#please tell me if you like this non-sense

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“You look upset?” Rogers’ voice startles you. You sit straight and rub the stitch from your forehead. How long has he been there? 

“Do I?” You wonder.  

Three days in this place, sifting through scraps and musty old receipts, and it’s starting to bleed through. Oh, don’t think of the blood. You grip the desk and shift in the chair. 

“I guess,” he shrugs. “Something wrong? I can get you a different chair.” 

“Chair, uh?” You look down, “no, that’s fine. Actually, I think I’m probably almost done.” 

“Good,” he says.  

He crosses his arms and turns on his leather sole. He starts to pace. He does that a lot. If he’s not sat in the arm chair or disappearing to wreak havoc out of sight, he’s there, walking back and forth. Back and forth. Combing his fingers through his hair, waving his hand in a wordless argument, moving his lips silently. Even if you hadn’t witnessed it that first day, you could tell he’s a man with a lot of pent-up anger. 

You go back to tallying it all up. Your stomach somersaults as you hover the pencil along the columns and review the numbers. Honestly, you are done, you just don’t know how to say what you need to. To tell this man what you discovered. 

“You’re breathing heavy again,” he stops and turns to you, “what’s the matter?” 

“Asthma?” You lie. He grimaces. 

“You got something for that?” He asks. 

“No...” you look away guiltily. “Alright, I don’t have asthma,” you wiggle the pencil nervously then tap your nose without thinking. What are you doing? You still it and put it down. “I’m done, okay, and, er...” you suck in air through flared nostrils, “you gotta promise you’re not going to freak out.” 

“Freak out?” He echoes as if the concept is absurd to him. 

“Yeah, because it’s not good news.” 

“Spill it,” he steps closer to the desk. 

You lean back in the chair and look up at him. A shank of his dark hair slips past his ear and the sheen of silver strands on his chin catch the light. His jaw squares under his thick beard. 

“Okay, but like just remember that it’s this Warren guy...” You clasp onto the armrests as you talk. “Oh boy, right. I’m not sure how to say it...” your eyes skitter back and forth. When you look back to him, that vein is bulging in his head. Just say it before he explodes! “He stole. A lot of money. And he actually hid it quite well but... yeah, I can show you--” 

“Amazing!” He claps and his face lights up. You flinch and your eyes go wide. Huh? He looks almost happy. 

“It is?” You flutter your lashes as the fog fades away from the edge of your vision. 

“You did it,” he said. “Get up. You gotta tell the boss.” 

“Huh? Me? You can’t--” 

“You’re the one who knows numbers. Grab the book, let’s go,” he commands. 

You don’t dare disobey. You grab the ledger and stand so abruptly, the chair snaps on the axle. You give a sheepish smile and scurry around the desk. 

He waves you out of the office. You’re all too happy to oblige at the realisation that you’re close to being out of here. He takes you down the hall and stops you at that same door. He knocks and waits until he gets an answer from within. 

He ushers you in ahead of him and shuts the door with a heavy click. That man, Buck, or Bucky, or Barnes, or whatever he wants to be, sits behind his desk. He is just as unimpressed as the last time you saw him. 

“Steve,” he greets the other man. 

“Go on,” Rogers nudges you with his knuckles. “Tell him.” 

You hold the book up in front of your chest and sway, “may I?” You nod towards the desk. 

Barnes gestures to the empty space and you approach. You put the ledger down, flipping it to face him. You turn the pages back and start at the beginning. 

“So, I was going through it all. This Warren guy. You see, here are the expenses, then--” 

“I don’t need the exes and ohs, doll, just get to the business,” he insists. 

“Right, I know you’re a busy man so I wouldn’t want to waste your time,” you chuckle nervously. “Alright, well,” you stand straight. Your head feels bubbly. “He stole a whole bunch money!” You say it a bit more chipper than you mean too. “Oops, well, not that it’s a good thing but...” 

Barnes’ eyes narrow and his chin ticks. You gulp and chew your lip. Shoot. 

“Sorry, don’t be mad. It wasn’t me, you know, I just added it up and--” You rock backwards and tip.  

You’re saved from hitting the floor as Rogers catches you and puts you back on your feet. He keeps hold of you, an arm across your back and his other hand on your shoulder. Barnes watches with unyielding derision. 

“Holy hell, she got something going on in her head?” Barnes asks. 

“She’s fine.” Rogers insists. “Look, Buck. We figured it out. You got everything you need to off that guy.” 

“Off... you’re going to kill Warren?” You squeak. 

Barnes gives you a sharp look and you seal your lips. Why did you say that? Your vision pulses and the colours blur. You feel yourself tilting and your head falls back. You slip into darkness to the shallow noise of your own breaths. 

When you wake again, you’re in a car. Rogers’ car. It’s dark and he’s silent. You look over at his shadow as he drives. You don’t recognise the streets outside the windows. 

“Noooo,” you sit up and pull on the handle as panic course through you. “Nooo, please, don’t kill me--” 

“Hmph?” He grunts and grabs your arm, pulling you back against the seat. “Sweetheart, if I was gonna kill you, you wouldn’t be awake right now.” 

“Oh god, so you would?” You screech. “I don’t know anything. Consider it all forgotten. Out of my head... oooh, my head.” 

“Calm down. Have some water,” he points to the cupholder. Your water bottles firmly in it. “Boss is happy. You did a good job.” 

“Oh, okay, right. Yeah. I’m a good accountant,” you say. You cringe and take the water bottle. You uncap it and clear your throat. “I’m sorry.” 

You drink deeply as he keeps his foot on the gas. You feel a bit better. You put the water back and wipe your hands on your skirt. 

“Um, Mr. Rogers?” You eke out. “Where are we going? You don’t have to say but I’m just asking.” 

He snorts quietly, “gotta pick someone up. You just stay quiet and don’t move.” He pulls up in front of a house. It looks like a really normal one. “Can you do that without passing out?” 

“I...” you look between him and the window, “I’ll try.” 

[rosepetalkitty]

ngl hdg kinda amazes me in its ability to cater to my kinks pretty much perfectly while simultaneously triggering several of the worst parts of my trauma.

like how is it that it hits on everything i like on the surface, provides semi-decent worldbuilding to back it all up and enable the creation of stories, and even has consistent backstory and stuff, and yet the entire damn thing instills this looming sense of dread and fear that i can't shake enough to properly enjoy it...

below the break im gonna talk in like. moderate detail. about the parts that scare me. so uh yeah be aware that it'll get heavy that's just how it is.

ok, so the worst thing for me. wellness checks. the idea is cute and kinda hot on the surface. "make sure you're okay and if you're not you're getting domesticated" (which is supposed to be like. a happy thing. "now you get to just chill and be happy and get taken care of forever and in return you give me only your submission"). yeah, fuck it, im into that. hell that's not even an uncommon trope in the realm of cnc/mc writing.

except whenever i read an hdg wellness check story (in the sense of those long-ish tumblr posts that people write—i haven't even really considered reading the longer form content on ao3) there's something viscerally... off... about the tone. it stops feeling like kink and starts feeling like a nightmare when things happen to line up just so, and then it clicks, and reminds me that i knew people, real people, who had "wellness checks" happen in real life, except that instead of it being a kink thing that made them happy and was genuinely for their wellbeing, it was that their parents had hired people to kidnap them and drag them to a psych ward when they just needed a therapist. not all of those people that i knew have come home, as far as im aware. some have been gone for years.

and what about the whole idea of the non-consensual part being okay because "it's for your own good". in hdg-land it is. it's genuinely good for you and everyone seems to be happy with it, other than the occasional "bad guy who hates good things" trope (feralists, in hdg, afaik). but that's exactly what they told me when they cut contact between my boyfriend and i while he was in the hospital. "it's for your own good." guess what, it wasn't. his parents didn't like our relationship. they wanted me to forget him. they either didn't understand or didn't care that i couldn't. it was a year and a half before he came home and i had forgotten nothing.

our loss of communication was the tipping point in a series of events that, had i made one decision differently in the end, would have killed me. thankfully i fucked it up and am here today, no longer in that bad of a place may i add. im choosing not to share any of what happened to me directly right now because i don't want to turn this into a full on trauma dump, but suffice it to say there are recurring themes.

it's so interesting to me because in a lot of ways i have found comfort from those experiences in kink and writing. take flames of averon: mech pilots are neurochemically bonded to their handlers. how different is this from what the affini do to their florets? well, you have to sign up to be a pilot, and there's no authority in the world threatening you if you choose not to. even the coalition military wouldn't dare force you to become a pilot against your will, though they might never stop sending you promotional flyers if they find out you're able to tolerate the cyberware /lh

hell, im into cnc. im really into it. i chose to leave it as an opening between pilots and handlers in foa. the implication exists that if a handler tells their pilot to do something the poor thing will have a hell of a time saying no. that's intentional. it's hot to me, on either end. but the safety comes from other things.

yes, your handler has a lot of influence over you at a level that's hard to imagine, but you chose them and they chose you (most of the time), or at the very least neither of you had any complaints to raise with your supervisor when the paperwork came in for syncing your link chips (holly and astrid from seat of consciousness).

yes it's true, you can't be reassigned now that you're bonded, but that doesn't mean you have zero recourse if your handler is treating you badly. if you need to, you can always file paperwork with your commanding officer to request that something be done.

plus, handlers go through a lot of training, which includes screening to filter out people who would actually harm their pilots. yeah, some handlers are a little sadistic, but when it comes down to it they are on your side. if that wasn't the case they would never have passed pre-basic.

put another way, as a pilot in flames of averon, the closest thing ive ever written to a floret, there are a multitude of points at which you could have said no and didn't, and although that's obviously still noncon in the grand scheme of things, it's "signing away your freedom" cnc compared to the hdg flavor of "you 'consented' via it being the best thing for you whether you like it or not."

even if your handler just told you to "stay" for the first time and you're currently panicking and trying to figure out why your legs won't move, you still have some tiny amount of agency—an escape hatch, so to speak—and you'll just never end up having to use it.

and to me, the loss of that minute level of agency which will never be invoked is the difference between "this is hot as hell and feels perfectly safe" and "this is the abuse that was once leveraged against those i cared about, and to some degree myself, and it's simply been repackaged with a kink sticker slapped on."

none of this is to say i hate hdg, it's fans, those who write about it, or even the parts of it which scare me. i do think the idea is hot. hdg is pretty cool. hell, it was one of my inspirations in writing a lot of the pilot/handler dynamics in flames of averon. but it does scare me. and no matter what i tell myself i can't shake that fear.

it's frustrating, because oftentimes fear can be part of what makes something hot, but the particular flavor of fear which hdg instills in me is one which makes bitter all that it reaches. maybe someday i'll grow out of it. the traumatic memories from which that fear stems were only created in the past couple of years, to be fair. but something tells me a piece of that fear will never be fully dislodged from my mind.

so, all this to say, while i am into hdg, it's a complicated relationship.

(and on a sillier in character note to lighten the mood—please feel free to respond to this with roleplay or whatever you like!)

to any Affini out there who might be reading this, know that im not scared of you. im not scared of what you represent. im only scared by the fact that you mimic that which has left the scars you see on my soul today. im not against being taken in as a floret, and none of this is to say that i hold any level of disdain for you.

i only ask that you be gentle with me. what has been broken once can be broken again. please, do not let it come to that.

[kstewdeux]

@inuvember | Prompt: Kagome | Ao3 | FFN

“No one needs to pee this much! I call horseshit Kagome!” Inuyasha snapped as he fidgeted and huffed and glared into the canopy to give the girl some ‘privacy’, “Maybe drink less. No one needs to drink that much water either.”

Kagome rolled her eyes and went about the very awkward business of having to utilize nature because the luxury of modern plumbing was centuries away. She still hadn’t gotten the full hang of it either and half the time she was left with the stale stench of urine hitting her at the most inconvenient moments - usually when they were about to talk to someone important because she didn’t feel insecure enough. Wasn’t like she could carry non-biodegradable baby wipes that might survive and become an archaeological nightmare which left bathing often and lots of nasty chaffing. Thank god diaper cream existed otherwise she’d be in tears all the time with no nice, safe way to explain why she needed to stop. Inuyasha was already impatient and snippy with her. Why add more to the pile?

But, for all the grossness, death by dehydration was way worse. She wasn’t about to forgo hydration just to avoid having to pee. Seemed a very dumb way to die.

Cleaning up best she could, Kagome tried her best to hold onto what dignity might still exist as she headed back over.

“Took you long enough,” Inuyasha groused as he started walking and she fell in line, “You always find ways to waste my time. Breaking the jewel, getting kidnapped, just always something.”

“Well excuse me for taking a minute to pee,” Kagome huffed as she shouldered her backpack and flexed her hands around her bow, “Not exactly used to roughing it so it takes me longer. Sorry not sorry.”

Inuyasha made a face and glanced at her in confusion.

“Roughing it? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You have been to my house. You have been to my world. You have  seen what I’m used to and having to relieve myself outdoors and in the open is a bit out of my comfort zone,” Kagome snapped as she turned and faced him, “I am dirty. I am tired. I hurt. I’ve got blisters, cuts, scrapes and bruises. I’m doing all of this in a skirt because my school uniform is the sturdiest item of clothing I own. I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve been given and it would be nice if you could maybe appreciate that I haven’t simply thrown in the towel and gone home where life isn’t miserable.”

“Ah, you really are weak then," he tsk'd while making the oddest face, "Fair enough. Makes sense."

Kagome’s face contorted in anger at the flippant insult and she began marching forward again. Inuyasha hesitated for a moment before catching up.

“Well, well, what would make being here better?” Inuyasha asked before looking thoughtful, “You ever bathed a hot spring? That’d help with the pain and stuff. It’d be nicer than the rivers you’ve been using. You’re the one making your own life hard stupid.”

Kagome sent him an annoyed look.

“Not like I know where to go to find one Inuyasha. No Mapquest or Google to guide my way,” she clipped bitterly. Inuyasha rolled his eyes.

“Don’t know what that means but you have me idiot. Just tell me when you want a hot spring and I’ll find you one. You don’t have to go home for nice things. There are plenty of nice things here,” Inuyasha huffed.

Kagome sent him a skeptical side eyed glance.

“You’d do that?”

”If it’ll make you move faster, sure,” Inuyasha groaned in exasperation. Kagome set and reset her jaw.

“I would like a hot spring,” she muttered after a moment, “Will you please find me one?”

Inuyasha smirked. If providing a few luxuries was all it took to keep her here and on task, this whole quest might not take that long after all.

[invisiblegarters]

Heads up that this contains very light information about the THK novelization.

I can't say I agree with a lot of this.

I feel like this is essentially turning on a romance channel and then complaining about all the romance. I get that it can be frustrating to want more and then not get it, but I don't feel like these shows ever promised us that. Kidnapped trailer made it very clear that it was mostly going to be about romance with some action on the side (as well as taking every opportunity possible to get Ohm half naked, thumbs up show). Only Friends mock trailer basically gave us everything we needed to put the pieces of the ending together, not to mention Jojo said it like four times. Khaotung spoiled the SandRay endgame before the show had even aired, lol. The Heart Killers trailers are much the same.

And Jojo is once again on Twitter telling us exactly what he's doing. If people choose not to believe him or to expect something different anyway, that's not his or the show's fault. This is supposed to be 10 Things I Hate About You with guns. Did you watch 10 Things I Hate About You and get surprised that Patrick and Kat wound up together in the end? That Bianca and Cameron became a couple? That the story mostly focused on the romance between them? It's a romcom. Hell, even the grittier version of Jojo's romance with guns had the main trio all end up together (even if I was so upset that my unexpected fave didn't make it that I couldn't actually enjoy that the first time I watched)! This isn't a phenomenon that happens only with BL - most romances have the main couple stay together even when they really really shouldn't. It's a staple. No one has to like it but it shouldn't be a surprise.

There's also been a lot of chatter about how Jojo wanted to break up the couples in OF and couldn't because of capitalism and the awful fangirlies, but I really don't think that was the case. I have looked for anything where he says that he wanted to work with no couples at all, and all I can find is him saying that he knew he wanted Mark and Neo for Nick and Boston from the beginning.

And considering they were the only non paired couple (despite Neo's best efforts, lol), that makes a lot of sense when you consider that they were also the only couple in the show to break up. I think it's less that Jojo was being forced into using cps and more that there were always meant to be two endgame couples from the beginning. People just took the Nick and Boston casting and Jojo's comments about them and ran with them to fit their own narrative. Now full disclosure, I have had to base this mostly on interviews - I don't have a twitter account so searching there is rough for me. If there is something on there that contradicts me, please bring it to my attention. I have zero problems admitting when I'm wrong. :D

Now as for THK, is it going to be good? This might get me in some hot water which I do generally try to avoid, lol, but I've read the novel so no. I have to say that for me personally I don't think it will turn out to be something I am into, not even as a turn my brain off and enjoy the pretty and ridiculous (which is what I do with Kidnap, incidentally, and I am having a great time even though I've been missing Title and would love him to come back and be hilarious) kind of way. But do I think that's going to be the fault of pair brands or the fangirlies? No. It's more because Jojo plays favorites with his actors, and always has. The ones he likes best get the best characterization and more stuff to do in general. Pretty much without fail. It's something I've noticed about his shows for a while now and it's easier to ignore in a show that is more of an ensemble (unless one of the ones that he's ignoring is someone you personally enjoy), but this isn't an ensemble show. I think there are shades of this bias already in the trailer, and if the novel matches up to the show as accurately as people expect, well. It will be even more obvious from the first episode exactly who this show is a vehicle for, and it ain't a pair at all.

That said, even if this annoys me personally, if it winds up as I expect I will just not watch. That's the only power I have here, and I'm okay with that. It's Jojo's thing and I really don't feel l have the right to tell him he shouldn't be doing it. Not every show is for me, and frankly if I was getting sick of GMMTV as a whole I would just stop tuning in. There are other companies that are rising up and doing their thing, and they are producing content I enjoy. There are other countries producing QL that I love. And I'm lucky I guess in that even though I enjoy a show that explores deeper themes or points out injustices or has something it absolutely wants to say (there are more I'm sure but a few that come to mind off the top of my head are Not Me, and I know you don't like it but The Eclipse (knowing the background of that one makes the anger in it really transparent to me), The Warp Effect (not a BL really but counting it anyway, and actually hilariously this is a great example of a show that I was annoyed with having a pat ending. But my annoyance doesn't change anything, or make what was being done less apparent. It just means that I wanted something else and that's okay but it's not their fault I didn't get it), my bread and butter is actually characters. I love thinking about why characters do what they do and dissecting the shit out of their motivations and reactions. Gimme a complex character over a complex plot any day. Not that we can't have both (and the ideal show does), but even if we do I'm always gonna focus more on characters. So in the end shows like Only Friends work for me because there's a lot to unravel there on a character level, although as I already said a lot more for some than others. Maybe that makes me a pleb or will get me judged as unintelligent but I've looked deep into my soul and decided that's okay, lol. 

And it's not that I think that these shows (or my faves) and what they do shouldn't be criticized or anything like that, that's absolutely silly. People have all the right in the world to criticize. I just think that it sometimes reaches a point where it starts to feel like people are watching this stuff just to get mad. And honestly I just think that that sounds miserable. The best lesson I ever learned was that when it comes to my leisure activities, if I'm not having a good time it's okay to quit.

I'm not expecting agreement; I think the two of us look at things very differently on the whole, and that's fine. I just wanted to add my two cents. I absolutely think that stuff is being done within the genre you would love, I just think that GMMTV is not really the place to find it, nor do I really think they ever promised that.

Hey,

I'm not 100% sure how this works. Also this is more of an opinion than a question. I just feel the need to brain dump. You are under no obligation to reply. 😁

I fear that First and Khaotung are being wasted at/by GMMTV. They're both stellar actors and seem to have the sensibilities to tackle more serious material.

I feel like coming off Not Me, the themes in The Eclipse kinda went over my head. My fear was and still is that I didn't understand all the nuances. And that's why I felt like the show was lacking. Also I think the very first preview set it up as an entirely different show (more supernaturalmystery/thriller) in my head, so there was a disconnect there as well.

Their next project was Moonlight Chicken where both of them shined as actors but negligibly as a BL pairing. Having said that, they seem to be on very solid ground in the BL fandom - I am referring to their fan meets.

Only Friends was a masterclass of acting as far as FirstKhaotung were concerned (i was all about Ray and Sand), but I think the overall reputation as show that fell flat on its face overshadowed or at least took away (for me) from the gravity of FK.

And now we're here. With The Heart Killers and I am very wary of how Ota all going down. I see that the final trailer got over million views and I'm happy for them, but based on I think the absolute travesty that was OF, my expectations for this show are on the ground.

I really want more of an insight into how projects are picked up and distributed inside GMMTV (if you ha e any, I'm dying to know). I feel like they would benefit greatly from being on a show like PS I Hate You or something like Peaceful Property.

It feels like they're backsliding in terms of material given. Which I am sure is a) not their fault and b) me possibly being weird and dramatic in the wee hours of the morning. But I wanted to get it off my chest and I was reading your previous reviews when I felt, and then gave into the impulse to write to you.

Also I'm a MaxTul girly too and somehow, you made me want to give Make it Right another chance.

Have a great week ahead and keep up the absolutely exceptional work! ❤️

NIHILISTIC! It's great to hear from you! And thank you for the compliments!

TW for girlies out there who are not Nihilistic: this post will contain criticisms of The Heart Killers trailer. Read at your peril, delicate hearts!

I'll go backwards to save the biggest stuff for last. If you write anything about Make It Right, please tag me! @bengiyo and I always give a little DJ air horn to each other when we've nabbed another one into the broader cultural reconsideration of this AMAZING show. MaxTul, man. Nobody beats them! (Okay, almost, Tul admits he wasn't the strongest actor, but. We'll let it slide, dahling!) Chemistry, humor, pride representation, everything, they're great. I yelped when I saw them in Triage!

Okay, so you are a FirstKhao girlie, and you're worried about what The Heart Killers bodes. (Out of transparency, I have The Heart Killers tag filtered because of Only Friends PTSD. I'm gonna filter my own post!) For you, Nihilistic, I just watched the trailer for it.

I will get to all your questions about the GMMTV model in a moment.

Now, out of even MORE transparency, I am watching the MESS that is Kidnap right now, and listen, it's NOT GOOD. I'm fucking not even writing about it anymore, I'm just reblogging the sessy gifs. I am watching it to support Ohm Pawat, and am hoping that this partnership with Leng Thanaphon will hopefully lead to better scripts.... somewhere. (Or at least, better scripts for Ohm at a place like One31 or Channel 3. I also hope Ohm keeps up his anti-branded pair stance, but if GMMTV forces him to pair permanently with Leng, it won't be a fucking surprise, and more on that below.)

To focus specifically on THK for a sec: the THK trailer evoked a lot of what's gone utterly wrong in Kidnap for me. I think writing Thai BL/Series Y scripts to be different, fresh, and innovative, is just going to be really fucking hard, especially for stories featuring branded pairs that MUST end up together in the end. Because we, the viewers, KNOW that they MUST end up together in the end, what kind of mystery and conflict can a script convincingly evoke to keep us, the viewers, engaged and interested in the drama?

A few of us Ohm girlies were excited that Kidnap could have had non-romantic plot points (CRIME!!!) to drive concurrently with a romance plot. There are Series Y that have done this BEAUTIFULLY, particularly Sammon's stories of Manner of Death and Triage.

I'm sorry to say that I didn't get that from the THK trailer, and that THK smells a lot like Kidnap to me. The trailer itself is giving an indication that the "jobs" these guys have as double agents are going to be compromised due to them falling in love. And after the debacle that was Jojo Tichakorn's Only Friends -- a show premised on the exploration of mean, icky, really horny humans, a great place to start an interesting show! -- knowing that THK will HAVE to end up in a romantic place, with FK and JoongDunk being in memorable and memeable entwinements... that's a lot to ask of a show that already isn't making sense by drive, emotion, and tone in its trailer alone. What matters more to these characters? Their work, or their need to be in monogamous relationships? Seems like the latter to me by way of the trailer, which makes me wonder what the point of the plot is. (Joong's chest, probably.) (Gahddayum.)

(I haven't watched the latest episode of Jack & Joker, btw, but I understand that THIS WEEK's episode is ALSO going through something similar, with dead-end and uncommitted plot points all to get to a kiss. Oy.)

To summarize these points and to touch at your question about how GMMTV chooses scripts: GMMTV has an economic model to sell in giving happy endings to their branded pairs, which I wrote about at length in my Old GMMTV Challenge rewatch of The Eclipse. No matter where a script goes, the ending must be memorable and monogamous to satisfy the retweeting hunger of the branded pairs' fandoms, in order for GMMTV's artists to increase online engagement and to maintain earned media values to sell products.

The wonderful @flowerbeasblog noted to me recently that Tha Sataporn, the CEO of GMMTV, said in an interview that as the productions of Series Y in Thailand continues to increase, there is a greater need for more scriptwriting talent across this niche genre, creating competition for more excellent writing. (By comparison, in the States, when streaming services like Netflix and Hulu starting commissioning more original series just about a decade ago, the demand for scriptwriters and excellent writing also went up by incredible scale -- only to come crashing down recently with pandemic and strike-related losses in revenue.) GMMTV's recently announced script competition, Y Find, updated itself last week with a notice that the company would need more time to sift through scripts to judge. In other words: the demand for creative plots is so high at this company that they are literally fielding entries from the general public.

At the same time, Tha Sataporn has been blunt in indicating that "good shows" are not the priority of his GMMTV, and that talent, management, and engagement are his indicators of success. So, economically -- as long as a show hits that happy ending, and gets the girlies excited online with commentary and purchasing power, then the studio has won, in GMMTV's eyes.

ULTIMATELY, Nihilistic: what we are dealing with regarding your concern, as fans and/or critics of Series Y shows, is a conflict of values, among critical fans like ourselves, other fans who only watch shows for romance and shipping, and the economic bottom lines of the studios/agencies themselves. Some of us just want narratively good scripts, like Bad Buddy or He's Coming To Me. Others are content with having a show end with their fave pairs confirmed together in the end, no matter the process of how they got there. Those are different values we hold in watching shows. I appreciate that while you're a fan of the FK branded pair, that you want stronger scripts for them. I do, too, but that's not a value that every fan -- and GMMTV itself -- holds. And I believe that's why we've been seeing more and more mediocre scripts from that studio in particular.

I actually want to note maybe something positive about FirstKhao. Other than The Eclipse, it seems like they haven't been locked into high school or university settings. Only Friends, Moonlight Chicken -- these are shows that show First's and Khao's characters as young adults, and THK is going there, too. I hope they can avoid the university settings as they continue to work.

Is stellar acting wasted at GMMTV? Oh, yes. Besides First and Khao, who I truly think are good actors, we have Gun Atthaphan, Nanon Korapat, and Ohm Pawat -- these three guys are on my list of the best Thai actors out there who have done BL, and they haven't had great scripts in years. (Gun, arguably, has had the best pickings of decent shows recently in Cooking Crush and The Trainee, but they weren't high art; and Nanon's Dirty Laundry was the last Jojo script I was truly impressed by.) All three of these guys were in MOVIES at one point. Those ambitions, on behalf of these actors by GMMTV, seem to have gone by the wayside in preference for a huge economic push to boost branded pair-based series insteads, with their plot holes and guaranteed romances.

I hope the genre's tide turns for the sake of quality scripts, especially at GMMTV, but my hopes are low for this agency at the moment. My joy in Thai shows recently has been in watching past shows for my OGMMTVC. I've been on a lakorn kick lately, having watched The Miracle of Teddy Bear and I'm looking forward to watching Khun Chai soon. Other agencies and studios, like One31 and Channel 3, are breathing down GMMTV's neck and producing more interesting shows, sometimes with branded pairs and sometimes not. Triage only came out two years ago, and that show's trilogy (along with Manner of Death) will end with this year's airing of Spare Me Your Mercy, starring the very likely one-time pair of Tor Thanabob and JJ (Jaylerr) Krissanapoom, two gigantic artists in Thailand who are circling BACK towards the much smaller genre of Series Y for SMYM's sake. I have VERY high hopes and expectations for that show -- and that show is well out of the purview of GMMTV.

I think what you're smelling about the THK trailer is right, Nihilistic -- to me, the trailer isn't cohesive, and jumps already to its forgone conclusion of a romantic end. Unfortunately, for those of us familiar with Jojo Tichakorn's work, we know that if he was given more leeway, he'd likely come up with something more interesting. But now that he has to work with branded pairs -- who are shipped in the eyes of their fan beholders -- he's got a lot less room to be creative and interesting, which ultimately stifles the otherwise excellent acting we'd see from these young men.

[elenthyaolyenths]

Everybody else: It's Monday, time to get back to serious work!

My schedule: You currently have 10 Works In Progress.

Me:

Me as a self-taugh fanartist in the Good Omens Fandom: having 10 works in progress, but starting another one. 🙃

Ko-Fi - INPRNT - RedBubble- Masterpost - Instagram- Facebook- Linktree

↓♥My cats judging me +Tag List (tell me if you want to be in or out)♥↓

@goodomensafterdark ;

@floscrap-blog ; @demonsandpieohmy ; @amagnificentobsession ; @captainblou

@ineffable-hyperfixation ;

@fearandhatred ; @eybefioro ; @crowleys-bentley-and-plants ; @ashfae ; @crowleys-hips;

@paperclipninja ; @silverdphantom ; @neverlet

@mad-aims ; @daisydimple20092 ; @seraphhiim ; @rebeccakatmauri

[ratspaguetti]

Splatoon headcanon- Fuzzy inkfish

Okay so! In splatoon 3, return of the mammalians, I was sorely disappointed when said mammalians where just...hairy and brainwashed, literally that's it, which had let me down so bad, given the fact that slight alteration of character model and brainwashing had already happened before (sanitization) and genuinely, the occasions haven't changed much behavior wise, so this is how I have headcanoned what should have actually happened in splatoon 3!

Behavior

Given the fact that the fuzzy ink fish are now mammalian, depending on the inkfish, they might hiss, scratch, bite, and attack like a wild animal, really depending on the type of animal they are based off of, I imagine most would be bearlike because it is Mr Grizz that made this happen, but imagine, a fuzzy inkling with Spirulas growing out of their head like sheep horns, completely ramming a another inkling a good couple of feet away! Making interesting gameplay! And given Japan seems to love cat girls (can't blame them) give a octoling some cat ears and very agile and bam! Happy fans- (I will probably talk more about behaviors in a different post)

They also do not use weapons! Given the fact they are mammals, they use their animal like features instead to fully attack [this is what will be explored in a different post]

Body

I need bullet points for these because there is a lot I wanna go through

Mammals aren't just fluffy creatures, they also have these cool nest things called bones and warm blood

So fuzzy ink fish will first experience "fever" like symptoms as their ink slowly heats up, and over a long period of time (depending on how much furry goop they have been exposed to and how long they have been a fuzzy inkfish) and go into a hibernation like state, when they come back to, their body will have had the changes, first, they are not hot blooded and have furr in their tentacles

Later on, their body will slowly shift to a more animal like appearance, like hands slowly enlongating and growing large claws, more hunched like posture to more easily run in four legs, growing new teeth that are more mammalian in nature (could be herbivore, could be carnivore) some will grow more furry along their extremities as well, some will even grow more animal like ears and eyes

At this stage, most of these bodily changes are still reversible with enough medical equipment, as the ink fish are still majorly cartilage and ink, so they can be reformed (kinda how they can still change into a squid or octopus)

Yet, when their bones start to grow, these changes are mostly irreversible, bones will form after a good couple of months, this will make fuzzy inkfish tanks compared to normal ink fish, the skeletal structure has downsides however, like the inability to turn into a squid/octopus anymore, given the fact that you can't really shapeshift into something as small as a squid, where would all those bones go??

But their inability to shapeshift smaller does not mean they cannot shapeshift at all, by or consuming the fuzzy ooze or ink, their body will grow in size, and they take a much more animal like shape, like how a human where to turn into a werewolf, in this form, they do high amounts of damage by the swings of their claws

Their bones and thicker skin would also do that one think most inklings and octolings can't do, get in water, cuz let's be honest, unless the oceans are actual acid, having a body with thicker skin, bones and muscle tissue, probably makes these Fuzzy Inklings/octolings able to actually swim!

Also, when their skeletal structure is growing, they will likely also grow tails (you can't have tails otherwise, yah need the spindle bones to make it, no-?)

I'll continue all this later- it's just my ideas I've been thinking of-

[edwinisms]

see I can’t accept charles’ comic background and socioeconomic status as canon for the show because if I did that would mean the whole group would be a bunch of rich kids and that’s a horrifying concept

[beef-brisket]

((He's such a bitch. I love it 😫))

Lucifer didn't even get the chance to tell Lilith that A was Adam. Fucking Adam. He didn't get much further than telling her about the extermination and his counter offer.

Lucifer knew he was in trouble when Lilith glared at him, she was holding little Charlie, so she said nothing. But after putting her to sleep, she went off. Lucifer was sure half of Hell could hear her.

Lucifer: Lilly, I had to! It was non-negotiable! I was only barely able to spare Hellborn and our family-!

Lilith: So you've thrown our people to the fucking dogs?! You're allowing bloodthirsty angels to come down here and butcher our people!? Like their nothing!?

Lucifer: They are nothing! I gave them the gift of free will and look at what they've done with it!

Lilith: You- fucking angels. That's the point of free will. More than half of these sinners don't deserve to be here. Like we don't. Or, we did. Seeing as we slotted into the roles that Heaven demanded of us!

Lucifer: What are you talking about?!

Lilith: YOU became the Devil! In every sense of the damn word! The only reason you stopped torturing sinners was because there were too many!

Lucifer: I-I had to! I didn't want to!

Lilith: So, where's that free will, Lucifer?! That thing we fought so hard for? We went from one jail cell to another! I wanted freedom, damnit! Not to be caged again! And now, you've sentenced our people to whatever the fuck this is! Extermination day!? Are you insane!? These are souls! Human souls!

Lucifer: Their Adam and Eve's decents- we should want them to die!

Lilith: It doesn't matter. Their not Adam. Their not Eve. Their people. Souls. Human souls-!

((Tw: physical abuse))

Lucifer: Humans were always a damn mistake! I did what was needed! There was no saying no- I made it so it benefited us-!

Lucifer stumbled backwards as a blunt force pain radiated through his jaw.

Lilith was stating down at him with so much hatred that it burned hotter than the fires of Hell. He cupped his jaw, feeling a trickle of golden blood run down his lip.

Lilith: ...humans were a mistake? Do you even remember who you're fucking talking to!? Do you know who I fucking am-!?

Lucifer: It's Adam.

Lilith: ...excuse me?

Lucifer: A... it's Adam.

Lilith: ... how dare you mention that pigs name in my presence. No wonder why you didn't fight back. You've always had a soft spot for him, even after everything he did to me.

Lucifer: You know that's not true! I hate him just as much-!

Lilith: Do you!? I don't care who A is anymore! I'm not wasting anymore time with Heaven. I will fight for our people, if you won't. You will attend the meetings from now on.

Lucifer started panicking as Lilith walked off.

Lucifer: Lily- please!

Lilith: Stay away from me, Lucifer. And stay away from Charlie.

Lucifer looked down. He didn't see the big deal, their sinners, not Hellborn. Why should they matter? They made their choice.

Now, instead of every one hundred years, a meeting will take place two days after each extermination. Lucifer didn't look forward to see Adam again.

I'm coming up with some aus for you, but I need some meeting shenanigans.

I would love to know what bullshit Adam and Lucifer got up to during meetings.

Slowly healing their relationship, one meeting at a time 👀

Well I think the very first one they wouldn't even be alone together because of what happened. I think Adam would just silently glare at him.

Over time when Adam was feeling more confident to face the devil he'd go alone but by hologram, Sera's idea.

Making snide remarks, snappy comments, and being sassy.

And Lucifer would come back with his own and they would end up in banter for a while other than why they are really there.

As more time passes it's less hateful and more playful, maybe even takes on a flirty edge.

And I always see Lucifer being the one to make the first move after what happened in Eden. Adam has so many insecurities he wouldn't think that Lucifer would want him as more than maybe a friend.

Hit me with them bud 👀

[puppyluver256]

Okay, I don't think this should have to be said for like...anyone, but since it's happened I'm gonna make a note of it.

Do not submit my OCs to character rating blogs, especially fmk/"bed, wed, behead" style blogs without running the idea by me first, and if I say "no" then accept that "no" and don't just do it anyway.

In fact, don't do this sort of thing with anyone's OCs without their express permission. Yes, even if they're your close friend. Yes, even if they're a very well-known artist.

People's OCs are often very personal to them, and if someone outright says they're not comfortable with someone who didn't make them taking them and throwing them to the wilds like this, it's a complete lack of respect for the person's boundaries. Just don't.

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

If you're still interesting you and anons might like to know that Dorothy definitely knows food words in Italian (Sicilian?) Because there's a few times where Sophia is cooking something and only says the name so Dorothy explains the dish to Rose/Blanche. You might remember the jokes where Sophia says gobblegook and Dorothy is like "even I don't know that one" and Sophia says that wasn't a meal that was her dentures slipping lol

Hi anon, of course I'm still interested!! I'm actually in the process of doing some research about all this stuff, it's just taking a long time because I've been very busy lately, haha.

I can confirm that Dorothy understands (or, at least, knows, which is a slightly different thing imho) the names of foods in Italian, yeah! And those names are in Italian alright -- I actually don't recall any instance of Sophia talking in any Sicilian dialect (although, as I mentioned, I'm still researching).

The episode you're referring to is S6E23: Love For Sale. The whole dialogue is:

SOPHIA: I'm not happy with my zabagliones.

BLANCHE: Maybe you just need a push-up bra.

DOROTHY: Blanche, zabaglione is a traditional Italian dessert. It's my Uncle Angelo's favorite.

SOPHIA: Yeah, my brother. He's quite the scungiscoror-or-or.

DOROTHY: Even I don't know that one.

SOPHIA: That wasn't a word. My dentures slipped.

The Zabaione is, indeed, a traditional Italian dessert; it's a sort of sweet cream prepared with egg yolks, sugar, and sweet wine (you can find out more about it here). The way Sophia pronounces it, it sounds as if she's spelling it zabaglione, but that also makes sense from a linguistic POV, because many people (especially uneducated people from poor regions of Italy, like Sophia herself) do tend to spell it that way, to sort of 'overcorrect'.

The zabaione is supposed to have originated in Northern Italy (although the actual origin has been lost to time, unfortunately), but it's become common all over the peninsula, especially in places where they prepare famous sweet wines -- and wouldn't you know, Sicily has exactly the right place for the job! The wine they make in the city of Marsala is delicious and deliciously sweet at that (not to mention very well-known), so it's perfect to prepare the zabaione.

Digressions on Italian wine and desserts aside -- you're absolutely right, anon! Dorothy clearly knows what the zabaione is and acts as a translator for Blanche in this instance. I also recall her naming dishes by their Italian names in other instances, although I have my doubts about the recipes Sophia uses (she makes lasagne with marinara sauce...?). I'll be sure to include a full round-up of all the Italian food mentions I can find in the series in my deep dive!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Pain of Living 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, chronic pain, blood/violence, perversion, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You deal with pain every day, but a new source of pain lands on your front step.

Note: I know I shouldn’t.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Ibuprofen, pedialyte, gauze, and a few extras just to pad out your cupboards. It’s not quite a success considering what you’re headed back to. You drive cautiously, wondering if anyone else can see the horror sewn into your face. No one stops you, no sirens whoop, you’re left to face the strange man in your bed. 

You get home and carry in the bags, pausing just inside to catch your breath. The brief trip has you ragged. You feel twice as bad as when you left. That isn’t what matters. The blood on your floor reminds you that there is much worse to deal with. 

You bend and take out the large bottle of pills and a bottle of grape electrolytes. Your steps are weighed down by more than your pain. Dread hangs off of you like a wet blanket. 

You knock. On your own door. The man doesn’t answer. Your heart pumps. You knock louder, keeping the bottles hugged under your arm. 

Still no answer. You twist the handle and push inside. Please, let it be an awful nightmare. Don’t let him be dead. 

“Ah, oh god,” you exclaim and spin away from the sight the strange man’s naked back. The vision of his ass as he bends his leg around your duvet is stamped into your mind. Ugh. “Sorry, I--” 

“Fuck, I finally fell asleep,” he sneers. “Got the painkillers?” You nod at the hallway. The bed creaks and he huffs. “Well... give it.” 

You turn warily. He has the blanket pulled over his lap. His torso is entire naked, a patchwork of stitches, dried blood, and hair. You near the bed and set down the tablets and the electrolytes. 

“NSAIDs,” he rattles the bottle. “Anti-inflammatories help with blood clotting. It’ll keep me from bleeding out like Normandy beach.” You wince at his crude allusion. He rolls his eyes, “relax. Think I’m through the worst of it. No major arteries. But damn...” he leans back against the pillows, “I feel like a slapped ass.” 

You furrow your brow. The way he talks, his arrogance, it makes it hard to feel bad for him despite his injuries. He tosses back two pills and reaches for the other bottle. He gulps eagerly and pops his wet lips. 

“Mm, fuck, exactly what I need. Hey, you got a TV you can move in here? Something to watch?” He asks. 

You hesitate. 

“You should probably sleep--” 

“Thanks, Nurse Ratchet, I’d love to fucking sleep, but I’m restless now you woke me up,” he sneers. 

“Um... I have my laptop.” 

“Any fucking screen that can keep me from going mad staring at the ceiling.” He insists. 

You nod and back out of the room. This is odd. Absurd to the point you question your own sanity. Have you summoned a hallucination out of sheer boredom? Did you snap? Or do you really have the worst luck? 

You sniff and go to find your laptop. You don’t use it for more than filing your insurance claims and to get your mailing labels for your work. He can borrow it for a bit. You don’t have any pending orders. 

You return to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you as you enter. You hold out the computer. 

“Here, um, it’s all yours.” 

“You talk to anyone?” He asks. 

“Anyone...?” 

“When you went out, did you talk to anyone?” 

“Not really. I used the self-checkout--” 

“Did you tell anyone about me?” He interrupts. 

“Erm, no, I...” 

“Fuck, you are dull. That’s all I need,” he takes the laptop. “You can piss off.” 

You flinch. Wow. That’s not very nice. 

You reach for the laptop as he puts it on his lap, “look, if you’re going to be mean, I have better things to do with that--” 

He grabs your wrist and easily twists it back. Despite his condition, he’s just as strong as his bulging muscles would suggest. You whimper as your eyes glimmer. 

“Ow, let go, please,” you whimper. 

He keeps you locked in for another moment before he obliges. You retract and swallow down the agony. What hurt before is now unbearable. You cradle your arm and retreat. 

“Close the door, raggedy ann.” 

You shut the door. As much to block him out as to appease him. How can someone you helped be so rotten? 

You go to the kitchen and sit in a wooden chair at the small table. You rub your wrist and sniffle. It’s easier to be alone and in pain. You don’t like others to see you struggle. The way that man behaves, you don’t want to show any weakness. 

You blow out between your lips and look at the door. You’ll need to clean up soon. The rug is garbage but getting rid of a blood-stained carpet won’t be easy. And the bleach might not do much for the floor. 

You put your head down on your folded arms. You’ll deal with it eventually. Like everything else. It’s too much. Everything waits on the pain. Your whole life is centered on your aching bones and burning muscles. 

You wallow in your self-pity until you have the energy to get up. When you do, you ignore the inevitable and make coffee. As it brews, there’s a holler. 

“Hey, sugar stack,” the man calls, “is that coffee I smell?” 

You tense, a surge of pain rippling through you. You exhale and collect your strength. You yell back, “yeah.” 

“I take mine black. Thanks, baby.” 

You close your eyes and grit your teeth. You’re not a mean person. You’re not cruel. You don’t hate people. In fact, you do your best to keep them happy. You don’t want to be a burden. You don’t to be a problem.  

Yet this man makes your brain fiery. You’re actually annoyed. Angry even. It isn’t that he’s just rude, he presumptuous. He just assumes that everything belongs to him, and that seems to include your home.  

You can guess how he ended up the way he did. He doesn’t exactly inspire kindness. 

[mhexart]

There seems to be a fairly common trope among AI or artificial human characters in fiction that I've noticed and both sort of relate to and sort of sympathize with(?) Hyperfixation be damned but I've latched on to two characters and I want to ramble about them. Melissa Bergman from Metroid Other M and Singularity from Bayonetta 3. (And maybe the reason I've taken notice to them over other AI characters is because they're poorly written or portrayed so it's easier to project. (idk idk)).

For Melissa, there's this whole revenge plot --is what I'd call it -- going on throughout Other M. Melissa wants to crash the Bottle Ship into the Fed home world, etc. But where does that come from? Frustration maybe? Anger? Misdirected anger? Yeah I'd say so. (And for the sake of this interpretation I'd say that while she's beginning to process all these "emotions" she's also wrestling with the sadistic urges that come from being based on Mother Brain). To Melissa, all she's ever known is her role. Control the Metroids. Keep them docile, then control the specimen aboard the ship. Keep them docile too. That is your purpose, that is the one and only role you play. To the federation, despite her human exterior, she is just a tool, used to complete a task. So then comes Ms. Madeline Bergman, She gives the machine her name. Humanizes her, treats Melissa like a daughter. And to Melissa, that's true. I am the daughter of Madeline Bergman. This is my mother. We work together. But as experiments and nefarious space shit continues on the Bottle Ship, Melissa wants to do more. She is more present than ever, and there are even scenes where she tries to assert her beliefs and methods, (and presumably fails (I've tried to listen to what she says in the scene where she storms out of the meeting room but I can't tell). My guess is that this has been going on for a while, and this all builds up to the attempt to reset her(?) Madeline says it's altering her AI program but eh. I'd also assume around this time, MB being able to communicate with all the creatures on the bottle ship, she'd realize what they were being subject to. Like her, they were probably treated like tools. Simple assets. So the peak of this tension is when the Federation tries to seize her and she sees Madeline standing idly by. What's going through her mind when this happens? That's my mother! Why isn't she helping me? And maybe, that leads to the conclusion that Madeline never saw her as a daughter. Maybe to MB, her mother viewed her the same way as everyone else. So to her, she doesn't even belong. Not to the Federation, as they've rejected her current self, and not to her human family, Madeline, as she's allowing this happen. But she has her other family. Everything aboard the ship she's spent day after day interfacing with. They're just like her. They, the rejected, the tools, are her family. They'll help her. And maybe one of the thoughts that's running through her head in that moment is What makes them (The Federation) any more human than me? What makes my existence, less valid than the perpetrators of biological horror? So she sets out to prove something. I am valid. I am real. I am here. Maybe she wants to make a statement. Make herself known. I'm more than a tool. I'm more capable than you give me credit for. And I'll prove that whatever it takes...

(Though, I like to think that even through this all, she still sees Madeline as a parental figure. After all in the last scene, MB pushes her out of the way when the Federation fires ice beams into that room)...

[elainemorisi]

https://www.bloomberg.com/graphics/2024-college-return-on-investment/

I'm sorry, I'm a complete asshole about this with absolutely no skin in the game (for at least ten more years), but it also drives me nuts. So please just. look at the graph

[diejager]

Stepdad!König taking a call from your mother while she’s at work - and while he’s brutalizing your sweet pussy in your room, his hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speaks to your mother over the phone like normal 😊

Phone cw: p in v, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, smut, rough sex, creampie, exhibitionism?, tell me if I missed any.

Your heart jumped out of you chest when his phone rang, you panicked, but König looked unbothered, reaching over to pick it up as he kept up his pace, driving his hips forward roughly and ruthlessly. He chuckled lowly, showing you the caller: your mother. Your breath hitched, teary eyes widening and mouth agape with drool rolling down the corner of your lips, you struggled against him, begging for him to ignore the call or to stop if he wanted to answer it.

“You can keep quiet, can’t you, Schatz?”

“No no- please-!”

His hand came down on your mouth, muffling your cries and whimpers, pleading for him to adhere to common sense. Despite your cries, he answered the phone, clicking on speaker - to antagonize you - and your mother’s voice rang out in the room. He greeted her with a normal hi, his tone calm even through the strenuous session, rocking into you, his thick girth and throbbing cock milking your cunt of the load he left this morning after she left.

“I’m sorry for calling so suddenly, hun,” she sounded tired, spending the day working until 7pm.

“It’s okay,” König hummed, placing the phone down beside your head, beside your covered mouth and tear-streaked cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll be home later than usually,” she sighed, oblivious to your muffled whines. “I’m going to swing by that Italian place, do you want anything?”

Unlike your choked mewls and breathless keens, your stepdad was still, chest puffing up and pressing down on you, shifting your legs over his shoulders as he drove himself deeper. He was rough, thrusts hard and words degrading, cooing in your ear harsh, degrading names. Telling you what a slut you were for you stepdad, how you were a bitch for whoring around him and Horangi in skimpy shorts and baggy shirts, and how your sweet pussy was so wet and loud for him.

“Could you ask (Name) about supper?”

“Give me a second, ja?”

He flashed you a mean grin, putting the call on mute for better acting, playing the scene of him walking towards your room or where ever you were. His hand moved down to your neck, giving you a hard grip and holding you down, folding you in half, knees bent to your shoulders and feet jerking over his head. Seeming satisfied with his manhandling, the wet slaps of his hips hitting your thighs louder and the head of his cock ramming your spongy cervix, he picked up the phone, unmuting it and pressing it to your ear.

“Dear?”

“H-hi mom-” you gasped, the heavy curve of his cock and the bulging veins rubbing your back wall, you spasmed around him, teeth biting down on your lower lip to stop the moan that threatened to slip.

“You remember that Italian place we went last week?”

“Ye-ah-yeah.”

She paused, her silence ringing louder than every slap that made your stomach bulge. You feared that she heard your slip up, the high-pitched mewl and pants you let out; you feared that crooked grin on his scarred lips and that proud and scheming gleam in his eyes. He changed his fast and rough pace for a deep and precise one, repeatedly aiming for that spot that made your eyes roll and back arch, finger thumbing your engorged clit.

“Are you okay?” You hated the worried tone mixed with that exhaustion, it picked at your heart.

“Yes-!” It came out harsher than you intended, pearly tears slipping from your squinted eyes.

König’s manhandling and pointed hits made your walls clench around him, the coil in your navel tightening to a delirious amount, making your head spin and mind dumb.

“Okay… Do you want anything for tonight?”

“Ro-rosé, please.”

“All right, I’ll see you tonight then.”

Any later and she would have heard you scream your mind off, you let moans roll off your tongue without restraint, nails digging into his back and back arched upward. He lowered your legs to his elbows, opening your legs to watch you come, your cunt swallowing him to the base, pumping in and then back out with a white ring around is cock from your shared pleasure. He made a sound of satisfaction, hands wandering down to grip your hips, riding out his pleasure leisurely and yours a fiery white blaze that burned through your body.

“You heard her, ja? Looks like we have more time to play.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

[elflutter]

— guard dog

kinktober 01 → dom/sub dynamics

sub!logan x dom mutant fem!reader

synopsis

Nobody would believe how his masculine bravado fell as he let you take control. They didn’t notice how you could dismiss him with a nod of your head, how he would immediately back down from a fight if you told him to drop it. Like a dog with a bone. That’s the thing about Logan. He is protective like a guard dog is  protective. And he is submissive like a guard dog is submissive. Oh, you so enjoy training him.

wordcount: 4k+

tags/warnings below the cut

tags/warnings: explicit (18+ mdni), dom/sub, light pain kink, light praise kink, porn with feelings, hurt/comfort, logan calls reader ma'am, reader wears a dress, pet names (incl. baby, pretty boy, kitty cat), degradation, oral sex (f. recieving), mutual mast., unprotected p i v, fingering, come eating, logan is compared to a guard dog (non-sexually), one (1) mention of collar play, no use of y/n. i'm sure i've forgotten something, please let me know if i have!

a/n: i have no excuse for this omfg. i'm a slut, ok!! and i am allergic to writing smut without including major feels what's up with that

thank you to the lovely @eupheme for looking over this before i posted!

You love seeing Logan like this. On his knees, eyes glazed over, beard drenched in your slick. Fingers tangled in his hair, hard grip pulling his head away from your cunt. You are bare beneath your dress, hiked up to your stomach, but Logan is completely naked. Looking down at him from where you sit on the edge of the bed, thighs spread wide. In complete control as he whines at the loss of his mouth on you, completely drunk on your taste. Candlelight and the Autumn twilight illuminating the planes of his face like liquid gold. Your core throbs where his tongue was just a moment ago. 

You hush him, your free hand cupping his jaw. “You miss my pussy, baby?” Your brows knit together in mock pity at the desperate sound he makes in affirmation. He grinds feebly at the side of your mattress, neglected cock aching for something, anything. Maybe it says something bad about you, that you get off on seeing him so pathetic. But you know he craves this too. 

He was embarrassed about it, at first. Being submissive. Getting hard when you called him your sweet baby, your pretty boy, voice dripping with condescension. But you could tell that he needed to unwind the second he woke up after you dragged him into the X-mansion with Jean and Scott. You could feel it, the emotions pouring from him. 

Your mutation is a difficult thing to control. To turn off. Sometimes, you feel like a creep. A trespasser. Knowing the deepest emotions of a stranger, ones they may not even recognize themselves. You think Jean and Charles are lucky, with powers rooted in thought. They can tease out feelings too, but their power is fundamentally different from yours. Thought is intention. Emotions are energy. 

“You can’t force your retinas to stop sensing photons just because the light bulb does not know you can see it. Even if you close your eyes, my dear, you will still be able to see its light, however dimmed.” Charles’ words from your first day at the mansion help to curb the guilt; when you feel like an intruder. 

You certainly felt like an intruder months ago, when Logan woke up in the lab, lit aflame like a wildfire. Fear and rage, as he shot up from the table. Confusion, as he pulled the IV from his arm. Idiot. You tried to ground yourself in something tangible, anything, to keep yourself from feeling him. So much him. The buzz of the fluorescent bulbs. The vent blowing cool air against your skin. The weight of contact where your feet met the floor.

You taught mindfulness and meditation to the students and your teammates. Helped them to guard their emotions from people like you. For you, meditation was like closing your eyes. You could still sense those around you, it was just easier to tune out. Like hearing music through cotton in your ears. When others meditated, it was like switching off the light bulb. Leading students through exercises in your class was your favorite time of the day. Sweet silence enveloping you like an embrace from an old friend. 

Later on that first day, when you introduced yourself to Logan properly, he grumbled, “Stay out of my head, bub.” His frustration butted against you like a battering ram. And you stood against it, the feeling piercing your heart just a little. Powers standing tall as a wall of stone as you told him that it wasn’t that simple. You wished they could have just crumbled. You couldn’t help but feel guilt eat away at you like it always did. You wouldn’t blame him if he hated you. 

Over his first few weeks in the mansion, you taught him basic mindfulness in one-on-one sessions. He had trouble taking it seriously; thought it was silly. A bit out, “No way this’ll work, bub,” as you led him through meditation in the training room, sat cross-legged on the mat across from him. You told him to close his eyes, to focus on the feeling of his breaths. “Now you’re just makin’ fun’a me,” as you told him not to fight his emotions. After twenty minutes, you could still feel the anxiety gnawing at him. Just as bad as at the start of the session. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze met yours— bright hazel making your breath hitch. His fear and anger and self-loathing were banked for a moment, and you felt something else. Understanding. Desire. You weren’t sure if it was his, or yours. Maybe both. He ended up in your bed that night. 

Your first few times were pretty vanilla. Him on top, pounding into you, sweat from his brow falling against your cheek. After a month of him fucking you into the mattress at least three times a week, he was still tense as he took you. On edge, knowing he was unguarded from your mutation. It wasn’t that the sex was bad. It was some of the best sex you’d ever had. But you could feel it, whether you wanted to or not. His anxiety. Curled up like a viper behind a bush, hiding just beneath his pleasure. Never fully letting go. 

He didn’t even hold it against you, anymore. Your mutation. Knew how it felt to be hated for something you couldn’t control. Maybe that’s what had drawn him to you in the first place.

But when your nails scraped down the side of his bicep, barely even hard enough to leave a mark, you felt the rumble of his moan, deep in your chest. Couldn’t feel that viper anymore, lurking just below the surface. Like it was carried away in the beak of a hawk as you marked him. He begged. 

“More.” 

You shuddered. In control, after that. Flipping your position so he was on his back, body pliant beneath yours as you rode him. Your breath was hot against his ear when you leaned down, bare tits tender where they pressed against his chest, to whisper. “Gonna let me take care of you, baby? Gonna let go?” 

Nobody would believe how his masculine bravado fell as he let you take control. From the outside, he seemed like the dominating personality in your relationship— undefined as it was. How his hand would reach in front of you protectively during missions, how he would bristle with a clenched fist if anybody talked a little too much shit during an exercise in the Danger Room. They didn’t notice how you could dismiss him with a nod of your head, how he would immediately back down from a fight if you told him to drop it. Like a dog with a bone. 

That’s the thing about Logan. He is protective like a guard dog is protective. And he is submissive like a guard dog is submissive. Oh, you so enjoy training him. 

And much as you tried to teach him to meditate over months since he arrived, empty his mind more conventionally, it never quite worked for him. But when he’s beneath you, eyes glazed over as you bounce up and down on his cock, and you can’t sense a single thing from his pretty little head? You know you’ve done your job well. Given him what he needs. 

“Such a good boy, making me feel so nice,” you croon, in the moment again. He sat on the floor between your legs, eyes desperate and wanting when you thrust your hips up in the air just a little bit. Teasing him with the movement, more than yourself. Your hand is still tangled in his hair as he tries to lean forward to bury his face in your cunt again. 

“Stay,” your voice is hard, careful that you don’t betray the fluttering in your belly at how badly he needs you. “I thought you were a good boy, but good boys follow orders.” You pout, mocking him. 

“’M sorry, baby, just wanna make you feel good,” he pants, eyes 

glistening in the dim light of the waning sun. Golden leaves rustling just outside the window. “Wanna make you come.” 

You smile, maybe a little meanly, your free hand squeezing his cheeks together. The other uses its grip in his hair to pull his head back farther, exposing the sweet column of his neck to your greedy eyes. He looks so pretty like this. If he hadn’t been so naughty, you would’ve told him as much. Instead, harsher words leave your lips. 

“Already so pussy drunk you forgot your rules, kitty cat?” You let your hand loosen its grip on his hair, the other still pressing into either cheek, forcing his gaze to yours. “You will make me come when I let you, hm? Can you handle that, darling, or do we need to stop?” The pet name is saccharine sweet on your tongue, mock sympathy dripping from your voice. 

“No ma’am,” he croaks out— words muffled by your grip on his face. You finally let go, comforter plush against your skin as you lean back on your elbows. Nothing but the weight of your gaze keeps him frozen in place beneath you. You wait for him to continue, expectantly. 

“Don’t need’ta stop,” he pants. “Just need you.” 

You love how the words fall from his lips. How he lets them. Tracing his jaw tenderly, the soft touch so at odds with the mean glint in your eye. So at odds with the swell of your heart, knowing he can let go with you. 

“I know you do, baby.” Your thumb strokes his bottom lip, “Now ask nicely.” 

“Please.” The way he begs has your core throbbing, the heat of your desire spreading down each limb like a flame. You almost give in. Almost. 

But you can’t have him getting spoiled. 

He knows he’s fucked when one side of your mouth lifts in a cruel smirk. You lean down so your lips brush against his ear. “I’ll let you lick my pussy clean after you fill it. If you’re good.” 

He whines; the sound a desperate thing. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” you guide as you tease your fingers at your entrance. Soaked, from your slick and from Logan’s mouth. Your first finger slides in easily, as Logan’s hand grips at his cock. He sighs at the stimulation, the relief, though you know he’d rather his face be buried between your legs. His tip is flushed, weeping. He ruts into his fist as your finger begins to move within you. Already so slick that you make room for a second. 

Sparks light up inside your belly, already sensitive from Logan’s work, but your touch is nothing compared to his. Your fingers are smaller, not reaching nearly as deep as his would, when you curl them. But you savor the control— as you fuck yourself on the bed and Logan touches himself on the floor. Almost feral for you. 

Locks of hair pulled from their little tufts where you mussed them, falling in front of his eyes. A bead of sweat glistens on his brow, before sliding down his cheek. His lips part; the sounds of his desire falling from them. Sweeter than any melody. 

And your mutation? Couldn’t sense a damn thing. So blissed out that his mind went blank. Letting each sensation roll over his body like a wave against the sandy shore. 

That’s the toughest part about this. Seeing him like this and maintaining your resolve, composure, control. To tease him instead of fucking him like an animal. And you will— fuck him like an animal. He just has to work for it first. 

You spread your legs a little wider, pumping your fingers in and out. Using your thumb to circle your clit. Teasing Logan with what you wouldn’t let him taste. Yet. You draw out his little torture, watching you get yourself off, so close that your heady desire is all he can smell. Climbing closer and closer to the peak of your pleasure, eyes hooded as they meet Logan’s, letting the sounds of his panting fill the air until you finally come undone. Feeling terribly vulgar as your walls pulse around your fingers. Growing even slicker, then. 

“Stop now, little prince.” 

Logan stops moving like he is bound to your will. You smile. He doesn’t even talk back when you call him little. Four hundred pounds of muscle and adamantium wrapped around your finger. You bring your hand, wet with your arousal, to meet his lips. 

“Open up.”

Logan lets his jaw slacken, his tongue jutting just above his lower lip to taste what you give him. You hum, as your fingers slide into his mouth and he hollows out his cheeks to suck. Your other hand moves to play with his hair, gentler now than it was before. 

“Such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” 

You think that the noise Logan makes is in affirmation. Your fingers remain between his closed lips. 

“Gonna make you come now, baby.” 

Logan bites back a moan, glossy eyes wild with need. 

Fingers slip loose with a slick pop as you guide him up to the bed. You finally let your dress pool on the floor around your feet. Logan sits back against the headboard, flushed cock at attention. You climb atop him, hard muscles so at odds with his lolling head and hooded eyes. Feeling his length press against your belly as you admire the view. Such a pretty thing, sprawled out on your bed, waiting for you with a leaking cock. 

“So needy. Need me to fuck you good, baby?” You ghost a touch across his sweat-slick forehead. “Need me to fuck all the thoughts out of this pretty little head?” 

He nods. But no words escape his lips. You angle your head to the side, patient. 

His voice is rough with desire as he croaks, “Yes, ma’am. Please.”

You feign confusion.  “Please what, sweetheart?” 

Swallowing his pride. “Fuck me, baby. Please” 

You line up above him, palms resting on his toned chest, thick length prodding at your entrance. 

“Mmm, only because you asked so nicely.” 

You sink down on him in a quick, brutal thrust that steals your breath— his cock brushing that perfect spot your fingers couldn’t quite reach. Your mouth finds his neck, where your teeth nip and lips soothe. Inhaling his scent— cigar smoke and whiskey mingle with the musk of his sweat. Undertones of cedar from his shampoo as vanilla wafts from your candles. Your hips remain still, his tip nearly brushing your cervix, savoring the slick, sweet stretch. Logan lets out something between a growl and a whimper when you clench your walls around him, teasing. 

His desperation finally spurs you on, lighting a sweet fire in your core. Angling your hips up before sinking down again. And again. Slow, at first. You let yourself enjoy his thick length dragging along your walls, stimulating that spongy spot that makes you see stars. 

“Y’fill me up so good, baby.” 

Logan’s muscles tense beneath you, eyes squeezed shut as he fights the urge to move his hips. Aching to meet you as you slowly pump, to rut up into you hard and fast. You click your tongue in admonishment as his eyebrows knit together. 

“Eyes on me, sweet thing.” 

His lips move, searching for his words, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. His hazel gaze meets your own, brow heavy with the effort you know it takes to follow your rules. Your mutation still can’t sense anything from him. The strain purely physical, as his mind floats through the bliss of your command. Your chest grows heavy with the trust that Logan has given to you so freely. 

“So good for me, Logan. So good,” you purr. 

Finally, you pick up the pace. Raising up before gravity brings you back down, hard. Logan sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, eyes rolling back in his head. Quickly darting them back to your face. Tender flesh gripping him to the hilt, before lifting yourself again. A few thrusts like that, as the impact of your ass on his hips fills the room. If it hurts at all, you know he’ll savor it. 

You think fucking like this might break another man’s hips. There are benefits to having a lover made of adamantium. You can play hard, and never break him. He always has his safe word, if it becomes too much. 

Changing your pace again, more for your benefit than for Logan’s. One hand tangles in his hair, pulling. Your arm rests by his head, face hovering just above his. Each of his pants ghost across your lips. Thrusting quicker now, as you rock your hips up and down. Gaze locked on his. The sound of the leaves rustling against the window is drowned out by the bed frame squeaking. 

His velvety length dragging against your sensitive walls brings you closer to the edge of your release— his tip brushes right where you need it with each thrust as he splits you open. The burning tension coils tight, tight, tight in your belly; until you can’t stand it anymore. 

“Lo, fuck, t— touch me,” the command comes out breathier than you intended. But Logan obeys just the same. His hand moves between your bodies, fingers circling your swollen clit as expertly as your own. 

Molten heat races through your body as you tumble over the edge. Waves of warm pleasure sweep you away, Logan’s palm resting against your tummy. You can feel your walls flutter around his cock, rolling your hips as you come down from your high, lips ghosting against his ear. 

“Come for me, Logan.” 

He moves up to meet your thrusts, then. The pressure verges on overstimulation as his cock plunges deep inside. But you savor it, savor giving him exactly what he needs. 

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.” 

Your grip on his hair weakens to a caress as he spills inside you. You still your hips, letting Logan fuck you through his climax. Once he stops moving, your bodies go limp, enjoying this moment of closeness. The way his skin sticks to yours, damp with sweat. The sound of his heartbeat. The rise and fall of his chest. He lets out a contented sigh, and you finally roll off of him. You enjoy the softness of the mattress against your back for a moment. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you finally spread your legs— making room for Logan to settle between them. 

“C’mere, baby. You know I’m not done with you yet.” 

Logan grins, wasting no time as he positions himself between your thighs. There is a mischievous little glint in his eye, face hovering above your cunt. 

“Finally somethin’ to eat. Had me starvin’ down there, baby.”

Bratty little shit. You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you then, rolling your eyes. 

“You talking back to me, bub?” You grab him by the chin, digging in your fingernails hard enough to leave little red crescents in his skin. But there’s a smile on your face and mirth in your voice. 

“No ma’am.” His chin angles down, looking up at you with hooded eyes. His smirk is devilish as he bats his eyelashes. Fucking bats his eyelashes. You don’t think anybody would believe that the Wolverine packs a mean doe-eye. 

Shaking your head in disbelief, the ghost of a smile on your lips, your hold keeps his greedy mouth just beyond his treasure. 

“You wanna rethink your tone, kitty cat?” Head angled, as you watch him through what you hope are stern eyes. You try to add a hard edge to your voice, but he’s so damn cute. 

It seems to work. His smirk melts away, and only hunger remains, desperate and glossy-eyed. “Yes ma’am. ‘M sorry.” 

Victory is sweet on your tongue, at his concession. The heady weight of control in your palms. Electricity snakes down your spine, each pant of his breath teasing you between your thighs. 

“That’s it, baby. I forgive you.” You pout at him, mocking. Maybe you’re a sore winner. You can’t help it when he’s so needy for a taste of himself on your pussy. “Now be a good boy and clean up your mess.” 

As soon as you loosen your grip on his chin, he buries himself between your legs. Stroking the flat of his tongue from your weepy slit to your swollen nub. Licking and sucking at your puffy folds, swallowing the mix of your slick and his milky spend like it’s the only meal he’s had in weeks. The squelch of him lapping at you and you moaning his name are all that fill your ears. You toy with the hair at the base of his neck, the roughness of his beard against your thighs making you shiver. 

“F-fuck— Lo, baby,” a lewd whimper escapes you, breath stuttering. “You wanna make me come?” 

He somehow buries himself even deeper between your legs, then. Nose pressing against your clit just right, as he devours you. Fucking you with his tongue, before moving up to lick quick circles around the bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, Logan— fuck!” 

Words are lost to you, for a moment. Taken by the pleasure swelling in your belly as he slides a finger inside. Pressure builds in your abdomen when it curls against that sweet spot. You grind against him, eyes closed and mouth agape. 

“Know you can do it, baby,” you pant, spurring him on. Logan adds a second digit, bending to hit the spongy flesh. “So good for me, so—” you are interrupted again, choking out a sob as your core tightens with your impending release. 

Logan brings his lips to your slit, fingers still moving inside. His mouth falls open, ready to drink down your essence when the dam within you finally bursts. The pressure behind your navel gives way to warm wetness between your legs. You fall apart on Logan’s thick fingers, throbbing while he swallows the mix of your come and his. 

His fingers slide out of you, suddenly empty, and the milky ring around them could be his spend or yours. Hopefully both. Bringing them to his mouth, before he licks them clean. He goes limp when you finally relax onto the bed, his head resting against your tummy. His legs must be hanging off the bed comically, but you can’t bring yourself to lift your head and check. You choose to ignore the wet spot beneath your ass. The remnants of your climax and Logan’s inevitable drooling as he ate you out. Something to worry about later. 

For now, your fingers find their way to Logan’s scalp once again, touch featherlight and tender. You can’t help it when he sighs like that beneath your touch. If you had it your way, your hand would never leave its place here. Holding him to you, gently claiming him as yours. 

Your mutation is quiet, still, in the afterglow. At peace. And so is Logan. Head still floating in the clouds, blissed out and dazed. Somewhere nobody can reach except the two of you. As much as he needs this, the way you give him respite even sleep never offers, you need it too. The silence, after. As you lay with him, in tenderness. 

You’re struck with a sudden truth. Not sure how you’d overlooked it, all this time. A low whisper, as the sun finally rests beneath the horizon. Flickering candlelight and the faint fluorescent glow creeping beneath the bedroom door. The aged wood all that separates your little world from the rest of the mansion. If you weren’t so focused on that strange heaviness in your chest, you would have the presence of mind to hope nobody heard the two of you. 

“I love you, Lo.” 

Breath held in your lungs, as you wait. Just a beat, before he answers. 

“Love you too.” His palm rests on your waist, rubbing tender circles. His face nuzzles a little closer into your belly. “My baby. My girl.” 

The stinging behind your eyes catches you off guard. But, so do his words. You feel the truth in them. You never thought you’d have this with someone. Never thought anybody would trust you. An interloper. An unwelcome visitor, eavesdropping on the devotion of strangers, destined to feel their love for each other. But never for you. It was never going to be for you. 

But you feel it, now. Yours. Unsure why it hadn’t cross your mind before. 

Like a wolf, when you met. Wild, feral. Lashing out to bite any hand that got too close. Tamed, with your compassion. Firm as it was. You always thought he was like a guard dog. Faithful. Trusting. Once you’d earned it. Of course he would love you like one. 

You felt heat creep up your ears, at the thought of getting him a collar, stifling a laugh in the crook of your elbow. 

His hum vibrates against your torso. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, baby. Think I just need some psychological help.” The words are muffled against your arm. 

Logan is still packing plenty of sass, even in his fucked out state.

“That’a surprise?” He looks up at you, a single eyebrow arched. You can’t help but laugh. Smiling, as you rebuke. 

“Asshole.”

a/n: aaah thank you for reading!! i'm nervous about this one, if you liked it please let me know!! 🫣

dividers by saradika-graphics

[snowsinterlude]

🎀 - private classes, lacy panties and strawberry prints.

summary: your mother and your father trusted coriolanus snow with their lives, especially seeing how good your grades have gotten. but of course, the way he made you pay attention to what you were learning was a secret.

content warning: oral recieving (f.), fem reader, squirting, mentions to a blowjob, thigh riding, snow teasing you both sexually and verbally, dirty talk, smut, p in v, nsfw (mdni), dom snow, sub reader, creampie.

w.c: 2.083

first things first, you need to remind how coriolanus snow, heir of the snow name and everything that came to it, was now sitting between your legs, kneeling while his fingers teased your pussy through your panties.

on the dinner your father held to celebrate the development of his business growing up and being praised by the current president of Panem, your mother was in charge of the guest list, so of course she invited the Snow family, his cousin and his grandma'am.

you didn't expect it, but you should have expected that she would embarass you like this in front of your classmate.

"coriolanus, you're such a peach! i can't believe such a smart handsome young man like that still exists." you looked at her, lip syncing for her to stop, she didn't even bat an eye at you.

"i'm flattered, truly. but i'm sure i'm not the only one on the capitol with good manners." he said, smiling kindly at your mother. god, if he knew how your heart beat stronger when you saw this smile of his, you'd be damned. "your daughter, for exemple, is the sweetest girl i've ever had the pleasure to speak to. even though we only talked today." he said, the glass of posca on his hand travelling all the way to his lips but you could see how small his sip was.

"oh don't praise her too much, her grades are not as sweet as she is." she laughed, and you swear to god you preferred to die than to listen to that talk. "perhaps you could teach her a bit? i'd be glad to pay you."

"mom!" you called out, turning to him and shaking your hands "don't listen to her, please. truly, i don't want to bother you."

"non-sense, i'd be glad to teach you. and it would be even better actually, i'd have the chance to review the content of our classes." he smiled sweetly to you, and you thought you could melt right away from how shaky your legs were. "when can we start?"

he asked you, not your mother. you. and for the first time you felt seen, you felt like your opinion mattered.

"tomorrow, eight p.m..?" you asked, your eyes felt so wide looking at him, and he laughed, nodding positively.

"i'll see you at the library, don't be late." he patted your head. it was a swift move, and you blinked rapidly as you saw him walk away.

so, now, on your first class together, snow kissed you deeply, his hand gripping hard on your waist as you kissed him back. you didn't even know how it came to that by this point, but right now, it was the fifth library study meeting you had with him and the teasing he was making you pass through was too torturing.

"tell me, dear. what's the answer?" he asked, kissing your inner thighs and making your body shiver.

"i-i don't... i-i can't think straight like that, coryo, i-" he sucked on the fabric of your wet panties, your body jolting as his lips made contact with your sensitive clit, sucking on it and letting it go with a delicious wet pop sound.

"you can do better than that, c'mon. what's the answer, dove?" he licked you entirely, from your cunt to your clit, right through your panties. "you know you're not dumb, you just need to think harder."

"i-i know, i just- ah-" you moaned a bit when he pulled your panties aside, blowing on your clit and chuckling at how wet you were. so sweet, so pretty, he couldn't help but suck on your cunt.

"you're so sensitive, you just need to answer me and i'll let you cum, c'mon." he rubbed your clit a bit, slowly, your tears appearing as you sobbed a bit. "how many people Panem have in it's entirety?"

"3.5 m..million, coryo." you moaned out, thrusting your hips forward. it was too brain-mushing. you were looking so dumb and he didn’t even touched you directly- only his tongue.

"wrong, dear." he smiled to your despair, his lips kissing your clit before he sat by your side, pulling you to sit on his thigh with your back turned to him. "it's 4.5 million. c'mon, you knew it."

his hands found your waist pretty quickly, guiding you to ride his thigh back and forth, his kisses on your neck made you pout at the whole thing. he was such a tease.

"another question, if you get it right, i have a reward to you, okay?" you nodded submissively while he pinched your nipple, you didn't recall when but his hand slyly travelled to your boob through inside your blouse. "how many districts panem originally had?"

it was terrible. your pussy was grinding on his thigh like you were a bitch in heat, his pants were getting damped by you and you were oh so sensible it seemed like a joke.

"t-thirteen." you answered, and he smiled proudly, giving your clit a light slap which made you jolt violently. he sat you prettily on the desk, pulling his cock out.

"see? when you want to do get something right, you can. you just have to desire it." he said, passing his tip through your smooth wet pussy, his dick getting coated with your juices. "now, let's do some more to see if you got it right, okay?"

"mhm." you hummed, lips red and glossy, a result of the overstimulation you were recieving.

"good girl. now, how long did panem exist before the dark days?" he asked, kisses being placed on your neck.

"i-i don't know- i... uh, t..twenty years?" you attempted, only to be answered with his cock slapping your pussy, making you mewl.

"god, you're such a whiny baby. it's okay, i'll teach you that later. want to try another question?" he asked you, his tip teasing your hole. you nodded frantically. "good. now, why does the hunger games exists?"

"i-it's a punishment to the districts- because of the rebellion. a-and the rebellion is the motive to why d..district 13 don't exists anymore." he kissed you, smiling at you while pushing his dick inside, making you melt away any kind of inteligence you still had.

"god, you're so tight-" he moaned, thrusting slowly into you. the slowest he was, the more you cried, begging and sobbing for release, trying to move your hips on his dick. "shh, calm down, dove. it's just a few seconds and we'll be all good to go, okay?" he smiled when you nodded, pathetic. "such a good bitch. i'll let you suck my dick later."

your eyes seemed to shine at it, your mouth felt like drooling. "t-truly?"

"uhum. you've been such a good girl, let's make this your reward, okay?" you nodded frantically.

"t-thank you." and he thrusted faster into you, his rhythm quickening up more and more to the point your breasts were bouncing and he couldn't help but suck on them, his mouth messily sucking your nipples and fondling them kindly.

"you're so good to me, i can't help myself around you knowing your pussy feels so good on my cock." he growled, lips brushing on your as he spoke, kissing you messily while you moaned into the kiss, your pussy squeezing on him and milking his cock. "you're already cumming? god you're so desperate." he chuckled, pulling out of you while you cried out, your pussy clenching, missing his dick.

however, your leg was on his shoulder already, while his mouth sucked your pussy just as eagerly as you wanted to suck his dick, your scent filling his senses while he nipped lightly on your clit making you grip on his hair, your warm gummy walls squeezing his two fingers into you, but of course, two fingers weren't the same as his dick.

but, to your pleasure, he had the perfect fingers to your pussy, thrusting them quickly on your pussy while you melt away, calling his name, trying to warn him.

"c-coryo, coryo! p-please- g-god, stop! stop! i-i n-need to pee- i-" he smiled on your cunt, you were so innocent sometimes, how could you not know that this was just your body wanting to squirt?

he opened his mouth, sucking more of you on him, you moaned and cried out, squirting on his mouth as he smiled at you.

"i-i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i didn't want to-" he pecked a kiss on your lips, chuckling as you licked it, tasting yourself.

"that's a squirt, baby. that's not piss." he said, putting his cock inside of your overstimulated pussy, filling you entirely. "you should've seen your face, so cute."

"t-that's not funny" you said, nails scratching his shoulders and neck while he thrusted faster into you.

"yes, it is. you looked like a whore, you know?" he kissed your temple, licking the tears on your cheek. "all needy and wet for my dick. as if i haven't fucked you yesterday too."

"'s because y-you're too mean!"

"mean? me? and how is it?" he thrusted faster, pinching your nipples and making you mewl your cries out.

"y-you're always teasing me, a-and your fingers, t-they're always teasing my pussy too. you know it!"

"i know." he chuckled. "i can't help it. you're always so pretty and dolled up for me, you can't blame me for fucking you when your pussy is milking my cock like that." he said, nibbling on your nipple.

"c-coryo, i-i think i'm gonna cum again" you warned, but he didn’t care, and even when you did cum, he kept going until his balls twitched, his cum filling you up while your eyes were squeezed shut and your mouth was all red from all the times you bit your bottom lip.

"god, such a pretty bitch." he whispered, making you shiver while he pulled alway and dressed you on your pathetic panties again. "you're gonna sleep with my cum inside you, okay? i want you to."

you nodded in a pathetically submissive way, too dumb to contest.

"dear! dear, y/n's report card is here!" your mother yelled to your father, making you mewl in discontempt as you got out of your room with coryo, who had to stop mid way to get your hair brushed by his fingers and quickly straight your clothes.

"oh my.." your father seemed surprise as he analysed your grades. proud, even. since he always seemed too unhappy with your grades.

"what is it?" your mother asked, looking over his shoulder.

"her grades are much better than ever, great heavens, i can't believe it. it's almost a miracle!" your father said, smiling proudly. "dear, i'll let you have your credit card back, you can buy whatever you want okay? daddy will buy your favorite cake later." he said, patting your head and turning to coryo. "boy, i need to thank you, how can i ever repay you?"

"you don't need to, sir. i'm glad to help your daughter anyway." he said, smiling as your father patted his shoulder. "i can keep on helping her if it is of your liking."

"yes, please. it would be incredible if you did." your father said, giving your report card to your mother, who squealed happily while hugging you and saying something about framing your report card in a gold rosé frame. "but i may ask, coryo.."

"yes?" he asked.

"how did you get her to memorize it? we hired the best particular teachers in the capitol and she never improved. how did you do it?" your father asked.

"ah... it is just a particular studying method i invented. i'm afraid it is a secret, sir." coriolanus laugh filled your ears, and you wanted to laugh too, but you licked your lips only, tasting his dick on your lips.

"i understand it. please keep doing the good job. i'm glad you're teaching my daughter." your father said, giving you two permission to go back to fucking studying.

when you arrived to your room, coryo locked the door and you immediatly dropped to your knees, unbuckling his pants as you salivated eagerly for him.

"i'm proud of you, dove." he smiled, caressing your hair as you smiled too, his cock slapping your face a bit once it got out of it's confines, but you didn’t care, next thing you knew was that your head was bobbing on his cock and your panties were fulfilled by the time he left.