can supervise making dinner herself, you volunteer to help – Ma looks extremely pleased at this – just so you can get away from the stifling presence and keen scrutiny of your so-called groom-to-be.

“Come, Nellie dear, it’s time we had a chat, just the two of us girls,” she says with her eyes crinkling as she links both your arms. Gratefully, you allow yourself to be steered away into the kitchen where those piercing blue eyes can’t reach you and it’s only Ma’s reassuring presence that’s keeping you company.

There are maids already awaiting their orders when you enter, but Ma instructs them to retire early for the night so she can have the entire kitchen to herself. Once they exit, Ma instructs you to chop some onions.

“We’re having copadia* tonight,” Ma whispers excitedly as she begins toasting some peeled almonds on a skillet.

Curious about the dish, you ask, “Won’t that take three or more hours to finish, Ma?”

But she just winks at you and whispers mischievously, “I have my ways.”

You do as you’re told, quite looking forward to watching Ma perform her magic on the food she makes. You’re halfway through the onions, seeing to it that they’re sliced evenly, and while Ma begins crushing the toasted almonds in a marble mortar and pestle, she peers into your eyes with an anxious look.

“Nellie, tell me something: how are you in all of this?”

Maybe it’s the way she asked so gently, kind of like how you imagine your own mother would if she was alive, or maybe it’s because of the pressure building up inside you that you can no longer contain, and without your Uncle Cas, you’ve no one else to confide to – whatever it is forces a rush of bottled up emotions in the form of sobs you can barely control, making you pause your task completely. Familiar warmth envelops you, and you find yourself in Ma’s arms as she whispers into your ears.

“There, there, dear child, it’s quite alright,” she coos, rubbing your back to soothe you. “Your uncle will come around, you’ll see. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed, too; I felt quite the same before my wedding, but Strabo’s a good man; as is Coriolanus. I know he’ll do anything and everything to make you happy. And I’m sure you’ll make the perfect wife for him, and a loving mother to your future children.”

The warmth you’re basking in vanishes completely with her last sentence, making you let go first. Ma cups your face to wipe your tears with her thumbs, her kind eyes glimmering with unshed tears at what she perceives as your dilemma.

No, you can’t possibly tell her the truth about the kind of man she just let into her home and her family – the knowledge alone would break her.

So, instead, you whisper your thanks, and she returns to her side on the kitchen island to continue pounding the almonds. Likewise, you pick up the knife and resume slicing the last onion.

“I’m sorry if this feels rather intrusive, Nellie dear, but I have to ask: are you pregnant?”

The knife in your hand misses your forefinger by about three millimetres.

“Oh, dear, careful, that was close – but my question stands, Nellie,” she says gently, pausing her task entirely. “You can tell me anything, sweetie, I hope you know that.”

Vehemently, you shake your head. “No, Ma, we haven’t…b-but, why do you ask?”

She looks over her shoulder, before leaning closer and saying with a softer voice, “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but we may have been planning your reception since several months ago – don’t worry, we can make changes to anything you don’t like – but I brought it up because I distinctly remember Coriolanus being fine with the wedding dating a year after, at most. So, I was merely curious about the rush; that’s all.”

If they had been planning this accursed wedding behind your back, what other plans are they making and setting in motion? The kitchen suddenly doesn’t seem so welcoming anymore, and even Ma’s presence is beginning to feel foreign, if not hostile, altogether.

“Nellie, you’re sure you and Coriolanus haven’t…? I mean, I understand young couples these days no longer wait until their wedding night, and as I gather, he and you have been spending so much time together alone, so it’s okay if you’ve...slept together and protection slipped both your minds.”

Your skin prickles at just the thought. “Oh, Ma, please don’t worry,” you say; you even try your best to put on a reassuring smile, which you hope doesn’t come out as looking constipated. “I swear we haven’t.”

I would know.

“Alright, then,” she relents, nodding to herself. “Coriolanus is every bit the gentleman he appears to be, it seems. Oh silly me! I must look like such a busybody to you, barging in on your privacy like this; I’m sorry, dear.”

“It’s okay, Ma, I know you’re only looking out for me.”

Thankfully, she makes no more mention of anything related to the concept of procreation, and the conversation moves on to her methods of improving the ancient recipe.

From there on, the rest of the evening with the Plinths becomes predictable. There’s good food, as usual, which you attempt to enjoy; then there’s the inevitable shift to discussions of your work in the upcoming Games; finally, more talk of wedding preparations, which, although completely foreign to you, you feign interest in. This cycle goes on until tea after dinner and you still engage, now mildly desensitised to it all, watching Mr and Mrs Plinth interact with their found family. Somewhere along the conversation, someone has turned on the television, which is tuned in on this wildlife documentary of a lovely bird’s nest, with the mother and the father bird tending to their hatchling. Almost transfixed while the chatter goes on around you, you watch the lovely bird family as the camera pans to this white snake which had burrowed underneath the nest. It had just donned on likeness of the little hatchling after swallowing it whole, and it seemed to bide its time with the intent of devouring the mother and father bird as well. You can’t fault them for their nurturing nature – no one can – but there isn’t much one can do to help fix the now-infested nest, either.

As the night grinds to a halt, you say your farewells to the Plinth couple and obediently allow yourself to be carted off back to the car which will take you to your new living space – it’s hardly deserving to be called a ‘home’ – and Coriolanus lets out a drawn-out, self-satisfied sigh. Cupping your face from the side, he plants lingering kisses on your temple and on your cheek before whispering his praise: “You did exceptionally well today, sugarplum.”

You simply purse your lips the entire car ride.

He accompanies you from the car all the way to his penthouse door. Punching his keycard in, he ushers you inside and leads you to the bedroom beside his.

“This is your room now,” he says. “I’ve taken the liberty of moving some of your things from your old apartment. If they missed packing some of your clothes, I can always buy you new ones.”

Then he adds that he’ll be with you shortly after running an errand. What errand, he doesn’t elaborate, and you barely get enough time to look around the bedroom when you hear the apartment door close. He’s locked you in again, and this time, you don’t need even to confirm for yourself.

Snow lands on top.

The phrase he’s come to accept as the truth rings over and over Coriolanus Snow’s head before his day has even begun.

It started this morning at seven when everything began to fall into place for him. When things became right again, when all his years of planning, fantasising, and scheming, had finally bore fruit.

Prunella Innis had at last become his.

Well, you were already his, to begin with, but it’s nice to have you essentially admit it out loud. Overall, Coriolanus is relieved to find his winning streak still ongoing – the Games, the Plinths, your uncle’s work, and now, you, but even he admits this isn’t over. There is so much more work to be done, so many things to prepare for – all of it to so he can lock in your future with him, secure the Snow bloodline and move on to further his political ambitions.

The image in his head is clear it almost looks like a memory: you, standing beside him, timelessly beautiful as you always are, your arm clinging to his, your other resting on the shoulder of a blond-haired child, his son; his perfect, beautiful family wholeheartedly supporting him right before a herd of Capitol residents as they celebrate his inauguration as the President of Panem…

Every day is a day closer to this goal, and there is no one else left who might get in his way.

“Mr. Innis.”

Almost no one else.

Coriolanus made a promise to you this morning – that if you went along with the story he wants to portray to the Plinths, he’d have your uncle released – a promise he almost regrets making, seeing Acacius Innis in his cell, leaning back on his chair with his feet on the table looking perfectly nonplussed, even bored, like he’s merely waiting for his turn at the doctor’s office.

The thing is, you had exceeded his expectations by a mile, so what kind of husband would he be if he isn’t true to his word?

Coriolanus closes the door behind him. No one else, save his future in-law, has to be privy to the words he has to say.

“Snow,” Acacius greets with a curl of his lips. The chains binding his hands rattle as he rights his posture. “How’s the digging through my stuff going?”

Coriolanus almost raises an eyebrow at this nonchalant display, but he knows better. He simply takes the vacant seat facing the presumed former rebel.

“I did not come here to interrogate you, Mr Innis,” he says. “I came here out of respect for the man who singlehandedly raised and cared for my future wife. I’d like to thank you for protecting her all these years.”

Acacius crosses his arms and just shrugs half-heartedly. “I was doing a pretty good job with it, too. At least, until very recently.”

Now this, Coriolanus is genuinely perplexed with. Acacius Innis has always been adamant about securing your future, and in that, they share a common goal. Why the older man can’t see his way is beyond him.

“You’re shielding her from what, exactly?” he asks, an incredulous tone bleeding in his voice. “Achieving her true potential? From living a good life?”

“From nasty little cunts like you, that’s what,” the Innis patriarch sneers. “You see, Snow, I’ve been trying to keep her away from your grubby fingers since I saw you set your eyes on her on the night of her twentieth birthday.”

Coriolanus can’t help but twist his lips in the same contemptuous smile. “You’ve done your part. You don’t have to worry. I’ll take over her protection from here on out. This time, only I get to turn away the other ‘nasty little cunts’, as you put it so eloquently.”

A mirthless chuckle erupts from Innis senior. “Oh, yeah, you’ll do a great fucking job, I’m deeply reassured. I guess I should be more worried now about the people you’ll poison along the way.”

So, he knows. Even in duress, he can’t help the sarcasm. Coriolanus wonders if you’ll argue with him like this in the course of your marriage. That aside, he shouldn’t be surprised; the Innis prick, after all, has managed well in meddling with his affairs as of late.

“You know. How?”

“Which one? Highbottom, or Braun? Last time I checked, I’m what you call a math teacher, so, it was just like putting two and two together.” Acacius leans forward as if to drive his point. “I saw right through you, Snow, and although Nellie was late to it, she figured you out. She was smart enough to see who you really are underneath that fancy garb.”

That’s true, Coriolanus admits. It’s a trait he deeply admires in you.

“She got that from you,” he concludes.

“Oh, she got more than that from me,” Acacius says proudly.

“Clearly. She’s got your sharp tongue and your penchant for rebellion.”

“Good.” Acacius Innis laces his fingers as if he’s addressing a mere student. “And I’m assuming you’ll purge it all out of her. Anything that makes her who she is – save her brains, of course, because she’s the only one around here who can do what I can – but everything else, you’ll stamp out of her, so you can fit her into your perfect little world and put her in your high shelf like your perfect little doll. I suppose, compared to what you did to that Plinth boy, it’s a hell of an upgrade, isn’t it?”

Ah, so he’s deduced that, as well. Perhaps even before you did, given his free access to all the Citadel laboratories.

“You led her to the Citadel that day. You knew she’d make that connection herself.”

“Like you said: Nellie has my intuition.”

“Why did you do it?”

Acacius raises a derisive eyebrow. “You see, Snow, you’re not as clever as you make yourself out to be, because if you were, you’d have figured that out yourself. I raised that child like my own, but I’d rather her be dead than see her in the arms of an evil psychopath such as you.”

This time, it’s Coriolanus’s turn to get under the Innis prick’s skin, and he knows just where to strike a blow. Leaning forward to rub it in his face, he says, “Well, if I’m not as clever, Mr. Innis, she wouldn’t be living in my house right now, dutifully waiting for me to come home.”

An image of you lying in his bed in his choice of lingerie invades his mind, but he shuts that part of himself down. Plenty of time to indulge in that later.

If your uncle is fazed, however, he doesn’t show any outward signs.

“That must feel nice, right?” the Innis senior asks. “Having someone who loves you await your return? That must be how Sejanus felt as well. That kid was always writing to her. I risked a lot to make sure their letters don’t get intercepted, well except for one, which I think you have.”

“Ah, the letters. Is that how they avoided detection? Your little band of rebels doing all the leg work? I hope it was worth sacrificing your immunity for.”

“You did your research, I’m impressed. Have you cracked their code, yet?”

Unfortunately, no matter how hard Coriolanus tried, the code has since evaded him. A little roadblock, sure, but an inconsequential one in his eyes.

“The meaning of those letters doesn’t matter now,” he says dismissively. “Nellie is mine, and I think it’s in your best interests to accept that. After all, I’d like our children to have their grandfather around.”

The Innis senior just nods thoughtfully at his jab. What might make this old man crack, Coriolanus has yet to discover.

“But I also think it’s in your best interests to know that every letter they exchanged ended in the same gist: that they’ll be with each other soon to make a difference in this world. Nellie loved that boy you betrayed and, in consequence, executed.”

And then the meddling, cunning Innis prick smiles – the kind of smile Coriolanus loathes to his core – one that his old self has been given a lot to remind him just how powerless he was then. “You may have her, marry her, have children with her, but you’ll never have her heart. Which begs the question: do you truly own something if you don’t own it in every sense of the word?”

If Coriolanus Snow could just wrap his hands around the fucking prick’s throat, he would. At this point, he has to remind himself to keep his composure; he’d rather drink an entire bottle of rat poison than admit the Innis prick has hit a rather sensitive nerve.

He made you a promise.

So, he simply returns the venomous smile as best as he could and says, “Our plan is to be wed in six months’ time.”

“You mean ‘your’ plan,” Acacius says under his breath.

Coriolanus decides to ignore that. “We have decided that, due to your disapproval of our relationship, Nellie will stay with me and have no contact with you until you publicly announce your blessing. We would appreciate it if you’d attend both the engagement, which we should be announcing soon, and the marriage to show support and solidarity between our families. We’ll let you know when they’ll be.”

“I hope you get good cake. You already know her favourite,” Acacius says casually.

Seeing no further need to acknowledge him, Coriolanus finally gets to his feet.

“This isn’t over, Snow.”

Nor does he see the need to respond to that either. He wordlessly exits the cell and motions the peacekeeper standing on guard to remove Innis senior’s handcuffs. He’s fulfilled his promise to you, but perhaps he can think of other ways he can get Acacius Innis as far away as possible from ruining what he’s worked so hard to build (save killing him because that would just break you).

All Coriolanus needs now is for him to make a single misstep.

You groan audibly as you wrench the doors to your closet open.

Having come out of the shower from the guestroom’s private bathroom, you proceeded to raid the adjacent walk-in closet for your pyjamas, but you didn’t find a single pair of them anywhere. Everything else the movers didn’t seem to miss.

So, when you hear Coriolanus arrive, you step out of the room clad in only a bathrobe barely reaching your knees, hoping he knows where they put your pyjamas.

“Those looked old, so I bought you new sleep clothes instead,” he replies as he enters the guestroom closet. He pulls back the last cabinet door, which you’ve already checked.

“There’s nothing there but – ”

You stop midsentence as he pulls out a silk, crimson nightgown trimmed with black lace at the hem.

“I can’t sleep in that,” you protest.

Shrugging, he just throws the nightgown on the bed with a playful smirk and says, “Either that or keep the bathrobe on.”

At least he exits your room completely and closes the door behind him to give you privacy. Grumbling to yourself, you put on the nightgown to find that it’s a few inches shorter than the bathrobe. How bad can it be, you wonder? You’re just going to bed, anyway.

Even with the nightgown and the bed covers proving to be comfortable, sleep evades you for the next few hours. All you can think of as you toss and turn in your bed is Uncle Cas. Has Coriolanus upheld his end of the bargain? Has he ordered your uncle’s release? Is your uncle back at home and resting?

You place an ear to your door to listen for signs that Coriolanus is still awake. It’s awfully quiet outside, so you risk stepping out of the bedroom and noiselessly amble around the apartment for a single platinum-blond hair of him, but he isn’t in any of the open rooms you peek into.

“This suits you much better than the bathrobe, sugarplum.”

You gasp as you turn around, finding yourself inches away from bumping into Coriolanus Snow himself. He has to bend a little to peer into your face given his massive height, so you almost cower at the way he leans into your space. He’s gotten so close you catch a whiff of his usual rose perfume along with notes of something else you’ve never smelled on him before.

“Coryo, have you been drinking?” you ask.

He flashes you a smirk as he replies, “A little. I had a tough conversation a while ago.”

You can’t help but tilt your head curiously at him. Who and what could’ve ruffled the feathers of the great Coriolanus Snow?

“What happened to my uncle? Where is he?”

“Why would you want to know that? What purpose would it serve you?”

You almost groan in annoyance at him needlessly beating around the bush. You just had the roughest day in your life, being engaged to him, and you’re not sure you can handle a tipsy version of him. “Coryo, just...stop jerking me around and tell me. Please.”

He just hums, walks into the living room and plops down on the loveseat he seems to favour. He pats the empty space beside him and says, “Come and sit with me.”

So, you do, while keeping as much of a distance between you as much as the sofa can give.

“What would you give me in return, sugarplum?”

“What?”

“Quid pro quo,” he says with an increasingly wider smirk. “I can keep the knowledge to myself, but if you’re willing to make this interesting…”

Coriolanus inches towards you as he draws closer. Those blue hazy eyes are fixed on your lips, and you shudder inwardly as his meaning dawns on you.

“Kiss me,” he gruffly whispers. “Or I could just go to bed…it’s an office day tomorrow, after all…”

But you have to know what has become of Uncle Cas, right? So, you swallow that lump in your throat, close your eyes and place your lips over his.

Surprisingly, he remains stationary and even allows you to break the quick kiss.

“Your first kiss was him,” he then blurts out. It comes out almost accusatory.

Oh no.

“How was it?”

“W-what – ?”

“How was it?” He grabs your arms, seemingly determined to get an answer. “Show me.”

“This has nothing to do with – ”

“I said show me.”

The way he growls that command of his and the manner in which he almost shakes your form shows you he isn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. Whatever point he’s trying to make, he isn’t letting go of it anytime soon, so once more, you kiss him, letting your lips linger a little more on his before letting go.

Exactly the way Sejanus did.

Coriolanus Snow just managed to tarnish a cherished memory of yours without even lifting a finger.

And yet, he just scoffs like it’s nothing. You try to wrench your arm away, but this time, he initiates the kiss – a longer, deeper kiss, pushy, almost, with his tongue demanding entrance to your mouth. When you keep your lips shut, he pulls away.

“Remember that fight we had?” he whispers into your lips. “You said I took everything from Sejanus. Not everything, then. Not yet. You were Sejanus’s love. His girl.” Then, as if to further make a mockery of your dead first love, he lets out a deep, throaty laugh, continuing, “I wish he was alive today if only to see his first and only love in my arms, kissing me as he did on the day he last saw you.”

Humouring him by sitting on the same couch was a mistake. You struggle against his hold, but he just pulls you closer.

“Let me go – ”

You lean further away from his face, but you don’t get too far away, not when his grip on your arms is still vicelike.

“Now, I get to do so much more than he ever did with you...”

In a single swoop, Coriolanus manages to pin you underneath his frame on the loveseat with your legs awkwardly hanging on the side, earning a yelp from you. Your heartbeat is pounding so loud in your ears as his warm breaths fan the side of your face – he’s taken your arms and pinned them above your head while he leans over your shaking form. Your attempts to budge are met with a displeased growl over your ear.

“Coryo, stop – ” you manage to breathe out, but you’re instantly cut off.

He’s just encased your lips with his, and his tongue roams your mouth hungrily – with every move of his lips, yours is forced to move as well. When he’s had enough, that mouth and its heated kisses travel to your jaw, finally allowing you to breathe.

But instead of an exhale, a choked sob escapes you.

Coriolanus pulls away reluctantly, adjusting his grip on your arms as he peers into your tear-filled eyes.

Finally, he states matter-of-factly, “You’re a virgin.”

Despite your distress at the vulnerable position you’re in, you retort, “That’s none of your business.”

“But it is. You’ll be my wife soon. I suppose I can tell you about my past to make it easier for you. There’s that one in the back alley, that was my first; you already know that. Then, a few after that...whores...”

His head dips into your neck, and he goes on to whisper over your exposed skin, “I want you to know that while I fucked them, all I could think of was you.”

Ignoring your frantic plea, Coriolanus angles your head and proceeds to lick, suckle, and bite all over the column of your neck to your collarbones. His bites become increasingly harsher, and from above you, you feel him grasp both your wrists in one hand, while his other travels downwards, roaming the side of your body and reaching the hem of your nightgown. That hand slowly caresses your thigh, lifting the gown in the process. As if that isn’t enough, he bucks his hips into yours, trapping you further underneath him and almost suffocating you in his warmth.

“Please, Coryo, stop…please…”

Your pained sobbing and begging seem to get to him. Coriolanus pulls away at last, getting one more look at you before he admits, “You’re right. We’ll have plenty of time after the wedding.” He pauses before adding as an afterthought, “Oh, your uncle has been released and all his confiscated belongings have been returned to him. I’ll see to it that your bag is returned to me, as well.”

You don’t get to see his face with your eyes full of unshed tears, so you only vaguely see him draw close and feel the chaste kiss he plants on your trembling lips before he gets off you and releases you completely.

As soon as he does, you scamper back into your room and push the lock on the doorknob. Still gasping for air in between crying, your eyes automatically land on a shelf in the room. You don’t why, but somehow you know it’d be there:

Your little bunny plush.

Somehow, the sobbing dies down as you make a grab for it, thanking whoever packed your stuff for somehow picking it up and adding it to the pile. You drag yourself and the bunny plush to the bed and burrow under the sheets. You hug Bunny as close as you can, squeezing it harder than you’ve ever held it.

Your uncle had been released from his cell in the Citadel, so that’s one problem crossed out, at the very least.

Just when you’re about to close your eyes, however, your fingers manage to grope at something solid – almost the side of your palm, thin and square – inside your bunny plush.

Enter Level 13

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!

*copadia - ancient Roman beef stew

Alrigt, more Snowball assholery xD there are so many things in this fic I'd like to make commentary on, but please comment whatchutink will happen next lol

#dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #Young!coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow x reader #named!reader #or #x OC2ndPOV #18+ only #dark!coriolanus snow fic #dark!coriolanus #dark!coriolanus fic #dark!fic

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