#i am not proofreading

[moechies]

angry toji + head + bunny = perfect !

meanest toji with his bunnie baby, forcing his darling to suck his dick :(

his strong musk fills your nostrils, hard punishing thrusts to your face as you try your absolute hardest to keep your composure. it doesn’t look great on you that’s for sure, fat globs of tears running down your face, and the crown of your forehead breaking out in a sweat. but, he thinks you couldn’t look more perfect.

he holds you tight by the base of your fluffy ears, both ears. they’re stretched and pulled back by one singular hand of his, his calloused hard palm in comparison to your soft sensitive skin. he tightens his hold on them, pulling them tighter when he feels your tongue slacking, spewing degrading phrases just to watch you wince and cry under him.

“dumb fuckin’ bunny.” is all it takes to have you much more eager than before; to suck harder, lick better. your tongue swirls around his mushroom tip, gliding the tip of it through his salty slit. your little tail shivers, eyes brightening just a bit when you hear him groan, eager for more.

just when you’re about to nuzzle yourself further into his manhood, balls deep in your mouth, he gives your fluffy ears a rather painful tug, forcing you off his dick. drool strings from his cock, connected to your lips as you gasp and cough, strings breaking and coating your chin. you hadn’t even realized that you had been borderline suffocating during the time you had been engulfed with his cock deep in your throat.

“look at you. good f’nothin’ bunny. only good for blowjobs ?” he spits, and you simply peer up at him with glassy eyes that hold no meaning behind them. your chest heaves and throat burns, but you pay it no mind. your eyes cross back onto his standing dick, silently begging for more.

“‘s good you know when to stay silent .” he mumbles before shoving you back on his cock, making you gag. you huff around his length, unintentionally tightening your throat around his sensitive shaft. a string of curse words fall from his mouth, your poor ears straining from his angry grasp. your hand comes up to hold onto his finger, gently attempting to pull it away from your pained ears.

although mean, he’d never hold any intention to harm his bunny. so his grasp does lighten a tad, but in no way does he plan on letting go of your little bunny ears. he would never want to let his bunny go, and let her run loose.

owners need to control their pets, after all.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

your boyfriend has a little habit of being sort of..spacey. or at least he looks like he is.

despite his..ditzy and aloof appearance. shouto is very acutely aware of his surroundings.

especially when you’re in said surroundings.

he’s walking along the hallways with his friends, they’re chatting about everything and nothing, school and about the results of their last test. shouto doesn’t feel the need to interject, happy to simply listen and respond when he’s spoken to. except his mind is also kind of elsewhere at the moment because even in there he’s looking for you.

no matter what he’s doing, shouto todoroki has a piece of you in his mind. if his friends are worrying about their test results he’s perfectly fine, cus he studied with you. the letters he sends to his mom talk about his daily life, with little details about you sprinkled in. his father is trying to coerce him into coming to his agency again, shouto thinks it’d be a lot more enjoyable if you were with him.

you’re not with them right now, because mr. aizawa had asked you to send in some papers to the teacher’s lounge. you said you’d catch up with your friends as soon as possible and shouto’s listening, he really is. but he’s also scanning the crowd hoping to catch a little glimpse of you.

“what about you, todoroki ?”

shouto blinks, hearing his name come out of his freckled friend’s lips as he blinks at him expectantly with a smile. ochaco and iida also seem to be awaiting a response.

okay, so maybe he hadn’t been listening as well as he claimed..

“i’m sorry. i didn’t catch that last part, what were you saying ?” he asks bluntly, midoriya doesn’t mind and he repeats “i was asking you how you think your test went.” he chirps, shouto hums thinking about the question.

“i studied well for it, so i think it went well,” his friends hum, iida congratulates him for staying focused on his academics, waving his hand around in chopping motions.

and of course, shouto is always looking for you, so nobody’s surprised when he adds “yn also helped me study, so i think i’ll be..”

everyone is surprised though when he suddenly trails off. and without another word shouto walks ahead of his friends further down the crowded hallway. the lack of “oh, give me a second.” or “ i’ll be right back.”, the lack of anything stuns the three students so hard they freeze into place. they wonder what could’ve made him speed off in such a hurry, until ochaco gets a good look and points towards the dual haired boy.

ah, shouto’s found you.

you’re surprised to see him, your eyes widen “oh, hey sho !” he returns your greeting, his face hasn’t really changed from an outsiders point of view, but he leans in towards you the moment the words leave your lips and his whole face has gone soft, almost pudgy when you smile at him.

“i didn’t except to see you, you scared me !”

he blinks at that, shock settles onto his face as he bows his head in shame “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to..” simple, but earnest and it makes you melt.

“oh no, no ! you just popped up outta nowhere and it surprised me is all, got nothing to be sorry about.” you reassured, shouto’s expression changes and he returns, nodding happily.

“i missed you.”

you snort “i was gone for at most 10 minutes, shouto.”

“it was 11 minutes. and i missed you during that one extra minute, too.” if he had a tail, it’d be wagging at the speed of sound the way his face brightens when you laugh. you call him unbelievable and a small smile grows on his face

he’s just about to ask if you need help with your bag when you suddenly wave behind him. at your friends, who all share a sort of teasing, but also absolutely not surprised look.

oh, woops..

[pinkcarabiner]

i think we could all use a reminder that butchfemme is a subculture within an already marginalized identity. it's completely okay if you have no interest in participating in butchfemme culture itself as long as you are respectful. butches historically faced persecution for being gender non-conforming. lesbians are victims of violence for failure to comply with patriarchy. to paint butchfemme culture as heteronormative (and butches and femmes as upholders of patriarchy) is ignorant and homophobic. our active resistance of a system that oppresses us is not heteronormative. calling a butch or a femme gender-conforming or claiming that they uphold patriarchal standards is homophobic. educate yourself on the history of violence our community has faced.

[teddybeartoji]

toji sits up against the headboard of your shared bed. he's not wearing a shirt (he never sleeps with a shirt on) and he's reading his dorky little glasses (you don't call them dorky in front of him though). he's so focused on his flip phone that he doesn't notice you crawling up right beside him. snaking your hands around his middle, you peek at what he's doing.

a text message to shiu.

"kys"

...

you crane your neck to look at your boyfriend and he stares back with the most casual look on his face. "what?"

he's so serious. he's not kidding. he shuts off the phone and throws it onto the small bedside table before turning back to you. his big arms wrap around you, pulling you right into his warm chest. he looks so handsome with the glasses on.

"you're so mean. what did shiu do to you?" you fake a pout and he flicks your forehead (lovingly, of course).

"told me to come to work early." he laughs at the way you squirm in his hold, gasping and huffing at his antics. you bury your face into him in order to escape his teasing. "but y'd die if i did that, hm?"

he's not wrong. you hate when he goes to work, you wish you could just stay with him. be with him. at all times.

"whatever."

he hums ands you feel your world shake. after afew quiet seconds, you whisper into his skin. "we can go to that pancake place tomorrow then?"

"what happened to 'whatever', sweetheart?"

you hear the dumb grin in his voice and beatiful butterflies fill your stomach. "yes, i would die. can we please go to the pancake place tomorrow?"

locking eyes with him, you stare into his mossy eyes through his glasses. a birthmark greets you, inviting you even closer and closer as you admire him. he really does look good.

toji counts the freckles on your skin, the moles, the scars, and thinks about how sweet you are. he hopes you never stop being a little brat. "that's what i had in mind, yeah."

the golden lighting from the lamp beside him, paints him in the most comfortable lighting. his tan looks godly and it's hard to believe that you can really call him yours. but you can. he already made s reservation at the cute little pancake restaurant. he wants to watch your eyes twinkle as you stare at the stack of goodies in front of you.

(he wants you to look at him the same way.)

(you always do.)

[mostly-imagines]

🌻 anon here

The last few days I stumbled into a few posts about Jason having +18 pics of reader in his phone and I just can't stop thinking "would he tho??" Like would he trust enough his device to have r18 pictures of the one he love and literally worship in his phone??? Knowing he knows damn well how easy it is nowadays to get those types of pictures through hack and stuff??

And I'm not saying he would share the pics, HELL NO he would never. But because I don't think he would trust his phone -and also because it cracks me up- I imagine him having a Polaroid to take the pics. The photos get printed automatically and if he have to he can't literally burn those without having to overthink about someone hacking his phone.

Like can you imagine him just casually take a Polaroid you didn't know where there out his nightstand and taking a pics of you while you reaching your peak??

Anyways all of that just to ask what one of my fav Jason writers would think about the whole Jason having spicy pics of you in this phone

18+

i’ve honest to god been thinking about this non stop since you sent it sunny

i think you're dead on, jason's protective streak rings too loud in his mind to ever take the chance of someone else maybe seeing those photos of you. personally, i’m of the belief that he uses his phone for the most practical purposes only and that his photo gallery is borderline empty, with few exceptions of nondescript images. like the only pictures of you on his phone don’t show your face or any revealing information about you. yeah, he’s a little paranoid in that way but it just makes his alternative that much more interesting.

there’s also something about it that feels more personal, more intimate. there’s not a chance in hell those photos are going near another person and he likes the idea that you’re giving him this amount of vulnerability and trust.

i also think he is an avid supporter of your personal autonomy and feels better knowing that if you want a picture gone, all you have to do is burn it and it's gone forever. he doesn't really like the idea that so many things on electronics can be spread or seen without you even knowing, so he's perfectly fine to stash a few polaroids in unsuspecting places.

he’d be really hesitant to ask you the first time, he was worried he’d make you uncomfortable or that you’d think it was weird. the thought initially came about after he’d gone on an away mission that lasted twice as long as it was supposed to and he was bordering on losing it without a single image of you. that, and frankly, he was stressed and he has never experienced a stress relief quite like you.

so the night he comes back he’s kissing you hard and rubbing up against you, but all he can think about is how badly he wants to capture all your facial expressions and imagery he couldn’t stop imagining while he was gone.

he breaks away from your lips breathlessly, “can I take a picture of you?”

you give him a bemused look, “what? like, now?”

he fiddles with the waistband of your underwear, not making eye contact. “well…in a few minutes..”

his timorous disposition gives you a solid clue of what he means and you smile up at him. “yeah?”

he finally meets your eyes, looking hopeful. “is that alright?”

“of course,” you nod and he leans back down against you, lips meeting your pulse point. “what brought this on?”

he noses at your neck, “jus’ missed you. a lot.”

you nod, pulling back and running a finger down to the tip of his nose. “take as many as you want.”

and he did.

his favorite pics are the ones he takes right when you cum, lips slightly parted, brow pinched. he’s also fond of the moments right when you’re just starting to feel it.

the photos of you on your knees, trying to take him in your mouth as much as you can really do something to him. your eyes watering and you holding his hand for support. he has to pace himself when he looks at those, especially the ones where you’re looking up at the camera.

he doesn’t usually like to be in the pictures, other than his dick in/against you or his hand splayed across your stomach or neck. he also has one or two where you’re riding him and his free hand is on your hip guiding you.

you’d have to be having a particular kind of sex for it to even occur to him to stop and take pictures. it only really happens during the easy times, when you’re both just having fun more than anything. it’s then when he’s really able to take his time with you and savor things, which is why the majority of your polaroids are taken then. he’s also more likely to be in a teasing mood then and not in a particular rush to get you where you’re going. a lot of those pictures show you smiling and completely relaxed which is another reason why he tends to revere those moments.

a grade A way to make him feel better after a long week is leaving him some surprise polaroids in the stash, it makes him crazy. he’s honestly just really obsessed with the idea that you trust him so much with those kinds of photos that you’d go out of your way to take some for him when he’s not even there. i actually think that’s at least half of what turns him on so much about the whole thing, the trust that you place in him and only him to not only see you in those moments but also relive them afterwards. just pics of you in lingerie or even just one of his shirts—it’s over for him.

[nyancrimew]

queer confession: i played 50 hours of deep rock galactic in the past week

queer confession: i did 90% of the german translation when the game first came out and my writing style choices in german probably still somewhat define that language experience

[ocean-returns]

It didn't click for me right away, but "I'm fine because you fixed yourself. We're Time Lords. We're doing rehab out of order." is an explicit statement that, from the moment he begins to exist, 15 already has all the memories that 14 will ever accrue.

So rather than a true mitosis-style duplication like the term "bi-generation" might imply, what we actually have here is more an issue of temporal displacement and/or causality failure. 14 still ultimately feeds into 15, but with an inexplicable disconnect between cause and effect that's consistent with the reality-breaking nonsense of whatever the hell the Toymaker is. When the Toymaker says, "Your own rules have decreed I play my third game with the next Doctor.'' that's not just a fun way of saying 'I'm gonna kill you now', he's outright breaking causality to acquire the next Doctor fully formed ahead of schedule.

All of which is to say that 14 shouldn't spawn a separate regeneration chain when he dies, helping to mitigate the whole "cursed to outlive my loved ones" issue that's always the elephant in the room in this kind of plot.

[blitzbuckzowild]

Good Morning Blitzø

[tmae3114]

so I've been looking up advice about hand embroidering on velvet for a project idea I had and I just found an article that was ABSOLUTELY written via AI because, well

[ymechi]

The hidden creator

I had a plot bunny idea

TW: usual cult stuff, hints of yandere

-gn reader (I tried making it gender-neutral if there is a comment that is off please tell me and I will fix it)

EDIT: 14/11/2023 (changed some wording and other stuff nothing major)

Creator Reader Pov:

-You were just a regular person who one day woke up in Teyvat out of all places

-You realized you still had all your game features and figured it was one of the perks of being isekaied like in other isekai stories

-The whole thing is weird and why you were here, you had no idea

-After the novelty wears off you take some time mourning the loss of your previous life and the people you knew

-After that you try to get a semblance of a normal life like getting a job and trying to be independent

-Despite having a game system you do not want to be an adventurer or learn how to fight it's not for you

-You were previously an average civilian and raised as one it would be hard to become a fighter now

-Instead you gravitated towards creating things, you found an apprentice position in a clockwork shop in Fontaine

-It is fun and you get to tinker with gears and clocks, learning how various machines work and how to create your own items

-overall you are content

-Except weird people occasionally come by the shop you work at including the Iudex of Fontaine which had both you and the shopkeeper sweating the first few times

-Yet the man who insisted you call him by his name Neuvilette is really polite and nice to talk to, soon you warmed up to him

-You could not help the feeling as if you knew him from before, as if you forgot something, you were unusually fond of him.

-Your other "clients" if you could call them that were more intimidating, you had no idea what they were doing in this shop and it scared you

-The Fatui Harbringers occasionally stopped by the shop to buy a trinket or two before leaving, it honestly scared you and the thaught of running away to another nation had crossed your mind once or twice yet you liked your job and your boss and you made some good friends here so it was hard to leave

-Overall you were doing okay

-Except it seems the people here almost in a cult-like manner worship a creator that was never in the game lore

-It is said they resided in Celestia and not many people actually got to see them, not that it mattered for a nobody like you

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tsaritsa Pov:

-The Tsaritsa knew their so called creator was fake

-She knew she had to get rid of the fake creator as they and Celestia had caused irreparable damage

-Even if she had to stain her hands

-One day it happened something shifted in the earth, air, water- no the whole of Teyvat

-It happened so softly like a small snowflake landing on the ground

-She was hypnotized as if a siren was beckoning her she found you.

-You were their true creator

-You were wearing apprenticeship clothes tinkering with something in your hands and deeply concentrated

-She wondered if that is how you created the universe with careful and steady hands guiding and shaping it to your will.

-She wanted to take you away from this. . . small shop, yet she knew begrudgingly you were safe here, if anyone were to find out a sliver of your existence. . .

-You were safer hidden among mortals

-It left a bitter taste in her mouth

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neuvilette Pov

-It just happened one day, out of the blue, he could feel it in the shift of the waters

-The way Furina shifted and turned her head unable to sit still confirmed he was not the only one feeling this

-Something happened and he had no idea what exactly happened

-There was this familiar presence this comforting feeling, ancient old instincts waking up

-He followed it without thought until he came upon an in inconspicuous clockwork shop

-He was confused but did not hesitate to step inside

-Then he saw you and everything clicked

-It was you his creator his universe his everything

-You were back

-It seems in this incarnation you were just a human

-That was fine he was oaky with that as long as you were here

-His heart ached seeing you

-He wanted to hug and ask you to never leave again to always stay by his side, for you to comfort him after what had happened and console him

-He should take you way somewhere safer somewhere better not here-

-But weren't you safer hiding among mortals, a part of his mind whispered, no one would suspect you being here even the fake (he cursed them) would not think of finding you here, if he brought you back with him it would create more attention on you

-Attention that would cause you trouble

-He left with defeat on his steps

-It was later he would met the Tsaritsa and a deal was struck

-All for your sake

[nappingmoon]

ex!sukuna x reader - nsfw

wc: 3.1k

you get stuck on the side of the road with no gas and the only one who comes to your rescue is your ex sukuna <3

this can't be fucking real. your car sputters as you pull onto the side of the road before it comes to a halt. your roommate had borrowed your car earlier and returned it with just enough time to drive to your date on time. she didn't tell you, however, that the tank was nearly empty, and you had to ignore the small light that went on as you neared the small bar, not wanting to be rude and arrive late.

the date was alright, and at least he asked you a question or two instead of droning on and on alone for an hour and a half like your last date did. he was handsome and seemed kind enough that you could see him making a great boyfriend for someone else, but there was an unfortunate lack of chemistry between the two of you. there was a promise to talk again soon– one that would surely be broken-- and then you found yourself on your way. driving always gave you time to think and apparently, all the thinking drowned out any warning signs that the car tried to send you before giving out.

you try your roommate first, calling her with the hopes that she's with her boyfriend and he'd be willing to drive to you and at least get you to a gas station. the blaring music in the background of the call gives you an idea of what they're up to and when she turns the camera to her boyfriend with a funnel in his mouth, you cross them off the list.

next you try your date, crossing your fingers that he's still in the area. it goes straight to voicemail. you call again, maybe it was just bad connection or something. voicemail again. "dickhead" you mutter.

your only other friend who would be willing to come pick you up without holding the favor over your head works always works a double on saturdays. you know she'd come pick you up in a heartbeat, but she needs her rest and you decide against calling.

and so you come upon your last option. you and sukuna broke up two months ago and you hadn't seen him since. it was a stupid spat- you don't even remember what the source of the problem was but at some point you just started insulting each other like fucking middle school children. he called you an overbearing bitch, you called him a jealous dickhead who couldn't get over his mommy and daddy issues. things just got away from the two of you and neither of you called to mend things. about a month ago, you just assumed you were now single and when your roommate made you a profile on a stupid dating app, you didn't delete it right away.

and so, here you are now. an empty tank, with no one except him to call. you wince as you type his number in and his contact name appears as scumbag. deciding that calling him is a better option than staying alone in a car on the side of the road all night, you close your eyes and tap the green call icon. it rings once.

"hello?" his voice is gruff and the one word squeezes your heart, making you remember how much you actually miss him, despite hating him sometimes too.

"hi sukuna, i'm sorry to bother. is this a bad time?" you hear voices in the background, he might be at a friend's. even as you ask that, you know he'd drop everything if he knew you were in need.

"what's up princess? you need something?" he uses your old nickname and the heartstrings tug even more. he ignores your question and you know that you were right.

"well, it's not an emergency, but, i ran out of gas and-" you start but don't get to finish your sentence.

"send me your location." is all he says before he hangs up.

you send it. you still had his from when you were dating, but you had stopped sharing yours a week after the argument. you knew he was liable to show up at a club if he knew you were there and didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being able to do that. you were free to do as you please. the map said that he was 22 minutes away.

within 15 minutes, you see a pair of headlights slow. you get out of your car, ready to scold him for speeding but eager to see him again, even if the last time you saw him was on bad terms. confusion enters you, though, when you see an unfamiliar car. out comes a man that you don’t recognize. “hello sweetcheeks,” says the man, walking towards you and grinning far too much for your liking. “you get lost or something?” 

you head back towards your car reaching in to grab your phone but never taking your eyes off the man. “no, I’m not. I am waiting for a friend.” you try to keep your voice assertive and steady but it is difficult when this creep keeps coming towards you. you click sukuna’s contact and send him a text, ‘creepy guy here, please come quick.’ 

“can i wait with ya? you look like you could use a friend and I am great company.” he says, getting too close to the car and too close to you. he responds to your ‘no, thank you.’ with a “aw come on, i’m not gonna do anything to ya. why don’t you want to hang out with me? don’t be a bitch.” 

“sir, i’m really gonna need you to back up right now please.” you’re cornered into your car door and you curse yourself for forgetting to replace the pepper spray on your keychain. your heart seems to be beating through your chest but you can see headlights to a much bigger car turning onto the road over the man’s shoulder. sukuna’s truck roars closer and you could almost cry in gratitude. the man in front of you doesn’t seem to notice the lights nor the man bounding towards the two of you. just as he goes to reach your hand, sukuna grabs the man’s shoulder and pulls him away from you, bending his arm behind his back so far you are sure it’s going to snap at any moment. 

“listen here you degenerate piece of lowlife scum. the only reason you have your face still intact is because i’m on fucking probation and I don’t need to go to jail over some fucking incel who can’t take no for an answer. now you’re going to walk back to your car and drive on the fuck home and if i ever catch you around here creeping again, you won’t have enough limbs or teeth to try it a third time. got it?” the man nods and whimpers as sukuna releases his arm, running over to his car and speeding off.

sukuna turns to you to ask you if you’re alright but lets out a small ‘umph’ in surprise when you run into his chest and wrap your arms around him. he places a hand on your head and rubs it back and forth, muttering a “yeah, yeah” as you thank him over and over. he grabs your chin to tilt your head up to him and looks into your glassy eyes as he asks “you alright, princess?”

you nod, but don’t unwrap your arms from his torso– refusing to release your lifeline. you burrow your head into his chest again, needing a moment to ground yourself before returning to reality. he huffs, but squeezes you tight, rubbing his thumb on your shoulder. you stand like that for a minute or two before he pushes you back. “come on, let's fix your car and get you warmed up. it’s cold out here.” then he takes a look at your outfit. “hold on, where the fuck were you?”

your cheeks warm, remembering that you really tried to look cute for this date. you paired a cute slip dress with a cardigan and some short strappy heels. an outfit wasted on a man who showed up in shorts and a graphic tee but you suppose sukuna seeing you in it is at least a plus. “just a bar.” you say, while looking to the side.

he grabs your chin and brings your eyes back to him, a favorite move of his apparently, and scans your face. “you were with a guy, huh? what the fuck? are you cheating on me?” he asks incredulously.

“what? you haven’t talked to me in two months. I thought we broke up!” you reply, equally confused.

“I thought you were doing your fucking ‘healing’ or whatever the fuck you girls do! I gave you space because i was trying to be mature and let you calm down.”

“who lets someone calm down for two months? you didn’t think to call me and ask? what is wrong with you?” 

“you! you are fucking wrong with me. whenever it comes to you its like all fucking reasonable thought goes out the window! how the fuck was I supposed to know it was okay to reach out? and, what, we don’t talk for a little and you think it’s okay to go talk to other guys? you’re mine, don’t you remember that? or did our dry spell fuck with your head? did you think you could get over me by dressing up for some loser and getting mediocre dick?” 

yes. “no! it wasn’t like that kuna. I just, i don’t know. you were so mean and then you didn’t reach out and i thought that was it between us. I thought i needed to move on.” 

he bends over so that you are eye level with each other. “there’s no fucking ‘moving on’ baby. you’re stuck with me forever.���

upon hearing those words, it’s like all the sentiment from before truly comes flooding back into you. your body seems to move on its own, surprising the both of you when you close the gap between your lips. his fist finds its way into your hair and the other grabs your waist, pulling you closer. these months were the longest you have gone without sex and you didn’t know how much you had missed it until you were back in sukunas hands with his tongue in your mouth. he moves his knee between your thighs as much as your dress will let him. the friction isn’t enough and you whine and squirm in his arms. “aw, is my baby all needy? do you need more?” he teases, the words leaving his mouth and meeting yours. 

you drag your hands down his back and then slip them under his shirt to roam around his abs. fuck, you’ve missed this. “please, please kuna, need more.” 

sukuna growls and pulls you back, closing the door to the driver’s seat and opening the door to the back row. he tugs your arm and maneuvers you like a doll until you’re laid across your back seats. sukuna kneels on the floor outside the car and tugs your hips to the edge of the outermost seat before hiking up your dress to your waist. he growls when he realizes you aren’t wearing panties. “are you fucking kidding me? you had this pretty pussy ready and open on a first date? like some slut?” 

he bites the inside of your thigh and you cry out “no, ryo, the lines just ruin the dress. I promise.” he’s looking up at your frown and your watery eyes and you look so sincere and so adorable and he can’t take it anymore. he sticks his head into your heat, lapping at you like he hasn’t had a meal since the last time you saw him.

“fuck, baby. I’ve missed your taste so much. his fingers dig into your hips, keeping you in place as your back arches and your head digs into the seat. you can’t stop your squirming as sukuna sucks at your clit and your hands claw at your sides and the seat in search of something to grasp. sukuna grips your left leg and adjusts it so that it lays over his right shoulder. he brings your hand into his hair before dipping to play with your clit, his head lowering to kiss and swirl his tongue all around your pussy. with his other hand, he intertwines his fingers with yours, not even needing to look up to find your hand. of course he doesn’t look away– he’s entirely focused on using his tongue to make you forget anyone but him exists. he uses the palm of the hand that’s intertwined with yours to press on your tummy, making you see stars.

“fuck, ryomen, i’m gonna cum. please pleasepleasepleaseplease” your words blend together as the pleasure gets to your head. the fingers over your clit have found a deadly rhythm and when paired with his tongue that pushes in and out of you, you truly don’t stand a chance. he lets out small words that you can’t hear but the vibrations are enough to send you over the edge, crying out and squeezing your thighs around him like a vice. as you come down from your high you let sukuna move you up, making space for him to get into the car and close the door behind him. 

you’re dazed as you watch him unbuckle his belt and pull the waistband of his boxers down. His dick slaps his abdomen, hard and pulsing. he fists himself as he licks his lips, smirking. “delicious as always princess. now are you gonna let me in?” and you don’t think you could nod faster. you’re almost positive that there are hearts in your eyes as you watch him line himself up with you, fingers playing with your clit a little before spreading you for his tip. he rolls his hips forwards just enough so the tip catches and the stretch is already dizzyingly good. he curses, “holy fuck, did you not touch yourself at all while you were alone?”

“I did, my fingers just weren’t enough.” you whine, and the image of you in bed horny and frustrated because your little fingers weren’t hitting all the spots that he could makes him impossibly harder. 

“fuck, baby, I didn’t just ruin you for any other guy, I ruined you for yourself too, huh? nothing else will do for this pretty pussy but my cock or my fingers or my mouth. what a spoiled little cunt you have.” he laughs. you have had enough of his teasing and try to roll your hips to get more in. “alright alright I get it. easy baby, easy. by the way, what did you have for dinner tonight?” 

confused, you reply “chicken francaise, wh–” but you don’t get to finish your sentence, interrupted by sukuna fully thrusting into you. you gasp, the sting of your walls stretching to accommodate him intense even after cumming once already.

“I figured a distraction might help you relax a little better but holy fuck you’re tighter than I could have imagined. you really must have barely touched yourself while I was gone. don’t worry, this pussy won’t get neglected again.” he says, and rolls his hips again. sweat drips down your forehead as he leans over to kiss you, working his hips into yours in a delicious rhythm. as soon as you notice that his thumb has started rubbing your clit, he bites your bottom lip and the pain and pleasure mix into a mind numbing, all encompassing haze. he brings his other hand to pinch your nipple and it is enough to send you over the edge again.

being the man that he is, however, he does not let you catch a break before flipping you over to be on your hands and knees. you’re crouched and you’re sweaty and it’s hot as he slides against you but nothing has been more erotic and you find that you love it. he’s merciless now, hips snapping into yours as he chases his own pleasure. there’s just one thing he can’t get out of his mind. “did you like having your fun? was going out with those losers everything you had hoped for and more?” he spits the words into your ear, the smack of his hips getting rougher and rougher as he speaks.

it’s all you can do to turn your head and whine out “n-no! only wanted you ryo, hated going out with other guys.” you pout just remembering it. “please make me forget about them. I only ever want you.” the request is enough to send him into overdrive, and he sticks his fingers into your mouth to shut you up, knowing that he was going to be seconds away from coming if you uttered another word. you moan at the taste of yourself and at the feeling of him so deep inside you. you suck his fingers clean running your tongue across his digits. some of the spit escapes and drips down the side of your mouth and the sukuna goes wild at the debauchery of it all. 

“fuck, fuck fuck fuck i’m gonna cum, where do you want it princess?” he groans, hips stuttering as he tries to hold his release back.

there is, of course, only one right answer. “inside!” you keen, pushing your hips back to try to give him nowhere to escape to. 

“dirty fucking girl.” he snarls. “I’ll give you my cum– don’t worry princess, it’s all yours.” he says before groaning and stilling inside you. you feel the warmth fill you and grin, knowing that it is where it’s supposed to be. he turns your head and kisses you with fervor before pulling you back and sitting you on his lap. you lay your head on his chest, catching your breath and basking in the feeling of being in his arms once again. 

...

“so, are you really on probation?” you ask, rubbing your thumb in circles over one of the tattoos on his chest.

“yeah, I told you, i go crazy when it comes to you. after our argument i went out and got into a fight with the first person who was stupid enough to respond to my antagonizing. got caught kicking the shit out of him because I was so in my head. don’t fucking leave me again, I don’t think i’d survive the next one. well, i might, but the next guy I fight probably wouldn’t.”

[mikichko]

little bit personal but i’ve gone through lots of weight fluctuations in my life and no matter what size i am, summer is always hard for me.

which is why i cannot stop thinking about being ghost’s partner through summer.

we already know that he’s a man of few words, prefers to observe more than anything. so he really doesn’t miss the meticulous way that you plan out your outfits.

shorts have to be a certain length, shirts have to be at least long enough to hit your hips and sleeves long that are up to mid bicep. hell, he’s even seem you choose to wear pants all summer instead of even attempting shorts. too anxious over how you’ll be perceived to let yourself enjoy a nice warm breeze on your legs.

he asks you once if you’re warm, approaching the conversation the best way he knows how, only to have you laugh and tell him that the pants just hold you better. don’t need to give people a reason to comment on your appearance. he nods and you seem happy that he’s happy with your response.

but he’s not. listen, simon’s not really one to jump to defend someone’s ego from being bruised. god knows the team rags on johnny too often for him to pretend otherwise. but this? nah, this is different.

he’s all too familiar with the way bodies react and absorb the shock and trauma of war. has seen soldiers of all shapes, sizes, identities tank hits like no one’s business. there’s absolutely nothing he despises more than for the untrained, ill informed cretins offering opinions on someone else’s body. specially if it’s ever directed at you.

he’ll never say this though. at least not outloud. though, his actions do speak for themselves.

small pats on your hips as he passes by you. wrapping his arm around your lower belly instead of your waist, you try to swat at him but he just pulls you back into him. insisting that he lays on you when you’re stretched on the couch, dropping kisses on your clothed belly while his hands draw patterns on your plush thighs. if he’s feeling cheeky he’ll sink his teeth into them just to get a little squeal out of you.

even in public he doesn’t ease up. pulls you into his lap in front of your friends, knows you love it despite your protests. lounging out on a patch of grass along the walking trail, he pulls you closer to him and has one of your legs draped over his. massaging the fat there as you chatter about nonsense.

idk simon riley just really loves you and loves the body that keeps you alive and feeds your personality.

[izzystizzys]

When the 212th collaborates with the 501st, chaos is sure to follow in their footsteps. This has been largely true of every engagement since the start of the war, in Cody’s experience. Had he even an ounce more of a rebellious streak, he might question why and whether the success rate is worth the feral instinct for mayhem his battalion and Rex’ awaken in each other - as it is, he simply fills out the after action reports and then screams into his pillow, which is hard as durasteel and doesn’t warrant the name.

Or, on some days, he steps into the training rooms to work off some nervous jitters only for his foot to catch on someone’s armoured shoulder and faceplant straight into what looks like the entirety of both battalions piled together in a massive cuddle pile.

“What”, he manages between gritted teeth, heaving himself up with one hand supported on Crys’ arm and the other planted in places that make Boil jackknife up with a strangled yelp, “the kriff is this?!”

“We’re watching the Corrie Reality Special, sir”, his own voice calls from somewhere across the room. “The 91st is passing by, so we have satellite access to the Coruscant Broadcast network for a few hours, and we couldn’t settle on a specific show -“

“- so we decided to watch them all”, Rex finishes, sheepishly, where he’s fought his way through wiggling piles, hoots and badly imitated monkey lizard noises. The thought that he shares DNA with these degenerates is enough to drive Cody to the brink of a nervous breakdown some days. “Spopcorn?”

Ah. The Corrie Reality Circuit. When Cody first heard of it, he’d thought it was a prank. Then, they were deployed to the middle of bumkriff nowhere on the edges of Midrim space edging on Outer Rim, with a connection so spotty even classified military intel only got through about half the time, and the whole idea got shelved in favour of clankers and keeping his General’s lightsaber in his General’s hand where it belonged.

Now, a gaudy, glittery monstrosity of a logo announcing a Coruscant Rotational special appears on a rigged up screen, which means one of two things: either Fox is pulling the Galaxy’s greatest long con on all of them, or he’s been murdered and replaced with an evil clone (ha!), because there are no circumstances in which he would agree to star on Coruscant Reality TV.

Cody tilts his head consideringly. Rex smiles at him sheepishly. Tilts the spopcorn bowl at him, invitingly.

“Oh, dank farrik, sit your shebs down!”, someone (Fives, probably) yells out, fed-up…ly.

Cody sits his shebs down.

“Good morning and welcome all of Coruscant to the Great Coruscant Rotational Special: Our Boys in Red Edition!”, a bright red Twi’leki man announces on the screen amidst cheerful jizz music and loud hooting from the training room. “My name is Braham Horton, and I will be your exalted host for this fine, fine late night cycle!”

“And now, gentlebeings of the metropolis, I present to you the images that have driven us all to laughter, joy, and even tears at times over these past few weeks - whodathunkit, that the CSF media project would enthrall a whole Galaxy of viewers and cause the largest recorded peaceful civil protest of all time?!”

“The sorry what now”, says Cody, suddenly thinking back to the urgent meeting General Kenobi was currently in with Generals Windu and Yoda - passing by on the Venator in orbit. “Uhm”, says Rex. Braham Horton, unfazed by the commotion he’s causing lightyears away, chatters on.

“- many hours, so we’ve compiled an introductory little best-of for you, exalted viewers! And what better best of to start off on than the hottest entry of the most explosive bombshell into the villa - please give it up for Commander Thorn and how he stole all of our hearts on Love Island!”

A garish, club-tech jingle Cody has so far only heard buzz through the walls of establishments that generally didn’t allow clones thrums through the training room, followed by what can only be described as the sort of noises spiced up banthas might make. Thorn appears on screen, more oiled up and half-naked than Cody remembers, though just as bleach-blond, hair slightly longer than regulation and smile blindingly perfect.

“I’m Commander Thorn, baseline twenty-four years humanoid - during daytime I might be the scourge of Coruscant’s criminal underworld, but at night I don’t mind playing good cop for you!” He punctuates it woth a sleazy wink and fingerblasters that have Rex honest-to-god gagging, and Cody seeing his life flash before his eyes. If Alpha-17 finds out about this…

Suddenly, Thorn’s smile drops in favour of what might almost be called a scowl on even his handsome face, and the music cuts out. “There, got your soundbyte. Can I go back now? I’m supposed to be on shift.” Indistinct, off-screen chatter and a captioned oopsie… appear in a shower of glitter. Thorn’s face does something complicated. “For HOW MANY MONTHS?!”

Cut to a montage of what Cody can only describe as beaches, oil and abs galore, Braham Horton narrates and extremely close-up shot of what Cody tries very hard not to identify as Thorn’s crotch. His own crotch, in a way. Oh no, that’s weird, stop that train of thought immediately-

“Although our favourite bombshell’s entry into the villa wasn’t without its hitches and hurdles-“, emphasized by a zoom-in on Thorn’s form in a speedo huddled away from a partying crowd of softcore-kriffing contestants on a yacht, “- as well as all know, he would soon find his place in the villa - or places, rather!”

Two crying humanoid women appear on screen, with eyeliner smudges down to their knees. A hoot goes through the room. Cody watches with a sense of impeding doom. “You slept with her after I chose to match up with you instead of Chad?! How could you!”

Thorn, still oiled up with both blasters out for the world to see, winces. “I didn’t me-“

A hysterical gasp, a camera swerve. Three more people stand by the doorway, all clutching their chests with wide eyes. A broad, green Twi’leki man raises a finger to point accusingly. “You were sleeping with them too?! I thought I was the only one!”

“Dear Force”, Cody murmurs, unable to look away from the building speeder wreck on screen. Braham Horton laughs good-naturedly at his misery. “Ah, good times! And who could forget the all-out brawl of the following matching night, where a record number of every single other contestant attempted to physically fight the others for the right to match up with Commander Thorn! Including a somehow returned Chad, who nearly won thanks to the element of surprise. I wish we could show the footage, but then we’d have to slap several warnings on it and probably still get taken off the air.”

“I didn’t know Corries kriffed like that!”, someone (Fives, let’s be honest, it was definitely Fives) calls out into the room, receiving snickers and a well-aimed pillow to the throat for his trouble. He goes down with a choking scream.

“Someone who was less impressed by the hot’n bothered beach weather was Commander Thire, who found himself Less than Impressed by his co-contestants inability to keep it in their pants on Too Hot To Handle!”

Thire’s face, identical to Thorn’s in every way except the ones that matter, appears on screen. His black hair is cut in a cropped mohawk, arms folded over a button-up he’s carefully pieced together with… safety pins? Where are the buttons on it?

“These people are pathological and pathetic and I will spend not a second longer on this farce of an attempt at ‘entertainment show’”, says Thire, air-quotes so sharp they could cut stone. His scowl might be permanently etched into his face, Cody can’t tell. “Unlike literally everyone else, I have an actual job to do. Now move.”

A brief pause, in which cheerful jizz music plays over what is obviously a producer begging off-camera, followed by an eyeroll so hard it hurts Cody’s brain to watch. Thire throws his hands into the air in defeat, marching off into the sea behind him still fully clothed.

“When they didn’t find him until the last episode, I’ll admit, I thought he’d died too!”, Braham Horton cuts in cheerfully. “But would you look at his little lonely island lair - now that’s a fulfilled man, and too many coconuts for my taste! We’ve had to blur his hands out as he discovered the cameras just moments before these holos were taken, unfortunately. And, dear viewer, who could forget this exit-interview for the ages!”

A considerably more clothed Thire appears on screen, eyeing a microphone like he’s about to use it to stab out his own eyes. The reporter clears their throat in audible anxiety. “C-commander, how would you describe your reality experience in one word?”

“Demeaning”, says Thire, blandly.

Silence.

“Um, o-okay”, squeaks the reporter.

“Would you like some more words?”, asks a dead-eyed Thire.

“No, um, I think - I think we’re alright.”

“Because I have many words. Mostly for whoever the *bleep* thought this was a *bleep* good idea, and *bleeeeeeee-*”

“We’ve had to censor most of the Commander’s on-screen appearance, dear viewer, for your sensibilities”, says Braham Horton, eternally and painfully cheerful. “And speaking of sensibilities, who could forget Commander Stone honouring his name in several challenges on ‘I’m A Holostar - Get Me Out Of Here!’”

Soulful violin music fills the gym, overlaid with images of a bald vod Cody surmises must be Stone. Stone stares stonily into the void, glass of bright green something raised to his lips and already half-empty.

“Memorably, he downed a pint of acklay urine within seconds-“

Horrified screams are followed by an image of Stone chewing, yet another thousand-klick stare.

“- or when he ate Tauntaun anus -“

Rex doubles over gagging, and Cody slowly puts his handful of Spopcorn back down.

“- of course the ten minute worm-bath challenge cannot go unmentioned -“

“FORCE PLEASE NO!”, screams someone (Echo) tearfully. Commander Stone, buried to the chin in wiggling orange worms, looks less impressed.

“ - and who could forget his encounter with a horde of ginntho spiders and nests of vexis snakes!”

A remote goes sailing past the screen, missing by a mile, as images of Stone with his whole arm stuck in various boxes fly past. Someone is retching. It might be Cody.

“We would show the infamous butchery challenge wherein the Commander found himself drenched in nexu guts and sandworm brains, but once again, this is family friendly programming and we are not allowed. Nevertheless, a win well-deserved. And now, please welcome the one, the only, the awe-inspiring, the unbelievable: Marshall Commander Fox!”

Another Force-awful jingle, big, blocky letters, and Cody chokes on his own spit when Fox’s scowling face appears on screen. He’s thinner, greyer and angrier than the last time they saw eachother in person. Only the last one is really a surprise.

“I am neither naked nor afraid”, says Fox, arms crossed firmly, foot tapping impatiently on the ground. “I am, however, quickly losing my patience. Explain to me again the point of spending my valuable time undressing in the middle of bum-*bleep* nowhere on the Midrim instead of doing my job as the head of planetary security in the middle of a Galaxy-wide war?”

Several beats of silence follow. Fox grows less impressed with each. Cody knows that look well. Usually, it precedes handcuffs and a cold sonic blast to the face.

“Um… you signed a contract?”, says a producer’s voice uncertainly off-screen. Fox barks out a harsh laugh. “I’m legally classified as military property, my signature holds less weight than if I’d had one of the Guard’s massiffs shit on that contract for me.”

“Ouch!”, calls Crys.

“Gettim!”, adds Longshot.

“But… don’t you sign off military documents all the time for the Senate?”, sputters the producer.

Fox smiles with far to many teeth. It’s also a look Cody knows far too well, and even lightyears away it has a shudder going down his spine.

“Really makes you think about the technicalities of that definitely-not-slave-army, doesn’t it?”, he says, dryly.

“Although considerably less naked and afraid than all other contestants, Commander Fox left us with many memorable moments - such as when he saved the entire crew from an angry Acklay!”

Most of the next holovid is blurred out, though Cody can (unfortunately) guess at the why and how. So can most everyone else, judging by the collective groan.

“Down, boy”, says Fox, flatly, to a hissing Acklay twice his size. It rears its fanged head, and a shudder goes through the room. Fox simply crosses his arms and nails the beast with an unimpressed look. “You are making a fool of both of us. Cut it out.”

Chastised, the Acklay blinks at him, slowly lowering itself back down with a confused hiss.

“No kriffing wonder all the Corrie shinies are such hardasses”, mutters Rex, whom Cody is hard pressed to agree with. “I came from a tube and that look gave me daddy issues.”

“Yes, dear viewer, who could forget these heart-warming moments of good, quality television!”, sighs Braham Horton, dreamily. “Not Coruscant anytime soon, that’s for sure! We are now entering the twentieth rotation of the sit-in protest of a petition to allow the Commanders of the Coruscant Guard to compete on Dancing With The Planets, Coruscant Rotational’s epic dance competition!”

“Dear bum-kriffing Force”, whispers Rex, wide-eyed and awe-struck. “Does Fox know about this?!”

Cody, who’s already dialing the kriffer’s comm-code, wipes a singular tear from his eye. “Not a clue, but kriff, am I going to enjoy telling him.”

[coddda]

Light's relationship with his father is such a heartbreaking multi-faceted tragedy to me I hate it so so so much.

Soichiro loves his son so much, and while he's certainly not a perfect father I know that he cares deeply about Light. He wants to prove Light's innocence so badly but he can't let go of the underlying doubt that he might really be Kira and it gnaws at him. He does not know that from the very beginning he was being used by Light, whether it was to obtain information about the investigation, or to get to L, or to strengthen the foundations of his own lie that he wasn't Kira, this entire time he was simply another resource. He'll hang onto this doubt for years, even after L is dead, even if he doesn't express it in the latter half of the series, until he himself is on his deathbed, with what he believes to be undeniable proof that Light isn't Kira. (It's a lie, of course.) He dies happy, but it's on the foundations of blissful ignorance. His own son brought him here, brought him to the point where he had to sacrifice half of his own remaining life span, to his own death march, and was still trying to use him even now to kill someone else, but he doesn't know that. Soichiro said that what was evil was the power to kill others, and that whoever used it was cursed. Light was that cursed man, of course, and he tried to bring that curse onto Soichiro too by making him kill in his last moments. Soichiro was happy regardless, because he didn't know. He'll never know. (In the manga/anime at least. More on that later).

Light loves his father but it's not enough to turn him away from the terrible decisions he's made, if anything it only fuels them. His idea of "justice" is a twisted model of what he parroted from Soichiro, and he uses his father as another pawn (and a powerful one at that) in his plans. If he can prove that Kira is justice then perhaps his father will no longer call Kira, and therefore Light, evil, so he just needs to ensure that Kira becomes justice, right? It's Light's own actions that land his own father in the hospital for a stress-induced heart attack and yet he says only a few minutes later that he's the happiest he's ever been in his entire life. Even after Soichiro denounces Kira by calling him evil, even after he calls the Death Note's power evil, even after he unknowingly tells Light that he is cursed. When Soichiro dies Light is too deep in his own plans to actually properly process the fact that his own father is dying past what it means for his goals, but at the same time he still cares enough that after the fact he'll genuinely cry, only to brush it all away later. (Personally, I don't have a single doubt in my mind that Light's crying in that scene was genuine and I Will die on this hill). Soichiro had unknowingly denounced Light one last time just before his death, openly relieved that he "wasn't Kira after all", which also reveals that he has had doubts about Light this entire time, even after L died. By the time he's caught at the Yellow Box Warehouse Light will have denounced his father too, seeing him as someone who was made to be a fool, someone who was naive, even, too earnest for his own good. He won't realize that part of this description of his father might have applied to Light himself, back when this all started. Light takes after his father so much in so many ways already, so why not in this way too?

Ough. And honestly the other adaptations never miss out on this tragedy either, and I love them for that. (spoilers for the musical and 2006 live action movies I guess?)

In the musical we see Soichiro express his doubts and conflicts about who to believe, Light or L, if the son he raised really is a murderer, if everything he knows about him is just a lie. Like, there's an entire song about this, and you can tell how torn he is about it all, how badly he wants Light to be innocent but about how he also needs to face the truth no matter what it is, but at the end of it all he doesn't even get the answers he wants. At the end of the musical the only thing he finds is two corpses, Light's and L's, with no answers. No last words, no closure, only dead ends and a dead son and a grieving daughter. It's so awful I hate it here.

And the live action movie is fucking Insane. Like, wow. Okay. (Spoiler for the ending of Death Note The Last Name I guess) In the 2006 movies/novels Light writes Soichiro's name in the Death Note himself, and it's such an inconcievable move that it leaves even Misa shocked; Light tries to make Soichiro give him the Death Note for the last part of his plans, seeing his death as a "necessary sacrifice" (insert tangent essay about why I think 2006 live action movie Light is actually the most "coldhearted" Light Yagami, despite how infamous anime Light is). It doesn't work, and Soichiro does end up finding out that Light is Kira this time, and they have a confrontation, but he doesn't even sound truly hateful towards Light for it. He Never seems to outright hate Light for it, even after Light calls the whole confrontation a waste of time and instead tries to continue killing with the piece of the notebook in his watch, even after he tries to get Ryuk to kill everyone. When Ryuk inevitably writes Light's name and he collapses, Soichiro still reaches out for him and holds onto him as he's dying. Light literally dies in Soichiro's arms, still looking for the validation that he was right, that this wasn't all for nothing, that he was doing the good thing, trying to make Soichiro understand that he was trying to enact justice based on what he learned from him in the first place. Soichiro not only learns but sees for himself what his son has become, and Light dies in his arms leaving no closure for either of them. Soichiro will announce Light's death in L Change the WorLd on the news without saying his name, saying instead that it is only Kira who is dead, even though he and Light are one in the same. Sachiko and Sayu will never get to know the full truth about what happened to Light, instead Soichiro will lie and instead tell them: "Light was killed by Kira."

And then holy Shit the jdrama. If I write about it here this post is gonna literally double in length and also I don't really wanna spoil it but. Man. Man. If you watched it you know. Holy Shit dude I Cried.

It's the fact that, canonically, Soichiro will die oblivious to what Light has done, but even in the instances where he does find out, it doesn't make it any better, and it doesn't make him love Light any less, it just gives him more to grieve.

It's the fact that there isn't a single universe where Light doesn't use his father for his own gain, whether to gain information, or to try and control him with the Death Note, or make him write in the Death Note himself, and not a single time will he realize just how far he's strayed from Soichiro's ideals, and not a single time will he not forsake him for it by the end of the story.

It's the fact that, despite everything, Light will always refers to Soichiro as "dad/my dad" (informal) rather than "father/my father", even after he has been "denounced" (and this is true in every language that Death Note has been translated in, as far as I could find. Man, isn't that so cool! :) <- Through tears).

Anyways that's what I've been thinking of how's your guys' days going

[lsdoiphin]

Foods of Vestur

@broncoburro and @chocodile provoked me into doing some illustrated worldbuilding for Forever Gold ( @forevergoldgame ), an endeavor I was happy to undertake. Unbeknownst to me, it would take the better part of a week to draw.

In the process, I conjured about an essay's worth of fantasy food worldbuilding, but I'm going to try and keep things digestible (pardon my pun). Lore under the cut:

The Middle Kingdom

The Middle Kingdom has ample land, and its soil, landscapes, and temperate climate are amenable to growing a variety of crops and raising large quantities of livestock. The Midland palate prefers fresh ingredients with minimal seasoning; if a dish requires a strong taste, a cook is more likely to reach for a sharp cheese than they are to open their spice drawer. Detractors of Middle Kingdom cuisine describe it as bland, but its flavor relies on the quality of its components more than anything.

KEY CROPS: wheat, potatoes, carrots, green beans, apples, pears, and grapes KEY LIVESTOCK: Midland goats, fowl, and hogs

ROAST FOWL: Cheap and easy to raise, fowl is eaten all over Vestur and by all classes. Roasted whole birds are common throughout, but the Middle Kingdom's approach to preparation is notable for their squeamish insistence on removing the head and neck before roasting, even among poorer families. Fowl is usually roasted on a bed of root vegetables and shallots and served alongside gravy and green beans.

GOAT RIBEYE: Vestur does not have cattle – instead it has a widely diversified array of goats, the most prominent being the Middle Kingdom's own Midland goat. The Midland goat is a huge caprid that fills the same niche as cattle, supplying Vestur with meat and dairy products. Chevon from the Midland goat is tender with a texture much like beef, though it retains a gamier, “goat-ier” taste. It is largely eaten by the wealthy, though the tougher and cheaper cuts can be found in the kitchens of the working class. Either way, it is almost always served with gravy. (You may be sensing a pattern already here. Midlanders love their gravy.)

FETTUCCINE WITH CHEESE: Noodles were brought to the Middle Kingdom through trade with the South and gained popularity as a novel alternative to bread. The pasta of Midland Vestur is largely eaten with butter or cream sauce; tomato or pesto sauces are seldom seen.

CHARCUTERIE WITH WINE: Charcuterie is eaten for the joy of flavors rather than to satiate hunger, and therefore it is mainly eaten by the upper class. It is commonly eaten alongside grape wine, a prestigious alcohol uniquely produced by the Middle Kingdom. The flavor of grape wine is said to be more agreeable than the other wines in Vestur, though Southern pineapple wine has its share of defenders.

BREAD WITH JAM AND PRESERVES, TEA SANDWICHES, & ROSETTE CAKE: Breads and pastries are big in the Middle Kingdom. The Middle Kingdom considers itself the world leader in the art of baking. Compared to its neighbors, the baked goods they make are soft, light, and airy and they are proud of it. Cakes in particular are a point of ego and a minor source of mania among nobility; it is a well-established cultural joke that a Middle Kingdom noble cannot suffer his neighbor serving a bigger, taller cake. The cakes at Middle Kingdom parties can reach nauseatingly wasteful and absurdist heights, and there is no sign of this trend relenting any time soon.

CHOWDER, FARMER'S POT PIE, GRIDDLECAKES, EGGS, CURED MEATS: If you have the means to eat at all in the Middle Kingdom, you are probably eating well. Due to the Midland's agricultural strength, even peasant dishes are dense and filling. Eggs and cured meats are abundant, cheaper, and more shelf stable than fresh cuts and provide reprieve from the unending wheat and dairy in the Midland diet.

STEWED APPLES AND PEARS, JAM AND PRESERVES: The Midland grows a number of different fruits, with apples and pears being the most plentiful. In a good year, there will be more fruit than anyone knows what to do with, and so jams and preserves are widely available. Stewed fruit has also gained popularity, especially since trade with the Southern Kingdom ensures a stable supply of sugar and cinnamon.

NORTHERN KINGDOM - SETTLED

The Northern Kingdom is a harsh and unforgiving land. Historically, its peoples lived a nomadic life, but since the unification of the Tri-Kingdom more and more of the Northern population have opted to live a settled life. The “settled North” leads a hard life trying to make agriculture work on the tundra, but it is possible with the help of green meur. The Northern palate leans heavily on preserved and fermented foods as well as the heat from the native tundra peppers. Outsiders often have a hard time stomaching the salt, tang, and spice of Northern cuisine and it is widely considered “scary.”

KEY CROPS: potatoes, beets, carrots, tundra pepper KEY LIVESTOCK: wooly goats, hares*

GOAT POT ROAST: Life up north is hard work and there is much to be done in a day. Thus, slow cooked one-pot meals that simmer throughout the day are quite common.

VENISON WITH PICKLES: Game meat appears in Northern dishes about as much as farmed meat – or sometimes even more, depending on the location. Even “classier” Northern dishes will sometimes choose game meat over domesticated, as is the case with the beloved venison with pickles. Cuts of brined venison are spread over a bed of butter-fried potato slices and potent, spicy pickled peppers and onions. The potatoes are meant to cut some of the saltiness of the dish, but... most foreigners just say it tastes like salt, vinegar, and burning.

MINER STEW: While outsiders often have a hard time distinguishing miner stew from the multitude of beet-tinged stews and pot roasts, the taste difference is unmistakable. Miner's stew is a poverty meal consisting of pickles and salt pork and whatever else is might be edible and available. The end result is a sad bowl of scraps that tastes like salt and reeks of vinegar. The popular myth is that the dish got its name because the Northern poor began putting actual rocks in it to fill out the meal, which... probably never happened, but facts aren't going to stop people from repeating punchy myths.

RYE TOAST WITH ONION JAM: Rye is hardier than wheat, and so rye bread is the most common variety in the North. Compared to Midland bread, Northern bread is dense and gritty. It is less likely to be enjoyed on its own than Midland bread, both because of its composition and because there's less to put on it. Unless you've the money to import fruit spreads from further south, you're stuck with Northern jams such as onion or pepper jam. Both have their appreciators, but bear little resemblance to the fruit and berry preserves available elsewhere in Vestur.

HARE DAIRY: Eating hare meat is prohibited in polite society due to its association with the haretouched and heretical nomadic folk religions, but hare dairy is fair game. Hare cheese ranges from black to plum in color, is strangely odorless, and has a pungent flavor akin to a strong blue cheese. It is the least contentious of hare milk products. Hare milk, on the other hand, is mildly toxic. If one is not acclimated to hare milk, drinking it will likely make them “milk sick” and induce vomiting. It is rarely drunk raw, and is instead fermented into an alcoholic drink similar to kumis.

MAPLE HARES AND NOMAD CANDY: Maple syrup is essentially the only local sweetener available in the North, and so it is the primary flavor of every Northern dessert. Simple maple candies are the most common type of sweet, though candied tundra peppers – known as “nomad candy” – is quite popular as well. (Despite its name, nomad candy is an invention of the settled North and was never made by nomads.)

TUNSUKH: Tunsukh is one of the few traditions from the nomadic era still widely (and openly) practiced among Northern nobility. It is a ceremonial dinner meant as a test of strength and endurance between political leaders: a brutally spiced multi-course meal, with each course being more painful than the last. Whoever finishes the dinner with a stoic, tear-streaked face triumphs; anyone who cries out in pain or reaches for a glass of milk admits defeat. “Dessert” consists of a bowl of plain, boiled potatoes. After the onslaught of tunsukh, it is sweeter than any cake.

NORTHERN KINGDOM – NOMADIC NORTH

Although the Old Ways are in decline, the nomadic clans still live in the far North beyond any land worth settling. They travel on hareback across the frozen wasteland seeking “meur fonts” - paradoxical bursts of meur that erupt from the ice and provide momentary reprieve from the harsh environment. The taste of nomad food is not well documented.

KEY CROPS: N/A KEY LIVESTOCK: hares

PEMMICAN: Nomadic life offers few guarantees. With its caloric density and functionally indefinite “shelf life,” pemmican is about as close as one can get.

SEAL, MOOSE: Meat comprises the vast majority of the nomadic diet and is eaten a variety of ways. Depending on the clan, season, and availability of meur fonts, meat may be cooked, smoked, turned to jerky, or eaten raw. Moose and seal are the most common sources of meat, but each comes with its own challenges. Moose are massive, violent creatures and dangerous to take down even with the aid of hares; seals are slippery to hunt and only live along the coasts.

WANDER FOOD, WANDER STEW: When a green meur font appears, a lush jungle springs forth around it. The heat from red meur fonts may melt ice and create opportunities for fishing where there weren't before. Any food obtained from a font is known as “wander food.” Wander food is both familiar and alien; the nomads have lived by fonts long enough to know what is edible and what is not, but they may not know the common names or preparation methods for the food they find. Fish is simple enough to cook, but produce is less predictable. Meur fonts are temporary, and it's not guaranteed that you'll ever find the same produce twice - there is little room to experiment and learn. As a result, a lot of wander food is simply thrown into a pot and boiled into “wander stew,” an indescribable dish which is different each time.

CENVAVESH: When a haretouched person dies, their hare is gripped with the insatiable compulsion to eat its former companion... therefore, it is only proper to return the favor. Barring injury or illness, a bonded hare will almost always outlive its bonded human, and so the death of one's hare is considered a great tragedy among nomads. The haretouched – and anyone they may invite to join them – sits beside the head of their hare as they consume as much of its rib and organ meat as they can. Meanwhile, the rest of the clan processes the remainder of the hare's carcass so that none of it goes to waste. It is a somber affair that is treated with the same gravity as the passing of a human. Cenvavesh is outlawed as a pagan practice in the settled North.

HARE WINE: While fermented hare's milk is already alcoholic, further fermentation turns it into a vivid hallucinogen. This “hare wine” is used in a number of nomad rituals, most notably during coming of age ceremonies. Allegedly, it bestows its drinker with a hare's intuition and keen sense of direction... of course, truth is difficult to distinguish from fiction when it comes to the Old Ways.

SOUTHERN KINGDOM

The Southern Kingdom is mainly comprised of coast, wetland, and ever-shrinking jungle. While the land is mostly unfit for large-scale agriculture, seafood is plentiful and the hot climate is perfect for exorbitant niche crops. What they can't grow, they obtain easily through trade. Southerners have a reputation for eating anything, as well as stealing dishes from other cultures and “ruining” them with their own interpretations. KEY CROPS: plantains, sweet potato, pineapple, mango, guava, sugarcane KEY LIVESTOCK: fowl, marsh hogs, seals

GLAZED EEL WITH FRIED PLANTAINS: A very common configuration for Southern food is a glazed meat paired with a fried vegetable. It almost doesn't matter which meat and which vegetable it is – they love their fried food and they love their sweet and salty sauces in the South. Eel is a culturally beloved meat, much to the shock and confusion of visiting Midlanders.

NARWHAL STEW: Narwhal stew is the South's “anything goes” stew. It does not actually contain narwhal meat, as they are extinct (though the upper class may include dolphin meat as a protein) – instead, the name comes from its traditional status as a “forever soup,” as narwhals are associated with the passage of time in Southern culture. Even in the present day, Southern monasteries tend massive, ever-boiling pots of perpetual stew in order to feed the monks and sybils who live there. Narwhal stew has a clear kelp-based broth and usually contains shellfish. Beyond that, its ingredients are extremely varied. Noodles are a popular but recent addition.

FORAGE: The dish known as “forage” is likewise not foraged, or at least, it hasn't been forage-based in a good hundred years at least. Forage is a lot like poke; it's a little bit of everything thrown into a bowl. Common ingredients include fish (raw or cooked), seaweed, fried noodles, marinated egg, and small quantities of fruit.

HOT POT: Hot pot is extremely popular, across class barriers, in both the South proper and its enclave territories. This is due to its extreme flexibility - if it can be cooked in a vat of boiling broth, it will be. Crustaceans and shellfish are common choices for hot pot in the proper South, along with squid, octopus, mushrooms, and greens.

FLATBREAD: The Southern Kingdom doesn't do much baking. The vast majority of breads are fried, unleavened flatbreads, which are usually eaten alongside soups or as wraps. Wraps come in both savory and sweet varieties; savory wraps are usually stuffed with shredded pork and greens while sweet wraps – which are much more expensive – are filled with fruit and seal cheese.

GRILLED SKEWERS, ROAST SWEET POTATO: While a novel concept for Midlanders and Northerners, street food has long been a part of Southern Kingdom culture. You would be hard pressed to find a Southern market that didn't have at least three vendors pushing grilled or fried something or other. Skewers are the most common and come in countless configurations, but roast sweet potatoes are a close second.

CUT FRUIT AND SEAL CHEESE: Fresh fruit is popular in the South, both local and imported. While delicious on its own, Southerners famously pair it with seal cheese. Which leads me to an important topic of discussion I don't have room for anywhere else...

THE SOUTH AND CHEESE: Since the South doesn't have much in the way of dairy farming, cheese is somewhat rare in their cuisine – but it is present. And important. Cheese is the domain of the Church. Common goat dairy imported from the Middle Kingdom is turned to cheese by monks in Southern monasteries and sold to the Southern public, yes, but as you have noticed there is another cheese prominent in the Southern Kingdom diet: seal cheese. Seal cheese is unlike anything else that has ever been called cheese; the closest it can be compared to is mascarpone. It is is a soft, creamy cheese with a mild flavor and an indulgent fat content. It is used almost exclusively as a dessert, though it is only ever mildly sweetened if at all. It is extremely costly and held in high regard; the most religious Southerners regard it as holy. Dairy seals are a very rare animal and raised exclusively in a small number of Cetolist-Cerostian monasteries, where they are tended and milked by the monks. Due to their status as a holy animal, eating seal meat is forbidden. Eating their cheese and rendering their tallow into soap is fine though.

(HEARTLAND SOUTH) SOUTH-STYLE GOAT: The Heartland South is a Southern enclave territory in the Middle Kingdom. Visiting Midland dignitaries oft wrongly assume that because the Heartland South is in Middle Kingdom territory, Heartland Southerners eat the same food they do exactly as they do. They are horrified to find that familiar sounding dishes like “goat with potatoes” are completely and utterly unrecognizable, drenched in unfamiliar sauces and spices and served alongside fruit they've never eaten. Meanwhile, Heartland Southerners firmly believe that they have fixed the Middle Kingdom's boring food.

(BOREAL SOUTH) “TUNSUKH”: If Midlanders are afraid of Heartland Southern food, Northerners are absolutely furious about cuisine from the Boreal South - the most legendarily offensive being the Boreal South's idea of “tunsukh.” Southerners are no stranger to spice, so when Southern traders began interacting with the North, they liked tunsukh! It's just... they thought it needed a little Southern help to become a real meal, you know? A side of seal cheese soothed the burn and made the meal enjoyable. And because the meal was enjoyable, the portion sizes increased. And plain boiled potatoes? Well, those are a little too plain – creamy mashed sweet potato feels like more of a dessert, doesn't it? ...For some reason, Northerners didn't agree, but that's okay. The Boreal South knows they're just embarrassed they didn't think of pairing seal cheese with tunsukh sooner.

ARMY RATIONS

The food eaten by the King's Army is about what you would expect for late 1700s military; salt pork or salt chevon, hard tack, and coffee. The biggest divergence they have is also one of Vestur's biggest points of pride: they have the means to supply their troops with frivolous luxuries like small tins of candied fruit from the Midland. A love of candied fruit is essentially a Vesturian military proto-meme; proof that they serve the greatest Tri-Kingdom on the planet. Don't get between a military man and his candied fruit unless you want a fight.

[heavqn]

Coriolanus as the peacekeeper, being completely mentally unbalanced, possessive and controlling, while he fucks the reader who is totally naive and can't refuse since Coriolanus is basically keeping her alive and feeding her, it all happens in the cabin. and they are almost discovered by her friend Lucy Gray.

It can include size difference perversion, Coriolanus has a hyper fixation with how shy and naive the reader can be, manipulation, doubtful consent.

Can you add any plot? I'm not a fan of angst though. If you take it, I THANK YOU.

i loved this request!! i kind of went totally overboard and i don't think i stuck to your request quite well but i hope you still enjoy it 😭

cw; fingering, sort of controling? coriolanus, allusion to piv but there isn't any. usage of yn like three times. i think that's all. not my finest writing, apologies </33

Being in District 12 was no party. It was as miserable as life got, until she met Lucy Gray of course. Lucy Gray had taken her under her wing, no doubt becoming like a sister to her. She taught [ y/n ] her favorite songs, her favorite stories and even let her have some of her pretty dresses.

She was basically part of the covey though she had known her for such a short amount of time. When Lucy Gray was reaped, she felt like she was too. A part of her went into that arena with Lucy Gray and she was frightened everyday until she came back unscathed. 

With Lucy Gray’s infamous return to the District came plenty of singing and dancing back in the Hob. It wasn’t until Lucy Gray was a bit way into her song when she noticed a familiar pale, blonde-haired boy watching her. Though the realization of who he was had been cut short by Billy Taupe and his drunken-state, she was both shocked and excited to know he was there.

The next day, she saw him yet again. Maude Ivory had made way to them though and she had to leave. But it didn’t stop her from inviting him to the lake, promising him only the covey knew of its existence.

On the way to the lake, Coriolanus had made his acquaintance with a few others from the covey. One in particular stuck in his mind though; [ y/n ]. She had a quiet tone and was a bit clueless to jokes that others made. He noticed how she stayed close to Lucy Gray, whispering to her and then looking at him.

And if the shyness and naivety hadn’t got him, seeing her come up from under the water definitely did. Her hair clung to her back and the make-shift bikini she wore did little to cover her boobs as he saw her nipples poking from under the fabric. 

He was fascinated by her. She was dumb, to say the least. Usually such things would turn him off and make him go the other way, but he reveled in the way she clung to his every word once the two had become close. 

They often spent time together at the lake; his idea. This particular day, he had convinced her to go skinny-dipping. “What if someone sees us?” She had questioned, voice quiet as if anybody was around to hear her. Only the covey and him knew about the lake; she knew this, he knew this. The possibility of anyone coming out this late wasn’t likely.

Though he had to admit that the thought did cross his mind as well. So he prompted her with another idea, “We could go to the cabin instead.” His intentions would’ve been clear as day to anybody else, but she was entirely lost. “What are we gonna do in there? It’s boring.” She pouted. 

Most nights at the lake were spent listening to him talking as you nodded along, pretending to understand what he spoke of. So when you made your way inside the cabin and got comfortable on the rickety bed, Coriolanus started to speak about his home. 

“I can’t even imagine what the Capitol is like.” She told him in response to his question of if she’d come home with him. “It’s amazing. Organized, powerful. Nothing like the districts. I think you’d fit right in.” His words had her shaking her head.

“I couldn’t leave twelve. My family is here; Lucy Gray is here.” He rolled his eyes. “You’d be with me. I’d buy you the finest things the Capitol has to offer.” The thought of leaving the covey left a bad taste in her mouth, but the promise of pretty things had her looking up at him with curiosity.

“What kind of things?” She questioned. He smiled, knowing he had piqued her interest. It was too easy sometimes. “Clothes, jewelry, makeup. Anything you can dream of.” His hand had made its way to her arm, caressing it as he watched the way her eyes lit up from his words. “Even flowers?” He let out a soft laugh, “Even flowers.” 

She fell into him, back meeting his chest as his arms wrapped around her waist. “You know what else the Capitol has?” His fingers went under your shirt, dragging across the skin of her abdomen. She felt that tingling sensation she often got when she was with him. 

While they talked a lot when together, she’d also had sex with Coriolanus a lot. It wasn’t a hard thing to convince her into. Her first time was in the lake; it wasn’t comfortable or convenient, but he was a desperate man. She had just talked about how she was a virgin and he was immediately interested in taking that title away from her. So it was no surprise when the next time they met up, he had her under him once again and every time after that.

He told her that she owed it to him. He was protecting her; would she rather it be him or some pervert from the district? He knew what he was doing and he gave it how she liked it. He guaranteed that none of these boys could even dream of doing it like him and she agreed. He was unfairly good at it and knew what had her cumming in no time so who was she to deny it?

She was dragged out of her thoughts as his hand went further under her top, moving to grasp her boobs. She let out a shaky sigh at the feeling, listening to him speak. “I asked you a question.” He reminded her; his voice deep and firm in her ear as he his hands continued venturing her body.

“What else?” She responded, not necessarily caring for anything else at this moment besides being held close to him. “Lingerie. You know what that is?” He questioned her, and the way her face screwed up let on that she didn’t have a clue as to what he had said. “I don’t know what that is.” She admitted softly, feeling embarrassed he had once again caught her in a stump.

“It’s a type of clothing women wear. Nice and lacey; Bet you’d look real good in it.” He spoke to her in that same deep voice he always did, but it felt heavier this time. He was building her up just so he could break her. “What do you think?” He shifted the conversation back to her, knowing she’d get riled up.

“I think–I think it’d be nice to try it on. Is it like a dress?” She asked curiously, not quite envisioning what this lingerie was that he spoke of. He laughed at her question, taking his time to trail his hands down the length of her skirt. “No, no. It’s like an undergarment; Ladies wear it for men.” He tried to explain, feeling her body melt into him as his fingers went to push her skirt up, giving him access to the place he wanted.

Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, again. “So it’s like fancy underwear?” Hearing the word underwear only brought more of her innocence to his attention. “Exactly. Now you’re getting it.” He praised, fingers trailing on the inside of her thighs, inching closer and closer to where she needed him.

“What makes it different from regular underwear?” She was curious now. Ladies wear it for men? Ladies always wear underwear, she thought. He smiled at how interested she was in this topic, but it was clear she was struggling with her words in the way her breath hitched and how she melted impossibly closer to him, when he finally got to the cotton of her panties.

“Well, you don’t wear it everyday. It’s for special occasions; For times between a man and his woman.” He told her, finger playing with the hem of her panties, teasingly snapping it back and into her skin. “Like–Like us, Coryo?” Her voice was but a whisper when she shyly asked the question.

He reveled in the way his pants tightened at how innocent and naive she was. It made it impossible to hold back the way he smiled into her neck, placing open mouthed kisses over her skin. “Just like us, bunny.” He whispered in her ear, finger finally slipping under her panties and going to feel how wet she was.

“Got you all hot and bothered just from a simple conversation. We haven’t even kissed and you’re already soaked.” He teased her, fingers coming out from her panties to show her just how wet she was. “‘m sorry.” She squeaked out, feeling embarrassed at his words and seeing his fingers covered in her juices did nothing to help that feeling.

He swore he could’ve cum right then and there. The way her body tensed up at his words, and the way she became beat red when she saw his fingers; he was ruined. He wanted nothing more than to be inside her, watching as she squirmed to take him; she would be so thankful for it, a mix of “please” and “thank you” ‘s no doubt on her lips with every thrust.

She was obedient; sometimes too obedient. He just craved one time when she would slip up, so he could punish her. But he knew she never would. She listened to his every word, and she’d be damned if she upset her Coryo.

He squeezed her hips, telling her she had nothing to apologize for. “It’s a natural thing. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He told her, the words like honey as they slipped out of his mouth. “Just don’t be getting this way for anyone else. Promise?” He all but commanded her, quickly discarding her panties before placing her right back in front of him; back to chest. “I promise, Coryo. Only you.” She was quick to agree with him; it’s all she’s good for. Simply a parrot of his words, aiming only to agree and copy everything he said. 

He didn’t give her anything else but the feeling of his fingers rubbing her clit as a response. The lack of warning had her surprised at the touch, shocked for a second. But he used his other hand to hold her back against him, keeping her still and pliant. “Don’t move, bunny.” He scolded her, continuing his assault on her delicate bud. 

It was hard to not move, but she persevered. Keeping her composure against him as she let moans and whimpers slip through her lips. “Coryo,” She called out his name, looking up at him with her soft eyes, silently begging him for more. 

“Need something?” He questioned, a smirk evident on his lips from how still so she was yet her mouth moved so much. He knew what she wanted, he just wanted to hear it from her. She spoke softly, the words not quite hitting his ears, but he heard her. Though he chose to tease her once again. “What was that, bunny? Gonna have to speak up.” His fingers ghosted over her entrance, feeling the way her legs so easily fell wider, giving him more room. 

“Need your fingers. Inside me, please.” She pleaded again, a little bit louder than before but no doubt quiet compared to the sound of her heavy breathing. “Why didn’t you just ask?” He smiled sickly at her, leaning down to kiss her as one of his fingers slipped inside her.

The moan she let out had his tongue easily slipping into her mouth, mixing their saliva together as their tongues glided over one another. He made quick work of putting another finger in her, curling them as they went in and out of her. The squelching sound of it all made her cringe on the inside, but the pleasure he was giving her was more interesting to act on. It was all too much; she broke away from the kiss, forehead still against his.

“Thank you, thank you.” She fed him her appreciation, knowing it was exactly what he wanted. She didn’t mind giving it to him either. She was thankful he chose her, thankful she was the one who had his fingers inside her. “Such good manners, bunny.” He responded, feeling her hand trail onto his head, grasping at practically nothing as his buzzcut allowed him little hair. 

He put yet another finger in, picking up his pace altogether whilst his other hand moved to rub her clit. The feeling of him on her skin, everywhere, had her on fire. She was going to burst into flames. She almost did–Until a sudden rapping was heard at the door.

“[ y/n ]? Are you in there?” The voice called for her, now recognizable as Lucy Gray’s. She stayed silent, not wanting to rat herself out, but when Coriolanus whispered into her ear, telling her to respond, she had no choice but to.

His fingers didn’t let up, and now he was kissing at her neck, interested in what she was going to do. He didn’t quite care about being caught; she was the one naked with his fingers deep inside her. “Yes, I’m–I’m in here!” She called back, unsure of what else to say?

“You okay honey? You sound awfully out of breath.” Lucy Gray voiced her concern, worry laced in her words as she moved to turn the door knob. “Yes! Yes, I’m okay. Please don’t come in.” She yelled back shakily; she was getting closer to the edge and if Lucy Gray came in, then it would all go away.

“Are you sure?” She questioned, wanting a final answer before she left the girl alone. “I’m s-sure, Lucy Gray. Nothing to worry ab-about.” She tried to assure her, hoping her words did what she wanted. It was getting hard to breathe with how quick and tentative Corriolanus’ touches were, nonetheless talk.

“Okay. I’ll leave you alone now.” Lucy Gray spoke to her. Whether Lucy Gray was still standing at that door or not, she couldn’t keep quiet now. His fingers curled right where she wanted, and his other hand was not letting up its assault on her clit.

“Coryo, Coryo.” His name fell out of her lips easily, arching into him, legs growing shaky at the feeling she was having. “Talking to your friend like that as if my fingers aren’t inside you right now. Such a dirty little girl.” He chastised her, but his words held no real malice.

It wasn’t long before she met her release, cumming on his fingers. Even then he didn’t stop, continuing to drag out her high. “‘nough. Can’t take more, Coryo.” She told him, shakily pushing his hands away from her. He all but laughed, doing as she asked.

“Can’t even take me inside you, bunny?” His voice was teasing. But the second she heard those words, she was up at his disposal. Ready for anything he gave her.