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casualhedonists · 5 months

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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter three)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 3/? (MASTERLIST)

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, power play, oral sex, thigh riding, degradation, dirty talk, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

taglist: if you’d like to be tagged, leave a comment on the masterlist post and i’ll add you! 💌

a/n: thank you for your patience and condolences / kind messages over the past week i’ve been awol. i’m very happy to be back. very long, filthy and much awaited chapter ahead, so strap in and hope you enjoy the ride.

in the words of miss zegler herself: oh we are so back.

You weren’t sure how long he stared at you, smiling with a fire in his eyes that rivalled yours until it was eclipsed. A third and final time, you found yourself speechless, dumbstruck, and one final time, much like the others, you took a few shaky steps backwards, before turning and fleeing.

He knew. He’d known this whole time. How long had he been planning this? Exactly how much of this had been an act, with Snow puppeteering you as you slowly lost your mind?

You almost felt pity for the girl, because she was played just like you were. She was a mere pawn in his game of chess, where he’d toyed with you until you were backed into a corner, unable to make a move.

Well, not this time. Now you knew what he was playing, you were ready to up your game. This wouldn’t be another stalemate; you wanted to win, and you had a few ideas of where to start.

You were already up and dressed when you heard a knock at your door the next morning.

Dreading the worst – despite the fact that Snow had never actually been in your room before, but the rules had changed now and you weren’t sure quite how much – you paused for a second to prepare yourself, praying that he wouldn’t be there, ready to put a stop to your plans before they’d even started.

You fell lucky. It was one of Snow’s footmen, George.

“Good morning, ma’am. I, um.” He swallowed, not meeting your eye. “I have a message from Master Snow. He’d like for you to meet him for breakfast in a half hour, if you will. He says you have something… quite important to discuss.”

Typical Snow. Never liked to get his hands dirty. Too proud to knock at your door himself.

You considered.

“George, could you please tell Coriolanus that if I’ve already eaten, and that I’ll come to him when I see fit. If he isn’t satisfied,” you added, for his sake, as you knew Snow wasn’t above killing the messenger, “Say I have an urgent matter to tend to, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

You grew a lump in your throat from your refusal, fearing the consequences. But you’d set your plan into motion now and there was no going back. Once George had been sent on his way, you snuck down the stairs on the far end of the building and slipped out the door through the servants’ quarters, where you knew Snow wouldn’t see you leave. The one upside to the last few weeks was that you’d learned how to sneak around the manor unnoticed. You were certain there were at least three hallways he’d had never even set foot in.

You had Lucille call Henry – Snow’s driver – in advance so you could leave right away.

“Where are we going, ma’am?” He glanced at you over his shoulder as you slid into the black town car.

“Head into the city. I’ll explain on the way.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Henry took some convincing – and some light bribing – to finally cave and tell you what and where this gentleman’s club was. Of course, it was a risk, a roll of the dice to go there without concrete proof, but you knew Snow. You knew his little neuroses and hang-ups, and he was paranoid; in all senses, it would seem, except when it came to you. If he’d been frequenting this club for some time – some years, according to Henry – and trusted their discretion, then you highly doubted he’d play Russian roulette and pick somewhere else.

You were dropped off outside, and sent Henry to the tailor to pick up some of Snow’s things; an excuse for the outing, but a part of your plan too. He was hesitant to leave you alone in such a place, but you insisted you knew exactly how to handle yourself, and so he gave in.

You’d deliberately dressed down for what you were about to do, worn your old coat and let your hair down with a hood pulled over it. It being daytime, the place was closed for business, but you knocked on the front door expectantly.

You waited. Went over the plan, and knocked again.

This time, the door opened and a burly man now stood between you and the inside of the brothel. Your curiosity made peek over his shoulder before he cleared his throat.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes. My name is Margaret, sir, I’m a maid at the, uh,” You dropped your voice to a low whisper, “Snow household. I have a message for the owner of this establishment, from my master. Is he here?”

The man cleared his throat and glanced around the nearly empty street, then beckoned you in quickly.

“Anything for Mr Snow, miss. Right this way.”

There was your proof.

The empty club was a classy one, you had to give Snow that. The bar caught your eye, silver panels lining the wall behind it in an otherwise jet-black glossy room, with dark red couches and shiny tables, booths, single chairs, a stage with shiny metal poles, and a few cordoned-off alcoves.

You took it all in, certain you’d be able to appreciate the aesthetics of it more if it wasn’t for the seething rage inside you. You were stopped at a closed door near the back, and the burly man knocked.

“Yeah.” Came a voice from inside.

“All yours. He’ll take care of you.” Your guide stepped away. You pushed at the door.

A dark-haired man sat facing a desk, poring over paperwork. He didn’t look up.

“If you’re here for a job, sweetie, it’s Tuesday after 11.”

This incensed you.

“I’m not here for work. This is official business. I was told you take care of… special clients.”

He spun around, frowning.

“I’m listening.”

“I have a message from President Snow. He has a series of requests to be carried out with no delay.”

“Ah, yes. Mr Snow. I see. And you are to him?” He prompted.

“Just a maid from the household. He sent me as a messenger.”

“Excellent. Well in that case, of course, miss. How can I be of service?”

You took a breath, hoping desperately that he didn’t see right through you.

“Firstly, the shoes your girl wore.”

“What would he like with them?” He asked.

“He’d like to keep them. He’s willing to pay, and he’s not up for a price negotiation. This should cover them.” You slipped a bill across the table, and he nodded. You learned long ago that money causes loose lips, and this man was no exception.

“Of course,” he obliged, “They’re in the lockers through that door there. I’ll bring them to you. We ordered them in specially for Veronica, he made a point for her to wear them on the first floor. Usually our girls get instructions to sneak through clients’ houses quietly, but we handle every request as thoroughly as possible.” He chuckled.

That fucker. He really had planned it all out to get in your head.

“Was there anything else I can do for you, miss?”

You swallowed thickly.

Here goes.

“Yes, actually. As of today, he’ll no longer be needing your services, or her services. He’d like to terminate your contract, and he doesn’t wish to see her again. Ever.”

The owner blinked. His mouth moved, as if he was about to say something, but then it closed again.

“But, um,” he stammered, “It’s only been three weeks. Veronica is our best girl, and he’s her top client. She carried out his orders to the absolute best of her ability, I can assure you. Are you sure those were his words?”

You sighed.

“She’s getting off lucky with a dismissal. Take it as a warning, sir. President Snow doesn’t show mercy to thieves. If she shows her face again, I can guarantee you, he’ll have her head.”

His face turned plum-red with horror.

“She was… stealing?”

In a way, yes.

“She was caught by a maid last night.” You nodded, and the owner swallowed thickly.

“I – I understand, Miss. I am terribly sorry for this. I apologise that our services weren’t up to your master’s expectations, truly. Please, if there’s anything I can do- and I can assure you, I’ll be having some very stern words-”

You cut him off.

“There is one more thing, as a matter of fact."

"Anything." He pleaded.

"You can send word that… Veronica, is it? She’ll be paying him a visit this evening. But you are not, under any circumstances, to send her. Am I understood?”

He furrowed his brows, puzzled. But you stared back challengingly and held your ground.

A small, sheepish smile formed on his face.

“Much obliged. I can assure you your requests will be carried out with the utmost discretion.”

“Thank you.”

He brought you the heels in a shiny box, and you turned and left.

Henry was waiting outside, and you slid back into the car.

“Get what you needed, ma’am?”

“I certainly did.”

The drive home was your chance to pick up lunch, finetune your plan, and go through the suits you’d had Henry pick up from the tailor.

They looked impeccable – crisp and creaseless, the white shirts brighter than the stars, and the maroon red jackets and waistcoats deeper than blood itself. It was one of these jackets that you chose to take upstairs with you, leaving the rest to be taken up to Snow’s room later, hoping the missing item would go unnoticed.

You retraced your way up the winding stairs of the manor. Luckily, Lucille had informed you Snow had left not long after you that morning, and was expected to be gone until evening. Nonetheless, your paranoia made you glance left, right and left again before every turn. Finally, after an exhaustingly long morning, you were back in the safety of your own room.

But the work was far from finished. You ate quickly, then began getting ready for your discussion with Snow. He hadn’t sent for you again; he was too proud. You took pride in knowing he’d be positively seething at your turning him down that morning. You kept going, showering, teasing your hair, adding a little more makeup than usual – not excessive, but enough to make a difference – then finally wandered the room as you picked your wardrobe for later.

You lay out the heels – which were a little big on you, but would serve their purpose – as well as the jacket you’d stolen, taking the time to run your fingers over the smooth maroon velvet you’d felt only briefly before, when brushing against Snow at public events. You then dug through your underwear drawer, debating between a red lingerie set and a white. You picked the latter; the tones of red would blend in with the jacket and white made more of a statement.

Innocence. If only.

You checked the time. Three hours or so until Coriolanus would be expecting Veronica. You hoped that he would be back by then, and more so, that your performance with the brothel owner had been enough to hold him to his promise of sending word. But if you’d learnt anything from Snow, it was that fear commanded respect, and better yet, obedience. So your doubts were few and far between.

In all honesty, that’s what had drawn you to Snow in the first place. It wasn’t about money; your family had money, more than they knew what to do with. It was the power, the fear. Even the richest man in the world would crumble to the ground with a gun to his head. Power trumps wealth every time, and the enigmatic, newly elected President was by far the most powerful man in Panem.

It was its own kind of thrill, pursuing a man like that. The temptation to get him wrapped around your fingers, ravenous, hungry for power, hungry for him. It all blurred together at this point, the man was like a magnet. You wondered if this thirst for more, always more, was an affliction the two of you shared. Or perhaps, an affliction you’d developed a taste for because of him. And the longer you spent at his side, the louder it began to beat in your chest like a second heart. You wanted to consume it, and let it consume you.

It thrummed in your chest now, adrenaline coursing in your veins. You fidgeted as you waited for the hours to pass, your craving growing with each second. You flicked through a few books; you drafted a letter to your mother. Each tick of the clock bringing you closer to finally taking the one thing you’d wanted since the day you met Coriolanus Snow. It was almost time for your big move.

✩✩✩✩

As enough darkness crept into your room and you stood to light some candles, you heard soft footsteps pass your door.

For a change, you recognised them as Snow’s, even and deliberate. He was home. With half an hour to spare until he’d be expecting his whore.

You jumped at the opportunity to change. Slowly and carefully, you slipped out of your clothes and into the underwear set, until you were clad in crisp white lace, with a matching garter belt as a finishing touch. You slid on Snow’s jacket – which smelled like him, of his cologne – the usual fitted shape it would give Snow now hanging loose and slack around your body, falling to the tops of your thighs. You did up the first button, tracing the neckline that plunged down your chest, leaving very little to the imagination. You slipped into the heels, checked the time, and after scanning yourself over in the mirror, made for the door.

The few worries you had about being seen by the staff were short-lived; the hallway lights were dim as you wobbled in the heels, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. You weren’t sure if Snow had fallen for your plan, but what mattered was that as you turned the corner, there were lights shining from under his bedroom door. He was in there, waiting. By now, it was odd seeing it closed. You tried your best to emulate the sound of the footsteps you’d drilled into your brain, the clicks giving you a sense of power knowing Snow – apprehensive or not – would be in for at least one surprise.

Click. Click. Click.

You considered pausing before barging in, but you didn’t. When you reached the end of the hallway, seconds away from your fate, you reached out a hand, pushed Snow’s door open, and walked right inside.

Snow was there; of course he was. Facing his dresser and away from you, he didn’t flinch at the sound of your arrival. You closed the door behind you, and took a step towards him. Stared at his back, scanning his black dress pants and the white shirt he’d rolled up to his elbows, cufflinks on the table, blonde curls a little unruly as he smoothly poured himself a drink.

This, right here, was where the solid part of your plan ended. It was caution to the wind from here on out, and you could practically taste it, high off the adrenaline; off his presence. And he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

This was the moment of truth.

“Well,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Look who finally figured it out.”

“Not who you were expecting?”

“She’d never reschedule.” he said simply, turning on his heels, eyes glinting at you. “Figured you were up to something. Drink?”

“Think I’ll pass.”

He approached you, eyes scanning your body, deliberately clad in the skimpiest underwear you owned. You figured this was as good a time as any to unbutton the jacket and let it fall open. It brushed your sides, and you watched him lower his glance, hungrily taking you in for what could quite possibly be the very first time. He wet his lips, took another sip.

There it is.

There was that power you craved, that look that you’d been aching to see in his eyes while he stared at you, and although it was fucked up, you let the pride fill your head with confidence, and stepped forward.

“Now, just where did you get that?” A slight narrowing of his eyes gave him away. At least something you’d done had made an impression.

“Borrowed it. In case I get cold.” You smiled.

“Cute. Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to take things that aren’t yours?”

“Oh, I take whatever I want, Snow.”

You raised your head in defiance. Proud of your voice for not faltering once.

“Clearly. Nice shoes. Borrow those, too?”

“Why, do they look familiar?” you quipped.

“I think we both know the answer to that, doll. Now why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

You sighed, feigning exasperation. A chill crept up your legs but you barely noticed.

“You wanted to talk to me, Coriolanus. Talk.”

“Is that really what you came here for, sweetheart? Dressed like that?” He put his drink down on the dresser, not once looking away from you.

“If this is what it takes to get your attention, Snow, then yes.”

You took another step closer, and the jacket fell further to your sides, more skin slipping out from underneath for him to feast his eyes on.

“I think you know plenty about trying to get my attention. I watched you struggle for weeks.”

“Didn’t think you cared.” You muttered.

He laughed, low, more like a scoff.

“What, your childish attempts at seduction? They were pitiful at best. I’d expect that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady of your standing.”

“Thought you liked whores.” You retorted.

“They’re no fun to live with. And there you were, proving my point.”

Your eyes narrowed, and when you spoke, it was through gritted teeth.

“So what, you had to go and fuck one to prove a point? Mature.”

“Mature?” he glowered, then before you could think, he stormed towards you, grabbing both of your wrists with a hard squeeze. You gasped.

“Mature like you, with your short skirts and your fuck-me eyes, sucking your fingers off at the breakfast table?”

You squirmed. Tried to jolt yourself away but it was no use.

“I didn’t think you-”

“Oh, I noticed.” He said, moving in to corner you, grip tightening until he was walking you backwards across the room as he spoke, never once taking his eyes off you. “And it’s a real shame this couldn’t have been easier for us both, but you just had to start it. So I watched your pathetic little displays, day after day, knowing if you’d behaved better, I would’ve given you exactly what you wanted.”

You fought not to trip over yourself until your legs bumped against the ottoman at the foot of his bed and you caught your breath. His eyes bored into yours and you blinked helplessly. His grip loosened on your wrists. You tried to speak, but your mouth had gone dry.

“If you’d been good,” he continued, voice lowering, “you wouldn’t have played around like that. Good girls don’t whore themselves out to respectable men.”

Your eyes narrowed in defiance as you felt heat start to brew in your stomach.

“Respectable?” You spat, and his grip tightened again, bringing one hand up to trace your jaw, almost pitifully.

“See what I mean? You dig yourself deeper at every turn. Good girls ask nicely, and say please. It didn’t take me long to figure out you had issues with authority. It could’ve been so easy for you, sweetheart. You had plenty of chances. You could’ve asked me very nicely to fuck you, but instead you behaved like a desperate slut for weeks on end. Eventually, I knew there was only one way to shut you up.”

Your ears started to ring and you fought harder to gain composure. He’d never talked to you like this before. And now, all this, all at once, it was almost too much. Goosebumps had long covered your arms and legs, despite the heat inside you burning you up. You were vaguely aware of heat pooling uncomfortably between your legs.

Your breathing was heavy as you stared into him, his hand gripping your chin, and you couldn’t hide it if you tried. He finally backed away, letting you peel yourself from the ottoman. His hungry eyes scanned over you, suit jacket now crumpled at the wrists. You swallowed as you tried to pull yourself together.

“You knew I was watching you. The whole time. Every time. It was… for me.”

He watched you knowingly, raised his eyebrows a little. His lips grew into that smirk, that fucking smirk you knew all too well.

“We were playing the same game, sweetheart. I was just… Better.”

“A little excessive, don’t you think?” Your voice faltered and you cursed how breathy it sounded.

“Oh, on the contrary. It was very entertaining to see you struggle, but I could’ve gone further.” He mused. “I even considered fucking her on your bed.”

Shit.

A thought popped into your head, and a strange smile made its way to your face.

“Aren’t you going to ask me where I got these?” You asked, glancing down.

He frowned for a second; good. You’d thrown him off guard. But he caught up fast.

“The heels? You know, I had her walk right past your door in those so you’d follow her and see just what you were missing?”

If you weren’t so wired with adrenaline, you were pretty sure you’d be tearing up with how desperate you felt. But his words channelled it all into pure anger.

“Fuck you.” You seethed, and he smiled.

“We'll get to that. But go on, I’ll bite. What did you do to her?”

“Let’s just say she deserved much worse than what she got. Maybe you should’ve fucked her on my bed. Would’ve given me a reason to choke the life out of her.”

“You think I’d care?”

“Course not. Knowing you, it’d probably get you off.”

“Which brings us right back to now.” He stared at you, challenging. You laughed again.

“Is this you talking? You’re not very good at it.”

“No, this is me giving you a second chance. The way I see it, you made your move, I made mine. Now, if you’re a good girl, and ask me very nicely to fuck you until that pretty little head of yours gets filled with nothing but empty space, I might consider putting an end to this and giving you what you want. Maybe.” If you thought you’d survive smacking that smug look off his face, you would.

“You want me to ask nicely, Coriolanus?” You closed the gap between the two of you and glanced up at him through your lashes. He looked back at you, and no chill in the world could cool you down from the fire in his eyes.

He stepped away, paced towards the desk chair – the one he’d watched you from last night – then dragged it across the floor, spun it around, and took a seat. Once again, last night felt worlds away now. A lifetime sat between that moment and this one as he made himself comfortable, unbuttoned his collar. As if the room was now a stage, and he was the sole spectator.

“Go on. I’m waiting.”

Cocky bastard.

Another airy laugh escaped you. But you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t exactly where you wanted him. So you played into it.

“You want me to beg you? Say pretty please?” Your voice softened as you slowly stepped towards him, holding his gaze. A passing thought reminded you of your childhood, asking your mother what you’d feel when you first truly fell for someone.

Fireworks. Thousands of them, crackling, hissing, charging the air between the two of you into something heavy. Thick clouds of smoke you could almost taste as you stared into darkened eyes. You paused in front of him, fingers playing with the hem of his suit jacket that brushed against your thighs. Caught your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Take it off.” He ordered.

“Gladly.”

You slipped the jacket off your shoulders, and it fell smoothly into a pile on the floor. You kicked off the heels next, landing haphazardly to the side with a thump. His eyes never leaving you, consuming you.

“Like what you see, Snow?”

He took you in, long and hungry and shameless. Like you were simply there for his entertainment, nothing else. You wondered where along the line he’d lost all his inhibitions, at what moment in his very young life he’d decided to simply stop caring. It should scare you, but it just made you burn warmer. Maybe your wires were a little crossed, too, because it didn’t make you feel cheap.

It made you feel powerful.

You knew you looked good, too; you’d made sure of it. But he was looking at you like you were carved out of solid gold. He didn’t answer, because he didn’t need to.

“Think I like you better when you’re not acting like a dumb slut.”

You hummed, determined and unphased, moving in closer until your legs touched his knees. His words shouldn’t turn you on - nor should not knowing exactly how much he meant them – but they did.

“You like me better when I’m begging, then?” You placed your legs either side of his, straddling him, but still standing, and took his hands in yours. You ran one of them across your lips, brazenly taking a digit in your mouth, releasing it with a wet pop, then dropping your head down.

“You want me to be straightforward, Snow? Tell you exactly what I want?” you breathed, your foreheads almost touching, looking down at him from a thrilling vantage point, your hair falling either side of his face. “To beg you to rip this off me?” You guided his hands to your hips, letting them slide over the lacy fabric. “You want me to beg you to kiss every inch of skin you see and make it yours? Beg you to fuck me until I can’t think, and forget my own name?”

You ran his hands down the sides of your legs, then, inch by inch, letting him take a good long look on the way, you finally lowered yourself onto his lap. Your blown-out eyes met again, at the same level this time. You shifted your hips once, feigning getting comfortable, and hid a smile as he let out a strained sound.

You were close enough to feel his breath against yours, fast but steady, controlled. You moved closer, your head dipping cautiously under his chin to kiss his neck. He smelt clean, like fresh laundry and his cologne, and his skin tasted like salt as your tongue traced a line across it. It felt like power, having him like this. Slowly starting to grind your hips as your mouth pressed against his pulse, every shaky breath you elicited from him awakening something new in you.

“Say it, Snow.” You murmured, breath catching. “Tell me you want me to beg you, and be good for you.” Another trail of messy kisses across his jaw, and you finally heard it, ragged and coarse, words shooting through you like knives softened by the heat of his breath on your hair.

“Be a good girl, and fucking beg me.”

You hummed with satisfaction. Moved your lips to his ear, hand cupping the back of his neck, and leaned in close.

“If you wanted me to be good,” you whispered, “then you’ve picked the wrong girl.”

You felt it, his whole body tensing beneath you. But you had it now, the upper hand, and you weren’t giving it away. Your other hand came up to close over his mouth with a warning shake of the head, and you gripped the back of his neck harder with the first. Craned it backwards so he could look at you, a different kind of fire in his eyes. A fire that could burn you far worse than any other. You leaned your weight into him until you were flush, skin pressing into fabric. Tightening your legs around his so he couldn’t kick out. You felt dangerous. You felt alive.

When you spoke, your voice was a vial of vitriol.

“You thought I’d just give into you? Three weeks of torture and you call it even? No fucking way, Snow. You wanted to play? Let’s play.”

You were closer to him now than you’d ever been before, infinitely closer than when you’d held hands in front of an audience, or danced in the middle of a ballroom, or when he’d draw you in for a lingering kiss at the head of a busy table.

You were closer still because of the common denominator: you were alone, your bodies pressed together, soft and firm colliding. And your stomach ached with want, but your rage burned brighter.

When you were sure he wouldn’t move, you readjusted your position on his lap so you were sat on one thigh, your right knee pressed firmly against the chair between his legs. Slowly, you dragged your hips against it, firm muscle between your legs, shameless as you stared him down.

“I’d like to modify the terms of our agreement, as of tonight. Starting with this: I’ve made sure your little whore won’t come running back here. If I so much as hear a whisper of a rumor that you’re fucking someone else, I’m leaving. Don’t think I don’t know how to disappear. I can, and I will.”

He scowled at you, and you’d never felt power like the rush you got from seeing your hand clamped over his mouth. His own hands, now easily able to overpower you and push yours away, instead sat at your hips, digging in so hard you knew there’d be bruises for weeks. As you moved, he started to follow suit, rocking your hips on his thigh faster.

He’s allowing this.

The realisation made you pull your hand from his mouth, and yet he didn’t speak. There was a tightness in his jaw, locked down so hard it must’ve hurt as he watched you move, helped you move. It sent a shock through your core, and you ground down harder.

Who’s on top now?

This was getting to your head.

“President Snow,” you mocked. “What a title. Thinks he can take whatever’s in his sight. Thinks he has the right. Did you think I’d come crawling back to you?” Your voice lowered.

“Did you think I’d get on my knees, like she did?” You glanced down, running your now-free hand over the front of his pants, gentle at first, then pressing in firm, and he hissed.

“Did you really think, after all your little shows, that I’d just submit? Not a chance.” You spat, and his breath turned a little shaky as your hand slid up, then down.

As it evened out, and he reached for composure again, he pulled a countermove. Got in close, with words so sharp, they nearly cut through you.

“Which one was your favorite?”

You pulled your hand away. Your hold on the back of his neck tightened, and in turn, so did his grip on your hips, pulling you down harder as you got closer, panties bunching up as you became desperate.

You shook your head.

“Don’t.”

He smirked.

“I gave you plenty to go off. Tell me, was it when I sat right here while she rode me? Or when I was fucking her mouth and calling your name?”

He pulled your hips in rougher, and you gasped, barely able to think. You were sure if he kept this up, your thighs would chafe. You just couldn’t find it in you to care.

“No, I don’t think so.” He hummed. “I know which one it was. It was the second time, wasn’t it? When I was making her cum all over my tongue, wondering what you tasted like.”

You couldn’t help it – a moan slipped out of your lips. He kept up the pace, rolling your hips faster, flexing his thigh as you started losing your bearings. He laughed at the state of you.

“I knew that one would get to you. Tell me something, princess, how many times did you touch yourself after that night wishing it was me? Or did you lose count?”

You gritted your teeth, fighting the spinning room.

“Cocky much?”

He let out a breathy laugh again, as if he was losing himself as much as you were. Pulling you in harder in response.

“Look at you,” he mused, “riding my thigh like the needy slut you are. Bet you’re close, too, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Fuck.” you panted. “Stop fucking talking, oh my god.”

“You sure about that, sweetheart? You know I can feel how wet it’s making you, right?”

Your head dropped down and you whined. Sure enough, you’d soaked through your panties and dripped an embarrassing wet patch on his dress pants. You cursed under your breath as you slowed down.

“Beg me.” He ordered.

“No.” You gasped as he pulled you back again, faster, hips bucking as your legs started to shake around his.

“Beg me,” he repeated, "or I’ll stop.”

“Fuck, no, don’t fucking stop, I can’t-”

It was so much friction it hurt, but you kept chasing it.

“Yes, you can. You want to cum? Ask nicely, sweetheart. Just ask me.”

The seam of your panties got wetter as you moved, just enough to let the pain melt into pleasure instead as it caught on your clit, and you started to ride out your high. You were right at the edge, he was keeping you there, hair stuck to your face in a hot sweat as you writhed on his lap. So fucking close.

“Fine, shit. Please. Please help me cum, oh my god. Right there, please. Fuck.”

And maybe you were more like him than you thought, because you weren’t ashamed. You rode his thigh like you’d ride him, unabashedly, while he watched you starting to fall apart. He moved faster, pulled your hips hard in as if you were riding him, as if he could feel it, breath running ragged, desperate. It only brought you closer knowing this would be sending him over the edge, holding you so near and yet so awfully far away. The look in his eyes screaming danger, and you let it swallow you whole, squeezing his shoulders like you were scared you’d float away.

"That's it. Knew you'd sound incredible, asking me all pretty like that."

His lips met your neck, teeth grazing your skin and that’s what did it, your legs squeezing his as you shook through your orgasm, crying out, falling to pieces, hearing going fuzzy. The words good girl echoing through your head so distantly, you couldn’t tell if he’d really said them or not.

You sighed, glazed eyes rolling open, coming back to yourself. Your right hand was pressed against his chest, fingers curled into the creased fabric of his shirt. As you looked closer, you noticed it had opened wider, and he was missing a button. Had you done that?

When your eyes finally met Snow’s, you couldn’t look away from them. Beautiful and blue, like an ocean frozen over, staring into yours like you were all he’d ever wanted. You could get high off this feeling, live off it.

“Get on the bed.” He breathed. “Right fucking now.”

But too much of any feeling isn’t good for you.

“No.”

He glowered, face flushing even further, and as he leaned in to make another demand, you quickly stood, trying your hardest not to let your wobbling legs give you away.

“You should understand, Snow. We’re doing things my way now. And I’m going to be doing them as I please, when I please.”

You picked his jacket up from the floor, and slipped back into it, the soft fabric cooling down your burning skin.

“You think you’re funny, sweetheart? Nobody likes a fucking tease.”

You chuckled, doing up a button and brushing your hair out of your face, damp with sweat. You walked to the dresser and took a swig from Snow’s half-empty glass, then turned. He sat there, and it took everything in you not to smirk at the mess you’d made of him. You handed him the glass when you were done drinking and turned away. You felt him stand, but you didn’t acknowledge it, still fiddling with your hair, smoothing it out.

“You said it yourself, Snow. I’m no common whore. If you want me to beg you to fuck me, you’re gonna have to work for it.” You turned, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. His face was unreadable.

“But be a doll, leave your door unlocked.” You added, stepping back. “You never know when I might change my mind.”

“You’re not going to leave. You wouldn’t dare.” He seethed, the rage in his voice only propelling you on.

“Wouldn’t I?” You smiled, giving him a once over. Dropped your eyes down pointedly, first at the ruined leg you’d ridden, then at the uncomfortable-looking tent in his pants. You met his eye again and bit your lip, really laying it on thick. “Good luck with that, sweetheart. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He huffed, incredulous, disbelief painted across his face as you made for the door, swinging it open. You glanced over your shoulder.

“Buckle up, Snow. I’m just getting started.”

You missed the way his shocked face turned almost admiring as he watched you leave, walking barefoot down the hallway, leaving the door wide open.

Checkmate.

a/n: hope it was worth the wait 😌

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904 @pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @snowlandstop @badbleep88 (more tags in the comments!)

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #snow x reader #snow x you #tom blyth #tbosas #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #attention

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bratphilia · 6 months

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note ✩ 🎀°｡‎ no thoughts just teacher student relationship with mikey. my last completely self indulgent fic before i actually get back to answering requests, i promise!! got this idea from this post by @harry1simp

pairing ✩ 🎀°｡‎‎ mike schmidt x reader

cw ✩ 🎀°｡‎‎ professor!mike x student!reader, reader is college aged, age difference, blow jobs, riding, unprotected sex

taglist ✩ 🎀°｡‎ @dilfity@iikyutee@kissingrhi@jen-parker@kathxstuff@papyrus-the-poet@lowballbread@cecelovesbooks@bluebearieally@cybunii@van-van@iamunabletothinkofablogname @1ncidentdropout @ice-echo26@officially-a-simp13@all4kura@el-sol-sale-de-nuevo@littlexstarlightx@samlow23

synopsis ✩ 🎀°｡ you notice your endearing, but bashful, classic literature teacher can't keep his eyes off of you and you decide to do something about it

baby, you might need a seatbelt when i ride it ‎ / ‎ i'mma leave it open like a door, come inside it

strawberry lip gloss (m. schmidt x reader)

you casually stride into your classic lit class, messenger bag swung on your shoulder, wearing tight-fitting leggings and a cropped jacket. it wouldn't be a big deal to you if a shiver didn't shoot up your spine; you felt like you were being watched. it wasn't abnormal for your peers in your classes to cast you glances. instinctively you turn to the podium; it's professor schmidt staring at you.

he's an awkward guy, to be honest, in the sense that he's not very charismatic or expressive. very standoffish, like there's certain things he wants to stray away from. you never really put much thought into it, though, he's very much just someone in the background of your life.

when your eyes meet his face, he's definitely not looking into yours. instead, his eyes are trained on your ass. you stop and clear your throat quietly, grabbing his attention. he immediately flusters and gulps, blinking a couple times to gather his thoughts and snap out of it. internally, you're not disgusted — you're honestly intrigued. brushing all thoughts aside, you take a seat and the lecture starts.

the lecture is about shakespearian works. he talks of hamlet, macbeth, and, interestingly enough (to you, at least), romeo and juliet. he assigns a broad topic essay on picking a play and writing a theme from said play. which is, again, weirdly broad, but you get an idea from the predicament he unintentionally put you in.

somewhere along the way during class, while you're reapplying your lip gloss — strawberry scented with a sheer, light pink tint to it — the two of you make eye contact. you pull the tube away from your glossed lips as he stares at you, and only for the briefest moment, he stops talking. you feel like a spotlight is on you, but everyone else around you disappears, and it's just you and him in that room. then he clears his throat, apologizes, and continues on explaining his expectations for the assignment.

the gears in your head turn. you torture him and you know it. with your pretty outfits and your pretty glossed lips.

the next class is fun, to say the least. you wear a v-neck top with a lace bra peaking under it, paired with bell bottom jeans that, again, hug your ass in a delicious way that catches your professor's gaze. you make eye contact with him like before, and this time, you smile politely and take the initiative to approach him.

he looks the other way for a moment, unsure and nervous, then looks back at you. "hi," you say in a voice that only the two of you could hear. "i was wondering if i could meet with you about my essay sometime."

he inhales. "sure thing," he says, not returning your smile. of course he wanted to help you, you were such a cute little thing, lips shiny and donned in a beautiful outfit that showed off all the right places to make him absolutely weak in the knees. "how about tomorrow evening during my office hours?"

you didn't any classes tomorrow and the only work you had to do was his essay. perfect. "sounds good to me," you say, containing your excitement enough to look innocent.

before you know it, the next evening arrives and you're making your way to the building his office resides in. it's not like you're wearing anything special. just an oversized, forest green campus sweatshirt with shorts underneath. your sweatshirt covers most of the shorts, only showing off your legs, paired with some sneakers. in your opinion, it's a typical outfit; not like you went searching through your closet for something "sexy" to wear to office hours. and yet, your professor still seems to have quite the staring problem. you bite back a smile.

"i wanted help on the essay you assigned," you tell him gingerly. "specifically on how to go about it."

mike inhales through his nose. "right, okay." he pulls a seat up in front of his desk for you and sits down in his respective chair. you promptly take the seat in front of his desk and cross your legs. "do you have an idea of what you want to write for the prompt?"

you, once again, bite back a smile. "i wanted to write about forbidden love between romeo and juliet..." you trail off when he drops his head slightly, breathing a sigh and your name.

you look at him, confused. "i just don't get it," he says, running a hand through his hair. "i just get this vibe from you that—"

"from me?" you say, furrowing your brow, tone accusatory and knowingly. you couldn't believe he was putting this on you. "you're the one with the staring problem!"

he looks at you blankly from your outburst. "you're right... it was totally inappropriate of me," he says with a sigh. "i don't know what's wrong with me."

"nothing's wrong with you," you say softly. you try to offer him a smile and stand up. as you walk over to his side of the desk, he watches you curiously but doesn't stop you. he swivels his chair around to face your direction, creating the perfect opportunity for you to sink down to your knees. you take note of the tent in his pants and allow yourself to smile. you hate to sound like a pornstar — because this situation is starting to turn out like a home movie — but you reach forward and he watches you intently. "if it helps... i'm into it too. can i?"

mike gulps. "please."

you reach forward to unzip his pants. he helps you free his cock from his boxers. the tip is swollen and red, pulsating. you lick your lips and look up at him with doe eyes. mike swallows yet again, adam's apple bobbing. you give him a slow, long lick up his cock. he throws his head back instantly, running a hand across his face in disbelief that this was actually happening. "fuck..." he whispers.

you slide your mouth up and down, eyes trained on his face, his reactions of pleasure. you learn quickly what makes him tick: paying attention to the tip of his cock. you lick around the slit and grasp his dick with your hand to pump as you suck him off. he's writhing and breathing your name, encouraging your movements even more.

when he looks down at you and the two of you make eye contact is when he starts to utter somewhat coherent sentences. "look at you — ngh — lips all glossy on my cock. so fucking — fuck! — sexy, shit."

you can sense that he's close but before he spills into your mouth, he nudging you by your hair to stop. "stop," he breathes, "hey.. stop, stop."

you let him go and remove your hands, head tilted with a frown. he wordlessly grasps you by your waist and pulls you to your feet. "come sit on my lap. can you do that?"

you give him a weak, knowing smile, jaw still tired. before you can hop on, he's undoing the clasp keeping your shorts together and you kick it down your legs. no panties — you have no idea what you do to him. you climb onto his lap, the chair tilting backward ever so slightly to support the weight of both of you. your legs swing over his lap and you rest on one of his thighs. he cradles your face gently and kisses the top of your head. it's surprisingly affectionate.

you're suddenly acutely aware of his hard length prodding against your clothed stomach. you lift your hips and put your hands on his shoulders as he watches you, and sink down onto his cock. the both of you moan in unison.

as you ride him, he can't take his eyes off you, and for once, looking at him is too much to bear. your eyes are shut in pleasure as you moan open-mouthed. all you can hear is the plopping noises of you bouncing up and down and his grunting.

he grasps at your ass and pulls you down so that his cock fits snug inside of you. "come for me me, baby," he whispers. "come on, you can do it. just let go."

"fuck," you groan, tears pricking at your eyes. he comes almost instantly after you, the both of you pulsating in the aftermath of your orgasms.

he keeps himself seated inside of you, once again craddling your face. "did so well f'me, my good girl." you embrace him back, holding onto him tightly.

#fnaf #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf smut #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #🕷️. — 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆

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cxptain-capsicle · 3 months

Text

Beyond the Sea | Luke Castellan | III

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Unclaimed Poseidon Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, slow burn flashbacks, established relationship present day, Gods being terrible parents

Series Masterlist Taglist

“Luke.” You whispered, trying not to wake any of the other campers. “You awake?”

“Yeah,” He whispered back. “You okay?”

You had been at Camp for a few months now and Luke was already accustomed to being woken up from you jolting out of bed after a nightmare. He joked that some mornings he would nearly be thrown out of the top bunk.

“I didn;t have a nightmare, I just can’t sleep.” Your voice trailed off at the end. Within a second Luke was out of the top bunk, his feet hitting the hard wood made a loud sound that made you jump.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. You sat up in the bed and he came to sit next to you.

“I just-” You started but struggled to find the words. “I don’t think I’ll be claimed.” After your few weeks at camp the topic of being claimed felt taboo, like everyone was thinking the same thing and nobody wanted to say it.

“You don’t know that.” He shook his head. “I knew a girl who got claimed after being here for almost a year. It can take time.”

“I’m tired of waiting.” You were too afraid to say anything negative about the gods while in one of their cabins. Especially the messenger god. “I just feel really alone.”

Luke didn’t say anything, he wrapped one arm around your shoulders and the other at the side of your head and pulled you into a hug.

When you woke up Percy was still asleep, you normally didn’t take too much to the new kids but you liked this one. You would be the first one to admit that you were jealous of the new arrivals seeing as most of them would be claimed within weeks. There was no point in becoming buddy-buddy with someone who would go off and get so wrapped up in their new siblings and godly parent that they forget all about you. Three years of radio silence from the gods had made you a little bitter. Luke would argue that maybe it was more than a little.

“I’m gonna take Percy around camp today,” Luke was slouched against the pillow in your bed. He grabbed one of his shoes and forcefully put it on. “Wanna come?”

“Get your shoes off of my bed.” You shoved his leg off the side of the bed, forcing him to sit up next to you. “And I’ll pass, Annabeth and I are gonna talk capture the flag.”

“Oh come on I thought you liked him?” Luke always tried to get you to join him but talking about nothing but getting claimed for 3 hours wasn’t your idea of fun.

“Not that much.” Before Luke could respond Percy sat up from his spot on the floor with a jolt. You had been asking Charlie Beckendorf, a Hephaestus camper, to make more bed frames for the cabin for months but it kept falling to the bottom of his priority list. Over the past few years the amount of kids in the Hermes cabin has grown faster than you could accommodate.

“You okay?” Luke asked as he rose to his feet.

“Super.” Percy groaned as he pulled himself off of the ground.

“We all have them, you know.” Luke was always the first to comfort new campers. “Intense, recurring nightmares. That's normal here. And the daydreams, and the ADHD, and dyslexia. Demigods just process reality differently than humans do. For the first time in your life, you're just like everyone else.”

“So are you also…” Percy said slowly. “Do you not know who your-”

“Am I unclaimed?” Luke finished for him. He glanced over at you instinctually. “No, Hermes is my father.” Like always mentioning Hermes made Luke stand up straighter. “That doesn't matter, we're all on the same team here.”

“I’m unclaimed.” You told Percy. “I’ve been here for 3 years.”

“Why is that okay?” He was talking directly to you now. “Why do they get to bring us here to just ignore some of us?”

“I’ve been asking myself that since the day I got here.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, he sounded exactly like you. “I get how you’re feeling but no matter what happens you’re gonna be fine.”

“Spend too much time trying to figure out why the gods do whatever it is they do, you'll drive yourself crazy.” Luke warned. “Sooner you stop worrying about that, the sooner you can enjoy what this place actually does offer.”

“And what's that?” Percy asked.

“Glory.” Luke smirked. “Demigods have always fought for glory. They used to call it kleos. It's like this stuff that attaches itself to your name. Makes it bigger, scarier, more important. People listen closer when you talk, they work harder to be your friend and they think twice about messing with you.” Before Luke could finish Clarisse passed by bumping Percy in the shoulder.

“Hey!” Percy exclaimed, causing Clarisse to quickly turn around and push him down to the ground.

“Woah!” Luke stepped up to Clarisse. “Hey. Knock it off, Clarisse. It's like his first day, come on.” You grabbed Percy’s arm and helped him up off the ground.

“Wait, so this is the kid who killed the Minotaur.” She had a devilish smile on her face. “Is that right?”

“Yeah?” Percy said cautiously.

“I'll bet. Look, you want attention around here, dummy? You better be ready for it when it comes.” Clarisse made a fake lunge for him, causing Percy to jump.

“Clarisse, let it go.” You chimed in. She glanced at you for a moment before turning away with her friends. You and Clarisse weren’t friends exactly, she wasn’t friends with anyone outside of her cabin, especially not an unclaimed kid, but you weren’t enemies. You got along well enough, you would spar together, you mutually respected each other. Every once in a while you might even have a few laughs at the campfire.

“Well, she seems nice.” Percy said flatly.

“Ares kids.” Luke sighed. “They come by it honestly.”

“Maybe she’ll grow on you.” You shrugged. “I kinda like her, then again she doesn’t bother me.”

“Why don't they mess with you?” Percy asked Luke.

“They know better.” Luke said proudly.

“Luke's the strongest swordsman at camp.” Chris explained.

“I’m second.” You chimed in. “For the record.”

“So, they leave you alone because ‘glory’?” Percy asked and Luke nodded. “So if I get glory, Clarisse wouldn't mess with me either?”

“Exactly.”

“And people think I'm a big deal?”

“Well, sorta, but-” Luke started.

“I don’t know about all that.” You said

“And my dad's got no choice but to claim me.” Percy finished. You and Luke sighed and looked at eachother. You understood his eagerness to be seen.

“You can't force the gods to do anything.” Luke told Percy gently.

“Believe me, I’d know. I tried.” You added.

“Well, yeah, but... it would make it harder for him to pretend I don't exist, right?”

“It’s worth a shot.” You shrugged.

“It is?” Luke swiveled to look at you.

“I mean it couldn’t hurt.” You just wanted to give the poor kid some hope.

“Great.” Percy perked up. “Where do we start?”

When you had nightmares you knew you were in a dream but that didn’t make it any less scary. You were on a beach, it was dark, the sky shades of purple and blue. There were storms; the waves were five times higher than your head. You were alone, the beach extended as far as your eyes could see. With nothing else to do you began walking down the beach. With every step your feet became heavier- wait, no- you were sinking. The sand was vibrating causing you to sink further and further into it. You were struggling to try to pull your feet out of the sand until you heard voices that made you freeze. Luke. Then Annabeth. Grover. Clarisse. And a young boy's voice that you didn’t recognize. You could make out each of their voices but not what they were saying. Their voices were frantic, they were calling for help, they were in danger. You fought harder but it only made you sink faster.

“Luke!” You screamed out just as your head went beneath the sand.

You woke up with a jolt gasping for air, panting, and drenched in sweat. You peered to the bunk above you to see if you had woken Luke but there was no movement. You pulled yourself out of bed as quietly as possible to not wake anyone. You debated waking Luke but decided against it. You slipped your shoes on and grabbed a jacket that you kept by your bed. As quietly as you could you tiptoed across the cabin and out the front door. You went out the door past the Hephaestus cabin, then Apollo, Ares, then Poseidon. Just as you were about to pass the mess hall a voice erupted from the silence of the night.

“Where do you think you’re going?” It was Luke.

“Oh my gods, Luke.” You nearly doubled over with shock. “You didn’t have to sneak up on me.”

“Why are you out here?” He came close to you, placing his hands on the sides of your arms. “It’s the middle of the night. It’s freezing.”

“I- I had another nightmare.”

“The same one?” He asked and you nodded. You had been at camp for almost a year now and had been having the same dream for almost six months. “Why are you out here?”

“I just needed fresh air, I guess.” You crossed your arms over your chest, honestly you didn’t know why you were out here.

Luke gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Okay let’s walk then.”

You and Luke walked together quietly for a while. You walked through the woods until you reached the Long Island sound. It was the same beach as the one in your dream but even in the dead of night it wasn’t as cold, as scary as it was in your dreams. Sometimes after a particularly bad night you would come here to remind yourself that it was just a dream. This was the first time Luke had come with you to the beach and it gave you much more comfort.

“This isn’t your first time out here is it?” Luke glanced at you with a smile, he knew the answer.

“No,” You chuckled. “I guess I find it relaxing.”

The two of you found a place to sit on the sand just above the tide. Luke sat to your left, your shoulders touching trying to conserve the little warmth between you. There was a silence between you that felt safe and comfortable. You rested your head on Luke’s shoulder and he rested his head against yours. You felt something cold touch the side of your hand and looked down to see Luke's hand inching closer to yours. It felt like you were moving in slow motion but eventually Luke had your hand clasped in his. You and Luke had always had a special relationship. From the second he found you in the cave and pulled you into his lap you were bonded. He gave you his bunk when you came to camp. Showed you around and always stayed at your side. Listened to you grovel about not being claimed day in and day out. You had hugged before but never held hands and it never felt like this before.

“You’re not alone.” Luke whispered to you. The sound of the waves and Luke’s voice were music to your ears. You were entranced, Luke was so close you could feel his breath on your cheek. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon providing just enough light to bounce off of the water and reflect onto Lukes face. The light made his brown eyes glitter. You had never looked at Luke this way before. You were so close and millimeter by millimeter you were getting closer and closer-

“Oh!” You both exclaimed as the freezing cold water of the tide splashed up on you both, soaking you in sea water. Each of you rose to your feet eagerly running from the water before doubling over in laughter.

“Oh, that’s freezing!” You cried out through your laughs. When you finally caught your breath Luke was in front of you staring down at you seriously. “What is it?”

“I mean it,” He was breathing heavily. “You’re not alone here.”

“I know Luke,” You nodded. “But-,” Luke cocked his head, unsure of what else you had to say.

“I’ve been alone my whole life Luke. No parents, no family. Camp was where I was supposed to find that. But my parent couldn’t care less that I even exist.” You rambled.

“I know that you’re upset-” Luke tried but you cut him off.

“I’m not upset Luke. I’m angry!” You shouted. You felt your face turn hot with anger, your heart beat fast. “I’m furious that they would abandon me-”

“Y/n-” Luke tried but you kept going.”

“They would humiliate me, over and over. My entire life!” You were fuming, your blood boiling.

“Y/n!” He shouted.

“What!” You yelled back. Just now you realized that Luke wasn’t looking at you. He was looking behind you. You turned around to see a massive wave, 30 feet high, suspended behind you. Your anger turned to confusion and just as it did the wave came crashing down at your feet, returning to the sea like it was never there.

Feel free to leave feedback, suggestions, and headcannons in the inbox. I love incorporating your guy's ideas!

Taglist:

@fudosl @lenasvoid @light-23 @petrichorvzlia-blog @heartzflwers @vampsaddicted @bbgkaykay @shiara04 @teigo-the-explorer @number-onekidqueen

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo fandom #pjo series #luke x reader #percy jackson show #percy jackson x reader #luke pjo #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo

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messenger-of-stupidity · 9 months

Text

TAGLIST SIGN UP - CLOSED im sorry

I finished the Vega semi-comfort fic (it's Vega. it's not going to be the same type of comfort you'd get from Ollie or Asher or something. But it's comfort nonetheless... kind of.)

But before I actually post it (and since I'm actually gonna proofread this one), i wanted to know if anyone wanted to be tagged.

Want a snippet? Sure babes, I got you.

"He inhaled deeply, filling his useless lungs with unneeded air. The inchoate’s gaze was pulled towards him. Good. He liked having their focus on him. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for them to say something other than an apology. They stayed quiet, just staring at him in a manner humans might dub as awkward. He waved a hand, dexterous fingers summoning a thread of magic that had a spark of light kissing his fingertips."

If this is your first rodeo, interacting with this post in any way (Comments, reblogs, or likes) is signing up to be tagged when it gets posted.

Story Link

#messy rambles #messenger of taglists #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted warden #redacted vega

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iheartyouyou · 2 years

Text

AFTERMATH | Eddie Munson

Summary: After the teacher reads Robin’s and yours notes about the infamous freak out loud, Eddie confronts you after class and (sort of) asks you on a date.

Sequel to Out loud

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the love and support on out loud! It now has over 10,000 notes and that’s truly insane. I’m sorry that it took me a while for part 2 to be posted, I just had no idea where and how to continue it. Hopefully this meets your guys’ expeditions 💖 (If i forgot you on the taglist, i’m deeply sorry) Not proofread

Your eyes widened as you read the words.

“I was actually staring at you, not Chrissy. Cheerleaders aren’t my type.”

You read them over, and over, and over again. Was Robin trying to prank you? Was anyone else but Eddie pranking you?

You just couldn’t wrap your head around it. It was impossible.

You quickly scanned the room, your eyes landing on Eddie. He was already staring at you— anticipation written all over his face. That disappeared, replaced with a cocky look as he saw your flustered reaction.

Tearing your eyes from Eddie, you look back at the note. He just admitted to staring at you. Was it because he likes you? Or does he think your weird? Or did he lie because he felt pity? Maybe he was playing a cruel joke on you, just to stir up those rumors. Or maybe he was actually being serious? Your mind just couldn’t accept the fact that he wrote a letter, to you.

You didn’t know if he wanted you to write back or not, but you ultimately decided not to. Crumbling the note and stuffing it in the pocket of your sweater. But you knew that you would be obsessing over it later, butterflies swarming your stomach as you played out fake scenarios.

Another tap made it’s way on your shoulder, another note coming your way. You quickly grab the note, silently thanking the ‘note messenger’ before practically ripping it open.

“What? No response? Seemed like you were pretty comfortable talking about me earlier.”

Fighting back a smile, you look back at Eddie, who was once again, already staring at you. He raised his eyebrow at you, nodding towards you, waiting for you to write something back. What would you write anyways? “Sorry that I’m a total creep and for writing notes about you in class?”

Dismissing those thoughts, you stuff the note into your pocket. You didn’t want the teacher to see you passing notes again, she would most likely read them out loud again, humiliate you and have you spend an hour after school cleaning her classroom.

The next few minutes of class went by really slow. You prayed and prayed that aliens would come and abduct you, but sadly that didn’t happen. The only thing that happened was you trying to escape the classroom without any confrontation before a tight grip on your shoulder stopped you— pulling you aside.

“Sooo, how long have you liked me?” Eddie asked, loosening his grip on your shoulder as his arm fell to his side. You looked everywhere but him, your cheeks feeling warm as you watched people whisper to their peers— pointing to you as they giggled.

“I- I don’t…” You mumbled. You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing your thumb against your forearm in hopes of not breaking down in front of him.

He still had that amused look on his face, like he was getting a kick out of this.

“Really? You think Robin will tell me if I asked her?”

You finally looked at him, your heart beating through your ears. “No!”

“What ab—“

“Okay, fine! I don’t know, it just started one day! Are you happy?” You rushed out nervously. You just wanted to end this conversation before you embarrassed yourself even more.

He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking of what to say. What would he even say? He just found out the prettiest girl in the school liked him, fuck, she was writing notes about him in class. People really only wrote notes to each other in elementary, but here you were, discussing your feeling about him over notes.

It was weird for him. Not a-disgusting-type-of-weird but a confusing-type-of-weird. He honestly thought you didn’t like him. You talked to everybody else— Nancy, Mike, Dustin, Erica, but him. It was like he was ghost. The irony of the whole situation is he was certain you liked Steve.

You guys were attached to the hip, so it would make sense. A hot guy who peaked in high school and a hot girl, he even tried to convince Steve into asking you out on a date. Guess it made sense when he tried to turn the tables on Eddie, trying to convince Eddie to ask you out instead.

“Can I go now? I uh… I have to go put-“ You motion to the wristbands on your wrist, “these in my locker. It’s hot out and they make me sweat. Shit— I mean I don’t sweat, well I do, we ALL do, but what I mean’t to say wa—

He pulled you in, taking you by surprise as he crashed his lips onto yours, your nervous ramble being cut short. It lasted only a few seconds, but it was long enough for everybody to see, a few gasps being heard.

Pulling back, a large grin settled on his lips. He watched as you struggled to form words, the flesh of your cheeks heating up. You settled on saying nothing, your mouth shutting as you focused on breathing in and out of your nose— hopefully not passing out.

“You talk too much, y’know that?” Eddie humored, looking around as he took in all the stares. He was used to this, but he knew you weren’t. You were practically hiding under your desk in class when the teacher was reading your note, the idea of having everyone’s eyes on you made you feel like you were naked.

Maybe kissing the freak in the hallway where all the “popular” students met up, wasn’t the best idea.

You on the other hand couldn’t believe what just happened. Eyes blown as your mouth was agape. He just touched his lips to your lips— that was a kiss… right?

“You still have to… uh” He motions to your wristbands, “Put those, away?”

You looked down at your wristbands, shaking your head. Eddie grimaced, scratching his neck. You made a complete fool out of yourself, huh? Now he wanted nothing to do with you— was it because of the sweaty wristbands? Did you not kiss well? OH MY GOSH, what if your breath smelled?

He stops scratching his neck, checking his watch. His face falters for a quick second before he looks up at you, a twinkle in his eyes. “I gotta go to class, if I’m tardy again I’ll have detention after school, that’ll intervene with our date and we can’t have that.”

“Wha— Date?” You blabbered, looking at the clock that hung loosely at the end of the hallway.

“Yeah, is that okay? After school? We can meet by my van, I’ll take you to the diner?”

You nod eagerly, trying your hardest not to grin from ear to ear.

“Do you know what my van looks like?”

“It’s white on the bo—“

“Yes, that’s it. I’ll see you by it, okay?”

“Okay.”

He hesitantly leans back in, but stops. People were still staring. Instead, he smiles at you before skipping off— bumping into people as he rushed to class.

He lied about the tardy part.

He just didn’t want anymore of those judgemental stares on you.

Taglist: (Also added people who requested a part 2 let me know if you want off list 💖)

@wintermunsonreads @strangerthingsstories5255 @depressooexxpressoo @aheadfullofsteverogers @eddiemunsonxdeath @marriedtoeddie @catwoman-from-the-moon @vvile-soul @sarahivi @josephquinnlov3r @florch988 @evansgal @moviegirl50

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things season 4 #stranger things x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader

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mrsjellymunson · 1 month

Text

That Was You?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader; Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Summary: A meet cute in a record store. That’s literally it.

WC: 1.6k

CW: SFW, FLUFF, swearing, flirting, awkwardness, reader relives an embarrassing situation. Reader’s physical characteristics are not described. Brief mentions of the devil’s lettuce and non-consensual touching. This was supposed to turn into a story but never did, and it was too cute to waste. IDK how homemade volcanoes or US schooling years work so if I’ve messed up let’s all just pretend I didn’t 😂 The gorgeous Eddie edit in the banner is by the utterly fantastic @jqmunson 🙏👏

I have a general taglist now, just ask if you’d like to be on it 😊

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1️⃣9️⃣9️⃣0️⃣

You’d first become aware of him in High School. You were a freshman and he was, theoretically, in his final year. But then you’d unexpectedly had two extra years in which to ogle observe him and commit his form to memory.

‘Crush’ would be an understatement. ‘Obsession’ would be more accurate. You’d doodle his name in your notebooks, covering the characters with pictures of roses or skulls, or hearts done with thick markers, before anyone saw. You’d always sit where you could watch him across the lunch hall, wondering what it would be like to hear one of his world-changing rants up close, or join in with that game he played.

But he was four years older than you, practically a lifetime in High School terms. So you always kept your dreams to yourself, not once even daring to catch his eye, let alone talk to him.

So when you see a familiar-looking, black-clad silhouette as you enter Hawkins’ only record store, you’re pretty sure it’s him. Eddie Munson.

You freeze. You’d come in to browse their ‘Rock/Metal/Indie’ section to look for a gift for your cousin, not that you really had any clue about what to look for, but a figure was already there. His presence somehow pervades the entire aisle, despite there being numerous bins of discs to look through.

The shoulders are broader than the ones you remember. The deep chestnut hair is longer, down to the figure’s mid-back, and by the looks of the shiny and softly-defined waves, it’s benefitting from a decent product regime. The hands that reach out to browse the cardboard sleeves make you shiver; tattooed and strong-looking, with prominent veins. The rings and bracelets that adorn them are less gaudy and more modern in style than the ones you recall from school; they look fantastic. And those biceps fill the sleeves of that tight, black shirt better than those of the skinny teen you once idolised. And even if it’s not him, you’re still enjoying the view, because those faded black jeans fit whoever it is really, really well…

You stand there gaping for a few moments, the hand nearest to your messenger bag clamping and releasing around the strap.

You swallow hard. You must look like an idiot, standing there in the middle of the aisle like a startled deer. But by the way your legs are shaking, you kinda feel like one.

Okay, just walk forwards. You need to look at the records anyway. Just… move your legs. There you go! See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Just go and stand next to him. If it is him, he’s not gonna bite. Okay, maybe you wish he would, but that’s a mental image for another time…

You slowly meander up to the racks of records, trailing a finger along them hoping it makes you look like you know what you’re doing: a knowledgeable music fan just casually browsing for new tunes. Yeah, that’s it, you can totally pull this off.

You stop short of where he stands, leaving a gap of a couple of bins between you. It’s close enough for you to catch his scent: cologne, cigarettes and a hint of the subtle earthy sweetness of another smokable.

You flick a couple of the records back and forth and inhale half a breath and huff it out, as if in thought. Not loud, just enough to let the figure know you’re there.

He turns his head towards you, and it makes the waves of his hair sway slightly. They shimmer and settle around his shoulders as he cracks a polite but friendly closed-mouth smile in your direction.

Fuck. You’d know those deep pools of melted cacao anywhere, and the merest hint of a dimple appearing in the cheek closest to you seals the deal. It’s definitely him.

As you make eye contact with the boy you had a crush on for practically your entire High School career, you offer a slight half smile back to him. At least, that’s what you hope you do, as you suppress a squeak that threatens to leave your chest. You acknowledge that it’s entirely possible you just look like you need to pass wind.

After what seems like a millennia, but in reality is probably only just slightly longer than is necessary, the figure turns back to the records in front of him. He continues to browse, but you think you see his eyes flick in your direction occasionally as he makes a show of checking out the album artwork of some band you’ve never heard of.

You’re nervous as all hell, but something inside you can’t risk losing this opportunity. You’ve got the chance to actually talk to him for the first time ever, and you really wanna take it.

Bravely, you take deep breath, and mutter,

“Hey, is it…?”

Your voice dies in your throat. He cocks his head slightly towards you, a quizzical look on his face.

God, he’s still so pretty.

Okay, that didn’t go well, but in for a penny, as they say…

“Are you…?”

Again, the words dry up in your mouth. Flustered, you almost give up, huffing out a breath and slumping your shoulders.

You close your eyes for a moment, before deciding to give it one more go, quickly blurting out, “Is your name Eddie?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.” He looks at you fully now, lifting a brow and quirking one side of his mouth up in a smirk.

Shit. This is so embarrassing. He obviously doesn’t remember you. Why would he, you never spoke. Plus, you’ve changed a lot since school so why would you imagine he’d recognise you even if he did?

“Sorry. I’m- Ah fuck, I shouldn’t have bothered you, I’m just gonna take what few shreds of dignity I have left and just, y’know, go.”

You turn on your heel and take a couple of wide strides, planning to hightail it out of there, move away, leave the state, maybe even leave the country. But a gentle hand brushing against your upper arm stops you.

He’s quickly closed some of the distance between you, and is looking at you with a soft smile and genuine interest.

“No, wait. Please! You can’t leave without giving me at least some clue as to how we know each other.”

You slowly turn back to him, to find him cocking his head to one side in contemplation.

All you can do is blink at him, so Eddie starts speculating.

Warily, he begins, “Do I owe you money?” His eyes flash with mischievous excitement, “Do you owe me money?” Wincing, ”Do you have an older brother who beat me up in high school?” Then finally, more discreetly, “Do you maybe, um, need weed?”

You’re finally able to speak.

“No. No. It’s none of those. But we did go to high school at the same time. I was even more of a nerd than the guys you hung out with, if I recall.”

You tell him your name, like it would make a difference.

It’s your turn to wince now. Eddie still looks blank, registering zero recognition. You sigh, knowing there’s one thing he might remember. Bashfully, you continue,

“I’m the one who made the blood volcano disaster at that end of year science fair…”

Your most mortifying High School memory. Oh god, why the hell did you bring that up?

But it’s something that Eddie remembers.

His eyes blow wide and his eyebrows disappear into his bangs. Grinning maniacally, mouth wide open, he almost yells,

“Oh my god, that was awesome! The chemistry accident that made the hall look like that scene from The Shining? That was you?”

He looks amazed, and takes half a step towards you. It’s like he’s meeting one of his favourite celebrities.

He furrows his brow a little as he squints at you, looking you up and down. Pinching his chin between his thumb and first knuckle, he remarks,

“Wait, you do look kinda familar now… But- also a lot different…”

“Yeah, I suppose I do. Not all of us nail down our personal style in high school, y’know”. You gesture to his all black outfit.

Eddie looks down at himself, before looking back up at you and responding with faux seriousness, “Hey, I’ll have you know this is timeless. Time. Less.”

You grin at each other. He continues,

“Y’know, people still talk about that. The giant volcano turned blood corridor thing. I bet you’d still find stains under the floor panels, if you looked hard enough!”

You bring a hand to your face, feeling its heat beneath your palm.

“Oh, please stop! It was embarrassing enough at the time. I really don’t wanna relive it! Besides, it wasn’t entirely my fault. I was distracted when I measured out the ingredients because I’d just given Tommy Hagan a black eye for touching my ass.”

“Really?”

He’s beaming now, his smile as broad as you’ve ever seen it, eyes wide and deep dimples fully on display.

“Oh, you gotta tell me all about that. That guy was such an asshole. But seriously, sweets, that was one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen! You know, it was almost enough to get me interested in science. Almost. You should always be proud of that, and I’m totally serious.”

As you reel slightly from him calling you sweets, Eddie takes you in properly for the first time. His gaze wanders your form, then briefly flicks back to the display of records before meeting yours again.

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“Hey, uh, I'm pretty much done here. It’s hot out and I was gonna, um, go get a cold drink. Youuu… maybe wanna join me? Reminisce a bit more about the ole’ high school experience?”

He screws his face up at that last part. You muse that he realises the reminder of the age gap and how you know each other probably doesn’t make for the most enticing offer.

But you smile and twist in your place a little, your face and neck heating as you reply,

“Yeah, Eddie. I think I’d like that…”

“Great! Uh, great.”

You both turn and start to amble out of the store, a lot closer than you were a few moments ago, arms almost brushing. You spot a slight pink tinge to his cheeks as he turns his head to face you again, and you return his smile as he says to you,

“Goddamn. Tommy Hagan, huh? I can’t wait to hear the rest of that story.”

Thanks so much for reading!

As always, if you enjoyed please support and reward your creators with comments and reblogs 💗

I have a general taglist now, so let me know if you’d like to see more ramblings like this.

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Tags: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson

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