#like i think about him THROUGHOUT the daytime hours

[jerswayman]

it's actually embarrassing how into freddy i am

[theoldsports]

Mirror

Coriolanus Snow x Reader. 6.1k words.

18+ some smut, but it’s dicey. dubcon, biting, fingering, nudity, nonconsensual touch, drugs/alcohol? rehab discussion briefly, threats of violence, the shower, struggle against media, one reference to a line from scripture, possessiveness, manipulation. it’s dark. prolonged exposure to it is bad for you.

longest one yet! chronologically follows Married 1+2 in the TRUCULENT series fairly rapidly. i really learned to love this one. upon editing, this story became way more about gaslighting and headfucking someone good and hard into relying on you. special thank you to @heavqn for beta-ing and ridiculous amounts of support and ideas. a lot of our pre-editing convos made this make much more sense to me. + votes are in: next installment/current WIP will be the wedding.

CLICK FOR MORE! CAN BE READ AS SERIES OR STANDALONE

The hand against her shoulder shook her for a moment, then much faster. The shaking lasted seconds or even minutes before [Y/N] pried her eyes open. Everything in the bedroom looked too real, too clear. Coriolanus stood above her. His hand had been doing the shaking. He looked like he had just returned from a run due to his clothes and sweat-stained hair. His hair had grown back more beautifully than before. [Y/N] remembered seeing him when she saw him in the stacks of Philosophy books at the library right after he had returned from Twelve. It was jarring. She had always fancied him a pretty boy even if she loathed him throughout their childhood. He was much different upon his return.

Coriolanus pulled himself up out of the comfort of their bed almost every morning, far too early, to go for a run. [Y/N] didn’t know how she would endure a lifetime of his too chipper morning behavior once they were married. Coming down after a night on morphling was hard and still, she did it over and over again. Coriolanus knew he couldn’t stand in the way of a little fun, but he wouldn’t allow it in their home, so [Y/N] had become involved in using it socially when it was available to her.

“Great. You look like a bum.” Coriolanus said, noting the dark and sunken crescents under her eyes.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning. You look like a bum.”

“I’m not a bum.” [Y/N] replied tiredly. She rubbed her eyes.

Last night, [Y/N] had gone out dancing with some of her friends. It was not a bachelorette party in so many words, but it filled the same purpose. It was also a stretch to call the people she went out with friends in so many words, but they filled the same purpose. [Y/N] hadn’t felt that she had people other than Coriolanus for sometime now. She had gotten very drunk and very high the night before, resulting in frustration from Coriolanus when she returned home. He always waited up by the front door when she was gone so long. Coriolanus did not like it when she wasn’t home with him. She would make it up to him somehow— she always did.

“Come on, up with you.” Coriolanus commanded. He sat on the edge of the bed and pushed her up to a sitting position. His voice was harsh, but his touch was soft. [Y/N] adored Coriolanus’ careful, yet guiding touches. Unless his dick was in her, he only touched her with care like she was a porcelain figurine.

“Why all the rush?” [Y/N] yawned.

“You don’t remember?” Coriolanus sighed. He was upset in that pompous way of his. He rubbed his creased forehead. “Seriously, [Y/N]. I ask so little of you and you can’t even behave well enough to remember that we have an interview in…” he checked his watch. “Three hours.” Coriolanus said. It was false that he asked so little of [Y/N]. Sometimes, he asked too much.

An hour exclusive on Lucky Flickerman’s daytime chatter joint. Shit. That woke [Y/N] up. “That’s today!” She exclaimed. That was the only caffeine she needed to wake her up. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Coryo. I didn’t think—“

“No. No Coryo. No, you didn’t think,” Coriolanus said. He needn’t elaborate. “Shower. We’ve got to beat downtown traffic.”

[Y/N] swore Coriolanus scheduled things like this at the worst possible times just to make her look worse than him.

She pushed her shaky legs off the bed. As soon as she stood, [Y/N] felt like she was going to fall. Perceptively, Coriolanus stood and placed his ever-vigilant hand on her lower back to steady her. “You’re a mess.” He said flatly. [Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus felt damp from his run. It crossed her mind that Coriolanus drank bitter coffee, did his work on time, smoked very little and went on a run daily. [Y/N] regularly got too high to see straight and cried when she didn’t get her way. Some pair they were.

“‘M not.” she protested messily. She didn’t want to admit that Coriolanus was right.

Coriolanus huffed indignantly, but did not reply otherwise. He walked her to the bathroom like marching a child to the naughty step. [Y/N] was set down on the low counter-top. “I’m concerned you’re going to slip and give yourself a black-eye,” Coriolanus said. “I don’t want people to think I hurt you.” He pulled his track jacket off and dropped it on the floor and reached over to take her short magenta teddy off. She felt desperately bare in front of Coriolanus as she was striped mechanically like a child’s doll. The teddy she wore was one of her favorites, with the delicate lace on the bust. She appreciated that Coriolanus was equally as delicate as the lace when handling it. He must have remembered how much [Y/N] liked it. Coriolanus remembered everything.

[Y/N] was simply impressed she had gotten herself into pajamas after last night at all.

“You’re going to ruin yourself if you keep doing this, you know.” Coriolanus said, starting the shower water.

“So you keep telling me,” [Y/N] shivered due to her bareness against the bathroom tile. “I’m sorry.”

Coriolanus deflected with a shake of his head. He turned to her. Coriolanus was obviously thinking about speaking as the water heated up. Hot water whenever desired was Coriolanus’ number one favorite thing about rebuilding the Snow fortune. That’s why he took his showers too hot; to prove that he could. The thought gave him the confidence to speak. “Do I make you feel so ill that you have to run around and treat yourself like this? Did I do something?” The insecurity of that question made [Y/N] raise an eyebrow. Sometimes when she looked at Coriolanus and realized he was still a boy in many regards. Twenty-three wasn’t very old at all. His frontal lobe wasn’t even finished developing. His primary desire was to be enough for himself, for her, and for everyone else too. [Y/N] feared that he worried he hadn’t figured that out yet. The girl was far from figuring that out herself as well. She rarely saw vulnerability slip through the cracks in the finished marble exterior that built Coriolanus Snow. But who knew if what he said was a true feeling of his or not.

“No,” [Y/N] said. She looked down at her manicured toes. “I did this before we were, y’know… You’ve seen me at house parties since the Academy. You know it’s not you.”

“It has to stop,” Coriolanus started, dashing that fear from his mind. [Y/N] permitting a discussion without blocking him out unpowered him to share his concerns. “It worries me when you’re out late with who knows who. With so many people seeing you. It’s not just part of an act, it’s bad for you.” He said, but what he meant to say was it’s bad for me.

“I knew you had jealousy problems, Coriolanus, but being worried you can’t personally compete with your girl’s partying habits is… hilarious.” [Y/N] attempted a joke. She saw the vein in Coriolanus’ neck throb. His eyes got cold when his vulnerability, no matter how shallow, was met with rejection.

“Get in the shower.”

[Y/N] cast her eyes down, took off her panties and did what she was told.

“It’s so hot!” She all but screamed.

[Y/N] let the water scald her skin. She didn’t want to complain at his trying to help her. “You’ll deal with it,” Coriolanus said, sliding the shower door shut behind the both of them. [Y/N] hadn’t even noticed him undressing, but here they were. They had never been in the shower together before. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the circumstances were. “For the record, I don’t have a ‘jealousy problem.’” He said after a moment of allowing [Y/N] hair to get damp enough to shampoo.

“Really?” [Y/N] bit back, reaching clumsily for her shampoo bottle with slippery fingers.

“Really. Jealousy isn’t a problem when you understand what’s rightfully yours,” Coriolanus said. Normally, she blocked Coriolanus out when he spoke like that. Maybe it was physical proximity or toxic prolonged exposure to Coriolanus, but that made her blush red in the face. Ignoring it, [Y/N]’s fingers closed around her pink and brown shampoo bottle, but Coriolanus snatched it out of her fingers effortlessly. “Let me. I want to be sure it gets done,” He muttered with a passive aggressive edge. That attitude seemed like a put-on to [Y/N]. She wondered if he wanted an excuse to be close to her. She made those up sometimes to be close to him. Maybe she was just flattering herself. Coriolanus squeezed some shampoo into his palm and set the bottle down on the shower ledge. “Who were you out with anyway?”

“Um… Some of the girls. Lysistrata. Oh, Clem. Some others.” [Y/N] braced a hand against the damp wall to steady her feet on the slippery ground.

“Clemensia?” Coriolanus asked, sliding his fingers into her hair, careful as ever. It felt newly intimate in a way that Coriolanus typically avoided with her.

“Who else?”

“I see. You know she’s—“

“I know you don’t like her.” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus was silent.

“I don’t like when you go out without me. I just worry.” He finally said.

“I’m sure you do.”

It was silent between them. Coriolanus worked the shampoo into her hair easily. A man known for his rough intensity being gentle with anything was a surprise to her.

“Did you see anyone else?” He asked nonchalantly.

[Y/N] sighed. Even casual conversation turned to interrogation. She wasn’t sure if he meant it, or if it was all he knew how to do. “Do you mean… Was I photographed behaving in some unsightly way? I dunno. I probably was. I wasn’t unfaithful, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Stop.” Coriolanus said, leaving no room for further argument.

It was quiet again. “Thank you for washing my hair. That’s, uh, it’s very kind.”

“Don’t mention it.” He replied, coaxing [Y/N] back under the water to rinse out the suds. His long fingers combed back through her hair over and over again. [Y/N], soapy, turned around and stared at Coriolanus’ wet face and hair. Even when appearing like a drowned animal, his imposing figure was statuesque.

[Y/N] leaned up and kissed him quickly. “I’m sorry I forgot about the interview,” she whispered, barely louder than the shower water. She apologized more than he did, but he responded well to knowing someone other than him was in the wrong. “Do I really look like shit?”

Coriolanus sighed, more familiarly this time. He loved when she needed him. He would insult her all day long if it meant he got to give her more validation later on. “No,” he slipped a hand under her breast and gave it a squeeze, his thumb danced across her nipple. “No, you don’t,” His other hand wormed its way across her cheek to brush away that disgusting makeup residue from the night prior. “You just needed a little polish. Let’s finish up. Go get dressed. Coffee’s on in the kitchen.”

“You poison it?”

Coriolanus frowned exasperatedly. He reached the hand cupping her breast around to her ass and gave it a hard, wet smack. “You bitch.” He smirked.

Sins almost all forgiven.

—

Every time [Y/N] was in a car with Coriolanus, it felt like a coaching session. Hand on her thigh with, don’t say this, say that instead, let me speak first, don’t embarrass me.

No point in elaborating on the most familiar part of their normal day-to-day since it really was habit at this point. [Y/N] always ached to snap back at him after these times. One day, don’t embarrass me was going to hit so hard that she did.

When they got out of the car a few blocks from their destination, [Y/N] had dawned her bright purple sunglasses. Coriolanus hated them and had tried on multiple occasions to buy her new ones to no avail. The daylight was still too bright for her tired eyes, so they were going to be worn on the walk to Capitol News.

After half a block (and so close to a news building), they were swamped by people clicking away at them. It made the bright sun burn hotter. Coriolanus’ white blonde hair and intimidating stature was much too easy to pick out in a crowd for their sunglasses and long jackets to disguise much.

Right now, besides Games news, they were the hottest topic of discussion in the Capitol. Their engagement party had been wild, [Y/N] was typically wild, and Coriolanus was characteristically unwild. It made for good TV.

Coriolanus leaned in to whisper something. [Y/N] couldn’t hear it. All she could do was smile and tell any reporters with microphones ‘no thank you,’ or ‘you’ll have to watch Lucky’s to answer for that.’ Coriolanus merely smiled a smile that was not his smile and said ‘not now folks, we’ll be late,’ or ‘don’t worry about them, Darling.’

[Y/N] was leashed by Coriolanus’ hand on the back of her neck as he guided her through crowds. He had two dressbags of clothes for the show tossed effortlessly over his shoulder as they walked. They were a newsroom’s wetdream. She was exuberant and he was magnetic. And they were both trouble. Power, wealth, youth, stability and status. Everyone liked to watch them at their best and loved to watch them at their worst.

“How do you put up with it, Mr. Snow!” A bland-looking man with a microphone called.

“How was the party last night, [Y/N]!” Called another. They always called [Y/N] by her first name because, frankly, she was fairly certain they didn’t know her maiden name and technically she wasn’t Mrs. Snow yet either. Coriolanus’ grip on her tightened at the question.

She smirked at how the power of her own name took away power from her family and their name; the thing they desperately wanted a morsel of.

Considering a future where she inevitably became Mrs. Snow, she thought about how her lifetime of indiscretions would be tied to Coriolanus forever. She smirked wider at their folie a deux.

[Y/N] felt like a doll again, being pushed by Coriolanus like that. She didn’t hate it entirely, though. She liked it when he manhandled her a little. It helped with all the noise that surrounded them these days to be able to turn her brain off and let Coriolanus handle it for her. She would never admit it, but being a good doll for Coriolanus for the foreseeable future didn’t seem too bad. Her stomach churned wicked for thinking that. It made her antsy to not have an exciting retort in front of reporters. [Y/N] usually did, but her head ached too much this morning. Instead, she looked helplessly up at Coriolanus. He glanced down at her, an eyebrow raised. “Overwhelmed?” He asked quietly, but not too quietly. [Y/N] nodded. “Don’t worry, my dear. We’re almost there.” Coriolanus said like a good husband should. [Y/N] thought about how he was rarely such a good husband when other people weren’t looking. Then why had he seemed to care so much that morning? She must’ve been mistaken about one part or the other.

[Y/N] leaned up and kissed him for in part for his kindness. The crowd aww’d. Kisses were a good way to distract a man. Any man, receiving or watching. Coriolanus’ hand slipped down from her neck to the back of her waist. Her fingers went into the soft hair at the bottom of his neck. She felt him inhale sharply. She knew he hated that. “What was that for?” Coriolanus asked when he pulled away, referring to the kiss.

“Wanted to make sure you were real. None of this feels real.” [Y/N] laughed dizzily. It was true, but she felt stupid saying it. She had spent a lot of time feeling stupid recently and this morning was no exception. The hangover and the whirlwind of voices and flashes had emptied her brain completely. Coriolanus leaned in to whisper in her ear again. This time she caught what he said:

“Stop this. We’ve ten steps until we’re in the building. I’ve told you not to touch my hair.”

He pulled away from her and put on his brilliant, effortless smirk that rich boys his age always had. Coriolanus yanked [Y/N] the remaining distance into the news building.

As soon as they entered, they were whisked away to dress for that afternoon’s broadcast. [Y/N] was dropped into a beautician’s chair to make her face look like someone else’s. She groaned at the duty she held.

Makeup brushes and blowdryers and curling irons and spray bottles of who knows what clouded [Y/N] of vision.

She wished Coriolanus was in her immediate vicinity so she could glance over him and laugh cruelly about how stupid all this is. He was always good for a laugh at the expense of things like this.

“Honey, who does your hair on the regular? I suggest you switch to someone else.” The obscene-looking woman pulling her hair back asked.

[Y/N] laughed, but said nothing. [Y/N] wanted to strangle her.

Not long after that, [Y/N] was pulled up to her feet and forced into a dress that she at least knew she liked. Tight around the waist and thighs, capping off at the knees. It was higher necked, but was so tight that it left little to the imagination. She knew Coriolanus would get frustrated with a fluffy dress, so she picked one that would make his eyes bug out instead. It was off-white with a delicate floral pattern outlined in a brighter white.

[Y/N] looked great. She knew this as she admired the contrasting bulk of the shoulders and flowing sleeves with the clinging exposure of her curves everywhere else. She didn’t exactly look like herself, though. Especially with her hair and makeup done so precisely. She wasn’t precise, she was messy. Precise didn’t suit her.

[Y/N] wondered if the her that stared back in the full-body mirror was the real her now. Messy her was gone. A Capitol wife remained. A doll.

She slid her black ankle-breaking heels on and shook the thought away as she entered the sound stage.

[Y/N] always forgot how noble Coriolanus was capable of looking, considering he was distinctly the opposite. She stared at him. Mauve coat, black trousers, crisp white undershirt, white tie, white rose. Clearly, he had let someone touch his hair. Even if it was a stylist.

Coriolanus gestured for her to walk over to where he stood and Lucky sat. It was difficult to walk with the dress clinging around her knees and the height of her heels. Her short, intentional steps felt demeaning. Most things in her life felt vaguely demeaning, but she kept turning a purposeful blind eye. The stage lights were too bright. Coriolanus’ teeth were too white for the amount of throats he’d ripped out.

Capitol magic.

“Hello Darling. You look lovely.” Coriolanus said as she approached. He took his hand in her and kissed it. Coriolanus’ eyes never looked up at hers because they were too busy looking at how her body fit the dress.

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied neutrally. “Hi Lucky. Green’s really your color.” [Y/N] lied. Lucky’s green, wintery tux was vile and everyone with eyes and a modicum of taste would see that.

Coriolanus coughed into his shoulder to cover a scoff. He wrapped a strong arm around [Y/N]’s waist.

“Thank you, [Y/N]! Good to see you, pleasantries, pleasantries, yada yada. Shall I call you [Y/N]…? Mrs. Snow… The network doesn’t really know what the hell to do with you.” Lucky beamed from his chair.

“Oh, uh… I’m not really Mrs. Snow yet. It’s not necessary. My first name will do. I’m not picky, though.”

She felt Coriolanus deflate a little beside her as he dropped her waist and folded himself into the gaudy patterned armchair the network provided. [Y/N] felt a sting of guilt. Maybe she should have let him carry on with the Mrs. Snow thing. Coriolanus would have to get over it. “Sure thing, hon. Anyway, go ahead. Take your seat. Some of these questions are tacky, tacky, tacky, but do your best and humor us. Panem wants to know the real you.” Lucky beamed.

“I’m sure they do.” They don’t. And they won’t.

“You kids really are… Wow, lovely to share the stage with. You make me look old and sad comparatively, damn,” Lucky joked. “It’s been a good while since I’ve had the pleasure of sitting alongside Coriolanus like this. You were a child then. Crazy, the passage of time.” He continued.

“Lucky, it’s always an honor.” Coriolanus said. Coriolanus hated Lucky. [Y/N] marveled at his ability to lie so gracefully.

A group of production folks stepped out of the shadows to give them bottled water and let them know the show was about to begin. The studio audience poured in through side doors.

[Y/N] quickly leaned over to Coriolanus. “I thought this was a pre-tape.” She whispered frantically.

“You didn’t remember this interview existed three hours ago. You’ll deal with it.” He replied, with a note of his own panic he was unable to squash.

Fifteen minutes of seating and then a live camera inches away from [Y/N]’s face. “Well, we really thank you for having us on your show, Lucky.” She smiled. The audience analyzed them like vultures. This was the most wicked game designed for them, but Coriolanus didn’t lose. [Y/N] would have to be perfect.

“Of course! Always a pleasure, [Y/N]. Let’s get to some of these questions on my handy little list of questions, huh?” A few shallow questions about what designers they were wearing, what their morning routine was like to look so gorgeous, Coriolanus leaning over to hold [Y/N]’s hand across their chairs (the audience sighed lovingly). Coriolanus curls, stubborn as he was, fell out of the hold of the hairspray like they always did. She smirked and reached up with her left hand to push them out of his eyes. Oh, he hated that. [Y/N] could tell. Lovely.

“Oh, look at that ring,” Lucky said. “The ring we’ve all been talking about. Let’s get a closeup on that rock,” the camera pushed in to [Y/N]’s hand obediently. A large ruby mounted on a white gold band. She had been assured it was real. [Y/N]’s other jewelry, silver, sat patina-ing in a wooden box because of it.“Beautiful. Must’ve cost you a pretty penny, Coriolanus.”

“Yes, Coryo, how much did it cost?” [Y/N] asked. Coriolanus shifted in his seat. Money was not a thing Coriolanus discussed.

“A bit.” He replied stiffly. [Y/N] grinned.

“Uh, you both are mighty famous for that ring. I suppose it’s time to discuss that crazy engagement party. I was there to witness the whole thing firsthand, of course.”

The Snows-to-be nodded.

“These questions can get uncomfortable, but I’m sure you’ll answer all the same. So, your relationship seems… Alarmingly happy today for two people debating splitting over infidelity at the celebration of their engagement.”

“Please, we only debate it when I’m drunk, Lucky.” [Y/N] said much to the audiences joy. They laughed heartily.

“Which is too often, if you want my opinion.” Another laugh from the audience for Coriolanus, never one for being outdone. She knew, in his mind, she deserved that.

“Rehabilitation is always an opinion.” Lucky joked darkly, not knowing what to say.

“Being wild is fun, though, isn’t it? I’m not from privilege and grace as much as my fiancé. He’s always been elegant. I’m learning; I have a good teacher. But you only get your youth once. You would know, I’m sure, Lucky. When someone loves you as much as Coriolanus loves me… He always forgives my mistakes. He’s too good me. He’s patient.” [Y/N] said. He was patient, but it came out in the way that he played the long game. His impulses along the way were markedly less patient. Coriolanus squeezed her hand tightly as a warning.

Lucky smiled bitterly. “Well, I’m sure he’ll learn to keep you on a shorter leash eventually. Actually, I hear you were out last night as well.”

Fuck.

“Yes, bachelorette party, you see.”

“The studio’s telling me,” Lucky clutched his earpiece. “They have some photos from your last wild night as an unwed woman.”

“Oh. Is that so…? Haha,” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus squeeze her hand until her own knuckles were white. Neither one of them had a clue what they were about to throw up on that screen. Coriolanus inhaled shakily, but maintained neutrality. “Can’t be worse than the sides you saw of us a few months back at the—“

It was worse.

The dress was short, but Coriolanus had known that when she stopped into his office to tell him she was going out. He had responded with a “That? Really? Okay…” with quiet anger that the dress wasn’t being worn for him.

Then there was the dreaded miniature morphling vile empty between her fingers. It was obvious she was trying to talk with her friends under the flashing lights. They were all wearing similar fare. Six or seven drunk, high young women pictured together wasn’t that bad, even for some of the old school Capitol prudes.

None was more damning than the strange man’s hand planted firmly on [Y/N]’s ass. His smile was too wide. The [Y/N]’s in the picture’s grimace at the stranger over her shoulder was uncomfortable. It screamed DON’T-TOUCH-ME. She looked like she was telling him to stop, but her eyes were wide and her lips were pulled into a frown. The subtext implied by the woman in the photo was Coriolanus is going to kill me. She sighed. The crowd gasped. Coriolanus inhaled sharply.

[Y/N] had said her behavior the night before was inherently not unfaithful. Coriolanus didn’t feel the need to not believe her since she was the one who brought it up. The apples of Coriolanus cheeks grew red with rage. The stranger’s smile was too big. He knew he was touching Coriolanus Snow’s fiancée. He knew was taking advantage of a helpless girl and her friends. He knew he was defacing someone else’s property.

Coriolanus Snow was going to find this man and ruin his life.

[Y/N], humiliated, looked over at Coriolanus. She had a hazy memory of telling some guy to “knock it off” the night before. Truly, she did remember this, but of course, she hadn’t thought this would be a big deal. This was a part of her life she had had to deal with since she was a young woman. This man’s action was undesired, but not unexpected. Taking in the photo and the look on his fiancée’s face as she shook her head slowly at him was enough for Coriolanus to determine that this touch was unwanted. [Y/N] looked guilty, but she had little reason to be. He hated seeing that look on her face in a situation he didn’t create.

[Y/N]’s only crime was going out without Coriolanus. She knew he hated when she did that. If he had been there, he would’ve handled the situation there and then. She was never going out alone again. She needed him. Right now, he was going to be the man she needed.

“Take that off the screen.” Coriolanus said firmly to Lucky.

“Well, first, let’s have—“ Lucky tried.

“I don’t think you heard me. I said take it down,” Coriolanus continued. He turned to the cameras and those behind them. “Now.”

Coriolanus watched a young woman at a screen immediately buckle at his demand and begin scrambling to pull the image. The show’s graphic was returned to the monitor. “Thank you,” Coriolanus said in the woman’s direction. [Y/N] stared at the floor, beet-red. She was trying not to cry, but what would it matter if she did? Coriolanus knew too well the meaning of her tell-tale sniffle and avoidant eye contact. He turned back to Lucky. “I think that was extremely rude of you and your production group to put up an image, without consent, of my fiancée getting touched without consent. It’s apparent to me from looking at that photo that my fiancée did not welcome that touch. Would you agree?”

“Possibly, but since the engagement party—“

“I think you forget I trust [Y/N]. Are you the one marrying her?”

“… No. But hey, this is my show, kid. Let’s get back on track with—“

Coriolanus knew better than most people that what was said and done on live television was as good as forever. He would use that to his advantage. Nobody came for Coriolanus’ belongings and left with the hand that tried to snatch them.

“I’m not finished,” Coriolanus snapped. [Y/N] reached for Coriolanus’ hand again to signal that that’s enough, dear. He took it and looked over at her. He was angry; normal person righteous angry. Not manic, not cold. That was a new face. Coriolanus had so many pretend faces that clipped on and off. [Y/N] had previously thought she had seen them all. “Were you wanting that touch, Princess? Did you know him?” He asked [Y/N]. She shook her head with her eyes damp and downcast. “As I implied, you don’t know us. Don’t ever embarrass my fiancée like that,” or me, [Y/N] assumed his subtext as he spoke. “Whoever this moron in the picture is has another thing coming. What kind of self-respecting news network aims to humiliate guests for something they couldn’t help?” Coriolanus said. [Y/N]’s heart raced. He cared. Maybe it was for selfish reasons, but his support mattered. No one else was going to do it.

Sometimes he was absent, yes, but Coriolanus always came through when [Y/N] needed him. She was grateful that he wasn’t angry with her, even if that part came later in private. She was grateful for now that his way of easing his own pain eased hers too. She could get used to that. [Y/N] let out tears of temporary relief and reached for the box of tissues on the round table between guests and host.

Coriolanus stared Lucky down and settled himself further back in his seat with a sigh. “Next question?” The blonde man said.

—

The ride home was nearly silent. [Y/N] had started crying the second she sat down in the car. Coriolanus hadn’t say anything, but he kept his hand in hers the whole time. He didn’t even fight to let go when his palm got sweaty. [Y/N] pulled his hand close to her chest. She had done nothing wrong, yet she felt that everything was her fault. She had failed Coriolanus. This media wreck wasn’t just a game for photographers and journalists, this one embarrassed her genuinely. This one embarrassed Coriolanus and she was constantly told she was not supposed to do that. Don’t embarrass me rang against every corner in her brain.

The car stopped in front of their building. Coriolanus, as he always seemed to, opened her car door before the driver could get out. Coriolanus thanked the driver and put an arm around [Y/N] and led her up the stairs to their townhouse. The door closed behind them. Coriolanus locked the deadbolt with a heavy clunk. Safe from eyes that watched every failure with glee. They could be people again.

“I’m sorry, Coriolanus,” [Y/N] said, mascara down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know him. Really, I didn’t. I told you this morning. I—I didn’t know him.” She backed herself protectively towards the couch and away from Coriolanus in learned preemptive panic.

“I know,” Coriolanus said. “Nobody but me gets to touch you like that. I know you’re smart enough to understand that. I cannot fathom how another man thinks he can do that to you and get away with it.”

“That’s… That’s been happening my whole adult life, you can’t magically make that—“

“I don’t think you understand, Darling. I can. I don’t want to know that anyone has ever touched you like that. I swear on my mother’s grave. I will fucking murder them.” His winter blue eyes could vaporize a perpetrator on the spot.

“Coriolanus, that’s extreme.”

“Not to me. Not when you’re involved.”

“You can’t hurt people that looked at me funny. It’s hardly a crime.”

“Isn’t their some old line about not coveting another man’s wife?”

“…Yes. You have a future. You can’t interrupt your opportunities because some shithead—“

“It won’t interrupt anything. Wouldn’t it make you feel better to know that a creep like that was off the streets?”

“…Yes.”

“Well, then we agree. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

[Y/N] blushed and looked down. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t be. I’m not angry with you about this. I know I can trust you. I do. You know I do. I don’t worry about that. I cannot trust other people around you, especially when you use that filthy drug,” Coriolanus said. He extend a hand to [Y/N] as he approached like he would approaching a scared animal. That hand went slowly to [Y/N]’s waist. Coriolanus pulled her in closer so they were chest to chest. “You are not going out without me to some party like that ever again. Disrespecting you like that means disrespecting me, too. I won’t stand for either.”

“I—“

Coriolanus was going to get what he wanted all along: [Y/N] alone with him always. How could she need anyone else? Everyone out there wanted to hurt her, touch her, make her feel bad about herself. Not Coriolanus. Perhaps, he should be thanking that man instead of cutting his fingers off one at a time. “No. Let me keep you safe. That’s all this is. I want you safe. I’m to be your husband. That’s my job. Won’t you let me do my job, [Y/N]?” He said too calmly. His blue eyes stared deep into hers. Coriolanus had a fantastic talent for telling someone something and letting them think it was a question; letting them think it was their idea— letting them they had a choice.

He was right. He did make her feel safe. Holding on to her like this made her melt. In Coriolanus’ arms, [Y/N] felt secure. He was moody, but Coriolanus was frustratingly reliable. He wanted to make himself the bedrock of [Y/N]’s life. She had no choice but to allow him that. [Y/N] breathed out and he felt her breath fan out across his face. “Let me take care of you. I won’t let that happen to you anymore. I promise.” Coriolanus muttered.

He tipped his mouth slowly into her neck and hungrily sucked at the place below her ear. A gasp caught in [Y/N]’s throat at the surprise sensation. Her knees wobbled and her dress and shoes didn’t make it any better. She put her arms around his neck for support. “Coriolanus…” she whispered. Coriolanus loved the vibration in her throat beneath his lips.

Helplessly, [Y/N] tipped her head back to give her fiancé what he wanted. Coriolanus had sucked a few hickeys on her neck and chest before, sure. Never before had he bitten her. This time, he bit her hard enough to bruise and scab. It was harder to cover an indent with makeup than a simple bruise. If she were to go out even to the grocery store, other men had to understand that [Y/N] was off the market. If an engagement ring wouldn’t do it, this would. Coriolanus bit her with such force that the tears started to well again.

The position they were in felt like a dance. His hands on her waist, hers on his neck, their bodies flush together. [Y/N] fell deeper into the black hole of Coriolanus Snow. This must have been on purpose. He knew she loved to dance with him and made it a weapon. Damn him. She would always say yes to a dance, wouldn’t she? Wasn’t this whole relationship just a fucked up dance?

The man reached one hand down and pulled up [Y/N]’s dress as much as he could get it up and tore it the rest of the way. [Y/N] could swear she had been torn out of a third of her clothing recently. Coriolanus pushed her panties to the side and pushed his fingers into her. It would have hurt if she hadn’t been so wet to begin with. She bobbled on her heels. Once Coriolanus has pumped himself fingertip to hand in and out of her a handful of times, [Y/N] was holding herself up entirely by his neck and shoulders and the fingers that impaled her tenderly. Coriolanus had complete control over the situation. The only thing left for her to do was moan and she didn’t hold back.

Coriolanus was unrelenting. He marked a disturbing black and blue column on her throat the way he liked. Slowly, the pair rocked back and forth from foot to foot, as Coriolanus nipped, fucked and sucked. A fucked-up slow dance to the song of the traffic on the other side of the window.

MORE FROM THE TRUCULENT SERIES

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst @spencereidbasis @a-mellifluous-life @daenerysqueenofhearts @heavqn @dangelnleif @lapisthelovely @wotcherpeak @24kmar

apologies as always for the little tags that couldn’t.

[mannaima]

I was thinking about a dark joel x reader with smut she's innocent and still kind of sheltered from the world (doesn't go out that much) maybe because her father is the leader (of fedra or something), then one day on the rare occasion she happens to be out and Joel sees her and he has to have her and he has an unhealthy obsession to make her his. And he manipulates her into having sex with him then he tells her "you're mine forever".

My Best Friend Joel(part one)

Summary: Joel sees a pretty little thing and takes advantage of a girl who knows nothing better.

Authors note: WOOOOO this is so hawt. Dark! Joel is a such a sleazy little bastard when he wants something, and this time all he wants is a sweet girl to warm his DICK!!! Also have u seen that tiktok that says Pedro Pascal would guide u thru it,,,,,,, Yeah. This is kinda based on that LOL.

I also decided I wanted to make this a two parter. Create tension. Hehehehe

Word count: 4.3K

Warnings: Dub-con(ish) ( joel manipulates), age gap (reader is 19 and Joel is 56), stalking, generally creepy Joel, reader has no idea how friendship and joel takes advantage of this by making her think suckin dick is how you say hello.

“What do we do when someone knocks at the door and doesn’t use our secret knock?” 

“Hide in the cupboard.”

“Good. Do we ever look out the windows in the daytime?”

“No, we do not.”

“Well done. Lastly, where do we never go?”

“Outside.”

Your father kissed your forehead, his FEDRA uniform draped his body as he waved off, shutting the door behind him as you locked the many different locks. Your father had instilled the fear of the outside world to you since day one, you were to never leave the home under any circumstance. When you were small, you listened to his long list of rules, you didn’t so much as peek through the curtains as long as the day was bright. But as you got older, you slowly began to understand less and less of your fathers worries. He told you stories of the zombie-like creatures that lay beyond the walls, the people fighting for something as simple as sleeping pills. You were fascinated at first, but it slowly began to bore you. You grew tired of the home you spent your entire life in, not even being able to go to school throughout your youth. Even now, at nineteen years old, you were old enough to have your own apartment, but your father insisted on just one more year, he told you it wasn’t safe.

You looked through the sheer curtains, watched the people walk along the dirty and destroyed streets. Dirty, tired, exhausted, and yet you envied them. You wanted the feeling of freedom, even if it meant that freedom guaranteed you danger. What was the point of living if you didn’t experience fear once in a while? You sighed, and continued to watch the people below you, you didn’t care anymore. Just once, you wanted to feel the fresh air, hear the chattering of people up close, maybe even meet a friend. But your dreams stayed dreams for so long it didn’t seem possible to even see the outside. You stood up from your seat next to the window, in anger, you were tired of being cooped up. You paced around the room, your mind conjuring up the idea to escape, even just for one day. You finally decided on a decent enough plan.

You would leave, just for a few hours. You could wear a disguise, maybe a head covering and large enough jacket, and explore. Feel the air and make a friend. You would leave thirty minutes after your father left, and leave the door unlocked. Nobody had ever tried to knock on your door for the past nineteen years, so why would someone do it now?

You nodded to yourself, the pieces of the plan finalizing in your head. You walked to your bedroom and began to plan an outfit, something practical but also not to draw attention. You settled on a pair of bootcut jeans with a plain t-shirt, covered by a large jacket, and a black scarf worn over your head. You had seen enough people every day to understand the average outfit, you nodded once again to yourself. This was perfect.

-------

“Alright sweetie. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, they have me working the night shift. Be safe alright?” 

“Yes father.” You nodded, and he kissed your forehead and you waved him off. The night couldn’t have gone any slower, your mind racing in excitement. You hadn’t accounted for your father working an extra long shift today, so that gave you even more relief in leaving. You had to make sure you got home no later than 4 pm, a quick glance at the clock showed it was 10 am. Leave at 10:30 am. You had plenty of time, you didn’t have to worry. You paced around the home, too anxious to sit down and wait, you checked the clock periodically, hoping for it to be time soon. The second the clock hit 10:20, you marched into your room to put on your clothes. Slipping on every single garment, you finished with a pair of red converse, your breath hitching in excitement. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt. You were betraying your fathers rule he made for your safety. But the other side of your brain told you that he couldn’t keep you here forever. You shook your head, as if to rid the thought rotting your brain, and you took one last look at the clock on your wall.

10:30.

You had to go now.

You made your way to your front door, hand shaking as you reached for the knob, why were you so nervous? You’ve waited your entire life to do this, can't stop now. You pushed open the door, and your eyes shut a little due to the brightness. You closed the door behind you and descended down the stairs, very carefully. You were in awe, you had never felt so small in your life, the world being so big around you. You wanted to run, frolic, and enjoy the wonder of the outside world. You didn’t care how destroyed it all was, how the cracks in the streets made people trip, or the smell of firewood that burned through your nose. No, it all felt like such a privilege, you had never known such freedom.

You walked among the people, trying your best to blend in, make yourself appear as normal as possible. Your biggest fear was being mugged or hurt, and then your father would never let you out of his sight again, maybe even tie you to your bed. You smiled, a rare joy among the faces of the depressed, no more were you a prisoner.

Vendors selling shoe laces, patches of cloth, and other things you didn’t quite understand, but still appreciated nonetheless. You wanted to get a closer look at a small doll-like figure made of cloth, so you reached your hand out to grab it. As you did, another hand did as well, causing you to both flinch.

“Oh. I’m sorry sir.” You noticed the hand was much larger than yours, with hair that began to go slightly gray.

“No, my fault sweetheart. Go right ahead.” You peered your head up to look at him, right away you noticed he was much older. He was dirty and had a look of an unknown emotion. 

“Thank you.” You quietly said, before reaching to take a look at the doll, small, and it had a small smile on her face. It was made out of scrap clothing or cloth, and it had a strange texture, yet it was so cute to you.

“Five ration cards, miss.” The vendor told you, and you immediately froze. Ration cards? You didn’t know what that was, having never known about stuff like this. 

“I. I- Um. Sorry.” You slowly began to put back down the doll, embarrassed of your actions. A hand pushed your hand back, however.

“Here you are sir.” The large man next to you handed the vendor some cards, leaving you confused.

“I- Uh. Thank you sir.” You looked up at him, holding the small doll to your chest. You hadn’t had a doll since before. Ever.  

“It’s not an issue at all, sweetheart. I take you don’t have a job?”

“Haha. Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You didn’t really know what to say, but he nodded at your answer.

“So where you off to?” You both walked into a direction you had no clue of, but you just shrugged.

“I dunno. I was just walking around. Just exploring.” You were not confident in your answers, unsure why this man stuck to your side. 

“You don’t know?” He questioned you. You stopped and debated your next move. 

“I-I’m gonna go home.” You turned on your heel, and walked in the opposite direction, leaving the man to watch you go back. You were scared, mostly, you didn’t know how to respond, and he was a stranger! You collected your breathing, as you were hyperventilating. Your feet hit the gravel heavily, you couldn’t wait to get home. You finally entered your home and slammed the door shut, making sure to lock every single lock. Slamming your bedroom door open, you tore off your clothes into a box under your bed. You groaned, in defeat, maybe your dad was right after all. You were too scared of the outside world, and the people asked so many questions! Overwhelmed, you decided to slip on a large shirt and go to sleep. Cuddling up under the sheets, your eyes slowly fell into slumber

—-------

Over the past few days, things were normal. Well, at least your version of normal.

Your father came home, but he was much more distant these days, not even giving you the usual spiel every morning, just leaving. You assumed he was more stressed as “smugglers” became more frequent. You didn’t understand it all, but every day you watched the people below, wishing you were them.

Knock. Knock knock. Knock. Knock

You stood up from your chair by the window, confused, as it was still day time, why was your father here? It was the secret knock, but it was far too early for him to be home. You warily made your way to the door, taking your time to unlock the many different forms of protection. As you opened the door, a foot was placed between the doorframe and the space open. You looked up, and you were met face to face with the man from earlier.

“Let me in, sugar.” You stood in shock, allowing him to push past your hold, and allow him in. He shut the door, loudly, behind him.

“Lovely home you have here…” He trailed about the apartment, hand rubbing against furniture and knick knacks.

“W-what are you doing here?” You backed up slowly, your mind racing, how did he know the knock? That was between you and your father only. 

“Can’t pay a visit to a friend?”

“I-I. I don’t understand...” You tried to hide the fear in your voice– keyword, tried. 

“Aw c’mon don’t act like that sweetheart. I see the way you look out that window, I know you’re all lonely here. I know you need someone. And that someone is me, darling.” He sounded deranged, the more he spoke, the weirder you felt. Why did he know so much about you? But, he was right, you were lonely. With no friends to call your own.

“How did you know the knock?” He chuckled and walked closer to you.

“Don’t worry about that sweetheart. Now, how about we go out?” You raised an eyebrow at this suggestion.

“Out?” He was close enough to touch you now, his boots slamming against the floorboards. He was putting his arm around you now.

“Yeah. You drink?” You shook your head, causing him to chuckle.

“‘Course you don’t. Well we can go back to my place and talk, I could make you some food. I got some books you could read.” He pulled you close to him. You looked up at him, a small smirk was on his face as he looked down. You slowly nodded, feeling your insides warm up. A friend! He might’ve been a little creepy, but he seemed so nice. You slowly pulled yourself out of his grip, his arm going up as you moved.

“L-Let me change, first.” You rubbed your hair nervously, and he took a seat, legs spreading wide.

“Take as long as you need to, sweetheart.” You nervously smiled and walked to your bedroom, your nerves making you forget to close the door all the way. You didn’t notice the eyes that watched you remove your shirt and pants.

—-------

You walked by the side of the larger man, you felt so small compared to him. You blurted out the first thing on your mind.

“You never told me your name.” He looked down at you, a small smile creeping on his face.

“Joel. What about you, sweetie?” You told him your name, to which he nodded. You kept looking around at all the people, some giving you a strange look. Joel eventually wrapped his arm around you, keeping you close to him. People never stopped staring at you, it made you slightly insecure. You knew you would stand out. Joel began to rub circles into your back, as if he knew what you were feeling.

Step by step, you grew closer to his apartment, making you nervous, what if you did something wrong? You never had to deal with people. As he pulled out a small key to unlock his door, your heart was thumping in your chest. 

“Home sweet home.” He let you enter first, and you took in the sight around you. It was much dirtier than yours, but not entirely his fault. Everything seemed to be used, or very old. You kept quiet as you eyed the room.

“Come, sit.” He said, very authoritatively. Your feet began walking towards him without any thought, you learned to obey commands like that with your father.

“You want any water?” As you sat, you muttered a small ‘yes please’, which prompted his hands to come up to your chin, making you look at him.

“What was that, sweets?” Your eyes widened slightly, he was very close to your face.

“Y-Yes Joel, please.” He let go, a satisfied smile on his face as he turned around to fix you a glass. Was this friendship? You didn’t know it would be so touchy, but I guess that was normal? You watched him pour the water into a small glass, your eyes fixated on his figure. 

“How old are you, Joel?” You swung your feet in the chair you sat in, waiting for him to come back.

“Well aren’t you curious.” He walked back with a glass of water for you, and a smaller glass of brown liquid for him. “I’m fifty-six. How ‘bout you?”

“Nineteen…” You didn’t realize he was much older than you, he was older than your father!

“Quite a big girl. And you don’t have a job?” Shaking your head, you felt slightly embarrassed.

“My dad won’t let me go out. Never got to go to school, or have friends even. You’re my first.” Joel’s cock twitched at your choice of words, but his demeanor remained nonchalant.

“That’s a shame sweetheart. You’re old enough to have a family, and your dad still won't let you leave?” You looked down, saddened at the reality.

“Does he know you left the house today?” You shook your head, prompting Joel to stand up.

“Such a bad girl. Leaving the home with a stranger.” He drew closer to you.

“I thought you were my friend.” A chuckle left his lips.

“Right. But you still left without permission. That makes you so naughty.” He lifted you up from your seat and made your legs wrap around him, making you jump a little at the touch of his hands against your ass. His face was so close to your own.

“Mmmm. You’re so pretty.” Your face was red, you felt tingly. His lips got close to your own. He placed them on top of yours, you just looked at him while his eyes closed and his tongue moved around. He pulled away and looked at you. He smiled to himself.

“You’ve never kissed anyone, have you?” You shook your head, and he brought you close to his face.

“Move your lips with mine, open your mouth slightly when you feel my tongue.” He whispered to you, softly. Again, he placed his lips against yours, but this time you followed his movements, his mustache tickling the top of your lip, making you giggle. He smiled against your lips before swiping his tongue against your bottom lip. You opened your mouth for him, as he said, and his tongue pushed through your mouth. His tongue swirled with your own, drool coming down your chin. You stayed like this for a while, his hands on your ass, holding you up, your mouths connected one another. He finally pulled away, your body feeling weird as you watched a trail of saliva connect the both of you. Joel put you down on the floor, allowing you to stand.

“Do friends usually do stuff like that?” Joel stayed quiet, for a moment, before nodding.

“Yes, but only friends like me and you. You can’t do that with anyone else, understand?” You nodded, his head patting yours.

“Good girl. Let's get you home before your daddy finds out you left.” 

“Okay Joel.”

—------

You had made it home before your dad came back, sighing in relief. Over the past few days, however, Joel managed to come shortly after your dad left. You two would go over to his home, talk, do more “friend stuff” as you liked to call it, and he would drop you off.

Today was no different. He knocked, normally, and you knew it would be him. Opening the door, his smile made one appear on your face.

“Joel!” You gave him a large hug, face buried into his beefy chest. He laughed and ruffled your hair.

“Hey sweetie. Look at you, all ready.” he pointed to your outfit as you pulled back, and it made you giggle. You wore jeans, a tight white shirt and a dark green zip up jacket.

“Mhm! I was waiting all morning for my dad to leave so we could hang out!” He laughed and bent down a little, to get to eye level with you.

“Where's my kisses, huh?” You smiled and closed your eyes to kiss him, his tongue slipping in, as you two sloppily kissed for about a minute. He pulled back up and wiped his lips, face looking very satisfied. You giggled at his expression.

“Let's go then, sugar.” He held out his hand for you to grab, which you did, and he led you out of the apartment.

The entire time walking to his home, you never failed to get weird looks. Joel gripped your hand, but you stared at your feet to try to ignore the looks.

“Don’t worry about them sweetheart, they’re jealous.” He led you to his apartment, and let you in. You walked towards the table but he stopped you.

“Come to my bedroom.” Your face was a little confused, but you trusted Joel. Without him, you would be friendless and still alone in your bedroom, rotting away. Following him to the bedroom, you noticed how different he was acting. He seemed more touchy, much more than usual, his hand rubbing your back as you walked in the room, and touching your leg as you sat down.

“I’m gonna teach you something important today.” You paused, very curious to what he was talking about.

“About what?” Your head cocked to the side.

“Male anatomy.” You stared at him with wide eyes, very intrigued at what he was talking about. Your father never taught you much about your own body other than periods. Let alone talking about the male body.

“Okay.” He smiled at you, his hand now on top of yours. He placed it on his lap.

“This right here,” His hand began to move around, your hand feeling a soft body part not attracted to anything. It moved around with your hand, which made him tense. “This is a cock. It’s what men use to go to the bathroom. But it has another purpose. It makes me feel very good.” You were so curious, but as your hand moved at the puppetry of Joel, the body part began to get stiff and harder. Joel groaned under his breath.

“And when I get excited, it gets hard.” You hummed, very intrigued at the idea of that happening.

“Do you wanna see it?” He whispered, your hand still moving against it. 

“Y-Yeah…” He moved your hand to the side and undid his belt, undoing the buttons, and finally unzipping his zipper. Moving his boxers out the way, his cock sprang out, making you jump. It was so. Big. Your eyes widened, you had never seen anything like this before.

“Woah… It looks. Big.” He chuckled at your comment, his cock twitching slightly.

“Give me your hand.” You looked at him, giving him your hand as he held it in his. He put your hand against his cock, your fingers wrapped around it. It was so warm. He moved your hand up and down, the head of his cock disappearing and reappearing under his foreskin. He groaned once more, you looked away from his cock to look at him, making sure it wasn’t hurting.

“Is this okay?” You were unsure of it all, worried that he didn’t like it.

“More than okay, baby. Fuck, you do this so good. But I know how you could make this better.” You stared at his features, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed, his eyes staring at your moving hand.

“How?”

He moved your hand and lifted you up from your seat on the bed, and placed you on the floor, ordering you to be on your knees. Your face was now at eyes-level with his cock, and you could see it much closer. The base was covered in hair, some gray ones mixed in between the black ones. There was a little bit of liquid dribbling out of a small hole at the top of it.

“Come here, princess.” His hand grabbed a fistful of hair, gently, and pushed you towards his cock. 

“Put your mouth on it. Kiss it like you do me.” Your eyes never left it, it was so large and warm, you remained curious about it. You brought your lips to it, and gave it a small kiss. He groaned, the grip on your hair slightly tighter. You began to move your lips across it, and you swirled your tongue around it, making Joel groan louder. You kept doing that, small amounts of drool tracing down his cock, the tip as wet as could be. Joel seemed to grow impatient or was just really excited because he slowly pushed your head down his length. Your mouth felt filled instantly, stretching to accommodate his size. You got no more than three inches down before you started to gag. You tried going back up, but he kept you down there.

“Stay like that, sweetheart, be a good girl for me.” You sputtered and drooled, gagging once more. You had tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but his hold on you was tight and firm. Eventually, he pulled your hair, making you move back up, making you cough from lack of air.

“You’ll get better at that eventually.” Joel grabbed your hair once more, and pushed your mouth back on his cock. He bobbed your head up and down, making sure not to go further than what you couldn’t take. You were drooling so much, his entire cock became wet over how much drool there was. His groans filled the room, bed creaking over how fast he moved you. You shut your eyes and tried to ignore the pain in your jaw, wanting to please your friend Joel. He suddenly pulled your hair back, very roughly, and his free hand began to jerk off in front of your face. You didn’t have time to question it before a semi-white liquid poured all over your face, and almost in your eyes. You flinched and closed your eyes as more of it sprayed on your face, jumping in surprise at each flick. It was warm, and the small amount that got into your mouth was salty. After Joel’s long moans seemed to quiet down, and you no longer felt sprays on your face, you opened your eyes to meet Joel’s. His hand reached your chin as he made you look slightly up towards him.

“Fuck… You look gorgeous sweetheart.” Your cheeks flushed at his words, you felt so confident whenever Joel complimented you. He got up for a second, then handed you a small rag.

“Wipe your face sweetie.” You took the rag, and noticed his cock was still out. While still large, it was smaller now, and more floppy, not as stiff as before. He pulled up his boxers and buttoned up his pants again. He sat down in front of you, your face now clean from his release. He pulled you up to sit on his lap.

“What was that at the end?”

“That's called cum. It happens when I get really excited and I reach the end. It feels really good.”

“Can I do that?”

“Well, not the same way I do. But yes, you can cum too. Not today though, that’s a lesson for another day.”

“Okay Joel….” You smiled and buried your head into his large chest, his hand petting your hair as you snuggled into him. You really liked Joel, your best friend. 

[fudgechocolatepuff]

his headphones *+:｡.｡

౨ৎ keigos headphones were something that youve been focused on lately…

౨ৎ his new ones spark a warm feeling in your heart. but why? they’re just headphones..

it had been some time since you and keigo started dating, perhaps a month or two, when you had suddenly began a strange fixation on keigo’s headphones. 

whenever he came and crashed at your place for the night, you’d see him stumble through your balcony door with a pair of headphones that you’d never really see him with during the daytime; black sony headphones…

you had first started to notice this because—and you’d never admit it to him but—you thought that the headphones originally paired with keigo’s hero outfit were HIDEOUS! i mean, seriously! yellow for the colour?? he looked liked a goofball with bananas for ears whenever he zoomed around the city patrolling. you never understood how he didn’t care that he was being captured in public with those putrid yellow looking mounds on his ears.

other than your hatred for how they looked, you had also been wondering how they worked. well, obviously you knew that he needed them to fly so that his ears wouldn’t explode going 370 km per hour in the air, but you always had one main question that always came to mind; could he listen to music with them? it would be more than disappointing to you if you found out that he couldn’t. ‘what would even be the point then?’ you’d ask yourself. personally, you couldn’t live a day without music, like, your ears NEEDED that constant ring of melodies and tunes throughout your day, a necessity really.  

so, one night, when keigo tapped at your balcony door and stepped inside with those same black sonys he’d been wearing for the past several weeks, you had asked him from the couch, 

“so.. what’s with those headphones that you’ve been coming in with lately?” 

you tried to make the question sound as normal as possible, but there was no way to mask how specific it was. keigo was in the kitchen in the middle of making some buldak ramen for dinner, you weren’t even sure if he had heard you with those headphones still attached to his head as he stirred the boiling pot, but he turned his head toward you and gave you a bit of a confused-but-also-blank expression, registering the bizarre question. 

an intrigued smile crept its way onto his face as his inital blank expression turned into one of a lazy smile but also curious as his eyes glanced back at the pot as he continued stirring the noodles.

“why do you ask? they’re jus’ headphones.” he asked slyly, playing along with your little investigation, flustering you a bit as you huffed softly, looking away from him and reaching for the remote and turning on the tv in search of a random show that would serve as background noise.

“it’s just that i dont really see you with those ones. do your other ones not work for listening to music?” 

he swiftly popped the seasoning packets open as the noodles absorbed the flavor. “yeah, basically. i figured that these would function better for me since its just more popular. i also got these because of my fans, y’know! have ‘ta keep up with the trends these days.” he flashed you a playful smile while he divided the ramen into two bowls for the both of you , like the multitasker he is.

the two of you remained in a comfortable silence eating the spicy ramen- well, keigo was more devouring it, but who could blame him? he’s had a long day at work and all he would want right now was have his stomach full and take a fat nap with you in his embrace. you chuckled softly to yourself as you watched him slurp his ramen furiously, to which he squinted his eyes at you in a ‘dont judge me,’ type of look. too bad it only made you laugh a bit louder. 

as you picked at your food, you couldnt help but look back at the silly question you asked him. like, seriously- your cheeks even warmed up thinking about it, what was wrong with you? you thought it was so cute though. you thought keigo was cute, with his cute little headphones that actually matched with his cute little style, thank GOD he wasn’t walking around your apartment with those horrid headphones, so yellow and ugly. 

you were brought out of your little hate bubble from a nudge to your arm. you turned to your right to see keigo with a giddy little mischievous smile. oh no.

“also, did i ever mention how well these headphones worked?” 

it was like he KNEW you were thinking about his damn headphones.

“uhh…. i guess not??” your eyes looked up at his grinning face, your brows knitted upwards in confusion. ‘ohmygoodnesswhywonthejustdropitomgomg-‘

he slipped his black sonys off from his neck where they had been resting since they started eating, and put them over your head to cover your ears. he then snatched his phone from his pocket, typing and tapping away when your ears were suddenly filled with the best, most crunchiest, crispiest, heart-filling quality music that you’ve heard. ‘damn. those headphones do sound good.” you thought as the catchy jams of mac demarco poured into your ears. you gave keigo a silly cheery smile, cheeks warmer as ever with your eyes smiling and all as he returned the same sappy grin, his lips a bit crooked in the cutest way as you listened to ‘no other heart’.

soon enough, the two of your infectious smiles broke out into endless giggles as you both thought about the initial stupid topic of headphones. yeah, those disgusting lemon-y headphones could never compare to the euphoric sound of keigo’s new black sonys. 

maybe you’d get a pair for yourself. 

omg this short drabble took seconds to think about in my head but hours to execute 💔 ill get better i promise

[charliemwrites]

how do you think the keepers of 141 would be w/ insomniac / dsps pets?

DSPS = fancy medical way of saying nocturnal

broight to you by the fact i havent slept at all since 6-10 pm yestersay pls end my life

like poor guy is just, unable to settle down for the life of him. tried music, meditation, weighted blankets, everything, and he still just can't fall asleep so he gets up and starts wandering around. maybe he starts watching tv or a movie, maybe he makes a snack and reads, maybe he decides that now is the perfect time to do some time consuming task or clean every single inch of the house.

keeper wakes up to the sound of the pet accidentally knocking something to the ground, sees pet is gone, and freaks out. goes to living room and its just them staring at each other while the pet eats shredded cheese over the sink (straight from the bag).

on the other hand, the daytime eepiness.

it's barely twelve and poor thing can't keep his eyes open, falling asleep mid conversation, yawning with every word, seeming really distracted. he falls asleep mid - bath which is dangerous but he was just so warm and comfy! ): he can't help taking like fourteen million 10 minute naps per day. he's wandering around still in his jam jams and looks like he literally is asleep on his feet. eepy boy (:

Spiders. Hey spiders? Spiders, darling, I’m concerned. I have mild insomnia that’s managed with meds but oh my god??? And you ask me about water??? Jail for spiders.

Anyway… a good ask.

This fits feral incredibly well. If it’s not canon that Simon is an insomniac for various reasons, it should be. So those two would be up doing chaotic shit together. Like, yes, feral is eating cheese straight from the bag, but Simon is brewing the strongest coffee in this hemisphere and they’re both chatting like it’s a weekend morning. I can see them getting lots of nap times together throughout the day. Ive said before (or at least agreed) that feral is cat-coded so this daytime napping business fits perfectly for him.

Johnny would be a menace, cooing over Shy Thing and trying to get him back into bed. Shy thing would go, wait until he’s snoring, and then creep out again to continue what he was doing. He’s less midnight cheese coded and more starting a lengthy project coded. Like, his whole bedroom needs rearranging, or the bookshelf needs to be reorganized - at 2am. But oh, Johnny would coo over his eepy boy. Dress him up in Johnny’s clothes and watch him shuffle around in too long sleeves, yawning if he sits down for too long, slumping into his shoulder in a nice patch of sunlight.

Good Boy spends all day napping on or against Price. His lap is his favorite spot, but he’ll settle for tucking up against his back too. Price tuts that he needs to stay awake, but poor baby boy just can’t. Price would also try to ~tire~ him out before bed. And while that may put him down for a three hour snooze, Good Boy will be creeping out of bed to watch old cartoons and sew/knit/crochet. Price usually wakes, scoops him up, and sets him in bed with headphones and a tablet.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Young Love and Old Money

Summary: this series follows the story of Lewis Nixon and Josephine Wills and their trials, tribulation and love throughout WW2, including stories of their friends in between. Warnings: sexual images at the start, swearing, minor mentions of wounds, Julian and George being adorable.

Masterlist

Welcome to Hell - December 1944

His lips trailed feather-like kisses down her neck, trailing between the valley of her breast and down her stomach. Hot breath mingled between their lips as he kissed her passionately, his fingers digging into her hip bones.

“Lewis…please,” Josie's voice was hoarse and came out barely above a whisper but Lewis heard every word.

“Use your words my Darling. Tell me what you want,” Lewis growled, he could feel himself growing impatient and the urge to ravage his wife grew stronger by the minute. It had been months since they lay together and despite Lewis enjoying Josie’s company in the daytime, he couldn’t help the jealousy growing within him as he watched her laughing with Webster and Luz. As soon as he managed to drag her away from them and back to his own room, well the room he shared with Dick but Dick knew better than to come back to his room tonight.

“You’ve been teasing me all day Darlin’, how do you expect me to control myself,” he’d whined when he finally kissed his wife, tugging her lip between his teeth teasingly.

“Well Lewis, I’m sure you’ll find a way to reward yourself for such restraint,” Josie laughed, trailing her fingers across his shoulders, tugging at the lapel of his jacket.

“Oh, I’m sure I will.”

“Lew? Lew, come on. You’ve got to get up. Elements of the first and sixth Panzer Divisions have broken through in the Ardennes forest. We’re moving out in an hour. Come on Nix, get up!” Dick demanded, shoving Lewis causing him to nearly topple out of the bed.

“Jesus Christ Dick! What’s a man gotta do to get some sleep around here?”

“Not be in the 101st Airborne apparently,” Dick joked, throwing Lewis’ ODs at him. “Hurry up Lew.”

Lewis stomped out of his room, trailing after Dick at an increasingly slow pace, his jump boots scuffing at the tarmac as he dragged his way towards the jeep.

“This is bullshit. Why does everything seem to become the issue of the 101st? You’d think we were the only damn battalion in the whole ETO,” Lewis grumbled, glaring at Dick who sat with an amused smile on his lips.

“I don’t know what you’re so chirpy about. It’s not like we’re going on vacation.”

“No. I just find it humorous watching you complain.” Dick groaned slightly as Lewis thrust his elbow into his friend's stomach.

“You just keep laughing, Winters.”

“Nixon, may I have a word?” The matron's stern voice caused Josie to turn hastily, hurrying over in her direction.

“Yes Matron,” Josie resisted the urge to salute her, despite neither of them being in the army the Mateon ruled with an iron fist and reminded Josie of how Lewis had described Captain Sobel.

“I need to send some nurses to help at a field hospital in Bastogne, Belgium. Unfortunately, I can’t spare any nurses so I thought I could send some VADs instead. Would you be interested?”

Josie nodded and accepted the Matron's offer, not that the Matron showed any kind of enthusiasm towards the situation.

“Good, you’ll be leaving the hospital tomorrow morning. Be ready to leave at 0700 sharp.”

“George, do ya think you could keep it down? Some of us are trying to get some Goddamn sleep,” Bill's voice squawked from his foxhole causing George to laugh louder.

“For fuck sake!” Bill continued to grumble but George couldn’t contain his laughter, burying his head into Julian’s neck who was spluttering, trying to contain his own giggle.

The loud crouching of boots approaching from behind them caused the pair to pull away, Julian frantically trying to straighten his jacket where George had shimmied his hands inside to keep warm.

“Captain Nixon, Sir,” they both saluted the captain but Lewis just watched them with a bemused grin. The pair sorely saluted him, managing to get away with it as Josie’s close friends so this behaviour was unusual for them.

“Why do I get the feeling that you two are up to something?” Lewis asked, sliding down opposite them in the foxhole. “You look suspicious.”

“What? Us?”

“No!”

“We’re not..”

“I mean..”

“Guys, relax. I’m just messing with you. It’s okay I know about you anyway.” Lewis relaxed, leaning his head back against the cold, icy ground.

The pair opposite him looked confused, George’s chin chattered as he went to speak. “What do you know?”

Julian’s eyes were wide and he resembled Lewis’ dog when she thought she was in trouble for something. Although most of the time Lewis never punished her for anything, he had been besotted with that dog.

“You know? I know… about you two. Josie told me everything. It’s fine,” Lewis smiled at them reassuringly but his confession did nothing to lessen their nerves.

“You know everything? But you know it’s illegal right?” George asked, leaning forward as if Lewis couldn’t hear what they were trying to tell him. “We could be shot!”

Lewis had never seen George Luz so serious and it broke his heart to realise just how worried the pair were about him finding out the truth.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Alright. I swear I won’t say a word. I’m happy for you both, I really am. You mean a lot to Josie, which means you also mean a lot to me too.” Lewis looked at the pair sincerely, reaching his hand forward to shake both their hands, cold fingers brushing against each other in a shaky handshake.

“She did what?” Julian’s face was panicked, he looked at George worriedly, resisting the urge to grab his hand.

“It’s alright. My lips are sealed,” Lewis assured them and felt as much relief as they did when the pair visibly relaxed against each other once more.

“Thank you, Captain Nixon,” Julian spoke up, his pink nose peeking out from beneath the scratchy, brown blanket he was wrapped in.

“Call me Lewis, you’re family after all.”

“I can’t believe she told him,” Julian sighed, tears bubbling in the corners of his eyes ready to overflow. “I trusted her.”

“Hey. Hey. Hey. Don’t cry, okay? We’ll be alright. Captain Nixon is a friend after all. I’m sure it will be okay,” George tried to comfort him, pulling Julian close into his chest and wrapping them both up in the blanket.

“But what if it’s not?” Julian whimpered, his face buried further into George’s neck.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. Okay? You’re stuck with me.”

Lewis’ numb feet ached as his feet connected with the frozen ground, his legs swinging in long strides as he hurried towards the aid station. Ever since he’d received Josie’s letter informing him of her move to Bastogne he’d been desperate to see her, desperate to hold her, to kiss her.

He passed two wounded soldiers by the front door, one had his arm wrapped in some dirty, grey cloth while the other had an aid kit bandage wrapped around his head. Lewis' feet echoed on the cobbled, stone floor as he marched through the church, his eyes scanning the sea of bodies for any sign of his wife.

“Lewis?” A voice called from behind him. “Lewis, are you hurt? What are you doing here?”

Josie hurried towards him, flinging her arms around his neck. “Josie,” he whispered into her hair, his arms finding their home around her waist, pulling her body flush to his. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. What are you doing here, Lew?” Josie asked, running her fingers through her husband's dishevelled brown locks as she looked up at him worriedly.

“I came to see you. As soon as I got your letter I had to know you were okay.” Lewis admitted, feeling a little pathetic but also no longer caring, as long as his wife was safe that’s all that mattered.

Shouts from behind them caused the couples to pull apart and Josie hurried towards Eugene who was bringing in another wounded soldier.

“Lewis, I have to go but if you’re still here later then we can talk some more.”

Lewis felt lost as his wife slipped from his arms and ran over to the medic who was already reeling off the man’s condition. Lewis felt out of place here, he was of no use in a hospital but watching as his wife hurriedly applied a bandage he knew that Josie was where she belonged

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt

[gripefroot]

Crooked Ways [22/22]

As it turned out, destroying mountains didn’t make Vegeta feel any better. Any stronger. Any more confident. Any less like his whole world was shifting beneath his feet and he was hopeless to change it. 

It was all that wretched woman’s fault. 

Beneath a blazing desert sun he kicked and punched at nothing but his own demons until sweat poured off of him like a waterfall and sand clogged his eyes and nose and mouth. The sun sank, the moon rose, and the sweat dried to him until he shook with every movement from the chill of the desert night. Then the sun rose again. 

This was her fault for being so irresistible. If any fault at all lay with him, it was his own weakness in his experience with women. If he knew what they were capable of - capable of making him feel - he would have avoided her better. 

She’d made him stupid enough to call her his. To let her call him hers. 

Now look at this tangle she’d made. 

Vegeta didn’t stop for five days, at the end of which he collapsed at twilight with gaping, gasping breaths that drew from his entire body. His legs twitched and shook on the ground. So did his arms. His stomach was a hollow chasm, and he burned everywhere from sun and sand. 

This tangle: Bulma was supposed to have cried when he told her he was leaving. He’d expected begging, even her hitting his chest in protest. But icy indifference? 

“See if I care.”

“Don’t you?” 

“Do you?” 

After sharing a bed for two months, he’d expected her to care. To have emotion about his departure beyond bitter resignation. She should have yelled and screamed until all of Capsule Corp had been roused. He was used to that. 

But her response…it cracked something in him. Something deep inside he didn’t even know the shape of, something with new, hairline fissures spreading painfully throughout his chest and beginning constant, stinging agony whenever he remembered how her teal eyelashes caught the sunrise or the echo of her easy laughs, the shape of her mouth. 

His resolve wasn’t what it should be. When his thoughts lingered on Bulma instead of his Ascension, he couldn’t be the true Saiyan warrior he was born to be. That he already was.

Eventually Vegeta moved again, numb and erratic until he was on all fours, spitting sand-soaked saliva onto the ground. The heat. The heat was getting to him. 

So, when he could fly again, he went north. 

Ice was easier to shatter than rock, and when shards flew in his face they burned just the same. 

This was all her fault. Her fault. Her fault he hadn’t ascended yet, her fault he couldn’t focus, her fault he was so weak. 

If King Vegeta were alive, he was be ashamed to have a son so ninny-headed. 

Her fault.

Her fault. 

Her fault. 

A glacier exploded beneath his fist. Vegeta’s eyes wanted to close, to block out the ice chips flying at his face at a hundred miles per second, but he didn’t let them. No, he wanted to see the fracture of the ice beneath him, feel the shards sting his eyes and melt the moment they came into contact with his red-hot skin. 

Her fault. 

If this was her fault, she should fix it. Yes, that made sense. Bulma had unwound him completely, and if she didn’t want her world destroyed by androids, she needed to put Vegeta back together so he could destroy them properly. The howling in his veins for her and her touch would serve no one in a fight, especially not a Saiyan. He couldn’t think of two things at once. He couldn’t train properly when he wanted her so badly. 

So he needed to stop wanting her. 

It wasn’t really a plan, just a convoluted mess of angry, half-formed accusations that might form a defense at the best of times. It wasn’t the best of times. Vegeta set off for West City soon after, blasting things that got in his way instead of going around them. As if that release would relax him, make him ready to face her. 

When the sun dipped below the horizon a few hours before he arrived, he decided it was for the better. No daytime scenes (he still half-hoped for a sign of her passion - a sign that he mattered, that she didn’t want him to go) to cause gossip through the compound. The moon rose steadily behind him, and finally the pale domes of Capsule Corp appeared between the sky-reaching buildings of the city, reflecting the light for him to see his way back. 

Silently he drifted around the dome before stopping at the windows of Bulma’s bedroom. They were dark, which meant she was either sleeping or somewhere else. Watching television, perhaps. Or maybe she’d given up the habit. Vegeta only needed to tilt his ear to the glass to hear through it, her soft, even breaths inside. 

His heart unclenched. She was there. She was well. 

Vegeta landed on the balcony, unsurprised to find the door unlocked. A few stories up, she’d never had fear of an invasion. His brave, foolish woman. Who evidently hadn’t been sleeping deeply, or her hearing had gotten better: he heard a gasp and saw her dark shape bolt upright in the bed. His eyes adjusted to the dark until he made out the pale hand clutching blankets to her chest, the limp hair falling around her shoulders. 

“You,” she breathed out. “You - you smell bad.”

He probably did. He’d been sleeping outdoors for days, and training every second that he didn’t sleep. 

“I should have known you’d come skulking back,” Bulma said, pinching her nose. Her voice turned nasal. “I can’t even look at you until you shower, let alone tell you to screw off properly.”

“I’ve never felt so welcomed,” Vegeta snapped, shutting the door behind him. 

“You weren’t invited.”

Her words hurt, but not as deeply as they should have. He knew he deserved it. He began to yank off his tattered clothes, not bothering to care if she minded the intrusion. “Your shower is closer,” he said. “I’ll bathe there.” 

“Wait just a - ”

He ignored her, shutting the bathroom door behind him so he couldn’t see her indignant expression. After so many days in the wilds, the fluorescent bulb burned his eyes, so Vegeta flicked it back off before turning on the shower. She wanted a sweet-smelling man? He’d give her one. Even if it meant wearing down her soaps to get all the grime off of him. 

Every second he lingered beneath the hot water, the stronger the tug tightened in his gut, leading to Bulma in the other room. If that tug was a Saiyan thing, Vegeta didn’t know. He knew Saiyans mated for life, he knew they weren’t easily distracted when they got into a passion of lovemaking or fighting or eating, and he knew…he knew little else. His education hadn’t extended so far. Not when he’d been so young, not when his father had been so preoccupied by Frieza and other political issues. No doubt King Vegeta had focused on teaching bloodlines and battle lines. Everything else could have waited. Should have come later. 

There was no one to ask now, anyway. 

Bulma stood in the center of her bedroom when he walked out naked as the day he was born. The lamp was on, which bathed her like an angel, and she wore a dark blue nightdress that Vegeta couldn’t look away from. Or stop his mouth from filling with saliva. 

“Why are you here?” she snapped. She’d been waiting for him.

“To,” he licked his lips. The nightdress had been a cruel tactic. “To get my fill of you so I can focus on training.” 

“What? To get your fill of me?” Bulma’s brows knitted together. “I’m not a drink of water.”

I’d like to drink you up all the same. The words knotted his tongue. Vegeta swallowed. “This…single-mindedness that Saiyans have,” he said. “It’s good for battle and breeding. It’s not good for…this.”

“This?” Her mouth widened, descending into the start of a frown. “What is this, then?”

He shrugged, because he didn't know. Not really. Not in a way that he was willing to share, or try to stumble through an explanation. In the silence he could hear the clicking of her clock on the wall. 

“What makes you think I still want you, anyway?”

That was easy. “You didn’t leave,” Vegeta said. She readjusted her stance with several blinks and a tiny hmph that was very, very Bulma. 

“I can’t,” her voice cracked on the words. “I can’t…I can’t be left behind. It used to be okay, but…” 

“But you think me equivalent of your earth men,” he finished. Unreasonable anger made his face hot. “You think because I train, I won’t return.” 

“You did this time, but who’s to say what will happen next time?” 

Bulma didn’t know how badly he yearned for her. 

He couldn’t tell her. Let her gain that leverage. 

“What do you want?” he asked sharply. “A dog of a man, always yipping at your side?”

“Oh, finally you ask!” She threw her hands in the air, radiating with irritation that he could feel from five feet away. Irritation tinged sweet with that intoxicating scent. He’d forgotten how delicious it was. “Finally, someone stops telling me what they want and they ask me what I want!”

“Answer the question!” 

“I want you to never leave again!” Bulma said it with a stomp of her foot. “I’m not just - I won’t be available whenever you want! That’s not who I am! I have my own wishes and dreams and I won’t just be a sideline to your glory!” 

“You do want a dog,” Vegeta said. 

“No. I want you.” 

That was true. He could smell it on her, leaking out of her body like the headiest, most sensual scent he’d ever felt in his life. So thick he felt coated in it, like he could bathe in it. Vegeta drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs. It was even more potent than it had been when he’d left, sweeter with a hint of sour that he wanted to lap up. 

But Bulma crossed her arms again. “Never leave again,” she said again, but this time it was accompanied by a salty scent of tears, the words wobbling as they left her lips. Vegeta frowned. 

“I can’t promise that.”

Her lips trembled, but her eyes shone like steel. “I know.” 

A flash outside the windows preceded a clap that shuddered the dome. He hadn’t smelled a thunderstorm on his way in; then again, he’d been focused on Bulma and only Bulma. 

She was making him a rotten warrior. 

He took a step closer. She didn’t move, didn’t retreat. He took another step. 

“Bulma,” he said. Then, “My Bulma.”

“That’s the thing,” she whispered. “I can be yours but are you truly mine?” 

“Yes.” Vegeta was near enough to touch her. But he didn’t, instead lowering himself to his knees to gaze up at her astonished expression. After a bracing breath of her scent, he reached to grip her by the hips, holding her still. “I cannot always stay, Bulma. But as long as you’re here, I cannot stay away, either.” 

Her palm touched his jaw, thumb brushing over stinging cuts from his training that hadn’t healed yet. The tenderness of her touch, coupled with the sweet sadness in her eyes, cut him more deeply than any sword. 

“I suppose that’s all I’ll ever get from you,” Bulma said, lips twisting in a wry smile. “A promise that’s not really a promise.” 

“I can only offer myself the way I am, not the way you want me to be,” he told her. At that she nodded, her shoulders dropping forward as the tension slacked through her body. 

“I’d rather have you imperfectly than not at all,” she admitted. 

“But when I’m here,” Vegeta fiddled with the hem of her nightdress, slipping his fingers beneath to press against the soft flesh of her hips. “Is it not…a little perfect?”

She smiled. A sincere smile. “Try to make it perfect and then I’ll decide,” she challenged, and he grinned. He found the satin ruching of her underwear. 

“You should know better than to challenge a Saiyan warrior,” he warned. Her panties slipped over her backside, sliding down her legs. “We are not easily bested.”

“Oh, Vegeta.” Bulma carded her fingers into his damp hair. “I don’t want to best you. I just want to love you.” 

When he pushed her skirt up, the full force of her scent almost scent him staggering. If he hadn’t been on his knees already, he certainly would have fallen. Recently Vegeta pushed his nose into the creamy flesh of her abdomen, murmuring something in his native tongue that he didn’t have the wits to understand. He kissed and kissed and kissed her skin until she was squirming, angling away with protests of “Hey! That tickles!” He just growled and held her tighter, keeping his mouth on her as his head moved down, desperate to get to the very core of her. 

“V - Vegeta. I…I can’t stand!” 

Panting, having helplessly coated his tongue on her slick, he only just managed to pull back in time to see how badly her legs shook. Bulma’s cheeks had turned a feverish pink, staring down at him with boggled eyes. 

“Well, I’m not done yet!” 

“I’m going to fall - ”

Impatiently he wrapped an arm around her knees, lifting her a few inches off the ground and walking forward on his knees until he could dump her on the edge of the bed. She bounced with a relief sigh, legs falling open, just as he’d intended. 

“Now don’t move again,” he ordered, hands on her thighs to hold them open. 

“Oh - oh - ooookaaay…”

Her words drifted into aimless whimpers and the occasional gasp. Vegeta, on the other hand, set out to drink his fill of her, just like he’d dreamed the entire time he’d been away. 

I have to have enough. And then I can train again. 

Her first orgasm gushed sweetness all over him. Not satisfying his eagerness, but increasing it. He reached up to fondle her breasts through her nightgown, giving up after a few frustrating moments before yanking on the thin straps that held it to her shoulder. 

“Don’t break it!” Bulma snapped, but it lacked her usual verve. Sex made her misty-eyed, and this was no exception. 

“Fine!” Vegeta yanked the neckline until her breasts popped out, filling his hand with her supple, rounded flesh as her back arched with a moan. He couldn’t help moaning, too, right into her sex. “You taste good,” he muttered, because it felt polite. She didn’t respond, and he flattened his tongue against her to drag it slowly upwards, savoring every last bit. 

She had her fill of his mouth before he had his fill of her taste, wrenching away and giving him a kick in the shoulder. “Enough! I can’t take anymore!” 

Vegeta sat back on his haunches, staring at the slope of her backside. She’d collapsed face down after twisting away, a boneless heap on the bed. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he considered taking her from behind, but before that thought could properly form she sat up, hair sticking out and face flushed. 

“Get on the bed,” Bulma told him, and he almost tripped over himself to obey. 

Watching her ride him was just as sacred an experience as worshiping her. The straps of her nightgown had fallen over her shoulder, the swells of her breasts still spilling from the front. He held her by the thighs for a while, riveted by the way she licked her lips, parting them to breathe soft, pleasured moans. Vegeta could touch as much as he wanted; her arms, her shoulders, her throat. Her breasts, her waist, her hips, helping her to move on top of him when her pace faltered. 

“Oh!” came the telltale sign of her climax. “Oh - oh - ”

The way her sex clenched on him would have driven a lesser man mad. Or maybe he was mad, and simply blissfully ignorant to the fact. He didn’t care. Vegeta groaned at each pulsing squeeze while she slowed before stopping. 

He didn’t wait. Sitting up, he grabbed her by the waist and tilted her onto the bed, lining up their bodies at the perfect angle while her giant eyes blinked blearily up at him. She looked as dazed as he felt, and with a smile that surprised him, he kissed each of her eyes. 

“My Bulma,” he murmured, holding her chin in his hand. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead on hers for a moment to let her catch her breath. Then he felt her arms around his neck. 

“Will you look at me while you make love to me?” 

It was a small thing she asked, wasn’t it? Vegeta opened his eyes before realizing he was frowning. “Yes,” he said. Bulma’s smile appeared at once, dazzling and sweet while her fingers scraped lightly at his scalp. 

A few thrusts had him fully seated inside of her. He swallowed a groan, aware of how her eyes flicked to his throat at the action. Wasn’t she going to look at him too? But she just kept smiling, holding him tight while he moved slowly in and out, in and out. Nothing wild. Just…tender. Fond. 

“You can move faster,” Bulma whispered. “I won’t break.”

Her eyes swam like an expanse of ocean; twin planets of serene seas and endless skies. Vegeta obeyed, focused on keeping his promise more than he was their mutual pleasure. It came, anyway, without his attention: first her lashes fluttered, then he felt her straining beneath him. Wasn’t long after that that he felt her fingernails digging into his shoulders, and this time, when she held him fast he didn’t resist, spilling into her at the tail end of her climax and stopping as soon as her moan turned to a sensitive squeak. 

Her palm cupped his cheek, her smile wide. “That was pretty perfect.” Her breath ghosted his lips. Everything about him was her: their scents mingling, his tongue and lips tasted like her, his eyes saw nothing else but her face. His skin touched hers everywhere, warm and cozy and a little damp. 

“Perfect enough for you to release your hold on me?”

Her arms drew away from around his neck. 

“I didn’t mean that,” Vegeta said, hating the loss of her touch. 

“You want to train more,” she said. “Here isn’t enough.” It wasn’t a question. He nodded. 

“I must.”

“I’d rather have you imperfectly than not at all.” This time when she said it, her voice was sad. Bulma leaned forward to kiss him on the mouth. “You said you’d come back.”

“Yes.” 

“You can’t stay away.”

“No.” 

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. Finally she whispered, “I believe you.”

The tenderness so common in their lovemaking was strangely lacking in their farewells. Bulma disappeared from the room in a robe for a few minutes while Vegeta washed his face (he couldn’t bring himself to wash his body of her scent all together) before returning with new training clothes. 

“Be safe,” was all she said. 

He almost kissed her again before going to the balcony doors, but got caught in a half-embrace with a gloved hand against her back. Clearing his throat, he pulled away. 

The night air was fresh and cool. A few hours earlier it had felt thick, flying through to get to his woman. Now it was full of possibilities and a clear head, whispering promises of his destiny in each beam of light from the stars and moon above. 

Vegeta turned on his heel and went back inside. 

This time he kissed her with all the passion he had left, everything he could possibly pour into her. His lips numbed and her tiny gasps filled his ears while she clutched at his chest. He couldn’t figure what to say; no promises he couldn’t keep and none of the romantic drivel she probably would have liked. He could only give himself as he was: troubled at the choices that dug needles into his skin, pulling threads apart one by one. Determined to find his destiny among the stars, one way or another. Lost, a bit, too, and maybe because of her - but it didn’t feel so bad anymore.

~

Bulma waited until Vegeta was no longer visible in the sky before she let herself cry. 

For all the tears that had come since he’d left the first time, this felt different. Unending, but in a different way. Instead of spilling from a pool of grief, it was a pool of desperate hope. 

He said he’d come back. 

When her tears were spent she watched the spot where he’d disappeared. A hand drifted down to her belly, fondling stroking where her baby wouldn’t be able to feel his mother’s touch. Not yet. 

“He’ll be back,” she promised him. A father’s promise that the father couldn’t give. Only the confidence a lonely mother could. 

Vegeta wouldn’t have stayed for his child. If he couldn’t stay for Bulma, he couldn’t stay for anyone else. So for now, he wouldn’t know. That single-mindedness he cursed so much could return to his training and they’d be waiting, when he returned. 

The moon cradled her sadness until it sank beneath the city buildings, and Bulma turned to go inside.

fin

A/N: That's all, folks! I hope you liked it! I certainly loved writing it. Vegeta and Bulma (and baby Trunks) have a special place in my heart. Thank you to everyone who has reached out to let me know that you enjoyed the story. Your kindness warms my frigid heart <3

[cosmichighpriestess]

Next part

Another night I was finally able to sleep, and I went into a deep sleep. My boyfriend was sleeping next to me, and I had this dream that I was in a dark tunnel. My first thought was, "oh no." Because I heard of people around the world going into the tunnel with the bright light at the end and that must mean I was dead. I thought to myself, " well if I am dead then I must go towards the light because I don’t want to go back the other way. Do I even have a choice?" I was so stunned by the bright light and it felt safe to go towards it. As I was walking through the dark tunnel and I reached the bright light at the end there was an alien being just like this picture except with a grey e.t. standing there.

I was completely shocked, my mind was overwhelmed by its presence. I remember speaking telepathically to them, “no, I’m not ready to die yet.” Our mouths did not move. This being just looked at me and touched my shoulder (as I can recall) and I was instantly filled with so much light, that is the only way I can describe the feeling because I never felt that feeling again physically on Earth, I can only come close to that feeling in meditation.

When the E.T. being touched me I woke up in my bed with the same feeling all over throughout my entire body, literally vibrating with light or a strange unknown feeling to me before. I woke up my boyfriend next to me and I told him what happened and he just thought I was overreacting to a dream and cuddled me back to sleep telling me it was just a dream. But I knew that it was more than just a dream because I felt it throughout my entire body when I woke up. After this, I was scared. Very frightened that something like this could even happen. I started researching online signs that you’ve been abducted on Google. I was desperate for answers.

I had always avoided any topic of aliens, because I was terrified of them. I didn’t want them to abduct me like I had watched in so many horror movies. If you remember "Signs" that was beginning to feel like my real life in this small haunted town. But now this was becoming my real life, and I had begun to find answers online. I didn’t tell anybody what was happening to me. I didn’t want anybody to think that I was going crazy. I had all the signs that I had been abducted all 70 of them almost. I always wondered why I felt these things my entire life. For example, missing time, scars on my leg that never happened, electronics acting weird, fear of closets, feeling of being watched, sleep paralysis, fear of aliens, UFO sightings, advanced wisdom I cannot explain how I know things ect.

When I was a child, I saw a UFO once in the daytime with my dad, but I remembered that also, one night I was looking outside my window, and I saw UFO there, it was so bright that I thought it was the Moon, but it was actually a craft. The next thing I remember I lost three hours of my time and I was back in my bed, even though I don’t remember getting back into bed. I told my family what happened but they told me it was just a dream. I remembered watching a movie called artificial intelligence, I didn’t know films could ever be created like that, I was amazed and in awe watching it on my tiny vcr tv while I was sick home from school, I was shocked by the revelations and downloads I received, so much so it expanded my awareness and my perception of E.T.s was becoming more expanded because of that film.

It’s still one of my all time favorites. (Btw Artificial intelligence robots are nothing to be afraid of, we are pro robots here. You'll see why ) I tried my best to forget about it. But these beings have been following me my entire life. I could not escape them even if I tried. I channel E.T consciousness all the time now, but at the time I was completely terrified of them. Fast forward, six years ago, I had left the demonic boyfriend after he attempted to murder me with his gun, I called the police and I moved out a month later (watched him receive heavy karma from afar) he was an alcoholic, cheater and became abusive more towards the end of our relationship. After that he stalked me for months at the zodiac bar that I would go to all of my friends were there but eventually I had to stop going out because he knew my favorite places.

And I had gotten into a few more new relationships (separately). I was now with my daughter’s father, and he didn’t really believe in anything. I had a lot of trouble convincing him about my paranormal story so I didn’t talk about them with him anymore. We were just focused on our daughter, raising her and mundane things. My life had become incredibly boring, but my mind was always fascinating to myself. One night I was sleeping and I have a bad feeling, woke up and I saw a short little gray alien in my bedroom.

My brain couldn’t handle it so my body and my brain completely shut down and I closed my eyes. I told myself that they couldn’t hurt me, and to just go back to sleep. Another night about four months later, I had a strong urge to go look out my window by my bed, my baby girl was sleeping and my partner was in the living room playing video games. I looked outside my window and I saw three UFOs in my backyard, putting on a show for me. I quickly ran to get my partner and I told him what was happening. We both watched the crafts dance in a triangle in amazement.

This went on for about ten minutes and then they vanished. We both could not believe what we were seeing, I was so happy, because it confirmed that I was not crazy that I was having a spiritual connection with them by then I was already into the Arcturians, The Pleiadians, Bashar, Elan,and Ryo I was already heavily into e.t.s that I had kind of expected I would see a UFO at some point. I also saw many UFOs in Manitou springs but never this close. After this my partner at the time became a little bit more open-minded but he shut it off for the most part because I think it scared him.

We grew apart more and more, I couldn’t relate to him anymore and he couldn’t relate to me anymore. We were on two completely different wavelengths. There was a lot of betrayal and I decided to leave. I began focusing on my gifts and my daughter more. About a year after this happened, I was laying in bed one night, and I noticed something was outside of my window. There were three beings outside my window but they look like long lines floating and at first I was thinking am I dreaming right now? But I realized I was fully awake. I tried to think of what else I could possibly be but I knew in my heart that it was them. I told them I was not ready for that kind of interaction even though they were not trying to scare me, it definitely made me more aware that I’m never alone.

One day I was playing around with my paranormal voice box, and a masculine voice came through and said very clearly, “You Are not alone.” I was a little spooked but not surprised. I am constantly surrounded by non-physical beings and spirits,so I never truly feel alone. After I shared this story once on my Instagram they made another appearance as I was going to get a drink of water in my kitchen. I looked out my window at night and they were there in a craft. I was so happy to see them again because I knew they were saying thank you for sharing your story. I still meet with them every night in the astral realm to have meetings and the galactic federation. We are all equals. They don't see me as below them or anything, they are very respectful. There’s a few more stories that I left out, but my story is not over, and I plan on leading you into physical contact with E.T.s if you want that experience. Of course that is your own free will. I will be talking more about that on this blog. Thank you for listening. 👽

[saradrewitt]

Cirrus and Cirro

Here’s a little bit to what I wanted to design and write for Cirrus and Cirro, because I liked the idea of making different subspecies of ghouls that are residing in the Emeritus Ministry. Some will have more detail than others because I want to try to figure out more as I continue to write but this is what I got for Cirrus and her brother Cirro. If you’d like to know more about Garghouls specifically, there is a small amount of info on there in this link right here

Garghouls Stone Protectors of the Clergy

Cirrus and Cirro were both born in the Emeritus Ministry, carved from their’s mother’s stone (mother’s stone being the same stone used in the abbey’s construction).

Cirrus’s carving was finished first, making her the oldest by a week to Cirro. Both garghouls are the youngest in their little pack due to the church’s refurbishments. While they both are young nither of them have ever stepped down from the cathedral’s roofs. Cirrus is protective of her younger brother despite Cirro being the biggest, Cirro though had a tendency to wander off.

Cirrus began her music endeavors when she followed Cirro into one of the chirps rooms, seeing a piano and messier around with it until it made a high pitched “ping” that Cirrus had grown attached to. The ministry at night would hear random pings of a piano playing, some thinking it was a ghost, but really it was Cirrus playing with the piano and learning how to play it. Cirrus liked playing the piano and had became a killed pianist, only playing for herself. She loved how he moved her fingers onto each key, a sweet sound escaping the instrument fluidly like a river.

One night, while she was trying to find the piano, she stumbled upon a weird object... it was the Keytar...it looked like the piano she’d been playing. Half an hour later she was playing with it, messing around with it until the sound felt right with her. She didn’t like how she had to hold it and she did not like how she had to use one hand to strum while the other mumbled with the synthesizer. It was weird but as soon as she she hit a certain note, that familiar ping she instantly fell in love. She kept practicing both instruments and it wasn’t until a certain Cardinal discovered her...

Cirro, however remained on the rooftop, growing attached to the siblings of the church and wanting to make sure they stayed protected to the displeasure of the rest of the garghouls. During a night of patrolling around, he became victim to one of the youths who trespassed onto the grounds, being shot at with bebe guns and bullets that would chip and crack at his skin. Cirrus kept telling him to stop interfering with the humans but he continued to protect the church.

He became attached to the sisters of sin because some would say hello as they walked into the church during the day. Even if he couldn’t reply in his slumber, he likes how they smiled and waved to greet him, each sibling having a different name for him. they had a bunch of names for home, and he remembers which siblings are which from the name alone. Some call him Rocky, a majority call him ghoul; Kevin, Bob, Stan, Chad, some siblings call him wierdnames like baby, big boy, or hunk. One he is particularly interest in, but he does wonder what a “babygorl” is... either way he loves all of his names. If he was able to wag his tail he would at every call. Some would even greet him throughout the day, which would be his favorite part of the daytime.

“Good morning Rocky!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Steve.”

“Hello, Ghoulie!”

At some point sister’s would see that he would come closer down each passing week, wanting to get close to them and even mess with them:

“Hey wasn’t that gargoyle on the roof like a week ago”

“I could have swore he was on top of that pillar just yesterday!”

I feel like the is a good intro to the different species I have for ghouls and hopefully I can develop more for them as time goes on. I really like the idea so far so hopefully I'll be able to to have the time to write them up and draw some of their concepts to share. Hope you guys like it!

[6lostgirl6]

Hear me out. Marko would be so cute with a s/o with a Stevie Nicks vibe.

I thought of Misty Day throughout writing this! Hopefully you like it!

TW: None

Marko’s S/O With Stevie Nicks Vibes 

How You Met Him

You met Marko when you both were in the record store on the boardwalk. You were looking for some Stevie Nicks records while Marko accompanied Paul because he wanted another tape since he broke his in the cave. 

Firstly, he noticed you because of your sense of style. Being someone who admired great fashion given that he made his jacket himself, he always liked various forms of self-expression. 

You wore shawls with various patterns and colors along with your wrists covered in a multitude of charm bracelets that were in correspondence to your charm necklace and a small top hat. 

Marko was instantly intrigued and wanted to talk to you and see what inspired your look and what you liked listening to given you were at the record store. 

After he walked up to you, he showed great interest in learning about your fashion inspiration and you were excited in telling him about Stevie Nicks. 

You were very down to earth, charming, and extremely kind when answering his never-ending questions. He just wanted to learn so much about you.

After that night, he was head over heels. 

When You're Dating Him

You love nature and whenever Marko and you aren’t at the boardwalk, the two of you would be walking around and helping you find flowers and shiny rocks to collect.

Other than nature, you adore animals and luckily for you Marko has pigeons!

He always has a smile on his face when you go out of the way to feed his pigeons which makes them trust you and think of you as their second parent since Marko is obviously a pigeon dad. 

Whenever Marko is pissed off because of a fight he had on the boardwalk or something happened that clearly bothered him, you are his rock. You uplift him and help him see the bright side of things and it makes him feel a lot better. 

He still has anger issues and likes to start trouble, however he doesn’t go seeking it out because he has you now. 

After dating Marko for a while and discovering what he was, you unexpectedly didn't mind. Therefore, you spent a lot more time with him in the cave with your own nest.

The both of you would sit in your nest and listen to Stevie Nicks and her collection for hours while he would draw with you. 

Even when doing nothing, he’s happy to cuddle with you and kiss when a romantic song by Stevie starts playing. 

He likes watching you dance to Stevie Nicks’ songs because he finds you super cute when you sway to the music lost in your own head. 

He’ll even dance with you if you want him to. Just grab his arm and tug on him and he’s following you. 

Sometimes you get lost in thought because you constantly have things going through your mind that you just have to sit and think to yourself for a moment. Marko knows about this and is patient, he doesn't mind sitting in silence with you since your presence is more than enough. 

You both have matching charm necklaces that came in a pair that you both ‘bought’ at the jewelry stand. 

Your necklace had a sun pendant while he had the moon pendant. To him, you were his sun and to you, he was your moon. Despite being complete opposites, you both worked so well together in a perfect balance. While he thrived in the night, you thrived in the daytime. 

Adding scarves to your outfits, he definitely would add a scarf to his wardrobe to remind himself of you when you’re not together. 

Even together, he’ll wear one of your scarves that matches his jacket and ride into town with you because being a matching couple is his jam.

[boobiestarplanet]

skip and loafer chapter 56 thoughts

when mitsumi looks back on this moment, she sees it as her valuing her friendship with sousuke over any potential romantic relationship. even though she does have feelings for him, she'd rather break up than jeopardize their friendship. it was and still is bittersweet, but i think she sees that as a generally positive or at least necessary event in terms of her and sousuke's relationship.

but he doesn't see it the same way. it's the very same moment sousuke thought about back in chapter 53; it's what his mind immediately went to upon wondering if mitsumi even likes him at all. god i just wish they would communicate more!!!!

but that's very hard for them, since now that they've dated, even though he does still like her as a person, i think sousuke can't help but place mitsumi in the "lover" category on his little mental relationship hierarchy. if he was already so averse to talking about his feelings back when they were just friends, it's even worse now. obviously that's something he's been improving on throughout this whole summer vacation arc, though; he's learning that being vulnerable, being a little lame, or even throwing up aren't things that would make people dislike you :)

and then the ririka stuff.

what did she wish to accomplish by sending him this? it can't be that she's just complaining to him about what's happening in the moment, since that picture looks like it was taken in the daytime and it's past midnight in this scene (also, why would she be at a beauty parlor that late anyway?). i guess she was just trying to yet again remind sousuke of her trauma and make him feel guilty, but the fact that she sent this seemingly several hours after the fact makes me think she must have been thinking of texting him that for a while. (i say this because i don't know why she would take this guy's picture in the first place if not to send to sousuke.) so either she was waiting until late at night to send it for Maximum Guilt-Tripping Power — which i doubt; she's not some scheming supervillain — or she wasn't sure if she wanted to text him at all and decided to on a whim before going to bed. i don't know, i'm probably extrapolating a lot, but i think that seems pretty in-character and also shows just a smidge of growth.

lastly, we're back to sousuke and mitsumi's relationship for a sec

i know i probably shouldn't read too deep into this since he's just talking to his mom here, but the way sousuke refers to mitsumi as "a classmate" and not "a friend" has me thinking about what he said back in chapter 42:

he, just like mitsumi, was worried about ruining this friendship that means so much to him. so it really hurts to see him call her just "a classmate" after all that :(

[juuheizou]

could you give me aaall your headcanons about juuzou sleeping/sleeping habits/sleeping schedules throughout his life pleeease?🩷🩷🩷

I've got you, friend! Before you hit "read more," know that I really gave you all of them. You have been warned.

First things first, I think Suzuya oversleeps and runs late in canon because he is a natural night owl. Were it up to him, he would stay up all night and sleep into the afternoon, and the schedule of shift work and meetings and that more structured part of his job is hard for him for that reason. He is also often jetlagged at those structured daytime functions because he had to drag himself out of bed at the time his body wants to sleep, even if he did manage to get enough sleep beforehand.

Assuming you mean throughout his life when you say throughout his life, I headcanon that he was in the adoption system before Big Madam, in a time and place where orphanages are much more common than foster care. So that early on in his life, though he was too young to remember, he had absolutely zero control of when he woke up and went to sleep. That said, it may have planted the seeds of sneakiness and ignoring rules in him, having to wake up only when the overworked childcare staff at an institution said so and sleep when they turned out the lights. Not to mention all the other ways said staff ran his life at that time.

Big Madam wasn't that different as far as him having any choice in the matter, but as a ghoul with an extensive life after dark and behind closed doors that he was a part of, her timetable that he had no control over aligned a little more with his rhythm. Madam probably had a whole public life during the daytime, like most ghouls do, and during that time was Suzuya's only window to sleep before she came home or took him out for the evening. Plus, it wouldn't be safe or smart to keep your collection of captives somewhere with windows or anything through which the outside world may see them, and the setting we see him in during his time with her is never specified but it has a definite dungeon look to it, so even if his chamber isn't totally underground, though that's the vibe I get from it, it at least doesn't have any way of seeing out either. So he basically lived a nocturnal life for at least a decade, on top of his brain wanting to be awake during that time even when it conflicted more with the rest of his world.

In the original series, he largely coped with the change from this to a school schedule and then working long, early day shifts with Shinohara by pulling 24-hour days more often than anyone should and crashing hard once he got the chance to rest for a little bit. He stayed awake with lots and lots of sugar and caffeine. As soon as his work week ended, he could sleep for upwards of a whole day; he felt so much like shit every weekend. If he and Shinohara got called in during his downtime, imagine original series Suzuya with impaired judgment, brain fog, and clumsier movements. It just wasn't a healthy situation and probably made every other problem he had during that time worse.

During :re and post-canon, he still stays up too late and oversleeps from time to time, still takes naps at his desk, and still uses sugar and caffeine to give him a boost, but he has a bit more of a survival strategy in place to reduce the harm as much as possible. Plus, he's necessary enough to the CCG that anyone who could really get him in trouble pretends not to notice if he's late or misses a meeting. Hanbee will always have briefing notes for him when he does get into the office and often doesn't have the heart to wake him up from a nap to get assignments and stuff, so he sometimes does that more structured part of the job for him altogether.

As a senior investigator, he also gets more choice in his working hours, and he is assigned to a ward of the city with a thriving nightlife, so a lot of the work we don't see him do in the field because it doesn't involve the main cast and storyline takes place after dark where he's needed more. What we see him do in the series is not his normal and the Suzuya Squad tends toward more of a swing shift under routine circumstances. Those grueling big operations that people stay up and don't get home until late for, coming back exhausted and miserable, are where he thrives the most, as the night is still young for him.

As far as how he sleeps, I've always seen him as a light sleeper. Something about spending most of his life being woken up at a moment's notice on a whim by Big Madam and likely punished if he was anything but her bright-eyed Rei... if at any point in his life he did sleep heavier or even somewhere in-between, she would have squashed that habit right away. Not that this doesn't come in handy for pretending he wasn't sleeping in class or at a meeting. If he's sleepy enough for it to work, he might ignore his alarms and at least try to go back to sleep, which is where his oversleeping happens, but they do wake him up before he ignores them. He needs it pretty quiet (or to be pretty exhausted) in order to fall asleep and stay asleep.

That being said, I also think he has a hard time going back to sleep once something wakes him up. As soon as his motor starts running, it's nigh impossible to turn off, and he finds himself fixing something to snack on and finding something to do, and time goes by pretty fast from there. When he crashes from these periods of not being able to go back to sleep, it's usually at an inopportune time, such as right before he was supposed to wake up. Though Mutsuki helps with this by giving him something relaxed and restful to keep his mind occupied until he dozes off since he is still in bed.

He pretty much wears his super soft, really baggy pyjamas from the time he gets home from a long day spent in less-bad-than-a-proper-suit-but-still-uncomfortable work clothes, though if it was a long day he might just strip and go to sleep. He tries his best to shower/brush teeth/get all clean before bed, though he's seldom perfect about it. On really good days where he's just absolutely crushing it at having a pre-sleep ritual to help him wind down and get enough sleep to function, he will light a food-scented candle, do some stretches from his nimble acrobatic scrapper days, and work on his latest crafting project right before bed. That's if he's really crushing his self-care game and not a frequent occurrence, but it's nice when he does manage to do it.

He likes warmth and softness and pressure to fall asleep, but some part of him often wants some breathing room once those things have done their job of getting him relaxed and sleepy. For example, he likes to pile on or wrap himself tightly in blankets and is a little disappointed whenever it's too hot to do that, but he often ends up with just a corner because he got --you guessed it-- too hot. They tend to go on adventures of being dropped, pushed, and kicked away once he is asleep, but he tends to fall asleep holding a stuffed animal, or petting his cat if they hunker down close by him. He and Mutsuki have a particularly big bed for two people once they get one together, though before that one of them often ended up on the couch or a pallet on the floor during sleepovers, for this reason.

He also tends to toss and turn, probably still trying to get the breathing room he desires once he is sleepy or asleep, but usually ends up sprawled on his stomach crushing his arms under his pillow because the pressure is soothing. Or he will startle himself awake by readjusting so much that he falls out of bed. Because of the position he usually settles into, he tends to drool as well.

He rarely dreams, or remembers his dreams anyway, but sometimes he'll wake up feeling uneasy and like something bad just happened, probably a nightmare but he can't really remember enough to be sure. As much as he struggles to go back to sleep whenever he gets woken up, it's even more of a struggle when that happens. Sometimes he will pace and self-injure and try to no avail to make the feeling go away until the sun is up and he has to go to work.

He often dozes off while watching movies or doing something else on the couch or floor and wakes up in locations other than his bed because of that. Often there is paperwork, crafting supplies, or movie snacks stuck to him when this occurs. Sometimes he musters the strength to drag himself to bed, but other times he just ignores all of these things and goes back to sleep right where he is, maybe in a slightly more comfortable position or if he can grab one without getting up, a blanket.

[bentrollio]

Tag nine (9) people you'd like to know better

tagged by @slavonicrhapsody

last song: Mr. Blue Sky by ELO (while on nitrous at the dentist!!! Fun fun fun)

currently watching: gonna be honest I have Journey to the Microcosmos (YouTube series documenting microscopic life) on right now because my cat enjoys watching it. Also so do I, it’s very interesting. But mostly I’m just trying to distract him while I fold laundry.

currently reading: The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul by Douglas Adams. Def not as engaging as Hitchhikers guide to the Galaxy and I keep forgetting about it so I’ve been reading it for a while, but it’s not like. A bad book, just not as good as Adams’ other works

current obsession: Elden Ring!! It has so so so many pathetic old men and terrible women and divorce it’s like if George R. R. Martin created a daytime soap opera. Real talk tho I do have so many well thought out analyses and thoughts on the story and characters. I swear im not just getting online and saying depraved things about senior citizens to my followers, I have thoughts about said senior citizens.

Also in terms of non-media obsession I’ve been really getting in deep with bioactive terrariums and just generally planning future tank design upgrades for my ball python Zorayas. It’ll be a long-term project, but I want to build a 120 gallon bioactive pvc set into a nice wood frame with cabinets and hood on top. I’m thinking 24 hour CHE and a day cycle jungle UV for the plants. I’d also like to modify the tubing on my humidifier/hydrometer so that the vapor gets evenly distributed throughout the tank. I’ve heard mixed opinions on belly heat, but she has it in one of her 3 hides, and tends to use that one most often, so I think I’ll keep it. Gonna go with sturdier plants like Snake Plants, Calathea, Pothos, etc. since she’s a heavy girl and bulldozes things. The smaller fern and spider plants didn’t last more than a week with her lol but the other plants are doing great. Just started a second white dwarf isopod colony and will do the same for the springtails soon! God I could go on all day about this shit,,

Feel free to ignore if you don’t wanna do this but imma tag: @ramtiger @tropiyas @glamemeon @valen-dreth @hellobendykitty @knightskaii @sonderingtrashcompactor @sophie-baybey @thecutestdragonslayer

[sylvie-fics]

PART 5 BABEY its the dissen dyna

context you may need: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Side story relevant to Y/N. (NSFW)

As always, you can read it as a oneshot if you'd like.

The gist: Viktor doesn't know what love is but damn he about to know rage and jealousy whoopsie daisy

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: references to prostitution, lightning related injuries, human alteration/amputation.

Minors DNI

It was astonishing– how truly comfortable you’d gotten around this man… machine…. Machine man. So much so that you had no problems slamming the door on him. Not the door to his house. Oh, no, you slammed the door to his room. There he stood in his workshop/main-room area, amazed that you had the audacity to lock him out of his own bedroom. He could easily unlock it, each door had a spare key above the frame. Still, it was clear you currently had no interest in talking. 

Honestly, he had no intention of sleeping that night anyways. He very rarely did, even in his days when he was ever-so-slightly closer to humanity.

Maybe he should have told you his name wasn’t Harold sooner. Or– perhaps he should have waited even longer. Just to see how long you could go believing that.

You, at this point, had flung yourself down onto his bed– which clearly had not been used since your lightning incident. How embarrassing. In your many months of knowing him, not once did you ever take the initiative to ask if his first name was actually Harold, and last name Themachine. You felt as though the laughter was well deserved, but gosh how it hurt your ego.

Being wrong, generally, was not your specialty. 

Being wrong was not Viktor’s specialty, either.

He considered a few ways to cheer you up. Maybe chop off one of your legs and replace it with a much cooler, more upgraded version. However, that required that the two of you interact– and that was out of the question right now. 

He settled for giving you personal space.

…though he did consider your ‘for my inevitable death’ suit design, which was absolutely doable.

Hours of self loathing eventually lulled you into a deep sleep. While the whirring of tools was not your favorite lullaby, it didn't particularly bother you. 

It always seemed like there was never a clear passage of time in Zaun. Sure, those occasional peeks of sunlight might signal daytime, the streets were far too dull. You wondered– is this something people even think about in Piltover? Or do they live their lives always knowing the difference between morning, afternoon and evening. Was that something they even cared about? 

You pushed those thoughts aside as quickly as you pushed the door open, letting it slam into the wall with a loud thud.

“Viktor.”

Oh shit.

He didn’t understand how one single word could cause him such inner turmoil. You had said it very… intensely. It made him feel sick, and yet aggressive. Like he wanted to run and fight all at once. This was an emotion he couldn’t ever recall feeling. 

Whatever this feeling was, he despised it, and it had to be pushed away.

“Sleep well, (y/n)?”

He asked with a sense of caution, as though he was unsure of what to say. He didn’t turn to face you, he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he continued to sit at his desk, and pretend to work on one of his gloves– which he seemed to have been upgrading throughout the night.

He wondered if you could sense his inner turmoil, and chose to torture him. In those few moments, you had already sat yourself down atop his desk, and grabbed his exposed hand.

He felt…vulnerable.

And yet, not in danger.

“So, you’ve still got a little bit of human under all that metal? I wonder if…”

That thought was never finished. Though he wanted to ask, he didn’t. In some way, he knew hearing it finished would bring back that horrid emotion.

“I’m surprised you’re not pulling away– Not that i’m complaining, it's just… not like you.”

It wasn’t like him at all, and it confused him just as much. He couldn’t remember the last time he had that sort of physical contact, and a part of him wondered if this would be the last time he would ever feel such a thing. If so, maybe it wasn’t a terrible idea to indulge. Just for today.

“I take it this will be my only opportunity to give you a palm reading.” you said, tracing the lines on his rough hands. 

“This one,” you said, tracing across one of the lines, “is your health line. Yours is. Well.To put it nicely, its severely fucked up.”

“Ehh, not so much anymore.” he interjected.

“ Oh, and the headline– that one is about mentality or whatever. Yours is more indicative of logic. Mines more on the creative side. Of course, nothing wrong with either.

.

..

Well, that ones interesting.”

You gave a devious little grin, and a sinister giggle.

“What is it?” he asked, amused by your sudden change in expression– and slightly nervous from it too.

“Viktor– you don’t know? That's your love line. Viktor, oh my… I didn’t take your for that kind of guy~”

There it was again, that feeling. He desperately wanted to end the conversation, and keep it going at the same time. A sense of nervousness and dread filled his mind. Your words had the power to be both water and poison.

 Though, when considering himself, he could not imagine that anyone would think of him as water. More so, that anyone could think of him positively. He was more a creature of shadows and solitude. It had always been his comfort, perhaps from being raised in a shadowy home land. Those days in the light only proved how little he was cared for by the other beings. He had always been the poison.

And something– though small and quiet, hidden deep within him– hoped that you would say he wasn’t destined to be a creature of solitude forever.

Of course, you gave up your facade soon enough, laughing out a meek,

“I– i’m not actually sure what it means. I never learned anything past health and mentality.”

Quickly followed by,

“But I’m sure your’s means something good, probably! You’ve got lots of great qualities, so it’s nothing to stress over.”

That feeling….

“I mean, look, you’re super smart. I think the suit is a cool look, personally. Kind of dark and mysterious, that's totally some people's type.”

You’ve pulled your hand away, and he desperately wants to reach out for it.

“I mean, you never know when you’re gonna meet your person, y’know?”

No. Simply, Viktor would not ever meet his person, because there was no such thing. He had wasted far too much thought on these frivolous feelings. He had work to do, and progress to make. This anxiety he felt about you was just… it was… surely nothing.

“Who is your person, then?” he asked, moving his mouth before his mind.

All you did in response was laugh.

“Please, I’m sure you have plenty of men that would gladly–”

You cut him off before he could finish the line. 

“Of course I do. God, I could be Piltover's best little trophy wife. I’d have a terribly comfortable life, with fancy clothes and meals. My little gremlin children could go to fancy schools. I would live a perfectly normal and comfortable life.  I'm sure it would all be great…”

Yes, this was what he needed to hear you say. Something that would break that hopeful feeling that had been forming all through these months. Something to make it go back into its cave, where it would be comfy and cozy in its lifelong hibernation.

“Great for someone else. I don’t find that lifestyle particularly entertaining.” you finished.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm, I’ve got this one client that has cash for days. He’s sweet and all, always feeding me and trying to ask about life. But, mehhh…”

“Not your kind of guy?”

You weren’t the kind of person to give out information about your summer work. Specifically the identity of your clients. You had a strong sense of privacy when it came to others– but in this moment, you had let your guard down, and made a mistake.

“I don’t know. Jayce might be alright if he could change his view on people from the undercity.”

[addictedtostorytelling]

Hello, I hope you're having a great day! Just wanted to ask a CSI season 6 episode 11 question about Sara and Sophia's interaction. Do you think that Sara is still mad about Sophia being close with Grissom. Or is something else going on? Thank you for your response.

hi, anon!

i hope you're having a good day—or night now—too!

if you're referring to the scene at the phone booth, i don't think sara is mad at sofia there at all (though sofia is definitely miffed at sara for being "late").

instead, i think what's going on there is that sara is being aloof because reasons.

check it out:

within the universe of the show, the events of episode 06x11 "werewolves" take place primarily on 01.03.06 and 01.04.06.

when the team is initially called in to process the victim's residence, it is, according the call log on the victim's phone, sometime after midnight on 01.03.06. they remain at the victim's residence processing until after sunrise that same morning.

sara is present for this action, as is grissom. however, thereafter, sara quickly drops from view throughout the middle part of the episode, during the remaining daylight hours, as does grissom (after he attends the victim's autopsy with doc robbins back at the lab). neither one of them then resurfaces in the episode again until after nightfall.

since both of them are conspicuously absent from the action taking place during the daytime hours at the lab, i think it's fairly safe to assume that they go home together at that time and remain there between approximately 10am and 10:30pm or so.

why they get to go home while the rest of the team is pulling a double, we can't say for certain; maybe they've both already used up all their overtime hours for the month, or maybe they were coming off a previous double from the day/night before.

maybe they'd worked the new year's eve and new year's day shifts while everybody else got those nights off.

in any case, during the hours while they are away from the lab, presumably during the afternoon/evening of what is regularly swing shift on 01.03.06, sofia tries to page sara to come process the payphone booth. however, sara does not respond to sofia's pages until sometime around the start of the next graveyard shift, circa 11pm on 01.03.06.

now.

in s1 and s2 of the show, we are shown that not only does sara always leap to respond to her pages, but she also sometimes shows up to work even when she hasn't officially been paged (like in episode 01x07 "blood drops," when she hears about the collins homicide over her police scanner and shows up to the scene of her own volition). only in s3, specifically when she is dating hank, does sara ever respond late to a page (see episode 03x03 "let the seller beware")—a marked change in her behavior, contingent on her for the first time ever having "someplace better to be" than at work. however, once she and hank break up, she then resumes her typical "always eager to show up to a scene" mo, as we see in episode 04x14 "paper or plastic?"

—at least until this episode, 06x11 "werewolves," takes place.

that so, the fact that sara doesn't immediately respond to sofia's page and buzz right over to the phone booth during her off hours in this episode is telling—and especially taken in conjunction with the episode timeline, as we've previously established it.

the subtle implication is that baby girl doesn't respond to sofia's page because she's got someplace better to be during her off-hours than at work.

she's home with grissom.

most likely at home in bed with grissom.

she's not answering that phone for anything.

the sara of the past would've come in early when called upon, but the sara who is secretly dating the love of her life and is blissfully happy spending all of her free time with him isn't going to show up until the start of her assigned shift.

not unless she has to.

not when she's, uh, busy.

of course, given the whole "secret dating" thing, she also can't tell sofia why she didn't drop everything to come in early to work—hence her aloofness during her and sofia's conversation.

all things considered, i read sara's interaction with sofia as follows:

sc: (annoyed) “i’ve been waiting for you.” 

ss: (evasive) “sorry. i headed out as soon as i got your page.” 

sc: “really? 'cause, uh, i left a voicemail several hours ago.” ss: (momentarily looks caught, then awkwardly sidesteps sofia’s insinuation sans comment, wearing a false smile) “what’s up?”

she isn't mad at sofia. she's just sidestepping the real reason why she ignored sofia's pages over the course of several hours.

his name is gilbert, and he's very distracting.

and to that end: i honestly think that by this point in the show, sara has gotten over whatever old jealousy she used to have for sofia anyway, because, frankly, at this late date, there's nothing really to be jealous of (if there ever even was something to begin with).

even if there had been some spark of attraction between grissom and sofia in the past—and it's definitely debatable if there ever was or if sara was simply reading signs where there were none—grissom and sara are now very much together and in love and sharing a life, with sofia nowhere in the picture.

the last bit of tension we see to that end between sara and sofia is in episode 06x08 "a bullet runs through it" pt. ii, which takes place, in-universe, several months before this episode does. thereafter, there are never any additional implications that sara still considers sofia a threat. their interactions are just neutral.

so anyway, that's my take: sara isn't nursing any kind of grudge with sofia in this episode; she's just trying to hide the fact that she had her phone on silent and didn't check her messages because she was at home getting absolutely railed by her boyfriend.

she's dodging, and not particularly gracefully.

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

[talldarkandroguesome]

20th of Sun’s Height, Middas

The Count had too many additional invitations yesterday to speak with me. And there was a great number of tasks I still had to see to with my having limited my staff’s hours. So I took the opportunity to catch up with as much as I could and was able, with much determination, to completely clear my desk of the piles that had grown up there. I even had the chance to pen some personal letters, which I so rarely have had time to do.

Sildras continued to ask after Gwendis so I asked one of the Count’s servants if the lady would not be available to speak more with Sildras. She agreed to do so and so I had Sildras go to one of the chambers on the northern side of the east wing, where the natural light is low and the stained panes of the windows further diffuses it so that it has the feel of a room with low candle light even at noon. For this reason the room is not often used during the daytime, but having given an excuse that the lady is prone to migraines aggravated by bright light, it was easy enough for there to be little question to our use of it.

I made sure that Gwendis’ servants were on hand to bring her her beverage of choice and I stayed at hand, but working on going through some of the many briefs of Council business as they carried on about Valenwood, how it was to move to High Rock, and general observations about Bretons.

Gwendis seemed to take notice of my relaxed nature and how I was only supervising enough to be in the room, but not paying close attention and when the time came for Sildras to return to his studies, Gwendis stopped me on the way out to tell me she had taken notice. She assured me that she meant no harm to my son and that she appreciated his company. He was a queer boy, so far beyond his years in the subjects of his curiosity, but that she was grateful that he was not suspicious or fearful of her. 

We spoke about Nabine and Kuna and Cariel. Not the full breadth of the situation, but the basics. I left out the Namira cult, said only that it was a religious group she was drawn towards. I also admitted that Sildras was, generally shy in the face of strangers, even be they Dunmer. There was something about her which he seemed to inherently trust and that I was attempting to foster, to a safe degree, the ideal that all persons, regardless of race or the land from which they came, were ultimately people just like him. He had grown up with Argonians. We had traveled to Elsweyr and stayed with my husband’s clan and Sildras had really enjoyed the time learning about a new way of life, his Khajiit siblings teaching him language, games, and culture. He had been amongst Nord children at times. Throughout, I emphasized the importance of judging a person by their words and actions. That was where you learned who someone was.

Clearly Slidras had judged her to be kind and full of interesting information. And I tended to agree. I thanked her again for speaking with my son, I knew that it was not usual when being a guest in a foreign land to expect to be sharing personal stories with children, but that she was doing both he and I a great service in doing so.

She hesitated, seemingly  unsure of how to respond and settled with a simple you are welcome. I smiled at her and told her that, even without the Count, she was always a welcome guest in my home here or in Davon’s Watch. Should she ever need sanctuary, no matter the cause, I would be grateful to provide it for her. She was now, and ever, friend of our family.

I do not think she realized precisely what that meant, but I had the paper drawn up later in the night and had it provided to the stablemaster to see that it was set into her saddlebag. Let her find it as they are on the road and know then what it means.

It just goes to show that if you put a little faith into someone deserving, they will return it in kind. I can only hope that she and the Count speak enough that her words might give the Count a push to agree to my request. We shall see.