#far too grown to be behaving this way

[ohello0]

Wack nicki again for me

Then pass me the stick

[yueebby]

12:03 pm  — gojo satoru

synopsis. gojo tries to convince his first years that he was able to pull you.

contents. fluff, crack??, whipped!gojo, mentions of having a kid, he is SO in love with his wife it's disgusting, the first years are sick of their teacher

“[name] sensei is a good looking woman, isn’t she?” yuji remarked, nonchalantly propping his feet up on the desk. “you think so too, right gojo sensei?”

a sly smile played on the corners of gojo's lips, eventually blossoming into a wide, dreamy grin. “good eye yuji! she's undeniably the most beautiful woman on this planet.”

megumi, seated at the desk beside yuji, couldn't hide his grimace.

nobara's expression mirrored that of a disgruntled sea urchin. “dream big, you two. she’s way outta both of your leagues.”

“she is, isn’t she?” gojo sighs dreamily, his gaze far away. a dopey grin settles over his face; like a man walking on air. it was deeply unsettling to the first years to see a grown man behave this way.

megumi rolled his eyes and muttered his disapproval, choosing to ignore his sensei, who had casually seated himself backwards on a chair.

gojo propped his chin with both of his palms, leaning closer into the first years students. “do you think i’d stand a chance with a woman like her?”

megumi buried his face in his hands, audibly groaning in response.

“a sensible woman like that and you? fat chance.” nobara deadpanned, squinting disapprovingly at her teacher. her negative comments elicit a grunt from the snow-haired man.

yuji’s eyes flit nervously from kugisaki to gojo. 

“sensei! i think you have a chance with [name] sensei!” yuji tried to reassure his white haired teacher, offering a thumbs-up. gojo responded by affectionately ruffling yuji’s hair.

megumi couldn’t help but speak up. “she’s a married woman, you know,” he mutters to his friend.

yuji’s eyes widened,  “you’re kidding! who do you think got the honor?” 

“but she’s so young!” kugisaki exclaimed, slamming her hand on the table. 

their discussion is cut short when the shoji doors of the classroom slide open abruptly.

with hands on your hips, you stood sternly before your first year students and their teacher, an air of authority about you.

satoru couldn't help but gulp; you were indeed captivating when you were upset. it’s not his fault that you look so cute when your eyebrows furrow and you puff up in anger.

“i waited for half an hour in the courtyard to start today’s lesson and yet here i find my students, along with their sensei who should be in kyoto for a meeting.” a wry smile graced your lips, sending a chill down everyone’s spine. the three first years bowed their heads in shame.

yuji thinks this is the first time he’s seen his teacher nervous. a bead of sweat appears on the side of gojo’s face.

“honey!” he quickly stands up and walks towards you. with every step he takes, nobara’s face scrunches up at his disgusting conduct. 

“don’t.” you warned, raising a finger up to keep satoru at an arm’s length. he respected your wishes to some extent, grasping your hand and placing it within the hold of his own. the diamond on your ring finger glistened as satoru toyed with it.

gasps filled the room as yuji and nobara observed the display of affection. just how inappropriate could their sensei get, and why were you allowing it? what would your husband think?

satoru tenderly caressed your hand in his, cradling it as he leaned in closer. “please forgive me; it was an honest mistake.”

“honest mistake my ass. yaga told me that this is the second meeting you’ve skipped out this month,” you stated, peering fiercely into his blindfolded eyes. satoru’s cocky demeanor wavered, replaced by a nervous chuckle.

“the first time was when i took you to naha, remember?” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “and if i remember correctly, you enjoyed our night out,” your eyes widened, recalling the romantic trip satoru had organized. 

feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you attempted to pull away, but his grip on your hand tightened.

“forgive me?” his voice softened, lips curving downward, giving him the appearance of a dejected kitten.

a sigh escapes your lips. he was going to be the death of you.

“fine. but this is the last time,” you warned, “and you owe me for covering for you.”

satoru straightened up, nodding fervently. “have i mentioned how much i love you?” wrapping an arm around you, he placed a kiss on the top of your head, despite your futile attempts to stop him.

“this is…” yuji’s jaw dropped.

“so inappropriate! shame on you!” nobara’s chair makes a harsh screech with how fast she leaves it to come to your aid. 

“kugisaki–” you attempted to calm her down, but she clung to your elbow, desperately trying to pry you from satoru’s embrace.

satoru’s hold on you tightened as he wrapped his other arm around your frame, pulling you close. he plops his chin on top of your head and resists nobara’s attempts to free you. like hell he’s letting anybody take his girl, not even his own student.

“crushing on a married woman is one thing, but to openly flirt with her– ” kugisaki struggled. you tilt your head in confusion. 

satoru’s strong arms flexed as he fought to maintain his hold on you. he nuzzled your neck. “’m fine right here,” he inhaled deeply, as if trying to take in as much of you as possible.

“[name] sensei! how can you stand there and let this man disrespect your marriage?!” nobara implored, wide-eyed, disregarding all respect she had for her teacher.  “how will your husband react when he finds how gojo sensei behaves around you?” she looks desperate, and you want to laugh at the sincerity behind her actions. you get it now.

only your idiot husband would pull a stunt like this.

“i hope your husband can fight because i’m willing to fight him to the death for your hand,” satoru mutters from your neck. you take your hand from nobara’s shoulders to shove the six-foot-three giant away.

“you seriously didn’t tell them, satoru?” you ignored his whiney protests as you created distance between the two of you. 

“tell us what?” kugisaki demanded. yuji was on the edge of his seat, nervously watching the unfolding scene, while megumi put his head down in embarrassment.

satoru looks at you with a deep frown on his face. uncertainty clouds your mind as his silence forebodes something. wetting his lips with his tongue, he quickly closed the gap between you, too fast for you to escape. a secure hand rested on your lower waist as your husband dipped you down to deepen the kiss. 

had you not been so absorbed into the kiss, you would have heard the scandalized gasps from your students.

you managed to place a hand on his chest to separate yourselves, “satoru, stop.” his eyes remained fixed on your lips, but he complied.

“yuji, nobara.. satoru and i are–” you hold up your ring finger for display.

“happily married!” your husband finished for you, a triumphant smile on his face. he squeezed you close, throwing up a peace sign. “been madly in love since i met her!” 

“what– no way! you pulled her?!” nobara spluttered, head whipping from satoru to you, unable to wrap her mind around the revelation.

yuji’s jaw is still on the floor, “megumi, you knew about this?!”

the sea urchin looks the other direction, avoiding his friends’ judgemental gazes.

“they… raised me.. sorta..” he mumbles under his breath. your heart melts at his confession. unlike you, the other first years don't take too kindly to his comment, as they start shaking him by the shoulder and starting their own interrogation.

“and we did a good job too! don’t you think we’re ready for our own?” satoru smiles down at you jokingly, his hands snaking around your waist and his hands sneaking onto your stomach. he leaves a couple of soft pats. 

“you’re cuter when you’re quiet, y’know?” you whispered. taking advantage of your students' attention on megumi, you place a single finger on his lips, hoping your husband does not notice the way your face feels like it is on fire. 

he does.

“no need to be shy now,” satoru said, grinning wolfishly, “we’ll continue this at home.”

your face flushes even deeper.

unbeknownst to you, the first years had fallen silent, observing how gojo whispered in your ear, successfully turning you into a flustered mess. perhaps they should give more credit to their sensei.

notes. not proof read (oh no). this was just a random scenario that has been plaguing my mind during halloweekend so i typed it on my phone at a party LOL this is me desperately trying to get out of my writing slump

[bohemiandeer]

You know what hits me hard? When 5 to 6 year old children, all the way in Southeast Asia, knows about what's happening in Palestine right now. That children their age is getting bombed, that they're starving to death, that they're getting shot at, and sniped in the head. Because, just this past 2 or so months, I heard some of the little ones in the Kindergarten classes I'm TAing in as an Intern talk about it. Hell, one of the little boys downright said he didn't like Israel, because Israel is bad, because they do scary things. Another was questioning whether Palestine was bad too, because, "why else would they shooting at them?". A little girl in one of my classes doesn't want to finish her food at all, because she wants to save at least half her meat and rice for kids in Palestine, because she heard that, they don't have food. And that's just the ones I remember. Namely the inciting cases before their classmates slowly follow suit. The littles are fricking SCARED. We had to sit these kids down, and tell them that the topic is too mature for them at the moment, that they shouldn't even be concerned because they're KINDERGARTNERS, they're not even old enough to properly understand. The one teacher I was TAing for had to make a class announcement saying that. What gets me is, these are 5 to 6 year olds, the youngest I've worked with in this specific age group is 4. 5 years old on average, and they've already been exposed to the worst horrors genocide has to offer through the news and snippets of conversation among adults and hell, considering how many of them say they like to play games on Mama's phone, or their IPad, even from fricking social media. And the fact that, these literal babies, from all the way in Cambodia, has more empathy in their entire body and soul, than full grown fricking adults have in the nail of their pinky finger, gets me. FFS we as adults could LEARN from them I feel sometimes. I honestly don't know what to feel about it anymore. On the one hand, this is the next generation I'm working with. And if the next generation's default response to a tragedy such as Palestine, is what I've seen come up on occasion so far? Perhaps there's some bloody hope for this world after all. At least in this country. Especially since a majority of them already come from families who survived a genocide. These are the 3rd - 4th generation descendants of those who survived the Khmer Rouge. They've got grandparents at home, who no doubt are more than intimately familiar with what Palestine is going through right now. And it shows.

But on the other, it makes my heart sink because these are CHILDREN, these are LITTLE KIDS, they should be playing with their toys and watching cartoons and talking to their friends about everything from Spiderman to Speakerman to Kuromi and her friends, and be worried about whether or not they can go to playground that day, guranteed they're well behaved, or if Mama remembered to pack in their costume for swimming lessons that week. NOT JUST MY KIDS. But the little ones in Palestine too. They deserve better. They all deserve, so much better. Hell, it's come to the point that whenever I look at my kiddos right now, whether they'd be working in class, playing, doing something as mundane as eating lunch or getting ready for their nap. I think of the children their age in Palestine that didn't even get the chance to survive. I think of the ones whose memories from this age, is nothing but absolute horror and pain, rather than what has slowly become my normal, who never got to experience what my littles do on a daily basis right now.

Children shouldn't even be concerned about "War", about a Genocide. The last thing that should be on a 5 year old's mind, is pain, and suffering, and the worst horrors imaginable ever to be inflicted on a human being. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S INFLICTED, ON OTHER CHILDREN THEIR AGE. And for that alone, the world has failed them. Especially the kids in Palestine who didn't ask for any of this. They just wanted to carry on with life as kids do, the same way as my littles do on a daily basis no doubt, learning, playing, chatting with friends over their favourite cartoons and characters, worrying about whether they'd get to go to the playground or not that day.

I apologize for talking about this on this blog. I know my blog tends to be lighter in feel, a lot more unhinged and light hearted typically. I mean, I'm just a fricking nerd who likes to draw and write, and lurk about her favourite fandoms to consume and support what is shared among other nerds who also like to draw and write. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About contemplating it, especially since I'll be back on a roll tomorrow, working with my kiddos again after not seeing them for 5 days straight because of Holidays. And, I just had to talk about it. This is something I felt I couldn't keep to myself this time, I don't think my soul'd be able to carry it. I had to talk about it.

FREE PALESTINE. Our children deserve better.

[herd-reject-arts]

So I'm leaving work and something darts in front of me, maybe 10ft away, too fast for me to see what it is. Peek around the tree blocking my path and I see this

Just like... a whole ass hawk. Dude's gotta be about 1.5ft tall. Massive fucking bird. And it's just staring me straight in my soul like this, even as I try to move ahead. It didn't budge. And there's only this path back to my car unless I want to walk on a busy highway. So I have the option of Death By Raptor or Death By Truck.

So I walk in the poison ivy filled patch off the sidewalk. Guy still isn't moving. Still staring me directly in the eyes. And I do this thing when animals are behaving strangely where I'll talk to them, so I'm just like, "Hey, man. I don't know you. You don't know me. This feels really threatening. I'm just trying to get to my car, dude. Can I get some space please? You're a big fucking bird. I see those claws. You could kill me right now, but I'd appreciate if you didn't, ok?"

It didn't move until I was about 2ft away. Again: I'm as far from it as I can be without walking into the street. It clearly wasn't going to budge. I walk past, thing flies up (silent, btw. Scary) and lands on a brick wall a little further ahead

Anyway. Weird guy. Nearly shit my pants when I noticed a bird big enough to carry off a fully grown cat was just... there, staring me in the face, unwilling to move away from me, a human, something it should see as a threat. I watched behind me the whole rest of the way to my car, just in case this bird decided to help me shed this mortal coil. 10/10 experience. Super cool guy.

[rinawantstosleep]

𖹭༉‧°𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

bf satoru x fem single mom reader

wc: 1.1k

— a pair of troublemakers residing in your house; both of whom are (unintentionally!) dead-set on making themselves the death of you.

"I don't like your stupid, white hair." 

"And I don't like your boring, brown hair, buddy."

"W-well... well, I don't like your ugly, doo-doo face!"

"Your mama does." 

The two could go bickering like this for hours on end if you let them. What may seem to be a mutually digressive arrangement is actually an oddly adorable bonding in disguise. Satoru and your son put on a front of being annoyed at the other's presence, but you've never seen them apart for longer than a few minutes at a time. They've grown on each other; much like how moss grows on a statue that's been lingering out in the open. An indispensable cycle of life that's truly inevitable. 

"No, she doesn't! She doesn't! She likes... sof- sofis... sofistogated guys."

"You mean sophisticated?"

"Shut up!" 

You'd been terrified that your little one wouldn't have a father-figure to rely on anymore after you divorced your husband. However, it was something you had to do for his sake. The child deserved to live in an environment that wasn't always reeking of alcohol, where he wasn't subjected to the constant, drunk yelling of a pathetic excuse of a father who couldn't get his shit together and lazed around at home all day while you did all the work. If that meant that you'd have to raise him on his own, then so be it. At least he'd be raised properly. Signing those papers was, by far, the easiest decision you'd ever made. 

"I'm not shutting up because a kid in clothes too big for him is telling me to."

"You... you're the one always wearing tight clothes around the house to impress my mama."

"No, that's because I'm ripped. Gotta show off what I've got. And your mama loves that." 

"Oh, yeah? That means you show off your... your - um... ugly, doo-doo face!"

Would you regard it a miracle that Satoru just so happened to stumble into your life around that very time? Well, relatively. Meeting him wasn't something you'd planned, nor anticipated. The kind stranger who offered to pay for your order at a café a year ago has somehow, thanks to quite a romantic sequence of events, turned into your boyfriend; a rock to lean on for when you need the support. And, also, someone that your little one can look up to (with the fun, bonus benefit of the pair getting into silly, childish quarrels nine times out of ten). What is Satoru if not a three-hundred-and-thirty-six-month-old toddler, too? Puts your five-year-old to utter shame with the way he acts. 

"Enough. Baby, we've been over this before. Behave."

"But, mama, he's being a meanie!" "But, babe, he's acting all pretentious." 

The responses come simultaneously: one is high pitched and whiny, and the other is your son. Sometimes, you have to pause and ask yourself how you haven't gone insane yet. It's the love that keeps you from falling apart. How could you ever harbor any other feeling for these two, except for wanting to cherish them? You just... need to work on a pet name that doesn't apply to the both of them at once.  

"I don't want to hear it. Sweetie, finish your lunch. And, Satoru?" 

"Yes, honey-who-loves-me-and-my-'ugly, doo-doo'-face?" He's smirking, snickering, while saying this, the sly bastard. When will the pair ever relent on trying to one-up the other? 

"Why have you got one of my hair ties on your wris- never mind. Don't forget to change the sheets in our room. I'd do it myself if not for the meeting I need to get to in an hour." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Cue a tiny gasp. 

"But, mama..." The voice of your little one breaks the peaceful silence at the dining table once again. His legs start kicking back and forth - a sign that he's growing restless - from the chair they're dangling off of. He's got a protest already forming up in that head of his. "Toru said he'd take me to the skate park today. And he promised to get ice cream after."

Toru, huh? That's new. You can't help the smile that paints itself on your lips. The two have been getting along pretty well, it seems, contrary to all the bickering they do. That's always nice to know. It's amusing to see the dynamic they've built. One second, they're riling each other up to no end, the next, they've already formed a secret alliance to go out and have fun together. How cute. "Is that so?"

"Mhm! So that means we need to leave riiight after I finish my lunch. Don't get mad, okay?" 

It's the small things like these that warm your heart. Some sacrifices can be made if it's in regards to this adorable (step, even though you haven't married Satoru yet)father-son moment. The sheets are insignificant right now. "Awwh. Of course I won't get mad, baby. It's good for you to want to spend more time with Satoru. Isn't he a fun guy?"

"... maybe." 

. . . 

"Just make sure he's safe out there. Helmet and gear on at all times, no big ramps. And don't let him eat too much sugar. He'll get hyper. Once the rush dies down, he'll get cranky -"

Satoru's arm wraps around your waist before you can finish your sentence, pulling you overwhelmingly close to his frame. Instinctively, your arms move to wrap around his neck, just the way Satoru likes it. Oh, how he wants to just throw everything else out the window and drag you to the nearest room with a lock in place.

"You -" A quick peck to your lips, followed by a nibble on your bottom lip. "- worry -" Another peck. "- too -" Another. "- much." Then, an unexpected bite on the shell of your right ear. "I'd never allow myself to let that little demon get hurt; or hyper."

Large hands wander across the curve of your back, resting firm on your butt. Satoru doesn't want to expose your son to the way he's squeezing your plush flesh with his long digits, so he shifts to have your back pressed against the wall. A perfect opportunity to kiss you - which the man can't help but seize. What else is a smitten boyfriend to do while waiting for your son to get ready and come down from his room upstairs? Lips against lips until one of you pulls away for air. "He's safe with me, okay?" 

"Okay." 

"Atta girl. Now, you go to that meeting of yours. And, tonight, after we both get back- oww."

"Groooss! Don't kiss my mama, or you'll make her ugly! Like youuu!"

"Baby, no. Don't kick Satoru's ankles-"

"I'm saving you, mama."

with 𖹭, rina !!

[sidekick-hero]

A Leash, a Van, and a Christmas Plan

steddie | rated teen | 3.7k | tags: Christmas fluff, Nurse Steve, meet-cute, Bear the dog | Read on AO3

Steve had always wanted a dog—ever since he could remember. As a kid, he would beg his parents endlessly, swearing up and down that he’d take care of it. He’d walk it, feed it, clean up after it.

Despite all his promises, a dog remained one of the few things he didn’t get as a child, right alongside the attention and affection he truly craved.

So, the moment he could afford his own flat, he knew exactly what to do. Together with his best friend Robin, he made his way to the local shelter in search of a furry companion. Robin, a self-proclaimed cat person, indulged him in this quest to fulfill his childhood dream.

They wandered the shelter for what felt like hours. Even Robin started to joke that they should just take all the dogs home. Steve, however, found the decision nearly impossible. How could he pick just one? They all deserved to feel safe and loved.

Steve was not projecting. Okay?

Anyway, just as they were about to give up, they passed what looked like an empty kennel. A faint growl stopped Steve in his tracks. Curious, he stepped closer and found a small black bundle cowering in the far corner. The dog was young, terrified, and yet somehow still looked like it was ready to take on the entire world.

“Robin!” Steve called over his shoulder. His friend was busy fussing over a golden retriever a few kennels ahead. “Can you get someone from the staff?”

A week later, after passing all the background checks and paperwork, Steve brought Cerberus home.

The name wasn’t his idea. That credit went to Dustin, one of the kids who worked at the shelter. Dustin had taken one look at the little dog and declared that it would grow into a huge, black monster, making “Cerberus” the perfect name. Steve hated it—but he liked the kid enough to keep it.

Besides, they ended up calling him Bear anyway.

That had been three years ago. Since then, Bear had grown into the huge, black monster Dustin had predicted—well, minus the monster part. Unless, of course, you counted being a total cuddle monster.

Still, Bear was a big guy, and his size alone was enough to make most people wary. It didn’t help that he was fiercely protective of Steve, growling at anyone who dared to come too close. He always needed time to warm up to new people, but once you were accepted as part of his pack, you had a loyal friend for life.

Steve didn’t mind Bear’s intimidating presence, though. If anything, it made him feel safer. As a nurse at the local hospital, his unpredictable shifts meant late-night walks were a regular part of their routine. Bear’s size and low, rumbling growl made it easy for Steve to wander through quiet streets at night without a second thought.

It was on one of those walks—a bitterly cold December night, just two days before Christmas—that everything changed.

Months of working with Chrissy, his dog trainer, had paid off in more ways than one. Steve ended up with a kind-of-well-behaved-but-stubborn dog willing to (mostly) cooperate, and Robin got herself a girlfriend who was every bit as amazing as she deserved. Even if it meant that Steve would have to spend Christmas alone this year, while Robin took Chrissy home to her parents for the first time.

Usually, walking Bear was uneventful—a blessing, considering Steve, despite being fit and regularly working out at the hospital gym, was no match for 145 pounds of determined dog. Bear stayed close to Steve’s side, happy to keep watch, growling menacingly at any perceived threats but always trusting Steve to handle things.

That’s why Steve wasn’t gripping the leash as tightly as he should have been. His thoughts were far away, preoccupied with a little boy he’d been tending to—a boy stuck in the hospital over Christmas and heartbreakingly sad about it. Steve was busy planning ways to make the holiday festive for the kids in his ward when it happened: a sudden, sharp tug on the leash.

The leash slipped from his fingers before he could react.

“Bear!” Steve shouted, his voice cracking with shock and just a little more panic than he’d like. “Come!”

Bear, however, had other ideas. He bolted, disappearing into the dense trees at the edge of the park.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Steve swore as he took off after him, already regretting not listening to Robin when she suggested a cat. A cat, after all, wouldn’t have him tripping through brambles and stumbling over undergrowth, with only his runner’s light bouncing wildly to guide him.

Finding a black dog in the pitch-dark night was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Impossible.

“Bear!” Steve called again, cupping his hands around his mouth to carry his voice further. “Come here, buddy!”

He stopped, straining to hear anything—a rustle, a bark, a clue—but all he got in return was the sound of his own heavy breathing and the distant hoot of an owl. The silence felt louder somehow, now that one of his senses was compromised.

The realization crept in slowly, chilling him even more than the night air: he was alone, in the dark, with his dog gone and no one else around.

His breath came in visible puffs, clouds of mist dissipating into the cold. A shiver ran through him, though he couldn’t quite tell if it was from the cold or the unsettling weight of his surroundings. The trees loomed, their shadows stretching longer than they should, and everything felt just a little off.

He was on the verge of giving up—tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, frustration mixing with fear—when a loud snap echoed through the stillness.

Steve flinched, his heart leaping into his throat.

Then, a deep, rumbling growl broke through the stillness, followed by a sharp bark.

“Bear!” Steve shouted, bolting toward the sound. More barks followed, their tone higher and lighter—not aggressive, but curious.

“Good boy,” a voice called out, shaky but trying for calm. “Or—uh—good girl? I don’t want to assume, man. Or… woman. Shit. Please don’t eat me?”

The voice sounded young, male and unmistakably terrified. Steve couldn’t blame him. Anyone would panic if they were cornered by 145 pounds of black fur and sharp teeth.

Forcing his legs to move faster and silently praying he wouldn’t trip over a stray root or branch, Steve barreled toward the commotion, his heart pounding in his chest. Bear was obviously holding someone hostage, and Steve had no idea what he was about to find.

He burst through the trees and stumbled into a clearing. There, parked at the edge, was an old van—and standing on top of it was a man.

The guy had his hands raised in a desperate, placating gesture, his voice trembling as he pleaded with Steve’s dog.

“Easy, big guy. Good boy. Or girl. Seriously, no need for violence here—”

Steve couldn’t tell you why, but the whole thing was so absurd, so completely surreal. Bear, massive and proud, sitting at the base of the van like some four-legged guardian, and the poor guy perched on the roof like he’d been treed by a bear. The adrenaline coursing through Steve’s veins, paired with the overwhelming relief that Bear was safe—and that no one appeared to be bleeding—hit him all at once.

Steve doubled over, hands on his knees, laughing in near hysteria.

Both Bear and the guy turned toward Steve’s laughter. Bear let out a low whuff, the canine equivalent of “Look what I found!” Meanwhile, the guy, clearly panicked, shouted at him.

“Run! There’s a wild beast—it’ll tear you apart if you don’t move! Hurry! I can try to distract it, but I don’t know if it’ll work.”

Another wave of laughter threatened to bubble up, but Steve managed to swallow it down. The poor guy was terrified, and yet he was still trying to save Steve. It was kind of adorable, in a completely ridiculous way.

Instead of laughing more, Steve decided to end the guy’s suffering. He walked toward them, shaking his head.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” the guy yelled, eyes wide. “Don’t come closer! I—I don’t think I can stop it!”

Steve smiled up at him, though in the dim light—provided by the van’s headlights and his bouncing runner’s light—he doubted the guy could see it. He kept walking until he was right beside Bear, the dog’s massive head level with his waist.

Calmly, he reached down to scratch behind Bear’s ears and said, loud enough for the guy to hear, “What do you think you’re doing, huh? We talked about this. No running away, and definitely no hunting down poor, innocent people.”

Bear responded with another satisfied whuff, his tail wagging furiously despite the fact that he was still sitting.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” The voice from above sounded incredulous. “Are you some kind of dog whisperer or that your beast?”

Steve looked up at Bear’s hostage, and upon realizing that his runner’s light was blinding him, turned it off. He could still see well enough with the headlights casting a warm light close by after his eyes had adjusted. The first thing he noticed were the guy’s eyes. They were huge and almost black in the low light, sitting atop full lips on a pale face framed by dark curls. He was adorable and hot.

“Sorry,” Steve began, running a hand through his hair. “Not a dog whisperer, or this big guy wouldn’t have bolted the second I got distracted and loosened my grip on the leash. In my defense, though, he’s never done that before. You must smell pretty incredible for him to chase you all the way down here.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Steve wanted to slap himself. Once upon a time, he had game. Real game. But apparently, those days were long gone, and now he was reduced to this—word vomiting as soon as he came face-to-face with a hot guy.

The guy—whom Steve had silently dubbed Bambi because of those wide, enchanting doe eyes—blinked at him, utterly speechless. Steve dared to hope he was overwhelmed by Steve’s suave charm, but that hope was dashed by the guy’s next words.

“Are you for real? You’re telling me it’s my fault for smelling like dog food that your… your beast chased me down?”

Something about the incredulous tone, coupled with the faint tremor in his voice that betrayed more lingering embarrassment than true anger, lit a spark of mischief in Steve. He wanted to make the guy laugh, to banish the last traces of fear, and—let’s be honest—to see how those full lips would look wrapped around a smile.

“Not dog food, no,” Steve said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Bear here is a professionally trained drug detection dog. So he must’ve picked up something really interesting to go off the rails like that.”

It was meant as a joke—obviously, Bear was no such thing as a professionally trained anything. But at Steve’s words, Bambi’s eyes widened to cartoonish proportions. Before Steve could assure him he was kidding, the guy scrambled to climb down the other side of the van, his movements jerky with panic.

“Whoa, hey—wait!” Steve called out, stepping forward, but it was too late.

There was a sharp slip, followed by a dull thud and a pained groan.

Steve hurried toward the spot where Bambi had hit the ground with an alarming thud, but Bear was faster.

“Please make it quick, big guy. Haven’t I suffered enough already?” came a slightly wheezing voice, followed by another soft whuff.

When Steve rounded the corner of the van, he stopped dead in his tracks, the scene before him equal parts surreal and hilarious.

Bambi was sprawled on the ground, spread-eagled, his head tilted to one side. Bear sat beside him, their faces mere inches apart. Bear’s loose fur and skin hung comically, his head tilted in a way that screamed curiosity, as if he were silently asking, “What are you doing down there?”

Steve considered taking a picture. Robin and Chrissy would never believe this otherwise. But a low groan from Bambi snapped him out of it.

“Shit. Are you okay?” Steve asked, quickly crossing the remaining distance. He dropped to his knees on Bambi’s other side, mirroring Bear’s concerned expression as he leaned over him.

“This is hell,” Bambi muttered, his voice heavy with dramatic despair. “The hellhound Cerberus has chased me to my demise, and now Charon’s coming to ferry my soul to Tartarus.”

Steve blinked. Was this guy serious? A concussion seemed likely at this point. But it was hard to ignore the weird coincidence that Bambi knew Bear’s namesake.

“I’m so sorry, man,” Steve said, raking a hand through his hair. “It was just a joke—I didn’t think you’d believe me. Robin’s right. I’m hopeless.” He let out a frustrated groan. “I mean, who almost gets someone killed trying to make them laugh?”

To Steve’s surprise, a hand reached out and found his, squeezing it once.

“You wanted to make me laugh?” Bambi asked, his voice soft.

“That’s what you’re focusing on? Not the ‘almost got you killed’ part?” Steve sighed, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah. You looked so scared and embarrassed. I just wanted to see you smile. So I made a dumb joke… and ended up getting you hurt instead.”

Bambi—he needed to find out the guy’s name, Steve reminded himself—hummed softly, his lips quirking into a teasing smile. “So, just to be clear: You’re not a cop, and he—” he gestured toward Bear, still sitting like this was all a casual hangout in the park—“is not a drug detection dog?”

Steve let out a rueful laugh, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as warmth crept up his cheeks. “Nope. Not a cop. Not a drug detection dog. Just a pediatric nurse with a terrible sense of humor and a dog who’s usually better behaved.”

Bambi’s tentative smile grew into something full and radiant, so dazzling that Steve momentarily lost track of everything else. It was the kind of smile that made you think cheesy things, like comparing it to the sunrise—hopeful and brilliant, warming something deep in Steve’s chest.

“What’s your name?” Steve asked, shaking himself back to reality. “I keep calling you Bambi in my head, and I’m pretty sure that’s not it.”

That did it. The man on the ground burst into surprised laughter, his head tipping back as his eyes crinkled at the corners, the sound bright and unrestrained. It sent a wave of smug satisfaction through Steve, though it didn’t last long. The laughter soon faded into a low groan, Bambi wincing as the movement jostled whatever injury he’d sustained.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve blurted, words tumbling out as his concern surged. “Are you okay? God, I didn’t mean—”

The guy’s hand found Steve’s again, squeezing it firmly. “Shhh,” he soothed, his voice low and warm. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. I mean, your sense of humor might be the death of me, but what a way to go, huh?”

Steve barked a startled laugh at that, though it quickly gave way to a more serious tone. “I’d really prefer you don’t die on me,” he said, pausing deliberately for the guy to fill in the gap.

“Eddie,” came the soft reply.

Steve smiled, relief and something else he couldn’t quite name washing over him. “I’d rather you don’t die on me, Eddie.”

They were both smiling at each other, the night cold and silent around them, as if the world had paused just for this moment. And then, as if the universe wanted to underscore how surreal and cinematic everything felt, it started to snow.

Big, soft flakes drifted down, landing on Eddie’s long eyelashes and melting on his nose and cheeks. Eddie’s smile widened, his expression pure delight as he laughed softly, tilting his face up to the sky. Without hesitation, he stuck out his tongue to catch a few flakes, his laughter bubbling up again at the absurdity of it.

In that instant, Steve felt very much like one of those snowflakes—falling, utterly and irrevocably.

“So, Nurse—” Eddie’s voice broke through the quiet, pulling Steve from his rose-tinted thoughts.

“Huh?” Steve blinked, realizing he’d been staring.

Eddie grinned, a hint of mischief lighting his face. “I was being sneaky, trying to find out your name,” he explained, “while also asking for a little help here. As much as I’m enjoying the view, it’s getting kind of cold down here.” He shifted slightly, wincing before adding with a smirk, “I thought I’d be clever and ask Nurse Prince Charming—that’s what I’ve been calling you in my head since we cleared up the Charon situation—to help his patient off the ground.”

Steve threw his head back and laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained. He couldn’t help but feel charmed by Eddie’s offbeat but endearing mannerisms. In all his life, he couldn’t remember meeting anyone quite like him—and they’d only known each other for a few minutes.

“It’s Steve,” he said finally, his smile lingering. “And I’d prefer to check you out real quick—” he paused, realizing how that sounded, and tried to recover, “—to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself too badly before helping you up. That okay?”

Eddie’s grin turned sly. “Oh, darling, you can check me out as much as you want,” he replied, tongue-in-cheek.

Heat flooded Steve’s cheeks at the innuendo, even as he tried to stay professional. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, though he couldn’t deny that having an excuse to touch Eddie wasn’t exactly the worst thing in the world.

“I think it’s safe to say it’s nothing life-threatening if you can joke around like that,” Steve said, shaking his head but unable to hide his fond smile.

Eddie snorted—a sound that shouldn’t have been cute but somehow was—while Steve carefully began to palpate his ribs.

“My uncle always said my last words would be a joke,” Eddie mused, wincing slightly as Steve pressed on a tender spot. “Probably after my big mouth got me into trouble.”

Steve chuckled softly, trying to keep the mood light as he continued his examination. “Well, I’m not letting you test that theory tonight, so sit tight.”

Eddie’s ribs were bruised, and he’d probably be sore for a few days, but thankfully, there was no serious injury. Steve helped him up carefully, Bear trailing close, unusually subdued but steadfast. The dog stuck by their sides as Steve walked Eddie around the van to its rear. Following Eddie’s quiet instructions, Steve opened the door and helped him settle inside.

The interior was cramped but functional. A mattress with a thick sleeping bag was tucked in the back, surrounded by scattered clothes, empty bottles, a bong, a pizza box, and an acoustic guitar propped against the passenger seat. The van had the unmistakable feel of a makeshift home, and Steve’s heart sank.

Eddie caught him staring, and a nervous laugh bubbled out as he rushed to explain. “It’s not what it looks like... God, I can’t believe I just said that. Jeez—” He cut himself off with a sharp breath, grimacing from the strain. After a moment, he added, quieter, “I know it looks bad, okay? But it’s just for a few days. Until I get back on my feet. It’s fine. Just a hiccup.”

The words were defensive, but the shame lurking beneath them hit Steve like a punch to the gut. Eddie was trying to downplay it, but the tightness in his voice gave him away. Steve wanted to say something, anything, but before he could, Bear whined softly, breaking the silence. The big dog nudged Eddie’s thigh with his muzzle, his soulful brown eyes a perfect mirror of Eddie’s own.

Eddie, who’d been so terrified of Bear earlier, now reached out instinctively, stroking the thick fur of his head and neck. His fingers found the sweet spot behind Bear’s ears, and the dog leaned into the touch, letting out a contented huff.

“You were planning to sleep here tonight?” Steve asked softly, the question heavy with concern.

Eddie didn’t look up. He just nodded, his hand still moving absently through Bear’s fur.

Steve cursed silently. The thought of Eddie spending the night in this van, in freezing temperatures, sent a chill down his spine. Even if he kept the engine running, the risks—carbon monoxide poisoning, frostbite, worse—were too high. Steve couldn’t stomach the idea.

“Come home with us,” he said, the words tumbling out before the thought had fully formed. He just knew he couldn’t leave Eddie here.

“What?” Eddie blinked, his hand pausing mid-stroke. Bear, displeased by the interruption, let out a soft, insistent whuff and nudged Eddie’s hand again.

Steve forced a smile, trying to sound casual. “Bear and I both want you to come home with us. I can bandage your ribs properly, and you can keep petting Bear. Clearly, he’s touch-starved and desperately needs some affection.”

Once again, Steve was not projecting. Okay?

Eddie raised an eyebrow, scanning his face carefully. "Oh, so Bear needs some affection, huh?”

Steve rolled his eyes, his cheeks heating. “Look, are you coming or not? Because I’m not leaving until you agree, and I’ll have you know Bear can be very persuasive.”

At that, Bear whuffed again, his tail thumping lightly against the van floor, as if to second Steve’s statement.

Eddie’s lips twitched, and for a moment, Steve thought he might actually laugh. “You’re not giving me much of a choice, are you?”

“Not really,” Steve admitted, his tone softening. “But seriously, Eddie. Let us take care of you. Just for tonight.”

Eddie hesitated, his gaze dropping to Bear, who was still gazing up at him with unrelenting devotion. Finally, he sighed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Fine. But only because your dog’s giving me the eyes.”

Steve grinned, relief flooding through him. “Smart choice. Bear’s impossible to say no to.”

Bear, as if understanding, let out a low, approving bark.

As Eddie took the hand Steve offered, his fingers cold but steady, Steve felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the touch itself. It was the kind of warmth that came with hope—the quiet, surprising hope that maybe neither of them would have to spend Christmas alone this year.

[beiasluv]

lil ginger | op81

— shifter!osc, angst, lovie dovey ending?? that’s all 👹

What would you do if you see a poor lil ginger cat following on your heels? A, be a meanie and leave him alone. B, take him back.

Obviously you had to choose B.

Never being a cat person, grown up with doggos all your life, you just really don’t know how to interact with one. Sure, you’d give them little pats and all—and clicking your tongue discreetly to see how far you can get it to follow. But this one was just…different.

“Hi—” you cooed. “Are you hurt, baby?”

The ginger and cream colored cat let out a friendly-meowing squeak, seeing that it had successfully gotten your attention. He skipped up to you, and sat down at your feet, tilting his head a set of large brown eyes staring back to you.

Adorable.

So you ended up kneeling on the concrete floor, getting weird looks from passersby. Only for them to realize it was a cat, then it was socially acceptable.

“Poor you,” you cooed as you nervously plucked the twigs and dust away, not really sure how to interact with a cat without getting a scratch.

“Fuck—I am not a cat person,” you mumbled to yourself. “Can I pick you up, little guy?”

Soon enough you did manage to get ahold of the ginger in your hands, realizing it’s a boy. His little ears pinned themselves down, resting his forehead on your chest, and a loud, soft, almost-purring-like meow came from him.

He wasn’t hurt, just a little filthy.

And if he had to guess, he would assume you weren’t a cat person, with the way you were holding him. But he’d appreciate the cuddles every now and then.

There was no collar, no tags to be found. But he was fairly too clean for a stray. And maybe just a little too well behaved.

After a moment of quiet cuddling with the ginger baby, you figured his owner would be looking for him soon enough. Or maybe his mother would come and get the youngster soon.

But would you be so mean and leave him alone?

“Look, if you come with me…I’ll…um…post you somewhere so they can get you back?” He was settled back down on the hard concrete floor, only wanting to see if he would even follow you home.

It also would be cruel to take him back without a little cat-consent…right?

The cat sat himself down, and looked at you, considering your offer. He let his tail flick around the floor, smacking the ground a few times as he thought about your words.

He padded after you, and jumped back up, stretching his bean paws against your leg, as if asking you to pick him back up again.

He wanted up. He wanted attention. He was a needy little bastard.

—

“Make yourself at home…well— no scratching my couch—” you warned as you set the feline down, taking off your coat.

The cat followed a few steps behind you, but when you went into the kitchen—he started to explore.

He climbed up your couch and sniffed around, as cats do, finding your throw pillow a little too inciting. He promised he wasn’t going to do anything to mess up your place, but he was just a cat.

And cats do sniff.

Just when you set out a bowl out of water in the floor, he hopped down from the couch and started to drink, almost desperately lapping the water up— almost like a man parched in the desert.

Watching the ginger feline was almost entertaining, lying yourself on the floor— getting the same eye-level as the cat.

“Okay, your name…” you tapped your chin.

The cat stopped drinking, and looked over at you. His brown eyes followed you as you laid back on the ground, watching you almost curiously. Figuring you out.

He meowed at your words, as if asking you to ‘go on.’

“How is…Daniel? Lucas?”

The cat sat back on his haunches, and tipped his head to the side. Judging you for the names you’d chosen. He let out a soft but slightly rude sounding noise, clearly disagreeing with your choices.

“Okay, that’s a ‘no’…what about…er…Pumpkin?”

He made the same noise, but this time it was louder. Definitely didn’t like the sound of that one. He gave you a displeased look, as if telling you to pick something ‘cooler.’

“Well? I can’t read your mind, mister,” you scoffed lightheartedly. “Ginger?”

Another huff from the cat and a tail smack on the floor.

At this point, you might just well give up.

—

“Here’s the bathroom…for…your business—”

So there you were, touring the cat around, hoping you weren’t going crazy. Not with the way the cat seemed to act/look/respond like it understood what you’ve said.

“And— you, only the foot of the bed is allowed.”

You explained, crawling under the covers. Followed by ‘Ginger’ as he jumped up onto your bed. He sat at your feet, and curled up against them, watching you as you got comfy.

A very polite little guy.

He’d let out a soft, almost human sounding sigh, and seemed to settle down. Kneading the bedding once or twice just to get comfy. And occasionally would be peeking his eyes open— just to mak sure you were still there. Only to be seeing you patting the space next to your waist.

“Fine— just here. No more.”

His eyes widened as you patted at the empty space in the middle of the bed. The cat waited a moment, as if he was expecting some kind of trap. Then quickly started to make his way up the foot of the bed.

You could only guess how much comfort a few inches difference can make of a spot. But, hey, he was just a polite little fella.

You grunted as you got out the bed, fetching him a small blanket you kept in your closet.

“If you get cold.”

He looked down at the offered blanket—inspecting it closely—before pushing his head under it, and starting to burrow. He didn’t seem too cold, but he liked it.

His head poked back out from under the blanket. From under the soft material, his eyes darted up to you, waiting to see if you’d get comfortable again.

—

You woke up, feeling something heavy on your stomach. Figured it was Ginger that moved during the night, so you reached down to pet it. Expecting to feel a layer of hair, but instead you felt what felt fleshy.

When you glanced down, instead of a small cat, you saw a man’s hand resting on your stomach, attached to a muscular arm.

This was not Ginger.

“What the fuck?” You groaned, pushing yourself further to the edge of the bed— rubbing your eyes like it would help you wake up from this dream.

The hand on your stomach shifted, letting out a soft groan at his swollen lips. “…What?”

You had to shift away from him, crawling off the bed. Pressing your back against the wall behind.

“Who are you?—no—How did you get into my room?”

The owner of the hand sat up, and pushed himself into an upright position. He had quite obvious bedhead— mussed up hair sticking in several directions.

And Oh. My. God. This guy was kinda ripped.

“I...” he said, rubbing a hand over his face, still trying to shake off his drowsiness. “I…” he was at a loss for words, as he looked around dumbfounded, trying to process what just happened.

“You what?—What did you do to Ginger?”

“I am Ginger.” He defended himself, his voice going high with a hint of an Australian accent. Squinting his eyes as he saw that you didn’t believe it.

“No? You’re clearly not a cat—I am calling the cops—”

“No! Wait—!” He put his pale, strong hand out to stop you from doing so. Running his hand through his head as the seconds ticked by quickly, trying to find the right way to explain.

“Ok, look—I know it’s a lot, but let me explain first, I just need you to calm down, yeah?”

“I have a fucking man in my bed—one that I don’t know— how am I supposed to know that you won’t jump and kill me. Also.” You breathed.

“You’re claiming that you’re a cat.”

“Look, just—” he began, as he ran his hand through his mussed up bed hair, trying to flatten it down. “I am a shifter—”

Oh.

“Right..” You should’ve known.

“I’m sorry—fuck. I should’ve just left you there— I’m so sorry–”

—

“Can it be permanent?”

The doctor gave Oscar a sympathetic look, his eyebrows raising at the question.

He had seen a lot of cat shifters before, lots of hopeless cases—some of them, and Oscar’s question wasn’t the first time he had heard the same phrase.

“You want to remain in a human body permanently, Mr. Piastri?” He repeated, humming softly as he went over the patient’s history.

The Australian nodded.

“Well…I must tell you. Some shifters have had success in taking medication to help them remain in their human form longer…” He started, seeing the youngster was willing to try. “We can work on a dose and let’s see if it gets you any results,” he added, writing down on the prescription.

“Yeah, I’ll try it—”

—

“You forgot this at my place?”

That snapped Oscar back into reality. Right. He had a casual dinner planned with you at his place. After his surprisingly pleasant interaction with you that morning, he was stuck.

Sure, it was full of you investigating him with all of the shifters’ fun facts and myths. But he handled it professionally. Yes, he’s somewhat conscious in the cat body. No, he can’t really help but to give into the cat instincts.

He needed to climb things, and meow, and rub his face against you, and what not. And, no, his parents are not shifters. Was that all of the questions?

Oscar would often found himself at your place, then vice versa. Just enjoying each other’s company, really.

Not to mention that one time you visited at the ‘wrong’ moment, greeting you in his all-glorious feline state. Even that. You were still nice enough to stick around with a fussy cat.

Oh, and you brought him a lot of cat treats.

Right, the dinner.

“What?”

“I think it’s yours,” you repeated, pushing a pill bottle prescribed with his name across the counter:

Shifting Suppressants Suppress transformation into animal form. Take twice a day.

He quickly reached out for it. “Oh, right, thanks–”

“Why?” You stopped him.

Sure, you weren’t in the place to talk about what medication he should be taking, but can’t a friend look out for each other? It was painfully obvious that he had gone from ‘pale’ to almost a ‘twilight-pale’ this past month, and don’t make you get started on his under eyes.

“Osc…I don’t wanna be pushy, but…I don’t think it’s good for you.”

You can see his face turning just a touch of guilty. And he would argue that the pills were helping with lessening his shifting.

“…I just wanna stay like this, Yn.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, he didn’t want to be like this because he preferred it.

He wanted this so he could feel normal. Just being able to be there and do something for you— not a helpless ginger cat. He had spent a good portion of his life transforming but— he was afraid you wouldn’t even want a cat around for the rest of your life.

“I want to be a human when you’re around— it makes me happy this way—”

“Oh, Osc–”

You frowned admiringly, rounding the kitchen counter to capture his hand. “I like you as a cat, I like you as a human. I don’t care— You’re still…you to me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean—I don’t want to kiss a cat, but I still want to cuddle and spend time— even if you can’t talk.

But I’d still like to kiss a human, for sure.”

“…You mean it?”

“Fuck, yes, I do—”

“That’s good to know,” he smiled softly.

The next thing you knew, he was finding the courage to tug on your laced hands, closing the gap between your lips. His hand traced your jaw in all the perfect places, tugging your chin closer so he can pepper soft kisses all over your lips.

Pulling away with a cheeky smile.

“You make me want to overdose, y’know?”

Hey people, long time no see. 👹👹 HOW ARE YALL doinggg

Anyways, interacting anyway would be appreciated and, as always, today’s a good day to take care of yaself. xoxo’s

@namgification @jsjcue @c-losur3 @evie-119

[writtenbycassandra]

i hate it how people criticize tori spring's characterization in solitaire, especially in the original version, when she's actually one of the most realistic teenage characters i've ever seen.

many teenagers in books either behave completely nonsensical considering their age or have an unrealistical amount of strengths that overshadow their negative personality traits.

tori, on the other hand, has a lot of flaws — her pessimistic attitude, which leads to self-destruction and constant stillness, her bitterness, and her habit of judging people too quickly. and some readers seem to disapprove a main character who has these flaws and call her unlikeable and far from reality for having them.

in my perspective, there is no character that portrays the way how your teenage years can be filled with rue, sorrow, and pain better than tori. she is realistic. most adolescents do not just get up after being neglected and ignored. and tori not only had to witness that and her brother's bullying and traumatic experiences — she also suffers from concerning mental health issues, which is a truthful response to the things she had to endure.

calling her unrealistic is like calling normal teenage behavior unrealistic because most of them do not socialize very often or find joy in things anymore. they have grown attached to their computers, writing, blogs, movies, and video games to hide from the real world that hurt them—just like tori did.

she's the perfect example of a character whose character development isn't changing her into a suddenly happy, forever grateful ray of sunshine only because of one moment where she decided that her friends and family were worth it. and some don't like to see a character fighting their mental illness without devolving into a cheery person.

[tragedybunny]

Sated - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion has gone too long without blood and you're determined to make sure he's fed.

Astarion tries, but not everyday is a good day, and some days he’s still snappish and lashes out. The rest of your group has learned not to take it personally, in fact now that Karlach can touch people, she’s developed a nice trick of just suddenly hugging him when he’s a pain. Usually either indignant silence or grumbling compliance follows. “Behave yourself Fangs, or I’ll do it again,” the Tiefling grins at him during whatever fussing he spouts after. He’s grown fond of her, you can tell, even if he can’t yet. In a way he’s fond of them all, but Karlach’s open, kind nature has given them a bit of a sibling-like bond. Watching them interact always brings a smile to you, he needs more of that in his life, people who care for him genuinely. 

Today was not the best, but you shrug it off as concern overrides all else. He’s a little paler than usual and a little slower. There wasn't much out there among the shadow curse for him to feed off. Before you never had to question how much blood he needed to survive or where it would come from. But as you leave the formerly cursed land behind, you can tell he’s struggling. And yet, he hasn’t asked you about it. The one he’s supposed to trust more than anyone else. You’ve fed him plenty of times before, you would think he’d have come to you by now. Mentally, you scold yourself as you feel creeping insecurity. There has to be a reason for it, and now isn’t the time for selfish suspicion. 

That night, as everyone settles themselves around a fire, contemplating what the road to Baldur's Gate holds, you find him seated at the edge of the flickering light, as far away as he can get without being in the shadows. Could he be worried he might find himself tempted if he’s too close to everyone? This can’t continue, you tell yourself, not only for the sake of his suffering, but you can’t be sure he wouldn’t be tempted either. 

Grabbing a blanket from your shared tent, you take a seat beside him, wrapping it around both of you. “You feeling alright Starry Sky?” Gently, you wrap an arm around him, and feel the icy chill of his skin beneath his shirt. Not that his skin is ever all that warm, but this another level. 

“Just tired,” he smiles weakly at you. 

“And freezing,” your other hand reaches up to stroke his cheek lightly. 

Eyes closed, he leans into your touch. “You know, I don’t even really feel it. I’m not sure if I need to be warm at all.” 

“Hmm, even if you can’t feel it, you know why you’re freezing.” Leaning over you whisper to him, some things aren’t meant to include the others. “You’re hungry.”

“Perhaps a little, but I’m fine. I don't need you to start fussing over me constantly. There's an owlbear cub if you feel overtly maternal." The sharp words don't change the dark circles under his eyes, or how gaunt his cheeks look. 

"You're ridiculously obstinate, you know that right," a gentle kiss on his temple follows your words, so he knows you're not actually being cross with him. You’ve come to realize he can’t stand it when he thinks you’re mad at him. In the past, anger meant reprisal, punishment, and in the context of the two of you, punishment could only mean withdrawing your affection. At least that’s where his thoughts lead.  

"It is one of my better qualities," he leans over, head resting against your chest. 

Shifting, you position yourself so he's seated between your legs, easier to let him rest his weight on you. "I don't know why you don't just ask me. My blood not good enough for your refined palate anymore?" Laughing, you try to mask the actual hurt that's creeping in. The truth is letting him feed from you has always felt like an important part of your relationship, the time when you’re closest to him.

It's been a long journey and a few of your group are already wandering to bed, although you think you hear Shadowheart muttering about saving it for the tent, whatever she said, Gale laughs it off. “Not at all,” he’s uncharacteristically serious, “I just…” he sighs, for once at a loss for words, “it seemed like a lot to ask from you, after everything else.” 

“Everything else?” Lips leave light kisses on the top of his head as you brush your fingers through his hair.

“You know, lying to you, manipulating you, wanting you to still love me after all that. If I asked to feed from you, it would seem like I was trying to use you again.” Catching one of your hands, he kisses it and doesn’t let go. 

For a moment you don’t know how to respond, you’re still not entirely used to seeing the softer, sincere side of him. “I see why you would think that, but I don’t want you to suffer. Let me take care of you, any way I can. That’s what I’m here for. Well, that and teaching you to be less of a stubborn arse it would seem.” 

“Stop, you’re being entirely too sweet to me. It’s going to ruin my reputation around camp.” You let him have his moment of deflection and wait until he makes a frustrated noise. “But I can’t say I don’t want to.” 

“Take what you need love,” you reach up to undo your collar and pull the blanket more securely around the two of you for privacy. A part of you considers moving to the tent, but you’re worried he’d use the opportunity to try to put it off more.

With a soft sigh, his lips press to your neck in a delicate kiss, teeth piercing your skin moments later. Pain and ecstasy course through you as you hold back a sigh. The two of you become one in that instant, bound through blood to the singular beating heart you now share, intimacy unparalleled. While he drinks, you fight to stay lucid enough to whisper to him of love and comfort, reassuring him that needing this from you is no sin. You feel your own warmth traveling into his skin, and you watch it take on a blush of life. 

Before your world turns hazy, he pulls away, licking you clean, and returning his head to your chest, content to be held tightly. "I didn't take too much, did I?"

"No, you were perfectly careful dearest." The words bring a small smile to his lips, praise so new an experience for him, he hardly knows how to handle it. But you know he craves it, especially from you, and it makes you want to lavish it on him. 

The others have vanished, a small part of you worries they noticed and were uncomfortable, but you hope they would understand as your friends. You two should join them soon, Baldur's Gate awaits, with a journey there still ahead. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

“A few more minutes love,” somehow he manages to snuggle tighter against you, “I did miss this.”

“Me too, don’t wait so long next time. I’m always here for you.” 

“There you go, being too nice to me again, silly girl.” Sitting up a bit he kisses you, fiercely, lips crashing together bruisingly, hands reaching to tangle in your hair, like a first and a last kiss all bound up in one and it leaves you gasping when he’s done. It’s as though he’s trying to express everything he feels in that one kiss. “I might get used to it if you’re not careful.” 

[theoldsports]

Mirror

Coriolanus Snow x Reader. 6.1k words.

18+ some smut, but it’s dicey. dubcon, biting, fingering, nudity, nonconsensual touch, drugs/alcohol? rehab discussion briefly, threats of violence, the shower, struggle against media, one reference to a line from scripture, possessiveness, manipulation. it’s dark. prolonged exposure to it is bad for you.

longest one yet! chronologically follows Married 1+2 in the TRUCULENT series fairly rapidly. i really learned to love this one. upon editing, this story became way more about gaslighting and headfucking someone good and hard into relying on you. special thank you to @heavqn for beta-ing and ridiculous amounts of support and ideas. a lot of our pre-editing convos made this make much more sense to me. + votes are in: next installment/current WIP will be the wedding.

CLICK FOR MORE! CAN BE READ AS SERIES OR STANDALONE

The hand against her shoulder shook her for a moment, then much faster. The shaking lasted seconds or even minutes before [Y/N] pried her eyes open. Everything in the bedroom looked too real, too clear. Coriolanus stood above her. His hand had been doing the shaking. He looked like he had just returned from a run due to his clothes and sweat-stained hair. His hair had grown back more beautifully than before. [Y/N] remembered seeing him when she saw him in the stacks of Philosophy books at the library right after he had returned from Twelve. It was jarring. She had always fancied him a pretty boy even if she loathed him throughout their childhood. He was much different upon his return.

Coriolanus pulled himself up out of the comfort of their bed almost every morning, far too early, to go for a run. [Y/N] didn’t know how she would endure a lifetime of his too chipper morning behavior once they were married. Coming down after a night on morphling was hard and still, she did it over and over again. Coriolanus knew he couldn’t stand in the way of a little fun, but he wouldn’t allow it in their home, so [Y/N] had become involved in using it socially when it was available to her.

“Great. You look like a bum.” Coriolanus said, noting the dark and sunken crescents under her eyes.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning. You look like a bum.”

“I’m not a bum.” [Y/N] replied tiredly. She rubbed her eyes.

Last night, [Y/N] had gone out dancing with some of her friends. It was not a bachelorette party in so many words, but it filled the same purpose. It was also a stretch to call the people she went out with friends in so many words, but they filled the same purpose. [Y/N] hadn’t felt that she had people other than Coriolanus for sometime now. She had gotten very drunk and very high the night before, resulting in frustration from Coriolanus when she returned home. He always waited up by the front door when she was gone so long. Coriolanus did not like it when she wasn’t home with him. She would make it up to him somehow— she always did.

“Come on, up with you.” Coriolanus commanded. He sat on the edge of the bed and pushed her up to a sitting position. His voice was harsh, but his touch was soft. [Y/N] adored Coriolanus’ careful, yet guiding touches. Unless his dick was in her, he only touched her with care like she was a porcelain figurine.

“Why all the rush?” [Y/N] yawned.

“You don’t remember?” Coriolanus sighed. He was upset in that pompous way of his. He rubbed his creased forehead. “Seriously, [Y/N]. I ask so little of you and you can’t even behave well enough to remember that we have an interview in…” he checked his watch. “Three hours.” Coriolanus said. It was false that he asked so little of [Y/N]. Sometimes, he asked too much.

An hour exclusive on Lucky Flickerman’s daytime chatter joint. Shit. That woke [Y/N] up. “That’s today!” She exclaimed. That was the only caffeine she needed to wake her up. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Coryo. I didn’t think—“

“No. No Coryo. No, you didn’t think,” Coriolanus said. He needn’t elaborate. “Shower. We’ve got to beat downtown traffic.”

[Y/N] swore Coriolanus scheduled things like this at the worst possible times just to make her look worse than him.

She pushed her shaky legs off the bed. As soon as she stood, [Y/N] felt like she was going to fall. Perceptively, Coriolanus stood and placed his ever-vigilant hand on her lower back to steady her. “You’re a mess.” He said flatly. [Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus felt damp from his run. It crossed her mind that Coriolanus drank bitter coffee, did his work on time, smoked very little and went on a run daily. [Y/N] regularly got too high to see straight and cried when she didn’t get her way. Some pair they were.

“‘M not.” she protested messily. She didn’t want to admit that Coriolanus was right.

Coriolanus huffed indignantly, but did not reply otherwise. He walked her to the bathroom like marching a child to the naughty step. [Y/N] was set down on the low counter-top. “I’m concerned you’re going to slip and give yourself a black-eye,” Coriolanus said. “I don’t want people to think I hurt you.” He pulled his track jacket off and dropped it on the floor and reached over to take her short magenta teddy off. She felt desperately bare in front of Coriolanus as she was striped mechanically like a child’s doll. The teddy she wore was one of her favorites, with the delicate lace on the bust. She appreciated that Coriolanus was equally as delicate as the lace when handling it. He must have remembered how much [Y/N] liked it. Coriolanus remembered everything.

[Y/N] was simply impressed she had gotten herself into pajamas after last night at all.

“You’re going to ruin yourself if you keep doing this, you know.” Coriolanus said, starting the shower water.

“So you keep telling me,” [Y/N] shivered due to her bareness against the bathroom tile. “I’m sorry.”

Coriolanus deflected with a shake of his head. He turned to her. Coriolanus was obviously thinking about speaking as the water heated up. Hot water whenever desired was Coriolanus’ number one favorite thing about rebuilding the Snow fortune. That’s why he took his showers too hot; to prove that he could. The thought gave him the confidence to speak. “Do I make you feel so ill that you have to run around and treat yourself like this? Did I do something?” The insecurity of that question made [Y/N] raise an eyebrow. Sometimes when she looked at Coriolanus and realized he was still a boy in many regards. Twenty-three wasn’t very old at all. His frontal lobe wasn’t even finished developing. His primary desire was to be enough for himself, for her, and for everyone else too. [Y/N] feared that he worried he hadn’t figured that out yet. The girl was far from figuring that out herself as well. She rarely saw vulnerability slip through the cracks in the finished marble exterior that built Coriolanus Snow. But who knew if what he said was a true feeling of his or not.

“No,” [Y/N] said. She looked down at her manicured toes. “I did this before we were, y’know… You’ve seen me at house parties since the Academy. You know it’s not you.”

“It has to stop,” Coriolanus started, dashing that fear from his mind. [Y/N] permitting a discussion without blocking him out unpowered him to share his concerns. “It worries me when you’re out late with who knows who. With so many people seeing you. It’s not just part of an act, it’s bad for you.” He said, but what he meant to say was it’s bad for me.

“I knew you had jealousy problems, Coriolanus, but being worried you can’t personally compete with your girl’s partying habits is… hilarious.” [Y/N] attempted a joke. She saw the vein in Coriolanus’ neck throb. His eyes got cold when his vulnerability, no matter how shallow, was met with rejection.

“Get in the shower.”

[Y/N] cast her eyes down, took off her panties and did what she was told.

“It’s so hot!” She all but screamed.

[Y/N] let the water scald her skin. She didn’t want to complain at his trying to help her. “You’ll deal with it,” Coriolanus said, sliding the shower door shut behind the both of them. [Y/N] hadn’t even noticed him undressing, but here they were. They had never been in the shower together before. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the circumstances were. “For the record, I don’t have a ‘jealousy problem.’” He said after a moment of allowing [Y/N] hair to get damp enough to shampoo.

“Really?” [Y/N] bit back, reaching clumsily for her shampoo bottle with slippery fingers.

“Really. Jealousy isn’t a problem when you understand what’s rightfully yours,” Coriolanus said. Normally, she blocked Coriolanus out when he spoke like that. Maybe it was physical proximity or toxic prolonged exposure to Coriolanus, but that made her blush red in the face. Ignoring it, [Y/N]’s fingers closed around her pink and brown shampoo bottle, but Coriolanus snatched it out of her fingers effortlessly. “Let me. I want to be sure it gets done,” He muttered with a passive aggressive edge. That attitude seemed like a put-on to [Y/N]. She wondered if he wanted an excuse to be close to her. She made those up sometimes to be close to him. Maybe she was just flattering herself. Coriolanus squeezed some shampoo into his palm and set the bottle down on the shower ledge. “Who were you out with anyway?”

“Um… Some of the girls. Lysistrata. Oh, Clem. Some others.” [Y/N] braced a hand against the damp wall to steady her feet on the slippery ground.

“Clemensia?” Coriolanus asked, sliding his fingers into her hair, careful as ever. It felt newly intimate in a way that Coriolanus typically avoided with her.

“Who else?”

“I see. You know she’s—“

“I know you don’t like her.” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus was silent.

“I don’t like when you go out without me. I just worry.” He finally said.

“I’m sure you do.”

It was silent between them. Coriolanus worked the shampoo into her hair easily. A man known for his rough intensity being gentle with anything was a surprise to her.

“Did you see anyone else?” He asked nonchalantly.

[Y/N] sighed. Even casual conversation turned to interrogation. She wasn’t sure if he meant it, or if it was all he knew how to do. “Do you mean… Was I photographed behaving in some unsightly way? I dunno. I probably was. I wasn’t unfaithful, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Stop.” Coriolanus said, leaving no room for further argument.

It was quiet again. “Thank you for washing my hair. That’s, uh, it’s very kind.”

“Don’t mention it.” He replied, coaxing [Y/N] back under the water to rinse out the suds. His long fingers combed back through her hair over and over again. [Y/N], soapy, turned around and stared at Coriolanus’ wet face and hair. Even when appearing like a drowned animal, his imposing figure was statuesque.

[Y/N] leaned up and kissed him quickly. “I’m sorry I forgot about the interview,” she whispered, barely louder than the shower water. She apologized more than he did, but he responded well to knowing someone other than him was in the wrong. “Do I really look like shit?”

Coriolanus sighed, more familiarly this time. He loved when she needed him. He would insult her all day long if it meant he got to give her more validation later on. “No,” he slipped a hand under her breast and gave it a squeeze, his thumb danced across her nipple. “No, you don’t,” His other hand wormed its way across her cheek to brush away that disgusting makeup residue from the night prior. “You just needed a little polish. Let’s finish up. Go get dressed. Coffee’s on in the kitchen.”

“You poison it?”

Coriolanus frowned exasperatedly. He reached the hand cupping her breast around to her ass and gave it a hard, wet smack. “You bitch.” He smirked.

Sins almost all forgiven.

—

Every time [Y/N] was in a car with Coriolanus, it felt like a coaching session. Hand on her thigh with, don’t say this, say that instead, let me speak first, don’t embarrass me.

No point in elaborating on the most familiar part of their normal day-to-day since it really was habit at this point. [Y/N] always ached to snap back at him after these times. One day, don’t embarrass me was going to hit so hard that she did.

When they got out of the car a few blocks from their destination, [Y/N] had dawned her bright purple sunglasses. Coriolanus hated them and had tried on multiple occasions to buy her new ones to no avail. The daylight was still too bright for her tired eyes, so they were going to be worn on the walk to Capitol News.

After half a block (and so close to a news building), they were swamped by people clicking away at them. It made the bright sun burn hotter. Coriolanus’ white blonde hair and intimidating stature was much too easy to pick out in a crowd for their sunglasses and long jackets to disguise much.

Right now, besides Games news, they were the hottest topic of discussion in the Capitol. Their engagement party had been wild, [Y/N] was typically wild, and Coriolanus was characteristically unwild. It made for good TV.

Coriolanus leaned in to whisper something. [Y/N] couldn’t hear it. All she could do was smile and tell any reporters with microphones ‘no thank you,’ or ‘you’ll have to watch Lucky’s to answer for that.’ Coriolanus merely smiled a smile that was not his smile and said ‘not now folks, we’ll be late,’ or ‘don’t worry about them, Darling.’

[Y/N] was leashed by Coriolanus’ hand on the back of her neck as he guided her through crowds. He had two dressbags of clothes for the show tossed effortlessly over his shoulder as they walked. They were a newsroom’s wetdream. She was exuberant and he was magnetic. And they were both trouble. Power, wealth, youth, stability and status. Everyone liked to watch them at their best and loved to watch them at their worst.

“How do you put up with it, Mr. Snow!” A bland-looking man with a microphone called.

“How was the party last night, [Y/N]!” Called another. They always called [Y/N] by her first name because, frankly, she was fairly certain they didn’t know her maiden name and technically she wasn’t Mrs. Snow yet either. Coriolanus’ grip on her tightened at the question.

She smirked at how the power of her own name took away power from her family and their name; the thing they desperately wanted a morsel of.

Considering a future where she inevitably became Mrs. Snow, she thought about how her lifetime of indiscretions would be tied to Coriolanus forever. She smirked wider at their folie a deux.

[Y/N] felt like a doll again, being pushed by Coriolanus like that. She didn’t hate it entirely, though. She liked it when he manhandled her a little. It helped with all the noise that surrounded them these days to be able to turn her brain off and let Coriolanus handle it for her. She would never admit it, but being a good doll for Coriolanus for the foreseeable future didn’t seem too bad. Her stomach churned wicked for thinking that. It made her antsy to not have an exciting retort in front of reporters. [Y/N] usually did, but her head ached too much this morning. Instead, she looked helplessly up at Coriolanus. He glanced down at her, an eyebrow raised. “Overwhelmed?” He asked quietly, but not too quietly. [Y/N] nodded. “Don’t worry, my dear. We’re almost there.” Coriolanus said like a good husband should. [Y/N] thought about how he was rarely such a good husband when other people weren’t looking. Then why had he seemed to care so much that morning? She must’ve been mistaken about one part or the other.

[Y/N] leaned up and kissed him for in part for his kindness. The crowd aww’d. Kisses were a good way to distract a man. Any man, receiving or watching. Coriolanus’ hand slipped down from her neck to the back of her waist. Her fingers went into the soft hair at the bottom of his neck. She felt him inhale sharply. She knew he hated that. “What was that for?” Coriolanus asked when he pulled away, referring to the kiss.

“Wanted to make sure you were real. None of this feels real.” [Y/N] laughed dizzily. It was true, but she felt stupid saying it. She had spent a lot of time feeling stupid recently and this morning was no exception. The hangover and the whirlwind of voices and flashes had emptied her brain completely. Coriolanus leaned in to whisper in her ear again. This time she caught what he said:

“Stop this. We’ve ten steps until we’re in the building. I’ve told you not to touch my hair.”

He pulled away from her and put on his brilliant, effortless smirk that rich boys his age always had. Coriolanus yanked [Y/N] the remaining distance into the news building.

As soon as they entered, they were whisked away to dress for that afternoon’s broadcast. [Y/N] was dropped into a beautician’s chair to make her face look like someone else’s. She groaned at the duty she held.

Makeup brushes and blowdryers and curling irons and spray bottles of who knows what clouded [Y/N] of vision.

She wished Coriolanus was in her immediate vicinity so she could glance over him and laugh cruelly about how stupid all this is. He was always good for a laugh at the expense of things like this.

“Honey, who does your hair on the regular? I suggest you switch to someone else.” The obscene-looking woman pulling her hair back asked.

[Y/N] laughed, but said nothing. [Y/N] wanted to strangle her.

Not long after that, [Y/N] was pulled up to her feet and forced into a dress that she at least knew she liked. Tight around the waist and thighs, capping off at the knees. It was higher necked, but was so tight that it left little to the imagination. She knew Coriolanus would get frustrated with a fluffy dress, so she picked one that would make his eyes bug out instead. It was off-white with a delicate floral pattern outlined in a brighter white.

[Y/N] looked great. She knew this as she admired the contrasting bulk of the shoulders and flowing sleeves with the clinging exposure of her curves everywhere else. She didn’t exactly look like herself, though. Especially with her hair and makeup done so precisely. She wasn’t precise, she was messy. Precise didn’t suit her.

[Y/N] wondered if the her that stared back in the full-body mirror was the real her now. Messy her was gone. A Capitol wife remained. A doll.

She slid her black ankle-breaking heels on and shook the thought away as she entered the sound stage.

[Y/N] always forgot how noble Coriolanus was capable of looking, considering he was distinctly the opposite. She stared at him. Mauve coat, black trousers, crisp white undershirt, white tie, white rose. Clearly, he had let someone touch his hair. Even if it was a stylist.

Coriolanus gestured for her to walk over to where he stood and Lucky sat. It was difficult to walk with the dress clinging around her knees and the height of her heels. Her short, intentional steps felt demeaning. Most things in her life felt vaguely demeaning, but she kept turning a purposeful blind eye. The stage lights were too bright. Coriolanus’ teeth were too white for the amount of throats he’d ripped out.

Capitol magic.

“Hello Darling. You look lovely.” Coriolanus said as she approached. He took his hand in her and kissed it. Coriolanus’ eyes never looked up at hers because they were too busy looking at how her body fit the dress.

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied neutrally. “Hi Lucky. Green’s really your color.” [Y/N] lied. Lucky’s green, wintery tux was vile and everyone with eyes and a modicum of taste would see that.

Coriolanus coughed into his shoulder to cover a scoff. He wrapped a strong arm around [Y/N]’s waist.

“Thank you, [Y/N]! Good to see you, pleasantries, pleasantries, yada yada. Shall I call you [Y/N]…? Mrs. Snow… The network doesn’t really know what the hell to do with you.” Lucky beamed from his chair.

“Oh, uh… I’m not really Mrs. Snow yet. It’s not necessary. My first name will do. I’m not picky, though.”

She felt Coriolanus deflate a little beside her as he dropped her waist and folded himself into the gaudy patterned armchair the network provided. [Y/N] felt a sting of guilt. Maybe she should have let him carry on with the Mrs. Snow thing. Coriolanus would have to get over it. “Sure thing, hon. Anyway, go ahead. Take your seat. Some of these questions are tacky, tacky, tacky, but do your best and humor us. Panem wants to know the real you.” Lucky beamed.

“I’m sure they do.” They don’t. And they won’t.

“You kids really are… Wow, lovely to share the stage with. You make me look old and sad comparatively, damn,” Lucky joked. “It’s been a good while since I’ve had the pleasure of sitting alongside Coriolanus like this. You were a child then. Crazy, the passage of time.” He continued.

“Lucky, it’s always an honor.” Coriolanus said. Coriolanus hated Lucky. [Y/N] marveled at his ability to lie so gracefully.

A group of production folks stepped out of the shadows to give them bottled water and let them know the show was about to begin. The studio audience poured in through side doors.

[Y/N] quickly leaned over to Coriolanus. “I thought this was a pre-tape.” She whispered frantically.

“You didn’t remember this interview existed three hours ago. You’ll deal with it.” He replied, with a note of his own panic he was unable to squash.

Fifteen minutes of seating and then a live camera inches away from [Y/N]’s face. “Well, we really thank you for having us on your show, Lucky.” She smiled. The audience analyzed them like vultures. This was the most wicked game designed for them, but Coriolanus didn’t lose. [Y/N] would have to be perfect.

“Of course! Always a pleasure, [Y/N]. Let’s get to some of these questions on my handy little list of questions, huh?” A few shallow questions about what designers they were wearing, what their morning routine was like to look so gorgeous, Coriolanus leaning over to hold [Y/N]’s hand across their chairs (the audience sighed lovingly). Coriolanus curls, stubborn as he was, fell out of the hold of the hairspray like they always did. She smirked and reached up with her left hand to push them out of his eyes. Oh, he hated that. [Y/N] could tell. Lovely.

“Oh, look at that ring,” Lucky said. “The ring we’ve all been talking about. Let’s get a closeup on that rock,” the camera pushed in to [Y/N]’s hand obediently. A large ruby mounted on a white gold band. She had been assured it was real. [Y/N]’s other jewelry, silver, sat patina-ing in a wooden box because of it.“Beautiful. Must’ve cost you a pretty penny, Coriolanus.”

“Yes, Coryo, how much did it cost?” [Y/N] asked. Coriolanus shifted in his seat. Money was not a thing Coriolanus discussed.

“A bit.” He replied stiffly. [Y/N] grinned.

“Uh, you both are mighty famous for that ring. I suppose it’s time to discuss that crazy engagement party. I was there to witness the whole thing firsthand, of course.”

The Snows-to-be nodded.

“These questions can get uncomfortable, but I’m sure you’ll answer all the same. So, your relationship seems… Alarmingly happy today for two people debating splitting over infidelity at the celebration of their engagement.”

“Please, we only debate it when I’m drunk, Lucky.” [Y/N] said much to the audiences joy. They laughed heartily.

“Which is too often, if you want my opinion.” Another laugh from the audience for Coriolanus, never one for being outdone. She knew, in his mind, she deserved that.

“Rehabilitation is always an opinion.” Lucky joked darkly, not knowing what to say.

“Being wild is fun, though, isn’t it? I’m not from privilege and grace as much as my fiancé. He’s always been elegant. I’m learning; I have a good teacher. But you only get your youth once. You would know, I’m sure, Lucky. When someone loves you as much as Coriolanus loves me… He always forgives my mistakes. He’s too good me. He’s patient.” [Y/N] said. He was patient, but it came out in the way that he played the long game. His impulses along the way were markedly less patient. Coriolanus squeezed her hand tightly as a warning.

Lucky smiled bitterly. “Well, I’m sure he’ll learn to keep you on a shorter leash eventually. Actually, I hear you were out last night as well.”

Fuck.

“Yes, bachelorette party, you see.”

“The studio’s telling me,” Lucky clutched his earpiece. “They have some photos from your last wild night as an unwed woman.”

“Oh. Is that so…? Haha,” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus squeeze her hand until her own knuckles were white. Neither one of them had a clue what they were about to throw up on that screen. Coriolanus inhaled shakily, but maintained neutrality. “Can’t be worse than the sides you saw of us a few months back at the—“

It was worse.

The dress was short, but Coriolanus had known that when she stopped into his office to tell him she was going out. He had responded with a “That? Really? Okay…” with quiet anger that the dress wasn’t being worn for him.

Then there was the dreaded miniature morphling vile empty between her fingers. It was obvious she was trying to talk with her friends under the flashing lights. They were all wearing similar fare. Six or seven drunk, high young women pictured together wasn’t that bad, even for some of the old school Capitol prudes.

None was more damning than the strange man’s hand planted firmly on [Y/N]’s ass. His smile was too wide. The [Y/N]’s in the picture’s grimace at the stranger over her shoulder was uncomfortable. It screamed DON’T-TOUCH-ME. She looked like she was telling him to stop, but her eyes were wide and her lips were pulled into a frown. The subtext implied by the woman in the photo was Coriolanus is going to kill me. She sighed. The crowd gasped. Coriolanus inhaled sharply.

[Y/N] had said her behavior the night before was inherently not unfaithful. Coriolanus didn’t feel the need to not believe her since she was the one who brought it up. The apples of Coriolanus cheeks grew red with rage. The stranger’s smile was too big. He knew he was touching Coriolanus Snow’s fiancée. He knew was taking advantage of a helpless girl and her friends. He knew he was defacing someone else’s property.

Coriolanus Snow was going to find this man and ruin his life.

[Y/N], humiliated, looked over at Coriolanus. She had a hazy memory of telling some guy to “knock it off” the night before. Truly, she did remember this, but of course, she hadn’t thought this would be a big deal. This was a part of her life she had had to deal with since she was a young woman. This man’s action was undesired, but not unexpected. Taking in the photo and the look on his fiancée’s face as she shook her head slowly at him was enough for Coriolanus to determine that this touch was unwanted. [Y/N] looked guilty, but she had little reason to be. He hated seeing that look on her face in a situation he didn’t create.

[Y/N]’s only crime was going out without Coriolanus. She knew he hated when she did that. If he had been there, he would’ve handled the situation there and then. She was never going out alone again. She needed him. Right now, he was going to be the man she needed.

“Take that off the screen.” Coriolanus said firmly to Lucky.

“Well, first, let’s have—“ Lucky tried.

“I don’t think you heard me. I said take it down,” Coriolanus continued. He turned to the cameras and those behind them. “Now.”

Coriolanus watched a young woman at a screen immediately buckle at his demand and begin scrambling to pull the image. The show’s graphic was returned to the monitor. “Thank you,” Coriolanus said in the woman’s direction. [Y/N] stared at the floor, beet-red. She was trying not to cry, but what would it matter if she did? Coriolanus knew too well the meaning of her tell-tale sniffle and avoidant eye contact. He turned back to Lucky. “I think that was extremely rude of you and your production group to put up an image, without consent, of my fiancée getting touched without consent. It’s apparent to me from looking at that photo that my fiancée did not welcome that touch. Would you agree?”

“Possibly, but since the engagement party—“

“I think you forget I trust [Y/N]. Are you the one marrying her?”

“… No. But hey, this is my show, kid. Let’s get back on track with—“

Coriolanus knew better than most people that what was said and done on live television was as good as forever. He would use that to his advantage. Nobody came for Coriolanus’ belongings and left with the hand that tried to snatch them.

“I’m not finished,” Coriolanus snapped. [Y/N] reached for Coriolanus’ hand again to signal that that’s enough, dear. He took it and looked over at her. He was angry; normal person righteous angry. Not manic, not cold. That was a new face. Coriolanus had so many pretend faces that clipped on and off. [Y/N] had previously thought she had seen them all. “Were you wanting that touch, Princess? Did you know him?” He asked [Y/N]. She shook her head with her eyes damp and downcast. “As I implied, you don’t know us. Don’t ever embarrass my fiancée like that,” or me, [Y/N] assumed his subtext as he spoke. “Whoever this moron in the picture is has another thing coming. What kind of self-respecting news network aims to humiliate guests for something they couldn’t help?” Coriolanus said. [Y/N]’s heart raced. He cared. Maybe it was for selfish reasons, but his support mattered. No one else was going to do it.

Sometimes he was absent, yes, but Coriolanus always came through when [Y/N] needed him. She was grateful that he wasn’t angry with her, even if that part came later in private. She was grateful for now that his way of easing his own pain eased hers too. She could get used to that. [Y/N] let out tears of temporary relief and reached for the box of tissues on the round table between guests and host.

Coriolanus stared Lucky down and settled himself further back in his seat with a sigh. “Next question?” The blonde man said.

—

The ride home was nearly silent. [Y/N] had started crying the second she sat down in the car. Coriolanus hadn’t say anything, but he kept his hand in hers the whole time. He didn’t even fight to let go when his palm got sweaty. [Y/N] pulled his hand close to her chest. She had done nothing wrong, yet she felt that everything was her fault. She had failed Coriolanus. This media wreck wasn’t just a game for photographers and journalists, this one embarrassed her genuinely. This one embarrassed Coriolanus and she was constantly told she was not supposed to do that. Don’t embarrass me rang against every corner in her brain.

The car stopped in front of their building. Coriolanus, as he always seemed to, opened her car door before the driver could get out. Coriolanus thanked the driver and put an arm around [Y/N] and led her up the stairs to their townhouse. The door closed behind them. Coriolanus locked the deadbolt with a heavy clunk. Safe from eyes that watched every failure with glee. They could be people again.

“I’m sorry, Coriolanus,” [Y/N] said, mascara down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know him. Really, I didn’t. I told you this morning. I—I didn’t know him.” She backed herself protectively towards the couch and away from Coriolanus in learned preemptive panic.

“I know,” Coriolanus said. “Nobody but me gets to touch you like that. I know you’re smart enough to understand that. I cannot fathom how another man thinks he can do that to you and get away with it.”

“That’s… That’s been happening my whole adult life, you can’t magically make that—“

“I don’t think you understand, Darling. I can. I don’t want to know that anyone has ever touched you like that. I swear on my mother’s grave. I will fucking murder them.” His winter blue eyes could vaporize a perpetrator on the spot.

“Coriolanus, that’s extreme.”

“Not to me. Not when you’re involved.”

“You can’t hurt people that looked at me funny. It’s hardly a crime.”

“Isn’t their some old line about not coveting another man’s wife?”

“…Yes. You have a future. You can’t interrupt your opportunities because some shithead—“

“It won’t interrupt anything. Wouldn’t it make you feel better to know that a creep like that was off the streets?”

“…Yes.”

“Well, then we agree. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

[Y/N] blushed and looked down. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t be. I’m not angry with you about this. I know I can trust you. I do. You know I do. I don’t worry about that. I cannot trust other people around you, especially when you use that filthy drug,” Coriolanus said. He extend a hand to [Y/N] as he approached like he would approaching a scared animal. That hand went slowly to [Y/N]’s waist. Coriolanus pulled her in closer so they were chest to chest. “You are not going out without me to some party like that ever again. Disrespecting you like that means disrespecting me, too. I won’t stand for either.”

“I—“

Coriolanus was going to get what he wanted all along: [Y/N] alone with him always. How could she need anyone else? Everyone out there wanted to hurt her, touch her, make her feel bad about herself. Not Coriolanus. Perhaps, he should be thanking that man instead of cutting his fingers off one at a time. “No. Let me keep you safe. That’s all this is. I want you safe. I’m to be your husband. That’s my job. Won’t you let me do my job, [Y/N]?” He said too calmly. His blue eyes stared deep into hers. Coriolanus had a fantastic talent for telling someone something and letting them think it was a question; letting them think it was their idea— letting them they had a choice.

He was right. He did make her feel safe. Holding on to her like this made her melt. In Coriolanus’ arms, [Y/N] felt secure. He was moody, but Coriolanus was frustratingly reliable. He wanted to make himself the bedrock of [Y/N]’s life. She had no choice but to allow him that. [Y/N] breathed out and he felt her breath fan out across his face. “Let me take care of you. I won’t let that happen to you anymore. I promise.” Coriolanus muttered.

He tipped his mouth slowly into her neck and hungrily sucked at the place below her ear. A gasp caught in [Y/N]’s throat at the surprise sensation. Her knees wobbled and her dress and shoes didn’t make it any better. She put her arms around his neck for support. “Coriolanus…” she whispered. Coriolanus loved the vibration in her throat beneath his lips.

Helplessly, [Y/N] tipped her head back to give her fiancé what he wanted. Coriolanus had sucked a few hickeys on her neck and chest before, sure. Never before had he bitten her. This time, he bit her hard enough to bruise and scab. It was harder to cover an indent with makeup than a simple bruise. If she were to go out even to the grocery store, other men had to understand that [Y/N] was off the market. If an engagement ring wouldn’t do it, this would. Coriolanus bit her with such force that the tears started to well again.

The position they were in felt like a dance. His hands on her waist, hers on his neck, their bodies flush together. [Y/N] fell deeper into the black hole of Coriolanus Snow. This must have been on purpose. He knew she loved to dance with him and made it a weapon. Damn him. She would always say yes to a dance, wouldn’t she? Wasn’t this whole relationship just a fucked up dance?

The man reached one hand down and pulled up [Y/N]’s dress as much as he could get it up and tore it the rest of the way. [Y/N] could swear she had been torn out of a third of her clothing recently. Coriolanus pushed her panties to the side and pushed his fingers into her. It would have hurt if she hadn’t been so wet to begin with. She bobbled on her heels. Once Coriolanus has pumped himself fingertip to hand in and out of her a handful of times, [Y/N] was holding herself up entirely by his neck and shoulders and the fingers that impaled her tenderly. Coriolanus had complete control over the situation. The only thing left for her to do was moan and she didn’t hold back.

Coriolanus was unrelenting. He marked a disturbing black and blue column on her throat the way he liked. Slowly, the pair rocked back and forth from foot to foot, as Coriolanus nipped, fucked and sucked. A fucked-up slow dance to the song of the traffic on the other side of the window.

MORE FROM THE TRUCULENT SERIES

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst @spencereidbasis @a-mellifluous-life @daenerysqueenofhearts @heavqn @dangelnleif @lapisthelovely @wotcherpeak @24kmar

apologies as always for the little tags that couldn’t.

[curly-my-beloved]

Krampus Jimmy NSFW headcanons

CW: non-con. monsterfucking. somnophilia. technically cannibalism (mentioned). jimmy mouthwashing starterpack.

In a world where Curly might be Santa, Anya might be Mrs. Clause, Daisuke might be an elf and Swansea might be Rudolph... Jimmy Zare is the Krampus himself.

And while the whole scaring and maybe even kidnapping naughty children is fun (he loved scaring the vulnerable ones), there was another part of his role that he loved. One that not many people knew about.

One could consider it... payment. For his hard work. A reward, even.

Sometimes, he doesn't catch all the naughty children. It happens. He doesn't think much of it.

The kids usually end up behaving, anyway. Just seeing him is scary enough and leaves most of the little escapees traumatized for years.

And trauma is a funny little thing. Because some people cope with it by... turning it into a kink, basically. Like your good self.

Jimmy doesn't even remember you. He never bothers remembering the snivelling little faces, little fists or feet that try to fight against him. He just moves on.

But what is the reward I mentioned? Well, every once in a while, if he's done with his work early, he can use the free time to... check up on the ones who escaped. Of course, that only happens every few decades, but still.

And while he doesn't remember most of the little shits that escape him, every few years there's always one juvenile he remembers and hates with a passion.

He doesn't really think about them until one of those years he gets some free time. And you happened to be one of them, pulling shit that even Kevin from Home Alone would be proud of.

But now, two decades later, he gets to have his revenge.

You've grown, changed. He'll give you that. But deep down, he could feel that you were still the little shit you were all those years ago.

And even if not, you certainly had some fascinating interests. Your trauma made you obsessed with him, in a rather... sexual manner.

Did you think he wouldn't find out about your little Tumblr blog? And all the cryptid porn you wrote on it? Especially the Krampus porn? You're adorable.

Of course he would visit you!

Not only does he get his payback, but you also get your dream to come true! You get to fuck The Krampus!

Or rather, he gets to fuck you.

Breaking into your apartment is very easy. So is finding your bedroom. Your bed. You.

He doesn't bother waiting or even waking you up. If the clicking of hooves or the ringing bells on his horns didn't wake you, that's on you.

Hell, you didn't even wake up when he ripped your shirt and underwear off. It almost made him... curious...

He hummed, moving his almost goat-like face to your neck, sniffling carefully before his long, split tongue took a long, wet lick of your neck.

He reveled in the way you flinched, your breath shaking. He grinned, exposing all the sharp teeth in his mouth, his eyes glowing in the dark with all his sinister ideas and plans letting loose in his head.

He lets his sharp claws explore your body, fangs just barely scraping the sensitive skin that protected your fragile throat. A small bite wouldn't hurt, right?

He chuckles, slowly sinking his teeth into your sensitive flesh. And the moment he heard you gasp as you awoke, he gripped your thighs, your skin breaking from the sharp claws as he forced himself inside you in one firm thrust.

He ignored your pained and shocked scream, glancing down at the unnatural looking bulge that was now on your stomach.

He leaned in close, far too close, to your face, exposing his now bloody teeth in what could be either a grin or a snarl.

"Remember me?"

[theotherbuckley]

a thousand ways to call you mine BONUS CHAPTER

bucktommy | Chapter 3/3 | 1.6K/14.2K | Rated E

For @bucktommypositivityweek nicknames and terms of endearment 💜

Pet names +1 +1 husbands (read on ao3)

Wrapped up in the love of his life’s arms is exactly where Tommy wants to be forever.

He didn’t really think this would ever be a real possibility for him.

Tommy had grown up with a dad who made it clear that he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than a perfectly masculine, woman-loving man. And so that’s what he became.

He pushed down any other feelings he had, squashed them deep down into the depths of his mind until he was sure they couldn't escape.

Every time he’d find a guy attractive, he’d tell himself it was their feminine features that drew him in. It didn’t matter that half the time, they were massive, built like a Greek god, men. He didn’t let himself think about it any more than that. Maybe he was just jealous of them. He repeated that like an oath.

He joined the army because his dad wanted him to — and Tommy wanted nothing more than to make him proud. He did well in the army, he followed orders like a good little soldier. He learnt to fly helicopters, something that would become a place of solace.

He always felt in control as a pilot. The one place where he could be himself without any expectation. Where it wasn’t others' rules that dictated his actions. Just him, in the air, a place where he could breathe.

When he became a firefighter, he found a crew that felt so much like his family at home. He understood how to behave there, he didn’t mess up like he had done so many times with his dad. He knew the unwritten rules. He played his part no matter how many times that little voice inside him told him he was a liar, a hypocrite.

It wasn’t until he was back in his element, flying aircrafts with people who respected each other, that he finally managed to unlearn every piece of hatred that had been engrained so deeply inside of him since he was old enough to understand what it meant.

And then he met Evan. Evan wasn’t his first boyfriend, but that didn’t matter. He was everything in the end.

Evan introduced himself, stumbling over his own name in a way that Tommy found far too cute for the impending emergency they had at hand. He didn’t dwell on it at the time, but he was comfortable enough with himself to be able to look and appreciate the man without hating the thoughts that swirled around his mind like he once had.

What he saw was a gorgeous man who said the most outlandish but well-meant things. Someone who loved so strongly. Someone brave and kind, who blushed so brightly at any compliment. 

He never anticipated that after that, he would end up here — holding that beautiful man in his arms, able to call him his. 

Evan fits in his arms like he was made for them. Okay, maybe it takes a lot of shuffling around for a massive firefighter and pilot to sit comfortably together. It didn’t matter, though, it always felt so right. 

They’re sitting in a hotel bed, lazily drawing lines on each other’s skin with their fingers, smiling up at each other every time the light catches on the silver bands adorned on their ring fingers.

“I love you,” Evan whispers, as though speaking any louder would break the precious bubble they’ve created for themselves.

“I love you, too, husband,” Tommy replies, shooting Evan his signature smile, his eyes scrunching up in the corners. Evan raises his hand to Tommy’s face, fingers trailing the soft lines etched there.

continue reading or read on ao3

“I love you,” Evan says again, he can’t seem to stop saying it, hasn’t been able to stop since the ceremony. Tommy isn’t complaining. He feels it, too. He feels the way his heart wants to burst from his chest because of the magnitude of love contained inside. The way he needs to repeat his love for his husband over and over again just to keep his heart in check.

Tommy presses a gentle kiss to Evan’s curls, a move that always has Evan melting into his hold. “I love you, too,” he says back, just because he can.

“I never imagined having a husband,” Evan says, staring at the ring on his finger like it contains all the secrets in the world. 

“Neither did I,” Tommy admits. “But I’m so happy I got to have one. Got to have you.”

Evan shuffles even closer to his body if that’s even possible with the way they’re pressed up against each other, but he tries anyway — tries to merge their atoms together until there’s no telling where one ends and the other begins. 

He kisses right above Tommy’s peck before staring back up at him, smiling lazily, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

Tommy doesn’t think he’ll ever get over this look. His husband’s curls, free and slightly dishevelled, perfect for running his fingers through. He’ll never get over his husband’s rosy red cheeks and bright eyes filled with awe and love. The blooming love bites adorning his smooth skin, evidence of their well-spent honeymoon. The silver ring, engraved on the inside with a simple yours because that’s what they are — inexplicably each others. Each others to love and to cherish. For as long as they each shall live.

“What are you thinking about?” Evan asks, his fingers running down the groves of his chest.

“You,” Tommy says. Always you.

Evan shoots him his award-winning smile, the one that makes his eyes shine. Love so clearly evident within the blue pools of his irises.

“Yeah?” Evan asks.

“Yeah, baby. Just thinking how lucky I am to call you mine.”

“Mmm, yours,” Evan agrees, rolling himself fully onto Tommy's body as he kisses down his neck. Sucking every inch of skin available like he’s starved for it. 

Tommy lets him take his fill, wrapping his arms around Evan’s back and holding him close so that not even an inch separates them. Tommy’s hips jerk when his husband bites at the sensitive region behind his ear. The movement makes Evan laugh. The soft chuckle filling the air with warmth and love. Tommy loves that sound. He wishes he could bottle it up and store it for later to listen to whenever he needs it.

He doesn’t have to, though, because Evan’s not going anywhere.

“Come here,” Tommy says as if they’re not practically glued together already. Evan, always on the same wavelength, understands him anyway.

He lifts his head from the groove of his neck to hover in front of his face.

Their lips move to each other like magnets until they meet in a kiss. Tommy opens his mouth, lets Buck’s tongue explore inside like he hasn’t already spent many months mapping it out. 

Tommy grips Buck’s hips tighter, pulling him flush against himself until their groins meet, electricity rushing through his gut. Tommy swallows down the moan Evan lets out at the action, smiling into the kiss as he rolls them over until his husband is lying on his back.

Evan pulls back, panting, squirming on the bed as he seeks the delicious friction. Tommy gives him what he needs, rutting leisurely against him until they’re both groaning into each other's mouths. 

They’re barely kissing anymore, but neither is complaining, content to trade breaths like they need it to live. Tommy thinks that maybe he does.

Tommy licks his palm, too lazy to reach for the lube sitting on the bedside table. He reaches down to grasp both of them in his hands, jerking them slowly, like they have all the time in the world. They do, of course. Right now, there’s nobody but them; they’re just two men trying their damnedest to become one.

Evan whimpers when Tommy’s thumb brushes over his slit, collecting the precome gathered there, his hips bucking further into Tommy’s large hands.

It doesn’t take long for the both of them to get close. Tommy speeds up his movements, erratically jerking them to the finish line. Evan lifts his legs to wrap around Tommy’s back, desperately trying to press himself even closer. His fingers dig into Tommy’s back, no doubt leaving indents in the skin. Tommy’s not one to complain, he wants the world to know that he’s taken, married to someone he never dared to dream he could have.

“I love you, husband,” Tommy breathes between open-mouthed kisses.

“I love you, husband,” Evan repeats, like a prayer. 

That's all either needs to send them over the edge, come shooting onto their stomachs, marking each other as their own. Evan goes boneless, dropping his arms and melting into the mattress. Tommy feels much the same, dropping onto Evan’s chest, their come sticky between them, but neither cares too much at that moment.

Evan lets out an “oomph” as Tommy rests his weight on him, but he doesn’t tell him to move, craving the feel of his partner in every way he can have him. They stay like that for a while, neither in a rush to move. 

“What was the point of me coming up with pet names when husband was a possibility all along?” Evan says after a moment.

Tommy can’t contain his laughter, tucking his head into his husband’s neck as he shakes with the force of his laugh. 

“I don’t know, husband,” Tommy says with a wink. “But it was a lot of fun.”

“Mmm, it really was, husband.”

[hiskillingjar]

hello! what kind of reactions do you think the btd characters might have to a normally very serious and aloof mc suddenly breaking down and becoming clingy and needy? btw i loooooooove the way you characterize strade 💗💗💗💗💗

thank you! i love writing him so i'm glad others love it too :3

ren 🦊

i, ah- 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 !!!!!!!!

of course ren would love it. of course he would!

he was so nervous about you being so aloof and distant the first couple of weeks, after all...maybe he wondered if all of this was even worth it :(

but the second you started acting clingy and needy around him, he would go fucking INSANE he would be so so happy

granted he might be a little "🤨" at first, wondering if you were trying to manipulate him. so he'd for sure give it a day or two just to be sure

maybe he'd expect you to prove just how much you need him...maybe a couple of nights in the basement by yourself would do you good, anyway...

but then he wouldn't be able to stop himself from getting just as clingy and needy with you too, so you're just a couple of codependent loved up sweethearts aw!

i'm sure nothing bad will happen there!

law 🥀

i mean law kind of is the aloof and distant one so...they would probably think the attitude change is a little strange

like, why are you behaving this way now? you've been fine for days, you shouldn't be behaving like this...i have to go to work, let go of me...settle down...

they'd take a couple of days to get used to it, for sure, and might even be a little annoyed and short with you in the meantime

but slowly...slowly...

they'd like the way you cling so tightly to them when you slept, and how much you'd grown accustomed to sitting around in their flat all day while they were out without a word of complaint

you get so happy and excited when they come home too...it's a lot easier to read your emotions when you're like this and they can't deny it's kind of nice to have someone so happy to come home to

and the fact that you're so needy, you let them get away with a lot more...gone for days at a time, that's okay, just come home to me, please! leaving behind a couple of bruises when you have sex, that's okay, you didn't mean it!

maybe they'd want to make you even needier...dependent, almost

strade 🔨

girl. come on.

why are you giving this man any degree of leverage over you

you just KNOW he is going to do the worst possible thing with this

he'd expect you to prove just how needy you really are, and how much you really wanted him. i mean, you go from being aloof and bitchy to totally desperate in an instant, how could he NOT want some kind of proof that it's genuine?

and then he'd find it absolutely hilarious.

you're still so needy after everything i do to you, really? haha, how cute! i really thought you'd be smarter than that <3

he'd definitely soak in it for a little while and just. totally let his ego swim in how much you need him

it's hard for a guy to resist someone being dependent on them...or at least that's what he tells himself

he would then start to use it against you, just to see you get all worked up and upset...and easier to play with

you let him get away with so much, after all, how far can he push that until you're doing everything you can to get away from him?

and he loves pushing you as hard as he can, after all

he's never been that good at resisting you...

[panchulien]

nobody asked but here's Part 2 of Mafia Boss Nikolai / Hitman Price. Part 1.

Nikolai was currently pinned to the ground by a very strong Englishman. One that he's grown accustomed to for a few weeks now. Noticing his presence in every room, the little hints he leaves behind of his visits to Nik's quarters. Nikolai didn't feel threatened by it, even now, with a knife pressed to his throat.

"Go on, then. Do your job." Nikolai smiled under him. They came close a few other times but the hitman was unlucky. Nikolai always found an escape in this little cat and mouse game they had going on.

Nikolai was also aware of the effect he had on the other man. His grin grew wider, so it wasn't a fruitless effort after all. Judging by the wide blown eyes of the man on top of him and his quickened breathing. Did he hit a nerve?

Price was unfocused, staring at Nikolai's face so close to him, his words echoing in his head. This was finally it. He came here to finish the job and collect his prize. After all that running around, Nikolai was finally under him, defenseless.

But it felt wrong. Something was off. Why was he grinning? Price brought the knife closer to his throat, nudging the soft skin under his hands. He was aware of the movement on his lower body but decided to ignore it. Nikolai was playing with him. Mocking him. Price hated it. Hated how his brain became cloudy just because the man grinded against him once. Goddamn him for being so gorgeous. Fuck.

Price snapped out of it by the sounds of footsteps rapidly approaching. It had to be Nikolai's men. That'd explain why Nikolai was so relaxed. Price grit his teeth before drawing himself back, cursing under his breath. "Damn it."

Nikolai had that shit eating grin on his face still, not even bothering to get up from the floor, he looked up to him. "Until next time, then, John."

Price froze on the spot. Hearing his real name from the man he was supposed to kill sent a shiver down his spine. Nope. This job was fucked from the beginning. It shouldn't have come this far. Price dreaded the implications of it, the inevitable stain on his record. This man was too much for him.

He had to move before he could think too much about it. Until next time it is, he thought to himself.

**

It's been a few weeks after that occurrence, Price laying low for a while to gather his information (and his head) together. He had to take a step back. Nikolai, the actual fucking target, was too much of a distraction for him, with the way he became so frustrated that he'd end up emptying a load into his hand while angrily muttering the Russian's name on lonely nights.

Price turned the key and entered his apartment, too caught up in his own head to notice the signs of an intrusion. The lights were off, but before he could turn to switch them on, he found himself being pushed against the wall with force.

The wind was knocked out of him, Price in shock, as strong hands grabbed him by the throat and pulled him close. "Hello again."

That voice. "You.." Price rasped out, struggling to breathe as he squirmed under the man. It was him.

"Been a while, thought I'd pay you a visit." He had the same teasing tone in his voice, which Price loathed.

Price struggled for a while, trying to get himself free from the mans hold, but the hands on his throat were too strong, taking his breath away and fogging his mind. He decided to focus on his breathing instead.

"Now, now, I'm surprised you didn't notice the car in front, I expected you'd barge in with a gun in your hand, but I guess you were distracted, hm?" Nikolai kept teasing. He could feel the man grinning despite the darkness in the room. Price hadn't noticed he came closer, bodies pressed together now, too busy trying not to suffocate.

"You and I are going to have a talk, but I need you to behave, okay?" Price could feel Nik's breath on his face, his expensive cologne hitting his nose, dizzying him even further. He wanted more of it.

Nikolai patted his cheek before he released him, taking a step back to let the man collect himself, currently in a coughing fit. "I know you won't do anything stupid. So how about we sit down?" Nikolai turned his back and walked into the living room, taking in the surroundings. He didn't turn on the light, just observed Price's living space as he sat down on the couch. The dim light coming from the streets were enough for the two to see each other.

Price fell to his knees, trying to collect his breathing after almost getting his windpipe crushed. Fuck, the man was strong. And he'd be lying if he said that didn't set something on fire in his stomach. Having his body so close to his, their groins pressed together, the hot breath on his face and the threatening hand on his throat. The sick thrill of it all. He was fucked.

Nikolai greeted him with a smile as Price finally entered the room, following his lead and sitting down across him. He could kill the man right here, right now. Nikolai came to him, willingly, not even armed. After all that chase, after everything. It was all confusing to John. He needed answers before he finished the man.

"Why are you here?" Price said flatly, his voice a bit hoarse, staring directly into the other mans eyes. He felt uneasy under Nikolai's gaze, it was as if the man was considering something, looking him up and down. Didn't help the fucking butterflies in his stomach when the man licked his lips thoughtfully before speaking,

"I believe we haven't had the chance to talk properly before, no?" Nikolai replied with a smile. Price could tell he was enjoying this.

"No, reckon I was too busy trying to do my job."

Nikolai paused for a moment, "Ah, right. Your job. I assume it's killing me." Price kept staring at him.

He continued, "I must say I'm flattered, John, nobody has ever come this close to actually finishing me, you know?" He didn't break the eye contact. "Someone must really want me dead." He chuckled.

"Why are you here." Price repeated again. He didn't know where Nikolai was going with this, and he was getting tired of the mind games. He hated everything about this. Failing at his job, his own frustrating feelings towards the man sitting in front of him, the stupid grin on his face and his annoyingly charming accent, he hated it all. He wanted to wipe that grin off his face with a punch, or a kiss, whatever worked. Damn it.

"You see, this isn't my first time dealing with people who are out to kill me. I've handled many of them, finished them with my own hands. But you, I must say, you've picked my interest over the last few weeks."

"Yeah? What's so special about me, then?" Price replied.

"You're.. how to say, persistent. Normally I would have you executed after the first attempt, but your methods are.. different. I am quite charmed by you." Nikolai said, his eyes never leaving John's. "Too bad you want me dead, I could've used someone like you in my... business." Price knew that's not what he meant. He'd be stupid to think this was a simple "job offering".

"You came all the way here to compliment me?" Price was amused. He didn't know how to feel about the fact that his interest in the man was clearly mutual.

"Da. You could say that." Nikolai grinned before continuing, "But also it'd be nice if you told me who sent you after me. I would hate to ruin such a pretty face like yours just to get that information."

Price swallowed, the words sending shivers down his spine. If he had any doubts about it before, this cleared all of them.

[aaand I got stuck. The dialogue kept going, as bad as it was. Just so you know they're definitely fucking. The tension was evident and they both want to fuck each other stupid. thanks for reading this far???????????? i doubt anyone would tbh]

[theblueflower05]

The Sweetest Sylaung

A/N: So I def didn’t mean to write a novel long Neteyam smut story but here we are. Debating on making this a mini series. Also the anon that requested a “curvy” reader insert- here ya go!(she’s also an Augustine- buttttt you can only see that if you squint lol)

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: This is smut. Pure smut. Please don’t read if it is not your jam. You are in charge of cultivating your own online experience, you’ve been warned!

Pairing: Aged Up! Neteyam x Human!Curvy!Reader

Summary: After an “accidental” romp in the forest, you do your best to avoid Neteyam. It’s for everyone’s good, or so you’ve convinced yourself.

“I’m begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans. That’s my man”- Willow, Taylor Swift

The kaleidoscope of colors explode under your eyes in endless patterns and shapes as you look over the sample of Pandora flora under the heavy duty microscope. This particular piece of the Moons terra had never been discovered before, only blooming at what you estimated to be every ten or so years, under the right monsoon like conditions

At least that’s what you had discovered so far.

The flower, which sprouted into a berry, and then dissipated into a moss like cluster of microorganisms all within its short life cycle had turned into your passion project. You we’re doing your thesis on it, the last step in getting your Masters.

You’d gone through schooling on a computer screen, guided by the greatest minds on Earth that had relocated to Pandora. Scientists of all fields who you’d grown up around. None of them had been surprised when you’d picked up botany. Xenobotany to be exact.

It was in your blood.

The desk your at shakes violently- disturbing your precision like focus. Breaking you straight out of your zone.

“Ugh” you groan, frustrated, raising your head, eyes narrowing at the culprits.

Spider, Lo’ak and Kiri freeze like deers in the headlights of your fury. Spiders arm raised, a wad of paper balled up in his hand, aimed to shoot. He lowers it slowly as the weight of your your heavy gaze zero’s in.

“Sorry, cu-”

“I told you guys, if you cant behave to get the fuck out” You seethe. Your nerves are paper thin anyway. Too much screen time frying your brain something fierce as you focused in on your studies. “Is that not what I said, verbatim?”

“You need to chill. You’ve been so high strung lately. Come hang out with us” Lo’ak suggests smooth and unhelpful. As usual. “When was the last time you left the lab?”

You roll your eyes and bite your tongue, trying not to say anything to scalding to the surprisingly sensitive Sully brother. “No thanks. I’ve gotta focus”

“Maybe Lo’aks right” Kiri starts, her face screwing up as she speaks “Eywa that sounds wrong. Nevermind, My brother is never right- but you should come hang out with us. Let’s go swimming- the watering hole is over flowing from the storms”

The deep sigh through your nose isn't calming, even though you pretend it is. You know they mean well, in the most annoying way. That you’d been buried in books and paperwork in the lab for the past couple months.

Hiding from the outside world within the thick walls of Hell’s Gate.

“Can’t. This is important, Kir- but why don’t you guys head down there? Its closer to Home Tree and its almost curfew anyway” two birds, one stone. Its a smart suggestion- but Kiri’s face falls, shoulders sagging and ears lowing. That look had always gotten you-

“I cant today, but maybe tomorrow? The samples are too fresh and I don't want to put them on ice…But I think Max made those Yovo cookie things” That’s only half of the truth, but luckily Kiri’s always been understanding.

She grabs your elbow in her long fingers and tugs you along.

The mess hall had seen better days, but the large open space still tends to be the meeting ground for the humans that were allowed to stay and inhabit the moon. With twelve foot tall ceilings and airtight exits and windows that lead out to the Avatar Program training yards. Its a common room of sorts, a place where everyone gathers. For meals, for mismatched Holidays. But mostly for gossip.

I mean, what else is there to do?

Like currently, you’re deeply engrossed in the story that Doctor Martinez’s, Xeno-Zoologist is recounting. All dramatics and dirty intimate details “It’s true, they’re gonna bring it before Mo’at and everything”

He’s talking about Trevino and Eital’i.

Everyone had heard the whispers, seen the not so subtle signs. The main Radio Tower operator had turned during the resistance, had fought beside Jake and had been allowed to stay on Pandora- better stuck on a foreign planet then thrown in a familiar jail cell. Trevino’s a cool guy, really.

A cool guy who had been sleeping with a Na’vi woman, apparently. The two had kept it under wraps, really private. No one could pin down how or when it happened,,,but to go to the clan’s Tsahik seeking a mating blessing? That’s major.

“You’re lying” you accuse in a gasp as the table breaks into whispers, all wide eyes and shaking heads. “They’re going to mate?...How?”

“It’s not like it hasn't happened before” Another scientist chimes in casually. Like it’s a known thing.

Which it kind of is.

Taboo, yes. But not unheard of, more like untalked about.

Humans and the Na’vi of the forest had lived in close quarters since the overthrow of the RDA. Jake, the standing Olo’eyktan, just had a little too much homosapien in him. Yeah, he’d survived the soul transfer and fully inhabited his blue body- but he never quite grew out of his human roots.

It had been hard, lots of politicking and good grace shown on both parts, but somehow, like all biomes in the vast perma green forest, all had learned to live in harmony. Most Omitikaya kept their distance. Very hesitant about the human presence. They had every right to be scared, hostile. Scarred by man and its weapons and its destruction.

Others had been raised in close proximity to Grace’s school. Had become accustomed to the nearly two decade long human presence on Pandora. Curious and accepting.

You’d heard about interspecies hookups.

Locker room talks that left your ears burning and your heart racing. It usually came from members of the Avatar Program- It tends to set a precedent, when the quote on quote “royal family” of the Omiticaya is a Jarhead and a native woman.

Na’vi are gorgeous, tall and lean but humanoid enough to be familiar…you’re not exactly sure what they see in humans but you know damn well what you guys see in them.

“How do you think that works? The…physicality of it all I mean. Trevino doesn't have an Avatar. How do they fuck-”

You’re not the only one zoning out from the conversation and it’s lewd turn.

You watch Kiri watch Spider and your heart aches for her. What they have is secret, delicate and forbidden. As a woman with high standing in the clan, you knew that her feelings for the boy wouldn't go anywhere. Couldn't.

When they we’re kids, it was cute. Now that they 're both technically adults, it was just plain stupid.

You tell her of the fact, often.

Kiri tells you to stop projecting.

———

The Sully Kid’s are always late. It’s like no matter how hard they try, they cant make curfew. You throw on an Exopack, hurrying them to the fence.

“Yeah, yeah okay mom. Take it easy” Lo’ak shrugs huffily as you yank hard on his arm. “I’m going, Y/N!”

“Not fast enough you strumbeast’s ass! You’re gonna get me into trouble, who do you think your dad’s gonna blame when you guys end up back at Home Tree super late again? Norm chewed me out for that shit last time!” You man handle the much taller than you alien.

Kiri and Spider a few leagues in front of you, already at the mouth of the giant fence. They’re awkward, not in their usual synched steps. You wonder how much of that conversation earlier had gone to their heads?

You’re bickering with Lo’ak, an extremely normal occurrence. He can be a real douche. and had been kind of insufferable lately. You think its nerves about his impending Iknamaya.

So engrossed with getting them on their way home that you don't even notice him until it’s too late.

Neteyam is a skilled hunter, through and through. The youngest in the clan to ever make a kill. Swift and quiet. Beloved.

But around you he feels out of his element. Clunky and awkward, no matter how hard he tries to play it off its like you can see right through him. Its scary and thrilling, sets his stomach alive with butterflies everytime. This is no different.

Showing up to Hell’s Gate to retrieve his siblings was something he had done since he was a child.

He’d used to bleed hours away playing with them at the scientists fortress, but as he had gotten older and his responsibilities had grown heavier- he had little time for it. Still, when ever his parents would send him out on a one man search party to bring them home, he’d jump at the chance.

At the hope of seeing you.

You’re arguing with his little brother, trying not to laugh at something he said and Neteyam knows. He knows he shouldn't feel jealous but he just cant help it. Cant help the acidic twist of his insides.

Especially when he chirps out his family's familiar call, letting his presence be known.

And watches that pretty smile fall right off of your face.

“You’re late, as usual” His voice has a stern edge. It’s annoying, the role he has to play. Kiri is a woman grown, Lo’ak just weeks away from being the same. He doesnt blame them for the way their feathers bristle, almost viscerally.

“Ah, big brother you didn't have to come all this way to get us” Kiri reassures, patting Neteyam on the chest good naturedly. “We we’re just about to be on our way”

Neteyam notices the way you try to look anywhere else but him. It stings because he cant stop looking at you, cant pry his eyes away from your form.

“You all should start heading back before dad notices” Neteyam starts. His father had been busy as of late, harvest season abundant and fruitful this year because of the heavy rain season “I’ll catch up, I need to speak with Norm”

“What? Dad cant use the coms now, he has to send his messenger” Lo’ak’s nose scrunches a little, always questioning. On a normal day it wouldn't affect Neteyam so much, just a normal jab from his snot nosed little brother.

Not today. Not when he’s stretched so thin. Not when you refuse to look at him but are staring at the side of Lo’ak fat head. It feels wrong, makes his skin heat up to the point that it feels itchy and tight.

“That's none of your concern. Head back to Home Tree. Now” He doesn't normally throw his weight around. But he feels the need to puff up big in front of you “Those are orders. Get out of here”

Lo’ak’s less offended and more surprised. One of his oh so human eyebrows cocks, a sly remark in his throat before he scoffs. “Aye, Aye Captain Kiss Ass. C’mon Kiri let's go. See you later Spider, Y/N”

He deuces up Spider, gives Y/N a pat on her small shoulder and glares harshly at his brother before he disappears into the thick brush of the jungle.

Kiri wraps her arms around you in a strong hug, muttering about ‘swimming’ and ‘promises’. The small impish smile she shoots Spider gives YOU butterflies so you don't blame the way he swoons, before she’s off behind her younger brother.

“I can go find Norm for you, bro. I think he’s still out in his Avv, but Max can radio him back in” Spider is none the wiser. Doesn't notice the heavy tension that simmers on a low bubble. Oblivious, as usual.

“Yeah, sure” Neteyam replies, barely sparing the human boy a glance. He’d feel bad for it later, when he could form coherent thought. When his brain wasn't on Y/N issued override.

Spider chatters, good natured. He never got to see the Olo’eyktan in training anymore. He missed his homie.

“Well, I should be heading back. You guys have a good rest of your night-” You’re already turning on your heels when you make the announcement, eager to get back inside. Back behind the safe walls of the lab- far away from Neteyam.

“No”

Neteyam who stares at you with all too knowing eyes. He looks straight through you like he can see through your clothes, through your thinly veiled escapism attempts. He reaches out, wraps his long fingers around the top of your arm and tugs you back to him. Gentle, but very firm.

He doesn't have to say it- it’s written all over his face. Not this time. He’s not going to let you run away from him.

“Netey-” You start in a whine, tugging on his hold. He doesnt relent, if anything his fingers tighten as his eyes narrow. Dangerous, desperate.

“Just talk to me” it’s a barely concealed plea, his tail twitches anxiously behind him “I'm just asking for five minutes. Please Y/N”

Spiders oblivious, yes. Stupid? No. He doesnt know exactly what's going on between the two of you but has clued into the fact that it’s heavy and he wants no part of it.

The excuse he makes is shit- he’ll just go find Norm. Yeah… he’s so out of there.

“What is wrong with you?” You hiss as you watch Spiders awkward, quick retreating form. Eyes flickering over the empty for now training yards “So much for keeping it lowkey, huh? Could you be anymore obvious?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Neteyam is almost shaking with disbelief “What the fuck is wrong with you? You havent talked to me in over a month. Everytime I make any kind of attempt you bolt. I dont-” He sighs, pinching the wide bridge of his nose with the hand that isnt holding onto you.

He looks tortured. Tired. Run a little ragged.

Beautiful.

“I don't know what I did? If this is about that day in the forest-”

You sigh at his words, once again pulling on his hold. Shaking your head desperately because you can't.

You can't talk about it. Fuck, you’ve been trying not to even think about it.

And failing as you replay the event over and over again the darkness of your bunk. Hyper fixating on the way that his lips had felt against yours. Oh the way that his big hands had worked your body over

“Don’t” you whisper “Please don’t”

You’d never been one to beg for pity, for mercy but that’s what you do now. Beg him to let you out of his tight clutches. Metaphorically and physically.

“You’re all I can think about” It's a gutted admittance, but Neteyam makes it all the same “That night- I can’t sleep. I can barely eat- I’m falling behind on my duties because I keep coming back here. Standing outside this fence and waiting for you. I know you could hear me over the coms, right?”

And you could, a few weeks or so ago.

When he’d begged you to come out. To come speak to him. His voice so appealing that you’d almost caved. You’d had to turn off your receiver. Had sat with your head in your hands for hours as you fought the urge to crawl to him, knees raw and your bloody heart on a platter only he could divulge in.

He shuffles closer, all lean strong muscle. Firm, unmovable. “You heard me”

“Of course I did”

“And you still left me out here” He scoffs, head shaking slightly as his adams apple bobs, his ears are pinned to the sides of his head in obvious distress “I could never do that shit to you.”

“One of us needs to be the adult in this situation” Your voice is as strong as you can make it. Trying to speak reason on to both of you “We can pretend it never happened and go back to the way that things were before. You’re my friend, Tey”

You reach up, stroking at his wrist. Trying to soften him enough for him to let this go. Let you go.

He’s trying to control his breathing, all that training for all of those years for what? One fragile human girl to make him completely unspool? To lose any and all composure he’d worked so hard to gain.

He was always the adult, in all situations. Had been born with a neck cramping crown on his head. Shrouded in pressurized glory.

“If this is me being childish, so be it. Where has pretending gotten you, huh? Look at you, yawntutsyìp. you look so tired. When was the last time you slept? Kiri says you spend days in the lab without resting”

His hands, both of them, come up to cup your face. Huge and calloused. Yet he holds you like you're something precious. A small animal, a rare gem. His whole entire world since he was just a boy.

Neteyam thumbs at the cool glass of your mask, tenderly. The bags under your eyes are sunken and bruised. “Don’t shut me out”

Your body, in its entirety, clenches at his words. Velvet and sincere. He’s a fucking dream. Your head leans into his hands, neck sagging of its own accord as any and all words of protest leave your weak mind.

He makes you so easy.

“Let me in…I dont want there to be this distance between us anymore” He hisses around the word distance. Hating even having to say it “I want to be inside of you again”

Your plump lower lip gets skewered between your teeth, eyes screwed shut as you remember the last time. Your first ever time being full…you’d dreamt of it every night since it had happened.

If it wasn't for the blasted mask and your need for Earth’s oxygen he’d kiss you. Right here right now. He didn't really give a shit who saw or what they had to say.

Instead pulls you into his chest, lets you wind your arms around his lean middle and bury your chest in his diaphragm. Its as close as he can get you, for now. Makes you cling to him the way that he’d clung to every thought of you for the last weeks.

You wish it was lungfuls of his skin that you were taking as you try to bring yourself down from this abrupt shaky high. You dont get it, how your relationship couldve flipped this hard in such a short time.

He had always just been Neteyam. A shameless flirt yes- but that’s all it was.

“Would you like that?” He questions, hands working through your hair. Fingers light and soothing on your scalp. Massaging the thoughts right out of your head.

“Hmm?”

“If I was inside you again?” He presses on. You can feel the tickle of his long, thin, tail as it wraps around the back of your calf and you groan, digging your nails into his back.

“You’re such an asshole. Stoppppp it” You’re embarrassed and turned on and already feel stupid enough, he doesn't need to rub it in. His chest shakes as he chuckles.

“I’m serious. Tell me you want it-”

“Neteyam! Hey!”

The two of you break apart in an instant. You jump away from him as though struck by lightning. Instantly putting enough distance between you and the Na’vi that maybe, just maybe an onlooker might think that the embrace was friendly.

It’s Norm, having heard that the eldest Sully was looking for him he’d come eagerly.

The smile you plaster on is forced and honestly, Neteyam doesnt fair any better. He’s obviously flustered, just glad that his erection isn't tenting his tweng.

“Spider told me you and your dad are looking for me. I’m not intruding on uh anything, am I?” Norm looks between the two of you.

Your arms are folded tightly over your chest and Neteyam is rubbing at the back of his neck, strong jaw flexing as his teeth grind.

Oh yeah, Norm had definitely interrupted something.

Knows for sure as you scurry away. As Neteyam, always so level headed, has to string together words. Stumbling a little bit as he tries to remember the message that Jake had relayed.

It’s not any of his business, he thinks at the time. He sure didnt want to be the one to shine the light on whatever the hell was going on here. Turning a blind eye to the mysteries of Pandora is the only way to survive the harshest terrain known to man.

———

You dont know that though-

No, you’re spiraling more a little bit as you prepare yourself for bed. Brushing through your thick hair and staring out into space as your mind assaults you with all of the gnarly ‘What If’s’

Norm had seen and he had to know right? Oh god, what if he told Jake?

You balk. Lowering the brush as your eyes bulge out of your head.

What if he told Neytiri?

That's actually a super horrific thought. Like nightmarish. You have a lot of respect for the future Tsahik...

…And a very healthy does of fear. She didnt like humans and made it known. She tolerated them only for her husband's benefit. What if she found out that her eldest son, her golden boy, had fucked one?

You’re freak out is interrupted by static, by the beeping of your com receiver on your night stand.

“Y/N?” its Neteyams muffled voice through the device. You’d ignored it once. You should ignore it again…

“Yeah?” you wonder if he picks up on how shaky you sound through the receiver.

“Tomorrow night meet me at the East Gate. Like when we we’re kids” he’s not really asking. Not demanding either. You could ignore him again, but he has to try.

The line goes silent, quiet for minutes on end.

“Y/N?”

You’re so stupid. “What time?”

You can hear the grin he’s sporting as he replies “0100”

“Got it, over. Good night, Neteyam. Go to sleep”

———

The East Bay is on the other side of the large fortress-like building. It's not that it's forbidden, or anything. but it is deserted. It’s where the military personnel had inhabited, and since most if not all of them had gotten the hard boot off Pandora it was empty as a ghost town in these maze like halls.

When you we’re younger; you’d caught Spider sneaking Kiri and Lo’ak in through the rarely used entrance. You’d demanded the know how, if he didnt want you to rat on him for it. It was a rare occurrence, but the Sully children had all been snuck into Hell’s Gate this way over the years.

You type in the codes, disabling the alarm system in order to usher Neteyam into the pressurized, air lock. You’d toted one of the Avatar Exopacks along for him, they’re heavier then hell but he’d need it.

“Hi” you smile, suddenly shy as the tall Na’vi man stands before you.

That's what he was now. A man, not only in the eyes of his people but as a whole. Broad and muscular, strong. Verile. The next leader of his people. You know that he’s highly desired in his clan. Women fawn over him. Vie for his attention.

It doesnt feel real that he wants to give it to you.

You’re nothing special. Not tall and stunning like the Omaticaya women. Even by Earth’s standards you're short, curvy. Not particularly pretty. Insecurity gnaws at you, as it so often does.

“C’mere” Neteyam urges, boldly yanking you by your waist. Pulling you flush against his body. Grabby and insistent, he wants to feel your bare skin. All plush and soft, hes been dying to taste it since the last time.

Kicking himself over and over for not savoring every bit of your body that you gave to him. He won't make the same mistake again.

He’s not gonna lie, the concrete and metal of the walls inside of Hell’s Gate have always made him a little claustrophobic. But he can't do this outside-

His lips capture yours, demanding and needy from the jump. Big, over powering, he swallows your little chirp of surprise. Devours any and all breath from your lungs. Its messy and so good. You hadn't gotten to kiss him last time.

His mouth tastes amazing, his tongue rough in texture just like you remembered. It grates your lips as you suck on it-

“Hey, slow down a little bit” You giggle as Neteyam paws at your ass, lifting you off the ground until you squirm hard, making him release you “Not here, we can't do this here there’s cameras everywhere”

“I don't care” Neteyam pecks all over your face, trying to recapture your mouth as you avoid him “Let them watch, most of those pervs would like it”

And they would know that you’re his. The thought is beyond heady.

You gasp as his sharp canines ghost over the delicate skin of your neck, nibbling on your pulse point “Please- Neteyam”

You firmly push him away, hand on his chest and maybe if you hadn't cut him off cold turkey he would've given you space. Could've pulled away for a moment to let you say your piece. Instead the idea of letting you pull away even an inch is unbearable to him.

No. instead he tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He hauls loads heavier then you every day, your protests mean little to him. With his free hand he scoops up the Avv Exo Tank,

“Where to, yawntutsyìp?”

Where too is an old conference room. Its as good as any, and Neteyam yanks a couple cushions off the old couch to act as a brace for your head as he lowers you to the floor, flat on your back.

You’re so pretty like this, he tells you of the fact.

With your hair a mess behind you, your face free of that damned mask. Grinning up at him as you rub your thighs together. He wishes he had that camera that his dad liked to take pictures on. He wants this moment of you framed, immortalized.

“I hate sky people clothes” He mutters as he tugs on the hem of your t-shirt. It hides you, hides all that skin he craves.

“You want me to take it off?” You offer eagerly, raising up enough to start peeling the piece of clothing off. You’re bare underneath, completely. Your breasts jiggle as they’re freed, nipples peaked in the cool air-conditioned air.

“Don’t ever put it on again” He demands, taking it from your hands and tossing it across the room. He’s dead serious, but by the way you're giggling you obviously think its a joke.

He can’t help it, he dives in face first. Rubbing against your soft breasts, obsessed with the way they feel. Heavy, pillowy. He drags his tongue across all of your bare skin. From your clavicle to your nipple. You always smell so pretty, but its got nothing on the way you taste. It explodes bright and savory on his tastebuds.

You let him explore, until your spit soaked and shaking. Your panties sticky as your hips search for any kind of friction. “I need you”

“You have me, my love. All of me” your eyes water at his words. At the sincerity. At how much you want them to be true.

You grab one of his hands and drag it down your chest. Past your soft, rounded belly and into your shorts. He grunts as you guide him to where you’re wet and pulsing. Rythmetically clenching around nothing.

He circles your clit, feather light. More of a tease then anything and you want to sob. You’d thought of nothing but this, touched yourself imagining him. “Tey-”

He smiles around a mouthful of nipple,tugging on with his teeth. “I missed you so much”

“Then be nice to me” you plead, trying to shove yourself down on his fingers.

“We’re being nice now? Were you nice to me when you ignored me?” he can't help it, hurt bleeds into his voice. It had been so fucking painful, knowing that you hadnt wanted to see him. To be with him.

“I’m sorry” you whine, grabbing his face, pulling it from your bosom. “I’m so sorry. I was so scared- I’m still scared but I need you”

He lets you cup his cheeks, lets you plant kisses all over him. The bridge of his nose, his eyelids, his cheekbones. You dote on him, gentle and caring and he gorges himself on your love.

“You cant ever do that again, okay?” He shivers as you kiss his ear, running your tongue along the hyper sensitive flesh “If you’re scared you come to me, not run from me. Do you understand?”

You nod, eager. “I promise, Neteyam”

It’s all he needs to hear, that you’re his. That you won't deprive him of your presence ever again. He doesn't know what he’ll do. He’s a little scared of the man he becomes when it comes to you, you’re not the only one frightened by the gravity of your feelings.

“You asked if I wanted you inside me again? Yes. So much. I never knew I could be that full” it’s like you know just what to say. You light him up from the inside. His fingers begin circling your sopping clit again, this time with intent.

It’s blurry, the fact that your lightheaded making it hard to think. To track what he’s doing to you because somehow Neteyam seems to be everywhere at once. His big body all encompassing as he takes you.

“No-no marks, baby” You try to remind him and his blazing eyes zero in on you in a glare “you know we cant…not where they can see”

You’re right, and he hates it. He’ll just have to mark you where only you can see. Where you can look at your self and be reminded that you belong to someone. That you belong to him.

He doesn't have the patience, cant stop his hands from shaking- the tear of your shorts and panties echos around the room as he removes any barriers between him and the heat at the apex of your thighs.

You cant help the thrill it sends down your spine. He’d…ripped your panties off. You thought shit like this only existed in bad Earth made Porn that you’d found on one of the labs computers.

“Sorry, sorry” his apology is far from sincere though and you can't help but giggle, patting his braids fondly.

The fingerfucking is rough, your wines and moans spilling from you as he hits spots inside of you that make you want to curl up. It’s too good. Too much-

You screech, back bowing as he bends to kiss you, loud and sloppy, right on your wet clit. His big head burrows between your thigs as he delves on your cunt, his long rough textured tongue lapping at the fat puffy lips. The texture difference has both of you groaning.

It’s heartbreakingly good, the kind of good that you’ll never be able to forget. That you’ll crave and need for the rest of your life. Addictive, as he dedicates himself to making you feel pleasure.

Neteyam eats pussy the same way he does everything else in his life, exceeding any expectations. His instincts sharp as he hones in on how to make you lose your mind.

He keeps telling you how good you taste, breaking away for heaving breaths before he reburries himself. The only sounds in the room are the beyond wet sloshing of his tongue lashing and the pathetic noises your making.

He’s eating you alive, you don’t know how you’re supposed to survive this.

His fingers, two and then three fuck in and out of you. Corkscrewing as he loosens your tightness up for him.

“O-ooh” you whine high and reedy as you feel your tummy tightening, the pressure building in a way that makes you feel like you cant breathe. You cant your hips, shoving them down at that perfect angle “Oh, sh-shhhhit. I’m gonna, I’m-”

He doubles down and you’re a goner.

The orgasm is devastating. Sofuckinggood you think you might see stars for a minute there. You can't even scream, you keep letting out these little cries that are more like wheezes. A desprate attempt to get some kind of air back in your lungs-

Which reminds you.

Even though you’re in a daze you wiggle away from him, he hisses at you about it but you swat the top of his head as you reach for the Exo Pack.

You shove the mask in his face, between your legs.

”Breathe, Neteyam” you demand him to gulp down the Pandoran air. Yeah, he could go longer in your environment than you in his but still. Death by giving head isn’t the way you’d like him to go out.

He takes long breaths and you try not to be embarrassed by how soaked his chin is.

When he pulls away his eyes are a little more focused “Thank you, sweet girl. Always thinking about me, huh?”

You nod, dropping the mask. Closer this time for easier access. His eyes quickly zero back in on your swollen pussy, on how wet he got you. On how pretty it looks. His mouth is watering all over again-

When you try to close your thighs, the burning of your cheeks getting to be too much he hisses again. It’s not a sound he often makes and it’s a revelation, he’s so sexy. Almost feral.

“Who said I’m done?”

You’re never going to be able to get over this man “I already came?...”

“Yes? So?” he rolls his eyes, lowering his head, nuzzling at the damp juncture of your inner thigh “You’re still so tight, here feel”

His fingers slip back in you and you mewl, baring down as he scissors the long digits.

“We have to get you loose enough to take me, I don’t want to hurt you” He explains it like you need convincing. Like he has to convince you to let him eat you out. You just re-spread your thighs, relaxing back onto the cool floor as you let him do as he pleases.

It takes two more orgasms that you scream and shake through until he deems that you’re ready. By the time that he begins to slide his cock into you you’re a blubbering, oversensitive mess. You’re crying rivers of tears as you cling to him.

“Hold my hand? Please ” You request and he smiles, kissing your tear streaked cheek as he interlaces his longer fingers with yours.

Humans and Na’vi can fuck, but we’rnt designed to. His dick is overwhelimgly big and will really injure you if the two of you aren't careful about this.

You both gasp sharply as his tip breaches you.

It hurts, it’s agonizing. It’s the kind of pleasure pain that you didnt even know could exist. Everytime you think you can adjust, he pushes in another inch. But oh, how you missed it. Being so full it feels like you’re going to burst. You’re pussy flutters as it fights to take him and you focus in on his face.

It’s all scrunched up in heavy concentration. His lips speared between his sharp teeth in a way that has them almost bleeding.

You can't have that. You tug him into a kiss, soothing the abused flesh with your tongue.

“I-I dont want to hurt you” He whimpers as his forehead rests against yours.

“It’s okay, you’re okay” You hum to him, grasping at his hand even tighter “I love what you do to me. I love how you feel”

When he bottoms out you think he must be in your ribs. Hes still, letting your body get used to him. Trying to be kind. You want to tell him that there’s no getting used to his size. That he could fuck you every day for the rest of your lives and he would still feel just as massive.

“Please” you wail instead “please”

The first gentle snap of his pelvis has you both reeling. Your thighs lock around his thin hips, urging him. You can take it. It only takes a little urging for him to lose himself. The harsh stretch of it has you shaking as your over sensitive pussy tightens. You’re coming again, less intense the the previous orgasms, thankfully.

Neteyam had been so focused on making you feel good that he’d neglected his hard, weeping cock. His balls are so full that he knows he’s not going to be able to draw this out.

You know you have to look stupid, mouth hanging open as you raggedly gasp for breath, letting out punched out sounds as Neteyam pounds into you. You cant look away from his face though.

It’s mesmerizing, all of it. The sounds he lets out. The way that his braids sway with the rhythm of his pleasure seeking body. His broad shoulders, bulging biceps and forearms- you are so fucked.

You’re so in love.

“Please Y/N” He wheezes as you squeeze around him, letting go of your hand so he can wrap both of his arms around your lower back “I can’t hold it. W-where should I?”

Oh. Oh, he’s the sweetest man. He always has been.

You peck his lips, not minding that he’s too lost in his own pleasure to really kiss you back

“Come inside me. Come inside me. Come inside me” it’s a heated chant, broken and breathy by the erratic rhythm of his hips and he buries his head in your neck, wailing in the skin there.

Just for a moment, lost in the haze of sex, you can tell he forgets his own strength. Thrusts into you so hard that you scream out in pain, the mushroom tip of his long cock batters your cervix relentlessly. Its a sharp, startling sensation that you’ve never known but you ride it out for him. Desperately trying to keep your whimpers of discomfort at bay.

When he comes, his whole body goes still and ram rod straight. He hugs you tightly to him. You wish you could see his face. Next time, hopefully.

He’s Neteyam, the mighty warrior. The dutiful son. The next clan leader but as he shakes and twitches and basks in the afterglow you can't help but want to baby him. But stroke his back softly, rubbing the residual tension out of his tired muscles.

He’s your big ol’ pussy cat, you’d always teased. He purrs like one every time you’re affectionate with him.

You can’t help but run your hands along his sensitive spine. Let the length of his tail run through the loop of your fingers. He grins and flicks it from side to side. He’d always thought your fascination with it was amusing.

“Are you okay?” he mutters, still hidden in your hair as he starts to come back to himself and you hum, moving up to pat his braids.

“Mmhmm” you’re maybe not as capable of making words as you though you were. He chuckles and hugs you. Holds you in his big arms in a way that makes you feel untouchable.

The two of you lie in that room for as long as you can, until he has to start heading back to Home Tree, it’s almost morning and his parents are early risers. They’ll look for him if hes not in his tent…

It's hard. Letting him go. Even though you know he’ll be back. You keep pulling him back in for kisses, holding onto his muscular arms until he laughs and peels you off of him.

“I’ll be back my love. I’ll always return for you”

You frown but agree, pushing him away to get re-dressed- “How am I supposed to go back like this! Neteyam I don't have any pants!”

He’d shredded your shorts and panties. Literal tatters of cloth are all that’s left.

Neteyam cracks up, almost keeling over. Thinking he’s oh so funny. It lightens the situation and makes letting him go- watching him disappear back in the forest a little easier.

You end up having to pull your fortunately oversized t-shirt down as far as it can go as you make a mad dash across the facility, back to your dorm. You fall asleep grinning, thinking about how the panties had been a necessary sacrifice.

———

Norms on late night watch, keeping a bored, admittedly not sharp enough eye on the security camera’s feeds. With the rainy season, came an influx of Slinths’. It made sense to have a lookout, and somehow he’d gotten saddled with an overnight shift.

He’d definitely fallen asleep for a few hours. Not that he’d tell anyone of that fact.

There is nothing that could prepare him for what he see’s on the screen, over in the desolate East Bay. First, he thinks that he’s hallucinating, his sleep bogged eyes playing tricks on him.

He rubs them hard with his knuckles, not believing the image that is large and clear on the security footage.

It’s Neteyam. Inside the facility which almost never happened. And he’s bending down, his lips locked with Y/N’s . Kissing her hard and long before she punch’s in the code, and opens the air locked door to let him back out into the shadowy eclipse.

Norm’s learned a lot living on this strange moon- Pandora was mysterious. Full of things his brilliant mind would never understand. So he does what he does’ most of the time.

Minds his own business.

So I’ve had this idea cooking for months, but didn’t have the bandwidth to get it written down. The ideas wouldn’t translate to page and I still kind of feel like they didn’t butttttt whatever. This is pure self indulgence. I am so much more in love with Neteyam now. He is SUCH a good guy. Ugh.

Also, please remember that my requests are OPEN! Send in all that good shit. Come blue alien brain rot with me!

[shan-yee]

𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘐𝘟 = 𝙏𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙘 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢𝙨 𝙥.2

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 = 𝘽𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙮 𝘾𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨 [𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨], 𝙑𝙞𝙠𝙩𝙤𝙧 [𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙚], 𝙈𝙖𝙣𝙟𝙞𝙧𝙤 𝙎𝙖𝙣𝙤 [𝙏𝙤𝙠𝙮𝙤 𝙍𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨], 𝙃𝙖𝙮𝙖𝙩𝙤 𝙎𝙪𝙤 [𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙧]

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 = 𝙏𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙘 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙧, 𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧, 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 = 790

𝘈/𝘕 = English is not my first language, please let me know if you see any mistakes ! Enjoy ✨

——— 𝐒 𝗨 𝗠 𝗠 𝗔 𝗥 𝗬 • • •

𝐈 :: 𝗕𝗲𝗻𝗻𝘆

𝐈𝐈 :: 𝗩𝗶𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗿

𝐈𝐈𝐈 :: 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗷𝗶𝗿𝗼

𝐈𝐕 :: 𝗦𝘂𝗼

╰─► 𝐈 ･ ｡ﾟ☆ 𝗕𝗲𝗻𝗻𝘆

⇰ Benny is a free soul and he will always remain so, even a woman will not be able to hold him back and unfortunately being with him means having this anxiety that one day he will disappear without saying anything.

⇰ He would do it, even if he loves his partner. It is impossible for him to give up his freedom and he will make this clear very quickly to the one who shares his life.

⇰ He will sometimes leave during the night and not return for days, without taking the time to call to give news, and come back as if nothing had happened.

⇰ Benny would even be able to get angry if his girlfriend asked him for explanations, after all he’s a grown man, he doesn’t owe anyone anything.

⇰ He is also very coveted by women and he knows it, he won’t be the type to reject a beautiful woman who gives him compliments, surely an ego thing.

⇰ He will quickly lose patience if his partner makes too many comments about his desire to please, which, according to him, all men want. Plus, he never accepted any advances so what’s the harm ?

╰─► 𝐈𝐈 ･ ｡ﾟ☆ 𝗩𝗶𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗿

⇰ Viktor is passionate, he loves what he does and his biggest dream is to change the world for the better. He’s one of the nicest people you'll ever meet, but his work takes up too much space.

⇰ He will always come home late at night, or not at all, and will excuse himself by promising his partner that it will be the last time. But it's never the last time.

⇰ And if only there was just this little detail ! Viktor will miss a lot of events, like birthdays, romantic evenings or relaxation and each time he will try to make up for it but it will never be enough.

⇰ How to create a family with a man who is simply never there ? But anyway, Viktor won't want to have a family...

Not that he hates children or that he doesn't want anything concrete with his partner, on the contrary. Viktor simply refuses to give himself the chance to be a father.

⇰ He hates himself and the idea of giving his illness to his child terrifies him, just like knowing that he will never see them grow up would be torture for him.

⇰ Unfortunately Viktor is not the best at communicating his disgust for himself and by keeping everything he feels, he might well ruin the only good thing that has happened to him in a long time.

╰─► 𝐈𝐈𝐈 ･ ｡ﾟ☆ 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗷𝗶𝗿𝗼

⇰ It is clear that in each timeline Manjiro has a different problem, so i will start with Toman!Mikey.

⇰ Manjiro is a big child and at first his partner will find his behavior cute and endearing but over time she will realize that it is as much a curse as a blessing.

⇰ The young man doesn't take anything seriously and even if his girlfriend talks to him about what's bothering her he won't be able to change, and in addition to behaving like a child he's a selfish lover.

⇰ Most of the time, his comfort will come before that of the reader. There is also the fact that he is always fighting and even if he will try to keep his partner as far away as possible he will not always be able to protect her.

⇰ Bonten!Mikey is a whole different kind of toxicity, he's a broken man who sabotages most things around him without really realizing it.

⇰ He loves his girlfriend but in a bad and possessive way, Manjiro will not hesitate to hurt her if it allows him to keep her close to him.

⇰ Most of the time he will make her believe that she can do whatever she wants but he will always have an eye on her to make sure she doesn't escape his net.

╰─► 𝐈𝐕 ･ ｡ﾟ☆ 𝗦𝘂𝗼

⇰ Suo is, in appearance, the best boyfriend a woman could ask for, he is always attentive to his partner's every move, noting in this way what she likes and her habits.

⇰ He will always have little attentions, like flowers or a small accessory that reminds him of his girlfriend.

⇰ But, it is also a way of making himself indispensable, of being sure that she would not see herself living without him. Because yes, Suo is very possessive although he doesn't let it show.

⇰ As soon as he begins to have the impression that his partner is moving away and getting out of his control, he will redouble his efforts. Even more little attentions, compliments and love.

⇰ And yes, he loves her, and that’s why he does all that. Suo would never bother to give attention to someone he is not interested in or has no affection for.