#very unsure about this snow brush

[failedgrailknight]

Helping each other home from the bar

[keeps-ache]

sigh. i think i just do not like dogs very much lol

[goosita]

trying to work when you're sick as young!politician!snow's secretary would be hard, but not for the reason you might think

you've been sniffling since yesterday afternoon, but this morning when you woke up, you felt like you'd been hit by a train. every muscle in your body was sore, your throat hurt, your nose was running and you could tell you had at least a lowgrade fever. you glanced at your alarm clock next to your bed and groaned, seeing that you'd woken up just a little while before it was set to go off anyway.

you thought about calling in sick, but you've never done it before. were you supposed to call....coriolanus? directly? he was your only boss, you worked solely for him. but that thought made you feel even worse than your illness did. you knew that he had a busy day today full of meetings and work calls, and that you needed to be there to help organize his schedule. you couldn't stand the thought of disappointing him.

you sucked it up and took the hottest shower you could stand in efforts to clear your sinuses and stop the fever-induced chills wracking your body every few minutes. you knew coriolanus liked for you to look put-together in pretty dresses and heels, but today you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. you dressed in a loose blouse and pair of wide-leg trousers that felt comfortable enough, shoving your feet into flat shoes. good enough.

so now here you are, bundled in your sweater you keep at the office and trying hard to manifest that nobody will notice your red and raw nose or your watery eyes, least of all coriolanus. the wish goes ungranted, prayer unanswered as he strolls in and immediately stops and stares at you.

"what's wrong?" he asks.

"oh, um. just a little cold," you answer, voice nasally and much lower in pitch than normal. coriolanus frowns at you and shrugs his coat off, hanging it up and walking straight over to you to press the back of his hand to your forehead.

"you're burning up."

his lips turn down even further, not noticing the way you freeze at his sudden touch. coriolanus has been a lot more...touchy with you lately, but even still, this amount of concern is unexpected. his brows furrow at you, looking at you for a long moment. he carefully brushes your hair out of your face, looking over you and taking note of your outfit and general state. you can tell he notices that you've dressed much more comfortably than you usually would, and that your face is makeup-free and hair left at simply brushed through to undo any tangles.

"up," he tells you, gently lifting you out of your chair by your elbow.

"what?"

"let's get you home," he says gently, rubbing a warm and heavy hand up and down your back. "you're in no shape to be here today. i'll have my driver take you back to your apartment."

you look at him confused, unsure what to say. you're not sure if he's upset that you're sick or if he's more worried for your wellbeing, but it makes you anxious that he's acting so abrupt and unceremonious, almost as if you being sick is putting him on edge.

"coryo...?" you ask quietly. he freezes where he stands, having gone to grab your jacket off the coatrack. you watch as his entire demeanor softens.

"yes, miss y/n?"

you swallow hard, wincing at the pain it causes in your throat. "are...are you upset with me?"

coriolanus' eyebrows draw inward and upward at your question, quickly shaking his head.

"oh, no. no, of course not," he breathes, rushing over to help you slide into your coat. "i'm worried about you is all. i don't want you making yourself sicker by being here today, you're clearly very unwell. it's not your fault you're ill."

he carefully zips up your coat, grabbing his red scarf from the rack as well. before you can protest, he's draping it around your neck and tying it.

"for extra warmth," he explains. "it's freezing out there today."

the scarf is so soft where it's tucked beneath your chin, instantly adding more warmth where you need it. coriolanus gives you a tiny smile, lips closed but small dimple appearing at the corner of his mouth.

you're led to the car by him, his hand resting between your shoulder blades the entire time. coriolanus opens the car door for you to slide into the back seat, instructing his driver to take you home and make sure you get into your apartment safe and sound. his voice holds so much authority when he speaks to the driver, a deepness and sternness that's never present when he's addressing you.

by the time you reach your apartment and climb the steps up, there are several beautifully packaged boxes waiting for you at your door, as well as a single red, long-stemmed rose. you tilt your head and bring them inside, opening them one by one to find that coriolanus has had soup, bread, and medicine delivered to you. attached to the rose by a red satin ribbon is a note that simply reads:

"get well soon, darling"

[iichfilwypj]

lover | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: percy is completely whipped here! maybe he's not very accurate or himself but im a slut for romantic shit yk ღ wc: 1.658 sorry loves dreamy girls masterlist!

After years, New Year's Eve was finally different.

She'd expected the usual—warmth at camp, chatting with the campers—but Percy invited her to spend the week with his family instead.

And Sally’s letter and Estelle’s drawing made it impossible to refuse.

Percy had planned every detail perfectly. His mom made her favorite dish, Estelle eagerly talked about seeing “The Sleeping Princess” again, and Percy patiently explained the day’s events to his family. 

Because, of course, he had something else up his sleeve.

One last surprise.

Just before midnight, Percy sat beside her as Estelle slept in her lap. The adult's conversation around them faded, and she absentmindedly stroked the little girl’s back to keep herself awake.

When she felt Percy nearby, she looked up to find him brushing a strand of hair from her face. A warm smile appeared as their eyes met.

“She’s so lovely,” she murmured.

“Mm-hmm,” Percy replied, leaning against her. “Does she look like me?”

“Just a bit more adorable.” They shared a quiet laugh.

Then Percy, his voice trembling slightly, said, “Hey, dreamy. Wanna get out of here?” His eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and nerves.

She chuckled, unsure if he was serious. It reminded her of a movie they had watched together, where the guy said the same line to  take the girl out of the party and lead her to something more fun.

But before she could protest, he gently lifted Estelle from her lap and took her hand, leading her toward the door.

“Wait, it’s almost midnight—”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes but—”

“Awesome! Mom, we’re leaving!”

If the the living room was beautifully decorated, the terrace was out of this world.

Percy was relieved that no one had claimed her for their celebrations. The lights lit up the place, contrasting with the soft snow falling gently on the city, transforming everything below into a sea of calm and white.

In one corner, a big blanket rested on the floor, surrounded by scattered cushion. It was small perfect escape.

The cool night air couldn’t reach the warm stillness of it, where the candles burned like magic and the sheets hanging above shielded everything from the real world.

Stunned, she observed Percy walk toward the corner, unaware of the trembling in his legs, his shallow breaths, or the tears that threatened to escape his eyes.

Not because of the cold, but because of the weight of emotions—fear, excitement, all tangled.

The old record player, silent until then, sprang to life with a gentle crackle, the music flowing through the place like a whisper of a forgotten memory.

She couldn’t help but smile, feeling reassured by its familiarity.

The melody sank deep into both their hearts on that terrace, softening them just a bit more. Their eyes locked, his green ones asking—or perhaps pleading—for her to come closer, be near him. 

And she did, it was everything she wanted.

They both found their place on the blanket, cozy in each other's warmth. Their legs were tangled like roots, something unbreakable against the world beneath them, which began to roar with the arrival of a new year, a fresh start.

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

“This is lovely,” The daughter of Hypnos rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as the weight of his hand on her back filled her with calm. She couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to his skin. “Did you make this?”

This is our place, we make the rules

“Yes. I know this is your first holiday away from camp in a long time, I wanted it to be unforgettable.” He whispered, burying his face into the girl's hair.

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

He heard her nervous laugh and couldn’t help but ask. “What?”

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

“Why?” she admitted, letting the question escape. She didn’t want to make herself a victim, but she was overwhelmed by all this kindness. “Why so much effort?”

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And he just stared at her. He observed her, took in every part of her.

He studied her face, her expression, her soul. He saw the surprise in her slightly raised eyebrows, the gratitude in the small smile on her lips, the doubt and fear in the way her nose scrunched.

He saw it all.

And ah, take me out, and take me home

And he risked it all.

You're my, my, my, my

“I mean, it's beautiful, and no one's ever done this for me, but—”

Lover.

“I love you.” 

It came out so naturally, so quietly, but with an intensity that made her chest tighten. The world seemed to hold its breath. 

She stared at him, wide-eyed, her mind a blur of thoughts. The snow around them fell heavier now, and as the music swirled, it was his words that rang out loudest.

“I—” She couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to tell him everything she felt. Her mind raced, emotions tangled in a knot she couldn’t untangle.

But he already knew.

A tender smile appeared, and his eyes stayed on hers. The heat of his hand on her back seeped into her cold, flushed face as he watched the tears threatening to fall.

And while he hated seeing her tears, the way her hands gripped desperately his arm made him wish he could cry alongside her.

“I love you,” he repeated. “It's the only thing I can do when I'm near you. And even when I'm not, I find you in everything. In the music I listen, in the words I speak, in what I do. In what I think—for Aphrodite, you live in my mind.”

“Percy—” she breathed, her voice unsteady as she reached for his hand.

“Please, just let me finish,” he murmured, his voice trembling under the weight of his words.

When she nodded, he drew in a deep breath and carried on.

“No one, not a single person, had ever reached my heart. Close? Yes, but you—the moment I saw you, you took it. You took everything I had.”

His girl let out a broken sob, unable to stop as the tears streamed down in torrents, and his gentle hands caught them. His own tears fell, cold and frozen in that moment.

The bells marking the year's final minute started to chime, but they felt like a distant echo, blending with the rhythm of their heartbeat.

Yet, he pressed on.

“And I don’t want it back. Never. It’s yours. Yes, everything is yours. Because—” he interlaced their fingers harder. “Because you’ve made me feel things I didn’t know I could feel. Every emptiness I’ve ever felt disappeared. And every heartbeat that ever meant anything, became you.”

His thumb softly glided over the back of her hand, sending a shiver up her spine. His forehead almost met hers.

She felt his breath on her skin, and she couldn’t help but shut her eyes, letting the sound of his voice and the melody wrap around her like a gentle wave.

But he tapped her nose with his, prompting her to open her eyes. The tears made her vision hazy, but the bright green she saw before her reassured her that everything was fine.

“And now, my life—it's no longer mine. It’s no longer the one I had. It’s the one you’ve built. Every piece of me, every fragment of what I once was, now belongs to you.”

She could feel the fragility in his hands, the quiver in his fingers, and it made her want to hold him even closer, to embrace him until the oxygen was gone, until the birds stopped singing and the universe wiped away everything but them, everything but that moment.

Everything but their love.

“So take it. Take me entirely, all of me, I’m yours." he concluded. "I always have been.”

He was silent, almost still. His eyes were closed, now afraid of what her reaction might reveal.

And the girl smiled, though it turned more into a pout. Her fingers ceased holding onto his hands to lift his chin, something he did constantly to her. He didn’t open his eyes, but let himself be guided.

“Percy,” She gazed at him, and her voice came out in a whisper, as though fearing the magic of the moment would break. 

Without hesitation, they leaned even closer, following the delicate touch of their skin. The gap between them almost completely disappeared.

At last, he opened his eyes. She couldn’t contain what she felt, the urge to tell him everything she had been holding in for so long, though it didn’t measure up to what he had said to her.

The sound of the final five bells echoed, followed by the shouts from the balconies.

"I love you," she said, her heart rising in her throat, her voice quivering.

Five!

“I love you in ways I can’t express with words or gestures. I love you as if my life depended on it—”

Four!

“No, I love you because my life depends on it. Without you, I am nothing.”

Three!

“I once said that you’re the best dream I could wish for—but you're more than that. You're my reality, my light, my existence.”

Two!

“I will take everything from you, if you promise to take everything from me,”

One!

“And keep it forever. Keep me forever, I'll do the same."

Happy New Year!

And finally, she kissed him, their lips meeting in a soft, slow kiss, a kiss brimming with unspoken promises and shared emotions.

It was different than others; it was a start of something more deep. In the delicate pressure of their lips, everything they had ever felt for each other was expressed without a single syllable, their hearts speaking the language that only they understood.

There was no more cold or snow—only the heat of their bodies pressed together, the rhythmic beating of their hearts in sync, and the gentle intertwining of their souls. 

In the end, they pulled away; not because they wanted to, but because the air had become essential, because their hearts needed a moment to calm, despite the urge to stay lost in each other. 

“Happy New Year,” she whispered, as he responded with a smile, his hand reaching up to caress her face again. 

“Happy New Year, my love,” he murmured in return, his voice low, only for her to hear.

“Percy?” she sniffled.

“Yes?”

”Would you be my lover?” 

“I already am,” he leaned forward, pressing a soft peck to her lips. “Since the first day, until the stars fade.”

I CRIED WRITING THIS GOD i think it's so cute. seriously, i want apologize again for disappearing like that, out of nowhere. i feel much better now and wanted to come back with something special. i hope you liked it! also, this doesn’t mean the series is over, they are my babies, and if i have to write about the 70 years they will spend together in my heart, i will do it!

[miamooooo]

sorta timid reader x sadistic josh who gets off on the thought of scaring you shitless. josh thinks you're adorable, but seeing you scared and vulnerable did something to him that he couldn't quite put into words. one day, he asked if you'd play into his little kink, and though you laughed nervously, unsure if he was being serious, josh had a way of making you want to say yes even if you didn't entirely know what you were getting yourself into. on your trip back to the blackwood mountain lodge before a party, he goes all out, savoring the chance to see you at your most vulnerable. you don't get why it excited him so much, but with josh, you'd quickly start to understand.

warnings: lowercase intended, the reader has female anatomy, nsfw, slightly naive reader, physical aggression, dubcon, fear play, manipulative josh, he's a bit creepy, power imbalance, psychological games, cunnilingus, hella clit stimulation, a bit disturbing, please don't read if any of this is triggering! (slightly proofread, so i'm apologizing in advance for any mistakes <3)

josh had asked you to arrive at the lodge before anyone else. you didn't think much of it at first; it wasn't unusual for him to want some one-on-one time before the party began. he loved having you to himself, away from the noise and drama of your friends. still, there was something about the way he'd asked — too eager, almost like he had something planned. but it was josh, after all, and he adored you! there was nothing to worry about.

the evening had settled in with a cold chill, the sky darkening as you made your way down the snow-covered path toward the huge lodge. as you got closer, you noticed that something was off. josh wasn't standing there, waiting to greet you like he usually did. it was weird. no lights flickered from the windows, no sound but the cold night wind and your shoes shuffling in the snow. you hesitated walking up the wooden stairs for a moment, unease settling in your chest, but you brushed it off — josh was probably just inside waiting for you.

the door was unlocked, which was odd. he had always locked it to keep strangers out, especially when the lodge was empty. as you pushed the door open, the silence of the mansion swallowed you whole, darkness enveloping you completely as you closed yourself in. something felt wrong. usually, there'd be a candle lit or a light left on for you. josh had always knew how much you hated the dark. your unease deepened, but it wasn't until you stepped further inside the quiet lodge, that a realization began to suddenly click for you.

josh was setting you up for something. the strange eagerness in his voice earlier, the silence, the way everything was just too perfectly unsettling — it was all intentional. your pulse quickened at the very predicament you found yourself in, anxiety sitting in the pit of your stomach. whatever he had planned, you were walking right into it.

you grabbed your phone in your jacket pocket, fingers slightly shaking as you sent josh a quick text.

you: "hey, where are you? everything okay..?"

the message sat there unanswered, the silence only fueling your anxiety. your heart raced, deciding to call him, but the phone only rang with no answer still.

you knew josh wanted you to play further into his game, not just stand there. with a shaky sigh, you slowly made your way through the living room, your footsteps creaking and echoing through the silent house. first you checked the dining room, and then the kitchen, before you made your way to the grand staircase that lead to the second floor.

"josh..?" you called out, your voice small and shaky as you take one step up the stairs, freezing completely in your tracks when you hear a faint creak come from somewhere above you.

you were so caught up in your own anxiety and spiraling thoughts that it took a moment for you to notice the figure standing motionless at the top of the stairs.

"josh..? is that you?" you question directly to the figure, hesitantly taking another step up the stairs.

the figure didn't say a word or move. instead they only tilted their head, the motion slow and deliberate as the moonlight reveals a scary and deranged looking mask on the perpetrator.

your stomach twisted, fear washing over your face as you stepped back down the stairs. there was a hint of reassurance from keeping you from bolting back out the door. you knew it was josh — of course it was josh — but there was something unsettlingly convincing about how he stood there, his breathing heavy and his stance deliberate. the reasonable part of your brain that knew it was a game tried to reassure you, but your instincts screamed otherwise.

the sound of his heavy boots slowly making their way down the wooden stairs echoed in your ears, each step worsening your terror despite your awareness. you turned, bolting straight toward the front door, your heart hammering in your chest.

behind you, the footsteps quickened, starting to match the same urgency as your own. you fumbled for the handle, your hands trembling as panic clouded your movements. just as your fingers brushed the cold metal handle, strong hands grabbed your arm, yanking you back and pushing you against the nearest wall, hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs.

"j-josh! ...stop it!" you cried out, but there was a crack in your voice that betrayed more than just fear. you hated the way your body responded to his closeness in this situation, the way he pinned you against the wall, his movements so calculated and firm that it sent a rush of heat to your face. you didn't want to feel this way, especially in a moment like this, but your actions spoke for themselves.

josh didn't release you right away, reluctantly loosening his grip on your arms. he suddenly let go, letting out an amused laugh. "gotcha," he drawled, his voice way too calm for the situation that happened.

"josh," you breathed, a hint of frustration and lingering fear still in your voice as you watched him pull the mask off. his smirking face made your stomach flip. that self-confident, knowing expression.... you absolutely hated it. but you hated how it made you feel even more.

though you were relieved to see josh's face, and not that stupid creepy mask, anger quickly followed, mixing with embarrassment. gritting your teeth, you shoved josh hard against his chest, your hands still trembling as adrenaline rushed through you.

"a warning would've been nice," you start to angrily scold him, your voice still shaky with residual fear that josh couldn't even take you serious. he thought you were adorable like this.

"oh, come on, babe!" he insisted with a laugh. "you should've seen the look on your face. it was priceless."

"yeah..! because you scared the shit out of me," you exasperated, shoving him in the chest again.

"wasn't that the point, sweetheart?"

you furrow your brows, watching the way josh smirks down at you, his confidence only fueling the questionable attraction you were feeling in such a fucked up situation — maybe it was something about the way he was looking at you, maybe it was the way he was carrying himself; like he just simply knew he had more power over you in that moment.

"you're such a jerk," you muttered, averting your gaze from his amused one.

"maybe," josh shrugs, tilting his head with that same charming smile on his face. "but i bet you liked it, didn't you?"

you glared up at him, showing your frustration even as your face burned in embarrassment. his confidence was infuriating to you, but the worst part was how right he actually was.

"admit it," he urged, leaning closer to you, running his thumb over your bottom lip. "a part of you enjoyed what just happened."

before you could protest, josh leaned in to press a sloppy kiss against your lips. he grabs your wrists in his hands, pinning them above your head against the wall, wasting no time in sliding his tongue into your mouth. josh took note of the way you reciprocated the kiss, your tongue clashing against his own and he cant help the smile that spread on his face.

josh's lips moved against yours with confidence, and as the kiss deepened, his hips subtly rolled forward, pressing into yours, a low and satisfied groan rumbling in his throat. the hard bulge in his pants didn't go unnoticed by you — it was impossible to ignore. he wasn't just showing you how much he wanted you, he was savoring every second of it; purposely pressing his body against yours to show how much you were affecting him.

the kiss was everything all at once: messy, overwhelming — just entirely too much. you whimpered into his mouth, body arching into his as if begging for more. you hated how easily your body responded to him... but you wanted so much more.

he pulled back, just enough to let his lips softly brush against your lips. "see? told you a part of you liked it," he teased, his voice low.

"josh..." you breathed out his name in warning, chest heaving from the messy kiss you two previously shared. he ignored your breathy warning, his lips trailing down your jawline and neck, giving light and teasing kisses that made you bite your lip in anticipation.

"relax," he dismissively murmured at your tone of voice, his hands loosening their grip on your wrists, and sliding down to grab at your hips. "let me make it up to you... for scaring you so bad."

before you could say anything, josh got on his knees in front of you in one swift motion, his hands gliding from your hips down to grip your thighs as he looked up at you, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "just relax, and let me take care of you."

you weakly nodded at josh's words, your body pressing back against the wall for support as his fingers toyed with the button of your jeans.

josh wasted no time in getting started. his fingers eagerly unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down your legs enough to reveal your underwear before he's leaning forward, pressing his nose right against your clothed pussy and taking a deep, perverted sniff.

you gasped softly at the way his nose bumped against your clit, a soft whimper of his name escaping your lips that made him hum approvingly.

"you smell so good," he murmured, a comment that seemed to be more directed to himself. his hands moved to the waistband of your underwear, his fingers hooking into them, before he's peeling them down your legs as well... and to his surprise, your lips were already glistening enough for him to notice in the dim lodge. maybe you weren't being as honest as you let on... josh didn't comment, only hungrily licking his lips at the sight, the only thing on his mind was devouring you.

josh eagerly buried his face between your thighs, groaning as his hands spreads your legs a little wider apart to accommodate his shoulders. his tongue slid right between your puffy folds, instantly flicking the warm muscle against your throbbing clit so good that it had you immediately crying out his name.

"mmh, josh..!" you moaned out, your head falling back against the wall as you pulled on his fluffy hair. josh groaned in response, his eyes closing in satisfaction as he started to circle his tongue around the sensitive bud repeatedly, enjoying every gasp and moan that he elicited from you.

you couldn't help the way your hips instinctively started rutting against his face once he took your clit into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him impossibly closer between your thighs as he enthusiastically sucked on it. josh's hands reached around to grip at your ass, holding you in place as he devoured your pussy. the sounds of your desperate moans and the sloppy noises of his face fucking you filled the room.

you could feel your orgasm building, the pressure building tightly in your stomach as josh continued to suck and lick, relishing your taste as he felt you near your orgasm. "fuck, i.. i'm gonna cum.." you loudly choked out, nails digging into his scalp as a silent warning.

"yeah..?" josh replied knowingly, his voice muffled against your soaking cunt. he starts to double his efforts at your announcement, determined to make you come undone against his mouth. his tongue moved faster, harder, alternating between long, teasing licks and focused flicks over your sensitive nub.

the stimulation was too much for you, it felt so good that seconds later you were crying out, your orgasm hitting you hard as strained whimpers and moans fell from your lips.

your legs violently trembled as you came on josh's tongue, back arching off the wall, your mind clouded with pure bliss. josh moaned approvingly as you convulsed and grinded against his face, his tongue continuing to lap up your cum, but slower this time, dragging out your orgasm until you became overly sensitive.

even as you whined and shook, josh didn't stop, he continued to hold you firmly in place, hands gripping your ass more painfully now as he gently licked your pussy. "josh..!" you breathed, voice shaky, "i cant- too much..!"

finally, he relented, listening to your plea. he lifted his head slightly, his wet lips softly brushing against your inner thigh before he presses a firm kiss there. he studied your exhausted state for a moment, taking you in adoringly, a smile forming on his face as his fingers lazily caressed your skin.

"guess i'll have to scare you more often, if it'll always end like this." he teased, his voice low and playful.

"next time," you murmured, your voice breathless and tired, "tell me first."

josh lets out a soft chuckle, his touch feeling almost too tender for everything that had just happened. "well, where's the fun in that?" he replied, the glint in his eyes making it clear that he was already planning his next move. and for reasons you couldn't explain, you didn't feel like you'd mind at all.

[dark-fics-4-you]

After Hours Lesson

dark!Professor!Coriolanus Snow x f!Reader

A/N: i imagine coryo as being in his late 30s to mid 40s in this fic, but I left his age open to imagination. Reader is 21 and I imagine her as not being a virgin

Warnings: noncon, forced sex, somno, fingering, choking, strangling, drugging, teacher x student relationship, slapping, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink

it wasn’t everyday that one of your university professors invited the entire class out to dinner at a nice restaurant, so of course you wanted to dress your best. looking at yourself in the mirror, you felt that the soft button-down white shirt and grey houndstooth jacket paired well with your pleated grey skirt, knee length white socks and black mary janes, and it was an outfit that would surely impress your professor.

only a couple other students had arrived so far and as soon as you made your way over to the table, you noticed his eyes on you. “y/n! sit by me,” he smiled at you charmingly, gesturing to the empty chair beside him. you nervously complied, shooting him a smile before sliding in to the open chair.

the entire night you could feel him looking over at you, even when he was in conversation with other students, his gaze always seemed to drift over to you.

it was your senior year at university and you had opted to take an elective class with a popular professor, professor coriolanus snow. you were surprised when you walked in on the first day and found that most of the students were women. apparently rumors about professor snow’s good looks had gone around the school, but you hadn’t heard anything about them when you were registering for classes, you just thought the course looked interesting.

“are you going to get a glass of wine?”

his question roused you from your thoughts and you blinked at him before he questioned you again. “well you’re 21, right?”

“i am, but i don’t know if i should drink tonight.” you replied nervously. “i mean, would that be okay?”

you looked around the table, noting that two of your classmates were also drinking.

“of course, y/n.” he told you before addressing the table, “dinner and drinks are on me, i’m paying for it all.”

you smiled at his generosity and thanked him before picking up a menu and browsing the wine list.

even though professor snow was in a conversation with the other students, when he saw you looking unsure about what to order he leaned over and pointed to an expensive vintage red.

“this is one of my absolute favorites. i think you’ll love it.” he caught the eye of a waiter and ordered you a glass before you could even think it over, much less process the price.

the appetizers were brought out to the table quickly, and you were excited to try the array of choices professor snow had ordered for the table.

before you could reach for one of them, coriolanus picked up the plate you had been eyeing and offered to serve you.

“oh, yes please, thank you very much professor snow!” you smiled at him and offered your own plate to him.

he placed two pieces of toasted bread on your plate before grabbing small bowl of the tomato sauce it came with to spoon some onto your plate.

his wrist slipped however and he accidentally dropped a bit of sauce onto the exposed skin of your mid-thigh, just below where your skirt ended.

before you could even react, your professor was apologizing profusely and he grabbed a napkin off the table and gently wiped up the red sauce.

you shivered when you felt his fingers brush against your skin as he cleaned you off and you felt a hot flush rising to your cheeks.

“thanks, i’m gonna um, finish cleaning this up in the bathroom.” you nervously told him, flinching away from his touch and rushing to the restroom.

you quickly locked yourself into a stall, breathing heavily as you tried to calm yourself. he was your professor! you didn’t want to be getting butterflies in your stomach at his touch.

you finished cleaning off the small remnants of the sauce on your leg, taking a deep breath and collecting yourself before going back out to the table.

your wine had arrived, as well as all of the entrees and you took a bite before trying a sip of the wine. it was probably the best drink you had ever tasted in your life and you looked over to see your professor staring at you with a raised eyebrow, as if to say ‘what do you think?’

“wow this wine is amazing!” you told him appreciatively and he grinned back at you.

“i knew you would like it, y/n. young ladies like you usually don’t have such good taste, but i had a feeling you would appreciate it.”

his thoughtful words made your cheeks flush again and you bashfully thanked him for the compliment.

you sipped the wine, enjoying the way it’s flavor profile complimented the dish you got perfectly. it must have been a higher alcohol percentage than usual however, because you were already feeling it’s effects strongly after drinking less than half.

“what are your plans once you graduate, y/n?” the sound of your professor’s voice surprised you and you met his gaze as you answered.

“i’m hoping to go to law school after i graduate.” you responded, pride rising in your chest as you thought of all the hard work you had put in to reaching your goal of law school.

“that makes perfect sense for a bright girl like you. i’m sure you’ll excel there,” he confidently told you.

his focus shifted to the other students and as the night carried on and you drank more of your wine, you found yourself feeling very tipsy.

after professor snow paid the bill and everyone finished up their goodbyes, you stood to leave and you were surprised when the world started tilting beneath your feet.

a firm hand steadied you at your waist, and you turned to see your professor behind you.

“are you okay?” he asked, voice filled with concern.

you tried to stand on your own again, only to nearly fall over a second time. “i don’t think so, i feel kind of drunk,” you slurred.

he frowned and looked at you with worry on his face.

“i don’t think you should drive yourself home right now, y/n. why don’t you let me take you?”

you wanted to argue with him and disagree, but when you tried to stand on your own again and felt so dizzy you could have fainted, you realized he was probably right.

“okay,” you mumbled, allowing him to support you as he walked you to his car.

your professor helped you in to the passenger seat, making sure you had buckled yourself in before going to the driver’s side.

you leaned your head against the cool window, trying to stop your head from spinning as professor snow pulled out of his parking spot and started driving.

you were watching the street lights blur past, struggling to keep your heavy eyelids open, when you realized you hadn’t told him your address.

you opened your mouth to speak, but the next time you blinked, darkness filled your vision and you slipped into unconsciousness.

you woke to the feeling of warm, wet lips enveloping one of your nipples.

when your eyes cracked opened, you were almost too shocked to believe what you were seeing.

your jacket was missing, and your white button up top was split open, exposing your bare breasts. your professor was positioned on top of your, lips attached to your nipple as his hands squeezed and caressed your tits.

you were laying on a large bed, in what was definitely not your house and you felt like an idiot for not realizing that everything was off earlier.

terror filled you chest, lodging itself in you throat, and you tried to squirm away, but your body was frozen in place and your limbs felt so heavy you could barely move.

coriolanus sensed that you had woken up and when he looked down at you with a devilish grin, you shivered in fear.

“don’t try anything, y/n.” your professor’s cool tone made your stomach twist in disgust and a horrible chill passed over you as you realized this was why he had offered to drive you home.

“professor-” his lips smothered yours, cutting off your wavering voice before you could protest. your stomach flipped when he kissed you and your jaw dropped in surprise allowing him to force his tongue into your mouth.

when he finally pulled away, you gasped for breath. you saw stars behind your eyes and you weren’t sure if you were dizzy because of how fast the room was spinning or because of the way he had kissed you.

“you’re so beautiful, y/n, you know that?” he softly breathed. “ever since entered my class that first day, i thought you were perfect.”

your pulse was racing in your ears, anxiety gripping your throat as you helplessly looked up at him. everything was moving too fast, and your brain couldn’t accept the reality you had woken up in.

“and then tonight when you walked in with this innocent little school girl look? fuck, it took all of my self control not to rip this off of you and bend you over the table in front of your classmates,” coriolanus chuckled darkly, eyes scanning your body as he did.

his words were revolting, but even worse was the feeling of his fingers brushing your thighs as he lifted up your skirt. coriolanus situated himself between your legs, greedily admiring the soft skin of your thighs before pushing your skirt up and exposing more of you to his probing eyes.

when he saw the white, lacy panties you were wearing, he paused, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he took in the view before him. “aw sweetheart, did you wear these just for me?”

your cheeks flushed with shame and embarrassment at his words and he chuckled again at your silence.

the older man traced the lace near your hips before looping his fingers under the soft material and tugging your panties down. you tried to squeeze your legs together to stop him, but your professor easily pushed them open again and dragged your panties off of you.

you flinched when you felt professor snow’s hand nearing your core, and he held down one of your legs in a tight grip.

the tip of his finger traced your slit and you whimpered at the feeling. was this really happening? how had you found yourself drugged out of your mind at the mercy of your professor?

coriolanus watched your face as he slowly slid one finger into your heat. you were already so wet, he didn’t even need to warm you up, and the way you clenched around just one of his fingers had his pants growing tight.

your lips parted in surprise, a small moan crawling out of your throat. his finger curled inside you and tears came to your eyes when you felt yourself squeezing around his finger.

“you’re so wet,” he groaned before sliding his middle finger into you.

you tensed beneath him, whining when the pressure between your legs doubled.

“just relax,” your professor’s voice was a bit shaky as he pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt.

coriolanus’s thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive cluster of nerves. your body was tingling, every sensation was heightened in your fear and you couldn’t stop yourself from loudly moaning as he massaged your inner walls.

you realized you could feel yourself growing wetter and you blinked hot tears from your eyes. you were disgusted by everything that was happening, so why were you shifting your hips to match the thrusts of his fingers?

the twisted pleasure was building in your gut and coriolanus could feel it too. his thumb swirled over your clit and you came undone around his fingers. your thighs quaked as your professor fucked you with his fingers through your orgasm, and your mind felt blank as you numbly sagged against his bed. shame and guilt fogged your mind, and you felt completely betrayed by your body

coriolanus slowly pulled his fingers out of you before pulling them apart slowly and watching your slick juices stick to his spread fingers in thin, pearly strings.

the older man brought his fingers to his lips, licking your juices off of his fingers while gazing at you through half lidded eyes.

“mmm, you taste so sweet, y/n,” he purred and when you realized you got butterflies in your stomach at his words, you felt bile rise in your throat.

he started unbuttoning his shirt and you could feel the room spinning around you. you wanted to look away, but you were weighed down by terror and too scared to even blink.

coriolanus removed his shirt, revealing his muscular, but still lean physique. panic began to really set in when he unbuttoned his pants and removed them and his boxers. your eyes widened at the sight of his erect length. he was bigger than any of the few guys you had been with before, and also unlike your previous experience, coriolanus was determined to take things at his pace.

you felt light-headed and you could barely twitch your muscles, much less move your limbs. that didn’t stop you from trying though, and pure adrenaline gave you the strength to squeeze your legs shut and attempt to prevent what you already knew was coming.

given everything your professor had done to you up until this point— drugging you, kidnapping you, trapping you in his house, and now forcing himself upon you— you would have thought that you wouldn’t be surprised when he slapped you across the face with the back of his hand.

any delusion you may have been desperately clinging to that coriolanus snow was a ‘good’ man shattered then and there.

your head whipped to the side and your field of vision went white for a moment. white hot pain seared into your cheek and when you opened your eyes again, they were blurry with tears.

the sight of you trembling and crying beneath him was a sight that your professor had been secretly fantasizing about for months and now that he was finally witnessing it firsthand, he was eager to make all of his deepest desires a reality.

“don’t fight it, y/n.” his voice was shaking with excitement as he positioned himself between your legs and started lining up the tip of his cock with your slick cunt. you whined when you felt the head slide between your lips and start to push inside of you.

his tip slid past the resistance of your tight grip, but he tilted his hips back to pull out, and you felt confused and hurt when your body wanted more.

professor snow grinned down at you wickedly, relishing the sight of your eyes begging with his and your plump lips parting more when he moved again, sliding the tip of his thick cock into your cunt a second time and earning a heavenly whimper from you.

“you like that, sweetheart?” he asked softly, smugness dripping from his voice like rancid honey. he pushed himself an inch or two deeper, and his arms, which were caging you in beneath him, were shaking slightly as he held himself back from sheathing all of himself in you at once.

your professor grabbed your wrists, holding them above your head tightly as he slowly stretched you out with his cock. his face was so close to yours that your noses were almost touching and he swallowed your noises of protest with messy kisses.

tears were streaming down your face when the tip of his cock nudged your cervix and you tried to shift beneath him to adjust to the intense pressure between your legs, but he pinned you to the bed with just one of his strong arms. his other hand rested on the outside of your thigh, roughly gripping your curves.

you were terrified, completely disgusted with your professor and desperate to escape his iron clad hold on you.

“please no!” you quietly whined, straining to break free of his grasp and failing. “it’s too big!”

coriolanus groaned when you twitched around his cock, and the pathetic way that you tried to resist him was so adorable it almost made him laugh.

he tilted his hips back and started pumping his cock into you. you could sense yourself getting more slick as his length dragged along your walls, and your legs instinctively wrapped around coriolanus’ torso, pulling him in closer to you.

your professor peppered open mouth kisses over any exposed skin he could find, making his way from sucking on your tits to sliding his lips over yours, and you didn’t want to admit to yourself that the sensation made something twist deep in the pit of your stomach.

when you moaned against his lips, his hand captured your jaw, keeping you trapped beneath him as his hips snapped against yours. his cock stretched you out again and again and coriolanus was relishing every sigh and gasp you gave him as he fucked you.

“you’re squeezing me so tight, doll.” professor snow’s voice was strained, his teeth gritted as he began thrusting into you harder. the hand at your jaw traced to your throat, and you looked up at him through your lashes in fear when he started choking you.

“professor!” you forced the word out past the crushing hand at your throat and you swore you felt his cock twitch inside you in response.

his pace was relentless. after feeling tortured by you for an entire semester, coriolanus snow was going to take what he believed he was owed, whether you liked it or not.

the fingers at your throat tightened and your eyes widened in terror when his second hand wrapped around your throat as well.

each stroke of his cock made your sensitive clit tingle with overstimulation and you couldn’t stifle your whines any longer as you were pushed over the edge.

you squeezed your eyes shut when you came, unable to look at your professor after he made you come undone against your will for the second time that night.

his grip on your throat strengthened as you tightened and spasmed around his length, and you hopelessly gasped for air that wouldn’t come. you were beginning to feel lightheaded now, the pain of his hands constricting your neck was making your vision grow fuzzy around the edges.

the blond’s hips snapped against yours furiously, punishingly; and desperately scratching at the hands at your throat only seemed to make him choke you harder.

you were petrified at the thought that if you didn’t do anything to stop him, you were about to die, but his hold on you was so tight that you couldn’t get away. he was so much bigger than you, there was no way you could overpower him.

as your vision slowly faded away, you heard professor snow groan loudly, thrusting into you a few more times before pushing himself as deep as possible and gripping your thighs tightly as he spilled his sticky seed deep into your sore, weeping cunt.

and then everything went black

[doomhands-jr]

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Needles, underage drinking, explicit language. This is the last filler chapter before shit starts picking up again.

Masterlist

Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner!

Thanks to @throughwoodsanddirt for the beta!

______________

The late morning streamed into your room, flooding the ornamental rug in dappled sun. A light snow had begun collecting at the bottom of your window, but the cloud cover wasn’t yet dense enough to obscure the light. 

You’d woken up several hours ago but hadn’t worked up the wherewithal to drag yourself out of bed. Instead, you’d spent the time scrolling through various social media apps, keeping up to date with how your friends were spending their winter break. 

Your mom had Facetimed you that morning to check in. She’d updated you all about the trip she and your father were on. Several prominent members from a network of churches in the region had flown to some obscure part of Africa and were currently building a school and a church. They were planning to open it on Christmas Eve and have a dedication ceremony. They’d also purchased toys for the kids to open on Christmas morning. Her excitement poured through on her face and in her voice, and despite your reservations about missions trips, you smiled. 

As much as you wished middle-class families could participate in philanthropy and still respect the cultural belief systems of the people they were visiting, a school was a school, and you hoped it would be a net positive to the village. 

Once you got off the phone with her, your stomach began to rumble, so you rolled over and dug through a drawer in your nightstand you’d designated as your snack drawer until you pulled out a pack of cinnamon pop-tarts. Probably not the healthiest breakfast you could have chosen, but whatever—you ate them without tasting, continuing to scroll while your thoughts drifted to yesterday.

You heaved a sigh, unsure how to proceed with Noah. He seemed like he was the real deal, but then again, he had seemed like that before and ended up hurting you anyway. Now, he was weaseling his way back into your heart, burrowing under your skin and making himself comfortable as an uninvited guest. Worse still, you found yourself growing soft for him, which was a problem for you.  

It was possible that you were blinded by your attraction to him, giving him the benefit of the doubt because you were naïve and wanted him to be better than he was. 

But yesterday, he’d treated you with more respect than you’d ever received from a man. It didn’t feel performative, either… Your intuition told you he was being honest, but even if he wanted to do better—was he capable? Could he turn his behavior around that easily? Was it all an act just to get back into your good graces? 

You came upon a video that broke you out of your thoughts. Ava had posted herself and her little cousins playing some card game you didn’t recognize. You smiled, noticing how old they were getting. You’ve been close with Ava’s family since middle school and remember when her cousins were first born. As much as Ava fought with her parents, her cousins were always a soft spot for her. 

You replayed the video, brushing the crumbs off your shirt when you heard a knock at your door. 

Speak of the devil…

Cautiously, you slid off your bed and padded over to the doorway, opening it to find a very out-of-breath and sweaty Noah in a black tracksuit and puffer jacket. Impressive, in light of the cold. 

“Hi?” you said, the question likely as evident on your face as it was in your voice. 

“Hey,” he said, watching you observe the sweat that clung to his forehead. “I jogged here.” 

“I can see that,” you replied, fighting a smile. “What’s up?” 

“Do you wanna come work out?” he asked.

Your face contorted with confusion. “Work out? Right now?” you asked, leaning back into your room and checking the weather on the other side of the window. “It’s snowing.” 

“Well, yeah,” he said. “The gym isn’t that far away. I was on my way and thought I’d stop by and see if you wanted to join.” 

You pouted. “Gross.” 

Noah’s face scrunched up as he snickered at you. “Come on,” he pressed. “It won’t be that bad.”  

You wrinkled your nose. “It sounds hard.” 

Noah rolled his eyes. “Go get changed. We’re going to the gym.” 

____________

“Ten,” Noah breathed. “Alright, you can do it. Give me two more and then you’re done.” 

You tensed your whole body, squeezing your core as he’d instructed, the iron bar heavy across your shoulders, knurling cutting into your skin and bruising the back of your neck. 

“I don’t understand why you want to see me suffer so badly,” you panted, struggling under the weight.  

Noah laughed. “Call it a kink. Come on, you can do it.” 

You flushed at his remark, diverting your gaze from his for a moment to collect yourself, and when you locked eyes with him once again in the mirror in front of you, his expression told you he knew exactly where your mind had gone. 

He stood behind you, arms outstretched and ready to catch the bar should you fail. You dipped down into a squat, legs straining to keep you balanced and steady, and then with monumental effort, you brought yourself back up to standing. 

“One more,” he said, voice coming out low and soft to soothe against the burn you felt in your thighs. “I’ve got you.” 

You didn’t think you could do it, every muscle protesting against you, but you’d come this far. You dipped down once more, feeling your legs start to give out. When you got to the lowest point of the squat, you got stuck, legs beginning to give out under the weight of the iron. 

“Come on, get it up,” Noah said, voice gaining in volume. You squeezed your eyes shut, gritting your teeth as you concentrated on standing. A few more moments of strain, and then Noah’s hands grasped you around your middle, warm and firm on either side, holding you steady. He added just enough leverage that slowly, inch by inch, you moved the bar until you were back to standing. 

As soon as you re-racked the bar, you collapsed onto the black rubber mat of the gym floor. Sprawled out, chest heaving to catch your breath, you looked over to Noah, who fought to hide a smile behind a hand that pretended to scratch at his lip. 

“And you willingly subject yourself to this kind of torture?” you said, legs somewhere between numb and burning. You kneaded the soft flesh, trying to bring back sensation into the limbs, now draped uselessly in front of you.

“Give it a few tries. You’ll get addicted to it,” he said, taking a seat next to you and removing the cap from his water bottle. 

The gym he’d taken you to was in an old warehouse that had used to store lumber, Noah had mentioned on the snowy walk there. Inside, an array of rusted equipment littered the room with no real rhyme or reason. You had no idea what most of it was even used for. 

The gym was mostly empty on a Thursday morning. Across the room, a middle-aged man performed set after set of bicep curls in front of the mirror. In the corner, a thirty-something woman jogged on a treadmill, and two teenage boys took turns bench pressing, which you only knew because Noah had given you a run-down of the most basic strength training exercises, as well as lectured you on why they were so important. 

“You can either choose to suffer in ways you can control now or be forced to suffer in ways you can’t control later,” he said. 

You rolled your head across your shoulders to look at him. “What are you even talking about?” 

He rested his weight behind him on his palms and looked down at you with a patient sort of condescension. 

“You’re young and fit now,” he said, “but that goes away more and more every year. Pretty soon, you’ll wake up with back pain and hip pain and all that other stuff. The longer you let it go, the worse it gets, and the longer it takes to fix. If you build a good foundation now, it’s a lot easier to maintain.” 

“Ugh,” you scoffed, leaning back onto the floor and staring at the metal roof above. He had a point, but you hated when he got all preachy—you’d had enough of that in your life. “What got you into working out?” 

“My job,” he said. “It’s really hard on the body—too much repetitive motion.” As if to hammer his previous point home, he hoisted himself up by the side of the squat rack and began loading heavy iron plates onto either end of the bar. “My body is my instrument.” He stepped under the bar, situating himself in the center to evenly distribute the load across his shoulders before he heaved the bar off the rack. “I have to take care of it.” 

You allowed yourself to watch unapologetically, taking in the corded ropes of his hamstrings, the broad expanse of his shoulders, the sweat that dripped down from his forehead, off the end of his nose, and down his chest, pooling in the space above his collarbones. The hard set of his jaw as he focused on his form. He bottomed out in his squat, pausing for a moment before exhaling a heavy breath, then ascended, every muscle in his legs straining against his skin until he stood tall and proud. 

And then he repeated it. 

_________

“Jesus?” 

“Yeah…and?” 

Noah winced, hissing through his teeth. Every time he booked a tattoo session, he was confident that he was familiar enough with the sting of a tattoo needle that it wouldn’t faze him, and every time, he was proven wrong. 

“Nothing, I just…I thought it would have come up before now.” 

Noah couldn’t see your reaction from where he sat in the chair, but he could tell you were mulling over the large portrait of Jesus Christ done in American traditional style on his back. 

“I didn’t want you to read too much into it,” he said, sucking in a breath and holding it while Winston, his tattoo artist, colored in a particularly sensitive spot right over his spine. 

He could tell that was exactly what you were doing by how quiet you were. The Jesus tattoo had started out as a joke—something that allowed him to reclaim a bit of religious iconography in an almost tongue-in-cheek way. As he absorbed more pain from the needle over multiple sessions, however, it morphed into something else. 

In his mind, the figurehead represented a belief that suffering was ultimately the path to righteousness. Not suffering in an unnecessary or gratuitous way, but suffering as in self-sacrifice. And not righteousness in the way Christianity frames it, but from a mental health perspective. 

Noah’s mental health had always been a delicate instrument with which he’d had to tinker. Lately, he’d been learning more and more about what improves it and what causes it to tank. Humble work through low-level suffering has been the best way for him to take control of his psyche. Engaging in pleasures of the flesh was fine every once in a while, but ultimately left him feeling empty. 

It was something he supposed Jesus probably knew all along. Perhaps that what was Christianity should have been about. 

“So why Jesus?” Your curious voice broke him out of his thought pattern. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I saw it in a flash book one time and I just liked it. It doesn’t have any meaning.” 

It did, actually, but he wasn’t ready to unpack all of that yet, let alone admit it. Maybe with time. 

“I’m thinking of getting one,” you said. Noah tried to turn his head to look at you, but his artist tutted and directed him to keep still. 

“Like what?” Rather than look at you, Noah instead focused on the wall of framed artwork in front of him. Hundreds of tattoo designs hung on the wall ahead—sometimes several to one page. Noah had two of the designs on him: one a floral symbol on his hand, the other was a heart with a burning cross on top of it that he’d chosen to incorporate into his back piece. 

“I liked this little rose I saw in one of the flash books,” you said. 

“I could fit in a palm-sized flash tattoo after I’m done with him. My last appointment cancelled. Damn snow,” said Winston. 

“How much?” you asked. 

“Depends on what you want.” 

He heard your footsteps behind him as you walked away and came back a few minutes later. Noah held his breath—Winston was working on filling something in right below his armpit and it took everything in him to keep still. He wished you would hurry up—the conversation with you was a good distraction for him. 

“This one,” you said. You must have been holding the flash book up for the artist. Noah wished he could see which one you were referring to. 

“Black and white or color?” Winston asked. 

“Color.” 

“Same size as the picture?” he asked. 

“Can you do smaller? Like half the size?” 

“Sure thing. That’ll probably run you about one-twenty.” 

“What about for black and white?” 

“If you just want linework, we can do eighty. If you want shading, it’ll be a hundred.” 

“Is there an ATM nearby?” 

“Right across the street,” said Winston. “But we take card.” 

Noah gritted his teeth as the needle ran across a nerve, but he was finally starting to adjust to the feeling. It always took him a few minutes before he got in the zone. 

“I don’t want the charge to show up.” 

Winston huffed out a laugh as a response. He wasn’t overly-talkative, which Noah liked. He’d been going to Winston on and off for the last two years for his back piece, which was so large it took several sessions. He could have done it faster, but tattoos weren’t cheap, and piece work didn’t exactly pay a fortune. It took several months to save up for a session, and then he’d usually drop six hundred at once and sit for hours at a time. 

Today, however, was just a short session. He’d received a small Christmas bonus and had some spare time, so he’d called up Winston that morning to see if he could get squeezed in. Since half the town had gone home for the holidays, the artist’s schedule was open. The last thing he’d expected was for you to want to tag along. 

The bell for the shop chimed and Noah heard you walk back in. 

“Did you decide on color?” asked Winston. 

“Yep! I’m still deciding on where to get it though. I don’t want my parents to see it.” 

“You could always get an ass tattoo,” said Noah. He’d meant it as a teasing remark, but the way you paused to consider it had his gut turning even more noticeably than the needle currently stabbing ink into his spine. 

________

“You’re being ridiculous, you know.” 

Noah didn’t think he was being ridiculous. If anyone was being ridiculous, it was you. 

“It’s called having manners,” he defended. He stared straight ahead at a blank corner of the shop, fists clenched, trying to determine whether the paint on the wall was a true red or if it had a slight orange tint to it. 

“It’s called being uptight,” you said. 

He didn’t blink, set on winning the staring contest he was holding with the wall. “You’re one to talk.” 

“I’m not the one hiding my nose in a corner because I can’t look at a girl’s hip.” 

Noah rolled his eyes, turning around to face the bench and finding you sprawled across it, face down with the waistband of your pants pulled low on the right side. He swallowed, steeling himself against the sight lest his face betray his thoughts. 

“Is mocking me distracting you from the pain?” he asked. 

“Little bit.” 

He relaxed at the same time you hissed and buried your face in your arms. Hesitantly, he allowed his eyes to run over the curve that stretched from the small of your back to the height of your ass cheek and back down to the top of your thigh. 

The tattoo artist ran his needle over the stencil, outlining the small rose nestled right where your ass and hip met, just below where the waistband of your underwear would sit—he could tell from the vague hint of a tan line still left over from the summer you’d spent at the camp you told him about. 

He could picture you there, getting out of the pool with a wet T-shirt draped over your body because the church camp had rules about modesty when it came to swimwear. Despite your best intentions, the shirt still clung to your curves, the hem riding up to reveal the swell of your ass, bikini bottoms suctioned against the skin, water dripping down your thighs, and… 

“Like what you see?” 

Noah’s eyes snapped up to meet yours. You peeked at him over your shoulder with a knowing smile playing on your face.

“Shut the fuck up,” he spat, but it came out whinier than he’d intended. 

You burst into a fit of barely-suppressed giggles. 

“Hold still,” commanded Winston. 

You whispered an apology and tucked your lips between your teeth to keep from laughing until karma intervened and you winced at a sore spot.  

________

“What do wanna do next?” you asked, practically skipping out of the shop in your post-tattoo high. 

“Nothing,” said Noah from behind you.  

You stopped in your tracks and looked up to find him staring back down on you without any expression you could read. “What?” 

“Look around you,” he said gesturing to the snow. You did, recognizing the wind and snow could put a damper on the evening if you let them, but they didn’t have to. 

“Okay, and?” you asked. 

“It’s a fucking blizzard out. Come on,” he said curtly, grabbing your hand and pulling you in the direction of your dorm. “I’m getting you home.” 

Perhaps it was your temper, or perhaps you were still buzzing from the thrill of getting  your first tattoo but you ripped your hand out of his. “No.” 

Noah spun back around to face you. The wind whipped his hair in front of his face. “What do you mean no? I’m taking you home.” 

“I’m not ready to go home. I want to do something else.” 

Noah sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Like what?” 

“I want to get a drink,” you said, scanning the streets for any nearby bars. 

Noah crossed his arms, tongue prodding at the inside of his cheek. “Are you even old enough to get into a bar?”  

“No, but Folio said he got into bars all the time when he was underage.” You didn’t always listen to Nick when he monologued instead of completing his community service, but that story clung to your mind. 

Noah sighed again. “I told you, I don’t want to overstay my welcome. We’ve already been hanging out most of the day. I don’t want to get in too deep.” 

“You’re not,” you protested. “Besides, you may not deserve it, but I do.” 

At that, he stilled, and you continued. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to be the perfect Christian daughter, okay? I’m so tired of playing it safe. I want a taste of freedom. I’ve earned it. And to be honest, you sort of owe me after the way you treated me.” 

He pursed his lips, considering it, but you already knew you had him backed into a corner with that last remark. A moment later, his shoulders dropped in resignation. “One drink, and then we’re going home.” 

You let out a sound of delight, skipping again to catch up to Noah and then grabbing onto his sleeve when the snow caused your boot to nearly slide out from under you. 

________

“Try not to die on the way there,” he muttered. 

Noah studied the stained glass of the lamp that hung above the pool table, trying to decide whether the red spots were leaves or flower petals. Or were they feathers? 

He wouldn’t let his eyes drift lower, because if he did, he’d have seen your exposed lower back, arching as you bent over the pool table to line up your shot. 

Inside the bar was sweltering. The bartender had mentioned the temperature control on the furnace was on the fritz, and the only options were either letting it run continuously or shutting it off and letting the patrons freeze. 

Sweat beaded at Noah’s temples and at the back of his neck, causing his hair to stick uncomfortably to the skin. Taking an elastic from around his wrist, he gathered his hair and tied it in a knot on top of his head. Even the thin short-sleeved shirt he wore began collecting sweat on the back. 

When the two of you had arrived at his favorite dive bar, the Empty Keg was nearly just that—empty. Nobody had carded you, so Noah had led you to a small table near the back of the place behind the pool tables and told you to sit tight while he ordered drinks from Steve, the familiar bartender Noah had already established a rapport with. 

Guessing at what would be tolerable for you, he ordered you a rum and coke, asking Steve to give you a light pour. He got a whiskey neat for himself and then went ahead and ordered some wings for the two of you to share, since you’d been complaining that you hadn’t eaten much. 

It was torture enough watching you lick wing sauce off the tips of your fingers. Torture again when you peeled your sweater off your body to reveal a practically transparent camisole underneath. Torture a third time when, after your first drink, you asked him to teach you how to play pool. 

He’d tried to remain as respectful, showing you how to hold the cue with verbal direction, rather than being obvious by lining himself up behind you to position you with his hands. A slight hitch in your smile let him know you were frustrated with this, but he insisted. 

You made a show of bending over the pool table to line up your shot, cleavage on display, and Noah had to leave, making the excuse that he was going to buy another round. 

At the bar, he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt and slumped into a stool. The bartender immediately greeted him and asked if he wanted another round.

“Yes,” he answered, without looking up from where his face was planted in his palms. 

“Girl troubles?” asked Steve as he began pouring the rum. 

“I don’t know,” Noah answered, honestly. It wasn’t something he wanted to get into, and sensing that, Steve shrugged and finished making the drinks, setting the glasses in front of Noah with a clatter. 

Noah knew you were flirting and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be tested so directly. You made him weak, transforming his resolve from sturdy to feeble with a simple glance and he felt like he was going to die. 

He was in deep. It took every ounce of his resolve to continue treating you like a normal person and not use every single trick he’d acquired in his long history of fuckboyery to get you naked and in his bed. 

It would be so easy, too. You were already doing your best to tempt him. He knew all he had to do was say the word and you’d be all over him in a second. In the humid, whiskey-soaked haze of the bar, it was growing harder and harder to think of a reason why he shouldn’t just give in. 

Except that he wasn’t ready. He knew it. If he gave in too soon, he risked throwing himself back into his normal fight-or-flight response. He’d overthink it and find some reason to pull away in order to protect himself, like he always did. 

No, this time he had to go about it the right way, and you weren’t making it easy on him. 

Without a good reason to delay any longer, he carried the drinks back over, only to be greeted with the sight of you bent over the pool table, tank top riding up and exposing your lower back and the curve of your hips and the beads of sweat that had appeared along your spine and god, if Noah didn’t want to just collect them all with his tongue. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

He inhaled and exhaled sharply through his nose, saying a silent prayer to excuse his language. Tensing at his jaw and in his fingers around the glasses, he set yours next to you forcefully before taking his place on the opposite end of the pool table so there was at least something sturdier than his resolve separating the two of you. You took your shot and sunk it into the corner pocket. You were obviously hustling him on top of everything else. 

“Thanks,” you said casually, picking up your glass and sipping from it. “I think it’s your turn.” 

“Right,” said Noah. He set his own glass down and searched for his next ball, glad to have something else to focus on. 

He could tell you were unsatisfied with being ignored. You rounded the table and perched yourself on the edge of it next to him, crossing one knee over the other and swinging your legs casually. You leaned up against the pool cue, letting the strap of your tank top fall off your shoulder as you looked at him knowingly and it took all of Noah’s focus not to look back at you. 

“Noah,” you said, voice low and breathy and full of everything Noah had been trying to avoid, and as soon as his name left your lips, Noah scratched, sending the cue ball shooting off the edge of the table. 

“I got it,” he said at the same time that you huffed and jumped down from your perch. He rushed across the bar, chasing after the white ball and when he came back, you stood next to the table with your arms crossed, impatiently tapping your foot and staring him down. 

You were going to have to work harder than that to break him, though. Noah was dead-set on getting out of this interaction without any incident and it was just a matter of who was more stubborn at that point. 

Without making eye contact, Noah set the ball on the table. 

“You’re up,” he muttered, grabbing his drink and letting his eyes nestle deep within the glass of amber liquid. 

He could feel you boring into his face, but he wasn’t going to crack. As soon as you realized that, you slumped over the table and resumed the game. Noah hid his smile in his glass of whiskey and pretended not to notice the exaggerated arch in your back as you bent once more over the table. 

________

Stepping outside the bar, a punishing rush of wind slammed into Noah, causing him to stumble a bit. The conditions had grown even more severe, and Noah knew there was no way they were going to make it all the way to your dorm. 

You must have come to the same conclusion when Noah did, because you tugged on his jacket to get his attention. 

“My dorm’s too far,” you shouted over the wind. “Can I crash at your place?” 

The obvious answer was yes. Both of you knew it, but Noah was still reluctant to answer. This is exactly why he wanted to get you home earlier. 

He trusted himself at the gym. He trusted himself at the tattoo shop. He even trusted himself (barely) at the bar. But in his home? Overnight? With alcohol making his head all fuzzy and softening the lines between your skin and the cloud of lust around you? 

Noah was cooked. 

“Come on, then,” he said, turning and beginning to trudge down the few blocks it took to get to his house. 

You seemed to understand that it was important for you to be on your best behavior or else he might change his mind about letting you stay, so you silently followed, stepping in the footprints he’d left behind. 

________

“Do you need anything to sleep in?” he asked as soon as the two of you reached the entryway of his dilapidated rental. He rubbed his hands together to warm them up—they’d started aching with the cold. 

“I should be okay,” you said, still shivering despite the warmth of his home. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. He scanned you up and down. Your pants were soaked up to the knees from melting snow. 

“Maybe some sweatpants, then” you said, following where his eyes had gone. 

Noah chuckled on his way back to his room, reemerging later with the same set of clothes he’d let you borrow last time. You thanked him, expression a bit bashful as you grabbed the pile from his hands and rushed to the bathroom to change. 

When you came back, your hair was down, spilling pleasantly over your shoulders and Noah watched the way it reflected the low lamplight in waves as you moved. He’d seen you in his clothes before, but in a much different context. 

Now you were here, making yourself at home on the couch while his sweatpants and hoodie swallowed you in comfort. You rubbed your tube-sock-cladded feet together like a goddamn cricket and wrapped your arms around yourself, still apparently trying to get warm. 

“Hey, do you have a blanket or something?” you asked, scanning over the living room. 

“I was, uh,” he began, rubbing a palm over his chin. “I was thinking you could take my bed. I’d crash on the couch.” 

“What?” you said, face twisting with confusion. “Noah, that’s ridiculous. You sleep in your bed. I’m the one burdening you. I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“I’d feel more comfortable if you took my room,” he said. As much as he hated his hometown, some things about it still stuck with him, and southern hospitality was one of them. 

“But you’re like, a million feet tall,” you countered. “Would you even fit on the couch?” 

“Can you just humor me?” he said. “I’ve been needing to put fresh sheets on my bed anyway. This will be a good excuse.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes as you always did—an expression Noah was growing increasingly fond of, and gestured to his room. “Be my guest, I guess.” 

He bowed his head an inch or so and returned to his room, rifling through his closet for the only other set of sheets he owned. 

It was silly, and he knew that. Part of him just enjoyed the thought of you sleeping in his bed. He liked the idea that he’d have that shared experience with you. Both of you would know what it was like to be in his room. Perhaps tomorrow, once you were back in your dorm and he was done with his shift at the factory, he’d lay his head down and his pillows would smell like you. 

Jesus, he needed to get ahold of himself. 

He ripped the old sheets off, piling them in the corner of his room and began the arduous process of figuring out which end of the fitted sheet went where. 

When he came back to the living room, you were sprawled out on the couch and with your eyes closed. 

“You asleep?” he asked softly. 

“Mmm, no,” you said without bothering to open your eyes and Noah took a second to taken in your relaxed features and how your skin glowed softly in the low lighting. 

“Bed’s all made up.” 

Your lower lip jutted out in a soft pout and Noah’s stomach did a somersault. 

“Come on,” he said, nudging you with his knee. “Get up.”

You whined in protest, curling further into the sofa.  

He sighed. It was cute, but not cute enough. “Get up or I’ll call the police and turn you in for trespassing.” 

At that you opened your eyes, shooting him a look that perfectly communicated your annoyance. He nodded towards the room. “Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be out here.” 

You huffed, finally heaving your body off the couch and stood in front of him. “Thanks for letting me stay,” you said in a rare moment of genuine gratitude. 

“Any time.” 

He watched you slump lazily towards his room and listened to hear the click of the door before making up the couch to suit himself. He had to grab a spare blanket from Ruffilo’s room, making a deal with himself to wash it and return it before his friend got back from visiting his family, and then spread himself out on the lumpy sofa, hoping to get a few hours of sleep. 

Sleep, however, did not come. Instead, his mind wandered over to his bedroom, picturing how you looked curled up in his bed and wondering whether you were also having trouble sleeping. 

His dick twitched. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing it away. 

It was one night. One night with an attractive woman in his bedroom. He wasn’t even in the same room. You were on the other side of the house. He could get through this. 

Rolling on his back, he stared at the ceiling and began running through all the steps needed to make a tapping block on his machine. 

Set X to 1.5 inches. Set Y to 2.5. Run program. Remove block. Deburr. Place block back into clamp. Select tool #5. ¾ in. drill. Set Z axis to 1 inch. Run program. 

Fuck. He forgot the next step. 

He tried to get his mind back on the machine, but it was too late. An image of you writhing underneath him flashed in his mind like a lightning strike. 

He dug his fingernails into his thigh, swallowed hard, and went back to the tapping block, already knowing it wasn’t going to work. 

Sighing, he felt around for the remote on the coffee table. Maybe he could put on a documentary or something to distract himself until he fell asleep. 

His hand clasped around the black plastic and he thumbed the power button. The TV flashed, momentarily hurting his eyes until they adjusted. 

Choosing the first streaming service he could find, he searched the documentaries and came up with one about how the Himalayas were formed, and that couldn’t possibly be sexy, so he selected it and waited for his mind to switch off. 

Two minutes into learning about why scientists have found fossils of cephalopods he heard the squeak of a door opening, followed by soft footsteps. 

Of course. 

“What’s up?” he asked softly, without taking his eyes off the screen. 

“I can’t sleep.” 

Your voice came across quiet and drowsy. He looked at the clock and it had already been an hour since you’d gone to bed. 

Sighing and, with great effort, sitting up, he scooted his body to one end of the couch and gestured for you to have a seat at the other. 

“Learning about the Himalayas,” he said. 

“Is this the PBS one?” you asked. 

Noah shrugged, turning his attention back to the TV and trying to ignore the way his body buzzed in your presence. 

“Hard to believe they’re younger than the Appalachians,” you said. The documentary hadn’t mentioned it. This was information you’d apparently gathered elsewhere. 

“I didn’t know that,” said Noah.  

“Yeah,” you continued, resting your toes on the edge of the coffee table. You started doing that thing again where you rubbed your feet together like a cricket—not that Noah was paying attention. His eyes were trained on the screen. “The Appalachia date back to Pangea, and actually part of the range continues on into Europe.” 

“Nerd,” he said. 

“You’re the one watching a documentary about it.” 

Noah said nothing, but his heart thrummed in his chest. 

You kept quiet after that, the two of you watching side-by-side as the narrator talked about the four thousand species of flowering plants native to the zone, and the diversity of fauna, and how the landscapes and ecosystems around the range changed dramatically after the formation. 

Eventually, Noah looked over to see you dozing quietly on your side of the couch. He smiled to himself, knowing that it would probably be better if he moved back into his own room. 

Perhaps in a little bit, he would. It was a really good documentary. 

________

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[caplanbuckybarnes]

Warm Snow (Jon Snow)

Summary: Jon has always cared for you and isnt afraid to admit it any longer.

WC: 518

Warnings: fluff, confessions

A/N: I've been desperate to expand my fandoms lately and as we arrive into 2025, i plan on doing just that! I'm willing to write for a few more GOT/HOTD characters as well. There are a few ships i want to write for soon so let me know your opinion? Just dont know who for as of yet! Please let me know!

Read on Ao3!

--

The cold wind nipped at your cheeks as you trudged through the snow-laden grounds of Castle Black. You tugged the furs closer to your frame, ignoring the frost that seemed to settle in your very bones. Winter had come, but so had something else—a strange warmth that burned beneath your layers whenever Jon Snow was near.

“Y/N,” Jon called, his deep voice cutting through the evening quiet.

You turned to find him standing a few feet away, Ghost at his side. The direwolf’s red eyes glowed like embers, but the sight of Jon smiling—however faintly—was enough to melt the cold away for just a moment.

“I thought you’d still be on watch,” you said, your voice catching in the frigid air.

Jon took a step closer, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you. I just didn’t know when the time would be right.”

The way his gaze flitted downward, how his fingers fidgeted with the hilt of Longclaw, sent your heart fluttering. “What about?”

He hesitated, glancing around before lowering his voice. “I—” He broke off, shaking his head. “You’ve been a loyal friend. More than I deserved.”

You furrowed your brow. “You always speak like you owe everyone something, Jon. You don’t. Least of all, to me.”

“But I do,” he said firmly, stepping even closer. He towered over you now, the smell of pine and leather unmistakable. “You’ve been here, always… even when I felt I couldn’t bear this life anymore.”

Your cheeks burned, but you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or his sudden candor. “And you’d do the same for me.”

“I would.” Jon nodded slowly, then met your eyes with an intensity that made you feel as if the whole world had fallen away. “And that’s why I need you to know. You’re the reason I get through each day. You’re more than a friend to me.”

The weight of his words settled between you like freshly fallen snow—light, but impossible to ignore. You let the silence stretch, unsure if you were dreaming or if Jon Snow, the brooding Commander, had just confessed something that sounded suspiciously like love.

“Jon,” you said softly, your breath puffing in the space between you. “You don’t have to—”

“I do,” he cut you off, his tone earnest. “Because if I didn’t say it now, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.” He reached out, his gloved hand brushing against yours. The touch was enough to send shivers racing through your skin.

You looked up at him, the unyielding man of the Night’s Watch who now stood before you, vulnerable and waiting. Slowly, you slid your hand into his.

“I’ve cared for you, too,” you admitted, your voice almost lost to the wind. “I just… never thought you’d feel the same.”

Jon exhaled sharply, relief washing over his face. He squeezed your hand gently and leaned in just enough that you could feel his breath.

“We have little to give in this world,” he murmured. “But if I can, I’d give you all of me.”

--

kind reminder that reblogs & comments mean the absolute world to me.

[badwritinghabit]

Hello and Goodbye (part 2) | Chef Luca x fem!Reader

Previous Chapter

Warnings: Explicit smut (mdni!). Specifically oral (reader receiving) and vaginal sex, along with some minor pinning down/controlling vibes but still very sweet with lots of checking in.

Word Count: 2,835

Summary: You and Luca go on a date and reflect on the past. Then you take him home with you.

Author's Note: I was torn in a few different directions so I just wrote what felt right-- some fluffy nonsense and then smut. I am tempted to go back and write a one or two chapter prequel with some cheesy romance between younger Luca and reader from what I hinted at in the start of this chapter. Let me know if you'd be interested! Probably wouldn't be smut, just a fluff/idiots in love type story.

Months. Luca was going to stay in Chicago for months. The words hadn’t left your head since Luca had said them. You’d left the party with him, feeling floaty and light. The street lights, the far off sound of music pouring through an open window, Luca’s fingers threaded through yours.  Chicago didn’t usually feel romantic. It felt like work and school and trudging through the snow on January mornings. But that night, Chicago felt like the warm and fuzzy moment in a romantic comedy. When the main characters had reached the end of the story and had fallen in love, for real this time. And the feeling followed you home as Luca walked you to your apartment. When you unlocked the front door, he stopped you with a gentle tug on your wrist. You’d wanted to invite him up but he had leaned forward, pressed a kiss to your lips, and said he wanted to take you on a date. 

He was being sweet.

Now you’re sitting in a bar. It is next to the apartment you lived in years ago, when you and Luca had worked together. The bar had changed ownership at least once but Luca had insisted that you go check it out, for old times sake.

Luca reaches a hand over the table and grabs yours. He trails his thumb lightly across your palm, again and again. Calming and sweet. He doesn’t even seem to be thinking about it particularly, his other hand setting his pint glass down on the table after taking a drink.

“I don’t know if I like it as much anymore,” you say, as you look around the bar again, voice quiet so as to not be heard by any of the bartenders. 

Luca smiles and raises his eyebrows questioningly. “It’s cleaner.” 

You laugh. “It is cleaner. But it doesn’t feel the same anymore. I don’t think they’d let us stay until 3 am playing cards like the old days.”

“Probably not,” he agrees, his thumb still tracing your hand. “I was surprised they let us do that in the first place. I think they only let us because of you.” 

“Me?”

“You underestimate yourself. You had everyone wrapped around your finger back then,” he says. His tone is light but your heart speeds up at his heated eye contact. 

“I think you might be misremembering things,” you demur, flipping your hands on the table so that yours is on top and curling your fingers into his so that you are holding hands. 

He hums and shakes his head. “Remember when you stopped us from betting money on cards? You had us flicking each other’s foreheads when we lost.” He was smirking.

“Everyone loved that! It was fun. And we weren’t wasting money,” you defend yourself, face heating as he chuckles at your insistence. 

“Part of the fun is wasting money, love.” 

You feel your chest tighten at his use of love. “I was just being the responsible one. Someone needed to be!” 

He laughs again and squeezes your hand. “I liked it.”

You squint at him suspiciously and he just chuckles. 

“I did. Everyone did. You had us all charmed. I’m just saying, you could have convinced us lads to do anything.” 

You roll your eyes, unsure how to respond. It was a good group, you’d connected quickly and had spent an awful lot of time together outside of work. You had been too focused on him back then to really pay attention to how the other’s treated you. You don’t dwell on it, instead you brush your thumb against Luca’s and challenge him to a thumb war. He grins and immediately accepts. Unfortunately, his hand is much larger and you are quickly overpowered.

“You cheated,” you grumble. 

“How did I cheat?” 

“Your hands are too big. You have a longer thumb-span.” He laughs at that and goes back to tracing his thumb over the soft skin on your palm. “And you said I had you charmed. You didn’t even let me win.” 

He leans forward over the small table and your eyes briefly dip down as his elbow comes to rest on the table. The dark button up shirt he is wearing looks smooth in the dimmed light of the bar. His sleeves are rolled up from earlier in the evening and your eyes are drawn to his arms. His movement causes the warm, slightly woody smell of his cologne to wash over you. You meet his eyes again and he’s smirking at you, as if he could read your mind. 

“Did you want me to let you win?” his voice is low and you glance at his lips before you can stop yourself. 

“No,” you blurt quickly. “I take thumb wars seriously.” 

“I admire your competitive spirit.”

You blink at him as he grips your hand again, preparing for another thumb war. His eyes are still locked on yours. You couldn’t help but think he had become too good at flirting since you’d last seen him.

The bartender brings you another drink, and before long you realize it has gotten later than you realized. Luca walks you home, giving you his jacket when he catches you shivering after a gust of wind. 

You hesitate at the door. You stick your keys in the lock, faltering slightly but opening it. “Are you going to come up this time?” you ask, shifting nervously as you stand on your doorstep and turn to look at him.

“I’d like to. If you’ll have me.” 

You smile and grab his wrist to pull him in after you. You unlock the door to your apartment and swing it open, sliding off your shoes as you walk in. You take off the coat he gave you and put it on the hook near your door. Luca follows, looking around your apartment after setting his shoes next to your own. 

“I like the painting,” he starts, “where did you–”. Before he can finish, you’re leaning up and pressing your lips against his. 

When he hesitates, you pull back. “Sorry, I thought–”

And then he is cutting you off, hands on your cheeks as he pulls your mouth back to his. He’s soft and so painfully sweet, your heart skips a beat. His hand slides down, fingers warm against the back of your neck as his thumb presses against your chin. 

You reach up and pull lightly on his collar, urging him closer to you, inviting him to kiss you harder. You open your mouth and his tongue meets yours. Still soft and sweet. After a breath you nip gently at his lower lip and he groans, making you smile.

One of his hands drops and finds your hip, pulling you closer and then sliding up, playing with the hem of your sweater. You undo the top button of his shirt and then the second. You pull back for a breath and his hands are careful, as they slide under your shirt. His eyes never stray from yours, making sure you are okay with him taking the next step. 

“Let’s go to my room,” you breathe. And he follows you down the hall. You pull your sweater off over your head. Before you can unzip your skirt he stops you. 

“Let me take my time,” he says, voice low in your ear. He’s standing behind you. You feel small under him as his hands slide from your hips, upward. You arch back the slightest bit, pressing your ass against him. You hear him exhale harshly and his hand cups your breasts over your bra. He slowly unzips your skirt with his other hand and you stop yourself from whining as you want him to go faster. He seems to notice your impatience. 

“I’ve thought about all of the things I would do if I got another chance with you.” He pinches your nipple between his fingers and you arch again. He keeps talking, his voice and the exquisitely dirty things he says, making you more and more needy. He groans your name.

“Luca. I need-” you say, somewhere between a gasp and a whine. 

“I know.” His voice is low, almost a growl. Him taking control is making your knees quiver. His hand trails down from your chest to your panties, middle finger sliding gently over your center. He presses just the tiniest bit, a teasing pressure against your clit making you grip his wrist. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, staying his hand but not moving away. 

You nod quickly and then say aloud, “yes”. 

“Let me know if you want me to stop, yeah?” 

“I won’t want to stop,” you say immediately. He grins and you feel it as he presses his lips to the column of your throat and nips gently at the sensitive skin. His hand slips inside your underwear, running his finger through your folds. You jolt a little at the sensation and he pulls away gently, pausing to slide your underwear down your legs. 

“You’re still dressed,” you say, suddenly self conscious. He finishes unbuttoning his shirt and your eyes drop and trace the smooth, chiseled lines of his chest. Your eyes trail along his tattoos and you reach out to the touch one on his shoulder. 

He presses you forward and you lay back onto your bed. He unbuckles his belt and slides his pants to the floor. He is left in his underwear as he leans over you. He presses his lips to your neck and then chest, mouth going lower and lower.  

He kisses the curve of your stomach, pressing his lips gently across your hip. He bites the soft skin at the point your thigh meets your hip and your leg flexes involuntarily. 

He’s teasing you. Your breath exhales in a whine as he moves across to your other hip, not paying any attention where you need him most. 

“Luca,�� you say as his teeth gently mark your skin. You twitch, moving your hips closer to his face. 

“What is it?” he asks, still not giving you what you want. 

“Please,” you gasp. And then his fingers are spreading your folds and his tongue is gentle against your clit. You nearly sob, a choked breath exhaling at the relief. He slides a finger inside, and adds another, you breathe in, not even realizing how empty you felt until he was there. His tongue keeps a steady pressure with his soft licks as he starts pumping his fingers in and out. 

You’re trying not to buck too hard into his mouth. He presses an arm against your thigh to keep you open for him and something about his casual control makes your heart pound harder. 

He doesn’t stop the perfect drag of his tongue on your clit, even as you plummet over the edge, gasping his name. His fingers glide against your sensitive walls until you buck away, overstimulated from his ministrations.

He slides his fingers from inside of you and crawls up to lay beside you. You blink up into his eyes, catching your breath as you watch him. His hand is gently stroking up and down your side, as if helping calm your body after your orgasm. You lean forward and pull his face to yours, kissing him hard. 

“I have condoms,” you say as you pull back to catch your breath. He sits up and grabs his own from a wallet beside his bed. 

You watch as he slides his boxers over his hips and he catches your eyes, grinning at you teasingly for having caught you checking him out. He’s already slid the condom on and before he can say something to tease you, you climb into his lap. His eyes widen in surprise but he grips your hips and helps you stabilize yourself on top of him.

You kiss him as your hand slides down his chest, fingers trailing across the firm heat of his chest, downwards. You feel him twitch in your hand as you grasp his cock and press yourself down onto him, slowly. You groan at the feel of him, leaning forward and pressing your forehead against his.

The feeling of him inside you is divine– hot and hard and the perfect stretch. You breathe shallowly as you lower yourself fully onto him. 

He gives you a moment, not moving as he feels you squeeze around him torturously. He presses kisses to your neck, soft and sweet. After a few breaths, he reaches up and runs his hand through your hair before gently grabbing it at the base of your neck in his fist and tugging lightly. Your thighs clench reflexively and you meet his eyes. 

“Are you still feeling good, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Sorry, just adjusting.”

“No apologizing,” he admonishes gently, cupping your cheek. “You feel so good,” he says, “better than I remembered.” He says your name in a sigh as you clench around him, his other hand gripping your hip a little more tightly. “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he continues, voice low. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” 

You press your lips to his for a quick kiss then move your hips up. The feeling of him moving inside of you forces you to take a breath and you pull back, mouth open. 

“So pretty,” he says, watching you arch on top of him, his hand moving from your hips to your ass, squeezing before pulling you to him a little as he lifts his hips under you. You gasp as he presses even deeper inside you. You speed up your movement on top of him as he starts to meet your hips. 

He feels your legs shake after he thrusts again and he wraps an arm around your waist and rolls you over, his other arm propping himself up over you. He thrusts slowly at first but increases the pace until you are gripping his shoulders, legs locked around him, heels pressed into the heated skin of his lower back.

You reach a hand up to hold onto his wrist resting near your head. He immediately grips your hand, entwining your fingers with his and pressing your hand to the bed. You arch up and he shifts and grabs your other hand as well, pushing it up by the other and pinning both to the bed. He meets your eyes to make sure you’re okay and you immediately nod, gasping out his name and pressing your hips up to meet his again.

You exhale as he presses his hips all the way against yours in one smooth motion. Then he is pounding into you, little exhaled sighs leave your lips with each thrust. You’re stretched full and the force has you just on the edge of pain. Every stroke your clit rubs against his pelvis and you feel yourself get close again. 

He’s coaxing you to another orgasm, his thrusts hard and deep and hitting all of the right places.

You only catch a few of the things he says to you as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge-- 

“Fuck, can you hear how wet you are?”

“So good for me.”

“I want you to let go. Come on, pretty girl.”  

“Luca,” you say his name, eyes locked on his for a second before they slam shut as you tumble over the edge of your second orgasm. You arch up, twisting lightly in his hold and he continues to press into you, holding your wrists down as he fucks you through the waves of pleasure. After a few more thrusts his hips stutter and he presses inside of you and groans as he reaches his own peak. 

You’re breathing heavily as he slides out of you. He disposes of the condom and lays next to you again. You’re still breathing heavily and he is holding you, warm and stable next to you. 

You know you need to get up and clean yourself off. Instead, you reach up and pull his hair, now slightly damp with sweat, bringing him in for another soft kiss. 

“Have you really been thinking of me all of this time?” you ask, breathless as you pull away. 

“Every day,” he confesses readily, pressing another kiss to your lips. 

Your heart races at his admission. His easy affection. 

“I’ve thought about you a lot too.” You meet his eyes and see only the softest adoration so you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed when you say it. Or when you lean into him again, hugging him tightly to you. He hugs you tighter and you giggle as he nuzzles his nose into your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck. 

“Let’s take a shower, yeah?” 

You agree and stand up, stretching your arms over your head. You catch him looking at your chest and he grins at you, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “Round two in the shower?” 

You laugh, cheeks warming.

“We have to make up for lost time, love.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Rook, Ortho: Princess Power

BRUH 💀 Go figure, giving the guy obsessed with beauty two of the least flattering screenshots in his background frames… But hey, his groovy is very different from everyone else’s so far! ^^ Very relaxed and peaceful.

Cbjssbjsjskendb new tidbits about pre-Pomefiore Rook?? He used to cut his own hair with a knife and focused on keeping his bangs out of his line of sight… and he wasn’t as confident about his style (mood). It’s also interesting to know that he started doing ballet on Vil’s recommendation, and that has helped a lot with his posture, working out muscles he doesn’t normally use, and appreciating the art of performances. We love Pomefiore out here breaking gender norms 👊

A Tale as Old as Time.

Rook drew out a longing sigh, gently easing into the quiet of the museum. The soft sound lingered, coiling around his fingers like thread from a spool. It, too, did not wish to part ways with the stunning beauty laid out bare before it.

A fair maiden was framed in shining platinum. Hair black as ebony, lips as red as the rose, and skin as white as snow... Truly, she was the fairest in all the land.

Her graceful frame was folded, kneeling on the forest floor to greet the woodland creatures that had gathered. The pale yellow skirt of her gown spilled out, blue bodice and puff sleeves fitted well by her figure. Her face round and gentle, in spite of the high collar encircling it, crowed by a petite red bow.

Here was pure innocence, a young girl reveling in nature.

“Beauté,” he marveled—to no one in particular, but such beauty warranted verbal acknowledgement.

“It seems that this painting has captured your interest, Rook Hunt-san!” a voice chirped. A neon blue light emanated from the darkness, accompanied by the silver flash of metal.

“Bonjour!” Rook greeted Ortho. "I must confess, I have been enchanted by this particular work of art! The brush strokes, masterful! The composition, immaculate!! The subject—oh, how it makes my heart quiver with nostalgia!! I am a man close to being moved to tears!!”

Ortho curiously glanced at the girl and her animal friends. No strong emotions arose within up from him. Perhaps he did not feel as much, or perhaps Rook felt too much. “Is there a sentimental experience or memory you have related to this painting…?”

“Oui! It is a tale as old as time.” Rook gestured to the snow white young lady. “They say that this maiden was a princess forced to flee from her home country, as a hostile presence threatened her life. She retreated into the woods and found comfort in a humble life there. Her tenacity is most admirable!!”

“Tenacity… That’s the value that Pomefiore was founded on!” Ortho, floating overhead, beamed at Rook. “I understand why you would like that story. It has a good moral that sticks with you.”

“That is the beauty of telling tales! They inspire those who hear of it, ensuring that the spirit of the story is never truly extinguished.” The huntsman’s eyes held a keep glint to them. “Tell me, Ortho-kun. What do you believe makes a princess?”

The boy blinked. A split second, and he had already input the term into an internal search engine, the formal definition loaded up to recite.

“Prin-cess, noun. The daughter of a monarch or wife to a prince. A woman having sovereign power.”

“An efficient, succinct answer!” Rook applauded, his cheer never faltering. “However, my desire is to know your interpretation. In Ortho-kun’s own words, what makes a princess?”

“My own…?” The words stretched, unsure, on his tongue. Ortho hesitated—seeking, processing, and analyzing. Rook’s heartbeat sounded where there was the space for the boy to think.

Then, finally, Ortho spoke.

“From what I’ve observed in movies and books, the princess is a pop culture icon. She’s usually presented as a role model for little girls. Someone who is beautiful, dainty, and composed, wearing a pretty dress and a glittering crown."

A pause. Ortho assessed Rook’s hard-to-read, bright expression.

“… Is that closer to the response you were looking for, Rook Hunt-san?” he asked.

To this, the third year’s lips quirked. “There is no correct or incorrect answer! I was curious to see your perspective. Everyone holds one that differs, lenses of all designs and colors with which to see the world through! You have my most heartfelt thanks for sharing your view with me.”

"Oh, I see! You're collecting data from a variety of sources to compare to a standard." The android (literally) lit up from within. "Let me ask the same back! Rook Hunt-san, what do you think makes a princess?"

"Mon dieu! You've set my own trap upon me," Rook teased.

The Beautiful Queen, the Fair Maiden, Vil, his peers... So many fragments of beauty in his collection. Plucked, collected, hoarded.

He ran a finger along his chin, contemplating. The thoughts assembled like a collage. Ideas taken, cut up, and pasted together into a new, glorious artwork.

"A princess can be many things," Rook declared with certainty. "They are a princess to their very core, even when their power is stripped from them or they are dressed in only ashes and rags. What defines them is not royal heritage or political influence, but the strength of their character, their values and virtues. They are not bound by a singular trait, but are aspirations to all in their own ways."

Ortho's eyes swelled. "Eh...? That's so broad! By your definition, anyone could be a princess—even you or I!”

The huntsman threw his head back and laughed. "Broad it may be, but I am of the opinion that we all have it in us to live up to the title~”

He indicated the woman in the platinum frame. Ortho’s gaze obediently followed. "Even without a kingdom to call her own, she remained kind-hearted rather than turn to cruelty. That is why she was, and always will be, a noble soul. A princess who puts out good into the world.”

“Rook Hunt-san…”

“Ortho-kun!” Rook dramatically extended an arm to him. He was practically sparkling in the dim room. “I, too, endeavor to put out as much beauty as what is gifted to me! That is my one true calling as the Hunter of Love: to not only seek out beauty, but to cultivate and to contribute to it!”

Ortho silently stared. Nii-san did warn me that Rook Hunt-san could be eccentric, but… maybe there’s some meaning to be found in it.

Cutting through the numbers and the formulas that governed him was a fuzzy warmth. Not the familiar jolt of electricity that powered his circuits. It was too wild, too unpredictable.

Something undeniably human.

Ortho let out a giggle. "Hehe. Then you must be a princess too!"

Rook's mouth formed a small "o". Unsubtle surprise—or perhaps purposefully exaggerated. "Me? Whatever makes you think that?"

"Strength of character!" Ortho parroted mischievously. "I've never met someone as uplifting as you are. Rook Hunt-san is the type of person that sees a princess in everyone."

The boy lowered himself to a few centimeters off of the ground, pretending to dip into a curtsey. "Your majesty!"

"Fufufu. You're quite charming yourself, Princess Ortho-kun!" Rook bent into a deep bow. "Most clever in all the land, computing complex problems in the blink of an eye!”

Upon straightening, the third year laid both hands over his heart. He lifted his head toward the painting of the fair maiden in the forest. A serene smile at his lips.

It was as if he was pledging his allegiance, making a vow. A worshipper at the altar to pray.

“May we all live happily ever after,” Rook whispered raptly, “like the princesses of old.”

Forever and ever.

[mandoriana]

HEADCANON ARTHUR PENDRAGON

Arthur likes goats. (No reason, he just likes their personality)

He had a goat when he was 6, he was his best friend, but Uther forced him to kill his goat and eat.

Arthur could never play with the other children, only the ones Uther allowed, but his father didn't have time for him, so Arthur never went out to play.

Although everyone thinks that Arthur is not the smartest between him and Morgana, in fact, he has read all the books in the library and has mastery of many complex areas (mathematics, history, literature, philosophy, politics, etc.)

Arthur believes that studies are very important and always takes them very seriously.

Arthur likes affection in his hair and always lets Merlin comb them. (He's like a pompous cat who loves to be brushed)

Arthur is very unsure about everything he does because his father always made him doubt himself.

He's afraid to get closer to people because he's afraid of suffering.

Merlin is the only person Arthur allows to approach during sleep.

Arthur likes to draw, but he doesn't let anyone know because his father called him a "girl" for it. He has a notebook full of drawings by Merlin, Gwen and Morgana, there are drawings by other knights, but most of the drawings are by Merlin.

Arthur is afraid of spiders.

His favorite color is blue, but he always wears red to honor his kingdom.

Despite loving Gwen, he could never love her as he loved Merlin.

She always envied Morgana's relationship with Uther because Uther always loved her more than he loved Arthur.

His favorite flowers are the purple lilies, Merlin once spent days searching the forest because he wanted to present Arthur with them.

Arthur gave Ygraine's symbol to Merlin knowing what it meant (marriage request), but didn't mind explaining what it meant for fear of Merlin denying her gift.

Arthur admires the way Merlin is good to people.

He took potions/medicines for depression after the bloody events at the Druid camp.

Sometimes he hide under the bed or in the closet to have some moments of peace from all your responsibilities.

He hasn't cried since he was 5.

His father disciplined him with flogging, a way to "make him stronger."

Arthur has a high tolerance for pain.

Sometimes, when Merlin saves Arthur from love's incantations or potions, when Arthur wakes up he feels sick and needs to take a bath, the feeling of being touched against will always terrifies Arthur.

Arthur loves rain and snow.

Arthur hates "rabbit food" (green and vegetable), but when Merlin feeds him he always eats it.

He shares food only with Merlin.

It's jealous for fear that Merlin will find someone better than him.

Leon was his first youthful passion.

He's not afraid of magic, he's afraid of people and what they can do with so much power.

He has fought a small army of 20 men and won alone.

His nickname on the battlefield is Mad Titan or Bloody Beast. (Arthur hates these nicknames)

[goosita]

attending a gala with young!politician!snow is both more and less terrifying than you’d imagined

he’d picked you up at 7pm on the dot, waiting outside of his car for you. coriolanus was dressed in all black, a departure from his usual red color palette. the moment you’d stepped outside to meet him in the dress and shoes (as well as necklace) he bought you, he’d smiled charmingly at you and offered his hand.

“you look absolutely enchanting, miss y/n,” he breathed, tone full of sincerity. you could feel your cheeks blaze at his compliment, giving a timid grin.

“thank you, coryo.”

coriolanus brightened even more, opening the back door of the car with his free hand and keeping you steady with the other as you slid in. he followed just after you, settling in beside you on the seat. now here you were, on the way to a big fancy party full of people who made more money in an hour than you did in a whole year.

“are you nervous?” he asks, glancing at you.

“absolutely terrified,” you admit with a soft laugh. “i’ve never been to anything like this. i don’t want to do or say the wrong thing.”

“you’ll be fine, i promise. just follow my lead, and it’ll be over before you know it.”

you nod, but still can’t force down all of your nerves. aside from this whole event being unfamiliar to you, you’re still jittery and unsure with coriolanus. he’s been so hard to read lately. you’re not sure if he’s just toying with you, but it feels too bold to think that perhaps he has a real interest in you either. too indulgent of your daydreams, your fantasies. you can’t seem to stop the fluttery drumming of your fingers against your thigh, until coriolanus is taking your hand and sliding his fingers between yours to stop their incessant tapping. your gaze snaps up to look at him, surprised by the touch.

“everything’s going to be okay. trust me,” he says gently, giving your hand a soft squeeze. for someone who’s last name is snow, his hands are so warm. his thumb brushes over your knuckles soothingly, looking down at you with a calm expression, and you nod. you do trust him. he adds, “i’ll be right beside you all evening.”

his promise makes you feel better, some of the tension leaving your body at both his words and his soothing touch. you glance down at your interlocked hands, his so much bigger than your own. his fingers are so long, pale and beautiful as if they were carved from marble. the veins along the top stand out, raised little rivers of blue that crawl up into his sleeve. his silver watch band rests against the delicate skin of both of your inner wrists.

once you arrive, it feels like a whirlwind of colors and lights and sounds. you find yourself dissociating from most of it, from the moment coriolanus leads you inside with a hand at the small of your back. you try to focus on the way his cologne catches your nose when he turns or moves, the familiar scent helping to ground you. the event passes in a flurry of coriolanus’s voice chatting pleasantly with Very Important Men, fond introductions of you at his side by your name and never your job title, being handed flutes of posca that you only sip on here and there. your date, however, seems to have no trouble at all socializing and sharing drinks with these people.

he’s a natural people-person. coriolanus charms and wins over just about every person he speaks to. the men respect him and listen to what he has to say, while the women giggle and let their eyes wander his face and body. you don’t like that the latter bothers you enough to sling back an entire flute of posca at one point while some district 8 office holder’s wife practically undresses coriolanus with her eyes. if he notices the female attention at all, he doesn’t show it. coriolanus simply keeps one hand planted firmly along your spine, occasionally stroking the exposed skin there softly.

finally, finally, the night comes to an end. coriolanus is loose from the bubbly drinks he’s had, making him a bit more smiley than you’re really used to. his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink that spreads over the bridge of his nose and makes him glow.

“did you have fun, darling?” he asks as he gets into the car with you. while he waits for an answer, he fumbles until he finds the button that raises the privacy screen between you two and the driver.

“fun is…certainly a word,” you offer, unable to stop your grin. coriolanus seems younger like this, spine less rigid and jaw less tense. he looks his age right now, you realize.

“hm. yes, well, i don’t have much real fun these days,” he laments, undoing his tie and shrugging off his suit jacket. “especially not with a beautiful lady on my arm.”

he glances sideways at you as he says it, sly smirk making his smile line in his cheek stand out. you resist the urge to reach out and touch it, instead looking down at your hands in your lap. you never know what exactly to say when coriolanus says things like that. you’re not sure if he’s being sincere, or if it’s just meaningless flirting to him.

he says your name softly when you avert your eyes, gingerly lifting your chin. “look at me, darling,” he whispers. he’s turned his body to face you fully now. his eyes search your face for a long moment before they trail down, landing on the snowflake pendant resting between your collarbones. his finger trails a path down your throat before tracing around the charm.

“it suits you,” he murmurs. the air in the car is suddenly so very warm, electric with the energy between the two of you. he’s so close to you, you wonder if he can hear your heart racing right now. if he knows its because of him.

“coryo,” you exhale, breath trembling slightly. you feel his touch again against your cheek, cradling it softly in his palm. his eyes seem to almost glow in the low light, the streetlights you pass making them appear almost translucent when they reflect off his irises. you both lean in simultaneously, eyes fluttering closed.

the first brush of coriolanus’s lips is soft, curious even. as if he’s giving you the chance to push him away. instead, you sigh and melt into him. his free hand comes to rest on your waist, squeezing softly as he kisses you more firmly when you don’t pull away. his mouth is plush and slick against your own, tasting like the sugary posca he’d drank.

you lose yourself to his kisses, slow and languid and indulgent, making you dizzy with how good it feels. coriolanus slides his hand down from your waist to your hip, then further down to tease at the slit in your dress that splits over your thigh. his teeth nip at your lip playfully, and he smiles against your mouth when you gasp at the way his fingers curl behind your knee to hitch your leg up over his own.

he encourages you to move so you can straddle him, sitting pretty in your silky dress on his lap. your hands land on his broad shoulders while his lips parts from yours, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses along your neck. his tongue drags along the side of your throat, making you shiver and moan softly.

“there’s a good girl,” he mutters, hands smoothing up and down your thighs that splay over his. “you make such pretty sounds for me.”

coriolanus’s words make you feel lightheaded, paired with his wandering touch and exploratory kisses. you shift in his lap just slightly, gasping softly when you feel how hard he is beneath you. his cock presses into the apex of your thighs, his hips pushing up subtly. he lets out a quiet groan, the hottest sound you’ve ever heard. the uncontrolled noise spurs you on, gives you the nerve to cup his jaw and bring his mouth back to yours and demand more of his heated kisses.

“stay with me tonight, my darling,” he pleads, panting against your mouth.

“yes.”

[slaymitchabernathy]

A Husband’s Duty

| a companion to ‘Cold & Calculated’ |

Often times Coriolanus finds picking out his daily attire to be the most difficult part of his day.

Surely, he could wear the same outfit every day, buy the same shirt seven times and take the thinking out of it. But he always enjoys how satisfying it is to see it all come together.

His vision.

He fastens the knot of his tie and nods at his reflection. He looks distinguished. Well put together without trying too hard.

In other words, like a Snow.

His gold wedding band shines brightly in the mirrors reflection and he catches himself staring at it for a moment. He’s a married man now. It’s been a little over a month since he married Soarynn, formerly known as Soarynn Nightingale.

Their relationship has been…strict.

They’ve been doing everything strictly by the books.

Consummate the marriage the night of the wedding? Check.

Moving in together? Check.

Making public appearances as a newlywed couple? Check.

Sending out thank you cards for all those who attended the wedding? Check.

Forming a genuine relationship with his wife? He’s still working on that one.

It’s not like Soarynn is some horrible, wretched creature that he’s now stuck with until the end of time. On the contrary, she’s stunning and kind, she’s quiet and polite. She’s everything he could ever dream of.

He glances out of their shared closet into the bathroom where she’s currently standing in front of her vanity brushing out her long blonde hair.

And that’s another thing about her. The girl is very hygienic. She smells like vanilla, her hair is so soft, her skin is so smooth. She’s so feminine and gentle.

She’s….she’s bleeding? She’s bleeding!

Coriolanus has to do a double take before venturing into their bathroom but there is blood dripping down Soarynn’s leg and onto the bathroom tile. She doesn’t seem to notice at all which is what truly worries him. Has he married a girl who is already going to die? He’s heard stories of young adults like them losing their lives at such a young age.

He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck, “Soarynn?”

She looks over her shoulder at him and her eyes are just so dazzling he nearly forgets what he came out here to talk about with her.

“Yes?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. Why must this be so difficult? She could be dying and here he is struggling to bring up a valid concern.

“You’re bleeding,” he nods towards the floor where more blood has pooled and Soarynn looks down, taking a step back once she notices the issue.

“Fuck,” she whispers and his lips twitch into a small smile. Soarynn is so eloquent and polite that hearing her swear is something almost foreign to him.

Soarynn tosses her brush onto the counter and rushes into the small room where the toilet is and shuts the door. Coriolanus listens to it lock and then all he can hear is some shuffling around and the flush of the toilet before she’s coming back out, flushed in her face.

She looks up at him before looking back down at the floor, seemingly nervous for whatever she’s about to tell him. “I got my…my cycle.”

She whispers the last word so softly that he has to lean forward, “You got your what?”

Soarynn sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose before looking back up at him, a hint of embarrassment behind her eyes, “I got my period.”

His eyes widen as he finally registers those words and what they mean. “Oh.” Soarynn nods and rocks back and forth on her heels, “Yes. I um, I honestly didn’t know when to expect it since I got the implant removed before the wedding,” she tells him but Coriolanus is still hung up on the news she just delivered.

Soarynn tilts her head and he shakes himself out of his daze, “I’m sorry, yes, yes I remember you scheduling the appointment to get your implant removed. So that you can get…”

“Get pregnant,” Soarynn finishes for him, her cheeks turning even more pink. “I guess I’m not yet.”

They both stand there for a moment, unsure of what to say to each other. Does she need a hug? Should he comfort her? Is she scared?

“I…I wasn’t very prepared for this,” she admits, running a hand through her hair, “could you please go get me some…some things?”

Coriolanus blinks once, twice, “Some things,” he repeats and Soarynn nods, “Yes. Some products so I don’t continue bleeding out on the floor.”

Well she has a good point. But why can’t she go out and buy the products? Coriolanus immediately scolds himself for his way of thinking. He’s a husband now and his wife needs him to be a man and buy her some feminine products. And of course, she can’t go out right now, she’s still in her nightgown and she’s bleeding out for heaven sake. Even if she wanted to go get them herself he wouldn’t let her.

Soarynn needs to rest, lie down and eat something maybe.

“Of course,” he nods, “is there anything in particular you’d like me to get for you?” Coriolanus has limited—no—knowledge of women’s feminine products considering he didn’t grow up with a sister and his mother never mentioned being on her period. She probably got the implant again the second she could. At least that’s what he would do.

Soarynn furrows her eyebrows before shaking her head, “No. I honestly have no idea. I got the implant when I was quite young so I’ve never really gotten my period before,” she says softly. Coriolanus feels his normally stern expression soften slightly when hearing her say that. Soarynn is still so young and she’s still learning. It’s up to him to help her through this.

“I trust your judgment when it comes to these things,” she adds, giving him a small smile. Coriolanus returns it with one of his own and straightens up, “All right. You get some rest and I’ll be back in no time.”

He quickly grabs a coat and his wallet, slipping on a comfortable pair of leather shoes for his short journey. It’s not too cold and he doesn’t mind a brisk walk every now and then.

When he comes into their bedroom he’s met with a sight that makes his heart ache. Soarynn sits on the edge of the bed, one arm wrapped around her waist while she holds onto the bedpost with the other, taking in slow and deep breaths.

Petunia is next to her, nuzzling her nose against Soarynn’s leg in means to offer her some comfort. She’s even brought her favorite toy at the moment, her pink mouse. Petunia meows at him and Soarynn lifts her head, their eyes meeting momentarily before he breaks his gaze away, “I’ll be back soon. Do ask the cook to make you some tea if you’re feeling a bit under the weather,” he suggests.

It’s not like she’s sick. But Coriolanus has a feeling that bleeding out for a good seven days can’t make you feel good either. Soarynn merely nods before closing her eyes again and he takes that as a signal to leave.

Now a man on a mission, he sets out into the Capitol in search of one thing and one thing only.

Period products.

꧁ ꧂

The jingle of the bell on the door announces his presence as Coriolanus strolls into the familiar establishment that is the pharmacy he and his family have been going to since he was an infant.

He and Soarynn have only come here once since meeting one another and that was to get her some medicine for a headache that popped up right before they were going to the theatre to see a show.

Other than that, they’ve made separate trips.

It’s the finest and most reputable pharmacy in the Capitol due to its location being within the inner circle of the city, the safest place for one to live. So it makes perfect sense that it’s merely a block away from the Corso, the street in which all prominent Capitol families reside.

Coriolanus heads straight to the back of the store where he’s met with a rather daunting aisle of different feminine care products. In all his years he’s never gone down this aisle but there’s a first time for everything.

He’s beginning to wish he’d asked Soarynn to give him some sort of idea as to what to purchase for her. There’s so many options. Pads, tampons, and…cups? Absolutely not. You have to be a very brave person to shove a cup up there.

Coriolanus takes a step back and sets his hands on his hips as he surveys all the different boxes. There are so many brands with different types of packaging although most of them are all pink which he supposes is for aesthetic purposes. If he were to have a say, the packaging would be blood red so it’s probably a good thing that he’s not been left to make such decisions.

Coriolanus looks to his left and meets the eyes of a woman who’s also shopping for feminine products. She shoots him a nasty look before walking further down the aisle, putting more distance between them.

He must look terribly out of place. A broad shouldered man, well above anyone’s normal height standing in this aisle with a confused look on his face.

His friends would tease him about this for weeks if they saw him like this.

He almost wants to assure the woman that he’s not some creep. ‘I’m not a pervert, I have a beautiful wife at home, please help me!’

He scans the prices of these products and nearly doubles over at how expensive these things are. Why are they so expensive? And aren’t they just thrown away once they’re used? If they were multi use products then maybe he could understand but this is outrageous. Is this what women deal with on a daily basis?

From what Soarynn told him on one of their many dates, the birth control implant is very expensive as well which is why only the richest women from the richest families can afford them.

He’s going to have to speak with a board of representatives about these prices because this is just ridiculous.

But being a Snow, his eyes drift to the most expensive products the pharmacy offers, top shelf.

If they’re that expensive then it’s for a reason. They must be the best and Soarynn deserves the best.

He wonders what she’d prefer though since he’s still faced with many options from this luxurious brand. He looks back down the aisle to ask the woman for help but she’s already gone.

Coriolanus huffs and simply grabs one of each box. Soarynn can decide what’s best for her.

As he walks down the aisle he notices a small display of pain relievers as well. Soarynn certainly looked like she was in pain when he left. He’s heard that some women experience cramps or back pain, or even tender breasts. He doesn’t hesitate to grab a bottle.

He’s almost at the checkout line when he also spots a heating pad at the end cap of another aisle. He grabs that too.

He gets a bit of a strange look from the cashier who happens to be an elderly woman but he ignores it entirely. “Will that be all for you today sir?”

He pulls out his wallet, “Yes.”

The woman hums and rings up his total, a whopping amount in his opinion but it’s better than blood soaked floors and a miserable wife for a week.

“Heavy flow today?”

Coriolanus almost chokes on his spit at the cashiers question as he hands her several bills, “It’s for my wife,” he quickly explains, his porcelain face turning pink. The cashier raises her eyebrows and hands him his change, “Then she’s a lucky lady to have a husband like you.”

꧁ ꧂

When Coriolanus returns to their bedroom, he finds Soarynn sitting in their small seating area next to the fireplace. She’s got a blanket covering her and she looks to be in good health.

She offers him a tired smile before eying the large paper bag he’s brought with him. “Did you buy the entire pharmacy?” She asks and Coriolanus grins, happy to see she’s still able to crack a small joke every now and then.

Soarynn can be very funny when she feels like it. He’s only witnessed most of her jokes when they’ve been in the company of friends she’s known her whole life but he hopes that one day she’ll truly let loose around him and give him a true taste of her sense of humor.

“I almost did,” he replies, sitting on the edge of the sofa she’s currently perched on, “I didn’t know what you’d like so I just got everything. Oh, and I got you some pain reliever and a heating pad as well.”

Soarynn’s expression softens as he hands her the bag and she peers in to see all that’s he’s brought for her. “Thank you,” she says, “that’s very kind of you.”

Coriolanus feels his focus on her being pulled away when he feels something tugging on his pants. He looks down to see Petunia lying on her back, clearly demanding attention. He was a bit hesitant to let Petunia move in with him once he and Soarynn were married.

It’s not that he’s doesn’t trust the feline but his penthouse has very nice and expensive furniture that she could so easily scratch up with those long claws. But Petunia has been very well behaved. She only annoys him every once in a while and it’s usually when Soarynn is gone so she has no one else to bother but him.

He gently scoops the cat up and gives her a good scratch behind the ears, “I suppose you’ll never know what it’s like hmm?” Soarynn chuckles and shakes her head while watching the two of them, “Unlike me she’s rather lucky. She got spayed as soon as she was able to. Mostly for the sake of not having kittens.”

Coriolanus nearly shudders at the thought of smaller versions of Petunia roaming around the apartment. He’s already outnumbered as it is. Both their maids are women and so is their cook. It’s five against one.

Petunia purrs and leans into his touch, momentarily making him forget that he should probably be doing something productive like working now that he’s done running this spontaneous errand.

He clears his throat and sets her back on the floor, ignoring her meow of protest, “Well, if you don’t need anything else I’ll be in my study.”

He doesn’t miss how Soarynn’s face slightly falters before she recovers and puts on a smile, “Of course. Thank you again for getting me what I need.”

Coriolanus grunts and rises to his feet, wiping his hands on his pants, “It’s a husband’s duty to look after his wife.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, he just walks to the bedroom doors and closes them behind him, leaving his wife and her cat alone.

In another world he’d spend all day with her, lay in bed and feed her sweets, fetch her water and braid her hair.

In another life.

| tumblr drabble/oneshot |

[elsweetheart]

i just wanna adopt a cat with ellie :((

i luv this ,, wrote this half awake enjoy

“babe? babe! fucking — ahh! shit, crazy little shit!” ellie whisper yelled, followed by loud crashing about in your living room space. you shot up, eyes finding the alarm clock that read 12:28AM, rubbing one of your eyes as you woke yourself up. this was the usual time ellie was meant to arrive back from patrol. usually, she’d shower and crawl into your bed with not much fuss— most times you wouldn’t even wake up, so for her to be causing such a ruckus you figured you should probably go and see what was going on.

you pad out your bedroom, rubbing the sleep out of your eye feeling the chill hit your body, only adorned in a tank top and shorts.

“el, wh’s a matter.” you croaked out, thinking this shit better be worth it. ellie, facing the couch spun around — an odd mixture of mischief and exhaustion on her face.

“babe, don’t freak out. i— i just couldn’t leave her okay, she’s really cute when she’s not freaking the fuck out — and, i know this is technically your place but i thought hey— why not—” ellie rambled as you squinted in the low light, the auburn haired girl having flicked on a lamp upon her arrival.

“what are you talking about?” you yawned, walking up to ellie in confusion. your eyes caught movement behind her and you frowned, craning around to see what it was.

it moved too fast to be able to tell at first, a bundle of black fur and two big sparkly beads. ellie moved aside, and you crouched down — coming face to face with a kitten.

the kitten seemed to calm at your slow movements, pupils dilated as it stared up at you curiously.

“a kitten?” you whispered, expression softening in awe. you had only seen a cat once before, it was a rarity to see any kind of animal that would be considered a pet in the old world.

“found her held up in some house. she hissed at me a bunch until i gave her some of the food i’d packed. she’s got her priorities straight, i respect it.” she chuckled tiredly, kneeling down beside you to look at her. “you wanna keep her? i mean, she can be ours. together.” ellie scratched the back of her neck, slightly nervous at the proposal.

“oh my god, yes. of course. i love her.” you pouted, slowly reaching your palm out. she sniffed it curiously before unsurely nuzzling her head into it.

“i see she has a favourite already. that’ll change, don’t you worry.” ellie sarked, standing up and stretching, body sore after her long hours out in the snow.

“uh huh.” you giggle, crossing your legs as you get comfortable on the floor.

“why don’t you make her a little bed for now down here. we can deal with her in the morning.” ellie suggested, her hand brushing your shoulder fondly urging you to stand. you did so, the two of you creating a makeshift cushion cat bed, the black kitten circling it a few times before settling. “there we go. now let me shower and i’ll be in bed. i’m fucking beat.” ellie walked toward your bathroom, already chucking her jacket aside.

you head back to bed, the sleepiness taking back over as you crawled beneath the warmth of your bed sheets. ellie joined you not so long after as you lightly dozed, sliding in behind you in a clean hoodie and shorts. her warm hands slid beneath your tank, resting on your tummy as she snuggled into you.

“we gotta—” you croaked, half awake.

“hm?” ellie lift her head slightly, placing a kiss beneath your ear.

“gotta… find a name for her.” you murmured, the matter clearly very important. ellie dropped her head back onto the pillow.

“pfft, already done. ellie junior.” she joked and you smiled lazily despite fighting sleep.

“seriously.”

“we can discuss it in the morning. maybe it’ll come to you in a dream.”

“maybe.”

“goodnight, baby.”

“night els.”

[aealzx]

After too many attempts to use his ninpo to escape, only to have it shredded as soon as it left him, Donnie’s captives had switched their nullification machine to be on continuously. The horrid external drum of constant pressure against his skull only added to the internal throbbing his brain was doing trying to escape the stimulus it was getting. Every brush of gloved fingertips against his skin became scraping abhorrences against his thoughts. To the point he couldn’t distinguish the hands from the blades carving out tiny samples of his body. He barely bled from their cuts, but they were still quick to clean the wound with stinging alcohol before placing a bandaid over it. Augustine hadn’t been lying about keeping him as physically unharmed as possible, but that did little for his mental state. The only welcomed attention was the quiet employee with an irrigation bottle full of saline water trying to rinse his mouth out so they could get a clean saliva sample. Getting rid of the bloody taste did little to cure the nausea he felt, but at least it was from a different source. How much blood did they take? No, he didn’t want to think about it. Enough to make him dizzy, and therefore too much.

For now he kept his eyes closed to try and keep his mind isolated from the world around. It was all he could do to keep from continuing to scream at them for invading his personal space, stealing what didn’t belong to them. He didn’t need to exhaust himself with useless actions. They had Lil Mikey. He needed to focus on how to get them out of there. But it was so hard to think of anything other than wanting to sink into a black oblivion of stifling silence and soft blankets.

That was, until the drumming anti mystic pressure swelled to a nigh unbearable force against his body before abruptly declining into nothing. Sweet, blessed calm amidst the chaos of soft chatter and clinking tools. It almost felt like a heavy snow had fallen over the room with how much frozen peace the absence of the machine’s nullifying energy brought.

Donnie’s fingers twitched, and a ripple of purple energy traveled down his arm, from shoulder to palm, without getting torn apart by external interference. With the barest hint of a smirk, Donnie pulled his eyes back open, nevermind the stabbing light invading his unfocused pupils. Another ripple of energy was released with purpose this time, snaring the machines keeping him pinned and breaking their hold on him with shuddering creaks as the shackles snapped open. His overriding ninpo disabling the locks, and ordering the beams pressed against his back and legs to raise.

The employees naturally cut off all conversation, all five bodies gasping and backing up, unsure if this was part of a plan by their employer or not. They remained uncertain as Donnie pushed himself to his knees, keeping his gaze on the floor. He wanted to be cordial. Or eloquent. Or at the very least capable of crafting a full sentence from the language that used to come so easily to his mind. But instead only a single word escaped his lips in a hissed half whisper.

“Leave.”

They didn’t quite obey as quickly as he would have liked. Not until his own machines started piecing together in the air around him. “I SAID LEAVE!” he shouted. The crack in his voice smothered by the clinking of his fabricated machines. Harmless constructs, but it was enough to earn a yelp from the women before they frantically escaped his presence, one of their hands slapping against the keypad and opening the door.

Breathing a steadying sigh once the bodies had vacated, Donnie let his constructs fade before they were completed, reveling in the additional step towards complete silence.

And then the announcement blared into the room from the hallway speakers.

Donnie barely heard what the grating voice stabbing into his coveted silence said over the intercom. His eyes snapped back open under furrowed brows, glaring at the offending atrocity. At least he could shut it up now. Curse this forsaken hell hole into silence. Every whirr and hum, crackle and clink from the electric machines operating the damn woman’s base. Gathering up a specific charge into his hands, Donnie let a pulse of curated ninpo crash down his arms into a rolling wave across the floor, up the walls and into every crevice the building had. The energy made short work of the establishment’s power, robbing it of life as it greedily ate through the framework until the main generator swelled into an overloaded crash, halting the systems and bathing the base in temporary darkness.

Blessed darkness and silence.

It would take a moment for the backup generator to bring everything to life again. In that time Donnie reached his ninpo out just enough to locate where they had stashed his equipment. He wanted something on his back immediately. It was taking a lot of will to not rip off the sticky bandage stuck over the fresh cut there. On his back, legs, arms, the coban wrapped around his elbow. He deliberately kept his hands from being in contact with anything. Fingers twitching in the air as he brought himself to his feet, swaying slightly. Basic steps. Simple commands. One foot in front of the other. Get his tech, and find his brother. He could do this.

Donnie dragged his feet towards the exit as the backup generator brought the base humming back to minimal life. The red lights bringing false color to his pale cheeks. Break down his actions into basic steps. Simple thoughts. Ignore everything else. Everything was going to be fine.

Or else.

___________________

Previous Next

___________________

Everyone is free now~ yeeeey~ And totally 100% fine. ¯\_(979)_/¯

[sixeyescurseuser]

Bunjo

Thinking about canon but make it hybrid au - bunny hybrid Gojo and human Geto. 

The Gojo clan is very adamant about breeding within the same species of rabbit family. Something about maintaining a pure bloodline and having a mate that will instinctively know what’s best for you.

Then, THE Gojo Satoru goes off to Jujutsu High, and imprints on a HUMAN. 

The thing is, Gojo’s never had trouble controlling his bunny instincts - not since he was a kid. But whenever he’s around Suguru, his self-control goes out of the window. 

Meanwhile, Geto came from a small country town so he’s not used to this many hybrids there are in the big cities - and so many varieties!

It’d be so funny if the first time Geto “met” Gojo was when Gojo was in bun form.

Bun Gojo - “Bunjo” for short - gets restless when he doesn’t shift for more than a week. Upon wanting to explore the campus in his bun form, he lost track of time, aka the moment their new classmate arrived on campus.

So Geto comes across this snow-white bun snoozing in one of the chairs in the main dormitory room. He slowly approaches, unsure if the bun will startle or not.

When Geto cautiously reaches his hand out, his fingers brush against soft white fur, and the bun’s ears twitch a bit. 

Cute! Geto thinks. 

***

By the end of their first year, everyone now getting along very well, lizard-hybrid Shoko comes to find Gojo has SCENT-MARKED Geto, which is a big no-no between hybrids without consent. 

Shoko: “You idiot, you can’t do that!”

Gojo: “Huh? Do what?”

Shoko: “...have you smelled Geto recently?”

Gojo: “Duh. And Suguru smells the same.”

Shoko mentally facepalms. Gojo didn’t even realize he had scent-marked Geto? That’s somehow even worse. 

It seems that to Gojo, Geto smelling like him feels so right that he didn't even notice. 

***

Geto 24/7: “How are you a bunny hybrid but you hate veggies?” 💀

Gojo: “Say that again and I will bite you.”

***

Gojo turns into a bunny when he’s angy. Like when he stubbornly doesn’t want to talk to anyone and childishly runs away. 

Poof! He’s a bun and then HE FLEES. (Bun on the loose!)

Geto is usually the one to find him and bring him back. Even if Geto was the one who made Gojo angy by accidentally forgetting to meet Gojo at the new bakery he wanted to try. 

(Geto, chasing after the white blur: “Satoru STOP”

Hearing those words, the white bun speeds up impossibly faster.)

Whenever Geto finally convinces Gojo to stop running, he has to have a piece of clothing ready to carry the white bun back. Usually, that’s one of his sweatshirts, which he’ll swaddle bun Gojo in and scoop up into his arms.

Yet another sweatshirt Geto will have to wash because it has white hairs all over it now.

***

Geto gets cute aggression with Bunjo, starts squishing and pinching the cute bun. 

(Geto does that with human Gojo’s cheeks too.)

Gojo wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves pets, and Geto’s hand is sometimes the best reward. 

Bunjo will hop over to Geto and flip over onto his back - exposing his tummy. Geto doesn’t hesitate to stroke the soft fur, which smells so sweet somehow; he buries his face into Bunjo’s furry body and showers him with kisses. 

Whenever Bunjo has been running around for the day, he comes back all dusty. Cue Geto picking Bunjo up and patting the dust off like he’s a rug.

After one final shake, Geto finishes the patting session with a kiss to Bunjo’s head. 

***

Bunjo being a brat and dive-bombing Nanami during a training session. In bun form, he’s somehow hopping so high in the air and lands a kick right to Nanami’s ass. 😭

Nanami immediately yells, “GETO-SAN, COME PICK HIM UP. PLEASE. TAKE RESPONSIBILITY!”

Geto, who is busy helping Haibara train, shouts back, “Just indulge him for a bit!”

Nanami: “HAH?”

Geto: “Spar with him!”

Bunjo’s back leg thumps the ground twice as he launches himself into the air to push a paw into Nanami’s face.

Nanami: “GETO-SAN, THIS IS RIDICULOUS, WHAT DO YOU MEAN SPAR WITH HI-“ *gets kicked HARD on his face by Bunjo*

When Geto finally comes over, Nanami is on the ground holding Bunjo up by the armpits and as far away from his face as possible.

As soon as Geto takes Bunjo into his arms, the white bun melts against Geto’s body, ears twitching happily.

That’s the first day Nanami begins to lose respect for his senpais. 

After that, Nanami has war flashbacks anytime he comes across a wild rabbit that’s the same shade of white as Gojo.

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi