#he'd just try and take as much control as possible over as much situations as possible. right?

[fettery-fetterie]

Hlev but he realizes the way to break out of the script is by merely taking it as a guideline rather than the absolute truth

[ro-is-struggling]

The Chase || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon: "reader constantly calling geralt the white wolf or just wolf during sexy time and him breeding his pups in her bcs of it???"

Summary: Geralt always tried to keep the wolf inside him caged in order to control his animalistic impulses, but with you that didn't seem to be required at all. 

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI! Porn without plot, public sex (technically since they’re in the woods), rough sex, penetrative sex, fear play? (not really, but Geralt does chase the reader through the woods so maybe? adding it just in case!), scent play, size kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, biting (like there’s so much it’s a warning in this fic), fingering, possessiveness, a little fluff at the end, fem!reader

English is not my first language

Word count: 3300

Notes: This is definitely NOT inspired on THAT scene from beauty and the beast that has been going around twitter all week, nope, not at all

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Geralt was used to being called 'wolf' or 'white wolf'. It was a nickname he'd had for most of his life and was constantly used by Vesemir and the other witchers. He never thought much about it, just like his own name, he had it so internalized that he automatically responded when someone called him by those nicknames.

That changed, however, when you came into his life. There was something in the way you pronounced those words that awakened a primal feeling in him. It was in the way you looked at him, eyes defiant and playful, waiting to spark a reaction from him. It was in the way your lips moved, always ending in a mischievous smile, and in the sound of your voice, sweet and seductive, inducing him to madness, pushing him to his limit. 

Everything about you awakened in him an urge to possess you, to mark you as his so that everyone who saw you would know you belonged to him. He had to make an effort to stop his needy hands to caress your skin, and contain the desperation of his lips to kiss your neck and mark it with his teeth. He didn't care if there were people around him, they all ceased to exist when you called him wolf. 

It didn't help his situation that you always played dumb, pretending not to understand the power you had over him. But Geralt knew it was all an act. He knew that you were well aware of the effect that the utterance of that nickname had on him. And you used it as a weapon, a way to get a response from him when you wanted to play. And today you were in a very playful mood.

"What is it? Is the wolf scared of losing?" you teased him, trying to persuade him to take the bet. It was a simple race through the woods, just get from point A to point B as fast as possible to win. Only you had no intention of winning. All you were looking for was the thrill of the chase.

Geralt gave you an unamused look, taking a deep breath to calm the revolt that your use of that nickname had awakened in him. But then, he sensed your perfume in the air, mixed with the intoxicating scent of your arousal. His look completely transformed, frown relaxing into a firm, intimidating expression. The game was on.

"Oh you don't want to play that game, bunny." He warned you, giving you one last chance to change your mind. Once the race started, he wasn't sure he would be able to stop. He could already feel his insides vibrating with anticipation, the chained wolf fighting to break free. He had been locked up for too long, his needs ignored and repressed, so when he let go there would be no turning back. He was hungry and you were offering yourself to him without hesitation. How could he refuse?

You approached him, taking the sword he was sharpening out of his hand and bending down so you could look him in the eye. Your movements were slow, sensual, captivating your lover's gaze. Geralt's eyes got lost in your cleavage for a moment, admiring the exposed skin of your neck and the valley of your breasts as he suddenly began to salivate with need. His pupils widened, staring at you with yellow eyes turned almost completely black with desire. He could barely contain himself and that only increased your arousal.

"I'm not afraid of you." you said, and Geralt held back the urge to tell you that you should be. "Are you, wolf?"

He stood up and suddenly his imposing figure towered over yours, forcing you to tilt your head up so you could look at him. He was so much bigger than you, so much more agile, that it was ridiculous to even imagine you could beat him in a race. But, again, that's not what the game was about.

Geralt leaned in towards you, his lips brushing your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. "When you lose and you're on the ground begging for mercy, I just want you to remember that you asked for this." he whispered, defiantly, sending a shiver down your spine.

He looked at you and you knew it was time to run. He gave you a head start, knowing he could catch you without even trying —not only because he was faster than you, but also because you had no real intention of winning that bet. He watched you run through the trees, admiring the way your hair moved in the wind. Only when you disappeared over the horizon did he start to move. He walked at a slow pace at first, sharpening his hearing to follow the sound of your footsteps. But when he caught the scent of your arousal, he couldn't help but pick up his pace. It was like a drug to him, an intoxicating scent that messed with the hormones of the big, bad wolf he had set free.

Geralt let the scent of your floral perfume mixed with the sweet nectar hidden between your legs guide him towards you, an invisible force drawing him closer and closer to his prey. When he reached you, he found you hiding behind a tree, taking advantage of the moment to catch your breath. He heard you gasp as soon as you sensed his presence, holding your breath to avoid making your position known. Geralt smiled to himself, finding your small efforts to remain hidden adorable.

"You can't hide from me, bunny." He spoke, approaching you slowly. "I can hear the sound of your quickened breathing from miles away... smell the scent of your arousal... you want this, so why don't you come out and get this over with."

Geralt was offering you a truce, a chance for things not to escalate any further than they already had. Any sane person in your place would have taken it, it was the reasonable thing to do after taunting the wolf like that. But you were not just anyone. You wanted to face the consequences of your actions. You wanted to face the white wolf that Geralt tried so hard to keep in line. You wanted him to do whatever he wanted with you, that was the point of the game in the first place.

You came out of hiding with your hands up in a feigned sign of surrender. Geralt walked a few steps towards you, eyeing you with suspicion. You held his gaze, trying to hide your true intentions. But in the end the smile on your lips betrayed you, letting him know that you didn't plan to give up easily before you had a chance to run.

You barely made it a couple of steps before you felt the warmth of his body against yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you to keep you from escaping. You squirmed in his grip, trying to free your arms from his strong hold, but it was pointless. Geralt was much bigger and stronger than you, so you weren't going anywhere if he didn't want you to. He pressed you against him, pinning your back to his chest as his hands intertwined over your stomach, effectively imprisoning you against his body. You felt his nose against your neck, sniffing your scent with animalistic desperation. It made you tremble, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your heart pounded with anticipation. You pressed the curve of your ass against the bulge growing in his pants in response and you felt Geralt’s chest vibrate with a repressed moan.

"I got you." he growled against your skin before sinking his teeth into the sensitive area of your neck. "You're mine, bunny. Mine."

"I'm yours," you moaned, relaxing into his arms, tilting your head more so he could have better access to your neck. You wanted him to mark you. You wanted him to claim you as his own. "Please, take me." you begged. It was an airy whisper, but Geralt heard it with perfect clarity. And your consent was all he needed.

In a matter of seconds, your back was pressed against the grass as Geralt hovered over you. His hands were all over your body, lifting your skirt and unbuttoning the ties of your top to expose your breasts. His lips kissed every inch of exposed skin, but there was nothing romantic or sensual about it. It was rough, desperate, Geralt sucked your skin with the intention of leaving marks, sinking his teeth into your flesh as he growled that you belonged to him. It was too much and yet not enough. The pleasure coursing through your body was almost unbearable, but you needed more, you needed to feel all of him.

"You knew exactly what you were doing... calling me that name, making me chase you around." Geralt inserted a finger inside you without warning, earning a moan from you. You were so aroused, so desperate for his touch, that he had no trouble at all pushing deep into your core, moving his digit with ease and reaching up to brush against that sensitive part inside you that turned you into a moaning mess. "This is what you wanted, didn't you bunny? You wanted your big, bad wolf to chase you around and pin you down right in the middle of the woods, huh?"

"Y-yes, f-fuck." you managed to blurt out between moans and quickened breaths. Geralt inserted a second finger inside you and the air got stuck in your throat as the pleasure overwhelmed you. He increased the pace of his movements, showing you no mercy as his fingers moved in and out of you in desperate, almost aggressive movements. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, ready to snap at any moment.

"You awakened the wolf on purpose. This is exactly what you wanted, didn't you?" he growled in your ear, playfully biting your ear lobe. You could only reply with an incoherent moan, closing your eyes to focus on the pleasure coursing through your body. But that wasn't enough for him, Geralt wanted to hear you say it. "Answer me!" he demanded and you were forced to open your eyes just by the authority in his voice.

"Yes! I-I wanted this, I-I wanted the wolf to fuck me. Please..." Geralt smiled showing his teeth and you couldn't help but think how much he resembled a real wolf when he looked at you like that. His lips were slightly swollen and covered with saliva after working on marking your skin, his pupils blown wide with arousal. He was looking at you like a wolf looked at its prey, desperate to jump at you and devour his meal.

"Beg for it." He said through gritted teeth. He removed his fingers from inside you, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. It took your pleasure-clouded mind a few seconds to process his words, too focused on the high you'd lost to let out anything more than whimpers of frustration. But that was exactly what Geralt wanted. He wanted to see you completely desperate, surrendered under his body, begging for his touch.

"Please, wolf, I need you... I need to feel you inside me, please." You begged him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He took his fingers covered with your sweet nectar into his mouth, sucking them clean as he moaned around them. It was the hottest image you had ever seen. He was so focused on the taste of your arousal touching his tongue that for a moment you feared he might not be able to hear your pleas for attention.

“I’m yours to take… please, wolf. I need you.”

The pathetic desperation in your voice was enough for Geralt. He wasted no time, freeing his cock from its confinement and thrusting it into you in one swift movement that left you breathless. He was big and even though your arousal was seeping down your thighs, it always took you a moment to get used to the way he stretched you. He showed you some mercy, giving you a few seconds to adjust while he enjoyed the way your walls closed around his cock. Nothing compared to the warm feeling of your walls wrapped around his cock, pulling him inside you, inviting him to stay. It was the closest he had ever been to heaven, if there was such a thing.

Geralt let out a grunt as you began to move your hips against him, urging him to move. He placed his hands on either side of your head, effectively imprisoning you under his large, imposing figure. Then he gave you a sloppy, wet kiss, biting your lower lip before moving closer to your ear. "Just remember you asked for this." He whispered, sealing your fate.

The rhythm he set was fast and rough, his hips moving against yours desperately. The sheer force of his thrusts was such that you had to cling to his body to keep from sliding upward each time he entered you. It hurt a little, but in the most delicious way. He hit that special place inside you with every thrust of his hips, turning you into an incoherent moaning mess that could do nothing but dig your nails into his back in a desperate attempt to keep you grounded. Pure pleasure coursed through your veins as you felt Geralt pressing deep inside you, filling you and claiming you as his. Your sweat covered skin was on fire, only finding relief when the witcher's cold medallion that dangled over your face made contact with your body.

"Scream! I want to hear you, bunny. I want to know how good I'm making you feel." Geralt demanded and your body instantly obeyed, as if he was the true owner of your mind. "That's it, don't hold back. No one is going to find us here, you can scream all you want. It's just me and you."

The forest filled with your moans and Geralt's animalistic grunts. He couldn't contain himself, seeing you underneath him with your tangled hair full of dry leaves and your watery eyes full of pleasure was too much for him. He couldn't stop the fast rhythm of his hips even if he wanted to. The wolf inside him wanted to ruin you completely, to mark you as his and make sure you were never satisfied with any other man but him. You belonged to him, now and forever. 

"You wanted this, you craved it... my little bunny, desperate to get fucked like a bitch in heat." He growled against the skin of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive area below your ear.

"Yes! F-fuck, please... I'm so close." You begged him, feeling the familiar tingle spreading in your stomach as your toes curled. His fingers traveled to the little bundle of nerves pulsing between your legs, stroking it with rapid circular motions that increased your level of desperation. You were so close to your relief it was almost painful, but you wanted to wait, to hold back your pleasure so you could explode alongside Geralt.

"You want me to fill you up, mark you as mine, huh? Breed you with my pups so everyone knows you're mine?" It was an empty promise and you both knew it. Geralt was sterile and no matter how much he wanted to, he could not father a child. But that didn't make his words any less arousing. The idea of being his and having his child growing in your belly to prove it was so enticing that you couldn't help but entwine your legs around his waist as a way to make sure he didn't slip out from inside you.

"Yes, please! I'm yours, I always will be and I want everyone to know!"

"That's right, you are. And I'm yours." Geralt grunted, leaning his forehead against yours to look you in the eye as he quickened his movements, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased the sweet relief. "Can you feel how deep inside you I am?" He took your hand and pressed it against your lower belly, where you could feel the bulge of his cock moving inside you. "I'm going to shoot my seed so deep into you, you'll carry it inside you until your belly starts to swell up with my pups inside it. Is that what you want?"

"Yes! Please, give it to me, wolf! I need to feel you, please." You begged with your last breath, almost bursting into tears from the intensity of the pleasure you felt.

Two more thrusts were all it took for Geralt to push you over the edge. You came with a cry of his name, nails digging into the sweaty skin of his back as your warm walls tightened around his cock, forcing him to stay inside you. That was enough to trigger his own relief, his cock twitching inside you as he shot his load deep inside your cunt, painting your walls with pearly white ropes of cum. And yet, he continued to thrust inside you, making your body shake from the overstimulation. He wanted to make sure his seed stayed inside you. He wanted to be able to smell the mix of his relief and yours on you for the rest of the day.

When he finally pulled away you groaned, feeling empty. Geralt let out an airy chuckle as he dropped down next to you, struggling to catch his breath. He pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you and resting your head on his chest. Even after all that, he still needed to hold you close, to feel the warmth of your body against his. 

You stayed like that until your breathing returned to normal, reveling in each other's closeness. You were so relaxed in his arms that you might well have fallen asleep if not for Geralt breaking the peaceful silence by clearing his throat.

"We should head back." he murmured, his fingers tracing imaginary lines on the exposed skin of your arm.

"I would if I could move." You joked as you began to feel the pain in your tired muscles. You didn't regret anything, though.

"I'm sorry."

You lifted your head from his chest to look at him, giving him a smile to ease the guilt he might be feeling for hurting you. "Don't be, you did exactly what I wanted you to do." You reached up to kiss him and he gladly reciprocated, cupping your cheek with his free hand so he could deepen the kiss.

However, he pulled away faster than you expected. You whined again, but he ignored you, getting up from the floor and shaking the dirt off his clothes. "It's getting late, we need to go." He said and you huffed. You weren't ready to move yet.

"Geraaalt" you complained, pouting. He looked down at you, ready to scold you, but was distracted by the sight of his artwork in all its glory. Your sweat-covered skin glowed under the afternoon light, highlighting your beauty. Your body was covered in his teeth marks and a trail of reddened hickeys trailed from your neck to your breasts and disappeared under the fabric of your dress. You carried his scent on your body, his seed inside you and his teeth marks on your skin. That alone was enough to awaken the wolf inside him once again, though he held back.

"You look beautiful." He said, kneeling beside you to help you knot the ties in the front of your dress, hiding your breasts and the marks he had made behind the fabric.

The softness in Geralt's eyes was such that you felt the need to hide your face, feeling embarrassed and somehow more exposed than when you were having sex. However, he didn't give you time to react as he quickly pulled you into his arms and made his way back to the hut. You relaxed in his arms, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and snuggling against his shoulder. 

"I love you." you said in an almost inaudible whisper. It was as if you were speaking more to yourself than for Geralt to hear you. As if the words had escaped your lips as you were lost in thought.

But Geralt's hearing was exceptionally good. And he couldn't help but smile to himself as he heard those words.

[homestylehughes]

baby?

pairing (s): quinn hughes x fem!reader

warning(s): angst (sorta) fluff sweet Quinn, reader and Quinn are both scared but its sweet.

summary: yn unexpectedly finds out her and Quinn are having a baby.

wc: 1.1k

an: hi loves! I hope you all are doing well!!! I had this fic unfinished in a doc for a while so I decided to sit down and finish it today. I would just like to say that I need Quinn to be a father, like dad Quinn would literally save my life omg. I think I plan on working on either jack fic today or the Instagram au.. maybe both tbh. anywaysssss! much love as always <3

Yns hands shook as she watched the timer on her phone slowly wine down. Everything feels like a dream as she stares at The three tests that lay in front of her on the bathroom counter. This doesn't feel real, it can’t be real.

Her and Quinn had always been safe, she was on birth control, which she took regularly. Well at least she thought she did, until she had the sudden realization that her period was over a week and a half late, she knew something was up. 

So she's here now, staring at 3 tests that can ultimately change their lives forever. She didn't even know what she'd do if she was, what would Quinn even do? Would he leave her? Would he say that her baby trapped him? Oh gosh, what would his family think? What would her parents think? Her mind runs through every possible scenario, as time ticks down. 

The sound of the alarm snaps her out of a spirling, almost nightmaric daydream. Her hands shake as she reaches out to grab the test in front of her. There isn't any amount of deep breaths she can take, before turning over the test. Yn stares at the two lines like a deer in headlights. She can feel her whole life flash in front of her, this can't be happening to her, it has to be a dream she thinks to herself. Leaning against the counter, in attempts to try and calm her racing heart and shaky hands. 

Raising her head to look in the mirror, it hits her. She's pregnant, she's having a baby, Quinn's baby. Moving her hands to rest against her stomach, she begins to sob. She can't tell if she's crying tears of joy or tears of fear of what can happen next. 

Not sure what to do next, yn stands in the bathroom in temptes to calm herself down. taking deep shallow breaths, trying somehow, someway to control the tears running down her face. After her attempts to calm down, the first thing on her mind is what does she tell quinn? How would she even bring it up, how he would be mad and leave her? Her mind starts spirling again, sobs that she tried to choke down, are now coming up and this time she cant help but let herself cry.

As if the situation couldn't get any worse at this moment, she hears the front door open and shut. Yn’s eyes open in shock. moving to look at the time on her phone, seeing a text from Quinn saying he'd be on his way home 45 minutes ago. She wasn't ready to tell him, she didn't even know what was going on, how could she explain this to someone else? 

“Baby? Are you home?” Quinn yells out from downstairs?

“Ye-yes! Im here” she yells back, her voice breaking from crying 

Yn can hear his footsteps moving upstairs to their room, where yn is standing in the connected bathroom. Her hands began to shake as she tried to quickly find the boxes and positive tests. 

“You won't believe what happened at practice today” he begins, dropping his bag by the bedroom door before he starts making his way to the bathroom.

“So petey an i are running drills and tell me how this fucker trips me and i-” quinn suddenly stops talking. His wide eyes locked with yours as they stared at each other. His eyes slowly move to the test laying on the counter that you have your hand over. 

“Yn. what's going on” 

‘I-quinn” you whisper out, tears again prickling against your waterline

“Move your hand” he says softly 

You take a shaking breath before pulling your hand away from the positive test. Quinn quickly moved to grab the test, pulling it to his face to look at it. It's like you see the gears in his head turning as he stares at it. Time feels like it's moving in slow motion as you wait for any type of response from him. 

He sets the test back gently on the counter, before turning to lean his back against the counter, running his hands over and down his face. And for the first time in what feels like eternity you hear him finally let out a sigh. You are not sure if it's good or bad, but you're leaning more towards bad as she stares at his rigid body leaning against the counter. 

His no response almost seems like a response to you, you're not sure what to do. the struggle to keep your cries down is failing by the second. failing completely as you open your mouth to speak but if your voice is cut off before you even get the chance to utter a word when it's ripped away by a sob. The sound of your crying seems to snap Quinn out of whatever he was going through beside you, his head moving from his hands, his eyes moving to look at your face, but you can't let him, he can't see you like this. 

“Yn” he says soft yet sternly as he takes a few steps to reach you. 

“Hey look at me baby” he says, his hands moving to grab your cheeks, pulling your face to look at him. 

“Quinn, i'm so sorry” you start,

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I know we hadn't planned on having kids, until we were married and this is just your second season as captain. I don't want you to be mad at me. I don't want you to leave me.” your voice breaking at the end of your confession. 

“Yn, i would never ever leave you.” he says softly

“This baby..this all is a little sudden but i've wanted you to be the mother of my children for the last 6 years.” he begins. “I want this, of course im scared but i want this with you, there's nothing to be sorry for, i love you.” he finishes 

Tears stream down your face as you pull yourself into Quinn, your arms wrapping around his neck, his arms squeezing you tight in your middle. 

“I love you so much” you mumble into his neck

“I love you more,” he says, pulling back from the hug, “and I love you too, little baby,” moving his hands to rest on your stomach, with a smile on his face. 

[halucynator]

False Fronts

part 1 of 4

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

Warnings: fake dating, arguing, not proof read and my writing 😔

Summary: Being asked to fake date someone to get a petty ex off their back is the worst possible way of being friend-zoned. You, however, were willing to take any chances to get as close as you could to Theodore Nott.

there will most definitely be a part 2

i will absolutely credit @berryzxx for helping me and giving me ideas for this haha

sorry if anyone's name is Jess ily i swear mwah <;33

he's such a cutie tehe

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4: fluff angst

You were going about your usual business, wandering the empty corridors of Hogwarts. The prospect of Defense Against the Dark Arts class, particularly with Umbridge as the professor, filled you with dread. Determined to delay your arrival as much as possible, you lingered, reluctant to head to your lesson.

As you strolled through the corridors, distant murmurs reached your ears. Tracing their origin, the faint echoes evolved into a heated dispute—a boy and a girl embroiled in a passionate disagreement. Step by step, you closed the distance until their fervent voices became distinct and clear.

"Look, Jess, it's over. O-V-E-R." You could hear the boy say to someone who you could only assume was called Jess.

"But I don't want it to be over! I still love you! Please, I'm sorry!" The girl, presumably Jess, begged.

"Well, you should've thought of that before you went and cheated on me." His response cut through the air, chilling in its icy tone, sending unwelcome shivers down your spine. Whoever he was, his disdain for Jess was palpable. His voice was unmistakable, you having heard it all your life. You knew who it was.

He sauntered off, leaving both Jess and you dumbfounded. Peeking around the corner to catch a glimpse of the boy, you inadvertently crashed into the very person—Theodore Nott—you were trying to observe.

As you collided with Theodore Nott, his demeanor shifted from the tense confrontation to one of mild surprise, his dark eyes locking with yours in an unexpected encounter. You stumbled back a step, catching your breath as you met his gaze, both of you momentarily stunned by the abrupt intersection.

"Y/N," Theodore uttered your name, a flicker of recognition dancing across his features before settling into a composed mask. "Sorry about that. Didn't see you there."

Your mind raced, trying to process the scene you'd just witnessed. His confrontation with Jess seemed far more serious than a typical teenage quarrel. Sensing your curiosity, Theodore's expression shifted a glint of something unreadable in his eyes.

"Listen," he started, his voice lowering to a hushed tone as if sharing a secret. "I need a favor, and I think you might be the perfect solution."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, unsure where this conversation was heading. Theodore hesitated for a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing.

"Jess won't leave me alone. She's been causing a scene ever since things ended between us. I need... I need someone to help me out, to pretend to be with me, just to get her off my back. It's purely for appearances, nothing more."

His request hung in the air, unexpected and oddly intriguing. Theodore Nott, asking for your assistance in a situation as serious as this. You weighed his words, contemplating the implications of what he proposed, your mind swirling with questions about why he'd chosen you for such a peculiar task.

"Please. I'll ask nothing more of you. Just some PDA. Slight touches, whatever you're comfortable with."

The allure of being close to him warred with the fear of playing a role in a situation that could easily spin out of control. Yet, despite the inner turmoil, a glimmer of hope danced in your chest—an opportunity to be near Theodore, even if it was only as part of a facade.

You'd been friends with Theo for what felt like forever. He trusted you, and that meant a lot. Sure, there was that fear of being stuck in the friend zone, but when you thought about it, the chance to help him seemed more important. He wanted this, and he was your friend. So, yeah, you wanted to be there for him.

After a moment's hesitation, you gathered your resolve and nodded in agreement, your voice surprisingly steady despite the fury of emotions raging within you. "Alright, Theodore. I'll help you out."

A flicker of relief crossed Theodore's face, a barely perceptible shift in his expression that hinted at gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N. I owe you one."

As the weight of your decision settled in, you couldn't help but wonder about the implications of what you'd just agreed to. Theodore's proposal was both thrilling and nerve-wracking, and the realization that you were about to embark on a fake relationship with someone you genuinely cared for made your heart race with both anticipation and anxiety.

Theodore glanced around, as if to ensure no one else was nearby, before leaning in closer. "Let's meet later today and discuss how we're going to pull this off, alright? Preferably somewhere private."

Nodding in agreement, your mind raced with a million questions, but you managed to offer a reassuring smile. "Sure, Theodore. I'll be there."

As he walked away, you were left standing there, your mind spinning. The whole idea was thrilling, but it also felt like stepping onto a rollercoaster without knowing the twists and turns ahead. For now, all you could do was wait and meet up with Theodore and realise the depths of the situation you just put yourself into.

Either way, this fake dating thing just became your reality, and you had no clue where it would lead.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

hello, hi! read part 2 here :))

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Ascended Astarion Manipulation

I'm back on my dark bullshit. Now thinking of your "choice" to be a vampire spawn. Any sane person would refuse, and Astarion is aware of this. So he decides to convince you with some very not good tactics.

Tw: Obsession, manipulation, jealousy, ascended Astarion doing ascended Astarion things, bad, bad, man, toxic relationships

~

Astarion had developed a significant lack of patience ever since reaching Ascension. It was hard to entertain most things when he'd achieved the power to twist the vast majority of situations in his favor. But he was trying his damndest to be patient with you. Despite the fact that your constant refusals made him absolutely furious. You insisted that you loved him, that he was all you would ever want, but yet you still refused to undergo the change.

It's not like he was asking for much, if anything you should be thanking him for the opportunity. He was offering you the gift of immortality, with little to no drawbacks. Besides your unwavering devotion of course. But what was that in the face of absolute freedom? You would never have to worry about a thing again. He would keep you safe and cared for, all while you'd both be free to walk in the sun. He had endless funds now that he had taken over Cazador's estate, unmatched political power in a startlingly short amount of time, considering his work as part of the heroes of Baldur's gate, and the power to obliterate nearly any mortal enemy he could think of. Anything you desired he could give, if you would just let yourself take that final step.

But as much as he wanted to be solely angry at you, he really only had himself to blame. Why had he insisted on being so descriptive about the limitations of being a spawn? He had been such a cowardly moron back then, with no imagination to imagine a better future. And now he was paying for it. While it was true he would never make you a fully fledged vampire, it didn't mean he would mistreat you. He loved you. Adored you more than anything else in existence. And having you as his spawn, his official consort would be for your benefit just as much his. This was the only way he would have complete control over you, fully able to protect you from everything. Including yourself.

But you weren't buying his lies about eventually becoming equals. The offer of giving you everything you ever wanted also fell flat, considering how he was already doing that. He just couldn't help but spoil you.

He had started to wonder if he should just force it. He would prefer not to, but he would if it came to it. But he didn't get this far by not using his brain. Force wasn't the way with you, it never had been. If anything, turning you against your will would just lead to decades of fighting and bickering, something that Astarion would like to avoid if possible. He would hate to make the experience of putting you in your place unpleasant.

No, he would try to be reasonable one more time. And appealing to your emotions, to your guilt, seemed as good a bet as any.

He waited until you were comfortable and relaxed. You were dozing off against his chest in bed while Astarion contemplated the best approach to this conversation. If this didn't work, then he'd just have to bite the bullet and bite you without your consent. Then, he'd probably have to lock you away for a time until you came around to your new state of being, an idea that did send a shiver of excitement up his spine.

But not yet. He was willing to give you one more chance to do the right thing.

He ran the tips of his fingers over your back, taking the time to work up a couple of tears before fully waking you with a seemingly accidental shake. He sniffled loudly, barely managing to hide his smile as you blinked your eyes open. You blearily looked up at him, immediately tensing when you saw the sorrowful expression on his face.

You sat up quickly, concern knitting your brows together as you asked, "Star? What's wrong? What happened?"

Astarion looked away with a shake of his head, "I... I didn't mean to wake you darling. Ignore me, I'll be fine."

You shook your head. You gently turned him back towards you, both hands cupping the sides of his face, "None of that. Tell me? I'll never be able to sleep if I know your upset."

Astarion gripped your wrists as he spoke, his voice soft, "I don't want to upset you."

"You won't," You said, just like Astarion knew you would, "I promise. Just tell me what's wrong?"

He took a deep breath, his voice barely over a whisper when he admitted, "I'm so afraid of losing you, my love. I... I just can't stop thinking about it."

"But I'm not going anywhere-"

"For now," Astarion interrupted, his voice pained. He only had to take a portion of that, "But... one day you'll die. And I won't. I... I don't know how I'll ever live without you."

He could feel you tense up, badly enough for you to almost pull away, but he just tightened the grip he had on your wrists. You sighed, looking away with a guilty frown, "I-we've talked about this. I don't-I'm not ready to be... that."

Astarion could feel that same anger creeping back up at your rejection, but he stomped it down. He could tell that you were semi-buying the act. You were so much smarter then he gave you credit for, never failing to challenge him. Just one more thing he loved about you.

Astarion took a shuddering breath, nuzzling into the palm of your hand, "I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I just... I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," You said softly, "I'm the one who asked."

"But I'm the one who woke you," Astarion argued, "I'm so sorry darling. I want to let this go. I do. But I... I'm scared. Of so many things. I'm afraid that you think... that you think I'm like him. That you don't trust me to take care of you like you deserve. I'm afraid of you dying yes, probably more than anything but... I'm nearly just as terrified of you leaving."

That speech was... a touch too honest for Astarion's liking, but it seemed to be working. He could see tears prickling in your own eyes, your resolve shaken in a way he had yet to seen.

"I-I do trust you. And I know you're not like him. I'm just... I'm scared too. What if... what if you get tired of me? What if you find someone better suited for you? Then I would just... be there. Forever tied to a man who doesn't want me."

That... actually hurt to hear. Didn't you know that you were it for him? That he would set the whole world ablaze if it meant keeping you safe? No one would ever get between the two of you, he'd slaughter anyone who would even dare try.

Astarion finally let go of your wrists, opting to pull you into a tight hug instead. He cradled you against him, whispering in your ear, "That will never happen. You're mine. There is no one else, nothing else, that will ever change that. And if you let me I'll prove it to you, for all eternity."

You were fully crying now, so, so close to breaking. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

"I love you," Astarion murmured, one thing that would never be a lie, "And I can't live without you. I won't. It's either forever with you, or my life ends the day yours does."

"Don't say that," You whimpered, "Please don't say that. I-I don't want that for you."

You were so close to him, so distraught. He could smell the siren call of your blood through your skin, calling out to him. He made the choice then and there, he was biting you tonight. Without or without your consent. It would be up to you if it would be a fight or not.

"Then give me this," Astarion pleaded one more time, his real emotions coming to the forefront, "Let me have this life with you. Please my love, let this happen. Let me change you. For me?"

This was it, your last change. Astarion could only hope that you wouldn't disappoint him.

And you didn't, perfect thing that you were. You were nearly sobbing into his shoulder, but you were nodding against him, your voice barely audible through the tears, "Y-Yes, I'll do it. For you. You... you can change me."

That was all the permission that Astarion needed. He was sinking his fangs into your throat before you could even process it, so, so ready to drain you dry.

You gasped at the unexpected pain, but you didn't fight him. You let it happen like the good pet you were, all you had needed was a little push. He could feel you start to fade away, your body becoming more and more lax as you started to die in his arms.

But that was fine. You were about to be reborn into something better, someone who would never be able to leave his side.

This was it. Now, you were his, in every way imaginable.

You would never be away from him again.

[fizzy-blood]

Coral again 🪸🫡

Tim / Masky nsfw headcanons PLS

Tim & Masky Headcanons🌲 [NSFW]

I ACCIDENTALLY HAD THIS POST DELETED TWICE AND I'M GOING INSANE!! Also, you're the first anon I've had that named themselves so congrats on that ^_^ also gn reader/'S/O'. Thank you so much for sending in two asks! I'll post the first one when I can <3 /p

WARNING: NSFW/18+ CONTENT [Breeding kink, spanking/hitting, orgasm denial, mentions of degrading, kinda public sex? Gun violence!!(Yay!!!/s)]

Tim

I'm gonna be honest with y'all... He's kinda vanilla.. Not that there's anything wrong with that ofc... But I know this fandom is full of freaks (ME INCLUDED)

But I do think he has some sort of breeding kink

Idk man but the idea of getting his S/O (you) knocked up just does something to him (even if that's not possible)

I feel like he would have wanted kids at some point in his life and the idea of getting you pregnant probably helps with that... Even if raising a child would be kinda impossible with his current situation...

Now... I'm gonna be honest again... He isn't super big...

It's average size so around 5 inches (12-13 cm for my fellow maple syrup drinkers... Also other non American folks)

But he's definitely got more girth than the average person!

And he's also surprisingly good in bed? Like??

He's very sweet and tries his best to be gentle (but sometimes gets a bit rougher when he's close)

If you want him to be rough or go faster he will... But he'll be asking if you're ok immediately after you both finish! (Aftercare with this man is 🤤 but more on that later)

And I did say he was very sweet so I guess I should just specify that he likes to praise you

It's very sappy for someone who's normally kinda rude to everyone but it's still a great experience!

Though he doesn't really like to shave or trim to often... But if you asked really nicely he'd probably do it a bit more often (I love hairy men 🗣️)

Masky

But Masky on the other hand? Ha! He'd spit in your face and tell you to keep quiet while he pounds into you... (... Me next... OMG WHO SAID THAT!?)

But seriously... This guy will barely talk during sex, but when he does it's almost always to degrade you or order you around

And if you don't do as he says there are two punishments

The first one only works if he had any control over you being able to finish up and cum

Aka, orgasm denial!

He'll do what he wants to do and just leave you in whatever state you're in

And if not? If he can't control you like that?

Spanking!

Now, he prefers to use his hand but will use a paddle or some sort of object if he has one nearby

But again, normally uses his hand for it

He'll force you to bend over his knees or lay across his lap so he can do it properly

He also likes making you count how many

And if you mess up? He'll start over and make you count again...

Also... Kinda unrelated but this guy loves fucking you in the middle of the woods for some reason?

Against a tree or on the ground... Doesn't really matter as long as you're outside...

And yes, a hiker did come across it once... The guy almost immediately got shot by Masky

Speaking of getting shot! He almost immediately put the guy to your head with the safety off while he was fucking you. No, he did not apologize!

Over all kind of a lot... Not bad if you're into being used like that though...

After care!!

(Masky doesn't really do aftercare so this is all Tim)

He'll lay with you for a bit before slowly getting up and stretching

After that he'll look down at you and ask if you need water or food or maybe even a bath..

If you feel like you're struggling to walk he'll try to carry around his cabin or your house (depending on where you guys were)

If you have a bath he'll sit next to the tub and talk to you, making sure you're alright and everything

And if you ask him really nicely he might even join you in there!!

After that he'll help you dry off and take you back to bed to sleep (and cuddle)

Aftercare is a 10/10 experience honestly

AHHH! FINALLY DID IT! (And I actually really liked this one) thank you again for sending in the ask and I hope you enjoyed this ^_^ and again, asks are open

-Fizz

[Also! Pill/cigarette dividers by @sister-lucifer ]

[littlemissshoei]

KENYU YUKIMIYA

⤷ headcanons. sfw & nsfw.

some headcanons for an underrated king 🙏 dedicated to my beloved Bel for no specific reason other than her being the biggest Yukimiya fan ever and ever, heh.

CONTENT WARNING: suggestive / nsfw content, minor mentions of kinks, lots of fluff, Yuki being an absolute sweetheart, established relationships, habits

— ★ YUKIMIYA seems like the type of guy that would softlaunch his loved one until you're comfortable with being shown to the public eye. He'd post you holding hands, small bits of your hair peeking from a picture's corner or holding the beautifully crafted boquet he got for you. Once he's sure you don't mind being in the spotlight, he shows you off at any possibility given, wanting the whole world to know about you.

— ★ YUKIMIYA enjoys physical touch. Be it holding hands, brushing strands of hair from your face or tucking it behind your ear, it brings him a lot of joy. He loves watching your cheeks turn pink, your eyes nervously looking away when he gets too close and the soft smiles gracing your lips whenever he kisses your forehead.

— ★ YUKIMIYA'S has a few particular spots he likes to kiss, such as your knuckles, your temple, under the corners of your lip, your inner thighs, above your belly button and on your nose.

— ★ YUKIMIYA favourite way to spend time with you is at your shared apartment, where the both of you take turns reading out loud. You have a shared collection of books you enjoy, and every weekend the two of you get all cozy in your livingroom, the soft light decorating the room illuminating everything as you take advantage of the little quietness you get. You consider his voice very soothing, and your reading sessions usually end up with you falling asleep with your head on his chest as he lovingly rubs your back.

— ★ YUKIMIYA likes telling you about his day, since that gives him the chance to lay his head on your lap and feel the way your nails comb through his hair. The boy admires the way you listen to him, focusing all your attention on him, humming every once in a while with the sweetest smile on your face

— ★ YUKIMIYA is the type of guy that prefers your comfort over his own. He would do anything in his power to make sure you feel good FIRST. this also counts when it comes to the sexual part of your relationship.

— ★ YUKIMIYA is a switch. While he enjoys taking control and seeing you becoming a whiny mess under him, he can't deny how much it turns him on when you take the lead, feeling him up, making him feel good, hell, he gets hard whenever you call him your good boy, and he feels no shame about it in the slightest! He's the type of guy that's into slight bondage, public / semi public sex (especially if it's in the dressing room, before or after one of his modelling shoots) and risky situations overall. He also likes marking (doesn't matter if it's you marking him or the other way around) and he's a champion at aftercare.

— ★ YUKIMIYA loves taking you everywhere with him. No matter what, he makes sure you're present at his modelling shoots, and even goes as far as (politely) arguing with people whenever they try to send you away. He might have some slight attachment issues when it comes to you, but whenever you let him know about needing some time to yourself or a breather he is quick to understand.

— ★ YUKIMIYA loves you so much, he wouldn't let a miscommunication or issue lead to your breakup. He does whatever he can to talk things out with you, make you feel better and keep you close. He has never had such strong feelings for anyone, and even though it is a little scary to depend so much on someone, he wouldn't want to be with anyone else, just you.

[bearambles]

sober (haymitch a.)

words: 3.9k

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f + m receiving) , teasing (?), too much plot 😭

notes: this is so late! i am so sorry to whoever requested, i got super busy and couldn’t post it the day i planned. also, this is my first ever smut! so i am sorry if this is terrible, i’ll get better over time. enjoy!

_

The party lasted hours. Your feet hurt, your stomach is churning, and your head pounds. You've never wanted your district bed more than now. This place reeks of wealth and lies.

Unfortunately, skipping these monthly events would anger Snow. He already dislikes you and your district, so you have to do whatever it takes to please him. If that means enduring long nights of drinking and throwing up, so be it. It's better than death, you suppose.

There's only one other District 12 victor here with you, and he disappeared halfway through the night. Haymitch, despite being a good friend and your former mentor, is possibly the worst person to rely on in these social situations. He's been sitting at the bar for who knows how long, drinking who knows how much. It's only when the host literally announces it's time to leave that you find him, slumped over the counter on a stool.

"Haymitch? Come on, we have to go," you urge, shaking his shoulders.

"What? No, let me stay. I'm sleeping," he mumbles.

"You're not sleeping. You're fine. Here, I have one of those drinks that make you throw up. It'll sober you up enough to say goodbyes," you say, handing him the glass. He pushes it back towards you without even looking up.

"I don't want that Capitol shit."

"This Capitol shit will help you a lot right now. Haymitch, get up!" You push his head to the side so you can see his face. He opens his eyes to look at you.

He's only in his late twenties, but his eyes seem older. He looks as rough as he acts. His hair is too long, and his beard is starting to come in slightly, despite him saying he'd groom himself for this occasion. Still, he looks handsome. Not that it matters; his current state reflects his antisocial night.

"Please. I'm trying to keep us out of trouble. You've been alone all night. At least come say goodbye to people with me. Then we can go home, okay?"

If harshness isn’t working, you'll try being soft with him. Sometimes, just sometimes, it works. It seems to today.

He sighs and sits up, steadying himself with his palms flat on the counter. He reaches for the purple liquid and swallows it like a shot, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing.

"Okay, I'll be back then," he says, going off to throw up.

You nod and take a seat on the stool next to where he was sitting, waiting. You can't help but feel guilty. You should have stayed with him longer that night before he went off on his own. You knew he'd go drinking, but you didn’t know it would get this bad.

Since you've known Haymitch, he's had a bit of a drinking problem. Mostly under control when he mentored you—never more than tipsy. But in recent years, as more of his tributes lost the Games, it's gotten worse. It's weighing on him, you can tell. You want to help so badly.

"Okay, let's go," he says, returning a few minutes later, running his fingers through his hair. He's clearly sobered up a bit, maybe even washed his face. His breath smells of mint.

The host and his wife are among about a dozen people remaining by the time you leave the bar and walk to the main room together. Nonetheless, you both put on a show, shaking hands and smiling, thanking them endlessly. You never know who's watching, present or otherwise.

As you make your rounds to the last few victors, Haymitch latches his arm closely with yours. The move surprises you; you realize he hasn't been this physical in a while. It seems to come with sobriety or maybe just part of the Capitol's show. Together, you almost look like a couple. It's odd.

When you leave through the doors, he doesn't let go of your arm. It's a cold night, and you shiver, but the warmth of his body next to yours feels weirdly nice.

"Thank you," you say, looking up at him on the train ride home.

"For what?" he asks, furrowing his brows.

"For taking the glass. I know you hate that stuff, but—"

"But I need to get sober," he says, looking away from you into the distance.

"I didn't say that, but it's nice when you are. I mean, it's helpful with the image when you aren't stumbling around—"

He detaches his arm from yours.

"So I shouldn't drink because the President said so?"

"He didn't say so, Haymitch. I'm saying so. You shouldn't drink because I say so."

"And why's that?"

"Because I like you better like this."

He goes quiet, then looks down at his feet, his hair falling in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, it's harder than it looks, sweetheart."

"I know that. I'm sorry," you say softly.

The rest of the ride is quiet. It's just the two of you on the train, and any sound you make seems to echo for ages. Neither of you wants to speak; too much is unsaid.

You care about him; you know that. You just aren't sure how. Though it seems increasingly clear to you in moments like this when all you want to do is tuck his hair behind his ear and kiss him softly. You have no idea how he'd feel about that, though. You have no idea how he feels most of the time.

In fact, just then, it's the first time he's seemed to feel bad about his drinking. And it doesn't seem like he cares about his health or the Capitol's opinion on his image. It seems like he feels bad for disappointing you.

When the train stops, you both get out, him first, then you. He offers his hand as you step down, and you take it with a slight smile. His hands are cold, as is the night.

Your houses are directly next to each other in Victor's Village, making the walk there excruciatingly awkward. You can't tell what he's thinking, or if he's thinking at all. Finally, after what feels like an hour, he speaks.

"That stuff is really nasty, you know that?" he says.

You look up at him. "The purging stuff?"

"No, the desserts they were serving," he says, rolling his eyes and bumping his shoulder against yours. "Yeah, the purging stuff."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You're right. What you said and stuff. That's all right. You're right."

You smile and look up at him. He looks back at you and smiles softly, then looks away. He clearly hates to admit it.

"Don't be cocky about it, though. And don't expect me to stop. It's not that easy."

"I don't. I just like you like this."

"Yeah, you mentioned that. What do you mean?"

You've reached your house, and he stops in front of your door, feet planted. He looks down at you with a questioning gaze, and his blue eyes seem to dart across your face. Your cheeks flush. You have no idea what to respond.

"You know, just... sober," you say, looking away.

"No, I know, but the 'like' part. What do you mean? Because you got all shy when you said it," he says, swaying a bit where he stands, impatiently waiting for a response.

"I don't know," you say quietly.

"You don't know?"

"No. I think we should go to sleep. You should go to sleep. No more drinks. At least wait until tomorrow."

You try to push past him to your door, but he takes both hands out of his pockets and gently shoves your shoulders back. Not hard, but enough to make you stumble. He gazes down at you and steps forward, closing the space between you.

"Whoa, you're so eager all of a sudden. Look at me," he says, tilting your head up with a hand under your chin. "Why are you so embarrassed?"

"I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. You like me?"

"Haymitch, stop. You're—" You stop, tears pricking at your eyes. He's teasing you, you're sure of it. The last thing you want is for him to figure out your feelings. Not after he's been your mentor, not after he's seen you at your worst, after he's been your friend (?) for this long. It doesn't make sense. You know that. And he knows that, most definitely. That's why you're sure he doesn't feel that way towards you. He can't.

"You're crying. I thought you were all tough?" he says.

He's right. You were tough. Crying makes you weak. You hate talking like this. So honestly.

"Stop it," you jerk away from his hand, which had crept up to your cheek. "Go to bed."

But you don't take a step forward, don't shove past him again. You just stand there, your breath heavy, looking away. He gazes at you like he's seeing you for the first time, his eyes darting from your eyes to your mouth to your body.

"I don't want to. I want to talk to you," he finally says.

"About what?" you say, still looking away.

"Us," he says softly.

"What about us?"

He takes a step forward.

"Come on, sweetheart. You're so good to me. Take care of me. Trust in me. Give me hope."

Your breathing speeds up as you feel his hand stoke your arm gently up and down as he speaks. You’d always been cautious of his words, so used to his drunken thoughts being untrustworthy and sometimes cruel. But this feels honest. Real.

“I know you feel something.” he says as you lift your head to look back at him. “You might not know what. I don’t know either. But c’mon.” 

He starts to lean closer and your eyes drift closed. Before you can even register, his lips are on yours, and you’re kissing back. Your hands hold his elbows and his hold your face. 

His mouth tastes of the mouthwash from the capitol washrooms. He’s so slow with you, like he’s trying not to scare you. You aren’t sure if he possibly could. 

Suddenly you pull away. 

“What’s wrong?” Haymitch asks, his eyes wide.

“We should go inside.” 

“Oh. Yeah.” He registers quickly what you mean. 

All along the village are cameras for the capitol to see what goes on. Although it’s unlikely you’d get in much trouble for a kiss, you never knew what would land you a meeting with snow. Or just become the talk of the next victor event. 

You push past him and unlock your door quickly, before turning back to him, motioning for him to come inside. By the time you close the door, he’s kissing you again, this time the careful act gone. He catches your lips and kisses you like his life depended on it. It’s messy and wet and you’re so turned on it’s insane. 

His hands both reach down to hold yours, and he pushes them up against the door. The motion catches you by surprise and you moan softly into his mouth. He hears you and holds down tighter on your wrists, just enough to feel but not to hurt. 

His knee starts to spread your legs apart slowly as he kisses down your neck, and you let his name slip from your mouth.

“Haymitch~”

He stops to look at you.

“Yeah? You like this?” He sounds like he’s genuinely asking. Like he needs to know. 

You nod, your brain already fuzzy. 

“Okay. Okay.” He sounds out of breath but resumes 

his task, getting down to your collarbone. 

Hes rough with his kisses when he’s below where any marks would be seen. As he unbuttons your shirt, he looks at you, smiling like an idiot. It hits you then that he seems to have wanted this as badly as you all along. He leans in to leave a soft kiss on your lips before pulling your sleeves off your arms and throwing your top to the floor. 

“Jesus…” He mutters as he looks down at your tits. 

You reach behind you to unhook your bra, and let it all forward and land next to your shirt. 

“Holy fuck.” 

You laugh quietly at his words. He looks up at you in awe and with a look of asking as he creeps his hands from your waist up to your chest. You nod and let out a sharp breath when his cold hands hold your tits and knead them slowly. 

You wonder then if he’d ever done this with a woman before. He was younger than you when he won, so probably not before the games. And after…he’d never really seemed the type. But then again, he was attractive and still young, so you couldn’t be sure. 

Besides him, you’d only been with one or two boys from district before you were reaped. They were, however, nothing like this. 

He takes one nipple between his thumb and pointer, pinching slightly. Between the pressure and his cold hands, you let out a noise of surprise and pleasure. 

“Does that hurt?” He asks

“No, just…it’s a lot.” You say through deep breaths. “K-keep going.”

He smiles and does the same with the other, and your hips jut forward slightly in reaction. He doesn’t notice, which you’re grateful for. You’re so eager it’s embarrassing. Every touch makes your stomach flip and your underwear wetter. 

Slowly he starts to kiss down from your collarbones to your chest and takes a breast in his mouth. He looks up at you as he sucks softly, his tongue swirling your nipple. His big eyes looking into yours makes you feel like you could cum then and there. you let out a moan instead. 

He plays with your breasts for a while longer before they’re nice and covered in both his spit and dark, red marks. He knew what he was doing, putting them where nobody could see. you thought of changing in front of a mirror days to come, just looking at them. Knowing it was from him. sober. He wants this. 

He gets to his knees before you can stop him, and begins to pull down your skirt. 

You’re left in your underwear, your slick having left a clear spot in the front. You turn your head in embarrassment as he touches up your thighs and leaves open mouth kisses. 

“All this from that, huh?” he asks, laughing softly 

“Shut up.” you mutter into your hand. 

“You want me to stop?” he asks, his fingers hooked under the sides of your panties. 

“N-no.”

“What was that sweetheart? C’mon, look at me.”

“Don’t stop.” you say, clearer now, making eye contact as he kneels in front of your pussy. You couldn’t be more vulnerable, and yet, you trust him with every inch of your being. 

He looks back at your core for a moment before licking a stripe up the thin fabric. You curse quietly and he pulls them down, the air hitting your heat before his tongue does. But when it does…

He laps at you like he’d wanted to for years, which you’re now sure that he has. The urgency makes your legs buckle and he uses both hands against your knees to hold them open. He switches between your folds and your clit, paying attention to both. Every so often he stops and just admires. 

At some point haymitch sucks at your clit, and your hands fly to his hair, pulling slightly. 

He lets out a groan of surprise against your core.

“Sorry, sorry…” you mutter, loosening your grip. 

“No, keep going, I like it.” he says, stopping to look up at you, his eyes nearly glazed over in bliss. 

You resume your hold on his head and tug as he continues. Between his lips and his tongue, you’re  overwhelmed. before you know it, you feel the coil in your stomach tighten. 

“Stop…stop…” you manage in between moans. 

He gives you one last kiss to your clit before standing up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“You okay?” 

“Just don’t wanna finish yet.” you say without thinking, before getting flushed. Even after all that, you couldn’t believe you were speaking to him like this. Haymitch. 

He smiles lazily and goes in to kiss you again, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. It should repulse you, but instead, it turns you on more. He's so happy right now, and it’s so hot. 

“Do you wanna go to my bed?” you ask him when you get a breath, his forehead resting against yours. 

He picks you up and carries you. 

Haymitch knows your house as well as his from all the press training, meetings, and late night conversations you’ve had there. He practically lives with you at this point (Besides the sleeping over part. Usually. Unless he’d passed out.) 

He drops you on your mattress and pulls off his own shirt in one motion. Your breath is caught in your throat. 

You knew he was in shape, at least he was when he had mentored you all those years ago. But even now, behind the big shirts he wears and raggedy jackets, soft abs trace his stomach. His arms as big as your thighs. No wonder the pressure on your neck felt so nice. 

He sees you staring and smiles, leaning down to tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“You gonna say anything, pretty girl?” 

You try, but you find no words. Instead, you kiss him, and slowly trail your hands down his chest. you can feel raised scars and for a moment, remember what he’s been through. What you both have been through. 

You reach his belt and whisper into his mouth, 

“Can i?”

He nods against your forehead and you start to undo it, throwing it to the side. You pull his pants down with urgency and run your palm against his boxers. 

He lets out a noise you’ve never heard him make before, a mix between a whimper and a moan. You smile and start to palm him faster, before taking him out of his underwear and looking between you at his length. 

He’s bigger than you expect, and definitely bigger than the boys you’ve been with before. A solid seven inches and thick. Your eyes can’t look away and your breath rises and falls. 

He takes your hand softly into his and guides it to his length. He looks up at you as he does, searching for any hesitation in your eyes. Instead, you look up at him before flipping you both over quickly, so you sit on his thighs. 

He’s strong, but so are you, and he doesn’t resist as you take charge over him. He does, however, look a bit surprised, and reaches to hold your hand again. You take it and kiss it, which he smiles at. Then, you lean down, and let a glob of spit dribble from your mouth to his cock. 

“Jesus christ…” he mutters, as you use your free hand to pump up and down. “When did you…fuck…feels so good sweetheart”

You smile and take him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down quickly. His other hand still holding yours, he grips at your hair (much gentler than you did his) and makes a make-shift ponytail so he can see your pretty face. 

Despite the view, his eyes flutter shut in pleasure, and your pace quickens. You feel him pulse inside your mouth and you’re sure he’s about to cum. 

You take him as deep as you can before pulling off, leaving his cock hard as a rock and covered in your saliva. You admire your work for a moment before he reaches forward and pulls you on top of him by your hips so you’re right against his chest. 

“C’mere” he moans, fucked out, before taking his cock in his own hand and looking over your shoulder to position himself in front of your entrance. 

“You want this?” he asks, taking your cheek in his free hand and stroking his thumb against it. 

“Please.” you whisper. 

Slowly, he inserts himself into you, catching your moans in his mouth as he kisses you slowly. He stretches you out so well, and your slick helps him move without much pain. Still, you bite down on his lip at the feeling of being full once he’s in. You let out a whimper. 

“I know baby, I know. Shhhh. Tell me when to move, okay?” he looks into your eyes. 

For a moment you just kiss him, his mouth so warm on yours and his cock so warm inside you. You could die like this. 

Then, you pull away, and lift your hips, before slowly moving back down. 

“Fuck…” he moans, before catching into the pace you set and moving you up and down on his cock. “So perfect for me, yeah? You feel that?” 

You nod dumbly at his words. He could say anything to you at this moment, and you’d agree. He feels so good. So right. 

“You wanted this huh? Is that why you want me sober? To fuck me?” he asks, and you shake your head as you bounce on his dick. 

“Hm, but that’s part of it, yeah?” he insists, “You like this. Me. C’mon sweetheart, you’re needy. That's okay, I'm givin’ it to you. I'm here.” 

You fall against him and place your head on his shoulder as he fucks into you like you’re a doll. He knows just what to say to get you so embarrassed and so wet. The words only add to your pleasure and you can feel yourself getting close. 

“Haymitch…” you moan against his shoulder. 

“M’ close pretty thing.” 

He takes one of the arms holding your hips and moves to your clit, rubbing quickly. The feeling sends you over the edge. 

“Fuck, haymitch, i’m cumming~” you mutter, raising your head to look at him as you fletch down and your orgasm washes over you. 

As you come down from your high, he speeds up rutting into you, and you put each hand on one of his shoulders for support. His eyes are closed and his mouth slightly open as he mind your name over and over like a prayer. 

He lifts you off of his cock and back onto his thighs before cumming all over your belly. You reach a hand down to stroke him as he does, but he catches your wrist. He’s sensitive, you can tell, and you laugh softly. 

“Sorry pretty girl. Made a mess.” he says, looking in between the two of you. Between his cum and yours, there’s not a part of either of you that isn’t slick. He takes a finger and swipes a bit of his own before putting it in front of your mouth. Grinning, you take it in your mouth and suck, tasting him.

“Jesus.” he says softly, as you lay down next to him, your face buried into his neck. 

You lay there like that for a moment, breathing. His hair sticks to his face in certain places, and his cheeks are rosy. The reality of what had happened hits you.

“You know, this isn’t the only reason you should drink less-“ You begin, propping your head up on your hand. 

He sighs. 

“I know. I’m too happy right now for lectures though, alright?” 

You consider for a moment before deciding that’s fair. Laying back down, you cuddle into his side.

“You admit this is part of why though, huh?” he says after a few moments, and you can hear the smugness in his voice.

“Was it worth it?” you ask

There’s a pause.

“I’d do anything for you.” he answers.

And for now?

That’s all you need. 

-

tysm for reading! like + reblog if you enjoyed :)

[solarisfortuneia]

— grace and coordination? who?

them with a clumsy reader. (ft. kaeya, thoma, tighnari, diluc, alhaitham, ayato, zhongli, childe.)

notes: pinkie swear this'll be the last repost for a while, bc i'm working on some new stuff mwah <3

kaeya's reaction to your mishaps depends on the situation. sometimes he's literal prince charming, the very picture of concern and worry. and other times, when you're not in a lot of danger— like when you've tripped down a set of four stairs, for example— he'll try really really hard to keep a straight face to protect your feelings.

over time, he'll develop a sense of when and where accidents are most likely to happen and take measures to either remove the obstruction, or guide you away from it entirely. however, if the situation is inevitable, he'll try his best to catch you. one downside though— or upside, depending how you see it— is that he'll always hit you with an overused, cliché line.

"looks like you're falling for me all over again, sweetheart."

this sweet, sweet boy is the most worried of all. initially, thoma thinks every scratch and every bruise is a consequence of something serious, but soon learns that they're most probably a result of your klutziness. even if you stumble lightly and regain your balance, he's instantly at your side, asking you if you're alright. he won't just take you at your word though, he'll check you himself from head to toe, and only then will he be satisfied.

he'll also carry bandages, antiseptic liquid, lotion, anything he thinks you might need. his pockets are endless. he'll even have small treats to console you after a bad fall.

"oh, dear! here, let me help you up. no injuries? good. here's a candy to cheer you up."

frankly, he's exasperated. and also very concerned. whenever you bump your head on a branch or fall backwards on your butt, he just sighs and shakes his head before helping you. he knows you're no careless fool, just very prone to unlucky incidents, so he'll spare you the lecture.

tighnari is a firm believer in the fact that prevention is better than cure. so, he'll make sure your footwear is comfortable and supportive and make you change if any parts of your outfit have the potential to be a tripping hazard. if you wear glasses, he'll remind you to keep your prescription up to date. all in all, he'll minimize the possibility of you tripping due to things in your control.

"you'll trip on that robe of yours if you walk outside wearing it. go put on something else, i'd rather not see you fall into a hole in the ground again."

diluc never expresses anything because he'd rather not come off as overbearing, but he's very careful with you. you can see it in the way he brings a hand to the edge of the table to stop you from hitting your head when you bend to pick up a spoon you knocked off the table, the way he keeps any sharp objects out of your reach, the way he's always scanning his surroundings.

he'll find himself doing all that even when you're not with him, and he'll be glad you weren't there to witness that. he'll baby proof his entire house just for you, and if he can, he'll baby proof yours too. he's the type to use the high quality silk handkerchief he carries around to bandage a scuffed knee.

"don't worry about it, cloth can be washed. the injury should be our first priority."

there is no question alhaitham can't answer and no puzzle he can't solve, except, of course, the conundrum of how you manage to stumble over air, or slip on a completely dry surface. he'll observe you carefully, try his best to figure it out but eventually he'll chalk it up to circumstances being arranged against you.

he takes matters into his own hands and just fixes said circumstances for you. beyond that, he knows he cannot do much. he has the uncanny ability to know exactly when you're about to do something where you'll end up with a bump on your head, even if you're miles apart. he's also not too worried, he knows that a tumble isn't the end of the world. the problem only arises when you don't get back up again.

he'll firmly refuse to go dancing with you though, both for his sake and yours. he'll turn you down gently and suggest alternatives.

"dance with you? i'm not sure that's such a great idea. how about we spend the evening at the café?"

kamisato ayato is grace, elegance and perfection. so it comes as a surprise to most of inazuma when they see that his partner is a walking disaster. he's fond of this trait of yours though; he thinks it's endearing. he's also very forgiving if you happen to step on his toes or bump into him. he has no issues replacing anything you break on accident too.

he knows he cannot personally keep an eye on you, so he'll have someone watch over you from afar to make sure nothing serious happens.  that's not to say he won't tease you, no. even though he knows the answer, he'll always ask playfully about any recent 'misfortune' you've been a part of every time he sees you.

"ah, there you are. have you fulfilled your daily quota of disaster for the day? now now, don't give me that look, you know i'm just teasing~"

he's unfazed, really. he's seen many types of people and creatures over the years, from the most poised rulers to the most unsteady fawns. one thing he does do for you is carefully consider any gifts he's thinking of giving to you, and dismisses the item if it has pointy corners or is fragile.

zhongli's the type to fall with you so you're not alone. he was once a powerful archon, a little accident in a busy hall is nothing for him. and seeing him mimic you with a stoic face to help you feel better is always a treat to witness. then, he'll dust himself off as if nothing happened, and offer you a hand.

"think nothing of it, dearest. i simply wish to accompany you on any journey i can, even if it is a short one to the floor."

childe's first and foremost reaction is to laugh when you hit your head on a pillar right in front of you, then he'll chuckle at the face you make at him when you're offended. he can't help it! it reminds him way too much of his siblings.

he sincerely promises, with a hand over his heart, to kiss any boo-boos better. and he'll insist on lifting you in his arms, and won't take no for an answer.

"no buts! i'm carrying you home like this. after all, the best way to stop you from tripping is to make sure your feet don't touch the ground, wouldn't you agree?"

[arrowheadedbitch]

Overview of the things I've decided are canon for my son of zeus au so far (hopefully I don't forget any):

The gods are dicks. They arent *always* dicks, but I don't want to sugarcoat them from their original myths, they do bad shit and often

Denki is favored by Apollo, Dionysus, and Hermes the most, Persephone also likes him pretty well

Zeus is Zeus, meaning who knows when he'll decide he loves his son or hates his son or just genuinely doesn't care, he's such a little hypocrite bitch ain't he

Quirks are the exact same as they are in canon, the presence of the Greek gods didn't affect that at all, the gods have nothing to do with quirks and while they still are probably banging like rabbits they aren't really that active in Japan so no, no one else at UA is a demigod

Zeus slept with Kaminari's mom because he was intrigued by a mortal with a power in his domain (electricity) that didn't come from him

Since Kaminari's powers come from both his quirk and his dad, there's some complexities to them

Kamimari was born with lightning powers but they worked differently before his quirk actually manifested (I'm toying with the idea that his quirk manifested while being smiled by Zeus with lightning? I haven't decided if I like that or not yet)

Kaminari doesn't want other people knowing he's a demigod for classic hero story reasons but also because 1. Greek gods being real is a secret and he ain't about to be the one that spilled it 2. It'd be really complicated and annoying to explain and let's be real, at least one person would come out of that thinking he went crazy

Athena doesn't like him because, well, dunceface, duh. She does appreciate his strategic abilities though

Ares also doesn't like him because he doesn't like killing people, Ares and Athena hate that they dislike the same kid so much that they'd consider changing their tune about him on just that alone

In junior high he went on a big quest, I haven't decided on any details of it, but it involved a lot of fighting way to strong people while way too young as most quests do, this is also how he got into Apollo, Hermes, Dio, and Persephone's (and by extention Hades since he loves Persephone enough to deal with anyone she likes) good graces, the quest was likely given by Zeus and likely involved Hera trying to kill him

He's not really surrounded by people in the ancient greek community, it's not like he has a camp half blood and even if he did he'd skip it to go to UA training anyway, but he is pretty well known in those circles post big quest

I'm toying with the idea that he failed his first quest and thus had to go on a redemption quest

Kaminari doesn't like being serious, but despite what his classmates and teachers think, he CAN do serious, how else would he be such a big shot in the Greek community?

Imma be real, there was probably some kind of war that Kaminari had to lead an army in or something. I'm sorry, child soldier stories just have so many layers to dissect it's not my fault that they're compelling in a way

My point is, serious Kaminari is like war general levels serious, but not even LOA attacks are bad enough to bring out serious kaminari, are you kidding, did you gloss over the part about god war? He's having a little trouble taking literally any threat at UA seriously and he'll have trouble taking almost every threat as a pro hero seriously, it's not his fault junior high set the bar way too high on what situations are serious!

One of Kaminari's demigod powers, as the son of Zeus, is that he can't take fall damage. No matter how high up he falls from, he will never ever get worse than a few scrapes

Pissing him off really badly makes the sky get stormy, I'm talking immediate clear skies to nothing but gray clouds moving in and you can't even SEE the sky anymore, also possibly rain, he doesn't do it often but he can and he'd probably be able to control it if he were to practice his demigod powers along with his quirk but we all know he ain't gonna do that any time soon

He can sword fight, he hopes this never comes up

He has to keep reminding Dionysus about the legal drinking age, Dionysus thinks it's stupid and therefore never listens, they have argued about it multiple times

Apollo and Kaminari play chess together on occasion

Hermes at one point gave Kami a special knife when he decided he liked him enough to give him a gift, it's a magic thief's blade which is just a dagger that cannot be found on his person no matter what you do. Pat him down? You won't feel it. Scan him? It didn't show. Metal detector? It didn't beep at all. But he can pull it out whenever. He won't but he does *have* it just in case. I'm also deciding if making it not be able to leave him would be too much. I don't want it to feel like a riptide ripoff, I'm thinking maybe it sprouts wings and flies to him?

Yes, I've just decided, the Thief's Knife will fly to him if left behind and can squeeze into any crack no matter how small to get to him

I'm shinkami trash so you KNOW shinkami is about to be canon in this au

In either 2A or 3A, Kaminari tells Shinsou his secret about the gods being real and him being Zeus' son, he spends a great amount of time explaining all the details to Shin and answering his questions, it's a lot

What can I say? Shinsou is gus confidant, he was gonna have to tell him at some point 🤷🏻‍♀️💅

He doesnt tell anyone else, but obv they've got to eventually find out somehow, what you think I'd just let it be lame?? Even after they find out, he won't tell them anything he doesn't have to, waits until it comes up to explain things, it's just too complicated he doesn't want to go through all that AGAIN and with twenty people this time

Oh and before you ask, I'm gonna say no on the flying thing. I know it could be a power of a Zeus kid, I know it could be cool, but no. No he cannot fly.

I can't think of anything else right now but I can't wait to wake up in a cold sweat tonight and realise what i forgot

Also, I'm gonna go ahead and tag @iys-cloud since I know iys really likes this au :]

[lovingseventeen]

hiiii <3 could you do a jealous svt pls <333 love your writing it's so cute :')

jealous seventeen ˚➶ ｡˚

a/n: i hope i did this request justice! (also these got hella long omg)

seungcheol:

❀ whines and pouts, you can't escape them

❀ not super serious but he will let you know

❀ "he kept fawning over you, who does that guy think he is!" he tells you as you both enter your apartment, "like i was right there and he really had no shame!"

❀ "y/n, never talk to him again, he doesn't even deserve a glance" he tells you (only half serious, he'd never actually try to control who you talked to)

❀ literally just kiss him mid complaint and it'll resolve 98% of his issue

❀ "'cheol you know you have nothing to worry about, i love you, remember?"

❀ give him an extra kiss on the cheek and this gets him to maybe stop pouting

❀ insists on being a little closer to you that day

jeonghan:

❀ no one would be able to tell except for the guy he’s trying to ward off from you

❀ he prides himself on you have his ultimate trust, of course you could never do anything wrong!

❀ it’s at a party and he can just sense that this guy is going to try something. he can't let this go on any longer when he sees him slightly lean in to you to try to whisper something in your ear

❀ he’ll do something simple, maybe pushing your hair behind your ear to cup your cheek to make his presence known

❀ immediately, you turn at the familiar gesture and it only gets better when you smile when you see him, “hi ‘hannie”

joshua:

❀ joshua is kind of perfect in my mind ??? so i firmly believe we have a communication king right here

❀ you come home from a party and when you both finish washing up he pulls you in for some cuddles, with you resting your head on his chest

❀ “you tired?” you asked

❀ “mm a little” he hums

❀ when you glance up to look at his face you notice he’s a bit deep in thought

❀ “is there something wrong?”

❀ “hmm, you didn’t do anything wrong, love” he begins, “just something about that guy from earlier.. the one in the blue shirt? something felt off..”

❀ “was someone feeling a little jealous?” you chuckled, earning a small chuckle from him too because he feels a little silly over this

❀ “a bit” he confirms, hugging you a little tighter

❀ “we’ll it’s a good thing i get to go home with you, isn’t it?” you smile, leaning up him a kiss. he murmurs a "that's true" against your lips

jun:

❀ will remove you from the situation in the most random way possible

❀ there's someone talking to you a little too close for his liking and he really just walks up to you with his phone in his hand

❀ "baby, your mom's calling"

❀ your mom barely calls him so you're very confused, but you politely excuse yourself to take this call

❀ once he's led you away, you're both looking at each other and he realizes he didn't know what to do when his plan got this far

❀ "isn't she on the call right now?" you ask, pointing to his phone

❀ "um, actually no one was calling?" he admits

❀ you're perplexed and you don't really put two and two together until you both see the person from your earlier conversation walking up to you and jun steers you in another direction

❀ you're giggling as you're walking away, "junnie were you getting jealous?"

❀ "hm?" he hums, even raising his eyebrows, "never"

❀ please massage his temples later for he's been a bit stressed

hoshi:

❀ he feels a pang in his heart when he gets jealous

❀ but he also doesn’t want to confront you because he does trust you and he knows he really has nothing to worry about

❀ but he can’t help but feel a little territorial and he just wants to let you know how much he wants you

❀ if you’re at a party he’ll wait for you to finish your little conversation. he makes eye contact with you across the room and you see him take a seat somewhere on the side

❀ when you make your way towards him a couple moments later, he leans into your ear, hot breath tickling you and heightening your senses

❀ “you know you look so hot right now?”

❀ he’s still leaning in when this comment makes you blush. “that person’s practically drooling, i mean, anyone would”

❀ a hand comes to your thigh and he places a kiss that just ghosts over the skin of your neck

❀ “do you wanna get out of here?”

❀ you’re nodding immediately-

wonwoo:

❀ you brought him to a reunion dinner with you and inevitably, old histories get rehashed for fun

❀ someone brings up how you almost got together with another guy all those years ago and it just so happens that that person is at the dinner too

❀ “remember when he got y/n flowers!” and everyone chatters in agreement

❀ frankly wonwoo feels a little sick even if it was only a joke, you’re laughing awkwardly but you do sneak glances at him to check if he’s okay

❀ “damn imagine if they did get together all those years ago, they might’ve been married now!”

❀ his stomach churns even more when that guy looks at you and his stare lingers. “y/n, imagine?” he calls out to you, even from across the table

❀ at that comment everyone’s gasping and cheering on weird excitement and wonwoo feels as if he’s getting smaller and smaller

❀ “guys, c’mon…” you start, trying to calm everyone down

❀ in an attempt to ground himself a little bit he reaches for your hand. his anxiety calms down a bit when you take his one hand in both of yours. it always calms him when you do this

❀ you turn to him and lean into his ear, “we can go soon if you feel uncomfortable”

❀ he shakes his head, assuring you that he’s fine even if he doesn’t feel great. though it does help that you check on him throughout the night even when the conversation changes topic

❀ on your way home, you walk with your arms linked together. “sorry if they made you uncomfortable earlier,” you told him, “it was such a long time ago, i don’t know why they still bring it up”

❀ “it’s not your fault so you don’t have to be sorry” he replies, “but do you wonder if things could’ve been different?”

❀ he’s surprised when you stop walking to look at him. “i don’t wonder about it because i’m happy with you wonu”

❀ you’re glad to see his smile, it feels like you haven’t seen it all night. “i’m very happy with you too”

❀ this lighter mood lets you two continue your walk home, but maybe you walk a little closer to him

woozi:

❀ i think he’d be able to reason himself out because he finds himself getting jealous as him being silly

❀ you’ve never given him a reason to feel this way, so why should he start now?

❀ this leads him to think about all the best parts of you and how he loves you so much he feels like his heart is gonna burst sometimes

❀ so his moment of jealousy turns into him wanting to do something nice for you

❀ you come home to jihoon having ordered from your favorite restaurant and even some dessert from your favorite bakery

❀ you walk over to him to kiss his cheek, “what’s all this?”

❀ “nothing much, just thought you deserved it” he tells you, returning a kiss to the side of your head

❀ you’re so smiley over the food and you tell him, “i love you, you know”

dokyeom:

❀ pleads with his eyes but ultimately stays quiet

❀ he by no means wants to be possessive but the way this barista is talking to you makes his stomach churn

❀ who is this guy going on about how you're one of their regulars and yadda yadda yadda..

❀ at first it's dokyeom’s fingers lightly touching your hand, then an arm wraps around your waist as this small talk kills him

❀ you can feel his gaze as this barista tries to extend the conversation despite the line forming behind you

❀ when you notice how he looks a little sad you politely tell the barista, "well, i'm so excited that i get to show my boyfriend how good your coffee is! have a nice day!"

❀ dokyeom perks at hearing you announce him as your boyfriend as the two of you walk to a little booth in the cafe, his hand staying at your waist

❀ he also chooses to sit next to you at this booth, keeping a hand on your thigh

❀ "here you need to taste this," you gush, feeding him a small bite of a pastry and doting on him a little bit more than usual

❀ he eases up a bit when you kiss his cheek. "you know you're my favorite person right," you tell him

❀ with this, his eyes crinkle when he smiles and he nods, the moment of jealousy he had becomes forgotten

❀ "and you know you're mine"

mingyu:

❀ his heart ACHES

❀ he would never stop you from seeing anyone, completely trusting you, so he just told you a "have fun, baby" on your way out to meet up with an old classmate

❀ he sees your story as you're out and sees that.. this classmate... is quite attractive... he feels awful for his mind even taking this route

❀ your story is innocent, pictures of your food, a casual selfie with the caption "reunited after so long!" with your friend's username tagged too

❀ and so ensues the stalking of this friend's account LMAO

❀ he doesn't even care if he gets caught stalking this person's story as he taps to view it. to his dismay your friend posted a selfie of the two of you too

❀ what mingyu immediately notices is the way their arm is around you in the photo, pulling you close as you (cutely) hold up a peace sign with your fingers

❀ when you come home he welcomes you with a tight hug while simultaneously fighting back the urge to ask you too much about your night

❀ "you look pretty today, did i tell you that yet?" "thank you, 'gyu" you smiled as you took off your shoes

❀ when the two of you eventually settle on the couch he tries his very best to be casual with some of his questions

❀ "so how was it? are they a close friend from before?" part of his jealousy subsided as you snuggled into him, "yeah a bit, we grew up together, it was good to catch up after so long"

❀ his hand runs up and down your back as he tries to think of how to gently ask a few more questions. he figures he might as well mention it

❀ "so i tapped on your friend's profile because you tagged them?"

❀ you raise your eyebrows, "oh yeah?"

❀ he can’t help but bring up the hug, "were you guys the kind of friends that hugged a lot? because that's totally fine-" your chuckle interrupts him

❀ "would it help you relax if you knew they also had a partner?"

❀ "oh" he sighs and you could tell a part of him was relieved

❀ “and we talked about you too” you continue

❀ this makes him curious. “you did?”

❀ “yeah i told them i’m so stupidly in love with you that i’d rather the earth crack in half and swallow me if i had to live without you”

❀ he laughs, “sure you did-”

❀ “i did! and i even said how i think about you all the time and how you’re so unbelievably handsome that i’m embarrassingly down bad”-

❀ it’s his turn to interrupt you with a half tackle of a hug, pulling you so close to him in an embrace so tight that your laugh gets muffled

❀ “okay i get it, i love you, it was silly to be jealous” he chuckles

minghao:

❀ maybe one day he picks you up from work and you greet him with a hug as he waits for you outside of his car. he notices your jacket and wonders if it’s new

❀ when he hugs you he likes to bury his face in the crook of your neck. to his surprise, he smells a cologne that is definitely not his

❀ “new jacket?” he asks casually

❀ “oh it got cold and my friend had an extra jacket in his locker” you explain

❀ “oh okay” he replies, but you don’t miss the millisecond his eyebrows knit together in thought

❀ suddenly he’s taking off his thick sweater even if he’s only wearing a shirt underneath. “here wear this instead it’s probably warmer, it’s wool, see?”

❀ “hao you only have a shirt on, you’ll get cold then”

❀ “no it’s okay” he assures you “i don’t get cold but you do, here” NDYDYDHDH

❀ before you can protest any further, he’s sliding your friend’s jacket off your shoulders and slipping the opening of his (admittedly warmer) sweater over your head

❀ “better right?” he asks as he folds your friend’s jacket up neatly

❀ “yeah” you agree, hugging yourself with his sleeves that are too long for you, “still has your warmth too”

❀ “exactly” he smiles, patting your head. he always loves seeing you in his clothes, there’s no reason for you to need anyone else’s :)

seungkwan:

❀ so maybe you gave mingyu a casual compliment because bros been getting beefy and you know he puts a lot of work into it

❀ "wow going to the gym is paying off, huh?"

❀ seungkwan overhears this and gives the most obvious and unabashed side eye LOL

❀ when you try to get him to stop pouting later on he’s (still gently) batting you away and removing your hand from him and flicking it NSYSH

❀ you're asking him for a favor he won't help you

❀ “uh huh, why are you coming to me now? i’m sure mingyu can open that bottle for you with his big beefy arms!”

❀ "but i want you!" you insist and for a second his act drops because he likes it when you tell him you like him

❀ he tuts anyway but he can't resist you (he loves making your life easier)

❀ "i can start working out my arms too, you know" he tells you

❀ you chuckle, shaking your head, "i mean, i'd root for you in anything you choose to do, but just so you know, i love my talented, pretty, athletic, kind- did i say handsome yet? handsome- package deal of a boyfriend"

❀ he's blushing now, you got him hehe

vernon:

❀ you would almost miss it if you didn’t recognize the subtle difference in his mannerisms

❀ he’s not super big on pda and you're fine with that, so you do notice when his hand doesn’t exactly know where to rest

❀ first it’s lightly on the small of your back, then it’s around your waist, then it’s back to your back

❀ he’s so quiet but you can tell he’s thinking about something in the way his gaze is a little in the distance

❀ vernon was originally part of this conversation with this other person but he does notice how they’re only focusing on you, leaning into you, and laughing a little too hard at your jokes

❀ when you hear a forced laugh come out of him you definitely know he’s feeling off

❀ his jealous thoughts only subside when you take his anxious hand and rest it on your hip and you take a step to put your body flush against his. no one could doubt that you’re a couple

❀ later on, his hand still hasn’t left you and you notice that this is new. kiss his jaw to ease him a bit, a silent message of you have nothing to worry about

dino:

❀ he hears you gasp when as your scrolling on your phone

❀ he’s feeling just a little nosy so he peeks over at your phone only to see some other shirtless idol and he is BETRAYED LMAO

❀ “baby you have the future of kpop right next to you” he whines

❀ you laugh, closing your phone to to cup his cheeks, “of course, and he’s definitely the hottest”

❀ he rolls his eyes jokingly and you think it ends here

❀ ohoho the next morning you’re surprised to walk into your kitchen to see your boyfriend shirtless with his pajamas hanging dangerously low on his hips, abs very prominent in the gentle morning light

❀ you can’t help but walk over to rest your hands on his hips

❀ “why are you naked so early in the morning…?”

❀ “what do you mean? i always walk around the house like this” (no he doesn’t) (he’s also definitely flexing right now)

❀ “uh huh, you know you can’t do this, right?” you tell him, tilting your head to the side

❀ he’s feeling a little bold, so he leans in so his face is inches from yours. “and why not?”

❀ “because i’d never get anything done” is the last thing you say before you’re taking his hand and pulling him back to your bedroom and pushing him onto your bed-

[yanderes-galore]

I was thinking, maybe romantic Yandere Dabi from MHA with these prompts: "I'd burn this world and everything in it for you.", "You're stuck with me, like it or not.", and "So what if a few people have to die? It'll only bring us closer!"? I could imagine something that starts with a hostage situation and turns into an obsession? But it's really up to you.

I can make it so he's had a thing for you beforehand then decided to use a hostage situation to act on it? Hopefully this works. I apologize for the bad plot, I found out I can't write Dabi's character right....

Yandere! Dabi Prompts 1, 57, 13

"I'd burn this world and everything in it for you."

"You're stuck with me, like it or not."

"So what if a few people have to die? It'll only bring us closer!"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Abduction/Kidnapping, Mass murder, Violence, Arson, Sadism, Forced "relationship".

Dabi usually never bothered with taking interest in civilians.

He trusts no one already, it's not like he wants to form any connection with anyone. He hates society praising heroes for their falsehoods. The only thing he really concerns himself with is toppling such a society.

Although, It seems even he can admire pretty little things.

Dabi's feelings for you are more like... fascination. The villain views you intriguing to watch. Especially when you first met.

Dabi first met you during a hostage situation the League of Villains set up. He was meant to keep a group of civilians under control to drive out some heroes. This was when Dabi caught sight of you...

The fear on your face was such an intoxicating look.

Unfortunately, Dabi didn't get much time with you before the heroes came in. The most he got to do was toy with you, keeping close to you while he toys with a flame between his fingers. Poor you looked like you wanted to cry...

He'd kill to see that look again...

He'd kill a lot.

Dabi wanted to keep you. He wanted to keep you with him to toy with just a bit more. Although, even he knows when to retreat when heroes get to be too much.

Since then you have been his biggest fixation. He just kept thinking about how he wanted to corner you again.... Perhaps next time he can even brand you. The idea of seeing those tears again...

It's a euphoric feeling... he craves it.

It was only a matter of time before Dabi got his hands on you again. Since that one day, he's been tracking you like a hound. He finds it amusing, him, obsessive over one measly civilian?

It sounds so strange... Yet he's addicted to the power.

The power that his father never recognized.

When you meet Dabi again, it's in a flash fire of blue flames. Dabi has always been a fan of chaos. It catches attention...

Especially yours... trapped in a pretty sea of flames.

"Isn't it beautiful, sweetheart?" A raspy voice purrs behind you as you hear footsteps behind you. The area that was once seemingly the building you worked at was quickly consumed by blue flames. In the middle of it sat you... and the villain you had met during the League's hostage situation.

You try to back away and run... yet blue flames lap at your feet, forcing you closer to the villain. Dabi can't help but grin at you being trapped with him. This was what he's been wanting...

He wanted more time to toy with his new doll.

Your attempts to run were even more amusing.

"Trying to run, huh?" Dabi muses, stepping closer into the only safe haven from the flames. The blue fire burns in a large circle around you both... like an arena. Even though if you tried fighting, you would surely lose....

"I've been waiting for this, you know that? I've been wanting to play with you since I first saw you... and now you have to." Dabi chuckles, a delighted glint in his eyes as he watches you tremble, weakened by the heat and the chaos he's caused.

"The heroes will just put a stop to this again...." You try to sound intimidating, but Dabi only cackles... he looks like a demon in those flames.

"The heroes?" Dabi scoffs. "You're really going to rely on them again, is that it? You think they're gonna save you? Not this time."

Dabi stalks closer, making you tense. He's so close now and the heat from the flames nearly scorches your skin. It's so hot to the point it almost feels... cold.

"I'd burn this world and everything in it for you." Dabi admits with a chilling grins, so close he could almost touch you if he wanted. However... it seemed he was prolonging this little game of his.

"It's torture, really, you have no idea how much you've been affecting me, do you?" Dabi sighs, blue eyes staring into you with both disdain... and fascination. "Everyone else could turn to ash for all I care. But you? No, you have to be so special for some damn reason...."

You feel his hand grip your chin, even that grip burning as he tilts your head up. He looks at you as though he's studying you. For a moment you can see a dark obsessive look in his eyes.

He can't seem to get enough of you.

"Do you know how many people I've burned just to get you alone?" Dabi confesses, watching as your face pales despite the blistering heat. "I've killed for you, know that? I don't do that for just anyone. I only care about myself, I only burn others for myself... but you... I feel like I have to kill to have you."

You feel Dabi grip your shoulders to pull you closer. Your body comes into contact with his scarred one. You bite back a fearful sob as Dabi forces you to continue watching him. He then chuckles like he thought of a funny joke... when in reality he's thinking of the people who burned up in his flames seemingly minutes prior.

"So what if a few people have to die? It'll only bring us closer!" Dabi laughs, his grip almost as suffocating as the smoke in the room. "They don't matter like you do. They're simply fuel for my hate, my desire, and my flames. Did you hear their screams, sweetheart? I certainly did..."

Dabi sees you begin to cry and he relishes in it. It's such an adorable sight to him. This is what he fantasized about...

This is what he loved.

"Did you know the people here, babe? Were they people you worked with?" Dabi teases, enjoying your helpless state. "I never liked them... Buncha nobodies... Always mingling with you like you were mine to begin with...."

You feel Dabi lean closer to you, as if trying to get a better look at you. You cough and sputter at the smoke in the building, the black plume thickening by the minute. Dabi scoffs... realizing that heroes will certainly become a problem very soon.

"This won't be the last time...." Dabi murmurs, watching you squeal when he picks you up. "I'm going to keep killing for you... I'm going to make you realize that I'm all you have."

You squirm in his arms, him holding your legs as he cages you against his chest. Your attempts to leave him are amusing as he begins to walk out the burning building. He's got what he's come for...

Let the heroes clean it up.

"Struggling is no use, doll." Dabi taunts, grinning when you glare at him. "You and I are going to have a lot of fun..."

Dabi then leans close, teasingly kissing your tears as you squirm.

"You're stuck with me now, like it or not."

[justwinginglife]

hi!! may I request something again?^^

may I request soshiro found out that you can turn into a Kaiju or see you transforming into your Kaiju form. a little Angst but with happy ending please:›

You may always request something again! Also story note- for this fic, Imma just ignore that Kikoru Shinomiya exists, sorry yall, you're taking her spot now.

Half Human

Your whole life was one big irony in that your life's mission was to kill kaiju and yet you owed the very breath in your lungs to them. Your father, the Director General, Isao Shinomiya, had already lost his wife and he'd be damned if he was going to lose you too. He secretly brought a kaiju back to base alive and had several talented doctors and scientists exchange its core in place of your failing heart. The doctors weren't even sure it could be done, but when the abomination that was you was finally finished, they were all sworn to secrecy. You were to be the first and the only kaiju transplant survivor.

After all, if word got out that it was possible to enhance the human body directly with kaiju organs, without use of a suit, there would be chaos. For one, the suit industry would take an immense hit and the black market would reign supreme. Not to mention how much ungodly human experimentation could come about from failed attempts to successfully recreate the transplant. It might even make the Defense Force's job more difficult- trying to take Kaiju in alive was significantly more dangerous and strenuous than just killing them.

With all these things in mind, your father kept the tightest lid on the situation. No one but you, your father, and the team that had worked on you knew this secret. But today, one more would find out.

Your father always carefully monitored your vitals in case you ever rejected the organ, and you were always reminded to keep your emotions in check so as to not set off the kaiju side of you. You thought that you'd learned to keep most of your emotions at bay, but apparently that control you had did not apply to anything even remotely related to the Vice Captain.

One time you'd heard someone shit talking him and you accidentally stabbed through your own tongue because your anger had called your fangs to emerge. And it didn't help that the Vice Captain glimpsed the blood dripping from your lips and tried to help you. You always wondered if you'd be able to feel human emotions anymore since you no longer had a human heart, but he quickly put that fear to rest because every time he reached for you, touched you, cared for you, you felt like you could feel your nonexistent heart beating rapidly. It felt like he was the only thing grounding you in your humanity.

Your father must have caught onto this at some point because he'd frequently make excuses to call you to headquarters when he felt like you might be getting too close to Hoshina. Today was one of those days.

You had gotten the summon early this morning and you were annoyed but you knew you that as much as you wanted to rebel against your father as his daughter, as a soldier in his Defense Force you couldn't very well disobey a direct order from the Director General. Especially when no one knew the reason you were called to headquarters so regularly. So you went to him.

By the time you finally concluded your business with your father it was late (you refused to stay the night in his division and let him have anymore hold over your life as it was) and you were waiting for the next train back to the Third Division when you felt your comms buzzing in your pocket. You thought it was strange as everyone should be either asleep or going to sleep soon, but you popped the comms in anyway, eager to hear what was going on so late at night. The base was under attack. It was a Daikaiju. The Vice Captain was fighting him. And losing.

You start to get dizzy. Sweat trickles down your forehead. The world seemed to be blinking in and out. You shake your head trying to get ahold of yourself but you know it's no use. You still haven't learned to get your kaiju side under control and on the rare occasion when you slipped and went berserk only your father could bring you back from that place of darkness. You clench your fists, straining, and gripping onto what was left of your humanity but your lower half had already started to turn.

"No- don't. He needs me. I can't be rampaging in another division right now." You beg the beast inside you.

It doesn't listen.

You feel the transformation reach your neck, a growl already starting to rise up your throat.

"I said stop! Damnit, st-"

Your voice is no longer your own. All that's left of you is one half of your face now, and the beast is slowly closing in on it. It's hungry. It hasn't been let out in awhile.

You look up at the moon, blinking back tears, thinking it might be awhile before you see it again, before you're yourself again. You wonder how long it will take your dad to find you and you wonder if he will even be able to change you back this time. He was getting older, getting weaker. What if you killed him this time?

And what if when you woke up, if you ever woke up again, the Vice Captain was dead? What would you do with your life if you weren't listening for his footsteps in the hallways or listening for his laugh in the air? If he wasn't telling you a joke or complimenting your stance, would you make it through the day? If you went through life not ever having told him how you felt, would it still feel like you were living?

You start to spiral in your own dark thoughts as the transformation spreads across your face, but right before it hits your ear you here the comms crackling.

"Vice Captain! Come in, Vice Captain! Sir, please respond!" Okonogi. She's yelling for the Vice Captain. Something must've happened.

Your vision starts to go red. You punch the lamppost beside you, but you're surprised to find that it's your fist that hits the metal. Not the beast's. You look down. Only your legs are still transformed.

You actually laugh out loud. "That's more like it. Time to go." You jump once, and it propels you into the sky. You use the momentum to launch yourself towards the Third Division. Somehow your legs are faster than a moving train, bringing you bounding towards the training grounds in what seems like no time at all.

Before you can even think about the consequences of being half transformed on base where the officers are literally trained to kill kaiju like you, before you can even think about how your father will probably kill you himself for revealing the secret he's worked so hard to protect, you're already jumping in front of Hoshina as you transform your arms and block a blow that could've been deadly.

He doesn't even have time to be stunned, you're injured.

He jumps to his feet, concern on his face, as you spit blood. You've not fought anything in your kaiju form before (the most you've done is scare the shit out of some pigeons before your father found you and changed you back) and it takes some getting used to.

"Well fuck. That actually hurt, damnit!" You yell at the kaiju. It laughs at you. You raise an eyebrow. It seems to understand you. You're astounded but you don't care to think too much about it before you launch a punch at its abdomen.

It groans but then it chuckles. "Is that the best you've got?"

"Ah so you do talk. That's fucking creepy, not gonna lie." You punch its chest this time.

It staggers backwards and Hoshina takes advantage of the opening, slashing at its legs. It lands on its back.

You hurl yourself high into the air and then crash down hard on its head with a deafening blow that splits its skull. But it starts to slowly regenerate and it shakes you off of it. You land at the ground by Hoshina.

"So are we ever going to talk about the whole 'you being a half kaiju hybrid' thing?" He asks you, eyes still trained on the shuddering beast in front of him.

"Really? Now? We're a little busy Hoshina."

He laughs- he actually fucking laughs. "Oh really, because here I thought we were having a nice little tea party."

You roll your eyes but you can't help but smile at his poor comedic timing. "I'll treat you to some tea if you tell me where the damn core is."

He points to its back. "Lil fucker is hiding it in there."

You nod. "Got it."

The kaiju rises to its feet, ready for another round.

"Do me a favor and be bait, yeah?" You tell Hoshina and then before he can protest, you charge its back.

The kaiju swings at you but you duck.

"Oh I'm the fucking bait? Real classy." Hoshina grumbles but he complies, charging at its front, slashing at it and keeping it busy while you circle behind it.

You run up the stairs of a nearby building and when you reach the top, you launch yourself from the roof.

"This one is for making Hoshina bleed." You mutter under your breath before sending its organs flying as you rip through its flesh and pummel its core to bits. The aftershock sends you flying and you don't have time to land properly. You smack the floor on your side, tumbling in circles until you finally slow.

Your ribs feel like they're caving in but at least the kaiju is down for good. You lie in the dirt, coughing painfully and looking up at the night sky. You're fully human again, like the beast inside you curled up and went to bed, letting you feel the full force of the pain alone.

Hoshina rushes over to you. "Oh my god, are you okay?!"

You cough again. "Not sure if I'm up for that tea party anymore. Might've fucked up a lung or two."

He rolls his eyes. "You would make a joke at a time like this."

"And who was the one asking me stupid questions mid fucking fight?" You tease.

He laughs.

"So... are we going to talk about it now?" You swallow, wondering how he'll react to this new side of you.

He thinks for a moment. "Talk about what? As far as I know, a human saved me from the kaiju. And it looks like," He chucks a rock at the nearby drone, "The rubble badly damaged any footage that might've been captured."

You sigh, relieved, and relax against the ground.

"But... if there's anything you want to tell me later... when you're ready, I'll listen."

There were so many things you wanted to tell him and you being half kaiju was the least important of them. But you'd save that for another day, maybe when less of your limbs hurt.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"By the way, did you really brutally murder the kaiju just because it made me bleed? Your comms were on."

"Shut up, Hoshina."

[sunshine-jesse]

The Incest End is Not The Bad End, Part 2: The Sane Ending Is Still A Bad Ending

In the first essay I wanted to deconstruct the idea that Ashley was the sole perpetrator of abuse. I wanted to take a look at how unhealthy their dynamic actually was and lay out clear indications that Ashley could, at the very least, fix her own problems, and wasn't a lost cause. I also wanted to show that them ending up together, be it romantically, in death, or even platonically (although I'm not convinced the Sane Burial ending can lead to that) was inevitable.

Here, however, I want to make a more difficult argument: That their relationship turning romantic is not just Not That Bad, but actually Good, at least in the context of what's best for the two of them in the long run. And to do that, I'm going to draw comparisons to the common narrative that it's the bad ending, again. I think it's the easiest way to explain my points, even though it might make me seem like I'm being contrarian or playing the Devil's Advocate.

But I'm not. I actually do think this is the only way they can heal. Why?

WELL.

My biggest driving factor for this belief is and always has been the difference in tone between the two endings. The 'correct' ending under conventional understandings of morality and relationships would be one where he breaks away from Ashley, but the only ending in which that's shown to be possible is the Decay ending. In the ending where Ashley has bullets in the gun (and therefore has control over the situation), she has to yield control over the situation to Andrew, and (going off the reading I established in the last essay) he understands and accepts just how much their dynamic means to him and how important Ashley really is to him.

In a sense, he self-actualizes in the same way he does in the Burial ending: Ashley yields control where it matters the most in both, resulting in him he fully understanding and accepting himself and what he wants, because Ashley's controlling nature no longer prevents him from seeing the truth. Ashley no longer casts a shadow that allows him to be blind to his true nature- his true desires.

In the Burial ending, he wants her either romantically and sexually (in the questionable ending) or as a friend (in the sane one). He lets go of his own need to control her, and accepts the fact that he was never better than her to begin with. In the Gun!Decay ending, he wants her dead. The damage has been done. Whatever final line was crossed made him realize that he can't control Ashley, and a world in which she cannot be controlled is one better off without her.

But in both, he can't live without her.

The tone of the Decay ending is tense. It's dismal. It's emotionally ravaging. Andrew is not acting like someone who wants to break free, he's acting like someone who has given up. He's angry and he's suicidal, but he no longer has any reservations about making intimate physical contact with Ashley.

…and Ashley looks terrified and sad, especially in the last screenshot, which gives off some seriously dark implications about what Andrew might do to her in the Decay route.

He's given up on healing. He's given up on being normal. His heart and his mind both Decay as he's dragged along by an Ashley who's doing whatever she can to try to not allow a murder-suicide to happen and only making it worse in the process, because SHE has no foundation through which to improve or change her perspective on the world, either (more on that below).

In the NoGun!Decay ending, we don't know what he does after. He fails to self-actualize because Ashley never yields that need for control, and he follows the same pattern he always does of resorting to violence the moment he thinks he's losing control. I highly doubt that the ending would be much different- he'd probably just mirror Ashley's reaction of violently kicking the body at first, but he probably wouldn't last long after. Both, in an attempt to regain control or save their own lives, feel temporary relief at the death of the other, because they no longer feel trapped and afraid of what will happen if they leave.

But they also both fail to come into their own as people. Their dynamic- of Ashley being the morally bankrupt one willing to do anything to further their own survival, and Andrew being the one who's careful and calculating and preventing her short-sightedness from causing unintentional consequences- was the only thing that allowed them to survive in the first chapter, and more than likely the second (we don't see the consequences of them not having the trinket's power in ep2 so it's impossible to say for sure). If they don't kill themselves after losing the other and failing to self-actualize, it's almost certain that the world will eat them alive. They're outlaws, on the run, and have nobody to lean on but themselves. Without each other to lean on, it's only a matter of time until they fall.

So. The Decay ending is very obviously bad. There is no freedom to be had from them breaking away from the other; only despair and death. There's catharsis to be had in miserable people meeting a miserable end, sure, but the story goes out of its way to show us that the path to that end will be miserable and unfun and horrifying with the only joy to be derived from it coming from pure schadenfreude. But the story itself makes it clear that this is not intended to be a happy ending and thinking of it as such means you're fundamentally incompatible with what it's trying to convey. It's just a horrifying tragedy of two people who never gave each other what they needed to heal and tore down everything around them in the process.

So, how is the Burial ending better?

The lighter tone is immediately obvious. Ashley trusts Andrew to believe in her, and Andrew goes up to bat for Ashley even in the face of an arguably superficial offer to improve his life; to start it anew. The two just generally have a good time together afterwards, joking around, having fun, and ribbing on each other in a way that comes off as playful rather than hurtful. Andrew, finally, makes progress towards -healing,- because he finally stopped lying to himself about how important Ashley is to him. Why do I think it's a sign of healing, exactly?

Because Andrew, for the first time in the story, is comfortable with what he's doing.

He's comfortable with dismembering their parents. He's rarely tense, hesitates much less, and comforts Ashley instead of just seeking comfort from her. He gives more than just temporary emotional validation; a lot more. So much more, in fact, that it makes ASHLEY uncomfortable. She has difficulty processing not having their push and pull dynamic. She thinks something is off, something is wrong, because she's never seen Andrew so comfortable around her before, or at least lacking reservations in showing that comfort.

She still thinks about the idea of controlling him, of trying to get him to stay. There's internal monologue about it. But that's the difference. Before, we rarely see any internal monologue of her thought patterns- she just acts. Not thinks. But here, she's unsure. Here, she has to look inward. She has to self-reflect. She still frames it as her trying to keep Andy around, but Andrew is making it obvious in both words and actions that he will always be there for her, and he's so COMFORTABLE about it.

Regardless of what her actions in episode 3 end up being, it's still clear to me that the foundation for her to heal is there. She's safe, because she has a warm, comfortable place to return to while she figures herself out.

"So," you might be asking, "doesn't this imply that she'll heal no matter what? Doesn't that make incest technically unnecessary?"

Yes and no. Yes, in the fact that we still see a marked improvement in their dynamic in the Refusal path.

No, in that the Sane ending's tone is still much different.

After the dream sequence, Andrew reveals that he never fell asleep. He never sees that vision. He still self-actualizes to some degree, probably, but he never has his desires laid so bare for him because he doesn't dream. But you have to place sunlight on the left side to see this, so it still leads me to believe that they still grasp the importance of their relationship in that ending. It's just that…

I don't think that they ever, truly heal. I think that they just grow distant. I'll elaborate on what I think that means later down the line.

In the Sane ending, they have much less fun with each other. They don't playfully rib on each other as much- the eulogy in particular seems more spiteful than playful- and they're much less physically affectionate towards each other. It's not dismal. It's not dark or depressing. It's not tense. It's just… there. It's boring. Nothing has changed, and neither has Andrew, which Ashley views him not sleeping as a sign of.

But in the Questionable ending, he -does- sleep.

So what does sleep mean here? It means he can't sleep if he feels he's missing something. It means something is lacking in his life. Something is missing. Is it Ashley's affection? Well, yes, but also not just that. Ashley is just a representation of what he needs: Comfort. Someone to rely on. Someone he know won't leave him. I believe they have the same needs, and those needs just manifest differently. Andrew never had to worry about Ashley leaving him because Ashley was so obsessive that she managed to fill in the all-consuming void that mental illness creates.

But I think in the Sane ending, he starts to doubt that. In the Sane ending, he starts to shake his desire for Ashley. Which is great, right? It means they can finally go down a more conventional, safe path and have a relationship that's societally acceptable. The safe, boring ending that normies would enjoy.

But the fact that he doesn't sleep means that, even if he shakes that desire, he can't shake the need for what she provides.

Because he never sees the vision, he never gets that confirmation that he can pursue a more physically affectionate relationship with Ashley, and given that physical affection is a huge part of the equation for making him feel comfortable and happy (see: the couch scene, where he's the happiest he is in the whole game before the Burial route), he never truly believes he can seek it from her. He never gets it from the one person he trusts to always be around. He never gets that final affirmation that it's okay to be with the one person who has always mattered to him the most, and always will.

If we're to take the scenes at the end of episode 2 as metaphors for what will happen- or has to happen- for the siblings to get the best outcome for their well being (even at the expense of others), then the Questionable route involves Ashley loosening her grip on Andrew and having him naturally fill in the roles she wanted him to all along. But in the Sane route, Ashley bottles up every soul see shes, aside from what's commonly assumed to be Andrew's, who she is uncharacteristically cavalier about letting go.

She's still the same. She still wants to entrap people, and never let them go. She just happens to no longer want to do it to Andrew. She never fundamentally changes. And Andrew?

His soul has nothing to say. It's pitch black. It almost looks demonic, having literally the same color scheme as the Entity and Lord Unknown. If it's already demonic, then it stands to reason that a demon wouldn't want it, because it's just more of the same. Nothing special, nothing they would want, nothing that would be useful to them. In other words… just like Ashley?

He has- or will have- a tar soul.

And what does tar do?

It sticks.

It's the Sane path to take because it involves them conforming to societal expectations. It involves them fitting in, acting as they should, and doing what's expected of them without much fuss. But in the world they're in, they're expected to harm everyone around them. To kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. To never become themselves, and never be truly happy. To never ask questions.

And they'll do all of that, whether they stick together or not. The only difference is how many people they stand to hurt, and whether they're truly happy at the end of it all.

There's a reason the souls of one of the parents- commonly thought to be Mrs. Graves- was unhatched. She probably wanted to love her children. Even Ashley. She just never did, because the world never let her be herself. She never became whole, because it would've resulted in her being too dark to fit into society. But the siblings have a chance to do so. They have a chance to truly focus on each other so they can heal and become better, happier, more complete people in a world that's doing everything it can to incentivize otherwise.

It's just a bit unfortunate for some that Andrew has to fill a hole to become whole.

[dinoburger]

let me just get my thoughts down for a moment after a light perusal of the Mouthwashing tag -

I don't think The Point of Mouthwashing is "who is and isn't a bad person" with a backdrop of "capitalism bad"

the story is explicitly about the exploitative, hierarchical conditioning capitalism enforces, that creates situations like what unfolds in the Tulpar

I think to say "this is the fault of [this or that character]" is to miss the forest for the trees.

to view what happens as a series of random, unfortunate events that just happen coincidentally to the moral inclinations of the characters is missing the very palpable deprivation that all of them feel when it comes to how much control they have over the situation they've found themselves in.

I'll try to break this down a little more:

Curly is definitely one of the more contentious characters when it comes to morality and I think what people miss is... he has far too much control. As captain, he has the first and last say in everything.

There's no possible way he could understand exactly how to handle every situation appropriately. Nobody could. It weighs on him a lot. To the point where his fear of messing things up is exactly what blinds him to the chain of events that initiates Mouthwashing as we know it.

He tries to smooth things over. Because of course he would.

The problem is that he is set up to fail from the start.

Breaching just about any condition on the ship can get the pay of his poor subordinates docked. He has to obey the company rules to protect them, too. The omnipresent horse keeps all of them "in check". He can't afford to take a moral high-ground, because most of them can't afford it either. He's trying to keep the house of cards together.

The most telling line to me is when Anya points out the lock on the medical room door that's absent from the sleeping quarters.

The company puts more value on the expensive equipment on board than the human lives. It tries to cut as many corners as possible. It undermines their livelihoods to maintain itself - in vain, ultimately.

The cargo of mouthwash is more valuable to the company than they are.

You can see also in each of them, the kinds of people capitalism makes.

Swansea tried to fix up his life and do everything right. He tried to become a good worker for the sake of his family. But is he much better off than when he was an alcoholic? He says the best part of his life is still when the only troubles he had was the bottom of an empty bottle - nevermind his family, his sobriety and becoming a "correct" person in capitalist society.

His existential crisis grips me because it does raise questions about if living the way you're "supposed to" is worth it.

Daisuke wants to prove his worth in his capabilities. Daisuke is still trying to prove himself as valuable to the system, even at his own expense. Swansea laments this, because he just knows there's no point where you become valuable or worthy enough in the system.

Anya, as the only woman on board, takes the blunt of the lack of autonomy enforced by the system.

Jim... Jim is exactly the kind of person this system breeds, too. He's entitled. He's hungry for more power, but he can only see it by wrestling it off his coworkers and enacting interpersonal violence. He sees himself as a temporary victim of circumstance, who has a right to the power Curly has.

He is the exact sort of person who might have been a captain on some of the other cargo ships. Can you imagine if he'd had that much power from the start? The company doesn't give a shit, so long as the cargo gets there in one piece. The toll of the psychological trauma taken on the staff will never outweigh the value of the goods being shipped.

Even if it's just mouthwash.

I think you could maybe also read Jim's affinity for the cartoon horse as a metaphor for his hunger for power, too. It's something he both desires and dreads. He wants to have his cake and eat it too, he doesn't want the consequences that follow. It's the carrot and stick. He'll take as much power as he can before the axe finally drops and he has to face the music, even if it means making everything so, so much worse in the process.

[uzurimisery]

chapter 2: the players. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

you can't tell me he wouldn't feel so pathetic for wanting you, for needing you. he'd always try and act like he didn't but when he jacked off it was always to thoughts of you.

wc: 6209

warnings: rough sex, male masturbation, hes a perv, not beta read

AO3 version | Series Master

Power and control were paramount to Coriolanus. The feeling of dominance, the ability to command respect, obedience, and even better fear, was a drug to him. It was need that drove him, an insatiable hunger for snow to always land on top.

In his eyes, the world was a game, and he was the key player. Moving and manoeuvring his pieces with calculated actions. The thrill of orchestrating every situation to his benefit pushing him further and further.

That need for control, for dominance, layered over fear and paranoia. He needed to be on top or every carefully crafted interaction he had ever had would be worthless. He’d be worthless. And he was not worthless.

It was so stupid how he lost composure from your naked form. They shaped you like sin, meant for bearing child after child. The swell of your breast suited for a babe attached to it rather than covered in fabrics. He could rut into you like an animal, just like those District filth did, and you could take it. Gnashing teeth, tearing skin, digging into your hips with every thrust. You were so fragile the night of the Gala, so soft, so breakable and by god did he want to break you. Make you pay for this vile feeling he had towards you now.

Maybe he’d even leave you with a child so you’d have a constant reminder of what he could do to you. He needed something to solve the thoughts that have been plaguing him.

For now, he had to keep dealing with this awful lunch with his former classmates and how all they wanted to do was talk about the current ongoing of high society. Idiots. Their conversations rang in his ears like nails on a chalkboard.

“Coriolanus, you never told us how you and the young Miss Gaul came to be together. I could have sworn you told us once that you hated her.”

What he wouldn’t give to take the glass in his hand and break it over Gaius Breen’s thick head. Maybe he’d finally shut up after that with half the glass lodged into his skull and the rest raining down around him. Blood pooling in his eyes as he stammered in confusion.

A shame he couldn’t. Still forced to contend with idiots.

Coriolanus responded with a disarming smile and soft chuckle, voice painting him as love struck. “You’re right Gaius,” he wanted to gag. “I said that once. Y/N and I, as you all know, constantly batted heads. She’s head-strong, never wanting to back down from a challenge. I don’t know when things changed between us, maybe when we were working on the 15th games, all those late nights in the lab.”

He trailed off.

“I started seeing her in a different light with all that forced proximity. Her mind is amazing, as is her wit. Ever since then, I’ve found myself drawn to her in a way I never thought possible.”

Lying was easy for him, but the shocking fact is that the last thing he said was true.

His words silenced the table for a second. The group was accustomed to his disdain of you, always one to be the first to find fault in your person. You were so far from his regular type.

“She’s rather big for you, isn’t she?” Didi Ring pointed out, malice hardly hidden. Clearly still bitter about being rejected by him in the past.

His smile faltered for a second, a flicked of anger flashing in his eyes. Nothing lingering around that anyone would notice.

“She is unlike anyone I’ve ever been with.” Despite his calm tone, his words were edged with venom. “Much appreciated difference to the delicate waifs I’m used to.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, bringing up an unrelated topic to move the conversation along.

Coriolanus relished her discomfort, enjoying the way he made her squirm. The master puppeteer pulling the strings. Each time the group came back around to talking about him, there’d be more questions about you, and he continued to tell the intricate tale of your relationship with him. Each part building you both us as the most in love couple in the Capitol.

Each word tasted like ash on his tongue. The whole luncheon only furthering the turmoil inside him.

He needed to sort his head quickly.

___________

Part of him wondered if what he said could change what the future looked like for the two of you. If he admitted that despite his dislike of your personality, he found the idea of taking you highly appealing. Consuming you, ruining you, making you high on lust. Would you let him? Or would you slap him in the face, scream and kick at him, call him names?

Both options appealed to him. You willingly lowered yourself to be on your knees in front of him, staring doe eyed while he fucked your mouth. But your fighting back excited him more. Pinning you down as you spat at him. A slap to your face when he tired of watching you struggle. To pull your mouth wide and force himself in. Maybe a mix of the two would be the best outcome.

This was clearly not sorting his head out. It was your fault.

The Capitol was unbearably hot today, almost oppressively so, now being three months from when your “relationship” started. He had nearly sweated through his undershirt at the luncheon. He was looking forward to getting into his private lab and getting his mind off everything. To realign with the cruel nature of himself.

As he stepped into the sterile, super cooled environment, the machines whirred, comforting him. It was his sanctuary. A place he controlled.

But you had to be there. Strolling out of your mother’s office in a high neck sleeveless dress that went down to your mid thigh. There were two slits on each side, showing off the expanse of your upper thighs. The cut was below being near any territory that ruined your modesty but was still provocative. When you turned to speak to an assistant, Snow realised the dress was backless as well. Only an intricate chain drew a line down the centre of your back, following your spine, securing the halter neck to the back of the dress. All a challenge to his self control.

He wanted to reach out, grab you by the neck, and press his front into your backside. Feel the warmth of your skin. He wanted to strip away your stature, and better yet, strip your clothes off. But he held himself back, his hands clenched into fists at his side. He still had to pay the part of a gentle lover.

Coriolanus walked up behind you, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished marble. He approached your side, movement purposeful, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Darling,” his hand slipped to the bare skin of your back. “I didn’t know you were going to be in today.” He kissed the top of your head, a display of his ownership of you. Even if you weren’t paper thin like his usual type, you still were small compared to his frame.

“Well, hello there! I was only stopping to drop something off for my mother. Tretonius asked me a question about something.”

“Oh, what about?”

Tretonious began explaining the situation to Coriolanus. Your eyes light up the whole time, animatedly talking through solutions and ideas with the assistant. Your voice was airy and carefree. You even shifted and leaned further into his touch.

Coriolanus, however, was barely listening. Lost in the sensation of your skin under his fingertips. Touching you made his mind go blank. All his plans put on pause and thought of you taking centre stage.

Goosebumps rose where his hand left.

God, you were so different from his usual type. You had sustenance, meat to you. Even strength, as much as a Capitol woman could have. But the draw he felt toward you guided him like the stars did to a lost man. He needed to touch you. To know that he influences you.

He had done leaps of faith for love before and never would he do it again. But he didn’t love you. Love was nothing but a weakness meant for fools. A mistake like that would never be made again.

As he watched you, heart pounding, the dangerous tightrope he was walking kept getting smaller. Teetering on the edge of the precipice, tempted to find salvation for his misdoings between your legs. The balance needed to be found, but god knows if he could do it.

“Thank you for your input, Miss Gaul. I’ll run the simulation with those parameters and inform you of the result.”

Ah yes, work. He was at work.

“Of course. I’m glad I could be of help to you.” You smiled widely, showing your perfect little teeth. Your lips coated in a peachy gloss with some glitter in it. The fluorescent lights of the lab making each particle sparkle.

He should sew your mouth shut and never let another person see your smile. He knew Tretonius was gay and had been married for the past five years, but he didn’t care.

“Walk me out Corio?”

“Of course, darling.”

The walk of you leaving the building was a blur in his mind. You had latched onto his arm as you walked, your chest pushed firmly against it. He didn’t know if it was the heat or your usual habit, but you were clearly braless. He could feel the pebbling of your nipples from the inhospitable environment of the lab. Wondering what they looked like, as he hadn’t seen them before. The sensation of them rubbing against his arm as you walked, sending jolts to his groin. You were intoxicating to him.

He hoped that the feeling would go away and his head would clear once you left the building.

But your presence lingered, a ghost in the laboratory, a reminder of the raw, untamed emotions he had so long suppressed. He couldn’t escape you, your presence would continue to haunt him, even in the privacy of his private lab.

His trousers were tight. You lecherous wench had reduced him to this.

He paced the room, his mind a storm of conflicting desires. One part of him craved the release of physical pleasure, the momentary escape from his emotions. Another part of him resisted, his pride too great to admit just the effect you had on him.

The tension was unbearable, the seam of his trousers rubbing against the head of his penis. The physical ache demanded his attention. With a hiss, he undid the clasp and pulled himself free. He was so hard he felt his head pounding. Even pulling his dick out made him groan.

Debased and depraved, he spat into his hand and tugged himself from base to tip. He thumbed at the slit on the tip, making him even more sensitive. A shudder ran down his spine.

He could picture you barging into his lab, like you had done so many times before, only this time, his cock would be out and on full display. You’d be so shocked, so embarrassed. Stuttering on your apologies and moving to close the door. He’d tell you to wait, he can get himself in order. Looking away while he half-heartedly tucked himself back in, unaware that he was already in front of you, pulling you into the room and locking the door behind you.

You’d get mad at him. Question his intentions. He would back you up against his desk, the ornately carved mahogany stopping just below your ass, forcing you to sit on it. You’d be so worked up, mouth running miles a minute as he grabbed your face and forced you to shut up. He wouldn’t be gentle while kissing you. It was about dominance and control.

One hand would squeeze your neck, cutting off just enough blood flow to make you lightheaded, while the other parted your legs and put his hips between yours, pushing your core against his erection.

You looked so cute when you were mad at him. He wondered how mad at him you’d be when he flipped you onto your back and pinned your hands behind you. Slipping off his belt, he’d secure them, leaving you unable to move. Then he’d flip up your little white dress and strike your ass. You never listened to him, but maybe you would respond to corporal punishment. He’d be hard with each strike, aiming to leave the outline of his hand with each hit.

He’d only stop when your cheeks were cherry red and tears ran down your face. He would be so glad they soundproofed all the private labs as you cried and cried about how mean he was being, how you didn’t understand what was going on. But you’d listen to him, do what he said.

After that, he’d slide your panties down, no doubt covered in sticky, heady wetness. You always struck him as the type to enjoy a heavy hand. He’d slip a finger inside you, testing the waters, before forcing a second one in. Scissoring your pussy, loosening it up for him, he’d tell you just how much he hated that you made him feel this way, pulling out to pinch at your clit. He’d bet the Plinth family fortune you’d squeal, and he’d watch your hole flutter around nothing.

Fuck, he had to know how you tasted.

He’d get down on his knees and push his tongue into you, familiarising himself with your taste, your scent. Then he’d slide down and circle his tongue on your clit. Sucking and pulling on it all while he slipped more fingers into your pussy.

He groaned, feeling himself come close.

He’d make you cum, at least three times analysing the best way to make it happen, before he finally stuffed you with his cock. His male friends had always said they enjoyed when their girls said it hurt, but he didn’t want it to hurt you. He wanted it to feel so good, drive you to the edge of insanity, and ruin you for anyone else. He’d make sure to take you to the edge and over it so many times.

By the time he’d finally cum inside you, you’d be a babbling mess. You’d even thank him for cumming inside you once he told you to. Then he’d pull out, tap his dick on your overly sensitive clit. You’d jump. All your muscles contracting as you tried to catch your breath and steady your mind.

Before anything could leak out of you, he’d take your panties and stuff them in you, making a neat little plug to keep his seed inside you. You’d still be so out of it, you’d moan when he did it too. He’d grab your jaw and spit into your mouth and you would smile while he did it.

His fantasies betrayed what he truly thought about you as he jerked himself off to completion in his lab after just a few minutes of harmlessly touching you. He came hot and heavy on his stomach, glad that at one point he had pulled his shirt up and was holding it by his teeth.

He had a mess to clean up, and this was not helping clear his head.

_________

You and Coriolanus had been asked to figure out a new pod for the upcoming games. Normally the process was a rough one, the two of you always clashing. But since the two of you had spent so much time together in the past six months playing your parts as lovers, and also working, you were more amicable with him.

Sometimes you even sought him out, valuing his mind and approach to design and solving problems. He was good at making the games. You really understood why your mother favoured him as her successor. You would be a great second hand for him one day in the future.

He had even become nicer to you recently. You could laugh and joke around with him if the mood was right. You found genuine camaraderie with him.

The transformation in your dynamic was a welcome change. You both spent so much time together. It was nice to have a solid relationship with him. The lines of where the act started and you began to feel harder to define. Perhaps the act just laid the foundation for a genuine friendship with him.

It was also complicated.

Coriolanus has always been attractive to you. His high cheekbones, pretty blue eyes, and soft blonde hair. He had only gotten more attractive as you both aged. Now at 26 he had filled out, some of his sharp-angles becoming defined muscle. He was tall too, with long slender legs. He was undeniably appealing.

The physical attraction, coupled with the new emotional bond, made a sticky mess of your feelings. It didn’t help that nearly everyday he would kiss and dote on you. The parts of yourself you never liked to admit relished the feeling of his hands on you, the brush of his lips against your own.

On the one hand, something real with him wouldn’t be the worst thing. You had similar views and came from similar backgrounds. HIs intelligence would keep you from ever getting bored in your relationship. It was clear that over time he’d even grown to value and respect your insight, as you did his.

On the other hand, the bubbling attraction you felt towards him complicated everything. You couldn’t help but fantasise about him in your private moments. You had caught him shirtless one day, trousers hung loose and unbuttoned as he got dressed. It was that day you had learned under his button ups and blazers his frame was well built. And that he had a very sizable member. Not super surprising since he was 6’4”.

Sometimes you caught him staring at you, eyes trailing up and down your form. He always thought he was so sly with it. Likely, the surrounding people didn’t notice, but you always did.

The initial stares were subtle, quick flicks to your chest and ass. Always when you wore anything form fitting or that showed more skin. You expected it to be honest. Men always are looking at your assets rather than your person. But things changed.

Now you could catch him staring at you from across the room, be it public or private. His eyes were always tracing the contours of your face, watching your every expression. You first had caught it at an event where someone told you a joke that made you throw your head back in laughter. It was like he was trying to memorise every detail or you and what each emotion looked like.

His body language also changed. It was more intimate. The distance between you is closer when you speak. His shoulders relaxed. He’d brush his fingers against you when motioning to things, not afraid to touch you anymore, even casually.

His smile, usually plastered on like a mask, became genuine when you were alone, laughter more frequent and uncontrolled when together. His voice would drop, raspy and slow, that went straight to your core when he spoke into your ear.

You couldn’t tell if it was part of the act or things had changed within him. He didn’t hate you now; you knew that much.

“What do you think about making a hallucinogenic that coats the Rovers’ teeth?” He tapped a pencil against his notebook. “If we got specific, we could make them picture their loved ones when they saw other tributes.”

An interesting idea, but synthesising something so specific would be impossible to happen before the next games. “It’s a good idea, but I think we need to be more general with it.”

“So just make them hallucinate?”

“Yeah.”

He made the face he made when he was creating different outcomes in his head. Eyes scanning the room as if there was a display in front of him. He could always create a list of variables that could come up.

Humming, he spoke. “I like it.” and then he went back to writing.

His hands were delicate. Long and slender fingers. You wondered if he played the piano. Surely he did. It was refined and gentlemanly, just like he likes to project. Though as more time led you to better understand him, he very much wasn’t. He watched you with hunger anytime you were out.

You often caught yourself questioning if that hunger was real. It certainly looked real. It felt real.

There was a time when one of your heels had broken during a night out and he had carried you from place to place until it was time to leave. During that night, his hands suspiciously were always on your ass. Once you even felt him squeeze the meat, saying that he was “adjusting his grip.”

He felt like fire. You knew the danger of playing with it, but you didn’t fear getting burned. So you kept him at an arm’s length. Always wondering if there was something more or if he had just fully committed to his role. Perhaps you’d never know.

But in the night, when you lay in bed, whispering your secrets to the stars, they’d be ones of him. How you wanted him, or at least to try him. To know him truly. And when you lay there desperate and needy, it was him you thought of between your legs.

“Coriolanus?” there was a question you had to ask him now. “Are we friends?”

It hung in the air. You felt like it was a mistake now to ask him that. He paused his writing, eyes locking with yours. They raged like a tempest, an unreadable depth you were afraid to swim in.

“Friends?” The word tasted strange on his lips. 

He had only ever had one friend, Sejanus. If they were really friends was something he didn’t know. He had simply not belittled Sejanus growing up and then, by the time they were mentoring for the 10th games, continued contact would imply that they were close friends. That’s why Dr. Gaul had made him go into the arena after him.

But he had killed Sejanus. It didn’t make him sad either. His “grief” was about being caught, that ‘d be the next to die. But since the guns were gone and everyone else involved was dead, he truly didn’t care about what had happened to Sejanus.

“Yeah friends. I think it’d be nice if we were friends. All things considered.”

You watched the surprise wash across his features briefly. He seemed caught off guard by your question. Like he had never considered the idea.

Coriolanus Snow did not have friends, only enemies. 

“I think so too.”

In that moment, a fragile connection became more solid, better defined the boundaries of your actions. It was uncharted territory. A venture into the unknown with a man who you hated months prior.

___________

A week had passed since you had last seen Coriolanus and somehow in that time he had gotten sour with you. Scowling at you the moment you were in private. You had no idea what caused the change. The two of you had officially been friends for four months now.

And despite his glaring, here you both were at some random high society member’s house for a “private dinner” of 80 people, and Coriolanus’ hand had not stopped rubbing up and down your thigh since you sat down to eat. He got dangerously close to your core, fingers brushing the crease of your thigh. You could almost think it was his own desire and not for show. And of course your dress just had to have a slit up to your hip on that side too, giving him plenty of access to your bare skin.

Despite the odd behaviour from him, you remained outwardly composed and playing your part. The dinner was in full swing; the drinks flowing. Both of you had had your share of them too, perhaps Coriolanus had too much.

By now, everyone around you was too intoxicated to notice if you told him off.

“Coriolanus Snow, remove your hand this instant.”

He paused, hand settling on the apex of your thigh. Then with a smirk he brought his mouth near your ear, he breathed on your neck making you shiver. “Or what?” His voice was laced with mockery.

“I will make a scene,” you hissed, eyes narrowed. “And I will tell everyone here how their golden boy can’t get it up.”

He laughed loudly, drawing a few eyes towards you both.

“Thinking about something you shouldn’t be? You know you wouldn’t have to worry about that.” he rose from his seat kissing you roughly as he left. He had drank too much, and felt too loose.

Sobriety was his norm. He hated the sensation of being intoxicated. But this was an event he had to drink at. That made it even harder to keep his thoughts straight around you. Every drink was so bitter and burned the back of his throat. Somehow, he wandered out to a balcony and found company in some semi-notable members of society. The cool night air helped him sober up some.

The entire purpose of him being here was to maintain the illusion of normalcy. For you both to blend in with the polished appearances and mannerisms of the crowd. To push the narrative that the Plinth and the Gaul families supported him wholly. He kept the idle conversation he had made with the group outside until they scampered inside, cold from the chill of the night..

Staring out over the city that one day he would rule, he felt only partially satisfied. Like accomplishing what he has sought to do since he was a child was lacking. Having the country would fulfil one of his goals, but he had more than he wanted. He was so close to that goal too. But even with the thrill of knowing it would all soon be his, a gnawing emptiness chewed through his stomach. The twinkling lights below are no longer enough.

He thought of you. Not even in a debauched way this time. He thought about your laugh, how you snorted when something amused you slightly. You always just wormed your way into his every waking moment. It had been nearly six months since you had started pretending to be lovers.

At first, he hated you. He thought you arrogant and entitled. Then he desired you. Your body is constantly dancing on the edges of his mind. Now he likes you, or thinks he does. You don’t annoy him anymore and you were even friends. He even sought out your company while in the labs. Or the idea of you he liked. Your rough edges cutting against him, making him bleed, but he’d bandage himself and touch you again.

This was the fine line drawn finally so blurred. Smudged beyond belief. The intangible made tangible. Ambition and desire. Power and control.

“You alright? You’ve been out here for nearly an hour.” There you were. Always so devoted to your role, to him. You’d come out here during the winter in your thin dress to find him.

God, that dress.

Red silk fabric draped and pooling around your body. The slit on your thigh and the deep plunge down to just above your navel. It was so unfair to him. How could he not want you when you looked so delectable?

He had had too much to drink. His ribs hurt from how hard his heart was drumming in his chest. Anguish stirred within him, regret and despair burning him.

He wanted to scream and cry. Throw his pocket watch off the edge of the building, shatter the illusion of his life. It was so unfair. He tried so hard, did so much. Then you just had to ruin it all. He had given up these feelings, the craving for intimacy. Lucy Gray had killed that part of him. Torn his heart out and showed him how weak he really was, and now it was happening again. Convinced him that he was immune to love’s allure, no longer beholden to such a useless emotion.

Your presence had infiltrated his every waking moment. He breathed and thought of you. The thoughts only stopped when he slept. Your effortless charm, captivating looks, it was just so unfair.

Was it love that he felt for you or just an overinflation of his own desires, an idealised version of you or the flawed person in front of him?

 But you just had to be you.

“Corio, are you okay? What’s wrong?” your hand cradled his cheek as you leaned over, scanning his face, trying to figure out what was wrong. Your touch was so gentle to such a broken man, sending jolts of electricity across his skin.

How could he tell you that there was something so irreparably broken within him? Something that wanted to lock you away and keep you just for himself. To study you and break you down. To wake up next to you in the morning. To know your darkest secrets. To consume your very person. He went from hating you to needing you in his life so desperately.

That he needed you carnally. He could never become the president, but die happy if he had the chance to lie with you.

Your words hung in the air, an invitation to open up and let him in. But he was so lost. He couldn’t tell up from down or left from right. And he was so, so scared. Scared of his feelings, scared of being honest, scared of losing control. But most of all, scared you’d run just like she had.

But he knew no matter how dark his thoughts were, no matter how strong the desire to break you became, he wouldn’t be able to do it.

“I don’t know,” he confessed, barely audible with the wind blowing, but you heard him.

Your eyebrows drew tight in concern. God, you cared for him. Or was it an act? You were so good at playing your part. He just wanted to know if you were honest with him or not. If you could just break his spirit again, he could go back to normal, get over this hump.

“You’re going to freeze out here. We should go inside.”

“I don’t want to.” His throat bobbed. “I just…” finding the right words to say was so hard when the curtain fell and the actor became just a man again.

You sat down next to him, wrapping your shawl around the both of you. “You just what?” you spoke your tone so soft and intimate it made his head spin. “Talk to me. We’re supposed to be a team.”

“I just…” fuck, why can’t he just be honest with himself for once? Stupid Coriolanus, weak and incompetent.

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “It’s okay if you don’t know how to say it.” tender comfort spoken like a true lover. “Sometimes it’s enough to just be here together.”

He tilted his head back, tears threatening to spill. He shut them, letting out a sigh. He has never been a coward before. He had always been a man of plan and action. He didn’t have a plan now, but he could take action.

He turned, facing you, taking all of you in. The wind blew through loose hairs, making them flutter around your face. One got caught in your lipstick, the semi glossy sheen trapping it. He pulled it free, making sure not to mess up the colour, and tucked it behind your ear. He couldn’t take his hand away from the side of your face.

“Your hands are freezing.” You giggled as if he had told you a stupid joke that made him laugh in response.

“I think I’ve gone insane,” he confessed, more to himself than you. “I can’t play this part anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”

You interrupted him, protesting against whatever he was going to say. “Corio, we have to-” but he cut you off.

“I can’t,” his voice broke with desperation. “I can’t keep pretending that I love you and that when we’re alone, the lines are so blurred it’s not even a line anymore.”

Unspoken emotions hung in the air. He searched your eyes, searching for anything that might give away what you were feeling, but just like usual, he couldn’t read you. He only saw himself desperate and bewitched by you.

The weight of what could come next pressed down on him, tightening his chest. He couldn’t bear the act anymore. The constant struggle to only want you in show. But there was something on the undercurrent with you. Maybe he was projecting his own feelings on you, but he was so certain of it he could almost taste it. It was a risk, a jump into the unknown. He was asking for rejection. For humiliation, just like he had faced before.

Fuck it. Fuck it all.

He leaned in, breath mixing with yours, and kissed you. He actually kissed you. Softly and gently, like the whisper of change. He was ready to pull away, for you to tell him there wasn’t a crowd and you didn’t need to act, to say you were friends and nothing more. But as he was pulling away, your hands wrapped themselves into his hair pulling him back in.

It was an invitation, an answer, a reciprocation. A surrender to the moment, a mutual yearning.

He kissed you like he was starving and you were the last meal he would ever have. He kissed you like you were the cure for everything wrong with him. He kissed you like if he stopped, the world itself would never turn again, the sun would never rise, the tides would never change, that life itself would end. He would cut out his heart if you asked him to. He’d find a way to stay alive and watch you consume it.

His hands were groping at your side, kneading the skin. He was so gentle, so different from how he normally treated you. If he died tonight, pushed off the building by you, he would smile as he fell. Everything he felt, he always felt it so intensely and you burned through him like a wildfire.

There was so much passion. It buzzed in the air, drowning out the sounds of the dinner party. He would give you anything, done anything, to stay like this with you. But it wouldn’t last forever. So he kissed you with all care and longing he had in his heart, pouring his honest truth into it. He wanted to imprint himself on you, leave a mark that would never fade. He would stain you in his colours that would never fade.

In this moment, there was no pretence, no act, no script. It was just him and you.

He had crossed the line, finally shattering the illusion that you had both worked so hard to maintain and craft. He was terrified of the consequences, that if at the end of this you too would run from him. Scared of what he really was.

But he would never be the same. This had changed him forever. The never ending itch was scratched, but he needed more. His hunger for you only increased.

As Coriolanus pulled away, his eyes met yours. The guard you had was down and he could read something in them. Confusion clear, but the undercurrent of hope shining through. Your lips swollen and breaths quick gasps. 

You were so painfully beautiful.

You wanted the same thing as him, for the act to be over. The taste of something real changing you both. There was so much that needed to be said, but neither of you moved to.

Instead, you kissed again, and again, and again, each more passionate than the last. Your tongue was soft and wet against his. The chilly night air forgotten as you crawled into his lap. Coriolanus couldn’t stop his hands from running over every bit of you he could reach. When one reached your ass and he squeezed, you moaned into his mouth.

He had thought long and hard about what your moans would sound like, but the reality was so much better than he could ever imagine.

His kisses trailed down your neck, making you gasp and shiver. God, he loved your reactions. You brought out his basest animal instinct. He bit and sucked at your neck, leaving a hickey at the junction before going back to your lips.

You pressed your chest tight against his, hips grinding down against his own. He wanted to leave this party now, to take you by the arm and bring you back to his penthouse. There was no coming back from this, not stopping it. He couldn’t pretend anymore.

The death of an actor.