#i just can't bring myself to do it hardly ever???

[pencilpat]

In Any Form You Take - dukeceit

Scar positivity, mostly made for the purpose of comforting myself, but I wanted to share it as well. I hardly see media involving people with scars as gnarly as mine, so hopefully this can bring others comfort as well. The title is a reference to this song.

Read on Ao3 here

[Content warning for implied past self harm and current body image issues.]

Remus sits splayed out on its bed, trying to act like it isn't waiting for something. Janus has, for the first time in the months they've been dating, agreed to stay the night in its room. He disappeared into the bathroom to change almost 30 minutes ago, and Remus would be lying if it said it wasn't worried. It turns over to look at the ceiling, making bored popping noises with its lips.

It doesn't blame Janus for any nervousness there may be, Janus hasn't been naked around... well, any of the sides for as long as it can remember. Remus can't place when it happened, but as Thomas grew up and Janus became more engrossed in his role, he started to cover up everything. Literally and metaphorically. Long sleeves and even gloves, at one point when they were a teen he even had a half mask on his face before everyone discovered his snake-like features.

Remus knows Janus must be getting into pyjamas, and the sound of shuffling indicates it doesn't have to speculate for very much longer. Janus cracks open the door slightly, just enough to see his face, his long hair down and swaying by his chin. "Remus?"

"Yeah, Janus? Everything okay in there?"

"Yes. I'm okay. I- I just need you to not act weird, okay? Can you promise?"

Remus sits up cross-legged, face scrunched up in confusion. It chuckles slightly, rolling its eyes. "All I ever do is act weird, but I can tone it down for ya."

"Remus, I'm serious."

It takes pause, blinking and tilting its head to the side softly. Janus's tone of voice is heavily somber and almost nervous, and it's not one that Remus hears often. "Uh, okay. I promise, no weirdness."

Janus takes in a deep breath, and the door opens. His hand falls from the knob and holds his own wrist anxiously, eyes refusing to make contact with a nervous attempt at a coy smile filling his features. "I- I know it's a lot, feel free to stare and ogle as long as you'd like." Janus's biting sarcasm feels completely toothless, and he can't quite make himself look at Remus's face. So, when its suddenly right in front of him, he startles and gasps quietly. But as he's pulling away, Remus is reaching towards him.

"Stare and act weird at you about this? What? Why would I be that mean?" Remus lets its hand hover between them as it waits for a sign that it's okay to touch. It tries not to look outwardly fascinated by the scars that cover its boyfriend's arms almost entirely, all thick and bumpy in varying shades of purple and white. Old, but definitely some nasty keloids.

"Remus you've done meaner things in your sleep, don't play with me." Janus laughs and it comes out strained. Cringing at himself, he barely feels present all of a sudden. Like he's floating. Dizzy, lightheaded. "I know you've seen scars before, though you only seem to have them for a short time when you do get them, but they... stayed on me." Janus rubs his own arm, horrifically textured no matter what he does, breathing out shakily. Remus is observing him silently, and Remus is never silent. It makes him terrified. "Sorry, I know they're gross, this was probably overstepping. It was wrong to assume you'd be okay with it, I can go back to my own-"

Remus's hands close the gap, and rests right there, directly touching his scars. "Nah, you assumed right, I don't mind one bit!" It smiles, sharp teeth gleaming at him. "The shit you've seen me touch and you thought I'd find you gross? Jan, that's so unintelligent that I barely recognize you." Janus is frozen in place, his eyes watching Remus's face as it touches his arm, running its hands over even the ones Janus won't let himself touch. A gentle smile fills its face, and it leans in to plant a kiss on Janus's cheek. "Certainly adds a bit of dramatic flair to one's body, huh?"

Janus feels tears in his eyes, glancing to the side as Remus kisses his scales. He can't seem to make words come out of his mouth, because if they did it would just be bashful apologies and humiliated proclamations of how ugly he is.

"Did someone tell you you were gross?" Remus asks, bizarrely quiet and soft compared to its usual self.

"God no, I'd rather die than show any of the others this. No, I did all the name calling myself, thank you very much."

Remus's arms wrap around him in a hug, gripping him tightly. "Well then tell that asshole to shut up for once, why don't you?" It buries its face into Janus's shoulder. "I will hunt down and eat anyone who ever says those things to you, and that includes you yourself!"

"Remus..." Janus can't help a light, comforted chuckle at the expression of violence. "You won't be eating anyone, down boy," he jokes, laughing even as he's sniffling.

Remus pulls back, gazing at him fondly. "You're really pretty, Janus. Scars included." Its eyes darken playfully. "And when I see a pretty boy I want him in my bed!" Remus suddenly swoops Janus up over its shoulder like a sack, making the smaller side yelp and cling to it upside down. Without time to adjust he's chucked haphazardly into a pile of pillows, wheezing out a laugh and covering his face.

"My god, you're so dumb. Fine then, bed me Mr. Duke," Janus dramatically throws a hand against his forehead and lays back as though on a fainting couch.

Remus cackles and throws itself on the pillows right beside him. "No offense, babe, but I'm exhausted and I'd rather just cuddle and feel up your sick ass battle wounds, if you'd let me. I can even scream dramatically and act like I stepped in horse shit if that'll validate your self flagellation!"

"Oh, how caring and noble an offer," Janus quips, rolling his eyes and cuddling against Remus's chest. They both laugh, and then go quiet, staring across at each other.

"Love you," Remus offers up.

"Love you too," Janus accepts, the room darkening as Remus wills it to and settling them into darkness for sleep.

[mappingway]

Wish I could confidently like, fully talk to my therapist. I have no adult friends irl. I have coworkers and that's it. People I'm friends with online aren't married as far as I know and it just feels like I don't have another adult mentor I can talk to. I already spoke to my therapist about my lack of sex drive once and it about embarrassed me to death and it's not gotten any better.

[apomaro-mellow]

Eddie's been on cloud nine as of late. Things were going great with Steve and they were going even better with Wayne and Steve. Eddie thought there might be some tension, and there was, but only briefly.

His uncle was a great judge of character. And Steve's character was perfect, if Eddie did say so himself.

So imagine his surprise when he comes back to the trailer, Steve's eyes red and wet from crying.

Eddie came in from a hard day's work and since he saw Steve's car waiting was prepared to be greet with a kiss. He heard a weird shuffling, then saw Steve sitting next to Wayne.

"Steve?"

"Eddie, it's not what you think", Steve said quickly.

"It's not? Because it looks like my uncle made you cry. And I think I can imagine why."

"Oh?", Wayne raised a brow. "Do tell."

Steve was looking back and forth between them, like he was afraid of a fight breaking out.

"It looks like you gave him the talk every father gives their daughter when she brings her first serious boyfriend home. Like you told him about your hatchet collection just in case he every breaks my heart."

Steve's eyes widened. "Your what?"

Wayne just rolled his. "I had a brief stint as a lumberjack. And two axes hardly count as a collection."

"You still didn't hafta threaten him. You know Steve now. You know he's good to me." What if whatever Wayne said scared him off? It probably took a lot to freak him out but Eddie had never seen him cry before. Ever.

"Well maybe he could use a little warning, just in case."

Eddie frowned and went over to Steve's side. "I can't believe you'd treat him like that. After everything I've told you and everything you've seen-"

"Wayne didn't do anything!", Steve blurted.

That made Eddie pause and Steve took a breath before he pulled something that had been hidden between his back and the couch cushions. "He was showing me this."

Eddie knew what was in the book already but opened it anyway. A photo album, filled with pictures from the day Eddie was born all the way to his first couple of years of primary school. The later years were in another album.

"You were crying....because Wayne showed you my baby photos?"

Steve nodded.

"Can you blame him? You were a handsome baby", Wayne said. "Needed him to know you weren't always funny lookin'."

Eddie looked over Steve's shoulder to shoot him a playful glare before looking back at his boyfriend.

"Sweetness, I truly got myself hitched to a sap. I mean, this made you cry?" He held up the photo of himself, halfway to bringing a spoonful of mashed potatoes to his mouth. The mess around his face and on his hands told the story of his very valiant efforts to feed himself.

"You were adorable", Steve whined, eyes getting a little misty again.

"Alright, alright. I can understand the secrecy now. I'm not a huge fan when Wayne pulls this out. But for you and only you, we can peruse my early childhood. Anything after I turn ten is off limits!"

Eddie pointed a finger at them both, daring him to challenge them.

"Why can't I see middle school Eddie?", Steve asked.

"Oh he was really funny lookin' then", Wayne answered. "Went through this whole phase where he claimed purple was his color."

[suzukiblu]

WIP guessing game: help

"I know about Billy, Marvel," Batman says, and Billy . . . blinks.

"You know?!" he sputters. Okay, so apparently his secret identity was just . . . literally never a secret at all, then. Which, well–Batman, so that just figures, really. So actually this is kind of a relief and might even mean that he's fine with–

"Yes," Batman confirms with a nod. "So I understand your current reservations about parenthood."

. . . wait what.

"Huh?" Billy says, blinking stupidly at him.

"I don't know how much of you is still C.C. Batson or what you do or don't remember about being him," Batman says. "But the resemblance is undeniable, if nothing else. Certainly your and your wife's deaths were . . . well, suspicious. And you're hardly the first archeologists to dig up a god or six."

Oh, okay. Well.

This is apparently what Billy gets for his personal mental image of a "hero" being his dad, then, isn't it.

Crap.

"To be honest I've been looking for Billy for a while now, I just didn't want to bring it up before I found him," Batman admits, looking dissatisfied with himself. "My most recent reliable intel puts him in Fawcett City, but I assume you're aware of that, given your evident attachment to the place."

"You're looking for Billy?" Billy asks incredulously. "Why?"

"Because he's your son," Batman says. "And because he's a homeless child who's been abused and neglected and needs help. I honestly don't know where you go when you're not being Captain Marvel–frankly I'm not sure if you even exist when you're not being Captain Marvel, given what little I actually know about your powers and your death and your role as the Champion of Magic and just how damn impossible you are to find when you're off-duty–but I'm assuming that wherever it happens to be is not necessarily conducive to providing a stable home environment and being legally dead certainly can't be helping with that, so my original intention was to find the boy and help you arrange some manner of care for and visitation with him. And given the revelation of your relation to Robin, well . . . I'd like to take Billy in myself, if you'd both be comfortable with that. It seems . . . appropriate, under the circumstances."

"You want to foster Billy because I'm Robin's soulmate?" Billy says, absolutely positive that he's misunderstood literally every single word that just came out of Batman's mouth. There is no possible way that he did not.

"It's not exactly out of my wheelhouse," Batman replies wryly. "Although I'll be keeping this one out of the tights, ideally. Though I make no long-term promises about that because quite frankly at this point I'm spoiled for soulmates who insist on wearing capes and I wouldn't really be surprised to turn up another one, especially given that Robin is yours and your own involvement in the superhero community."

Billy stares at him.

"Wait, are all the Gotham vigilantes your soulkids?" he blurts unthinkingly.

"Not all," Batman says. "But, well . . . probably more of them than you'd expect."

"Oh my god," Billy says in disbelief. "And you're just telling me that?! You don't tell people things, you're Batman!"

"I haven't always been the father I should have been," Batman says, and then he pulls down his cowl. Billy chokes, and then chokes again because apparently Batman is Bruce freaking Wayne and his brain just . . . just needs a moment to process that fact, like there is literally any way whatsoever that he could ever actually process that fact. He would've been less surprised to see a Kardashian under that mask, he's pretty sure. At least they've got athletes in the family, technically! "So I'm not going to make things difficult for you with Robin. Clearly he needs more than I'm capable of providing, and I'm perfectly willing to be transparent and to co-parent with you as much as possible. I want Robin to be safe and content and grow up well, and frankly put, Batson, you've proven yourself to be a good man time and again and I trust you to do what's best by our son."

Okay, well, now Billy just feels like dirt.

"You do know what happened to Billy, don't you?" he asks just a little bit desperately, because there is literally no way that this conversation is a real and actual thing that's really and actually happening. "Like, just–everything that happened there? There's a reason he's not in school or the system or with a relative or anything like that."

"What happened to Billy wasn't your fault," Batman tells him, meeting his eyes all quiet and intent and sincere. "And I will do everything in my power to help you make it right."

"Oh no, you're actually like . . . just genuinely a really good person, aren't you," Billy says despairingly, staring at him all over again and really, really wishing he could swear right now.

Maybe he'll just go throw himself into the sun. Maybe that's what he'll just go and do.

The corner of Batman's mouth quirks up wryly. His eyes even crinkle a little, which Billy can see on account of his total lack of cowl right now, oh god.

Billy despairs.

"I mean it," Batman says gently. "It wasn't your fault, and it doesn't mean you can't be a good father now."

"I need to talk to Robin," Billy says, because he definitely, definitely needs to talk to Robin. Batman inclines his head in an accepting nod, because Batman is probably under the impression that Billy wants to go give Robin a good ol' traditional "I know I'm not your biodad but I'm here for you, champ!" kind of speech, and Billy just . . . really cannot explain the real situation to him right now. Or ever.

Can he just lie to Batman for the rest of their lives, maybe? He can just pretend to be his own dad for the Justice League and keep dodging whatever Bat-surveillance happens to be in Fawcett and parent his older-than-he-is soulmate, right? That's a thing that he can do?

That's probably not a thing that he can do.

Although he might be willing to try, at this point.

[ghouljams]

hi!! helloo!!! you're writing is simply AMAZING and i LOVE the way you headcannon the guys!!!

i just had a quick coupla thots and i wanted to share them so i hope this makes sense!!

the first thing i thought of when reading "a letter from your future husband" was johnnys reaction to a return letter

maybe it's too much wine and dancing after a party, maybe it's just too stiflingly hot watching other people in the castle, maybe it's a particularly scandalous letter and reader is just feeling impulsive, but when johnny gets his hands on that letter? by GOD he's drooling and tenting his pants and booking it to his chambers because he won't let anyone else in the castle look at your handwriting before he gets the chance to

when johnny finally sees your handwriting? he's hooked. when he actually READS it? he's FERAL. one of the first lines is something like "I am very thankful for the instructions in your letters, without them, I would have never known personal pleasure before we are officially wed" he nearly cums in his pants but is also SO UPSET that he didn't get to see your corruption in real time- he'd foam at the mouth the first time he sets his eyes on you

you can barely make out the writing in the letter he sends back, because he starts writing it the second he cums all over his hands after reading your letter to him

(ps- have a good day!!)

Soap getting a letter in return?? Oh my.... Well he'd certainly have trouble controlling himself with it.

It's truly unfortunate that he had to rush back home to Scotland without you, his poor bride sitting, wasting away without him in (ugh) England, but certain matters had arisen that needed his attention, his in-person attention. Nothing that would prevent him from writing you though. He's tugging his riding gloves off when the butler hands him a letter with your pretty red seal. Soap takes in a sharp breath through his nose. You only write him when you are truly mad, sending him the sorts of letters that make him sure it isn't anger that guides your hand. The sort of letters he'll punish you for when he sees you next.

He takes it to his room. Cracking the wax seal and palming himself through his trousers at the first glimpse of your neat loops. He hums to himself, bringing the letter to his nose, smelling your soft perfume with a smile. Christ he misses you, sweet thing that you are trying to scare him off. He knows you want nothing more than to melt for him.

"You are a wicked and horrible man," You tell him in your opening line and Soap thinks about digging his teeth into your neck, marking you where someone proper might see, "Never in my life has a man talked to me like you do. I don't even know if I can call you a man, an animal is more appropriate. You do nothing but attempt to lead me to ruin. God only knows the thoughts that you inspire in me, and he will surely condemn me for them.

'Don't call me 'wife' as if that absolves you of the sin you send me. Though I suppose I should thank you for one thing; now that I know I can pleasure myself I have no need for you. You're free to move on to your next plaything and have fun tormenting her. I will welcome the reprieve from your letters."

Soap smiles to himself, he can almost hear your pouting. As if he'd ever want anyone else. Poor thing, who told you you weren't enough for him? It certainly wasn't Soap. It's good knowing you're touching yourself to his letters. He pauses, smells the letter again, imagines he can smell the wetness on your fingers when you wrote it. Naughty thing, did you roll off the bed just to talk to him?

"How would you like receiving obscene letters? No love in them, no politeness or care. You hardly treat me like a woman set to be your wife. If you can't say you love me, why should I do the same? You only want to talk about sex, fine.

'It is unbearable to have you in my thoughts. I never know if I'm upset or pleased, but my skin grows hot and my shift sticks to me. I can't think of anything but your awful letters and your stupid smile and every other terrible part of you. I lay awake at night with my hand between my legs because you have encouraged, no, insisted on such debauchery. I am utterly ruined because of you and I know it must only bring you pleasure to hear that. So stroke your cock to whatever you like, only think of me while you do it.

Imagine me like I imagine you, think of my fingers and my mouth and [scribbled out] Why do your letters make me feel like this, why do they make my heart pound? What power do you have that makes me keep them? Why do I miss you when I despise you so? Why did you have to leave me, I'm sor

I wish I wasn't thinking of you."

Oh, his sweet lass. He kisses your signature, pulls his aching cock free of his pants and groans. He shouldn't have been so cruel to you, poor thing. Of course you're upset, he left you all alone and is teasing you so terribly. Fuck he loves how passionate you are, how your handwriting grows sloppy before you cross it out; loves the slight discoloration to the paper beside the edge of your text where the paper dried.

You are the object of all his desires and yet you write to him like he could have anyone else. He could. He wants you. Wants you in every way he can have you.

Soap strokes his cock and reaches for a pen.

"You think I don't imagine you in every way I could? Your fingers wrapped around my cock, your lips against my throat, your voice in my ear? Do I need to show you for you to believe me?"

He already knows. The next time he sees you, he'll take your hand and place it right where it should be.

"It's just you my bonnie wife, it's only ever been you."

[flowing-between-space]

Concept:

I’m using your pussy to edge myself while we cuddle under a blanket on the couch watching TV. We’re both just loosely paying attention while I slowly slide my cock in and out of you. Sometimes stopping just to let it twitch and pulse while it’s fully inside you. I have no intention of cumming any time soon. I just want to feel your pussy around my cock and see how you react to it.

I’m tracing my fingers across your skin and grabbing at your hips and thighs as I slowly fill you up over and over again. Your pussy is so warm around my cock. I can’t get enough of it. I just want more. I want to stay inside of you. Just edging. Just enjoying how good your pussy feels around my cock. I could cum at any moment, but I just love how this feels, how wet you sound as I slide into you, how you moan as I fill you up. I just love feeling this close to you, and I'm not at all ready to fill you with cum just yet.

We both barely know what’s going on in the show anymore. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is how good this feels. How much I crave you and your pussy. How much I want to fill you with cum, but also how much I just want to keep enjoying this. Just bringing myself right up to the edge again and again but never going over it.

You reach your hand down between your legs and start rubbing your clit as I fuck you. But you’re not trying to edge yourself. No, you want to cum. You want to cum all over my cock and make me cum with you. You know I will. You know I can’t hold back when your pussy is constricting around my cock and you’re squirming around so vigorously. You know I’m going to fill you with cum. And you want it. You want to be full. You want every last drop in your pussy.

You rub your clit very slowly at first. Slow enough that I think you're just edging yourself with me. I love when you do that. I love watching you make yourself feel even better. But then you start rubbing your clit a little faster—a little harder—like you're trying to build yourself up to cum. And I notice. “Fuck babe, I see what you’re doing. You know that’s going to push me over the edge right?” You just moan back at me and keep rubbing your clit. Not letting up. Just getting yourself more and more worked up. Closer and closer to that edge.

“Fuck, okay baby. Do it. Cum all over my cock. I need to feel it. I need to feel you cum,” I say as I wrap my fingers around your neck and look you straight in the eyes, “cum for me.” I watch as your body starts to contort and shake. "Mmmm, yes babe. Fuuuck. Cum all over it." You grab my forearm with both hands and just hold on as an orgasm washes over your entire body. Your pussy gets so tight around my cock as you shake and squirm on it that I just can't hold back any longer. I can't stop myself from filling you with cum. I let out a long and deep moan as I lose control of my body and cum starts pouring out of my cock inside of you. I can hardly even hold your neck anymore. I just wrap my arms around you and hold tightly as the orgasm courses through my body, making me shake and squirm and moan with you. "Mmm, I fucking love cumming with you like that."

Eventually we calm down and our breathing returns to normal, but I never pull my cock out of you. I just leave it inside. Still moving it ever so slightly. Just to keep it hard. Just to keep it inside you. Just to keep feeling you. I’m not done with you yet.

[ectoentity]

Ectoplasm Gives You Wings 0.?

Hey here's a scene that happened long before Danny showed up have fun

Here is the subscription post

Need to know concept:

When you're in a world where wings are associated with ghosts, you're gonna assume that coming back from the dead with wings means you have some unfinished business. Harley Quinn POV.

Ever since Joker died, Harley expected his killer would come after her. She hadn't been with him for a couple years, but that hardly made up for the shit she'd done while they were together. Really the only surprise was that they hadn’t killed her first as a warning to him.

So when she walked into her apartment kitchen to see a guy with huge wings wearing a red helmet, Harley wasn’t terribly surprised. Not about the break-in or the gun pointed at her, at least.

"How'd'ya manage to fit those things in here?" she asked. The guy didn't answer. The wings flexed like he wanted to open them, but there wasn't any room.

"Harley," the Red Hood said, sounding very intimidating with some kind of voice modulation. "You know why I’m here."

"I can make a guess, big guy," Harley said sadly. "Nothing I can do to change your mind?"

"You let it happen. You helped him. Why should you escape justice?"

"I did my time for most of it. And I spent the last couple a years trying to put him in the ground. That doesn't fit into your equation somehow?" She tried edging slowly to a shelf where she had a gun of her own. Red Hood noticed. He stepped forward and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt.

"Did any of that bring back the innocent people you killed? The children you tortured?"

"Woah, woah, woah, time out. I never did anything like that to kids." Harley held her hands up in a T shape above Red Hood's fist. "I did some awful stuff I ain't proud of, but I never tortured kids."

"You didn't seem to care that he did."

Harley sighed and lowered her hands onto Red Hood's arm and tried to look into the eyes of his weird helmet. "What do you expect to happen here? You want me to beg until you feel satisfied? Sorry, buddy. Not really my style! I don't like a lotta what I did back then, but I can't fix it. I'm trying better now. If that's not good enough for ya, that's too bad."

The Red Hood didn't move for a moment. It was kind of creepy, if Harley was honest. He didn't say anything, he didn't twitch. Was the guy even breathing? It was always hard to talk to someone in a full face mask. There was no way to tell whether they were even listening. Contrary to popular belief, Harley didn't talk just to hear her own voice! Not often, at least.

The hand let go of her shirt. Harley pulled back to regain her balance, but she didn't relax just yet. There was still a big murderous birdman with a gun in her apartment. Even if he wasn't about to shoot her just now, he was still dangerous.

"Fucking hell," the guy said. He seemed to stagger backwards until one of his wings clipped the half-wall separating the kitchen from the living room. Then he leaned against the pillar heavily.

"Shit. You're right. This is pointless. Why am I here?"

Harley took her chance to grab her gun just in case, but Red Hood didn't seem to notice. She stared at him with suspicious, narrowed eyes. "Do you mean here in my apartment, or are you really having an existential crisis right now?"

"I'm not having a- Fuck. I guess I am." He held his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Harls."

Well, that was an unusual nickname. It wasn't something she heard much outside of kids from the Bowery or Narrows. Most other kids in Gotham got swept up by their parents before they could talk to her.

"You lose somebody?" she asked softly, gun tucked in her pocket. "Sibling? A kid?"

Red Hood choked out a bitter laugh. "Myself." When Harley's eyebrows did a wild semaphore of emotion, the asshole deigned to explain. "He killed me. I... I came back. Figured, y'know, I must've been brought back for a reason, right?" He sunk down further against the pillar, the white tips of his mostly-black wings spreading across the floor like the fabric of a cape.

Damn, Harley thought. That made a fucked up amount of sense. "I can't really blame you for thinking that," she admitted. "The feathers a new fashion choice then?"

"You could say that. Shit." Red Hood reached up to the bottom of his helmet and depressed some trigger there. Harley heard a hiss of pressurization before it popped off the guy's head. The first thing she saw was black hair. That wasn't surprising. The surprising thing was when he leaned his head back against the pillar, revealing a young face and a shock of white hair in his bangs. Then he opened his eyes, and they were as blue as the sky.

"Hey kid? What did you say your name was?"

He took a devastatingly long time to respond.

"They called me Robin, once."

[timetravelingpenguin1066]

Drop it!

Your daughter sometimes couldn't tell the difference between what is food and what is not food.

Dad!Aemond x fem!reader

A/N: More dad Aemond shenanigans because it's too cute and I can't help myself anymore.

She had been so peaceful as a baby. Hardly ever cried, always wanted to be cuddled, always giggling and gurgling.

Now she was two.

The terrible twos were no myth.

You had laughed it off when Alicent said if she was good as a babe, she be hell when she turned two.

You should have known better.

She had learnt to walk. And walk she did. You turned your back on her for barely a moment and she was already on the other side of the castle. She had learned the word ‘no,’ and certainly enjoyed using it. Bathtime? No. Bedtime? No. Vegetables? No. Savory food of any kind? No.

Aemond, for his part, loved his daughter to bits, and would happily indulge her every need. Cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner? One big yes.

You sat him down eventually, tired of a constantly hyperactive child, and made things plain.

“Aemond, I love watching you with our daughter. I love how you love her, but please, you can’t keep letting her get away with things.”

Aemond nodded, understanding. “You are right, my love. I have indulged her too much.”

From that moment on, Aemond changed tack.

It started with: “Kepa,” she said and pointed at the vegetables on her plate. “No.”

Aemond sighed smiling. For a horrible moment, you thought he would bring out dessert.

“My little dragon,” he began, “I’m sorry. You must eat them this time and have cake later.”

“No.”

“Little dragon, please?” he begged. “For kepa?”

“NO!”

She threw her spoon at him.

“Now, little one, we do not throw cutlery at people.”

“NO!”

You sighed, putting you head in your hands. This was going well(!)

“Come now,” he said, spooning up the vegetables with his own spoon. “Open up for the flying dragon.”

To you complete disbelief, Lyra giggled. Aemond made dragon noise as the spoon came closer and closer to her mouth. And she ate it!

Finally!

Or not so finally. From then on she ate everything it sight. You or Aemond were forever telling her not to put something in her mouth.

One day, she somehow managed to get her little hands on Aemond’s favourite dagger. You were at tea with your ladies when you saw your tiny daughter with a large dagger in her hands.

“Lyra! No!” you yelled, jumping up from your seat.

And she looked at you with cheekiest grin, opened her mouth and slowly started to put the hilt of the dagger in her mouth.

“No, Lyra! Drop it!”

She giggled.

“Lyra! No! Don’t put it in your mouth. Kepa’s dagger is not a toy.”

She tried to put it further in her mouth, but just at that moment, Aemond swooped in, wrenching the dagger from her hands and picking her up in his arms.

“Lyra!” he fumed. “Don’t ever do that again!”

You daughter stopped giggling, but instead looked somewhat afraid.

Aemond saw this and sighed. “Lyra,” he said, putting her down gently. “Kepa’s dagger is not to be played with. It is not a toy. It is sharp and dangerous. The only things that should be going in your mouth are food and drink. Nothing else. Do you understand me, Lyra?”

Lyra nodded, although you weren’t completely sure she had understood.

“Now, if muna agrees, perhaps I can take you for a ride on Vhagar.”

At those words, Lyra started bouncing excitedly. She only been on Vhagar with her father once before, and when she wasn’t busy eating something she wasn’t supposed to, she was cradling her dragon egg, talking to the dragon inside (or at least, you thought she was. She still babbled in a language only she, and for some reason, Aemond could understand).

You sighed. “Alright.”

[uzurimisery]

chapter 2: the players. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

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

wc: 6209

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

AO3 version | Series Master

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He trailed off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needed to sort his head quickly.

___________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, what about?”

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

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

Goosebumps rose where his hand left.

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

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

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

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

Ah yes, work. He was at work.

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

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

“Walk me out Corio?”

“Of course, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, he had to know how you tasted.

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

He groaned, feeling himself come close.

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

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

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

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

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

_________

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

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

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

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

It was also complicated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So just make them hallucinate?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus Snow did not have friends, only enemies. 

“I think so too.”

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

___________

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

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

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

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

“Coriolanus Snow, remove your hand this instant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, that dress.

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

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

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

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

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

 But you just had to be you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck it. Fuck it all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were so painfully beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

The death of an actor.

[l1tw1ck]

imma need some leon hcs whenever you have braincells 🔫

(dont force yourself to do it right away, take your time <3)

Leon ♡

bottom!ftm leon (x top masc reader)

Self Indulgent NSFW Headcanons

if this goes against canon, im sorry😭😭

☆ AFAB Language Used ☆

☆ He loves having his nipples played with. Sucking, biting, pinching, pulling, anything. He might even get nipple piercings if you ask

☆ Dominate him, he wants to submit to someone.

☆ He's used to being strong and taking care of other people so he wants you to take care of him instead. Treat him like a prince so he can finally take a break from being everyone's savior

☆ Size Kink. He loves bigger and stronger people but he can do without it as long as your cock/strap is thick and long <3 He just wants to be torn apart

☆ Spanking & Slapping. Spank his pussy or slap his face until both of them are red and swollen <33

☆ Fuck him until he passes out, he needs to be fucked so hard that he can't move his body in the morning

☆ He loves giving oral because he gets to hear you praise him and your attractive sounds of pleasure. He loves when you run your hands through his hair and call him a good boy

☆ Reciprocate the love! He loves being eaten out and sometimes he asks you to do it over and over again. It just feels too good

☆ Praise and or degrade him. Tell him he's a good boy or that he's a good for nothing whore. He deserves it either way

☆ Soft sex. As much as he likes it rough, he also needs to be treated like a prince every now and then

☆ Overstimulate him until he stops thinking clearly, he needs the relief

☆ He's such a good boy, he hardly ever gets punished for bad behavior but when he does, make sure to give him lots of love afterwards

Leon circles his two fingers around his sensitive clit, moaning softly as he fantasizes about what he wants you to do to him. He moves those fingers down to his entrance and slides them inside. He moans your name quietly and brings his other hand to his chest. He plays with his nipple, getting it hard before pulling on it. He knows he shouldn't be doing this but he just couldn't stop himself. He throws his head back into the pillow, whimpering softly while imagining you catching him masturbating. Would you touch yourself too? Would you help him out? Fuck him? Or maybe you wouldn't give him the time of day by ignoring him as a punishment. His body grows hot as he imagines how you'd react. But he no longer has to imagine because he can hear your footsteps getting closer to the bedroom.

You cross your arms and look at Leon, your gaze sending shivers down his spine. "What did I tell you?"

"To not touch myself without your permission.." Leon turns to the side, taking his hands off his body.

You sigh, hiding the smirk that wants to appear on your face. He never does anything wrong, you're excited to punish him.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

re.: the weasleys + parenting

what's always bugged me most abt percy's fight with arthur (especially in the fandom, where everyone's like 'oh, he turned his back on harry and betrayed his family to side w the ministry) is that. that's hardly what the fight is about at all. the fight is about the fact that percy, an 18yo kid who just got promoted to his dream job instead of straight up losing any chance at ever being Minister (because they tried to scapegoat him into taking the blame for the crouch business even though he managed to keep the whole department running while his boss wasn't even there), comes home all excited to tell his parents that "Hey, he's not unemployed and bereft of any and all hope for his biggest dream", but rather that his skills and competence got recognized by The Most Important Man In The Government, and molly and arthur look him straight in the face and go—"no you didn't."

there is no mention whatsoever that they even try to be gentle about it, that they congratulate him first and then bring it up later like "just be careful around Fudge, he's always looking for people to get information from and you are the best of both worlds, close to the action and actually good at the job he hired you for", nothing of the sort. they straight up don't even consider how any of those factors might've weighed in Fudge's decision to hire him.

and, perhaps worst of all, they have no faith in Percy. he tells them "I'm working for the minister", and not only do they not spare a second to be happy for him over this frankly momentous achievement (or at the very least concern for the position it puts him in), they jump straight to conjectures and accusations. "you only got this because of Harry" has got to crush Percy, who was raised to believe that good things come to honest, hard-working people and who has been working for this since he was a small child. and it digs the knife deeper when you realize that most of his siblings have basically replaced him with Harry. Harry, who also plays Quidditch and also keeps throwing himself into death-defying dangers and overalls fits much better into the family dynamic than Percy ever has.

and there's just this. crystal clear implication that they do believe Percy would spy on them. he's so Different and Other and Un-Weasley/Gryffindor-like and they've alienated themselves from him so absolutely that they can't see any reasons he wouldn't willingly and consciously jeopardize his parents' livelihood and Harry & his siblings safety just to stay in the Minister's good graces, when if anyone's actually at risk of losing their job for siding with Dumbledore is his father, who's still working there quite merrily and continues to so for a long time afterwards.

Percy, who runs into a freezing lake mid-February while attending an international event as Crouch's replacement to make sure Ron is alright, who pesters Ginny to eat and have a pepper-up potion most of her first year bc she doesnt look well, who tails Harry and Ron a lot of their second and third years bc there's something petrifying kids and then Dementors on the grounds and a mass murderer on the loose and they all just think he's being willfully bothersome like no you idiots he's worried.

of course he left. of course he left. what did he have to gain by staying at the Burrow, beyond fresh home cooked meals harassment and disagreements? why wouldn't he leave?

sorry I have a lot of feelings about this.

No need to apologize, this is brilliantly written!

I don't even feel like I need to add anything as you summed up the Percy situation perfectly.

But I can't help myself because I love discussing the Weasley family dynamics, so it's a bit more rumbley than my usual...

Percy cares so much for his family. When Voldemort is revealed and the war actually starts, he puts all his disagreements with his parents aside to come and help and make sure they're okay, because he cares. And still, he is being shunned and treated like an outsider.

Arthur and Molly Weasley are just really good at alienating their kids because it isn't just Percy.

Somehow all of them succeded in feeling like outsiders in a family of 9. Bill shows frustration with his parents and only returns to Britain because of the war, Charlie's in Romania for most of the series. Fred and George run away the moment they can and are treated like trouble by their parents most of the time (Molly and Arthur assume they are selling stolen goods from Mundungus when they hear they have money, not that they, idk, somehow earned it), Ron has a whole complex of low self-esteem and a tendency to blame himself for everything. Ginny is isolated from her brothers as the only girl and youngest...

And Percy cares and tries to be the best and most responsible sibling and gets scorned in turn.

Harry and Ron do acknowledge Arthur's and Molly's accusation towards Percy was awful and that he was right to respond negatively in OOTP. Ron is just sensitive about their family's financial state which soured Percy to him after Percy blew up at their dad (rightfully so, honestly, I'd say way worse to Arthur if it was me).

The thing is, Percy also gets scorned by his siblings, not just his parents (like Fred and George do). He gets grief for trying to be responsible and for wanting his siblings to do well in school and not get in trouble, Fred and George lock him in a pyramid...

That being said, do I think Percy is perfect? No, he is pretentious and overbearing at times, but he is a child in a large family who tries to find a place to fit himself in. According to child psychology, usually when it comes to siblings, the eldest would usually (at least in childhood) try to be everything the parents want (Bill), and then each next sibling will carve a different niche for themselves, and we see this with the Weasleys. I think the twins being born right after Percy and demanding a lot of attention from their parents from a young age as they were little troublemakers from the start is a big reason why Percy chose the niche of being bookish, ambitious, and responsible for himself. To contrast himself with them and his older brothers and get some attention from their parents.

I'm not a fan of the epilog (like everyone), but I find it hard to imagine Percy being close to his family post-books. I think he never fully got over the sting of not being seen as skilled and competent and that his parents believed he'd turn on them all without a second thought. Nor do I think he should just get over it.

Like, I'm really salty that Percy was the only one to apologize:

“I was a fool!” Percy roared, so loudly that Lupin nearly dropped his photograph. “I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was a—a—” “Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron.” said Fred. Percy swallowed. “Yes, I was!” “Well, you can’t say fairer that that,” said Fred, holding out his hand to Percy. Mrs. Weasley burst into tears. She ran forward, pushed Fred aside, and pulled Percy into a strangling hug, while he patted her on the back, his eyes on his father. “I’m sorry, Dad.” Percy said.

(Deathly Hollows, pages 512-513)

Like, yes, it's great he was smart enough to realize the ministry is corrupt, but this demand only for him to apologize when Molly and Arthur Weasley were just as much in the wrong. Fred and George weren't beacons of sainthood here either. But none of them have apologies demanded of them. None of them are demanded to confess they are "morons". Just Percy.

Who even after his apology is still an outsider. Probably always will be one.

You said it best: "Why wouldn't he leave?"

And that's what we see him do (if temporarily).

[blue-sadie]

Fuck Up

Lo'ak x Nerd Reader

Series Masterlist

Prt 4 of the Fucking The Nerd Series

Summary: it's going great till someone appears at his front step

Warning: none

Yn/3rd person pov

Its been a few months since neteyam left and lo'ak has improved a lot he doesn't fuck other girls, takes me out on dates and cuddles me after sex and lets us watch tv while we recover.

"f-fuck" i panted i riding out my orgasm as lo'ak's hands ran over my body "dam I love how your boobs bounce" he growled out and groaned out as I slowly came to a stop.

Giggling to myself as I lifted myself off of him and planted myself down next to him "I can't believe you have to leave now" he grumbled.

I smiled rolling myself off the bed to get dressed "I have to my brother is coming over for a visit" I murmured slipping on my skirt and clipping on my bra.

"I don't see why he only comes for one day" he huffed and getting up and wrapping his arms around me stopping me from putting my shirt on.

"Come on lo'ak" I giggled squirming in his hold "but I don't want my baby to leave" he chuckled kissing my neck.

"But I have to" I smiled kissing his cheek, he groaned and let me go and put on his sweats as I put on his shirt.

"Come on I'll walk you down stairs" he murmured grabbing his hand and kissed my knuckles and lead me out his room and down the stairs.

"Text me when you get home" he said opening the door and gasping as a beautiful girl stood in the door "oh hi nete" she sung sweetly it made me want to barf.

"I- ari'ek what are y-you doing here" he stuttered letting go of my hand "oh I just came to see my one and only love but whose this" she smiled but it dropped when she turned to me.

"Oh a-ah this, this is yn my a-ah g-girlfriend" he stuttered and ushered me out and only gave me a half assed goodbye before bringing her inside "back to square one".

When I got home I sent him a text saying I got home safe but he left me on read I bit my lip and decided to talk to him after supper.

-time skip-

"Uh.... hey lo'ak your phone keeps going to voice mail and I just wanted to say it hurt my feelings that you kinda just passed me off like that" I murmured.

"I-Im gonna go goodnight" I said before hanging up and stuffing it into my pocket "hey whats up pipesqueak" my brother said as he leaned onto my door frame.

"Nah its nothing it's just some boy troubles" I huffed "while I have an offer for you" I tilted my head his words intriguing me.

"Well if the boy gives you more trouble you can always come stay by me" he murmured and I actually began to think about it "yea I think I might".

-Next day-

I smiled as I walked through the school hallway and as I came close to my locker I saw lo'ak "hi" I smiled and hugged him before before opening up my locker.

"Did you get my text" I asked "oh no I ah ari'ek stayed over last night and had my phone" he murmured "she had your phone" I questioned he hardly ever let me see his phone.

"What did she mean by one and only love" I asked closing my locker "oh we used to date way before us" he bit his lip and tried to change the subject.

Till she popped up and dragged him off using the excuse of not wanting to get lost "fucking bitch" I muttered and stormed off to class.

-Time skip-

"Yn what the fuck" lo'ak yelled as he pulled me to the side of the hall "what" I whispered clenching my books to my chest.

"Why would you hit ari'ek" he muttered I looked at him confused "I didn't" but he didn’t believe me "I can't date a bully" he snapped.

I was taken a back by his out burst "b-but" I didn't know what to say "you know what just leave us alone" he growled and left and down the hall ari'ek was laughing along with kanu.

Tears streamed down my face as I left it was the last day so they didn't care if I left and I went straight home not looking up for anyone.

"H-hey bro I accept your offer"

Tag.List

@avatar4eva @lik0 @greekgods15 @sweetirilly

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

emily mit dem großen schwanz

emily prentiss x reader

18+: smut; emily has a penis, unprotected p in v, fingering, edging, mommy kink, dom!emily, v slight degradation

masterlist | word count: 1.9k

a/n - disappointed in myself at my 3 pics, i usually find better ones but i didn’t know what to put considering it’s straight up porn also don't look at me, i'm a hoe i can't help it

Your body was warm after your shower and you wiped a space in the steamed-up mirror in front of you, hoping to somehow gain some semblance of composure before heading back out. 

You’d not expected to share a hotel room with Emily tonight - especially not one with just one bed. Of course, that’s all that was available and of course, you’d only packed a t-shirt to pair with your underwear for your sleep. 

When you stepped back out to the room Emily was watching the TV with her back pressed against the headboard and she didn’t shy away from staring at your exposed legs, glimpsing a peek at your underwear when you bent over to look in your bag. 

It was safe to say that the crush you held was not one-sided. If only Emily could just get her hands on you; the things she imagined, the sounds she hopes you make. There were countless nights when you occupied her senses, picturing you as she fucked herself. 

And here you were, looking so precious, pulling your shirt down your legs shyly before taking a careful seat beside her. 

She could just ruin you. She just knows you’d look so pretty falling apart beneath her, your eyes pleading while she makes you feel oh so good. She instinctively moved a little closer at the thought, letting her arm brush against yours while her eyes stayed focused ahead of her. 

Her hand crept over to your thigh, resting on your skin with daring fingers splayed. She knew what she wanted and you braved a look in her direction with a thick swallow. 

Her stare was still on the screen, a casual air that made your cheeks warm. You caught the slightest smirk on her lips when you sucked in a breath, barely even balancing on the line of an appropriate colleague interaction at this point; with the way she inched her hand ever so slightly higher to take a peek at the underwear once hidden by your shirt. 

Her eyes were dark and her breathing was physically laboured when her head turned in your direction. She eyed the underwear you tried to conceal with your thighs pushing together and the goosebumps that had raised from her touch.

“Emily, we can’t do this,” you muttered, hardly convincing even yourself with the smallness of your voice and the way you couldn’t bring yourself to move her hand. 

“Do what?” she answered with a tilt of her head dripping a faux innocence; sickly sweet as she peered through dark lashes.

“You know what,” you breathed, voice hardly there, shrinking away at the feeling of her fingertips grazing the edge of your underwear. 

“You don’t want me to stop,” Emily stated, so matter of fact and you desperately wished she was wrong but the way she looked at you made you ache. “I can see it in your eyes how much you want it.”

Her voice lowered as she moved closer to you, lips ghosting your neck with the heat of her words hitting your skin. “C’mon, sweet girl, give me somethin’.” Her hand squeezed at your thigh with her nails digging into the flesh. 

Oh, how you wanted her to be way off the mark but you could feel your body betraying you. Withholding the desires your infatuation with the older woman had caused was quickly going out the window, you couldn’t go back now that the prize is so close. So near that all it took was a tilting of your head to press your lips to hers. 

All the building tension between you was obvious in the way your lips slotted together effortlessly, Emily smiled against you at the feeling, finally claiming what she’d had her eyes on for so long now. 

Your hand tangled in the hair on the back of her head to keep her close and hers landed on your waist, pulling you onto her to escape the uncomfortable twistings of your bodies. With your knees planted either side of her thighs she could pull you flush against her, roaming her hands beneath your shirt against the warmth of soft skin. 

The way your hips mindlessly pushed into hers made her cock twitch in her shorts and the feeling didn’t go unnoticed by you; feeling her growing bulge against your clothed pussy. 

Her tongue took all control of yours and her dominant hands pulled your shirt over your head to ogle your body, instantly trailing her lips over your throat and down to your chest; her tongue flicked over a pert nipple and you felt her get even harder at the sigh you let out. 

She let you tease her for a little longer, grinding onto her hardening cock with her hold on your waist tightening. But the way she pushed you onto your back was sudden and she laughed darkly at the sight of you beneath her, taking in the perfect sight she’d imagined.

“Such a little tease, hm?” she murmured, cupping your cheek with a domineering push of her thumb past your lips whilst her other hand trailed across your skin to dip beneath the waistband of your underwear. “And so wet for mommy,” she smirked. “I should’ve known you’d be a desperate little slut.”

Her fingers slid through your folds, collecting your arousal with a musing rub over your clit. Her digits slipped into you with ease, curling into you perfectly making your breath hitch in your throat. She watched each reaction to the movement of her fingers fucking into you, each twitch of your hips and closing of your eyes, the biting of your lip between your teeth as she brought you closer and closer to the edge. You looked so pretty, she knew you would, and she had to have your lips on hers again. The kiss was sloppy and heated while you grew wetter by the second and each pump of her digits brought you closer to your climax. 

It only made your skin flush even hotter when she pulled her shirt over her head, setting her breasts free which you instantly palmed at much to her enjoyment. Her nipples were sensitive to the tongue you swirled around them, and the thumb you flicked over the buds; she could feel you clenching around her and her cock was aching to feel your warmth around it. 

“Em, please,” you whispered with a groan when she pulled away, leaving you on the precipice of a release with only a mocking grin thrown your way and soaked fingers pushing past your slackened jaw.

“Let me have my fun,” she returned, looking down at you with her own hands squeezing at her tits, pinching her nipples between her fingers and thumbs with her head leaning back. “I wanna see you desperate and aching. With your head so dumb all you can focus on is how much you need me.”

Her words made your head spin, not made any better by the sight of her ridding her body of her shorts, setting her hard cock free. She smirked at the way you gawked at her, watching her fingers wrap around her length, pumping it in her hand with the slick of her precum. You’re sure you looked pathetic; growing even wetter by the second, desperately wishing she wasn’t in the way of your thighs clamping together to find any kind of friction you could.

Emily could see the desperation on your face, in the heaviness of your breath and your unwavering stare. 

“I just knew you’d look so sweet,” she rasped, sighing at the pleasure of her movements. “Lying on your back, practically begging me to fuck you. Is that what you want, hm? You want mommy to fuck you with her cock?”

“Yes,” you nodded sheepishly, pulling her body into yours with her arms tasting either side of your body and the breath from the huff of her laugh falling onto your cheek, “I need you to fuck me, mommy.” 

The kiss she met you with was harsh and bruising, a filthy wanton lust with smacks of lips and breaths heavy against one another. She only pulled away to watch your face as she teased you, grinning mockingly at the annoyed furrow of your brow when she swiped her cock through your dripping folds, coating the length with your arousal.

She groaned at the feeling of your warmth around her, easily pushing the tip of her dick into your hole, inching her way further into your cunt until all she could feel around her was you. You were soaked and she loved it, you basked in the grunt at the back of her throat when she began a steady rhythm of her hips. 

Her girth stretched your pussy perfectly, you could easily take each inch of her with how worked up she’d got you; she could feel how she’d succeeded with her teasing. 

She brought her thumb between your bodies to draw circles over your swollen clit, bringing you closer to your release and in turn feeling that familiar pressure in her stomach with the way you clenched around her. Emily’s teeth grazed along the pulse point of your neck, blood rushing to your head with all the passion making you dizzy.

She sucked marks into your skin while your hands grasped at her back, aimlessly digging your nails into the backs of her thighs to pull her into you, wordlessly pleading with her to just not stop. The room was filled with moans of pleasure, too preoccupied with your desire that it was hard to think of anything else, to mutter much to her other than blabberings of how good it felt. 

“You’re taking me so well,” she muttered against your lips, hardly able to conjure up the words with how close she was to her orgasm. “I’ve been picturing this for too long, baby, how you’d look all filled up with me. And you do not disappoint.”

The way her tongue dragged over your nipple and her teeth dug into the skin, along with the thrusting of her shaft into your sex and her thumb playing with your clit, made you fall apart all over her. Your chest arched into hers with a choked moan with your heart thumping and your hand tightening into a fist in her hair. 

And you peered down at her when she pulled out of you, only needing a few strokes of her hand along the length of her soaked cock before ribbons of white shot onto the flesh of your stomach with a grunt of her own. You watched drops of her cum leak from the head of her dick, still feeling the blissful aftermath of your own high. 

If anything, she only looked at you more hungrily; as though ravishing you was the only thing on her mind. She swiped two fingers through the seed that painted your skin, bringing them to your lips for you to taste. Your tongue darted out to lick them clean, opening your mouth for her to fuck her fingers into you roughly, not caring about the way your eyes began to water. 

“I hope you’re ready for more, sweet girl, ‘cause I’m not ready for this to end just yet,” she winked before trailing kisses down your body, making contact with your cunt again. 

If anything was made clear after this first night with Emily, it’s that you’re going to need extra coffee in the morning.

[moonschildsworld]

Omg I’d love a Nagi POV for Regrets 🥹 Only if you’d love to do it though!

author note: I'm sorry, it look so long T^T but at last, here it is! i hope it doesn't disappoint :<

☆ p.s: i got another great plot idea but I'm worried I can't execute it properly but i'll try my best. hint: it's about itoshi brothers wink wink.

♡ for new readers, before you read this, make sure you read the main part!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

We lost. I lost? Me?

I could feel my hot blood running through my vines as I collapsed, my hand fisting the grass my fingers dig into the dirt trying to hold onto something to keep my sanity from slipping away, as the whistle screech out signaling the game was over in our opponents’ victory, ending it with a close call of 3-4. What’s more regrettable and got me feeling like shit is that I was going to propose to her on the interview I was suppose to go on after I win this match. I could finally gather up my courage to do troublesome thing like that, just for her.

I was suppose to win the match, coach said that team was the easiest target, I almost got another goal in and we’d get to do penalty kicks and we’d smash them up then. So what went wrong?

My forehead was facing downward to the grass field as tears surge out of my eyes in frustration. Seriously, what the fuck went wrong? How did I lose? I could taste the bitter metal flavor as my bottom lip was bleeding from my front teeth sinking on it too hard.

I was so stuck on the idea that I was the best, I was unbeatable, the prodigy, the most promising player of the next generation of world class player. Nothing could’ve gone in my way. Nothing should’ve gone wrong when I’m on the field.

“come on man, coach said to gather everyone up” I got snapped out of my hellish thought reo’s voice rings into my ears. I took one deep breathe as my eyes suckle back up the tears. I got on my feet in slow motion and walks to the meeting in the locker room.

As expected, coach was furious. Silence fell as I walk into the room along with Reo when coach was just yelling. The silence and stares were suffocating, it was as the gazes were yelling, ‘it’s your fault’ ‘you were supposed to be the one who got us through dilemmas’ ‘the prodigy lost his touch?’

I couldn’t do anything but bite the inside of my mouth and get seated. After a few more minutes of silence, the coach clears his throat, “what’s up with you, nagi?” my stomach drops upon hearing the question , what’s up with me?, nothing is ever wrong with me so how am I suppose to answer this.

Another suffocating silence as no response were given from me as I kept staring at the tiles floor, the coach lets out a big disappointing sigh, he paces back and forth for a while in the room before he announces, “cancel any prior engagement or schedule, we’re staying here for a month for special training” with that, he storms out of the locker room shaking his head furiously.

Murmurs of complaints, groan and sighs were pour out as soon as the coach steps out, “only if someone had done their job properly” a benched player spoke out loudly in spite. “I know right, that’s why you shouldn’t have love to interfere with career” another spiteful comment follows. “what’s your career? Warming up the bench?” Reo hisses back to them as I kept my mouth shut, my eyes still glued on floor.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The special training and my pride getting smashed was the least of my worries right now but I couldn’t bring myself to open her message, I wanted to text her, “I won” to her good luck text, how can I face her now? My hand clenches my phone hardly as my head hangs down.

I know she wouldn’t eat me alive, nor tear my down just for one lost, and I don’t know why my feelings are this stubborn to run away from her. I know she would try her best to attempt to comfort me. So why do I want to run away?

I spent hours staring blankly at the phone before I made up my mind to shut the phone off and store it in the cabinet beside my hotel’s bed. I just need a day.

A day turn into days, days turn into a month. The anxiety bubbling up inside me never left and I just want to pierce myself and take it out, whatever is making me feel stuffy.

Training was hell, the constant backhanded comments and spiteful backlashes behind his back, from online and my teammates were really getting to me.

Coach pushing me more than he ever does, the gazes that were once admiring and praising me now turn into something more like a civilian camera that are waiting for me to trip again so they can all jump me.

She would never done that or let anybody do this to me.

Time passes quickly with the training that lasts almost the whole day with 8 hours to spare for mandatory personal business, eating and sleeping. It’s finally time to go back to Japan to continue the usual training and another match coming up in 2 months, I need to be on my best behavior so they won’t catch me tripping.

I am now alone again with my thoughts in the hotel room, I reach out for the phone in the cabinet for the first time in a month.

She must’ve been worried right?

I turn the phone back on, my heart thumping in anticipation for what she has to say.

..Nothing..? No new messages since that day..?

I could feel something snapped as the overwhelmed emotions that has been piling up over the past month came spilling out, I throw the phone across the room as my breathe grows heavier and quicker.

Does she not care about me? What’s the point of this relationship huh? When I’m away training my ass off, getting attacked verbally everyday, she hasn’t checked up on me once? Not mentioning, I haven’t answered her for a month, a month!

I sat down with my arms laying on my spreaded legs, my head hung down low. No, I directed my anger at her. She probably just didn’t want to get in way of my work here. I know that so, why..?

I raise my head up as my eyes turn blank and cold, no emotions found as my heart feels heavy out of the sudden, a voice suddenly flashes into my ears, “that’s why you shouldn’t have love to interfere with your career” it was the fleeting comment one of my teammate made.

That’s right.. She’s not necessary, is she? My mind is already heavy from soccer, why bother carrying any more unnecessary weight..? Come to think of it, she would understand. She probably can live, with her career and things, it shouldn’t be a hindrance to her, right..?

Yeah, she’d understand me. Y/n always does.

That’s how I selfishly broke up with her for my own career under a façade that I think she’d understand when I know she would break down even if she understands.

I broke up with her with a promise to never to lose again in any match, neither friendly—nor a serious match.

The result came to fruition as I have a come back in my career in the next match and I continue to do great the match after and the match after that. I buried myself in my career because that’s all I knew to do, it’s what I throw away everything for and I had a promise to keep, 3 years of full success, no loss.

It’s going great again, people that were waiting for my downfall click their tongue and turn away in defeat. People are again looking at me with praises and admiration. I had move up to join a more prestigious club and many others are offering million to get me, Isn’t this what I wanted? It is.

Strangely, now that I don’t feel heavy anymore, there’s a great amount of void in me. Of course, I have a slight idea of what is it but I choose to live in denial. She has been well, I keep watch on her, secretly of course I know much at least that she wouldn’t want to see me after all of that, at random times and she’s still the same, calm and composed. Going to work and going out with her friends once in a while. I do notice smiles are rare to come by for her. But she’ll get over it right? She’s y/n after all. That’s what I selfishly convince myself so I could look away, for my own benefit.I chose it myself so it’s a given that I chose to live with the void.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

That is until, today after 3 whole years, on a coincidence that I stepped out to get drinks, my eyes spot a familiar build standing outside of the stadium I was suppose to have a friendly match at today. I felt like the world had stopped moving as my eyes laid on her figure.

Before I knew it, my feet brought me to stand in front of her, without permission my voice calls out to her. She looks up in a slightly shocked expression but soon calms down. That’s it? Seeing me after all of this time. I could feel something poking at my heart.

I knew I shouldn’t be acting so familiar to her after all of that but my heart, my mind, they crave her more than I thought. She’s still as calm as ever, why am I the only one whose heart is thumping like some high school boy meeting his crush? This is so unfair. I asked her what she was doing here, I pray to gods that existed in all direction hoping for a slight chance that she’d say ‘I came to see you’

Our conversation was cut short by one of the guy in the opposition team I’m up against today, my heart drops seeing him acting so familiar with y/n, my y/n.

I didn’t know what my expression is shown on my face as I watch them. So she found someone after all..? They act like I wasn’t standing there in front of them, I just want to yell at y/n to keep her attention on me, what rights do I have..?

I bite the inside of my mouth as I try to keep myself in check. y/n finally turned her attention back to me, like a puppy, that much attention had me wagging my tail at her if I had one. That unsettling feeling attack again as she introduced the muscle blonde head as her boyfriend.

I just want to rip my body and scoop out the intestine that keeps developing that feeling. “are you playing against my boyfriend today?” I know I am probably just imagining it but it seems like she emphasized my boyfriend to spite me. “…yeah” was all I managed to get out of my mouth. I soon come to realized that it made things awkward, fuck I didn’t want it to be this way with y/n, after all these years, after finally she can meet me eye to eye again.

The blonde muscle man decided to steal her away again, in excuse of guiding her to her seat. I could feel my heart tightened at how she smiles at him, how she talks, how she jokes, the way she gazes at him. Those all used to be mine, It should’ve been forever mine.

He grabbed her hands and guide her away. No, she can’t go just like this, I need to come up with something— “do you think I’ll do well today?” the question spills out of my mouth before I can think about it thoroughly and I wanted to dig myself into a hole. Seriously man? In front of her boyfriend?

Though to be frank, I couldn’t care much because she turned to me again and flash one of her smile at me, “you always do well, don’t doubt yourself” I could feel myself choking up, that’s what she always used to say but it’s not the same anymore, where’s the loving tone she always uses?!

Before I could say anything more, the blonde almost dragged her away. I could only watch their backs as they disappear among the crowds.

There it is again, the same unsettling feeling but this time, I had nothing to throw away anymore, I have nothing..

My head was hazy, eyes are blurry. It feels like all of senses had been lost. The match starts and ended before I can realized. I had only realized when the same gruel some screeching sound of whistle signaling the match had ended,,, in the opponent’s victory.

It felt like déjà vu, it felt like that day. That day I felt like I had lost everything but no, I had my everything back then. I dropped to my knees as tears spill out of my eyes, the tears blocking my visions as some teammates came forward surrounded me and frantically comfort me and ask me what's wrong.

My eyes were stuck on the two of them as she runs from the sideline and he picks up her and spin her mid-air. I see it, her genuine smile, she’s happy, she’s genuinely at peace. And he was the one who makes it possible..

There’s no me in the picture anymore, I am not involved in her life anymore. It makes sense now, she wasn’t unnecessary. She never was, what she was is an essential, I couldn’t figure that out. I was blinded by guilt, pride & anger.

This unsettling feeling here and back then, it’s regret. Back then, I regret not being able to win the match for her and regret not being able to continue with my plan to propose to her on national TV. Right now, I regret now knowing and understanding the feeling of ‘regret’ until it’s now too late to know.

But one thing that I don’t regret is that, if one of us can be happy, I always had prayed that it would be you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

[rollinouttahere-writes]

So I've been meaning to ask this question for a while. During the time skip do the straw hats like eventually give in to the fact that Lucky needs to grow stronger. After what had happened to them? Like would they be more willing to let her train so she could defend herself? Or would the whole thing only make them train harder and their obsession grow stronger? Would Lucky be sent on her own or with another crewmate?

Okay time to spoil my plans for the timeskip, something I told myself not to do but I have zero self control so here we go lmao

They are very torn on the matter. Logically, yes, they understand that Lucky growing strong would be a benefit, but they aren't exactly logical when it comes to their feelings towards her. Being away from her for too long would leave them feeling like they're in withdrawal, so they struggle to bring themselves to do it.

Fortunately for them, they don't need to make the decision. "A" makes it for them. One second Lucky is watching her crewmates argue over what to do with her, the next second she's on a ship surrounded by people she's never met. This is when Lucky finally gets to figure out who "A" is and meets her.

The reason "A" does this is because she's taken a special interest in Lucky. She spies on all of the people she's granted wishes for over the centuries, but usually not for long. Most peoples' wants are dreadfully boring to her. Wealth, fame, and power are the usuals. It's become cliche. Now, wishing for love is hardly unique, but typically it comes from the place of a scorned lover or perversion. Lucky's wish came from a place of soul crushing loneliness and a desire to have someone that simply wanted to keep her around... It struck a cord with "A". It made her mind go back to a point in time that she prefers not to think about.

She sees Lucky as a sort of kindred spirit, a relatable protagonist. She has been enthralled by watching her journey. The chaos that has come from her wish has been unimaginable and extremely entertaining. So, she's willing to get more involved than ever before. She gives Lucky a place to stay for the next two years, as well as the opportunity to train with one of her crewmates. A weapons specialist and collector who was the previous owner of the urumi that Lucky has. The two years of training with her will be much needed given that the urumi is a notoriously difficult weapon to master. Lucky won't actually be good at using it until after the timeskip.

Don't mistake any of this for kindness or generosity on "A's" part, all of this comes with a catch. You see, she's made quite the investment with Lucky... it's only fair that she gets something in return. She doesn't want much, just a guarantee that she will continue to be entertained for the foreseeable future. "A" gets her fellow crewmates to hold Lucky down while she plucks the amulet off of Lucky and extracts her specific wish from it. The wish is then forcibly implanted into her chest, an excruciating process that leaves Lucky feeling like she was recently branded for about a week after. You see, it would be a shame if Lucky were to ever lose the amulet and stopped racking up obsessive suitors and friends, so "A" makes sure that is no longer a possibility.

Lucky is then returned to the Thousand Sunny. When everyone asks where she has been and what happened... Lucky can't recall. She learned how to use her urumi, and two years have definitely passed... but she can't remember a god damn thing that happened during them. Or why her chest hurts so bad.