#reminds me of jack in a bear suit

[ddejavvu]

Hey Mei 🫶

Here’s my idea - BAU!wife who yells at Hotch when he yells at their team members because she’s a protective momma bear. And hotch secretly loves it because his wife yelling gets him all hot and bothered.

Love you 🫶 and your writing thank you 🧡

Perhaps it's an unwise idea to pick a fight with your surly husband, especially because he doubles as your surly boss. But Spencer hadn't even been that late, and you know he only walked in late because he takes public transportation, and he couldn't control that the bus was late. And, Aaron's only in such a sour mood because Jack had given him typical teenage attitude before school this morning. So really, Spencer didn't deserve the near-shouted lecture he'd gotten.

You march over to the young doctor's desk, happy that his aversion to touch applies to people he's not familiar with. He leans into your stomach when you pull his head to rest on it, albeit stiffly, and you call after your husband with narrowed, fierce eyes.

"Aaron, come back here right now and apologize." You demand, and the already icy mood in the office shifts a few degrees colder. Aaron stops on the stairs and by the tightness of his shoulders he's composing himself, then he turns on his heel and raises a thick brow at you.

"What?"

"He didn't deserve that," You scold him, keeping Spencer's head cradled to your stomach as you stroke down his back, "He's a baby."

Aaron rolls his eyes, "He is not a baby, Y/N. He's a grown man with a government job, and I expect him to show up to it on time."

"He does! He's early every single other day," You remind him, "But the bus came late today! How was he supposed to get here? Uber? You know he doesn't know how to download new apps! Let alone link his bank account to pay the guy. He was seven minutes late, for fuck's sake, just leave him alone!"

Aaron looks like he wants to snap. You've gnashed your teeth at him, and he's lived the life of a fighting dog thus far, so you know you're treading in dangerous waters. But after a rather intense stare down in which you feel Spencer's face heating up through the fabric of your shirt, your husband swallows his pride and mutters, "I expect you in my office within five minutes, Y/N."

Spencer mumbles some feeble protest on your behalf but you pat his back to shush him, letting go so that he can straighten up again.

"Don't worry," You send him a warm smile, "I can handle him. Call me if you ever need a ride again, okay? We can come pick you up."

"Okay." He nods, but it's most likely only to deter you from pampering him with any more motherly affection, as he looks like he's going to wilt from it, "Thanks, Y/N."

"Anytime," You squeeze his shoulder, passing your concerned teammates unbothered smiles as you make your way to Aaron's office.

He's only recently sat down when you arrive, but you notice that he's conveniently sitting so that the desk blocks your view of his lower half. You stand at attention in front of his desk, playing coy like you don't know what's coming next.

"Do you enjoy questioning my authority in front of my team?" He asks you, voice carefully even and tight.

"I enjoy doing anything that makes your dick twitch, Aaron." You announce, your tone deceptively casual for the filth you're spewing, "Did you haul me in here to fuck me over the desk? The blinds are still open, don't you think that's a little distasteful?"

Your attitude only makes him more uncomfortably aroused, and he regrets getting his suits tailored so precisely, as his pants have little give. He leans forwards across his desk, dark eyes boring into yours.

"No. I hauled you in here to tell you that I'm going to fuck you over the desk. But not yet. You're asking for it now, so I'm not giving it to you. Maybe if you'd been a little more polite, I'd have given you what you wanted. But now you're going to wait, because you decided to bicker with me over the rules of this office. Rules that I set, because I am in charge of keeping this team on track."

The harsh tone of his voice makes your stomach twist, and you're feeling your heartbeat in two places. You stand there, saliva slowly accumulating on your tongue, until he raises a brow at you, unimpressed.

"Don't do that again. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." You lay on the formality hot and heavy, practically purring it and watching as he shifts slightly in his seat, "I'll be waiting, whenever you decide you can't take it anymore."

"Careful." He snaps, eyes ablaze at your implication that he'll be the one to break, "Don't dig yourself any deeper. Dismissed."

You turn to leave with a satisfied smirk on your face, and perhaps you exaggerate bending over to pick up a stray paperclip that you notice on the floor by his door.

"Here," You pad back across the room to hand it to him, not missing the way that he's tense all over, "See you in twenty, Hotchner."

[luveline]

hi! could I request a fic where reader has trouble falling asleep without someone with her? maybe with Hotch or Miguel? like their voices soothe her into sleep? only if you feel like it!! have an amazing day and I adore your writing! 💟💟

hi gorgeous, thank you! ♡ fem

Hotch is rubbing the knots out of his neck when his phone pings with a text. 

Hi, handsome, hopefully you're sleeping, so when you wake up I was wondering if you can send me the photos from last Wednesday to print <3 

He adores your silly electronic heart. 

Hotch clicks your contact and brings the phone to his ear, waiting as the dial trills once. You pick up immediately, sounding sorry and sweet and the slightest bit tired. "Hey. You're awake." 

"Yes, I'm awake, I just got home. Why are you awake? It's four in the morning, honey." 

"You sound very accusatory right now. You're accusing me." 

"Mm. Can I come over, or will you fall asleep before I get there?" 

"Fat chance of that. You're really coming over?" you ask. 

Hotch leaps up the moment he hears the relief in your voice. Something is wrong, and you won't tell him over the phone. He says goodbye gently, dresses less so, and makes an impressively quick journey to your home to put whatever it is back the way it should be. 

You seem in good spirits even though the hollows under your eyes are prominent in the light of the porch, opening your arms for him and hugging him there on the door jam, rumpled under his chin. "You're not wearing a suit." 

"Would you have preferred that?" 

"Only if you were gonna take it off." 

"You'd like that, hmm?" he asks, his teasing at odds with the dulcet cadence of his voice. "I'll dance." 

You giggle into his chest. Hotch grins but quashes it as you look up for a kiss, your lips soft, sweet against his. You kiss his cupid's bow all smushed upward before stepping away from him, your hands drifting together. He pauses to lock the door and take off his shoes. You tug him impatiently back to your room.

Hotch has dreams about your bedroom. There's something about you, the way you climb into bed and sit pretty against the headboard waiting for him to follow you in, innocuous, intensely tempting. He pulls back the sheets and slides in, needling an arm under you to drag you into his side and down onto your back simultaneously. 

"Unnecessary show of strength," you say with a laugh. 

"Just reminding you." 

You turn out your lamp. He squirms to get comfortable. Your mattress is a mess and he's not young enough to bear it without consequence in the morning, but he'll suffer it and worse if it means you'll stay nestled against his side, your cheek at home on his bicep, your arm wrapped around his middle. 

"You'll tell me what's keeping you up?" he asks, hushed. 

"I really don't know how you just know these things…" You give in, because you always give in with him, and (to his credit), he always listens. "I don't think I can sleep without you, Aaron, I really don't." 

"Why? You're not worrying about me, are you?" he asks. 

"No. Of course I am, but that's not the problem. I just struggle without you here. It's easier when you call me, I can fall asleep with you talking to me. But otherwise it's hard." 

"How did you fall asleep before me?" he asks fondly, turning his face to nose at your temple. 

"I'm used to you, I think. I'm spoiled." 

"You aren't spoiled." He pressed his lips to your cheek, eyes closed to breathe you in. "What do you want me to talk about? Think of something soothing." 

"You aren't a man with many soothing stories," you say. 

Hotch tells you about the quieter things in his life, the things that make undertaking the unsaid worthwhile. Jack wants to be Bugs Bunny for Halloween and Hotch has no idea why. Spencer destroyed his computer with a cup of coffee —the problem being the amount of undisolved sugar clumped at the bottom of his cup that found its way into the computers RAM with no hopes of cleaning, rather than the drink itself. His office door squeaks constantly and he's half mad with it, but there's no solution beyond waiting for someone in maintenance to oil the hinge. 

He realises you've fallen asleep somewhere in his stories and he hadn't noticed. He didn't think your confession was wholly true. Perhaps you're stressed, or anxious in a way you haven't shared. And yet you fall asleep as promised from the sound of his voice, your hand scrunched in his shirt like you worry he'll escape you, your eyelid to his arm. Hotch contemplates you as you sleep, pulling the sheets snugly to your chin. He doesn't know if you know this, but you're his sweetheart. He finds you so precious, among a thousand other things, brave and kind and loving, but he knows he's a lucky man. He's the spoiled one. 

If you need his voice to fall asleep to, he'll talk until he's hoarse. And while he's away, he'll have to remember to call. He can't have you missing out on sleep. Hotch kisses the hollow under your eye and tries to sleep too, but he finds he misses the sound of your voice. 

[hoe4hotchner]

Forever is all we need | [A.H]

Pairing: Old person!AU - Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader | WC: 1.4k  | CW: it's pure fluff unless you're scared of old people and reminiscing | Summary: After a whole life spent together you reminisce about your time together |

The sound of the clock ticking echoed gently in the small, sunlit room. You sat side by side with Aaron, both of you comfortable in the well-worn armchairs, worn as much by time as by the weight of all you’d shared over the years. There was a quietness to the day — one that only came when you’d lived long enough to savor every moment, knowing you wouldn’t trade even the hardest ones for anything.

Aaron’s hand was a little rougher now, the scars and calluses painting a map of the years gone by, but it still felt so familiar and so right, resting comfortably intertwined with yours. A breeze stirred the curtains, and you smiled as it brushed lightly against your cheek, bringing with it the scent of freshly cut grass from your garden outside. Jack usually came around in the summer when it was time to trim the hedge, the clippers a little too heavy for either of you to carry in your old age.

Aaron turned to you with that warm, soft look that, even after all these years, still made your heart flutter. “Remember that time in Paris?” he murmured, his voice softened but still carrying the authority it always had and maybe always would. “We took that impromptu trip after the case wrapped. You were so set on finding that bakery you’d read about.” His lips turned up in a faint smile, recalling the stubborn determination you’d shown on the streets of Montmartre, marching ahead of him with only a half-working GPS to guide you and constantly being stopped by various vendors trying to scam you into buying their bracelets and knickknacks — but one famous Hotchner stare behind you kept them at bay.

“Oh, I remember,” you chuckled, squeezing his hand. “And I remember someone who got all flustered when they found out they’d put a little too much rum in that éclair.”

He laughed softly, a rumble that seemed to shake loose the memories stored in both of you. “I just wasn’t expecting it — that’s all,” he teased. But there was a glint in his eye, a mischievous glint that sometimes still surfaced when he remembered those stolen moments, the ones tucked away between cases, when it was just the two of you against the world.

You glanced over at the photos decorating the wall across from you. There was one of you both on your wedding day, younger and dressed in a suit and gown. Next to it, a framed photo of Jack grinning ear to ear, standing proudly beside Aaron in his BAU vest — a reminder of a time when you were both juggling parenthood and the work that kept calling you away — you had always been thankful for Jessica’s continuous involvement with Jack, especially at that point in your life.

“Jack Facetimed earlier, you know,” you smiled, nudging him gently. “He told me about his new case and his little ones. You should have seen the look on his face — he’s so proud of those kids.”

Aaron’s eyes softened further, his face creasing. “I hope he knows just how proud I am of him,” he murmured. “And of us. We had one hell of a run, didn’t we?”

You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder as silence fell between you. You thought about the cases you worked, the late nights, and the early mornings. You remembered the hospital rooms, the goodbyes that felt impossible to bear, and the homecomings that made it all worth it. But most of all, you remembered moments like this — quiet, tender, and forever etched into the spaces between your heartbeats.

“Every moment,” you whispered, and Aaron shifted just enough to press a kiss to the top of your head.

As you leaned into Aaron, memories began to resurface of a night years ago — one that marked the end of an era and the beginning of another. Aaron’s thumb drew slow circles over your hand, and you smiled, thinking of that night, feeling it as fresh as if it had happened only yesterday.

“You remember our retirement party?” you asked softly, not wanting to break the peace around you.

Aaron’s lips turned in a fond smile, his eyes drifting to the ceiling as if he could see the memories play out right above your heads. “How could I forget?” he chuckled, his voice warm with nostalgia. “They had that huge banner with our names printed in the largest font they could find, as if we needed more attention.”

You both laughed, remembering Garcia’s handiwork — the bright colors and over-the-top decorations that covered every corner of the bullpen. The “Happy Retirement” banner had been a vibrant and glittery display that Strauss would have considered too much and a waste of company time — if she had been alive to see it. But it had suited the occasion: two legendary agents, walking away from a lifetime of service with a legacy that would live on in stories passed down through the next generations of the BAU.

“And Rossi,” you added with a grin, “insisting on the finest champagne, saying ‘It’s not every day we send off two of the best agents this place has ever had.’” You could still picture Rossi’s delighted expression as he raised his glass, giving a toast so full of warmth and admiration that you hadn’t been able to keep the tears from welling up — you were happy that he had made it to the party, having retired years before you and Aaron.

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head. “And then Derek made that speech. Remember? He kept teasing me about how you were the real brains behind the BAU, and I was just the one who looked good in a suit.”

“Oh, I remember,” you laughed, reaching up to brush a stray lock of gray from his forehead. “And you blushed for the first time in… well, I think it was ever.”

“Only because you kept smiling at me like that,” he countered, the smile on his face turning tender, those dark eyes still holding that spark as the day you first met.

You looked back at the photos on the wall, seeing Jack’s young face grinning at you, frozen in time. It had been his news that had finally made the decision for both of you: the day he’d called you, the excitement in his voice uncontainable as he told you and Aaron that you were going to be grandparents. After years of weighing the question, the answer had finally felt clear. The job that had demanded so much had finally been put aside for something that called to both of you even more greatly.

“Jack didn’t know what to make of all the fuss,” you mused. “Poor thing — he’d come down from the nursery just to find a whole crowd of agents toasting us and talking about cases he probably didn’t even want to remember.”

Aaron chuckled, nodding. “But he was there, right by our side, even when the stories started getting more dramatic.” He sighed contentedly, thinking back on that night. “He was so proud, wasn’t he?”

The image of Jack, standing tall with that smile that mirrored Aaron’s in so many ways, made your heart ache. “He was,” you said softly. “And seeing him holding his baby girl… well, that was worth every minute of this life, wasn’t it?”

Aaron nodded, his gaze distant but warm. “It was. And then he went on about how he hoped to be as good a parent as I was.” His voice grew quieter. “I don’t think he knows how much that meant to me.”

You took his hand, bringing it to your lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles, feeling the warmth of all the years that hand had held you through. “He knew,” you murmured. “And so did I.”

You both fell back into that memory, savoring the details — the laughter, the faces, the hugs, and the countless toasts that night as the BAU celebrated you.

And as you looked into Aaron’s eyes, you knew that this life you’d built together had been so much more than just a career, or even a family — it had been a love story, woven through every moment, every laugh, every case, and every goodbye.

“Forever doesn’t seem long enough,” he whispered, his thumb tracing gentle circles over the back of your hand.

"Lucky for us, forever’s all we need.”

[babydollmarauders]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS — QUINN HUGHES

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n is Quinn’s little secret.

specific lyrics: “what started in beautiful rooms; ends with meetings in parking lots” and “you wanna scream, don't call me ‘kid’, don't call me ‘baby’, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me” and “look at this idiotic fool that you made me” and “for you, i would ruin myself, a million little times”

warnings: cheating, 18+ content in the middle, ANGST!

notes: you will not think highly of the Quinn in this fic. i know i’m supposed to be writing the Speak Now Fic List— bear with me. this was written as a way to get out of my writers block.

i can always stop.

i can.

i have freewill to refuse his advances.

i think.

but the stolen stares, the weight of his body against mine, the feeling that comes with knowing he wants me in the way i’ve longed for him to want me, it’s an addiction.

a drug that i just can’t quit, despite how dirty and used i feel afterwards. despite having to sneak away with my hood up and my head down.

the high of being his, just for a moment, outweighs the inevitable self-criticism in the aftermath.

because that’s the thing about illicit affairs; they make you hate yourself a million little times.

**

i’ve barely just climbed off of him, my back skimming the mattress, before he’s already standing from my bed.

my eyes follow his movements, the fluidity and grace of flowing through steps he’s done a million times before.

his dress shirt buttoned back on, his suit pants following, his tie lazily swung around his neck and his suit jacket pulled over to complete the look.

while i’m tangled in my thin sheet, still recovering, he’s fixing his hair in the mirror above my dresser and letting his own eyes graze his neck for marks. finding none, as i know better than to make myself known on his skin.

never seen, never heard, always secret. no marks, never wear perfume nor lipstick, never leave any trace of existence. a ghost above all else.

his eyes lock with mine in the mirror, catching my longing stare with his indifferent one.

“i’ve gotta go. you watching the game?” he knows the answer, he always knows.

“yeah, Quinny, i’ll be watching.” my cheeks flush. “i always do.”

“good. i’ll try and score a goal for you.” he winks in the reflection, my heartbeat picking up as it does every time. “bye, baby.”

there’s no goodbye kisses, no whispered sweet nothings, just quirked lips and the sound of my bedroom door shutting behind him.

it’s not long until the bliss wears off, leaving me with nothing but self-depreciating thoughts. no one to blame but myself.

he has a girlfriend.

one who isn’t you.

aren’t you ashamed?

aren’t you disgusted with yourself?

don’t you deserve better?

although, maybe not.

my phone buzzes on the nightstand beside me, an incoming call from my best friend, and despite feeling like an idiotic fool and a betrayal of my own morality, i accept the call.

“hey, Lukey!” false cheer drips from my tongue, but just like every other time, i know he won’t know the difference. “to what do i owe the pleasure of your call?”

“hey, y/n/n!” Luke’s chuckle crackles over the speaker of my phone. “i just wanted to talk, i’ve been missing you extra the past few days. i want my movie buddy.”

“i miss you too, Lukey.”

god, if only he knew how badly i’ve fucked up without him to lead me the right way.

“don’t you have Jack now to watch movies with?” i question, shaking off the urge to confess my sins. to ask for his forgiveness and plead for him to talk some sense into my love-riddled mind.

“it’s not the same. he doesn’t pay attention to the little details as well as we do.” i can hear his pout through the phone, making me giggle.

“just one more month, then we’ll have the whole summer to watch as many movies as we want.” i remind him.

“yeah, one more month.” he replies, solemnly. “anyways, UBC is still treating you good, right? no chance you’d wanna transfer to, i don’t know, Rutgers or Princeton?”

i chuckle at his lame attempt at convincing me to leave my dream school.

“i’m sorry, moose; but UBC is still where my heart lies.” oh, if only he knew just what, or rather who, the reason was for that.

“yeah, alright. it was worth a shot.” he sighs. “and Quinny’s taking good care of you, right?”

i my throat closes up and i choke on the air in my lungs.

“what?” i ask him, sitting up in my bed and pulling the sheet closer to my body.

“Quinn.” he repeats. “he promised he’d look after you. has he?”

“oh, yeah. yeah, he’s been checking in on me. making sure i’m okay.” i guess that’s one way to put what we’ve been doing.

“good. i’d have to kill him if he let you get hurt.”

**

my feet have barely touched the ground outside of my car before the lake house door is flung open. my best friend bounds out of the house, his middle brother hot on his trail, attempting to speak to him about something long forgotten by Luke.

“YOU’RE HERE!” Luke’s arms are flung around my waist, hoisting me up in the air and spinning me around.

the melody of my laugh mingles in the air as my arms wrap around his neck.

“Lukey, put me down, i already feel sorta car sick! it was a very long drive.” despite the fact that my words are true, i can’t wipe the smile off my face from being reunited with my best friend.

my feet finally fall flat on the ground as Luke backs up to look at my face, his fingers grazing all over it, more specifically the under eye bags from stress and sleepless nights.

“i thought you said you were doing great? what are these?! they’re new!”

his concern is heartwarming but before i can respond, i notice all the people behind him on the lake house porch. Jack, their friends, and most importantly, Quinn. the real reason for my newly spotted dark circles.

i muster up a chuckle, rolling my eyes.

“they’re designer. they come with the UBC tuition.” i stress, hoping he buys the ‘i’ve just been working myself to the bone with schoolwork’ excuse.

“checks out. you’ve always been my little nerd.” he grins, slinging an arm around my shoulder and turning towards the porch. “aren’t you guys gonna come say hi?”

“didn’t wanna impose on your moment.” Jack jokes, hopping down the porch steps to pull me from Luke’s grasp and into a hug.

“hey, bubby. welcome back.” he smiles, ruffling my hair mid hug. i step on his foot in retaliation, making him push me back so he could check on his white sneakers.

“it’s good to be back, bubba.” i grin as he rolls his eyes.

“hey kid, long time no see.” my head snaps over to look at Quinn, who smirks at me with a knowing look.

we saw each other three days ago, the day before he flew out to Michigan.

“hey, Quinny.” a bashful smile takes over my lips and my heart beats overtime, the natural reaction when i’m in his vicinity.

“no.” Luke speaks, pulling me into his chest protectively. “you don’t get to ‘hi’ her. you got her all year. this is my turn.”

his words make me blush and i pat his chest.

“don’t worry Lukey, this is our time.” i reassure him. “i but i would like to go inside now.”

“yeah, right.” he nods, letting me push away from him. the guys all head back into the house, leaving me to open my trunk and grab my bag.

a strong hand encases mine on the handle of my suitcase, soft lips i know all too well grazing the shell of my ear.

“i hope Luke doesn’t mind sharing.” Quinn leaves me frozen behind him, taking my bag and my breath with him.

beats of time pass before i follow suit, closing my trunk and locking my car before jogging up the porch steps and into the house.

this will be one hell of a summer. literally.

**

“i’m going for a run.”

my words are spoken through Luke’s shut bedroom door, followed by the opening of said door.

“a run?” he asks me, sleep still prominent in his face from his mid-afternoon nap. “since when do you run?”

“i started running when i was in Vancouver. i thought i told you that?” the lie is like a sour candy on my tongue, spit out quickly as though another second of these words in my mouth would make me sick.

“oh, okay. how long will you be gone? i’ll have the movie set up for when you get back.”

“i shouldn’t be too long. like an hour at most.” i tell him, tightening my ponytail.

“you’ll actually probably be all sweaty when you get back. just wake me back up when you get back and i’ll get the movie ready while you shower.”

sweaty and flushed, for sure.

“okay.”

*

“Quinn, please.” my heavy pants turn to pleads, begging Quinn to get me over the edge. his hands hold mine behind my back as i grind my hips against his.

unable to risk being caught at the lake house, our rendezvous settings have downgraded from my bedroom back in vancouver. to the parking lot of a field, only a 15 minute walk from the house.

“you want me to make you come?” his words cause a shiver down my spine, my head nodding at rapid speed. “use your words, baby. say it.”

“i want you to make me come.” i beg. that’s all it takes for him to flip us over, my body laid across his back seat as he thrusts into me, hooking one of my legs over his shoulder.

“fuck, you’re so wet baby. feel so good squeezing my cock.” i clench around him, his dirty whispers echoing in my head as the coil in my stomach tightens. he angles his hips, thrusting up into the spot that makes my eyes roll back.

“right there.” i gasp, my hands coming up to grip his shoulders. i’m careful not to dig my nails into his skin. careful to never leave any sort of marks. his right hand trails down my body, settling on my stomach.

“right there?�� he teases, repeating his previous move, all while pushing one hand down on my stomach. my legs shake, and i clench around him one final time before the pressure relieves and i achieve my orgasm.

Quinn thrusts a few more times, riding me through my high and chasing his before his hips stutter and he pulls out, painting my stomach with his release.

the glass windows are fogged, the car hot and reeking of sex, the only sound being our heavy breathing as we gather ourselves again.

my eyes flutter, my energy spent.

“hey, baby.” Quinn’s hand snakes onto my thigh, shaking it slightly. “you should go. Luke is probably waiting for you.”

i nod. i know he’s right, but it still stings, being dismissed so quickly.

i wipe my stomach with a napkin from his glovebox before slipping my biker shorts back on and pulling my tank top back over my head.

“i’ll see you at the house.” he bids me goodbye, as i slip out of his car, starting my walk back to the house.

aren’t you sick of this?

don’t you feel guilty for lying to your best friend?

for betraying him like this?

don’t you think you can do better?

that you deserve better than clandestine meetings?

than being someone’s ‘other woman’?

than being tossed aside the second he’s done with you?

i’m done.

*

“alright, you ready?” Luke asks, plopping down on the couch cushion beside me, a bowl of popcorn clutched in his hand.

“yeah, press play, moose.” Luke is just about to hit play on the netflix movie when the front door swings open. Quinn steps into the house, shutting the door before noticing us on the couch.

“hey.” he gives us a nod, walking towards the stairs. “oh, Olivia is flying in tomorrow morning.”

my heart stops, my muscles tensing.

Olivia.

Quinn’s girlfriend.

the one we’ve been sneaking around for four months.

“oh cool, what time?” Luke is oblivious to my silent panic.

“six a.m, so i’m heading to sleep. night, Luke. night, kid.”

there it is again. that stupid nickname. ‘kid’.

Quinn heads up the stairs and i hear the faint sound of his bedroom door shutting.

my head snaps over to Luke.

“hey, i gotta go get something from my room, i’ll be right back.” i pat his leg before rising from my seat, making my way towards the stairs.

“oh, okay.” he nods, getting on his phone as i walk up the stairs.

i come to a stop outside of Quinn’s door, debating knocking before i decide not to, in order to not raise suspicion from Luke.

i swing the door open, slipping in before quickly shutting it behind me.

Quinn sits on the foot of his bed, head rising from looking at his phone. his brows furrow before he raises one in questioning.

“didn’t get enough of me earlier?” he teases. “aren’t you and Luke watching a movie? i don’t think we can have a quickie right now-”

“we’re done.” his lips snap shut, whether in shock, or disbelief, or just plain speechlessness, i’m not sure. but he’s silent, so i continue. “no more meetings. no more.”

my heart aches in my chest, my throat getting tighter and tears bubble up in my eyes.

i thought it would be easy to stop.

i used to tell myself i could do it whenever i wanted. but now, i know it’s not true.

there was no ‘last time’, only this afternoon. no soft goodbyes. i’ll be stuck seeing him for the rest of my life. he’s a mistake that i became all too comfortable with. with him, i let my morals wash away like a drawing in sand. but i was done hating myself, thinking so low of myself for my forbidden actions.

he chuckles as if i told him a joke, as if i didn’t just tell him we were over. standing from the bed and prowling towards me, his hand raises to cup my cheek.

“what are you talking about, baby?”

it’s always ‘baby’ in secret. ‘kid’ while in company. he makes me feel so stupid, like i’m a child; naive and small.

“don’t call me ‘baby’.” i swat his hand away from my cheek. “and don’t call me ‘kid’, either. do you not know my name?

“do you not know the name of the girl you’ve been fucking in secret for the past four months? that you’ve known since you were ten?”

his nostrils flare, stepping back as though i’ve slapped him.

“i know your name, y/n.” his words drip with venom, his lips press together into a straight line. “they’re just nicknames.”

“they’re cruel.” i spit. “you know what you’re doing. i’ve made myself available to you for too long. i’ve let you use me and throw me to the side as if i’m nothing. i’ve become something i never would’ve imagined i would be-”

“y/n-”

“no! this is my turn to talk. look at this godforsaken mess that you made me. i’m actively lying to my best friend, your brother. i’ve become the ‘other woman’. a title i would’ve smacked myself for, just six months ago. i’ve lost my sense of morality. i’ve become someone that i don’t even recognize; because of you. so, i’m done.

“i will not be your secret anymore. i deserve more. i deserve better than someone who keeps me hidden. who dismisses me mere minutes after using my body.”

tear tracks stain my cheeks, my face feels tighter under the salty liquid and i quickly wipe them away.

“you’re right.” my lips part slightly, my gaze fixating on the man in front of me.

he seems genuine. his eyes glistening with pity and an unrecognizable emotion.

“i’m sorry. you deserve better.” he tells me, nodding his head solemnly.

“i do.” i reply. “and i’ve been rejecting everyone that is interested because i’ve been hoping and praying to any higher power that you would love me the way that i’ve loved you since i was sixteen, but that’s not gonna happen, is it?”

he shakes his head ‘no’ and i can’t even hold it against him, because at least he’s finally being honest with me.

i bite my lower lip, nodding dejectedly and gripping the doorknob behind me.

“for you, i’ve ruined myself a million times.”

i slip out the door, padding back down the stairs and leaving the man i love, and our illicit affairs behind me.

Luke’s head rises when i return, his eyebrow raised and his lips parted, surely ready to question what took me so long. but with one glance at my tear stained face and bloodshot eyes, his mouth closes, his arms opening instead.

i drop onto the couch, burying my face into his neck. his arms wrap around me tightly, one hand holding the back of my head as the other rubs my back.

“i know.” he whispers. “it’s okay. i know.”

his words are mumbled against the shell of my ear and the emotion with which their spoken confirms that he knew what i’d been doing. they only succeed in making me feel even more guilty. all this time, i thought i’d been doing a pretty good job of hiding our meetings this summer, but my best friend is smart, catching on a lot more than i realized.

“i’m so sorry, Lukey.” i sob, my apology muffled by his skin.

“it’s okay. and i promise, it’ll be okay, y/n/n. i’ve got you.”

[uzurimisery]

chapter 2: the players. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

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

wc: 6209

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

AO3 version | Series Master

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He trailed off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needed to sort his head quickly.

___________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, what about?”

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

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

Goosebumps rose where his hand left.

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

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

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

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

Ah yes, work. He was at work.

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

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

“Walk me out Corio?”

“Of course, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, he had to know how you tasted.

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

He groaned, feeling himself come close.

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

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

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

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

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

_________

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

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

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

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

It was also complicated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So just make them hallucinate?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus Snow did not have friends, only enemies. 

“I think so too.”

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

___________

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

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

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

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

“Coriolanus Snow, remove your hand this instant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, that dress.

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

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

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

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

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

 But you just had to be you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck it. Fuck it all.

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

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

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

His hands were groping at your side, kneading the skin. He was so gentle, so different from how he normally treated you. If he died tonight, pushed off the building by you, he would smile as he fell. Everything he felt, he always felt it so intensely and you burned through him like a wildfire.

There was so much passion. It buzzed in the air, drowning out the sounds of the dinner party. He would give you anything, done anything, to stay like this with you. But it wouldn’t last forever. So he kissed you with all care and longing he had in his heart, pouring his honest truth into it. He wanted to imprint himself on you, leave a mark that would never fade. He would stain you in his colours that would never fade.

In this moment, there was no pretence, no act, no script. It was just him and you.

He had crossed the line, finally shattering the illusion that you had both worked so hard to maintain and craft. He was terrified of the consequences, that if at the end of this you too would run from him. Scared of what he really was.

But he would never be the same. This had changed him forever. The never ending itch was scratched, but he needed more. His hunger for you only increased.

As Coriolanus pulled away, his eyes met yours. The guard you had was down and he could read something in them. Confusion clear, but the undercurrent of hope shining through. Your lips swollen and breaths quick gasps. 

You were so painfully beautiful.

You wanted the same thing as him, for the act to be over. The taste of something real changing you both. There was so much that needed to be said, but neither of you moved to.

Instead, you kissed again, and again, and again, each more passionate than the last. Your tongue was soft and wet against his. The chilly night air forgotten as you crawled into his lap. Coriolanus couldn’t stop his hands from running over every bit of you he could reach. When one reached your ass and he squeezed, you moaned into his mouth.

He had thought long and hard about what your moans would sound like, but the reality was so much better than he could ever imagine.

His kisses trailed down your neck, making you gasp and shiver. God, he loved your reactions. You brought out his basest animal instinct. He bit and sucked at your neck, leaving a hickey at the junction before going back to your lips.

You pressed your chest tight against his, hips grinding down against his own. He wanted to leave this party now, to take you by the arm and bring you back to his penthouse. There was no coming back from this, not stopping it. He couldn’t pretend anymore.

The death of an actor.

[theuselesshistoryweeb]

PENS headcanon time, painting edition!

It’s basically “what type of pretty are they” but I describe it with paintings/painters

For Port he’s got some serious Pre-Raphaelite vibes. Waterhouse comes to mind. I think he’d love to do a replica photo shoot of himself as a siren or something. Just long hair, elegance, and bodies of water. He wants to drown dramatically and beautifully. Though I think he’d also appreciate being compared to a Botticelli painting.

For England it’s 100 percent Leyendecker. He’s got the face, the vintage vibes, the put-together perfection. Suits, angles, lots of blond men (lol). Art Deco by Lana del Rey is about him. He’s got the type of face you’d see on your matchbox or tea ad, humble at first glance yet earnestly handsome.

For Ned I’d say comparing him to a Rembrandt or Van Gogh just doesn’t seem right to me. Also I hc him to be a painter, I’d say the other hcs would be his ‘interpretation’ of his friends/lovers(? 😏). But he is definitely giving neo classical. He’s into the anatomy (he’s probably jacked as asl let’s be real), the rawness, the humanity. He loves deeply studying and appreciating humans in both real life and in painting. and I do find the second picture to bear quite some resemblance.

For Spain… oh absofuckinglutely some Caravaggio (and anyone inspired by him) shit. The blood, the catholic imagery, the anguish. Yes to pomegranates and gaping wounds. Yes to dramatic lighting and inherent homoeroticism. And the curls and coloring of these two paintings just remind me of him. This boy is just a bit angsty.

Sorry for the super long post. this was fun to make though

[p5x-theories]

Merope's Confidant

(last updated 11/21/24!)

This post documents the fully filled-in information on Merope gained through progressing her Confidant! It contains things that could be considered spoilers for her Confidant, as part of the information is a summary of its story.

Merope is available in the evenings most days, when it isn't rainy. Her Confidant isn't tied to any social stat, but certain rank-ups do require the player to possess a particular Persona with a specific skill. The required Personas are: Jack Frost (with Lucky Punch), Neko Shogun (with Tarukaja), Lilim (with Attack Enhancement I), Unicorn (with Treatment Enhancement II), Byakko (with Bufudyne), Daisoujou (with Spirit Drain), and Dominion (with Matarukaja).

Her Confidant also requires changing a heart in Mementos.

Favorite Presents

(An asterisk (*) marks the special presents added with (and unlocked through) Miyu Sahara’s Confidant, which are liked by all Confidants currently in the game.)

AMN005's First Album The first album of the legendary female idol group AMN005 has collectible value.

Coasters The coasters on sale at maid cafes are popular with many people.

Penlight Glow Stick A penlight glow stick that emits soft yellow light will make your idols pay attention to you at a glance.

Idol Keychain An idol keychain made of acrylic material.

Maid Model This expensive maid model was once a popular product in maid cafes.

Cat Hairpin This kitten-shaped hairpin is very cute.

Luxury Sunglasses Sunglasses that can effectively block ultraviolet rays.

Latest Digital Camera The latest digital cameras not only have a higher resolution, but are also easy to operate.

Weight-Bearing Wristband Muscle training tool that can be used on both wrists and ankles. The weight can be adjusted freely.

Limited-Edition Keychain* This keychain has a unique shape, and is well-made, but there weren’t many of it produced. It has a certain collector’s value.

Bulk Snacks Value Pack* A combo pack containing a variety of traditional snacks that will remind people of the taste of childhood.

Advanced Essential Oil Combination* A value-for-money set of essential oils, with multiple functions to help you relax your mind and body.

Chestnut Cake* Fragrant chestnut cake with mild sweetness to suit most people’s tastes.

Musical Snow Globe* A snow globe that plays music, and can be shaken gently to make snow fall inside.

Desktop Incense Machine* A household incense machine that is small in size, so it can be placed anywhere.

Violets There are small violets hidden among the elegant white lilies, but they also have a unique charm to them.

Personal Information

Birthday: ?? Zodiac Sign: ?? Age: ?? Profession: ?? Height: 174cm Weight: ?? Blood Type: ?? Interest: Chasing stars Features: Throwing heavy objects...?

Story

Character Details A servant of Igor, the master of the Velvet Room, she faithfully and rationally carries out her master's instructions. Currently, she supports the activities of the Phantom Thieves as a dedicated receptionist.

Personal Data 1 Following Igor's orders, Merope searched in the human world for a way to help me, and creating the Phantom Idols was the answer she found.

Personal Data 2 As a dedicated receptionist, in order to better assist me, Merope developed a series of "special plans" to help me gain a deeper understanding of myself.

Personal Data 3 To Merope, an "idol" is an existence that responds to the needs of the world by creating a personality. She thinks that obtaining a Persona is similar to how an idol creates a stage persona. Her "special plans" were formulated on this basis.

Personal Data 4 But as her "special project" progresses, Merope seems to gradually realize that there are still some differences between me and an idol…

Personal Data 5 For the smooth advancement of her "special project", Merope hopes to find a role model for me to learn from by getting in touch with professional idols in Akihabara…

Personal Data 6 A girl named Narumi Nashimoto attracted Merope's attention, and Merope called her an outstanding idol. Merope launched a series of investigations into and contacts with Narumi, all in order to help me learn more about Narumi's job… at least, that's what Merope said.

Personal Data 7 In order to learn more about idols, Merope took me to participate in Narumi's photo session, and even did a lot of research into preparations beforehand. It's just that these preparations seemed to have little effect when she actually faced Naruru.

Personal Data 8 In the process of continuing to "observe" Naruru, we unexpectedly learned about Narumi's family background, and the fact that she was being exploited by an unscrupulous agent. In order to save Narumi, Merope commissioned me to change the heart of her evil producer.

Personal Data 9 I successfully changed her producer's heart, and the diligent Narumi finally received the treatment she deserved. She was so happy that she gave me and Merope tickets for her cafe's upcoming fan appreciation event. Seeing her smile from the heart, Merope was also very happy.

Personal Data 10 In order to better support Narumi, Merope taught me special CALL skills for idol fans. Through the advancement of her "special project", Merope and I have gained a lot. Though I don't know when it happened, it seems Merope also became a fan of me...

Voice Lines

Japanese VA: Yukari Tamura | Chinese VA: Hui Xu

(As I can only add up to ten audio files per post, I'll only include the Japanese lines below! Feel free to ask for the Chinese ones, though.)

I'm your receptionist, Merope. It's a pleasure to meet you.

I serve my master in the Velvet Room, the narrow place between dream and reality, mind and matter.

In order to avoid the coming ruin, I need to help you hone your desires.

My relationship with you...? I will make special plans for you, and you will put them into practice... Do you wish to have any other relationship?

You wish to know my arm strength...? Although this is not a difficult question to answer, please feel free to imagine for now.

Regarding my master, please forgive me for being unable to provide you with more information at the moment. Please understand.

As a fledgling idol, she also has experience in designing a persona... It's very lucky we met her. Please look forward to my next proposed special plan.

Confidant-Specific Bonuses

Rank 1 Road to Idols: The player gains access to the Contract function for summoning Phantom Idols.

Rank 5 Special Treat: Archangel's fusion is unlocked.

Rank 7 Ideal Image: Setanta's fusion is unlocked.

Rank 9 VIP Seats: Anubis' fusion is unlocked.

Rank 11 Under the Spotlight: Okuninushi's fusion is unlocked.

Rank 13 I Believe it is Justice: Narcissus' fusion is unlocked.

Rank 15 Fan Feedback: When fusing a 2- or 3-star Persona that's rank 4 or lower, there is a chance of gaining an additional Persona.

Rank 20 Dancing Alone in the Shadows: Kohryu's fusion is unlocked.

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Blonde twink gets destroyed by the clap of Brazil's ass cheeks

Jet stream Sam:

You like Brazilian chads with dummy thicc thighs that save lives, are an avid listener to bury the light, or have probably never played any other Metal Gear game since you are an avid RaidenxSam shipper who tends to forget or not know that Raiden has a wife (to be fair Rose repeatedly manipulated him and is a terrible cook so obviously Sam is the better choice and you have good taste in husbandos).

First Date:

You were at the local strip club, your boyfriend recently having dumped you. You decided you would go get drunk and watch some hot men dance to ease your troubles. You poured down your tequila and burped. "This better be worth it!" You brought all the cash you had on you which was pathetically small since your only source of income was from working at Wal-Mart.

Suddenly bright lights were flashing in neon colors and for some reason it reminded you of your friends rgb pc setup. "Hey ladies, give it out to our first man of the night, the incredibly sexy Corrente de Jato" Next thing you knew, men and women around you were screaming like they were at a boy band concert. "I guess this guy must be really popular huh?" Soon catchy techno music was blasting and out came a rugged yet chiseled man.

"Lets dance!" He began taking off his clothes and was soon only wearing a thong, not leaving much to the imagination. His rythmn matched the beat and you had to admit that he was pretty good because he could do some wicked moves on that dance pole. The money started pouring in. "Yes, yes I like this!" the man thought. In the corner of the room a slight growl could faintly be heard. There was a lone cardboard box. Underneath of course was none of then Raiden.

"That bastard! So this is what he's been up to? Well I think it's time to make my entrance!" He slowly crept to the front of the row. "What the hell is that?" Raiden was bumping into more people than someone playing bumper cars so everyone eventually took notice and stopped paying attention to Sam. "Shit! I think I've been compromised. Alright, plan b!" He tore away the box and revealed himself.

"Raiden? Is that You? What on earth are you doing here!?" The cyborg pointed his blade at the Brazilian man. "I'm the one that should be asking you that! This sword is a tool of justice but tonight I shall prove that I'm the victor!" Samuel laughed. "By all means pretty boy, if you think this is so easy then why don't you try it yourself?" Raiden took this as a challenge and entered the spotlight. "Alright. Girls like hot guys with accents rights? I think I've got this."

He readjusted his sombrero. "Hola, putas! Se habla español." An angry woman threw her beer bottle at him. "TAKE IT OFF!" He tapped the mic. "Please bear with me ladies and gentlemen, the show will start momentarily. El elemento por favor!" He tore off his suit and smirked. "WHERE IS IT?" Raiden thought he was doing everything right. "Huh?" The crowd was getting restless. "WHERE'S HIS DICK!" Just before Raiden could protest and trauma dump to the entire audience about how the patriots removed most of his body, Sam interjected.

"Hey, why don't we get back to dancing!" The boos turned back into cheers and then Raiden noticed the difference in the crowds reactions. He decided to give dancing a shot. He may be Liberian but he is 100% white with the way he danced. "GET HIM OFF THE STAGE!" Raiden was starting to get angry. "YOU GUYS JUST DON'T APPRECIATE THE ROBOT! BESIDES, WHAT'S HE HAVE THAT I DON'T!"

In unison the drunk patrons began yelling "NO DICK! NO DICK! NO DICK! NO DICK!" The cyborg sighed. He began to feel himself losing to Jack the ripper. "Fuck this, I'll just kill Sam and go home." he thought. Raiden tore the dance pole down and began to use it like L'Etranger. He went to stab Sam but the man managed to parry him. "WHY WON'T YOU DIE!?" he screamed. Unfortunately for Raiden, he was oblivious to the fact that Samuel hadn't been dancing at all but had been doing capoeira.

"SHOW ME A GOOD TIME JACK!" Everyone began to evacuate as the two men battled and the speakers began to play the only thing I know for real. The building was soon turned into rubble and the men lay there motionless, panting. "Well I'm out of a job now blondie so you better find me some work." Raiden let out a loud "GOD DAMNIIIIIIT!" and curled into the fetal position. He didn't want to deal with this shit again.

[blurscolours]

The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea | Part Six

Masterlist

Summary: An attack on Arthur’s imprisoned brother Orm leaves him with no choice but to rely upon you, a friend made due to unfortunate circumstances nearly a decade ago, to provide safe haven while he restores peace to Atlantis. Suddenly tasked with sheltering a sullen former king results in a very different summer vacation than you had originally envisioned, but changes both of your lives forever.

Warnings: Bear Attack, Orm Injury, Blood, First Aid, Discussion of Atlantean Healing

Word Count: 2083

By the following weekend, the pile of logs to be split had dwindled significantly. Activity on the lake was picking up again, so you suggested you go on a walk into the woods, to both look for felled trees and get away from the racket.

Your planned route was not arduous, but it was hot in the thick of the trees and sunbaked granite, so you put your bathing suit on underneath your shorts and tank top to be ready to swim as soon as you returned to the lakeshore. You also applied sunscreen to your exposed skin, as he read the back of the bottle curiously.

“We can’t all be as perfect as you…” You teased lightly. “Sunburns are terribly uncomfortable.”

Making sure you each had a bottle of water, and a bucket to collect any blueberries there might be, you headed off with him down the path to the railway tracks. You stopped at the edge and let him take in the space without a freight train barreling through the landscape, before leading him across and deeper into the trees. You were by no means an elegant hiker, but you made your way up the slope of the path, avoiding the mud churned up by ATVs. The two of you noted some trees that had fallen as a result of wind or at the end of the life. He stated he would come back later to collect them.

You emerged from the thick of the trees onto a landscape of granite rocks and twisted jack pine trees. It was a rather foreign landscape compared to the woods or the lakeshore.

“Here is where we might find blueberries.” You said excitedly and headed over to inspect one of the patches of green. You crouched down and carefully ran your fingers through the leaves before picking a few triumphantly. “Aha!”

You enthusiastically began to pick a few more before putting them in your hand and rinsing them with a splash of water from your water bottle. You popped a few in your mouth and smiled as they were still warm from the sun and reminded you of a fresh blueberry pie.

“You enjoy the taste then?” He asked, much closer than you remembered.

You opened your eyes to see him crouching down right in front of you. You held out your hand and he plucked a few from your palm, the tips of his fingers sliding along your skin. You were powerless to stop the shiver that thrilled through you. You watched as he slid the blueberries past his generous lips before popping them with his teeth and nodding.

“They are sweet but not overwhelmingly so…and warm.” He commented.

His words brought you back to the moment and you nodded quickly.

“Exactly. It reminds me of a dessert my mom makes every summer. Blueberry pie.”

He smiled a little at the mention of your mother…And you realized you had listened to his entire life story without sharing any part of your own.

“I would very much like to try it…” He replied.

“Well then we need to pick a lot more of these.” You laughed and settled in to pick everything within your reach, teaching him to pick only the darkest of the berries, leaving the white or green ones to ripen a while longer. As you shifted around the patch, the bucket getting fuller between the two of you, you told him stories of berry picking with your family…of eating more blueberries than you put in the bucket…

As the time passed, however, you began to feel…unnerved. You found yourself looking across the clearing to the edge of the trees until the shadows moved. You inhaled sharply, and his focus was immediately on you.

“Bear.” You said quickly and quietly, and his eyes shot across the clearing to see the black bear emerge fully, sniffing the wind. The animal was startingly large…not like the females that came close to the cottage sometimes. No, this was a huge male that roamed a large territory, and you were now in it.

“Stand up slowly.” You spoke low and even, moving carefully. He followed your direction, shifting subtly to place his entire form between you and the bear. “Wave your arms slowly and talk to me, we have to show we are not prey.”

You both began to wave your arms.

“Are humans not prey for bears, then?”

“No. We are not. This type of bear is a scavenger…they like berries and fish and dead animals.” You peered around his torso and frowned as the bear started huffing defensively, pawing at the ground.

“It might charge.” You said with dread in your voice. You were doing everything the nature books said and yet the bear still seemed threatened. Orm was in and of himself a very threatening being. That may have been the issue.

“It is charging.” He confirmed with surprising calm.

You heard it roar and start across the clearing.

“Hit it in the face!!!” You managed to squeak out and pressed yourself fully against his back, admittedly terrified.

You felt Orm brace for the impact, holding his arms out to defend you as the snarling bear drew closer. It let out a bellow as it plowed into him, sliding the two of you backwards along the bare rock, but Orm kept his feet, and you were able to do the same by wrapping your arms around his waist. The bear reared up and snarled again as it swiped at Orm’s left arm with its wicked claws before you felt Orm shift and slam his right fist into its muzzle.

The bear let out a rather pathetic noise, one of pain mixed with surprise, as it tumbled back. It scrambled to its feet and scampered off into the woods. At least the books were right about that – black bears could indeed be scared off by fighting back. You unwrapped your arms from Orm’s torso and stood, immediately seeing the angry gashes on his forearm. He turned to face you once the bear was out of sight and seemed much more focused on your wellbeing. You grabbed your water bottle and quickly dumped it over his wound.

“Bear claws are filthy.” You babbled, adrenaline making your hands shake a little. You needed to stop the bleeding. You paused, trying to formulate a plan, before pulling your shirt up and off, folding it into a long strip. As Orm looked on curiously, you pressed the center of the fabric strip to this wound, wrapping it under his arm before pulling the ends back to the front and tying them tightly over the wound to put pressure on it. You picked up his hand and pressed your finger into his skin, pleased to see the blood flow replenish the colour quickly.

“We have to get you back to the cottage…” You turned to pull him back to the path, away from the bear, but he pulled you back to him, the fingers of his good hand sliding under your chin, raising your eyes to his.

“Are you alright?” He asked calmly, seemingly unfazed by what had transpired.

You blinked and nodded dumbly, forcing yourself to take a few calming breaths.

“Yes, sorry, thank you.” You murmured sheepishly.

“Then we can go.” He nodded and let go of your chin, leaning down to pick up the bucket of hard-won blueberries, before letting you lead him back down the path in your bathing suit and shorts.

Neither of you seemed inclined to break contact, and so you held his hand the entire way, taking him straight into the bathroom. You motioned for him to sit on the stool and took out the first aid kit. Your hands were thankfully no longer shaking. You unwrapped your ruined shirt and dropped it directly into the garbage bin. You grabbed some antiseptic and looked to him apologetically.

“This might sting a little…” You knelt on the ground to be face-to-face with the wound on his forearm as you very carefully cleaned it out. You could see right before your own eyes he was already healing; the bleeding had stopped. The bear’s claws had not been able to cut very deep into his Atlantean flesh, but the wound still needed care. You added anti-bacterial cream before closing each gash with sets of steri-strips, offsetting and trimming them with careful precision. You placed gauze over the wounds and wrapped it with bandages.

“Too tight?” You asked once you’d tied it.

“Not at all.” He murmured and you nodded before cleaning up.

“Between you and me, we’re going to use a whole first aid kit before this month is out.” You muttered ruefully as you changed the Band-Aid on your thumb. You looked back to him, still sitting on the stool. “Are you in pain?”

“I will be fine. Thank you,” he replied, making eye contact again. “for your prompt care and the sacrifice of your garment…”

You shook your head quickly.

“I would have died…the thanks are all mine…” You blinked as you remembered he’d just punched a huge land animal. You quickly picked up his right hand and examined his knuckles, putting gentle pressure on the bones of his hand. “Is your hand ok?”

He nodded as his fingers closed around yours, gently turning you hand and lifting your knuckles to his lips. “I am fine.” He confirmed again before pressing a kiss to your skin.

The air shuddered from your lungs, stunned that hands so strong could feel so soft…that a mouth that could speak so harshly had such tender lips.

“I…” You dropped your eyes and they looked around for something to focus on, landing on the bucket of blueberries. “I will get these cleaned up then.” You slipped your hand from his, grabbing the blueberries and fleeing to the kitchen.

The intensity of your body’s response to him was overwhelming, particularly when it mixed with the residual adrenaline. You rinsed the blueberries carefully and lay them out to dry on paper towel, before going down to the lake for a swim. You needed to cool off and calm down or you would absolutely embarrass yourself further.

You jumped in and dunked yourself a number of times before simply floating, the frenzied feeling leeching away into the water. As you climbed out of the lake, he offered you a towel…making you realized you’d forgotten to bring one with you.

“Thank you.” You smiled sheepishly and wrapped yourself up in it. “So.” You looked to him. “Blueberry pie?”

He nodded softly and you headed up to the cottage together. You changed into real clothes and worked with him to make the filling and crust before assembling the pie. Once it was in the oven, you pulled down a wine glass. “I am going to have a glass of mead, an alcoholic beverage made with honey. Would you like to try some?”

“Yes, please.” He answered and you grabbed another glass. You poured a tasting size portion for him and a proper glass for yourself, before bringing the bottle with you as you sat in the living room to relax while the pie baked. He sniffed and swirled the mead before tasting it and you were once again struck by the cultural similarities – though how beverages were serviced and ingested in the ocean was something you would ask him about later. He gave you a nod of approval and you added to his glass.

The warmth of the alcohol spread from the centre of your body out to the tips of your fingers and toes, relaxing you deeply. As you drank, you took the opportunity to tell him about your life – your family, your childhood. The timer beeped once the pie finished, and you pulled it out to cool. Together, you threw together some leftovers for dinner and continued drinking and talking over your meal and dessert.

Thankfully the pie turned out to be worth it effort he had put into collecting those blueberries with you, and you finished the night by cleaning the kitchen. The very close encounter with that bear had truly driven home the importance of keeping the cottage clean. By bedtime, the bottle was empty. You were both thoroughly relaxed, and he was also well-versed in your life in turn. Crawling into bed, it was not a struggle to fall asleep. You melted into the sheets boneless after the effort of the day and slept soundly through the night.

Read Part Seven

Masterlist

[just-a-random-raccoon]

Day 22: Sparky

Shhh I'm not late for an hour.... You're talking nonsense....

Couldn't be a dog without Blackjack am I right?-

Fanfic under the cut.

He was still getting used to being orange, he thought it was a attempt of his mind of giving hope of not dying. That's why he said "yes" to that weird promise, he doesn't even know what happened in the first place. One day, he is getting his sister ready for her birthday party at Fredbear's, the other, he is dying in a suit at his job making promises with a weird bear that says he is a God.

Probably the most weird experience but hey! It's the average Freddy's experience.

The most weird of it all it's not the promise, or the fact he is now orange for his make up if isn't the most weird of it all. The most weird of it all it's that a dog has been following him since. It's not an average one, not like Sparky at least, it's a purple one with a top hat and bow tie. How c00t! Thinks he is a person.

He tried to summon it but Jack doesn't know its name, he doesn't even know if its got an owner, so he just will wait for it to appear. The thing is, where that moment would be? Or what he even does this? What he is gonna do? Talk to it? Not like dogs could talk.

He didn't have to go to work because he has quit it since that day, Jack find Henry's expression hilarious when he saw the orange man walking to his office like nothing happened, but that was only a friendly reminder that what he did was pretty real and that he accidentally has made a deal with some kind of higher entity.

That he died

That he came back to life

That Dee died.

That his brother considers him a murderer.

And that he needs to save them.

He doesn't need those thoughts right now! He needs to wash the dishes!

Or that would be so if that dog haven't appeared and everything had turned black. Oh well, guess that moment is right now.

"Hey..." Jack muttered not sure of what to say, he was becoming crazy talking to a dog but he needed to try. The purple dog perked its head up, "by any chance you have a name?" Jack said kneeling down to the dog's level, the other one limited to perk up his head more showing a red collar that had the letters "Blackjack" print on it.

"OHHH! Your name is Blackjack." Jack was impressed more about the name that the fact this dog could understand him. "Kind off" the dog said.

Wait.

The dog said

Jack eyes went wide and stood up the most quickly he could trying to not make contact with the dog. He knew him the dog being purple was dangerous!

"Don't be scared Jack, I'm well. Your soul or better said you're my corpse since I'm the real Jack." Blackjack? Jack? Said being confident on his words even if his "voice" was the orange man's voice distorted.

"THE HELL ARE YOU? GET AWAY FROM ME!" Jack screamed at the dog, he couldn't run because it was all black. But he didn't wanted to be near that thing. "No need to scream! Let's see, calm down and breath. You're going to hyperventilate or something if you keep like this!" The dog just wanted to explain things soon as possible but the corpse was making it difficult.

"CALM DOWN??? YOU'RE A DOG! THAT IS TALKING! AND THAT BEAR! I- THIS- NO NO-" Jack kneeled down and grabbed the sides of his face. "This isn't real! I'm just having a nightmare! I will wake up and everyone will be there! Dee, Sparky and Peter! They- they will-" The dog cut him off "I'm afraid that's not happening Jack."

The dog was snuggling to the sobbing man right now trying to give him some comfort, it won't be like a hug or a nice hot cocoa like the one's Peter did but it was something.

"Let's just go one step at time, shall we?"

[arkashas]

will naming his bait as abigail + how it ties into his “blurring” with hannibal and eventual transformation

“name the bait on your hook after somebody you cherish. if the person you name it after cherished you, you will catch the fish".

i’ve seen this look abigail gives will here

when he says he named the bait after her interpreted as her not cherishing him, but i don’t think that’s it. i think the reason that abigail’s face falls here is because people using her as bait has negative connotations for her. who else used her as bait a lure? that’s right, garret jacob hobbs.

we see in season 1 that will takes pains not to cross boundaries with abigail; he thinks better of his gift of fly tying gear to her because it might remind her of her father.

but now in his daydreams he’s fishing with her and even using her as a lure. what changed?

will’s isolation, alienation from others and slow deterioration of his morals causing him to become like hannibal, that’s what changed. hannibal has no problem being another GJH or leveraging abigail’s relationship with GJH to further his bond with her; in Œuf he feeds her eggs and sausages, the breakfast she shared with her parents, and even gives her priscobilyn tea so that she hallucinates him and alana as her parents (the script tells us that it was actually will that was supposed to be at the breakfast-for-dinner, which makes more sense).

EDIT: i think there’s also instances where hannibal uses abigail as bait. in potage when set up the scene for nicholas boyle to go after her, and when he lets her distract beverly in takiawase when she goes down to the basement (bryan fuller confirmed that beverly saw abigail in the basement). there’s also mizumono where he sends abigail to disarm alana knowing alana won’t shoot at her, which echoes GJH making abigail befriend the girls to get them into a false sense of security.

in season 3, we see that will uses hannibal as bait to catch dolarhyde, and of course he catches the fish, because he and hannibal cherish each other. and in season 2, will names abigail as his bait, but he doesn’t actually use her as bait to catch hannibal in a way that was literal with hannibal and dolarhyde in season 3. so this might be a bit convoluted, but bear with me here - i think the way this is supposed to work is that will using abigail as bait = will acting like garret jacob hobbs which in turn = will acting like hannibal. in order to catch hannibal, will has to beat him at his own game, which means acting like him, which means manipulating, killing and cannibalizing.

this idea makes sense with what will tells jack in su-zakana. he heavily implies he will act as bait to catch hannibal. this means will is also the bait. so how can abigail and will both simultaneously being the bait be reconciled?

the way this can work is if we take it that abigail is not the bait in a literal sense; what is important here is what naming abigail as his bait means for will. it means that will is willing to turn into hannibal to catch hannibal. and will acting hannibalesque is the “live bait” that “moves and excites” hannibal to action, the one thing that he wants, despite everything he knows. (also emphasis on live bait - that can’t be abigail because will thinks she’s dead).

EDIT: more relevant scenes from trou normand. if feeling like garret jacob hobbs makes will feel like a killer, then the fishing scenes in his mind palace with abigail take on even more meaning.

we see other signs of the blurring between will and hannibal, the courtroom scene in hassun where they both dress up at the same time,

and as this post points out, the dream sequence just before this where we see will in a suit (reminiscent of hannibal’s attire) electrocuting the old will.

but for will the transformation is a painful one - his old self goes through the process of electrocution, he tears himself free and screams when he's reborn in ko no mono, and it also doesn't fully take place – the suit is ill fitting, and the ravenstag gives birth to someone who's recognisable as will, just with antlers, not the stagman’s twin. you can’t force a transformation, will has to grow into it in his own time. which he eventually does.

[on a sidenote - this is why i disagree that hannibal never wanted will to be like him. he did, the character development hannibal has to go through is accepting will is not like him and loving and wanting him anyway. we see glimpses of that when he is willing to run away with will even while having his “imago” or ideal of him shattered when he learnt he didn’t kill freddie lounds.]

EDIT: something i forgot to mention is how will gets found out by hannibal because he went to visit freddie, which he was only able to do because he didn’t kill her...and not killing her means that he didn’t turn into hannibal. will failing to catch hannibal is directly connected to him being unable to do what he set out to do with his luring expedition. and i’ve changed my mind to say that abigail not cherishing him back might have played a part in hannibal wriggling away. will and abigail were never especially close, except in will’s mind.

[divine-knight-hand]

“It’s Not Safe Here!”

Chapter 4: Family Values

Series Masterlist || Michael Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3

Content Warnings: Angst, discussion of character deaths, walking in on masturbation, p in v, riding, pleasure crying, mention of leaving a hickey, explicit consent, and use of a condom.

Notes: Finally! I did it! I finished chapter four! Be prepared for backstories, more plot, and original characters for Y/N's story. I feel the need to remind everyone of the heavy canon divergence in this series.

Originally, this chapter wasn’t going to involve smut, but I think Michael deserves to feel happy after the torture I put him through. Besides, I know what we're all here for, so let's just get straight to it~

I also totally self-indulged a little because characters being caught jacking off is one of my favorite smut setup tropes (or whatever you wanna call it). Okay, I'm done talking your ears off now. Enjoy! Hehehe!

Word Count: 3,775

Dividers by @cafekitsune

William Afton was a sadistic douchebag. That much was obvious, especially now. Wherever he went, he only ever brought suffering with him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce that he enjoyed the look of pain and torture on others. He was foul, and his latest act of malice took the cake.

It was 6:30 AM the day after my meeting with him when he and Henry gathered me, Michael, and a handful of other employees I could have sworn I’d never seen before into the party room. We sat at a single table, and I dutifully crossed one leg over the other as we observed the two tall tarped items that seemed to tower over all of us.

I smoothed the front of my white dress shirt, which I had neatly tucked into a sleek pair of navy dress pants, waiting for either of my bosses to say something. When silence proceeded to thicken the air, I uncrossed my legs, anxiously tapping the heel of my ankle boot in a trademark anxious knee bounce.

Michael seemed to notice my shaking leg and reached over to hold my hand, which was conveniently left on the table in front of me. I smiled up at him as he squeezed my hand, my leg slowing, but not stopping. Something’s wrong here. I can feel it…

Henry smiled at William, breaking the silence, “Well, since they’re all itching to hear what we’ve got with us, why don’t you show them all what we’ve got, Afton?”

“I’ll let you do the talking, Em.” I could have sworn I saw William cast a sour glance at me.

“Okay!” Henry clapped his hands together with a smile. “While tinkering away in our shared workshop, my business partner here and I have made a revolutionary breakthrough in robotics.”

Excited murmurs began to fill the room as my stomach dropped. Is this where our funds have been going this whole time? Damnit, William!

The murmurs stopped with a wave of Henry’s hands. “Now, after years of hard work, we would like to present to you-” Henry motioned toward William, who dropped the tarps with a sinister grin. “-the first-ever springlock suits in robotics history!”

As applause sounded behind me, my jaw dropped at the two tall figures that towered over us. A yellow bear with a purple top hat and matching purple bow stood beside a yellow rabbit with an identical bow. They both had glassy yellow eyes that made them seem lifeless. The sight sent a shiver down my spine.

“Say hello to Fredbear and Spring Bonnie!” Henry’s warm smile juxtaposed the horrifying scene right behind him. “They’ll be unveiled as new additions to the Fazbear crew tomorrow morning.”

“Cool! New characters!” I heard an employee enthuse from somewhere behind me.

“Not just any new characters.” William stepped beside Henry. “These are state-of-the-art springlock suits.” He smirked as he knocked on Fredbear’s shoulder, seeming satisfied with the resulting metal clanging. “Programmed to walk around when not occupied. But, to put them in costume mode, you twist a little handle inside and all the animatronic parts compress to make space for a human to fit inside.”

More excited murmurs launched from the other employees as I noticed Michael tense up. He gave my hand an anxious squeeze.

“This is dangerous!” The murmurs instantly stopped at my outburst. William scowled at me as I continued. “I mean, what if someone’s trapped in there and the animatronic parts snap back into place? Think of the lawsuits! Not to mention, I don’t think a human being could survive that type of injury.” Another anxious hand squeeze from Michael told me that was a poor choice of words. I mentally kicked myself for being so insensitive.

About four months ago, he let me in on one of his darkest secrets. Something that had been plaguing him with guilt for most of his life. 

He was about 16 years old when William let Michael and his little siblings, Elizabeth and Evan, run wild in an off-site storage unit for Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. It was Evan’s tenth birthday, so William thought a storage site with half-finished machinery was a decent party setting. Though the restaurant hadn’t been established yet, he and Henry still wanted a base of operations for the animatronics they were working on.

Since Evan didn’t make friends easily, his mother, Clara, suggested that Michael invite his friends to Evan’s party to keep him company. This proved to be Evan’s worst nightmare, since Michael and his friends used to tease and bully him.

Evan feared one animatronic the most, so Michael and his friends thought it would be a funny prank to hoist him up to eye level with it. Evan squirmed around so much that his head ended up in its mouth. The last thing Michael heard from Evan was his crying before the animatronic’s jaw clamped shut over his head, crushing his skull and killing him.

Michael ran to get William for help, only to be harshly blamed, chastised, and even abused for Evan’s death. Clara later grew furious with William for being so cold to his own son after what was clearly an accident in an already unsafe environment, and the two began to argue, which didn’t help Michael’s situation at all.

To further add to the tragedy, Elizabeth disappeared that very same day after running off to play with another animatronic in the storage unit by herself. This only fueled William’s rage toward Michael. I couldn’t imagine how alone and scared Michael felt after having both of his siblings ripped from him at once, only to grow distant from his parents as well.

I remembered holding Michael as he sobbed after telling that story. My heart broke for him, and it took everything out of me not to cry alongside him. I appreciated that he felt comfortable enough to open up to me about this. We’d come so far together, and I wanted to be there for him in any way I could, even if all I could do was hold him.

So, that’s what I did. I held him as he buried his face in my shoulder, and rubbed his back as it heaved with each breath and sob. I felt almost useless beyond that. I’m not great with words when it comes to making people feel better. In that moment, I wished for some sort of magic spell that I could incant to put him at ease. Though the perfect words never came to me, Michael said that he appreciated my comfort.

I wouldn’t know anything about what coming from a broken family feels like. I was one of the lucky ones, having been raised by parents who treated me well in the big city. New York, to be exact. I was studying finances and entrepreneurship in college, hoping to someday open a business of my own, but I felt I wasn’t getting the hands-on experience that I needed. I felt that I was missing something.

One day, as I was coming home from college, my neighbor, Edith, stopped me and told me that her friend, Adelaide, told her that Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria was looking for a financial advisor. Edith was always a sweet lady. I considered her like a grandma to me. My grandma-like image of her was only further supported by the fact that she baked my family cookies every Friday. It was nice that she looked out for me like that. She always made it clear that she had my best interest at heart, and I appreciated it. Not to mention that she just introduced me to what could have been the opportunity of a lifetime for me. This is it! I thought, This could be what I was missing all this time!

Edith gave me Adelaide’s phone number and I found out that the pizzeria was located all the way in Hurricane, Utah. My heart dropped at how far away it was from home, but Adelaide told me not to lose hope yet and later sent me a newspaper clipping in the mail with additional information about the restaurant. I was instantly enthralled by the bright colors and silly characters in the ad, as well as the promise of experience with managing finances in a real-life business setting. It was a long shot, but I summoned my strength and applied for the position. Before I knew it, I was accepted.

My parents were confused as to why I was suddenly so eager to move to a small town in the middle of nowhere, but I had my mind set on my future. Besides, I had originally planned on moving back to New York once I was ready to launch my own business. I dropped out of college, packed up, and set off across the country to move in with Adelaide. My priorities quickly shifted when I met Michael. Suddenly, I had a lover, and staying in a small town didn’t sound so bad. Though, starting my own business wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility…

Remembering how amused I used to be by the animatronics only made me feel bitter now, considering that each and every one was a walking death trap after hours. Once Michael gave my hand another anxious squeeze, my mind refocused on the worst of it, which stood right in front of the table we sat at.

“I can assure you that the springlock suits are completely safe.” Henry nervously chuckled, wringing his hands.

“Besides, me and my partner over here will be the only ones wearing the suits.” William reassured. “If there was any risk, which there isn’t,” He glared daggers at me. “Henry and I would be the only ones taking it. So, we’re not liable for anyone else’s physical well-being in that aspect.”

“How could you?!” Michael shot out of his chair, my hand left forgotten on the table, as he seemed to finally reach his breaking point. “How could you finish the project that-”

“If you finish that sentence the way I think you’re going to finish it, son, let me remind you who brought about that outcome.” William’s face was red with fury as he wagged his finger at Michael. “That was no fault of mine, boy.” Bastard! I wanted to scream and slap the shit out of William, but I sat still, swallowing bile instead. I almost got fired yesterday for yelling at the man. I didn’t need to risk a criminal assault charge next.

Michael clenched his jaw before he spat, “How could you even look at that face, knowing what it did?” He motioned to Fredbear, and I finally put the pieces together.

Fredbear was the animatronic that killed Evan. Fredbear killed Michael’s little brother, and William finished building it anyway. This was the most insensitive thing I’d ever seen him do. I felt nauseous.

“I believe whatever we’re discussing here can wait until after hours.” Henry stepped between the arguing two. “Right?”

The two glared at each other as if Henry wasn’t even there. The air between them seemed to crackle with tension before Michael broke the silence.

“Yeah.” He slowly backed away from the table, eyes unmoving from William. “Fine.” With that, he stormed out of the party room.

“Michael!” I lept out of my chair and quickly followed him. I heard Henry let out a defeated sigh behind me as I left the room.

As I reached the security office, I found Michael sitting in his chair with his face in his hands.

“Michael?” Though my call was just barely louder than a whisper, his head instantly shot up at the sound of my voice.

“Oh. Hello, love.” Michael’s watery eyes met mine, but his hands didn’t completely leave his face. The parts of his face that were showing through his hands were red and blotchy. I felt my heart sink at the sight of him.

“You shouldn’t listen to William.” I walked over and grabbed his hands, slowly coaxing them from his face. “His area of expertise is limited to creepy robots.” Creepy killer robots, but this didn’t seem like an appropriate time to bring that up. “For what it’s worth, I’m with you. This whole springlock thing is a stupid idea, and you deserve to be heard when trying to speak your mind.”

Michael sadly smiled. “Thank you, darling. That means a lot. It’s just-” He sighed. “What is going through my father’s head?”

“Who knows?” I brought Michael into a loose embrace, and he rested his head on my chest. “Your old man is crazy.”

Michael half-heartedly chuckled at my remark. “When is he not?”

“Hello, Fazbear crew~” The sing-songy voice sounded from one of the security cameras, instantly catching my attention. I recognized the woman’s medium frame and wavy auburn shoulder-length hair as she walked on-screen.

“Hello!” William greeted his wife.

“You forgot your lunch, dear!” She strolled over, handing him a paper bag and kissing him on the cheek.

“How forgetful of me.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Thank you, doll.”

As I watched the exchange, I remembered what I’d witnessed the day before between William and Henry. My stomach twisted with guilt. Maybe I should have told her what I saw. I wished I’d never even caught William cheating on her in the first place. I wished I didn’t bear the burden of knowing what William did at work.

Clara seemed like a kind and gentle woman. I didn’t think she deserved to feel the pain that came with finding out that her husband cheated on her. Then again, I didn’t think she deserved to be cheated on in the first place.

I was torn between whether or not I should tell her. Would it be better for her to find out after everything she’s been through or suffer a silent misdeed in ignorant bliss?

Michael let out a heavy sigh, bringing my attention back to him. “I think I’ll be heading home now.”

I let him stand up before wrapping him in a tighter hug. “Of course. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be there after my shift.” I tilted my head to give him a kiss before finally letting him go.

I watched him walk out of the door before turning to check the clock: 7:00 AM. Time for work.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

“Hun, I’m home!” I called into the still air of our shared home as I slid my ankle boots off of my feet. Our house was small but cozy. There was only the two of us living here, after all. We didn’t need any extravagant arrangements.

By the time I stepped into the house, I still didn’t get a response, so I tried calling again, “Michael?” I slowly walked over to our bedroom, freezing at the closed door.

I could hear soft sighs and low moans coming from inside. “Mh… Ah- P- please…”

My stomach seized. Was he sick? Was he hurt? How long was he left suffering like this? I steeled my nerves and threw the door open, ready to help him.

Michael lay on our bed, still fully clothed in his work uniform, but his shirt was unbuttoned from top to bottom. His eyes were squeezed shut as he panted, stroking his hand up and down on his exposed cock. He let out a soft whine, breathily moaning my name.

I softly closed the door behind me and silently made my way closer to him. He looked like a painting. His brow was knit in concentration, and the noises he made were like music to my ears. His cheeks were lightly flushed as sweat began to dew his face. He looked perfect, and part of me wanted to reach out and touch him to make sure he was real.

“Missed me?” It took a lot to keep my voice low and even, but the faint pulsing sensation forming between my thighs made it difficult to keep my composure.

His mouth dropped into an ‘o’ shape as his eyes flew open in shock at the sound of my voice. “D- darling! You’re home early.” Though he was surprised, his hand didn’t move from his length.

I softly chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I came home at the same time as always, my love. It looks like you might have lost track of time, hm?”

“I… I suppose so.” His eyes fluttered closed at the contact. “I’m sorry, love.” He breathed.

“Please don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.” I moved my hand to caress his cheek, earning a soft sigh from him. “You’re so pretty when you’re begging for me~”

He opened his eyes to innocently look up at me. “You’re the only one who can truly satisfy me.” I could have sworn my heart melted in my chest.

“Then may I?” I felt the corners of my mouth upturn in a mischievous smirk as Michael wildly nodded.

“Please...” His sigh bordered on a moan as he dropped his painfully hard dick onto his stomach.

I lightly grabbed the collar of his shirt. “All of this has to come off, then.”

He wordlessly nodded in response before stripping. I quickly discarded my own clothes and dug through my dresser drawer until I found the box of condoms I kept inside. I grabbed one and turned around to see Michael sitting in the middle of the bed, looking up at me with those baby-doll eyes I loved so much. I felt a slick sensation forming between my thighs as I looked him over.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous, my love.” I crawled into bed next to him and pulled him into a deep kiss.

He moaned into my mouth and pulled me on top of him, laying back as he did so. I pulled away from the kiss, sitting up and straddling his thighs to open the condom I grabbed and roll it onto his cock.

All the while, Michael was softly complimenting me. “You’re so beautiful, love. Absolutely stunning. I want to make you feel good.”

“What a good boy~” I praised him. “Always so willing to please me.” Michael softly whimpered at my compliments as I tossed the wrapper of the condom aside and leaned forward to cup his face in my hands. “But, tonight, I want to make it about you, my love. Let me spoil you.”

He tried to turn away out of embarrassment, but I pulled him into another kiss and I felt his arms wrap around my body as he grew audibly desperate for me. He then began bucking his hips into mine, teasing my cunt without even realizing it.

I felt a pang of desire tear through me before I pulled away from the kiss to ask, “Are you ready, hun?”

“More than anything…” He moaned. “Please, love. I want to be inside you.”

I gave him a quick peck on the tip of his nose before lining his cock up with my entrance. As I slid him inside, we both let out a low moan in unison. I felt my mind clouding with pleasure as I bottomed out, enjoying the full sensation in my core. Michael’s head dropped back onto the bed and he squeezed his eyes shut.

His voice grew whinier and he began incoherently praising me. “Mh… Yes… So tight… Mh…”

I trailed kisses along his jaw until I reached his earlobe to give it a playful nip. “You feel so good inside me, Michael~” I purred as I ground my hips against him.

He let out a whimper at my teasing. “Please…” His eyes fluttered open, growing watery. “Please… Need more…”

That was all I needed to hear. I sat up into a straddling position and set a brutal pace as I began to ride him. Michael was a mess underneath me. He was reduced to broken moans and whines that bordered on sobs. He was clearly waiting for this for a while, and I was loving every moment of seeing the image of perfection sprawled out beneath me. 

Michael relying on me completely to grant him release. Michael begging and pleading for me. Michael absolutely blissed out under my touch, unable to put to words how good I make him feel. Michael~

I bit my lip with concentration as I felt the pressure in my core mounting. I involuntarily clenched around Michael, and he responded by gripping my thighs and bucking his hips with my movements while letting out a string of incoherent begs and pleas.

“Ah- That’s it, Michael.” I praised him through broken moans. “You make me feel so good…”

“Ohhh… I- I’m close…” Tears slowly streamed out of Michael’s eyes. “Please, darling, please… Ohhhh…”

I leaned forward, still thrusting, and whispered, “Cum for me, hun. Show me how good it feels.”

That was enough to send Michael over the edge. His eyes rolled back and his voice cracked as he hit his climax. I helped him ride out his high as his cock twitched and spilled cum into the condom, trailing ravenous kisses along his neck before my own orgasm crashed into me.

I let out a loud moan as the waves of my climax washed over me. The world slowed for a moment, and the only thing keeping me tethered to reality was feeling Michael’s body against mine. For a moment, I wished I could spend the rest of my days in this state of ecstasy. Once we were both finished, we held each other in our arms, panting and satisfied.

I went to lift off of Michael when he softly grabbed my thighs and pulled me back down onto him. “Just a little longer… Please?”

“Okay.” I pecked his cheek. “Just a little longer.” I lazily smiled at him, my eyes trailing down his neck to find the bruise I left when I trailed kisses along it. I knew he would be embarrassed and wear his collar just a little higher to hide it during his next shift, but I would know that I marked him. I was instantly filled with a sense of pride. My pretty boy~

“Thank you.” He breathed, rubbing his hand along my back. “For… everything today. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Not just me. You deserve the world.” I rested my face in the crook of his neck, embracing him and his body heat. “And I love you so much that I’d do anything to give it to you.”

“I- I don’t know what to say.” Michael wrapped his arms tighter around me before softly sighing. “I love you, too.”

[rusquared]

Isn’t that you, old friend, my love? you might say, while swimming in some ocean to the small fish at your ankle. Or, Weren’t you my sister once? I might say to the sad, brown dog who follows me down the street. Or to the small boy or old woman or horse eye or to the tree. I know I knew I know you, too. I’m saying, could this be what makes me stop in front of that dogwood, train whistle, those curtains blowing in that window. See now, there go some eyes you knew once riding the legs of another animal, wearing its blue sky, magnolia, wearing its bear or fine or wolf-wolf suit, see, somewhere in the night a mouth is singing You remind me You remind me & the heart flips over in the dusky sea of its chest like a fish signaling Yes, yes it was me! & yes, it was, & you were there, & are here now, yes, honey, yes hive, yes I will, Jack, see you again, even if it’s a lie, don’t let me know, not yet, not ever, I need to think I’ll see you, oh, see you again.

-"I am not ready to die yet" by Aracelis Girmay

poets will drop snippets like this and im expected to go about my day like normal. i'm sorry, you're telling me to do the dishes after reading this???

[hedgiwithapen]

DHD Prompt: some hypothetically well-intentioned, mostly asshole hero comes to beat up the Shade, and any combination of the teenagers he’s unwillingly adopted defend him.

set after the helix twoparter! "Give up, old man," the decidedly young man in a truly hideous costume consisting of silvery armor with shoulder plates that invoked the puffed sleeve shirtwaist look more befitting a young woman in the 1910s than a would be hero in literally any other era. The Shade raised an eyebrow. 

"Give up," he repeated. "No, I think not. For one thing, this is my home, and for another, that is not the proper way to request a surrender. Would you like a lesson?"  Shadows lashed out, catching the intruder by the ankle and flinging him into a wall. 

"Try this. 'Surrender this fight, remove yourself from this place, and never trouble my doorstep again, and I will allow you to leave with all your limbs attached.'  You see? Style. Consequences.  'Give up' is for children playing dodge-the-ball and Jacks. Do you children still play jacks?"

"I'm not a child. I'm the Silver Scarab, and I'm here to rescue--"

"Callow youth, everyone is a child to me." More shadows drew up around them both, but golden light pierced through them, curling around the suit's gauntlets. 

The blow was enough to send the Shade staggering, though it was not quite the punch that the Cosmic Staff could  throw. Sunlight was still sunlight, however. 

"Now you're vexing me," the Shade said, though he swayed. He was difficult to hurt, which made actually getting injured that much more of an ordeal. 

"Good!" Silver Scarab snapped. "I'm just getting warmed up." indeed, the gauntlets blazed.

As did Jennie's ring from the top of the stairs. A rush of green fire shot over the Shade's head, slamming into his attacker. "Get out of our house!" she said, fiercely. "Todd! Backup! Shade's hurt."

"I am fine," The Shade said, absolutely unwilling to admit to being injured.

"Todd?" The intruder demanded of her, breathing hard. The fire hadn't been real enough to burn him, but it had knocked him back hard enough to wind him, which was a victory Jennie would take. 

"Yeah. My brother. Why are you attacking us?"

"I'm not attacking you," he protested. "I'm here to rescue you!"

"Rescue?" the Shade scoffed. "You're the one in need of rescue from her. I advise you leave, now."

"Yeah," Todd added in, joining his sister. Tiny hands made of Shadows reached for the Silver Scarab's atrocious shoulder armor. 

"Todd Rice, right? Danny sent me."

"Danny?" Todd dropped the shadows instantly. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

"Nothing! Why is everyone acting like I'm a villain here?? Oe stupid prophecy and--"

"Get to the point," Jennie insisted. 

"He was looking for you, said some cops kidnapped you, and then the cops said you were at some institute, and the nurse lady said the Shade kidnapped you so here I am, can we get the fuck out of here?"

"I knew we should have set that place on way more fire," Jennie muttered under her breath. Todd  shrugged. "We didn't get kidnapped by the Shade. I mean, I did get kidnapped by the cops, but..”

"No, as a matter of fact, it's really the other way around," the Shade said, petulant. “I was having a perfectly pleasant and solitary life until you two decided….” he stopped when Jennie gave him a look that reminded him entirely too much of Charles. "Now, if you would be so kind as to tell 'Danny' that Todd is safe and sound and stop trying to destroy our home...?"

The Silver Scarab shrugged. "Whatever. Ugh, you broke my armor. It's nth metal, how'd you even--."

"Consider it a favor," the Shade said.

"Wait," Todd said. "Danny... is he...?" he threw a look at the Shade, who sighed.

"Very well. What's one more? Little bug, tell Danny he can come and see for himself."

"And?" Jennie prompted. 

"And stay as long as he likes." The Shade finished in good natured disgust. " My next set of identity papers is going to have to bear the name 'Dugan', what with all these children insisting on being adopted." (apologies if Hector is  anyone’s blorbo and I have not written him in character I just needed someone to fight the shade and damn what a rollercoaster that boy’s wiki article is good lord comics are batshit)

[simplyender]

Tell me more..

(my votes on jack but I like letting people talk about their favorite characters)

if i do, will you share this with your friends and ask them nicely to vote for ingo? 3:

well, for starters, now that were talking halloween, id just like to say- shiny chandelure kind of reminds me of a pumpkin, lol.

(if ingos chandelure were shiny, do you think that would arguably make him a pumpkin king too?)

anyway, something i really love about ingo is that....hes just a nice guy. seriously. this man is polite as hell and is very invested in supporting and encouraging the people around him, from his booming "BRAVO"s to his insistence that beating him in a fight was only one of the milestones in your life, and that you should continue to rack up more and more! i mean, i know hes from a pokemon game. so. most people that arent antagonists are kind and supportive but just bear with me here.

another thing i think is really cool about ingo is that he seems to have a tendency to train objectmon, he loves his good friends, aka, massive gears covered in spikes, a chandelier, rock in the shape of a face, magnet cyclops, and a literal pile of garbage! all of them are beloved and valued by him<3

ingos love for pokemon, or battling, or both, is so strong apparently that even when hes tossed a good several hundred years into the past without any of his memories, he still manages to not only become the warden of a revered pokemon, but also one of the strongest trainers in the region (not that there was much competition, which has probably contributed to his general sadguy vibe in PLA). dude just loves animals that kick ass THAT much.

also, in tumblr sexyman fashion, ingo understands the importance of a snazzy top hat and a suit:) here he is all dressed up!