#i got a strange type of hunger

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

Sukuna

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Summary: Something's completely altered your behavior, and Sukuna can't say that he hates it.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, dub-con, sex pollen, vaginal fingering, double penetration, slight nipple play, vaginal sex, anal sex, squirting, creampie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Sukuna.” You call out to him, and when he turns to see you, a genuine look of concern overtakes his face. Sweat drips down your forehead as you try to maintain your composure. You’re clearly altered by something.

“What’s up with you?” Sukuna’s hands go to your torso in fear that you might tumble over. Your hands go behind his neck, “Why are you–”

“I was in the garden and there was this strange flower–” You can’t even finish your sentence. You’re trying to bring him down to meet your lips, muttering, “I need you. Fuck me, please please please.”

“Putting on a show for everyone?” He’s trying to tease you. Every time he even dares do something suggestive, you get too shy but you’re different today. Your lips land on his, a seething hunger flowing through you, one that only he can calm down.

Your tongue goes past his parted lips and into his mouth, wandering around until it finds his own. You’re pressing your body against his with pure desperation. You need something, and you need it now. Sukuna is not the type to really care about this type of stuff but he’s concerned because this isn’t how you usually are.

“Do me, right now.” You’re taking off your attire in the hallway, not caring if anyone that works in the place sees you. You need him, that’s all that you care about right now. Before he can even blink, you’re completely naked.

He pulls away, grabbing some of the robes on the ground and putting it over you. He’ll fulfill your wish, but first he needs some privacy. He couldn’t have cared less at first, but now he gets jealous at the mere thought of anyone seeing you naked. He hates how possessive he’s become over a woman. 

“I don’t want you to put a show on for everyone.” He says before picking you up and taking you away to his room. He has other plans, Sukuna is a busy being, but all it takes is you with a request to swoop him away.

What’s more important right now is him helping you with whatever you need. All he got was that you were in the garden… Then you became the mess that you are right now. Not that he can complain.

He lays you down, taking off the robe that barely covers you. A smirk comes to his lips, admiring your body before his lips go down to meet yours for a brief moment. When he pulls away, you take action.

“Touch me here.” You grab his hand, taking it to your pussy. You’re already soaking wet, and he’s done nothing… What is up with you? Though he can’t exactly complain about it. His fingers run through your folds, gathering your slick before pushing a digit inside of you.

“You’re pulsing around me.” He comments as he inserts another finger into your cunt. You sound so lewd as he moves his fingers in and out of you, your back arching and eyes rolling to the back of your head. He sees your hand go down to play with your clit, in desperate need for more stimulation. He’s never seen you act like this. “You’re a needy slut today.”

“I need more.” You mutter as his hand goes to your wrist, stopping you from playing with yourself. You whine until he replaces it with his hand, strong fingers circling your clit and filling you with pleasure. You’re melting under his touch, your moans getting louder by the second. 

You’re clenching around his thick fingers, already on the brink of an orgasm. He’s smirking, seeing that you’re a mess around him already. You’re mindlessly moaning his name as pleasure overtakes your body. You need to come.

“You’re not going to get it so fast.” He pulls his fingers out of your cunt, and they’re completely covered by your juices. He brings them up to your lips, forcing them into your mouth. “Clean them up.”

You’re humming on his fingers, rolling your tongue around them. You want to push them out and beg for him to fuck you. You need him. You need to feel his warmth inside of you desperately. You feverishly need it, your cunt is begging for it.

He takes his fingers out of your mouth, and immediately, you’re begging, “Please fuck me, Suku. Please. I need you so bad.”

“You’re so pathetic.” He tells you, taking off his robes to do as you beg. He loves to hear the begging from your lips, it’s satisfying. He’d make you please him first, but you’re clearly in need of him. You act as if you might die if he wastes another second.

You bite down your lip as you watch him get undressed, what takes you by surprise is Sukuna laying down, a pair of his arms meeting behind his head. He licks his lips before telling you, “If you want it, come and get it.”

“You’re so mean.” You respond as you get on top of him. You’re dripping on him, wetter than usual. He’s barely even touched you.

You align his top dick with your entrance, and slowly insert him inside of you. You loudly moan as his cock stretches you out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fills you up. He loves the look on your face, as you take his cock. 

“Aren’t you going to move?” He’s teasing you, though you couldn’t care less what he has to say. Your mind is elsewhere. You begin to move back and forth, his cock hitting your sweet spot. You’re moaning loudly, unable to bear it.

Your pussy feels so tight around Sukuna, it takes everything in him to control himself. He needs to feel all of you. One of his large hands goes to your boobs, fingers pinching your nipple before a mouth appears on his hand and tongue circles around it. 

“It’s so good, Suku.” You moan, throwing your head back as you bounce on his cock. It’s soothing the hunger that flows through your veins. It satisfies him as well. One of his hands goes to the unattended cock, thumb swiping over his slit, spreading the pre cum before he begins to jerk himself off. 

“Fuck…” You curse as your hand goes down to rub your clit. You’re squeezing around him, on the brink of an orgasm. Sukuna is biting his tongue, holding back on praises as he feels your cunt clench around his cock. He can’t praise you when one of his cocks is in his hands and he jerks himself off.

You throw your head back, reaching your climax and squirting all over him. He couldn’t be prouder of you as you make a mess all over him, coating his torso with your squirt– Though that pride fades away when you take his cock out of you.

“What are you–” He begins but you turn around before you put the bottom cock in your pussy. Your hunger still lingers. He needs a bit more though, so he grabs the unattended cock and teases your asshole. 

As you lower yourself on his cock again, he pushes his cock into your asshole. You loudly moan as both of your holes are filled up. This is just what you needed. You give yourself a moment to adjust before you begin to move, but Sukuna takes over. He begins to move his hips, setting a much faster pace.

“Is this enough for you?” He sounds mocking as he takes over. His fingers play with your clit, and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head again. This is what you need, what’ll soothe the need that you have. 

“Yes!” You practically yell, pleasure consuming you. Nails dig into your hips as Sukuna thrusts in and out of you. You’re making a mess all over him, and he couldn’t be happier.

His breath gets caught up in his chest, movements getting sloppy as he feels his release near. You feel so perfect around him, he’s not going to last forever. Especially not with how you’re acting right now, he can’t contain himself. He comes to a swift stop, filling both of your holes with so much of his warm cum. 

He doesn’t resume moving, and you take it upon yourself to move once again. You’re milking his cock, in need of more. You plainly say, “I need more.”

Sukuna’s duty is far from over.

You nearly kill Sukuna to calm down the hunger that consumes you. He had no idea that you out of all people could do this to him. He’s so tired, he needs a week away from you to recover.

“Uraume, what do you need?” Sukuna asks as he opens the door to his room. He’s sent you away, claiming that he’s sick and doesn’t want to infect you– Matter of fact, he’s terrified of you right now. He sticks his head out of the door, looking to see if there’s a sign of you in the hallway. Once he knows he’s safe, he lets Uraume inside. “What is it?”

“I found the reason why your wife has been acting unusual.” Uraume speaks, and Sukuna’s interest is piqued. He needs the answer so the event doesn’t repeat. Yes, it was enjoyable at first… Until the man was holding on to dear life while you begged for more.

“What caused this?” He’s never been more desperate for an answer. Uraume demonstrates the strange flower you were talking about, something that must be a mutation from a curse or something similar. It’s definitely unusual.

“Don’t smell it.” Uraume warns him, passing on the blue colored flower to Sukuna. Sukuna’s shaking as he holds it, scared that temptation will get the best of him and he’ll do the one thing he was warned not to do.

“Destroy it. Burn the garden and we’ll grow more flowers.” Sukuna orders, and Uraume chuckles. It’s hilarious to hear about how you tired him out. Sukuna glares at Uraume, and they apologize.

“I’ll get right on it, my lord.” Uraume nods. Before they leave, they relay the message, "Your wife has been asking for you."

"Tell her I died."

[timmydraker]

Thinking about Vampire Tim AU and him saving Bruce via turning.

None of the Drakes are actually Vampires, at least not permanently. It was a very strange instance that occurred out of pure chance and coincidence.

A pregnant Janet Drake in a foreign country having a run in with a starving vampire rouge that bite her just a few days before she gave birth.

Instead of the curse spreading to her, the labour of her child pushed and the spreading of lifeform spread to her baby as it was born. The child looked healthy, had no inhuman features, and they assumed her being so sick was simply the fact she was about to give birth.

Tim doesn’t realise what he is for a while purely because his parents are vegan and, until he was seven and had some beef from a classmates lunch, hadn’t had any blood enter his mouth.

Having to teach himself everything, Tim learned to manage both his hunger and abilities as quickly as he could. He studied history and mythos and did several test to figure out the limits to what he needed and could do.

He learnt that he could heal via blood, that he could go without air for days, and that his hearing was normal though his sense of smell was enough to distinguish blood types.

He learn that he could go two weeks without blood before it became a problem, but if he pushed it past three weeks he would start to experience literally decay.

Tim disconcerted his saving grace was that the hunger wasn’t as uncontrollable as people made it out to be in movies and books. At most, it was just like normal human hunger or thirst, and he was aware there was a huge variable in him being raised rather poorly.

He keeps it hidden for years, but then when he’s nineteen Bruce dies.

Not Batman, Bruce.

They got in a car crash of all things, the other drive running after they drove them off the road on the extremely rare instance that Alfred wasn’t driving.

Tim watched the tree branch in his foster father’s chest for several minutes as he thought about his options. Bruce was dead upon impact, gone with only the last wisps of life hanging to him.

Bruce was a father.

Batman was needed.

Even though it would out what he was, Tim forced his several sharp teeth out, all needle sharp and long enough his jaw had to unhinge slightly, and bit into his own wrist. The fangs, an inch long each, dug into his skin painfully before moving to dig into each of Bruce’s wrist and then finally his neck.

Tim smeared the blood into all three wounds and then squeezed as much as he could into Bruce’s mouth.

He had no idea how he knew what to do, trusting the instinct the curse seemed to just… give him.

When Bruce begins to breath again, Clark finally shows up. It’s been a total of eleven minutes and Tim only realises that the other took so long because he had been off planet, yet he is grateful because if he had been there…

Tim instructs Clark on how to cover up the scene, removing the cars and getting Bruce to the cave.

Dick is freaking out, worrying over his brothers ripped clothes and Bruce’s clear injuries, but Tim is quiet.

He takes Bruce’s medical cot and leads them both into a containment cell and then seals it, implementing his own lock as well as one of Bruce’s so no one can open it. He can hear someone banging on the glass a few times but he ignores it to stand over his father’s side and wait for him to wake up.

Naturally, when the older man does he’s panicked and screening Tim’s name.

Tim smiles at him sadly before taking hold of his hand, which Bruce immediately process as wrong.

“Why aren’t I dead?”

Smile growing sadder before fading to an almost formal look, Tim squeezed his hand before pulling away.

“I know you’ve had your suspicions and I thank you for trusting me regardless, but you are right. I’m not human Bruce, and now… you aren’t either.”

He lets the worlds settle for just a moment before continuing, knowing the other will want all the information he can. They’re both so similar in that way.

“I was born a vampire, I will always be a vampire. I will explain that all to you soon, but what you need to know is this: you do not need to drink human blood, you will not loose control over your thirst if you allow me to train you, and yes I had no choice. Gotham needs Batman and I-… I need my father. I will not apologise for my selfishness, but I am sorry you have to be like me.”

Bruce is quiet but he doesn’t move to kick Tim out, nor does he shout at him or cry in betrayal.

He’s surprised, but not more than Tim had ever seen before.

It’s almost an hour of silence between them before Bruce speaks again, “You… you are actually nineteen?”

Tim scoffs and Bruce glares, which makes Tim smile more, “I am. My body will age until around twenty five, at least that’s my hypothesis. If you are turned you stay the age you were, but I was born.”

Bruce nods and after a moment reaches out for his son’s hand.

Another silence before he squeezes it, “Have you told the others about… this change?”

Tim winces, “I tried to keep us separated because I knew you would worry for hurting someone, but I knew Damian would break in if he couldn’t listen so…”

“Ah. Understood.”

Then, in another rare instance that Tim thought he wouldn’t see for at least another few years, Bruce opens his arms to him for a hug.

Naturally, Tim crumbles into his father’s arms and sobs louder than a war drum.

Bruce kisses his head and holds him tight, a vampire embrace.

[xyfanficarchive]

honeymoon phase (kinda 18+)

Mouthwashing - Jimmy x Reader

Summary - some more thoughts on this headcanon post i made recently, after you and jim just get together. completely unedited and typed directly into the tumblr post editor.

Content warnings: post sex cuddles, uhhh soft Jimmy?, misogyny, intense idealization of you, descriptions of attempted suicide, descriptions of self harm scars

This isn’t something he’s used to. Warm bed, thick covers, pillows aplenty, your soft skin against his as you lay side by side.

He’s fucked enough girls, alright. He knows the look by heart, the moment he’s spotted, some bitch with the air that she’s been beat or touched by Daddy when she was little. There’s something about Jimmy that reads obvious to them, like they can see his poverty, his violent and impulsive tendencies, his complete fucking disdain for humanity, his history of addiction, his criminal record, all in the features of his face. The shape of his eyes and the dark bags below them, the profile of his nose, the way his hair hangs on his forehead, the curve of his lips, his unshaven face, his posture; it must spell out “broken” or “criminal,” and it’s his loathsome look in specific that makes them wet. That has them throwing themselves at him to spread their hybristophiliac legs before him. Choke me, slap me, pull my hair, fuck me hard while I say no. Then, there were the others who weren’t even worth mentioning. But he didn’t give a shit; pussy is pussy is pussy when it all comes down to it, and no matter how he gets it, it’s way better than his fucking hand, that’s for sure. One and done on his unwashed sheets, and sent off again.

He could no longer say that all pussy was the same with the certainty it was true, not since he met you. He could hardly even say he had fucked you, it felt too crass for what had just transpired. With the way you undressed each other, all tender caresses, shining eyes, open hearted vulnerability, you on your back sighing his name with every stroke, and your hands were in his hair, not pulling, but combing your fingers through in a way that made him shiver; no, he was more inclined to say he had made love to you, in all its nauseatingly saccharine connotations.

Jimmy had tried to kill himself when he was 15. ‘Yeah,’ he would scoff, ‘see how that worked out. Just as well as any other fucking thing I’ve done.’ But he still remembers the burn, hanging from that rope he had tied incorrectly, a deep fucking burn in his lungs and limbs and brain as his body flailed autonomously, his traitorous body trying to live even as he wanted to die. Every single cell in every organ, every tissue, every fiber was ablaze, shrieking in hungry panicked desperation for oxygen. Then as his vision was closing in black around him, the rope snapped, he collapsed on the floor gasping himself back to life.

Only the body felt the relief of taking those breaths. His mind was still burning, just as it had been since he was little, just as it had continued to burn for all the rest of his unfortunate existence after. Misery was his natural condition. Hunger was all he had known. Until he met you.

You, oh strange one, who didn’t turn away from his slimy nature in disgust, nor fling yourself at him because taking dirty felon cock was how you got your rocks off. He was as awful to you as everyone else. And you sure didn’t take it lying down, but neither did you leave him behind in the dust, like the rest of humanity. (Well, except for Curly.) You came back. Trying. Always trying, not always liking him, but never hating him. It confused the shit out of him more than anything. You had, for the most part, completely disarmed him.

And then you told him that he didn’t have to fight and claw so hard to prove himself. That he was valuable, that he was worthy just for existing.

It was like the rope hanging his psyche by the neck had finally snapped, and he was gasping cool sweet relief into his lungs, flooding through his limbs, relieving the desperate ache that had plagued him for all his conscious memory.

He knew then that you were made for him. You were different, you were nothing like the other fucking bitches - no, no, you weren’t a bitch at all. You, in your infinite shining compassion, understood him. You liked him. The worthless cunts would cringe, eyes all slick shiny and firm set on him with fear, edging away like they’d be contaminated by breathing the same air as him, but you would approach him with kindness and familiarity. You smiled and laughed with him. You listened to him talk about his struggles, his past, his fears, with an open heart. You were an angel sent down from heaven to save him, and he scrambled to claim you as his like a man scrambled against being buried alive, like a man with a ball and chain on his ankle scrambled against being thrown into the sea, like a man falsely condemned to the gallows scrambled against being dragged up the platform.

You were perfect. Infallible. Strong, that you could even stomach to be near him. You were golden, crystalline and glittering. You were so luminous, you graced him with your light, shining upon him, illuminating to his eyes that the gaping hole in his being was shaped just like you. You were his destiny. He would suffocate to death without you, and in that, he would rather die with you than without you.

But to his surprise, you had willingly walked to fill him. You came into his life with a smile and a kiss. You let him into your bed, where he lay now. The light of the setting sun casting a rose-coloured glaze about the room. All pillows and blankets and warmth and softness he hadn’t known in years, hadn’t known ever, with your supple skin pressed, melting into his. Your hand interlaced with his own. Held upright, that you both could gaze up at the beautiful perfection that was your connection.

Your other fingertip came up to stroke down from his wrist to his elbow, and he felt the warmth sour just a bit. Oh yeah, you hadn’t seen them before. If there was one thing Jimmy fucking despised about his body more than anything else, it was his arms, bearing all the marks, every bitter reminder of his disgusting and dramatic weakness. He’d long since grown out of that shit. He had more mature ways to hurt himself now. But your gentle fingertip tracked over every dip and elevation that marred his skin, every pearly white scar, thick and thin and every thing in-between, lined up horizontal (and sometimes vertical and diagonal) where long sleeves could hide them. He felt your profound, somber consideration flowing out from the pad of your index finger, heard it in the way your breath changed, and it filled him with discomfort, with a deep sense of wrongness. This tendency was one of his worst shortcomings before he dropped it, and certainly was not deserving of any pity.

He didn’t know what to say. He swallowed thickly. “Yeah, I used to cut myself. Then I figured out that that’s pussy shit, so I quit,” he said flatly, bluntly. He wanted you to drop it, to ignore it, to act like they didn’t exist and never had existed, ‘cause they only made him more pathetic.

Your slow tracing faltered. He heard you inhale, a sound loaded with meaning. You moved your head so that you were leaned up against his shoulder. “…I don’t think it’s pussy shit,” your voice finally came, soft and sad, and it worked up some awful cringe in his gut. He didn’t respond, tensing up against you.

After another couple beats of silence, you spoke again, so terribly, horribly delicate: “You must’ve been in a lot of pain. I’m really sorry, Jimmy.”

He felt a deep throb of anguish in his chest. It confused him, and it lingered painfully. But self-compassion is a feeling, a process entirely inaccessible to him. He’s not going to ruin this moment by trying. He’s perfectly content to leave all the compassion up to you, for whom it comes easy as breathing. He simply dropped his arm, hand still interlocked with yours, pulling it out of view, pulling you down with him.

He shifted, pushing himself up just enough that he could look at you, your perfect face, eyes shining with a mix of compassion and pity and love. He leaned down, eyes fluttering closed, to kiss you on the lips; he’s still quite unpracticed at this, and all its tender passion, he’s a little too hard with it, a little too sloppy, but still completely heartfelt all the same. And he hoped it was enough to make you drop the issue.

[averycutesalamander]

pls write yan!boothill OMG WHO SAID THAT

ohoho....!! i must confess that im quite picky when it comes to yandere content, bc i don't particularly like the extreme end of the spectrum. physical violence and straight noncon in particular don't click for me (absolutely no shade to people who like that tho, you do you!!) buuuuuuut ..... i mean, im the one writing?? so i can do whatever i want??? so alright here you go :) also check my reblog for.. a lot of rambling lmao

may i present to you: my interpretation of boothill in love, but he has a few too many screws loose. warning for relatively vague descriptions of violence and, uh... yandere stuff. you know how it goes.

In all honesty, Boothill is not a "love at first sight" type. His attraction to you is a gradual, budding thing, built over many repeated encounters. He's emotionally isolated himself, after all - built a wall thick enough to muffle the whispers of his past, smothering it in a slurry of rage and sorrow. It'll take time for him to let down his guard for long enough to even register the feelings you conjure in him - a flutter in his chest every time you smile at him, a spark of joy every time he makes you laugh, a strike of fondness every time he looks at your pretty face when you aren't paying attention.

And beneath it all, a low, simmering greed, a hunger, a yearning; the urge to bite and devour and never let go.

The pressure builds with time, as the two of you grow closer. He visits often, though not so often that it would catch the IPC's attention. You laugh and joke and tease, playfully flirting with him yet keeping a healthy, platonic distance. (He very pointedly and stubbornly ignores the way his heart soars when you look at him like that - like you want to pull him into your bed and let him take you apart, piece by ruinous piece. It's just harmless fun, after all.)

(Right?)

Despite the yawning fractures in the wall he's created, despite the increasing complexity of his feelings for about you, he still hasn't untangled whatever complicated web of feelings that's arisen around you, content to leave himself oblivious for the time being - until you make a joke about him marrying you and sweeping you away on some bizarre galactic adventure, and he damn-near bluescreens.

(He hates, hates, hates that the first thing he feels is something adjacent to the feeling a cat gets when it finally corners a particularly unruly mouse, akin to the thrill he gets whenever an enemy exposes a weakness. A sick, twisted kind of satisfaction.)

His mind churns as the wall cracks, wavers-

...and crumbles.

He panics. He makes a flimsy excuse about getting a notification through his neurochip, about needing to help out a fellow ranger - and he feels even better worse when you believe him unhesitatingly, sending him off with a sweet little "Be safe!" just as you always do.

It's only after he leaves the planet that he thinks about how much you've grown to trust him, about how damn gullible you are, about how often you give him the benefit of the doubt, about how kindly you've always treated him in spite of (or perhaps because of) his dozens of strange quirks. Everything unravels, threads spilling from his fraying mind and spilling between his fingers, and when the tattered fabric settles-

He simply can't deny it. He's in love with you.

It takes some time for him to piece himself back together - weeks of complete silence from him, your texts going unanswered. Every time he sees a fresh notification from you, his heart twists with guilt - but he's not ready to face the music. Not yet.

He comes crawling back to you, sooner or later. He knocks on your door with the most sheepish, guilt-ridden look on his face that you've ever seen, a rich bouquet laden with yellow roses and purple hyacinths tucked timidly in his arms. He lies about why he left - says it was all because of a mission that got more complicated than it should have, and it wasn't safe to reply to your messages - but when he tells you that he's sorry, he means it genuinely.

He's a bit disturbed by the sensation in his gut - that foul, wicked satisfaction when you accept his apology with barely a slap on the wrist, cheerily inviting him inside to catch up. You tuck the flowers neatly into a vase, chatting easily with him as you carefully arrange them.

"It's alright!" you say, waving dismissively at him when he murmurs another apology. "I know you're busy. I can't be your biggest priority, obviously. You've got more important things going on."

(You don't have a clue how wrong you are.)

He integrates back into your life like he never left. When he has the time, he sneaks his way back onto your planet, knocking on your door or searching for you in your usual spots. You get impossibly closer; your playful flirting goes from blatantly humorous to something foggier, something more ambiguous, teasing the line between platonic and something heavier. He matches you step by step, returning your advances with just a little extra spice, his eyes a bit darker and his smile a bit wider.

He tries to be patient - god, does he try - but there's an itch that's bloomed beneath his metal, impossible to scratch, impossible to sate, made worse by every little joke you make about kissing him or touching him or marrying him or letting him spirit you away. The pressure builds further and further, the tension winding tighter and tighter, the anticipation bubbling higher and higher.

(He will never, ever admit that he truly contemplates stealing you away, crowding you onto a ship and carting you off so he can always keep an eye on you, can always guarantee your safety. His paranoia has been building since he recognized his feelings for you; it's taken every ounce of restraint in his body to stop himself from giving into the urge, from crowding you, from suffocating you, from locking you away like a fragile songbird in a cage.)

(He's torn between his protectiveness and his understanding that you deserve freedom. You deserve independence and a life that isn't tied directly to him. He doesn't even know if you return his feelings. But...)

(But there's that nagging feeling in the back of his head, that pestering little voice that grows louder by the day. You'll be safer with me, it says, dark and tempting, bursting behind his teeth. I can make you happy. I can keep you safe. I can show you pieces of the universe that you've never seen before. I can love you like no one else ever could. I can hold you and cherish you and consume you and-)

(He takes that little voice and wraps his hands tight around its throat, frantically trying to suffocate the noise, terrified by its allure. But it's always there, lingering, lurking - because the call is coming from inside the house.)

Something gives, eventually.

When he inevitably breaks, his lips crashing heatedly and messily into yours, there are two paths ahead - but the difference is ultimately moot, because they collide not long after.

Perhaps you reciprocate. Perhaps you melt against his lips, your arms coiling around his shoulders and drawing him further into you. Perhaps you whimper when his hands trail downward, squeezing at your hips. Perhaps you pull away with a gasp, your pupils blown wide, your heart pounding when you see the look in his eye - dark and hot and desperate and hungry. Perhaps you accept his quiet declaration of affection with open arms, returning it in full, your eyes sparkling with joy.

Or perhaps you reject him. Perhaps you freeze like a startled deer before pushing him away, your face slack with shock. Perhaps you apologize, stumbling over your words, your heart thundering in your chest when you see the look in his eye - dark and cold and empty and hungry. Perhaps you gently tell him that you don't feel that way about him - that you only see him as a friend.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter.

...Because Boothill - careful, meticulous Boothill - has slipped up, and the IPC finds you.

After he leaves next, whether that be with a broken heart or a giddy one, a trio of IPC employees pluck you up from the street in broad daylight, shoving you into a dark transport ship for "questioning." And once they bring you to an IPC space station, they do indeed question you - though it feels more like an interrogation, considering that you've been tied ankle-and-wrist to a chair like you're a dangerous serial killer and not a regular civilian.

"Suspected colluding with the criminal known as Boothill," your "interviewer" tells you flatly, idly thumbing at the knife in their hand. "Camera footage, reports from neighbors, records from his Synesthesia Beacon... All clearly show that he has made repeated visits to your planet and your home. We're in the business of knowing why."

Perhaps you keep your mouth shut and refuse to divulge anything, no matter how close that knife gets to your bare skin. Perhaps you break when it begins to slice into your flesh, drawing blood from your body and tears from your eyes and stuttered words from your lips. Perhaps you grit your teeth and bear it, unwilling to betray the man you've grown so fond of.

Or perhaps you cave immediately. Perhaps you sell him down the river the first chance you get, frantic explanations spilling from your lips. Perhaps you tell them that you had no idea he had such a massive bounty on his head. Perhaps you panic when they find the information insufficient and draw the knife on you anyway, deaf to your begging and pleading as they wet your skin with blood.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter.

...Because a distant explosion rocks the entire space station, and the flashing lights from the silent alarms interrupt your interrogation.

You're left alone when the IPC agent flees, locking the door behind them with a heavy clunk. Minutes pass as you fumble desperately with your restraints, your body pulsing with pain; a cacophony of gunshots and screaming penetrates the thick walls, growing louder and louder, your heart pounding faster and faster.

There's a noise just outside the door - a horrifically wet noise, like raw flesh on tile. You freeze like a rabbit that's just heard the panting of a starving wolf, far too close for comfort.

Silence. Your head aches from the flashing red lights.

Suddenly, steel fingers wedge into the gap between the locked door and the wall, single-handedly tearing it open and breaking the hydraulic lock with inhuman ease. Metal crunches and squeals, piercing the quiet - and there he stands, right in the doorway, a silhouette of black and red.

Never in your life have you seen him this manic.

His white hair drips with scarlet and his teeth are bared; his eyes are alight with rage, a shock of bright crimson among the dark smears of blood and viscera that coat him head to toe. In the light of the alarms, he looks like the perfect picture of a killer from a horror movie; violence and slaughter, just waiting to be unleashed. When his gaze locks onto you, there is a long moment of utter stillness; instinctual terror floods your entire body in a cold flash, because there isn't so much as a glimmer of humanity in those eyes - only pure, boiling, ravenous, frantic anger.

For a heartbeat, you're convinced he's going to rip you apart with his teeth.

Then, as if he finally registers who you are, the madness evaporates, replaced by a nearly manic sort of relief. He rushes to your side, looking you over; you don't miss the flash in his eyes - seething, smoking fire - when he spots your injuries. In the same breath, he snuffs it out, focusing instead on breaking your binds with his bare hands.

You're already crying when he takes you up into his arms, cradling you close to his chest and unwittingly smearing IPC blood onto you. "It's alright, sweetheart," he murmurs, soft and reassuring, a beacon of comfort in a sea of terror. "I'm right here. I've got ya. No one's ever gonna take ya from me again, okay?"

(Maybe if you weren't in shock, you'd be startled by his words. As it stands, though, they're like music to your ears, like a warm blanket settled over your shoulders, like a tight hug from someone you trust with your life.)

He encourages you to press your face into his shoulder - mercifully free of blood - as he carries you through the carnage he's left in his wake, the jangle of his spurs and your muffled sobs echoing through the silent halls. Your entire body shivers at the noise of him stepping into some unidentifiable slurry of viscera, and he thumbs at your back in an effort to soothe you, speaking quietly into your ear about everything and nothing.

Time passes in a blur of tears. He takes you to the ship he, uh... commandeered to get here, ducking into the bathroom and settling you gently - so very gently - onto the floor. Or, rather, he tries to - because your fingers are frozen stiff in his jacket, your grip unrelenting.

"You just wait here for a sec, alright?" he whispers softly, the chill of his hand settling lightly against your wrist; the blood there still feels warm to your delirious mind. "Gotta get the autopilot started, okay? I'll be right back."

You're both surprised when you shake your head insistently, your eyes wet and pleading. In an instant, he softens, his heart aching in his chest.

"Alright, sweetpea," he breathes, carefully picking you up again. "I've got ya."

He keeps you cradled to his chest as he walks to the cockpit, holding you easily with one arm as he gets the ship moving. Reinforcements are on the way, no doubt - but you'll both be long gone by the time they get here.

(Maybe the IPC will get the message when they find the scene he's left behind - when they view the camera footage and see the rampage he went on. Decapitation and disembowelment is a new one, even for him...)

(...but he needed to make it clear that no one, no one, touches what's his and gets away with it.)

When the engine is purring beneath his feet and the rumble of FTL travel is humming in the walls, he brings you back to the washroom and settles you to the tile again, gently untangling your grip from his jacket. You're in shock, he's sure, so he's careful to continue talking to you as he wets a towel with warm water, murmuring soft reassurances as he wipes the blood from your skin, handling you like you're glass.

Once you're clean, he messily towels himself off to get the worst of the mess off, then brings you to the captain's quarters, digging around in the closet to find something comfortable for you. Your shaking fingers cause you trouble, so he gently eases your ruined clothes off, his eyes respectfully averted as he helps you redress. He takes one look at the messy, used bedding and promptly decides to change the sheets. (Something within him stirs and snarls at the thought of you smelling like anyone else.)

Finally, when all is said and done, he eases you beneath the covers, brushing away the last remnants of your tears. His heart is torn between singing with joy and aching with pain when you reach up and take his hand in yours, your fingers wrapping tight around his.

"Gotta go wash up, honey," he murmurs, watching you closely as you sink into the protective huddle of the blankets, exhaustion painting your features. "That alright? I'll be fast."

(He tries very hard to ignore the flutter in his chest from the look in your eye - like you're genuinely considering whether or not you need to stay near him, like you aren't sure if you can bear the distance.)

(He also tries very hard to ignore the little pang of disappointment when you slowly nod, releasing his hand.)

He cleans himself up with record efficiency, resigning himself to wearing clothes that are a size or two too small until he can wash his usual outfit. The clothes are for your sake, really; it's not like he has any, uh... equipment to expose - not yet - but he's relatively sure that it would make you uncomfortable anyway.

By the time he steps lightly into the room again, you're asleep.

For a long, long moment, he's struck stupid by the sight of you, by the softness of your face in rest.

Fuck, you're beautiful. He knows it in his heart, feels it in his core, senses it in his chest - you're the prettiest little thing he's ever seen.

(And you're all his, now.)

His fists clench, and he swallows down the thought like bitter poison. (You deserve better than this - better than him. He's a broken man, he knows - a messy reconfiguration of a thousand corpses, glued together by hatred and grief. He could never love you the way you deserve. He could never-)

He's broken from his rapidly spiraling thoughts when you twitch, a tiny furrow appearing in your brow. A surge of emotion nearly bursts in his chest - the urge to comfort, to protect, to soothe - and he slowly circles to the other side of the bed, climbing into the empty space and settling beneath the blankets. Hesitantly, he wraps one arm lightly around your waist, drawing you against him with your back pressed tight to his chest.

His heart soars when he feels you instantly relax, the tension fleeing your body.

(It's fine. This is fine. He'll make everything better. No matter what he has to do, who he has to kill, he'll make everything better.)

A handful of days pass like that. When he stops by a market to get supplies for you, he gently tells you that it's best for you to stay in the ship for now; odds are that you actually have a bounty on your head as well, now.

(He's not wrong - but he also doesn't need to disable the button on the inside of the ship that opens the exit hatch. You don't need to know that; he doesn't need to acknowledge that.)

As time passes, he tries not to suffocate you, tries not to hover, wary of putting you under any more stress - but it's ultimately a useless task.

When you finally, tentatively ask him about going home, his brain goes numb, the world snapping into sharp focus. He turns his gaze to you, disturbingly absent of emotion.

"It ain't safe for ya there, now that those IPC dogs know to look for ya," he says, his voice far too even.

When tears begin to bud in your eyes, it finally sweeps up some sympathy in his chest, his entire face softening. He takes your shaking hands in his, tenderly grazing your knuckles with his thumbs.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he rasps, reaching up to wipe away your tears.

(He's barely sorry.)

"I don't like it either, but..."

(Yes, he does.)

"It's safest for ya to stick with me, alright?"

(Wishful thinking. He could find somewhere for you to stay - some quiet planet outside of the IPC's reach, where you could live without worry. He could send you credits regularly. He could make sure you were happy and secure, independent of him.)

(He could. He should.)

(He won't.)

[dadsbongos]

do u think u could write some of ur own personal headcanons for laios? i love the way u write him, it seems almost canon!

anon you dont know what fire youre messing with

also thank yew hehe :>

general headcanons:

Laios likes babysitting but does NOT want to be a real papa, he adores the idea of being the Cool And Strange Uncle but just imagining having to raise a whole person from scratch terrifies him

Usually conks out as soon as his head hits the pillow and he’s a damn heavy sleeper, he strikes me as someone that gets the dad snore when he’s a bit older

Likes doing physical activity in the moment, maintaining his stamina/strength n whatnot. But HAAATES the aftermath, he will not stop bitching about how gross he feels when sweaty

People scare him but I think men specifically scare him more than women because he mainly associates “men” with his old boarding school and military peers and his dad. Meanwhile the most callous woman he’s personally dealt with is like. his mom… who wasn’t particularly menacing and he doesn’t seem to resent her as much as he does his father

Most definitely called Chilchuck “chil” in their early days together and got his nuts sacked for the unintentional disrespect

Doesn’t drink often because the taste bugs him but when he does decide to, he drinks to get drunk. So it has to be a special occasion

The type of older brother to tell Falin food fills up your body from your feet to your head and when you’re full to your head you die

modern headcanons:

Definitely the type to unironically use little emoticons like :) or :] but his favorites are the cute ones like :3 , ^.^ , and :0

Would’ve played barbies with Falin as a kid and enjoyed it more than Falin did lol

If he were out with the group (marcille would have to threaten his life though, he would HATE “going out”) and Marcille or Falin deferred to him to deal with creepy men he’d feel like a superhero about it

Borderline mandated to have a high impact phone case by Falin because he’s GOT to be dropping that shit all the time. I just know it (projecting)

Would probably dislike resident evil as a series but thinks the premises are cool

Bouncing off that: he’s a big Undertale and Deltarune fan (definitely had a thing for Toriel at some point and probably thought sans was kind of overrated). Has ambivalent feelings towards fear & hunger, likes the atmosphere and item preservation and monsters but the assault scenes and overt brutalism ick him out from recommending it

Would go his whole life without an autism diagnosis until eventually held at metaphorical gunpoint by his friends, just for his parents to go “oh yeah we had you tested as a kid but didn’t want you using it as a crutch”

If monsters weren’t real he’d be cryptid autistic just so everyone’s on the same page

Cryptids major and ocean creatures minor type autism

I don’t think he’s straight by any measure but before he has the Realization, he’s the epitome of the girls gays and coleman meme

Segue omg: he has no desire to think more about his sexuality or gender than “i feel x” or “i choose y”. I think he identifies as Man(TM) but in a “its harder to explain i want to be a bog” way. If you referred to him with feminine pronouns or called him “girl” he seriously wouldn’t give a shit 

nsfw(?) headcanons:

Could never do casual, you would have to be committed or only know each other VERY distantly and only do it once. His ass wouldn’t know how to read your relationship if you were trying to do friends with benefits (he’s also very concerned with hurting people’s feelings so just the notion of accidentally doing that to someone he’s intimate with would kill him)

May seem strange coming from a bitch always talkin about fucking him, but I think Laios would actually have kind of a lower sex drive. Like he maybe doesn’t get needy very often but also isn’t NOT in the mood, so if you proposition him and he’s into you he’ll be like “okie :3”

That being said, when he does feel needy he’s NEEDY. It’s debilitating, he genuinely can’t do or think of anything else until his poor wee is taken care of :( poor guy aww

I can see him being a virgin until his early-mid 20s and having no shame about it (good for him go king, virginity is nothing to be ashamed of it literally doesn’t matter)

Also by virgin i mean rice purity test score of like 97

Swears he doesn’t like having his cock worshipped (says its weird and embarrassing) but he’s so flustered n drooly and babbles the whole time

Biter 

[megalony]

I'm So Cold

This is my first time writing for Joseph Quinn's character Michael in the movie Hoard. This is for @missdreamofendless I hope you like it and thank you for spurring me to write it.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05

Main Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) and Michael have a strange type of relationship since he came to stay with them. But when (Y/n) comes back shaken from a night of sleepwalking, Michael makes it his mission to look after her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What (Y/n) had with Michael was… different, to say the least.

It wasn't romantic, not most of the time anyway. It was unique, nostalgic and invoking.

He brought about the memories in (Y/n) that she thought were long gone, he unlocked aspects and moments from her childhood with her mum that had been repressed. And (Y/n) made michael feel like he was back in an era before he went to live with his brother. She made him want to act out those childhood memories that he thought he'd forgotten.

Their bond was strange, but (Y/n) wouldn't change it for anything. Since the moment Michael came to stay with her and Michelle, things had changed. Things became interesting. He made (Y/n) feel like she was living in a game and he changed the rules.

It had been the small things at first. The way he would brush up against her or rest a hand on her shoulder when he was walking past her or weaving behind her in the kitchen. Then it was the way he squished next to her on the sofa until their thighs were pressing together and she could feel each breath he took.

Michelle worked a lot, she always had, and now that (Y/n) had finished school, Michelle could take those extra shifts without worrying because (Y/n) was fine to be home alone.

With Michael here, that changed things. The second week of him being with them was when he'd kissed her.

(Y/n) had never been kissed like that before. She'd never felt that sense of hunger or had someone pin her against the wall like he thought he would die if she walked away from him.

Something seemed to happen whenever they were alone. Whether that was them running around the house like they were playing a frantic, grown up game of chase or whether it was them running around the streets causing mayhem in their wake. Whatever it was, something always made the days interesting and they seemed to feed off of one another.

(Y/n) loved it, but she couldn't help but want a little more. More than waiting for Michael to make the move and kiss her. More than just being someone he found fun to kiss when no one else was home because they both knew it wasn't exactly normal or 'right'.

A sigh got caught in the back of (Y/n)'s throat as she leaned against the door frame to the living room. Michelle, who (Y/n) classed and thought of as her own mother, was sat on the sofa against the back wall, nursing a cup of tea. She had Sam sat next to her, their neighbour who was more of an aunt to (Y/n) with how often she came round and helped out whenever needed.

Her girls were sitting on the other sofa, tangled together as they laughed at whatever strange, stupid joke they had come up with now. (Y/n) didn't get along with either of them, but she tolerated them. There was no other choice when she saw them almost every day and they were always coming round with their mum.

As hard as (Y/n) tried, she couldn't keep her eyes on the tv that was blasting out the news channel. There was only one person her eyes kept levitating to. Michael. Sat on the arm of the sofa, so close to the door frame that if (Y/n) leaned in just a little, her arm would undoubtedly brush against his back.

She stopped herself before she leaned and got too close. Everyone was in here. She didn't want them to notice or to cause a scene, and she certainly didn't want Sam's girls- or Michelle- knowing how close she wanted to be to their house guest.

Her fingers drummed against the door as she pulled away and filtered into the kitchen to make herself a drink. She clicked the kettle on and slumped her forearms down on the counter while she stared out into the garden.

(Y/n) found herself becoming lost in thought as she stared out the window to her left.

What would things be like when Michael eventually found his own place and moved out? Would he still stop by? Would she still see him? Would he even want to know her once he didn't live here anymore, or was (Y/n) just a way to occupy his time and find some fun before he left?

Every thought possible ran around in her mind until she found herself becoming dizzy, but a shiver scratched down her spine when she suddenly felt a body pressing up beside her.

Her head twisted to the right and she looked up, wide-eyed to see Michael stood beside her.

There was that usual half smirk playing on his lips and the way he inclined his head to the side looked like there was a question he wanted to ask her, but he stayed silent. He seemed to observe her for a moment and when his tongue slid out to drag along his lower lip while his eyes dragged unceromoniously slow up and down her body.

She stayed leaning on the counter, her lower back and bum arched out as she waited for Michael to make a move. Clearly he had come in here for a reason.

"Need something?" Her voice came out a lot quieter than she wanted and it made her dart her eyes down to look at the counter.

But her nerves felt like they had been set on fire when she felt Michael's hands on her hips before she even noticed him move. Her hands flexed and pressed against the counter when she felt him weave behind her. She wasn't sure even he knew what he was doing or what he was trying to do, he seemed to be making it up as he went along and so far, he was doing a good job.

His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips and he moved to stand directly behind her which caused (Y/n) to straighten up and press her lower waist into the counter. She was trying to give him room to walk behind her since the kitchen was the size of a shoe box, barely enough room for one person to move around, let alone two.

But Michael didn't care. Instead of moving to the side, he stepped even closer to (Y/n), moulding himself up against her back while his thumbs began to glide up and down her waist and dipped beneath her shirt.

"Excuse me," His lips hovered over the shell of her ear and (Y/n) didn't need to look to know that he was smiling as he leant over until his chest was firmly pressing down on her back.

His left hand stayed on her hip while his right arm stretched above her to open the cupboard in front of them. He pulled two cups out and set them down on the counter; he noticed (Y/n) had put the kettle on but she hadn't found herself a cup or even started to make a drink yet.

(Y/n) had the urge to say 'you're excused' which was her given sarcastic response but she was afraid that saying that would cause Michael to walk away from her. She didn't want him to move, not one inch.

Instead, her wide eyes followed him as he tilted his head to the side so he was looking down at her with that smirk that could get him anything he wanted. It probably always had.

The kettle whistled and boiled in the background, but neither of them made a move to reach over and actually start making a drink.

It felt like an eternity passed between them as (Y/n) stared at those large chocolate eyes and continuously darted her gaze down to his blushing pink lips that he kept licking and grazing his teeth against. He noticed her looking. It was clear by the way his smile broadened and he sank his teeth down into his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth as he inched his face closer to hers.

In a moment of bravery, or weakness, (Y/n) let go of the counter and carefully turned around on her heels until she was facing him. Her hips pressing bruisingly into the counter while Michael's hands stayed planted firmly on her waist. But this time, his chest was moulding against hers.

She could feel each deep breath he took, she could see every rise and fall of his chest. She could almost see his heart pulsing away in his chest which was causing the vein in his neck to throb.

She could feel his hands that were digging tightly into her waist like he was trying to imbed his fingers into her skin. She could feel his thighs pushing down on hers and pressing her legs into the counter and try as she might, she couldn't help but feel how he was pressing his groin into hers.

(Y/n) wasn't sure where she got her surge of courage from, but she moved her hands until her fingertips were lightly tracing across Michael's chest. He was wearing a vest, something he was frequently wearing unless he was going on a night out. Even beneath his work overalls he wore a vest rather than a shirt.

Her fingers traced over the discoloured cream and red vest like she was drawing patterns and she noticed Michael tilting his head down so he could watch her movements with intrigue.

One hand slithered across his chest and up the side of his neck until her hand was cradling the side of his face. Her thumb brushed across his jaw and the expanse of his cheek, feeling the beginning of stubble tickling the pad of her thumb while her fingers traced along his jaw and neck.

Michael's hand stayed on her hip, practically clenching her flesh between his fingers and her breath caught in her throat when his other hand cupped the back of her neck. Squeezing just enough so a shiver coursed down her skin and a beautiful tingling sensation spread through her nerves.

He angled her head back and surged down to attach his lips to hers. It always felt like taking a drug whenever he kissed her. It felt like (Y/n) was falling through the air and she came to a horrible crash landing when he eventually let her go and walked away from her.

Their teeth clashed as he kissed her like the world was going to end and he wanted it to burn in flames on a high note. She could feel his tongue clashing against her teeth as his surprisingly warm lips devoured hers and he leaned into her so much that her back began to bend and press uncomfortably into the counter. But she didn't care. Not as long as he kept kissing her like this.

"Are you two making a cuppa?"

Their lips broke apart with a slight gasp and (Y/n) felt her chest heaving against Michael's as he continued to press against her like he was trying to crush her.

She watched the way his eyes darted to the doorway, but he visibly relaxed when he realised Michelle wasn't stood there. She had called out from the living room.

"Yeah."

(Y/n) was glad Michael spoke, she wasn't sure she could trust her voice right now without giving away that something was going on in here.

Michael's hand left her neck which caused (Y/n)'s head to loll back and a wicked grin spread across his lips. He ducked down and attached his lips to the side of her neck, instantly sinking his teeth into her skin which caused (Y/n) to clamp her hands down on his shoulders. He couldn't leave a mark, not one that anyone could see or they would suspect and ask questions. But she didn't have the heart or the words to ask him to stop.

That was the thing about him, he felt addictive to (Y/n). He felt like a drug which she couldn't say no to. When they wandered the streets late in the afternoon causing mischief, when they ran around the house like crazed teenagers or tackled each other to the ground like they were on drugs. It was all so enticing and addictive. All (Y/n) wanted was to be around Michael and to be with him.

But she didn't know whether he wanted that, or whether he simply wanted the mayhem they created and the hyped feeling he got at the fact that they were sneaking around the house. Just like this.

The way he pressed further into her made (Y/n) bend back on the counter and she tested the waters by pushing her hips out into him which caused him to groan lowly against her neck and send vibrations through her throat.

She wasn't sure what his free hand was doing while his other hand was on her shoulder. Until she heard a familiar clink and realised he was getting more cups out the cupboard. They had been asked to pour some more drinks for the others in the living room.

It was a good job Michael had his ears tuned in to their surroundings while (Y/n) felt like her head was filling up with static and her heartbeat was vibrating throughout her system. He heard the sound of the sofa creaking and when the familiar sound of slippers against the laminate caught his attention, he moved. Fast.

His hands left (Y/n) and he sidestepped to the right so he was no longer stood between her legs, pressing up against her like he was trying to mould them into one person.

He swiped his hand across the back of his mouth and beneath his nose as he took a deep breath and shook his head to try and rid the lust from his eyes and calm down his system.

It wouldn't do him any good for Michelle to find out that the lad she was letting sleep in the living room was making out and sleeping with her young daughter. He trained his eyes on the cups in front of him and began tossing tea bags into each one while his foot anxiously tapped against the floor.

(Y/n) made him riled up, she had since the moment they met. He was always on edge around her, always so eager to attach himself to her and jump her and kiss the life out of her. He didn't know why she had such an effect on him like this, but he liked it. He liked what she did to him, even if he didn't quite understand it.

His eyes carefully glanced to the right and he managed a tight lipped smile when he saw Michelle leaning against the doorframe.

"Are you staying in for dinner?" It was clear her question was directed at Michael and he mustered the best smile he could when he felt (Y/n)'s eyes burning into him.

He could feel her arm brushing up against his as she turned around to grab the kettle and began filling the cups. And he could feel her eyes flickering up to him as if she were eagerly awaiting his response too. The other day when he was home in time to eat dinner with her and Michelle, he ended up gliding hid hand over (Y/n)'s thigh beneath the table to try and see what kind of response he gained. It had been an interesting night.

"Ah, no, thanks. I'm heading out later." He shook his head when Michelle grinned in that all-knowing kind of way and murmured 'with a girl?' but his denial only seemed to make her chuckle as she got the milk from the fridge.

A wince tore through him which he couldn't hide when he noticed (Y/n)'s expression fall and saw how she took a tiny, almost unnoticeable step away from him.

He wanted to stay, he wanted to be here. He wanted to spend all his time around (Y/n), but he didn't think he could control himself when he was around her.

Once her drink was made, (Y/n) nursed the cup between her hands and weaved around Michael, brushing up against his side as she passed. She had no reason to feel jealous or annoyed if he was going out, but she couldn't help it. She wanted to be around him. He had no idea how desperate he made her feel.

But he was staying for a few more weeks. There would be plenty of opportunities for (Y/n) to be around Michael and be with him and kiss him just like she had just now.

***

He didn't like this.

The longer he waited, the more panicked Michael started to feel.

Part of him wasn't even sure why he was worrying. It wasn't as if he was (Y/n)'s boyfriend or brother or guardian. He wasn't even a close friend, he was just the guy that was crashing at her mum's house for a while. He was the guy sleeping in the back room.

He shouldn't even be worrying or waiting up like this, it could be seen as creepy.

But when Michael got back and quietly crept in so he didn't wake anyone, he knew something was off. He just had a sixth sense that something wasn't right and when he looked around, it hit him. The door had been open, he didn't have to use his keys to get in. The door was never open this late at night, it was always locked.

(Y/n)'s keys were in the door, she had unlocked the door for something. The hallway light was on too which wasn't normal unless someone was up during the night.

Michael couldn't help it, he couldn't help but creep up the stairs and rap his knuckles on (Y/n)'s door. He kept telling himself he was being silly until he opened her door and realised she wasn't there.

She had gone out and it was late, what was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to just go lie down and try to sleep? Was he meant to wake Michelle and tell her (Y/n) had gone out when she hadn't mentioned going anywhere earlier?

It was past midnight. Only drunks an freaks would be out on the street at this time of night and (Y/n) wouldn't blend in or mingle with them. Anything could happen to her, especially if she was alone. Michael hoped she wasn't alone. He hoped she was with someone, she was less likely to be hurt or in some sort of accident if someone was with her.

His fingers began to tap down on the kitchen counter as his head lolled from left to right. He had tried to sit in the back room but he couldn't put the tv on and risk waking Michelle up and he couldn't go to sleep until (Y/n) came home and he knew that she was alright. He had tried to make himself a coffee to sober up- since he had been out drinking with the lads from work- but the cup had long since gone cold and he had barely touched it.

For what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour, Michael grabbed his phone from the counter and scrolled through the messages he had sent (Y/n). She hadn't opened or seen any of them. She hadn't responded. She didn't even have the curtesy to tell him that she was okay or tell him where she was right now.

His foot tapped incessantly against the floor as his shoulders hunched over and he tried to write out a new message to her. But before he was halfway done, the sound of the front door clicking open caught his full attention.

His head snapped up and his body straightened like he had grown three inches as his wild eyes set on (Y/n).

It was her. She was back. She was safe.

Seeing her walk through the door set off something inside Michael. It felt like a firework had launched in the pit of his gut and was now exploding through his chest, splintering off in all directions throughout his system that was now shaking and buzzing with adrenaline and anger.

Before he could stop himself he launched his phone down on the counter, barely hearing the way it clattered and bounced against the wooden counter and bashed into the toaster. He didn't care about making noise anymore and threatening to wake Michelle. She could wake up for all he cared. (Y/n) had finally come home, now she could explain.

The look of anger that was seething on Michael's face made (Y/n) wince when she meekly nudged the door shut behind her with her elbow. Her head aimed down but when she looked up through her lashes, the anger was still present and combined with how his face was now turning a dark shade of red.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

His words made her jump and the gritty tone to his low voice made (Y/n) whimper unintentionally. She didn't want to move, she didn't want to step any closer when he was clearly upset with her, but she couldn't just stand in the hallway like this.

She needed to move. She needed help.

Michael's chest continued to heave, straining against his red and white vest as his eyes focused on (Y/n). But the closer she got towards him, the more his angered expression morphed into a look of confusion.

Something was wrong. It hadn't dawned on him when she walked through the door to take in her attire. He assumed when she wasn't home that she had gone out with a friend or to a pub or something like that. But now that he looked her up and down, he realised that couldn't have been the case.

Where on earth had she gone in just a t-shirt and shorts?

"Wh- what happened?" His brows furrowed when she finally stood in front of him and he felt his heart clench when he realised she was hovering a foot away from him. As if she was too afraid to get close because he looked so frustrated with her. He didn't want her to be afraid of him, he would never want that.

When she didn't answer him, he took the initiative and stepped forward towards her instead. One hand curled around her arm but he almost pulled back in shock when he took in how cold her skin was. She felt like a block of ice, he had never known her to be so cold. And she was trembling.

He carefully hovered his other hand in front of her mouth, feeling each frozen breath she let out. And he couldn't stop himself from gliding the back of his fingers across her lips.

The feeling almost short-circuited (Y/n)'s brain. He had never touched her lips like that before, the most he had done was kiss them. His touch on her lips was so gentle and sensitive as if he thought pressing any harder would cause her to fracture. (Y/n) resisted the urge to kiss his fingers, mainly because she felt too numb and frozen to actually move.

"Your lips are blue… God, you're freezing." She was stone cold and her lips had changed to a dark shade of navy. But when Michael glanced his eyes down to see if her legs were undoubtedly as cold as the rest of her, his frown deepened. "Haven't you heard of shoes?"

Why was she barefoot? No socks, no shoes, and he would have noticed if she took them off when she came in. Why had she gone out on such a cold night in her bare essentials? What had happened for her to flee the house in such a state and become so cold? She was going to make herself sick.

Michael started to shake and his brown eyes went wide, almost fully overtaken by his pupils when (Y/n) let out a small, feeble cry. Horrible bouts of shaking scattered through her system but he wasn't sure whether she was shaking because she was frozen cold or because she was afraid or in some state of shock.

His knees bent and both hands moved to grip her arms as he crouched down a little so they were level and he could look into her petrified eyes. She had to talk to him. She hadn't spoken one word since she came in and he had to know what was going on.

"I w- I woke up near a bus stop. I had to- to walk back."

"You…" For a moment or two, Michael simply narrowed his eyes and shook his head. He didn't understand. He had no idea what that meant or what she was talking about. She had gone out. She hadn't been in bed asleep.

Another minute ticked by as Michael scanned his eyes up and down her frame before everything seemed to click into place. "You sleepwalk?"

(Y/n) hated how his expression fell and his shoulders dropped down when she nodded.

It wasn't something she openly talked about, mainly because she hadn't done this in a long time. It used to be bad when she lived back with her real mum. The doctors thought it was because of how unstable her life had been and the lack of routines she had and the combination of all that and the environment she had to live in.

Coming to live with Michelle had made (Y/n)'s life so much better in everyway. Instead of sleepwalking into the bathroom or wandering downstairs or waking up sitting in the living room, (Y/n) started to have full, proper nights sleep. She rarely sleep walked anymore and when she did it was when she was stressed. The last time was when she was stressing over her exams for school and she only walked into the living room.

She hadn't wandered out the front door in her sleep since she was thirteen. But tonight she had gone five blocks and woke up sitting at a bus stop.

A lock of shock plastered across Michael's face when (Y/n) suddenly moved. Her arms encased against his chest and her frozen cold fingers that felt like hardened clay just managed to clench around his vest. It felt like bending her fingers was going to cause them to snap off, she wasn't sure she had any blood circulation to her hands and feet anymore.

Her face burrowed into the crook of his neck and her body glued up against his front, clinging to him like he was a human radiator. She needed heat. She needed warmth and comfort and reassurance.

"I'm so cold."

Michael already knew that, he could feel how cold she was because her temperature was making him shiver and sending goosebumps prickling along his skin. She was causing the hairs on his skin to prick up in an attempt to save his own body heat.

He moved on instinct and curved his arms around her, binding one arm around her waist while the other cupped the back of her head. And before he knew what he was doing, he tilted his head down and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her temple.

The rare display of affection was shocking to (Y/n) but it was also just what she needed to stop her from bursting into fits of tears.

"Okay, okay come on." His words were hushed against her temple and his arms stayed bound around her as he slowly began to nudge (Y/n) backwards until she took the hint.

It was hard to move when her body felt like it was turning to stone but she did her best. (Y/n) tried to shuffle and it was a little easier with Michael pressed up against her, guiding her movements. He still had one hand on the back of her head and his other hand was splayed out in the centre of her back with his elbows pressing deeply into her skin.

The way his chest was moulded up against her front made (Y/n) feel like she was an ice cube that was slowly beginning to thaw and melt. The chill that had seeped into her chest was just starting to disappear as Michael's warmth surrounded every inch of her skin.

Her eyes stayed tightly closed and each cold breath she took fanned against Michael's neck where she could feel his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

He carefully weaved them both around the door frame and guided (Y/n) into the living room. The curtains were closed and the only source of light was the small orange glow from the lamp in the corner and the faint light seeping through from the hallway which disappeared when Michael nudged the door shut with the sole of his foot.

He scanned his eyes around the living room, in desperate need of something, anything, that he could use to warm (Y/n) up and stop her from catching hypothermia.

He hummed quietly when he remembered he'd tossed his jacket on the sofa when he came back.

He leaned (Y/n) forward a little so he could snatch up the worn navy blue jacket and he carefully peeled (Y/n) off his chest so he could motion to the jacket in his hands. She looked like she was in a trance, staying unusually quiet but still compliable, allowing Michael to lift her arms and slide them into the jacket which he quickly zipped up right to her chin.

She heard him murmur "That's better," into her hair before his hands were on her hips and he was slowly tugging her along with him towards the sofa.

He flopped down on the sofa with a thud and moved his arms out so he could gently pull (Y/n) down to him. Her breath caught in her lungs as Michael manoeuvred her until she was laid in between his legs with her back against his chest. He tensed his thighs to squeeze her in his embrace but after a moment or two, it was as if something dawned on him.

(Y/n) tried not to make a sound when he pressed flush against her back and hips and his arms let go of her to weave around her. She watched with narrowed eyes full of intrigue as he pulled his knees up and began removing his socks.

"What're you doing?" Her voice still held a slight edge and rattle from how cold and dry her throat felt and from the cold that had long since seeped into her chest that felt like a hollow cavity.

"What's it look like? Warming you up, or you'll get chill blains." He spoke somewhat absentmindedly as he tugged off his woollen socks and began curling one hand beneath her ankle so he could lift her leg and put the sock on her foot. They were a bit large on (Y/n) but that was a good thing.

Once both socks were pulled halfway up her calves, Michael patted her knee before he grabbed the woollen blanket from the back of the sofa which he draped around them both.

(Y/n) allowed her eyes to close while she felt him wrapping the blanket around her front, trying to encase every inch of her body up to her neck with the blanket to keep her warm. He tucked it around his own arms and under his hips so she was effectively encased in the blanket like it was a ziplock bag.

It felt soothing to let herself relax into him and become swaddled up in his embrace. And the feeling of his hands running up and down her arms to try and get some blood and warmth running back through her veins made her body turn fuzzy.

But it was the feeling of Michael's lips pressing against the top of her head and how he breathed into her hair that made (Y/n) want to melt into a puddle right there.

He didn't seem to know the effect he had on her. He didn't know how his touch made her shake for an entirely different reason. He didn't realise how every kiss he pressed against her skin made her fall for him more and more and how being so close to him made (Y/n) afraid that when he let her go, it would be the last time.

"You do this a lot?"

She almost didn't hear what he said over the sound of his heartbeat thudding away like his heart was trying to help show hers how to beat properly.

"Used to… haven't for a while." (Y/n) shrugged against him and burrowed down a little more while she bound her arms around her chest and nuzzled her nose and lips into the familiar blanket wrapped tightly around them. "Normally happens when I'm stressed." She added quietly after a minute.

She felt Michael's hands slow down their frantic rubbing up and down her arms until he switched to squeezing her arms and softly stroking the rough pads of his thumbs along her arms.

His chest was arched over her, pressing into her back while his knees began squeezing and pressing into her thighs. She could feel each breath he took while his lips stayed merged against the back of her head. He sounded like an animal. Like he was riled up, ready to lunge at the slightest sound or disruption.

"Anyone could have grabbed you, if you didn't wake up-"

Just the thought of what could have happened, what might have happened, sent Michael's head reeling and had his own body quaking with frustration and paranoia.

What would he have done if she didn't come home? He would have gone out looking for her, but he wouldn't know the first place to look.

Someone could have seen (Y/n) wandering in a trance-like state and they could have snatched her. They could have taken her, kidnapped her, hurt her. They could have done anything she chances were if she didn't wake, she wouldn't know or fight back or utter one word.

She could have walked out into traffic and got hit by a car. She could have had an accident and froze to death waiting for someone to pass by and help.

It seemed too good to be true that she actually managed to wake up when she did and found her way home before she became too sick or disorientated.

The endless list of frightening possibilities made Michael growl into her hair as he tried to rid each and every thought from his mind that was beginning to go on overload.

"I was scared, Michael."

She kept her eyes closed so she didn't have to look up and see his expression when she turned her head. Her face tucked into his neck again and she felt the sharp breath he took as her words stunned him. The feeling of his lips against her temple made (Y/n) sigh into his skin but it was the feeling of his right hand slithering out of the blanket to cup her cheek that made her freeze.

His arm pinned over her chest and his hand cupped the side of her still frozen face. The pad of his thumb traced across her cheekbone and down towards her jaw while he pressed kiss after kiss against her temple. Not realising that he had started to sway them both from side to side.

"You're home now, alright? I'll- I'll keep an eye on you." He wouldn't let her go. If she had told him sooner that she had a tendency to sleep walk, he would have been more vigil at night.

He would have made sure to listen to each sound he heard during the night, he would have been on red alert for any movements that didn't sound normal. He would have done something to make sure she was safe. Hell, Michael probably wouldn't have gone out or stayed out so late tonight if he knew (Y/n) went sleep walking from time to time.

With a deep breath, Michael shifted just a little so he could lay back against the cushion so he was laid down with (Y/n) reclined against his chest. He kept his arms bound around her and his lips stayed merged with her temple

"Get some sleep, yeah? If you wake or try and wander or some shit, I'll be here."

(Y/n) finally peeked her eyes open so she could try and glance up at him, but Michael had his eyes closed and he looked like he was already on his way to falling asleep himself.

"But… if mum sees…"

As much as (Y/n) was desperate to stay wrapped up in Michael's arms like this until the world ended, it wasn't practical. What if Michelle came downstairs early in the morning and saw them tangled up together like this? She wouldn't be happy. She might kick Michael out and (Y/n) was already panicking about the day he would eventually move out in case he wouldn't want to see her again.

But right now, Michael didn't seem to care. He wasn't letting (Y/n) wander back up to bed to be on her own, not in this state. Not after what she had just been through. She was staying here with him where she was safe and he could look after her.

"Right now, I don't give a shit. I'm not letting you out of my sight." As if to prove his point, he encased his arms tighter into her frame and hooked one leg over hers like he was a set of vines caging her in a trap.

It was comforting. It was lovely and warm and heavenly to be overwhelmed by Michael right now and have him thawing her out and telling her that he wasn't letting her go. He didn't want to be out of her sight, he wanted her right here so he knew she was warming up and safe and not about to go wandering in danger again.

With the little energy that she had left, (Y/n) wriggled onto her right side and curled her legs up towards her stomach, trying to make herself more compact in an attempt to keep warm.

A shiver rattled through her when she felt Michael's thumb glide across her cheek as he cracked one eye open and looked down at her.

She was sure he murmured "You're still cold," but she wasn't sure whether it was a statement or something which required an answer.

But she gasped when she felt Michael's arms bind tighter around her and he twisted them around in less than a second. Her arms stayed encased to her chest and she closed her eyes until Michael had her back pinned against the sofa and he was hovering on top of her instead.

His face tucked into the crook of her neck while he pulled on the blanket so it was safely encased over him and tucked around (Y/n) to keep the heat surrounding her. His lips attached to the side of her throat as he switched between kissing her skin and simply breathing against her throat to try and heat her up.

(Y/n) lifted her arms just a little so her fingers could graze along Michael's neck but she could already feel her mind beginning to settle down. Suddenly the thought of her mum walking in on them like this didn't spark adrenaline in her system anymore. Suddenly nothing else seemed to matter except how tightly Michael was holding her and how warm he was making her feel.

It felt like she was starting to sway as her mind slowly started to switch off, but she knew she heard Michael correctly when he started whispering into her skin.

"You don't know what you do to me. I've never felt like this with anyone else."

[steddiealltheway]

@steddie-week day 1: hunger / pining / Somebody to Love by Queen

"I'm going to murder Steve if he tries to flirt hopelessly with another girl when he likes Eddie," Robin says with a groan.

"Keep your hands still," Nancy gently reminds Robin as she paints another black layer on her nails. "Does Steve know that he likes Eddie?" Nancy asks with a laugh.

Robin resists the urge to use her hands to speak. "No! But even you have seen the pining. I thought he was going to have a meltdown when he saw Gareth jokingly flirt with Eddie."

Nancy blows on Robin's nails before frowning and scraping off some polish that got on her fingers. "Maybe Gareth is in love with Eddie," Nancy jokes.

Robin laughs. "He's been asking me if you're single for months now."

"If only he knew..." Nancy says with a wide smile before laying a kiss on her girlfriend's hand. "But hey, I'm dealing with Eddie who is hopelessly trying to get over his crush on Steve. He would be willing to be set up with anyone, I swear."

Robin throws her hands up. "That's it!"

"Robin your nails-"

"We set them up on a blind date. Steve has been trying to get me to find someone for him forever now, and Eddie wants the same thing from you! It can be operation... Find Them Somebody to Love."

"You just got that from my Queen tape."

"But it's a great plan!" Robin says with a victorious smile. She holds out her hand to shake on it.

Nancy rolls her eyes and shakes Robin's hand. "If this works, I'll repaint your nails."

Robin's brow furrows. "What do you mean..." she trails off as she looks at them.

"There's some in your hair," Nancy says with a wince.

Robin starts to scrape the paint off. "You call Eddie while I get this off."

Nancy watches her struggle for a moment before handing her some nail polish remover. "I hope this works for our sake."

-:-:-:-:-:-

To say Steve is surprised when Robin excitedly calls him to set him up with someone is an understatement. He may be a bit clueless and naive, but he knows when she's up to something. But maybe she's excited and thinks it's just a really good match, but he thinks that's just the hopeless romantic in him talking.

He also thinks it's strange that the date is at a burger joint that Eddie really likes, but maybe Eddie helped Robin with the date? He really hopes not but doesn't know why. He also knows that maybe the burger joint is a coincidence and the Eddie thought is just because Steve can't stop thinking about him.

It's weird. He's never really had a friend like him before, but he thinks it's part of the trauma bonding that makes Steve feel so intensely about him. But it's different from Robin it's... he doesn't know.

But he doesn't have much time to think about it as he parks outside the food joint. Time to lay on the Harrington charm.

As he walks in he notices only one table that has one person at it. The girl is facing away from Steve in a booth, her long dark curly hair being the only thing visible. She's definitely Steve's type.

As Steve approaches the table he runs a hand through his hair and tries not to think about how she has hair like Eddie's. As he turns to the girl with his most charming smile, it quickly turns into a real smile. "Eddie?" Steve asks.

Eddie's head snaps up and multiple emotions cross over his face as he takes in Steve. "Steve? What are you doing here?"

"Blind date, and you?"

Eddie replies, "Same here, man. Nancy set me up."

Steve tries to ignore the way his heart seems to break. He gives Eddie a smile but it's too tight and entirely fake. "Robin set me up, but hey, that's great, Munson." Steve goes as far as patting Eddie on the back which makes him internally cringe. What's happening?

Eddie slowly glances at Steve's arm and gives it a confused look as his hand still stays on his back. "Right, sorry," Steve apologizes and feels entirely not like himself. Why is he so damn nervous? "But hey, what if I waited here with you until our dates come and we can keep each other company?"

It looks like Eddie wants to say no, but Steve is already sliding into the booth. Eddies just continues to stare at Steve as if he's the last person he wants to see at the moment. Steve ignores those signs and continues talking, "So a blind date? I didn't know you were looking for someone."

Eddie huffs and looks down at the table. "I'm not really looking for someone, I'm just trying to get over someone."

Steve feels that familiar pang in his chest. "Someone I know?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Eddie mutters. Steve just nods because he has no idea what that means. Eddie continues, "I didn't want to like this guy, but it just kind of happened. And they're incredible and way out of my league, so here I am. But they're somehow just always around..." Eddie trails off staring at Steve.

He almost feels like Eddie is trying to hint at something, but he isn't sure what. "I've been there. It took me a while to get over Nance, but eventually with time it happened. But hey, I don't know how someone could be out of your league, man. I mean you're really uh... well," Steve takes a moment to really look at Eddie and he weirdly feels his cheeks heat up, "You've got really nice eyes, and hair of course, and nice... lips."

Eddie squirms a bit in his seat and glances away. "You don't have to take pity on me, Harrington."

"I'm not!" Steve insists a little louder than he intends to. He lowers his voice and repeats, "I'm not. I'm just stating the facts. You're a really attractive guy. Plus, you're really smart and creative, and you can play the guitar well which I'm sure other guys dig, and you're also uhh really funny and kind-"

"Please stop, there's only so many words of affirmation I can receive in a day before I combust," Eddie jokes but there's a light flush on his face.

Steve holds his hands up and says, "I'm just saying you're a catch. Anyone who doesn't see that isn't good enough for you anyways."

Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve for a moment then glances over his shoulder. "So, uh, doesn't look like our dates are here yet."

Steve glances around and notices no one is sitting alone and no one else has walked in. Weird.

A waiter walks their way and takes their drink orders and gives them a few more minutes to look over the menu. As soon as he's out of earshot, Steve asks Eddie, "Do you think it's rude to put in an order when they're not here?"

Eddie glances around and his eyes settle on the wall. Steve looks over and notices the clock. "If they're not here in the next ten minutes which is fifteen minutes after the date start time, then we can order," Eddie states.

Steve smiles but suddenly his stomach makes an obnoxious growling noise. Eddie's eyes widen. "We can make that five minutes if you'll last that long."

"I can last ten minutes it's alright," Steve replies.

Two minutes later, Steve is already giving in, "Okay, what if we just ordered when the waiter comes back?"

Eddie smiles at him for the first time that evening. "You're weak, Harrington," he jokes.

"Hey, I was strong enough to lug your body around."

"If only I was conscious for that."

Before Steve can think of a response their lovely waiter interrupts them and asks for their order. Steve ends up ordering the same thing as Eddie which has Eddie scoffing, "I thought you thought my taste in food was bad."

"If putting strawberry jelly on a turkey sandwich is your idea of food, then I stand by what I said."

"I'm going to make you try it one day," Eddie says with a wide smile.

Steve leans forwards. "Is that a threat?"

"If you want it to be," Eddie says with a wink.

Steve laughs and has the sudden thought that he really doesn't want his or Eddie's dates to show up. He just wants Eddie to himself.

What?

"What, are you traumatized by the thought of it or something?" Eddie asks after Steve has gone silent.

Steve looks up and really takes in Eddie again. You're a catch. Anyone who doesn't see that isn't good enough for you anyways.

Oh shit.

Steve glances towards the door and outside and doesn't see any cars approaching. He looks back to Eddie and says, "If our dates don't show up in the next five minutes, what if we agreed to be each other's date."

Eddie looks at him for a moment with narrowed eyes. "As in... we're just like... hanging out or...?"

Steve takes a deep breath and says, "A real date."

Eddie's eyes widen and he looks around. "The kids didn't put you up to this, did they?"

"No, Eddie, I- I would really like to go on a real date with you."

Eddie stares at him again then asks, "You swear that this isn't a joke?"

"On Dustin's mother," Steve jokes then holds out his pinky.

"You know how much a pinky promise means to me."

"I know, it's a promise that can never be broken," Steve says.

Eddie hesitates then wraps his pinky around Steve's. "I hope our dates don't show up then," Eddie says with a big smile.

"Me neither," Steve agrees.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"I can't believe it's working!" Robin excitedly shouts from the passenger seat of Nancy's car.

"Me either," Nancy agrees as she watches Eddie rant while flailing his hands and Steve laughs. After a moment, Steve rests his hand over one of Eddie's and gives it a squeeze. Eddie flushes enough that Robin and Nancy can notice from the slight distance.

"Do you think they're going to kill us when they see us?" Robin asks.

Nancy scoffs, "No, they'll probably be over the moon thanking us. I'm just surprised that they agreed to go along with the date without thinking we were pranking them or something."

"Maybe the dinguses just finally sucked it up and admitted they liked each other when they figured out the plan," Robin says with a shrug as she watches the two get up. "And it looks like it's our time to leave."

Nancy shakes her head and looks at Robin. "Wouldn't that draw more attention to us though? We should just let them go first while they're so absorbed in each other's company."

"That's a good ide-" Robin stops as she looks back at the pair. "They've spotted us. Shit."

"Like I said, they're probably going to thank us," Nancy says, praying she's right. She rolls down the window as they approach.

Steve waves with a big smile. "Hey! We thought it was you, but we just wanted to let you know that your dates for us stood us up, but that's okay. Great really because Eddie and I decided you know..."

"I finally confessed that I've been pining after him," Eddie says nearly bouncing up and down.

Steve turns to look at him. "Wait, the person you said was out of your league, that was me you were talking about me earlier?"

"Steve, I thought you realized that after I told you I've had a crush on you for years now."

"Oh. Hey, I'm not out of your league at all, if anything you're out of my..." Steve trails off and seems to realize Robin and Nancy are still there, "Well, we're going to make up for lost time, but it was good seeing you. Thank you for attempting to set us up!"

Eddie and Steve wave as they leave, laughing about something moments later.

"Oh my god, did they just...."

"Holy shit, do they really think..."

Robin and Nancy look at each other and nod. "Dingues," they agree.

They look back as Steve and Eddie seem to argue about what car to take back and Robin sighs, "They'll eventually realize, right?"

"I doubt it," Nancy says.

Steve and Eddie walk towards their own cars seeming to realize that they don't have to drive together. "Gosh, they were made for each other."

It's years down the line when Steve and Eddie are telling the story of their first date when Nancy and Robin finally get fed up and tell the truth, but Steve and Eddie still don't believe them. Once a dingus, always a dingus.

[slaymitchabernathy]

The Nanny

"Mommy, when're we gonna go to the party?"

Soarynn dabs some more powder onto her face, she can't afford to look bad tonight, "Soon sweetheart."

"Mommy, what're you wearing to the party?"

Soarynn sets her powder compact down, silver with a rose engraved onto the lid, "I'm wearing a red dress sweetheart to match your father."

"Mommy, why're we having this party?"

Soarynn pauses in her makeup routine, trying to come up with a suitable answer for Ceraphina who's seen very little of the Hunger Games so far, "We're having this party to celebrate the Victor of the Hunger Games," she explains, watching Ceraphina through the mirror's reflection, "he's coming off of a very long tour from the Districts."

Every year after the Hunger Games end and a new Victor is crowned by Coriolanus, the Victor returns home to their District where they bathe in their newfound riches and move into a beautiful house provided by the Capitol. A few months later, they embark on a Victory Tour through all Twelve Districts, paying their respects to the fallen Tributes while giving inspiring speeches about the Capitol's generosity.

This year's Victor, Beckett, has just finished his Victor Tour and arrived in the Capitol this morning for the last stop in his Tour, the President's Mansion where a huge party is being thrown for him. Having the party at the Mansion serves many purposes. It allows the public to witness the grandeur of the President's riches while also allowing them to see the Victor up close and personal. Drinks will flow and music will play and no one will remember it after five days but the Snows are required to attend as tradition demands.

The girls have been chattering about the party since Soarynn and Coriolanus got back from their honeymoon but Soarynn hasn't been able to share their enthusiasm. Not when she still remembers the last time she was around people from one of the Districts. But she can't miss the party unless she's terribly ill which she is not.

There are worse things to be forced to do but Soarynn still feels strange about the entire thing. Beckett is still a child and yet she's seen grown women lusting over him. It's a life she wouldn't wish on any child, District or not.

"Will there be cake?"

Soarynn nods, grabbing her vanilla-scented perfume, "Yes darling, there will be lots of cake and other desserts tonight." Soarynn is thankful that tonight doesn't require a sit-down dinner. There will be lots of tables with different types of foods for people to try while they mingle.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, darling?"

"I love you."

Soarynn's lips curl up into a smile and she turns around on her vanity stool to face her eldest daughter who's been so sweet since she got back from her honeymoon, "I love you," she tells Ceraphina, holding out her arms for a hug. Ceraphina doesn't make her wait, leaping into her arms and giggling when Soarynn peppers her face with kisses, "Oh, I'm so lucky to have you," Soarynn tells her. She means it too, she's so very blessed to have three beautiful children in her life.

If only she could have another.

It's been one week since Soarynn got married to Coriolanus Snow and she's still not pregnant. Not that she expected it to happen just like that but they've had sex every single night since their wedding, sometimes in the morning as well and nothing has come of it. And it's not like Coriolanus is finishing anywhere but inside of her.

Soarynn pulls away from the hug when she feels Ceraphina doing the same and she rests her hand on her stomach, wishing for it to swell with a child, "Are you feeling sick Mommy?" Soarynn quickly shakes her head, knowing how scared the children get when either of their parents doesn't feel well. After Livia succumbed to a sudden illness, a simple cough can send them into a terrorized state.

"I'm perfectly fine darling," she assures her, "now why don't you go put on your shoes hmm? We laid them out this morning remember?" Ceraphina nods and runs out of the bathroom with the promise to put her shoes on by herself since she's so grown up now.

Soarynn still can't shake the disappointment of not being pregnant yet and mix that with having to mingle with everyone in the Capitol tonight and she just might be sick by midnight. But she doesn't have time to pity herself, not when she hears her husband enter their bedroom, his loud voice booming throughout the large room. Soarynn only catches the last half of his conversation but it sounds like an important one.

"...need to reel them in before things get out of hand Quintus. With the election coming up I can't afford any shortcomings."

Soarynn checks her appearance one more time in the vanity mirror, pleased with what she sees staring back at her. She went with her natural, everyday makeup look, but added a bit of eyeliner and red lipstick to match her red dress. Speaking of her dress, she needs to put it on before they start running late.

Just as she's about to stand up, Coriolanus walks in and his gaze immediately lands on her, dressed only in her robe and slippers, "Don't come in Quintus," he says, closing the bathroom doors behind him. Soarynn offers him a sweet smile even though she can tell he's stressed. Petunia who was lounging on the edge of the tub hops onto the floor and pads over to Coriolanus, purring up a storm while rubbing her body against her leg.

Coriolanus pays her no mind and treads into their closet and Soarynn follows right behind him. She can hear him mumbling to himself, physically in their closet, mentally still in his study. Soarynn takes her dress off the hanger, admiring the silky fabric that Tigris pulled together for her tonight. It has two thin straps holding it up and a slit that goes up her right leg, sure to drive Coriolanus mad tonight.

Soarynn slides her robe off her slender figure and carefully steps into her dress, pulling it over her hips and then slipping her arms through the straps. She's almost fully got it on but she needs help with tying it in the back.

She looks over her shoulder at Coriolanus who's also getting dressed, putting on his shoes while wearing a scowl. "Coryo?"

He doesn't seem to hear her through his own troubling thoughts so she tries again, louder this time, "Coryo?"

He looks up at her, his eyes slightly widen when he drinks in the sight of her and what she's wearing tonight, "Yes, my love?"

"Could you please help me with the back? It needs to be tied," she tells him, turning around to show him where the issue lies. Coriolanus nods, swallowing down the small lump in his throat while rising from the bench to help her. Soarynn pulls her hair over her shoulder while his large hands pull at the strings, ensuring that she doesn't flash anyone tonight, "Is this alright?" He asks, his voice husky and his lips very close to her ear. Soarynn shivers, "Perfect," she whispers, letting her hair fall back down over her back, "thank you for helping me."

She turns around to admire the suit he's wearing tonight, a deep red, perfectly matching her dress. He looks so sharp and handsome like the imposing President of Panem people know him to be. She straightens out his tie and pulls his collar down, "You look very handsome Coryo."

Coriolanus sighs and rests a hand on her back, pulling her against him, "I don't feel very handsome right now." Soarynn's lips tug down into a frown and she furrows her brows, "Why not? What's wrong?"

Coriolanus shakes his head, pressing a fake smile to his lips, "Nothing to concern yourself with darling." He kisses her forehead before she can protest and turns on his heel, "I'll see you shortly alright?" Soarynn can only nod, watching as her husband walks out of their closet, leaving her more worried and confused than she was before he came in.

Petunia strolls in, not at all affected by the humans around her or their wild emotions. She hops onto the table in the center of their closet and does a big stretch while watching Soarynn, "It must be nice to be a cat," Soarynn muses, scratching behind her ears. Petunia meows in reply, "Mommy, we're ready!"

The children's voices draw Soarynn from her clouded bubble and she shakes herself out of it, "I'll see you later Petunia."

��� ꧂

The Victory Party is a great success.

People are laughing, drinks are flowing, food is being eaten and Soarynn is miserable.

She fakes it very well to her credit, never letting her society smile fall as people compliment her on the party and her recent wedding. "Truly, we've never seen such a stunning bride," one woman says while sipping on a purple-colored beverage.

Caspian reaches out to touch the feathers on the woman's shoulder pads and Soarynn quickly pulls his hand down, "Thank you so much, the support we've received has been overwhelming." It's not a lie, Coriolanus and Soarynn Snow's wedding has been all there is to talk about. Every billboard, every magazine, and newsoutlet has been discussing it and giving out their opinions about the ceremony.

From the guest list to the tablecloths, everyone has an opinion.

"Such a shame you couldn't away for a more dreamy honeymoon," the woman sighs, "I heard District Four has a beautiful resort this time of year, have you been?" Soarynn feigns excitement and nods, "Yes we have. We didn't want to be too far from the children though," she easily lies, trying to forget what happened in Four.

The woman nods and doesn't push it any further which Soarynn appreciates, they discuss more light-hearted topics until the woman's drunk husband stumbles into one of the soup tables and she has to go rescue him.

Soarynn bounces Caspian up and down on her hip, he was doing just fine walking by himself but he suddenly got overwhelmed and asked to be held. Soarynn could hardly decline him, not when she herself was also feeling very overwhelmed. The girls had gone off with Coriolanus to get some cake a while ago but with a party like this, Soarynn knows they've been caught up talking with some of the guests.

She takes this moment to catch her breath, scanning the ballroom for a familiar face. It's hard to spot anyone with how dark the ballroom is for tonight's festivities. The lights have been dimmed, with only small lamps providing illumination. Sofas are scattered throughout the room while servers walk around with platters of food and drinks. There are musicians floating on what must be clouds above them and Soarynn doesn't even want to know how they're doing that.

Soarynn locks eyes with the one person she so desperately wishes to avoid so of course he gives her a smile. Soarynn returns it out of necessity but panics when Beckett starts towards her. When he gets within three feet of her, Grant steps out from the shadows, acting as a buffer between them and Soarynn is suddenly so very grateful for Grant who rarely ever steps in. He lets her handle things and she appreciates it more than he'll ever know.

"Just wanted to say hello," Beckett says, nodding towards Grant who doesn't budge, "I already spoke with your husband."

Soarynn pretends to be enamored by his words and nods, "Oh, I'm so glad you did. He can be rather hard to pin down." She would know, where the hell is he?

Beckett hums and his eyes drift to Caspian who's watching Beckett curiously, "What's his name?"

Soarynn doesn't really know how this boy has managed to go this far in life without knowing the names of the President's children but she pushes all judgment aside for the sake of polite conversation, "Caspian."

Beckett seems thoroughly amused by her answer, "Ah, so they're all the same then? Ceraphina, Celeste and now Caspian, I wouldn't expect any less from President Snow."

Caspian curls into Soarynn, resting his head on her chest, "Momma go to bed," he mumbles. Caspian is her saving grace tonight. "I think I ought to put him to bed," she tells Beckett, "but it was lovely meeting you, we hope you enjoy the party."

Soarynn goes to step to the left but Beckett follows her, "I saw your wedding," he says, a strange look in his eyes, "I've never seen a more beautiful bride." Soarynn has been complimented on her beauty countless times but it feels very different coming from Beckett, "That's very kind, thank you."

Beckett's eyes rove over her body and Soarynn is beginning to regret wearing a dress with such a high slit, it seemed like a great idea two hours ago. "Do you dance?"

Soarynn is taken aback by his question since to her knowledge, no one in the Districts is familiar with the waltz, "I do," she answers, "but not tonight, I really should get Caspian to bed."

Beckett scoffs a laugh, "Just hand him off to your bodyguard," he juts his chin towards Grant who hasn't taken his eyes off of Beckett, "he'll be fine. I want to go home being able to say that I had my hands on the new First Lady."

Before Soarynn can even formulate a response to his very rude and suggestive comment, she feels a large hand come to rest on the small of her back and the scent of roses overwhelms her, "I'm afraid you'll be returning home without such an accomplishment," Coriolanus tells Beckett, looming over all of them in an imposing manner.

Beckett clears his throat, caught in his scheme, "I meant no offense."

Coriolanus laughs, a fake laugh that Soarynn sees right through, "Of course you didn't. Now run along and enjoy your party."

Beckett scurries off into the crowd and Soarynn lets out a sigh of relief, "The fucking nerve of him," Coriolanus mutters, turning Soarynn around to face him, "are you alright darling? He didn't touch you did he?" He reaches to cup her face and she melts into his touch, "No," she assures him, "Grant made sure of that, but he was awfully persistent."

She can see a million emotions flooding through her husband's eyes but the most prominent one is anger. Anger due to someone making her uncomfortable and trying to touch her. "They're all the same in the Districts," he tells her sternly, "all filthy leeches that prey on sweet things like you."

Soarynn wants to believe that there's good in some people who live in the Districts, but how can she when she's proved wrong every time?

Maybe Coriolanus is right, maybe this is the only way to keep her loved ones safe.

"I should put Caspian to bed," is all she says in response.

His eyes search hers for any lies but she has none to tell him and he slowly nods, "Come down when you're done alright?" Soarynn really doesn't want to but she knows it's not up for debate, especially when he presses his thumb further into her temple, daring her to push back on his request. "Okay," she says sweetly, batting her eyelashes up at him, a trick that always deescalates his mood if he's angry.

And it does just that. Coriolanus visibly relaxes and gives her a quick kiss before saying goodnight to Caspian and disappearing back into the crowd.

The past week the two of them have been learning from each other and learning what they will and will not tolerate in their marriage and Soarynn has quickly learned that there's nothing Coriolanus despises more than push back. From anyone really, not just her but it especially ticks him off when she questions him.

She doesn't even mean to do it in a malicious way or in a pestering manner but Soarynn is curious by nature and Coriolanus is always quick to back up his reasoning with several facts, whether or not they're valid is beside the point.

"Let's go to bed," Soarynn says quietly to Caspian who lets out a tired sigh, "Lenny go to bed," he tells her. Soarynn nods and begins to make her way through the crowded room, smiling at any guests who look in her direction despite the very uncomfortable conversation she just had with Beckett.

She truly doesn't know where any of that came from, she's never met him before, she barely even watched his Games and yet he was so insistent on dancing with her. Perhaps it's a silent fight between men who are constantly trying to assert their dominance.

Coriolanus has always been rather possessive all things considered and he's never taken kindly to those who live in the Districts. That's why the Capitol citizens love him so much.

"Oh Soarynn, I've been looking all over for you dear," Eudora calls, quickly running over to her, "you're wanted by the dessert table, some ladies from the Gallery are just dying to talk with you about next year's upcoming theme." Soarynn's only been First Lady for a week but there's no rest for the weary and she's been pulled left and right to discuss things that have been left untouched since Livia passed away.

Soarynn's lips curl up into another fake smile, the same smile she's bestowed upon everyone tonight it seems, "Of course, let me just put Caspian to bed." Eudora looks around the room for a moment and perks up when she spots the girls who are milling around, accepting compliments left and right, "Why don't we get all the children to bed?" Eudora suggests, "It's getting rather late."

She's not wrong and the girls are already up way past their bedtime. "Good idea," Soarynn agrees, beckoning the girls over to them, "Mommy! Mommy, there was a chocolate fountain!" Celeste animatedly tells her, pointing at one of the long tables filled with different treats.

"That sounds like a dream come true for you girls," Soarynn muses, resting a hand on Celeste's head, "and speaking of dreams, it's time you girls go to bed."

Both Ceraphina and Celeste immediately begin pouting but Soarynn is on her last leg right now and gives them a knowing look, "You two have had lots of fun tonight haven't you? Staying up late is a treat," she reminds them, "now let's all go upstairs please."

Before I lose my mind, she thinks to herself once the girls give in to her request. Soarynn is thankful for Eudora who accompanies her upstairs and helps her get all the children to bed. She normally can manage it just fine but with the party right below them, things are just more difficult tonight.

Caspian goes down without a complaint, letting Soarynn kiss his head goodnight while his eyes drift shut. The girls are a different story though, still on their sugar high, jumping up and down on their bed, refusing to go down. Soarynn usually doesn't mind them being antsy before bed but she needs them to cooperate tonight, mostly because Coriolanus won't be happy if she's not downstairs soon.

"Girls," she says sternly, "I need you to lie down please."

"But we're not tired!"

"Well I am tired," she tells them, pulling back the covers, "now please get under the covers or we won't have time to read a story." That strikes a chord within the girls and they finally calm down and crawl under the covers, watching Soarynn with big eyes as she picks out an easy and short story for tonight.

She gets through the story quickly, making sure to do the voices they adore so much, and presses a kiss to each of their cheeks, "I love you both very much, have sweet dreams my darlings."

They both gaze up at her, nothing but love and adoration in their blue eyes, "Good night Mommy."

Soarynn turns off the bedside lamp and quietly pads out of the room, lingering by the doors for just a minute to actually make sure that they're asleep and not just pretending. She leaves once their breaths grow steady and she's met with Grant standing outside the doors, dutifully watching over her even in the comfort of her own home.

"Are you alright Mrs. Snow?"

Soarynn furrows her eyebrows and he shakes his head, "I was referring to the District boy approaching you."

Oh.

"I'm perfectly fine," Soarynn lies breezily, walking past him, "and I have quite a few guests to attend to."

She can tell that Grant doesn't fully believe her but it's not his job to care about her feelings, "I'll assign some Peacekeepers to stand guard outside the children's doors," he says and Soarynn nods, she feels much better knowing that the children are protected while she's busy downstairs.

"Thank you, Grant."

He still looks worried but Soarynn brushes it off, she's just tired that's all.

She's fine.

꧁ ꧂

Sometimes it feels as if the party never ends.

It's well past midnight and Soarynn just said goodbye to the last party guest. She's utterly exhausted and wants nothing more than to soak in the bathtub for a while before curling up in bed, preferably in her husband's arms.

But Coriolanus snuck away an hour after she returned from putting the children to sleep. She has no doubt that he's been discussing business all night long considering how many important men attend things like this but she wishes he wouldn't leave her alone to deal with all the guests.

She silently walks down the long hallway towards his study, figuring she'll just say goodnight now and make her way upstairs. If he wants to join her, then he knows where to find her.

When she reaches the doors to his study, she can hear several muffled voices from inside, all male and all very loud.

She softly knocks, wondering if they can even hear her over their voices but the doors open a moment later and she's looking up at a very tired-looking Quintus Heavensbee, "Good evening Mrs. Snow."

Soarynn gives him a polite nod, "Good evening Quintus. I was hoping to have a quick word with my husband before I retire for the night."

He looks back into the study and Soarynn hears a quiet conversation being had before she hears her husband's authoritative voice, "Bring her in Quintus." The trusted advisor moves to the side and Soarynn slowly walks into the study, looking around at the five men who have gathered here so late into the night. The fire is roaring and she sees several half-finished drinks sitting on the table by the sofas. They've been at it for quite some time.

Her husband's gaze is cold and calculated, a stark contrast to how it usually is when they're alone but they're not alone, they're in the company of very important men and Soarynn would do well to remember that.

"I apologize for interrupting," she says sweetly, earning her several grumbles from all the men insisting that she's not a bother at all. "Come here darling," Coriolanus calls from behind his desk, holding out a hand for her, and Soarynn can't do anything but go to him. Her hand slips into his large one and his fingers curl around it, tugging her to his side, "We heard that you were approached by the young Victor," one of the men says, his voice is weathered and warbly. He looks old.

Soarynn swallows, have they been talking about that all this time?

Coriolanus squeezes her hand, pulling Soarynn back into the present, "Yes," she answers, "yes I was."

Everyone in the room shares disgusted looks, "The nerve of him," one of them mutters, shaking his head, "he ought to be punished." Coriolanus grunts in agreement, "He mentioned putting his hands on her before I came to her rescue." It's so strange to be talked about as if she's not in the room with them.

"I think a trip to Two is exactly what needs to be done," Quintus says, resting a hand on the edge of the desk, "these people need to be reminded of who they serve, who they answer to."

Soarynn looks down at Coriolanus, his face is unreadable right now, "You're going to Two?" She asks softly, her gut churning at the thought of Coriolanus being away from her, from the children. They haven't been apart, not since Four. Coriolanus pinches the bridge of his nose, "There is a high possibility that I will be paying District Two a visit within the week," he says as if reciting from a script.

Quintus offers Soarynn a smile but she does not return it, "We were hoping you might accompany your husband if he goes, it would be just what we need to show them that the Capitol is an unshakable force."

"Yes, seeing the New First Lady by the President's side would be the perfect ploy," another man chimes in.

Soarynn feels like her head is spinning. "I um...I would have to think about it," is all she says, gripping her husband's hand even tighter to steady herself, "Ceraphina still has school and I can't just leave the children."

Everyone starts talking at once but Soarynn can't hear a word they're saying while they attempt to talk over one another, discussing possible solutions or alternatives. Soarynn pulls her hand away from Coriolanus, ignoring the look he gives her, ignoring the look they all give her as she stumbles towards the door. She can hear her name being called when she goes out into the hallway but she keeps walking until she reaches the back staircase.

Coriolanus is leaving? For how long? And why does she have to go with him?

Soarynn didn't realize she was signing up for all of this when she married Coriolanus but maybe it was written in one of the thousands of contracts she signed months ago.

If she's expected to make these appearances only for the sake of Capitol morale then was that his intention from the beginning? Did he only marry her to have a First Lady to cart around when needed?

Soarynn climbs the stairs at a rapid pace despite her heels and dress getting caught with one another. She doesn't even care about the dress or the shoes, she just wants out.

She just wants out.

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus doesn't come to bed until four o'clock in the morning when Soarynn is sound asleep. Well, she was asleep until she felt him climb into bed and pull her against him, warming her body immediately. Soarynn keeps her breaths steady while he moves around to get comfortable and remains limp when he wraps an arm around her waist, burying his face in the nape of her neck.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to her tender skin, "I'm sorry for everything tonight."

Soarynn wishes she could roll over and tell him that all is forgiven but she doesn't know if it is. She needs him to apologize when they're both awake.

He can do that tomorrow morning.

Everything will be better in the morning.

꧁ ꧂

The alarm wakes the couple with a jolt. Soarynn often forgets how the day waits for no one, especially Coriolanus who is expected to treat every day like a work day, even if he threw a massive party the night before.

Coriolanus groans and his grip around her waist tightens while he kisses her shoulder, "Good morning," he mumbles.

Soarynn would never say this out loud, but she loves his voice in the morning. It's even deeper than it usually is and it's so raspy. That's probably why she enjoys morning sex the most, because his voice alone can get her off.

Soarynn doesn't know whether to give him a hard time about last night or if she should just move on and forget about it.

She decides to give him a hard time, an easy decision in her opinion.

"What was that about last night?" She asks, rolling her hips back into him. She can hear his breath hitch from her teasing actions, he's usually pent up with energy in the morning and often wakes up with a pressing problem that can be easily solved should she spread her legs for him.

"Last...last night?" He croaks out, trying to still her hips with his hand but it's no use, his cock is already hardening in his boxers and he'd rather eat glass than solve this problem on his own.

"Mhm, last night when I was spoken about as if I wasn't in the room with the rest of you," she sweetly reminds him.

Another roll of her hips miraculously jogs his memory and he lets out a quiet moan, "Oh that," he says, "yes, yes I'm so sorry about that darling. Things have just been...just been getting tense and they think it's best if I address it personally rather than from behind my desk."

Soarynn's interest is piqued and she rolls over to her stomach, teasing long forgotten as she stares into his bright blue eyes, "Coryo what's going on? You were upset before the party and you were ice cold in your study. I hardly want to be in the same room with you right now, let alone travel to District Two to show my support for you." Her words are slightly hurtful but they're truthful and he values that more than words in a pretty package.

Coriolanus looks unfairly handsome lying on his side, curls tangled and sleep still evident in his eyes. But his eyes are gentle right now, sweet and caring, looking at her as if she's the most precious thing in the world to him.

"There have been riots in Two," he says quietly, rubbing his thumb up and down the side of her hip absentmindedly, "Beckett's victory has given them hope and we can't have that. All my advisors think it's best if I go to Two to speak to the people and publically execute anyone taking part in the riots."

Soarynn shivers at his words, at how causally he mentions people being executed. She often forgets how heartless he has to be sometimes. "I didn't want you getting dragged into this," he stresses, pressing his fingers into her skin, "but when Beckett came up to you and Caspian I just...I lost control," he admits, looking down in shame, "I wanted to bring you for the sake of my pride, to show people in Two that I'll always have the last laugh. I let my pride get the best of me Soarynn, I'm sorry for everything."

Soarynn scans his blue eyes for any signs of a lie but she only finds truth and a bit of shame. "I forgive you. And I'll say it right now while we're both of sound mind and body but I'm not going with you to Two. I...I can't go to the Districts again," she whispers, painful memories flash through her mind, "even though I don't want you to go either."

Maybe in a few years, she'll gain back the courage to leave the safety of the Capitol, but not now, not when everything is still so fresh. Their marriage, the attack, the party. Soarynn knows better than to play with fire.

"Everything will be fine darling," Coriolanus assures her and he sounds so confident, so sure that everything will be fine if he leaves, "I'll tell my advisors that you can't come and that will be the end of that."

She lets out a sigh of relief, glad she won't have to leave the Capitol or the children for that matter. The holidays are right around the corner and there's so much to be done around the house. Being the official First Lady has given Soarynn access to things she couldn't dream of, including decorating the Mansion.

Soarynn leans over to press a kiss to his cheek, one he welcomes wholeheartedly while wrapping both arms around her waist and pulling her on top of him. Soarynn giggles when his lips find hers, moving in sync with one another while she rolls her hips against his in a teasing manner. He pulls away, wearing a lazy smile with his curls all tangled, "Why don't you be on top today?"

Soarynn almost falls off of him when she hears those words leave her husband's lips. Coriolanus is a man who craves control in every situation, from his children to his wife, he wants everything and everyone to do exactly as he says. Unfortunately for him, neither his children nor his wife are keen on always following his explicit rules.

To willingly let her be on top is a shock and Soarynn can't hide her expression, "Really?"

Coriolanus scoffs and his hands slide down her waist and rest on her ass, slipping his fingers under her lace panties, "Yes, really. I want to see how pretty to look sitting on my cock darling."

He has such a way with words.

Soarynn refuses to let him fluster her though and she doesn't back down from a challenge easily. Despite his past claims about her being a "pillow princess", Soarynn is sure she can manage. At least for ten minutes until she gets tired.

"Alright," she decides, lifting her hips so she can pull down his boxers far enough to take firm hold of his cock, already hard and leaking with precum. Coriolanus lets out a strangled groan from how she handles him but he's a big boy and if she can take everything he dishes to her, then he'll be just fine with what she does to him.

Soaryn has gotten well acquainted with her husband's cock over the past week, how big it feels inside of her, how it has a slight and delicious curve to it, and how he always needs to be inside of her when he finishes.

Soarynn pulls her panties to the side, seeing no point in fully undressing if she's the one in charge this morning and she teases his tip against her folds, rubbing it back and forth the same way he does it when he's on top. Coriolanus is struggling underneath her, she can tell that he's just itching to take over and do everything how he wants to do it but he holds back.

Soarynn finally lets the tip of his cock snag onto her entrance and she slowly sinks down on it, gasping at how much bigger he feels in this position. Coriolanus holds her hips gently, helping her sink down fully onto his cock and Soarynn swears that she can already see stars from how fucking deep he is inside of her. The tip of his cock is jammed against her sweet spot, making the slightest movements so very sensitive and stimulating.

"Take off your nightgown," he says breathlessly. Soarynn gives him a knowing look, if she's in charge then he's going to have to use his manners the same way she does when she's beneath him.

Coriolanus rolls his eyes but complies to her silent standards, "Take off your nightgown please my sweet darling girl who I love so very much."

Soarynn smiles and holds her chin up high, "That's better."

She pulls her nightgown over her head and tosses it to the side, baring her breasts to him while he stares up at her. "Take it slow," he advises and Soarynn is quick to squeeze her walls tightly around him, making him groan and moan, "I know," she quips, rolling her hips around to see what she likes.

Soarynn rolls her hips clockwise, then counter-clockwise, feeling how good it feels to be on top of Coriolanus who's going against everything he believes in to give her some control.

Soarynn rests a hand on his toned chest and leans forward until her hair falls over her shoulder, creating a curtain of sorts for them as she kisses him deeply, sighing when his teeth tug at her bottom lip. "You look so heavenly like this," he mumbles against her lips and she grins, "so beautiful and angelic."

Soarynn is sure that other more vulgar words could be used to describe the sight of her on top of him but she appreciates his kinder ones. Soarynn sits back up and slowly lifts her hips up before bringing them back down, gasping at how he stretches her out. Soarynn quickly finds a rhythm that suits her needs and Coriolanus is quick to sit up and wrap his arms around her waist so he can kiss her. They move in tandem with their hips, his cock drags against her walls again and again, making Soarynn whimper.

Soarynn is already growing tired but she's always had less stamina than Coriolanus who can go for hours without tiring. "Feels so good," she pants, squeezing around him, "so deep."

Coriolanus moans when she picks up the pace and one of his hands wraps around her neck, squeezing it until she feels lightheaded. Looks like he couldn't give up control for too long. Coriolanus starts pounding up into her, the sound of skin slapping and moans are all that can be heard in their bedroom. Soarynn's eyes start to roll back and she's getting closer to her peak, "Please," she whines, "please, please, please."

Coriolanus slaps her ass, "You look so perfect like this angel, stuck on my cock like the good girl you are for me hmm? Just taking whatever I give you. Wish I could keep you like this all day long."

Soarynn tries to form a proper sentence but her mind is so clouded by lust and the feeling of him inside of her that all she can do is let out a pitiful moan. Coriolanus presses sloppy kisses to her jaw, sucking on the skin while deepening his thrusts. "Cum for me Soarynn, be my good girl and cum for me." It doesn't take much more after that, Soarynn's hips are rolling like they have a mind of their own, and suddenly that wire inside of her snaps.

All she sees is white as her back arches and Coriolanus keeps fucking her. She can hear him swearing, saying more nasty things to her while he tries to reach his own peak.

Soarynn goes limp in his hold, trusting him to hold her while he fucks up into her, finally reaching his orgasm and spilling inside of her. She moans softly at the feeling of his cum getting lodged deep inside of her, just how he likes it. Soarynn rests her chin on his shoulder and simply sits there, not in a rush to start the clean-up process.

Coriolanus rubs circles on her back and whispers sweet words and compliments, rocking them back and forth. Soarynn feels so content like this which is funny because a year ago she was so focused on the kiss they shared on the train. Now he's buried deep inside of her on a quiet morning. Her eyes fall shut and she feels him slowly lay back down and pull the covers over them. They should take a shower, Ceraphina has school today and Coriolanus has work but he always makes sure to take care of her before getting out of bed.

Soarynn doesn't know how long they lie there like that, still connected. Maybe hours, maybe minutes. She's overwhelmed by the scent of roses, comforting and reassuring that all will be well so long as she has Coriolanus. He gently taps her hip and Soarynn begrudgingly lifts her head to look down at him, "What?"

He chuckles, brushing her hair out of her face, "We have to get up darling."

Soarynn pouts, she usually doesn't mind going about their routine shortly after having sex in the morning but this just feels different and she can't explain why. "I'm sore," she whines. She's not lying, she's been in a constant state of soreness since their wedding night since neither of them can get enough of the other person.

Coriolanus smirks and lifts his head to peck her lips, "You're always sore," he sweetly reminds her, "and we have to get up before the children." He, unfortunately, has a point. Soarynn grumbles before she sits up and looks down at the ungodly sight of his cock still inside of her cunt, it does something to her and makes her want to go another few rounds before leaving their bed.

Coriolanus seems to pick up on her inner thoughts and brings a hand to her clit, rubbing it with his thumb. Soarynn moans, her back arches and she ruts against him, already overstimulated, to begin with. "Coryo," she whines, trying to pull herself off of him but he's quick to pull her back down with his other hand, "I thought you liked it when I played with you darling," he says, shaking his head with false disappointment.

It had its intended effect though and Soarynn whines, "I do," she mumbles, digging her nails into her thighs, "I do like it."

Coriolanus keeps rubbing her clit and just when she thought he couldn't do anything else, he lodges a finger in her cunt, adding to the sensation of his cock still being inside of her. Soarynn almost screams from the feeling, from the now burning and aching stretch of her cunt being filled to the brim with Coriolanus Snow.

"You always take it so well," he praises, "my fingers, my cock, and now my fingers and my cock. I really did marry a little whore didn't I?"

Soarynn wants to tell him that he's wrong, that she's not a whore but he starts moving his finger inside of her and it's all too much for her. Soarynn feels a tear roll down her face and her walls start to flutter around him, a telltale sign that she's about to cum again. "I...I'm not," she croaks, unable to look away from what he's so shamelessly doing to her. Coriolanus scoffs a laugh, condescending and taunting, "You're not what doll? Not a whore? Or not taking it like you should?"

He pinches her clit and she's done for.

Soarynn cums again and this time, she feels herself shaking and she feels herself getting wetter and wetter, she might just squirt again. He'd love that, Coriolanus has been desperately trying to get her to do it again since he found out she could do it.

Soarynn folds forward, trusting him to catch her and he does, he'll always catch her.

She lays there in his hold and feels his finger slowly slip out of her cunt and hears him groan at the mess she's made, "Such a good girl," he mumbles against her head.

That's the last thing that she hears before she gives back into sleep.

꧁ ꧂

"C'mon Mommy!"

Soarynn is out of breath from climbing all the steps leading up to the Academy but Ceraphina Snow waits for no one. Her daughter is already running through the doors into the foyer of the school, looking so cute in her little uniform. "I'm coming," she calls, shouldering her purse. Today Ceraphina is presenting her family tree and Soarynn has been given the privilege of attending her presentation.

All family members are encouraged to see their children present in front of the class but due to work, Coriolanus couldn't make it. But Soarynn could and she knows how important it is to show up.

Soarynn offers a smile to anyone she passes while following Ceraphina down the hallway, she hasn't been here in years but in the past few months, it's felt like she's lived here. Maximus walks beside her, his brown hair slicked back and his face neutral as he scans the hallway, "She's been working very hard on this project," he tells her. Maximus is much more talkative than Grant is, making him the perfect fit for Ceraphina who would talk to a rock if she could.

Soarynn hums, Ceraphina hasn't stopped talking about it since they started last month. She needed photographs of all their family members and even interviewed Coriolanus to ask him questions about the Snow family lineage. Very impressive for such a young girl.

"I'm quite excited to see what she's done," Soarynn admits, really just eager to see Ceraphina interact with her classmates. Ceraphina runs into her classroom and Soarynn hears several excited shrieks from inside.

Soarynn slowly approaches the open door, peeking inside and watching as Ceraphina hugs one of her friends who has long black hair, "Today's my day for the project," she tells her friend proudly.

"Ceraphina honey, let's hang up your coat and bag remember?" Her teacher softly reminds her, resting a hand on her back. Ceraphina nods and goes over to the hooks on the wall, "My Mommy came with me today," she tells her teacher, pointing at the door. Soarynn straightens up and steps into the classroom, nodding at Mrs. McDowell whose eyes are as wide as saucers despite meeting Soarynn several times already.

Soarynn has forgotten how important she is to people now that she's married to Coriolanus.

"Madame Snow," Mrs. McDowell gushes, bowing her head in respect, "it's such an honor to have you grace our classroom this morning."

Soarynn gives the woman a kind smile, "Thank you for having me, I'm so excited to see Ceraphina's presentation." Ceraphina jumps up and down, overcome with excitement, "Can I show her my desk, Mrs. McDowell? Can I? Can I?"

Mrs. McDowell keeps her gaze on Soarynn but answers Ceraphina, "Of course, you can honey."

Ceraphina runs over and takes Soarynn's hand, dragging her into the classroom towards all of the tiny desks. Soarynn can't get enough of how tiny everything is. The desks, the children, the school supplies. It's so adorable. "This is my desk Mommy," Ceraphina proudly tells her, resting a hand on the small desk, "I keep my crayons and pencils in here."

Soarynn raises her eyebrows, very impressed, "Well aren't you fancy? Crayons and pencils?" Ceraphina giggles and pulls Soarynn towards the front of the room where there's a chalkboard along with a bookshelf tucked in the corner, "This is our class pet, Mr. Bubbles!"

Soarynn crouches down to look at the bottom shelf and is genuinely surprised to find a goldfish swimming around in a tank, "He wasn't here when we came to the open house," Soarynn murmurs, knowing she'd remember if they had a class pet. Coriolanus on the other hand, can barely remember the teacher's name.

"We got him because we were very well-behaved," Ceraphina says matter-of-factly, wearing a proud smile on her face, "and I get to feed him this week because that's my class chore." Ceraphina points at the chalkboard and Soarynn looks over to see that there's a list of class chores scrawled across the board with the students' names written under the tasks. The line leader, feeding Mr. Bubbles, turning off the lights, passing out papers.

"How responsible of all of you." Soarynn wonders where this enthusiasm for chores goes when Ceraphian returns home and doesn't want to make her bed.

More students file into the classroom and Soarynn stands by the bookshelf, simply observing her daughter while she interacts with everyone. She hugs the girls but stays far away from the boys, something Coriolanus would be proud of. One of the girls, the girl with the black hair slowly approaches Soarynn with a wary look in her eyes, "Are you Ceraphina's Mommy?"

Soarynn nods, bending down to be at eye level with the child, "I am her mother," she confirms, "what's your name?" The girl offers Soarynn a sweet smile and clasps her hands, "Diamond." How precious. Soarynn holds out her hand, "Pleased to meet you, Diamond."

Diamond gently shakes her hand, scanning Soarynn's face which leads her to worry if she covered all of the marks Coriolanus gave her properly, "You're prettier than on television," Diamond tells her.

Soarynn withholds her sigh of relief and chuckles, "Well, thank you, that's very kind."

"Alright children, let's find our seats so we can listen to the morning announcements," Mrs. McDowell says with a clap of her hands. Diamond scurries back to her desk, right next to Ceraphina's and the girls start whispering about something, their eyes flitting to Soarynn every once in a while. Soarynn grins, remembering when she was that young and amazed by everything grown-ups did.

Soarynn stands back up and listens as the intercom crackles and the announcements begin. Most of them are mundane things like what will be served for lunch and what sports will be conducting practice after school for the older children. The children to their credit, listen attentively while Mrs. McDowell passes out papers to each of them.

Once the announcements commence, Mrs. McDowell comes to stand next to Soarynn, a bright smile on her face, "Today Ceraphina will be presenting her family tree project and the First Lady has so graciously taken the time out of her very busy day to join us."

All of the children softly gasp except for Ceraphina who kicks her feet in anticipation, "Now let's give Ceraphina our full attention while she shows us her family tree." Ceraphina slides out from behind her desk, skipping to the front to stand by Soarynn, "You can sit at my desk if you want Mommy," she whispers.

Soarynn eyes the very tiny seat that has been offered up to her, "That's very generous of you darling." Ceraphina looks up expectantly at her, clearly waiting for Soarynn to sit down so she does just that. It's a bit awkward sitting in such a small chair but Soarynn manages to do it although her knees are almost pulled up to her chest. It's a good thing she wore a long dress today.

Ceraphina nods in approval and turns to the chalkboard where Mrs. McDowell is hanging a large poster of sorts. Soarynn's eyes widen when she finally sees the family tree that Ceraphina has created and it's a very big family tree.

Ceraphina turns to face the class and clears her throat, "Good morning, my name is Ceraphina Snow and today I will be showing my family tree. Family trees are important because they help us keep track of our ance..." Her voice dies off and she glances over at Mrs. McDowell who gives her an encouraging nod, "'Cause it helps us keep track of our ancestors who are people that lived before us," Ceraphina finishes with a satisfying grin.

"My family tree has three sides, my Daddy's side," she points at a handsome photograph of Coriolanus, "my Mommy's side," she points at the photograph of Soarynn, "and my other Mommy's side," she says, touching a photograph of Livia. "My other Mommy isn't here anymore but now we have a new one because she married my Daddy," she explains, looking around the room to make sure everyone is following.

"My Daddy's parents got married and then they had him," Ceraphina points even further up the tree at two smaller photos of a Crassus Snow and his wife, "then he got married to my other Mommy," she drags her finger to Livia's photograph. "Her parents got married and had her. My Mommy and Daddy got married and they had me," Ceraphina points at herself, "my little sister Celeste and my little brother Caspian."

Soarynn follows the lines all the way down to the children's photographs and can't help but notice how cute they all look.

"But then, my Mommy got sick," Ceraphina says dramatically, pulling gasps from the children who most likely don't remember Livia, "so she died and we buried her in the ground." Soarynn looks around at the children's forlorn faces and Ceraphina bounces on her toes, "But then we got a new Mommy!"

Everyone perks up at her words, "My Daddy married my new Mommy, whose parents had her," she stands on her tiptoes and points at the photographs of Glen and Cera Nightingale, "and now we're all one big family."

Diamond lets out a relieved sigh as if this is a television show and not real life, "Over here I have other members of my family even though we aren't really related," Ceraphina says with a shrug, "I have Petunia who's our cat, then Eudora who tells my Daddy what to do and where to go." Soarynn has to cover her laugh with a cough, "We also have our bodyguards who keep us safe, Maximus and Grant. And that is my family tree!"

Ceraphina does a dramatic curtsy and everyone begins clapping including Soarynn. "Well done Ceraphina," Mrs. McDowell praises, "family trees are important because not all families are the same," she explains to the class, "they come in all different sizes."

Soarynn nods along to her words, they certainly do. The Snow family seems to be quite a set of wild cards but she wouldn't have it any other way. Not when it gave her the sweet little girl in front of her.

꧁ ꧂

It's only eleven o'clock in the morning but Soarynn is already tired. She blames it on the morning sex.

She's greeted by Eudora the second she steps inside, "How was Ceraphina's family tree presentation?" Soarynn takes off her coat and hands it to the Avox waiting to take her things, "It was adorable, " she tells the older woman, "she had photos of you and Petunia."

Speaking of Petunia, a white blur trots towards Soarynn and she grins, "Why hello little lady, looks like you finally decided to wake up hmm?"

Petunia is hardly affected by Coriolanus and Soarynn's active sex life. She has a very nice, comfortable cat bed that she sleeps in while her humans roll around in the sheets and she's never been afraid to sleep in.

Petunia purrs, rubbing her body against Soarynn's boots she chose to wear today, "No one has arrived yet for the lady's luncheon," Eudora informs her as they begin walking down the great hall, "two women had to cancel last minute and the table's already been set." Soarynn nods along to her words, running through the guest list for today's lady's luncheon. While Coriolanus deals with the elite men of the Capitol, Soarynn deals with the women.

Coriolanus has it much easier in her opinion.

Men are simple creatures with simple wants and needs. Women, on the other hand, are very complicated creatures who run off of emotions and Soarynn has dealt with a lot of emotions from different women this past week. She's attended a handful of social events since becoming First Lady and she's dealt with the three same things at every single one: drama, gossip, and tears.

Soarynn does her best to remain removed from any drama or gossip as it would taint her image along with her husband's image as well and she can't have that. She also just doesn't care for the frills of the elite social life the way other women do. Soarynn would much rather be curled up in the library with her children than at some gallery staring at white canvases with a single black dot in the middle.

She's voiced these feelings to Coriolanus who's simply said that her way of thinking is a rare thing to cherish in a world of gossiping, backstabbing women who never grew out of their schoolgirl days. He certainly has a blunt way of putting things.

"Where are the children?" Soarynn asks, ignoring any new updates for today's schedule. She's anxious to have her darlings back in her hold before she has to go host this luncheon and seeing all the adorable children in Ceraphina's class has only led her to want to have at least six more children. Coriolanus shouldn't mind and Soarynn would be more than happy to endure the pregnancies.

"In the playroom dear, oh, and the results from all of your testing finally came back," Eudora tells her, steering them towards the sitting room she does most of her work in. Soarynn focuses on the file sitting on the coffee table, the file that holds all the results from the various tests she and Coriolanus had to do before getting married.

Eudora bends down and grabs the file, holding it out to Soarynn, "Go over it when you have a minute or two. There shouldn't be anything amiss."

Soarynn hums and takes the file between her fingers, fighting the urge to sit down and read all of the results between her and her husband right now but she resists the urge. She has to see the children first. "I'm going to go see the children and freshen up before lunch," she tells Eudora, already making her way out of the sitting room.

Soarynn takes the back staircase and Petunia ends up joining her in climbing up all the stairs, "I should really start taking the elevator," Soarynn mumbles to herself. Coriolanus has mentioned the elevator before but she's never used it. She can hear Celeste and Caspian from down the hallway, giggling while they play together.

The first few days of Ceraphina going to school had been an adjustment, to say the least for everyone. Celeste had lost her partner in crime and Caspian suddenly was given a lot more attention by Celeste than he was used to. Caspian prefers to play by himself, building up his blocks, playing with his stuffed animals quietly in the corner while Ceraphina and Celeste go do whatever it is that they do.

To have Ceraphina gone was like missing a limb.

Soarynn often found herself turning to say something to her eldest daughter only to realize that she was at school and not by her side. Spending every waking moment with her children was a double-edged sword it seemed. She got to cherish every moment with them, every milestone. But those milestones meant they were growing up, getting too big to need help like they used to.

But she still has time with them and she can always have more children which will mean more time with them.

At least that's what she tells herself before walking into the playroom where Celeste and Caspian are busy building a tower out of their blocks. Celeste notices Soarynn first and perks up, a giant smile growing across her face, "Mommy!"

She almost sends their tower to the ground when she stands up and runs over to Soarynn, throwing her arms around Soarynn's legs. Soarynn chuckles, resting a loving hand on top of Celeste's curls, "Hello my darling. Did you two miss me?"

Caspian remains in his spot on the floor and nods, "Yes," he says, nodding his head, "Momma come play."

Well, she can't say no to that.

Celeste beams up at her and takes notice of the file in Soarynn's hand, "What's that Mommy?"

Soarynn shakes her head, "Just some paperwork darling."

She follows Celeste back over to the tower they're building and makes herself comfortable on the floor in between the children, asking them about this very impressive tower they're building.

"A princess lives inside of the tower," Celeste tells her matter-of-factly. Caspian adds another block to the base of the tower, "Lion." Celeste nods, "And a lion lives there too, they live together and the lion protects the princess 'cause there's a witch who wants..."

Soarynn smiles fondly while Celeste continues to explain the lore of the tower. She could say whatever she wanted and Soarynn would still find herself nodding along to her words, so enamored by the sweet girl.

Soarynn's eyes, unfortunately, drift back to the file sitting on the floor and she can't help but pick it up again and open it this time, scanning over the pages. Most of it is talking about things she doesn't really care about like her height and weight, how much muscle mass Coriolanus has. She's sure he'll spend hours reading over this when she gives it to him.

She flips to the next page, scanning over all of their blood work which seems to be normal thank goodness. She's sure that the doctor could explain it better in more detail to her if she asked him to. Soarynn turns to the next page and her eyes drop to the bottom of the page where she sees three words in bold.

Fertility Test Results

Her heart starts racing and she brings a shaky finger to the page, resting it on the words that hold her entire future.

She reads the next two lines.

Coriolanus Snow - Fertile Soarynn Nightingale - Infertile

Infertile.

Infertile?

Soarynn can't stop the sharp gasp from leaving her lips while she reads those words over and over again. This can't be, there must be some mistake. There's no way that she's infertile. She's so young, she has so much life ahead of her and yet she's incapable of creating it.

They must've mistyped this, Coriolanus will be sure to fire whoever is responsible for this. Oh, Coriolanus. How will she tell him? And what if she really is infertile?

Soarynn feels as if all of her hopes and dreams have been dashed from her before she could even start thinking about them. She can't have any children. She can't get pregnant no matter how much she tries.

Soarynn blinks back tears, she can't afford to cry right now, not in front of the children who remain oblivious to her internal dilemma.

"Soarynn dear, the ladies are beginning to arrive," Eudora says, knocking on the playroom doors. Celeste looks up at Soarynn with furrowed brows, "What's wrong Mommy? Why do you look so sad?" Soarynn has forgotten how perceptive the children can be, especially Celeste who's always worn her heart on her sleeve just like Soarynn.

Soarynn presses a smile to her lips and gently pats Celeste's cheek, "Nothing's wrong darling, I'm perfectly fine," she lies. Even though she's not. She's not fine, she's devastated.

But she has things to do, people to attend to, children to take care of.

"I'm going to go downstairs and have lunch with some very important ladies and after that, we can go pick up your sister from school okay?" She might as well treat today like a normal day for the sake of the children, and her sanity.

Celeste and Caspian nod, "Will you tell us about Ceraphina's project?" Celeste asks, grabbing onto Soarynn's arm. Celeste and Caspian had been very fascinated by the family tree project and offered their help to Ceraphina several times while she politely declined their offers. Soarynn debated taking them to the presentations today but decided against it after Coriolanus said they'd probably get antsy.

"I will," Soarynn confirms, swiftly placing a kiss on top of Celeste's head before leaning over to do the same with Caspian, "I'll be back soon okay?"

After making sure the children are okay, Soarynn follows Eudora down the hall towards the grand staircase, a million thoughts running through her mind. Coriolanus had said that he’s more than happy with the children they already have but Soarynn so badly wanted to get pregnant, to carry a little baby inside of her and then give birth. She wasn’t there for when the children were babies and there’s not enough photos that can make up for that.

She wanted her own baby and she doesn’t care how bad that sounds.

“…so don’t mention that to her and are you alright dear?” Soarynn nearly runs into Eudora who looks very concerned for Soarynn’s wellbeing, “Oh, I’m fine,” Soarynn waves her off, “just a bit hungry so I suppose it’s good that we’re about to eat.”

Soarynn can tell that Eudora doesn’t believe a word she says but she doesn’t push her which is greatly appreciated. Soarynn can already hear the excited chatter from the women downstairs, it’s not every day you get invited to have lunch in the President’s Mansion.

Soarynn can’t ruin this for them, not if she values her reputation as the ever-so-kind and gracious First Lady.

No, she’ll have to push through, wait until tonight when she can tell Coriolanus the devastating news.

After all, she’s done it before and she can do it again.

꧁ ꧂

“Such a beautiful family portrait,” Mrs. Heavensbee comments as they walk down the great hall. Lunch felt like the longest lunch Soarynn had ever been to.

It was filled with surface-level conversations and to no one’s surprise, gossip and drama. Soarynn was rather quiet at lunch and she hopes that no one took offense to it.

She looks up at the large portrait that now hangs on the wall, the same wall that was occupied by the portrait that had Livia in it.

This one looks a little bit different.

Coriolanus looks tremendously handsome in his black suit with his arm wrapped around Soarynn’s waist while she wears a beautiful red dress that drapes on the floor. The children sit in front of them on a decorative bench with Petunia in Ceraphina’s lap.

Getting Coriolanus to agree to let Petunia be in the official portrait was like pulling teeth but Soarynn luckily knew his weaknesses. After a few blow jobs, he would’ve agreed to anything.

“Thank you,” she says, allowing herself a genuine smile at the compliment, “we were quite pleased with how it turned out.”

They had it done the day she and Coriolanus got back from their honeymoon. There had been lots of whining from the children who didn’t want to sit still for that long and lots of lethal glares from Coriolanus who didn’t like whining children.

Soarynn played the Peacekeeper for the afternoon, soothing over hurt feelings from both sides and they managed to get what they needed which was all that really mattered.

“Do you have any plans for more children?”

That question cuts deep into Soarynn’s heart. She can’t cry now, not when she’s so close to getting all of these women out of her house. She simply shakes her head, “We haven’t discussed it yet,” she lies, acting nonchalant, “we already have three perfect children.” That part isn’t a lie.

Mrs. Heavensbee hums, she’s the perfect fit for her husband, both of them are somewhat reserved but very passionate when they want to be. She has two children of her own, Perlina and Plutarch who are in Ceraphina’s class.

“It was wonderful having you ladies,” Soarynn says, turning to face the rest of the group.

It really wasn’t but she’ll keep that to herself.

The women shower her with compliments about today's lunch and of course, her wedding. Even though it's been over a week since she got married, Soarynn is still asked about it. She'll have to start writing thank you cards for everyone who attended, heaven knows she'll be busy with that.

She makes sure everyone is in a car and on their way out before she allows herself to feel miserable again. How can she be unable to have children? Is this some sort of genetic thing? Is there a pill that she can take to fix it?

Marrying the President means having access to every procedure, pill, and doctor in all of Panem. If there's a way to fix this, Coriolanus will find it.

At least that's what she tells herself.

꧁ ꧂

Watching Capitol children spill out of the Academy building is not Soarynn's idea of a perfect afternoon but the children always get so excited to accompany Soarynn when she goes to pick up Ceraphina. She could hardly deny them of this small joy, even if she herself wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

"Oh, I see her! I see her Mommy!"

Celeste jumps up and down while holding Soarynn's hand, eager to reunite with her big sister. Soarynn had given up on trying to place Ceraphina in such a large crowd of children, instead, she searched for her bodyguard Maximus who was heads above even the tallest Academy student. And sure enough, she finds him and Ceraphina is right in front of him, her hair blonde as ever.

"School," Caspian says, pointing at the building. Soarynn hums, Caspian has been more talkative lately and she couldn't be happier. She and Coriolanus had spoken with several child behaviorists who said that the reason for his quietness was due to the fact that his mother died when he was still attached to her. Livia's death hindered his speech but now that he had a constant motherly figure in his life, Soarynn, he'd start talking more and more.

The man assured the couple that Caspian would be talking just like his sisters by the time he started going to school.

"That's right darling," Soarynn nods, "one day you'll go to school with your big sisters." Celeste pulls on Soaryn's hand, "When do I get to start ballet lessons?"

Coriolanus had decided that he wanted to enroll the girls in some sort of extracurricular activity in the new year. Soarynn had suggested lots of things such as painting, and singing, but dancing was something he and the girls both agreed on. The girls were enamored by the ballerinas they saw in their beautiful costumes.

They'd start in January but Celeste struggled to understand the concept of time. She just wanted to wear the slippers and tutu.

"In January darling," Soarynn tells her, "so in about a month."

"Can we go ride Snowflake when we get home?"

"Of course, we can sweetheart."

With the riding lessons, piano lessons, and now ballet lessons, Soarynn was bound to have her hands full getting the girls from one place to another. Coriolanus had suggested they hire a nanny and Soarynn nearly suggested that he go for a long walk outside.

She was the nanny. Now she was the children's mother. They didn't need a nanny when they had her.

No matter how thin she'd be spread, she refused to look into hiring a nanny. It was out of the question.

꧁ ꧂

"Go Snowflake go!"

Soarynn chuckles while Ceraphina tries to get Snowflake to pick up the pace but he's been trained to trot inside of the paddock, not gallop. "Take it slow darling," she calls out, "you don't want to wear him out."

It's a cold day in November, one of the last ones before they step into December which means lots of holiday events to attend. But today isn't windy which makes being outside much more bearable. Soarynn had bundled herself and the children in thick, warm coats with mittens and gloves to match. She didn't want anyone getting sick before such a busy month.

She shivers when remembering the time that Ceraphina got sick from a classmate at school and gave it to Celeste and Caspian. It had been a rough week in the Snow household. Coriolanus had practically barricaded himself in his study, claiming he couldn't afford to get sick.

Soarynn had rolled her eyes when he said that, men were so dramatic when it came down to getting sick, acting as if their arms had been cut off.

"Mommy, why is the sky gray?"

Soarynn looks up at the cloudy gray sky, it's been gloomy all day, just like her mood. "It's probably going to snow darling," she says to Celeste, "or rain."

"Are we gonna have dinner with Daddy tonight?"

Soarynn shakes her head and gives Celeste a small smile, "No sweetheart, we have dinner with him on Sundays, remember?"

After asking her to marry him, Coriolanus unknowingly exposed himself to a new lifestyle and routine now that Soarynn was here to stay. That lifestyle included having dinner as a family once a week. She wasn't unrealistic, asking him to have dinner with them every night was impossible with his busy schedule but on Sunday nights, no matter how busy he was, they all had dinner together.

The children loved it. They missed having dinner with their father so to see him for breakfast and dinner was a treat as special as any. Soarynn secretly hoped that one day he might take all of Sunday off to spend it with them but she was taking it slow, baby steps were necessary with a man like Coriolanus who despises lack of control or change.

"Oh, sorry I forgot," Celeste mumbles. Soarynn feels a frown tugging her lips down and she crouches down so that she's at eye-level with Celeste, "There's no need to apologize, Celeste, it was an honest mistake."

She reaches out to hold Celeste's face in her hand, rubbing her thumb over the child's cheek, "But I was thinking that tonight we might make dinner extra special by having breakfast for dinner."

Celeste gasps, her bright blue eyes wide as saucers, "We can do that?" Soarynn laughs, she's never done it before herself but it sounds like a fun idea, something to spice things up from their normal routine. "We sure can," she answers, "we can have waffles and pancakes, and all your favorite things."

Caspain butts in after hearing about the possibility of pancakes, his favorite breakfast food, "Panacakes?" Soarynn and Celeste giggle, "Yes sweet boy, we can have pancakes."

Celeste runs over to the paddock gate and grabs onto it, "Ceraphina! We're gonna have breakfast for dinner tonight! Mommy says so!"

Ceraphina pulls on the reigns, bringing Snowflake to a halt, "Really?" She asks, her voice doubtful. Being the oldest means she's grown to expect promises to be broken, mainly by her father who struggled to keep his word while trying to put their broken family back together.

Soarynn stands back up, a determined look on her face, "Really," she nods, "it'll be fun."

Ceraphian grins, "Okay!"

Soarynn might still feel sorry for herself but she'd never let that get in the way of the children she has right now, children she won't ever take for granted.

꧁ ꧂

Everything was going great until Ceraphina and Celeste asked how they were born.

Which was something Soarynn had limited knowledge of for a number of reasons. She hadn't been working for the Snows when the girls were born and even if she was, she certainly wouldn't have been there for the birth. But that didn't stop the girls from asking more questions about giving birth which to her luck, led to questions about being pregnant.

It was like a stab to the heart.

She answered all of their questions calmly and patiently before kissing them goodnight and promising to see them tomorrow. Only when she closed the doors behind her did the tears start to form in her eyes.

It just wasn't fair, wasn't fair that she couldn't get pregnant.

Since she could remember she's always wanted to be a mother, to have a baby and raise it as her own.

But she can't. She can't and her head hurts and she's tired and all she wants in the whole wide world right now is her husband. She slips off her heels before trudging downstairs to his study. She doesn't know how she'll tell him, how she'll apologize for not being a good wife, the wife fit for a Snow.

She vowed to bear any children he'd gift to her and she already broke it.

A few tears roll down her cheeks as she finally reaches the doors that lead to his study. She raises her fist to knock but stops when she hears voices inside. He's busy, probably in a meeting. Should she knock, she'll be told that he's busy and she can't let anyone see her like this. No, she'll just wait.

She sits on the small, decorative sofa that sits right outside of his study, pressed against the wall under a portrait of his father, Crassus Xanthos Snow. She looks up at it for a moment, he looks stern, commanding, she can see where Coriolanus got it from. She wonders if this man would see her as a good fit for his son.

Probably not.

Soarynn sits there for what feels like hours, watching the moon through the large windows across from her. She should just go to bed and tell him in the morning but Soarynn can't bear to carry this burden any longer.

She's about to fall asleep when she hears the doors to his study open accompanied by several men grumbling among one another. She slowly pushes herself to her feet, in no rush to face her humiliation. One of the men finally looks in her direction and clears his throat, bowing at the waist, "Madame Snow."

Soarynn musters up a graceful smile when the other man takes notice of her as well and does the same thing, paying their respects. Quintus is the last one out and he looks more concerned than surprised to see her lingering outside her husband's study so late at night.

"Our meeting ran a bit longer," he explains, "we do hate to keep you from your husband this late into the night." Soarynn shakes her head, she doesn't even care at this point, "It's quite alright. Have a good night Quintus."

Rarely does she ever dismiss anyone in her house but she wants to be alone with Coriolanus. She doesn't need spectators.

Quintus thankfully picks up on this and nods, "Good night Madame Snow."

Soarynn watches him walk down the long hallway, chatting with the others as if there's anything left to talk about in this world before she walks into the empty study. Coriolanus is sitting by the fireplace, deep in thought from the looks of it. He merely tilts his head in her direction, "Did you leave something behind?"

Soarynn quietly closes the doors behind her, she doesn't even want the Avoxes to hear her. "It's me," she whispers.

Coriolanus finally looks over at her and his stern expression melts off immediately, "Darling, I thought you'd be in bed at this hour." Soarynn shrugs and forces herself not to cry, "I'm not," is all she says.

Coriolanus reaches a hand out, silently asking her to come to him and she does, slower than usual but she feels like she's been chained to the ground. The moment her fingers find his, he's pulling her into his lap, resting her thighs over his and wrapping an arm around her waist. It's the type of gentleness she needs right now.

Coriolanus kisses her cheek, the smell of roses lingers around him at all hours of the day, "How was your day hmm? Did Ceraphina's presentation go well?"

Soarynn thinks back to this morning, it feels like a hundred years ago. She remembers the family tree, how under Coriolanus and Livia's name were the names of their children.

There will be no names under hers.

"It was good," she whispers, watching the fire crackle with the firewood. Coriolanus gently rests a hand on her cheek, making her look at him, "Soarynn, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

Soarynn gasps, the floodgates are wide open now. "I can't," she cries, tears spilling down her cheeks in an instant, "I can't and I've broken my vows."

she can see how conflicted and confused he is by her words, "You broke...you broke your vows? How? Darling, tell me what happened and we'll make it right."

Soarynn shakes her head, she's sobbing now, "We can't. We can't have children together."

She watches through tears as Coriolanus tries to understand her, "The results," she gasps, "I can't get pregnant."

Soarynn wants to die, she wants to close her eyes and never wake up. The stress of the wedding, of becoming First Lady, of being the perfect wife and mother has all crashed down on her all at once.

She can see how heartbroken he is, even if he tries to hide it. She knows how badly he would've loved for them to have more children together.

Soarynn buries her face in his shirt, staining it with her tears and mascara no doubt but she doesn't care right now. She feels him cradling her head, murmuring words that she doesn't care to hear right now.

She just wants to sleep and wake up to realize that this was all a bad dream.

It's all a bad dream.

꧁ ꧂

"...test results were negative..."

"...doctors can't do anything..."

"... she's heartbroken..."

"...could always go the surrogate route..."

꧁ ꧂

When Soarynn wakes up, she's in her bedroom.

The lights are dim and her mouth is dry.

Soarynn slowly sits up, groaning at her stiff limbs, she ought to start stretching before going to bed each night.

Soarynn looks over at her bedside table and sees a glass of water and two red pills next to it, no explanation as to what they'll do. She takes the water but not the pills.

Coriolanus isn't in bed but she can see the bathroom light is on. A meow comes from the floor and Soarynn cranes her neck to see Petunia looking up at her, tail bushy and ears perked. Soarynn pats the space next to her and Petunia expertly leaps onto the bed, immediately climbing into Soarynn's lap. She absentmindedly pets her soft fur, wondering what time it is, if Coriolanus is going to file for divorce. She vaguely remembers hearing his voice along with Eudora's but she doesn't exactly remember what they said.

"Oh, Petunia," she sighs, "I just got everything I ever wanted and now I'm back to where I started."

She hears a snort come from the bathroom and looks over to find Coriolanus standing in the doorway, shirtless, wearing only his boxers and an amused expression on his face. "If I recall, you started as a single, childless, quiet woman with no living family besides that cat," he says calmly, "have we already come full circle?"

Soarynn blushes and looks down, she was just being dramatic but he has a point, "No," she mumbles, "I have more than I could ever dream of." And she does. She has a husband who loves her, children who adore her, a beautiful home to call her own, food, water, all the clothes she could want, and then some. She's the luckiest woman in Panem and here she is throwing herself a pity party.

Coriolanus pads over to her side of the bed, gently sitting down next to her, "Darling," he reaches out and brushes some of her hair behind her ear, "I read over all the test results."

Soarynn looks up at him, eager to hear that it was wrong, that she misread something. He sighs, "The results were correct, you're infertile and can't get pregnant no matter what we do."

Her entire body deflates, she's gutted all over again. She had held onto a sliver of hope that maybe he'd find a way to fix this but not even Coriolanus Snow could help her. "Oh," she says glumly, "there's not...there's not like a surgery or a shot I could get?" She gives him a hopeful, desperate look but he can only return it with a sad smile, "My love, there's nothing we can do. I called the doctor and we went over every possible option. Anything we could remotely try would either lead to your death or the baby's death and I won't ever risk that."

Soarynn feels angry at him even though he's completely justified in his reasoning. Would she risk her life for her child's life? Absolutely. But could she handle losing her baby? No, she'd be devastated.

"I just really wanted it," she whispers, her voice breaks but as long as he's here then she'll be okay, "I just really wanted to have another baby." Coriolanus wraps an arm around her, comforting her in her lowest moments as he vowed to do, "I did too," he tells her softly, "but Soarynn, you can't blame yourself, you did nothing wrong. The doctor suspects it might be genetic, think of your own mother and what happened to her. Even she struggled to get pregnant if I recall."

Her breath catches in her throat she hadn't even thought of it like that but he's right. Perhaps the same fate fell onto her own mother but she was able to get pregnant. Except she didn't survive. Only Soarynn did, leaving her father alone and she knows that Coriolanus will be damned if he's left alone again.

Even if it means that his wife will be miserable for the rest of their lives, she knows he'll take that chance over anything else any day.

"Livia struggled too," he whispers, "she...she almost lost Ceraphina midway through the pregnancy. And my own mother died trying to give birth to my little sister. We've suffered from enough tragedy at the hands of childbirth for a lifetime darling, we have three beautiful children who are just down the hall so I think we should make the most of it, don't you?"

Soarynn sniffles, wiping away any last tears before looking up at him, "I do," she says, "I want to make the most of it, even if I'll always think about what could've been." Coriolanus hums, pressing a kiss to her temple, "I know you would've been good, a good mother to our new baby but we can't get caught in the past, trust me I know."

Soarynn nods, Coriolanus refuses to linger in the past, marrying her is a clear testament to that belief.

She leans into his hold, feeling safe and above all, loved once again despite her flaws, "I love you," she says.

He tightens his grip on her, "In sickness and in health darling, I'll always love you."

Always is such a sweet promise to make.

꧁ ꧂

꧁ One Year Later ꧂

"Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to sit down with us Madame Snow."

Soarynn smiles warmly at the interviewer, "Please, call me Soarynn."

She's gotten used to living in the spotlight, being questioned for every little thing she does but Soarynn is happy with this life she's chosen. She wouldn't have it any other way.

"Alright, Soarynn, your husband just won the election, what was it like to be by his side in such a tense few months?"

Soarynn remembers the months leading up to the election, how stressed Coriolanus had been, how many meetings and interviews he conducted. He won it by a landslide but still, he had been so worried. Soarynn did what she did best, she comforted him, reassured him that he'd win, and did her best to spread her own influence amongst the people of the Capitol.

Since marrying Coriolanus, she's been adored by the Capitol, widely known as the 'Captiol's Darling' due to how many people love her.

"It was a testament to our marriage," she answers, "I vowed to stand by him no matter what, win or lose and I did. To see him do what he does best fulfills me, it fulfills our family."

The interviewer nods, "How did you come to know President Snow?"

Soarynn finds it almost strange to think back to the time when she barely knew Coriolanus, when she worked for him, and worried that she'd lose the children every day.

"I was employed by the Snow family following Livia Snow's death," she tells the woman, "Coriolanus and I got to know each other and the rest is history."

The woman hums, jotting down some notes, "If you don't mind me asking, what was your job under the Snow family? Were you an assistant to President Snow?"

Soarynn smiles, she's forgotten how many people are unaware of how she came to know the people she loves so dearly in her heart. She often wonders what her life would be like if she never applied for the position, if she never got hired, if she never let herself and her walls down around Coriolanus.

She shakes her head, she doesn't mind at all. She sits up straight and proud, knowing that she carries the Snow name and its legacy.

"I was the nanny."

| Part 14. | Final Part |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @wonderlandbound111 @villiansarehottest @kickmybark @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @melodyoflovee |

[idle-daydreams]

Hi I hope you're doing well I'm not sure if you do these types of requests but can I please ask for a yandere Demon King chuuya with a pregnant darling

Sure thing!

Tw: Yandere, forced pregnancy, mentions of abortion, mentions of blood, cannibalism and violence.

You were three months along before you realized you were pregnant.

It had been easy to ignore the signs in the beginning. Time moved strangely in the demon world, and it wasn’t the first time you’d missed your period since you’d gotten there. You’d assumed that the rest of it - the exhaustion, the mood swings, even the changes in your body - was due to whatever otherworldly food and drink Chuuya gave you, to say nothing of the effects of living in proximity of the Demon King himself.

It wasn’t until Chuuya had pointed out the slight swell of your stomach that the horrifying realization had dawned upon you.

You would have gotten rid of it had you any means to do so. But Chuuya had figured it out just as soon as you had, and had locked you down even more stringently than before. Gone were all the little freedoms he’d granted you over time; he refused to let you out of his sight, insisting on taking care of you himself. He practically forced you into bed-rest, waiting upon you hand and foot so that you wouldn’t stress yourself out. It would have been nice, were it not for the fact that you were carrying Chuuya’s child.

The Demon King’s child.

A demon itself, taking root inside you.

It made you want to tear yourself apart with your bare hands. The thing was strong, leeching vitality from you until you could barely walk. You found yourself hungering for raw flesh and fresh blood, wanting to kill and gnaw and bite and tear things apart, until you could see their entrails and their oozing blood. Chuuya indulged you, bringing you wild animals and letting you sate yourself; you hated it, but you hated him even more, for putting you into this position.

Not that Chuuya seemed to mind. From the moment your pregnancy had been confirmed, the red-headed demon lord had been deliriously happy. He would spend hours resting between your legs with his head on your belly, talking or singing to “the baby”. He would patiently bare your tantrums, all the crying and screaming and general hysteria, even letting you vent your frustrations by throwing things at him. It was only when you tried to hurt yourself did he tie you down, claiming that your safety was more important.

“I don’t want to do this, love,” he said, stroking your hair. “But you’ve got to take it easy. All this stress isn’t good for either of you.”

“Chuuya, I’m begging you, please, end it,” you said, tears pouring down your face. “This pregnancy will kill me, I know it will. I can’t carry a demon child, please.”

Chuuya frowned, tracing a thumb over your cheek. “You’ll carry the baby all right,” he said. “This isn’t the first time a human’s carried a demon child. And you’ve drunk enough of my blood to be part-demon yourself, so this ain’t that big a deal.”

“I don’t care.” You tugged at your restraints, cursing yourself and your miserable life. How had you ended up like this? What had you done to deserve any of this? Why was this happening to you, of all people? Weren’t there worse people in the world, who deserved to suffer more?

You flinched as Chuuya kissed your temple, before settling on his haunches before you and putting his hands on the swell of your belly. “I can sense them, you know,” he said. “They’re a strong one.”

“I know,” you said through gritted teeth. “I’ve never been this uncomfortable in my entire life. I’m nauseous, my body hurts, and my bladder feels l-” you scowled as Chuuya grinned- “why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re pregnant.”

You flinched as he swooped down to hug you tightly. “You don’t know what it’s like,” he said happily, gazing at you with contentment. “Demons don’t really get pregnant; it’s something to do with the way our bodies work. I never thought I would have a family, I never thought I’d ever have someone like you. I love you, I love you so much, you’ve given me - you’re giving me - everything that I’ve ever wanted.”

“And you don’t care if I die in the process,” you whispered.

His expression momentarily soured, before he mulishly shook his head. “That ain’t gonna happen. I told ya, there are ways to make sure this whole thing goes well.” He put a hand on your stomach again, gently tracing its curved with one blackened claw. “You’re not gonna like it, it’s going to be a bit uncomfortable, but I swear to you that you’re both going to come out of this alive. I promise you, on my honor as the Demon King.”

[galebrainrot2024]

RuganxFemReader NSFW18+

Summary: One shot of Rugan and a AFAB/Fem Reader. Explicit. Indulgent. A bit rough, some use of restraint, leashing, denial, all the classics. Oral Sex. PIV. This NPC takes up a lot of my brain space, his voice is chef's kiss. This is self-indulgent. Enjoy. Minors DNI

“By the gods, you’re a sweet sight,” the man pushes the stray hairs back, tying them neatly back into the knot at the back of his head. “Are any of my crew still alive out there?” 

“It’s a grim sight,” you say, though despite the nail-biting battle you feel yourself stir with the familiar pang of desire. 

“This whole journey has been one grim sight after another… gnoll’s, goblins, drow. You, though… aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” You feel heat lick up your neck and his eyes glint with tell-tale hunger. “Risen Road’s more dangerous than ever. You’re the first friendly face we’ve seen since Elturgard.” 

“Elturgaurd’s a long way from here. Where are you heading?” 

“Baldur’s Gate. Got some cargo to deliver but we’ve a stop to make along the way. Listen, you look like you know how to handle yourselves.. we have our drinking spot by the tavern. Invitation only. The name’s Rugan… Tell the fellow on the door ‘little serpent, long shadow,’ and come find me. I owe you a drink,” the man grins at you, brushing off his bottom lip. “Lots of drinks.” 

You know from the moment the words slipped from his lips that his desire mirrors yours. After a few weeks on the road with this strange group of vagabonds, the man before you seems irresistible. A fresh face amidst the chaos. 

Rugan - you roll the name over your tongue, loving the way it feels. Your body trembles and the chemistry crackles beneath your skin. Your eyes dart to your companions, nervous they can pick up on your appetites and all seem none the wiser. Your eyes flick to Rugan who is gazing at you hungrily, a man needing to be sated and to engorge himself. You wonder if he’s been on the road as long as you have.  

Your companions begin the trek back to camp and you tell them to go ahead, that you’d catch up with them. You wouldn’t.

“You owe me more than a few drinks.” 

The man’s lips curl into a crooked grin and he chuckles, “I knew I had a feeling about you,” Rugan says, his back turned to you as he kneels over the delivery. He stands, brushing off his armor and stares at you with an almost imperceptible smirk. “Find me later and we can settle our… needs.”

****

You sneak away, the night sounds and smells filling you with increased excitement as blood pounds in your hearts and your heart beats wildly in your chest. The anticipation of what’s to come almost too profound. 

As you creep closer, you see Rugan is leaning against a shed, the curve of his features illuminated by the dim moon. Your breath hitches as his gaze turns to meet you. He gives you a fiendish grin, and waits for you to approach. 

“Where does someone like you come from, anyway?” You note the flush of his cheeks, the slow drawl that wraps you in honey. You swallow, hard and feel the heat blossom in your core.

A voice more confident than how you feel answers: “Does it matter?” 

His low laugh in response sends a tremor down your spine and goosebumps across your skin. “No.” He steps towards you and fingers the amulet around your neck. You inhale and your eyes flutter as you take in his scent. Fire, sweat, fresh mud. “Before I make further assumptions, why don’t you go ahead and tell me why you sent away your friends?” 

“Oh,” you say, clicking your tongue, “if it isn’t clear enough I think our business might be concluded.” 

He chuckles darkly and brings his hand to your cheek to push your hair back. “You don’t seem the delicate type,” he waits a moment, waiting for any indication for him to continue. 

Your lips part as your mouth begins to water. Your knees quake and every fiber of your being trembles with delight. “I’m not.” He takes a fistful of your hair and pulls, though barely. You feel yourself stir to life, the arousal coursing through you, drowning you. You feel yourself soak, the throbbing between your thighs intensifies as you imagine him forcing himself into you, digging your nails into his back as you cling to him with animalistic desperation. You need him, you want to sit on his face and ride his precious tongue until he makes you scream with unholy ecstasy as he grips your thighs, holding you to him to make you come again and again. 

While gripping your hair he pulls himself against you and you feel his erection pulse against your thigh. It makes you whimper, the stiffness and girth evident even beneath the trousers. He pushes you up against the cool wood, one arm resting above you while the other holds your head and he brings his lips to yours almost violently. He pushes his tongue into your mouth and you moan, feeling yourself slip down the wall, loosing your footing. You feel him smirk against your lips as his hand grips your throat, apply a firm yet light pressure. “So eager…” he laughs, biting your lower lip and pulling it back and you press your legs together, feeling the saturation of arousal. He presses himself against you to spread your legs and you feel his girth, wanting to taste him, wanting to satisfy him. 

Rugan seems to sense your desperation and begins to undo your clothes, and slips a hand down the front of your pants where he’s greeted with the soaking cloth that sits between his large, capable fingers and your pulsing clit. Rugan pulls out his hand and licks his fingers, groaning before kissing you lecherously. 

He pulls the pants off your body, ripping them at the seams and leans down to kiss the band where your briefs meet your skin as he firmly circles your clothed sex. The sensation is unbearable and your legs shake as he falls to his knees and looks up at you, taking your undergarment with his teeth and dragging them off your body. He bunches your dripping underwear and puts it in his pocket, murmuring, “a souvenir,” as he pushes your legs apart and bites your inner thigh. You yelp and he laughs blackly.

You watch as he lies back on the grass. “Get down here.” You obey as he gestures, and as you go to lay beside him he shakes his head, “no,” he says, lifting you easily so you kneel, your thighs hovering over his mouth. “Here.” 

Your brows shoot up and he pulls you down aggressively and you immediately feel his hot, warm tongue flicking and massaging your delicate folds, circling and sucking before slipping into you. You whimper and cry out, your hips beginning to buck against his face and he grunts, slipping his tongue into you and swirling it around, tasting the deepest crevices of your arousal. You cry out his name and he holds you against his face despite your body attempting to move. The wet noises he’s making only arouse you further and he encourages how your hips circle his lips and ready tongue. His fingers find their way inside you, mingling with his mouth and you gasp, gripping his hair and yanking. A nibble and salacious bliss. You yelp again and your body trembles uncontrollably, and he lifts you for a moment, inhaling and you see the sticky fluid of your desire clear on his stubble. “Beg for it.” He demands, his low husky voice serious and his eyes blown black. 

You, dizzy from his mouth, struggle to comprehend. “Wh-what?” 

A slow, wolffish grin spreads across Rugan’s face and he pushes you back, off of him so you roll back onto the grass. You look at him like a deer, frozen, and he leans over you, gripping your neck and pushes you back. “It seems you’re having a hard time hearing. I said beg.” 

“Please..” you begin and he shakes his head, applying more pressure.

“Try again.” 

You frown and lick your lips and pull his hand from your neck, catching him by surprise and you push him backwards and climb back over him. He smirks as you hold his head in place between your thighs, pushing them together and you see his eyes flutter and his lips part. “Finish what you started.” 

His eyes widen and he groans, gladly bringing you down onto his face hard, eating you out like a famished street urchin. You buck against his chin as his hot tongue massages you, flicking against your throbbing bud and sleeping deeper inside, the stubble against your thighs driving you wild, and you feel yourself grow closer to the edge, moments away and he pushes his tongue and fingers so far into you you see stars. He holds you by your waist as you shudder against his mouth, him groaning as he tastes you and you cry out like a penitent seeking forgiveness. Pleasure roils through you like hot lava, your body shuddering as you tumble off the precipice of unadulterated pleasure. Rugan laps the essence of your climax, greedily indulging on you.

He comes up for air, grinning and kisses the inside of your thigh, his face flushed as you fall to the ground beside him. Your breath is jagged and he hovers over you, bringing his lips to yours so you taste yourself. Your lips part and you whimper, your hips subconsciously lifting to him. You fumble with his trousers and he slips out of them, the stiff erection grazing the folds between your thighs and you feel yourself soak with desire again. 

He rolls his tongue with yours before taking you by the waist and flipping you so you lay face down on the ground. The sudden movement makes you yelp and you feel his strong fingers grip your waist and pull you back to him. You feel the head of his erection swirl around your opening and you mewl frantic, rocking backwards and wanting to take him fully. He denies you and pulls your hair to tilt your head back to him as he brushes his lips against your ear. 

He thrusts into you with a painful slowness, his girth stretching you fully and you whimper, taking a fistful of grass as the pleasure overwhelms you. Rugan’s grunt of passion makes you feral and you roll your hips back, bringing him so deep that he releases a guttural grunt and his body begins to move urgently with yours in carnal lust. Gripping your hips roughly, he pounds deep into you, pressing against the depths of you and you cry out as you feel him push roughly against you. You know it will bruise and you relish in it. Where his fingers grip you the pressure is too strong, and yet you hunger for more and push yourself back against him. He pulls your hair harder and pulls the belt off his discarded pants. He wraps it around your neck and pulls lightly on the leash. The pressure against your neck combined with his aggressive thrusts make you writhe with heat, growing closer to release again. You entire body is tense and he squeezes your ass so hard you yelp, earning you a harder thrust and you grip the ground for purchase. 

As he tugs at the belt around your neck, he kisses where your ear meets your throat and you whimper, hearing his wanton voice, “scream for me,” he commands and you do, crying out his name as you both move with a lustful urgency, your bodies slick with sweat and arousal until he is forcing himself so rough and deep into you that you shudder, sick with pleasure, and hear him groan as his sticky climax shoots into you, the warmth filling you and making you salivate. He tilts your head to kiss you from behind as he finishes, the throbbing of his twitching cock inside you sending you tumbling over the cliff of pleasure. 

He rolls beside you and you both lie back, panting, staring at the sky. It takes a moment for you to return to yourself and he looks at you, his eyes still gleaming with desire. You smirk, “Surely that’s not the best you can do.” The taunt ignites something further in him and you surrender as you feel his hot mouth on yours again, eager to be sated. You will be exhausted tomorrow and it will have been worth it. 

[the-faceless-bride]

🦋🪷 𝓝ƴന𝚙𝒉𝟶ᥨ𝟶ဌƴ 💧🍃

Warnings? None really, just monster reader and descriptions of near-death, and allusions to capitalism.

Characters? Ghost, Price, Gaz, and Soap

Fic type? Head canons!

Summary? Headcanons of how 141 found Monster reader, took them home, and now live with them.

A/n: I will be making a full fic of how Reader was found and stuff but until... Headcanons! Also, @sunshine-and-moonshine was the inspo for this.

🧚‍♀️Monster Type?🧚‍♀️

Reader is a Nymph! A Nymph of the air specifically. the powers to control the wind, blend into the clouds and very close to the stars.

Your hair seems to float gracefully as if you have a fan that perfectly blows your hair at all times, your eyes glow an unusually beautiful color, your body seems a bit pale than a normal human would be, and your hands and feet while visible seem to be just slightly see-through the outline of your bones visible, same for you ribcage.

To some you'd be terrifying but to them... You're the most beautiful thing they had ever seen...

🦋 How you meet? 🦋

The boys crashed onto an island in the middle of nowhere, with little rations and no way back home. They tried everything they could to get an S. O. S. But the area they were in didn't have any planes going over it. And after a month or so when the rations were getting low, their sanity started deteriorating being consumed by hunger and thirst. So much so that everyone was starting to eye each other is a dark horrid hunger...

You had been observing for quite some time. You hadn't run into humans in your time of existence. So watching them was very interesting and peaked your curious nature. You wanted to keep them around, unfortunately, it took you a while to figure out why after a month your humans started behaving strangely. You forget that living things need things to survive like food... And water... You didn't want them to die... Or resort to eating each other to survive. You wanted to keep them! Even if you only really needed one.

One by one you visited them, in the darkness of night. Floating to them curling yourself into their side using the air around you, turning it from vapor to water holding your cupped hand to their mouth the other holding their heads. Kissing their faces and necks. Such strange and yet adorable creatures.

🪷 Life with Nymph Reader 🪷

For a while, they were content being here with you. Being given fresh water and you bringing them juicy fruit and fresh meat any time you could. But eventually, they got homesick. And while you wanted to be selfish and keep them here all to yourself. You didn't like seeing your humans so... Sad.

At first, you were sad they wanted to go... But one night Kyle had an amazing idea, you should just come home with them! You were excited about the idea! You haven't been around humans before so traveling where humans would be everywhere would be an interesting learning experience!

Helped build a raft of logs, fallen branches, and thick vines. Just big enough for your humans to sit on. Then you turned into air only your hands visible as you begin to push the raft fast enough to get to the mainland without tearing the raft to pieces.

Getting to the mainland you had to completely shield yourself. And while you had your fun when they were being asked about their survival and interrogated you ran invisible fingers through their hair, kissed along their necks, whispered sweet nothings into their ears. You didn't like being ignored for long periods.

You however weren't the only one who got jealous. Even though you can't be seen by others, the boys still get quite jealous. They also couldn't see you before, you just found them charming and desired to show yourself to them. They are paranoid that you'll find another just as charming and lose interest. But you treasure them and make sure to show them just how much you care for them and no other humans would ever replace them.

Eventually, they all end up living together. Mostly because they couldn't keep it civil and always ended up arguing about whose turn it was to have you for the week. Every night you go from room to room laying with them for a few hours, kissing them, loving them, touching them, fucking them... They love life.

They love you a lot and would gladly go through the tournament they did on that island for a month if it meant meeting you all over again.

[moethewriter]

could you do number 27 with finnick from the otp prompt list? i love yours fics!

Of course I can anon! Super excited for this one, I had the best time writing it! Lot's of angst and fluff! TITLE: The Light In The Dark WORD COUNT: 1.5k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNING: None! TAGS: Lot's of angst, and fluff! (As always please let me know if you think anything needs to be added) lot's of introspection and reflection from the reader! A/N: I was so so so excited to write this one! And I think it's such an amazing prompt! Thank you so much for requesting it and as always I take constructive criticism! -

District 13 was not a place you particularly enjoyed. It was safe, and secure and far better than being stranded in an arena forced to kill other people. But you weren’t as content as you had hoped you would be. When you were rescued along with everyone the rebellion scooped up, you had kept telling yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to keep faith that whatever the next step was, was going to end all of it. 

Finnick had been rescued alongside you, and he offered a comforting ear. It was so strange being close to him again. It had been a year since you two had broken up, and though it had seemed like yesterday, you were no longer the same people you once were. So much had changed, you had changed. 

Though you knew once you both had been reaped that you were going to ally yourself with him. There really was no one else you would rather have at your side. Despite the separation, he had you trust and you knew he was far more capable than a lot of people gave him credit for. 

There had been tension between the group, that you knew, no one got along well unless it was with Mags. You knew the other’s could sense a different type of tension between you and Finnick, one filled with unresolved feelings bubbling below the surface. It had only gotten worse after you heard his voice through the jabberjays.

Johanna had tried to talk to you afterwards, even sent Katniss your way but you wouldn’t budge. You didn’t need to have a friendship circle and talk about how you longed for Finnick and how he still had your heart. No one needed to know that but you, though you sensed Johanna had always known, she had known you better than you knew yourself most days. 

There had been no major fallout with Finnick, no giant blow up that ended in destruction and despair. It had been so amicable … you had both been so busy, the life of a Victor always was. Not to mention the separation by District had been a struggle. You had been the one to bring it up, despite the pain it caused you. Finnick had agreed with you the moment you finished speaking. You hugged, and he left and then you stood there alone. You were both heartbroken over it, that much you knew. 

You had cried for weeks after it, though you felt you had no right to do that. No one was able to console you, despite Johanna trying her very best too. You knew she wasn’t the best with comforting people, she had grown colder after what had happened to her family, but you appreciated the effort she had put in. Seeing Finnick on TV doing interviews, going to parties and generally being in the Capitol had upset you the most. It was hard to look at him, you knew he was hurting so much more than anyone could tell. You wanted to reach out, but you knew it would have been a bad idea. So you stayed silent and watched him from afar, and kept your thoughts about him to yourself.

Though you hoped he thought of you too.

And in a blink of an eye, months had passed. You had both been mentors for the 74th hunger games, though to no avail as your tributes had passed in the arena. You didn’t speak to him much, and he did his best to avoid you. It was strange but you knew he was coping in a far different way then you were, so you couldn’t blame him,

The universe was funny though, bringing you both together again under far different circumstances. He had come to your door days after you had been reaped for The Quarter Quell to form an alliance with you, and you were both informed together about the rebellion by Haymitch Abernathy. You were hesitant but agreed to help, as long as Finnick was there too. There wasn’t anyone else you’d want as an ally in those games. Some small part of you was thankful that he had been there.

“Penny for your thoughts.” A familiar voice broke through the jumbled mess of memories you had been reliving. “Not much in there right now.” You chuckled, turning to meet Finnick’s gaze, he seemed relaxed, and adjusting far better than most people. “Just wondering about what the next step is, thinking about all that needs to be done.” The lie came easily to you, but you knew he could see right through it. He had always been able to see past you.

“That’s not the Y/N I know.” Finnick smiled, leaning against the wall. He looked like an angel in white against the steele gray. “The one I know is simply far too deep in thought about too many things that they’re overwhelming themselves with it. Am I wrong?” He raised a knowing eyebrow. 

“You know me far too well, Finnick Odair.” You snorted, crossing your arms in defeat “I was thinking about the past.” You said, quietly, almost hoping he wouldn’t catch what you said at all.

“About us?” He questioned, a strange look crossing his face.

You couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking at that moment, but you knew there was no point in lying. You didn’t want to lie to him anymore.

“You could say that.” You nodded.

“I hope it’s all good memories.” He said, meeting your eyes once more. “I know I still think of those on my dark days.” He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“You were one of the best things that ever happened to me.” You told him, earnestly. “I loved you more than life itself.”

“So you don’t  regret it at all?” Finnick questioned, and you weren’t quite sure if he wanted your answer by the way his voice quivered.

“No. Not one bit.” You told him. “I don’t regret having you because you made the sun shine brighter and you made my life worth living again. You put a smile on my face anytime I wasn’t feeling myself. You were the only one who loved me when I thought I couldn’t be loved. You changed me for the better in so many ways. You were, and always have been a star amongst the darkest of skies, Finnick. That little light that kept going even though the world tried to beat it down. You have always been one of a kind. I could never regret you. I would never regret a single thing because if I didn’t have you forever at least I had you at all.” Your voice was thick with emotion, finally saying all of this to him.

You had bottled it up for so long, kept it so tight to your chest that you felt like you were going to explode into a million tiny little pieces. You knew you would always love him, but a second chance at loving him had seemed impossible.

“I don’t regret breaking things off either.” You told him. “It was the best thing we could do for both of us at the time. You and I both know that.”

“I know.” Finnick nodded, a sad smile crossing his face. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t cry for weeks after it happened though. I missed you severely during those first few months. I’m sorry I never reached out, I wanted to but I didn’t know how.” 

You could see him fidgeting with his thumbs, something he only did when he was nervous, it was a quirk you thought had been adorable when you first noticed it. He had an anxious energy to him that could be hard to spot if you didn’t know him.

“It’s okay.” You whispered, sniffling a little. “That wasn’t your job anymore to be there for me.”

“You were never a job, I loved … love you and I always wanted to be there for you even when we were over.” Finnick said. “You’re the love of my life, you always have been, Y/N.”

“I’m still the love of your life?” You asked, wiping the stray tear from your eye.

Nothing could have prepared you for this conversation, but you were glad that you could air everything out. There was no one else for you but Finnick. You loved him, and you still wanted to be with him. He was the first person you thought about in the morning, and the last person you thought about before you slept. He was still the love of your life too. 

He was always with you, even when he wasn’t.

“Yeah.” He said finally. “I don’t think there’s anyone else for me.”

You made a tentative step towards him, and wrapped your arms around his neck. He was tense, you could feel that, but that didn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around your waist. He was warm, he’d always been built like a furnace in contrast to your cold body temperature but you two still fit together perfectly, like two halves of a whole.

It’s like you were always meant to be in his arms.

“I still love you too.” You told him, letting yourself get lost in his arms.

“When this is all over …” He whispered into your ear. “I’m going to take you on the best date in the world, got it?” 

You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Got it.” You said, hugging him tighter.

[matenrou-fan]

hmmm could i request diavolo, lucifer and their fem!s/o having a threesome together maybe?;) either a fic or headcanons works, whichever you prefer

Diavolo x fem! s/o x Lucifer threesome

hii honey..! <3 I planned to make hc yet ended up writing the whole fic.. Also, writing for threesome is harder than usual NSFW so please don't be shy to tell if something is wrong!! ^^

femreader, drunk sex, oral (giving/receiving), teasing, begging, anal fingering (receiving), crempie, rough sex, double penetration;; 2474 words;;

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

;MINORS DNI;

How did you even was able to turn everything this way..?

Because Lucifer is kinda possessive. He is an avatar of pride after all and, despite his respect for his boss, it was kinda hard for him to think about you talking with Diavolo, let alone share you with the young Lord... But they said you just should fight fire with fire, aren't they?

So in one day, when you and Lucifer decided to pay a visit to Dia, just a small innocent visit, you decided to act. And soon instead of tea Barbatos served you three expensive Demonus, as you kept raising toast and having fun. Well, maybe the cunning servant quickly realized what you were planning to do, as he kept bringing more bottles of strong hellish wines.

And of course both of your targets got too much Demonus. As this devilish alcohol does not affect humans, it was kinda amusing to watch these two get drunk..

...well, before they both, without even talking properly about this to each other, lead you into Lord's bedroom.

"Don't worry that much, s/o.." - Dia mumble, trying to make his casual wide smile, yet it turns out more awkward and weak as he already can feel his dick twitching inside pants. Maybe he never admits it, yet he does have this type of fantasy with you and Luci before.

"Despite you having such a surprising look, I totally can tell you expected something like this, huh..?" - a low chuckle escaped Lucifer's mouth as he tried to unbutton his uniform.

Well.. otherwise you wouldn't encourage them to drink after drink, would you? So maybe he does have a point.. But who cares, if both demons are already bold enough to open their souls and show their deepest desires, as now, after they quench their thirst with infernal wine, hunger awoke in their bodies..

But before.. some long, steady foreplay as you sit on Lucifer's laps, back pressed to his chest. Warmth of his body makes you tingle, as he starts covering your whole neck and shoulders in kisses, bites and hickeys (he still wants to mark his territory).. While Dia's hands start caressing your body, slowly get down and remove the last pieces of your clothes, throwing away your skirt and panties. He indeed was kinda impatient, wanting nothing but to see your beautiful form in front of him, to taste his precious human.

"Such a beautiful view and just for me?" - he chuckled, stroking your trembling hips. Dia licks his lips, as his cloudy eyes admire your cunt, a storm of thoughts about all different things he can do now hits his mind and he looks up at you with a smug smirk.

..seeing the Demon Lord himself sitting here, between your thighs, with such a face was something and you can't help but whine, spreading your legs a little.

"Oh? It looks like our little doll is already so impatient.." - Lucifer smirks, sending shivers down your spine as his arms quickly caress you too, grasping on boobs, tickling waist, before getting to your heated core. Another whimper breaks from your mouth as you try to squirm a little.. But even though absolutely drunk, Dia was surprisingly strong, so he immediately catches your legs and holds them in place while Lucifer slowly spreads your pussy lips, revealing your already quite wet folds and pulsing clit to their hungry gazes..

"I think we shouldn't waste time, don't you think?" - Lucifer cooed, and it was kinda strange to see him being in charge of his boss, yet it looks like Diavolo doesn't mind at all, too busy admiring your naked body. And such phrase.. that was enough for him to go feral. Fast, hungry licks from the start as he makes your whole body shake from such intensive thrusts of his hot tongue. All you were able to do it's just moan, gripping Luci's hand. All thoughts fade away and your mind is absolutely blank, your whole body concentrated on your pulsing cunt. Dia was sloppy yet so fast and passionate, sucking your clit with such strength like all his life depends on it.. And Lucifer's hands on your breast as he keeps squeezing sensitive nipples between fingers doesn't help, but makes you even more aroused. All his touches were more accurate, because while Dia was completely lost in his urge to gobble you up hungrily, to savor every last drop of your juices, Luci was still in mind and wanted to tease you a little, to hear more of your shameful moans.. You can whine and whimper as much as you want, begging him to stop playing with your breast, he will not stop. After all, due to how you arch your back, moaning loud, you do enjoy such attention from them both, do you?

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

..Just how much time passes? You don't know, as you get lost in pleasure, all the muscles tensed up as you feel another knot forming at the bottom of your stomach. Maybe it was your third orgasm? You can't clearly tell as Diavolo didn't stop even for a second, gladly sucking all your cum and keep abusing your folds more and more, as he just can't get enough.

"Mm? Are you close again?" - Luci cooed right in your ear, noticing how your breath became rapid and your hips moved in one rhythm with the aggressive fast thrust of Dia's tongue. While he's lick deep inside you, tight grip on your thighs so you wouldn't squirm too much, Luci also helps you reach the edge, squeezing, pushing and teasing your throbbing clit.

He can see your blushing face, as you bite your lip, trying to muffle such beautiful sounds, as you shut your eyes, oversensitive now with all these touches… You suddenly arch your back, freezing in place for a moment, and then a wave of goosebumps rush over you body, engulfing you in pleasure. Already weak voice get even more high pitched as you moan loudly, pushing your hips to Dia face. Needless to say that he keeps being glued to your pussy, enjoying the warmth of your folds..

Every small detail gets straight to both demons' memories, and Luci will totally tease you about that after.

But right now, when you are finally prepared well for something more, all that they want is to see more.. Your sweet taste and desperate whines had no more than whetted their appetite.

"Darling, please.." - Dia finally pulls away, looking at you with deep, hungry eyes, such a possessive gaze that makes you shiver. - "I can't take it any more..I need to feel you.."

That's when the real Lord's side, not that goofy and charming one, wakes up. As now all he wants is to drown in your body, to get as closer as he always wishes..

"Then i think it's time for our birdie to also work with her mouth, hm?" - Lucifer chuckles, and moves a little.

Without any words, they quickly change positions, laying you in bed on your stomach. Now, when you faced Lucifer, more exactly his hips, you noticed a hard bulge in his pants that was pushing your back all this time, making you wonder about how his dick looks.. Well now you also have the opportunity to taste it.

Then you suddenly gasp, feeling Dia's arms on your hips, grasping soft skin with greed. He already left so many bruises and hickeys on your inner thighs, yet now decided to mark your hips too.

With trembling hands, you slowly unzip Luci's pants, revealing a long cock in front of you, the tip of his head already in pre-cum. He chuckles, noticing how your eyes widened a little and patted your head.

"What's wrong? Afraid you can't take it?"

You just scoff and lick your lips, first just touching him with your arms, fingertips gently go over his whole length, low groans of prideful demon telling you how much he likes it, as grip on your hair gets a little stronger. While Dia finally got rid of his pants too, hands quickly wrapped around your ass again. Despite his whole body was aching for finally just fuck you, he still decided to prolong small foreplay, caressing your wet folds with his dick, soaking in your juices and mixing them with his precum.

"Mm.. Dia, please.." - you can't help but mumble, tickling the sensitive skin of Luci's dick with your hot breath, as your cunt was also aching for some wild, fast pounding. Dia's tongue was good, but you wanted to feel yourself full and stretched with something bigger..

You and him groan breathless at the same time as his head finally pushes into your walls, and he immediately thrust fully inside you, pressing your trembling hips to his. For a moment you both froze, hitted with pleasure, all your sensation concentrated in your pussy as you kept clenching around him, sinking his hot cock deeper and deeper. Too carried away, your grasp on the base of Lucifer's dick, mewling and whimpering. Well, maybe you do look cute with such a pathetic face but demon groans, getting impatient. With his hand on your hair he pushes your head closer to his pulsing glans, dominating sharp gaze tells you everything better than any words.

So you open your lips a little, placing a passionate kiss on the tip of his dick, slowly getting down and peppering his whole length with kisses. You just wanted to tease him too, and it looked like Luci kinda liked it, watching as you tried so hard to amuse him.

Yet it was kinda hard to concentrate when Dia started finally moving, stretching you open wide with his cock, as almost immediately he started with a fast pace, too hungry for any slow gentle sex right now. And it was just what you needed, as you lifted your hips and spread your legs wider, enjoying how his dick grinding against your walls. His hands keep stroking your cheeks and slowly his fingertips get closer to your asshole, tickling tight muscles.

"Don't you worry, s/o.." - Dia can't help but let out a low chuckle, noticing as you turn to him a little confused. - "I should prepare you for the next round too, don't you think..?"

Next round? Tingles run down your spine right to your heated core as you just thought about what would wait for you tonight..

"Well, if she would deserve this second round.." - Lucifer interrupts your thoughts, smirking. - "You have some work to do here.."

Nodding, you lick his whole length and finally take him in your mouth and small vibrations tickle him as you keep moaning even with dick in your mouth. Dia just was too good, hitting your g spot with every thrust, whimpering and mumbling about how tight you are around his cock. It feels like your clenching walls are almost melting him in its warmth, sending him over the edge as he gets faster. And no, he did not plan to cum anytime soon, as demon was waiting too long to finally have a taste of your passion. Even drugged by your body, to all this delight he finally feels, Dia can last for a long time, wishing to please you as much as he can.

While Luci wanted you to please him. And you did a good job, sucking him so obediently as he leads you with his arm, setting a right pace. Your hot tongue around his cock makes him bite his lips as this demon also starts getting more local. Just a few minutes and you find all his soft places, moaning louder on purpose just to hear as low groans break from his chest.

Now the whole room was filled with the whimpers and groans of you three, as soonly you were able to catch up with Dia's pace, moving your lips around dick in your mouth with the same rhythm.

You feel as Luci's dick begins to swell and twitch in your mouth as he leaned back against the pillows, his breathing began to falter, and his fingers tightened on the back of your head. All his movements were kinda sloppy now, as he slowly got closer and closer, melting in your hot wet mouth.

"Fuck.. S/o.. Keep your pretty mouth like that, and look me right in the eyes, I want to see your face when you would savor my semen.."

While Dia's movements become more ragged as he roughly fuck you. He lost all his sanity, just grasping on your hips with a shaky hand, while another one kept playing with your anus, fingers pushing tight walls here too. He pounds you faster and faster, stretching your clenching pussy with force, his dick pulsing more and more.

"S/o.. Please.. Let me cum inside.. Let me make you mine.."

It looks like you three were almost on edge, the room was filled with moans and wet sounds of body slapping to each other.

Three bodies reach the climax and two pairs of arms grasp your body tightly, as two men call your name, lost in their orgasm. You were overflowing with mind shattering pleasure, if they hadn't held you with all their strength you would already collapse on bed, legs too weak now... Your pussy clenched around Dia even harder as his thick cum filled your hot walls. He keeps with fast pace for a little before eventually slowing down, sloppy thrusting in you, spreading last drops of his semen in your cunt.

Same big shoot of cum hit your throat as Luci push your head, almost face fucking you. His deep satisfied groan makes you tingle, as you keep licking his dick, almost cleaning it from all sperm, mixing it with your saliva.

For a few moments you all just breathe heavily, trying to calm down. Of course you notice Luci's playful cunning gaze and needy strokes of Dia's hands on your ass..

They both change their position again, carrying your weak trembling body. And even as you feel absolutely drained, as soon as you notice that their dick still hard and ready for more, your pussy throb, asking for more too..

You lean back to Dia's big chest as he holds your thighs. Luci stands in front of you, and now you are sandwiched between them too, their hot bodies send shivers down your spine.

"So, darling, what do you think? Can't take us both..?" - Luci purr, and you felt as two pulsing dicks pressing to your clenching in anticipation holes.

That was not the end. Just very very begging.. begging of long night with two men who will not let you go so easily now, fucking you until any thoughts would disappear from your pretty head, and only their names would be aching in your mind now..

[skylar-325]

i like to think that yjh is the type to carefully unwrap a gift, careful not to tear the wrapping paper as he peels off the tape. He has no memories of his childhood and likely never got to celebrate an actual christmas or even a birthday. I can’t imagine the mind trip of knowing what those events are and having a strange familiarity from the base level knowledge and yet never having experienced the magical warm feeling that comes from receiving a gift. That would probably make him cherish every gift he ever got, something put together from someone who loves him. Being seen as a monster or weapon by the system, he would consider being given a gift prepared thoughtfully as the most humanising experience ever. He would feel seen and understood in ways he never allowed himself to be.

nsfw warning

Now that that’s out of the way, I was thinking about the fic I wanted to write after seeing all the gift wrapped kdj fan arts. Maybe there was a penalty leading to kdj being wrapped tightly in ribbon, covering all the important parts. Imagine kdj whimpering in pain as yjh takes in the sight before him. Him carefully unravelling the ribbon, leaving the most sensitive parts to be unwrapped towards the end.

Dokja feeling overly sensitised by the ribbon rubbing against his body. Begging yjh to hurry up, so yjh covers his mouth with a ribbon finally being able to shut kdj’s smart mouth. Yjh kissing the ribbon over kdj’s mouth in a ghostly kiss, one that isn’t a real kiss but close enough to satiate the growing hunger in his veins. Imagine kdj egging him on, eyes defiant making yjh’s hands itch to do something with his hands. Punch him? He could but kdj would expect that so he’d rather do something that would catch kdj off guard. Something not even the prophet would see coming. Unravelling the ribbon he could give kdj momentary relief before tightly binding his hands with the same ribbon.

Did I mention kdj is already extremely overstimulated from the ribbon rubbing all over him? His chest is red from the friction of the soft ribbon. He’s losing his mind and at this point he needs to to do something, anything. He likes the feeling of yjh’s hands moving across his body sliding the ribbon off. Yjh’s hands brush across the ribbon between his legs, making him gasp and pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

And well…once the ribbons are all off I’ll leave the rest to everyone’s imagination XD

[bo0neey]

Smile! You're on TV

°●.°•*.•.○*•°

Pairing: Katniss x Reader, slight Effie x Reader

Fandom: The Hunger Games.

Synopsis: Congratulations! Your survived the Hunger games. As a Victor it's your job to secure the lives of your Tributes. But don't be disheartened by reputation, statistically district 12 has the same odds as every other district. Better yet, your Tribute this year actually looks promising. !Warning. Growing attached is for audiences only!

Type: Multi-Chapter

°●.°•*.•.○*•°

Chapter 1

°●.°•*.•.○*•°

"So. Y/n."

My sight is blinded. Bright lights strike me down, but it's not unusual, not unexpected by any means. Rather, I'd grown used to the spotlight. It gave me a strange sense of comfort because while I was under the scrutiny of many, I was also safe from the hands of others. Despite the brightness, I can still make out the blue haired man infront of me.

"Last years tributes barely lasted the blood bath."

Of course I'd have to be reminded of those lifeless faces; innocent eyes I'd never meet again with small voices only present in memories. They were so young. Always so young and will forever be young. 13 and 14 last year. 12 and 17 the year before. I remember all of them. Every single child I meet every single year. Even when the cameras stop rolling and the public forget, those stolen lives will weigh on my heart every day.

"With this years reaping just arround the corner, how are you feeling about your odds?"

I mentally curse Haymitch for not being here with me. He always got to miss public pleasing. I sat alone on the large velvet seating. I was the only Victor from 12 that they wanted on the show. I hated it. All of it. They call me a Victor but I've never felt like one.

"Well Caesar, twelves certainly not known for their performance but I'm feeling confident this year. I really think this seventy-fourth year might be ours." With years of practice, I site some generic response and put on my famous smile. Like every time before I twke the cheers as my que to turn and wave to the void of cameras and silhouettes.

"I hear this year marks your tenth anniversary! Let's take a trip down memory lane."

They begin rolling clips from my time in the arena. They span right from the first night up until I was shipped back to the capitol. While I couldn't bare to watch those faces again, every voice took me back to that dreaded fortnight. I only won because the Capitol showered me in donations. It should've been the boy from 4. Or even 6. While in the begining I was glad. I've grown to resent them. I've begun to envy them even. I wouldnt wish this life on anyone.

'Play the game and you'll be rewarded.' Thats what haymitch slurred the first night on the train. He was right, as usual. He's a smart man when he's not drowning in his own vomit although i do sometimes worry he's rotting that brain away.

"Amazing isn't she!" Caesar yells into the crowd. A mix of cheers and sobs come from the faceless mass.

"And while were all feeling nostalgic, let's rewatch the reaping shall we?"

It was sick. Hearing the response from the crowd and the glee in Caesars voice. I turn my attention to the screen and feel my eyes prick. I see a young girl gleefully skip onto the stage. Shes utterly clueless of the horrors waiting for her. Shes helpless to stop the world waiting for her. I want to scream, I want to scoop her up and protect her. I want to rip that stupid dress off her and wipe the makeup off.

But I also know how much she wanted it. I know how long she spent applying old colours to her face and how excited she was when her mother gifted her the dress for her first reaping. I know how much she wqnted to be a pretty girl on the screen. It would be cruel to take that away from her. She stands on the stage with such pride and cheerfulness, its no wonder the Capitol fell for her.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

I quickly blink my eyes. Ah, yes. This years reaping.

I scan my heavy eyes over the quiet crowd to see this Primrose only noone moves. Its deathly silent. Slowly a young girl begins to step forwards. I feel my heart drop. She's so small. So young. So scared. I want nothing more then to hug the poor girl. Her death has just been called and the only comfort she'll receive is a large camera pointed at her face.

Another young girl on my conscience, ten years running. I want nothing more to forget. To live in ignorance. But the only way to fight against this sick game is to remember. Keep these children perfectly preserved and alive somewhere. Even if I'll never get to see such lively souls grow into the adults they should.

[asthedeathoflight]

A Gentle Sound (the Rolling in the Graves) pt 4

Pt 1 Pt 3

Surprise! I've actually had this chapter written for like more than a month because I got excited and started writing Rembrandt pov when I wasn't done with Cowgirl's yet. Let's talk worldbuilding! There's no actual advancement of the plot in this one lol it's just Rembrandt backstory.

- - -

Humans have many theories on the ecology of sirens. Rembrandt, in her limited and singular experience, cannot consider herself a truly objective source on sirendom. Nevertheless, she feels fairly comfortable in saying that most human theories about sirens are wrong. This is because, among the myriad of things humans are amusingly wrong about, they are most wrong about desire. 

What is desire, to a siren? Impossible question. Rembrandt can no more define desire than she can define sound. The real question, then, is what is desire to a human?

Humans are reaching, needy creatures. Always grasping for each other in their blindness, unable to comprehend the great cacophony of their being. Humans ascribe a malicious otherness to the magnetism they feel in siren song. A siren’s song, so the story goes, engenders desire in the human mind, irresistibly drawing them towards something they would never usually want. 

This is, in Rembrandt’s opinion, a cute way to think about it. 

Here is what Rembrandt knows about singing: it’s actually more like echolocation. Rembrandt can feel desire thrumming beneath the skin of every living thing - hunger, fear, lust. Everything which is alive wants something. Human beings, especially. They want so elaborately, so desperately, like they would die to go without. And when humans hear her wanting - her longing, her curiosity - they, as social creatures, instinctively reach out for it. 

This is what Rembrandt has learned in her time bewitching humans: you have to climb the side of the boat before you open your mouth. 

Either that, or you have to not want the humans to be closer to you, and sirens are legendarily unequipped for not wanting. 

Rembrandt has attempted to broach the subject of echolocation with other sirens, when they cross paths. They are mostly uninterested. Human language is a tool. Who cares what terms they have come up with to classify an underwater world they will never truly understand? Who has ever wanted something like echolocation?

These are the words they know, in every language spoken by any human who lives by the water: turn back, look away, forget. In the shadows of fishing nets, in the long memories of sirens who remember what the sea used to be: come closer, jump, breathe in. 

It’s an art, or a sport, to look long and deep enough at a human mind to draw out the basal want which undergirds every other aspect of them. There are, after all, a potentially infinite supply of humans on potentially infinite beaches, with infinite desire pumping away in their chests. They want to be remembered, to be loved, to be looked at and admired and coveted. Rembrandt isn’t sure what the goal of this game is. She doesn’t like the words associated with it. I love you. I have the answer. You’ll never be scared again. This one especially, a phrase of English that she finds so morbid as to ruin her appetite for a week: You’ll never want for anything ever again. 

So Rembrandt is strange and off-putting twice over, never quite satisfied with the idle amusements of her kinfolk. But Rembrandt has her own games, and has learned to be quite good at them.

Here is what Rembrandt knows: there is a type of boat which can be found in virtually any ocean which contains a type of human who all have the same bright hummingbird flutter of excitement in them, and the only words they want to hear from Rembrandt are, Tell me everything you know.

So Rembrandt knows about echolocation. And radar. And fluid dynamics. She knows about benthic worms and seastar wasting disease and dolphins - she knows more than humans do about dolphins, but that seems rude to point out. And knowing all these things is good because it means she can ask the next human more specific questions, even if she’s starting to encounter more and more skepticism that, yes, she does understand the evolutionary relationship between osteichthyes and sarcopterygii, and no, they don’t need to explain that to her. 

The humans sob into her arms sometimes, like she could hold their apologies. Rembrandt wants to say she's not an angel, she doesn't speak for the waves, but some of them have been out on the water for a long time trying to help, and the sea has never spoken back before. So she holds them, and she brings them gifts of cracked purple sea urchin because a fisherman in the South Pacific taught her that they’re bad for kelp forests but you can eat the soft yellow insides, and she extends her memory of the sweet white flesh of the lionfish she was offered by a diver in the Bahamas into the minds of sharks. 

And this is how she lives. Most of the time. 

- - - 

Ajax doesn’t remember how they met. This was unintentional on Rembrandt’s part. Humans who have never encountered a siren before tend to have difficulty reconciling the memory with the rest of their life. The few humans she’s run into more than once usually believe that she was a particularly detailed dream they once had. The amnesia varies in intensity based on how strongly the humans are affected by her presence. And Ajax, well. Ajax had taken it pretty hard. 

Rembrandt had just been bored that day, because it was winter and there was a storm off past the coast and there weren’t any boats out and the docks were empty. Or, well, she’d thought they were empty. She had been singing, yes, that’s her bad, but she was just trying to echolocate whether there were any humans slightly further inland that she could convince to come talk to her for a little while. She doesn’t know why Ajax was fucking about on the pier. Ajax doesn’t remember. 

Unless the siren is intentionally trying to communicate a specific desire to a human, humans only hear in siren song what they bring to it. They reflect back onto it with their own wanting. And god, Ajax wanted. There was an empty, ravenous ache in Ajax that Rembrandt’s song echoed in, and Rembrandt had felt how unprepared Ajax was to feel it. How apart from it she had tried to keep herself. How thoroughly Rembrandt had cracked through where she’d iced over that pain years ago. 

And Rembrandt will take a lot of accusations from humans but she objects to uncompassionate because she had pulled herself out of the water and come up onto the pier to make sure whoever she’d heard was okay. 

Ajax had a headache, and she was disoriented. Rembrandt sat with her on the ground until she’d gotten her wits about herself enough to decide she probably hadn’t drank enough water that day and kind of embarrassedly snap at Rembrandt to quit fuckin’ hoverin’ because she was fine and stomp off. And Rembrandt thought that was probably just a lesson in being more careful around humans because they had such delicate minds, yes, capable of incredible things but so easily bruised. 

Except that Ajax came back. She didn’t know why, but a few days later she sat down on an empty dock and stared out into the water, frowning. She hadn’t quite managed to put a lid on the depth of her wanting, and she couldn’t remember anything about what she wanted other than it was down by the docks. 

Humans think sirens have the monopoly on compulsion. They’re too self-centered to imagine the sword could cut both ways. Once Rembrandt had heard Ajax, she couldn't unhear her. And when Ajax wanted her, Rembrandt couldn't stay away. 

And Ajax really did want her, was the thing. Ajax liked hearing her talk. Ajax liked that she got overexcited talking about coral and she even sometimes agreed to eat small pieces of the fish Rembrandt was eating, even if she mostly didn't like them. Ajax had that hummingbird curiosity in her too, even if she didn't know it. Rembrandt could feel her fear and her uncertainty, her sense that she was unremarkable and Rembrandt was extraordinary, and eventually Rembrandt would realize that and leave her. Ajax didn't understand, couldn't understand, how completely she had Rembrandt at her beck and call. What did humans say? Hook, line, and sinker. 

Rembrandt thinks if humans knew how vulnerable sirens were to the simple joy of being wanted, they'd never be afraid of them again.

- - -

Thank you for coming to my fish autism ted talk. I'll see you in a week for Rembrandt's continuing adventures in trying to socialize with humans.