#HES GREY. HES GRAY. HES IN BETWEEN. HE IS ALSO THAT. AND ALSO THIS. AND ALSO THAT. HES GRAY. STOP FUCKING WITH OTHER FANS FOR IT

[antidotefortheawkward-art]

One must wonder how Yuding Zhenren feels during the events of Lotus Lantern...

[ID: A monochrome purple comic. In the first panel is Yuding Zhenren from the shoulders up, resting his head on his hand while reclining and looking up with a cold, angry expression, saying "Yang Jian." In the second panel is Erlang Shen from the shoulders up, looking down at Yuding Zhenren with a detached expression, responding "Shifu." The third panel zooms out to show Yuding Zhenren reclining on a mat while looking up at Erlang Shen, who is standing a few feet away. Yuding Zhenren says, "My... How you've grown." Yuding Zhenren and Erlang Shen both cast reflections on the pond beside them. While Yuding Zhenren's reflection looks largely unchanged, where Erlang's reflection should be, are the image of him and his sister as kids, crying and kneeling in front of Yuding Zhenren. End ID]

[kitscutie]

omg if you’re still wanting requests for coryo, maybe sm like he’s mentoring reader instead of lucy gray (she is safe and sound in 12 dw!) and they get reunited after r wins the games? maybe by some kind of fluke? i’ll leave it up to you bc i love everything you write babes <3

money, power, glory (coriolanus snow x fem!reader)

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: none!

summary: coriolanus snow is your mentor, unlike the others he has a drive for your survival - it quickly becomes clear your bond goes above mentor and tribute.

a/n: this is not part of the snow and roses series but part two is coming very soon -hope you enjoy! also thank you so much to this anon - you're a cutie!

word count: 3.6k

join my taglist here!

The train ride to the Capitol was dark and lonely. It felt as though everybody had already found friends or were close to their fellow District tribute, yours wanted nothing to do with you.

Seeing as you were from twelve you were thin and weak, you knew that, you could feel it in the way your stomach rumbled on a loop every day or the way your head spun when you stood up but you never thought one of your own would turn their back on you.

You didn't think you stood a chance, simply another pawn in the Capitols game but still you had hope.

When the train stopped it jolted, tipping you over had you been stood up like Thornton your fellow Twelve tribute. He wasn't muscly but more so burly, it was clear his family was among the wealthier back home but compared to the Capitol it was nothing.

You stood up from your small corner, cowering away from the sunlight which blinded you upon the doors opening. You heard yells, presumably from your fellow tributes or even the 'peace keepers' as they tried to calm the crowds.

Below you, you saw a flash of red which stood out from the white uniforms and wall to floor grey cement.

Upon closer inspection snow white hair lay atop his head, prominent and proud.

Thornton jumped out of the box on his own accord, not prompted by the guards, nor the boy below you, simply motivated to get into the Hunger Games.

Your head slowly peered out from the box and that's when his eyes met yours, strikingly blue they seemed out of place in such a colourless setting.

"Welcome to the Capitol." He stuttered out, holding a rose which matched his hair out to you, it was beautiful, nothing you had ever seen back home.

"Thank you. Could you-." You began to ask for his help out of the train which staggered above the ground just below half of your height, though he realised quickly, holding your waist as he gently placed you on the ground in front of him.

Finally out of your cage you took the rose from his calloused fingers, admiring it in all it's beauty. It reminded you of him, soft and subtle yet powerful as it stood tall on it's stalk.

"This is beautiful." You said, it came out in something similar to a whisper, your body still adjusting to the new setting. "You look different," You said as you glanced around at the tributes in dirty hand me downs and the guards in plaster white uniforms. "Who are you?" You asked.

"I'm your mentor." He smiled charmingly, it seemed second nature to him.

"Where are the other mentors?" You once again asked, unsure if this was new or simply something you had missed as you sat watching the games between your fingers.

"Well, I'm not supposed to be here but, I'm sure greeting you falls in my line of duty." He said. "Taking care of you." He added which sent butterflies wild in your stomach. He was doing his job you reminded yourself but nobody back home was quite this attractive nor this attentive. You had never been taken care of. Always independent to survive.

You said nothing more, taking in all of his glorious features until a peacekeeper grabbed you arm, taking you with the rest of the tributes into an armoured van. You were once again alone.

You watched in surprise as just moments later your mentor jumped in behind you, standing against the back wall as if to not be seen in a packed and confined space.

"Hi." He said, realising he stood out like a sore thumb. It almost made you chuckle - his blatant fear but then you realised you should be much more scared.

"What's the matter pretty boy, you in the wrong cage?" Said Reaper. He was a tribute you admired, he was brave and strong and seemingly had a deep care for his friend Dill.

"No. This cage is delightful." He smiled. You were impressed by his natural appeal, well to you at least. Every word which came out of his pale lips had you hanging on by a thread.

With that Reaper had had enough, slamming him against the wall with power. "I'll kill you." He said convincingly.

"He'll do it too. He killed a Peacekeeper back in Eleven." Dill spoke as she stared into nothingness.

"I say we all kill him." Added Bobbin as he now stood up too, the other Tributes speaking out in agreement. You began to panic, he was your only source of companionship, of opportunity to leave the Capitol in one piece and here he was about to be ripped to shreds before the Games even begun.

"He's my mentor, could you please not kill him?" You asked pathetically as you attempted to stand between him and Reaper. A feeble attempt though an attempt none the less.

"How come you get a mender?" Said Coral, dirty gaze set now upon you.

"Mentor." He corrected her. "You each get one." He finished, hoping this would calm them in their attempt to kill him.

"And we'll all just believe you, huh? Why does Twelve here get special treatment." Coral replied, now out of her seat and very much in your face as she squished your cheeks between her grimy fingers.

"I'm not special, just lucky I suppose." You shrugged feeling heavily intimidated and under scrutiny by all of their hungry gazes. Eager to pull blood from you in this very moment.

The room went silent and at first you didn't realise why, until you felt your cage begin to shake, slowly tilting towards the ground. Your mentor's hands once again wrapped around your waist though this time from behind you and your own reached down to hold onto his wrists, having no stability.

You all screamed as you fell down onto hard wood chips and damp mud. Eyes were once again blinded by the harsh sunlight as you adjusted to wherever you now were.

A mans voice echoed around your new cage - how kind of them to give you multiple in such little time - seemingly introducing himself to the crowd around you before he spotted the red uniform.

"Excuse me, yes you sir, in the red! Who are you and why are you in there with them, we are live!" He asked, hair gelled to perfection to one side.

You grabbed your mentors hand as he stood frozen in his spot clearly unsure what to do, you however saw an opportunity, an opportunity to stand out.

"May I introduce you to my neighbours?" He asked sarcastically as though he really hated the people filming you like you wanted to be here.

With that the pair of you walked over, but not before he took the rose from your free hand and tucked it behind your ear. It burned under the warmth of his skin, not having had any form of physical touch for as long as you can remember.

"Hi. How do you do, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and this here is my tribute Y/N L/N from District Twelve." He said partly for the cameras partly introducing himself to you and you to him. He already knew your name. He had watched the reaping's, seen you cry in weakness.

"Hello." You mumbled partly shuffling to hide behind his body. Not used to such attention.

He focused his attention on you, firing questions at you over and over again until you had had enough. "More on my mentor, seemed he's the only one who bothered to show up." You said and the boy that you now knew to be Coriolanus rubbed his thumb back and forth over your hand as he sensed your discomfort being Infront of so many prying eyes.

"Well I would love to ask him some questions but it seems as though he's about to be whisked away." Lucky said and as soon as the words came out Peacekeepers appeared behind the pair of you grabbing him by the biceps and beginning to drag him away.

"Hey." You held onto him for one second longer. "Thank you for everything Coriolanus Snow. But uh, could you please bring me some food? I can feel my bones turning into dust as we speak." You said. He slightly chuckled at this but no less nodded.

With that, you were once again alone.

"Y/N!" You heard your name from behind the rock you sat against, instantly recognizing the voice to be Coriolanus Snow.

"That for me?" You asked as he pulled out a few pieces of food wrapped in tissue in front of you. He handed it to you through gaps in the fence, wordlessly answering your question. "Thank you." You said as you eagerly stuffed your face, this being the first meal you had eaten in days, no weeks.

"They not feed you back in Twelve?" He asked, concerned.

"No. We don't exactly get that luxury." His question surprised you, you assumed it was common knowledge that food was few and far between in the outer Districts yet here he was, surprised. "Seems your friend already knows that." You added as you watched a girl in a matching uniform to his teasing Brandy.

"She is not my friend she is poison with perfect teeth." He answered and yet again it sounded so perfect. He knew just what to say to please you, comfort your mind as you wondered at what point he would turn on you. "Listen, you can't share this with anyone. This is my only chance to help you and they-" He said discreetly pointing to the tributes scattered around you, "Are only going to use you."

"Not like I've got anyone to share with. Don't think I'm very popular." You said, defeated. You supposed that out of anyone, you didn't want to befriend the people who would shortly be wishing death upon you but instead the man before you who would hold your hand until the moment you walked through that door.

"Maybe not with them but out here you have a chance. I've made some suggestions, I might be able to get the audience to send you gifts. Food and water. You just need to play into their game, win them over." He said, face against the fence as he wished to keep this information between the two of you. An advantage.

"I don't want to play their game, the same game that got me here in the first place? I don't think charming anyone is my forte anyway." You once again deprived yourself of any credit, picking at the skin around your nails.

"You're more charming than you think Y/N. I'd bet on it." He said, gaze digging deep into your soul. No one had ever complimented you before never mind in such a blatant way. You knelt down, tired of standing and he went with you continuing your conversation.

"Dill reminds me of my sister, before she passed. So sick and weak, I hate to think of her in a place like this." You shared, feeling vulnerable to him in such a short time.

"I'm sorry." He said genuinely.

"You seem like a good man Coriolanus. Would've been nice to meet you outside of this cage." You said, tapping on the metal bars before letting it settle there.

"Mhm." He agreed, tilting his head sympathetically and after moment of what must have been deliberation he wrapped his own hand around yours. It warmed your skin, chilled by the cold iron beneath your palm.

Your sweet moment was cut off by Arachne's scream as Brandy had enough of her teasing, smashing the bottle and using it to slice her neck.

You stared in horror, this was what you were up against in that arena, you stood no chance.

Coriolanus leaped into action, comforting the bleeding girl while Peacekeepers shot Brandy down. In all of your years alive you had never witnessed such violence and it left you shaking, even more so as the bullets narrowly missed Coriolanus' head.

The Peacekeepers grabbed his arm, once again pulling him away from you, your heart beating in his direction.

The next day you were all placed in a large circular room. You and your fellow tributes shackled to a table while the mentors sat proudly, postures straight before you.

You were allowed to discuss game plans for the main event but also for a televised special where the Capitol could get to know you. Nut it wouldn't really be you, just a shell of your former self.

"I'm sorry about your friend." You sympathised, he was clearly upset, scared you weren't sure but his energy was different to his hopeful exterior from yesterday.

"Thank you. Are you doing okay?" He deflected, though his care seemed and was genuine. He cared about you more than the way a mentor cares for the tribute. Your connection went deeper.

"I'm scared Coriolanus. You saw what those tributes can do yesterday. I'm nothing compared to them! I've never even killed a spider." You cried out in desperation, hands shaking where they were tied to the table.

"I'm scared for you, Y/N. I don't want to lose you in there, so I guess that makes two of us." He replied, soothing you. "But no matter how scared you are you have to perform for them in the interviews later. Pretend to be someone else or be yourself it doesn't matter but this is the last chance to make them like you. Didn't take much for you to win me over." He added.

"I- I just can't Coriolanus. I'm no performer. I'm no different to them just weaker and a character in their entertainment." You answered, slowly admitting defeat.

"You have to be brave, Y/N. For me, okay?" He begged, once again placing his hand over your own.

"I'll try." You decided. You either died of embarrassment or an axe to the face and you knew which you proffered.

"Snow. Let's go!" Shouted Casca, the creator of the games. A man you loathed.

"You'll be okay." He said before he left his chair leaving you to sit in the large room as the other debated their strategies.

Later on once you were allowed to view the arena he returned. Instantly walking in stride beside you as if he never left.

The arena was void of light except the red beams which pointed out the entrance. It was eerie and honestly a fabrication of your worst nightmares.

This time in your fear you felt no hesitation to grab onto his hand, and he grabbed your back, linking you fingers with a squeeze which said to you 'it's okay' without saying anything at all.

Seeing the cameras you released it, not wanting unnecessary attention upon yourselves.

The gates closed behind you with a loud clang, leaving you in the darkness and you stumbled back into his chest, the only thing keeping you from a breakdown being the steady beat of his heart beneath his chest.

Shutters on each wall began to rise letting in the natural sunlight outside but yet you were still very much in another cage.

While the other tributes decided their alliances you stuck by Coriolanus' side and he had no objections. "Coriolanus you can't met me die in here. I've got so much left to do." You begged, clutching the opening of his red suit.

"I wont let you die, Y/N. Even if it's the last thing I do." He replied, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. His words were laced with truth, knowing his plans to bend the rules in order to keep you alive.

The moment was short lived as the centre of the arena exploded, rubble and smoke flying everywhere including into your forehead as you felt blood trickle into your eye.

Both you and Coriolanus ran, though he was seconds too slow as a pillar fell onto his leg trapping him against the floor. While the other tributes ran having little regard for their mentors you ran back, pulling it off of him with every last ounce of power in your body.

Your heart ached hearing his cried but also with the pain that this was most likely the last time you would see him before the games as the Peacekeepers found you and dragged you back to the 'zoo' before you could attempt escape like the others.

"Y/N." You heard your name whispered into the darkness of the night. You hadn't slept, not since the thought of Coriolanus being dead crossed your mind and so it hadn't taken much to catch your attention.

"You're alive, thank god." You cried. Seeing his face untouched calmed your racing heart.

"The bombs, they changed everything. I've been in there, you can hide, the floors gone. You can hide until it's safe. Run when it starts and don't come out until it's safe, please Y/N. Don't go for the weapons." He begged to you. You had planned to hide in the first place but his desperation for your survival warmed your heart.

"Thank you Coriolanus snow. For taking care of me. Just like you promised." You said to him, tears beginning to fall from your eyes, the same tears you hadn't let fall since the train arrived in the Capitol.

"Just like I promised." He smiled. "You saved my life in there Y/N." He added.

"I'm sorry." You said as you couldn't hold back your desperate tears anymore. You were sorry you wouldn't succeed for him, sorry this was the last time you would see him, sorry that your heart ached for him.

"It's okay, It's okay." He soothed you. Wiping your tears with his embroidered handkerchief. "I'm gonna get you out of there. I promised after all, right?" He repeated his earlier declaration of promise, it meant everything to you and yet nothing. At the end of the day your survival came down to you and you didn't know if you could handle blood on your hands.

"Is this all real? Between you and me, do you really-" You began to ask, though he cut you off.

"I care about you, Y/N. Really. No amount of money could make me do this for you, risk it all. The things you wanted to do, wanted to live for? I want to do them with you. I want to give you the life you deserve." He said and that was all the confirmation you needed, the feelings you were having were real. Not part of the game, not faked for the cameras.

He was here in the middle of the night to help you.

"We are gonna win this, Y/N. We are gonna win this together."

It had now been fifty four days and counting since you had last seen him. The games had come and gone, what you thought was luck leaving you a victor.

Days had been boring since Coriolanus Snow left your life. You returned to what you had left behind in District Twelve, friends, no family and a wooden shack you called a home.

Your heart longed to see him, more than anything in this world you wished to feel his hand in yours one more time. Hear his reassuring words one more time though now you needed them to comfort your nightmares.

Today was the same as every day had been. Get up, bathe in a bucket, eat vegetables you found in the forest and then read the same books you had for the past eighteen years. It was all you had but now more than ever it felt good to be stuck in that cycle instead of stuck in a cage of people who called for your death.

A knock at your door at mid-day startled you. It was unusual to get visitors in District Twelve - everybody keeping to themselves and yet something dragged you to answer.

Opening the door you saw a figment of your dreams. White hair, blue eyes and pale skin, yet they were too real and close to be something your brain created.

"Y/N L/N, you are a sight for sore eyes." He said, his voice like butter in your ears.

"Coriolanus?" You asked before he tackled you into a hug, hands gripping you like you would slip through his fingers at any moment in time. "How- what." You began to ask.

"I was sent to Eight to be a Peacekeeper but I used my last cents to get sent here instead, then I just asked around to find you. Find my girl." He said as he held your face between his hands, checking you over for injuries. The last time he was you you were injured and cowering in the arena, begging to be set free.

"You found me." You whispered, diving in to kiss him. He responded immediately, wasting no time in curling his lips into yours. You fought for dominance but ultimately you let him take over, needing to let go for once.

"I missed you so much." You whimpered in both pleasure and pain as he kissed and nibbled on your neck. Dream becoming reality. "I begged with every last but of luck within me that I'd see you again." You confessed, bringing his face up to kiss you once more.

"And here I am." He smiled, staring into your eyes, breathing the same air as you.

"I thought my life ended that day, in that arena. Losing myself, then losing you." You admitted, eyes similar to the last time you saw him, glassy.

"Y/N, Y/N." He chuckled, "Our life has only just begun."

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[americaswritings]

Voices of Roses and Ruin | Part II

Warnings: I haven't read the book (yet), Coriolanus thoughts, mentions of poverty, mentions of violence

Summary: Coriolanus thought he would never see you again after you won the Games and he got banished to the districts. But when he does, he is left to question whether or not he can imagine a life with(out) you.

Words: around 2k

Pairing: Young Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: You all asked for it so here it is: Part 2! Thank you so much for all the love on the first one. It truly blew me away!! I really hope you like this part just as much. I tried to capture Coriolanus inner conflict here. Also there will be a third and final part! :)

Can be read as Lucy Gray x Coriolanus Snow here

Part I | Masterlist

He hadn't thought he would ever see you again. Not after the gamemaster had sent for him once the games were over and he had found the evidence against him placed on a table.

Evidence that he had helped you, although the rules forbid it.

He had known. There was no denying that and it was below his dignity to pretend so. There was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do except stare at that evidence and wonder if it had been worth it.

If you had been worth it. Ruining his life.

As he had watched you crumble under his painfilled screams in the arena he had been sure to have ruined yours, but now he figured it might have been mutual.

It was what happened in the games, was a part of it. Only he had never been one and there was a sick feeling inside of him as he thought of how he had been used, had used you, had used resources to save you despite the knowledge that it crossed a line.

It was easy to watch the games and all the ways they manipulated people. Turned children into killers and brought out the deepest, darkest parts of humans. How they got manipulated in turn, by the gamemakers and the capitol. Even their mentors. And sometimes how they manipulated the public and the capitol in an act of quiet revolution.

It was oddly fascinating in a way, to see through those lies and perceptions and untangle them. Like they were all pieces on a chess board and he just had to watch them push each other around, taking out one by one.

But to find out that he had been a part of it too, that he had been played made him feel like just another pawn.

But you had won. Even if he would pay the price for it now, he had gotten you through the games. It filled him with pride and a little...relief to know that he had kept his promise.

He hated not knowing if you were safe now, but at least he had held his word. If something happened to you now, it wasn't on him.

But then why was there no comfort in that thought?

Why did there seem to be no comfort ever again, with you gone and his life torn to shreds. All his hopes and dreams crushed within one night.

Had it been worth it?

It didn't matter if he had done it for the scholarship or to save you. But then why did he suddenly feel filled with doubts?

All his life there had only been two colours: black and white. There was no grey, because he firmly believed in wright or wrong. He thought it pathetic when people weeped over the games and how tragic they were, yet found the uttermost entertainment in them.

The games served a purpose and they promised him one of his own, a university career, so he served them. It didn’t matter what he thought about it.

But now he seemed captured in between those two opposites. He knew rationally that it had been wrong to manipulate your chances so you could win. And he saw now where it had gotten him.

But wouldn't he do the same again?

Being with you, gazing into your eyes and wishing you were by his side was wrong. You came from two different worlds and the odds were against you. But then how had he turned into this man, thinking about a woman, letting his feelings guide his decisions and cloud his judgement?

And it went beyond the grey.

When you had stepped into his life you had introduced colours to it he had never seen before.

Red, not the university red, but the colours of your lips, the blood driping down your arms.

Blue, not the lifeless district blue, but the dress you had worn when you had sang during your interview and he haid laid in a hospital bed, mesmerized by your every word and sound.

Brown, the colour of dirt and poverty, but seemed to exist in uncountable shades on you.

And now that had all been ripped from him, just because he had played smarter than the other students.

His days as a peacekeeper were as dull and lonely as he had expected. He kept his gaze narrow, his weapon close and he didn't let his mind wander.

Because then he would mourn all he had lost and it would turn to anger. Fury. A turmoil of emotion he didn't know how to handle.

Sometimes he wondered if his life had only existed in polarity before and you had shown him spectra and ranges he had never learned to balance.

And it made him mad. At you. Because how dare you show him what love and lust felt like, how light it made him feel and how there seemed nothing else to exist in his thoughts anymore, only to rip it all away and show him the other side of it. The loss and the grief, the uncertanity and fear. The lacking.

Sometimes he wondered if he was going mad. Here he was damned to a life in the districts, a simple life, despite knowing he had been born for big things. It was in the name. Snow lands on top.

He pretended to be numb and hollow on the outside, but inside of him raged a storm of emotions that broke him bit by bit. Soon there would be not much left of his pride. To his sanity.

He had convinced himself he wasn't thinking about you anymore.

That his dreams of you were just evidence of his growing madness. And that the hopelessness he felt when he persuaded himself you were likely somewhere far away and not thinking of him anymore didn't exist.

But all the lies he had build opon came crashing down when he caught a glance of that blue, that red and brown and he knew. Knew without a doubt.

His hand was locked around your wrist before he could think about the movement and he dragged you away and into a dark alley, his big hand clasped over your mouth to swallow your screams and his body trapping yours against the wall.

His gaze flickered around to make sure no one saw you, then he allowed himself to look at you.

Your eyes were wide open, staring at him in a mixture of shock, fear and disbelief. Carefully he lowered his hand, his hand tangling in your hair. He had always wanted to do that.

But he didn't step away. He needed to make sure this was real, that you were real. “You're here."

You swallowed, eyes flickering over his face and then the uniform. You frowned, then carefully touched his head. "Your hair- it's gone."

"Not completely."

"It's short." You smiled and he felt his lips curve into one as well, all previous anger swallowed by the reality that you were here. That he hadn't lost everything. He had you know.

"Why are you here? Why are you one of them?" He ignored the way your tone changed and you practically spit out the word. "They found out how I helped you. It was against the rules."

He couldn't keep to himself any longer, not after he had fantasised about you for so long and his hand travelled over your neck, your jaw, cupped your cheek.

Finally, you were his.

He would have leaned down and kissed you, but the look in your eyes stopped him. "I thought you were hurt. I- I thought you were dead!"

Tears were shimmering in the soft light that the moon cast over your face and he caught them and wiped them away with his thumb when they spilled over your cheeks.

"It wasn't my voice in the arena. They used the birds to-" "I know that!" You let out a breath. "But everything they said- you said that to me. Word by word."

He waited silently for you to continue. "But then the screams-" "They weren't real", he tried to soothe you, but you shook your head. "But if everything else was, then...", you trailled of, but he knew what you thought anyway.

"They manipulated you. That's why they used my real words against you, to convince you that it was really me, my voice, so that you would believe everything."

"So they didn't-" You looked at him with so much fear that he almost smiled. "They didn't do anything to me. I sat there watching like I did the whole time."

"But then...how they did to it? And how did they listen to us all this time?"

He knew what you were really asking. Had he known? Had he known about it, but never thought it important enough to mention or worse had he intentionally not told you, because of his own motifs?

Shaking his head slightly he let out a sigh. "I don't know", he admittted. "How do they do anyting?"

You looked at him a second longer before nodding, deciding that you would trust him.

His hand ran down your arms now and he noted in satisfaction that you shivered under the touch. He was sure it had nothing to do with the cold.

"Where were you? After you won?"

After he had yelled at the game master to let you out. Many times.

"Here and there." You shrugged, but he wanted to know more. Needed to know more.

“That's not enough."

Would it ever be? Now that he was in the district and you were here too. Was that enough?

It wasn't the big house, the uniform and status. It wasn't Tigris smile. And it wasn't power.

It was just you and him, a whole lot of dirt, hunger and sickness. Lacking. Was that a life he could settle for?

Until now this had only been a station in his life. He would get back to the capitol and claim what belonged to him or else he would not see a future for himself.

But now things were different.

"I didn‘t know where to go. I thought after the games my life would be different, but I am still here and everything's the same except that I'm a killer.“

You closed your eyes and an expression of pain crossed your face. He let out a breath as he tried to soothe away the frown. "Don't say that." "But it's true." You looked at him with loathing in your eyes.

"You gave me the tools to kill and I used them. We’re both guilty."

"So? Everyone is. It's what needed to be done." He didn't get your fuss. All that mattered was you and him and you had gotten that.

"I would still make the same choices." "You would?" He nodded. "You matter more than them."

You frowned, heaviness in your eyes. "I don't." "To me you do."

It was true. He didn't know much, didn't understand these new feelings, but this one thing he could promise you was the truth.

Closing your eyes you leaned your foreheads against each other's, finding a glimmer of peace in each others presence. "To me you do too."

It was barely above a whisper, but he opened his eyes to search yours. For a moment you were locked in each other's gazes, but even though it felt like it in this moment, you would never have all the time in the world.

Cupping your cheek a final time Coriolanus closed the distance between you.

Your lips were dry and tasted a little like salt where the tears had touched them, but he savoured the feeling. Your body was trapped between the wall and his and he wanted to explore every part of it, make you completely and utterly his.

The kiss was all shades and ranges of colour he didn‘t know existed and he only knew he wanted more of it. It was addicting, this new feeling that only you seemed to hold the key to.

When you broke apart a sad smile hung on your lips. Before he could ask you about it you cast your eyes down. "They are talking about us. In the capitol. When they used your voice and I...fell for it- they made it into a whole story."

He closed his eyes. He had considered that possibility, yet he hated how he felt the control slipping from him. He had always contained an image and now he felt like other people were deciding it.

"They will forget about it." "They won't. You know it. I can't ever go back."

When he opened his eyes again he saw shock and understanding in yours. "But you...want to go back", you concluded and he didn't deny it. It had always been the scholarship for him, the way up.

He was a Snow, born into greatness. It was his duty to claim what should have been his all along.

You ducked away and took a step to the side, bringing a distance between your bodies he hated.

"This is not my life." You knew that, didn‘t you? Or had you expected him to give up everything for what…love? This feeling of lightness and colour and sweetness?

Even if it gave him a flicker of lust and the power he yearned for, it was not the same.

Because even if your love was strong enough, it would never exist without hunger, worry and a job below his worth. And he was tired, so tired of living like that.

That was why he had taken on the mentorship in the first place. Why he had even gone to such lengths to get the public to pay attention to you and then to save you.

For a different life. A better one. A life in the district was far from it.

Your eyes flickered around as you took in your own district. The one he had spent his last money on just for the possibility to see you again.

And you were standing right in front of him, yet you seemed even farer away now than you had in the arena.

"But it's mine."

Silence settled between you as both of you considered the meaning of your words.

"So all of this...for nothing? You say all these things to me, that you won't let me die and that I'm different and then you break the rules to save me only for what?!"

You shook your head furiously. Desperately. "So you can go back to the capitol and pretend this never happened?!"

He should have felt outrage, but for the first time since he had been sent to the gamemaster and learned his fate he felt numb inside.

"No."

You stared at him in bewilderment, your face a portrayal of the storm of emotion he had felt trapped inside of him for so long. "I would never pretend", he took a stride towards you.

“You changed me. And I think I changed you."

His hands found your face again and to his own surprise you let it happen. "We belong with each other."

You stared at him, a deep sadness in your eyes as you silently shook your head.

"Only not in this world", you whispered, ducking away from his touch and disappearing into the shadows without another word.

He stood there, staring at the spot you had vaished, a part of him leaving with you.

Part 3

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[lipglossanon]

Shimmer

Leon S. Kennedy x Fox Fem!reader <one shot>

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, very little world building, smut a plenty 😆, Leon POV, hybrid reader, teasing, flirting, kissing, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, nipple play, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, mommy kink, unprotected sex, creampies

not proofread ✌️ just a smutty hybrid au

title from Shimmer by Fuel

Leon couldn’t believe his eyes. You wind around the trunk of a tree, bright eyes locked on him as a little smile hovers on your lips like a secret. He swallows, tracking your movement, tenebrous colored tail flickering in and out of the tree line. He didn’t know he’d see a pretty little fox this far out. 

Leon planned for his four day weekend to be a relaxing hike in the local mountains, camping for a night (maybe two), and then heading back home to veg out in front of the tv before the next work week starts. He’s been out here in the forest for a few hours now and finally found a place to bed down for the night when you appear. A gray fox isn’t as common as the red, but he’s heard people in town talk about the few that have been spotted out here in Arklay. 

Leon doesn’t consider himself a hardcore outdoorsman, but he at least knows enough about the local wildlife. The closer you get to his little campsite the more enraptured he becomes; you’re absolutely captivating. His fire crackles and keeps him warm despite the chill permeating the night air; he’s afraid to move once you take a graceful seat on the opposite side of his fire pit, flames highlighting the hollows of your face. 

“Hi,” you smile, sharp little fangs glinting at him. 

“H-hi,” he croaks, throat dry so he tries to clear it.

“Camping, hmm?” Your gaze lazily drifts to his tent and satchel before landing back on him. 

“Yeah, needed a break,” he shrugs, hands clasping together to give them something to do, “you live near here?”

“Now why would I tell a stranger where I live?” You laugh, a throaty sound that makes Leon’s blood run hot. 

A flush overtakes his cheeks, “Sorry, I-I’m just making small talk.”

You laugh again, tail shifting to drape across your lap, “You’re cute. What’s your name?”

“Leon. What’s yours?”

He listens as you answer but his eyes can’t stop darting between your perked ears and soft tail. 

“Do you want to pet me?” You grin, tail swishing back to your side. 

“What—no, I mean, maybe,” Leon’s sweating bullets, mesmerized by you but also terrified you might rip his throat out with your sharp little teeth.

Smiling even broader, you stand up and make your way to him, folding down into a crouch in front of him. This close up, Leon quickly takes in your facial features before noticing the small black collar wrapped around your neck; his eyes trace down the modest sundress to your bare legs and feet. 

“Aren’t you cold?” He murmurs, blue eyes roving back up to your curious gaze. 

“No,” you smile, “but I’ll be sure to let you know if I am.”

Leon blushes and you look delighted, kneeling closer to peer up at him. 

“You’re pretty far out for camping, little Leon,” you fingers graze over his jeans, sharp nails making his pulse race, “aren’t you scared you’ll run into some big scary animal?”

Swallowing, he shakes his head no, “I-I brought bear mace and I’m sticking to the game warden trails.”

He watches your head tilt as one of your ears flick back, listening to the dark forest behind you. 

“Hmmm, you should be safe enough then,” your smile returns and Leon feels your tail brush across his arm, “want to see how soft it is?”

With hands steadier than his heart, Leon carefully strokes over the soft fur. It’s more silver than grey with a streak of black that ends at tip of your tail. Some white highlights catch his eye as his hand softly glides down the length. 

“It’s lovely,” he murmurs, dazed eyes coming back up to lock on your bright ones. 

“Thank you, Leon,” you purr, flicking your tail away behind you, ears perking forward, “you’re no slouch yourself.”

You let your nails brush across his sandy blonde fringe before pulling away. Leon doesn’t know what it is but he’s so drawn to you that his defenses are completely down. So he makes no move to stop you when you drag those sharp claw tips across his scalp and down his neck. 

A low groan slips from his mouth and he jerks away, an embarrassed blush crawling up his neck. You laugh and inch closer, hands moving down to skate up his jean clad thighs before resting on his chest.  

“Little Leon,” you coo, “are you feeling flushed? You look red.”

“I’m,” he coughs, trying to cover up his nerves, “maybe I’m just too close to the fire.”

“Do you need help to your tent?” You hold his gaze, your little grin showing off an incisor, “don’t want you to pass out.”

Your fingers drum across his pecs and he has the intrusive thought of you ripping into his shirt to tease his nipples. Biting back another groan, he nods jerkily. 

“I should probably lay down,” he clumsily stands, watching as you easily stand next to him, hands hovering over his shoulders. 

“I’ll help,” you take his arm and guide him the few feet away over to his accommodations for the night.

Pulling back the flap, you help Leon ease down onto his knees so he can kick off his boots before placing them inside next to the opening. Before he can thank you, you crawl in next to him, tail brushing across him as you splay out on his sleeping bag. 

“Comfy,” you pat the space next to you, “come lay down, Leon.”

His cock twitches in interest and he quickly zips the tent closed; the light glow of the fire can still be seen through the mesh. Moving over to you, he copies you, lying on his side with his head propped against his arm.

“Figured you might like some company tonight,” your eyes drop down to his mouth, “don’t want you to feel scared.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, pulse thundering in his neck as you shift closer, legs tangling with his. 

“Maybe,” you murmur, lips ghosting across his, “you should get comfortable for bed.”

Without any other prompting, he quickly shucks off his jeans and socks before taking his shirt off just leaving him in his briefs. His cock sits half hard against his thigh and he watches as your greedy eyes take him all in.

“Mmm, not bad,” you grin at him, tail waving back and forth behind you. 

He settles back where he was and you move into his space, lips kissing across his jaw before pressing softly against his own mouth. With a groan, Leon lets your hot tongue lick into his mouth, hips rolling forward until you finally push him on his back and lay atop him. You break the kiss once to stare down in his face while you rock your wet little cunt against his bulge before lapping at his parted lips. 

Kissing you messily, Leon can’t stop from moaning and groping your ass through your sundress. The hard press of your nipples against his chest makes him grind against the apex of your thighs even rougher. Pulling away, you raise up into a sitting position over his lap. Your sharp nails tease across his pink nipples and his whole body jolts like he got an electric shock. 

“Oh, Leon,” you grin. 

He feels powerless while your fingers pinch and tug his stiff buds until he’s mewling and rocking up into your ass. Hands grabbing onto your thighs, he presses your dress up until he can see your bare cunt coated in clear slick that makes his mouth water. 

“Sit on my face,” he pants, “fuck, sit that fucking chubby pussy on my face, please.”

“What a dirty boy,” you lean forward and bite his nipple. 

Leon keens in his throat, a sharp high noise he’s never made in his life. Fuck, he thinks he might cum from just you abusing his nipples. His eyes flutter as your wet little mouth decides to suckle and tease his swollen buds; your sharp teeth scraping across them has his cock weeping precum, staining his briefs. 

“I-I’m gonna cum if you keep that up,” he finally gets out, hands tangling in his own hair, “fuck, please baby, sit on my face.”

“I guess since you’re being so good,” you sigh, sitting up to pull your dress up and off, nude body coming into view for the first time. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathes out, eyes sweeping down your body. 

Your ears twitch and you smile, “You’re so sweet, Leon. Now sit back so I can ride your face.”

“Please,” he whines, helping you crawl up his body.

As you move, Leon shimmies his briefs down and off his legs. Your knees then rest on either side of his head and you gently sit your fat dripping cunt down onto his face. With a moan, Leon’s lapping and sucking up all of the slick coating your pussy lips, tongue running up and down your slit. Settling more of your weight down, you relax against him and he humps the air, cock drooling everywhere as he licks your pussy. 

“So good, Leon,” grinding your cunt down on his mouth, he flattens his tongue letting you rut against the slick muscle. 

He moans, hands cupping your ass to keep you from moving off of his face. Even if he suffocated, Leon would die a happy man. Chillbumps race down his body when your tail brushes over his chest and stomach. The soft fur of your tail eventually drapes itself over his stiff and leaking cock making him lap eagerly into your cunt, tongue fluttering against your pussy walls. 

“Right there,” you purr, nails carding through his hair and scratching at his scalp, “suck on my clit and I’ll cum all over your pretty mouth, Leon.”

More precum leaks from his slit, cock so swollen it aches. His eyes shut in an effort to control himself, control his thoughts before he cums all over himself like some virgin. You rock and grind down on his tongue, low moans filling the tent as he laps along your clit before sucking it into his mouth. Keening, you press your bodyweight down, making sure he stays suckling your swollen bud until your orgasm finally overtakes you. 

Leon moans just as loudly as you do, drinking up your slick like he’s a man dying of thirst. You undulate in place until the overwhelming feeling of his mouth has you shifting back down into his lap with a pleased little hum. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” he rasps, eyes blown out as he takes in your relaxed posture.

“Glad to know,” you tease, running your hands down his pecs and across his puffy nipples. 

He lets out a low hiss but doesn’t stop your touches. Your soft hands drift down to the thatch of hair at the base of his cock before sweeping down his thighs. 

“Finally,” you sigh, one hand slowly stroking his dick while the other cups his balls, “a nice fat cock.”

Said cock jerks and leaks even more into your palm, balls throbbing as Leon watches you play with his dick. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers, slowly rocking his hips up, “you like it?”

“Mm hmm,” you purr, “I’ve had lots of men over the years, but you have the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

A spark of jealousy lights in his chest but it’s washed away by the twist of your wrist around his tip making him lose all train of thought. 

“I’ve been looking for someone like you,” you whisper, eyes flashing, like it’s a secret— Leon supposes it might honestly be, “someone to mate.”

His cock kicks, a glob of precum dripping over your fingers where they’re wrapped around his length. You use the sticky wetness to glide your hand more easily up and down his dick, slowly jacking him off. He groans, hips pumping but you only loosen your grip with a sly little grin. 

“Please,” he murmurs, “it hurts.”

“Does it?” You pout, hand softly massaging his sac before tracing the seam down to his taint, “poor little Leon wants to cum?”

“Uh huh,” he drops his head back with a broken moan, “please, w’nna cum for you.”

“Oh?” 

The way your voice piques with interest has his gaze lasered back in on your face. Your attention is focused on his cock but he sees the want sitting as heavily on you as he feels.

“Since you’re being so sweet,” your eyes flick to his and you hold the connection as you rub his cock over your slippery clit, mouth dropping open to pant. 

“God, you feel so good,” he grunts, hands grabbing your waist, thumbs digging into your hip bones, “please, please.”

You press his cock against his stomach and glide your soaked cunt up and down—the world's most torturous pussy job he thinks dazedly. His tip leaks so much there’s a small sticky puddle of precum forming on his stomach as your slick coated pussy lips part around his cock, hole dripping and rubbing against him. 

“You’re going to stretch me open so much,” you coo sweetly, tail swishing excitedly behind you, “hope you don’t cum too soon.”

Before Leon can even argue, you tilt his cock up and sink your pussy down on him; he knows he’s gripping you too hard, but he can’t let go when your hot little cunt’s sucking him in so agonizingly slow. 

He’s babbling too, but fuck if he knows what he’s saying; whatever it is, you don’t mind since you’re giving him that same throaty laugh from earlier that makes him wanna spill deep in your greedy hole.

It feels like a lifetime before you start to bounce on his lap, pussy squelching deliciously, making his mouth flood with saliva knowing what you taste like. The pace picks up and before he can blink, you’re riding him rough and fast, pussy clamped down on his cock like a vice. 

“I’m gonna cum,” he grunts, hands going to your hips ready to pull you up and off so he can spill all over your pussy.

He feels like a fucking teenager, not able to hold back on cumming inside your pussy like he’s never fucked a woman before. Hybrid pussy must be something else, he thinks dizzily, cock throbbing as your slippery walls pulse and throb around his thick length. 

“Cum inside,” you moan, nails digging into his forearms so harshly blood runs down his arms. 

The pinprick of pain makes him buck up harder into your spasming hole. His brain fizzes in arousal, dick buried balls deep in your soaked cunt. 

“Can’t,” he gasps, “fuck, what if you get pregnant?”

His cock thickens at the thought, balls tight against his body, at the hint of knocking you up. You laugh, that throaty sound that makes Leon throb, and you grind harder down on his lap. 

“Then mate me, little Leon, spill your seed deep inside and give me kits,” your lips spread in a smile so wide your fangs show, “breed my pussy like your cock’s begging you to.”

“Oh god,” he whines, “I-I can’t,” but he doesn’t stop himself from fucking into your pussy harder and deeper, balls aching to shoot his load.  

“Aww you can’t?” You mock, guiding his hands up to grab your breasts, “can’t fill my cunt with your thick cum? Can’t breed a wet pussy that wants it so bad?”

He’s losing the battle. It just feels too good inside your fluttering walls while he rabbits his hips against yours, cock stuffing you on every thrust. He squeezes his hands until your tits spill over his fingers, nipples hard against his palms. 

“Make me a mommy, Leon,” you croon, voice saccharine sweet in his ears and he nods before even realizing what you’ve said. 

“M-mommy?” He slurs out, body flushed and overheated as he fucks up into your cunt. 

You giggle and lean forward, “Mm hmm, you like mommies, Leon?”

He gasps, eyes rolling back as he leaks heavily inside your hole, “Ye-yes. Love mommies.”

“Good boy,” you murmur, dropping a dizzying kiss to his lips and he chases your mouth with a moan. 

“Mommy, want you to be a mommy,” he babbles out, brain complete mush now from the arousal, “want you to be my mommy.”

“Ohh?” You sigh gustily and lean forward more, pressing your breasts into Leon’s face. 

Taking the hint, Leon’s hand shift down to your ass so he can mouth and suck at your tits, licking and suckling your nipples as he thrusts sloppily. 

“Mommy,” he murmurs, tongue lapping at the soft skin of your breasts before sucking a nipple into his hot mouth. 

Whining, his eyes flutter shut. If he breeds your cunt, you’ll leak milk from these gorgeous tits. He moans loudly, the thought turning him on so much he can’t stop sucking your nipples. He pumps his hips up into your soaked cunt, feeling you drip slick down his cock to drip off his balls. 

“So hard, Leon,” he distantly hears your voice, “being such a good boy for me, fucking your mommy so good.”

Mewling against your breasts, he bites the puffy bud in his mouth, tongue lashing against it until you’re squeezing and rocking down on his dick. He could fill you to the brim, bust his load deep in your pussy and keep you on his cock til it takes. Eyes rolling in pleasure, he swaps to your other breast, mouth greedily suckling the hard nipple into his mouth. 

He pulls away, mouth brushing across the stiff peak as he looks up at you, “Mommy, gonna cum for you, gonna cum so hard in your pussy.”

“Good boy,” you smooth back the sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead, “if you fill me up you can keep me, a mommy all to yourself.”

His eyes drop to your collar and you grind down hard on his cock making him moan. 

“This is to keep people from getting any ideas,” you smooth your hands down his chest, nails scratching at his abs and making them tense, “you can put your own collar here if you want.”

Leon closes his eyes, trying his best to behave. Having you in a collar he picked out? Coming home to you waiting for him, maybe even splayed out in his bed, wet and wanting his cock. Shuddering, he blindly mouths at your chest nuzzling until he finds your nipple to pull into his mouth with a rough suck. 

“Mommy, ‘m so close,” he groans, “wanna keep you on my cock forever.”

You pull yourself from his lap with a loud wet suctioning noise that makes his balls draw up tight. The words to keep you sitting on his cock die in his mouth as you kneel down at his feet with your back facing him. You dip at the waist to press your chest into the sleeping bag as you arch your ass into the air. Your tail mesmerizes him for a minute before he scrambles up onto his knees behind you. 

“So pretty,” he slowly strokes his hand down your tail and you moan longingly, spreading your knees to present your wet little cunt to him. 

“Breed me, Leon,” you look back at him, ears twitching and teeth biting your bottom lip, “want you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, notching the head of his cock at your opening before slowly sinking inside. 

His hands grip the fat of your ass, eyes unable to pull away as he watches your pussy eagerly suck his cock back into your slick soft heat. The first few thrusts are slow and deep, letting him luxuriate in the feeling of burying his cock in your hot little pussy. 

“Harder,” you whine, hips pushing back, “give it to me, Leon.”

He lets out a pained grunt as he pumps his cock in and out of your tight hole. Leaning forward, he braces one hand on your shoulder to pin you down as his other grips your hip. The new angle lets him piston his dick deep and hard into your slick greedy hole. Moaning, Leon rabbits his hips faster and faster, balls smacking your clit on every thrust and making you squeeze his dick. 

Moving the hand from your hip, his fingers seek out your slippery swollen clit and rub soft circles across the pudgy bud. 

“So good, such a good boy,” you pant, nails clawing his sleeping bag to shreds, “god, you’re gonna make me squirt.”

The words turn Leon on so much he nearly blacks out. Chills race down his back and he teases your clit from side to side, dipping down to wet his fingers from the slick leaking from your stuffed cunt before pinching your bundle of nerves.

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he gasps, leaning back as he slides the hand from his shoulder down to grab the base of your tail, “gripping me so fucking tight.”

He tugs lightly and you keen, body thrashing wildly as your pussy clenches rhythmically around his cock. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” he groans, chin dropping to his chest to watch him fuck your cunt. 

The more he pets and tugs on your tail, the harder you squeeze down on his dick. Leon’s fingers also never let up on teasing and rubbing your clit while the fat tip of his cock kisses your cervix and makes you squeal. 

“Leon, ungh— fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you slur out, drooling on the slick material of the sleeping bag.

“Please cum for me,” he keeps the same breakneck pace paired with circling your clit and tail, “want that fat pussy creaming my cock, mommy.”

Your body locks up underneath him and Leon feels a gush of slick push his cock out and wet thighs; quickly recovering, he shoves his dick back inside your spasming walls and humps your pussy fast and hard. 

“You fucking squirted,” he whines, “never had a girl squirt on my cock and you fucking—god, I’m cumming, fuck, this chubby fucking pussy is making me cum, oh mommy—”

Leon nearly collapses as he presses himself as tight against your ass as possible, balls drawn up tight and pulsing as he spills deep inside your cunt. Your slick walls milk him for every drop— his dick spurting rope after rope of thick hot cum until it’s dripping from your used hole. 

When he goes to pull out, you whine and press your ass back against him. 

“Stay,” you sigh, “don’t want a mess just yet.”

Shuddering, he groans as your walls flutter and hug his cock. In no time, he’s just as stiff and hard as he was ten minutes ago. 

You moan low in your throat, “You can go again?”

“Yeah,” Leon’s breathless reply surprises himself, cock flexing inside your pussy and making you whine. 

The second time Leon creampies your pussy is rough and nasty. 

Pulling out, he flips you onto your back and slips his cock back inside your cunt. Slick and cum ooze out around his fat cock, but he’s too busy pressing your legs up and over his shoulders to notice.  

Mewling against his messy kisses, you clench and whine from Leon’s rough fucking. At this point, he can’t stop himself from giving it to you hard and fast.

“Gonna fuck your little cunt all night, mommy,” he knows he has no filter at this point, completely pussy drunk, but it doesn’t stop him from talking, “you’re gonna be stuffed to the brim, stuffed full of my cum.”

“Leon,” you moan, nails digging into his back and making him buck harder, dick knocking into your cervix roughly. 

“Yeah? Like that? I’m gonna pound this hot little pussy til you can’t take it anymore. Fuck, ‘m gonna give my mommy what she needs,” he growls out, feeling your heels bounce against his back with his thrusts.

“Want it,” you grin wickedly up at him, “give it to me, Leon. Be a good boy for mommy.”

He’s too wound up from earlier so in no time at all Leon’s cumming inside your pussy for the second time that night. His fingers pinch and rub your slippery clit until you’re clamping down tight on his cock, milking him into overstimulation as he finishes spilling his seed in your sticky walls.

Pulling out with a grunt, Leon collapses next to you with a sigh. Laying there in the quiet, he lets his heart rate drop back to normal before turning to you.

“You really want to get pregnant?”

You smirk and it makes his pulse race. 

“No, that little issue has been fixed,” you kiss the tip of his nose, “but it’s fun to pretend, right?”

Leon’s cock twitches against his thigh and he nods. 

“Yeah,” pink blooms across his cheekbones, “I liked it.”

Curling up into his side, he softly runs a finger across one of your ears. 

“Can I really keep you?” He whispers.

Night sounds slowly seep back into his awareness as a cicada screams nearby. 

“Can you truly keep a wild thing?” You muse humorously, head tilting back so he can see your bright eyes. 

At his contemplative silence, you run your hands through his hair with a half smile, “But I want to go home with you, Leon. If the offer is there.”

“Please,” he blurts out, not caring if he sounds desperate or whipped, “I’d love for you to come home with me.”

Smile softening your features, you brush the fringe from his eyes, “Then, I’m yours.”

Relief and excitement fills his chest and he grins, “Perfect.”

[ccrites]

chokehold

listen, I've had this idea in my wips for a while (since the begnining of the year actually) and the fat reader worms have been wiggling in third gear with all the awesome stuff early ( @391780 ) has been putting out lately. So have 6.4k words of Soap being an absolute pussy eating freak but you know you love him

(also on ao3 if you prefer the formatting there, or if you want to drop a kudo)

.

The second the doors swing back closed behind you, you start feeling the scratchy feeling of doubt at the back of your throat.

It was predictable, really.

A small gym in a small town, heads turn when the hinges creak, not because they’re staring at you specifically, but because it’s a reflex.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself to keep the scratchy feeling from turning sour in your mouth. Or make you throw up from embarrassment.

Perhaps your New Year’s resolution should’ve been to start on a home gym type of situation. Buy yourself some girly weights, a mat, and some sort of stepping device, and do those easy exercises every slim, pretty, high-ponytailed YouTube instructor seemed to preconize people out of shape do. Like a hamster on a wheel inside their cage. A rat chasing its own tail, maybe.

No, you promised yourself no more fake promises. Perhaps the money spent on the gym membership (stupid fucking New Year’s promotion) would motivate you to use it, lest it’s just money down the drain. 

You wore the stretchiest, thickest pair of black leggings you owned, hoping no one would see the terrible shape of your underwear through it. On the opposite spectrum of things, you knew the largest hoodie you owned would smother you and make you boil with sweat, so you chose the next best thing: the widest black t-shirt you owned. It was definitely not black enough, the dye faded into a dark gray from use over the years, but it was the only thing that camouflaged your body enough from the others’ sight. God forbid they imagine what your body actually looks like underneath.

The heads pretty quickly turned back around as you started walking towards the empty treadmills. It couldn’t have been more than a second, but the combined weight of at least a dozen pairs of scrutinizing eyes would’ve been enough to make you turn on your heels and back to your car, fuck the membership price.

At the very least, you could convince yourself that walking in place (no better than a hamster on its wheel but oh well) would be enough to get you started. Baby steps, and all.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize the treadmill fucking sucks. Why would anyone suggest looking at a parking lot while suffering instead of the pretty scenery of a park or forest (while also suffering, but still).

The timer you’d set for the warm-up (ten minutes, just like the pretty blonde coach suggested!) crawls by way too slowly for your taste. You’d be all but whooping with joy when it beeps if you weren’t so out of breath and conscious of a gaze on you.

You’d seen him as soon as you walked in.

Between figures of balding men trying to get rid of their beer gut with abs, two thin women whispering to themselves in a corner while trying to look inconspicuous, and a few other, completely average-looking men and women, there he stands, eyes meeting yours in the mirror as he deadlifts an impressive amount of black plates.

He immediately looks straight ahead, correcting his stance, as if there were anything to be corrected, in your unathletic opinion. The muscles in his arms bulge even through the thin, grey hoodie, and the ones in his legs coil tight as the weight is lifted off the ground in a slow, controlled motion. Not even a grunt escapes his lips, at least no one you could hear from where you stood, completely mesmerized.

There was always something almost unappealing about overly muscled men. Their wife’s not feedin’ ‘em enough, your granny would grumble when passing by the rows of magazines at the checkout of the supermarket. 

Yet this man.

Yeah, he was muscled. But in a way, he looked… almost normal. Like he was built for strength, not necessarily vanity. Each bend of his legs, each twist of his arms…

You’d swoon if you hadn’t lowered your standards so low he’d trip on them. Accepted it a long time ago. Fats belong with fats, thins with thins, and if there’s a thin with a fat, either one’s getting fattened up, or the other’s getting dumped. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, and one you’d rather not be a part of.

You walk with shaky legs to the water dispenser, then get ready to grab the second to lightest weights to try some bicep curls.

You try to remember the positioning from the videos. Rotate in… or out? Should the wrists be like this? You go through ten repetitions on each side, before you think that you should’ve gone for the abs straight away. God knows there’s fat to burn there, and that the flab under your arms can wait.

You turn back from the rack and walk straight into a wall.

No, a chest.

Fuck.

“Sorry there, miss,” says a deep voice. You detect some sort of accent, unable to quite place it right away.

Your eyes run up, instinctively stopping for a second at chest level (holy heavens that’s a Chest with a capital C if you’ve ever seen one) before finally meeting that same pair of eyes you met a few minutes ago, through the mirror.

Double fuck.

“S-sorry, it’s me, wasn’t watching,” you stammer out, gesturing to the weights in a panicked way. “Just, y’know, switching exercises,” you sputter with a nervous laugh, like it was a completely normal thing to switch exercises after one rep.

He chuckles, and you really need to start planning your escape, because holy shit the way his pectorals rise and fall as his chest puffs up is getting a bit too much for your poor little humiliated self to handle, but he doesn’t let you as he speaks in a soft tone.

“I’m getting arms aren’t really your thing, eh?” he asks, not unkindly. Gosh, did it have to be a Scottish accent?

You can’t meet his eyes, they’re too blue, too piercing for your liking. “To be fair I don’t know what’s my thing yet, I’m just starting out, y’know?” you shift your weight on your legs, conscious of the size difference, and not in the way you wanted to be. Your neck is very warm all of a sudden.

He laughs again, like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and you almost want the floor to open up and swallow you whole, but the words that come out of his mouth are completely unexpected.

“Figured! A girl with thighs like yours, I’m sure you can deadlift more than me with just a lil’ training. I’m Johnny, by the way,” he adds in passing, as if offering his name is the least of his concerns. “You ever got someone to train you?”

You’re entirely unsure if you’re dreaming or not. Did this Scottish hunk of muscle really just offer to be your personal trainer?

“Never - uh… lifted anything, I guess. Just when moving, my couch and bed and all, but I had a friend help me.” You definitely feel like you’re oversharing and you’re struggling to ignore the weight of the gaze of the two thin women, burning through you as they whisper among themselves, when you realize you hadn't answered the second part. “Oh and, uh– no. I’ve never… trained. Been trained. It’s my first time in a gym since- a while. I don’t want to bother you.”

You finally look up at him, and you’re unable to read his expression. There’s a sort of curiosity, a fascination, that blends fast into a wide-eyed joy that’s so open, so sincere that it makes your head spin as he gently but firmly grabs your wrist and pulls you where his bar stands on the thick mat, ignoring your sputtering protests. “Not a bother at all, lass!” He lets go of you as he bends down and effortlessly racks the barbell, starting to remove plates as he continues. “We can start by measuring your max lift, then the one where you can easily do three reps, then we’ll hike it up till failure, so I can calculate your starting training weight!” he rambles on excitedly. You nervously shift on your feet, conscious of more curious gazes on you, but then he’s back in your bubble, pulling your attention towards him like a magnet.

His smile is like a blazing sun, and you don’t have the heart to tell him to prepare for disappointment.

He’s infinitely patient as he shows you how to place your feet, and the angle of your hips (oh, how you feel your knee weaken at the feel of his light tough through the leggings, nothing short of electrifying, despite being perfectly friendly), the hold on the bar. It’s all a blur till you find yourself bent over in front of him, looking in the mirror at your position and trying not to feel conscious of the way he’s placed behind you. Or let your mind wander in inappropriate places.

“Whenever yer ready, hen.”

You brace yourself, close your eyes for a brief second, wondering how the hell you’d landed on this planet, then breathe in, open your eyes-

The weight is in your hands. Not on the floor. You’re holding it.

You almost drop it when he cheers behind you, warm palms rubbing down from your shoulders to your elbows and back up. “Easy! I told you you’d be a natural! ‘S all in the legs and you’ve got awesome legs, bonnie! Let’s add twenty more.”

It’s a blur of racking and de-racking and lifting once and setting back, and redoing it again and again. You’re out of breath, sweating like a sinner in church, but you’re smiling along with him, finding yourself giving him double high fives, and doing small, excited jumps.

“Next one’s exactly my weight, if y’can lift that, I’ll be losing my bloody mind! D’you realize how well yer doin’ for a first-timer?” He says as he bends next to you, adjusting the bar for the next set of weights. With a wipe of his forearm over his forehead, he crouches slightly down, placing his head right above your shoulder and looking your reflection in the mirror straight in the eyes with a conspiratory grin. “Swear to God, if ye can lift it off the ground, I’m buying you the most expensive drink at the bar next door!” he says, grin blending into a blinding smile, too genuine for your own good.

He’s just friendly, just friendly, just friendly, you say to yourself like a mantra as you position yourself. He stands again to his full height behind you, hands ready under the bar, a safenet.

Deep breath in– hold it…

Slowly but surely, you lift the weight off the floor, your ears ringing from the effort. You see his lips move as he cheers you on, but the blood pumping in your eardrums makes it impossible to hear him. Suddenly, the weight is back on the ground and your feet are off the floor as you’re lifted in a tight embrace and spun around like you weigh nothing.

You yelp and flail but he’s holding you tight, face pressed smack-dab in the middle of your chest, between your tits, rumbling praises about your prowess while you’re trying to figure out whether this can be something that your brain is capable of summoning as a dream.

“Put me down, Johnny, oh my God, put me down!”

He thankfully complies but not before squeezing your ass tighter, and suddenly nothing feels real anymore.

“Jesus, I knew ye were perfect,” he says, pulling back reluctantly to rerack the bar and put back the weights. “I cannot wait to properly start training ye’ tomorrow, but for now, I have a promise ta’ keep, and, uh, let’s just say I wouldn’t mind using those strong thighs as earmuffs with this freezin’ weather. On the way back from the bar, what d’ya say?” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows with a crooked smile that lets you know he’s joking around. (Is he?)

You laugh with him and for a second, you forget what you were here for.

+++

The way to the bar is short. It was just a block away (Good for business, he jokes), but the conversation with Johnny made time really fly by. 

He seems genuinely glad when you tell him you’d decided to head to the gym not just as a New Year’s resolution, but trying to simply become a better you. There’s no condescendence, no talking down, no (God forbid) pity, just an overall nice interaction the whole time. He tells you about being on leave as a soldier (Medical leave, he specifies, a fucked up knee can work in a gym, but it’s a different story out in the field), you tell him about your studies and how that led into a “big girl” job that left you no time for yourself.

“But I’ve always been a big girl,” you feel the need to justify. “Just… gotten bigger as I stopped finding time to move. The desk and the laptop are pretty stationary,” you joke, still trying to make sense of why a man like him (broad, and tall, and strong, and… gosh, just perfect-looking) would even deign to accept being seen with you.

(It’s not a date, you dumbass)

“I happen to like big girls,” is what you don’t expect him to say.

Wait, what?

His blue eyes glue you to your seat, and you respond dumbly. “What?”

“I mean, why do you think I’d offer to train you?” he continues, placing his hand, big and warm over your thigh. It’s squished as you sit, wide and flattened in your seat, yet his hand covers a good amount, almost covering the whole width.

Your brain is short-circuiting but you have to answer something.

“Out of– uh… out of niceness?” you stammer out, feeling your insecurities climb back out of the hole they’d been sleeping in all this time, making you shrink even more, trying to cover yourself as if he didn’t see right through you with that piercing gaze. “To feel good seeing you be the reason I lose weight?”

He chuckles, squeezing your thigh as his head hangs down, almost as if to hide the smile that spreads on his lips.

“Strength training doesn’t work like that, bonnie.” He looks back up, and his eyes are blue, and wide, and so pretty, that you can’t find anything to argue back. “Ye’ think building glutes underneath that fat arse does anything but make it bigger?” He shifts, inching closer as he licks his lips and drops his voice lower. “Ye’ think growing your quads will make this,” he gives an even firmer squeeze, wiggling the fat back and forth, and you tense under his grip, but he’s got you pinned down, “any less wide and soft?”

He presses closer, and the booth has no escape room, you’re practically squeezed into the corner as he pushes his body against yours, bending to whisper lowly in the crook of your neck.

“I did not joke when I said I want yer pretty thighs wrapped tight around my head.”

You can’t be blamed when you don’t remember how you ended up in the back of a cab, Johnny barely taking the time to bark an address to the poor driver and throw fifty quid on the front seat before kissing you absolutely senseless, shamelessly groping your tits with a hand and wrapping the other around your thigh, squeezing you close.

You should probably think more about going home with basically a stranger, no matter how hot, but when he presses his entire palm against your cunt, cupping it over the quickly dampening pair of leggings that didn’t seem so thick anymore, you can’t think at all. He swallows your quiet moans, and hums contently against your lips, taking each gasp for air as an invitation to slither his tongue into your mouth. God, you’d forgotten what a good makeout session was like, and you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed when you see the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror, instantly looking away when you see him staring. 

Johnny doesn’t seem to mind either, and when he notices you looking in the front again and again, he crowds you against the door behind the driver with a huff, half-climbing over you until his knee is pressed against your core, and the only thing in your field of vision is him.

“Johnny,” you try to say, but it’s getting hard to think, with the way you’re being squeezed in a corner, this hunk of a man of pure muscle pressing against you like a weighted blanket, kissing you like you were a drop of water in the desert and he was a parched man drinking you for his salvation. You feel his excitement pressed against your thigh, and it gives you enough lucidity to try again. “Johnny,” you gasp out again, “aren’t we going a little fast?”

He laughs instead, choosing to focus on the side of your mouth, pressing fervent little kisses down your neck before starting to suckle the delicate skin over where your clavicle is. “I can go as slow as you’d like, bun.” He takes the spot an inch next to the previous one into his mouth and sucks again, this time more forcefully, marking you, and oh God you’re going to have to conceal it before work tomorrow, unless you can find a turtleneck to wear–

The cab driver clears his throat, and you notice that the car is stopped in front of a small apartment complex. Johnny says a cordial thanks as he pulls you out of the car and throws another twenty on the backseat, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and taking all of the thinking out of the equation as he walks you to the entry.

His flat is pretty well furnished, all things considered, but he doesn’t give you enough time to observe the deco as he presses you against the door and slides his hand under your leggings.

“Got me starin’ at that ass the second you walked in, best fuckin’ thing I’ve seen in months, d’ye realize that, bonnie?” he breathes out against your ear as his entire palm cups your sex, and you can only whine as you press your forehead into the crook of his neck. “And by how wet this pussy is, I think you liked starin’ at me, too.”

“You are–” you say, but he curls his middle finger in, spreading your lips and spreading the wetness to your clit, making you choke on your words, “-very nice to stare at.”

“Yeah?” you hear the grin in his voice.

“Mmhm,” you nod, as he keeps the back and forth of his finger, never dipping in too far, just keeping you hungry for more.

“Then how’d ye like to stare down at me as I taste this wet cunt of yours?” he purrs in your ear as he stops moving completely, letting the words process.

Brain.exe has stopped functioning. 

Had you ever had a boyfriend willing to speak filth like that to you when you were down to do the deed, maybe you would’ve gotten enough practice to know what to answer something sensible and intelligible to that, but as it stands, all you can muster is a very dumb-sounding “Huh?” as you stare back at him.

And that, apparently, is the funniest thing in the world to him, because he dips his head down and laughs, almost like a boyish giggle. Not only does that not stop him from kneeling in front of you, but it also somehow gives him more confidence to keep talking like that.

“How about you look down into my eyes as I eat out your pretty little pussy and make you come around my tongue, how’s that sound?” His baby blues bear no trace of maliciousness, no trace of a joke, as his fingers hook around the waistband and trace it around your stomach. You have to make a very conscious effort not to suck it in immediately in preparation for the letdown, but he doesn’t pull them down yet, only moving his hand alongside the edge. Your silence as you try to process what is happening only seems to spur him on instead. “In fact, how about you close your eyes, I close mine, and you hold my head close as I devour you, would you let me do that, pretty girl?”

“I’m not-” you can’t think of any way to properly let him down, not when he looks up with such pleading eyes, so the words stumble out gracelessly. “I’m sweaty, you don’t wanna–”

But he interrupts as he pulls your leg closer by gripping your thigh and squishing it against his cheek “But I do.” He inhales deeply, and your own breath shakes at the sight of how blissed out he already looks. “God, I want it. Let me have this.”

A voice somewhere inside yells at you that this has to be some sort of weird fetish, and that he most certainly won’t be having the same aura of desperation around him tomorrow, when post-coital rationale shows up and he sees your body past the veil of lust, but for now, you think that getting some with Johnny cannot be that bad compared to any one of your past encounters. Might as well enjoy it when you still can.

You wrap your hand around the one he still has around your waistband, and see his face positively light up as you softly caress his cheek.

In the end, you’re the one that pleads.

“Johnny, please.”

Your pants are off you and your leg is over his shoulder before you realize what is happening.

The feel of his warm tongue against your slit makes any thought, any doubt, any fear positively vanish, and the content sigh that he lets out as he licks at you is the same sigh as finally removing a bra at the end of a long day, it’s the sigh of laying down carelessly onto a soft bed after standing up for hours, it’s the sigh of the first bite of the best meal a man has after starving for weeks.

It should be awkward the way his arm wraps around your thigh and sinks into the softness of your stomach, using it to pin you up as he uses his other hand to spread you out enough for him to work his jaw the same way he did when he was making out with you in the car… Yet it’s not. It’s natural, the way his hand squeezes you as he licks, and sucks, and kisses around your pussy, unhurried yet passionate, languidly but firmly, pressing his tongue in, licking around your lips, and maddeningly avoiding the place you wanted him to touch most.

“Johnny,” you moan as he grazes his teeth around your sensitive nub in response. You almost buck out of his hold, but he’s firmly keeping you in place. “Please, don’t tease.”

He hums in response and dives back in, eyes fluttering closed as he ignores your whines. Every time his tongue or lips graze your clit, he works his mouth the opposite way, holding your thigh harder and pressing his palm up as he counters your hip movements with a clever swipe of the tongue. It’s absolutely maddening. “Johnny, please!”

He chuckles as he pulls back, an obscene string of spit lengthening as he pulls back, only breaking when he runs his tongue against his reddened, swollen lips. “Thought ye’ wanted me ta’ go slow, bun.” His eyes sparkle with challenge, but you can also discern a veil of unhidden desperation, of waiting for you to give the go-ahead for him to let loose.

“I’m fine with faster–” you start, but the words dissolve into a barely restrained moan as he hikes your leg up more, getting you closer to him, and immediately singling onto your neglected clit.

His forehead rests onto your belly now, and if you had more than two functioning neurons you’d wonder how he is that he’s breathing, but his hums and moans let you know that he’s perfectly content burrowing his nose in your pussy, nudging at your clit with the tip of it as he licks you with all the dedication you’ve never been shown from a man of his caliber.

He builds it up, and soothes it down, knowing exactly when to put more pressure, or when to teasingly swirl his tongue around your entrance, or to lave broad strokes of his tongue, so much so that the knee that’s not hooked over his shoulder almost gives out on a particularly forceful suck of your clit.

“Easy there,” he groans almost petulantly, as if you’re interrupting him. “Can’t have you fallin’ over when I’m not done wit’ ye.”

“My legs are gonna give out,” you say honestly, trying to catch your breath and avoid having the perfect man at your feet steal it again. “You’re a bit too good at this.” He grins up at you, “Am I?” and you want to give you a playful swat, but instead decide on carding your fingers through his now disheveled mohawk. “Guess the mess on my face speaks for itself… Shall we take this to the bedroom?”

You throw a glance around the apartment, assessing your options. “Couch is closer.” His smile is blinding. “I like how ye’ think.”

It’s now the second time he surprises you by scooping your legs from under you and picking you up like he couldn’t wait any longer and that carrying you bridal-style was the only way he could think of moving you. You yelp out a protest but he swallows it with another hungry kiss, shamelessly smearing your own wetness over your cheek as he walks you both to the couch.

You sink into the cushions where he places you gently without so much as a grunt of effort, and oh God, there they are, the standards are rising.

You reach over to pull him closer as he straightens up, but he only gives you a peck on the lips in return, like he hadn’t been kissing you sloppily the entire time.

“Come back,” you whine, hoping you can get it done before he comes back to his senses, like they all do, but he just smiles and kneels between your feet, hands pressing your thighs apart. The squelch of your lips parting should be embarrassing were he not looking up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, eyes full of adoration, like a child staring up at the full moon on full display on a clear night’s skies. Maybe you are his moon, his goddess, judging by the lust-clouded look directed at you.

“I did say I was gonna make you come on my face,” he says lowly, the gravel in his voice making you squirm as he places a trail of kisses up your thigh. “And I intend to keep that promise.”

With that, he dives in again, using his forearms to pin your legs open on the couch and his fingers to tease around where his tongue can’t reach. You mewl when you feel his tongue at your entrance, circling it around it briefly before delving in as deep as he could, his right hand stroking your clit rhythmically. The fact that he’s so good at somehow playing all your buttons like a maestro directing an orchestra has you thinking that he must be some sort of womanizer, some freak who does this kind of thing every night, but then his lips wrap around your nub and he gives a firm, long suck, and any restriction that you could’ve conjured up simply vanishes. Your thighs want to close around his head, but you can’t move under the iron grip he has on you.

You fist his hair more forcefully than necessary, and he looks up, wet eyelashes framing his beautiful eyes as he hums in response.

“Please,” you moan, and he hums affirmatively again, closing his eyes to focus on licking and suckling harder. He heard you, he simply doesn’t seem to care. “Johnny.”

“What,” he asks, voice muffled and why is this so hot? 

“I need… I need,” you whine, unable to string the words together, and desperately trying to buck your hips under him, for lack of strength to actually close your thighs how you want to.

That seems to get his attention, and he chuckles, before pulling back with a gentle kiss on your mound. “Guess you’ll have to keep tryin’, pet,” he sussurs, a condescending pat on your thighs before he dives in slower than before.

Oh, the absolute asshole. Now he wants you to work for it?

You think that doing the opposite, relaxing your thighs open and letting him go to town however he wanted would help, but he seems hell-bent on riling you up every once in a while, getting you closer and closer with each lave of his tongue over your poor, overstimulated clit, but never enough to actually push you over the edge.

After what seems like an eternity, and almost, almost starting to think that this was a mistake, halfway ready to let him do this thing before your hip starts to cramp up, you feel a finger nudge at your entrance.

“Fucking finally–” you start, ready to curse him out, but he’s faster than you can think in your blissed-out state, and he slides a second finger alongside the first one, immediately zeroing in on that spot that makes you go cross-eyed and buck under his hold.

“Thassit– there you go, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your clit, and oh, okay, maybe you were closer than you thought, because the rhythmic curl of his fingers doesn’t need to last long before you’re off like an arrow, back arching and thighs squeezing, coming harder than you ever thought was possible. If he were any less skilled at making you completely lose the ability to think, you’d maybe notice that you’d managed to close your thighs almost completely around his head, but he wasn’t, so you don’t, twitching helplessly in the aftershocks of the most wonderful orgasm a man had ever given you.

Limbs that somehow still belong to your body hang uselessly off the side of the couch, and you struggle to catch your breath. You blink lazily, noticing him smugly wipe his face with the back of his hand, his half lidded eyes not any less blissed-out than yours. 

You didn’t believe a man like this ever existed, until now. It aches that this might not be something that would last, so you make grabby hands at him, unable to find the will to speak just yet. 

He laughs softly and gently grabs your arms, kissing from your knuckles slowly up your arm, to the crook of your neck. The patience he has is almost inhuman, as he takes the time to let you regather your senses, matching the marks he made earlier on the other side of your neck. You cup your hand around his head in response, and he smiles at you.

“Ye’ with me, bun?”

“Mmhm.”

“That slow enough fer’ ye’?” He holds himself up, an inch fron your face, and you reach up to kiss him.

“I’m gonna kill you dead,” you mutter against his lips, and he chuckles.

“Let me at least fuck you properly, first,” he whispers, and you notice that he’s long since unbuttoned his pants. You barely get a view of the massive size of him over your belly as he holds himself in his hand, large palm not enough to cover the whole length of him as he strokes himself, angled in such way that his tip rubs against your clit on each downstroke. The word “Please,” is not even halfway out of your mouth when he sinks into you in one swift motion, the rest dissolving into a long, drawn-out moan.

“Fuck-” he grunts, “so tight, cannot believe it.”

He guides one of your legs to wrap around him, keeping it flush against his body with his elbow as his palm grips your ass tightly, the other holding him against the backrest, forearm near your head as he pulls you closer for a sloppy kiss as he starts rolling his hips. You moan into his mouth and he swallows them greedily, leveraging each trust of his hips with a pull with his hand, helping you move in tandem with him, readjusting when your thigh threatens to slip out of his hold. The slaps of his pelvis to yours should sound obscene, his hard muscles hitting against your soft, jiggly skin, but his groans into your mouth are like music to your ears, the fact that he’s vocal about it has you almost reaching your peak again in no time, but he seems to sense it, and slows down immediately.

You try to kiss him harder, but he makes a small noise of protest, muttering something that sounds vaguely like “no, let me, let me just–” and you want to ask what he wants to do, to help him, but he instead reaches down both hands to grab your hips and pull you off the backrest. You yelp as your ass suddenly hangs in the air, his cock speared inside you the only secure point as he pulls you halfway off the couch, but he directs you firmly, “Here, around me,” helping you wrap your legs tightly as he starts thrusting again, harder than before.

“Oh, God, oh God,” you flail around, but each thrust in pushes your back into the cushions, and he reaches behind his back to hold your feet in his hand as he presses his palm near your head for support, spewing more filth as he does.

“That’s it, hold me tight, squeeze my cock like ye’ almost squeezed mah heid off earlier, huh, bonnie? Show me what those thighs can do, fuck-”

Your whole body is jiggling with each thrust, and you don’t have it in you to even feel self-conscious with the way each time he fills you, the tip of his cock nudges against the spongey spot inside, making you mewl in tempo with his relentless rhythm.

“Johnny, Johnny,” you moan, and he bends over to kiss you again, swallowing his name like communion while you chant it like a prayer.

“Don’t give up now, bonnie, keep squeezin’, fuck, I can feel ye’, yer so close.”

You try to get some leverage with your upper body, trying to push yourself up the cushions, but his cock suddenly slips out of you as your thighs almost give out, and an apology is already halfway out your mouth when he kneels back down and burrows between your legs, tongue first with a rushed “Need ta’ taste us, fuck, both of us, together-”

One hand wraps around your hip and over your pelvis, reaching up to knead desperately at your stomach, to pull you closer or push you away, you can’t tell, the other pulling your lips apart to settle his entire lower face against your pussy firmly– before letting go as he starts humming.

Your thighs are free to squeeze around his ears, and he nods encouragingly as he keeps licking, and then you hear it: the sounds of wet stroking. You don’t see him fisting his cock, but you hear it, fast and desperate. As your hand tangles in his hair to pull him closer, and another hum– no, another moan vibrates through your core, it’s the last thing you hear before you’re absolutely gone, gasping out a curse as you tense up in his hold, trembling as you come.

It’s even more intense than the first one, and as you buck out of his hold, he stands up shakily, his hand moving faster and faster around his cock, the angry red of his tip at the same level as your face. You gesture for him to sit down, trying to signal to him that you want to reciprocate despite the post-orgasmic haze and exhaustion, but he shakes his head, and, seconds later, you feel warm wetness land on your belly and slowly trickle down as he moans your name when he comes.

You feel like you still have to give something back, and, when he slumps down next to you with a content sigh, you climb over to place a delicate kiss on the tip of his cock, letting out a huff of laughter when it twitches under your touch.

“Ye’ absolute menace,” he whispers fondly as he pulls you up and tips his body to the side to lie down, using his legs to push you up halfway over him, trapping you between his body and the cushions, yet protectively shielding you from falling over. You place another kiss on his stomach, and you see his abs tense under your touch as your warm breath moves his hairs as you hover for a second, before deciding to shift up and use his pectorals as a cushion. He hums softly as his arm wraps around under yours, reaching to pull the plaid off the back of the couch and settle it around you both. Ticklish, eh? That’s a piece of information best stored for later.

You’re still breathless, absolutely done for. God, best decision of your life, going to the gym. “Now what?” you can’t help but ask. It’s the same fear that always creeps up, the fear that he got to try out a fantasy, and now that he was done with it, he had no need to want to continue anything possibly serious. Not that eating a girl out on a first date, if you could even call it a date, was a sign of a one-night stand, you can’t help but feel awkward and insecure now that it’s all done, despite the comforting cuddle.

He chuckles in response, that same chuckle from earlier in the day, a What a silly question chuckle. Like he’d read into your thoughts and insecurities and found them absolutely laughable.

“Same time at the gym, tomorrow? I want you to squeeze my head off next time.”

“Next time, huh?”

He pulls your leg over his pelvis, trapping his still half-mast cock between his belly and the crook of your knee, hand firmly wrapped to shift you up, almost completely on top of him. When both of you are comfortable and you start feeling the tendrils of sleep pull you deeper, he gives a last, playful squeeze to your ass.

“Next time.”

[sideblogofhell]

a forbidden fruit

summary: pietro eats something he shouldn't have pairing: pietro maximoff x male reader word count: 1.1k warnings: 18+ warning, s3x pollen, blowjobs, unprotected sex a/n: part iv have fun do leave comments if u liked it

masterlist | the repentant's corner

Pietro dashed around the lot sixteen times to make sure no one was there. You rubbed your hands together for some heat against the chilling night. The grass crackled beneath your feet trying to chase after your partner. You ended up a panting mess next to him, your knees shaking. 

“So I was thinking, after this patrol maybe we could go out sometime?” he said, his breath unwavering. You gulped and tried to let out a word, your voice dry and coarse. You nod, sweat dripping down your forehead. 

“Can you focus?” you said, trying to open the door. He broke open the warehouse padlock with ease, vibrating at a pace that dislodged the gears that kept the lock secure. 

You slide the rusty door open into a dark room. Pietro used a flashlight to look into the path. The warehouse was small, almost the size of a barn, the floor a flat grey concrete, the walls tall and rusted. There were a few broken wooden crates scattered all over the floor, a metal table on the farthest left. 

Your partner zoomed into the room like a faint blue flare. He checked to see the contents of the crates, all seemed empty.  He sat on the metal table, a few newspapers sprawled out and a white dish used as a makeshift ashtray. 

“Look at this,” he pulled out a small ziplock bag filled with different sugar-coated candy like Skittles. He takes one out and puts it in his mouth, licking the sugar off his fingers. You took the bag from him, smelling the contents; sweet and fresh. “Want one?”

“You idiot! I don’t think this is candy,” you took the bag inside your pocket, Pietro smirking. “We have to send this to the lab.”

“It’s fine, fast metabolism remember?” he shrugged. 

The plane ride back to the compound was quiet. Pietro sat away from you and kept to himself, which was very unusual. He would always try to bother you while you flew the quinjet, always teasing and messing around, but right now he was slumped over to the side using his phone. 

You arrived at the compound a few hours later, the airdock marshalls taking over the jet. You asked other agents to rush to Dr. Cho’s lab to send the candy samples. “Pietro and I found this on patrol tonight,” you gave the pack to her assistants before they went on to test the samples. 

Your phone dinged to a message from Pietro. Meet me in the conference room at 4B ASAP. 

“Fine, I’m an idiot,” he said. “My dick has been so hard for the past five hours and I can’t make it go away!”

“Your what?” you looked at the tent in between his legs, his knuckles were pale white as he gripped onto his pants. “Well I knew it was a drug but I didn’t know it was that kind!”

“What are we gonna do?” he said, his silver-gray hair all tousled over his forehead. He zoomed around and around the room, a cobalt blur blew gusts of wind everywhere he went. He stopped in a corner, his legs shaking and his face flushed. 

“We?” you clamored. “How the fuck am I supposed to help?”

“I don’t know you’re smarter than me!” his eyes widened, his voice shaking, sweat dripping down his forehead. He braced for another run but you held onto his arm. He shuddered, his skin was hot. 

“We should tell Dr. Cho,” you said. “Get you medicine or something.” 

“Absolutely not,” he pleaded. “It’s embarrassing,” his eyes wandered all over the room as if the answers were written on the walls. “We should deal with this the way it's intended.”

“Yeah, no,” you said before turning for the door. Pietro suddenly was in front of you blocking your exit. 

“Please draga—“ his lips were dead set. Pietro was an ill-tempered man, his demeanor was quick like his abilities, charismatic but also stubborn. You thought for a second, you’re helping a co-worker that’s all right?

“Well, how do we do it?” you said. He removed his jacket, and his blue shirt underneath. You marveled at his taut chest, the ridged cuts across his abdomen, and the two lines pointing down his sex. You tried to look away, but you couldn’t believe someone could look like that, like a Greek sculpture. 

“Come here,” he said, pulling you into a kiss. His lips were warm against yours, his stubble pricking at your cheeks. Your hands find his chest for stability, snaking around his neck to pull him closer. His large arms circle around your waist, finding the hem of your pants and going through to your ass. 

He spun you around and pinned your hands above your head, using his other hand to pull your pants down. He smoothed his palms on the plump mounds before giving it a spank, leaving it a red blush. He practically rips his pants open, his thick cock hard and leaking. He spits on his free hand, using it to prepare you. 

“I’m gonna go in okay?” he said in a whimpering tone. You nod, your cheeks warm. He spits again to lube his cock before feeling the pressure on your hole. It was sharp for a bit, the pressure easing as he flushed himself in, the base of his cock hitting your ass. He stops for a second, relishing the heat from your body. “So tight—”

You grunted when he pulled out, only to thrust back in. He began to fuck you at a languid pace, the sensation soothing the tingly feeling Pietro got from the drug. He tried to go slower, to make sure you won’t get hurt but he couldn’t. As you tried to move your hips at the same beat of his body he started to—vibrate. 

You let out a gasp, you thought of the toy you had at home, the one you use thinking about him, but the speed and intensity could not rival him. Pietro let out a series of cusses in Sokovian, it sounded like he was pleading to a god. Your knees turned wobbly from his thrusts, his body vibrating at a pace that made your eyes roll back, your own sex hard and leaking in your trousers. 

“Pietro—fuck,” you moaned.

“I can’t control it, you’re too warm,” his words shaking. “And good,” He let go of your hands, shifting to your waist, he gripped so hard you knew it would bruise. He moved quicker, like a piledriver into you, it stung but the pleasure of hitting your prostate compensated. 

When gripping onto your waist wasn’t enough, he wrapped his arms around your body hugging you, and began to thrust into you harder, his silver hair plastered on his forehead wet. Your body tried to keep you up but your legs betrayed you. You fell down, his cock pulling out. “I can’t stand.”

He pulls you to the table nearby, propping you with your legs on his shoulders. He lines himself back into your hole driving back into his thrusts. The vibrating began again, shaking the table as he gripped it on its edge. You let out desperate cries, he tried to soothe you by kissing your lips, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. “I’m close—” he cried out.

You nodded, the constant stimulation to your prostate was going to make you cum untouched. His thrusts became erratic, still a vibrating mess. Pietro stood up and you marveled at the glistening sight, his abdomen contracting and relaxing on each thrust, his head pulled back and his lids closed. 

And then the climax hit, cum shooting inside you in thick, your own release spewing on your belly. The vibration slows, Pietro a panting mess for once, a side of him you’ve never seen. He places a peck on your lips and mouths praises. 

“So about that date?”

[newtthetranswriter]

Hello !

Firstly thank you for all of works on FT !! Is it possible for some hc for Natsu , Gajeel , Sting & Grey with a s/o that is jealous about their relationship with Lucy , Levy , Yukino & Juvia ? Everyone think that these four will end up with the 4 girls without knowing they already have a s/o . How and will they tell people they already have an s/o ?

Thank you & take care of yourself :)

A/n: Hello, Firstly your welcome for all the FT work. Secondly Thank you for the request I love this idea. So I hope you enjoy and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

Natsu:

You guys just never thought announcing your relationship was necessary

So when Lucy joined and people started commenting on the chemistry between them Natsu brushed it off as just jokes

He doesn't even notice your jealous until you start distancing yourself from him

When he finally catches a clue he is confused why you would be jealous, after all he chose you didn't he?

But he would definitely take the time to reassure you that you have nothing to worry about

after making sure you know nothing will ever happen between him and Lucy, He will make an announcement to the Guild

Like he's jumping on a table and proclaiming that he is in love with you and will never look at anyone else the same way

After words he is more aware of comments about him and Lucy and shuts them down as soon as he hears them

Gajeel:

He was the one to suggest keeping the relationship quite, after every thing he did to fairy tale he didn't want you to get criticized for what he has done

When people started making comments about him and Levy, he just ignored them because he already had someone

So when you started to distance yourself he didn't really think it was connected

But once Panther Lily tells him that he needs to make it clear how he feels, he begins brainstorming

the next time you walk into the guild hall be ready for Gajeel to be on stage singing a song about you that barely make any sense

Once he finishes the song, even if he is slightly embarrassed he will pull you in front of everyone and announce that you are together and that he'll punch anyone who makes you feel bad

Gray:

You guys agreed that with Juvia's weird obsession with Gray, keeping your relationship between you and maybe your closest friends was the safest bet

But as Juvia became more touchy and more direct about her feelings, it put both you and Gray on edge

When he starts to notice you shying away from even just sitting together at the guild hall, he is more than ready to do something about it

He will fully put Juvia in her place, telling her that He is dating you and that if she keeps up with her shit or does anything to make you uncomfortable he'll take the problem to the master

he's not playing around, he doesn't want her kicked out of the guild but if she keeps making you uncomfortable then so be it

Sting:

It was your Idea to keep it on the down low, only Rouge, Frosch, Lector, and Yukino know

You just felt that with him being the new Saber tooth master, people would think he was showing favoritism if they knew you were together

He didn't like the idea but because you asked for it to be that way he accepted

But then rumors started spreading that he was showing favoritism to Yukino and you started to pull back from him

Both Yukino and Sting shut down every rumor as carefully as they can with out revealing who Sting is actually dating

Sting also tries his best to assure you that nothing is happening between him and Yukino

Eventually though it's Frosch who manages to get everyone to shut up about Sting being with Yukino

Frosch being as dumb as they are forgot it was supposed to be a secret

One afternoon when everyone was just chilling in the guild hall when someone asks Sting when he plans to marry Yukino, and before anyone else can tell them to shut up Frosch just goes "but Frosch thought Sting wanted to marry Y/n" queue the whole guild going dead silent

After Frosch's little comment everyone was confused so Sting rolled with it, deciding that he might as well just announce that. yes you and him are in fact together

(divider by @/cafekitsune)

[angelitaby]

my random donatello headcanons. . !

── he's awkward in nature, but that doesn't stop donatello from calling you fascinating. the touch of your fingertips tracing the creases of his hands as he rambles on about your differences and familiarities. embarrassed, donatello stops his mumblings if he realizes what he's saying

── when donatello has feelings for someone, he might just be...softer, partially because he's confused about what he's feeling. he doesn't really want to feel it either. he might isolate himself more so it goes away. it however, doesn't.

── two words. parallel play. sitting together in the same room doing your own tasks. donatello at his desk as you do your own enjoyments beside him. some days it's a comfortable silence, other times you'll ramble, he likes to hear idle chatter. he might not know what you're talking about, but he loves the noise.

── donatello likes the way your heart beats against your chest. it’s never the same every time he lays his head on your chest, but there’s the same sense of relief he gets from it.

── donatello gets easily irritated/overstimulated by strong, bad smells. even with the ones he doesn’t actively dislike, he’s very picky with the scents he does like. however, one particular night while you were looking over his shoulder, he caught a grasp of your scent. whether you prefer the flowery kisses of roses and fresh cut daisies, or the earthy tone of left over raindrops on blades of grass. he found that it was a... pleasant surprise.

── future!donatello smells like cigarettes and metal rust—but in the smoke and sterile way. he'd try to cover it with eucalyptus. when he stresses out, he turns to cigarettes. he tends to wallow in his own sleepless pity.

── yandere!donatello who's mind had gone blank. his heart pounding within the bony confines of his chest, unable to move as your laugh replayed in his head multiple times. and what a scary feeling, terrifying to experience something so.. conflicting. his heart aches, but it feels good. he wants—no needs to know why?

── yandere!donatello likes to experiment on you. mentally, physically. you're so fascinating. your biology is different. desires are different. needs are different. there are many ways to make someone delirious, and he intends to explore each and every one.

── donatello listens to weird al yankovic because i said so.

── donatello likes someone who will understand his boundaries. he likes someone who listens. he likes it when someone seems interested in him or what he's talking about. donatello likes someone who will be quiet with him.

── i can definitely see donatello as a gray ace. (i mean he's purple he's literally asexual core/hj) i do project a bit of myself onto him in having anxieties about other people and myself that's stopping me from getting in relationships. "i'm busy. i have other things to do. i don't need to worry about it." and while true, that doesn't mean it's not nice. it's him using his hobbies and work as an excuse to not be with people even though, deep down, i think he wants it.

── donatello says he prefers his coffee black, but he enjoys it with creamer. french vanilla baby! something to keep in mind for the early mornings, the quiet yet comfortable silence of the fresh day as you press the palm of your hand on his shoulder or between his shoulder blades for a second as you set down a coffee you made for him. it's a small gesture, but it's domestic. it's sweet, he appreciates it.

── donatello really loves the little things because it feels mundane and human to him.

── donatello prefers black teas. april introduced him to a strong one with cane sugar and mint once. but he also likes pure green tea, lemon with ginger, and a special rose-strawberry tea on the occasion. but it has to be a subtle taste, not to sweet, spicy or heavy.

── donatello likes all sorts of dumplings and is not a fan of overly sweet food + most desserts.

── donatello would be willing to watch greys anatomy with you because he's a bitch and likes to point out inaccuracies which is hilarious coming from some bitch who doesn't have a medical license. however he does have respects for dr. gregory house, so he's decent enough when watching house.

── donatello's favorite body part of yours? "whichever parts are the farthest away from me, thank you." your hands. your palms which press against his plastron, your fingertips that send shudders down his spine when you trace over his shell. every crevice, every knuckle, every detail. need i say more?

[yrluvjane]

sorry i don't have any coherent request idea but roommate!james or roommate!remus?? thinking about james on gray sweatpants and gnawing at the walls of my enclosure

also either of them cooking for you *sigh*

I did this with James, if you want I can do one with Remus (Just an idea: Remus...in sweatpants...chopping wood...in winter...when it's really really cold and body heat is so very appreciated), another reason to gnaw at the walls of your enclosure :)

The morning sun filtered into the apartment as you sipped your coffee at the kitchen counter, and James's door creaked open as he walked out, looking adorably dishevelled in grey sweatpants and a rumpled t-shirt.

"Morning," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Morning," you replied, trying not to stare. "You cooking breakfast?"

He moved into the kitchen, brushing past you, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. He started rummaging through the fridge, the cupboards making sure to slam everything that could be slammed.

James turned to you and smirked. "I guess I am now."

You playfully blew him a kiss.

Watching the muscles in his back move under his shirt, you offered, "Need any help?" Your voice coming out softer than you intended.

"Nah, I got it," he said, glancing over his shoulder with a smile that made your heart skip a beat.

Soon, he set a plate of pancakes in front of you, as golden and perfect as him. "Enjoy," he said, sitting down next to you, closer than usual.

"Thanks," you said, meeting his eyes and for a moment, neither of you looked away.

As you ate, your knees brushed under the table, your hands brushed as you both reached for the sauce, each accidental touch sending sparks through you, and James seemed just as aware as you.

"Returning the favour," you replied, not looking up. You could feel the tension between you, thick and heavy, or maybe that was his breath that was warming up the nape of your neck.

It was when you were chopping vegetables for dinner that James wandered in, drawn by the smell. "Something smells good," he said, leaning against the counter, his eyes on you.

James moved closer, reaching around you to grab a spoon. His arm brushed yours, and you froze. "Need any help?" he asked, his voice low.

"I think I’m good," you said, your breath hitching.

Soon enough, dinner was filled with charged silences and lingering looks and as you began to pick up the plates James spoke, "Thanks for dinner," he said, his voice soft, his eyes searching yours and as tour heart pounded, you looked at him and smiled, "Anytime."

"Yeah," you replied, feeling the heat of him next to you.

Later, when you had settled on the couch with a book and a warm mug of tea to soothe your nerves. James sat beside you, closer than ever, his arm resting behind you.

"Good book?" he asked, his voice a warm murmur.

He shifted closer, his leg pressing against yours. "Want to read together?"

"Sure," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

[spoiled-fawn]

TF 141: Owl Hybrid HCS

Hi! I'm alive, just working on several things at once so my writing output is slow. This may be too niche but I've been thinking about this too much and wanted to share. Yes, I will be coming out with a Price x reader hybrid fic and this kinda sets the tone for it. I hope you enjoy!

A group of owls is called a parliament.

No warnings. There are some 141 x reader bits as well

PRICE: Blakiston’s Fish Owl

Price is a big bird, and is the largest in terms of body weight and wingspan comparisons. His wings take up a majority of his space when on the ground and in his human form. His feathers are monochromatic with brown and tan, his broad and ragged ear tufts start on his temple and hang slightly to the side- still perfectly seen and sticking out when he wears his boonie hat.

The scars on his neck mark a historic battle between him and a foe. His damage? His vocal chords.

This man has a deep hoot that now sounds like a scratchy croak most nights. He feels self-conscious about it after the damage that occurred but will use it to startle or scare enemies mostly. 

If you ask to hear his hoot he gets flustered.

Being the alpha predator, he is very territorial. Not so much over his nest or room, but rather his parliament. Over the others, he tends to take care of them as a stand-in father figure that none of them have. With his big form and feathers, you can find either of the sergeants nestled into his chest like the pillow Price is.

Playing with his ear tufts is a dangerous game, as your hand will either be pecked at or he’ll give you nesting eyes depending on his mood.

Loves fish, and will even eat it raw if his owl sense is craving it.

His species spends an unusual amount of time on the ground and prefers to travel as humans do when applicable. 

When fishing, he prefers to do so as his breed does. Dive in and catch the fish himself.

Likes to nest in tight spaces (that mimic hollow trees). Will make a fort between a plethora of cushions and blankets to hide within.

GHOST: Great Gray Owl

While Ghost is the largest member of 141, in his owl form, he almost doubles in size due to his plumage. The Great Gray has fluffy feathers and the longest tail, making him all the more threatening

He is not the type to build nests, but will often steal nests of others. He’s been found in Price’s nests when the Captain leaves for office work or has been known to crash into Soap's nest with no care to the men squawking

He’s vain to a fault. Will always preen himself in private, and the one time you pulled a cracked feather he immediately blushed snatched it from your hand, and left in a hurry to make sure there were no others

Once you got to really get close to him, he would let you do it for him.

Absolutely loses it when you call him pretty bird.

You also got him to parrot it back to you once and he almost cried with embarrassment.

Also has a deep hoot, but his come in shorter and quicker successions. 

These owls, much like Ghost, are hard to find. They tend to keep to themselves and blend into their surroundings by remaining still. There is minimal aggression in terms of territory, but when the 141 parliament is threatened, his talons are ready to maul.

SOAP: Barn Owl

Have you heard a Barn Owls call? It can get really annoying or is beyond terrifying.

Soap’s subspecies is the T. a. Guttata; He is large for his species while having grey and orange upperparts with an orange buff. He has speckling to his underpart feathers, and his face is white.

Will sometimes take naps in a roost of his choosing (supply closet, rafters of the gym) but does tend to make his own nest when needing a deep and comfortable sleep after a good meal or long mission. 

Makes a fuss when Ghost crashes his nest. He hisses and snaps his beak at the large hybrid but shuts up when he gets to nestle under his wings.

Soap bonded with Ghost over his species being known as the “Ghost Owl” to some, but also that they have a similar lay of face feathers.

Soap is a curious hybrid in nature, and not always defensive when a different species (or human) is interacting with 141. The first time he met you, his wings splayed out while he looked you over - too closely.

While looking at your dog tags (or any other jewelry) he accidentally beat his wing feathers on your face.

You lost your balance and spooked him, causing him to hiss at you. And beat you over the head with his wing, again.

He is very cuddly when on base, likes to be by your side, and at least has his wing draped on you if it's movie night.

GAZ: Great Horned Owl 

One of Gaz’s strong suits is his ability to camouflage. His feathers comprise a darker brown and even darker, complex markings across. He does have a patch of white feathers on his throat when fully shifted, and people make jokes that it's as if he wears a button-up shirt.

He has the classic owl hoot, and will often use it as comedic relief if a joke doesn't land. It is the most calming and subtle of the group, so he will often use it to find the other members while on base.

His eyes are big. Can give you the sweetest looks without saying anything, and is an absolute heartmelter when his tired eyes show in the daytime.

Like Price, he has tufts on the side of his head but are much smaller in comparison. They do as well peak out from under his cap.

He can adapt to the heat of the desert easily, and if in the Sonoran Desert again, he likes to sit in the sun to warm up.

Gaz does nest, but his is a bit wild and messy in terms of blankets and pillows strewn about when doing so. He doesn't need much, but when in his nesting season he can become aggressive and grumpy.

Price jokes that he can be like a parrot. Somewhat playful but has a tolerance when being preened at by the Captain himself.

Has nipped Price before.

Gaz keeps his talons well-maintained. He lost one in a fight before, and now takes excellent care of them. 

When he becomes fond of you, he will snag you by the arms and fly you in the air with him. Very cautious to not hurt you!

He one time made a nest high up in the rafters in the base but fell out of it and onto the ground when Ghost caught him sleeping.

~~~~~~

Cannot stop imagining Price's owl with a boonie hat on top. Like PLEASE. So cute and deadly.

[undeadcannibal]

Your honor I'd like to propose an amendment to the 🍆 head cannon post:

Curvature and distinguishing colors, features? Are they darker or the same shade? Lighter? Hair color? Texture? Who's got a lean? 🥎⚾s?

Summary: More requested ‘N.SF.T’ headcanons for Task Force 141, Los Vaqueros, and König~ Part 2 of this post here!

Genre: Headcanons, request(s) Characters featured: Price, Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, Rodolfo, and König.

Warnings: explicit content!

A/N: Never did I expect for that other post to become as popular as it did. I’m happy y’all enjoy my gross and overly-detailed headcanons. Also, please note, if any of you happen to not like or find any of my hcs to be gross or not what you expected, keep in mind they’re just my headcanons. Don’t take ‘em seriously, dudes. Weird and rude replies will be deleted. ( Gif credit: xxx )

Gaz―

Not much of a curve to it, honestly, he’s pretty straight curvature wise. Distinguishing colors? I’d say his foreskin is the same as his skin tone overall, tip-wise? I’m thinking it’s a bit darker than the color of his lips and flushes an even deeper color when he’s fully aroused, mhm. Hair color of his pubes is dark and also has a some curl and texture to it when he does let it grow out for some time. Balls, too? Hm... I’d say Kyle’s sporting a nice, snug set he prefers to keep smooth and clean more often than not.

Bonus! Kink headcanon is that he adores you paying extra special attention to his balls. Worship them and he’ll be cumming all over your face in no time~

Ghost―

Slight upward curve that stimulates you in the best of ways. IDC what anyone says, man has a mouthwatering cock with a nice flesh-pink tip and anyone can fight me on it. Probably slightly darker than his overall skin tone but not by much. Pubic hair stuff... I’m torn between him being a natural dirty blond or brunet. (I can’t remember where I saw the fanart from, but someone has a headcanon that he bleaches his brunet hair blond and oof, I’m in love, also give him long ass roots since he can’t keep up with his root touch-ups while out on missions) Straight-ish texture to his hair as well, grows pretty smoothly altogether. THIS MAN has a thick vein running down the middle of his shaft, my lord. And finally, for his balls, I’m thinking he’s got a hefty set that he’s quick to push you down to so you can pay them some attention, expect some light tickling from the hair there, too. uwu

Bonus! Kink headcanon is he struggles with being submissive and prefers being dominant the majority of the time due to his trauma. He doesn’t like the idea of submitting to someone -- he’s far too afraid of what kind of consequences it could possibly have for him. This doesn’t mean he’s a sadistic or strict Dom. If anything, he’s hyper aware of your reactions to every little thing he does, also refuses anything hard or physical against you, he detests the thought of causing his partner pain.

Price―

Leans ever so slightly to the right, isn’t too noticeable though. Since he’s circumcised in my previous post, could probably notice a scar that separates light flesh-tone color of his shaft from the faint pink of his tip. Also, despite him preferring to trim his facial hair specifically, I’d see him as going fully natural bush-wise. Man’s got a lovely cushion of brown hair that’s got just the faintest amount of gray speckled throughout. While he looks very textured, I personally think his hair would be soft af. Large set of balls that droops a bit lower now than when he was younger~

Bonus! Kink headcanon for John is - if you’re willing - he’d love to use you as an ashtray when he’s smoking. He’d light up, take a few puffs, than order you to open your mouth so he could tap the ashes off onto your tongue. Ordering you to keep your mouth open so he can see the black and grey specks of ash decorating your tongue before having you swallow.

Soap―

Has just the slightest upward curve to him, definitely jokes it’s great for helping stimulate his partner’s g-spot. Also knows all the best camera angles for top-tier dick pics. Shade darker than his natural skin tone and also has a smidge of hair going up the bottom of his shaft. Doesn’t mind in the slightest though. As mentioned before, he prefers going all natural and doesn’t shave or trim much. Lord, the amount of hair this man has. Has treasure trail, hair thighs, ass, groin, everything. Sorry, I love hairy men, what can I say? Also, when he’s super pent up, his tips turns a deep ruddy shade you love to see every time. Balls are on the larger side with one being slightly smaller than the other, also very sensitive and will have him turning into a whimpering mess if you pay special attention to them.

Bonus! Kink headcanon is he takes every spare chance he can get to take and send nudes and videos of him jacking off. Doing his best to make those sounds you love whilst trying not to get caught by anyone. Those moments are for your eyes and your eyes only~

Rodolfo―

Sobbing because his cock is the same gorgeous shade as the rest of his skin, although can see the head of his cock and his balls being a tad darker. Maybe has a tad lean towards the left. Has trimmed dark hair that feels amazing beneath your fingertips. Balls are a bit on the larger side. Run your tongue over them and his dick will be twitching above your face in no time, also will draw up tight to him when he’s cumming~ Please spread this man’s thighs apart, he’s got beauty marks for days and will fucking tremble if you kiss and run your tongue over them!

Bonus! Kink headcanon is he’s got such a praise kink when it comes to his partners. The hottest thing in the world for him is for him to be showering his partner with compliments, feeling them clench tightly around him as his words register in their pleasured-addled minds.

Alejandro―

Much like Rudy, he’s a beautiful shade of tan all throughout, and his cock head is just as flushed and ruddy when he’s aroused. Much like Rudy, has a lean but his is the exact opposite, veering to  Also is hairy just like Soap, but nowhere near to the same degree. If anything, man’s sporting a thick bush, hairy thighs, and legs. Also another man sporting thick veins throughout the length of him that he’s more sensitive about being touched than he’d like to admit. Large set of balls that do sag a bit but doesn’t mind in the slightest definitely likes to teabag his partner as a result if they allow him to  

Bonus! Kink headcanon for our man is that he’s a sucker for sloppy oral, giving or receiving, but especially receiving. Nothing excites him more than seeing how ruined and messy he can make your face as he fucks it.

König―

Doesn’t really have much of a curve or lean to him, but rest assured he’s got veins for days lining his shaft. And, if you run your tongue along them, he melts on the spot. Perfect male whimpering audio material <3 The color of him is noticeably darker than the rest of him. That, combined with his beautiful sandy colored curls make for a mouthwatering view. Also has large, yet tight balls that are far more sensitive than he’d like. Overstimulate the big guy right now!

Bonus! Kink headcanon is that due to his size all around, he’s grown to have a liking for size difference with his partner being smaller than his. It’s pretty easy given his height, but more so it drives him feral to see his cock bulging his partner’s belly out with every thrust he gives.

[unhappy-last-resort]

Sneak Peaks & Snippets

Here are some snippets from a few drafts I have. All yandere, of course, and featuring Punishing: Gray Raven, Path To Nowhere, Love and Deepspace, and Genshin Impact.

Keep in mind all of these are wips and will change in the final result, I am also not certain when these will be finished. Regardless, I hope you enjoy these little sneak peaks!

Warnings: mentions of blood, yandere

Edit: I went back through and labeled each snippet along with the fandom it belongs to

You didn't expect Gray Raven to track you down after a mere two hours and demand an explanation out of you, only to then immediately join you and adamantly refuse any and all attempts to persuade, or force them to turn back.

Bad Decisions (Bianca, Punishing: Gray Raven)

It's been 30 hours since you all defected from Babylonia. You simply couldn't stand with Babylonia after they sent a small, yet sizeable amount of Purifying Force and Task Force members to conduct a search through one of the Forsaken's smaller camps. People were hurt, Constructs killed, Forsaken soldiers taken to Babylonia under arrest. Suffice to say, it was a mess and an unjustified one in your opinion. So you left.

"We're Gray Raven." Lucia told you resolutely, her twin tails billowing in the wind behind her, a fire alight in her red eyes that was reflected in the coolness of Lee's and the earnestness of Liv's. "Whatever we face, we face together. And we will face it with you, and only you."

Terror carried your legs through the fresh snow, occasionally slipping on wet leaves, or tripping over a root, but you didn't fall and as long as you didn't, you still had a chance to live.

Unnamed (Noan, Punishing: Gray Raven)

You pulled the trigger, a loud bang ringing endlessly in your ears without the added ear protection you usually wore and in an instant the shadow started moving towards you. As the shadow became more and more pronounced, to the point you could see two golden eyes fixated on you, you turned and ran.

The pines around you became blurs of brown, green, and white as you ran down a hill. You could still hear it behind you, twigs snapping loudly and leaves rustling as your pursuer ran after you. Your breath came in little puffs of white smoke as your throat felt dry from the frigid air. You had to keep running no matter what, but how long can you run for? Can you outrun a wolf?

Your foot catches and unlike the previous times, you can't catch yourself in time. You think you hear something behind you, a low, pleased rumble closing in. You tumble forward, your head hitting a rock buried beneath the snow as your body hits trees and debris at random until you finally fall into a soft patch of snow at the bottom of the hill.

Disoriented, you try to stand only to fall to your knees, the world leaving afterimages of it as you move your head, your brain still spinning from the fall, but amidst your haze, you see the wolf rapidly declining, seemingly faster than before. As you were about to lift your gun, the wolf comes closer and through blankets of snow, reveals a pale face with grey hair with two strands of white in the front, and golden eyes peering through a pair of old glasses on his nose.

You breath a sigh of relief and you're about to fling yourself forward into his arms and whisper how glad you are that he's safe into his ear when you notice the streaks of red and vital fluid splattered across his face and staining his clothes.

“I missed you.” She whispered so quietly as if it was a secret that should be kept only between the two of you. She pulled you tightly into an embrace, her arms nestling so firmly around your shoulders that you wouldn't be able to pull away. “You have no idea how much I've missed coming home to you.”

Unnamed (Angell, Path To Nowhere)

Her breath smelled like the cup noodle chicken she had stored in her safe house when you there. It made your heart flutter softly at the familiarity of it.

Despite the circumstances of your first meeting, it had blossomed into something greater, into something you looked back on with a sense of fondness, although you'd still prefer to never be in such circumstances again- even if it was with her. You returned her hug, relishing in the feeling of being able to touch her after months and months of dreaming about it. “I missed you too.”

She pulls away, just enough so she can tilt your face up at her, her eyes scanning yours with an uncanny eagerness swirling behind her eyes, in contrast to her usual sluggish nature. “You have?”

“Of course I have, Angell!” You barely stifle a giggle. “You just went and disappeared for so long I thought you-”

Something cold and hard latches around your wrists, squeezing around the bones painfully. You look down to find your wrists bound in the red handcuffs that were hanging of her belt loop, you slowly raised your eyes to meet hers, a small, fond smile was the only difference in her expression as she traces the outline of your jaw with her gloved hand.

“Angell? What's this for?” You shuddered as memories and feelings started coming back to you, the ones you had forgotten or overlooked in your blind desire for nostalgia. The dread, the confusion, the smell of iron that would waft through the door with her like in announcement of her presence and would cling to her clothes as if it had been baked into the very material itself.

“Shhhh...” You could feel the cool leather of her gloves on your hands, her thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. “It's alright, I'm taking you home now.”

At once, the warmth you had felt in her presence turned cold, the golden hues of her eyes that you had found comfort in had become something sinister and possessive, your bedroom suddenly feeling far too small to escape from the danger now inside it. Perhaps this had always been the case, perhaps she was always this frightening and you had simply ignored it in favor of something softer and kinder.

“I assume this seat is free?” He asks as he lowers himself onto the bar stool. Not like I would stop him even if my friends were here.

Unnamed (Sylus, Love and Deepspace)

“Hey.” A deep voice sounds in my ear and echoes through my bones, giving me a heart attack. I jerk away from the voice and make sure to give the stranger a what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you face. He's tall, got white hair, I'm almost certain it's pure white, and his coat tossed over his shoulder and a red button-up on with some pattern on it I can't fully make out. His collar and a couple buttons below it are unbuttoned though, can't say I blame him. Even I had to take off my cardigan after a few minutes of being in here. He's muscular, probably the type that likes to lift weights for fun- Oh, he's leaning towards me again. The fuck does he want?

“Yeah.” I turn my attention back to the rows of glasses and alcohol behind the bar. I'm tempted to drink something heavy, very tempted, but I have to look out for myself here. I check my phone, 12:00 A.M., the next bus is at 12:30 and the last bus is at 2:30 and it stops right outside the bar. Just a little bit more and then I'll be able to go home, put on my PJ's and rewatch my favorite show for the hundredth time...maybe I'll order some pizza to go with it.

“Waiting on friends?” The stranger asks sounding half curious and half bored, mostly bored.

I laugh with a grimace. “Yeah.” It's not technically a lie, and besides, I was taught to never divulge details to a stranger, especially in these parts of the city.

There's a moment of silence from the stranger and I breath a sigh of relief that he's not pressing on it.

“Did you come for the band?” He rests his arms on the bar and looks at me, though he doesn't look like he cares if I answer or not.

“Yeah, my friends have been following this band for a while.” I click my tongue and take a sip of my water. “They were real excited about it.”

He raises a brow and cocks his head to the side, not unlike a cat finding something interesting. “Were?”

Oops.

“Yeah, uh- they are! I just misspoke earlier.” I laugh it off with a smile. Hopefully that's enough to cover for my screw up. Damn it, I just wanna go home.

He nods and looks away for a moment, and I assume the conversation is done until he looks at me again and leans towards me. “My name's Sylus.” He reaches out a hand, again though, he doesn't look like he's expecting much of anything.

Inwardly, he hesitated. The uncertainty he had felt- had always felt- about this plan of his had come center stage and was impossible to deny. Was it right to cage a dove that had already been caged before? Was it right to keep a dove hidden in the confines of a household after it had already escaped another? Was it right to stab them where someone else had stabbed before?

Unnamed (Lyney, Genshin Impact)

Your sweet face, usually adorned in cautious smiles and thinly veiled curiosity, was contorted into a silent scream of agony. Your eyes brimmed with tears, your lips were shut tight but trembling, your eyebrows furrowed into something between anger and sadness.

Outwardly, though, he was already by your side, whispering practiced words of comfort that sounded genuine to anyone else, but he knew that you knew how hollow they actually were, but he pretended you didn't. If he set this dove free, who's to say someone else won't come find them? Trap them against their will and break their wings to splinters? At least if he has to break them- if you push him to break them, he'll be gentle with it, and isn't that better than someone else? Than the unknown?

He thought so, at least he hoped it was so.

“Yes, and you're required to have a commandant.” He pauses as he finishes typing something on his terminal. “You're allowed to request who.” At that, Chrome finally looks up at him, his eyes as blue as the ocean which only hints at how deep it goes, yet never revealing what lies inside. It was as though he already knew what his answer was going to be.

Unnamed (Camu, Punishing: Gray Raven)

Camu sniffs and rolls his shoulders, his artificial muscles straining against his harness as if he could smell the battle from Babylonia. “A new mission, huh.”

Camu nods, not bothering to hide his glee as a smile creeping onto his face. He'll finally get to see you again, and not just passing each other in hallways, or briefly catching site of each other while waiting for your respective transport ships this time, he'll be able to talk to you again, to hear your voice, watch all your expressions and mannerisms. Hell, he might even be able to touch you again, he still occasionally feels the ghostly sensation of warmth on his hand even after all this time, the warmth your mitochondria orchestrates as your blood busily works to keep you alive, it's your warmth. It made him almost giddy to finally be able to make good on that promise of yours and touch more of you, perhaps even be able to taste you if he got lucky.

Chrome hesitates briefly, and for a split second, a ripple is seen in the usually ever calm ocean, but before Camu has the chance to linger on it, he curtly nods instead. “Good luck on your mission.” It's as affirmative and steadfast as it always is when Chrome bids him good luck.

“Thanks.” He nods before heading towards the disinfectant zone. The cautious side of him thinks that he should be wary, but the rest of him is undecided.

He looked like he had stepped out of a book with his creamy white tailcoat, jabot collar, and golden accents throughout his outfit. It made you feel a little plain in yours by comparison.

Ocean's Longing (Chrome, Punishing: Gray Raven)

"Commandant." His voice was low and crystalline, it made the air around you shudder like the tap of a knife rang through a line of crystal glasses. His voice wasn't loud enough for any other party goer to notice, but you heard him as clearly as if it was just the two of you here. A pocket dimension where only you two existed. "You hadn't told me you'd come."

"I didn't think you'd be here." You respond quietly, staring at the marble floor. You wondered if it was real or not. "...This didn't seem like your type of thing."

"You're not wrong." He took a step forward, his navy blue shoes coming into your vision. "I'm not very fond of this environment."

A warm breath fans against your ear, sending goosebumps over your skin with each whispered syllable. "I happen to have a place of retreat, if you'd like."

You wonder what people would think if they saw the son of one of the most powerful individuals in Babylonia whispering in the ear of some commandant. Something scandalous, no doubt.

"Won't people notice your absence?" You glance at a nearby group of officers, all smiles as they're engrossed in conversation with one another.

Chrome's lack of response prompts you to look at him again. He has an unreadable expression on his face again, a look you've gradually become more familiar with recently.

He shakes his head, but offers no explanation, instead he offers you his hand. You take it.

[fanaticsnail]

I'm on a side blog, can't be horny on main, so I'm anon. Anyway I just reread your kissing booth series & I just adore your story with Heat. Heat is so adorable. He makes me think of that post about hyping up a lame bf (I don't think he's lame though) but like imagine telling all your friends about your new man & you're just like "guys here he is, the gods most specialest boy" & it's just Heat standing in the doorway looking like a somber Muppet. I love him. And I love your writing.

The way I immediately needed this in a fic, but I also wanted it super, super fluffy and kissy.

They'll Love You

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,400+

Synopsis: Heat is nervous about meeting your friends and fearing their judgement in your choice of lover. You reassure him they'll love you as much as you do.

Themes: Heat x gn!reader, established relationship, kissing, waking up together, meeting your friends, fluff, cuddles, drinking.

Notes: Images sourced from stock photos, Suicide Squad and Mad Max.

Tag list: @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @feral-artistry @sordidmusings @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @i-am-vita

As the cold of the morning pressed into your face, the warmth from the body lying behind you caressed your skin with the familiar intimacy you’ve come to expect from your lover. He nuzzled into your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your skin and humming against you. 

“Morning,” you lazily rolled your head back to brush against his. He chuckled into your neck before pressing his lips in a sweet kiss on the apple of your cheek. 

“G’Morning,” he uttered in return, gently tugging you to move onto your back and gaze deeply into your eyes. Reaching his hand down, he brushed a few stray hairs from your face as you rolled beneath him. His eyes held nothing but love and adoration in his grey orbs as he looked down at you. The expression on his face was so soft, you felt like he was in his own world while he studied your face. 

“What’s the matter, Heat?” you ask him, reaching to the side of his face and gently toying with one of his lengthy, pastel-blue locks, “You look so far away. Where have you gone, hm?” He chuckles down at you, his scarred lips curling up into a soft smile. 

“You just look so gorgeous like this, is all,” he whispers down at you, “You always look the best in the mornings, and I never want to let you out of this damn bed.” You giggle up at him in response, caressing his cheek and bringing him down to claim his lips over yours. 

You mouth at him, rolling his scarred flesh between your lips as he joins in the slow and deliberate movements. Unhurried, relaxed and passionate are the lips that meet yours, the texture of his Glasgow smile feeling tingly against your skin. Heat’s kisses are always warm and inviting as he balances out passion and neediness for slow and sultry romance. 

Humming into his lips, he draws his hands down to your hips and slowly massages your flesh beneath his palms. He moans as you slowly caress his thigh with your calf, smiling against your lips as he deepens the embrace. 

Finally pulling apart from his kiss, you dart your eyes between his as you look for a deeper reason for his passion this particular morning. His gray orbs hold a nervousness behind his loving gaze. Smiling with a soft sigh, you shake your head at him in a gentle scolding.

“You want to cancel the brunch, don’t you?” you hum up at him, his shock prompting his eyes to widen and lips to part, “Is that why you’re being sweet?” A small gasped laugh fled from his lips as he softly nodded in confirmation. 

“Oh, honey,” you coo up at him, tucking one of his locks behind his ear, “They’re going to love you, don’t worry.” He rolls his eyes at you and nuzzles his forehead into your neck, pressing a sweet kiss to your clavicle. You sigh as he massages your waist, his tongue darting out and swirling your pulse beneath his lips. 

“H-Heat, stop it,” you giggle at him, prompting him to smile against your skin and continue playfully biting and sucking on your skin. You softly keen out a small mewl, which prompts him to continue his possessive ministrations. Bruising your skin lightly with his kisses, you gather his hair at the nape of his neck. He hums against you, sending shockwaves of vibrations against your flesh as he presses more feverish kisses against you.

“Heat, we’ve gotta get up,” you whine at him, his lips getting warmer the longer he presses his kiss against you. The trail of warm fire ignites a passion in the pit of your stomach the longer he presses kisses into your skin. 

“Mmhm,” he hums, lips parting and heating your pulse with his molten lips. You arch your back up to him as he pins your hips against the mattress with his broad hands. You tap his back to playfully scold him, prompting him to chuckle against your skin and halt his soft attack on your skin. He rounded his eyes and made himself out to be more innocent and pure. 

“You really don’t want to meet them, do you?” you pout at him, looking at his sullen expression and nudging his nose with your own. 

“They’ll think I’m a wet noodle, I’m sure,” he huffs, his scarred lips pouting down at you and pressing a chaste kiss on the top of your nose, “Some mongrel pup you took out of the rain, all soaking wet and shivering from the cold.” You laugh at him and tap his bicep while scooching out from beneath him. 

“And look at you,” he crawls over to the edge of the bed, leaning on his elbows and resting on his stomach, “Perfection incarnate.” You giggle and shake your head at him while gathering your chosen clothes for the day. 

“I promise,” you gaze at him over your shoulder and bat your eyelashes at him, “The moment you meet them, you’ll have all these worries and doubts cast aside.” He sighs, rolling onto his back and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. His hair rolls off the mattress and hangs over the side like waterfalls dropping from a picturesque clifface, prompting you to halt your dressing and stoop down to his height. 

“Even if they don’t love you,” you press your lips to his forehead and give him a soft kiss, “Rest assured in the knowledge that I do. Completely.” As you made to pull away, he hooked his arm over your neck and drew your lips to his. Angling his chin to the side, his lips and tongue hungrily consumed the squeak you made at the initial contact.

Releasing your neck, he gazed his sunken eyes into your own and searched for the lie lingering beneath the surface. Only pure honesty and love were found in your half-lidded eyes as you gazed longingly down at him. 

“Fine,” he groaned with a click of his tongue and a roll of his eyes, “Only because I love you.” You hum in glee down at his pouting lips and press yours against him one last time. 

“I knew you’d see it my way,” you chirp happily down at him. Gathering the remainder of your clothes, you place them over your body under the watchful eyes of your lover taking in your every move and motion with awe. 

At the brunch, Heat had never felt more out of place amongst your friends gathered. While none of them paid him any hostility or mind, he couldn’t help but feel like an outsider looking in on the conversations spreading like wildfire between you all. Conversations he felt so out of depth with at the rapid topic changes, soft giggles, and hands swapping empty glasses for full ones of bubbly wines and fizzed juices. 

Looking across the table, he made contact with another partner who seemed equally out of depths as he was. The partner mouthed at him: “First time?” with an arched brow, to which Heat gave a tight-lipped nod in response. Raising their beverage, they gave a soft cheers with their glass to which Heat reciprocated. Both draining the contents dry in sync, they both laughed softly together as they signaled for another. 

Gazing at him out of the corner of your eye and noticing he began to relax into the space, you place your hand gently on his thigh that he immediately covered with his own. Raising your hand up to his lips, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles while gazing longingly at you. You turned to face him, tilting your head to the side and offering him a coy smile. 

“Oh, I love you,” you whisper to him, prompting him to mirror your smile with a smirk of his own. 

“I know,” he uttered softly, pressing another kiss to your palm and leaning in closer to you, “Which is why you’re going to come for drinks tomorrow to meet my crew.” You smile and press your hand to his cheek, drawing him closer to you and claiming his lips in a soft kiss. He hummed against your lips, pulling away to gaze deeply into your eyes. 

“Are you sure?” you widen your eyes and gaze up at him with a rounded innocence in your expression. He hummed at you, nodding softly and pressing his forehead against your own.

“Absolutely,” Heat tucked a stray hair behind your ear and leaned into the soft embrace you were sharing together, “They’ll love you.” 

[forgeofthenine]

Is it the holiday season, or are you just a genius cause my yearning heart is being well fed by your tiefling headcanons. I hope this ask inspires :)

I’d go feral for some good pining headcanons; what are they like in the gray space between flirting and relationship? Especially if there’s mutual understanding that this might not be the best time (i.e. there may or may not be a mindflayer invasion in progress) and so they hold off on initiating anything, but have to watch as their crush dives headlong into danger? I love imagining ill-timed interruptions punctuated by longing looks.

Alternatively, how good are our darling tiefling bachelors at dancing? Would they learn a jig or two if their SO loved dancing?

Here's a lil' something something for you about pining, Anon. I didn't decide to write a full set of dance headcanons (despite it being on my to do list right from when I started the blog) but I am going to post something similar 👀

What the bachelors are like while pining for you

Dammon

This man pines so hard

He's touch starved to hell, quite literally, but has no clue about it

Dammon was sure he was fine right up until he met you and was hit with the realisation that he wanted more

The way he shows his affection is also anything but subtle, expect to know right away

It's never the type of affection that makes you feel guilty if you don't return it or makes you feel like you feel pressured

He's very easy going and good at reading people, he slowly increases how much affection he gives you until you both find a comfortable balance

Soon you'll find all your weapons and armour is repaired or replaced to the highest quality

Dammon is overjoyed if you return the same affection, even if you both know dating is off the cards for now

Bring this man some home cooking and he'll want to marry you right then and there

It's a grey area you both find yourself in for quite some time, to the point you both often get asked if you're together

The way he blushes when people ask is absolutely adorable, even more so when he hesitates to correct them

Towards the end you both basically already live together, both slowly easing into a romantic relationship without realising it

Dammon is more than happy once the ilithids are dealt with to make things official, finally not needing to correct people anymore

Zevlor

This man is the king of pining, absolute reigning champion

He knew he was in deep right from the moment he first saw you

It's something he keeps under wraps very well, to the point that you probably won't realise for a while

He tends to sneak peaks at you when you aren't looking, or he comes up with mostly reasonable excuses to come and speak with you

If you call him out on either thing then he'll heavily deny doing any of it, despite the blush on his face giving him away

Even if there wasn't an ilithid invasion happening Zevlor would still be cautiously optimistic about ever having a relationship with you

He's wary of a potential age gap or coming across too strong and scaring you away

A part of him also reminds him that you'd likely want a suitor your own age

The best way to quell those worries is to simply return his advances with some of your own

It could be anything, so long as he thinks you're interested he'll keep up his very subtle flirting

Soon, the two of you are already regularly having meals with each other and finding ways to spend hours together

Zevlor is absolutely already thinking of the life he'll have with you after this

Rolan

Rolan is a dick at first, he honestly is so out of touch with his own feelings that he doesn't realise he's into you

He's completely oblivious to anything that isn't directly spelled out for him, including how much he actually enjoys your company

It takes Cal and Lia teasing him relentlessly before he finally comes to terms with it

Once he does it hits him like a brick to the face

And after that, it's like a switch flips

He can barely speak to you now without second-guessing himself or tripping over words

It's enough to make you wonder what's going on until the siblings start teasing you both, much to Rolans embarrassment

He's always quick to shoo them away and apologise but his feelings are already clear

You're both smart people, it's easy to know now isn't the time to start a romantic relationship, but it's harder to listen to reason when your feelings get involved

After weeks of you both tiptoeing around each other, feelings clearly returned, he finally has enough

Rolans the fastest to take action on his pining, impatient and hating the uncertainty

You'll find yourself in Ramaziths Tower and kissing the tiefling that runs it in no time

Rolan is quick to pull you into him, kissing you passionately before making you promise you'll stay safe

[thirstandfurious]

Straightwashing The Picture of Dorian Gray?

Two days ago, the Internet discovered a prospective Netflix adaption, that of The Picture of Dorian Gray into a tv show The Grays. (Deadline)

As the title entails, Katie Rose Rogers (writer) has made the choice to give the protagonist of Wilde’s novel a brother. She allegedly decided not to add a new Gray but to turn a pre-existing character into a relative of the oh-so-famous Dorian Gray: Basil Hallward.

The painter of the cursed portrait that contains and manifests all of Dorian’s flaws and villainy, the adoring artist infatuated with his muse and his beauty, one of the characters often analysed in queer studies of the novel, will be turned into Dorian’s brother.

Narrative license is a common occurence in the art of adaptation, but the writer’s choice raises some issues on the Internet considering the original novel, its impact on its author’s life, as well as its importance in the field of research and its role in representing queerness in history.

The Picture of Dorian Gray is an 1891 work of literature written by Oscar Wilde. The novel, itself derived from an early novella-length work, tackles the moral descent of Dorian Gray as it never takes shape on his forever-young angelic face (and thus going against the belief of physiognomic degeneration of its time) but instead taints a portrait made of him by a friend—the aforementioned Basil.

Connoisseurs and those less interested in the works of Oscar Wilde tend to know at least two things about the author:

one, he wrote Dorian Gray;

two, he was a homosexual.

It is no secret that his novel is submerged by the homoerotic feelings the characters harbour towards one another. While the characters do not overtly engage in romance—a feat which would have led to a bigger scandal than it already was—they do present characteristics that are outwardly associated with queerness. Be it Lord Henry and Dorian Gray taking on a mentor/mentee approach close to Greek pederasty (educational), or Basil and Dorian adopting the artist and muse situation-ship often reserved to male artists and their female objects of inspiration and idolatry, the male/male relationships in the book deviate from normative Victorian masculine and homophile behaviours and extend into unspoken homosexual territories.

In the case of Basil, transforming him into Dorian’s brother means erasing the scandalous and ambiguous relationship between the characters that is often read as being one of the many reasons behind the decay of the portrait, by denoting the repression of nonconforming identities. Basil is written as admiring the beauty of Dorian: he considers him his own personal muse, the driving force behind his art, one that cannot be beaten and that pushes him to be a greater artist. He is as enamoured with Dorian as the Pre-Raphaelites were with women.

In the uncensored version of Dorian Gray, made publicly available in 2011, Basil says quite explicitly to Dorian Gray:

"It is quite true I have worshipped you with far more romance of feeling than a man should ever give to a friend. Somehow I have never loved a woman.” (The Guardian)

In the version commonly read by the general public, Basil also tells Lord Henry (about Dorian Gray):

“I find a strange pleasure in saying things to him that I know I shall be sorry for having said.” (Chapter 1)

This simple sentence reveals an unusual relationship constituted of deviant expressions of sentiments between Victorian men.

In the Basil/Dorian relationship, the latter is feminised through his position as Basil’s muse, he becomes an object of desire and obsession, then an enactor of violence through his ever-lasting youth and beauty, making him a relative of the femme fatale type.

Erasing the grey area between the two characters diminishes the complexity of Wilde’s work as a public critique of Victorian gender roles and morality, especially in light of his own trial and prison sentence for which the homoerotic subtext has been used as proof. This raises the issue of straightwashing and how easy it is to erase queerness in the entertainment industry to accommodate to an heteronormative vision.

——————

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2011/apr/27/dorian-gray-oscar-wilde-uncensored

https://deadline.com/2024/08/dorian-gray-series-netflix-katie-rose-rogers-rina-mimoun-greg-berlanti-1236045373/

https://www.history.com/topics/gay-rights/oscar-wilde-trial

[littledovesnow]

hiii can you please write smth where the First Lady reader tries to look for records of Lucy grey in president corios office or something and how would he react

You walked into Coriolanus' office, ignoring the secretary who followed you with a meek "Mr. Snow isn't in at the moment, ma'am."

You had a mission, one you wanted answers for without your husband knowing.

"Mrs. Snow? I do ask that you wait until Mr. Snow comes back, he isn't fond of people in his office without him present."

Looking up at the young woman, you narrowed your eyes. "He asked me to grab a few files for him, I won't be more than a moment."

The secretary looked conflicted, not wanting to go against Coriolanus' major rules but also not wanting to anger the First Lady of Panem.

You ignored the paper cut you felt when your eyes landed on the file you were looking for. Gray, Lucy Baird.

Stuffing the manila folder into the large purse you had just for this occasion, you sent a tight-lipped smile to the secretary as you left your husband's office.

--

"What's this?"

Lucy Gray's personnel file landed on the table with a loud smack, and you felt your heart plummet.

"Why is that here? Where did you get it?"

You dared to look up at Coriolanus, seeing pure rage behind his eyes, something you were rarely on the receiving end of.

"I wanted answers, Coryo. You refuse to talk about your mentorship, that summer in District 12. You're my husband, we're supposed to have no secrets, we vowed to tell each other the truth! Or was that just another lie?"

Coriolanus balled his hands into fists, looking between you and the folder. "You could have asked me. I would have given you the truth."

"Oh? The truth that you and Casca Highbottom wove together, or the truth that you cheated to save that- that little muskrat of a singer!"

You had never raised your voice with your husband, and he recoiled at the reaction you had to finding out what happened the summer before University.

"I had to, I needed the Plinth Prize money. You wouldn't understand, you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth."

Scoffing, you rose from the table and looked him in the eyes, tears welling. "I think I should stay with Tigris for a little while."

Coriolanus watched as you left your shared home, silence deafening in his ears.

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