#i hope this doesn't come off as too forward but I do wonder. based on my own life (which I'm not trying to say is the same)

[bookwyrminspiration]

ah! i forget sometimes not everyone knows abt the khmer rouge haha--ofc i don't know it in great detail but again another way my parents were different, where most other people we know who went through the same thing are pretty closed off to their kids abt what happened they told us a lot of stories about what it was like living there both before and after the regime. so many crazy impossible stories of survival it's kind of hard to think anything else compares? it was basically just the cpk, communist regime/party, took over after winning the civil war, forced everyone into labor camps, and destroyed anything that came from other countries (especially america and other western countries) because the party i guess wanted to declare that cambodia was better and they could survive without outside help? so people who weren't fully cambodian, who spoke other languages, who were more educated etc were much more likely to be killed. and both my parents were chinese cambodian, but my dad was like. really little when it was all going down so he only knew mandarin until he was taught + he stayed a lot longer than my mother did. thing i think about a lot, unrelated to language but i just think you would find it interesting, is during that time money became nothing--because the regime was controlling everything anyway and all non-soldiers got equal amounts of very little--so in lieu of paper/metal currency people would trade in salt. in the 1970s. it's both like wow so interesting i could use this in my classed (and DID. so many times <3 it can't be said i don't use the inherited khmer trauma to my advantage) and also just, dude, that was the 70s. the rest of the world was kind of just like. chilling in their normal 1970s events. elvis was probably still alive.

Thank you very much for the impromptu history lesson, I know I could've looked it up myself (and I do intend to do more research on my own, don't worry, I don't intent to make you my sole source), but I figured you could better articulate which parts specifically related to what we were talking about. which you did with the mandarin comment

I have an ongoing list of things to research and look into in general, and I have now added the khmer rouge to said list. I'm not super rigorous with it, so I don't know when I'll get around to this topic, but I do intend to. It seems like an important event to be aware of on several levels--though that is, of course, an understatement. It's kinda hard to capture all the horrors and reactions to them in words. Like saying "my condolences to your parents for being under a life-threatening oppressive regime" doesn't feel like it covers everything, but how do I cover everything?

You are right though, that salt thing is very interesting. I'm very curious how that worked--was salt in short, demanded supply? How much was it worth that it could replace money? I suppose those are questions to be investigated with my research :)

Also! Looked it up, and Elvis would've still been alive. Died in 1977, so depending on when exactly in the 70s we're talking, you are entirely right he'd still be alive. Again, thank you very much for the overview, I don't know if I would've heard about it otherwise if you hadn't brought it up, so I appreciate it

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Handled.

You and Chibs have been walking the line for a little too long.

Pairing - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention.

Word Count - 1.5k ish??

Author's Note - I can only apologise for the wild gif, but I saw it and couldn't not use it. this fic is based on this request!! thank you for this message my love - it sparked so many thoughts. I made chibs a little sweeter than I meant to, oops.

Masterlist. Inbox.

The wind whips through your hair as you speed down the road, sunlight beaming down and warming you both.

You have your helmet tightly strapped on your head, a gift from the man currently in front of you on the bike. He'd grumbled as he'd given it to you, mumbling something about someone has to keep you fuckin' safe and last thing we need is an injury to your pretty face.

It's a complicated relationship you have, to say the least. You're not together. No, Chibs is still technically married to Fiona, and he's not exactly the boyfriend type. You're not sure what you want, reluctant to commit to dating a member of the club and all of the danger that comes along with it.

So, you dance the line. The two of you flirt, laughing and touching. You get close, and then you pull away. You wonder if one day, he'll just crack. He knows that if he starts something, he'll have to finish it. He's not a man who works in halves.

Chibs occasionally takes a hand off the handlebars to squeeze your thigh, a silent communication. He's asking are you okay? And you're reaching forward to squeeze his in reply, answering yeah, I am.

Your arms are wrapped around his middle, safe and secure. You can feel the taut muscles of his back and shoulders through the leather jacket that you're pressed against. You know how big he is - tall and broad and unwavering in the face of danger. He's ruthless, and it turns you on. It probably shouldn't, but it does.

The next time he reaches back to squeeze your thigh, you graze your fingernails along the muscle of his before squeezing back much further up. You feel the tension instantly, his back tightening in front of you. You smirk and hold on again, acting like nothing happened.

He's curious, now. Testing the waters. He squeezes your leg again, firmly, and you squeeze back so high that your fingertips graze his bulge. His breath hitches, and you feel it. You grin.

He pinches your thigh this time, sharply. A warning.

One that you ignore. You dance your fingertips higher, lightly stroking across the tent in his jeans, nails scraping the denim. He hums, low and dangerous, vibrations rumbling through the both of you.

You return your hands to his torso, clinging on tightly as you curve around the bends, scenery flying by. You're back at the clubhouse before you know it, the journey as quick as the blink of an eye.

You act like nothing has happened as you get off the bike. You know the two of you have just crossed a line, moving from friendship to something more. You don't want to address it. So, you hang your helmet onto the handlebars and go to walk away, in desperate need of a drink.

A strong hand grabs your wrist, spinning you back around. You collide with a hard chest, a soft oof leaving you. Chibs looks you up and down slowly, gaze raking across your body and stopping at your mouth. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip before pulling you in closer, hands snaking around your back.

"Where do you think you're goin'?"

You take a deep breath and exhale it in a shudder.

"... Inside?"

"Nuh uh," he tuts, tracing patterns across your skin absentmindedly. "You don't get to pull a stunt like that and just walk away."

You decide to play clueless, hoping it'll get you off easier.

"A stunt like what?"

He pulls you in closer again, so your bodies are pressed against each other. No space between you.

"Oh, sweetheart. This innocent act might work on other people, but it doesn't work on me. I see right through ya."

You find a shred of confidence from somewhere, determined to make him sweat a little. You enjoy getting under his skin.

"And what do you see, Filip? Hmm?"

He smirks, mischievous and knowing.

"I see a strong, independent woman, who wants - no, sorry - needs, someone to put her in her place."

You raise your eyebrows at him, so he keeps going.

"You want to be broken apart and put back together again. You enjoy pushing my buttons, trying to get a rise from me, don't you? You think it's fun. But you've got no fuckin' idea about the things I want to do to you, honey. I'm not sure you want to know."

You're panting, now, your chest heaving with anticipation.

"Tell me," you whisper. "Tell me what you want to do to me. Please."

"Please? You wanna be polite now?"

You practically pout at him, big doe eyes begging him to just give in. But Filip Telford is nothing if not stubborn. He is, in fact, the most adamant person you've ever met.

"Chibs."

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Don't be mean."

"Mean? This ain't mean, baby. You're just used to everyone being sweet to you because you're pretty."

You smile, now. That's a pleasant surprise.

"You think I'm pretty?"

He rolls his eyes at you, chuckling.

"I think you know that by now."

"It's just nice to hear you say it."

He leans forward, pressing his mouth to your ear.

"You know what? Yeah. Let's go inside."

Chibs grabs your hand and leads you with him, pulling you at a quick pace across the yard. When you reach the door, he pulls it open for you, gesturing for you to enter first. Ever the gentleman.

The clubhouse is empty, which makes a change. The minute you’re inside, you feel two hands on your hips, pushing your back into the bar.

“You really wanna know?”

His accent has got thicker, tone low and dangerous.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please. Tell me.”

“You’ll never look at me the same,” he begins, leaning down to speak right into your ear. “When you hear what I want to do to you.. the things I’ve thought about… you won’t be able to look me in the eye, sweetheart.”

You chuckle, tilting your head back to look at his face.

“I think you underestimate me a little, Chibs. Wait until you hear the things I’ve thought about in bed at night, when I can’t sleep.”

He presses a kiss into your neck, nipping at it gently. You groan at the contact, tilting your head to give him better access. One of his hands trails down your side, popping the button on your jeans with ease.

“Gonna take the edge off,” he murmurs, “and then fuck you the way you deserve when I get you home. Alright?”

You nod frantically, gripping onto his biceps to keep you upright. You rest your head against his chest, taking a deep breath to calm down.

“Chibs?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Will you kiss me?”

He smiles at you, all genuine and soft for a moment.

“Yeah, babe. I’ll kiss you. Been waiting for you to ask for a long time.”

He adds the last part quietly, as if he’s embarrassed to say it out loud. He leans down and presses his lips to yours, more tender than you were expecting. You hum in contentment, opening up to let him slip his tongue in. He tilts your head back, licking into your mouth all filthy and debauched.

One of his hands slips into the front of your jeans, tracing you over your underwear. You both groan at the action, lips still connected.

“Fuck, sweetheart. This all for me, hmm?”

You nod almost instantly, resting your head back on his chest. Chibs slips his hand under your waistband, gathering your slick before sliding a finger inside with ease.

“Knew you’d feel like this. Wet and warm and tight and fuckin’ perfect.”

You whine, winding your hips down to chase any friction he’ll give you.

“You’re filthy, darlin’. Letting me finger you in the clubhouse, huh? What if someone walks in, hmm? What if someone sees you like this?”

“Don’t care,” you choke out. “More, please.”

He chuckles darkly, slipping another finger in while rubbing at your clit in circles with his thumb. Your knees buckle, shaking as you grab onto him for dear life.

“I’ve got ya,” he’s murmuring into your ear, crooking his fingers. “I’ve always got ya.”

He speeds up his movements, leaning in to press open mouthed kisses down your neck. He nips you with his teeth occasionally, making you whine all high pitched and breathy. You know you’re gonna smell like cigarettes and gasoline for the foreseeable future.

“You’re close, aren’t ya? Can feel it, pretty girl. Give it to me.”

Chibs snakes his unoccupied hand around your back, holding you up as your legs shake. You fall over the edge, gasping into his chest as he mutters sweet nothings.

“There we go, atta girl. Good fuckin’ girl, hmm?”

You’re nodding, collapsing forwards against him. He pulls his hand from your jeans and instantly puts his fingers in his mouth, making your knees even weaker.

“Kiss me,” you whisper once again.

He obliges, softly connecting your lips. It’s gentle and careful and much more loving than you were expecting, but you’re not complaining. Not in the slightest.

“Now, darlin’. I’m gonna stick you back on that bike, take you home, and fuck you like you deserve. Okay?”

“Okay,” you grin at him, laughing when he chuckles.

You’d have to be insane to deny an offer like that.

@just-a-girl-who-wrytes

[lis-likes-fics]

Poison

Pairings: Coriolanus Snow x district!Reader Word Count: 13.3k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, technically dubcon, swearing, post-ballad, mentions of killing and death, violence, technically prostitution, oral (m and f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, sadistic tendencies, p in v sex, unprotected sex, coriolanus snow is NOT a good person. A/N: I started this a bit ago but writer's block hits hard. Reader did not remember who the enemy was...but she also kinda did. ANYWAy, I wrote this based around a song from Hazbin Hotel called Poison. All credit for the song goes to Sam Haft and Andrew Underberg. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!

PART ONE: The Deal

The knocks which echo off the walls of your house are loud, firm, assertive. You jump at the sound, watching the door like it would fly off its hinges. For far too long, you stare at the door, debating whether or not you should open it.

Who could it be? You don't get many visitors… You don't get visitors.

You stand slowly, the hairs along your arms and the back of your neck on edge. You swear that you can feel your hands shaking. You hold your breath just so you can actually hear what's going on around you.

Another firm knock is given, and you snap out of your haze.

Your feet carry you across the length of the living room. Your fingers brush the cold knob of the door, and you hesitate before pulling it open, just enough to peek through the crack to see who could possibly be visiting you.

Your eyes widen and you fight the urge to step back, both of pure shock and a modicum of fear. “Mr. Snow.”

The sight of Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow at your door was not one you ever thought you'd see. There are two Peacekeepers behind him, holding their guns tight in offense against you.

You clear your throat, looking upon his expensive suit, his white-blonde hair, the single rose in his breast pocket. You force yourself to look him in the eye, afraid to antagonize him and risk any violence, before remembering who he was. He wouldn't get violent, but you would pay for it if you angered him.

He smiles when you finally meet his gaze, but he doesn't bother to tilt his chin down to level it. “Hello,” he greets politely.

You straighten your posture slightly, opening the door a bit more out of obligation more than a desire to welcome him in. Seeing that he is the man who designed the Games that put you through hell, you would rather keep him out.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, keeping your voice as non-confrontational as possible. “Sir.”

He shrugs, pulling his hands from the pocket of his jacket and holding them behind his back. He almost seems taller this way.

“Checking up on our latest Victor,” he smiles. He motions toward your living room, “May I come in?”

You don't have much of a choice now. With a sigh, you take a reluctant step to the side and grant his invitation. When he takes his first step forward and the Peacekeepers begin to move, he stops immediately and holds up a hand. They stand firmly in their place. Snow turns back to you, smiles, and then walks inside.

He takes the time to examine the place before he ever speaks, and you close the door behind him to shut the grunts out. Snow clasps his hands behind his back once more and glances around the room like it's speaking to him. He nods slowly, humming to himself.

“How are you?” he finally asks after you've both spent far too long in uncomfortable silence. “How is the life of a champion suiting you?”

You try not to scoff, bowing your head and crossing your arms over your chest, making yourself as small as you feel.

“Well enough, I guess,” you mumble.

He glances over his shoulder at you. “You guess?” he wonders, raising a curious brow.

You clench your jaw once, “Mr. Snow respectfully, why are you here?”

He shrugs. “As I said…checking on our Victor.”

You hum. “And you do this with all your Victors?”

The corner of his lip kicks, barely perceptible if you aren't paying attention. But you are. It would cost you a lot not to pay attention.

“That's the routine,” he says. His eyes wander around the room once more, falling back on you with a cold expression. His eyes are like frost, and you shudder at the sight of them. He tilts his head.

“You don't seem quite happy with your turnout,” he suggests, his eyes narrowing slightly in a questioning manner. You feel like your blood has just run cold. The anxiety seeps into your skin. “Why is that?”

You clench your jaw nervously, clearing your throat as you shrug. You tear your eyes away from him for just a moment and force yourself to look back immediately after.

Your voice is small and your attempt at lying fails because of it. “Why wouldn't I be happy?” you ask. “I have…” You glance around, trying to find something to point out before you seem too suspicious—uselessly, you already know you've been caught red-handed. “I have...a new house and—and prize money. And fans, apparently.”

You try not to be too disgusted by that—fans gained with the useless slaughter of children. A few months you've been out of that arena. And you still see the faces of all those children in your head wherever you go, the sounds of regret and their deaths deafened by the screaming cheers of the mindless crowd that celebrated you for it.

“I'm…” you take a breath, “all set.”

He doesn't believe you. Why would he?

“Yet you've barely moved in,” he points out, making a small circle in the place where he stands. He holds his arms out, as if to emphasize his point. “No pictures, little to no personal belongings. This house looks exactly as it did when you first moved in.”

You furrow your brows, tilting your head slightly. “You know what it looked like?” you question, a gentle and hopefully empty challenge.

He raises a brow. “I was the one who approved everything here. For your comfort, of course.”

Ah.

“No one lives here with you?” he wonders.

You shake your head tentatively. “No one to live with.”

His brows raise slightly. “No family? Friends?”

You clear your throat and shake your head once more.

He hums. “A little lonely, don't you think?”

You shrug, your arms crossing tighter over your chest as you turn slightly away. “I'm used to being alone.”

His eyes scan you up and down. “That's quite sad.”

You swallow thickly. “Doesn't matter to me.”

“Here you are all alone in your little District 7,” he says. The way he looks at you, his predatory gaze, it makes you feel so small. But his voice is soft, not as mocking as it should sound compared to his diction. “No friends, no family, and no care about the way it all is.”

You want him to leave, leave you alone to your loneliness, your quiet misery. If he is just going to stand there and call you an outcast, you don't see any reason that he should stay.

“Yeah. Your point?” You don't mean to sound so hostile but you couldn't help it.

He seems to smirk. “How would you like to change that?”

You could have gotten whiplash. You blink rapidly, licking your lip as you try to figure out if you heard him correctly. “What?” you ask.

“How would you like to change that?” So you had heard him right. “Be a little less lonely, You'd have money, friends, all of your needs would be taken care of.”

You don't trust him. Why should you? Why would Coriolanus Snow offer you all of this? Comfort and stability, a life of luxury?

At what cost?

“And you're offering this to me, why?” Attempting a little boldness, you uncross your arms and straighten your spine a bit. “What did I do? I mean…” you scoff, “I won, sure, but only by the skin of my teeth. And I'm sure you don't go around offering this to all your other Victors. What's so special about me, huh?”

There's a long silence where he just…stares at you. His face is completely unreadable, devoid of any type of emotion as he watches your face too closely.

Then a smile begins to curl his lips and he tilts his chin up just a slight. “You're right,” he says simply. Then his eyes look you up and down. “Truth is, I lied.”

You don't like the change in demeanor. It's a different kind of superiority than the one he displayed before. “I figured as much,” you reply, trying not to lose your confidence, though your voice does become a little quieter. “So what do you want? Why are you here?”

He tilts his head and steps toward you. You take an instinctive step back. “You're special,” he says. You scoff but he just shakes his head. “I can feel it. I wasn't lying about my offer. I came to give you more than…” he looks around and sighs, “an empty house with no pictures on the walls. As I said…all your needs would be taken care of.” The smallest shrug raises his shoulders. “With a price.”

There it is.

Again, you scoff. You cross your arms and roll your eyes and plop down on the couch. “Have I not paid enough?”

He walks toward you, and suddenly you regret putting yourself in such a physically vulnerable situation. “You're right,” he hums. “You have. I'm not asking much. Truth is…all I need is an assistant.”

You furrow your brow. “And you're choosing someone from District instead of Capitol?”

He takes a slow breath in, shrugging. “You suit my interests. Capitol does not.”

“So I have to, what, follow you around? Take orders from you?” You lick your lip. “And I get what exactly?”

He takes his hands from his pockets. “Shelter, money, a sprinkle of fame. Anything you could ever need or want.” He stops a moment, thinking to himself with a light hum. “You'd have to sign a contract, of course.”

You sigh, a million thoughts rushing through your head as you actually consider his offer. This is the man who literally designed your hell. He is one of the very people who forced you to fight for survival, to kill for it. For months, you've lived with nightmares full of slaughter and regret.

But for years, you've lived with isolation and solitude. He would give you everything. Shelter, money, a sprinkle of fame. A chance to start over, a chance to be a little less lonely.

But you are all too aware of the chance that this could all blow up in your face. This is Coriolanus Snow. He's not to be trusted, surely.

“And if I say no?”

He stands still for a moment, so still you wonder if he'd frozen in time. You have to urge yourself to hold his gaze. You can't seem afraid of him, you just can't.

Finally, Snow lets out a long sigh. He steps close, before turning and sitting next to you on the couch. He leans back, getting comfortable as he crosses his legs and sets his hands in his lap.

“Then you stay here,” he says plainly, shrugging before letting his gaze wander around the living room of this hollow home. “In this big…empty house.”

This big empty house. Your grand solitude.

Knowing the things you know now, you wish you could say that you would go back and change your decision. You wish you could say you'd go back and choose your loneliness over the dark nights you'd sucked yourself into.

You made a deal with the Devil. And you know that if you had the choice…you'd do it again.

I'm not above a love to cash in…

~

PART TWO: Paradise

A week later, you found yourself standing in the Capitol, in Coriolanus Snow’s office, with a contract and a pen in front of you. You scanned over the words, took a deep breath, picked up the pen, and signed your name on the dotted line at the bottom.

Snow gave you a large smile and sent an escort to show you to your new living quarters. In his house. Down the hall from his room.

And for the next couple of weeks, you've been to two separate welcome parties, two other Capitol parties, and six meetings as Snow’s new assistant. You've handled messages, documents, scheduling, and a variety of appointed tasks that have put you in positions so far above so many Capitol members, you briefly wonder if you've signed into a scam.

At first, there was…resistance among the people. There were insults that you were an animal, a bottom feeder, a whore, a parasite. But every person who had dared to insult you had gone missing the next day. No one made any questions, or remarks, after so many people mysteriously disappeared.

And, soon, you got comfortable. Because Snow held up his end of the bargain. You were comfortable, wealthy, made some friends who had taken a moment to get used to you (you suspect they're trying to be nice to you to earn favor from Snow, but at least you aren't being insulted anymore). You don't go hungry every night, you always have fresh clothes. Sure, your schedule was a bit stressful, but that was an adjustment that could be made. Asking for more would be selfish—and insane, what more could you want?

You were, on the levels that counted…happy, content.

In just a few weeks, you had settled in like you belonged. Well…maybe not to that extent, but the work became easy and the needless parties were much appreciated.

When someone knocks on your door, you're pulling your robe over your body as you walk over to answer it. One of the servants stands on the other side, looking tired from the day's work.

“Yes, Charlotta?”

“Mr. Snow has requested your presence in his study, ma'am,” she says.

You glance behind you at the clock in your room. “Now? It's so late.” You hum, “Alright, thank you. Go to bed. You must be exhausted.”

She nods thankfully and turns away. You're quick to pull your slippers on, pulling your robe tight around your nightgown before rushing down the hall. You don't want to be late to him.

You reach his door down the hall, taking in a breath and raising your fist. Your knuckles meet the door four times.

“Come in,” His muffled reply comes.

You turn the knob, opening the door. Peaking into the room, you slowly walk inside, standing by the door. “You called?” you speak gently.

Snow is slouched over his desk, his pen scrawling away at a file of papers in front of him. “I did,” he nods. There's a moment of silence between you as he finishes up the last part of his work.

He sets his pen down and sits up, his back straight as he sets his clasped hand over his lap and turns his full attention to you. “I have an urgent matter I need you to take care of.”

You close the door behind you, establishing some privacy. It must be important if he's asking you this late. He probably needs you to run some important documents to someone, or schedule another meeting with one of the ambassadors that came to one of his meetings today.

“Yes, sir?” you ask.

“Come here,” he says, making a come hither movement with his fingers. Clasping your hands behind your back, you walk toward his desk and stop in front of him. He clarifies, “Behind the desk.”

You tilt your head, your brows furrowing as you hesitate. You begin to take your first step, pause, and then make your way behind the desk.

He turns his chair as you come to stand in front of him, your hands held tightly in front of you. He sits there, staring up at you as his eyes rake over your body.

You shift from foot to foot, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about the way he's looking at you. And again…silence.

“Get on your knees.”

All the heat escapes your body at the same time. A chill rushes up your spine. And once the initial shock has dissipated, a fire spreads across your flesh and you're burning up. You feel like your hands have begun shaking, so you shift them behind your back.

You have to find your voice again, clearing your throat timidly. “Sir?” you nearly stutter, clearing your throat again.

He shakes his head, amused by the timid look on your face. “I didn't stutter.”

You don't move, shocked to stillness. Snow sighs, standing to his feet and moving in front of you. He holds his chin up, looking down his nose at you to emphasize his superiority. You shrink underneath him.

“You're my assistant. You signed a contract,” he explains. “I take care of your needs, you take care of mine. No matter the request.”

You really should have read the fine print.

“Right now,” he continues, raising a hand to brush his knuckles over your cheek. Your eyes flutter lightly at the contact, holding your breath, afraid to breathe wrong and upset him. “My needs are for you to get on your knees and put your pretty mouth to good use. Then I'll do the same for you.”

Another shudder rushes through your spine. He pretends not to notice, but his smirk does deepen. Your lips part as you try to speak, unsure of what you'll say. “I…”

He drops his hand, lifting a brow expectantly. “Is there a problem?”

You clear your throat one more time, shaking your head and glancing away from his eyes, his intense, cutting blue eyes. “No, sir.”

He smiles. “Good.”

You glance up at him. His hand reaches up and grasps your chin. In the next moment, he's pulling you in as his lips crash down against yours. It's a possessive kiss, deep and devouring—controlling.

You have no choice but to kiss him back, letting your hands fall at your sides and lifting them up to his arms. You don't know where you're supposed to put them.

Just as you're leaning into the kiss, he pulls away from you and takes a step back. His lips, still parted and smiling, are wicked. He lowers himself into his seat, his legs wide open and his hands clasped in front of him. “As you were.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Taking an unsteady step forward, you slowly kneel to the floor. You hold your breath, avoiding his gaze as your shaky hands reach for his belt.

You undo it, pulling open his button and unzipping his pants. Exhaling, you nervously dip your hand into his pants and feel the warmth of his length against the pad of your fingers. You shudder, braving him as you pull him out of his pants.

And he doesn't disappoint.

Your eyes widen and you don't feel like it's real as you hold him in one hand. He's long with a nice enough girth that he will stretch you a bit. You curse under your breath, licking your lips as you glance up at Snow.

He smiles, watching you closely. Suddenly you feel naked. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, not cruelly.

You tear your gaze away from him, looking back down at the pink tip of his cock. You let your lips part and let your tongue fall to the edge of your lip…

~

The soft red light of Coryo’s lamp glows dimly on your skin as his strong hand cards through your hair, balling into a fist to grip your locks at his own need. Your moans stutter deep in your throat where his cock sits, the tears spring to your eyes.

His tongue plunges inside of you, licking the honey from your folds as you arch your back and moan his name. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans into you at the sting of his scalp from your insistent grasp.

His lips press kisses to your back as you white-knuckle the headboard of his bed. His fingers dig into your hips, creating crescents in your flesh that crater your skin. He fucks you in long, hard strokes of his cock. His teeth are bared like a beast, his hair falls over his forehead, his groans are rough with lust.

The crashing of waves drowns you, explosions are set off deep within your body. His liquor fills your mouth, your throat, your belly. It's warm and sating, and he pulls you close to make sure you never stray from his hold.

And through the night, his arms never leave your body, his claws never leave your flesh…

~

It wasn't hard to get cocky after that. The Capitol was lavish, and it had a way of turning people to bathe in the lap of luxury. You slowly began to learn what kind of position you truly held here, and after months of being high-seated in the Capitol, you had begun to sink into your role.

Snow is the Head Gamemaker, you are his assistant. Everyone had to listen to you if they wanted to make it back home safe to their families. With a whisper in your boss’ ear, you could ensure no one ever spoke badly about you again.

Not that you have exercised that power yet, but you could. And Snow was happy to oblige.

After that first night in his room, your lips around his cock, his hand tangled in your hair, the pleasure didn't end. No, it's normal to find yourself tangled in his sheets, to find your head buried between his thighs (or vice versa), to have his name falling from your lips like you were praying to the gods that men had killed years and years ago.

You've become addicted to the taste of Snow, the smell of Snow, the feeling of Snow. It's an easy thing to overdose on.

Should you have been more careful?

Yes. Yes, you should have.

But Snow is an easy thing to get high on.

Katri spots you through the luscious crowd of one of the Capitol’s many needless parties with ease. Surrounded by nobles and benefactors, you brought your flute of champagne to your lips with a smile. A giggle erupts from your throat at one of the party-goers’ jokes—one that you didn't find particularly funny, but you've gotten really good at pretending.

Katri walks up to you, a tray of champagne in hand as she does. “Ma'am?” You turn toward her, smiling and grabbing a fresh flute from her tray with thanks. She clears her throat, “Mr. Snow has requested your presence.”

You hum gratefully. “Alright, I'll be there in a moment.”

You begin to turn around again but she insists. “He says it's urgent. He wants you immediately.”

Ah, then he's pent up. You wave a hand dismissively, sticking to your response. “Well, tell Coryo I'm busy. I'll be there in a moment.” She gives you a hesitant look, and you smile. “He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it. Okay?”

She scoffs lightly, turning away. “Whatever you say.”

The anxiety in the air around her is palpable with the fact that she would have to return this news to Snow. She finds him in the same place she left him, surrounded by diplomats with his own—now empty—flute of champagne.

As she approaches him, he smiles politely. “Where is my little assistant?” he asks.

Katri clears her throat as she switches his glass out for a fresh one. “She said she'll be here in a moment.”

The shift in his attitude is so slight, it's easy to miss. But she notices the slight clench of his jaw, the faintest clutch of his fingers. “Did she now?” he questions, his head tilting a bit to the side.

She nods slowly, switching her tray to her other hand. “Her exact words were…” She clears her throat once more, not wanting to recite your words back to him. You must have been out of your mind. “ ‘Tell Coryo I'm busy. I'll be there in a moment.’ ”

He seems to know there's more to it because he bids her to continue. Her eyes glance away from him as she does. “She said, ‘He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it.’”

She can tell there's something else he wants to say but chooses not to as his smile becomes tight. “Thank you,” he says simply, politely.

She nods. “Yes, sir.” She walks away.

PART THREE: Reality

You smile a bit when you feel Coryo’s hand land on the side of your arm, grazing up the length of it to reach your shoulder. You look up at him, immediately noticing the stiffness of his grin.

I shoulda guessed that this would happen…

“Coryo,” you greet with a smile. He nods toward the people surrounding you, greeting them politely. He doesn't look at you, just begins to lead you away from them as he ducks his head nearer to your ear.

“My office.” His words are firm, with no room to refuse.

Still, like a fool, you say, “In a moment please? I–”

His smile does not falter, but his voice is a demand as he speaks through his teeth. His grip on your shoulder becomes tight. “Now.”

You clear your throat, your smile still intact but not as professionally kept as his own. You nod once, “Yes, sir.”

He walks away, but not in the direction of his office. You watch him leave, clearing your throat discreetly and dismissing yourself from those who try to speak to you. You go straight to his office, not daring to refuse him again.

When you're there, you find yourself pacing the length of the room uneasily, waiting for him to join you. But he doesn't join you, not immediately. He makes you wait, he makes you stir. You stew in your own anxieties, cursing yourself for being so stupid as to tell him to wait.

Him.

Coriolanus Snow.

He interrupts your thoughts ten minutes later—you know, you counted—opening the door and shutting it gently behind him. He doesn't meet your gaze as he walks past you dismissively. He rounds his desk, pulling open a drawer that holds his personal scotch.

In silence, he pours himself a glass. In silence, he takes a sip. In silence, he savors the taste on his tongue and refuses to look your way for even a second.

You bow your head as you wait for him to say something, anything.

And when he does speak, you suddenly wish he hadn't.

“You're ‘busy’?” he questions.

“Sir?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

He smiles, turning to finally look at you. “ ‘Tell Coryo I'm busy. He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it.’ ” He licks his bottom lip, scoffing as he shakes his head at your audacity. “You let those words come out of your mouth?”

You clear your throat as quietly as possible. “I…didn't think it was a big deal… I was on my way.”

He stares at you, unblinking. Then he takes another sip of his drink and sets it down again. He walks from behind his desk, rounding to the front and leaning against it.

“Do you think you're special or something?” He furrows his brow, as though he's confused. You want to sink into the floor, to let the world swallow you whole, to disappear. “What, because I fuck you, you can talk to me any way you want?”

He puts venom behind the word, enough force to ensure you felt it. You swallow thickly, wanting to step away but knowing that if you did that, you would only make matters worse.

“Look at me,” he demands. And immediately, you obey.

You speak quickly, trying to fix your mistake before it can get worse. “Coryo, I'm sorry. I–”

“You're not special,” he cuts you off, advancing toward you. He grabs your wrist, pulling it up sharp and pulling you close to his face, inches away. You can feel his breath on your cheeks. “I own you. You belong to me.” His voice is low, dangerous.

But you've still got some pride left over. And that would be your downfall…

“I don't ‘belong’ to an–”

“You're mine!” he exclaims, though he doesn't shout. There's force behind his words, and his voice raises to a more stern, more possessive growl as he shoves you back. You stumble to the floor, grunting from the pain that shoots up your arm from landing on your elbow. You look up at him, your eyes wide with fear.

I shoulda known it when I looked in your red hot eyes…

“That's what it says in your contract, or do you not remember?” He takes a step closer, standing over you. His voice is low and dangerous, but he has no use for yelling anymore as he speaks to you. “You take care of all my needs—no protests, no complaints. Those words say that you do whatever I want, whenever I want it, however I want it. And if you complain, I take away everything you know, drop you back in your sad little district, and put your name back in the raffle one hundred times over.”

You should have known it from the beginning. A deal so good had to come with a hell of a lot of strings. From the very beginning, he had been lying to you with the idea of a shiny new life.

Spewing all your red hot lies…

He stares at you, his jaw clenched, his breath slowing to a gentler seethe. He lifts his chin, collecting himself as he takes a steadying breath. He kneels in front of you, resting his elbow on his knee.

His voice is a whisper. “You belong to me.” His tone is final, definite. “If I say speak, you say?”

Your breath trembles with a mix of anger and fear as you look up at him, tears threatening to well in your eyes but refusing to breach the surface and give him the satisfaction. Your lips part, though you hardly give yourself space to speak.

“Yes, Coryo.”

“If I say jump, you say?”

“Yes, Coryo.”

His hand wraps around your throat, pulling you forward enough so that your faces are once again only inches apart. “And if I say open your mouth, you get on your knees and drop your jaw.”

You stare at him, your gaze so close to blurring as you sigh, choked up from his suddenly poor treatment of you. “Yes, Coryo.”

The smallest smirk creeps over his lips and threatens the rest of your already weak composure. He pulls you in and his lips press hungrily against yours. It's all teeth and tongue, biting your bottom lip and licking the top of your mouth. You want to resist, but you can't. His touch, however wrong, however killing, is addictive.

When he pulls away from your lips, you nearly seek him out, releasing a breath like he'd filled your lungs with smoke. Your skin picks with red hot spite at the tiny moan that slips through your lips.

He holds your throat a little tighter, not enough to stop your breath but enough to make the tips of your ears tingle. Enough to make the heat in your core grow.

“I own you,” he whispers. “You belong to me. Do I make myself clear?”

Your lips part and shallow breaths pass pathetically through them before you finally respond, a whisper of your own. “Yes, Coryo.”

“I can't hear you.”

“Yes…Coryo.”

His grip loosens. “Good.”

He lets you go, standing to his full height once more as you take in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as your hand flies to your throat.

You watch his hands find his belt, undoing it with deft hands. “Now open your mouth,” he commands.

You swallow thickly, slowly adjusting yourself to sit on your knees. You glance away as you drop your jaw and stick your tongue out over your teeth.

“Look me in the eyes.”

You do, immediately. His blue eyes, hiding so many lies behind them that they brim with color. “Good girl.”

Your jaw ticks as you raise your hands to pull his cock from his pants, already hard from the power he holds over you.

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself.

You wrap your lips around the tip, laving your tongue against the head before slipping it underneath him. Stroking the rest of you, you take special care in providing his pleasure as you let your lips suckle around him.

Up and down his length, you go, giving him your hot, wet mouth as he likes it—as he needs it. His hand tangles in your hair and grips it tight, guiding you just a bit to take him deeper down your throat. And you do. You take him as far as he'll go, keeping the gag awaiting at bay as you swallow around him.

I know you're poison. You're feeding me poison.

And when you think you've gone far enough, he holds you down and shoves the rest of him farther inside. Your lungs are tight, they burn with the lack of air. But you just hold onto his thighs and hope he grants you enough mercy for breath.

And when he pulls out enough for you to snatch that merciful breath, you can taste his precum on your tongue. And you waste no time in taking him again, up and down and up and down. Just like he likes it—just like he needs it.

He curses under his breath, holding you tighter as his desperation grows and grows. “Fuck, just like that,” he huffs, fighting to keep his eyes open as your tongue caresses the vein along the bottom of his cock.

His lips part, his eyes shut. He shoves you farther down on his cock as your good work pushes him over the edge. The warmth fills your mouth, down your throat in generous amounts of pent up stress. And you drink it up. Every drop. Like liquor.

Addicted to this feeling I can't help but swallow up…

You catch your breath as he collects himself once more, his chest heavy with the lust simmering down in his belly. He tucks himself away, back into his pants. And as he watches you, you lick your lips free of his poison.

He smiles wickedly, cupping your chin in his hand. “Good girl,” he praises again. You stare at him and say nothing else. He inhales, exhales, and straightens his back. “Come. We have a party to re-attend.”

You stand on unsteady feet, wiping your face clean just to ensure you aren't going back to the party with Snow’s cum on your lips.

He pulls his arm around your waist and leads you back.

At the first sight of you and Snow, the vultures swarm. “We were beginning to think you weren't coming back down,” one of them jokes.

Snow smiles, “Of course not. I just had some business to take care of. Isn't that right?” He turns to you expectantly.

You let your smile widen across your lips as you nod. “Yes, Coryo,” you say.

You can see the wicked beast glint happily in his eyes. Pleased, he turns away from you again to look at his hand, realizing it lacks the champagne flutes each of his guests hold in their hands. He smiles at you once more.

“Would you mind getting drinks for me and my guests?” he requests.

You avoid the clench of your jaw that you long to grant him, instead deciding to pull your smile into a wider grin and nod.

“Yes, Coryo.”

“Thank you,” he grins. He lifts a crooked finger to the underside of your chin, tapping it lightly. “And cheer up… It's a party.”

You give him a tight smile and walk away in the direction of the kitchens, which is currently bustling with people making another batch of the well-loved appetizers and refilling more glasses for the guests.

You pass by the champagne entirely to get to the, quite large, liquor cabinet. You pour yourself a hefty glass of scotch and gulp it down, braving the burn of your throat as you finish it with a sigh.

You replace the scotch, claim a tray, and walk out with the requested beverages. You hand them to Snow and his guest, a glorified waitress.

Taking your own flute, you hand the tray to a passing server and let the effects of the scotch sink into your bones.

You wouldn't call the rest of the night a blur, especially because you are completely aware of what was happening as you continued to mingle with the guests. You kept a hold of your wobbling tongue, and you remained civil and polite. Snow could tell there was something off—and of course he knew what it was—but you hadn't embarrassed him yet, so he let it slide.

And that night, when the guests took their leave and the party came to a close, you met Snow in his bedroom once more so he could more thoroughly remind you of who you belonged to.

And like the addict you are, you happily obliged.

~

PART FOUR: Lap Dog

You made sure not to forget your place again.

Weeks turned to months, months turned to years, and you were still seated at Snow's right hand as he climbed the ladder, dragging you along through the journey. You did everything for him, anything for him. That was your job. Whatever he asks of you is considered done as soon as the request passes his lips. Whatever he wants, whenever he wants, however he wants. No matter what.

You sold your soul to the Devil, and you were addicted to the madness of your deal.

“I need you to give this to Snow.”

You're stopped in the middle of the hall by some woman with a stack of files in her arms. She's got a smug face, and you immediately don't like her as she grabs the file at the top of her stack and thrusts it out toward you.

You sigh, taking it as you begin to flip it open. “What is it?”

She pinches the top corner closed, shaking her head. “It's not your business to know, is it?”

You scoff, smiling as you tilt your chin up. The same way Snow does when he wants to stress his rank over another person's head. “Actually,” you wave her hand away from you, “as President Snow's assistant, it is my job to know anything and everything about what goes to and from his desk.” You take a step toward her, looking down on her just as he would. “So I ask again, what is it?”

There's a long pause as she stares at you, her eyes dark with the hatred and prejudice that bleeds from her gaze. Capitol taking orders from District? It's unheard of…

You would think, since you've been here so long, that they'd learn that you rank higher than they ever will. They don't have to like you, but whether they like it or not, they have to listen to you.

It wasn't hard to become cocky, but cocky was something you learned. This woman, whoever she was, was born with it. And that was a plague that would be the end of her.

She huffs quietly. “It's the request he made for some documents.” Your brow furrows slightly. A mistake. Now she believes she knows something you don't. Now she believes she has the upper hand. Her tone betrays her. “Something about the Games’ Victors.”

You don't know what this is. You've heard nothing of the sort.

But she keeps saying “something”. You want specifics. Does she not have it? “You don't know?”

“Of course I know,” she lays a delicate hand over her delicate chest. For a moment, you wonder if she's ever had to do any kind of work (you know she hasn't). She wouldn't last a second…

“And I'd elaborate,” she continues, pulling you from your thoughts, “but I, quite frankly, don't want to tell you, and you probably couldn't read it to figure it out for yourself.” Your jaw tenses at her unfounded insult. You don't respond. “I mean, that's why you want me to explain it to you, isn't it?”

I got so good at being untrue.

You sigh forcefully, a long, deep sigh to try and control yourself. “Excuse me?” Does she truly dare to challenge you in such a way?

“You heard me,” she replies, unblinking.

Clearly, she thinks you're an idiot. A stupid, incompetent idiot. You want to take her words and shove them back down her throat. You want to grab her by the hair and drag her around like the dog she seems to think you are.

But you can't. You must remain civil, so the only way you can try to hurt her is through your words.

You don't need trouble with Snow for embarrassing him…

“Ah,” you scoff, lifting your chin again to keep your superiority. “So you're stupid?”

The blatant insult has her clutching her pearls. Obviously, she wasn't expecting that kind of bluntness from you.

You smirk at her reaction, no longer collected. You have the upper hand once more.

“You really think it's a good idea to talk to me like that? Me? President Snow's second hand?” You don't love playing that card, but it's a play that will almost always work for you.

No one would dare object to President Snow.

She hums, trying to seem unphased. “You're right,” she says, “I probably shouldn’t speak to Coriolanus Snow’s little pup like that.” Her face contorts into one of mocking sorrow, her lip jutting out and her brows furrowing. “She might get sad and go tell her master on me.”

Little pup. Little pup.

Flashes of late nights spent in Coryo’s room, nights where his stress gets the better of him and he decides to take it out on you, nights where he spanks you and calls you names and takes you hard and rough, cross behind your eyes. “My dumb little girl, my pathetic little whore, my pitiful little pup.”

And you would let him, you would encourage him. You would moan and writhe and bend to his will. And your fists tighten at the memory. They clench with rage and regret and the desire to be more than an animal.

You aren't an animal, you are a human fucking being.

I got so good at telling you what you wanna hear. I disassociate, disappear.

Baring your teeth and losing composure, you huff. You're seething as you speak. “I am not his pup.”

She chuckles, finally striking a nerve as she lifts her brows. “Aren't you? His little lap dog.” She puts emphasis on each word, ensuring the ‘G’ hurts. She walks toward you, but you don't move. You stand your ground. You aren't scared of her.

You're going to fucking kill her.

Foolishly, she continues on. “You think just because you won the Games and he decided to take pity on you, that gives you any real power?”

You scoff. Pity. He doesn't know the meaning of the word.

“You're his whore,” she spits. It doesn't anger you because it's true, it angers you because no one even knows about that part of your deal, and she's accusing you of being a whore because of who you are.

Her face is inches from yours, her voice trying to be lower, though it's so naturally snooty that it's hard to reach that threatening level. She sounds like a child. And her sneer makes you want to treat her like one.

“You're a fucking slut. Just a little District animal who got lucky.”

Your anger flares. You grit your teeth. You lower your voice, successfully, and nearly growl.

“You wanna say that again?”

She smirks wickedly. “You are a whore.”

You walk toward her. She's standing so close that she is forced to step back with the stutter of her heels scraping the floor.

“You forget,” your lips turn in a venomous smile, fueled by rage and violent tendencies you're trying your best to hold back, “I fucking won the Games. I killed tributes with my bare hands, and you want to challenge me?”

And you see the flash of fear behind her eyes at the reminder, though she tries to hide it. But you know fear. You've felt it slice your flesh, you've used it to slice other's flesh. You know the biting and the tearing and the clawing of fear, and you can see it clear in her eyes even as she tries so hard to hide it.

Being afraid is the smartest thing she's done since she decided to open her mouth.

“You aren't going to do anything,” she says, as a defense more than an accusation, a reassurance for herself more than a taunt for you. “You'll just tuck tail and run to master–”

You're done being civil. You're done rolling over and showing your belly. You're done bowing your head and taking orders.

If they are going to treat you like an animal, you'll behave like one.

And she meets the blunt end of your rage with a fist to the face. Stacks of files smack loudly in a pile on the floor. You clip her cheek with the ring on your finger, and you huff at the pleasure that comes with defending yourself.

Her face whips to the side. It's a full body reaction. She staggers, crying out as her hand flies to her face, unable to take the heat of your violence. She looks back at you, her eyes wide with fear, too much to have room for anger.

You don't give her the chance to make room for it either. You punch her again on the same side, this time letting your fist connect with her brow. And when she stumbles again, you shove her back so she falls to the floor.

The sounds of her pain are loud and evident. But the bliss you gain from them is only so perfect because she deserves it.

And as you straddle her body, you can smell her fear just as well as you can see it. You can taste it like the blood she tastes on her tongue as you hit her again, and again, and again.

“What is going on here?”

You're off of her in an instant—and it's no scramble. You maneuver off of her with ease and scoop up your files once more, straightening your spine as you stand back and join Snow's side with one hand behind your back, bloodied knuckles and all. You sniff, the rueful look on your face taking a moment to dissipate as you replace it with civility.

You are a human being.

You don't look at Coryo’s face. You know it's covered with anger and disappointment. It's worse if he's stone cold. You can salvage this…

The woman rolls over onto her side, holding her nose delicately as she struggles to her feet. Tiny gasps and painful moans slip from her lips. She got what she deserves.

“Sorry, sir,” you say, obviously lying.

Suddenly, you feel like you should have punched her one more time. Because she begins to laugh. It's a bubbling laugh that you're sure is hurting her.

You can't do anything now. Not while Snow is here.

She shakes her head, licking her split lip and wincing through her laugh. Snow finds that more offensive than your empty apology, more offensive than even your savage display of violence.

“What's your name?” he demands.

She straightens up just a bit more. She also doesn't seem to understand the situation because she has a snarky grin on her face that says that she believes she's coming out of here on top. But those odds are not in her favor.

“Ellyn Halper,” she says.

“Ms. Halper.” He watches her, looking her up and down, his eyes strict and cold. He makes her squirm, even as she looks confidently at him. “You're fired.”

The news hits her like a train. She steps back, faltering, the horror crossing her face. “What?” She scoffs, glancing between the two of you as she shakes her head. “She attacked me!”

“And she wouldn't have attacked someone unprovoked,” he raises a brow. You try not to smile at him taking your side—and it's easy, because they talk about you like a misbehaved pet. “She must have had good reason. Clean out your desk and get out of my sight.”

She lingers, disbelief painting her features and mixing with her anger. When she doesn't move, Snow tilts his chin down and glares.

“Now.”

It's here that her rage outweighs her sense. She loses it. “You're going to protect this animal over Capitol?” she yells, pointing at you.

Still riding the high of your violence, you bare your teeth. “I'm not–”

“Quiet,” Snow snaps.

You shut your mouth.

Ellyn shakes her head, her lips twitching. She looks straight at you, sighing. She steps forward, stopped by Snow's warning hand. She leans in, “You're a disgrace.”

Snow can't have such blatant disrespect.

“Pack your bags, Ms. Halper,” he says. “I'm sending you to the districts.” Her horror is palpable. “We'll see who the animal is. I'm sure they would love to get their hands on Capitol.”

Snow doesn't give her any more attention. He turns and walks away, your impending punishment terrifying as you listen to his steps. You huff gently at her, slowly allowing your lips to split into your triumphant grin.

Snow calls your name. Your lips fall. You turn.

“Lap dog,” she spits.

Your jaw ticks. You turn again, and watch her step back. Your lips part, but before any sound can actually breach your lips, Snow calls your name again, firmer this time.

You huff, harder this time, and leave. You try to wipe the sight of that terrible smile on her bloodied face from your memory.

~

“What was that?”

He's pissed. His jaw ticks as he sets his hands on his hips.

But there's enough anger to go around.

Smacking the files on the desk, just as loudly as before as you jut your finger out towards them in accusation, you counter, “What is this?”

He dismisses you carelessly. “That's my business. Not yours.”

Before he can speak again, you cut him off, speaking quickly and concisely. “In my contract, it says I take care of your needs. It also says that I am your secretary and personal assistant. I handle your accounts, your documents, everything—so that means this is my business.” Stepping close to his desk, you lean forward toward him and lower your voice. “What is this about?”

Instead of answering you, he straightens his back and lifts his chin. With an amused scoff, he smirks lightly. “You actually read your contract.”

You don't appreciate his taunts. You read the full extent of your contract years ago, and you make sure to reread it every month to ensure you've memorized every detail. If he's got you on a tight leash, you need to know how much room you actually have to move.

“Coriolanus,” you huff. You wish you could say you won't say it again, but he'd make you repeat a million times if he felt like it. And you would have to obey. “What is it about?”

He's silent as he thinks to himself, contemplating. How does he answer your question without giving you the power and the luxury of a response?

But it's easy for him to remember that he will always have the power. He will always have the upper hand.

He breathes in, and you watch his lips curve. “The Victors.”

“I heard that,” you say. “What about them?”

His smile grows. The mischief and cunning lights up in his eyes. He places his hands in his pockets, rounding his desk as he leans back on it, crossing his ankles as he does. “This deal between you and I works pretty well, I'd say.”

You clench your jaw, unhappy with where this conversation is leading. You shake your head, “And?”

“And,” he shrugs, “there are and will be plenty more victors out there fit to do the same.”

You lose some of your bravado, your anger and confidence replaced by hesitant disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Sometimes you forget that Snow was, in truth, an evil man. Between your nights of passion and unnecessary gifts, it's easy to forget about the monster underneath his façade of fancy suits and beautiful roses.

He circles your body, like predator to prey…as always.

“I make sure people stay interested in the Games. And people like to keep up with our Victors,” he turns toward you suddenly. “I mean, they seem to take plenty of interest in you.”

You shake your head, your voice weak, “Coryo.”

He ignores you, continuing on. “These Victors are interesting. And some are considered to be quite…attractive in some senses.” He stops in front of you, smiling evilly. “A contract here and a signature there–”

“Coryo,” you try again, your voice trembling this time.

“–and these rich cats can have a Victor all to themselves.”

“Coriolanus.”

He stops, watching you expectantly as you try to wrap your head around his vile proposal.

They didn't deserve this. These Victors have already been through so much and he wants to add more grief and misery to their lives?

You were already lost the moment he stepped foot in your house, the moment you signed that contract, the moment you fell to your knees in his office and had your first taste of him. There was no hope for you now.

He'd gotten you addicted a long time ago…

“These are people,” you all but beg, clasping your hands together in hopes of persuading him away from his sadistic plans, “they're human beings. They aren't animals for you to sell.”

He makes a face, smiling wide as he leans in. “They are animals.” You expected this response, but it still hurts for him to say it so indisputably. “And they're for me to do whatever I want with.”

You clench your teeth and watch him turn away again, reclaiming the file and dropping it into a drawer he pulls open. “And besides, they won't be sold indefinitely.” He looks up at you with that sly grin of his. “The Capitol should be able to have their fill…”

You scoff. “Oh, so they're not just your slaves, they're your prostitutes.” You can't believe him, though you know you should.

He’d done it to you. What was stopping him from doing it to the rest?

Hopefully, you.

“They're my pets,” he counters. He leans forward onto his desk. And he's so tall, that he manages to lean in so much that he can see each little fleck of your irises as you stare unblinkingly at him. “Just like you.”

You nod, pursing your lips. “Okay, then I'm your pet.” You lean in as well, this time. You lean in so close that he has no choice but to shift away from you. “Not them.” You lick your lip and round the desk, wanting so desperately for him to hear your voice for once.

You plead, because it's the only thing you can do. Your voice is quiet, desperate, weak. Just the way he likes it.

“Let them go. You do enough to them, they don't deserve this.”

He doesn't hear you. He doesn't care.

“They deserve whatever I decide.”

Your jaw tenses, your thoughts scrambling to figure out a solution. Any solution. You just need to persuade him, to change his mind. This doesn't need to happen.

But his eyes are so cold, so stoney, so lying. There's no sympathy there and there will never be sympathy there. So you try to sway him in the way you know best.

You drop to your knees, skilled and shaky hands grasping his belt as you begin to undo it quickly. “What are you doing?”

The metal clinks as you work at it, pulling it free from the first loop as you begin to take the latch from its adjusted position. “Changing your mind,” you answer plainly. As you loosen the belt, tugging on it to remove it from the loops of his pants. “This is what you want, isn't it? You're just trying to rile me up to get me to do what you want. I'll do it–”

“Get the fuck off me.”

He pushes you away, shoving you onto the floor like you're nothing. And to him, you are. Nothing.

He doesn't seem angry, just annoyed at your audacity… And then he seems amused. His face lifts and he begins to smile. His smile turns to a chuckle, and he shakes his head as he looks down at you, purely amused by your attempt at persuasion.

“Oh, I get it,” he laughs, walking toward you to properly tower over your meek body. “You think that because I fuck you that I actually care about what you want.” He pronounces the F to hurt, punching it while also saying it with such disregard that it truly shows how little it means to him… Nothing.

He kneels down, resting his arm on his knee and watching you with those taunting eyes. “This isn't about you,” he whispers. Though his voice is soft, it cuts like a knife. Your hands tremble as they lift you up.

He spews his poison without restraint. “You are an animal. And yes, you are my lap dog.”

He feigns sympathy and remorse that he isn't capable of. “You think I swooped in earlier and punished that stupid girl because she talked down to you? I punished her because you're mine, and if I let someone get away with disrespecting my things, no one will respect me.”

He spews all his hatred, and you take it all. “I couldn't care less that she called you an animal or a whore or whatever the fuck else because you are.” It's a slap in the face each time as his voice becomes more and more hateful. “You're my pet, and you're my whore. You belong to me.”

So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp.

You stare at him, your face fallen as you seem to learn your lesson for the thousandth time. You're nothing to him. You're just property, and you mean nothing.

He smirks, standing to his full height once more as you remain tossed to the floor. You stare at him, your fight diminished.

“Speak.”

Like a dog.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Obedient.

“Smile.”

It looks like a sneer.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Well-trained.

Your lips part as you open your mouth, dropping your jaw as you've been doing for years.

And though that satisfies him beyond all belief, that satisfaction is all he needs. “Close your mouth.”

Nothing.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Your monotonous tone falls silent as you await his next command, a dog waiting for orders from her master.

He bends down, grasping the front of your shirt in his fist and pulling close. His face is inches from his. You don't fight him, you don't resist in any way. You let him move you as he pleases, staring blankly at him.

He looks about the length of your face. His smile is wholly evil. “Don't forget what you are.”

Quiet, broken, weak is your voice. Just the way he likes it.

“Yes, Coryo.”

He hums, letting you go. “Good girl.”

~

PART SIX: Addiction

You hear the footsteps coming down the hall and ignore them all the same. Flipping the next page in your book, you sigh gently and pull your legs closer toward you. Just a couple more sentences is all you ask…

Your door opens without a knock, and you aren't surprised. This is his home, you are his pet. Why ask permission for something which belongs to him?

You force yourself to meet Coryo’s gaze, the exhaustion in your eyes clear. He's in the same clothes as before, though his hair is more relaxed and his shirt is looser, the top few buttons undone to let his chest peek from its hiding spot. With one last sigh, you close your book.

You slip off the bed, easing down to your knees. Letting your hands rest in your lap, you allow your jaw to drop open wide, ready to receive him as you push your tongue out over your bottom teeth.

He smirks lightly, his chuckle even lighter. “Down girl.” You close your mouth.

“How do you want me?”

He sighs gently, closing the door behind him and slowly walking inside. “Believe it or not,” he says, his voice gentle, “I'm not here for me, I'm here for you.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed and suspicious. “Why?”

Your attitude amuses him. He shrugs, taking a seat at the edge of your bed and looking down at you. It doesn't feel as condescending as it usually does. “Making up.”

Foolish hope sparks in your chest, but you don't let it show. “So you're not going through with it.”

“No, I am.” He hums, “But I can't have my pet neglected, now can I?”

You sigh, turning away from him. You don't know why you asked.

He pats the spot next to him. “Get back on the bed, my flower.”

You look down at your hands as you rub at your pinky. “Yes, Coryo.”

As you sit up, taking the spot next to him, he tuts gently. “Now, now. No need for that tonight,” he says, closing the gap between the both of you.

You look up at him, your attitude fully present still. “Yes, Coryo.”

He sighs. Coryo sets a hand on your knee, turning toward you. “You're upset,” he says. You scoff. “That's understandable. I upset you.”

You want to say something snarky, but you're on thin ice from today, and you don't need to make it thinner. You turn away, but he catches your gaze as he takes your chin with his crooked finger and turns you to face him again.

And you hate yourself for feeling cared for.

“Let me make it up to you.”

You hate the way you nearly melt. “You can make it up to me by letting them go.”

He hums, shrugging. “Or I can eat you out.” You feel like you might shake at the idea. When you don't speak, he raises his brows. “Unless you just want me to leave…”

He's manipulating you. You know he is. He's been doing it since the beginning. You'd think you had some sort of defense against him at this point, but he's had years of practice in bending you to his will, in getting you hooked on him.

He knows. He knows what you are.

You're feeding me poison.

And you give in. Because you've never been strong against him, not even for a moment. You give in because you're so addicted to him that you'd die without the taste of him on your tongue…

With a long sigh, you lay back against your pillows and spread your legs. His smile spread across his face in such a wicked way, self-satisfied and fully amused.

He sets a hand on your knee and shifts himself to kneel in front of you. He slowly pulls your panties down your legs and pushes your nightgown away, teasing you and increasing your still-there frustrations.

Yes, you've lost the ability to resist this man and his sexual prowess, but that doesn't mean you want to draw this out. It's shameful enough…

He knows this. That's why he does it.

His lips press to the inside of your knee, then further down your thigh, and then right back up. You huff silently, annoyed with his antics.

He gives you a disarming smile. “Come now, my flower,” he tuts. “I may be spoiling you but that doesn't mean we don't still have our manners.”

You lay your head back, sighing as you let your eyes shut. You lick your bottom lip. “Please, Coryo.”

He hums. “I am sure you can do far better than that.”

Maybe you should cry. Maybe if you cry, he'll think you're ugly and leave you to live back in your lonely home at Seven. He'll think you're too worthless to go back into the Games. You could sober up the hard way… He'll leave you be.

But you know Coriolanus, which means you know that would never happen. He'd tsk, tsk, tsk and tell you how perfect you look crying. He'd hold you down and fuck you and tell you to be a good girl and keep crying for him. And you would. You know would.

Besides, if he did cast you out, he would just choose someone else to take your place. Then he would do this to them.

Better you than someone else.

You look up at him, screwing your face into a self-pitying expression. Your voice is small and meek when you open your mouth.

“Please, Coryo,” you whisper, “I'm yours.”

Just the way he likes it.

Pleased, he presses another kiss to the inside of your thigh, and then lets the flat of his tongue lick along the seam of your pussy. A whimper slips from your lips at the feeling, and you let yourself fade into the pleasure.

You forget that this man is your captor, your master. You forget that he's the reason for your nightmares. You forget that he's dark, cruel, sadistic, that he does not truly care for you.

You lose yourself in the fantasy that he is a loving man who only wants to see you happy.

“Coryo,” you moan as he suckles eagerly at your clit, a man starved of his sweet wine. Coryo. Not Coriolanus. Not Snow. Your Coryo. Your gentle, loving Coryo. The man who held you when he wasn't forcing you to your knees and bidding you to be his good girl.

His fingers stroke inside of you, two long fingers curling with you as his tongue flicks at your clit. The stretch of his fingers is welcome, and you look down at his head nestled between your thighs. You whine at the feeling of his tongue, hungry and searching.

His dull nails dig into the flesh of your thigh. As his tongue delves inside of you with his lips suckling around you, you feel his nose press deliciously against the sensitive bundle of nerves, which aches for release.

Circling his head, your legs wrap around him and squeeze, the tension tightening in your belly as he works eagerly at your pleasure. You're helpless to him as sounds rise from your throat like a gentle hum. Again, you whisper his name, lost to the feeling of him. He grunts into you, your body warm with the vibration, with the warmth of his mouth, with the warmth of his hands on your thighs.

“Coryo,” you whimper as you feel your pleasure rising within you, tingling in your legs and in your toes. Your open-mouthed breaths make your throat dry, but it’s hard to focus on that when each breath you take fills your chest with more and more desire. “I’m so close,” you gasp. “Please, can I cum?”

Instead of answering, he just sucks harder on your clit, prying your thighs further apart as he licks you up. As that coil tightens in your belly, your legs tremble and almost fight against his grip keeping them apart. You grind your hips up to meet his face, he holds you down.

You know how he likes it—the grinding, the moaning, the pleading, the strength. And when the pleasure crashes down on you, your clit pulsing against each lick of his tongue as he continues to work you, you shut your eyes and let out the breathy moans he loves so much. Your chest is full of warmth.

I’m choking on this feeling I can’t help but swallow up.

“C-Coryo,” you mutter, the sensitivity becoming too much as your legs continue to tremble. You arch away from him, but he holds you tight and pulls you closer. He forces your legs apart still, not quite finished as he continues to suckle around your sensitive bud.

You gasp when he finally pulls away, satisfied with the taste of you. “What a good girl you are,” he murmurs, smiling almost wickedly—though you replace it with one full of love and care. One can only dream.

He crawls up your body, stalking like a predator as he leans in, his face inches from yours. You bring your hands up to his cheeks and pull him down to meet your lips, kissing him with all the passion you can muster. He cares, he cares, he cares.

He cares as he traces his tongue along the seam of your lips. He cares as he smooths his hand along your soft thigh. He cares as he brings your leg up against his side and grinds his hips against you. He cares as he digs his dull nails into your flesh like the claws of a lion. He cares as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip like the fangs of a wolf.

He definitely cares as he brings a strong hand to your hair and tangles his fingers there with every intention of tugging you back to see your face. You whimper lightly, sinking into it and pretending the burn of your scalp is just the heat of your desire.

I made my choice and every night I’m wasted like there’s no tomorrow.

“You’re so pretty,” he smiles, and you fully understand the unspoken “like this” that follows his words but you choose to ignore it.

He kisses you again, this primal, devouring kiss you gladly mistake for ardor. He takes the bottom of your nightgown in his hand and pulls it up and over your head. You let him take it off of you. You let him strip you bare as his greedy hands smooth along the length of your body. Tentatively, not fully committed (you would be perfectly content with his lips on yours, kissing him forever under the illusion of simple intimacy), you pull at his belt. He undoes it and pulls it off entirely. You think he’ll toss it away, but it doesn’t.

“Open your mouth.”

Obediently, you do. He wraps the belt around your head, fitting it in your mouth as he loops it behind and pulls it tight. You nearly wince at the feeling, but he’s done worse. He unbuttons his pants, leaning down as he presses his lips to your neck. He kisses and sucks and nips at your throat, and you both let out deep moans that rumble in your chest when he presses inside of you.

You lean your head back, giving him more space to paint your neck in his claim. The taste of leather is strong on your tongue. Each breath you take is full of the earthy scent of his belt. You set your hands on his waist as he braces his fists on either side of your head. His thrusts are deep and rough. You feel his hips as he moves, his slender waist fits perfectly between your legs.

Your moans are muffled by his belt. As you dig your heels into his back, encouraging each thrust as he gives them, he grunts at the way you tighten around his cock. His hips snap into you with a greed that makes you crazy, that drives him wild. Taken by the pleasure, he grabbed the belt behind your head and pulled it in a way that made you look up at him.

His lips are plump from kissing you so roughly, his hair is loose and falling in delicate locks across his forehead, his breath fans gently across your own face. He looks pretty like this. Even with the predatory gaze in his eyes, he looks pretty. You want to kiss him but you don’t. You can’t.

He breath stutters in his throat after a particular thrust, and your eyes flutter shut as you moan at the feeling. He continues to fuck into you, like it’s the last time. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing sweet or nice or careful. He fucks you to his own need, but knows you well enough that it would fill you with so much pleasure that it doesn’t matter if he does it for him.

And he knows you well enough that the lack of care he has in his thrusts fills you with so much longing that he doesn’t need physical pain to be sadistic.

He pulls out of you suddenly, his breath coming out in hot puffs as he leans back on his haunches. “Turn around,” he orders, though his voice is quieter—there’s no real need to bark with you.

Anyway you want me, baby, that’s the way you got me.

You do as you’re told, ignoring the discomfort in the loss of him inside of you as you sit up and move as quickly as you can with the sluggish nature of your desire for him mixing with your depletion. As soon as you’ve turned around, he doesn’t care to give you time to adjust to the new position before he’s grabbing the belt again, wrapping it around his fist, and taking your hip in his other hand as he shoves his cock into you once again.

You go to hang your head, the feeling too great, but you’re stopped by his grip of the belt. Setting the quickened pace at the beginning, he fucks into you fast and rough. The sound of his skin smacking against yours fills the room. A light sheen of sweat coats your body as the heat fills you inside and out. His name is muffled on your lips, but his grunts are clear in the air.

His hand on your waist circles around as he presses his fingers to your still-sensitive clit. He rubs fast circles against it, building you up, up, up. You can’t help but whine, you can’t help but feed his hunger as he fills you with pleasure. Your legs tremble, and with his skill, it isn’t long until he hurls you into your second orgasm.

You throw your head back and moan, the sound rough with your desperation. But he doesn’t stop. He isn’t finished. He fucks your sensitive cunt. His eyes flutter at the tightening of your cunt.

You feel so weak, tired from the exertion but not fully satisfied until you’ve given him all that he needs. You’ve been with this man for years and the conditioning settled in a long time ago.

I’ll be yours.

So, yes, he keeps going and keeps going and keeps going. He takes you on your back, he takes you on your hands and knees, he takes you against the wall (front and back), he takes you in his lap, and he never stops each time until you’ve come apart in his hands. Pent up with so much stress and spurred on by the fatigue in your eyes, he lasts through it all.

You don’t know how long you’ve been going by this point. All you know is the rhythm of his hips thrusting in and out and in and out as he pushes you down into the bed with your ass pulled up against his hips and your face buried in a pillow. His hands push against your back, keeping you down still. You can hear his breath, heavy with his own nearing exertion. His thrusts are beginning to lose their rhythm, becoming more and more desperate with his nearing release.

You can hardly keep your eyes open. All your breaths have been reduced to shallow whimpers, and as his finger presses against your clit again, a mewl slips from your throat as it pleads for relief and release alike. You hear him begin to curse under his breath, his thrusts rougher though not as steady. And he presses you further still as he moves closer, seeking his relief as it gets so close, he can taste it.

And, because you know him just as well as he knows you, you tip him over the edge as you let your lips part. Your voice is small and meek and whiny, a needy little cry that he hears because he craves it. “Coryo.”

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

He fucks you hard in the first few seconds that he spills into you, his cum hot and plentiful as he moves himself farther against you as if he could go deeper still. And as his fingers flick at your clit, you accompany his needy moan with your own as you cum as well. You’re blinded by the feeling, left mewling as your eyes well with tired tears. It’s almost uncomfortable and you wince slightly when he presses a little too deep into you.

Coryo lingers there, his breath evening into a steadier rhythm as he eases off of you. You take in a full breath as he pulls out of you, closing your eyes and going limp against the sheets. Your body is so heavy, full of the exhaustion that has haunted you for years, exhaustion that comes with belonging to Coriolanus Snow. You wish you could slow down, take a breath, but whatever Snow wants, Snow gets.

My story’s gonna end with me dead from your poison.

Coryo runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh. He picks your nightgown up from the floor and wipes the both of you clean with the smallest modicum of care. You feel his knuckles brush against your shoulder and you shiver as he lets it graze gently along your spine. He stops it at the dip of your back.

Coryo turns off your bedside lamp, crawling into the bed as he shifts behind you, a gentle hand falling to your side as he pulls you into his body. And you actually find comfort in his arms as he pulls you closely to his body. His head rests in the crook of your neck, your body is pulled flush against his. His warmth seeps into your skin and you let your eyes flutter shut as he pulls the covers over your bodies.

And for a moment, everything is perfect. For a moment, you trick yourself into believing that this man can be capable of love.

But you feel his arms tightening around you until your lungs are so tight that it’s nearly impossible to breathe. You feel his nails, eager and greedy, digging into your flesh, and you wince at the terrible sting of them. He pulls you closer, not just seeking your warmth, but seeking full control and possession over something that already belongs to him. You silence your whimper.

I’m drowning in poison. I keep fillin’ my glass but it’s always hollow, full of poison.

When you can get past the pain of his embrace, you manage to lull yourself to sleep. You rest in his clutch and indulge in the false security of his empty arms.

But your rest is short-lived. Because halfway through the night, he wakes. Coryo opens his eyes and loosens his hold on you. You rouse from your own sleep but you stay perfectly still with closed eyes and steady breath. He lets go of you completely, getting out of the bed and leaving the room with silent steps. He has work to do.

I’m sick of the poison.

Once the door is closed, you’re left cold and alone. You curl up in on yourself, turning your head into the pillow as you feel the dam break. And like an idiot, you cry into your pillow. Your chest stutters with all the pain and weariness and hopelessness you carry with you through the day, through the night. You let it out, but it never seems to fade. And as the fatigue takes over once more, you let it take you into a sleepless kind of sleep where your nightmare of holding love in your hands plays in your mind over and over and over again.

Wish I had something to live for tomorrow.

Coriolanus Snow taglist: @the-nerdy-goddess Tag yourself here...

[sanemistar]

Hey lovely! Is there any chance you’d do a Sanemi x female!reader (she’s a hashria) one shot?

She’s been dating him for ages but all of a sudden she breaks up with him and gets with some other guy straight away, so sanemi is super hurt/angry about it (he was about to about to propose). Anyway, fast forward to the hashria training arc and she’s there with the new guy (he’s a demon slayer), he can see that reader is super uncomfortable around this guy so he’s super suss about the whole thing. Sanemi ends up overhearing the guy she’s now dating that he was actually threatening reader to hurt everyone she loves (especially Sanemi) if she didn’t dump him and date her. But fight insures and blah blah blah, happy ending with them getting back together!

I hope that makes sense, but you have creative freedom to whatever you think is best! Also if you don’t want to write it I fully respect your decision, but if you do write it thank you so much ❤️

never let you go — sanemi shinazugawa

pairing: sanemi x hashira fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, lovers to exes then back to lovers

wc: 2.2k+

warnings: usage of threats, slight swearing, not proofread oops

a/n: i hope you enjoy reading <33 this was so fun to write thank you for requesting lovely anon !!

you and sanemi have been dating for ages, everyone knows how madly in love you two are with each other. you two are basically inseparable, wherever you are you’re always seen with him, to the point where other people start whispering 'that's the wind hashira's girl' when they see you. you two are the epitome of love basically. so it’s to be expected that you two will end up married at some point, and that’s been your longtime boyfriend’s plan all along. he has been planning to propose to you for so long and today he’s about to finally take that next big step in your relationship.

on a lovely spring day, sanemi leaves you a message with his crow, asking you to come by his estate later because he wants to tell you something very important, so you prepare yourself and excitedly leave your estate to see him, wondering about what is that important thing that made your boyfriend so eager to see you. your train of thought is forced to cut short, though, when someone grabs your hand which stops you from going any further. you take a moment to inspect the person standing in front of you, he seems to be a demon slayer but one of a lower ranking based on his attire. but something about him feels odd and you feel slightly uncomfortable around him.

"going somewhere, y/n?" his way of addressing and talking informally to you as if you two are very familiar with each other pisses you off, can't he see your haori, does he not know you're a hashira and that he should speak to you respectfully?

"and why i should explain myself to you?" you push him out of your way and keep on walking, you don't want to be late for sanemi's meetup. but he grabs your hand and stops you once again, this time his grip is harder than the last time to ensure that you stay still.

"i can't let you go, y/n. i love you. please go out with me." you're taken aback by the sudden, uncalled for love confession. does this guy not know that you already have a boyfriend? and he's not just any boyfriend, he's the infamous wind hashira.

"don't you think you're too bold to ask me such nonsense? i have a boyfriend, you know?" you inform him, eyes looking sharp. he's clearly pissing you off, you should be in sanemi's arms right now, but instead, some random guy is wasting your time.

"i don't care, i'm not leaving until i make you mine." the guy is still persistently pestering you. no matter how many times you reject him, he still begs and pleas. you've had enough of his constant begging and finally reach your limit, so you quickly grab you katana and point it against his throat.

"if you don't stop what you're doing, you're going to regret what i'm about to do next." you speak sternly. but he doesn't seem to be fazed in the slightest. to your surprise, his entire demeanor changes and he pulls away your katana as it drops on the ground. and before you even get a chance to react, he quickly turns around points his own katana very close to the crook of your neck.

"i think you're the one who's going to regret what i'm about to do if you don't go out with me, someone might get hurt, like your boyfriend for example." he whispers into your ear, with a voice full of threat. you know sanemi is a very strong man, but you simply don't want to put the love of your life in danger because of you, you'll never forgive yourself if anything happens to him. so you choose to give up and surrender yourself to the man's demands, all for the sake of sanemi. you always put his safety and wellbeing before everything else, even before your own desires.

"i'll let you go for now, you know what to do, right?" he warns you. you grit your teeth, trying to suppress the tears eager to fall down your cheeks. it pains you to leave the one man you love the most in the world and the only one for you, after you had promised each other to never be apart until death do you part. you can't believe you're about to break your promise in the worst way possible.

with now a heavy heart, you walk towards your boyfriend's estate and sanemi instantly greets you with a tight embrace. you bury your face deep in his warm, bare chest. you wish you could stay there forever, but the words from earlier ring vividly in your ears, causing you to jolt, startling both you and sanemi.

"you 'kay, y/n?" sanemi asks in both confusion and worry, he's sensing there's something unusual about you today, but he can't seem to know exactly what it is.

"i'm... fine." you try your best to assure him. though he's still convinced you're acting strange, he decides to drop his suspicions for now. he has something much more important to tell you, his long awaited proposal.

"i have something to tell you." you both say in unison, but sanemi insists that you should go first. you take a deep breath, your heart weighs heavy. you feel tongue tied, as if your body refuses to let you say what you're about to say next, but you force yourself to.

"i... i want to break up, sanemi." your words drop on him like a bomb, he's surely never seen this one coming. he's hurt and angry, he knows you love him so much, so why are you suddenly asking for a breakup.

"shit, tell me what is it that i did wrong? i promise i'll fix it, just please don't leave me, y/n." you've never seen sanemi this vulnerable before, you can clearly hear the pain and desperation in his tone. it breaks your heart knowing that you're causing him to be in this state, but you're left with no choice. you have to protect him, even if it costs you to earn his hatred for the rest of your life.

"there's no point. it can't be fixed. thank you for everything and goodbye, sanemi." you kiss him goodbye one last time before you quickly run away as the tears you've been holding for so long finally get released, forcing yourself to never look back. because you know that you'll get weak and throw yourself in his arms once again if you do. he watches as you slowly disappear from his line of sight before he breaks down, he's feeling utterly bitter at you for leaving him behind just like that without telling him why.

fast forward a while later, amane-sama summons all the hashiras and announces that there will be a hashira training to prepare for the final fight against muzan, and everyone must participate, which means that you’ll meet up with sanemi more frequently. if it were any normal occasion, you’d be very happy to spend time with him. but with everything that has happened, you’re not looking forward to it.

after the meeting is done you immediately prepare yourself to leave, unable to stay a minute longer knowing that sanemi is right there but you can't hold him in your arms. obviously the rest of them notice how awkward you behave around each other now, wondering why you broke up with sanemi and left him for some random guy who seems to be much less than what you deserve, especially when you and sanemi were so perfect for each other. but they decide not to pry into the matter further in respect of your private life.

the minute you step into the training grounds, you're met with your 'new boyfriend' waiting for you at the entrance as he wraps his arm around you. the sight of him brings immense pain in your heart, you can't stand seeing his face.

"how was it, baby?" your stomach turns upset upon hearing his voice and you feel sick to your core the moment he lays finger on your skin.

"good." you reply nonchalantly. you always keep your replies to a bare minimum, usually reply with a short sentence, sometimes even with just one word. you'd rather not talk to him at all, but you force yourself to.

sanemi notices that you're feeling very uncomfortable around the guy, it’s very clear to his eyes despite him standing at a distance. which makes him instantly feel something is wrong about the whole thing. like why would you date someone you're not comfortable with? he knows this is unlikely of you, so he starts to investigate further.

even after the breakup, sanemi still has feelings for you. he's never moved on from you, he’s only ever loved you, no matter how many times he tries to. he has no interest in any other girl, you're so exceptional he can't seem to find a girl that's as amazing as yourself, you're the only one in his eyes. so he promises himself to do everything he can to bring you back to him once more.

then one day while he's cooling off after a long training session, sanemi sees a bunch of low-ranking demon slayers gathered around a guy and he immediately recognizes his face, it's the guy that stole you away from him. he tightly clenches his fists until his knuckles turn white, furious is an understatement to describe how he’s feeling right now.

he accidentally overhears them asking him how he got you to break up with one of the strongest hashiras and date him instead, and he tells everyone how he threatened you to hurt your loved ones, especially sanemi himself, if you refuse to break up with sanemi and date him.

everything makes sense now, why you broke your promise to him by suddenly asking to breakup without giving any justifications whatsoever. sanemi is incredibly enraged by his statement, his blood is boiling and his veins are popping up, his vision is blinded by all the pent up anger. his body moves automatically towards where the guy is and delivers a strong punch onto his face, completely destroying that cocky look smeared on it.

"you fuckin' asshole!" sanemi shouts angrily as he continues to ruthlessly punch that jerk multiple times to a point where his knuckles start bleeding, no one is daring to intervene in any way. they just let sanemi beat him to his heart's desire. after quite some time, sanemi finally stops and grabs him by the collar.

"you better fucking never show your face to y/n or bother her ever again, ya hear me? try being near her again and i'll fuckin' kill you." the guy only nods in fear, not even being able to speak. sanemi lets go of him and drops his now passed out body on the floor.

desperately searching for you, sanemi keeps running and running asking everyone around for you. until he finds you as you're about to enter your estate. he rushes to you like crazy and embraces you from behind, startling you.

"why did you handle this all by yourself, y/n? why didn't ya tell me?" sanemi asks you in between his crying, and your whole body flinches upon hearing his cries. you know how sanemi hardly ever cries in front of anyone, especially you. because he doesn't want you to worry about him, so he only shows you his strong side.

"i had no choice, i wanted to protect you. i wouldn't have forgiven myself if you had been put in danger because of me." you join him in sobbing as you turn around and bury yourself in his chest once again. you cry your heart out in his arms as he pats your head softly until you slowly begin to calm down. he cups your delicate face in his hands as his calloused thumbs wipe away your tears gently.

"i love you, y/n." he speaks softly, as if he's whispering. you feel butterflies all over your stomach the moment you hear your name slipping out of his lips, you've missed his voice so much.

"i love you too, nemi." you reply back, looking at him ever so endearingly. you lean closer and capture his lips in a loving, passionate kiss. you feel his hands move from your face and rest onto the sides of your waist, pulling you closer to him and you smile into the kiss.

after some time, the two of you break the kiss. yet your eyes are locked on his big, lilac ones.

"i'll never let you go, not now, not ever." sanemi kneels down on one knee, grabbing out a small box with a beautiful ring in it. you feel tears slowly forming into your eyes yet again, this time they're happy tears.

"will you marry me, y/n?" he finally proposes to you, sure the proposal isn't the most grand or extravagant. but you don't mind it in the slightest, this is more than enough to you, the fact that you're finally back together with the man you adore the most is what's important to you.

"yes, of course. my nemi." no hint of hesitation is to be found in your tone, it's the easiest and quickest yes you've ever said. you can't believe you're about to spend the rest of your life with your one and only love. you have no idea what life has in store for the two of you, but one thing for sure is that no matter what happens, you'll always be by sanemi’s side and never leave.

[tmblrcolouredpaper]

TXT Scenario Request:

hii i js have a small requestt !! what do u think would be txt's reaction when you accidently fall asleep beside them when on a train, bus, etc etc ( basically a moving vehicle ). It would be so cute if they were your friend who has a secret crush on youu 🤏🤏🤏🙁🥺

yeonjun - car; soobin - plane; beomgyu - subway; taehyun - taxi; kai - bus wc: 1471

Yeonjun having a secret crush on you is: 

both immensely obvious and well hidden.

he carries his heart on his sleeve, so him liking you is definitely evident, already based on the way he smiles at you so warmly

simultaneously his authenticity regarding his behavior around people he likes is so prominent that him having a crush is well hidden in the fact that he doesn't act too different

in moments of quietness he becomes aware of the distinction of his feelings

In those moments he doesn't have to react, interact and immerse himself in an encounter

he can just lean back and be for himself

so when you fall asleep in the passenger seat of his car, he has exactly the situation of being able to be for himself yet with your subtle presence

his smile softly defines his face when he looks at your sleeping figure even when his expression has so significance for anyone else

it might be the first time he becomes aware of his crush on you or it might be a reminder that he needs in his busy distracting life 

he talks to you in a hushed tone, making sure that you don't wake up, but he surely wants to tell you everything on his mind and heart

he puts all his adoration and assurance into his quiet wordings, hoping that it has an affirming effect you, that you somehow absorb his secretly shared reality

whether he manages to generate you dreaming something along the lines of experiencing his crush on you directly or you maneuvering life awake with a strangely new confidence of maybe being oh so worthy and wonderful of people having crushes on you

maybe Yeonjun would more often observe you registering people looking at you in the streets and you assuming you must appear pretty today rather than being doubtful about yourself 

he definitely continues with his sleep affirmations whenever he can and one day he will be straight forward about it, but he's secretly hope you might register the way he looks at you too and see right through him 

Soobin having a secret crush on you is:

sweetly awkward.

he either stares at you until his eyes are about to fall out or he avoids eye contact at all costs

he is fine when you are together in a group of people, but him having a one on one encounter with you is bringing out all his shyness

so when you go on a trip by plane and he gets to sit next to you who is on a plane for the first time, he feels his confidence 

he offers you to cling onto his hand when the plane takes off and you grow anxious 

he gently lays his arm around you when you feel uncomfortable due to the pressure on your ear as the plane enters the unfamiliar territory of hight 

he gets to hear you thanking him with the shyness he usually experiences in himself and when you tell him you were so nervous that you couldn't sleep last night, he advices you to just take a nap

and as if he had calculated his every move, he gets you to fall asleep leaning against his shoulder still holding onto his pinkie finger

he did not calculate shit 

as clumsily as he maneuvered through basically every situation, he also stumbled through this one

fortunately he evaluated himself looking pretty elegant the way he takes care of you 

and the plane is about to land, he gets to gently caress your cheek to wake you up as softly as possible 

and he is about to burst out of his body when you intuitively snuggle closer against him before you realize it is time to wake up

Beomgyu having a secret crush on you is:

politely bold.

he jokes about liking you so much that it comes across as sarcastic

he is just so overwhelmingly baffled himself whenever he finds himself enchanted by you doing the most mundane things that he has to call his brain or heart or soul out for its beautiful silliness 

it's not directly a secret that he has a crush on you, but everyone believes it is his assigned humor to you

part of your friendship is scheduling chores together, so you can spend time while e.g. getting grocery shopping done 

therefore you regularly spend time on the subway together and when you're tired he's making immediately sure you have a seat 

he is not bothered to stand, but he fears you might fall to the side and lean against a stranger when you're asleep

that is the reason why he kneels down in front of you, holding your body up while brushing your hair out of your face

people are fortunately kind and give up their seat next to you, assuming that Beomgyu is your boyfriend

only when he is the one sitting next to you, he lets you lean against him 

even when his friends are around, he pulls your sleeping figure towards him

he can't even find himself being humorous about his possessiveness 

he tells you about his actions after you wake up and asks you if it was okay of him, if you are fine with him being the one who stays close to you when you fall asleep or if you'd prefer him keeping his distance 

as much as he wants to be the one you gravitate to intuitively, his number one priority is your comfort and autonomy in every nuance of life 

Taehyun having a secret crush on you is:

truly a secret. 

he doesn't let people know anything 

his behavior doesn't change around you, but he will be laying in bed at night going over every moment with you that he cherishes 

he is so private about it that he might end up overwhelmed due to the lack of output 

when he finds himself next to you on the back seats of a taxi and you fall asleep, however, he finds his coping mechanism 

his  gaze must have been way more obvious than he usually allows it to be 

but here is no-one but you who is asleep, himself and the taxi driver

and that exact person can't but chuckle when they see Taehun through the mirror 

they ask him if you two are in a relationship and when Taehyun reluctantly shakes his head and receives an 'ah, I see', he burst out of his bubble of secrecy and silently tells the stranger about random moments that he can't get out of his head (e.g. the way you smile when greeting people, or when you told your head while handing a friend a water bottle when they voice being thirsty, etc.) 

When you wake up and leave the car at the desired destination the driver wishes Taehyun good luck and you wonder what they mean, bur Taehyun just shrugs and says that he might tell you once he figured it out 

Kai having a secret crush on you is: 

profound. 

whether you are solely his friend or also contain the additional connotation of being his crush, he is deeply thankful to just get to spend a bit of his life with you

he is sure of the fact that he wants to tell you

not because he needs anything to change, but because he wants you to know of his current reality 

having a crush on you is no worry for him, therefore you probably doesn't struggle verbalizing an observation of his inner world 

when he is on the bus with you, he feels like the timing is good 

he can just casually drop the information and since you are home soon anyways you don't have to deal with feeling uncomfortable or confused in his presence for long, yet there would be enough time for him to clarify that nothing has to change and that he just wants to let you know how amazing you are

what he doesn't participate is you not being up for conversing 

so when he finds you asleep next to him, he has no chance but to sit wit his feelings and that is the first time he considers just basking in his experience in silence for some time, living in the uncertainty of what his confession might bring to explore the illusions and where his hopes might lay

when the bus stops and it is your time to get off, he quickly wakes you and brings you all the way home, letting your wake up as he walks closely next to you, ready to even carry your sleepy figure 

he says goodbye without loosing another word and when he walks home alone, he allows himself spend time daydreaming about possible outcomes of his crush experience and discovers his favorites 

[peachhcs]

Hiii!!

I was wondering if you could write something for samy and will based on this article: https://www.nhl.com/canadiens/news/my-man-mireille-boutin-on-michael-pezzetta?utm_source=twitter&utm_medium=post&utm_campaign=CHCcontent&utm_content=EN-0514-MyMan

Basically the nhl team’s media people asking the players’ significant other questions about them. Thanks so much :))

my girl: will smith on samy hughes

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

nhl elite prospects interviews will about samy & their relationship!

1k words

this was suppperr cute to write. i swear will’s a yapper when it comes to talking about samy. i switched it from the article so it was will talking about samy, hope u don’t mind, but i loved this request!!

au masterlist

"we've been best friends since we were kids. everything just makes more sense when i'm around her."

UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN — samy hughes is known for her tough offense on the soccer field.

but off the field, she's the "best person i've ever known," according to her boyfriend, will smith, a boston college forward.

while in san jose for a development camp, the nhl elite prospects were able to catch up with smith to ask him how he's been doing, including how his new relationship's been treating him.

TELL US ABOUT YOUR DYNAMIC GROWING UP.

it's funny because we never hung out by ourselves a lot when we were kids. i was pretty attached to her older brothers [quinn, jack, and luke] and she was attached to my sister [grace smith], so we never really hung out that much until we were older. although, we always got along. when we did hang out we enjoyed talking to one another and poking fun as if we were siblings. we really didn't get closer until i moved up to plymouth for the usntdp.

WHAT CHANGED YOUR RELATIONSHIP FROM FAMILIAL TO ROMANTIC?

at least for me, as i got older, my feelings started changing towards her. i started seeing her as an annoying sister less and less and the more we hung out when i was in michigan, the more attached i grew i guess. we started just..doing stupid stuff together and i just really liked hanging out with her. all the times where i thought the things we did together was just a sibling dynamic, i slowly realized it was a lot more than that.

WHAT DID YOU GUYS DO ON YOUR FIRST DATE?

i took her out to dinner in ann arbor and then we walked around for a bit before sitting on a bench and just talking for hours. it was definitely weird at first, but we eased into one another and it was fun getting to know her on a different level than what i've always known her as.

WHAT ATTRACTED YOU MOST TO HER?

her personality for sure. she's super outgoing, always knows what she wants, very independent, super caring. we're very similar in many aspects, hence why we're best friends. she looks up to her brothers a lot which i admire because i also look up to them. i also enjoy her extensive knowledge of hockey because of her family, so it's easy talking about the game with her. she's just always been someone i go to when i need a shoulder to lean on and it's just so easy with her, you know? i love getting to call her so we can talk about our days together.

OF COURSE, HOCKEY'S IN SAMY'S ROOTS. DO YOU GET HER ON THE ICE WITH YOU EVER?

oh yeah, 100%. whenever we're back at michigan or in boston, we're on the ice. she's the one dragging me outside sometimes so we can play 1v1 or something. she's always had that love for hockey even if she doesn't play competitively anymore. i also love seeing her out there because it's what bonded us when we were kids, so it's nice still getting to go out and do it with her. somehow she still beats me too. she doesn't play for 4 months and then we're back on the ice together she scores 3 goals before i can even get the puck in my possession. the guys chirp at me whenever that happens if they're around.

HOW OFTEN DO YOU WATCH HER SOCCER GAMES?

every single one of them are on my computer. it doesn't matter what i'm doing. as soon as the live stream starts, i'm booting it up to watch. the guys love watching her play, so i always get to turn it on the tv and then we scream at the stream for two hours together.

SPEAKING OF THE GUYS, WE HEARD SHE HAS A GREAT RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR LINEMATES AS WELL.

leno and perreault absolutely adore her which i think is really sweet. i was a little worried when i first introduced all of them back when we moved to mich, but the three of them grew close really quickly. sometimes i think they're more excited to see her than i am and that's saying a lot.

WE HEARD HUGHES IS A GREAT COOK. HAS SHE COOKED ANYTHING FOR YOU?

when we're at the lake house she loves cooking all of us breakfast. she makes a great omelette and french toast, like, the best i've ever had. we all go crazy for her breakfast in the mornings.

DO YOU GUYS EVER TRAIN TOGETHER DURING THE SUMMER LIKE RUNNING OR WORKING OUT?

i'm not a huge runner, but sometimes i will run with her when she goes out, or i'd bike along side her. our training schedules are pretty different, but when we're in the offseason we'd occasionally hit the gym together or do some casual workouts that won't kill us. she knows what the hockey training is like so it's no stranger to her when she does follow my lead. soccer, on the other hand, is a lot more sprints and footwork which is sometimes helpful for me.

CAN YOU TELL US ABOUT SOME OF SAMY'S BEST QUALITIES?

shes a huge team player. she's always looking out for those girls on her soccer team, helping them run drills, being someone to talk to—i really admire her for that. she's got a real big heart too. her love is so contagious. she's dependable, trustworthy, kind, beautiful—the list could go on coming from me.

ANY LAST WORDS YOU WANT US TO ADD?

i love her, haha. our parents knew way before us that we would end up together before we even knew. we've been best friends since we were kids. everything just makes more sense when i'm around her. this is probably corny, but i wanna spend the rest of my life with her. she's my rock.

[umemiyan]

OOOOOOOO FUN FUN

Okay so let’s do 54. “Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.” from the smut asks with Choso!! You get to choose who’s watching 😈

𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗢 𝗫 𝗔𝗙𝗔𝗕!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / masturbation / implied virgin!choso / based on prompt #54 from this list

HEHEHEHE okay it took me a while to decide on this actually but here we go <3 i haven't written for choso in forever so thank you for giving me the inspo to do it. ily!

“what do you want, choso?”

pulling away from his lips, your question hangs in the air alongside anticipation, frustrations and desires higher than both your heart rates. his lips hover below your jaw, breath a warm breeze against your neck. there’s a lump in his throat, and he audibly swallows it.

“well?” you ask, probing the man as his hands establish dominion over your waist, clutching for an inkling of stability.

you’d riled each other up before, kissed until your lips became numb, even gotten rather raunchy over a series of text messages, but that had been the extent of it. you aim to change that, right here, right now, with arousal pulsing like a drug through your veins.

after a few more moments of silence and heavy breathing, he finally answers, “lay back and touch yourself. i want to watch.” choso immediately regrets that it comes out sounding like a demand, so he quickly softens it with an amicable ‘please.’

he had dreamed of seeing your pussy spread out before him, wet with excitement like the girls he'd researched on the internet. he could only imagine how much prettier you would look in the flesh demonstrating to him how you liked to please yourself, and he only hoped you'd be willing to entertain his fantasy.

with an enthusiastic smile, you crawl down to the end of the couch and situate yourself against the pillows, wasting no time in slipping your clothes off from the waist down and exposing yourself to him. choso watches intently, hair plastered to his forehead with the glue of sweat and his jaw going slack when you spread your legs wide in a grand reveal. it's even better than he could've imagined.

you present a slick cunt that clenches when you slip a finger over your clit, the look on choso's face causing you to wonder why you hadn't done such a thing much sooner. saliva pools in his mouth, eyes fixated on how you glisten, and he wraps a hand around your ankle to steady himself as his mind becomes a spinning whirlwind of lust. your scent reaches his nostrils and it takes every ounce of strength for him not to dive forward and instinctively latch his mouth to your heat.

choso is the one who moans when you push two fingers into your hole, the squelch competing with the low sound deep in his throat. you grin in response, amused with his reaction, but he doesn't see it—he's too busy imagining how hot your pussy must feel, gaze never once straying from it.

you nearly giggle at his sheer intensity, but choso's other hand reaches up to squeeze your knee without apology, taking this moment as seriously as anything else in his life.

"do that again," he requests, no longer ridden with uncertainty but instead hungry for the visual of you sliding two fingers into yourself. he yearns for his cock to take their place, but he first needs to appreciate your body as its own entity before he inevitably becomes a part of it.

[moonlight-prose]

Hey! Was wondering if I could stop by with a request possibly for Marc or Steven 🙈 + “let me stay like this in you for a little bit.”

No pressure but also thank you in advance 🩷🩷

TO BE LOVED

a/n: i went with steven on this one, because i feel like that'd be more his vibe. wanting to be close even afterwards. also i just miss writing his soft personality and am now upset that he doesn't exist in real life.

summary: "you didn’t intend to give up your heart—believing that you could remain one person without severing yourself in two."

word count: 904

pairing: steven grant x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, fluff, soft steven vibes, p in v sex, a tad bit of body worship, steven losing his mind a little bit, attempts at putting some romance in there.

It was an accident. Falling in love with him.

You didn’t intend to give up your heart—believing that you could remain one person without severing yourself in two. But he was more than you expected. He caught your attention and held it tight. Despite what you originally wanted. He handed you the blade, and you split your heart, offering one half to him in the hopes that he’d protect it. That he’d love you as much as you did him.

“Please love,” he gasped, his hands sliding along your bare body. As if he couldn’t figure out where to touch you—too overwhelmed by the sheer sight of you beneath him. Lost in your own pleasure.

“Steven,” you sighed, hands tugging on his curls as he pressed into you, his hips meeting yours—a shaky breath being forced from your chest.

Sliding your hands down his back, you felt him shudder above you, his eyes clamped shut. He seemed to be right on the precipice. Barely able to keep himself from falling off if the way he dug his fingers into the sheets beneath you was any indication. But you wanted him to fall. Desired the sight of him coming more than you wanted to come yourself.

“I need you to—fuck,” he dragged in a lungful of air, hips stuttering with each thrust.

You wanted to tell him that he could let go, give over to the mind-numbing pleasure that ate away at him. But words were not an option anymore. He had found the angle that sent your head flying back into the pillow, your thighs tightening around his hips. Steven felt it before you could get the words out. Your walls clamping down around is cock, a rush of slick pooling at the base and smearing against the top of his thighs.

A ragged grunt was punched from his chest, his body pitching forward until he was pressing you down into the mattress. The added weight only made you feel so much more. As if Steven was filling you to the brim with his warmth, his overwhelming love that you craved.

Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, you rolled your hips the best you could, but he’d pinned you down. Barely pulling out with each thrust. He wanted to carve a place for himself inside your heart, but there was no use. The place existed the second you met him.

He whined, his lips smashing roughly to yours, teeth clacking slightly together, but you didn’t care. Not when he was licking each and every heady sound out of your mouth and swallowing it with sounds of his own.

“You close love?” he breathed, his eyes fluttering open and greeting you with the sight of his eyes glazed over with lust. The clarity was gone, because all he could focus on—all he could comprehend—was you and the feeling of your impending orgasm.

You nodded, nails scratching against his shoulder blade. “Uh huh.”

A smile flashed across his face. Eyes lighting up at how he was able to render you speechless, incoherent mumbles of his name and breathy I love yous falling from your lips. You were so far gone, but you loved it that way. For how nervous and shy he was when you met, Steven was more than capable in turning you into a fucked out mess. His hand gripped your thigh, pushing it up higher as he grinded deep. Clearly enjoying the broken sob that tore from your chest, your walls fluttering around him.

“Wanna feel you baby.” His hand slipped down, fingers finding your pulsing clit. His thumb barely touched you, pressing down with enough pressure to snap the built up pressure in your stomach.

Your mouth fell open, a choked out sob breaking free as you came. Crashed over the edge and drowned in the pleasure that filled your body. You heard him curse above you, his head burying into your shoulder as you dragged him down with you. His lips pressed to your shoulder, hands sliding up your waist to cup your breasts lightly—soothing you and working you through both your highs.

Five minutes went by and you struggled to stay awake. His soft touches and light presses of his lips lulled you to the brink of sleep. Something told you that he knew it. Except you could feel the mixture of your cum begin to slip out even as he softened inside of you. You’d have to get up and clean yourselves, possibly change the sheets, but his body heat—the weight of him—it all pushed you towards sleep.

“Steven,” you slurred slightly, your body still trying to catch up.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice fairing no better. There was a tinge of red on his cheeks, spreading down to his chest. You wanted to take a picture of him just like this—keeping it forever to remember how beautiful he was.

“We’ve got to—” you fought against the yawn. “Get up.”

He shook his head, lips pressed to yours softly and drawing out a soft moan that had his cock twitching. “Let me stay like this in you for a little bit. Please.”

“‘M gonna fall asleep,” you grinned, hands running through his curls.

A soft sigh was pressed into your mouth. “That’s okay. You can sleep love. I’ll be sure to wake you up.”

“You promise?” you murmured.

He nodded, a soft smile spreading on his lips. “I promise.”

[isolarya]

The Watchers

I think it's high time we talked about the Watchers, don't you? They're the monsters with a thousand eyes all in purple, seeking to hurt, to destroy-

Except they're not. These are Watchers told through stories and tales, passed down and down again. These are the Watchers we know, but there are others.

So let's talk about them. Let's go back.

Who are the Watchers?

(note from iso: these are my own opinions and headcanons! in no way take them as rules or me saying any other interpretations are wrong. they are all perfectly valid! this is just me making a fun headcanon and story based off an interesting fact i learned! but with fancy talk! this is honestly me just rewriting a lot of watcher stuff for personal headcanons)

This is my history of the Watchers, one piece at a time...

The Beginnings - PRE-EVO

Before Third Life, before Hermitcraft, there is Evo. The Watchers don't come from Evo. They come from before it, taken along on Grian's wings. They watch him, revel in his joy and take amusement in his falls. For now, they care about Grian, just like us. For them, there isn't much else to care about. How they found Grian, we may never know. But they did, and that's what matters. For a while, it is just a pesky bird- although he isn't quite that yet- and his many-eyed "friends". And then Grian lands in Evo.

The First Cohort - EVO

Before we remember the Watchers are gods, we must remember they were players first. When they land on Evo, they are still attached to Grian. in a way, they are part of him. His powers as admin seeps into them, and theirs into him. They watch the players with great interest, at first. But eventually, they do get bored. And so, the first portal is created. It hops them just a bit forward in time, into a slightly different universe, and the Watchers watch enjoy the new show. Then it happens again. And again. And again. Grian is the favourite, they soon learn. Chaos incarnate. The Watchers need entertainment, just like us, and Grian provides all the fun they could ever hope for. They like him, just as they used to. They play with him, even if he doesn't like it. He needs them, right? And they need him. It's fair, until it isn't. Finally, the Watchers have enough of this too. After long last, the players make it into the End. We all know the story. They find themselves alone on the pale yellow island in the void, with the black dragon looming above them. But there's something interesting about the End.

The Void - THE END

See, the End is in a void. A deadly void, full of stars that swarm you and kill you the moment you sink too deep. In the end, there is a portal, starry and shining and born of death, as dark as the void itself. And you jump in. You wake up, fresh in your bed, your anchor, your spawn. Do you wonder why? You died. But you wake up, because the universe loves you, blesses you with the precious gift of respawn. And here is where things change. Grian jumps into the portal. He dies.

With the Eyes - WITH THE WATCHERS

For a while, Grian is theirs. They take him away from Evo, claim him, pretend that everything is alright. After all, how is Grian supposed to be fun if he's upset? For a while, Grian is with the Watchers. It's fine, at first. The day the Watchers show him Evo again is the day they make their mistake. The one that changes everything. Grian refuses to toy with his friends. And so, he runs.

The Listeners - AFTER GRIAN

In the gap that Grian left behind, something new creeps into Evo. They know what the Watchers did. They know what needs to be done. And now, they aren't the only ones.

A Refuge - HERMITCRAFT SEASON SIX

For Grian, everything changes here. For the first time, he's not the focus of the Watchers' eye. Sure, they still swarm him and watch him, but that is nothing compared to Evo. Now, he has Scar and Mumbo and all the hermits and everything is going to be alright. Grian is safe. Sure, the Watchers may call for him to wage a little prank war, but what's the harm in that? Certainly nothing compared to Evo, that's for sure. Grian is free. The bird spreads its wings, and at last, it takes flight. His heart sings and sings and sings and he doesn't think he's ever been so happy in his life.

Canary Call - END OF EVO

Back in Grian's old home, the last remnants of the First Cohort linger. They've been dispersed, destroyed by time. And with their end comes Evo's end as well. The First Cohort dies that fateful night, forgotten by the Watchers that had left them behind. The Listeners escape the ruins of Evo, and they take the players with them. But it wasn't just the First Cohort that was left in the ruins. A second, older Watcher emerges from the darkness, and they change everything. They're going to go home.

Red on the Horizon - HERMITCRAFT SEASON SEVEN

At first, everything seems normal. The season starts like any other. They welcome Etho and Beef back, they have a bit of a base swap, Grian breaks down at least once- not necessarily in that order. Near the end of the season, Grian comes up with an idea. It'll be glorious. A game with three lives to live. Maybe he doesn't realise that's exactly what the Watchers want. Entertainment. They're excited, buzzing in their little corners of the world and watching with bright eyes like ours. Either way, Third Life begins.

To the Death - THIRD LIFE

The thing is, we all know what happens with Third Life. Loyalties are sworn, alliances are made, death is in the air. Whether the Watchers have a hand in this entertainment, who knows? When Third Life ends, the Red Army has fallen. The desert is a wasteland. The flower valley is abandoned. Dogwarts is silent. And above it all, there stands Grian, over a dear friend- perhaps more- who lies dead in the sand. Grian overlooks it all, and it is him the ghosts watch, accompanied by a thousand eyes. But Grian’s end is not the important thing here. No, it only brought a beginning to a new era of watching. The Watchers had followed Grian to Evo. To Hermitcraft. They had clung onto those players, twisting their tales to be entertaining. Why shouldn’t that happen with Third Life? It does.

Skyfall - HERMITCRAFT SEASON EIGHT

The Watchers are powerful. Where the First Cohort was passive, the new generation of Watchers take pride in leaning down and writing the story themselves. The beginning, the middle, and the end. The players are their puppets now, actors in a play until the end of time. And still, the Watchers are kind. The players are happy. No one knows why the moon fell. They weren't told then. You didn't know then. I can’t blame you. But let me tell you now. It was always going to be a means to an end. A world event, to bring the players together and a chance to weave new stories from the ashes, to test their control. To let them write their own stories too. The death of Season Eight was entertaining, if nothing else. And isn't that the only thing that matters? Are you happy yet? Entertained? Do you know what you have done?

The Rapture - EMPIRES

For the Watchers, the point of Third Life was never the game. It was the possibilities, the new players pulled from every corner of the world. It had never just been the hermits. When the game ended, the players went home. The Watchers followed. Here we stand, in Empires, where a new land was created by these players. Here, there are gods and deities, emperors and empires. There are Watchers. I call them the higher beings of Empires. They are not like the Watchers of Hermitcraft, who only twisted the strings of fate, nor the First Cohort, which only sought to be entertained. No. These new Watchers will create the story with the players as their puppets, even if they have to end the world to do it. You guessed this would happen. Are you pleased you are right? They listened to you. It only took a stroke of bad luck for Empires to end. An explosion, an earthquake, fire and ice and blade and ash. It could have been a coin flip. Heads, they survive. Tails, the world burns. But as we know, the coin was always going to land tails anyway. If it didn’t, what would be the point? Empires burns. The Watchers have won.

Martyn - ALONE

Sometimes, the last blessed one of the Listeners calls out. Jimmy has forgotten, and Martyn isn’t brave enough to fight them. So he turns to you. Is this what you want? Look at the fires of Empires, at the ruins of Season Eight, at the friendships shattered by the promise of lives. Look at the hurt you’ve caused. Can you still believe you didn’t care? This isn’t a show. This is a story, with real souls and real lives and real people. Why would you want this? So you will be entertained? The players are not happy anymore. It is your fault. Stop watching. Write your own story instead. Their book is closed.

Never the End - YOU

It was a good game, they say- you say. A good story. One that needed to be told. The players have done their part, and you have repaid them in good times, fun times, moments of joy. The hurt had always been there. It was a price that had to be paid. Now, they are happy. You are happy. It was been a good show. But are you happy? The players are not. Are you? When you look back on this tragic tale, will you be happy? Will you want more? Will you write them a happy ending? There are no happy endings in this story, you say. Only bittersweet ones. And really, isn’t it Grian’s fault that he’s hurting? After all, he was only ever meant to watch.

[puckpocketed]

as promised here is my follow up ask on PLD and the caps!! (this time...as a doctor 😎)

first of all thank you so much for the detailed response you gave my first ask. it confirmed a lot of suspicions i had about his supposed character issues and his usage in LA. obviously he's not a perfect player (few are) (except nicklas backstrom, my beloved), but seems like there's a disconnect between the way the media/fan narrative paints him and what's actually happening on the ice and in the locker room.

second of all!! just some kinda ramble-y thoughts based on some of the things you said in the first ask. this is not organized well and i'm sorry (but hopefully it's helpful info to you as you come over to caps land for a bit this season)

(1) Takings Shifts Off. totally agree with you that pld is and always will be viewed through the lens of The Shift. there are definitely players that regularly take shifts off and don't get dogpiled for it, esp. during the regular season (...see Ovechkin, Alex...especially in his old man era! gotta conserve energy). i am very curious to see if pld is like ovi in that he takes shifts off sometimes during the regular season but never the playoffs. from the little we've seen of pld in the playoffs my impression (esp when he played for CBJ) is that he elevates his game. i'm curious to see if he's really got that second gear...but caps gotta make the playoffs first.

(2) A Driver of One's Own. very interesting that in the answer to the last ask you said pld is not exactly the kind of player who drives his own line. this caught my eye bc it's a bit part of the problem w/ finding a center for ovi with backy gone...nowadays, O can't fully drive his own line anymore. he's just not fast enough, regularly (though he can turn it on in key moments). the legs just aren't there as much anymore, he can't really carry the puck in the way he used to, etc. BUT!!! he still has the best shot in the game (sorry auston), so absolutely ELITE triggerman. i'm wondering if pld could like...meet him halfway, i guess. like if TOGETHER they could drive the line. Hmmmm...

(3) Power Play!! everything you said about pld on the PP is promising. if he thrives most net front, then i genuinely think that position is there for the taking. i'm sure they'll try him in the old backstrom/kuznetsov QB spot on the right halfwall but there is a 0% chance our coach doesn't try a few things with the PP, including putting pld in different spots. i wouldn't be surprised if we started off having a weak PP that found its groove as the season went on.

(4) HCSC. our head coach is going to do literally everything in his power to make pld succeed. very communicative coach. last season he started out with an up-tempo system, and then switched to slower defense-first once he realized his personnel was just too slow/old to really pull all that off. with 1/3 of our roster now turned over and filled with players in their 20s, we're gonna see a VERY different capitals team from last year. i'm sure there will be growing pains but...they mystery is exciting, instead of terrifying, for once!!!

third of all!! just wanted to say thanks again for the detailed response to the third ask, and welcome to caps-land. it's a fun time over here. hope you're really looking forward to seeing what the hell our chaotic gremlins are going to do (as long as it makes penguins fans rage and cry, i am happy!!)!!! :)

okay this reply is getting crowded so ill just stick it all under the cut. here is a fun preview:

the media+fan narrative disconnect is SO real!!! i knowww with the amount of players the league has to cover, the sheer length of a regular season and all that happens during, plus the whole....society-wide erosion of journalism as a field... it can be hard for media to keep up, but it's been pretty startling to see their fallibility so... plainly? don't think i have the One Final Truth about Dubois but i think we're likely closer to it than anything the mainstream narratives are saying. i do get that their profits and clicks per/ are greatly increased via if they have a bent toward sensationalism... podcasters, youtube creators, people tweeting... they kinda have to operate like this because thats what the (gags) market and algorithm and audiences crave. does NOT mean i like it. ugh.

bleak reflections on journalism aside, im sitting here and gorging myself on this ask ouhhh thank uuu (for those playing along at home here are manifesto 1 and manifesto 2) and nodding along SO vigorously to all of these... we're having GALAXY brained discussions on here the likes of which spittin chiclets could never even dream of....................

(1) agreed agreed. he MUST be horse-bonded to his team i truly believe this with my whole heart (as in, he's gotta know his role + be comfy). otherwise, no other comment. I DID make that meme though because i was having a laff about Ovechkin conserving energy lkajsdkljajkl

(2) SUPER inchresting that you mention Ovi's lack of footspeed... i know a failhorse who can provide this 👀 we may be cooking something here... more than the sum of their parts kind of vibe?? Dubois has the youth and speed and muscle... he's just been hamstrung by quality of wingers.... and if as you say Ovi needs a hand carrying the puck; well.... 👀👀👀 don't want to put all my eggs in that basket though, I think it would be unfair of us to demand that of him... BUT if it works... oughhhhh i AM hopeful. SO hopeful.

(3) obsessed with this faith in your power play coaches (<- voice of a guy who watched ducks hockey) and their willingness to change things up is soooo nice to hear. NOT a fan of teams bashing their heads against a wall when their special teams clearly aren't working.

(4) and finally, I'm loving everything I hear about Spencer Carbery. i think Dubois has the allure of an wounded animal in the wild (a horse, even) or perhaps a moody teen girl with a hidden darkness in her heart <3 what im saying is, if he doesn't work it out now he's probably always gonna be one of those players every coach looks at and thinks "I could fix him". Carbs on record saying he could tame this wild creature??

link, archive link

hooting, hollering, etc.

Thank you for such a wonderful, warm welcome!! Everyone in caps land has been so lovely... the vibes.. the VIBES!!! peace and love for pens followers but i did in fact choose a side in your Foreverwar ... (my hockey girlbestie actually likes both teams which i find SO fun. the pens are my babygirl-in-laws!) anyway my heart does not divide.... it only swells.... much like the beaugtiful and noble salary of any 30 y/o RHD going into free agency <3 i have enjoyed chatting to caps fans like yourself immensely, and i look forward to hitting the trenches with everyone during regular season !!!

[dailyhelldorm]

New Office Interactions - Rei's relation

This is an archiving post from a Twitter thread. This will get updated regularly as I find more interactions in the future.

Rei is your truly Mr.Worldwide. Happy 180 cm man having more friends than his roommate.

Before you start...

This is a more refined version compared to the thread, I fixed my wording and mistakes. Also adding images and the original credits.

I don't put the characters in any order, everything is based on the uploaded day of the screenshots to determine whether the interaction is old or new.

It is said that some of the old interactions have been deleted from the game, the purpose of this post is to archive.

Disclaimer: Most of the pictures don't belong to me, and I own none. They rightfully belong to the person who uploads the screenshots and of course, Happy Element K. K.

© 2014-2019 Happy Elements K.K. 画像等の内容はハピエレ及び一部の投稿者を属しております。無断転載のためお許させていきただきます。削除されてほしい場合はTumblrやX（旧Twitter）などご連絡ください。

Rei's New Interactions

This is a new interaction. Images by どろしー @dorothyy7

Rei: Ritsu, do you want to go out with me? Ritsu: You think I want to go out with you...?

This is a new interaction. Images by しお @son873

Raika: I am so happy I am able to meet you. Rei: You don't need to be in awe like that.

This is a new interaction. Images by しお @son873

Rinne: Rei-chan doesn't drink alcohol huh? Rei: Though I might be good to enjoy some wine.

This is a new interaction. Images by サラン🌟 @SakurauSalan

Nagisa: ...Did you change your shampoo? Rei: You are the first one who realized that... ♪

This is a new interaction. Images by ちんあなご　🍅🥞 @nnn_t06

Rei: Where do you want the four of us to go? Kaoru: How about we try to contact and ask everyone?

This is a new interaction. Images by フェイ。(雪華) @_fe_i

Hinata: Yuuta-kun doesn't send me any reply. Rei: Me too, Ritsu only leaves me on read and ignores my messages too.

This is a new interaction. Images by ～🦇ひろあさ🍬～ @gekimucyu

Rei: Itsuki-kun is looking for you. Mika: We met just now, is there something wrong?

This is a new interaction. Images by しお @son873

Rei: Shall we go on a walk together? Tatsumi: Yes, let’s go together.

This is a new interaction. Images by かのん @kanon_lvri

Koga: Hey, let’s get on with our lesson quickly! Rei: Koga is as energetic as always, aren’t you?

This is a new interaction. Images by 🍗メス豚の嬢ちゃん🥞 @fieldans

Hokuto: I want you to come and watch our lesson. Rei: I look forward to seeing your growth ♪

This is a new interaction. Images by しお @son873

Rei: Might you have a chat with me for a little while? Midori: Eh, why me…?

This is a new interaction. Images by Hell Dorm Diary.

Rei: Do you have any dissatisfaction when living in the dorm? Aira: Ahaha… I have nothing in particular.

Rei's Old Interactions

Images by 美緒☪︎ᡣ𐭩 @mio_nekura

Rei: If you are free, how about having a chat with me for a little bit? Keito: Fuh, if it is only for a while then fine.

Images by ゔぁろ @KarasU_6970

Rei: Is Hibiki-kun in good shape? Tomoya: ...Why are you asking me?

Images by 紅 @krni_en

Rei: You are so diligent, just like someone I know ♪ Souma: Who might you be speaking about?

Images by おさむ @gu_min_min

Rei: On our next recording, what should we talk about? Kaoru: How about we talk about our recent day off?

Images by とこりん @dr12v3tu12

Rei: I wonder where I put the document...? Koga: Ya for real... There, ain’t this the one?

Images by ネネ @neneansta

Rei: Can you tell me about Ritsu’s favorite brand of tea? Hajime: Of course~ I would be happy to tell you ♪

Images by ネネ @neneansta

Kiryu: Danna is looking for you just now. Rei: Fumu. I hope his talk will be something good.

Images by ネネ @neneansta

Rei: Are you relishing in the life of a college student? Nazuna: Yep, I have learned a lot of things.

[noxiatoxia]

hi!! i hope you don't mind the ask ^^ i was wondering about how you got started with sprite ripping, specifically through tinke, because im trying to learn myself so i can rip as much as i can from the d.gray-man ds game and well..... it's definitely quite the process and im really unfamiliar with these things ;;^_^ i actually found your blog while searching for information which is why i thought to send an ask :0

Hey! I'm pretty flattered you thought to ask me!

So, I'm gonna go through several games, because it highly depends on the game and what you see. That way you have a lot of examples to work with.

Let's start with Death Note: Successor to L as that is the game I'm most know for ripping the sprites from. It is also a bit unstraight forward, which helps some things in explaining.

Upon opening the .nds file in Tinke, this is what we see.

Locate the "data" folder, click the +.

See this data.bin? Despite its icon, we do not want to unpack it.

Instead, we want to Open as > compress

You'll get a popup window called "Select Offset". Don't do anything; just click "Accept".

After a second of waiting, suddenly we have this huge list of new .bins! So where do we find the images?

Scroll until you find the LAST [IPAL] .bin. Everything under it will be the game's sprites.

So, everything under "data_15108.bin [IPAL]" in this case. So...where are the images?

Under it is data_15109.bin. And under that, data_15110.bin. Open as > compress them both.

Based on icon, we can see we have a palette file and a tile file. First, we have to open the palette file as a palette.

Now, let's see what happens if we open the tile file now... (as a tile, of course)

Well...that doesn't look right. For reference, this is the sprite in question:

So, why does it look like that?

What if we manually adjusted the width? You can hold down the up or down arrow to see it change in real time.

But setting it to 128.... (half)

Looks about the right size, just...cut off. We'd have to adjust the height, too.

Or, we can try opening it as a map instead and see if that helps. So let's try opening this file as map instead.

Ah! Did all the work for us! But...where's the other half of the sprite? And why are the colors weird?

Let's Open as > compress the .bin below...

...Well, there's the other half. So, you'll have to stitch them together. Ok, what about the colors?

This is where the palette comes in. Tinke will use the colors of the last palette you viewed. Thankfully, we know this is Light's palette since the palette file precedes all his sprites. But why is it showing up wonky?

See these bold colors up top? This is our issue. We need only one of these bold colors that is clearly not supposed to be a color in Light's sprite. Why? Because that will be the color of the sprite's background (which we can edit out later.)

See this start byte button? Keep clicking up, you will see the squares slowly move backwards (idk how to describe it, just hold down the up button and see for yourself). Do it until only the last bold color remains. Cyan, here.

Now, let's go reopen the image as map.

Perfect! You can even click that "Transparency" button to turn the bold color transparent.

Now, all you have to do is click "Export"

Here's the output:

Of course, the same will have to be done with the sprite below it, and then you'll have to stitch them together in any editing software or art software (MS paint, firealpaca are both free) and there you go! the sprite :)

Now, not all games are like this. So let's look at another.

Let's do Pokemon Black 2 (this is the JP version but as far as I know, both games have the same file paths)

Already, this looks WAY different. No Data folder. Just an "a" folder, with a million sub folders. How are we ever gonna find what we want?

Well, there's 2 answers. One is Google. I googled "Pokemon Black 2 sprite files locations" and got this answer:

So a > 0 > 0 > 4...

But what if Google doesn't have an answer?

Well...Sorry to say, at that point, it's a game of trial and error. You're going to have check everything yourself (that's what I had to do with the Death Note game).

But back to Pokemon. So, I open as > compress....

A little different here, too. But If I had to guess, 4_19.RLCN is our palette, and 4_20.bin (after we open as compress) will be our image.

Right I am. But opening the image as map, it still looks weird. I'll mess with the width - that usually works.

Just a few clicks of the down arrow and we got Bulbasaur.

However, this palette doesn't look like Bulbasaur at all. There's no green or anything...maybe the actual palette it at the bottom there?

So it is! You can tell just by looking at the colors that this is meant to be for Bulbasaur. The greens, blues, and reds for the mouth. Now, the question is how to get the right palette on it...

Unlike Light's palette from earlier, this one is much smaller, so we can tell the palette size is actually 16/16, not 256/1

Just switch it over.

I did 40 for the offset again, as this seems to be a regular number used for palette offsets.

And wouldn't you know it!!

Okay, I've hit image limit so i'll stop here. But I hope this helps. Some games are encrypted or use file types not recognized by Tinke, so if you're having additional troubles you can message me again :) otherwise I hope this helps. When in doubt just try opening everything and anything lol.

[monmelia]

I just read your monmelia thoughts and completely agree. But I’m also hesitant because I don’t see Natalie Morales sticking around long term and this show doesn’t seem to have any real end in sight lol. Like if they’re setting them up to be a slow burn then all the hints (except for Winston I hate that plot and find it unnecessary and a little snakey on his part ngl) are great building blocks. The fact that Monica has come around and is seeing Amelia as fully competent and comforting is wonderful as is the fact that Amelia isn’t letting herself get caught up in the drama of it all and is behaving so maturely about all of this. I feel like her oast relationship made me really take stock. But as of now I also can’t help but think that if they don’t make things clear on Monica’s side that she’s actually into Amelia and just being careful or something then there’s going to be all this buildup for nothing to really come out of it…

Ugh I hope they keep Natalie around long term , but I see what you mean. However I'm not sure Grey's will be around much longer, and I could hopefully see Natalie being around if it's just a couple more seasons. I guess we'll see, but it definitely could be a spanner in the works.

But then I also can't see them setting Amelia up for another mid-game relationship at this stage in the show. Like if they give her another failed relationship again I'm going to lose it because I just want her to be happy, and all the slow burn and build up makes no sense if they're just going to make nothing of it.

But I do agree they need to move forward a little more than they are doing already because as much I love a slow burn, it's burning a little too slow at this point. I will say though that I think it's pretty obvious that Monica likes Amelia. Maybe it's just me looking into it too deeply but the fact she's always been invested in Amelia, she flirted with her right from the start, and then the last episode with her making it clear to Amelia twice that Winston was just casual.

I agree in a way about the Winston thing being unnecessary (and snakey) but I also think he's purely a plot device for Monmelia. Everything about Winston comes back to Monmelia, even the lingerie scene is about Amelia finding out rather than anything between Monica and Winston. I think his purpose is solely to make the audience question why Monica is hooking up with Winston, when Amelia is right there.

IMO I think we the viewers are supposed to assume that Monica only has the bandwidth for casual connections right now (i.e. Winston), which points to the fact she doesn't see Amelia as casual. Or why wouldn't she pursue Amelia? It's not like Amelia asked her to be her girlfriend, she just asked her to go out, which means Monica must have come to the conclusion in her own head that it has potential to be serious, a conclusion that she must be basing off of her own feelings.

I actually think Monica likes Amelia a lot, maybe to the point that it scares her, and it's just too serious for her right now since she's going through a divorce. It's possible she only realised this when Amelia asked her out, but as many point out, she didn't actually reject her. I don't believe that it's just Monica not being interested because of their previous interactions that led to Amelia asking her on a date in the first place, and the fact she didn't actually say no to her. Plus again the fact she went out of her way twice to tell Amelia it was just casual with Winston has to count for something.

But I do hope we see more obvious signs of them liking each other soon. Because right now we're seeing on the surface that Monica is hooking up with Winston, and Amelia is "okay" with Monica doing and "not jealous at all", but I think reading between the lines they both like each other. For Monica the timing isn't right and she's scared, and for Amelia she's already put herself out there once and she perceives Monica's response as a rejection (it wasn't girl!), so she's going to pretend like she's not bothered because she doesn't really feel like she has the right to say otherwise. But I hope they start to make it more obvious soon how they both feel. I love the will they/won't they element, and I love analysing and reading between the lines, but not for too long or I'll start to worry that I truly am just delusional.

[edwardwriterman]

"Scarecrow's hideout in the abandoned shopping mall"

Jonathan regrets ever telling Edward Nygma where his hideout was. One moment irritating little robots are scurrying around placing his ridiculous trophies, and the next moment Edward is telling the whole city where he's located! Time to have a little talk. (Might be crappier because of my break! Sorry I've had college)

Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Teen & Up, No Archive Warnings Apply, Gen & M/M, Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma, Jonathan Crane & Edward Nygma, Arkham Knight (Mentioned)

##Scriddler if you squint like really squint, they're going through a rough patch, Secrets, Threats, Edward Nygma's Paranoia, 3rd Person Jonathan POV, Not Beta Read, Batman: Arkham Knight, based off that one riddler voiceline, you can tear italics from my cold dead hands##

"I've managed to hide dozens of riddles in Scarecrow's hideout in the abandoned shopping mall, proving once and for all that I'm the superior villain!"

A frown makes its way onto Jonathan's tattered face, fingers tapping against his plastic desk as the announcement plays out, Edward's words prodding at his mind. It wasn't the insult that was bothering him- he'd known the man long enough to see that the constant self-praise was a thin veil for deep-rooted insecurity, Edward didn't really believe anything he said. No, what annoyed Jonathan was that Edward seemingly felt it was okay to start spilling secrets. "Scarecrow's hideout in the abandoned shopping mall", Jonathan had been hoping he'd have more time, they were still trying to attract Gordon, the old man not even on the island yet.

He lets out a sigh of disappointment, standing up from the desk. He knew the Knight would take care of the Batman if he arrived too early, that traitorous little bastard must still be around, he would never miss out on an opportunity like this. That would give Jonathan more time to speak with Edward, personally.

--

The trip to the old orphanage isn't long. As the car pulls up Jonathan has to wonder why the orphanage? Did it hold some sort of significance to Edward? Perhaps the irritating man grew up here, or maybe it was just easy space. He nods to the armed driver as he exits, holding up a few fingers "five minutes", before walking towards the large doors. He likes to pretend they don't give him trouble, but he'd never quite regained stability on his right, and his left side wasn't faring much better.

He enters. walking to the end of the ledge overseeing the arena. There Edward’s stupid little platforms sat, upon them a table holding a single button. Well Jonathan wasn't collecting "riddles", so he had no interest in that. He did quite have an interest in getting down, though. He looks around the empty room, then turns to get a look at the ledge he was on. A desk on either side of him, but they held nothing of interest. A large, hideous contraption on the floor he could care less about. Various children's toys. He kicks weakly at a rug, smiling as it reveals a small trapdoor below it. Edward was ever so predictable.

"Nygma." He calls as he makes it down to the arena, stepping forward to stomp on one of the moving tiles. There's silence for a moment, and then a few tiles on the opposite side open up, and scrawny arms pull themselves out.

"What?! Can't you see I'm quite busy as it is?!" Jonathan stays still as Edward stomps his way over, ranting and waving, "What reason do you have to bother me, me!, with your inferior presence?!". Jonathan doesn't seem to answer quite quick enough, and Edward grabs his arm, dragging him away and towards the small opening he came up of. "What do you think you're doing?! Don't just stand there, he's coming! He'll be here at any moment and I won't let myself be caught unawares! What a horrible opening that would be for my inevitable victory!". Jonathan just follows after him quietly. Edward will get to his point eventually. "You're supposed to tire him out with your idiotic plan, not get yourself caught on my doorstep! You-" He spins, poking Jonathan hard in the chest, "You're trying to sabotage me! You want to lead him to me so you and your Knight can try to claim a false victory, threatened by my obviously superior plan! Well I hate to tell you this, Scarecrow, but it's not going to happen! I'd rather repeat the failures of this night one thousand times over before ever letting you cheat me out of my rightfully deserved win!" Edward was panting by the end of his rant, and Jonathan peels the man off him, trying to keep the distaste off his face. He didn't like being spat at.

"Edward." He tries a more personal approach. Edward doesn't start a new monologue, so he supposes he's on the right track. "I'm not here to play these games.", Edward looks offended, but a sharp look from Jonathan stops him from anymore yelling. "Do you find it fun?" His voice remains cold and calm, although it's taking everything to keep it that way. Edward steps back, frowning in confusion, "Find what fun? Your need to prove that your plan is-". A hand at the neck shuts him up, the needles clearly far too close for the others liking. "Working with the Bat."

Edward’s frown only deepens, clearly offended, "Me?! Work with him!? I think you've inhaled too much of that gas, it's making you paranoid.". Jonathan doesn't mention the obvious irony in that hit, based on his actions Edward already knew how far gone he was. "You told him the location of my base, Edward.", Jonathan enjoys the look of understanding (and slight horror) that flicks across Edward's face before he tries to mask it. "Well it's not my fault he's too stupid to have figured it out sooner! I was working off my own perfect calculations- that he now seems to be failing!", although they both knew that was a lie.

"Edward, I know he scares you." Jonathan starts, almost sweet, "but that does not permit you to try and speed up my plans for your own relief.". His hand tightens around Edward's throat, needles brushing the back of his neck. Edward squirms, trying to release himself and Jonathan enjoys watching the man struggle. He'd broken an unspoken rule, revealing an ally's secrets just so Batman could work his way to him faster and stop the itching anxiety creeping up on him as he imagines all that will go wrong with the confrontation. Edward scowls, "I assumed you were prepared.", he tries to argue, "You and that Knight have been boasting a quite impressive militia, surely speeding things up a bit won't ruin your evening?". Jonathan suppresses a harsh growl, he always found barely repressed anger more intimidating, "I need the police commissioner, Edward. Now that the Bat knows my location he's sure to warn the fool!". He watches as Edward looks away, trying desperately to avoid his gaze.

He sighs, letting the man go. Edward scampers back, predictably, grabbing a wrench from his workbench. "No matter. You can fix this, Edward.", this was an ally he couldn't afford to lose, not yet. Who knows what information Edward has been collecting on his attack? He steps forward, staring at Edward through misty eyes as the others grip tightens on the weapon, "Bring me Commissioner Gordon. Then we can consider this matter settled.". Edward’s brow furrows, conflict washing over his face as he tries to balance his own goals against Jonathan’s. "Fine." he says after a minute, posture straightening, as if this was just another business deal, "You'll find him arriving soon.".

Jonathan nods, turning to the exit of the cramped underground workspace. "Oh, and.. Edward.", he drawls as he reaches the final step, turning to see the man look up from stressing over a laptop, "Don't do it again.".

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

My weekly roundup CW 23

I try to write down my thoughts after watching stuff to create a little weekly ranking in relation to the previous week on my, most of the times, quiet sundays (and because I love lists!). These are just my personal opinions and preferences based on the feeling I got watching the episodes.

And yes, this will contain spoilers!

↑ 1. Be My Favorite (Ep 3/10)

The one with the most adorable heart eyes this week:

All right, so now Kawi is trying to keep Pisaeng at a distance so that he doesn't fall in love with him and yet to get closer to Paer so that he will be the man at her side later. We can already see that Pisaeng likes Kawi. I mean, he has such heart eyes that it's really hard to miss! And I love how Pisaeng keeps reassuring Kawi that being himself is enough that others will like him. Even if Kawi eats like a pig and is just socially awkward at times. And I can understand him trying to keep Pisaeng at a distance to pursue his own selfish goal and trying to cement bridges between two former friends because he knows how it feels to lose friends and be lonely. And I'm even more looking forward to when Kawi finally realizes that the best thing he can do is not to stay away from Pisaeng, but to let him into his life and allow everything that happens next.

☼ 2. Love Tractor (2/8)

The most adorable puppy falling in love:

This is so cute! I read the manhwa and it's so cute! And the adaptation is so good to begin with! I have no idea how the story will fit into eight episodes, but I like to be surprised. The characters are well met. Yechan is one of the cutest puppies we've had on screen so far and he needs to be protected at all costs!

↑ 3. Our Dining Table (10/10 Final)

And there it is again over with getting hungry all the time. It ended the way it began, on a soft episode of feel-good. Yutaka is now officially part of the family, I love Minoru's father, everyone is happy, even though everything is transient, but that's just part of life and it would be much worse if you didn't allow beautiful things to happen just because they might be over again someday. All in all, a very nice, very quiet series.

↑ 4. My Story (9/10)

The most adorable couple in love this week:

Zeke and Fifth are back and cuter than ever. Fifth finally agrees and poses naked for Zeke and the latter can't stop looking at him as if the most delicious food was being served there. The fact that he didn't have water dripping out of his mouth is everything, too. The two are just incredibly cute lovers. And Sky and Win are also on cloud nine and then Sky's dad dies. And I'll be honest, it was somewhat foreseeable, but for a change in the land of drama.

↓ 5. La Pluie (7/12)

That is me watching flirty Patts and Saengtai:

Can I first say how pissed off I am with this ending? It just overshadows everything! That Lomfon finally discovers that Saengtian isn't so one-dimensional after all. The cute animals! And that Saengtai and Patts have taken the next step. Even though Sengtai isn't ready to be sexually satisfied by Patts, that doesn't mean he can't satisfy Patts. And I'm absolutely on board with that! It's nice to see that there's consent there. That it's being shown that you don't have to have sex at the first opportunity. That it's okay to say stop. That it's okay to give instead of take, especially if you're sexually inexperienced. Because receiving can be embarrising at first. It needs time to open up and to have the trust in the other person. Well, and then comes the end. And that pisses me off. Why the hell is Patts just standing there and letting himself be kissed? Afterwards it's going to be back to, she kissed me, I didn't mean to, and I'm going to sit there wondering why he didn't just turn his head away, kept her at a distance, said no, and why he closed his eyes…It's such a crappy source of drama. So not just the kiss with the ex, but the misunderstanding as such. I hope they resolve it wisely. I'll try to muster up that much trust after all.

The most unnecessary drama of the week:

↓ 6. Step by Step (7/12)

It went on and I don't like Put. I don't like how he tries to manipulate Pat into continuing this relationship with him. I don't like how he takes Pat for granted. I don't like how little effort he puts in. I don't like how he uses the stuffed animal as a distraction from the real problem. And basically, nothing has changed. They broke up because Put prioritized his career, which is a legitimate reason, totally non-judgmental here! But then he has the audacity to come back and put Pat back in the closet, to continue to put his career above everything. I think it could have possibly even worked between the two of them if he could have made Pat feel like he came first, if he could openly stand by him, openly care about him. But also only maybe. Because actually Pat has had feelings for Jeng for a while. And I think that's absolutely fine. Jeng is an adult and knows what he wants. He doesn't play games and doesn't have to defend his territory unnecessarily because he's so insecure that someone else wants to play with his toys. And he looks at Pat with that look that I think everyone likes to be looked at with, so that gives plus points. I'll give Jaab and Jane some more time to pick me up. I find their relationship…difficult. So everything, every interaction is difficult for me.

↑ 7. Our Skyy 2 (15+16/16 Final)

The most romantic shit I have seen in a while:

Yeah, still not a fan of the mix of Bad Buddy and A Tale Of Thousand Stars. I don't know, somehow I don't like Pat and Pran as much after watching this. I'll have to watch Bad Buddy again soon to get rid of the pale aftertaste. Otherwise Phupha and Tian…It was so nice to see them, just the two of them living their lives together like that and cuddling. Would be enough for me, but we were able to witness how our Chief gives his Tian the 1000th star. My heart wanted to stop for a moment. What a fucking romantic ending for the two of them and for the series. It really was a perfect ending. Not to mention all the kissing between the two…I mean hello? Seven or eight? In one episode? That's when my heart almost stopped for the second time…

↓ 8. The Luminous Solution (3/6)

So, next week my predictions come true…cheating…Basically I don't even mind the subject, especially if I don't like the couple and would rather see them in the arms of the other party. And right now, I don't think our doctor and Thana make a good couple. And Ryou and Mai are cute together. That's all I can say right now. The best friend is a pain in the ass, but I'm sure that will resolve itself. And hey, maybe the café will have a reason to be in the story soon!

↓ 9. Naked Dining (9/12)

I really don't know what to make of this at the moment. It's all kind of crap. Mahiro is so impatient that it's kind of upsetting me. I mean, he's been aware of his feelings for years and has accepted them, but for Souta, this is all new and he's confused because he feels something for Mahiro. What that is, he doesn't know. Basically that's okay, what pisses me off is the fact that they don't play on with it now. The two could have gotten closer now. They could have done something other than just cooking. They could have given Souta the space and time to get to know himself better and his feelings. Instead, you randomly throw drama into the mix. This week our dear colleague, who of course knows that there is something in the air between the two, but still wants to fight for Souta, even though there is no indication that Souta likes her that way. And then next week comes an ex who causes Souta to get jealous…This is unnecessary drama that doesn't feel natural and thus somewhat spoils my enjoyment of the series.

As a goodbye, here you have the cutes puppy of this week. Have a great week!

[yandere-fics]

Skylar Anderson

♡ "Heya! I'm really glad you've moved here! Huh? Oh for not reason in particular, it's just... it's been awhile since the place next door has been occupied! I hope your stay is wonderful." ♡

Skye is a shy yandere at first, not really even aware of her own feelings and intentions. Unlikely to make a move unless something pushes her over the edge and even if her actions are sinister in nature, she can always justify anything she does in the name of romance. After all even the leads in romance movies often push the boundaries. If you say her actions are bad then you simply don't know what you're talking about, as long as she never does anything worse than what her sister Sophie would do, she feels justified. Skye is the perfect sister and so there can never be any flaws with her actions. She is the perfect person and you are her perfect darling. Just please avoid disrupting her perfect image of herself. Always humble but secretly full of herself and the image she has crafted.

♡ "My full name is Skylar Anderson but everyone just calls me Skye so you can too! Oh no, we're not related to those Andersons. It's just a common last name I guess." ♡

The Anderson family is a very prominent religious family within the region although they never come to the seaside anymore after discovering their eldest daughter decided to move to a small coastal town. Most people would be unaware that Skylar is even alive since the current rumor is that most of the Anderson sisters died when the reality is that most of them simply ran away from home. Skylar left home after running from an arranged marriage, and since then has been receiving a monthly check in order to never reveal her relation to her parents. She mostly accepts the checks though because she believes if she stopped her parents would freak out and send someone to kill her instead.

♡ "I am... uhm... 24! Yup, 24. Sorry, I just never really think about it that often. Yeah I know 24 is a bit old for someone who just finished my college degree, but what can I say? I got a bit of a late start! Haha!" ♡

Skylar was not allowed to attend college due to her parents wishing to raise an obedient wife that they could sell off. She ran away at the age of 20 and took community college to get an english degree all on her own. This has only served to raise her own ego and self importance although you'd never known based on the look on her face. She was never taught anything formally, all her knowledge was stolen from the books the children in the neighboring estates were allowed to read. Despite this the college was extremely impressed by her test scores and after a much needed bribe, she was allowed in.

♡ "I- what? Huh? Oh! You're asking if I'm into women? Well the answer is yes. Quite a bit of a forward question though. You startled me just a bit." ♡

She is a lesbian, and she's lying about being embarrassed to answer, she's fucking delighted that you want to know who she's attracted to.

♡ "I'm a librarian, actually I would be pleased if you'd come visit me at my work sometimes, since it's such a small town the library doesn't see many people every day. While I do appreciate the silence, it wouldn't hurt to have some company. Especially from someone as sweet as yourself." ♡

She doesn't need to work as a librarian but she enjoys getting out of the house and it's a nice cover for why she has so much money to spend. Most of her money goes back into the library though to make sure her work environment stays nice and perfect. As a librarian she's actually pretty harsh, even scolding children for not preserving their books as well as possible.

♡ "Hmm? What do I enjoy? Well for starters, I really enjoy your company, you've been very nice to have around and I wouldn't mind spending more time with you. It's so hard to choose since I like so many things." ♡

That is a blatant lie, she really only likes you and her sisters. Everything else is far beneath her but a perfect pretty girl would never be so cruel as to remind people they are beneath her since those maggots already likely know that she's much better. She likes how small the town is, otherwise her and her sisters would not be able to blend in there. Her favorite sister is Darla, but that's to be given since most of the sisters love Darla dearly. She also really enjoys tarot although she might be a bit biased when it comes to reading the cards since everything is always interpreted to be in her favor even if it's not.

♡ "I'm not very picky when it comes to things so there's not much I don't like. Hmm, you'll have to give me some time to come up with an answer, it looks like we'll be hanging out for awhile while I try to think, haha. Why don't you get yourself situated with one of the blankets in our cabinet while I think?" ♡

There are a lot of things she dislikes, but the thing she hates most is feeling vulnerable. You can't be vulnerable if you're just playing a character though, as a character she is flawless and can do no wrong, as a person she is fundamentally broken and prone to fits of rage. She hates letting her facade crack, but not to worry, even if her facade cracks and she momentarily flies into a rage where she, let's say kidnaps you, she will always find some way to glue her facade back together. She also really hates her parents.

♡ "Hmm, well there's not a whole lot that I'm super good at but if I had to answer then it would be reading. I am good at this one other thing but I'll have to show you that another day." ♡

She's good at maintaining the persona of being a perfect, humble, little librarian when really deep down she's a ball of rage who is ready to fly off the handle at the smallest of slights. She is very talented at reading too though. She's also a phenomenal kisser since she's had loads of practice but she'd never let you know, she'd likely try to let you take the lead unless you say otherwise.

♡ "Well it's starting to get late so as much as I would adore if you could stay some more, I sadly must send you home. Please come back anytime. You're always welcome here!" ♡