#which is fine! like i said i love layers!!

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

crowdsourcing project ideas: 3 skeins for knitting edition

hello! do you knit? do you like to give solicited recommendations? do YOU know what wearable to make with ~600yds of worsted malabrigo rios wool yarn?? then boy is this the post for you!!

i was gifted yarn, and i'd like to make one (1) item to fit a tall-ish adult person out of it. i briefly trawled ravelry about it, but nothing there is hugely sparking joy, so i thought i'd turn to this other corner of the internet instead!

i was thinking something poncho-y, or perhaps a shawl that could become a poncho-y thing (or i guess a wrap?? i've never made a wrap). my problem, again, is that i'm tall, and that i ONLY have these three hanks of very pretty yarn, so the 600yd limit is real. i'm not feeling ~scarf~ or ~hat~ or any combination thereof: i want one BIG wearable thing out of this.

i am willing to try patterns with lace elements to maximize my size per yardage (size more important than warmth; i love layers), but i'm absolutely not a Lace Knitter™. willing to try anything once! intermediate skill level currently (i tag things as "my knitting" so you can see what that means lol).

does anybody have favorite patterns for this sort of thing? general ideas? hit me with them, please!!

[lovers-instead]

Sapphic YA Book Rec: Good Moon Rising by Nancy Garden

1996 follow-up to Annie on My Mind, this time featuring 2 girls who compete for the lead role in their high school theater department.

Links to download:

Internet Archive (to borrow)

Anna's Archive

Singlelogin.re

LibGen

[kamiversee]

Big ruby shaded eyes, matching that of her father’s, have this adorable thin layer of gloss over them as she pleads with her parent for the millionth time.

“Daddy pwease?” She has the cutest little pout on her face, one that’s worked on her mother time and time again that’s sure to work on her father too—

“No.” Sukuna says yet again.

The child is tired of asking and receiving that same answer over and over. She doesn’t understand one bit why but she hates hearing that word. Folding her arms, she lets out an annoyed puff, “Mommy would never tell me no…”

One statement and there’s already another vein bulging in the right corner of Sukuna Ryomen’s forehead. “Go away, brat.” He breathes out in an overly irritated tone.

The child, unable to take no for an answer and more like her father than she even realizes, takes her foot and brings it down on the curse’s foot in frustration.

If he wasn’t ticked off before, he damn sure is now. “You little—“

“Sukuna,” And there it is, the voice of the sole human in this reality who could ever even dream of cutting the king of curses off mid-sentence. Not only is it you, the mother of his overly insolent child, but you have the nerve to give him that scolding tone he hates (loves).

He scowls for a long moment before looking down to the smaller human who carries more of your features than his. “Fine, child.” Sukuna drawls out after a long roll of his many eyes.

Then, with a big smile plastered all over her small face, her hands are shooting up and she’s making a grab motion with her hands.

Sukuna stares down at her and sighs, “You really are a spoiled brat, y’know…” He grumps while leaning down to pick his daughter up with one out of his two pairs of hands. “…Just like your damn mother.”

The child’s smile fades for a moment and she tilts her head, “Damn?” She repeats in a confused tone, making Sukuna’s heart spike.

“Wait-, don’t… don’t say that.” He’s been down this road one two many times—having taught the child how to say ‘fuck’ the moment she began spewing words. He received an earful from you that he didn’t care for so, here he is now, “That’s a bad word.”

His daughter blinks, “But, Daddy said it.”

Sukuna groans lowly in irritation, “Daddy can say whatever the hell he wants.”

“Hell?” Oh she had to be doing this on purpose, knowing her mother was only a room away.

“Child.” The curse scolds, “Are you trying to irritate me?”

She shrugs playfully, “This is what you get for telling me no.”

“You asked me if you could draw on my face.” He deadpans.

“And you should’ve said yes,” You suddenly chime in, entering the room, “Instead of teaching her more curse words.”

The little girl snickers in Sukuna’s arms and he swears he has an image of the child being flung across the room for just a moment. That image is interrupted by the girl speaking again.

“Like fuck?” She says loud and clear. “I heard Daddy say it again earlier today—“

A big hand goes over her mouth (practically her entire face) and she’s cut off by her father who’s innocently smiling at you, his darling wife.

“Ignore her. I was just about to let her draw on my face so,” He glances down at his daughter who’s giggling victoriously beneath his palm and then sighs, “If you’ll excuse us.”

You’re left smiling at the two as Sukuna turns away with his daughter and exits the room—the sound of them bickering as soon as they’re out of sight heard moments later.

And the next time you lay eyes on the two, Sukuna’s got a face full of stickers and marker and his little mini-me has a mocking face full of her father’s markings. To which you just had to take a million and one pictures of.

[siriuslylantsov]

gentle exfoliation

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: in which you help spencer after he gets shot.

tags: fluff, established relationship, fem!reader, casual nudity (nothing explicit is mentioned), pain meds mentioned, little hurt/comfort, spencer feels undeserving, reader takes care of him.

a/n: little fluff, i just need to take care of that boy hes so :( also dont ask me about showering with crutches, idk how people do all that just dont! think about it too hard. some ace lore, i fractured my wrist and had a cast for 2 months, i wrapped it in a plastic bag and would fold it up after for the next shower. #reusereduceandrecycle am i right? anw! happy reading, lmk what you think!!

wc: 1.1k

you trail behind spencer as he slowly makes his way up the stairs. he hops onto the next step with his good leg, using the crutches to pull the rest of him up, he's methodical and careful with his movements. the doctor said stairs would be fine, as long as he took his time, but it still felt like too much exertion in your opinion. you protested when he denied derek's help but you were met with pleading eyes, i want to do this myself, forcing you to concede. that doesn't stop you from hovering a hand over the small of his back as he climbs the next step. 

a dull click reverberates through his apartment door as you unlock it, letting spencer in first. he beelines for the bedroom, and you set both your bags down on the couch, following him. he’s perched at the edge of the bed, kicking off his shoes. his shoulders are slumped in exhaustion, dark circles around his eyes as he looks up at you. you rake a hand through his hair–you realise how long it is as it passes through your fingers. you twirl the ends before letting it fall.

“wanna take a shower?” you suggest softly.

he nods and you lead him to the adjoined bathroom with his arm over your shoulder. you lean against the door frame, itching to help him. 

he looks at you, puzzled. “are you going to watch me undress?” he asks, unbuttoning his shirt.

“yeah, it's a great view,” you shoot him a cheeky wink, making him blush. deciding to be meaner, you give him a once over, checking him out unabashedly, the hue on his cheeks growing pinker. your teasing falters a little as your eyes pass over his knee and the bandage wrapped around it, his pants now on the floor. he makes note of the flash of concern that passes over your features and gives you grace by asking for your help. to which you rush to the kitchen for some cling film and return to him.

kneeling, you wrap the area in plastic, over the gauze, you don't care, making sure to accumulate enough layers so water doesn't seep through. it's a subpar job, but you spring up proud anyways. “so the wound doesn't get wet,” you explain, head tilted up.

he gives you a goofy smile, amused, but covered in so incredibly in love with you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you tip your head back, returning the smile. even slouched and leaning, he's so tall. 

when he steps into the shower, you step in with him, work clothes still on but at least you've shed your jacket. how is he supposed to shower with one hand, you reason, his other hand holding onto the crutch. he doesn't stop you though, he doesn't stop when you turn on the water, he doesn't stop you when he suddenly feels self-conscious that he's fully naked and you're not, he doesn't stop you when you start to run the water over his skin and slowly lather the soap on his shoulders. rather, he pouts.

“what's wrong?” you immediately ask, alarmed by the look on his face.

“you're getting your clothes wet,” his words are morose, like it's the worst thing in the world. 

“baby,” you coo, bringing a soapy hand up to his face, caressing it softly. he leans into your touch. “i don't care that my clothes are wet, i'm taking them off after this anyway. i just want to take care of you. please let me.”

god, he doesn’t deserve you, and he thinks that as he looks at you, eyes tracing over your features, features that will him to surrender. he doesn’t want to be a burden. he knows you’ll take the week off, stay with him, and make sure he’s well cared for. yet you won’t push him—won’t smother him. you’ll give him space unless he asks for more. like you’re doing now, helping him because he asked for it. and still, he feels like shit. you're too sweet to him. even as you're standing there, drenched, cleary not upset by the ordeal, he still believes he doesn’t deserve this.

you watch as this inner turmoil makes its way through him, his thought process so loud you can hear him. you wipe a tear away from his face that he didn’t realise spilled, he was crying. “do you want me to leave?” you ask, extremely patient, giving him the room to say yes if he wants. he shakes his head, no. “okay, i'll stay,” you press a chaste kiss to his lips and continue washing him.

the tap squeaks as you turn the water off, moving aside so he can walk out. you strip out of your clothes leaving you in your bra and underwear, damp but better than dripping water all over the floors. you hold his crutches as he puts a bathrobe on, its purple with yellow stars on it. you follow him out of the bathroom but go back after retrieving your pyjamas and a towel. 

“i'll be two seconds,” you mumble and faintly hear him hum in acknowledgement. you quickly have a shower and change into some clean dry clothes. it's a relief, admittedly. you'd been in the same rotation of outfits, having stayed in the hospital for a few days, with an insufficient supply of clothes in your go bag. but you didn't care much, wanting to stay beside spencer. 

when you walk out, towel wiping your face, you see him sitting on the bed. fully clothed. you smile at him, feeling brighter. “oh, you changed,” you observe, you were ready to dress him. 

“mhm, folded the cling wrap for tomorrow,” he responds, and it's sweet how he thought to save it. you walk to the living room, rooting around in your bags and return with his pain meds, tylenol to his request, it being fairly mellow. you hand him a cup of water and a pill. 

“we’ll wash your hair tomorrow, okay?” he nods, looking at you over the rim of his glass. he downs the rest of the water and sets it down on his bedside table.

turning off the lights, you make your way to your side of the bed, slipping under the covers. he does the same, scooting closer to you. he's on his back since he doesn’t know which position feels comfortable yet, so you curl into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. your eyes follow the steady rise and fall of his chest. you hear him inhale, as if preparing to say something, you wait. 

“thank you,” he breaks the silence with a quiet whisper, hand wrapped around your back giving you a gentle squeeze.

you reach up and kiss his cheek, “it's nothing, i’d do anything for you.”

m.list

[silvercloverr5]

James Potter is easily the biggest of the three. He’s just so muscular and strong, but in a soft way. He’s got a soft layer of fat protecting his muscles, and I imagine he’s very freckled too. Not sure why. He is the epitome of a golden retriever boyfriend. He likes being the big spoon, and has an INCREDIBLE weak spot for getting his hair played with. Like, it’s literally orgasmic to him. He grew up with everything. Love, money, etc, etc, so he’s probably the touchiest (at first), and is all over you from the start. Also, I think he often forgets his strength and squeezes u too hard and you’ve gotta be like “uh.. Jamie..? You’re.. you’re kinda squeezing-“ and he just puts an arm over ur mouth like “shut up, baby. Sorry. Love you.” He’s adorable.

Remus Lupin is just a normal sized boy, and runs hot like a radiator. Honestly. He doesn’t even need all those knitted sweaters and warm coffee because he just is the embodiment of autumn warmth. He’s littered with silver scars from his lycanthropy, so when u see him naked for the first time, he’s so self conscious. He’d have his arms wrapped around himself, shielding his scars from your view, and you’ve got to prize his hands off of himself. “I’m sorry.. i know they’re not.. appealing.. it’s…” and you’re just like “woah, rem, what? You’re fucking beautiful.” You say that, and he’s yours. He’s not used to love like James is, but he’s probably the one to start getting cuddly. I imagine it’s winter and he’s reading in the common room, and ur shivering because by some miracle the fire isn’t on. He looks up from his book, admiring you for a while and then lifts up his sweater. You SHOOT underneath it and basically curl up like a cat against his bare chest. I repeat: HE IS SO FUCKING WARM. You’d probably have an ‘eternal sunshine of the spotless mind’ moment with him at the start of your relationship though. You know when Clementine is saying she always thought she was ugly and Joel starts kissing her and saying “you’re pretty, you’re pretty, you’re pretty…” yeah, you’d be Joel and he’d be Clementine. But once he’s comfortable, he’s a fucking fiend. You’ll never be cold again, trust me.

Sirius Black is skinny and pale. Like a vampire. Endearingly. I imagine he has a nose piercing and an eyebrow piercing, and he’s all tattooed up. Will DEFINITELY get your initial on his abdomen or collarbone in swirly penmanship. Sirius will act like your best friend even when u two are dating. Bless him though, he’s so used to being hurt and abused by those that are meant to protect him that he can’t trust you at first. I think the first time he came to realise you were different is when you asked him what happened after winter break at his parent’s house, because he was being really quiet and flinching a lot which is unlike him. You cornered him in the common room when no one else was there, and asked him “hey, Siri? What’s going on, man? Tell me.” He insisted, “I’m fine. I swear, sweetheart.” You went to tuck his black curls behind his ear but he flinched, which shattered your heart. You said “Sirius, please. I need to know you’re okay, because I need you safe.” And hearing that, he broke down into your arms. From then on, he’s always in your arms. He adores comforting you, because he’s a big brother himself and so he has the instinct, you know? But man, does he fucking adore being in your arms. He WILL curl up beside you wherever you’re sitting or lying, and is always rubbing against you. He always says “I can’t help it, babe, it’s just the dog in me.” Which he seems to find HILARIOUS. Oh yeah, and he literally can’t sleep unless you’re the big spoon or his head is on your chest or in your neck. He likes to feel safe and protected for once, and you do that for him to no end. He’s THE 70s rocker stereotype, and he loves having matching nail polish with you. You’re best friends as well as lovers.

Sorry for yapping to no end guys!!!

[koolades-world]

Demons and Humans not understanding each other

Inspired by several other posts I read about this same thing <3 honestly even if the brothers insisted it was safe, I would consult Satan, Lucifer or Barbatos

this is mostly mammon freaking out

Humans think the deadliest things are like, adorable, like Cerberus. Mammon especially does not understand why Mc wants to run towards the very dangerous, very mad three headed dog. A few times he has had to throw Mc over his shoulder to keep them from staying behind

“MC CERBERUS BEING THE BEST BOY DOES NOT JUSTIFY HIS ACTIONS HE WANTS TO KILL US”

“But he’s so cute! He just needs a snuggle buddy”

Humans can also be very stubborn if they’re too hot or cold but refuse to admit it. It’s fine with Lucifer does it because he’s one of the most powerful and therefore resilient demons in Hell, but not so much when Mc does it. Beel and Mammon love playing in the Devildom snow, but given that it’s the Devildom, it’s definitely a lot colder than it is in the human realm. Even after ten layers, Mc is still freezing but refuses to admit it.

“Mc, are ya shivering? I thought ya would be too warm under all that”

“I’m sweating with this one jacket”

“I’ll live! Let’s go back to the snowman”

“no I don’t think you will”

On the same note, sometimes demons forget humans can’t withstand crazy temperatures. Asmo will invite Mc to a popular bathhouse, sauna or hot springs, forgetting that the temperature would literally boil Mc alive

“Hey Asmo this is the place you wanted to go, right?”

“Yes! Isn’t is cute?”

“Everything except the part where I boil alive”

“what!”

Some foods can kill humans just by being near them so imagine how the brother would feel when they learned this, it’s giving that lunatic pudding incident with Diavolo from that one card

“Mc! You’ll love this. Open wide!”

“Asmo I feel funny”

“DO NOT FEED MC THE TAKEOUT LUCIFER SAID ITS DEADLY FOR HUMANS IN LARGE AMOUNTS”

“FUCK NOT AGAIN”

In retrospect, humans probably sleep a lot compared to demons. Some demons probably don’t sleep at all, except Sloth demons. Setting aside about eight to nine hours of the day just to sit idly might not make sense to them until they learn they will shut down without it

“How are you feeling about the exam we just took? Exam week is finally over.”

“Mc? Mc, Satan is talking to you. Why are you on the floor”

“MY HUMAN IS DEAD”

“No, I think they’re just asleep idiot”

“oh. wait, THEYRE ASLEEP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALL lucifer is gonna kill me”

I’d say both demons and humans are social creatures, but humans will go insane without social interaction. Yeah a demon would probably be upset if they didn’t talk to someone for thousands of years but I don’t think a human could last more than ten without losing grip on reality. Humans tend to copy each other, which is probably bizarre to demons. Humans don’t even understand yawning so demons definitely won’t

Going back to the food thing, demons can probably go ages without eating, besides Gluttony demons. Humans need to eat so frequently compared to them

“So you’re tellin’ me that if Mc doesn’t eat for a whole week, their insides start to eat themselves?!”

“Yes. But, Mc ate a few hours ago.”

(Mammon was already gone when Satan turned back around)

Demons probably also play game that would definitely kill humans. My brother and I used to play crazy games when we were little (our favorite game didn’t have a name but we would put Barbies in the toy train tracks and see what would happen when different Thomas and friends character would hit her. The train tracks would glow in the dark! I did not let him put my favorite doll in the train track and he had to listen since I was the older one, she was not a barbie and had bendy feet? that’s not for now) but we never seriously got at each other throats. I cannot imagine what games demons and demon children must play. Satan was born fully grown but imagine if he was born little and the brothers had to play his favorite games with him. I feel like they would find the Barbie game I played a little weird too. Like, they would probably tell me that I should’ve done it in real life since that would be better experience or something batshit like that

“Aww, Satan, do you remember all the times we played “Five minute eye stab” with Lucifer? You were so cute. Sometimes I think Luci let you win.”

“Do not talk to me Asmodeus.”

“I’m sorry, you played what?”

“One time we gave him an actual knife by accident and since he was good, he ended up stabbing Lucifer’s eye.”

“You’ll be next if you don’t shut up and let me read”

“HE WHAT”

“Oh he’s fine now, clearly. Only took him a few hundred years to regain normal eye functions”

“Can we not talk about this anymore?”

Babe it is a miracle Mc is still alive

[harryspet]

homestead [3] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rafe cameron x pregnant!reader, farmer!rafe, pogue!reader, implied jj x reader, kidnapping, DUBCON, little editing,READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Hello guys, I know a lot of you asked to be tagged but I am only tagging those who reblog AND give me your thoughts on the story. Please refrain from asking to be tagged especially if you are not interacting with the story in any other way. Enjoy!

word count: 3.0k

In which you start to adapt to your role in the life Rafe's chosen for you.

homestead masterlist

During one of the three bathroom trips you made during the night, you realized your bedroom door wasn’t locked. You slipped on fluffy slippers that you’d found in your closet and slipped out of the bedroom before you could overthink your decision. Admittedly, after Rafe showed you the rest of the house, spending so much time in your room felt wrong. You thought you’d feel stronger, faster, but every thought of him gave you flashbacks to his hands pinning your arms above your head and gripping your thighs so hard that they bruised. The threat of that happening again loomed over you, and Rafe seemed to know that and used it to his advantage. 

You hadn’t known the time either, but the hallway was dark, and no light streamed in through the windows, telling you that it wasn’t yet daybreak. You moved slowly down the stairs, doing your best to reduce the creaking. You weren’t quite sure what your goal was. Escape, obviously, but it couldn’t be this easy. 

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you were met with a silent house, except for the slight hum of the refrigerator. The front door was perfectly in view, and you quickly approached it. It was locked, but you had expected that. You noticed a small blinking red light near the front door as you looked around for something to break a window or unlock the door. The camera was pointed right at the front door. Who knows what type of alarm would sound if you even opened it. 

As you fully turned around, your eyes landed on a shadow looming at the bottom of the stairs. He crossed the walkway to the farther wall, flipping on a light switch, “What are you doing?” He asked as you rubbed your eyes, feeling blinded by bright lights. 

“Getting some water,” You lied, not making much of an attempt to look less suspicious, “Couldn’t find the kitchen.”

You should’ve known he’d have more layers of protection. After all, you were the newest addition to the livestock he was keeping. You noted his jeans, workboots, and t-shirt, realizing that he was up to start his chores. 

“Couldn’t find the kitchen?” He repeated back, his arms crossed over his chest, his face telling you he was close to lecturing you like a child. 

“I got turned around in the dark,” You added, “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s get you some water then,” He said, much to your surprise. You stepped towards him, and his hands found the small of your back again, and you instantly felt his hands everywhere. For you, he retrieved a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the refrigerator water dispenser, “Good morning, Honey.”

The clock above the stove told you it was almost five in the morning. 

You reached for the glass, but he held it out of your reach. “Good morning,” you replied back obediently. He withheld it still, leaning down to press his lips to yours. Just like on the nursery floor, you froze, but you didn’t pull away. 

When he finally let you have the glass, you tried your best not to shake. He was still watching you intently, even as you sipped at it. 

“How’s the little one feeling?”

The way he spoke was so warm and part of you wanted to accept it, to accept the care and love and warmth he so obviously wanted you to feel too. You could choose to be happier and let your baby feel that happiness too.

“Good,” you answered, “He’s fine.”

He wanted you to say more but you stared back, maintaining your calm. If you stayed calm, it was easier for him to perceive your obedience. 

“Good,” he echoed. 

You’d decided then that you wouldn’t hole up in your room if you could help it. You knew less and less about his daily schedule within the confines of your room, and you needed to learn exactly when he left, when he returned, and how long he was gone each time.

“You should get some more sleep,” You were practically pinned against the counter. Rafe reached out to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ears, letting his thumb trace against your jaw, “When I come back, we can talk about how you can start helping out around the house. That should keep you busy. Less wandering that way.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

When he finally let you go, you headed back upstairs to your room. Neither of you acknowledged the unlocked door. You didn’t want to give him a reason to change his mind, believing he was trying to quietly show you that he had loosened his grip. 

You woke again to a quiet house a few hours later. Your morning routine was beginning to consist of making the bed, taking a bath, and taking your vitamins. You found it strange when you got your own room at Pope’s house but now you found it even stranger to have your own room and not have to prepare to go to work. 

After your bath, you started spending more time just looking in the mirror, admiring your bump and how the bags under your eyes were already starting to look less drastic. You hadn’t realized you’d been depriving yourself of sleep. You rubbed stretch mark cream gently over your stomach, and you actually had the time to talk to your baby. 

Instead of your usual silk pajamas, you picked out a flowing white skirt and a blue button-up. The material felt light and breathable, which you usually required to withstand the summer heat in your current condition. 

From your closet, you pulled out the wicker basket you’d been piling your dirty laundry into. It felt wrong to open your door again, but it was a reminder that you’d been rewarded for your decisions so far. You carried your laundry downstairs, finding Rafe leaning against the kitchen island, enjoying an apple. His eyes lit up at the sight of you despite just having seen you hours ago. 

He looked dirty from the day already. His hat was turned backward to keep his long hair from his face, and sweat was on his brow. 

“You look pretty,” He said, his voice softer than you expected given his appearance. Instinctively, you wanted to roll your eyes but instead your lips pressed into a thin line. Of course he thought you looked pretty. Undoubtedly, he hand picked all the clothing in your closet. 

“Thanks,” You said, gesturing to the basket in your hand, “... I’m gonna start a load.”

He nodded his head to give you permission and you turned towards the laundry room. It was situated on a small hallway that contained the doors to the guest bathroom and a room he hadn’t shown you yet. The room was relatively small but there were tall white cabinets above each washer that seemed to provide a lot of storage. The washer and dryer themselves were updated and you assumed they’d be easy to use. You realized quickly that there was another laundry basket in the room, this one filled to the brim with what you assumed was Rafe’s work clothes. After finding the detergent, you started loading your dirty clothes into the laundry, deciding washing them with Rafe’s muddy ones would ruin the quality of yours. 

Later, you thought. You wouldn’t mind doing a load for him later. What else was there to do around here?

When you returned back to the kitchen, Rafe asked, “You think you can handle making dinner tonight? Gonna go back out later and it would be good to have a meal waiting.”

Your mouth parted. The idea of making dinner made you more nervous than upset at the fact that he was already filing you into your role as his housewife, “Um,” You started, standing on the opposite side of the island, “What would I make?”

“Anything you want, really. There’s cookbooks by the window seal if you need ideas,” He crossed his arms over his chest as he thought out loud, “Fridge and pantry are stocked. We’ve got about a million eggs and I just had one of the cows butchered so there’s plenty of beef.”

“I can try,” You said unsure.

“Good, and I know it’ll be great,” He smiled as he rounded the island, “Make yourself something filling for breakfast and then come up to my office after, okay? The door across from the nursery.” His hands brushed against your waist as he walked past. 

All you did was nod, your mind already calculating what you might possibly be able to throw together. You didn’t have much experience cooking, whatever foster family you were with when you were growing up could usually only feed you frozen stuff and ramen. With JJ, you lived the same and with Pope, his Mom usually did most of the cooking. 

Rafe seemed to have more confidence in your abilities than you expected. Or maybe he thought it was such an easy task that not even you could mess it up. 

+

You made yourself a bagel with cream cheese and after you finished it, you still felt like you were starving. You’d noticed that you’d started wanting to snack more often but you’d never had this much food available to actually do so. Rafe wasn’t nearly exaggerating enough when he said the kitchen was stocked. Knowing Rafe was expecting you, you grabbed a handful of blueberries and practically scarfed them down on your way up the stairs. 

You glanced at the nursery for only a moment before you turned toward’s Rafe’s office. “Come in,” You heard immediately after knocking, You expected some sort of dungeon but the room was painted a light color similar to the rest of the house. His desk was large but pressed against the furthest window. Shelves decorated each side of the walls and the only other seating was a smal, comfy brown couch, “C’mere, Honey.” 

He waved you closer and you walked until you were standing in front of his chair. On his laptop, you saw a screensaver of him and Wheezie out on the water in Kildare. You wondered if he’d told his little sister about you or if he was even planning on bringing his family around.

“Do you have everything you need for your room to feel comfortable?”  

You nodded and he grabbed ahold of your hand, “Have you thought about anything you want to add to the nursery?”

The nursery was a room you’d like to not think about for awhile, “No,” You said, “It’s a little early to have everything ready, don’t you think?”

“It's not too early, Y/N. You have to like, you know, nest.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Nest? Like a bird?”

“It means to get your environment ready for the baby. It’s like some natural, primal instinct Mom’s have. Some shit like that.”

“Huh,” You still gave him a questioning look, “Still getting used to this environment. Probably will be for awhile.”

Rafe smirked despite the fact that you were poking at him, “You seem pretty comfortable already,” He added, looking you over, “Speaking of getting used  to the environment. I wanted to go over my expectations.”

“Your expectations,” You mimicked. 

“I’m expecting dinner tonight but, in general, I want you to get in the habit of preparing at least two meals a day. I’ll let you sleep in most mornings because I have to be up so early but lunch and dinner should be prepared.” 

“Rafe, I—“

He interrupted you, grabbing your waist to pull you into his lap. You yelped in response but he continued on, “Keeping everything clean, vacuuming, mopping, doing the laundry, changing the beds, is also expected. I’m sure you can figure out how to do all those things.” 

“Rafe—“

“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting you do all of that when it gets close to your due date but I think those chores are reasonable.”

“Is that what you expect of me forever? To stay inside and clean and cook?”

“Only for now. I’ll show you how to do some of the outside chores sometime soon.”

“…that farmers market you were talking about. Will you ever take me there?” 

“What happens is really not up to me,” He pressed you closer to him, his hands started to trace the skin of your thighs, “Depends on how you react to things.” 

It was a clear message despite the fact that you didn’t want to hear it. “I think I can do more than be stay at home mom.” 

“I know you can do more, Honey. You have been doing so much more than one person should do,” Despite the fact that he was taking away everything you knew that you were, he managed to compliment you at the same time, “I can already see you’re gonna be a great Mom. Don’t you want time to just focus on being one? Yeah you’ll be home a lot but that’s so much time you can spend with the baby.” 

Not everyone gets to do that. It was a privilege. You were starting to feel ungrateful for not thinking that way. 

He continued, “Think about it. You can teach him everything, he’ll be so smart, and he’ll feel so loved because you’ll be right there to tell him — every morning, everyday, every night.” 

You turned your face from him, your eyes staring to well with tears, “Of course I want that.” 

“I want you to have that. You just have to be mine first, okay?” 

You brought your hand to your face, wiping tears before they fell, but wanted to roll your eyes, “I should get started on all those chores.”

You tried to stand, to push away from him, but he gripped your waist tighter. He placed his hand around the side of your neck, turning your head face towards him. “Don’t do that,” he was almost pleading with you. “I know you need more time … I just . . . I can’t help but get ahead of myself.”

“You’re right,” You gritted, “I need more time.”

“But the way your body responds to me,” He pushed you closer until your foreheads touched. With his other hand, he gripped your thigh tightly, and his hand started to move closer and closer between your legs, “Makes me feel like the good ol' times.”

His voice vibrated through your body, and you cursed how he could simultaneously make you feel so much. You needed the closeness desperately, but this was all wrong. You should be this close with JJ, but now you are even further from him. It made your heart ache, but Rafe’s hands and compliments made it a bit less. 

“Be gentle,” You warned. 

“I can be gentle,” He smiled against your lips before he pressed his into yours. You hesitated to move them in response, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just wanted you closer. He kissed you until you were practically out of breath, “I can be good.”

“Rafe,” You whispered, trying to find your voice.

“Relax, Honey,” He hushed you, lifting you until you fully faced him, straddling his lap. As his hands moved up your skirt, you closed your eyes, trying to control your racing thoughts. Soon, his fingers were pulling aside your underwear, “You like it, baby. You wouldn’t feel this wet if you didn’t like it. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell on you.”

His fingers were slow and careful, and soon you were letting out a breath and letting go of the tension in your body. You could focus for a brief moment. Forget that Pope and JJ probably thought you were dead. 

“Let me take care of you,” As you leaned forward, Rafe spoke in your hear. Your lips were tight, not letting a moan escape your lips but your body was shuddering, “That’s it, you’re doing so well.”

Your vow of silence didn’t last long when the waves of pleasure finally crashed over you. You moved your hips against him as he held you close, and he guided you through your orgasm. Of course, after the glow subsided, you regretted it, “The last time we did that, you were in the back of my truck,” Rafe said, and you could practically hear his smirk. He didn’t fight you when you climbed off his lap, fixing your underwear and skirt, “I believe you were wearing a skirt too then, your waitress uniform … You look even more beautiful now, though.”

That was hard to believe. 

He watched you with a smug smile, clearly pleased with himself. The flash of the memory made you feel like some part of you really hadn’t grown up, even after all this time. 

“I need to get started,” You said, your voice starting to shake. 

Without hearing another word, you quickly exited the office, your mind a whirlwind again. 

You spent the rest of the day immersed in household chores. You did yours and Rafe’s laundry, vacuumed the living room, and dusted wherever possible. The repetitive tasks gave you a sense of calm, a momentary escape from the emotions. You moved so you didn’t have to think, and the day seemed to pass faster that way. 

Using one of the cookbooks Rafe mentioned, you chose a recipe and made beef stew with roasted vegetables and a fresh salad. It was your first time making food that didn’t come inside a box with instructions on the side. It was more meticulous than you anticipated, and you found yourself trying the finished stew over and over, adding salt, pepper, and other seasonings as you saw fit. 

The aroma filled the kitchen, proving you a small sense of pride.

Rafe had gone back outside to work, but when he returned, he was slightly out of breath and carrying a rifle. The sight of it made your heart stop.

“What happened?” You moved closer, your voice laced with concern.

You watched as he tucked the gun into a compartment built into the wall near the door and he kicked off muddy boots, “One of our cows had a stillborn,” As he walked further into the house, walking further into the house, “Damn buzzards wouldn’t stop bothering it, and the mom was getting upset. Had to shoot off a warning shot to get them to go away. Had to bury it for her."

“Oh,” Was all you got out. The idea made you feel sick. You couldn’t help but get an ominous feeling. You rubbed your hand over your stomach protectively.

His demeanor shifted as he caught sight of you, his expression going from annoyed to excited, “Something smells good,” Rafe smiled; his mind had obviously moved on already. 

“Yeah,” Luckily, you felt your baby move inside of you, a small reassurance, “Dinner’s ready.” 

A/N: Hello guys, I know a lot of you asked to be tagged but I am only tagging those who reblog AND give me your thoughts on the story. Please refrain from asking to be tagged especially if you are not interacting with the story in any other way. Hope you enjoyed!

[novaursa]

Web of Gold (honeymoon)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Paring: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: royal wedding

- Next part: addendum

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @purple-1995 @thisbiann @whiteoakoak

The tour of the realm—the grand honeymoon Aegon had so eagerly promised—was supposed to be a diplomatic gesture, a way for you and your new husband to visit various lords and strengthen alliances. In reality, however, it was quickly becoming one of the most entertaining—and slightly absurd—experiences you had ever endured.

From the moment you and Aegon set out from King’s Landing, it was clear that Aegon had no intention of treating this tour with the gravitas expected of a king and queen. He was far more interested in the celebration aspect of things. Every castle you visited, every hall you entered, Aegon treated as if it were a grand feast thrown in his honor, no matter what the occasion.

It started in the Reach, where you were welcomed with open arms at Highgarden by Lord Tyrell, who was clearly under the impression that this would be a formal visit of state. But Aegon, with a goblet of wine already in hand before your first meeting even began, made it quite clear that he had different priorities.

“My lord,” Aegon said with a broad grin, clapping the startled Tyrell lord on the back, “I’ve heard your harvests are the finest in the realm, and your wines even finer. Let’s see if your reputation lives up to the tales!”

You had to stifle a laugh as the poor lord blinked, clearly taken aback, but before he could respond, Aegon had already started ordering another round of drinks for the both of you, as if this were a tavern and not the stately halls of Highgarden. Needless to say, the formal diplomacy soon devolved into an impromptu drinking competition between Aegon and Lord Tyrell, which ended, unsurprisingly, with Aegon declaring himself the victor—though the Tyrell lord was too tipsy to argue by the time it was over.

You leaned over to Aegon at one point, watching him slosh another goblet of wine in his hand as he grinned widely. “Aegon, darling,” you said with mock seriousness, “I do believe we were supposed to discuss matters of state, not… sample the entire vintage of the Reach.”

Aegon chuckled, leaning in to press a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Oh, Y/N, don’t be so serious. I’m the king; I can do both.” He winked at you, though his aim was slightly off, thanks to the wine. “Besides, isn’t this more fun?”

It was hard to argue with him when you were laughing as much as he was. And while you certainly hadn’t expected the tour to take this direction, you had to admit—it was far more entertaining than sitting through endless, dull meetings.

After Highgarden, you traveled to the Riverlands, where Lord Tully welcomed you with a lavish banquet. It was supposed to be a more subdued affair, given the Riverlands' recent struggles with uprisings, but Aegon once again found a way to turn the evening into something far less formal. By the time the main course had been served, Aegon had somehow convinced the entire Tully family to join him in an impromptu archery competition in the courtyard, all of them still in their fine dinner attire.

“Come now, Y/N,” Aegon called to you from across the courtyard, bow in hand. “Join me! Let’s show them how it’s done.”

You raised an eyebrow, standing at the edge of the gathering with a goblet of wine in hand. “Are you suggesting I try to shoot a bow in this gown?” you asked, glancing down at the intricate layers of silk and embroidery. “I’m sure the Tullys would love that.”

Aegon grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “If anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

Rolling your eyes but unable to resist, you made your way over to him, accepting the bow he handed you with a flourish. The lords and ladies gathered around watched with varying degrees of amusement, clearly not expecting much from the queen. But with a wink at Aegon, you drew the bowstring and released the arrow, which sailed through the air and landed with a satisfying thunk—right in the center of the target.

The crowd erupted into applause, and Aegon let out a loud cheer, clearly more impressed than anyone else. “That’s my queen!” he declared, throwing an arm around you and pulling you close, much to the delight of the watching lords and ladies.

By the time you reached the Stormlands, word had spread about the rather unconventional nature of your tour, and Lord Baratheon greeted you both with a knowing smirk. “I hear you’ve been making quite the impression across the realm,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Aegon grinned, clearly proud of himself. “Ah, well, I find it’s better to… engage with the people, you know? Keep things lively.”

You smiled sweetly at Lord Baratheon, though you could see the glint of amusement in his eyes as well. “It’s true,” you added. “Aegon certainly knows how to keep things interesting.”

And so it went. Every castle, every lord, every gathering became less about politics and more about the sheer fun of it all. Aegon, for all his recklessness, had a way of turning every situation into a celebration, and while it certainly wasn’t what you had anticipated for your honeymoon, you couldn’t help but enjoy it.

As you sat beside Aegon one evening, the two of you watching the sunset over the Stormlands after yet another lively feast, he leaned over, resting his head on your shoulder with a contented sigh.

“Well,” he said, his voice softer now, the effects of the wine finally wearing off, “I hope this has been everything you wanted, Y/N.”

You chuckled, wrapping an arm around him and resting your head against his. “It’s been more than I expected, that’s for sure,” you replied with a grin. “But I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

Aegon lifted his head, gazing at you with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Good. Because the fun’s not over yet.” He winked, leaning in to kiss you. “We still have the Westerlands to visit, and I have a feeling your Lannisters kin will be just as easy to outdrink as the Reach.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “We’ll see about that, Aegon. We’ll see.”

Back at the Red Keep, while you and Aegon were off turning the realm into your personal festival circuit, Dowager Queen Alicent paced the halls with mounting frustration. The soft clack of her shoes against the stone floors echoed through the corridors as she moved from one chamber to another, her face set in a deep scowl.

Every day seemed to bring a new report of Aegon’s increasingly ridiculous antics on this “honeymoon tour.” The letters from various lords were enough to make her blood boil—lavish parties, archery contests in formal wear, impromptu wine tastings. This was how her son was representing the crown? By gallivanting around Westeros like a drunken fool with you at his side, fanning the flames of his excess?

Alicent couldn’t help but bristle at the thought of you—you with your golden hair and saccharine smile, always indulging Aegon’s whims, always filling his goblet and laughing at his every joke. And now you were doing it across the entire realm, parading around like the perfect, doting queen. It was infuriating.

Sitting in her solar, Alicent could feel her hands clenching around the arms of her chair. "Aegon needs to act like a king," she muttered under her breath. "Not… not like some… minstrel.”

Across the room, Otto Hightower, her father and Hand of the King, sat at the table, perusing a stack of letters. His face, however, did not mirror Alicent’s irritation. Instead, Otto looked entirely satisfied, his lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile as he read through the reports.

“This alliance with the Lannisters,” he said, his tone calm, “is proving to be a stronger one than we could have hoped for. The lords of the realm are very pleased with the union. Aegon and Y/N have created quite the spectacle, and while I’m sure some of it is less… traditional than we might have expected, the results speak for themselves.”

Alicent shot him a sharp look, her eyes narrowing. “You mean to tell me you approve of Aegon turning the tour into a debauchery?”

Otto didn’t look up from the letters, but his smirk widened slightly. “What I approve of, my dear daughter, is that the Lannisters are firmly in our grasp. Jason and Tyland are content with the match, and the realm views Aegon’s marriage as a symbol of unity. The bannermen may raise an eyebrow at Aegon’s behavior, but they cannot argue with the strength of this alliance.”

Alicent huffed, clearly unsatisfied with that reasoning. “And what happens when Aegon’s behavior becomes… more than a mild embarrassment? What then?”

Otto finally looked up, his gaze cool and calculating. “Aegon may be reckless, but he’s still king. And Y/N, for all her indulgence, has proven to be a stabilizing force. She understands what needs to be done, and if she can keep Aegon’s temper in check, then this marriage will be more beneficial than any of us anticipated.”

Alicent pursed her lips, her fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. She hated to admit it, but Otto had a point. You did seem to have a way with Aegon—keeping him entertained, keeping him happy. Still, it grated on her that her son was more easily controlled by you than by her. After everything she had done for him, after all the sacrifices she had made, it was you he turned to now.

But while Otto’s satisfaction was clear, there was another member of the family whose mood seemed far more difficult to decipher. Aemond, who usually maintained his composure with cold, unshakable resolve, had been unusually brooding since your departure with Aegon. He spent hours in the training yard, his sword slashing through the air with a fierceness that bordered on frustration, but he rarely spoke of what was bothering him.

Alicent watched him from her place by the window, her brow furrowing. Aemond had never been particularly fond of Aegon’s antics, but this was different. There was a weight to his silence, a tension in the way he moved. She had tried to ask him about it before, but Aemond had simply brushed her off with his usual vague remarks about duty and honor.

Now, as she watched him pace the yard below, his expression dark and unreadable, Alicent felt her frustration grow. She had come to rely on Aemond’s steadiness, his ability to maintain order where Aegon could not, but something had shifted. He was distracted, preoccupied with something she couldn’t quite place.

When she finally approached him later that day, Aemond was standing by the fire in his chambers, his arms crossed over his chest, staring into the flames as though they held the answers to some unspoken question.

“Aemond,” Alicent said softly, stepping into the room. “You’ve been… distant, lately.”

He didn’t turn to face her, but his voice was low and controlled. “I have my reasons, Mother.”

Alicent crossed the room, her brow furrowed. “Is it Aegon’s marriage?” she asked, though the question felt incomplete even as she said it. “Do you… disapprove of Y/N?”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, the silence in the room was thick enough to cut. Finally, he spoke, his voice cold but with an edge that Alicent hadn’t expected. “Y/N is more than capable of handling Aegon. She does what is necessary to keep him in line.”

The words were calm, but there was something beneath them—something Alicent couldn’t quite decipher. She narrowed her eyes, trying to understand. “Then why are you—”

“It’s nothing,” Aemond cut her off sharply, his gaze still fixed on the fire. “Aegon’s behavior will catch up to him eventually. Until then, there is nothing to be done.”

But Alicent wasn’t convinced. She had seen the way Aemond’s eye lingered on you at the wedding feast, the tension in his shoulders whenever your name was mentioned. There was more to this than he was willing to admit.

She stepped closer, her voice softening. “Aemond, if there is something troubling you, you must tell me.”

For the briefest moment, Aemond’s expression faltered, his eye flicking toward her before he looked away again. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter this time, though the edge was still there. “It’s nothing you can fix, Mother.”

And with that, he turned, leaving Alicent standing in the room alone, more confused than ever.

[melancholyhigh]

ARTWORK

ft. leon x artist!reader

synopsis. you're an artist, and leon's your muse.

content. 1.5k words. fluff, smut. nude painting, leon's pov, needy leon, praise kink, masturbation, handjob.

note. this was j supposed to be fluff but i got ahead of myself.

masterlist. i love your guy's feedback :3

“Paint me like one of your French girls.”

You laugh at Leon’s statement. He’s perched on the small, green couch in your home art studio, wearing nothing but his pink, fluffy robe as you prepare your oil paints. 

“You’re my first French girl, Leon.”

–-

You had suggested painting him nude while you were both in bed, lazing around. You’re in each other’s hold, Leon’s arms around your waist and face on your chest when he asks about any new projects you had in mind. 

He loves hearing about what art piece you were doing or planned to do. It was how you expressed yourself, whether there was a deeper meaning or none at all. He found it beautiful. Every work you do it had a bit of your personality in it. He could tell your work from thousands by the intricate details they carry. 

When you told Leon you wanted to paint him, he wasn’t too surprised. You mentioned he was your favourite thing to draw or think of when you had art block. The admission had left him sputtering, his face red as he tried to get his words out.

On the third date, you showed him your sketchbook, pages littered with drawings and portraits of him. Some were quick sketches, while other’s looked like you took time to get every detail of him. 

You’re always on my mind, Leon. You had confessed. Was it a little creepy? At that moment, flipping through the drawings of him, the attention to detail they held, he’d say it was romantic.

People have always said he was pretty as a picture, yet you’re the only one that makes his heart beat faster and his tummy fill with butterflies when you say he’s the type of gorgeous you’d find in a painting. 

“A nude painting,” you specify. It was as if you told Leon he was the object of your affection for the first time again. His head buries into your chest, trying to hide his flushed face. You smile at his sudden bashfulness. 

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, baby.” You run your fingers through his soft hair. “I want to try something new, but it’s okay. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“‘S fine, angel. But can’t you use a picture?”

“Where’s the fun in that, pretty boy.”

He groans, muffled by your shirt, and you giggle. 

He loves to please you — in more ways than one — and nothing compares to the smile that graces your face, so he agrees. It’s not like Leon’s uncomfortable with you looking at him bare and vulnerable. There were other problems he was worried would interrupt your craftwork. 

–-

Leon leans back into the couch, doing just as you instructed. His bare back hits the soft cushioning, and it’s surprisingly comfortable. 

His robe is off, on the floor next to your easel. He rests his chin on his hand, supported on the arm of the couch.

He’s nervous. You said it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but this almost feels more intimate than being intertwined with you in bed.

Maybe it’s the gaze you hold when you’re analysing him, grasping the compositions and layering basic shapes onto the canvas. 

He can’t help but think of when you told him he’s your favourite canvas to mark up. Sucking the reddish marks into his skin which turn the prettiest shade of purple, as you like to put it. Or when you said the colour on his cheek was your favourite shade of pink.

You always did like to rile him up, muttering the filthiest things to him in the most mundane setting, just like right now. 

“Spread your legs wider, Leon.” You mumble in a casual tone as if you don’t know the implications of your own words. You’re so engrossed with getting your work right you probably don’t.

It’s so fucking sexy seeing you in your element. Your brows pinched together, and your face serious with concentration. 

He obediently listens to you, parting his legs wide, and the problem he wishes wouldn’t happen is currently hardening between his thighs. You don’t notice, mixing paints to ensure it's the correct shade. 

You’re probably 30 minutes into painting, and he’s already hard. You said you’d take a while to finish, and he could tap out whenever he wants to, but he doesn’t want to disappoint. 

Finally, you’re looking up from the canvas and towards Leon. Your brows quirked up in surprise when trying to examine his features, studying the curve of his nose and the sharpness of his jawline to imitate on the canvas. His face is pink, the shade you know and adore so much. 

Your eyes trail down his body, his dick fully erect, slapping against his stomach. Your gaze is on his face again with a smirk on your lips.

He knows, you know, he’s rock-hard simply from the glances you take at him and the words you mutter. His lashes flutter, and he moves his hand to cover his face while the other is shamefully obscuring his cock.

“Be a good boy, and don’t move, Leon. I want to make sure everything looks good.” You say, and he thinks you aren’t going to acknowledge his 7-inch problem.  

“Oh, and make sure your pretty dick is hard for me, okay, baby?” You go back to your painting, trying to hide your smug expression.  

His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows his nerves, but he relents, going into position, not before giving his cock a firm squeeze. 

“Don’t cum too, okay? I want to be the one making you cry.”

A few hours pass, and Leon is on the verge of tears. He listened to what you said, only providing himself with enough stimulation to keep his cock hard but not enough to tip him over the edge into bliss. 

Precum leaks from the head down to the shaft. His dick is red and spent. He wants nothing more than for you to stop painting and make him cum.

“I’m almost done. You’ve been such a good boy for me, baby.” 

Your words are almost enough to make him spill his cum over the expensive fabric of your eccentric couch. 

You’re adding the finishing touches to the painting with each stroke, making sure you get the placement of each mole or freckle correct and each vein of his cock following to the tip right. 

You swear he belongs in a museum. No art can replicate how beautiful he truly is.

“I’m done.” You sigh, moving to get up to rid your skin of paint. 

After rinsing yourself off the paint, you make your way to Leon. You get comfortable in a seat on the couch right next to him. He’s breathing heavily in anticipation, looking up at you through his long lashes. Pretty, pink lips parted as pretty gasps left him. 

You cup his face, pressing your lips to his. The kiss is soft as you move your lips slowly in unison. He breathes out your name when you pull away. One of your hands moves to his throat, softly squeezing. Leon whimpers, his hands moving to hold your waist.

“Good job, baby. You didn’t cum once. I know it hurts, but I'm going to make you feel better,” you whisper, softly kissing his flushed forehead. 

Your hand moves to his pulsing cock, and gives it a soft squeeze, relishing the whine Leon lets out. Your touch sends goosebumps along his skin, and he plants his head into the crook of your neck. 

His hips eagerly buck into your hold. He’s practically sobbing into your neck, his soft hair tickling the underside of your jaw. You rest your chin on top of his head, smelling the fragrance of his shampoo. 

You thumb the slit on the tip of his cock, using his precum as a lubricant to start moving your hand back and forth on his shaft. 

You start at a slow pace. You don’t want Leon cumming quickly, wanting to enjoy every cry and whimper. 

The soft shlick noise of you jerking Leon’s cock fills the room with his desperate cries. He pulls back away from the crook of your neck, tears flowing down his blushing face.

“Please, please, please, g– go faster, angel. I’ve been such a good boy for you. Let me cum, please.”  He pleads, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes. His hips rutted frantically into your palm. How could you deny your boy?

“Okay, pretty baby. Cum for me.” You say softly, picking up the pace of jerking him off.

He whimpers loudly, thighs quivering lightly as his orgasm crashes and hot spurts of his cum spill onto your hand. He’s panting, dazed with lust and staring at you with what seems like hearts in his eyes. 

“T- thank you, thank you, s’much.” Leon gasps like a broken record, and you think he’s fucked himself dumb with your hand.

You peck his lips, effectively shutting him up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up so I can show you my favourite artwork yet.”

[rooksamoris]

💞 — 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐄.

💞 — in which you teach malleus a new phrase and he grows somber about your inevitable death.

💞 — malleus draconia x reader

💞 — warnings: hurt/comfort type fic. some descriptions of gore to emphasize heartache. reader does catch a cold. malleus is sad </3 mentions of death and mortality/fragility.

💞 — 1.2k words. various arab groups tell their loved ones 'taqburouni' meaning 'may you bury me' affectionately. i thought of malleus when i heard it again recently, since he very well would be stuck burying his loved ones. eid mubarak my lovelies!!

Taq-bu-rou-ni.

Malleus’s brows knitted in a bit of interest as he replayed your word in his mind, splitting each of the syllables to pronounce it the way you did. It was a foreign word, and for someone who knew bygone languages, this was a word he had not heard. You said it with a look of affection in your eyes. It was your way of being romantic, well, with the way you drawled the final vowel, that much was obvious.

“And what does that mean?” he asked, his bright green eyes following the shape of your silhouette as you walked. Those slitted pupils of his dilated. 

“Taqburouni? Ah, it means ‘may you bury me,’” you said, innocently. The words spilled from your lips like sugared blades, so sweet yet so painful. It clung to his skin and when he tried to pull away, it tore his skin.

He paused his walking for a moment, stopping you with him. Those words reminded him that he could spend a century dwelling on that term, while you could not even spare a minute. 

Taqburouni.

That phrase you had taught Malleus planted itself into his lungs and wrapped around his esophagus. He knew you meant it affectionately. It was your way of wishing him a long life, one long enough that he would get the chance to bury you. You had known all sorts of romantic sayings that bordered on being eerie and strange. The vines you were growing wrapped around his lungs and sunk their thorns into them greedily, causing sweet blood to splatter onto his ribcage.

He knew he would get the chance to bury you. His child of man was too frail to live as long as he.

His pause caused you some worry and you squeezed his hand, pulling it closer to you so that his knuckles hovered near your chest, “It’s weird, isn’t it?” you joked, your brows furrowed in concern, “It’s an affectionate way of wishing that someone you love has a long life… I get if it’s not your thing—I just—I—”

Malleus silenced you by placing his free hand on your head. He let it slide over your hair and behind your head. His long fingers threaded their way through some of the strands as he gripped the back of your head. They were like stubborn blossoms in a valley of wilting roses, desperate to keep you close and alive, “It is lovely, a fine way of showing affection,” he told you. 

The future king decided against telling you just how uncomfortable that term made him. It infiltrated his body like a strong virus, poisoning his body and eating away at his flesh from the inside. Just like the vines that you planted in his lungs, tearing him apart beneath the layer of flesh, muscle, and bone.

A smile came to your face at his reassurance and you kissed his knuckles, “I’m glad you think so, Malleus,” you told him. 

Taqburouni. He found it anything but lovely. Malleus understood the purpose of such a term, and he knew you were just being lovelorn, but Sevens. Each vowel was like a threat, each one getting closer to him losing you. Taq—and you were cut, bu—you were sick, rou—bedridden, ni—and suddenly he was back in the Briar Valley, standing before another tombstone. To him, it was purely unromantic. 

It was violent and it was cruel.

You shivered due to the cold breeze and his gaze hardened, “Let us return you to the dorm, beastie. You’ll freeze if you’re out any longer,” he said, taking his uniform blazer off to drape over your shoulders. This body of yours was so delicate. Too delicate.

“Oh, Malleus… but you’ll get cold,”

He laughed, “I think you forget who you’re speaking to,” he said, his eyes watching your body tense up slightly. That delicious blush covered your cheeks and he was tempted to freeze time right here. Surely there was a spell for that, that way he could keep you forever and your words, your plea that he buries you, would never come true.

Bashfully, you averted your gaze and kept walking beside him. Oh, how he wanted to pounce.

Days later, that poisonous word was still on his mind. 

It came up in particular when you caught a cold. The illness had been traveling around the school, your favorite duo from Heartslabyul had gotten it, but not nearly as bad as you. People had been coughing in class, sniffling as they walked through the halls—Malleus blamed himself for worsening it due to all the nights he dragged you away on romantic walks where he showed you the secrets of the campus.

Now he was sitting at your bedside in Ramshackle dorm. It was not nearly as dilapidated as it used to be. You had cleaned up a lot, bleaching whatever you could to kill sickness, and it still managed to sneak in. There were cracks in the windows… it probably made the nights even colder for you.

One of these beams could fall and kill you.

“Taqburouni.”

The blasted word repeated itself in his mind as he watched you squirm in your bed. Your breathing was shallow, you were sweating—he could end you with a raise of his finger, “Too fragile. Like a bird’s eggshell. All it would take is to push you out of a nest and then…” His brows furrowed as the back of his hand trailed down the side of your sickly face.

Your skin looked much less vibrant in this state.

This moment and thousands of others would pass him like a dream. One day he would bury you and then take the throne. Your bought of romance would end up being a dream. He would wake up with a crown on his head, black robes draping every inch of him, and the flickering memories you made here.

His fingers trailed down to your throat for a moment and he tapped the dainty skin with his sharp nails. Just the tiniest bit of pressure and you would bleed. Not even the strongest swords would break through his scales.

“Malleus,” you muttered, breathlessly as you tried to open your eyes. The light was too bright so all you could do was blearily squint at him before shutting your eyes again, “I feel so weak…”

“You look it too,”

“Huh?”

He stared at your face for a moment, taking in the way your eyes drifted back shut. Your brows knitted softly, and it made him want to kiss that space between your eyes, “Rest,” he whispered, his hand turning to cup your face. A bit of his magic traveled from the tips of his fingers to your skin, forcing you to inhale a green mist that would temporarily put you to sleep.

Malleus felt the urge to keep you in this state of sleep for one hundred years. Instead, he settled for leaning in and kissing your forehead, “May you bury me,” he whispered. He promised to find a way to keep you alive with him for good. He would find a way to keep everyone and everything he loved alive with him till he breathed his last flame.

[ynsbarbbb]

tell me you love me | l. norris

hypothesis - on days like these, where everything just seems to go wrong, the uttered words from your boyfriend is the only cure.

pairing - lando norris x fem!driver!reader

[fic is inspired by “tell me you love me” by demi lovato]

“i need someone on days like this, i do”

“are you fucking kidding me right now?” you groan as your car’s engine died, right at the turn of the finish line. right at the turn of qualifying for the miami grand prix.

“come on, come on,” practically begging the car, trying to see if you could just get it back to life, to salvage the last bit of your pride that’s hanging on by a damn thin thread.

slamming your hands on the wheel, “son of a bitch!”

“lost power,” you sigh into your ear piece, defeated. laying your head on your hands that rested in the steering wheel.

this is really just what you needed.

another layer of cake on your already shitty day.

first the argument you had with lando this morning, really, about something so imbecile silly that you can actually laugh about it right now. running late, missing your shoe, bumping your hip on the counter - sure to leave a nasty bruise and lando not wanting to get out of the bed.

silly, right?

and now this.

“what happened?” zac questioned, concerned. the car was perfectly fine yesterday, practically soaring all over the track. you were sure that you’d start first pole by how the car roared.

“you fucking tell me,” you didn’t mean to be so harsh. zac’ question just scratched that itchy irritable spot that has been bothering you, all day.

zac sighed, not commenting on your response, sensing how it’ll make the situation worse.

knowing that if he said anything about your starting pole, which you already definitely knew, you’d blow your head.

smart man.

“sending tow, stay there.”

like you’d be going any fucking where.

~~

a coffee. that’s what you needed. a strong one at that.

with your suit arms tied around your hips you walk the way of the holy grail, not really observing your surroundings and stumbling straight into the blistering coffee cup of one of mclaren’s mechanics.

the liquid seeping through your shirt, burning your skin. his cup falling to the ground and shattering in hundreds of little pieces.

“y/n,” the mechanic was quick to react, grabbing napkins that rested on the edge of the table, dabbing at the material, pressing into your now third degree burn.

why didn’t you pay attention? why where you so wrapped up in your head?

why?

“just leave it,” hissing, you swatted the napkin from his hand, you take the route back to your room. the ceramic pieces crunching under your shoes.

with a hand pressed to your head, you can already feel the lump forming in your throat, eyes burning as tears well up behind your eyes. you bite your lip, you won’t succumb to today, you won’t show your white flag just yet.

you won’t acknowledge the pitying looks from everyone on your team.

you won’t acknowledge the murmurs on the paddock of mclaren’s worst starting pole.

you won’t acknowledge the desire you feel to be wrapped up in your boyfriend’s arms.

you just won’t.

another, beautiful layer of cake stacked.

~~

“really?” you whine as you pat your pockets, looking for the keycard that’s used to unlock the door, but it comes out empty.

damn zac for changing the locks. damn the security protocol.

you left, or more like forgot, it at home. on the counter, where you usually leave it. your shoulders sag and with your back turned to the door you glide down it. arms wrapped around your knees and head rested on it.

here it comes, the wall to the well finally comes crashing down and the first tear rolls down your cheek landing on the coffee stain.

you finally hoist your white flag, today won.

a pretty red cherry on top of your stacked cake. a delicious topping.

“there you are,” a muppet voice says, breaking you from the train of thoughts that’s currently speeding down the tracks in your mind.

you look up, and lando is peeping around the corner of the wall.

on every other day you would’ve laughed at the sight.

your lip trembles and a new wave of tears wells up behind your eyes. lando makes quick work to scramble towards you, crouching down in front of you.

“hey, hey, no, none of that,” he’s gentle. he brought his hands up to your face, wiping the stray tears that ran down your face. you lean into his touch, and finally, something that feels right for today.

“turn that frown upside down,” he says in a sing song voice, a smile creeping onto his lips. the gaps in his teeth more than welcoming.

you bite on your bottom lip, the corners of your mouth slightly lifting.

but lando takes that as a success nonetheless.

“there she is, my beautiful girl.”

a sob like snort leaves your mouth and lando can’t keep that muppet laugh of his in any longer.

hair that fell around your face, he pushed it behind your ears, “rumour has it that someone is having one hell of a day.”

you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your shirt, “really? who is it? max?”

“ah, sarcasm, it’s welcoming,” lando jokes.

rolling your eyes you look at his, wispy lashes, a light shade of red tint on the apples of his cheeks, “just tell me you love me, norris.”

“i love you.”

he leans closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“i love you,” a kiss to your brow.

“i love you,” a kiss to your cheek.

“i love you,” a kiss on your nose.

“i love you,” a final kiss to your lips.

“i love you.”

fin.

[kokonoisgf]

Cold - Chuuya Nakahara (m)

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❀ character: Chuuya Nakahara

❀ tw: MINORS DNI 18+ sexual explicit content (fem reader) : pet names, cursing, slight bondage, praises, 'baby', 'princess', he's so in love w you!!!

❀ note: Getting back into writing woooo!! let me know what you think hehe, more Chuuya stuff coming, because I am forever in love with that man (っ˘ڡ˘ς) (っ˘ڡ˘ς)

❀ word count: 3.5k

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

‘I thought I told you to stay home’ Grumbled Chuuya from under his blankets. His forehead shone with a thin layer of sweat, his eyes glistening with sickness. His gaze was inevitably glued to you who leaned near his bedside table preparing what seemed like his medicine. He thanked whatever god was out there for the warm, thick blanket covering him, because the way you bent over measuring his medicine would be the death of him. The short skirt you wore left little to none to the imagination. He tried desperately to look away, but the curves of your ass were barely covered with that baby blue lace, which only made it harder for him to pry his gaze away.

It was as if you were doing this on purpose, trying to rile him up. As you neared him holding the cup containing the foul smelling liquid, he propped himself up, blanket pooling at his waist. His chiselled chest exposed, he could feel his heart trash around his chest. His cold really wasn’t that bad to be honest, it was more so the way your every move or glance had his heart leaping that kept him on edge.

‘You didn’t have to do all this, I'm fine.’ Chuuya muttered, his voice raspier now, almost sounding like a growl. His slight fevered state only heightened his awareness of you, and your every movement truly only seemed designed to torment him.

You gave him a small, teasing smile as you handed him the medicine. ‘I couldn’t leave you like this,’ you said, your voice soft and sweet, but there was a knowing gleam in your eyes. You knew exactly what you were doing, how much power you held over him in this moment. Chuuya’s hand trembled slightly as he took the cup from you, his fingers brushing yours in a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He mentally cursed himself for being so reactive, his whole being putty in the palm of your hand. He downed the medicine quickly, wincing at the bitter taste, his eyes falling back on you.

Sitting on the bed next to him, you pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, leaning forward. A concerned expression covered your face as you checked his temperature. Chuuya’s gaze flickered to your exposed cleavage, feeling himself get dizzy for a hot second. Scoffing, he turned his gaze away, cheeks almost matching his fiery hair.

He fought so damn hard to keep his gaze elsewhere, anywhere but there. But it was impossible. The way your shirt dipped, the curves of your breasts… He squeezed his eyes shut, frustrated by the growing storm raging inside him.

‘Chuuya you’re so red, are you alright?’ He blinked, looking back at you, the same sly smile covering your features. God- You were so close, he felt as if he was hallucinating. His heart raced as you leaned in, your face hovering inches from his. The warmth of your breath ghosted over his skin, making his already fevered body feel like it was burning up from the inside out. He swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything but the way your eyes sparkled with amusement.

‘I told you I’m fine,’ he muttered, though his voice betrayed him with a slight tremble.

‘Just… feeling a bit hot.’ he added quickly, though he knew it wasn’t just the cold making him feel this way. You smiled, your fingers gently brushing through his ginger locks .

"Maybe you need something to cool down then, take your mind off this cold." you teased, your voice soft and soothing, but there was an underlying tension that neither of you could ignore. Chuuya felt torn between wanting to pull you closer and trying to maintain some level of composure.

‘You're… making this hard,’ he said, his voice shaking slightly. He was rapidly losing his composure. His eyes flickered, desperately searching for a distraction, but you had him completely cornered. His body felt heavy from both the cold and the undeniable tension crackling between the two of you. You were close—too close—and every fibre of his being was aware of it. The sound of your soft breathing, the scent of your perfume, and the warmth that radiated from you made his pulse quicken.

‘Oh really? How so?,’ you replied, your tone light, but your eyes betrayed a deeper understanding of the effect you had on him. Chuuya gulped, his sapphire eyes completely lost in yours. His cock was hard, oh so embarrassingly hard after not even a single touch from you. The blanket somewhat hid it a little, but he fidgeted under the covers, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. He gritted his teeth, struggling to keep his composure, but your proximity and the way your eyes sparkled with mischief weren’t helping.

‘You know exactly what you’re doing,’ he growled softly, the frustration in his voice evident. He wasn’t just battling this stupid cold anymore; he was attempting an unwinnable fight against his body right now. It was utterly betraying him, the blanket now doing little to conceal his hardening cock. He shifted, trying to find some comfort, but every movement only seemed to create delicious friction that his body desperately craved.

‘Maybe I do, but do you mind?’ You cooed, your hand softly cupping his cheek as you leaned forward again, your gaze catching his. His cheeks caught on fire at the softness of your hand and your cleavage once again in full display for him. Your touch felt both featherlight and electrifying at the same time, and Chuuya knew he was damn well already under your spell. It was no news to him though, he had always been fond of you.

‘I-’ He paused, silently cursing himself for how utterly desperate his voice sounded ‘I… don’t mind’ He admitted, gaze quickly looking off to the side as if avoiding yours trying desperately to hide his feelings. His chest tightened, and for a moment, panic seized him. Did he really just admit how much he wanted you?

He feared the cold had lowered his defence, fearing to spill even more of his heart to you in the midst of something happening. It wasn’t just a spur of the moment thing, it was quite the opposite actually. He couldn’t even recall the number of times he found his gaze drifting to you naturally, wondering how your lips would taste on his, how you’d feel clawing at his back as he made sweet sweet love to you, but more importantly how it would feel to call you his.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut a knife, as you gazed at him intently. Your teasing look subtly transformed into one of pure admiration hinting to something much deeper, your feelings for him shining like a lighthouse into the dark sea.

‘Chuuya, can I… touch you?’ Your voice was sweet, contrasting with your other hand trailing down his chest, deliriously close to the hem of his underwear. There was no mistaking the tent in his boxers by now, visible even through the thick blanket. Chuuya felt his face heat up, feeling completely exposed, his throat dry. Mind reeling, he nodded eagerly — a little too eagerly — eliciting a small smile from you. There was nothing more he wanted on this earth than to to feel the subtle touch of your fingers against his skin, or your pretty mouth wrapped around his dick. Stop.

God— He was so desperate, for your touch feeling as if this cold only intensified the sensitivity of his body. His hands clenched the blanket, desperate for something to ground him, but nothing could quell the ache. He felt like his mind was spinning, insides twisting as his eyes were glued to your hand, and how with each passing second it neared where he needed you most.

‘W-Wait-’ Chuuya’s voice trembled as his fingers wrapped around your wrists, halting you in your movement. His mind snapped, actions registering before he could even wrap his mind around what even he was going to say. His body was on fire, every nerve alive conflicting with both his sickness and the sheer desire for you, but there was something prevailing on his mind. He couldn’t let himself give in, not without saying what had been on his mind for so long.

‘I can’t… I have something to say.’ His voice was low, a rough whisper full of frustration and vulnerability. He squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself for feeling so exposed. This wasn’t how he imagined pouring his heart out, no never in a million years. But the cold, the heat of your body, your soft touches—it had all stripped away his usual defences.

Your expression softened, your hand still resting on his chest, fingers curling lightly against his heated skin. ‘What is it Chuuya?’ you asked, your voice gentle.

He opened his eyes, sapphire depths meeting yours, and in that instant, something broke free inside him. ‘I… Fuck- I care about you okay? Like, really care about you. And not just in the way you’re probably thinking right now.’ He glanced down, his face flushed with both fever and embarrassment, but he forced himself to meet your gaze again and keep on going. He could not allow himself to get intimate with you if you did not return his feelings — he was not like that. The memories would haunt him for life if he did.

‘I’ve thought about this moment—I mean, us—more times than I can even remember. And it’s not just about wanting you physically, though Fuck- God knows I do.’ He paused, exhaling a shaky breath, his length straining against the thin material of his underwear as if to prove his statement. The words were spilling out of his mouth before he even had time to think about them, but his heart was being truthful right now, so vulnerable.

‘I can’t stand the thought of someone else with you - I need you all to myself. I want all of you to myself, not just tonight, not just because I'm sick and you’re there. But for real’

He let out a sigh of frustration, feeling as if he couldn’t express the depth of his feelings properly. Running a shaky hand through his hair, his eyebrows furrowed, cheeks reddening as he looked off toward the dim light of his bedside table.

‘I just… I love you a lot, that's what I'm trying to say..’ He admitted, his voice cracking slightly at the end, and his grip on your wrist loosened. He let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he swore he felt like he was on the verge of a heart attack. There was a silence and Chuuya swore that these were the longest five seconds of his life. He had battled the most fearsome enemies in Yokohama, but nothing scared him more than meeting your gaze right now, to be faced with the truth of your feelings.

‘Chuuya…’ your melodic voice rang through his ear, and he bit down on his lips, feeling your hand cup his cheek once again. Leaning into your touch, his lashes fluttered close for an instant, basking into your warmth. It felt good really, to pour his heart out, like an indescribable weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

‘I love you too, I always have. I wouldn’t have come here to take care of you, or proposed this, if I wasn’t feeling the same’ Chuuya’s gaze flew to meet yours. Did he heard you right? Or had the fever finally gone to his head making him hallucinate? His face now matching with his fiery hair, he exhaled another shaky sigh, mouth parting and closing trying to find the right words to say.

‘I- Damn it- Need’ you so bad’ It was like he had been given the golden key that unlocked the gates to heaven, and he knew he couldn’t wait anymore. Knowing that you felt the same, his long fingers intertwined with yours, pushing you down onto the bed, climbing on top of you. Pining both your wrists above your head, his body faintly glowed red, his gravity-manipulation ability forcing a gentle weight on your wrists, rendering you unable to move them.

You couldn’t help but let your gaze fall on the way his cock absolutely strained against the material of his underwear. A wet spot adorned the front of his boxer, the shadow it created only amplifying the wetness between your legs.

Struggling against the invisible restraints, your doe eyes met his. ‘Chuuya, you’re the one who should be resting. C’mon let me touch you..’ You cooed, desperately wanting to pleasure him first, but he was not like that. Even if he was at death's door you would come first, so it was not like a silly little cold would change any of that.

‘Waited too long, need to have you. This cold can go to hell.’ He mindlessly babbled, as his lips found refuge in the crook of your neck, before capturing yours in a heated kiss. His fingers grazed your skin as if he was afraid you might disappear any second, the scene unfolding before him feeling like a dream. He was so afraid that he’d wake up to square one, needing to ground himself deeply into reality.

The kiss was desperate, full of the longing he’d kept hidden for so long. He poured every ounce of his feelings into it, his lips moving against yours in a tender yet demanding way. Your body arched beneath him, pressing into his touch, but his ability kept you pinned down firmly against the mattress. You moaned in the kiss, tongues twirling as he pulled away, thumb resting on your bottom lip.

‘Open up for me, would you, doll?’ A hint of command prickled in his words, your lips parted almost instantly and before you knew it, he had leaned forward his spit dribbling down into your mouth.

‘Good girl, such a good girl to me’ His voice was hoarse, rough with lust, his gaze almost midnight blue by now. He could tell he had long gone and lost his composure, his raw instincts taken over. Swallowing his spit, you moaned, lifting your legs to wrap them around his hips. Chuuya felt his brain short-circuit when your clothed core pressed against his length, the warmth and sheer wetness making him see stars. Cursing under his breath, a strand of his ginger hair slipped past his shoulder as his cheeks flushed. Fingers digging your skin, his knuckles turned white, his tongue darting out to wet his pink lips. Lashes fluttering shut, your head fell back against the pillowcase, beads of sweat trickling down your cleavage. Your skirt had riled up, exposing your panties and bare juicy thighs, your voice resonating through the room.

‘Need you inside me’ You whimpered out, and Chuuya swore he could cum from your pleading voice alone. Your pussy was quivering begging for any type of friction, feeling your walls clench around nothing had you going mad.

‘Fu-Fuck yea okay- I got you princess’ Normally he thought he’d have made you wait a bit more for it, but he truly didn't have it in himself to make you wait. Was it because you looked so utterly vulnerable beneath him under the spell of his ability, or maybe it was simply because he had daydreamed about this moment for so long that he felt like waiting was not even an option. He had no idea, but he knew he needed your soft walls around him. Positioning his length, Chuuya shoots you another bashful glance.

‘Hey.. you sure you’re okay with this?’ He asked, as if trying to ground himself that this was really reality, that you truly wanted him. It still felt surreal to him somehow. You nodded, arching your back

‘Please Chuuya’ Your begging felt like sweet music to his ears, his long fingers quickly discarded your panties, his eyes glued to your soaked cunt.

‘So wet- God, you’re so beautiful” Rocking your hips against his, Chuuya hissed, his eyes rolling in the back of his skull. Pressing his body forward he gently started filling you up inch by inch. He felt small whimpers threaten to escape his parted lips, his breathing uneven already. The stretch felt delicious, your walls fluttered against his cock nestling comfortably inside you. The ache was so good, his cock filling you up so perfectly. Leaning his forehead against yours, he never once broke eye contact as his hips started moving.

‘Takin’ me so well, look at your pretty pussy’ He rasped, his sapphire gaze glued to the way your cunt swallowed him whole, a thin ring of cum already coating his dick. He felt like he was floating. Building rhythm, Chuuya couldn't help but moan seeing you so vulnerable under him. As much as he absolutely loved seeing you struggle against the invisible restraints of his ability, he desperately needed your hands all over him. The faint crimson glow of his ability subsidised as you regained control over your arms, as a dusted blush covered his face.

‘Touch me.. Please’ He begged shyly, and you couldn’t help but comply. His shy side was so endearing to you. He never showed it to anyone, considering it somewhat of a weakness, but it made you want to do anything and everything for him. Legs wrapped around his waist, your hips met his at a rough pace, your hands leaving no skin untouched. You were impatient. Impatient to have him coat your walls white with his cum, needing him all to yourself. Your hands trailed up his chest, nails clawing at his skin before bringing him down for a passionate kiss. Your tongues danced with each other, saliva mingling as his hot breath fanned against your lips. He broke the kiss from time to time to release whimpers and grunts, mindlessly blabbing how much he loved and adored you.

His pace was ruthless, never once stopping for a breather, before his long fingers gripped the underside of your knees angling you up. You yelped as the Executive’s pace increased tenfold, hitting your sweet spot instantly as if he’d known your body since the beginning of time. You were completely impaled on his cock, the sudden thrusts of his hips making your eyes water in pleasure, moans of his name endlessly pouring from your lips.

Feeling the inevitable coil in his stomach about to snap, his thumb met your pearl needing to make you cum on his dick before he could even begin to think about releasing deep into you.

‘My pretty girl.. C’mon give it to me’ His soft words doubled with the way he looked at you were more than enough to make you unravel under him. A choked out whimper leaves your lips as the overstimulation from his dick’s relentless pace and thumb over your clit has you gushing beneath him.

‘That’s right- cum on on my cock baby-’ His breath fanned against the shell of your ear, his hot breath tingling your skin like wildfire. The feeling of your walls fluttering around his length inevitably sent him spiralling as well as he halted, cockhead kissing your cervix, hips stuttering. Mind hazy, a silent cry escaped his parted lips, as one of his hands grasped yours in a desperate attempt to ground himself. Intertwining his fingers with yours he huffed and puffed heavily.

‘I-I’m gonna-’ He stuttered trying to warn you, beads of sweat dripping down his fair skin and you swore that in this moment he never looked this beautiful. It wasn’t long until your pussy was filled to the brim with his cum, feeling him softly collapse on top of you, his head on your chest.

Your heartbeat was so soothing as he tried catching his breath. Your fingers tangled in his orange locks, gently caressing his scalp. Looking up to meet your gaze, he felt on cloud 9, one of his hands coming to caress your cheek.

‘I love you so much..’ he whispered earnestly, pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead. Eyes falling on your exposed cunt, he couldn't help but notice the way a mix of both your juices dribbled down your thigh. A surge of heat rushed over his whole body at the realisation that he released deep - deep inside your pussy. Something primal light up inside him, his eyes darkening again. Long fingers tilting your pretty fucked out face to meet his, he looked at you silently. He needed more - He had waited way too long to have you and now he was insatiable. He could be greedy right? Just for tonight?

Feeling his dick harden again at the sight before him, Chuuya looked off to the side at the clock on his wall. 1:07 am, it indicated.

He had all night after all, he’d just rest tomorrow. This cold truly could go to hell.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

back to masterlist

likes, reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated ೭੧(❛〜❛✿)੭೨

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 || 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: valley of the dolls || part two: here

summary_ where coriolanus snow wants to win you again after recovering from Dr. Gaul’s experiments, but ends up threatening you to marry him or he’ll reveal your darkest secret, just because you were his.

warnings_ NO PROOFREAD, dubcon, oral (f receiving), dark!coriolanus, angst, fluff (well…), drama

notes_happy halloween, listen to my Coriolanus’ playlist, it’s so bad I promise you’ll hate it.

♪ ♫ Coryo playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

Reflections were a light of truth. Whether you liked it or not. There are no more tears to shed, you think you’ve run out of them.

“You need to put down that mirror…” your father said.

He had grown a little colder after ascending to work closely with the government. Burt you know you’ll always be his little girl. Just like you would always love him.

“I can’t stop. My skin itches, I feel like I’m burning…” you reply, looking. At yourself.

Your skin was literally shredding. As if liquid glue had been poured all over your body. Now was dry, peeling itself off. The worst parts were in your face, ribs, and thighs.

“You have visits…” your eyes almost pop out.

“What?”

“Just Clemensia…”

“I thought I said no visits until I was allowed to leave the hospital.”

“I don’t think she’ll judge you, y/n”

It was true. You were horrified when Clemensia appeared full of neon scaled and yellow eyes to wake you up and Coriolanus at the hospital.

“Fine. Let her come in…” your father nodded, kissing your forehead before leaving.

You went to look at your reflection a little more. The dry peeling skin was turning dark, creating an odd contrast with your new rosy layer.

The sound of the door made you startled, but when you turned, you spotted Clemensia already inside.

She inspects your face once she’s inches away from you. She even touches your skin.

“You look great. I’d give it a couple of days. Amazing…” You can’t resist but embrace her, which she accepts.

“It’s been two months and everyone keeps talking about you. I suspected the reason, so I patiently waited” she says, taking a seat beside you in the hospital bed. You half laugh, putting away the mirror.

“How are you?

“Good? Not? I don’t know. I don’t even know what happened” you reply.

“I guess if I was close to turning into a giant python, you were very close to turning into a mermaid” You find the humor in her words, so you laugh with her.

What was left to do either way? You thought.

“When I woke up, I had fish scales and I couldn’t stop drinking water…” Clemensia nodded. She was almost clear from the scales. Her eyes were normal again. She looked good.

“Just like I couldn’t stop my tongue from making odd sounds and movements…”

Both of you remain quiet for a little while. Until Clemensia opens her mouth and then shuts it, debating whether to speak up or not.

You already know what she’s wondering.

“Say it, Clemmie.” She sighs, surrendering to her curiosity.

“What happened with Coriolanus?…”

“He exposed me for suggesting he cheat in the games. He didn’t tell me anything the last time I saw him. It was in the Citadel, he was coming out from Dr. Gaul’s office and I was about to come in...”

You scratch your own hands for comfort. Clinging to confidence to disguise your anxiety.

“Coriolanus would never hurt you…”

“Oh Clemmie, I haven’t seen him in two months but I’m pretty sure the schoolboy we knew is completely gone. When I entered that lab, I was forced to lay in a bed and wait for hundreds of needles to attack me. And the moment I opened my eyes was a week ago…” your friend looks at you with pity, but you can’t feel bad for that.

“My mother brought me the news. Coriolanus left to the districts, he was exiled and paid to go and follow his songbird to the most filthy district.”

“Maybe he got scared. Perhaps he didn’t know Gaul was going to punish you…”

“He discovered I was sick because he called home a month after he left. A month, Clemmie. Neither one of the Snows worried for me. When I considered part of my family.” tears prick in your eyes but you can’t cry.

“He said I was important, he kissed me when he won the games. Dear lord, we promised to split the prize if one of us won. I love Coriolanus Snow, he was my best friend. I kissed him again and told him I’d see him at home the last time I saw him… All for nothing.”

Clemensia holds you tightly once again, this time brushing your dry and unhealthy hair.

“It’s going to be okay, y/n. You didn’t do anything wrong, you can rest knowing you are a good and decent person” You nod, swallowing the resentment towards that man.

“While I prepare to come back, Clemmie… Please start destroying him for me.” She smiles, caressing your hand.

“A man who chooses district over his capitol family is a coward”

…

Rumors were spread faster than disease in the Middle Ages. Coriolanus Snow was a renowned man. He let the rumors run like water. He followed Lucy Gray Baird to the districts for love. Didn’t work out, the girl was accused of murder and ran away, leaving him.

Everyone knew Coriolanus Snow had broken your heart. And that you remained confined in a hospital room. Infectious virus was the alleged reason.

When he received a call from Dr.Gaul, he internally cheered. She kept her promise of moving you to a hospital, and finally, your parents could see you. Coriolanus would be lying if he said he didn’t care about you anymore.

In fact, returning to the Capitol reminded him how lonely he actually was. Even worse when he learned Festus, Lysistrata, Clemensia and

were giving him the cold shoulder for abandoning you. Apparently, the girl he considered one of his closest friends visited you at the hospital and you spilled your side of the story. Coriolanus couldn’t blame you. He wasn’t expecting anything from you yet.

Trying to find a reason to keep his mind occupied other than attending university was to wisely make the first spend with the Plinth’s fortune. Coriolanus decided to refurbish the penthouse. And when he tried to offer a hand to your parents to do the same, he was shocked to learn it wasn’t necessary anymore.

It was a long night of talking. Your father had ascended to position quickly and now worked as part of President Ravinstill’s cabinet. Your mother had opened her own atelier in the Capitol’s downtown. When he was allowed to visit your room, Coriolanus noticed the wallpapers that looked faded and peeling now looked fresh. Your feathers lamp was long gone. It was replaced with an exotic flower look alike chandelier.

But his picture remained in your family pictures in your new bookshelves. And that’s when the guilt sank in.

The need to be okay with you grew. He remembered having an ally.

When he asked for you, your father revealed with sad but hopeful eyes that your skin was peeling, that your only cold showers felt good, but that you smiled for them.

Coriolanus got chills at the memory of you in that water tank. He supposed your process was similar to Clemensia and the snake bite.

As a man as well, your father didn’t completely blame him for growing confused about you and Lucy Gray.

He was urged to make amends with you. Tigris said it, grandma’am too. Clemensia and your parents said it too.

So he would.

…

Fixing your gloves, you look out your window. The Corso looked even more luxurious and elegant with the pink morning sky. But soon your eyes betray you, landing in your pictures. You immediately grab Coriolanus’ portrait, ready to take the paper stuck under the glass and tear it. But you don’t, you only put the picture looking down.

His memory kept haunting you. After all, he was still your neighbor.

You learned after a few more visits from Clemensia that Sejanus was dead. You sobbed so much. Sejanus was a good friend and his need to be something else killed him. Actually, Coriolanus killed him but you would never know that.

Only that his death led to the Plinths making Coriolanus their heir. That he was studying bureaucratic law and having private lessons with Dr. Gaul.

Traitor, traitor, traitor. He was even accepting classes from the woman who almost killed you.

In social matters, Coriolanus was courting Livia Cardew and you actually laughed.

Your best friend was truly gone. But you were back and you didn’t want to be overcome by the pain he put you through.

You were more than a curated girl with a broken heart that appeared in the newspapers. You were the daughter of a successful man and the daughter of the most famous designer of the capital.

And you weren’t going to start your comeback with the wrong foot.

Dr. Gaul probably wasn’t expecting to release an experiment only to return to a human body with regenerated DNA. The dry skin was replaced by a shiny and healthy new layer. Your hair grew again, longer than ever and you felt healthy overall.

The moment you stepped out of the trolley station, you slowly started to feel some heads turn your way.

The click of your heels soothed you as you made your way through the long marble stairs of the Capitol’s University. The feeling of unwanted attention grew when you went to the main office to pick up your schedule.

The secretary handed you the paper and as you read through it, someone tapped on your shoulder. You turned and it was a surprise to encounter one friend.

“Festus!…” you hug him, immediately feeling happy to see him.

“I heard you were back. Lysistrata and I split to find you. I guess I won…” he said, making you chuckle.

“You look great”

“You too. We’ve heard the craziest rumors about you and we literally spent the whole summer wondering what had actually happened” you sigh.

You wanted everyone to know what happened to you. That Gaul was a monster. That Coriolanus was a traitor. But it wasn’t the most viable. But he was your friend, you could trust him.

“What did Clemensia tell you?” You asked him, walking out of the office, and starting your way through the long halls.

“Not much. Only that Coriolanus was the biggest idiot,” he admitted.

And hearing that name out loud puts you on alert. He could appear anytime soon. And to be honest you weren’t prepared to encounter him. But you were confident that ignoring his existence would be easy.

“Well, Festus, let’s find her and Lysistrata. We have a lot to talk about…”

…

By the end of the day, everyone has your name on their lips. You spot Livia gossiping with Persephone, Iphigenia, Urban, and Androcles, the little bunch of the Academy that always made fun of you and Coriolanus for being so close.

You can’t help but remember that Coriolanus had started some sort of courtship with the mean blonde. You guess it’s because they turned out to be pretty much alike.

Overall, it hadn’t been as bad as you thought it was going to be. The hope of becoming a senator one day was still strong as the first day of classes for you turned out to be good.

You clench the zipper of your bag that hangs on your shoulder, ready to leave campus and call it a day.

It was particularly empty a few hours before the night, but there were a few still walking around. Your breathing had found a peaceful pace to follow until your eyes localized the nearest exit.

Entering there was a man, whose curls had disappeared into perfectly slicked hair, whose suit seemed to be impeccable and luxurious, whose bright loving eyes had turned into cold oceans, and whose warm smile had transformed into a frivolous expression.

Coriolanus Snow entered the hall, he hadn’t seen you, but you knew he would.

And you could have turned and walked all over campus to find another exit. But you wouldn’t.

Not when there are people already connecting dots with your presence and his in the same place.

With a big sigh, you focused your eyes on the door, in the falling sky that was preparing a sunset. You wouldn’t meet any face in the place just to avoid him. And as much as you tried to ignore the shivers, you could feel your hands shaking.

He saw you when he had you close enough to notice your red eyeshadow. He had already mastered the technique of hiding his feelings and expressions. But seeing you had erased any trace of practice. He let an inaudible gasp and almost stopped walking.

You looked very healthy in comparison to what he had heard. The scales he had seen were completely gone. Your eyes sparkled naturally and your hair looked very peculiar.

But any hope of interacting with you died the moment you passed by his side. Almost brushing your shoulders and you ignored him completely.

You had humiliated him. So he turned and started walking behind you. And the farther you moved, the more his anxiety started growing. He hadn’t even noticed he had followed you to the trolley station.

You heard him calling your name. But you ignored him. Your body relaxed as soon as the doors closed and the university disappeared from your sight.

Tears formed in your eyes, and you had to shut your eyes so harshly to avoid them from spilling.

…

It had turned into a cat-and-mouse game. You were almost running towards your apartment. Coriolanus knew your parents were working, so he had no problem chasing you to the door of your home.

“You won’t be able to run away every time, y/n… We need to talk” he said, knowing you could hear him through the other side of the door.

“I don’t want to talk with you” you replied, taking off your scarf and heels. Ignoring the way your heart still lounged for him it decreased its beats whenever you saw him talking with Livia on campus.

“You’re gonna listen to me one of these days”

“Go home, Coriolanus. Live your life and forget about me” he felt the pain in your words. And for some reason, it also hurt him.

“I can’t…” he whispered, hearing your footsteps walking away from the door.

With his obsessive nature flowing through him, he opened the door of the penthouse and was greeted by Tigris.

“Did you talk with her?” Coriolanus shook his head, and Tigris sighed.

“The other day I saw her at the market and she was so cold. I felt so sad when she said we acted like we didn’t care for her…” Coriolanus sighed at her words.

He wasn’t expecting you to encounter him with a big kiss like the one you gave him the last time he saw you. But he was getting impatient. He quickly understood that you weren’t jealous of Livia and if you actually were, you were brilliant at hiding it.

He learned that you were extremely hurt by him and his family. And he had to accept it was indeed his fault. You were the only reason he actually regretted things and wanted to say sorry.

He missed his best friend. Without you, he realized he was slowly becoming his father.

…

Of course, your mother would invite the Snows for dinner.

“Why would you do that?” You ask, polishing each fork and knife on the table, already feeling angry.

“I just want you and Coriolanus to be friends again, y/n. He’s such a good boy and he’s growing into a fine man…” you frown, leaning over a chair, facing your mother.

“He chose a filthy bohemian singer from the districts over me. That says everything about Coriolanus, mother…”

The woman also stops polishing the table utensils to look at you.

“He was just a kid, like you. We were struggling and he wanted power just like we all want… Focus on the man he is turning into, not the boy he was…” she says leaving.

“That’s exactly the problem…” you whisper.

You didn’t like the man he was turning into.

But you have to swallow your thoughts as soon as you hear voices from other than your parents. You sigh, knowing he has arrived. And it wasn’t like you wanted to impress him, but you wanted to show him that you were doing fine without him, that he hadn’t broken your heart, and that you didn’t care about him like you used to.

Coriolanus had just given your mother a hug when he saw you entering the room. To his eyes, you looked perfectly pretty.

You had an emerald dress with black tights and heels, your hair in an elegant bun, and some curls peeking over across your face. But your face was so serious. You barely glanced at him and Tigris when you greeted them. You only blink when Tigris mentions the Grandma’am was sick and couldn’t be at the dinner. Everyone noticed your awkward demeanor and your mother tried to break the ice.

“Coriolanus! Why don’t you and y/n go to check the oven?” You don’t oppose, you simply nod and leave without waiting for him to follow. But you can look over the corner of your eye at the fabric of his suit, dark grey, and his usual white rose on top of his heart. You couldn’t help but miss his curls, even when his new haircut made him mature and older.

Coriolanus saw you put on some kitchen gloves and he hurried to help.

“Let me check it…”

“I can do it myself, thanks” you reply coldly.

“Are you ever going to talk to me like a decent human?”

“Oh, I’m decent, very much compared to you. I need time, I have to put my thoughts in order” You were being honest.

“I won’t be waiting forever” he didn’t mean to sound so harsh but that’s the way he ended up sounding.

“Then you don’t really care about my forgiveness” he is about to protest, but you have moved away and taken out a giant turkey that must’ve been heavy enough to draw a sigh out of you. The whole interaction made him feel like an idiot. So he went to your side again.

“I miss you” he reveals, cringing at the sound of him being so vulnerable.

“You shouldn’t, you’re courting Livia Cardew”

“That’s not what it seems”

“I really don’t care, Coriolanus” you lied.

You start serving good portions and he has to start putting them on the table. He can hear your parents laughing with Tigris and he wishes everything was fine. Just like it was a couple of months ago. He really could see himself joking along with you, kissing you while you served the dinner, and being happy. Unfortunately, that’s not the case.

“For now, the only I want you to know is that it was never my intention to hurt you. If I could’ve avoided all the pain, I would’ve, y/n” you harshly crash the knife against one of the porcelain plates, closing your eyes to calm your sudden anger.

“If you hadn’t mentioned my name to Gaul, if you hadn’t kissed me the day you won the games if you had called the day you left the Capitol, you would’ve avoided a lot of my pain. But you didn’t… Because you care more about yourself than for the two of us as equals, Snow”

He unconsciously unlocked many unpleasant memories. So many things you would never know. But when he got onto something, he didn’t stop until he could feel like a winner.

“I won’t let go of the person that was there for me when I had nothing. No matter what it takes…” you eyed him, overcoming your fear watching him at the eye and you fulminate him, with a look of defiance that he also senses.

Coriolanus lets you pass by him and he watches you disappear into the dining table.

A couple of hours later, your father has taken away Coriolanus to drink in his office. Coriolanus is amazed by all the things the old man has achieved. He admired and respected your father. So he didn’t take too long to notice your father was drunk. He has started telling him what happened when his grandfather lived in District 1 and he visited him.

“Then our baby was born there. That house must be ashes from the war but every time I look at it in pictures, it makes me feel like it’s still there…” Coriolanus almost dropped his glass.

“So y/n was born in District 1?” Your father nods, finishing a second bottle of posca. Coriolanus had never liked to drink and he took it as an advantage most of the time.

“Let me find the birth certificate…” you father said.

To Coriolanus, this was shocking. When your father took out an envelope, he handed him the certificate. You had two names and two last names. Born a later winter baby and with a tiny imprint of your feet. His fingers traced your name.

“This is probably our biggest secret, Coriolanus. But you’re family, we trust you, boy” said your father patting his shoulder.

Coriolanus smiled, tracing your second name once again. Then turned to see you talking with Tigris outside.

Things kept getting in his favor since we came back to the Capitol.

You felt his eyes but you ignored him, focusing on an uncomfortable Tigris that wanted to talk to you.

“Me and Grandma’am asked for you a couple of days after Coryo left. That’s when we learned you were sick. I swear we asked every week, but your parents got very busy and we barely saw them. Then we had to move out because of the rent payments. It was hard…”

You analyze her burgundy lipstick and you know she’s telling the truth.

“Do you know the asshole your cousin was?” She nods.

“I do. He saw you when Dr. Gaul had you in her laboratory. Coryo was scared, he looked shocked and he knew you wouldn’t forgive him. But I told him to be a man and apologize”

“I miss the boy he was… I miss my best friend” you admit, biting your tongue because you should’ve kept that to yourself.

“I’m afraid the districts changed him… he reminds me of…”

“His father” you finish for her.

Sadly, she nods to you.

“Grandma’am keeps asking Coryo when will you be back. He always tells her he’s trying to win you back” She changes the subject, attempting to make you smile.

But you only reply with a little chuckle and a sad smile.

…

For the next two weeks, you have been drained from any sense of certainty. You have Coriolanus Snow waiting at your door every morning, insisting to walk you to university because he knew you hated having chauffeurs, the Capitol wasn’t big enough to depend on a vehicle. It was a walkable city and you loved taking the trolley. So he had been punctual and he had walked you every single day.

You barely talked and he hated that. Until two days ago when Coriolanus made you smile. He noticed you tried to hide it but it had been late. Your smile filled him with pride and he got even more obsessed with winning you back.

The luck hadn’t run out of him, because that afternoon your mother knocked on his door to invite him and his family to the release party of her new winter collection.

The invitation made Tigris extremely happy and Coriolanus knew it was a great chance to get close to you.

But you had other plans. You took your mother’s party as a distraction from him. At the atelier, you spent the following days previous to the party. Lysistrata and Clemensia wanted a dress from your mother’s hands and you had no problem with having your friends there.

Three glasses of champagne rested on the center table, you were in underwear, waiting for one of the sewers to take measurements of your body.

“I still don’t know why you want to wear light pink. It’s a boring color, y/n” Clemmie said. You giggled, and as soon as you were free to move, you slipped on a black nightgown, hurrying to grab the design you and your mother had come up with nights ago.

“Because of this… is a reformed copy of my grandmother’s dress” Both of your friends analyzed the paper and ended up nodding.

“It’s very pretty” Lysistrata replied.

Clemensia wanted a bodycon dress in silver and Lysistrata wanted a blue maxi dress. The theme of the party was flower masquerade. The winter collection was all about silver, pastel pink, burgundy, and grey.

“Hey, yesterday in the session I had of psychology, Persephone and Urban were gossiping about Livia and Coriolanus. Apparently, he called it quits with her after you returned. They only had like two dates but it wasn’t working out either way”

“In what world would Livia Cardew and Coriolanus Snow get along so well to have dates?” Your friends laugh, but you are slightly nervous about the subject.

“Everyone is so invested in you two, though. It was already a matter of gossip back in the Academy. Now that we are basically… adults? It’s more notorious” you eye Lysistrata, realizing you probably were more popular than you thought you were.

“I can’t forgive him. I can only see a selfish man. Not my boy, the one I fell in love with…” you confess.

Clemensia and Lysistrata look at each other, unsure about what they should say to you.

“You could meet the new man he is, perhaps he’s not as bad as you think,” Lysistrata says.

“But stay alert. And don’t give in so easily….” You know Clemensia is right.

And you’re still unsure about even considering giving Coriolanus another chance.

Someone knocked on the door and it was an avox, he handed you a bouquet that you took confused. It had a note.

[ I hope we can match for the party] Of course it had to be from him.

“Speaking of the devil…’

“He sent you flowers?” Clemmie asked and you nodded.

You call the avox and hand him the note. On the blank side, you wrote “I don’t think you’re wearing a light pink suit”.

“Let’s focus on the dresses…” they both nod at you.

…

It surely was one of the most beautiful parties you had attended ever. The party was letting every attendee that your family had won enough power to host something so luxurious. The saloon was full of flowers, some even scattered in the giant chandeliers that hung in the high ceilings. The avoxes all had the same black mask and were serving rounds after rounds of fine alcohol.

Your friends got a table near the stairs, they were laughing and having a good time. You stood up to get a sweet treat since you hadn’t eaten since midday. There was this guy that tagged along and he turned out to be very funny. He was getting along Lysistrata and you liked the sight.

But in the eyes of a certain blonde, who had just arrived, it set him on fire from jealousy. Coriolanus wasn’t trying to get you back in vane. He got mad after seeing you laugh with that guy. He got tired of waiting.

His evil grin grows when he overhears Clemensia and Festus saying you had confessed you still loved him but you couldn’t forgive him. That made him relax a little, so he put on his best smile and approached you at the food table.

There were cookies, pastries, and a vast variety of cakes.

You could hear many people praising your mother’s designs. As you started chewing a lavender and lemon pastry, you felt a hand on your lower back.

“Congratulations to your mother” You turned to encounter Coriolanus. He had a black suit with barely visible thin grey stripes and his signature rose, in a light pink shade that perfectly matched your dress. His mask was black as well and his look, in general, reminded you of his last-minute outfit from the day of the reaping. You felt a pang in your heart because you could see a glimpse of the boy he was at that masquerade.

“You are not going to speak?” He asked.

“I was chewing…” you said, looking away from him.

“Indeed” With his index finger, he cleaned your lips from the cream of the pastry, which took you by surprise.

“We need to talk.”

“Now it’s not the best time, Coriolanus”

“I’m pretty sure it can’t wait. I wouldn’t suit you, especially on a day like this” his words confused you and for some reason it made you feel nervous.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“Like what, dear?” At the sound of his tone, you knew it wasn’t very good.

“Let’s go upstairs when the runway begins,” you said coldly.

The minutes pass flying and when the lights turn off and people gather to look at the fashion show, you and Coriolanus disappear upstairs.

There are plenty of rooms. Most of them are looked but you find one that’s open. It’s a restroom. It has low lights and a lot of mirrors as well as statues and paintings. In the center, there’s a velvet couch that you take to sit on.

You look at Coriolanus expectantly and he only eyes you deeply with his blue eyes.

“Would you marry me?” You frown, shock flooding you, but remain seated, gripping the cushion of the couch harshly.

“What?”

“If I told you I know you were born in the districts. Would you marry me?” You stand up furiously.

“DON’T YOU DARE, CORIOLANUS!” You yell, knowing nobody can hear you.

He grins and walks closing the distance between you two. You step backwards until he gently pushes you so you end up seated again.

“I told you I would get tired of waiting” Your eyes get teary.

“No, don’t cry, baby. I will treat you so right. I will make you a fine First Lady one day…” he whispers, caressing your face.

“Why are you so cruel?”

“I just want you to love me again”

“I did love you, Coriolanus. But it wasn’t enough for you” you retort with anger in your eyes. He smiled, an evil smile that made you mad, he gripped your chin so you couldn’t move away from him.

“I was a boy who didn’t know what it had. Now I’m not risking losing you again” You tried to stand up but he forced you to stay still. And then he kissed you.

His lips invaded yours. You couldn’t reciprocate, you wanted to run away and never come back. But he had other plans, he pinned your hands over your stomach and pushed you to lay on the couch.

When his knee had separated your legs, you opened your eyes in panic.

“Coriolanus, What are you doing?” He didn’t reply.

With one hand he bunched your dress over your lap and his lips started trailing kissing all over your knees to your inner thighs, you gasped and tried to close your legs.

“You can’t lie to my face that you don’t love me anymore. But I know you do. And your body can’t disguise it” he traced a finger over your underwear, the pink fabric denoting a darker spot that revealed your aching for his touch.

“Stop it” you demanded him. Coriolanus only chuckled.

“Who’s gonna understand you like I do? You can’t trust anyone but me, y/n” he said before moving your underwear aside and trailing your insides with his tongue.

You had to muffle a moan because you couldn’t give him the satisfaction, but that didn’t last long.

He had no experience because you knew he had never touched a woman. But he was a fast learner. Because he started making you feel so good. Coriolanus wanted to hear you moan his name, but he couldn't wait. He knew he was doing a good job because, at some point, you lifted one leg, your heel brushing his hip.

“I will never love you again,” you say between moans.

Coriolanus smirks.

“You already do. Just like me…”

You open your eyes and you turn to look at the mirrors. Coriolanus was under your dress and you were putting so much pressure on your stomach, trying to not lift your hips. You were so guilty. For giving into him. Because you still loved him and you secretly hoped he would be the man you wanted him to be.

_________________________________

Then the wedding, a trip to the districts, spooky encounter and finally love in part 3 or not?

Taglist: @sweet-n-serene @qoopeeya @ietss @commanderfreethatdust @starryyyshinomya44

[fushiguruuzzzz]

xvi  ⊹ ࣪ ˖  L is for Weezer 

Series mlist 

Tags — possibly offensive humour, mentions of self hatred, lwk angst I fear 

Words — 1k 

Megumi had tossed his phone haphazardly to the other side of his bed, falling back onto the pillow and staring at the ceiling. He felt so utterly stupid. Nobara was right, honestly. He couldn’t just give up, just back away every single time he felt exposed, every time he felt as if a deeper layer of him was being shown. It scared him more than anything, to allow you to see those parts of him knowing you might not react the way he hoped. With the reveal of the vulnerable parts also came the risk of being harmed, hence why he was so guarded. He found himself converting every emotion into anger, bubbling and bursting like a geyser when the time came. Worst of all, he’d let that time be with you. He wasn’t angry at you, not in the least. He could never be angry at you. 

He was angry at Kamo for swooping in just when things felt right, he was angry at Nobara for bringing that on in the first place, and most of all, he was angry at himself. He’d pushed you away out of fear that his emotions were too much to bare, and now it had been two weeks since the two of you had shared a good conversation. He hated it. It was all his fault. 

You couldn’t ever love him. He couldn’t even love him, he hated him. It was only natural that you’d do the same, after all, you seemed to be rather parallel. Always in the same direction, never meeting. He just wished it wasn’t that way, he wished loving you wasn’t so scary and that at the very least, he could man up and admit it. He’d never been a forward man. Instead he pushed you away and treated you like an asshole. When you called him out he couldn’t even argue because everything you said was true. Every word, every bit of it, except for the implication that you’d done something wrong. 

Fuck, he felt like a middle schooler again. Living through university with you was just as heart wrenching, just as terrible. Yet again he found himself doing the wrong thing at the wrong time, every aspect of his life scrambled simply because you liked another boy. He’d never cared much for life, never found much purpose in his own, except for you. You… you were everything. 

“Fushiguro, get up, man!” came a voice from the doorway, along with a jacket being tossed at him, which he swatted away without a second thought. Yuji had been at it all week, trying to make Megumi get outside for reasons other than classes. 

“Screw off.” 

Yuji suppressed a groan, tossing his head back in exasperation. “Todo’s frat is having a party tomorrow. You’re going.” 

Megumi’s face pulled up into a scowl, disgust painting his features. A party, seriously? Did Yuji even know him? “No, I’m not.” 

“You are,” Yuji pushed. He let out a soft sigh, voice coming out a little softer when he continued. “Please. Just once. Everyone’s getting worried.” 

Megumi felt a pang of something in his chest. Guilt? Maybe. Compassion? Possibly. He let out an annoyed huff, similar to what your parents do when you beg for something before asking you to grab their wallet. “…fine. Just once.” 

Yuji grinned proudly, internally fist pumping. “Yes! Okay, we’ll go tomorrow night at ten.” 

“Hmph. ‘Kay.” 

Meanwhile, you were having a similar conversation, though with far more pestering and far more people. 

Toge was sprawled out on the carpet beside your bed, right next to Panda, whose circumference took up nearly half of the floors area. Maki was perched on her bed, Yuta standing idly at the bottom of it. Nobara, who had basically moved into your dorm by now, was sat at the bottom of yours. 

“You’re coming.”

“No.” 

“Please?”

“No.” 

“Please?” they simultaneously whined, except for Maki, who instead stared at you as if to tell you the choice wasn’t yours to make. 

You slumped against the wall your bed was pushed against, grumbling under your breath. “Oh my gosh, why? I don’t want to.” 

“You should get out, [name]. I’m concerned for you—we all are,” Yuta said, his gentle voice chipping away at your resolve. Screw nice boys and their soft spoken voices, and screw him for being your friend. 

“Think about it,” Nobara said, propping herself up on one arm. “If you look really hot, it’s revenge.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t have much that’s ‘hot’ in my closet, anyway,” you whined. 

“You’re saying that to a shopping addict. That’s music to her ears,” Maki called from across the room. Well, she wasn’t wrong. Nobara seemed to be jittering with excitement simply from hearing it, already picturing the next trip to the mall in her mind. 

You mulled over it for a moment. There were both pros and cons included if you decided to agree. Pros: confidence boost, fun, quality time, happy friends. Cons: Megumi and Kamo were both likely to be there, considering (though Kamo more directly) they were both linked to Todo. It came down to the choice not of whether to go or not, but of whether you’d let a silly fight force you to be cooped up in your room wallowing in self pity, or if you’d push through. That realization alone was enough to force a nod from your head, a breath of air leaving your lips. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there.” 

Nobara, as well as the others, all lit up. Toge grinned at you from the floor, proud as if he’d done anything anyway. 

“We have to go shopping!” Nobara said. You agreed with a soft laugh and a hesitant nod, blissfully unaware of the events that awaited you. 

Taglist !¡ —

@1l-ynn @meowymeowbreow @missunrise @kiss-my-asscheeks @starrysho @good-mourning0 @gumims @beaniesayshi @mrowwww @luvvmae @megumislovedoll @azharyy @starsryi @tibibibi123 @idkidk32 @dazaisfavgf @tlissablr @vi0let-writes @walllflowerrrsss @sh0ot1ngst4r @blubearxy @tvnamayo @san-it-is-i-guess @harryzcherry @withlovesai

(Crossed out name means I can’t tag u!)

Megumi will forever be referred to as Firkle Smith Last name oooo… can’t listen to music so im miserable. You must be as well giggles this was kinda lazy but wtvvvv its okayyyy idk when to release the Yuji fic erm ill probably just wait for bttoh to be over and then post it we shall see…

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Zayne: Kitty Licks | NSFW

Wrote this super quickly to do a test run in notepad fics on twitter and this is what happened. 15 minute drabble of cat Zayne let's goooo.

Pairings Zayne x Reader Warnings Blow Jobs, Cum Swallowing, Cat Zayne, Bottom Zayne Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

In a cat’s social hierarchy, the alpha is the one grooming the others.

It was something you had read earlier that day. After Zayne had come into the situation of becoming a cat hybrid due to an accident with an evol wand, he had been acting more and more… cat-like.

It had been amusing at first, seeing how he would chase after a feather and nuzzle against you; hell, he even purred for you. Something you thought had originally been adorable was how he would give small love bites on your hand or lick you.

After reading that, however, you felt a small change to your tune. Licking you was a form of grooming, in a sense. Showing his dominance, something you didn’t always attribute to Zayne in your relationship. The frequency at which he licked you had increased as well, and you felt the urge to do something about it.

This led to now, as Zayne licks at your palm while scrolling on his phone, his ears twitching a bit whenever he sees something of interest. “Zayne?” your voice called out, knocking him out of his trance.

He looked at you with a cute ‘mrew’ noise, another cute quirk of his new cat-like tendencies. He cleared his throat as he put his phone to the side, “Did you need something?”

“Actually, I do.” You murmured as you went to grab his hand, “Lay on your back; I wanna do something.” You said, already eying him up and down. Zayne furrowed his eyebrows in confusion but followed your command without asking any questions.

He lay down, his back slightly prompted up on the arm of the chair as he waited. “Is this fine?” he asked, watching as you crawled closer on the couch. Your hands slid to the front of his pants, playing with the zipper there as you licked your lips.

“This will work out perfectly.” You murmured more to yourself than to him. You slowly undid his zipper, and Zayne’s breath hitched, his tail swaying a bit as he looked down. It was easy to move the layers of fabric to the side and take out his already half-erect cock.

He groaned as you held him, the member hot in your hands as you stroked him casually, “So this is what you were after…” Zayne huffed, watching how your hand pressed against the tip, collecting the small bit of pre cum that was already there.

Then your tongue lolled out as you licked up the length. He hissed at the sensation; it felt too much yet not enough at the same time. A groan followed it as he felt how your tongue pressed against the slit of the head, licking up the saltiness of him.

It didn’t take much for him to be fully erect in your hands, and he went to run his fingers through your hair, but you quickly snatched his wrist and placed it on his stomach, “No touching, kitten.” You said with a smirk. He let out another groan as you continued to just lick at his length, your wet tongue trailing up from the base to right under the head where his frenulum was.

He was used to you popping him into your mouth, but right now, you were content with running your tongue all over him. It had him twitching against your wet muscles as he let out another groan.

“P-please, I need…” he groaned when he felt you sucking at the head now, his words getting lost in his throat.

“What was that, kitty? I didn’t hear you over your purring.” You teased as you then went back to licking him. He was already so close just from that, and your tongue slowly went down lower to his balls, licking the soft skin there while your hand worked on his length.

He was gasping now, his ears flat against his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. He bit down on his lower lip, the small fang almost piercing through the delicate flesh there. His grip on his shirt got tighter as he rolled his hips into your hand a little more feverishly.

Then you put your mouth right on the head, your tongue pressing against the slit, and it was all over for him. The salty bitterness of his release coated your mouth as you gently sucked on him. His eyes were closed while his mouth hung open, his breathing ragged as he tried rolling further into your mouth, but at your angle, he couldn’t reach it.

After a few moments, he stopped, slumping into the mattress. His tail hanging limp underneath him as he stared at the ceiling. You left his length and swallowed what was left in your mouth, “There, now I’m the dominant one. I licked you.” You said triumphantly.

Zayne was confused, both because of his post-orgasmic bliss and your wording. His eyes slowly trailed over to you, “What?”

“Cats assert dominance by licking. You kept licking me, so in turn, I licked you. Now I’m the dominant one.” You explained simply.

Zayne huffed in reply, rolling his eyes, “So that’s why you…I wasn’t trying to assert dominance over you.” He tried to explain, but honestly he didn’t have a reason as to why he kept licking at you. Perhaps it was his instinct to do that to his mate…partner. His partner.

“Suuuuure you weren’t…well now that we finished that, let’s watch a movie or something.” You said, getting up. Zayne was quick to grab you and drag you onto his lap.

“Not so fast.” He murmured, his eyes trailing up and down your body, “Not until I please my…alpha.” He said with a smirk. A shiver ran down your spine as you returned it. If he was willing to help you get off, then no way in hell were you about to turn down this opportunity. That was…as long as you got to remain in charge.

[jccatstudios]

OMG JESPERS OUTFIT IS SO GOOD. JESPER IN GENERAL IS JUST SO GOOD YOUR DESIGNS ARE INCREDIBLE

Thanks!!! I love to design costumes and outfits so much. I'll take this as a oppurtunity to share some details from the Ch 3 illustration.

For this artwork, I wanted to feature my favorite garment (the leather jacket) and take the opportunity to draw the trio in more modern clothing.

For Jes, it's always about patterns. He's got three in this outfit, though I think he should have more to match his aesthetic. We've got warped checkerboard, cherries, and checkered hearts. The cherries weren't in the original plan, but I decided to add it because I love a good patterned lining (also a nod to a song on the playlist I'm working on for him).

And the riveted tie was a thing I found on pinterest. How cool is that?! I love rivets that don't have a function, especially on the side of jeans.

Each ring represents one of the characters! Green for Jesper, black for Kaz, and the braided one for Inej. This was probably my favorite part of the illustration due to the process. First, his hand was bright purple to make the brown overlay cooler but still keep some warmth to it. Then I used clear alcohol (0 for my fellow Copic users) to get the fine details on his nails.

If there's a chance to give Kaz some sort of crow wing motif on his back, I'll take it. The jacket is semi-backless, revealing a light purple ribbed sweater underneath. There are three layers to the wings: the short ones snap and zip to the second layer, which then is sewn into the waistband of the third layer. He also has a "KB" patch, opposite to his "R" tattoo on his right arm.

As for his pants, I gave him patchwork jeans as a nod to the ever-iconic "not so broken" passage in Chapter 38.

Inej's jacket is based on medieval knight armor, especially in the shoulder detailing. Some people have said it looks like a bird's beak at the top. Unintentional, but I thought that was a cool interpretation. While I didn't draw her real knives, I gave her a little one to go through her piercing. What book is in her backpack? I'll let you decide.