#hence the pads
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bitter and angry recent mortal bishops vs got family therapy and settled as mortals bishops
not pictured is lamb’s shamura spraying goat’s shamura with a spray bottle as they hiss
#cult of the lamb#the ones art#cotl#cotl narinder#cotl leshy#cotl heket#cotl kallamar#i totally have not noted down the swaps for every bishop as toww aha nope…#<- has#which is also funny to me in regards to earless heket because it really is just ear holes got even more damaged#hence the pads#humbled gods au
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for writing game, iwaizumi + assistance <3
hope this sparks some inspo and thank you in advancee
hi there!! thanks for sending in a prompt 🫶
contains: friends to lovers (ish), halloween parties, reader is dressed as catwoman, expletives, iwaizumi is thiiiiis 🤏 close to murdering seijoh4 (jk)
iwaizumi + assistance
this is a set-up.
iwaizumi knows he shouldn't have fucking believed anything the boys "promised" him back when they assigned him this costume.
the suit is fucking tight, spandex digging into his groins and all other crevices that definitely should be aired out after after a few hours. he's had to constantly readjust his stance almost every few minutes, the black fabric compressing his thighs and torso, significantly constricting the range of motion his shoulders and arms are typically used to. if anything else, it could double up as a back brace from how rigidly straight it's kept his posture all night.
he'll give it to makki though; he did outdo himself sourcing this year's costumes―this batman set looks pretty damn legit.
except for one tiny problem.
there's no fucking pee hole. it's a zip-up, zip-down one-piece situation. and that normally wouldn't be a problem, except that oikawa "accidentally" knocked over a cocktail straight into his pants, the sickeningly sweet liquid now seeping straight into the fabric and past his boxers―cold and sticky as it touches his skin.
and so, the problem: his pants are wet, it makes him want to fucking pee, and coincidentally, the only vacant bathroom is across the hall, at your apartment.
this is why he believes this is a set up. that, and the fact that you're dressed in an outfit strikingly similar―just with cat ears.
he's been asked five times in this party if you're in matching couple outfits.
it catches him off guard, flusters him because of how badly he wants to say yes. but, you're just friends, and he doesn't even think you like him that way (despite mattsun and oikawa practically begging him to confess. makki tells him he thinks you're going to do it first).
so he politely smiles and says no, but you look good, your costume clinging to you in all the right places. thank fucking god he has a cape because he's pretty sure he spent the first 30 minutes in the party hiding his boner.
"hajime, it's fine, i swear," you stand beside him in front of the conveniently locked bathroom in oikawa's apartment. from the other side of the door, he's pretty sure he hears mattsun and his girlfriend mumbling. maybe fucking? who knows. "you can just use the bathroom in my apartment."
he glances at you before closing his eyes, contemplating, before finally agreeing to you.
"okay."
if he's being honest with himself, friends is definitely an incomplete label to what you are. as oikawa's neighbor, you are conveniently around all the time; and oikawa being oikawa, the ever-social butterfly, he's somehow managed to carve a space for you in the friend group.
(never mind the fact that oikawa's sniffed him out from the moment he first introduced you.)
you were a crush, then a friend, and now you're someone he picks up from work and drives back home three times a week, because he "has to train oikawa." you don't question it, even when you both know he stays over for dinner way past the gym's open hours.
"you know where it is," you open your apartment and urge him in.
"sorry again," he turns to face you.
"yeah, yeah, just pee!" you laugh, shoving him towards the bathroom door.
getting out of the suit is manageable, and he's able to wipe off a bit of the cocktail that's leaked to the suit and his boxers just to make sure it isn't gross and sticky when he gets home later. peeing is a big relief once he gets it over with, but it's when he has to suit up again that things become difficult.
stretching out the spandex one body part at a time is a workout in itself―the hardest task being when he has to pull it over his shoulders, adjusting it to fit properly over his arms and chest.
but then the zipper breaks.
and he truly thinks makki has fucked him over.
iwaizumi contemplates what to do next for a good, good while. he tries calling oikawa, only to no success every time; no way in hell is he calling mattsun in the middle of having sex. and calling makki isn't even an option; he'd never hear the end of it.
then you knock on the door, your voice soft and concerned as you ask, "hajime? you good in there?" you hit it spot on, too, "do you need help with your suit?"
iwaizumi presses his palms to his eyes. he's a rational man, straightforward and logical in thinking. there is literally no other option for him right now but to ask help from you. again.
fuck.
.
it's 30 minutes later when oikawa barges in your door, and the sight that greets him is iwaizumi in nothing but a hoodie (the hoodie you borrowed some time ago) and his boxers, with his hands on your waist as you hover your hairdryer over the crotch of his batman costume―cat headpiece off and all.
"you finally got together?!"
#iwaizumi x reader#hq!! x reader#shotorus.workbook#omg i hope u enjoyed this!! i had fun thinking it up ehehe and writing it#in my mind this is set in the same universe as the halloween one i did for mattsun―actually its the same party HABFHBSF#some stuff about the fic: iwaizumi is hot in that costume i spared the details bc i was going to combust MYSELF#but it clings to his muscles REAAAAAAL good and there's really not a lot of padding in the costume itself#bc makki believes in iwaizumi's anatomy enough to deliver#what happened in between iwaizumi asking for help and oikawa barging in??? we may never know 🤷♀️ kidding !#i just didnt write it in bc it would be too long but#if anyone is curious maybe i'll write it as a separate thing!#other stuff abt the fic: reader became good friends with oikawa first bc neighbors but then oikawa admittedly wanted to play matchmaker#so he invited reader a ton to their group things so he could introduce em to iwaizumi HAHA and iwaizumi crushed hard#they become close pretty quickly too hence why reader calls him hajime HAHAH and they hang out even outside of the group#theres definitely something like they text a lot and stuff but neither of them are sure of how the other feels so they arent admitting#reader has borrowed a hoodie from him tho#(aka the one he's wearing in the blurb bc it's the only article of clothing that fits him in reader's apt)#also they figured they'd just kill time by drying iwaizumi's costume bc for sure they couldn't chuck it in the dryer so the next best thing#was to just use a dryer and spot dry it#makki did source most of the costumes! except mattsun's and his gf's#uhhh they go back to the party afterwards but reader literally had to makeshift lock iwaizumi's costume with safety pins HAHA#i guess his muscles just be too popping 🤷♀️#fvntybomb#ask#rep#ask game answered
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Maker's mark with Price
#sorry i know the drawing gets progressively worse with each panel#hence the lack of signature as well ha#its hard to draw when the drawing pad is wet#gummmyart#doodle#captain john price#captain price#john price#do i make this a series lmao#drinks with the boys and its just them telling you “stuff”
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Can the power of gherix do smth abt my period pains i feel like im on my death bed
The power of Gherix can do nearly anything so long as the wielder is faithful and true. For the ails of the physical body, His fire provides healing. Use comforting warmth or cauterizing flame as you wish — whatever befits your current circumstance, should you find it well-advised. If it pleases you so, pray to Gherix by fire, whether it be small as candlelight or large as a pyre, with genuine devotion. He will answer.
#tldr yes it can#i dont get period cramps (thankfully the stories have me floored) but i hear some stuff about heating pads working well so thats where im a#hence why this is short#ALSO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG?? I HOPE YOURE DOING BETTER NOW ANON????#curse of strahdanya#the cult of gherix#ask answered
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progress for today! i unfucked the textues (for realsies this time), made the ribbon (just a transparent texture on a plane), created 4 hand poses (rock, paper, scissors, gun), completely finished segmentation and ordering/naming/grouping bones, and created 2 simple poses!
i think im fr starting to reach the end of this project... in the span of about a week and a half ive gone from having absolutely zero 3d modeling knowledge whatsoever (minus like 1 day of a camp i didnt attend 7 years ago) to having a full ass character i built completely from scratch. wild. it's... humbling, to know i made this. wait, no, i mean the exact opposite of that. its self-aggrandizing. this shit is fucking awesome. i made this? im fucking awesome. i think im a god-like being now. thats how it works right?
anyway. stuff to do next: props (bag, gun), separate the pupils into an object so i can make her look anywhere other than straight ahead, a couple more poses, maybe a simple animation, and learn how to render shit in blender.
i think i'll consider this project finished once i have at least one prop and render some nice looking images and a turnaround gif in blender. but after that, down the line, eventually, i'm gonna muck about. i wanna at least explore rigging and making a walk and skate cycle, maybe a more complex animation. i wanna study how bird beaks are animated and modelled so i can and as for stuff i plan to do in the future unrelated to this project, i wanna model more characters, sonic character and my ocs and humans, i wanna learn blender even though its so scary, i wanna learn rigging and animation, i just wanna do everything. i'm having a lot of fun with 3d as a medium, i hope i continue to have fun and make good art!
#rambles#3d adventures#squabble the pigeon#gif warning#flickering lights#still dont know whats up with that sorry#its very hard to pose her without super obvious clipping or gaps#hence the tame poses#also i shortened the backs of the knee/elbow pads to allow for more articulation
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Some doodles of my more canon compliant Agent 24 ship.
Currently no names but Agent 3 likes frogs
Yes that is important
#splatoon#Agent 24#Agent 3#Agent 8#This 3 doesn't really have eye scaring aside from the infected one glowing in the dark#But it will occasionally leak sanitized ink and if it isn't cleaned can cause her immune system to attack that eye#Hence it being covered by a gauze pad in one pic#She will wear an eye patch every now and then#8 is sorta a love sick sweetie when it comes to his personality#He cares a lot for 3 and it's rare to not see him at her side#Anyway new blorbos running around in my head hope you like em
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delighted to report that the notes app writing i did last night is 619 words yayyyy devastated to report that tonight my tummy hurts
#tomorrow i am going to do some Timelining (basically outlining but the visual of the timeline makes more sense to me) and if i feel good abt#things from that i may fuck around and try to write the 6k i need to hit the 30k i wanted to hit this month over 4 days#is that possible? who knows brooooo who knows#lover boy is litfic and doesnt have the kind of plot i can speed through but sometimes when i write it i just pull words out of my ass so#easy so it is possible. however i am just so scared of the scene im currently on#hence the wanting to look at the timeline for the book + this chapter so i can reground myself in everything#anyway heating pad + bed and maybe i will write more in the notes app LETS FIND OUT!
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r u drawing chimera roy???
Yes, I am lol I'm lining him now, and his fur is fighting me, but if everything else goes well, I should be able to post it today.
He's naked and it's full-frontal, so I'll have to censor it, but I'll link to the uncensored as per usual.
#fullmetal alchemist#Roy Mustang#believe me he's not *pleased* in the picture lol#he's intentionally designed to be uncomfortable#so he's in pain pretty much all the time he can't talk and his hands aren't exactly made for snapping anymore#like he has all his fingers but his hands are very paw-like#so his joints are wonky and he has pads and claws#so like he can still snap but it's really not easy#also don't take any of that to mean Hohenheim didn't know what he was doing#Roy is a very high quality chimera intentionally designed like he's low quality#Hohenheim wanted this to be as unpleasant as possible#hence why he can't talk (also so he can't tell anyone who did this to him)#it'll get explained in the fic
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I talk very cavalierly about my pain because of how I was raised to never make anyone else deal with me and as a result people rightfully aren't sure what to say because I sound fine with it or resigned but I think if I ever met someone in the wild who heard me talk offhand about how much I hurt and actually took notice and said something like "that sounds really terrible, are you alright?" I would kiss them with tongue. No, I'm not alright. When I'm alright I don't talk about pain and for the last few months pain is all I've been able to talk about, but to actually say that out loud would mean burdening a bunch of people with a situation they can't actually deal with and since nothing is going to help I'm only going to acknowledge it like it's a casual thing and not like it's fucking up my entire quality of life. Because nobody can deal with that. And that's fine. But I hate that at some point I've become someone who's always talking about pain when I spent the first 27 years of my life not even acknowledging pain until it actively prevented me from doing something. I was so proud of not needing to bring anyone else into my little problems and now they're big and what was all of that stoicism for. I've met new people who have only known me in pain or illness of some kind and they never knew I used to keep this stuff to myself. There's no credit earned. They don't know I'm actually pretty fucking tough/really good at ignoring my own needs and they don't need me to be. But idk how to share what's going on. I just don't feel like there's anything that can be said. It's just waiting for doctors to have availability or taking otc meds or gaslighting yourself when it's more neurological into thinking you're just being a hypochondriac.
#Not only do I have a wrecked shoulder nerve I think it's been degenerating#It started with neurological symptoms in the area a few months ago#Last week it veered very suddenly into pain and that pain has gotten worse every day#My mri isn't for another two weeks#It radiates into my jaw and stiffens my neck#It makes muscles in my arm twitch and tense#All of that was going on before the pain hence the mri order#But now I think it was all the same nerve and it keeps getting pinched#If it ever got free#Anyway I needed to ramble from my heating pad#Chronic-les
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#ooc#//I made a Mira lol#//I'll be around later ~ just chilling with a book and hugging into my heating pad for dear life lol#//almost always in pjs due to chronic illness hence the comfy look lol
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designing a kid lambda outside of a kid meme. he has his father’s face
#//he’s also based off of a song already associated with his dad#//the thing on his arm is a power limiter with a number pad to input the code to unlock it#//he knows the code but doesn’t take it off unless he really has to and for good reason#//instead of getting some of lambda’s powers he ended up with the ability to turn things inside out by touching them with his right hand#//and uh it works on people too sooooo#//thankfully it’s limited to skin to skin contact hence the glove#//idk i think he’d get wrapped up in some shenanigans#//and ngl lambda’s kid being a near copy of him isn’t some clone thing but his kid just happens to be the next in a long line of ppl-#//-who look like that#//like lambda looking like his mom and so on and so forth#//anyways this was just for fun#mocha’s art
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rue's big on letting beanie follow whatever dream of the week she has. kid's not spoiled ( not from her side at least ) but rue will occasionally buy things, mostly children books, to further nurture her curiosity. dan on the other hand is awful - beanie likes his scooter? next weekend he randomly shows up outside rue's apartment complex with a mini scooter because "gotta start them young with the wheelies". beanie watched him play games on the ps5 once so now she's got a psp and an old ass nintendo ds "the one with nintendogs obviously". beanie likes dinosaurs? her 3rd birthday is dinosaur themed. now she's into space so of course dan had to get her a telescope and matching nasa hoodies because "it's stylish".
#dev.#this is pretty much what i meant when i said he's an okay dad hence why rue doesn't complain much about that#she does wonder if he actually buys all that stuff which pisses him off to no end ( he shows her receipts )#but yeah dan's logic is “i didn't have shit growing up so she has to have everything ever” which is... questionable lol#one of his boys knows a carpenter and he's doing his “you do me a favour and i'll do you a favour” bit to get a wooden spaceship#rue already told him that he's got to keep some of this shit in his “bachelor pad” because the kid's room is full#he takes the telescope and leaves everything else there 😭 i hate them and love them actually
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I should make a post explaining each of the areas the brothers are in I did in my “distance” post…
#deer rambles#because they do actually have reasons and stuff#I’ve thought about it#most of it is mostly just- I don’t have names for them#because while the name is fitting ‘mosh pit’ doesn’t exactly fit what jd’s is because it’s not exactly a positive place??#because it’s not actually a mosh pit#idk how to explain it akfjajf#the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma#it is a pit a dance fighting pit whatever thing#but it’s not a mosh pit#that one reblogger was right though it is basically a gladiator ring- illegal fighting thing#but the way most of them fight is like- dance fighting?? like it’s fighting but the dance moves are meant to actually hurt#hence the ddr pad floor#normal fighting and boxing also works though#John switches between the two depending on what it is he’s fighting#he was taught by an oc of mine named Vita#(she’s poppys and viva’s second parent)#she uses she/her pronouns mostly but I don’t think she particularly minds what are used#hence why I didn’t refer to her as mother or anything#ma is probably fine#I’m rambling here KACJJSFJ feel free to ask about it if you’ve read this far
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bff james w no boundaries — his main love language is physical touch and that includes biting,, like 😭 you’ll just be minding ur own business n he’ll bite your shoulder or anywhere really.
hope ur doing well angel. ❤️
"Here, Remus," You offer up a spoon of blueberry tart to the teenage werewolf, unphased by now at the closeness of your friends. Perhaps at eleven you'd be worried about swapping cooties when sharing spoons, but now you're only worried about plumping Remus's gaunt frame up again before the next full moon.
You extend the spoon towards Remus but in doing so you have to bypass James who's sitting beside you on the bench. You'd expected him to fake a lunge for the sweet, but when he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into what's in front of him it happens to be the flesh of your arm.
"Hey-ow!" You yelp, and despite your word choice, it doesn't really hurt. It's more of a grasp than it is a bite, just enough force to pin your arm between James's infuriatingly perfect teeth.
"Prongs," Sirius's face screws up in what you're sure is a mix of embarrassment and confusion at his friend's behavior, but perhaps there's a slight possibility of fear there, too. Fear that James has become a cannibal and the boy with the bed next to his will suffer tonight.
"That's good." James retracts his bite as quickly as he'd dished it out, smacking his lips like there'd been something swallowed and enjoyed, "That's good arm."
"You're a freak." Remus drawls, finally taking the tart from your spoon and letting the flavors wash over his tongue, "Pads and I are supposed to be the biters. Deer are just supposed to run away from everything."
"That's not true." James defends his animagus with a passion while Sirius snickers across the table, "Deer fight with their antlers. Sometimes deer fight so hard that their antlers come off. And deer do bite sometimes, thank you very much."
"Only during mating season." Sirius references the copious research they'd each done into their animal counterparts, "Don't steal another page from the dog book and start humping her leg, Prongs."
"It is not my mating season!" James exclaims, just a bit too loud for the social setting you're in. Your cheeks are blazing but thankfully James is making a fool of himself enough that no one is studying you. "I'm simply overcome with the urge to sink my teeth into people when I'm feeling particularly fond of them. Y/N's making sure Moony's stomach isn't flatter than his ribcage, and I appreciate that. Only a good woman shares her blueberry tart. Hence," He grins, more of a baring of his teeth than a smile, "I bite."
He leans down to take a chunk out of your shoulder this time, and you feel the sharp-but-gentle pricking of his teeth even through three layers of clothing.
You have the time and the power to raise your shoulder and clock James in the teeth with your bone. But you refrain, and perhaps that's why Sirius finally latches onto you instead of James.
"Careful, darling." He warns, his own canines glinting in the candlelight above, "Deer can go rabid. I'd make sure you're not contaminated with his saliva if I were you."
"Too late." James grumbles around the meat of your shoulder, raising his head quicker than you can react to lick a fat, wet stripe across your face, "I'm not rabid, Pads. But I can see why you dogs do the licking thing. It's not bad."
"Yes it is." You decide, smearing away his sticky spit with the sleeve of your button-up, feeling the phantom sensation of his teeth on your skin, "And if you do it again I'll bite you back."
"Kinky, you two." Sirius kicks you beneath the table, a wicked grin on his face, "Remus, I think we should take our meal elsewhere. Prongs and Y/N are about to start necking right in front of the pastries, and that's not the glaze I prefer on my donuts."
#james potter x reader#james potter imagine#james potter scenario#james potter oneshot#james potter one shot#james potter one-shot#james potter headcanon#james potter headcanons#james potter hc#james potter hcs#james potter fanfiction#james potter fanfic#james potter fic#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter dialogue#james potter fluff#james potter x reader fanfiction
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“what are you doing?”
you comically cower behind his back even further.
“hiding.”
“...why?”
“because there's a flipping lion in the room with us, JING YUAN. that's what.” you snap back angrily.
if you're wondering how you got into this predicament—it's not that far from being akin to a kidnapper leading on a child with sweets and delicacies.
under the guise of work and a few promised cuddles, he had made you follow his steps into his home—now with you glued to his body like it's your own lifeline. the snow-white lion snugly lies down by the only exit of the room you're both occupying—having just introduced herself when it came to jing yuan for a few pets, scaring the bejeebers out of you when its fur had grazed the back of your thighs all of a sudden.
the lion only shows confusion yet complies when jing yuan coaxed her to go away for a few moments. in other words—for you to take a breather.
in response to your much evident suffering and growing impatience, a mirthful laugh escapes him, craning his head to look at you over his shoulder to throw you a small mischievous grin “it's just my cat. i don't see the problem.”
“that's fully grown lion, you scoundrel!” you hit his back weakly, whisper-yelling as if said lion would attack you if you spoke any louder. “a-ah...it's looking at me weirdly. it's definitely thinking of how delicious i am!”
“mimi is very gentle. i doubt she's thinking of such a thing.”
you sink further in his shadow when the lion catches your wary gaze with a tilt of its head. “jing, please. it may like you, but i doubt that a territorial species would enjoy having a stranger around its person bubble.”
“you're free to leave anytime, darling. i'm not forcing you to stay.” he says coyly.
“with how your adorable little mimi is standing right by the door—i doubt i can leave of my own accord.”
“so you think she's adorable? good to hear that.” oh, now he has selective hearing?
“jing yuan. please.” you kneel down and tug on his robes pleadingly, catching him off guard to the point he has now decided to fully turn towards you in mild surprise. “i really don't know how to deal with this! i don't dislike her or anything, i'm just super scared that she won't like me and would—”
“calm down.” your lover couches down before you, hand raising to pat your head. “she doesn't bite. i promise.”
“how are you so sure?” you question incredulously, ignoring the way your heartbeat quickens at his actions. “even if she's domesticated, she's still an animal that thrives on her own survival instincts.”
“dearest, would i really have taken in a pet if it was openly feral?”
“yep. you would.” you reply in a heartbeat.
his eye twitches in return.“ahem—okay, so as i was saying,” standing up to his full height, he stretches out a hand towards you, staring at you softly as he does so. “we both know i adore delicate and gentle things, [name]. mimi is exactly that—hence why i didn't mind taking her in and burdened you with meeting her.”
you raise a brow. he shrugs, opting to resign upon your obvious reluctance on the matter.
“truthfully, i wished to see my two favourite companions to bond and get along with my own two eyes,” he heaves an apologetic huff, a tad bit disappointed whilst you only stare in surprise, “but if you're really uncomfortable with it then i suppose i shouldn't force you.”
he helps you up with ease when you finally put your hand on his, hastily padding off the dust that was caught in your clothes upon kneeling down.
grasping your hand comfortingly to calm your nerves, you hate that it work flawlessly upon his touch.
“let's go?”
you were about to nod—until your gaze catches the lion's once more.
...pretty eyes.
snowmoon.
your heart clenches at the realisation.
“on second thought...” you trail off, watching as the mammal sits up in anticipation at your eye contact. jing yuan raises a brow at you, “i think i'll try interacting with her.”
he huffs out a deep chuckle, “really, you don't have to—”
“mimi?” you call out, leaning sideways to look past behind your lover's tall figure. he does the same, turning his head over his shoulder to look at the same direction you're fixated on.
the lion perks up, and starts walking towards you. you grin, but not before whispering back to jing yuan,
“if she actually bites me, we're breaking up.”
“no promises.”
you finally pat the lion's head after about an hour of excessive whining it'll bite you, finally havin found the courage to actually see it as a mere domesticated cat whilst glaring daggers at the owner.
“mimi...attack that bad guy.” you point at him, face still looking smug as ever.
“she won't listen to y—” said lion pounces on him.
idek what this is fiakehwjbsksbw i cant write no more man,,,,*/proceeds to make another jingyuan drabble in google doc
#jing yuan x reader#jingyuan x reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#star rail x reader#honkai star rail#jing yuan#har❗fiction
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button ; coriolanus snow. (m)
pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)
synopsis ; what did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt. misshaped. odd. not matching the rest of your buttons. his gift to you. “you’re wearing it,” coriolanus whispered. his voice sounded strained.
words ; 3.4k
themes ; fluff, mild angst, smut
warnings / includes ; unprotected sex (not very explicit), possessiveness, themes of classism, we meet reader's rich parents !! and grandma'am and tigris appear, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3
a/n ; there will be a third part loosely following the events of the movie (obv tweaked for the fic!)
series masterlist. main masterlist.
Your home was the very definition of old money—wealth and grace and high status carved into the marble floors, hung up in the large oil paintings, found within the fibers of the expensive carpets leading into grand halls. Snow had to consciously remind himself to appear unphased. He had this sort of life, too, as far as you were concerned.
It was only expected, especially considering your parents’ high positions: with your father being the top admiral of the navy, and your mother a renowned physicist with several awards under her belt. Dozens of rows of medals and framed certifications from both your parents were more than enough for Snow to gauge the mass of their importance.
He shifted the weight of his feet in his too-tight shoes. Anxious. He wore his dress shirt again, though not before asking Tigris to try and rework the buttons. The buttons hewn from his bathroom tiles. Make them look the same, he had told her. They’re uneven. Snow turned away before he could see her mildly crestfallen expression.
It was a special occasion, hence his dressed-up attire. There was a rose pinned to his waistcoat, a deep shade of red, from his Grandma’am’s rooftop garden. Your father had come home today, after months of military work in the districts. And to celebrate such a momentous evening, you invited him to dinner.
To meet your parents. How utterly fraught.
Though, now that the two of you were officially together (albeit only recently—Sejanus asked if the two of you were a thing and Coryo replied with an instinctive, possessive yes, much to both of your surprise), Coriolanus supposed there was no use in delaying the inevitable.
“Don’t be nervous,” you told him, arm looped around his. The white rose he’d given you upon his arrival was tucked neatly behind your ear, a lovely contrast to your all-black garb. In a light-hearted tone, you added, “Father would be able to smell it on you. The fear.”
Coriolanus shot you an exasperated glance, to which you only smiled. You landed a soft, reassuring kiss onto his cheek, hand sliding down from his elbow to lace with his.
“You look… breathtaking,” he said, lifting your conjoined palms to brush his lips over your knuckles. Of the many lies that he told you, this certainly wasn’t one of them.
Your eyes gleamed with the light from the chandelier hanging above you.
“And you look handsome as ever.” A pause. You seemed bashful all of a sudden, averting your gaze to the gold patterns on the marble floors. “I know this is all very new, so I apologize in advance, if my father asks about our, uhm… our future… He’s a very forward man.”
A smile twitched at the corner of his lips and he slotted his free hand beneath your chin, the pad of his thumb pressing lightly over the side of your throat, forcing you to look back at him. “I have no intention of letting you go, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
You smiled again, all sunlight and warmth, and Coriolanus couldn’t help but steal it away with one last kiss.
“Ready?” you asked, jerking your head in the direction of the dining room.
Snow swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.
Dinner was quite a pleasant affair. The food was better than anything the academy ever served—Coriolanus wondered how you could willingly go from eating such delicacies at home to basic, run-of-the-mill meals the cafeteria provided. There were courses, tender peppered steaks (his very favorite), rich mushroom soups, iced lemon cakes, and several sorts of breads and butters were offered all throughout.
Your mother was a delight, enchanting him with stories of laboratory mishaps and her dangerous adventures with radioactive material. You looked a lot like her, he realized.
Your father, on the other hand, was pressing at first, grilling Coriolanus with dozens of personal questions. If you hadn’t warned him beforehand that he was a military leader, he most definitely would’ve worked it out for himself then. There were times where you politely but forcefully snapped at him, telling him to lay off the invasive interrogation and to let the poor man eat. But Coriolanus really didn’t mind—he’d spent hours upon hours preparing himself for this. He answered all of the questions with effortless ease.
By the third course, your father was satisfied. Reluctant, but satisfied. By the fourth, he was already asking about marriage, much to your mortification. Coriolanus smiled down at his plate, and quietly listened to you lecture your father about privacy and civility.
Yes, dinner was quite enjoyable. Several containers of food from unseen servants were wrapped up for him to take home, at your request, despite his polite protests. It wasn’t a common thing to do in the capitol, but your parents hadn’t batted an eye.
He was safe. They didn’t know. It was an ongoing mantra the entire night.
He was shown out the door by your father, who clapped a large hand on his shoulder and told him to take care of you, especially while he was gone. Your mother kissed him once on each cheek as farewell, and you did the same, though your kisses strayed far closer to his lips. He caught the mischievous gleam in your eyes.
The door shut behind him once he strode into the expansive courtyard in front of your mansion of a home. He glanced down at the rose pinned to his coat, wondering if you were still wearing yours behind your ear. A minute later, he jumped out of his reverie when the entrance creaked open once more. You peeked your head back out, eyes alight, pleased to see that he was still there.
You slid out from the entryway and made your way to him with quick strides, wasting no time to rest your hands upon his chest. To his delight, you were still wearing the rose. “Father and mother left to watch television in the estate’s Northern wing. Didn’t want to kiss you in front of them.”
There were wings to your house? Coriolanus blinked at you, accidentally letting his indifferent mask slip for a few seconds. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything about it, leaning forward to kiss him sweetly. It took him another moment to gather his wits, before winding his arms about your waist and deepening the kiss, nearly bending you backwards with his vigor.
He could never tire of this, he thought, fingers curling so his nails dug into the expensive black fabric of your top. Kissing you, touching you, entertaining the notion that you were his, and only his.
When you pulled away, your lips were wonderfully kiss-swollen and your pupils were blown wide, to his amusement. Were his eyes just the same?
“Thank you for being here today,” you mumbled, that smile-frown he was so fond of gracing your features once more. “I’m sorry if my parents were too—”
“They were wonderful. You’re wonderful,” he interrupted, tone soft. His hand lifted from your waist to cup your face. Cold fingers against flushed skin. “I’ll see you at the academy?”
A nod, a grin, and a relieved sigh. “Sleep well, Coryo.”
“You, too.” He pulled away, reluctant, allowing his hands to fall back to his sides. “You look good with it, you know. The rose.” With a final nod, he turned on his heel and walked away from your estate, back to his own cold penthouse, where he had to burn newspaper scraps to keep warm.
The months drew by like a lazy stream of water, gliding over a bed of stones, languid and pleasant. Your time with Coriolanus was nothing short of utter bliss. He was a sweet lover, despite his possessive streaks, always making sure you were alright with what he was doing. The two of you went slow and steady, always asking, always gentle. He kissed you as if you were made of sugar glass, and you held onto him as if he was a fragile ceramic vase.
Exams were drawing nearer with each passing day, and the two of you found yourself studying and cramming more than anything. He would often tell you that there was no need for you to study so hard, especially when you were already at the very top, likely to claim the Plinth prize for yourself, but you always waved him away with a modest laugh. If the two of you weren’t at the library pouring over dozens upon dozens of books, you were finding ways to sneak him into your home: kissing behind stone statues in the gardens, hiding behind velvet curtains, pulling him onto your massive, four-poster bed.
It was only a matter of time until you asked.
His arm was draped over your bare midriff, drawing mindless shapes into your hip. Your head rested back against his chest, mildly sweaty from the lovemaking session the two of you were still dwindling down from. You stared out your window, watching the sun slowly bleed the sky a hazy clementine hue, teeth sinking down into the flesh of your bottom lip in thought.
“Why haven’t we ever studied at your home, Coryo?” you asked. “I’ve yet to meet your cousin. You talk about her a lot… she seems wonderful.”
You felt a cold breath billow over the back of your neck. It sent pleasant chills spider down your spinal column. And you could’ve imagined it, but his fingers seemed to flex over your bare flesh. Twitch. Almost antsy. Did your question make him uncomfortable?
Shifting in his grasp, you turned within his arms so you could face him. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you, or anything. I just… just know that I’d never judge you.”
His expression was near unreadable, the blue of his eyes even paler than usual with the sunset’s light casting a honey-glow over both of your sprawled-out forms. He kissed you again, hungrily, almost as if to distract you. You let him.
Kiss you, touch you, bruise you. Any of it, all of it.
A low groan barreled within his chest when you fisted a handful of his soft blonde waves at the base of his neck, gently tugging.
“Nothing you could show me would make me love you any less,” you muttered against his lips, nose nudging against his. “Nothing, Coryo.”
And he, in a moment of love-addled weakness, let himself believe you.
Come the next afternoon, you were at the door of the Snows’ penthouse, a basketed batch of warm cookies held in one hand, the other holding a heavy bag full of all your textbooks to study. If the two of you were going to study at all today. Your mother was aghast that you were about to visit his home without some sort of gift, and abruptly shoved the basket of goodies into your arms out of seemingly nowhere, as if materialized out of thin air.
“Coriolanus loves the chocolate chip ones,” she harrumphed whilst ushering you out the door. “Honestly, showing up to someone else’s home empty-handed? Who raised you?”
The irony was not lost on either of you, and you barked out a laugh before kissing her farewell and setting off to visit him.
You rang the rusted doorbell once—curiously regarding the little button once you realized that it was broken. Then, you knocked the door twice, then another two times for good measure. There was a muffled scuffling behind the door, a woman’s voice echoing from behind.
And when it swung open, you were met with an elderly woman, shrouded in a too-large, black tunic with embroidered flowers on the sleeves, the threads loose and pulled, the once-vibrant colors faded. She wore a turban, covering most of her white hair save for the few thin tendrils framing the sides of her face.
“Hello, I’m Coriolanus’ classmate,” you greeted, in an ever-so-capitol-esque manner. “You must be his… Grandma’am?”
She appeared confused for a moment, before slow sparks of recognition fired across her blue eyes. Coriolanus had the same eyes, you noted.
“Oh!” she crooned. “Oh, dear me! Coriolanus! It’s your lovely friend!”
There was a bit of commotion down the hall. The brief moment of pause allowed you to finally take in why Coriolanus hadn’t wanted you to come to his home all this time. The penthouse was still quite lavish, as the Snow estate was one of the most expensive properties in the capitol, but it was clear that the space was diminishing with the weight of its upkeep—flickering lights, dusty floors, tears in the wallpapers, mold on the countertops…
Your attention was drawn away from the view when Tigris and Coryo emerged from the same room, and you couldn’t help the smile that threatened to break across your features. His cousin was fretting over his lopsided curls, and he discreetly tried to duck out of her way to get to you.
“My, you are just as gorgeous as he said you were!” Grandma’am said in a pitching tone, wrangling your attention back to her. She lifted her hands to lightly pinch at your cheeks. “Yes, you’ll do just fine.” Her fingers fell away and she scuttled off, murmuring something about the Capitol’s First Partner—
Coriolanus breathed out your name and his hand was on your shoulder, apologizing once, twice, three times (what was he even apologizing for?), before Tigris popped up by his side, bumping him out of the way so she could shake your hand vigorously.
“Hi! I’m Tigris—it’s so nice to finally meet you!”
You shook the blonde woman’s hand, smile seeming to grow impossibly wider. “It’s nice to meet you, too! I love your dress.”
Her mouth dropped open in a flustered manner and a lovely rose shade dusted over her cheekbones. “Oh, this old thing?” She absentmindedly smoothed a hand down the frills of her pink dress. “Yeah, I… oh, it’s nothing, really, I just made it myself.”
“That’s incredibly impressive! You must be a really talented seamstress.”
A sharp clear of his throat made your eyes snap back to Coriolanus.
“Coryo,” you greeted warmly. “I brought you cookies. Chocolate chip. Mother sends her regards.”
The two Snows in front of you eyed the basket with large eyes.
“Thank you,” he croaked, accepting the basket from your extended hands and handing it over to his cousin. “Tigris, if you’d excuse us—we’ve got some studying to do.”
Coriolanus began to tug you down the hall, and you waved back to Tigris, telling her that you’d love to see any of her other dresses later. She’d already reached into the basket and had a cookie halfway to her mouth as she nodded at you with a toothy grin.
His room was in around the same state as the rest of the home. Furniture was old, torn, frayed, or simply broken. There were several boarded-up holes in his dresser. There was a box of rat poison below his desk, which was full with all sorts of papers and stacks of yellowing books. You skittered in and dropped your heavy bag down by his bed, allowing him to close the door behind you. You just barely registered the click of a lock.
“So?” he asked, voice sounding much louder in such a confined space. He seemed tense, as if bracing himself for the worst. “Are you disgusted yet?”
“What do you take me for?” you replied easily, having already gathered why he was so afraid of bringing you here in the first place. “I’m not a leech, nor am I vain, Coriolanus. I don’t want more money, and I’m not here to offer you charity to flaunt my wealth. I thought you’d know that by now.”
He stalked closer, observing you like a wolf would its prey. “What is it you want, then?”
When you took a step back closer to his small, rather wiry bed, he would take two longer strides, crowding you back against it. He dipped forward so that his lips were only a hair’s breadth from yours, but just barely not touching.
“You know, I’m sure.”
“I do.” Coriolanus knew that you wanted him just for him, and nothing gave him more pleasure than that simple fact. His nose brushed yours.
“Would it make me a fool to stay?” you asked, the question fanning over his mouth. Inviting, ever so tantalizing. “You’re not planning on chopping me up and selling my organs for some cash, are you?”
He didn’t laugh at your little joke. Instead, he dove forward, one hand yanking your hips to his, the other winding over to the back of your head. He kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue, hardened lips and his knee slotting between your thighs.
“No,” he susurrated thickly, as if he’d swallowed honey and soil, pressing you down until you were fully laid down over his rickety bed, back arched. “You’d be mine. All of you, just mine.”
He swallowed any sort of gasp and moan that fell from your mouth. Greedy, lustful, determined to make you pliable. His kisses didn’t slow down whatsoever when he tore himself away from your lips, freckling them down your cheeks, your jaw, your neck, your collarbones.
What did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt.
Misshaped. Odd. Not matching the rest of your buttons. His gift to you.
“You’re wearing it,” Coriolanus whispered. His voice sounded strained.
“Mmh?” You glanced down at the button. “Oh. Of course, I am. I like how it looks.”
His face hovered above yours once more. His stare was so intense you began to shy away, staring at a moldy patch on the ceiling. The silence felt suffocating as you waited for him to do something. Anything.
“I love you,” he breathed out, finally. Upfront and abrupt. It wasn’t often that he said it. Maybe once or twice before, since you said it more than enough for the both of you.
You laughed then—your wonderful, wind-chime laughter. It was more out of shock than anything. He kissed you soft and sweet, momentarily quelling your chuckling. But as the afternoon of so-called ‘studying’ drew on, the laughter melded into sighs of pleasure when clothes were shed, shifting towards wanton moans of desperation when heated flesh slid against one another.
You nearly choked when his length breached your entrance, scratching faint red lines down the expanse of his back as he pushed in, pulled out. Rhythmic. Again and again and again—you couldn’t seem to get enough of him on top of you, inside of you, all around you. Your chest was pressed up against his; could he hear your heart beating through your ribs, yearning to feel his? The coil within your lower abdomen tightened. He read your every microexpression just perfectly.
He’d unbuttoned your entire shirt save for the oddly-shaped one, hands groping all over your bare skin, teeth biting down onto the patch of skin just above the button as he rocked himself into a climax, roping you down into the abyss with him. Ragged groans and broken sighs.
Coriolanus dragged his tongue up your chest and your neck, leaving a cold trail in his wake, and he sucked in a deep breath. When he pulled back to stare at you—flushed, hair mussed, sweat beaded along your hairline, his pearlescent spend between your thighs, your eyes half-lidded… chest only barely covered by his one button…
“Thank you,” he croaked, kissing the space beside your left eye. “For not running.”
“Don’t make me a fool for it,” you replied, looping your arms over Coriolanus’ neck so he could kiss you properly.
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