#also he would be the type to do the anime glasses push

[one-upgirl]

Here’s a full body design of my part 4 kakyoin. I’ve already drawn him before but i wanted to make reference piece for any future pieces. I’m very proud with his design and you will most likely see more of 4yoin.

[gothgoblinbabe]

She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now. 

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week. 

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again. 

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand. 

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play. 

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie. 

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze. 

Definitely not my type of girl. 

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs. 

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly. 

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence. 

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers. 

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed. 

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing. 

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice. 

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently. 

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable. 

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more. 

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne. 

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.” 

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?” 

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people. 

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free 

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter. 

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way. 

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy 

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing. 

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him. 

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip. 

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants. 

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs. 

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you. 

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time. 

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “ 

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before. 

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.” 

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze. 

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately. 

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom. 

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out. 

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him. 

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?” 

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.” 

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started. 

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed. 

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name. 

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you. 

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind. 

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you. 

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top. 

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath. 

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him. 

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck. 

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go. 

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck. 

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back. 

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking. 

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs. 

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name. 

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

 You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face. 

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing. 

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers. 

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?” 

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing. 

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him. 

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking. 

“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist. 

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust. 

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back. 

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size. 

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him. 

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress. 

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again. 

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you. 

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful. 

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip. 

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again. 

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds. 

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm. 

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be. 

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

[casualhedonists]

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

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

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/violence mention (but no actual murder), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, roughhousing, overstimulation, mild bondage, insane amounts of teasing, some mild dubcon scenes/allusions to dubcon, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, hair pulling, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, eventual piv (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 6/6

SERIES MASTERLIST

words: .......13.5k

a/n: WHEW what a wait. thank you, as always, for your patience this past month or so! as i’ve mentioned i’ve been busy as hell, but it is with many internal screams that i can say! welcome to the final chapter of this series!! what a ride we've all had these last few months! buckle up for like. essay length extensive smut and also plot. in varying order. as always, feedback makes my world spin round at rocket speed, and just. thank you guys for all the love ever since i posted chapter one last november (november me with a brand new sideblog had no clue this would become a Thing i finished let alone a Thing people liked!! that's all on you lovely humans. ily)

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

Heaven was his head between your thighs.

His hands on you, everywhere. Hot mouth pressed to your skin, your neck, your thighs, your cunt. He was slow. Thorough. Pulling cries out of your mouth that got louder and louder until your back arched on the bed and you lay slumped and panting, twisted in his sheets. Taken apart and stitched right back together.

It hadn’t started like this. Not even close.

You woke to a soft light on your face, the curtains parted slightly. Your throat felt sore, and you were tired. Body heavy, slumped across a bed. His. It came back to you in fragments. The party. The photograph. His hand in your hair. His eyes after, apologetic and pleading. Falling asleep right here, next to him, but there was nobody beside you anymore. Your eyes adjusted to the room; you’d never seen it at this time of day, with sunbeams lighting up the walls. You could hear a soft tapping sound, like rain on the windowsill, but it was a bright and sunny spring day out.

Typing. That’s what it was.

Steady, satisfying clicks as the typewriter punched ink onto paper. You turned your head towards the desk across the room.

Coriolanus was sat there, focused, a breakfast tray pushed to one side. He didn’t notice you for a while, and you rolled over to take him in, a slight squint in his eye as he concentrated. You pulled your tired body up and leaned against the pillows, and he turned.

“Morning.” He said in surprise.

“Hi.”

This was strange. Like a warped sense of a morning after.

“Coffee?” He offered. “It’s still hot, I think.”

“Please.”

As he stood to pour from the French press, you took a look around you, eyes landing on the nightstand. A glass of water stood tall next to the silver chain he’d given you last night.

So innocent. If someone took a peek through a crack in the wall, they’d think you were a perfectly normal couple. Domestic bliss.

Not so much, you thought, as he walked over and handed you a cup.

He didn’t linger, but sat down at the foot of the bed, and that only made things stranger. He’d never been one to shy away from physical proximity, but here you both were, sipping just-hot coffee as he eyed you carefully. Like you were an animal in an enclosure, and he hadn’t quite figured out which approach to take with you yet.

“Are you working on something?” You nodded toward the cluttered desk.

“Just the usual. Work.”

“Oh? Didn’t know you worked in here.”

“I don’t, usually. Never have, in fact.” He sounded sheepish. This was entirely new. “But I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

Oh.

You said just that.

“Oh. Um, thank you.”

“I can go if you’d like. Leave you to rest.”

“No, that’s okay. Stay.”

His eyes softened a little, shoulders sinking down.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

You considered. You hadn’t really thought much about it.

“Tired, I think. This is helping. Thank you.” You sipped at the cup of coffee, careful not to spill it on his sheets. An oddly comfortable silence hung in the air.

“I called Cordelia. She’s coming over this afternoon, we can figure it all out. Print a story you’re happy with.”

“Wait, what? We don’t have an appointment for three more weeks.”

He glanced awkwardly at the floor, and cleared his throat.

“I thought you’d want to make it as quick as possible. It will be, and it won’t shine badly on you. I’ll get Lucille to pack your things, and if you don’t want to go back to your parents, I’d be happy to put you up somewhere in the city for as long as you’d like. It’s the least I could do after everything that I-”

“Coriolanus, stop.” You shook your head, bewildered.

“Can I ask you a serious question?”

He paused.

“Of course.”

“How the hell are you meant to know what I want if you’ve never asked me?”

He frowned, eyes darting from the floor, to you, to the floor again.

“I… Well, I assumed that-”

“Don’t assume.” You interrupted. “God, when will you stop assuming you know what’s best for me? It’d be nice to feel like I have a say in this. Don’t you see that if we do this, we’ll just end up right back where we started? I don’t want that, do you?”

“Doll, I think this would be for the best.”

“Why, am I getting too difficult for you now? You got someone new lined up ready to take my place? Someone less complicated? More complacent?” You snapped.

“Of course not, it’s not that.”

“Then why? Why do you want me gone? Because it’s pretty damn clear that you do from where I’m sat.”

He sighed, turning to face you, but looking at your lap. You gripped the cup with a vice, like you were trying to snap off the handle. You placed it on the nightstand.

“I’ve just been wondering if this has become about something… else, to you. and I wanted to say that if that’s the case, this can’t continue. Because… well, I’ve grown fond of you, and it isn’t fair to keep you hoping.”

Your confusion softened your sharp edges.

“Hoping for what?”

For whatever reason, he didn’t meet your eye as he spoke.

“Hoping that… I can give you something I don’t think I’m capable of. Or at least, not anymore. It’s not fair on you. I can’t give you what you need.”

“And what exactly is it that I need?”

He shifted, looking awkwardly to the floor. At first, your frown only deepened, then it hit you. A knowing smile crept onto your face.

“Oh my god… you think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

His frown only widened your grin. you were pretty sure you must’ve looked insane. Despite yourself, you let out a laugh, and his frown only deepened.

“When you… you’ve been upset lately. The other week at the luncheon, and then last night, I thought it was-”

“That I was, what, in love with you?”

A cocky, shit eating grin now took over your face.

He started a sentence, but stopped himself. You could see it on his face; he was completely thrown.

“So you’re not.” He checked.

“Oh, don’t look so disappointed, Snow. ‘Course not. That’s never what this was about, I mean, we have rules for a reason. Sure, we’ve been breaking them like it’s our day job, but not the golden one. Never the most important.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked a little sheepish.

“Don’t worry, gorgeous,” you repeated, “I’m not in love with you.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. His shoulders sank down, like he was relieved.

“I see. That’s good, that’s… for the best.”

“So will you cancel Cordelia?”

“Okay. If that’s what you want., it’s done.”

You nodded.

“See, this is better. It’s a lot easier when you ask me things. And I’ll be the first to admit I haven’t exactly been the most talkative either.”

“It’s not exactly our strong suit.” He agreed.

“Yeah. You know, while we’re on the topic, there’s something else you can do for me.”

“Anything.”

“You can run me a bath. A hot one. With bubbles.” You added.

It was slight, but you saw it. He perked up.

“Okay, doll.”

The bath was hot, and it smelt like the softer parts of him, like fresh linen and the spice of his cologne. Again, he didn’t linger, just ran the bath, saw you into the room and let you be. It was frustrating – while it was nice to soak in the hot water and feel your muscles relax, you wished he would just talk to you, instead of acting like you were something to avoid, something to walk on eggshells around. This change in his demeanour wasn’t a completely unwelcome one – you didn’t mind feeling as though you had the upper hand, and held all the cards for once – but you didn’t like being treated like you were broken, either.

You sank your head underneath the bubbles and stayed down there for a few seconds, the rush of water clouding your eardrums. It was a peaceful kind of noise, and when you came back up for air, you found yourself breathing a little easier.

You pondered. Processed, considering the steps to take next, rolling your neck out and stretching your feet to the edge of the tub. Anytime you thought you’d reached any sort of plateau with Coriolanus, something new would pop up out of seemingly nowhere. You hadn’t minded the danger at first, it drew you in and kept you hungry for more, but you’d grown tired, weary from the whiplash knotting your neck.

When the water cooled, you looked around, but couldn’t see a towel. You cleared your throat.

“Snow?” You called out.

Soft footsteps. Then, his voice from behind the door.

“Everything okay?”

“I just need a towel. I can’t see one near me.”

“They’re in the linen closet in the corner.”

You eyed the floor between the tub and the closet.

“I’d have to get out and drip bathwater all across the floor. Can you just come in here and hand me one?”

Silence.

“Please?” You added.

More silence. Then he quietly cleared his throat.

“Yeah. Okay, fine. I’m coming in, I won’t look.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

The door cracked open and he made a short beeline to the closet, unfolding a towel and holding it out. When he walked to the side of the tub, he looked off to the side like the colour of the walls was suddenly the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

You pulled yourself out of the water, shivering as the cold air hit you. Then you backed into the towel and took it from him, wrapping it around yourself, sinking into the soft cotton. He stood behind you, paused, seemingly suspended in place and unable to move. You heard him draw in a breath, inches from the back of your neck.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. His breath caught on the droplets of water gathered on your skin, and it warmed you and gave you a chill at the same time.

“I know you are.”

Then in a flash, you spun around, lips on his, hungry. He kissed you back like he had something to prove, and hell, maybe he did. His hands tangled in your wet hair and yours made for his shirt. The towel slipped to the floor and fell in a pile at your feet. One button came open, you broke the second, which flew into the air and landed on the floor with a tap. He pulled you in closer, hands all over you, and you worked frantically at the third, not caring if it broke, not caring about anything.

“Doll.”

You looked up at him, at his blown-out eyes.

“Want you to fuck me.” You breathed.

“I can’t.”

You jolted to a stop, catching your breath. He took a step back.

“What?”

He pulled in slow breaths, like he was trying to cool himself off. His eyes pressed shut.

“Not like this. Not until I know you trust me again. I don’t… I can’t hurt you again. I won’t do that. I need you to forgive me first. Completely.”

You exhaled slowly, then cleared your throat, lowering to the ground to pick the damp towel off the tiles. When you came back up, half-covered, he was staring at a spot on the wall again, breath laboured.

You tied the towel around you, and looked right at him as he looked away, eyes averted.

“You sure about that, Snow?” you drawled. “You sure as hell don’t look it.”

He swallowed thickly.

“I’ll let you get dressed. I’ll just be in the bedroom.”

You brought your hand to your lips, brushing over where he’d just kissed them once he’d turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. You eyed your pile of clothes with disdain.

He was back at his desk when you walked out, wrapped in a shirt he’d offered you, hair towel in hand. He didn’t look as focused on his work this time.

“I cancelled Cordelia. So don’t worry about that.”

“Thank you.” You made for the bed, and climbed back onto it. “Rather just talk to you anyway.”

His jaw tensed. It seemed he was still doing everything in his power not to look at you.

“You know, there’s this thing called eye contact. Remember that thing Cordelia waffles on about? It’s important when you’re having a conversation with somebody. I’m a big fan, myself.”

His eyes shot daggers at you. But at least he was looking.

“And what did you want to talk about, exactly?”

You shrugged, and he glanced back at the desk, and pretended to study one of the papers there.

“I don’t know. All of this, I guess.”

Much to your annoyance, he didn’t answer. Your eyes swept the room again, and you brought the towel to your hair. The sun was high enough now to light up the silver chain on the nightstand, and you took it in your palm, turning it over.

“Did you mean it when you said I could have this?” You wondered aloud.

He looked at you again.

“Wasn’t sure if you remembered that.”

“Well, I do.”

“Then I meant it.” His words shouldn’t have made you smile, but they did.

“Will you put this on me?” You asked.

“Uh. Sure.”

The chair creaked as he pushed it back from underneath him, and he walked over to you cautiously, perching on the bed, taking the dog tag, then ever so gently brushing your hair to one side.

“Can I just ask-”

“Anything.” He said quickly.

The cool metal slid onto your chest as he secured the chain, falling low.

“When you were out there, did you…” you swallowed.

Say it.

“…hurt people?” You praised your voice for not shaking. The silence in the room was deafening. But he finally answered.

“I did what was necessary.”

“It must’ve been awful.”

“Yeah.” He said quietly. “It was.”

“Do you think about it much?”

“More than I care to admit. But it was a long time ago.”

You turned to face him.

“Doesn’t make it less real. I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine how hard it must’ve been.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. What matters is that I’m here now.”

You smiled.

“You didn’t get too bad of a deal of it either, President Snow.”

He put your hair back into place, fingertips trailing your shoulder.

“I certainly didn’t.”

You thumbed the cold steel, an odd feeling of satisfaction washing over you.

“Was it worth it?” Your voice sounded quiet, even to you. You were fully aware of the weight of the question, heavier still from the complete understanding that you barely knew what you were asking.

“Yes.”

It should’ve scared you, the surety in his voice. But it didn’t.

Warm breath caressed your shoulder blade, and it really shouldn’t comfort you, but it did. You cleared your throat.

“Thank you. For putting it on. I always get these things tangled.”

“My pleasure. I meant what I said though, sweetheart. No wearing it where anyone’ll see, okay? I need you to promise me.”

You turned your head, shifted so you faced him. You suddenly realised just how close your faces were, and your voice dropped low.

“I promise. It’s nothing new. We’re no strangers to secrets, you and I.”

Your noses were almost touching, and he was looking down at your lips. You drew in a breath, and inched in impossibly closer. You felt his breath on your lips, hot and shallow. Your nose bumped his.

And then his lips were on yours again. But just as quickly, he pulled away.

“Don’t.” You pleaded.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t. Not until I’ve fixed this. Please, just… tell me what you need me to do. I’ll do whatever you want.”

You sighed, pulling away.

“This is what I want, Snow. But…”

“Yeah?”

“I just… never knew it would get so complicated. I think for now, maybe I need a little time.”

“Okay. We can do that.”

“I might go home over this weekend. Spend some time with my parents. No tricks, okay? No messengers, no word from you, the entire time. I’ll come back here on Monday morning, and I’ll tell you what I’ve decided then.”

He nodded.

“That’s fine.” He cleared his throat again. “So you’ll leave tomorrow morning?”

“If that’s okay.”

He seemed as satisfied as one would expect with that solution.

“Yes. Of course, anything you want.”

“Thank you, Coriolanus.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say he looked a little disappointed by the formality.

“And Snow?”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Before I go, will you lie next to me for a little while?"

It was oddly intimate, the way the day stretched on. He lay next to you for a while, and you sank into the sheets and eventually dozed off. When you woke, he was still there, quietly tapping at the typewriter and poring over paperwork. You spent the rest of the day in his room, in bed mostly, with food being brought up to you which you shared in mutual silence or casual conversation. Lucille packed your bags, and you spent the night in his bed, a little distance between you. But when you woke up, you had to slowly pull away your woven limbs.

Leaving was a quiet affair. Snow gave you a chaste kiss goodbye, and Henry snuck you and your bags through the back exit and kept to backroads, so nobody would know who you were or where you were going. Your parents didn’t know why you were visiting either; they didn’t need to. As far as anyone was concerned, you were taking a short weekend trip to check in with your family.

The two days passed quickly. You spent the time reflecting, debating what your next move would be, and listening to your parents argue. You found yourself glancing at the clock by Saturday afternoon, and by Sunday night you were practically crawling out your skin ready to leave. You considered what he’d offered you; an apartment on your own, somewhere in the city. But the thing is, you’d grown used to his moods, to just having him around, if only to dig your fingers into and pry open, searching for secrets. Life would feel awfully dull without it. You’d never met someone who was a match for you, who challenged you. You wondered if he felt the same.

Monday morning rolled around and you let out a heavy sigh of relief as you climbed into the car. Henry glanced back at you, but didn’t comment.

The second the manor came into sight, your head clouded with doubt. Would he want you to stick around? You’d spent the last couple of days toying with all outcomes like some omniscient god, but until now you hadn’t considered the fact that Snow might’ve done some thinking through of his own.

But as you pulled up at the side door, there he was. Standing perfectly poised, waiting for you, and all your worries washed away as he looked at you. Henry opened the door, and Coriolanus offered his hand as you stepped out the car. He looked at you with the same intensity as he had that very first night in his room, when you’d finally dropped the charade, and you returned the stare. Even just feeling his hand on yours set your skin on fire.

When you finally got inside and it was just the two of you, he stopped you.

He looked regal before, proud and superior. Now, you could tell it was a façade, laced with a nervous discomfort.

“Well?” He prompted.

You looked at him. Took in the way his eyes couldn’t stay in one place for too long, the tightness in his jaw that only appeared when he was under pressure, and the slight urgency seeping through his otherwise controlled question, and realised then that you hadn’t been the only one going a little insane these past few days.

And now, you had the upper hand again.

“Upstairs,” you answered. “Your room.”

When the door closed behind you and he paced towards the desk, you almost smiled at the parallel. It felt like an age ago that you’d strutted in here, dressed in his suit jacket with something to prove. You knew the cards you were about to play now like you had then, but your thoughts still raced.

Snow cleared his throat.

“So? Have you made up your mind?”

You waited for him to turn and face you.

“I have.”

“And?” So quick to reply. You’d never heard him so on edge.

You wet your lips, taking a step towards him. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying stretching this out a little, watching him squirm.

“I’ve decided that… I’m staying.” You said finally.

He let out an audible breath, almost like he didn’t care about you hearing his reaction anymore. Like he’d been strung out the entire weekend, just like you. Like he’d imagined this conversation in a million different ways. He stepped towards you. This was an old dance; one you knew well. You closed the gap between you, and his hand grazed your jaw.

“I’m glad to hear it.” He said. You held his gaze, he brushed your lip with the pad of his thumb.

“Can I…” His voice dropped.

“Not just yet.”

You relished the little frown that knitted his brows.

“I know you, Snow.” You continued. “You’re good at what you do. You’re better at this than anyone out there. You’re dedicated, and I think that… something tells me you’re going to be President for an awfully long time. I want to be by your side when that happens. I’m not going away when this arrangement suits me too. But I have terms.”

He watched you as if he was mesmerised, and you wondered if he even noticed the way you slowly walked him towards the bed. You hid your smile as the spell broke, and the back of his legs bumped the ottoman. He gazed down at your lips, just a little thrown off kilter.

“Tell me.”

You got closer, lifting your hands to the lapels of his shirt and giving them a tug, turning him so you were stood against the ottoman and he was facing you. He moved so easily, as if this was a dance, one you’d practiced a hundred times over.

“Let’s start with this. You said you’d do anything for my forgiveness, right?”

“I meant it.”

“Good.” You nodded, “Because there is something you can do for me.” Your hand traced his jaw, and he leaned into it.

“Name it.” He whispered, lips pressing against your palm. “It’s yours.”

You leaned towards him, faces close, noses touching, foreheads pressed together. You could feel the almost on your lips, could feel his breath. You relished in the feeling, that electric tension between the two of you. You held onto it, inhaled it like smoke, before cutting it loose.

“Kneel.” You breathed.

Feeling his brows twitch gave you a rush, and when you pulled back, he looked like art. You slowly moved down, sitting on the ottoman, holding his gaze. Then slowly, steadily, like he was walking a gossamer-thin tightrope, he shifted, nudging your legs open to stand between them, and lowered himself down to the floor, knees gently knocking against the hardwood one at a time. You give him a slow nod.

“Like that. Good. Stay there.”

Your legs parted a little further, and his eyes lined up with the way your dress lifted, bunching at your hips, exposing black lace with white trim, barely covering the space he seemed to lean towards.

He wet his lips, glancing up at you. Eyes bright but laden with want, so heavy he thought he might drown in it.

“Can I…” He whispered, and you felt it more than heard it, his hot breath tickling your thighs.

You smiled a little, and shook your head.

“Fuck. Please, doll.”

“Did I ask you to beg?”

“No. But… what can I do?”

You pulled your lip between your teeth as you considered.

“You can take these off. Slowly.”

You sighed when his palms brushed your hips, pushing your dress up then hooking soft fingers into the band of your underwear, slowly pulling them over your hips and down your thighs. He was gentle, pulling back but staying oh so close to you as he pulled the lace past your ankles, tossed it to the side, and moved in again expectantly.

“And now?”

You pushed your legs apart again, just enough. Drew in a breath.

“I want you to watch.”

A sound slipped from his mouth, and you weren’t sure if it was just a shaky breath or a quiet curse. His eyes darted between your face and the heat between your thighs. If you couldn’t already feel the mess you’d made, the way his lips parted and his eyes went heavy-lidded would give it away in an instant.

His gaze followed your hand, unwavering as you slowly brought it between your legs, and lazily trailed your fingers towards where you were aching to be touched. Then with a gasp, you brushed your finger against your clit and starting drawing slow circles, slipping further down to push against your opening, slipping through the mess you’d made just from seeing him knelt on the hardwood. 

You kept your head tilted back and your eyes closed, touching yourself with Snow knelt between your legs incredibly brazen, even for you. He was mere inches away, laboured breath dusting the skin of your inner thighs.

But as you melted into the feeling, sinking deeper than you could imagine in just a few short seconds, you opened them again. And there he was, darkened eyes fixed on where your fingers ran messy circles on your cunt, and you let out a soft whine. It was enough to make him redirect his stare to your face, and you couldn’t help but stare back, pressing harder against your clit with a broken sigh. You planted your feet on the floor as you shifted your hips a little, getting slightly closer, making it easier for you to carefully swirl a finger around your entrance, then gently push inside.

“Fuck.” He breathed, rocking forward slightly, to which you shook your head, knee pressing against his shoulder, pushing him back. His pleading eyes drove you on, pushed you to fuck yourself faster, obscene wet noises filling the quiet space.

He looked wrecked; lips parted, eyes begging, glancing up at you. And it only made you all the more shameless, bucking your hips and crying out, gasps slipping from your mouth that you couldn’t deny were getting played up a little for effect. He stared on, looking so fucking small between your legs, so hard you could only imagine it hurt.

You weren’t sure if he noticed he was breathing in tandem with you, but as your breaths picked up, got a little strained, so did his. His eyes slitted, heavy with lust as he stared on.

You got a little cocky; let it go to your head. Nothing would ever beat the rush of adrenaline you felt from seeing the most powerful man you’d ever known giving into you, letting you set the rules. It was intoxicating.

“You okay down there, sweetheart?”

He sighed, slow and heavy.

“I…” He trailed off, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Is there something you need?” Your voice was breathier than you would like, control slipping from your fingertips, but it was still there and the way he looked up at you. His mouth opened again, jaw agape, on his knees like it was a silent prayer. You fucked yourself faster, mean, dripping down your fingers. He finally spoke.

“Please.” He whispered.

“What did you say?”

“I said -” he swallowed “- I said please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me touch you. Put my mouth on you, I won’t even use my hands. Just let me… baby. Come on.” His voice was raspy and ruined.

“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson yet? I’m not so sure.”

His breath was shallow, eyes wide and blown out.

“I’ll prove it to you. Just let me touch you, and I’ll do anything you want. Please, doll.”

You hummed, pretending to weigh it up in your head.

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely. Go ahead. But keep your hands to yourself.”

“Thank you. Fuck. Thank you, baby.”

He listened, inching in cautiously, like he was expecting you to change your mind, then he pressed his mouth to you and there it was.

Heaven.

“Oh fuck.” Your breath hitched in your throat.

You hummed as he dragged his tongue over your folds, setting your nerves alight, instinctively rocking into the pressure you’d been thinking about since you got him on the floor. His hands, you noted, sat dutifully on his thighs, gripping onto them like it took a physical reminder for him not to reach out and grab your hips, push his fingers into your soft skin and own you.

As welcome as that sounded to your foggy mind, this was about proving a point. You were the one calling the shots here. So you rocked gently against his face as he kissed your clit, lapping at the heat between your legs, only pulling away at intervals to catch his breath, the daylight making the mess on his chin glisten, only to dive back in again, movements slightly limited by the lack of his hands, which you could see was bothering him.

You couldn’t help but tease him a little between gasps.

“I have to say I missed this. Seeing you underneath me.”

He looked up at you. But there was little defiance in his eyes, just want. Want so depraved that it sent a flush through you, making you feel a little unmoored.

“If I didn’t know better, Coryo, I’d say you were enjoying this.”

Face buried between your thighs, a broken whine sent a little shock through your core. You moaned, getting a little strung-out, a little breathy.

“Is that a yes?”

You felt him nod.

“Good. Glad to see you’re putting up less of a fight this time. It wasn’t so hard, now, was it? Giving in?”

This time, his eyes contained a little more fire. He pushed his tongue firmer against your clit, cutting off your question with a gasp. A few moments passed, and you heard him hum.

“Is there something you want to say, baby? Go ahead.”

He pulled back, catching his breath again.

“Still don’t want me to use my hands?”

You shook your head.

“Then can you… if it’ll feel better.” He glanced at your hand, resting lazily on your thigh.

“What?” You knew what he was getting at, but he shot you back a look as if to say, don’t make me say it.

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I’m not.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Then say it.”

“Put your hand in my hair. You can… be rough, if you want to. I don’t mind.”

Your smile turned into a sly grin.

“You want me to pull your hair? You sure?”

“I’m sure. I don’t… I liked it, last time.” He confessed quietly.

“Liked what?” You pushed.

He took a steady breath, looking down at the velvet seat you were perched on. He gritted out the words steadily, pointedly.

“When you sat on my face. I liked it.”

You pressed your lips together to hide your smile.

“I know you did.”

He paused, looking down at the floor. Then he looked back up. You brought your hand to his hair, fingers running through the soft strands. He started peppering kisses along the insides of your thighs, something he’d been too desperate to consider when you’d first given him permission to taste you. Now, they sparked the fire even more, and as much as you liked the careful attention, you guided his head to where you needed it. Keeping his words in mind, you gave a slightly rough tug on his hair, and he responded with a pained hum that edged you closer.

At one point, you saw his hand shift to try towards his pants, but you yanked his hair in response.

“No touching yourself yet. Or I’ll only let you watch, okay?”

You built up a rhythm, growing careless with the tugs on his hair so that you felt pressure in all the right places. Your fingers pulled harder as you got close, and you could hear his shallow breath as you took what you wanted from him.

“Fuck. Coryo, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that. You wanna make me cum?”

He nodded as best as he could with your hand gripping tight in his hair, and the motion only brought you closer, legs growing weak and tired, hooking over his shoulders now that you’d let him closer. You felt the ache build, almost painful with how long it had been, and you felt yourself snap, spinning out of control as your hand tensed, then fell from his hair. Then his hands were on you, gently this time, smoothing over your bucking hips with a level of control that you melted into as the feeling washed over you. He didn’t stop, pressing his tongue against you harder as you fell apart, shaking like a leaf as he worked your cunt until your cries bordered on screams.

“Fuck. Oh my god, that’s it, I’m…” You broke off into a shout, something so outlandish it sounded foreign to your own ringing ears, but you were too far gone to care. You could vaguely feel yourself grabbing at him as he pulled away, at his hair, his hands, anything, as you slumped back onto the bed. Slowly, he propped himself up, placing a knee between your legs and leaning over you. And his eyes, heavy and wanting, had you aching all over again.

He held back a little, clearly still in the space you’d pushed him into.

“Can I…” He whispered, those desperate eyes fixed on your parted lips as you caught your breath.

“Yeah.” You gasped, and he lowered his head towards you.

This time, he kissed you softer. Still hungry, still wanting, but slow, methodical, like he wanted to relish it. Almost like he wasn’t trying to own you, but in that moment, you could almost go so far as to believe the contrary. And your head swam with pride, feeling his lips on yours as he gently pressed you into the soft mattress.

But you didn’t sit in the feeling for too long.

“Was that okay?” He gasped.

“Yeah. More than okay. But you used your hands at the end there, baby. You know what that means?”

His eyes narrowed as his head cleared a little.

“Lie on your back for me.”

He obliged, dropping onto the mattress and shuffling up to lean against the pillows.

“I missed you, you know.” You murmured as you followed suit, hovering over him to get another kiss.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. Thought I was gonna go out of my fucking mind with how much.”

“Yeah?” You smiled.

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, did you?”

“I hoped not. Glad I was right.”

You smiled again, and shifted closer towards him.

“I could always show you how much I missed you, if you wanted.” Your eyes darted down to the front of his pants, the outline of his hard cock pressing against the material. He went a little quiet again, nodding a little, and you grinned. Climbed onto your knees so you were just a little above him, then swung a leg over one of his to sit carefully on his thigh. You paused for a beat.

“I won’t touch you until you tell me to, baby.”

He sucked in a breath.

“You can touch me.”

You tutted.

“What do we say?”

“Please.” He added quickly.

Without a word, you leaned in, brushing a hand over his cock, starting gentle, but quickly adding pressure. You could tell he was holding back, jaw clenched and eyes fluttering as he tried to control his breath.

“Not getting shy on me again, are you?”

He didn’t answer, just met your eye and you took it as a challenge. Unbuttoned his slacks and with a glance and a nod, slid them down his legs. You licked your palm slow, making sure he was watching closely.

“Fuck.” He breathed.

“Well, if you’re not gonna talk to me properly, I’m just gonna have to work harder then, aren’t I?” You drawled as you slipped your hand underneath his boxers. There was a soft thump as his head dropped back onto the headboard and he cursed as your fingers grabbed the base of his cock.

“Like that?” Your mouth pulled into a sly smile.

He hummed, breaking off into a sigh, lips parted and eyes towards the ceiling as you fisted his cock. I’ll take that as a yes.

You swirled your thumb around the head of his cock, gathering messy precum that had gathered at the tip from your teasing, and it hit you then that most of your interactions until now had been psychological, toying with words, with ideas and almosts. You knew by now what made him tick, which words you could use to push him to the edge, but you’d barely had the chance to touch each other. But you were a fast learner, and you knew what you wanted from this.

You wanted to make him fall apart.

So you picked up the pace, and it must’ve ached with how fast you were fucking his cock with your fist, but his determination not to lose his cool made it all the more exciting. It got wet, and that was one thing his composure couldn’t hide. It egged you on, shifting your own hips on his tensing thigh as your sore cunt pressed against the muscle.

“You can hold back all you like, but I can tell you’re fucking close.”

His eyes fell shut in a lust-clouded haze, breath picking up. His cock twitched in your hand and you grinned. You were tempted to take it down your throat, really see how he held up then, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction just yet, and you were on a high learning just how to make his body respond to your touch, how to make him weak. So you worked your wrist and felt his legs jolt a little, and you knew it was a matter of seconds.

“If you want to cum, you’ll have to ask nicely. I don’t know how generous I’m feeling just yet. Convince me.”

“Jesus.” He gasped.

“No, just me. Go on, baby. Beg me. You wanted to earlier, right? Now’s your chance.”

An honest-to-god whine left his mouth, voice cracked and completely fucking ruined. You slowed your motions.

“No, baby, don’t stop. I’m so fucking close, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum. I fucking need it, I did everything you said, I got on my knees, I fucking… fuck, I did what you told me, didn’t I? Everything you asked? And I didn’t touch myself, I haven’t… fuck. All weekend, I haven’t-”

You pressed your lips together.

“Poor thing. You’ve gone this whole weekend without cumming?”

“I was a little fucking preoccupied.” He gritted out.

“Over little old me? You shouldn’t have.”

“Please,” he repeated, “I need to cum. I did what you wanted, doll, I- shit-”

Satisfied, you picked the pace up again, obscene wet sounds filling the room as his hips rocked a little into your hand as he got close again. Too far gone now to hold back, his face contorted in pleasure, eyes fixed on you. Then, in a seemingly small motion as you leaned into him a little, the dog tag that had been sitting tucked under your dress - and had stayed hidden against your skin all weekend - slipped out, the pendant swinging into the air beneath you, and as Coriolanus caught sight of it, you felt his hips tense, then his cock was twitching and spilling into your hand.

“Shit, that’s so… oh my fucking god, doll.”

You pulled your hand from his boxers and brought it to your mouth, cleaning it off a little.

“You really did need that, huh?” You smirked, and he sighed.

“Yeah. I really fucking did.”

You nodded at his boxers.

“Can I take these off now?”

He pressed his head into the headboard again and nodded, so you carefully pulled them down his legs. Panting and overheated, he unbuttoned his shirt as you threw the fabric to the floor.  What he didn’t expect you to do, though, was put your hand back on his still-twitching cock that sat tired and used against his stomach. He flinched a little as you palmed it, and you looked at him mischievously. Started to move your hand again, slow and steady, but firm.

“That’s… baby. Stop, I already came, I… fuck.” He winced, sucking in a sharp breath. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You chuckled, voice turning a little dangerous.

“Oh, you thought we were done?”

“Doll, that’s not – shit – that’s not fucking funny. It’s sensitive, I…” It turned into an uncomfortable hum, but you felt him twitch under your palm, slowly getting hard again. His leg gave a little involuntary kick, much to your satisfaction.

“I… what the fuck.” His voice went quiet and strained, and yours got menacing.

“Oh, you can take it, can’t you? Thought you said you liked me taking the lead a little. You can handle it, can’t you, Snow? Or do you want me to stop?”

“Mm. That’s… was different. Please.” You kept going, a rush washing over you as you wondered if he even knew what he was begging for. You got more daring, rubbing your palm over the tip, and grinned when he cried out.

“You want me to stop? Just say the word. I will.”

He was half-hard again, more cum leaking from his tip as you sped up just a little.

Eyes squeezed shut, he shook his head frantically as the rest of him trembled.

“Didn’t think so.”

His face was twisted like he was holding on desperately, trying to maintain control as you relished in his permission, and palmed him harder.

“Jesus fuck.” He said, voice getting louder now, legs twitching and hips bucking up in little jolts you were certain he couldn’t stop if he tried. You had him now, pliable like clay between your fingertips, shaking apart.

“Is that too much for you?” You taunted, getting cocky now.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He snapped, but it fell flat when his voice broke halfway through the question. You laughed.

“I know exactly who I am, Snow. I’m the girl you’re gonna be stuck with for a long time, and I’ve got some demands to make. So listen closely, because I’m only going to say this once. You know what happened last week?” You were aware you were starting to sound almost as insane as him, but you didn’t care.

“You don’t ever,” you spat, “do that to me again. If you do, I swear on all of Panem, I will fucking kill you. Do you understand me?”

He whined, desperate, so far gone you weren’t sure he was fully listening.

“Say you fucking understand.”

“I… I understand. Fuck. Please. I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so fucking sorry-”

“You’re lucky I’m giving you another chance. From here on out, you only get to treat me like a whore when I tell you to. Okay?”

“Yes. Yes, okay. I understand. I’m… shit.”

“This is a partnership, starting now. We help each other. We trust each other. We talk to each other. We don’t go behind each other’s backs, or fuck around with other people. Okay?”

“Okay. That’s… doll, can you slow down just a little? You’re… I’m…”

“You’re gonna cum again?”

He nodded, chasing his breath. You leaned towards him, lowering your head to his chest and dragging your tongue against his collarbone.

“Good. You can cum again, Coryo.”

“Thank you. Thank you - fuck. That feels… I’m-”

“You gonna cum all over my hand again, baby? Do it, I’ve got you. You can cum now.”

The second time he came was with a pained cry, painting your hand until it dripped down your wrist and onto his stomach. When you finally released your grip, he slumped down and sighed, aftershocks still jolting through him.

“You heard what I said, didn’t you?”

“I did. And I understand.”

“Good.” You murmured into his ear, and you felt goosebumps rise on his torso, “Then I think we can come to an agreement.”

The week went by in a blur of whispered words and tangled limbs. He rarely left you alone, and you barely felt the time pass, every waking moment spent together, flesh on flesh. When he worked, it was at the small desk in his room, and he took plenty of breaks to lounge in bed with you or run you baths.

You learned each other’s tells, growing comfortable touching each other, but Snow stuck to his word, much to your annoyance.

Not until you trust me again, he’d said. Wasn’t it clear enough by you staying?

You’d all but moved into his room, sending Lucille back and forth with hampers for your clothes, which now hang in one side of his closet, or sat folded in his previously empty drawers. You felt closer to him than you ever had before, and the two of you had skin littered with bruises which made you grateful you didn’t have any public functions to attend for quite a while. He’d stopped leaving you to go into the city and work, instead managing people from afar, and letting them get on with their jobs so he could weed out the weakest links.

For the first time, it felt a little like he was yours. Or as much yours as he possibly could be. And as you spent more time together, not just half-dressed and desperate, but talking, really talking, you slowly started to feel like you could be his, too.

“Tell me it feels better than he did. When you were together.” He whispered one morning, when you’d not long woken up and he’d immediately ducked under the covers to get between your thighs. He paused, fingers inside you, looking at you intently, and at first you were confused as to what he meant. You heard the tinge of vulnerability in his voice, and took the cue.

“You really think you deserve that? After everything?”

“No.” He whispered, eyes dropping down again.

“So what do we say?”

“Please.”

“One more time for me.”

He spoke up, voice gorgeously wrecked.

“Please. Tell me it’s better.”

“That’s good. And since you’re being good, I’ll tell you. He didn’t…” you swallowed, catching yourself, “He didn’t really like doing that. what you’re doing.” Your facade cracked a little and you glanced off to the side, not sure what reaction you were expecting.

“Really?” His voice was dumbfounded. It made you laugh.

“You know, Snow, a lot of guys don’t. They’re lazy about it. Want to get it over with, get to the real thing.”

A wide smile pulled at his lips, wolfish.

“Who wouldn’t want to do this?”

“Easy for you to say, handsome.”

He grinned wider.

“Can I try something?”

“I don’t know. will I like it?”

“I think we both will.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“Okay, Coryo.”

His smile only deepened, pulling into an excited smirk as he gripped your hips once more, lightly kissing your thighs as he got closer to where you wanted him.

You gasped as his tongue worked you, and when you came, he kept going, easing up only after you’d fallen apart more times than you could keep count.

“Can’t believe you still won’t fuck me.” You pouted one day, as he sat at the desk with a pen in hand, scratching against paper.

He turned around to face you.

“I told you why. Not until-”

“I trust you again, I know. But how do you know that? I could trust you just fine and you wouldn’t even know it.”

“I’ll know.”

You hummed.

“Or,” you started, slipping off the bed and pacing towards him, “you could just fuck me now and call it square.”

He chuckled.

“Nice try, sweetheart.”

You pulled a lip between your teeth as you stood next to him, and he moved his chair out towards you. You smoothed a hand over his dress shirt, and grabbed a hold of his tie. Then you hooked a leg over both of his and lowered yourself onto his lap, face right next to his. You’d grown comfortable with being close to him, and while it still felt electric, you could handle it better. You rocked your hips on his as you got comfortable.

“Feel familiar?”

He hummed in response.

“I’m getting flashbacks.”

You smirked.

“Can I take this off?” You tugged at his shirt.

“Only if you play nice. No acting up, okay?”

“If you say so.” You shrugged, making quick work of the tie and buttons. Once the shirt was off, your lips were all over him, trailing over his chest and neck, tongue tracing lines across his collarbones.

“You don’t have to be anywhere for the next week, do you?” You murmured into his ear.

“No.” His breath hitched a little.

“Good.”

With that, you closed your lips around his pulse, and sucked.

While you littered his whole torso with bruises, and your neck was given a few of its own, you started rocking your hips lazily against him, playing coy like you didn’t know what you were doing, like you couldn’t feel him rock hard between your legs.

“Now this really is taking me back.” His voice strained when he spoke.

You only hummed in response, lace panties bunching in an all-too-familiar way. But you didn’t work your hips like you had something to prove this time, you went slower, taking your time, but staying deliberate in your movements. Your lips met his, breaking away only to breathe, then again when you felt his hips roll a little and his breath get laboured.

You rocked your hips harder, nice and firm. You could feel his cock twitch through his pants, right up against the wet spot forming on your panties. The friction had you shaking.

“Feel good?” You breathed.

“Yeah. Feels real fucking good, sweetheart.”

You smiled as your head lolled back, gasping loud to make sure he really heard it.

“You know what would feel even better, though?”

He mumbled something back but you didn’t catch it, lost in the haze.

“Think it’d feel better if you were fucking me for real right now.”

You didn’t expect the broken moan that escaped him, hands gripping your hips hard. Like the thought of it was enough to make him shatter.

“Baby,” he warned, “don’t.”

“But it would be so easy.” You pressed, “pushing my panties to the side and fucking into me right now.”

“Doll-”

“I know you want to.” you whispered against his ear.

“Do you now?” His strained voice told you everything you needed to know.

You nodded. “Mhm. I know you do. I also know that it’s driving you crazy, having me this close, but not able to take what you want. You must be going out of your mind, you know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because I am too. I’m tired of this rule, Snow. Let’s just forget about it, and fuck me already.”

“Get up.” He said firmly. You started.

“What?”

“You heard me. I said get up, sweetheart.”

You climbed off his lap and stood, cautiously, legs shaking from how close you’d gotten. He did the same, towering over you a little as you failed to hide the smile on your face.

“Get on the bed.”

You took in a breath, shaky with nerves.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

You sat back on the bed, peering over the mattress as he ducked down to pick up something from the floor.

“What are you-”

“Eyes closed.”

“Okay.” You shut your eyes, then felt him get close to you, his lips meeting yours as he knelt in front you, mattress dipping as he shifted. His hands brushed your arms, slowly pushing them behind your back as you melted into him, and before you could open your eyes, you felt the smooth silk of his tie wrap around your wrists and pull.

“What-”

“You want to act up, doll? Fine. Let’s see how many times I can make you cum all over my fingers before you’re begging me to stop.”

His hand slipped between your legs, pushing your lace panties to the side and pressing a finger into your wet cunt as you cried out. Your eyes pleaded at him, desperate.

“But why can’t you-”

“I said,” he repeated, pressing his finger into the spot that make you see stars, “not. Fucking. Yet.”

He spent hours fingering you open, making you cum until you cried. Then he cleaned up your tears and kissed like you were his whole world as you fell into an exhausted sleep, his words floating around in your head.

The black box was tied with a crisp white ribbon, and sat waiting for you on your bed. You approached it with caution, thumbing the piece of card on top of it. It was a note written in ink.

Wear this tonight. Think you’ll suit it well.

-       C.S

You’d gone into your room to collect something of yours to take to Snow’s room. You rarely went into your room anymore, most of your things had found their place in his, much to your satisfaction.

It was the first day in about two weeks that Coriolanus had finally had to leave the house to go into the city, but he’d promised it would just be for the day. It was also the first gala you had to attend since you’d made your decision, which you were slightly nervous for, but mostly excited to get out of the house, because although the sacred oasis that his room had become, it would be nice to have a change of scenery.

And that brought you back to the beautifully wrapped box lay in front of you. You were buzzing. You turned the note over in your hands, pulling it to your face to breathe it in. It smelt like newly printed books, and something distinctly him.

You recognised the label on the box, it was one of your favorite designers. You pushed the lid away to reveal the most beautiful dress you’d ever laid your eyes on – and you’d seen some impressive pieces.

It was a dark crimson red with gold embroidery, soft as silk. You unfolded it gently, letting the fabric spill out towards the floor. It was a little more revealing than anything you currently owned, with a deep slit up the leg and a plunging neckline, waist cinched, but the rest of the dress was floor length. A smile crept onto your face.

After counting down the hours, it was finally time to make your way downstairs. Snow stood in a full suit, waiting at the bottom of the staircase.

“You look beautiful.” He remarked.

“You don’t look too shabby yourself.” You smiled in response.

You met at the foot of the stairs, and he took your hand in his.

“Thank you for the dress. It’s gorgeous.” You added, not sure why you were lowering your voice in your own lobby.

“I knew it would suit you. Now you’re almost ready to go.”

“Almost?” You frowned, not sure what you could possibly be missing.

Coriolanus lifted his hand to pull the white rose from his breast pocket. He examined it, then lifted it to your hair and tucked it gently behind your ear. Your lips parted in surprise, and your hand reached up to meet his.

“But it’s your signature. I couldn’t-”

“I know. But people won’t be looking at me tonight. They’ll be looking at you. And this way, when they do, each and every one of them will know that you’re mine.”

That knowing smile crept back onto your face, and you leaned in to press your lips to his.

When you pulled away, you thumbed his tie, realising the color matched your dress exactly.

“I’m sensing a similar theme here.”

“Well, it’s been a while since we’ve been seen out in public. It’ll be good to show up like this, show a strong front, not leave any doubters.”

You hummed.

“And when we get home?”

His stare drew you in; you could get lost in it and never find your way out.

“That depends.”

Your gaze lowered to his lips, then back up again.

“Missed you today.” You said.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You promise?”

He smiled.

“I promise, sweetheart.”

“Snow?”

He hummed in response. Your hand felt like it could melt into his, thumb brushing your palm.

“What would you say if I told you that I trust you now?”

His hand stilled. His eyes bored into yours.

“I’d say… that I believe you.”

You held your breath in, letting the anticipation wash over you.

“Later?” You whispered, and he nodded.

“Later.”

The ball was one of the most extravagant you’d seen, large chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and fountains of champagne dotted around. The health minister had outdone himself, and when you said so to Snow, he muttered a comment about him spending more time planning parties than doing his real job. But he smiled to all the right people, and his hand in yours calmed your nerves as a large procession saw you into the ballroom.

You danced until your feet turned numb, spinning on the ballroom floor, every time Coriolanus put his hands on your waist or wrapped his hand around yours drawing you in further, bringing you closer to forgetting everyone was watching you when his eyes were on yours, each stare becoming some secret language you were now terribly well-versed in. He didn’t let himself get distracted this time, quickly gravitating back to you any time he got pulled away into a conversation, and you basked in the attention, the two of you flirting to high heaven. When you’d spun until you were dizzy, he went to get you a drink, and you stepped off the floor of twirling couples.

It was then that you saw your mother, standing anxiously to one side, the stem of a champagne glass pressed between her fingers. Your parents rarely made it to these functions, but apparently, they had made time for this one. Suddenly aware of your frown and not wanting to arise suspicion, you plastered on a false smile and swanned through the crowd in her direction.

“Oh, darling. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course I am, mother, I wouldn’t miss it. Is everything alright?”

She glanced around the two of you nervously, fiddling with her glass. You touched her shoulder and gently guided her further into the corner of the room. You rarely saw her this distressed, usually the picture of grace and poise.

“What’s wrong?” You pressed.

“Have you heard from Nathaniel?”

Your brows furrowed.

“Nathaniel Greene? Not in a long time.” You figured the little stunt of yours from the month before should go unmentioned.

“I heard from his parents the other day. They’re completely distraught.”

“Why? What on earth happened?”

For a second, echoes of threats that had long settled to the ground popped back into the forefront of your mind, and you swallowed thickly. You sat down in two small chairs at the side of the room.

“They can’t begin to understand why. Perhaps it was work, perhaps he was gambling, or in debt, but nothing could possibly explain such a cruel fate.”

“Mother, tell me what happened. Is he…”

Her hands shook, and you took the glass of champagne from her and placed it on a nearby tray.

“He’s not dead, my darling. It’s worse. A messenger came to his house late the other night. They asked him to pack a bag, and they took him away. To… I can barely say it.”

“Mother,” you gritted, “tell me.”

“A peacekeeper, of all things.” Horror filled her voice. “They sent him away to the districts, for the next twenty years. But what could he have done? I can barely understand it. Can you imagine? A young man of his standing, wasting away in that place? His family is ruined.”

Right then, the crowd around you parted in a way that could only announce the presence of one person.

“Sweetheart, is everything okay?”

You lifted your head to meet cool blue eyes and a slightly suspicious stare. From where you sat, Snow towered over you both, drink in hand.

“Everything’s fine.” You replied, “my mother isn’t feeling too well. Do you think we could find my father and have him take her home?”

He nodded at an Avox nearby who stepped dutifully away without missing a beat, and a server offered your mother a tray with a glass of water on it. You stood and faced Coriolanus, conscious of the now very interested crowd, and nodded to the large double doors that stood to your right.

“A word?”

He followed you in cautiously.

“I just heard something interesting.” You started.

He stood up straight, setting his jaw when you finally turned to face him. Even though you were barely alone, just a closed door between you and hundreds of people, it felt electric to be standing so close to him again with nobody watching you.

“What’s that?”

Playing it safe. An interesting move.

“Oh, just some rumor about an old friend of ours.”

“Who would that be?”

You smiled.

“I thought it was funny you asked about him the other day. Were you worried if I left you I’d go back to him?”

“Not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t play coy, Coriolanus.” You drawled. “You sent Nathaniel off to be a peacekeeper so I couldn’t go back to him.”

His stony façade fell through a little.

“And if I did?”

The deep frown you’d plastered onto your face for your mother’s benefit fell away, and your lips curved into a smirk.

“I’d say... well played.”

He blinked.

“You’re not upset?”

“Over him? Barely.”

“You’re - ” Snow paused, “so you’re not angry that I sent him away? The districts are hell, you know.”

“I’m sure. I don’t care, Snow. If anything, I’m impressed.”

“Why?”

You shrugged.

“He had it coming. He slept with my closest friend a week after we ended things. He never knew I found out. I’ve just been waiting, really, for him to get what he deserves. I doubted you’d let him off without a warning. There I was thinking you’d lost your touch for a while.”

You wanted to bottle the feeling you got from his eyes burning into you, with something that tasted like admiration.

“I nearly did let him off, for your sake.” He confessed. “But... if that's the case, I'm glad I changed my mind."

“So am I. It was that weekend I left, wasn’t it?”

“Damage control." He said tightly, "You can’t blame me.”

“Thought so. Good work, Snow.” You stepped towards him and revelled in the apprehension on his face with a smirk. “It’s a shame for his family, but they were never particularly nice. Collateral, I suppose.”

“You really don’t care at all?”

“Does it look like I care?”

“No.”

“I think you can read me as well as the next person. So I don’t care. Is that so tragic?”

He shook his head, bewildered. A strange smile appeared on his face.

“No, that’s… that’s good.”

You smirked as a thought popped into your head.

“How long do you think he’ll last out there?”

“Who knows? I hope you’re not banking on him ever coming back.”

You fiddled with his tie, smoothing it down.

“Never. We can’t all be Coriolanus Snow, can we?”

“Certainly not.”

You stepped even closer, and his back bumped softly against the wall. His gaze fell to your lips. You'd painted them a red so deep it was almost black, matching the dress.

"You like the color?" You asked.

"Yeah. Reminds me of when you kissed me in front of everyone and I couldn't get it off."

You laughed.

"Well, it was one way of getting your attention."

"It drove me fucking crazy, you know. It's all I thought about when I jerked off for weeks."

Fuck. Your eyes went a little heavy, laden with want.

“I hope this hasn’t changed our plans tonight.” You murmured.

“Has it changed them for you?”

You shook your head quickly.

“No. You?”

“Of course not.” He brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face.

“Good. Because now he’s out of our way, I’m tired of this party. I want to go home."

His eyes darkened a little and he drew in a breath.

“I’ll go say my goodbyes.”

With one of his hands on the doorknob, you stopped him.

“Snow?”

“Yes?”

“I don't want you to be nice. Later, I mean.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was just a few squeezes shy of breaking off the doorknob.

Your body slammed against his bedroom door with a force. His hands travelled under your clothes; wanting, needing to touch. You sighed and gasped at the feeling, his cold hands on your skin shooting chills through you, tugging off your clothes, kissing your neck, taking all that he wanted but still desperate for more. The rose had long fallen from your hair and lay, forgotten, on the hardwood. He kissed you with purpose, like he was once again trying to prove that he owned you, all the while understanding that he couldn’t. Maybe that’s what pushed him to touch you, to kiss you like it was the last time, like he was scared you’d float away somehow, even though you both know that wouldn’t really happen.

You understood it, because you felt the same way about him.  

You revelled in it, in the way his hands wrapped around your back, lowered to your legs, and lifted you up to push you harder against the door. His lips travelled across every square inch of bare skin he could find, your dress pushed down to your waist, lace bra exposed.

“Take it off.” He whispered, and you arched your back, reaching for the clasp and unhooking it with lightning speed. The lights were dim in his room, casting shadows that danced as the two of you moved together. Your head fell back against the solid wood as Coriolanus licked a trail up your neck. It was depraved, more passionate than anything you’d felt before. You could hardly think, blood pumping through your veins faster than you could stand. The only thing louder than the rush of blood in your ears was the sound of your breath mixing, hot and heavy as you took, impatient and without apology.

You cried out as his hips pressed harder into yours, and you could feel his length pressing up against you for the hundredth time. Except this time, you could finally let yourself imagine him inside you and trust that he wouldn’t turn this into another round of the game you’d thought endless. You squeezed your legs around his hips.

“Bed.” You gasped, and he grinned, wolfish and thrilled. You were the luckiest girl in Panem, to get to see him look at you that way.

“Been waiting to get this dress off you since I had it made.”

“Don’t tear it. Be gentle.”

“With you, or the dress?”

You narrowed your eyes as he carried you to the bed and placed you down on the mattress.

“Thought I told you that already.”

He was careful with the dress, slipping it over your hips and draping it over the back of the desk chair. When he came back, you were propped up on your elbows, legs bent at the knee, stare unwavering, panties the only thing left to take off. He was still wearing too much, shirt messily undone, pants still fastened but barely concealing the tent beneath them.

“You sure about this?” He checked.

“That a trick question?”

“Doll.”

You laughed. 

“Yes, I’m sure. Take off your shirt, handsome.”

He pulled off the white shirt methodically, and you shifted onto your knees to pull off his belt and toss it to the floor, eager to speed things along. You took in his toned chest and let your gaze sink down to his boxers, where his cock stood painfully hard beneath the material.

“Can I…” You prompted.

“Fuck. Yes. Please.” He sighed as your nails trailed up the bare skin of his thigh and brushed softly over his cock.

You smiled at the addition and took one last glance at his face, anticipation clear on his features that morphed a little in the near-darkness. Then, you pulled the material down his legs and his cock sprung free, and you forgot that you’d done this before, that you were used to this, to him, to being with him in almost every sense. It all slipped away, and as your hand reached to touch him with nothing between the two of you, it felt like the first time you’d ever done it. The breath he sucked in as you started to push the precum around his tip urged you on, making you brazen, and you readjusted your knees on the bed and got closer, then licked a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip.

“Oh my – fuck.” He groaned, and you couldn’t help the smile on your face, grateful for the darkness.

“That okay?”

He laughed, something dark and untethered.

“You fucking know it is. Such a fucking tease.”

“Wouldn’t be such a tease if we’d done this sooner.”

“Somehow I doubt that, sweetheart – ah.”

He was cut off by you taking the tip of his cock in your mouth and sucking hard as you gripped the base. You pumped your hand a few times and revelled in the sounds he made, choked out grunts and broken sighs, mixed with the occasional curse or a cry of your name.

You felt his hand gently brush against your hair, ever so cautious.

“Can I…”

“Mhm.” You hummed in the affirmative, and he sighed, all low and shaky as he pushed his fingers through your locks, not guiding, just careful pressure on your scalp as he let you take the lead.

“Baby,” he gritted out, “I don’t know how much longer I can… fuck, that’s-”

He sucked in a sharp breath as you stopped, pulling off, lips swollen. You looked up at him, stunned as he caught his breath.

“Coriolanus?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we turn a light on? I can’t… I want to see you.”

In the shadows, you could just make out the glint of his eyes and a dumbfounded smile.

“Of course.”

He stepped away, kicking off his boxers, and you watched him reach over the desk to switch on a small lamp. It lit up his face and you took him in, a thin cast of sweat shimmering across his face and chest. When he turned, you glanced away like you hadn’t been staring. He caught on with a grin.

“Like what you see?”

Such a dick.

“I’d like it better if you were over here.” You mumbled as he paced back towards you.

“You’re the one who wanted the light on, sweetheart. Now I know why.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Snow.”

“Coryo.” His breath danced against your lips as he closed in, lips sealing against yours as he pushed you back on the bed.

“Coryo.” You repeated with a smile when he pulled away kissing down your neck and chest, feeling the shape of the name in your mouth.

Then his hands were on you again as if they’d never left. More heat pooled between your legs as he trailed his hands down your thighs, and you let your head fall back as his fingers pressed through the seam of your panties.

His breath got shaky again as his fingers pushed the scrap of wet fabric to the side. You gasped as his thumb went straight to your clit, determined, rubbing tight circles against the hard nub.

“Oh my god, Coryo, I-”

“So fucking wet, sweetheart. Is this all for me?”

It was too much all at once. You pressed your lips together tightly and nodded. Beside yourself, your left hand pressed against your mouth to muffle your moans.

Then he fucking stopped. Your hand fell from your mouth, and you felt the lace get pulled down your legs.

“What are you…” You trailed off. The dim light let you make out his face and you could see his expression now, wanting, but careful, methodical.

“Open your mouth.”

When your lips parted, a little in response, but moreso in surprise, the two fingers he’d been using on your clit slipped into your mouth, pulling your jaw open as his other hand propped him up. You could taste yourself, hot and heavy, spilling onto your tongue.

“I want to hear you, baby. You can’t cover your mouth like that if I’m gonna hear you.”

You nodded, brain a little dead.

“Good girl. Now I don’t have a free hand, know what that means?”

You cried out a little, tongue trapped beneath his fingers.

“Touch yourself, doll. I’ve got you. We’re gonna get you nice and fucking close, okay?”

A little self-aware with him hovering right above you, you snaked a hand between your legs, but when you saw the look on his face you stopped wasting time, pushing two fingers inside yourself, heel of your hand bumping your clit as a whine slipped past your lips.

He kept talking, whispering hot and heavy into your ear, dragging his lips over your neck, pressing kisses wherever he could reach, every touch burning your skin like it was molten. When you’d lost yourself enough, mouth still parted; his fingers gentler now he’d made his point, he ducked his head lower, trailing his lips over your tits, placed his mouth over your nipple and sucked. Your moans got louder, feeling like every inch of skin he covered was hardwired to your cunt, your fingers getting tired and sloppy as you got yourself closer, dripping down your thighs.

You made a sound and he glanced up at you, pulling his fingers from your mouth.

“Just fuck me. Please, I can’t wait anymore, Coryo.” You whined, trying desperately to slow down your breathing.

“Poor baby. Couldn’t make yourself cum first?”

You shook your head, any more and you were sure your eyes would start to water.

“That’s okay, doll. I wasn’t gonna let you anyway.”

He lowered himself down towards you, arms either side of yours, crowding you in. Then his hands travelled down, lower, and your eyes rolled back, mouth agape as you felt his cock press against your entrance.

“Fuck.” You whispered, and he was strangely quiet. You blinked, and looked down at him, and you’d never seen such a pained look on his face. His lips parted, eyes heavy and slitted as he looked down at where his cock rubbed up and down like he was in a trance, slowly nudging your clit and getting himself wetter, tip glistening in the dim light.

Desperate for friction, you started rocking your hips, aching for him to push inside of you.

“Not just yet.” He breathed, voice strung-out and insane. “I won’t make you wait much longer, baby.”

“Please. I need you to fuck me. Don’t make me fucking beg.”

Usually, you’d see a sly smile appear on his face, but he just pressed his eyes closed as if the thought was going to send him over the edge. It was the sweetest torture you’d ever felt. Then, finally, you felt his cock catch at your entrance, and slowly press inside. You gasped at the pressure, at the size of him, and he was barely even moving.

“That’s it, baby.” He breathed. “I’m right here.”

He shifted his hips a little, and you clawed at his back, nails digging in until he hissed, rocking your hips to beg for more. You didn't want him holding back, not when you'd waited months for this. You strained your neck lifting it from the bed to whisper in his ear.

“I meant what I said, Coryo. Don’t be fucking nice.”

It was as if something in him snapped. Like he was holding on by a single thread, and you’d send him spiralling out of control. His hips jerked forward and you cried out as he filled you to the hilt, then rocked into you again, picking up a pace that was almost punishing. You tasted it, still wet on your lips, clung to your skin, and now, deep inside you.

Danger.

“So fucking pretty. Does my pretty girl need to get fucked, huh? Just like that?”

You could barely form words, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him in further, feeling pinned open and beautifully used. Your cries melted together in your head until you could only understand bits and pieces, and as he fucked you, unrelenting, you felt your back slide up the mattress. Your nails dug into his back, and you were sure they must’ve drawn blood. His forehead pressed against yours,

For a second, he slowed, looking down at you.

“That okay?” He muttered.

You nodded, frantic, barely there.

“Yeah.”

He sped up again and your legs grew weak. He reached his free hand down to grab hold of your thigh and push it higher, the new angle making you see stars, clenching around him impossibly tight.

“Good fucking girl.”

At some point, as you exchanged fewer words and more heated glances, you felt your hand slip from his back and come to rest against over his on your thigh, to hold it in place. He took it in stride, taking it in his, fingers interlacing as his thumb brushed yours.

You didn’t think much of it. How could you? Not when he was stretching the walls of your cunt as you gripped him like a vice. Not when you could barely hear the words coming from either of your mouths. But oddly, it was the gentle contrast that pushed you to the edge as he fucked into you just like you’d asked, hard and unrelenting, mean.

Despite it all, it was the thumb that brushed yours that had moans spilling from your mouth as you both took exactly what you wanted from each other. It sparked something in you, something that let you know you were safe here, that there weren’t any walls between you anymore, no twisted games that wouldn’t benefit you both equally.

“I’m close.” You gasped as his cool blue eyes spilled into yours, and you knew he was all yours.

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? I can feel it.”

You nodded silently, muscles in our thighs tensing around his back, the hand that was twisted into yours now falling onto the bed beside you. He gripped it tighter, and fucked you harder, with a point to prove. When your eyes slid shut in ecstasy, right on the edge of falling apart, he squeezed your hand, palms hot and clammy against each other just like the rest of you.

“Look at me, baby.” He urged, fighting for breath. “You’re so fucking close, I need – shit – need to see you when you cum for me.”

It wasn’t hard to keep your eyes open, to keep them on him when he looked like that, like he was carved by the fucking gods, brow scrunched and shining with sweat, eyes bluer than ever, lips parted in an o shape. It was the prettiest sight you’d seen, and your hand tensed around his when you came, trembling like a leaf, mouth parting in a shout you barely heard, eyes focused on him, only him as he fucked you through it.

"Fuck, that's it, doll. Like that? Right fucking there?"

You cried out in response, and as you spilled apart, you heard your name slip past his lips through your ringing ears , followed by a string of curses, each one filthier than the next, not letting up once as he followed you over the edge, hips stuttering as you felt warmth fill your walls and his head fall down onto the pillow beside yours.

A few moments passed as you let the feeling wash over you, feeling the wonderfully sore, sticky mess between your thighs after he pulled out. You heard him catch his breath, then tumble onto his back by your side. You sighed as you stared at the ceiling, then at him, and with a smile realised he’d been looking at you.

“Like what you see?” You echoed. He smiled, coy.

“You know I do, beautiful.”

You sighed, satisifed.

“Keep calling me beautiful, Snow, and I might start thinking you want to fuck me.” You teased. “Wouldn’t want to give a girl the wrong idea.”

He laughed, bright and loud. A few more seconds passed, and you hummed.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Nothing.” You shrugged. “I’m just a little annoyed I didn’t get to ride you.”

He swallowed then smiled, almost awe-like, transfixed. It was a feeling that you’d gotten used to over the past few weeks, but it felt new this time. Different.

“You’re not done?”

“Are you?”

He glanced at your lips, then back up again, voice earnest.

“Not with you, sweetheart.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“Good. Then lay back. Head on the pillow for me.”

He obliged, blonde curls spilling over the fabric. You liked it when he grew his hair out a little, you thought as you hooked a leg over his waist. His hands came up to touch you, but you pressed his wrists back into the mattress.

“No touching, Coryo. You hear me?”

He nodded, eyes darkening again, and you lowered your head to kiss him, deep and slow. Felt yourself meld into him with a smile as his cock hardened against your thigh.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the white rose he'd given you, discarded haphazardly on the wooden floor.

And something inside you just knew, you’d never get bored of this.

a/n: hope you liked it. thank you again for the love and for screaming along with me this whole time <33

taglist: (more in the comments) : @superchatnoir07 @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 @ohstardew @ohmeadows

[dropsnectar]

New here, found you from your kitsune post. I don't know if this is the kind of ask you like but. I'm imagining fluff of the kitsune, maybe he takes a prank too far, messes with something too cherished, a necklace, stuffed animal, something of the sort. He hadn't expected to make you cry, that's not the face he wanted you to make. Quickly moving into a perceivable form while handing you back the thing he whisked away or helping you pick up the mess before coming over to kiss your face, wrapping his soft tail around you and rubbing your back. He hadn't meant to upset you this much.

Our Kitsunes nonsense strikes again!

Ever since he had revealed himself to you, things had been... entertaining. He still messed with you of course. It was in his nature to twist thongs to suit him, whether it be replacing your furniture with higher quality, more comfortable seating or you finding random groceries on the counter, often the ingredients of the dinner he wanted you to offer him tonight. And instead of waiting outside by that uncomfortable stump, he had graced you with his presence, his nine tails flitting about over a meal well cooked. It was only right that he sit with you, as he could see your face better from a chair, rather than a corner or a window.

Sensing his thirst for variety you had also started bringing different types of alcohol to dinner. You'd learn the stories and histories around each drink and share their tales over dinner. You only ever had a glass but your fox, not having to worry about work tommorrow, would take his full fill.

He was rather cute while drunk, moving you to the living room couch to cuddle as he'd ask you more questions, about the alcohol but mostly about you. His tails always had a habit of curling themselves around you, pushing you closer to him as he stared at your face with an unbreakable gaze. It made you blush.

Sometimes when you were midsentence he'd cut you off with a kiss, sharing the taste and tipsiness of the alcohol. But sometimes the two of you would talk all night, and he'd follow you to bed to watch you sleep in his arms. Hed been very clingy recently, ever since that night.

You were his favorite entertainment, as their was always something new he could gleam from you. A new reaction, new information, a new experience as you guys walked together under the moonlight. Their was an issue though. An annoyance. A bane of his that made possession boil in his chest and his hackles stand.

He had given you a gift, him! Holding you as you sleep! He was so generous, he knows this, sharing his heat with a human in the cold of night. He was saving your life really. But you had this... habit. Instead of pulling yourself into his warm chest, or wrapping your beautiful legs around his tails. You had a habit of holding this... thing in your arms.

It was a pillow-like thing, an anima. Pperhaps a dog? Or a bear. The thing was so weathered it was hard to tell. And you'd kiss its little snout every night before you'd snuggle it and pass out. It wasn't every night, just the nights he was your big protector spoon.

But still! He could be small and fluffy too! He had a fox form! You should have kissed his snout.

When his graciousness had finally run out he took that wretched little pillow and dropped it out in a marsh pond in the woods. He even magicked the pond so no one else could find the thing, lest you wander about in the woods and find it.

What he hadn't expected was to find you the next day searching every corner of the house manicly, like hed stolen your paycheck for the next month.

He makes himself known and you rush to him, desperation and panic in your eyes.

"Where did you put my stuff animal? I know you like to play games but this is really important!"

His eyes narrow in disdain.

" You mean that little plush rag? Why do you need it? I can hold you so much better than it can." He refused to be sorry but your eyes welled with tears as the realization flit across your features. Hurt. True hurt filled every crevice if your face and his stomach turned. No no, he didn't like seeing you like this, not that face. Never that face, he didn't want it.

"My grandmother gave me that stuffy before she died. Its all I have left to remember her. Give it to me now."

Immediately, he magicked up the plush. It was dripping and muddy. You grabbed for it quickly but he held it up above your head, a finger out. He magicked it clean, then passed it back into your arms. He understood now. Once, he used to have a grandmother too.

Blazing hot shame trickled down his throat and blazed into his stomach. His ears pushed flat against his head as he felt sick for what he had done. There would always be games to play, but he never wished to hurt you. And with something so sentimental too. Family was everything after all, especially to a kitsune.

"There is no excuse. I will never touch it again, I promise."

You held your stuffy to your face, staring at his limp tails and flat ears. You had never seen him so openly ashamed before. Pride was like air to this being and to see him so devoid of it was novel.

"I'll forgive you. But only on one condition."

He looked at you, eyes tired.

"What is that, then?"

You held out your stuffy with both arms.

"You kiss his snoot and say sorry."

He looked at you, and with as much poise as he could manage, he kissed the plastic nose of the stuffed animal.

"I'm sorry, little thing." His eyes went back to you.

"So you like small fluffy things, huh?"

You gave him a small smile.

"Maybe. Whats it to you?"

Their was a puff of white smoke. When the air cleared you looked down to find a small fox kit, staring up at you with big adoring eyes. You squeeled, and carefully set down your stuffy on the table.

You leaned down to the kit and hesitantly pet his little head. It was soft. He chirped at you, encouragingly and you pulled him into your arms, cradling him to your chest as all of his tails wagged about and brushed your skin.

You knew it was him but you couldn't help it. You crooned and pet him, kissed his snout and his little fuzzy forehead. You snuggled him furiously and sat with him on the couch. You swear you could hear him purring the whole time, the grumbling making you feel calm and at ease with him. Eventually, you lean foreward and kiss his forehead again.

"You are forgiven."

[hanszoe]

i guess i had a longer post before but since i'm working on it now, a quick summary of hans' muscle composition

first is that they have a lot of explosive strength. their height and weight was confirmed as 170cm/5'7" 60kg/132lbs even before the anime adaptation, so it's true to how isayama imagined them. in the above scene that compares to pastor nick's height and weight of 192cm/6'3.5" 72kg/159lbs.

in the anime adaptation this action lasts a total of 1m14s.

35s - bearing initial weight. nick is still supporting himself and hans is not holding him that far from their combined center of mass. 22s - hans pushes him further over the ledge, increasing the distance of their center of mass from their body. this increases the amount of force that they must exert in order to hold him up. at this point hans' arm begins to shake, caused by their muscles beginning to alternate between fibers to distribute demand 17s - nick stops supporting his own weight, further increasing the amount of force hans has to exert to hold him up. killing him should not only be a mental question but also a physical one at this point

they then use the last of their strength to throw him back over the ledge. their entire body is shaking when they sit down.

the situation is somewhat unrealistic, especially hans' pose as regardless of their muscle strength they are at a major mass disadvantage and would absolutely have to place more of their own weight away from the ledge (this would naturally occur by widening their stance and lifting their unused arm on the opposite side) to avoid falling, but overall within the realm of possibility. regardless, it takes a lot of explosive strength to do something like this.

hans also has similar explosive strength on a few other occasions, notably when they kick over this table.

however in contrast, they don't seem to have much endurance

they're so exhausted from running presumably just a short distance from their horse to tell erwin that they drop to the floor lol. as if it were a regular occurrence, erwin just gets them a glass of water

so hans' endurance definitely doesn't compare to their explosive strength. which actually makes sense, considering two totally different types of muscle fibers control these types of movements.

the first type, which hans definitely has a large distribution of, are fast twitch muscle fibers. those ones use an anaerobic process to generate energy, which is also why they aren't breathing heavily after holding nick over the ledge, as their muscles used almost entirely anaerobic glycolysis to generate the energy required for the action.

the second are slow twitch fibers, used over longer durations. they use aerobic metabolism to generate energy, so this is why hans is breathing so heavily after running.

based on the disparity in their respective areas of strength, hans most likely has a higher distribution of fast twitch fibers. there is a certain gene which controls this, the ACTN3 gene. that one encodes alpha-actinin-3, which is a protein only expressed in fast twitch muscle fibers. allele variations control whether alpha-actinin-3 is actually encoded at all. individuals with a CC genotype have full expression of the gene, whereas CT or TT result in reduced production up to no production at all in individuals with a TT genotype. this is called ACTN3 deficiency. without alpha-actinin-3, muscles are shifted towards aerobic metabolism and fast twitch fibers work less efficiently.

it's actually very cool that hans' physical strength is so consistent in this way that we can even speculate on their muscle composition, up to them likely having a CC ACTN3 genotype. i haven't read much of isayama's blog but he used to post a lot about sports up to betting and predictions, so it seems like his particular athletic knowledge came into use here to depict them.

[adabird]

Tomura Shigaraki- boyfriend headcannons

(Characters aged up! There is some PROGRESSIVE moments within this story so be aware!)

Boyfriend Tomura- That’s really shy when you first join LOV, he tries to cover up his shyness by being blatantly rude, trying to cut you out of his life.. He can’t help it! You just really turn him on..

Boyfriend Tomura- That traps himself in his room playing video games, and munching on doritos.. He’s really into video games, and is surprisingly good at math..

Boyfriend Tomura- You started pushing yourself into his life by randomly joining him in his room, jumping on his bed and ignoring his threats-telling you to get out..

Boyfriend Tomura-After a while he would warm up to you, offering you his other controller, so you’d start to play minecraft with him.. after a while, he would tell his twitch followers you two were dating.. (he gets what he wants🫀)

Boyfriend Tomura- Once you two are officially dating, you’ll never get away from him.. He’s on you 27/49. And he really has that strong “You’re mine” view point.

Boyfriend Tomura- Who’s really careful, whenever he’s gliding his hands up your arms. His favorite thing to do is to message your thigh in his hand ( making sure not to touch you with all his fingers)!

Boyfriend Tomura-He likes to go to arcades a lot, and will always pay for your tokens (he’s low key rich)

Boyfriend Tomura- Who’s idea of a ‘date’ is to hang out by the bar, ordering you two both a glass of wine, just to chat for hours.. (I feel like he’d be surprisingly good at wine tasting)

Boyfriend Tomura- Who gets really jealous REALLY REALLY easily!! Like he’s really obsessed with you.. And if ANYONE, even as a joke, flirts with you, they’ll be disintegrated..

Boyfriend Tomura- He’s really protective, and he carries a lot of trauma from his family, so you’d be the person he’d vent to. (that takes a while to get to that point) he also has a lot of trust in you, and he’s also holds a lot of power over you..

Boyfriend Tomura- He’s surprisingly good at calligraphy!! He has journals, and practice book full of random words written in calligraphy..

Boyfriend Tomura- He eats a lot of junk food, but goes on random health kicks.. He ‘skips’ dinners, lunches, snacks and breakfasts a lot.. But with you he doesn’t!

Boyfriend Tomura- He tries to act more dominant but it’s obvious you take the reins, WAYY more then he ever could..

Boyfriend Tomura- I feel like he would smell fine.. Like he’d shower daily, because of Kurogiri, and I feel like his hair care is top notch.. I also feel like after dating you he would starts skin care, and starts trying to help his dry skin.. Also he’d definitely SMELL like laundry detergent.. (gains)

Boyfriend Tomura- He likes it when we you wear his t-shirts.. And YES he has really weird, graphic, nerdy t-shirts..

Boyfriend Tomura- He’s the type of guy to watch anime marathons, and have pop figures of the characters, lined all across his book shelves .. If he was in the human world, he would LOVE My Hero Academia!!

Boyfriend Tomura- His favorite place is that corner convenience store, that’s most likely where Toga recruited you, when you first joined the LOV..

AGHH I love tomura 💕

I was thinking about writing LOV member headcannons? Let me know if I should!

Contact me if you have any preferred characters you want me to write about! Again, I don’t judge!

I am coming out with a few new works by Monday, July 22!

Again, ask away!

-Onie out!

[cstlez]

can u do a mafia smut where toms in his 2011 era with a fem reader and he fucks her under a table while on call with his opponents pleasee if not then im fine with jst smut.

no, yes, yes i can! i had to go read a couple things for inspiration tho! (i’ve never written mafia..)

this is lowk tweaked cus idk!

(banner is a joke i needed a giggle!)

i think i missed the point! but still, hope you enjoy!

anyways, enjoy!! :3

———

EAGER

warnings! : smut, (obv!),strong language, mentions of smoking, (dk what else)

;

Tom is always, and will always be an absolute thoughtless, good-for-nothing asshole, though, calling him good-for-nothing would be a laughing matter because having him around, is an automatic save.

He also almost always, wants to fuck, when he’s proud, when he’s not, when he’s frustrated, annoyed, but, you don’t mind.

Secretly, you relinquish in the restless fucking, whether it’s a quickie, or not, you love every minute and moment of it.

He rotted the good in you but maybe that’s why you liked him so much.

You walked into Tom’s office, the very familiar sound of tapping and smell of smoke overwhelming your senses in mere seconds, immediately you were welcomed by the sound of his screaming, you winced, debating whether or not you should even be in there.

The cybersecurity major resided in his office, worriedly typing away on his laptop, pushing in his glasses every few seconds, you raised a brow, walking over to his desk, you slipped onto it, crossing your legs, he looked at you through his lashes, he spun his chair around, ignoring you completely.

“His IP, track it.”

“Yes sir.”

You scoffed, watching as he gripped his phone like it was an animal, he was fuming, just about seconds away from shooting someone.

“Kill one of my men again, and I'll slaughter you and any remaining heir that exists under your name. You owe me Red. You fucking owe me!"

You looked at your hands, waiting, somewhat patiently but not really. He huffed in annoyance, his teeth gritted, his tongue gliding along his lips finding his lip piercing to fidget with. He hung the phone up, almost instantly chucking it across his office, You hissed, pretending not to notice the ongoing tension within the atmosphere.

"Sir, I found him sir. He's headed for Bahnhofsstraße." He spun around his laptop, revealing the markings of Red and his team, he was right, they were headed for Bahnhofsstraße. Your only question was why, though Tom seemed to know.

"Fuck, seriously!? Call Bill, Tell him to head there now. Now!" He scoffed, he ran his hand down his face, a few seconds passed and he begun rushing to get a team out. You opened your mouth to speak but he shut you down within seconds. "You're staying here-" You cut him off, to speak, "My uncle-" He scoffed slamming his fist on the desk. "I don't care! You will only slow me down. Stay here."

-

The clock inside of your bedroom ticked ferociously. Every tick standing for another long second. You skimmed through yet another book from the library, your brain fogged from everything possible.

Though the profound "peace" instantly came to an end when Tom burst through your door, no knock, no warning, nothing. Immediately you set your book down, you raised a brow in annoyance, sitting up as he inched near you.

"What the fuck Tom!"

He looked jagged, his eyes displaying just how tiresome the day must've been. The first thing he did was grip your wrist, grabbing you as if you'd run from him. He kissed you with absolute desire. Like he'd been aching for it.

He shoved you against the bed frame his body engulfing yours entirely, You pushed him away, only momentarily to find words to speak. "You're supposed to call for me-" He pushed himself closer, biting down on your tender skin, his tongue sucking the skin on your neck with such experience it made you ache.

"I don't care." His voice was shallow, it made every single bone in your body ache, he pressed his lips against yours yet again, this time speeding up the process. His body grinded against your, the obvious difference in your strength was something you were used to but everything always became a blur the moment you felt his weight above you.

You could sense the anger and annoyance he held, the eagerness with no apparent attachment. He undressed you even quicker then he had undressed himself, his hands trailing and gripping your body, you squirmed with pleasure as he pushed himself inside you, his relentless strength consuming you. Your eyes grew half lidded, hiding the pleasure in your throat, he groaned impatiently, his hand trailed down your body as he aggressively slammed himself into you, his thumb pressed hardly onto your clit making you swallow dryly, at last a whimper left your lips, he grinned, leaning over you.

He grabbed your face tightly, brushing his thumb across your face, the flush of your cheeks made him mad, he trailed kisses from your jaw all the way to your collarbones. He shoved himself in deeper, his nails digging into your hips, "Don't go acting innocent now- I like you because you're a slut. You're anything but innocent." You dug your nails into his back grabbing him by his braids. "Fuck you." His grin widened, his hand cupping the back of your neck as he fucked you senseless.

His mouth trailed down to your chest, sucking your nipple with yet again, so much experience, you always wondered how much people he might've needed to fuck to get so good at it. He pulled away, the sight of his darkened eyes and swollen lips could've made you finish alone.

He gripped your hips, flipping your bodies over, he guided you, forcing you to move, with every thrust of your hip he grew more and more relentless, his hands grabbing you with every ounce of strength he had, you moaned as you grew close, you wanted to wince at how tightly he held your hips but the pleasure overcame the pain. He threw his head back thrusting upwards until he found what he was looking for.

You both moaned in pleasure, gripping at each-others bodies, he pulled you against his chest, kissing you as he fought back moans and the urge to moan your name. He bit down on your bottom lip, cupping your ass. His dick twitched inside you as you clenched around him, he let out an exasperated sigh, his eyes melted into yours as he slowly pushed you off him. Leaving you with his scent lingering in the air.

[mncxbe]

Hey, first time request! Recently I watched an anime called My Happy Marriage and I was wondering if I could request Dazai, Chuuya, Kunikida, Fukuzawa, Ranpo, Akutagawa and Fyodor with the reader who has a personality and history similar to Miyo Saimori? How would the BSD characters help the reader?

Here is the information about the character and anime: https://my-happy-marriage.fandom.com/wiki/Miyo_Saimori#cite_note-novel-v1-1-1

P.S: I recommend you watch the anime before making my request so that you will understand the characters and the plot.

Thank you!

hii dear♡ unfortunately I had no time to watch the anime cuz my schedule has been packed these days. but I read Miyo's backstory in the manga and on wikifandom so I'm quite sure I got the main idea ^^

so reader is gonna have her backstory, personality and ability but she's just in a relationship with the bsd guys, not an arranged marriage. I really hope you like it♡♡

°☆○

12:20♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂, 𝑲𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒂, 𝑨𝒌𝒖, 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐, 𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

Dazai is a very perceptive individual. he could tell from the second the two of you met that there was something different about you. still, he doesn't bring it up until you got closer

when you decided to tell him everything about your past; how you've never been loved by your family, how you've always tried to prove yourself to them but it was all for nothing. how you've always felt like you weren't good enough; he's surprisingly understanding

as someone who has never felt love he gets you. of course he doesn't dare compare his past to yours

Dazai is such a supportive partner. it's the little things for him like telling you you're appreciated and loved and surprising you with gifts (when he actually has money lmao)

he doesn't strike me as the type of partner who pushes all the "but how can you think so lowly of yourself? you're amazing" on you. he knows fully well that healing is a long process but he's ready to support you all the way

when you're having especially tough time, and not only with your family but also in general, he's always there for you.

best cuddle sessions when you're sad

tries his best to show you the love you never had and get you out of your shell (ofc he does, he's an extrovert)

as for your ability I don't feel like it would matter too much for him. of course, he finds it impressive but in the end, he love you for who you are, not for your ability.

you both end up healing each other; you show him kindness and he makes you see your worth. so overall it's a healthy relationship♡

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂

he gets so mad when you tell him about your past. he's angry because he really cannot understand how your family could ever treat you like this

he's honestly surprised that you're so kind and gentle, considering what you've been through

calls your sister a bitch for sure. but after you tell him to stop he doesn't do it anymore

showers you with love in all shapes and forms. you wanna have a nice chat over a glass of wine? sure. he saw you looking at a kimono while the two of you were out on a date? he gets it for you.

very supportive overall although he may not be able to express his feelings sometimes.

let's just pray he never meets your family💀

reassures you a lot and really tries to show you that you're appreciated. you always feel loved when you're with him

𝑲𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒂

this neon green flag of a man will listen to you talk about your past and keep a straight face. but deep inside he feels like crying

he's a man of strong morals so naturally he's mad at the injustice of your family

very reassuring and patient, he gives the best words of affirmation and always makes sure you feel appreciated

as for your ability he does think it's powerful. and if you work for the ADA he's sure to keep you as safe as possible

feels a deep need to shelter you from every bad thing in the world because honestly, you've been through enough

God forbid you ever have a fight. he'll cry himself to sleep

tries his best to always remind you that you're loved and that your past doesn't define you and that you don't need to prove yourself to him in any way

overall GREEN FLAG

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂

oh boy

when you tell him about your past and the things your family did he just sits there like: 😐

Akutagawa knows very well the pain of never feeling good enough and always needing to please others

you bond a lot over your traumatic childhoods althought it takes him a while to open up

he's not too god (he's downright terrible) at talking and reassuring you with words of affirmation. so he'll show you that you're cared for through little kind gestures like brewing you tea in the morning, bringing you snacks after his missions and spending time with you

at first he thinks your ability is weak cuz it's not useful in combat. but when he actually realises what you can do he holds such respect for you like hands down. somehow he also feels a but thretened by your power?? in a way?? but he gets over it

little by little you both fully open up to each other. your gentle personality really soothes his soul

so just like with Dazai, you help each other heal and have an overall healthy relationship♡

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐

speaking of perceptive...

he probably deduced your trooma✨️ after a simple chat. but then again you tell him everything at some point

he's really supportive and caring. sometimes he may come across as too pushy, like forcing you to get out of your shell and meet his friends and be more open about your feelings, but he means well

really sweet and gentle when you're in private. you can talk openly to him about anything he will listen

"Oh? You feel like you're not good enough for me? Nuh uh"

Ranpo may seem childish and playful most of the time but he's actually thoughtful

always shares your candy with you to show you how much he cares

I do see him asking Poe to write a novel describing the perfect date place. and then takes you on that perfect date yk. he's smooth like that

being with you makes him act more mature and serious. because he is serious about you. he truly wants to show you the love you never had and make you feel worthy of yourself

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂

another green flag

you can see his smile slowly fade away when you tell him everything about your past

when you're done he hugs you so tightly♡

making sure you're appreciated is one of his number one priorities now

ofc he doesn't mind that you're shy. always reassures you that you can take things slow and fully open up to each other and all. he's really sweet

if you weren't his partner and just a member of the ADA he'd be your father figure. but that's not the case

makes you feel cared for with acts of service and quality time. although he's busy at the Agency he always makes time to go on dates with you or simply spend time in the comfort of your home

🙏🙏 best words of affirmation

he feels the need to protect you. Fukuzawa is very much aware of the fact that your ability makes you a target. many people could take advantage of it. so he wants to keep you safe

he does his utmost to be reassuring and offer you support whenever you need it. and helps you heal and learn to love yourself.

𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓

this man... when I tell you he only wanted you for your ability at first

but somehow he realises that there's more to you than just your power. little by little he grows fond of you; and curious

when you tell him about your past he's disappointed but not surprised. he knows how cruel people can be

still, after that he treats you more like a human being and when you do end up together he's surprisingly gentle

Fyodor is lowkey forced to change his attitude towards you. to be kind and good. to show you that you're loved because it really pains him to see you suffer

I see him brewing you tea, cuddling with you while you read a book together and playing the cello to cheer you up when you're sad or simply need to unwind

being with him may not be the easiest. he's cold and distant sometimes but he does his best to reassure you that you're worhty, loved and precious (and not only because of your ability)

STILL if you ever get into a fight he won't hesitate to use your past against you. but he will regret it the second he sees how your face drops. so he apologises

[forlorn-crows]

𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚 5: 𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒔

words: 911 pairing(s): mountain + hank the raccoon/juniper the cat catch up on the hank lore [here] and [here] and [here]

✿

A thumbtack. An acorn. A loose ribbon. A big lilypad snatched from the lake. Pebbles, flowers, and petrified chips. Even a lost earring without its twin, the worn gold star glinting from where it’s buried in the pile of random trash and trinkets.

Mountain stares. The only reason he noticed it at all was because he had to scoot out the storage cabinet to get to the stone planters. He sets down the tower of pots he was shuffling from one end of the greenhouse to the other and wipes his hands on his apron. Curiosity reels him in; he squats down to inspect the squirreled-away pile of things at closer proximity. 

The little stash is actually quite unique. Hardly any duplicate objects besides the pebbles—even the dried blooms differ from each other. Mountain pokes around some of the objects with his finger, rummaging for the more buried items. A broken plastic bubble wand. A scrunchie. Part of a grucifix. A cork. Even a guitar pick. And . . . are those . . ?

“My glasses?!” Mountain frees them from the pile and stares at everything open-mouthed. He’s been looking for them for weeks; swore he left them in here, just on the bench, but when he had come back the next day they were gone. He had come to terms with having to get a new pair (though he quite liked these ones)—and yet, here they are.

There’s a rustling behind him, and when a round little body toddles up to him, the puzzle pieces click into place.

“Hank,” the earth ghoul accuses. He dangles the pair of readers in front of the raccoon’s twitching nose. “Why’d you steal my glasses, dude?”

Hank chitters and whips his fluffy tail back and forth, ears pinning back to his head. 

Mountain sighs and offers him a scritch under the chin. Too cute to stay mad. “I’ve been blindly potting flowers for many days, little one,” he scolds, albeit with a kinder tone. 

The animal squawks and pushes past Mountain’s legs to his trinket stash. He whines when he sees the state of it, all scattered about and disorganized.

“Well you can’t blame me for wanting to look,” the earth ghoul defends himself. “You’re not stealing from other people, are you?”

Hank screeches at the accusation.

“Sorry, sorry. Just me then, hm?” He gets screeched at again and bapped in the shin with Hank’s tail. 

Lucifer give him strength, he’s arguing with a raccoon. “Okay, let’s just say you found them, then.”

Hank is pleased with this answer. He chirps and begins to re-arrange his items. 

“Why do you have all this anyway? I mean, I’m a lover of a good trinket myself, but you aren’t exactly the collecting type of species . . . also I’m not sure that all of these things count as trinkets.”

The animal gives him the best side-eye a raccoon can muster.

“Hank, there’s a dead bumblebee in here.”

If a raccoon could roll its eyes and lift its chin indignantly, Hank would do that. Instead, he chitters what can only be a string of small mammalian passive aggressive statements. 

“There’s no need for such language.”

Hiss. Chirp chirp. 

Mountain rubs at the bridge of his nose. “I’m not saying you can’t—listen. Little one. My darling. Little. Creature.” He emphasizes each word with a sigh, chopping his pressed-together palms down as punctuation. Hank stops fussing with his objects and looks at the earth ghoul with those black little orbs. “Could we, perhaps, just find a better place for them? Put them somewhere I’m not going to accidentally crush them with an old armoire, yeah?” 

The animal screes happily, bouncing over to the earth ghoul and standing up with his little hands outstretched. Mountain snorts and picks him up, rising back up to his feet and flipping him over to rub his belly. 

“Why do you have to be so cute?” he asks, playfully pinching under Hank’s chin. The raccoon only kicks up a scratchy purr in response, swatting at Mountain’s wrists weakly. Mountain bounces him like a baby for a few moments before setting him down again, glancing around for something to use for his friend’s treasures. 

“Hm. I think there’s an old basket or . . . something around here,” he mumbles. He taps his hands on his apron as he scans the rows of tables and shelves. No . . . no . . . no. Suddenly, Mountain stops. Scrunches his face up and turns back towards Hank fully confused.

“Why are you hoarding things anyway?”

As if to answer his question, Juniper squeezes her way through the back door. Mountain had put a kitty door in it for her and Hank—though, Hank still prefers to force himself through the gap in the opposite corner of the green house where the windows have bowed out throughout the years. 

The white cat offers a mrrow in greeting, striding up to the both of them with an unbothered, graceful aire. Hank chitters excitedly and bounds over to his pile of trinkets, quickly selecting a mystery bauble between his thin little paws. He shoves it in his mouth and runs over to her side, chirping in greeting and dropping the object at her feet.

A close-to-fresh dandelion. Juniper mrrp’s at the gift and leans down to inspect it, the buttercup yellow petals tickling her nose. She seems pleased with the gift and rubs her cheek affectionately against Hank's with a purr. Two little unlikely lovebirds.

“Ah. Should have guessed that’s who those were for . . .”

𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✿

[bluecatwriter]

This idea, based on the Blood of My Blood AU, got stuck in my head and I had to write it! (Sorry @animate-mush, the cylinders didn't make it into this scene because I was trying to keep it from being like 10,000 words long, alas.) Featuring Jack with his prosthetic hand and destroyed vocal cords, and Vampire Quincey Harker trying to make sense of what he is.

Big TW for suicidal ideation.

~~~

Jack was up late, as usual; he'd just heard the clock strike midnight, but he was scribbling corrections on the latest draft of his paper about therapeutic treatments for epilepsy, due the day after tomorrow to a scientific journal. He paused to push up his glasses and scrub at his eyes. Even though he'd been keeping a nocturnal existence for years, he felt exhausted.

He heard a soft knock on his door.

He looked up in surprise; Lu was usually fast asleep by now, and Arthur would not have knocked. But why would one of the servants be disturbing him at this hour? He turned his pen over and tapped it against his desk three times, which signaled to come in. However, the door didn't open, and then the knock came again. Ah. He knew exactly who it was, now.

He walked quickly to the door and opened it. Quincey Harker stood in the pitch-black hallway, his pupils contracting as light from Jack's study flooded in on him. He was even paler than usual, and trembling slightly.

It was remarkable how much he managed to look like both Jonathan and Mina: he carried himself like his father, that same grave politeness, but had the quick, clever look about him that Mina had always had. "Dr. Seward," he said, his voice sounding empty. "I need to talk to you."

Whatever he was here for, it couldn't be good. Jack nodded to him, ushering him inside, and gesturing him over to his desk. He cleared the papers and set up a one-handed typewriter (they had one in every room of the house, in case Jack needed to mention some technical language that they didn't have a sign for yet). He bade Quincey pull up a chair so they could sit next to each other, and he put in a fresh sheet of paper. He wished Quincey knew his sign language, but this would have to do for now.

Jack gestured to him, raising both eyebrows to invite him to speak. 

Quincey hesitated a long time, clenching and unclenching his hands on his knees. At last, he spoke with a dead serious voice. "Dr. Seward, I need you to kill me."

For an instant, he couldn't breathe.

He heard Mina's voice in her son's: the vow he had taken, the vow he had failed. 

But he also heard his own words, typed out on a typewriter very much like this one, letter by letter since he wasn't fluent yet, as Arthur stood there with tears in his eyes. 

>>Let me die<< Jack had typed, all those years ago. 

And Arthur had said, "No."

(That day, Jack had grabbed the typewriter with his remaining hand and hurled it through the window.)

(And then he had kept living.)

He shook his head, trying to rattle himself back into the present moment, to this child— this vampire child, this child who should not be able to exist— trembling in the chair before him. Quincey was staring at his hands now, his breath stuttering as if trying to hold back tears, and Jack had to reach over to touch his shoulder to get him to look up at him.

Quincey raised his head; his eyes were brimming with what appeared to be blood, which sent a stab of alarm through Jack before he wondered if this was how vampires cried. Focus, he told himself. He reached out to the typewriter and typed one word on the blank page:

>>Why?<<

Quincey gritted his teeth, and held his chin up almost defiantly. God, he looked just like Jonathan right then. "Because I am a monster."

Jack stared at him: the blood welling up as tears, the pallor of his skin, the fangs protruding from his mouth. All the elements that had once raised only fear and terror and disgust in himself. 

Without looking away from him, Jack placed his hand on the typewriter and typed out the words: >>Who told you that?<<

Quincey stared at him as if the answer should be obvious, and Jack raised his eyebrows again, keeping his face calm.

"I read the journals that Lord Godalming gave me," Quincey said, staring at him as if challenging him. 

Jack gave out a small, pained sound, and slumped back in his chair. Of course Arthur would do something like that. Of course Arthur would want to share the documents, to not keep secrets. And yet, Arthur had so little to lose by doing so: he had barely any words of his own in the collection of documents. But Jack's words… all those things he had said and done, the record of his wrongs and mistakes, seemed to rise from the past and choke him.

"I read Papa's words," Quincey continued, still staring him down with those crimson eyes, "the stories of the way he met Father. Everything I've known— everything I am— is horrifying to him." His gaze was steady, but his fangs bared. "And to all of you." The blood-tears slipped from one of his eyes and dripped down his face. "I need you to kill me."

Jack reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. Then he decisively shook his head, and mouthed the word, No.

"You have to!" Quincey burst out, shaking off Jack's hand and jumping to his feet. "You know what I am! I've learned what I am through your words. I thought you of all people would understand!" He whirled to face him again, and the snarl on his face sent all the hair on Jack's neck rising in instinctive fear. "What about Lu's namesake? You were disgusted by her. You loathed her. You said yourself that you would kill her with pleasure when she became like— like me!" He was shaking so hard he looked like he might fall apart.

Jack fought to keep his expression calm; every word hit him like a knife, as if Jonathan's son was slashing into his throat as surely as Jonathan had. (Any moment he would wake up drowning in his own blood…) But these were old wounds, and though they bled anew, the pain was familiar.

Once again, Quincey seemed to have forgotten that Jack could only talk when Quincey was looking at him, and he had to put a hand on his shoulder again. Quincey pulled away, but he had his attention now. Jack motioned to the chairs, and Quincey sank down, blood-tears now trickling down his face.

Jack hesitated a long moment, unsure how to sum up everything he wanted to say. No, it was impossible. So he typed three words:

>>I was wrong.<< 

Jack gulped, staring at the inadequate words he'd typed. He looked at Quincey with all the remorse he felt, wishing desperately that Quincey understood sign language. It was like being back to the beginning of his great silence, when all he could do was scrawl illegible words on paper, or pick at the typewriter to learn to type for the first time. He pointed at the words again, and with his prosthetic hand he beat his breast in a sign of penitence.

Quincey just stared at him, at a loss. Jack made a nervous hum, then started to type, trying to get his typed words to keep pace with his thoughts.

>>You don't have the whole story. When your mum began to turn, your papa loved her just as much. He never stopped loving her.<< He paused, making the only rumbling sound that his throat would make, frustrated at how hard it was to put his thoughts into words this way. >>In the end, he defended her from us. I paid the price for trying to harm her.<<

Quincey's eyes grew wide. He had stopped crying, and the blood was drying on his face now. 

Jack held up his prosthetic hand meaningfully, and touched the scar that snaked along his neck. And how could he convey the enormity of the other losses— of Quincey and Van Helsing bleeding out in the snow? He would never forgive the Harkers for that. But he did not need to. >>I did what I thought I must do. So did he.<< 

He might not have forgiven them, but he did not blame them.

Quincey slumped in his chair, his shoulders dropping. When he looked up, there was something incredibly young and vulnerable in his face. "…Doesn't that make you hate me even more?"

The old Jack would have hated him, perhaps. But he was not his old self. He was not a 29-year-old who felt invincible in his pride and intelligence. He was not a man who drew hard lines and separated everything he experienced into those two sides. He was fifty now, silent for 21 years, and had learned to live with the complexity of gray, of nuance, of the ache of not knowing. 

If Quincey could understand, he could have signed all this. But Quincey could not, so Jack just typed, >>You are proof that love can survive in all places.<< He paused, then added, >>You are a good man.<<

He didn't expect Quincey to burst into tears again, but he did, hunching over in his chair and sobbing. Once, Jack had not known what to do when someone broke down, but now he did not hesitate, leaning over and wrapping both arms around the boy. Quincey leaned into his hug, still sobbing messily. "I'm not, I'm not!" Quincey wailed. "I'm not…" 

Jack wished that he could speak the words aloud, could repeat over and over, You are a good man.

Instead he just hugged him, holding him as he rode the wave of emotions, trying to help him learn, as Jack himself had once learned, that the answer to Please let me die would always be No.

At last Quincey cried himself out, and his breaths grew longer and slower. Jack pulled away and offered him a handkerchief, trying his best not to be unnerved by the amount of blood-tears that had marked his jacket (Arthur was going to have another nervous breakdown when he saw the stains, he thought with a sigh).

When he had Quincey's attention again, he pulled out the sheet of paper, and tore off the last line, pressing it into his hand. >>You are a good man.<< Jack smiled at him as best he could, willing him to believe it.

Quincey gulped. And then slowly, he nodded, crinkling the paper in his hand. With a little sob, he slumped over again, resting his head on Jack's shoulder. Jack pulled him back into a tight embrace.

He doubted that Quincey believed him, at least not at the moment. But he didn't need to. Jack and Lu and hopefully even Arthur would believe it for him. And someday, he hoped that Quincey would believe it for himself, too.

~~~

[kaycode1999]

Hi, I hope you are doing well. 

I’d like to have a JJK matchup haha

Pronouns: they/them and she/her

Sexuality: Biromantic Asexual (but I prefer men)

Height: 150cm (I’m travel size, but I’m an athlete. I throw hands)

Visual info: I’m Southeast Asian with short straight black hair, somewhat pale skin, and black almond shaped eyes. I have a boyish appearance: flat chested, masculine mannerisms, and slim swimmer body. I rock a suit with sunglasses. Seriously I dressed like that for a presentation and got the best compliments. I don’t wear makeup, not because I’m poor but because don’t have time and I have sensitive skin. 

Personality: ISFJ, introverted but very affectionate/teasing with friends, been described as a cat (skittish around people I don’t know well but all over my favorite people), very professional but I laugh when I’m too nervous or struggle to tell a joke, a lot of profanity when I’m confident (example of something I actually said: I am dressed good. Therefore I have no fucks to give. I ignored his ass. I ignored his hair still recovering from his bad dye job when he tried to look like Yung Gravy last year. Just kidding I noticed and I still laugh at it.) 

Likes: I love feeling confident in masculine clothing but I don’t have the money :(. I like singing while doing chores. Sometimes I sing like I’m tipsy. I love krnb, Korean dream pop, sometimes Kpop for working out, Japanese city pop, Mitski, and wave to earth. I love science, mainly biology stuff (best place I went to with a friend was a natural science museum that had a live butterfly exhibit). As for food, I love seafood, meat, fruit, and coffee gelato. 

Hobbies: I’m a swimmer. I like to write (working on a short story for young adults and I like making essay on things I like). I like anime and manga obviously, mainly ones that are sad or psychological, sometimes romance. This taste also applies to the books I read. I’m a bookworm that loves depressing contemporary fiction and classics. I used to be in a dance class so now I know how to dance like an idol (poorly). 

Dislikes: Disrespect, people not taking me seriously, the obvious racism and homophobia, people who try to push their beliefs onto me, spicy food, obnoxiousness

My type: Glasses (๑^ω^๑)

Extra: I’ve never been in a relationship before, but if I were dating someone I’d be very committed. I would make them food and wrap them in a fluffy blanket as we sleep or cuddle. I know ASL and Vietnamese so I’d like to teach my partner if they want to learn, especially Vietnamese (it’s not my first language but it’s important to my culture). I’m a mess but I try to be organized. I’m pretty smart and often help my friends with work. I’m aiming to be in the medical field but if that fails I’m gonna be a writer. Because I’m interested in the medical field, I put health and happiness as the top priority for my partner, but I am likely to forget that for myself. And lastly, I often cry after getting yelled at. 

Thank you for reading this 

Hope you have a great life ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

JJK

I match you with

Kento Nanami

He is also introverted

He is more so the type to just stand there and watch you sing while you’re doing chores and he has a fond smile on his face

Will never be disrespectful to you but maybe sometimes to Gojo because you know Gojo likes to mess with him

Demon Slayer/ Kimetsu No Yaiba

I match you with

Kyojuro Rengoku

Your introverted makes a nice balance to his extroverted nature

Will both join in on the singing while you’re both doing chores and stand there watching you with a big smile

Rengoku loves all food so he’s always down for whatever you want to eat

He doesn’t mind if you curse but he doesn’t do it at least not in front of other people

Combined

Both appreciate your affectionate and teasing side and love to see that you truly trust them

They both think it’s really adorable that you’re short

They both appreciate that you have some professionalism to you, but also find it funny and cute if you do a nervous laugh

They both would spoil you with whatever clothes you wanted

Both enjoy learning about all types of things along with you

Both are so supportive and enthusiastic of your hobbies and are your #1 cheerleaders

Both of them also dislike disrespect and are respectful

They both definitely enjoy being brought into your music taste

They both would love to learn ASL and Vietnamese not only because it’s important to you but because it helps them communicate with more people

They both make sure to have their home stocked with favorite foods and drinks

Being in the medical field would work well with both of their professions

They both really appreciate that you’re concerned about their health and happiness and just that you dote on them in general

However, they both make an effort to be as doting and caring as you are because you deserve someone who will put just as much effort and care into you as you do them

Sorry this took so long, I started my new job last week and unfortunately I caught a bad cold almost immediately so I haven’t felt the greatest🤦🏼‍♀️

I hope you enjoy though!

[wendigonamecaller]

Can't Forget to Love You.

Desc: Azure, Alastor’s darling wife, died tragically and suddenly one night from tuberculosis. Ever since then, Alastor had become ruthless in his killings. Finally, he meets his end and hopes the pain from losing his bird would end, only for it to hurt tenfold when he wakes up in Hell with Azure nowhere to be found. Almost a century later, his thoughts are once again captivated by her essence just as an Angel falls and decides to help Charlie out with her dream.

TW: cannon type violence, death, angst, Azure is a fallen angel, Azure is secretly unhinged, emotional Alastor, Alastor in denial, Azure doesn’t realize Alastor was her Alastor at first, Azure falls because she defends her husband against Adam and Sera. Eventual smut, cursing, both Alastor and Azure try to beat around the bush, Alastor tries to protect her by pushing her away.

Chapter TW: none I believe, maybe some mild language. Alcohol mentioned, Azure starts to piece things together a very little bit.

Taglist: @redfoxwritesstuff

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED, DM TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST!

A/N: I publish this as I write it, so some updates will be slower than others.

Chapter 3: Miss A Man I Can’t Recall.

Azure accepted the glass of peach whiskey from the cat-like sinner before he went back to his perch behind the bar, and she turned her attention back to the cheery but nervous princess of Hell; Charlotte.

She’d insisted on being called Charlie, not one for formalities.

“So, what brings both of you to the Hazbin Hotel?” Charlie asked, sitting beside Azure with a smile.

“Dollface here is new to Hell, and doesn’t really have the energy needed for a bartender so I figured she’d be more help workin’ here for you princess.” Mimzy said, shooting Azure a small wink.

Azure was sure if she hadn’t used a spell to hide her animalistic qualities she would’ve felt her ears furrow to the back of her head out of shyness. She instead gave a small smile and nod.

“Oh! Well, the more help the better!” Charlie exclaimed with her smile becoming impossibly wider.

Another female with grayish purple skin and iridescent white hair walked in, sporting an Angelic spear, and her eyes automatically narrowed once she saw Azure. The hind’s eyes do the same as she looks at the demoness’s head searching for a halo; her Angelic presence was strong and she was sure she could sense Azure’s presence as well.

The demoness looked mildly familiar, like she’d known her before.

“She also needs help of her own volition.” Mimzy spoke up, sensing the tension between Azure and the new female.

Charlie turned her attention back to the other blonde, raising her eyebrows. “She does?” She asked, and Mimzy nodded.

“Poor thing was an Angel, and she’s strugglin’ to remember her husband.” Mimzy says, laying her hand on Azure’s shoulder and squishing their cheeks together.

Something akin to nostalgia and.. Irritation? Swirled in Azure’s gut at the action and she subtly shrugged Mimzy off with a small polite smile.

“Oh! Well I’m sure we could figure out some exercises that could help with that!” Charlie beamed before ushering the hind up to take her on a tour.

After showing Azure around, Mimzy said her goodbyes before leaving and Azure found herself re-entering the parlor where more demons seemed to have gravitated. She gravitated to the bar, the cat sinner instantly pouring her a peach whiskey and sliding it to her once she sat down. There were two other demons at the bar, a tall white and pink arachnid sinner and a snake.

Remembering what Lute had taught the hind about sinners and their animalistic traits she made a mental note to be careful around both of them; Spiders were known for trapping people and making them feel helpless, whereas snakes were known for betrayal.

Her particular type of animal -a doe- were either due to how someone died or how they were in life. Azure herself was sure it was because she was timid and skittish in life, unless provoked otherwise. Or it was God’s cruel way of making a play on the beauty she held that others often described as ‘dainty’.

“Husk.” The cat sinner spoke up, breaking Azure’s train of thought. She smiled with confusion.

“My name, it’s Husk.” He said, and she chuckled.

“My bad, afraid I was lost in thought.” She offered, and he nodded.

“This is Angel Dust and Sir Pentious. They’re here to be redeemed.” He told the hind and she nodded at both of them as a greeting.

“I’m Azure.” She introduced, twirling a strand of her black hair. Husk smiled, something knowing, before their attention was drawn to Charlie as she called for Azure.

“Yes dear?” She called, kicking off the stool with her newly claimed hooves and then approaching the princess with her glass in hand.

“I want you to meet our facility manager; Alastor.” Charlie says, gesturing to a rather tall red sinner wearing a suit more tailored for the 1920’s or 30’s. He held a microphone staff and had red and black ears that stood proudly on the top of his head with twinning prong-like antlers.

Something about Alastor sent wave after wave of warm nostalgia down Azure’s spine, his name itself ringing loudly in her mind, like she knows him but she can’t put her finger on just who he is.

Outwardly, she puts a confident smile on her face and offers him her hand. “Azure, tis a pleasure.” She greets him, only to be surprised as he grasps her hand gently and kneels by the waist, bringing her hand to his lips.

“A pleasure indeed, my dear.” He rumbled, his red eyes gentle as he peered into her own. His smile was gentle, not at all the grin she saw when he first entered the room.

It felt right, like she’d seen that very same smile somewhere. She nodded with a light blush before quickly escaping to the bar once more, her mind conjuring up a very vague memory of her husband; one where she could barely see him.

Alastor felt a lot like him.

[negai-no-astro]

do you have any theories on the brothers powers?? we know hibarus power but what about the rest?

I think the brother whose eyes are closed has like body regeneration!

Ok so these are probably gonna be very off but hopefully we can look back after we know the info and laugh at this. We'll start with Shio, his is the one that kinda confuses me the most but we know it's powerful. There's also a lot of rubble around him which makes me think either hid ability is very destructive or it protects him in some way, maybe invincibility or something.

Glasses guy has an eye over his head and it seems like he was holding his glasses when astro happened, which we know is important. This kinda feels like some kinda sight ability, being able to see something that others can't. Though it's also an anime trope for characters to like push up their glasses while planning or doing something smart so it could be something to do with that. I'm kinda thinking it might be like seeing thoughts/ thought manipulation. (I was gonna say being able to see parts of the future but that feels very close to tr and Takemichi so I'm not sure Wakui would want that).

That other guy just seems to have a big sword, I'm sure it'll have some kind of other ability attached to it though like being hard to break or something.

The sister has something entirely separate from her??? I'm kinda thinking it's like a rocket that she can attack with??? That or it's surveillance, she can use it to watch others and get info.

I actually didn't think of that for eyes closed guy! But I think that makes more sense then what I was thinking, I was thinking he could like detach body parts and reattach them like for attacking. But regeneration seems like the better shout.

Ponytail guy's is too hard to see but I honestly hope he gets magical hair just because that would be cool.

Not sure who all the limbs belong too (it could actually be ponytail guy??? If not then kou???) but that just seems like someone who can use extra body parts.

And I'm guessing the guy with the alcohol will have some kinda drunken fist type thing going on, where he drinks it and it makes him stronger or does something to him. (I am a bit suspicious about the clouds though and how we can't really see him properly).

[lemonandlime22]

Super random Twst hc

A/N: wrote this while coming down from either a sugar high or just that random 3am burst of energy you get type high. Also idk how to explain the weight thing exactly its very comforting for me just to have someone lay on top of you or rly anything heavy like that. Same with the thunderstorm, I grew up absolutely loving them and I still do

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

Lilia loves true crime. Has a podcast with Cater about it.

Maybe Rook too

Deuce seems like the type of person that if an animal picked them (like just came up to them first or just spent the most time with them, etc) he would burst into tears and become extremely emotionally attached to them

and yes it has happened multiple times with the hedgehogs.

Malleus listens to asmr, like those really sappy relationship roleplay ones. Not just when he's going to sleep but rly any time of the day

same tho.

Leona unknowingly likes it when Cheka is napping with him. I think he's the type to like it when something heavy is on them, it's reassuring in a way, or maybe just grounding. Anyway, Cheka sleeps on his chest when he visits and Leona's taking a nap

same again.

Vil's responsible enough to go to actual therapy after his overblot. He's not ashamed of it one bit, and even lightly pushes for the other overblot-es to go as well, but he stops if they ask him to but still gives them the number(s) of credible and trustworthy therapists.

Riddle and Jamil would probably be the most willing out of them all, Jamil would have most likely already been considering it, while Riddle would do it cause he believes it's what he should do, but neither of them rly likes to talk about it/ about going.

Leona wouldn't want to go/just go for a little while, purely cause it was Vil who was suggesting it. But those two are p similar in that they both are p smart and self-aware, so sooner or later he'll push aside his pride and go. Doesn't care if anyone knows or not.

Azul would have to be dragged to go to therapy, not cause he doesn't think he doesn't need it but cause he's too ashamed and embraced to tell anyone about his overblot.

Idia might have to be dragged kicking and screaming by Ortho to go. (not sure tho, haven't finished book 6).

Fuck if I know about Malleus.

Jack prob names all his cacti. Would rather die then tell anyone bout that tho.

Cater has taught Trey how to make some spicy food.

Kalim is the #1 name remember-er, cause obv he has over 30 siblings. Doesn't mean he won't go threw like 45 other names before he gets to yours tho.

When Floyd was little he tried to eat his own tail, and sometimes still does when he's rrreeeeaaalllyyy board.

Jade gave him the idea. He also has convinced Floyd to eat many other things, like rocks, glass, paper, metal, etc. He could hand him literally almost anything and he'll eat it with little to no question.

Silver has prob woken up cuddling a bear or some crazy shit like that, and just went back to sleep like it's nothing.

Rook seems like he likes to do wood carvings and make his own arrows.

Azul, Ace, Jamil, and Leona all seem like they love thunderstorms

Azul prob used to watch them just below the surface of the water.

Ace and his big brother probably played a lot of different card games when the power went out, so he associates them with good memories.

Jamil and Leona might have both liked the because similar to the weight on the chest thing, it's calming and grounding, and a p comforting. Also might be a way to help relieve stress or smth

same once again.

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

[iruiji]

Since I'm having a bit of a problem getting motivation for the Fungi and Sagau, imma just drop some Scaramouche crumbs as a cat.

Yes.

And this is also a gift to all my followers. Oh man I got 160+ of you I don't even know how-

I have no deep knowledge of felines, but our family does own several of them, so some would be from my observations mostly.

So, to start off, I picture you meeting Scaramouche as a kitten, dripping like a wet rat from hiding in an inconspicuous alley somewhere.

You, being an animal lover, immediately took off your jacket to cover the poor thing in warmth, only to be hissed and clawed at - little guy would probably murder you the moment you stepped closer, so you baited him with some cat food you always bring to feed strays that you might encounter.

Took almost a full 3 hours, but poor bloke probably got tired of shivering and walked towards you, warning in its eyes as it chomped down on the soggy food. You almost cried at the defeated look on its face.

You offered the jacket again, and this time the kitten buried its face on the warm cotton after some sniffing. Told him you'd get up to carry him home, and it just closed its eyes. You get your handkerchief from your bag to at least dry his fur a little - poor thing is very, very cold.

The moment you get home you immediately turned on the heater, and seated yourself beside it, but not before getting a thick blanket first and replacing the dripping jacket. You made a tight bundle out of it with the kitten to change your clothes and then went back to cuddling him.

A hiss suddenly woke you up from your slumber, only to see the kitten yowling in his haste to free itself from the blanket. You snort and expertly avoid the little swipes he made at you while you untie the blanket.

Dude literally flies past you and jumps on the top of the cabinet with ease, growling when you tried to reach for him. Another flurry of swipes met your hand when you attempt a second try of getting him down.

Right.

You gave it some wet food and water while it perches itself on its place, and then made a small bed from an old fleece blanket. He sniffs at it, peed, before giving you a somewhat haughty look. You swear it looks like a smirk.

Another bed was made, this time out of cotton, and it too was rejected with a mighty push from the kitten - landing sadly on the floor with a flop.

Tried silk just to fuck with him, only to be shredded into smithereens the moment you placed it on the varnished wood with a mighty yowl.

A resounding no, then.

As a last resort, since you have limited types of fabrics (you mostly have cotton), you gave him one of your memory foam pillows, and it was met with a.. peaceful.. approach?

He rolled on it once, and never got up.

You pinch the bridge of your nose in resignation.

Thus, Kunikuzushi was named. Country Destroyer. Fitting.

The rest of the first week you learned what he likes: soft surfaces (mostly memory foam beds), mackerel (he vehemently refused to eat cat food, and if you try to make him eat it, pray to whoever God you believe that you'll survive his unrelenting swipes), warm baths, being left alone (DO NOT SNEAK ON HIM YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED), and sleeping, mostly.

He dislikes touching (with a vengeance - but you're working on that because poor bloke looked like he desperately wanted to cuddle sometimes with how he rolls and rolls on the bed until you gave him a blanket) (you can also imagine just how his first rodeo with the Vet went), cat food (DUH), other cats (you're HIS), other people (again, you're HIS), and loud noises. Poor bloke nearly jumped from the window when you broke a glass once and did not eat for almost a day with how much he's shivering (he was given a small doll of a boy that day, which thankfully, survived his tastes).

So.. imagine your shock when in the middle of winter, you tried calling him for cuddles, and he looks at you - like really looked at you, before he slowly crawls on your lap and practically flops himself down.

Boy, you probably need to see a doctor with how far your eyes bulged out from their sockets. Can you still breathe? With me: one, two, three, four..

Now, imagine when you finally mustered up the courage to pet him and he purred-

Reader.exe has stopped working.

(Hold on, I am being overwhelmed myself, lemme just get a glass of water before I faint..)

After that one incident, things got a little bit more.. peaceful. Just a bit. He still hates touches and will go at you like a madman if he ever sees you attempting to give him those horrendous cat food or cuddles.

The big change happened when you two were living together for seven months - he looked bigger and healthier and you were always proud of him when you see him lounging as a loaf by the window, basking under the comfortable heat of the sun. To think he was as small as a rat before!

He's deeeefintely the type to push items from the table as he looked at you, taunting you to dare and stop him. He'd had broken ten glass as this is being written.

But Kuni is rather tamed now, and doesn't easily swipe at you, although he gives you judging looks after doing something stupid (burning food or tripping and being clumsy in general) that makes your skin crawl sometimes. He does meow a bit when you get injured sometimes though, and that's one of the rare times where you are permitted to cuddle with him.

He went outside like 6 times in that period - the last three happening at the 6th month because he just doesn't want to interact with anyone else.

So yeah. You got off work, ready to go home to your beloved terror of a cat, only to panic when you found your place trashed when you opened the door, Kuni dangling in the hands of a man trying to suffocate him.

You didn't even think and body-slammed that asshole like a champ. He hit the wall hard but was able to recover to land a solid right hook and then you're on the floor with bloodied lip. Then you heard what probably terrify other people (you're just used to it as this point), a loud yowl, before Kuni was descending like an irked God intent on enacting his punishment.

The screams, although horrifying, was somewhat music to your ears at that moment.

Police were called as your cat growl, swiped, and bite at the man. You yourself was on the verge of fainting, so you try and call him over - didn't want to really leave him if the burglar becomes a corpse by the time you wake up.

"Kuni.. ow."

He stills and immediately runs to you, pawing at your cheek, mewling as he rubs your face with his own.

You let out a choked gasp, then it's black.

After that incident, his interaction with you increased - from sitting on your lap, rubbing himself on your leg, to sleeping next to you. It's not an everyday occurrence, of course, but it's as if he's given you the privilege to touch him whenever he's beside you and just bask in it.

Hoo boy, the things it does to your heart.

A year after you discover him from the alley in the middle of a downpour, you finally gave him a small collar with his name on it.

"There! Awww, blue and violet looks good on you, Kuni! Do you want to try dressing up next?"

He swiped your newly bought ceramic cup from the table in retaliation.

That's 11.

OMFG I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS HOW I AM RAKING MY BRAIN FOR INSPIRATION AND THEN I JUST THOUGHT, "HEY, HOW WOULD SCARA BE AS A CAT" AND THEN THIS VOMIT JUST- FINISHED WITHIN 20 MINUTES, NO LESS!! T.T

Anyways, hoped ya enjoy. See you in the next century or something. ALSO, THIS IS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY THAT TUMBLR POST ABOUT KAZUHA AND XIAO AS ADORABLE CATS. IF SOMEONE CAN LINK IT HERE, I WILL LOVE YOU FOR A THOUSAND YEARS, THANKS.

[depraced]

hello all you lovely people and autonomous entities! I've noticed a fair bit of people don't know how freaky frogs, just as a creature, are! I wanna give you some cool frog facts to help you either flesh out the character or at least amuse you.

Frogs have no throat muscles to swallow and must pull their eyes in to push food down! It is entirely possible that Fake Peppino has trouble eating food due to his bad eye.

Frogs are notably cannibalistic but SOME frogs can co-hab(cohabitate) like the dumpy frog!

Frogs can care for their kids! One of my favorite frog parents are poison dart frogs that let their children suction cup on their backs to be carried down the trees they live on. Bullfrogs are notably stupid and cannibalistic BUT there is a chance one stays behind to save all of their children from drying out! (This is called a creche)

Frogs can have hair! BUT and this is a big one, that hair is really just tiny strips of skin filled with blood vessels. It is likely if you cut Fake Peppino's hair he would bleed.. Or whatever he does when injured. It's the wolverine frog, btw.

Frogs have been known to use sign language! Strange, but there is a type of frog that lives near a waterfall that is so loud the only way to communicate is by waving their legs to convey thoughts.

There are frogs that get so small that they become really bad at everything. They are so small they cannot jump right because their inner ear cannot use fluid in the way it is supposed to. THEY CANNOT HEAR but the silly things still make noise anyways.

There is a type of frog that breaks its fingers to use the sharp bones as claws. Metal. Also the wolverine frog.

Frogs shed! They love the taste of their own shed skin like geckos.

If frogs are gymnasts toads are wrestlers. Armed with impressive arm muscles and back legs as well as MANY species packing a potent poison and even special claws, the only reason we don't fear them is that we do not fit in their mouths. I kept toads and if they wanted to kill something they crushed it to death. Also the toad I kept had an extra toe in front to help them grab the females and screamed if you grabbed behind their ears. It's a reflex to say they are a male so other males do not grab them. Bufo Americanis, btw.

Some frogs have that reflex too. They can scream if you grab their back or head.

A frogs tounge is attached at the front of the mouth and flips like a hinge! Fake Peppino does not seem to do that but really hinge tounges are cooler so his loss.

A tadpole absorbs its tail after it grows in its legs. It will not eat during this period. It's tail is all the food it needs. Also tadpole tails are cool. Yes, that is a fact.

There is a frog that can freeze solid making it one of the VERY few animals to be able to do so. It's heart barely beats during this time.

The glass frog is see-through. Seriously. Look it up, it's cool as hell. Not as completely as the glass eel but enough to watch it's innards.

poison dart frogs raised in captivity are entirely safe to handle as their poison comes from their food. Toads just make their own through glands. They are always bad to eat.

Let me know if I missed any cool facts! I forget how much people do or don't know.