#like this scene especially he's just so fucking cruel

[daydreamingmiller]

joel miller 14/?

[kasagia]

A powerful man

Pairing: dark!young Gamemaker!candidate for president! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: You thought he was different. That he would never cheat on you. But apparently Coriolanus who came back from District 12, became Gamemaker, and ran for president was not the same man you knew. And you'll soon find out how wrong you were about him. Requested by: @tastycakee Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi Warning: 18+; My first time writing a smut scene, so please be gentle. I hope you will like it...🙈🙈; Coriolanus Snow, toxic behaviour; smut; Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

"Mr. Snow is busy…" you slam the door to Coriolanus' office behind you, closing it in the face of his secretary, who wouldn't let you in.

You cross your arms, glaring at your boyfriend in pure fury. Coriolanus stops writing something and looks up to enter just as you loudly shut the door behind you.

He raises his eyebrows slightly in surprise at the sight of you, then frowns at the pure anger in your eyes and clenched fists. He hopes your anger isn't caused by what he was trying to hide for you... otherwise, he will have some heads cut off.

"Y/N, darling, what are you doing here?" He asks with a charming smile as he gets up from his chair and walks over to you.

"Livia Cardew?" He stops at the mention of her name. He plays confused, frowning as he slowly responds to you, pretending to try to understand what you mean.

"I have no idea..."

"You could at least have some decency and admit that you slept with that whore!" His secretary must have heard your scream. He makes a mental note to talk to her when he's alone and to make sure he sends to the district and hangs any maid from the Cardew's house who spilled his secret.

"Look... it's not that I wanted it." He starts out gently; he tries to calm you down and explain his actions, but as soon as he takes a step towards you, you move away from him and growl like a rabid animal.

"Oh, of course not! After all, it's your dick that makes decisions for you, not your brain!" You shout at him angrily, pressing an accusatory finger into his chest.

He can no longer control himself after you cross the line. His calm, collected mask falls away to reveal his own rage and iritation. He grabs your arms tightly, making you gasp softly in pain as he shakes you lightly and pins you against the wall.

But he controls himself enough to not physically hurt you… at least not more. He just holds you there tightly, taking advantage of your moment of shock to explain his motives to you.

"Listen to me. She was a means to an end. I needed some information from her. I had to get closer, sleep with her, and sneak around her house, especially her father's office. End of the story. Considering it, it wasn't cheating. It was more like business than anything else. Besides, you're way better than her, petal. And I kept thinking about you all the time and how I'd rather have you wrapped around me than that thoughtless, naive bitch."

You feel sick when you hear it, when you imagine him in bed with her, and even more sick when you hear that he doesn't think that he did a bad thing at all. You feel like throwing up, just remembering how you let him touch you and how you treated him, worshipping him as if he were your whole world. You were so stupid and naive.

"You only prove that you are as disgusting, cruel, and manipulative as I thought. You can play with other people and their feelings, but not with mine. Not anymore. It's over. I've already moved out of your apartment, so you can continue running your campaign and exploiting other people all you want. I just fucking hope you won't win." You say it angrily, pushing him away from you.

You take advantage of the state of shock he is in, and you get out of there as fast as you can. The scent of Coriolanus' perfume clings to you, and you already know you need to take a very long bath when you get home to brush it away. As well as the felling of his hands on you. You only hope you won't have any bruises after his very tight and painful grip.

You practically run all the way to your car. You get in, not noticing that your ex-boyfriend is watching you carefully from his office window.

Coriolanus' eyes don't leave you. He watches carefully as you get into the car with his hands in his pockets.

He chastises himself for being so gentle with you. He promised himself after Lucy Gray that he would never fall in love again. And you appeared, breaking his iron resolve with one smile and a kiss. He should have made sure that he had enough control over you so that you would never think of leaving him before he started spoiling you.

All the dinners, sweet words and compliments, and thoughtful dates... he had rewarded you for nothing, and now his disobedient brat thought she could just walk away from him. Yes. He had given you too much freedom.

He should immediately clearly define the dynamics of your relationship, instead of leaving you under the illusion that you have something to say in any matter.

He remembered you from the Academy, even though you were a year younger than him. You were ambitious, like him. You always followed your own plan and ideas. Little rebel. It was cute then, but now he realises he needs to temper your personality. After all, his First Lady had to obey him at all times. You might have had a strong character and fought like a lioness, but absolutely not against him. He will destroy you or teach you obedience. You could be his wolf on a leash or his faithful dog. He didn't see it any other way. And he definitely won't let you go.

Coriolanus has already lost his one bird. He won't let another one do the same and escape from him.

And he even knew who would help him with it.

"I don't understand why they're starting a campaign when there's still a good half a year left until the elections." You grumble to your labmate as you two work on a new tranquillizer for peacekeepers to use on rebels.

"They have to check the identity and background of the candidates, and so on. My father said that the process itself was a good three months of work. Besides, considering that a president usually stays in his seat until he dies of old age, it's better that it lasts longer. Let them at least work hard to earn our votes if they are about to rule over Panem all their lives."

"That's six months of seeing that son of a bitch's face on TV, on posters around town, and on practically every fucking corner. Don't be surprised that I would prefer it to be shorter."

"I don't want to be on his side, but I think he can win. You know very well that he has charisma, money, and... well." She interrupts, blushing a little. You roll your eyes at her. You know that Coriolanus is... breathtakingly handsome. His cold beauty will steal the hearts of many. It will be useful for his media image to hide what a boor he was.

"Big cock?" You joke, no longer vulnerable to the charming side he has been showing the public.

"Y/N!" She hisses at you, laughing softly and looking around the lab. Meanwhile, the rats you were testing on became... too calm. At least Dr. Gaul's snakes will have something to eat.

"What? I'm stating facts. I wouldn't be surprised if he slept his way to the top." You say, as you are preparing new test subjects and reducing the dose of preparation a little.

"Shh! The viper is coming here." She whispers and goes back to work.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that, in fact, Dr. Gaul enters the laboratory. She might be getting older, but she still held up well. The only thing that changed was that she walked with the aid of a cane, which only added to her intimidating appearance. And the fact that she was no longer the main organiser of the Hunger Games. Coriolanus performed this role for her. Although the title was still hers.

"Dr. Gaul." You both greet her and step away from the examination table. She watches you and your work closely, mumbling something under her breath, and raises her cane, pointing at you.

"Y/L/N. My office."

"Yes, ma'am." You say and follow her. You feel your friend's eyes on your back as you follow the woman to her office.

You close the door behind you and take a seat in front of her desk as she nods towards you. Dr. Gaul takes some pills from his desk and swallows them. One of her snakes slithers between your legs and climbs up the desk to wrap around her owner's hand and then her cane. You have not only the piercing eyes of a woman but also the eyes of a snake.

She smiles, seeing that you didn't even flinch, still maintaining your calm demeanour.

"You're not a stupid girl." She says this while examining her pet. "And yet you find yourself in situations that only cast you in this light."

"I beg you pardon?" You ask, not expecting your conversation to become so... personal.

"I always said Mr. Snow would achieve something great. At the beginning, I thought he would be a Gamemaker like me. After all, he is not suitable for being a scientist like us. He has no patience; he needs new challenges, experiences, and adrenaline. But now... you know that you can have the president as... a person who is not entirely favourable to you, right?"

"I understand that there may be some difficulties…"

"Difficulties? Child, do you know him? You must be aware of what he is capable of. Or at least have some suspicions." She interrupts you, looking at you pointedly.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to calm down. You were fed up with the topic of your ex. Apparently, you couldn't just break up with him without making a fuss.

"What did you want to talk to me about, Dr. Gaul? What is it all for?" You ask, slightly annoyed, and she just laughs mockingly, shaking her head in amusement.

"I like you, child. I hope you won't disappoint me. Therefore, think about what is good for your future. Pride is fatal. Money and influence bring opportunities. But you probably already know that. After all, no one who gets into my lab is a saint. Especially not you and Mr. Snow."

"I'm not a whore like him." You defend yourself, crossing your arms, making Dr. Gaul laugh again.

The snake moves from her cane to the desk and nests in your lap. Out of habit, you stroke his head, gaining interest again and a gleam of approval in Dr. Gaul's eyes. After all, this one was a particularly venomous specimen.

"Each of us is. We may not do what they do, but for money... people can do everything. Don't you remember how you sold your dear friend? How did you knock her out of the competition for a spot in my lab? How have you done everything—play every dirty card to make sure that you will become a victor? Just like Mr. Snow. I heard there was a... misunderstanding between you two, but life isn't a fairy tale, Miss Y/L/N. You can go bankrupt and ruin your reputation while waiting for your prince. If you want to achieve something, be known as a great mind like me, and be relevant in this city full of rats and snakes, then you will do the right thing for your future."

"Dr. Gaul, with all due respect, I am acutely aware of what is good for me. And it's definitely not Coriolanus Snow." You say, standing up and letting the snake slither onto her desk again.

"Pity. So prepare a contingency plan. After all, I won't live forever. It is not known who will take my place or whose name will hang above the entrance to this laboratory. It's not my choice. But if it was, I would choose you as my successor. Unfortunately, the future president will have the most impact on that. And then... it may turn out that there will be no place for you here."

"It's not certain who will win."

"Are you sure, child?" Her question can't help but make you doubt. Coriolanus wouldn't give up so easily. You know it. Just like if Coriolanus wins, you're finished. Your entire career… "Go. Think about it. I hope you will prove that you have some mind. It would be such a pity to lose such a talented scientist as you. Especially because of stupid love affairs."

You mutter goodbye to her and leave the office. You're long back at your table in the lab when the secret door opens and Coriolanus steps out.

"Is that what you wanted, Mr. Snow?" The woman asks, turning to face him. Coriolanus moves closer to the desk, but enough to be out of her snake's reach.

"You could have been more intimidating. After all, her entire career depends on her submission."

"If you want her to truly obey you, she must come to you herself. Like a pet. Like a snake. If she sees that your relationship will bring her further benefits, she will come back to you. She's not stupid enough to waste such an opportunity. At least I hope so. You should focus on your campaign."

"I'd like that too. But currently… something else is on my mind." He says, walking over to the tinted window that overlooks the lab. He puts his hands in his pockets and watches you carefully as you work.

"You're wasting your potential. Maybe your children will be wise enough to follow in my footsteps more. One is running for president, and the other is a military chemist. Such a waste."

"Don't worry. One of our children will definitely continue your legacy, you have my word." He assures her while observing you.

You lean over the table, strands of your hair falling into your eyes behind your safety glasses, as you test another biological weapon on rats. You look hot in that scientist outfit. He grunts, feeling his pants getting a little too tight. He regrets that he never took the opportunity to visit you here...

"It better be that way. And for God's sake, don't stare at her like a love-struck puppy like you did with your tribute from 12. Patience. Or you will have to train her to make her obedient."

"You know I like a challenge, Dr. Gaul." He replies with a sly, cocky smirk and turns his head towards Doctor Gaul once he has calmed down a bit and composed himself.

"Go away now. Your last Hunger Games must be amazing and unforgettable, or I'll tell her what you have planned for her." He laughs at this, shaking his head.

"I appreciate your attempts to intimidate me, but you know I'll be happy with any outcome. Whether it's keeping her on a leash or reshaping her to meet my needs as my First Lady."

"But we both know which one you would prefer more." They share a sinister smirk. Coriolanus owed her a lot. He's learned many things under her tutelage... things that he uses to make sure you know that your place is always with him.

"As I said, I love a challenge. I will be expecting you as an honoured guest at this year's Hunger Games and my wedding. Of course, right next to my fiancée."

"Don't scare her away, Mr. Snow." She reminds him when he receives a package from her with the latest biological weapon. He will test it at this year's tributes. He smiles, thinking that it must have come from your talented fingers.

"Snow lands on top, Dr. Gaul." He assures her and says goodbye, leaving through a secret passage.

He still had a lot of things to do.

It started innocently… if that's a word you could use to describe Coriolanus Snow.

You knew he wouldn't give up so easily after your breakup and that he would want to come back to you. And that he will use every means to make sure this happens. After all, he was an ambitious bastard who thought he could do anything if he tried hard enough. And Coriolanus had big plans. Plans that you only became aware of when it was too late for you to try and rescue yourself from him.

It started with roses.

Not just any roses. The most beautiful ones Coriolanus could find in his grandmother's garden. Beautiful white roses. A symbol of love, affection, innocence, and loyalty. Everything that Coriolanus lacks.

They were delivered together with a letter in which he deeply assured you of his feelings and asked for a meeting.

You happily threw them into the fireplace.

Then he started sending you roses to the lab. And from the smiles Dr. Gaul was giving you, you knew the bastard had won her over to his side. At least you and your co-worker had some fun destroying them in all sorts of strange ways, starting with burning them with a laser, throwing them into toxic waste, or even breaking them down into the substance you needed for your experiments.

One day, gifts came along with roses. Jewellery, books, clothes (even underwear, if you could call a thin set of strings that), concert tickets with invitations from him (you'd rather cut off your ears than sit next to him in the concert hall or stand by the stage), he did everything to get your attention. Which you happily denied him.

You avoided him like the plague, missing every event he was supposed to be at (even your little sister's graduation from the Academy). But there was one event your family wouldn't let you miss.

"Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. Miss Y/L/N and Miss Y/S/N. How nice to see you all together. May the odds be ever in your favour." Dr. Gaul greets you as you arrive at the official opening gala of the Hunger Games.

"Dr. Gaul. Happy Hunger Games." You say back.

"You too, dear child. I can steal you from your parents and sister, can't I?" Your parents nod quickly before you can speak. Dr. Gaul takes you by the arm and leads you to the upper lodge.

"I believe I should sit somewhere else…"

"Nonsense. Mr. Snow made sure your family sat near Mr. and Mrs. Plinth. They have good company, so you can make us that pleasure and sit with us." he says, taking her seat. You see that on your seat is a small piece of paper with your name on it.

"Us?" You question the woman suspiciously.

"Hello, petal." Coriolanus' voice behind you confirms your suspicions. Before he sits down next to you, he leans down and places a long, wet kiss on your cheek, while he tucks the rose behind your ear. One that matches your dress perfectly. You have no idea how the bastard did it. "You look stunning, as always. I was worried you weren't feeling well when I couldn't find you at your sister's graduation."

"I've actually been feeling bad for a few days now. The smell of roses makes me sick." You tell him, not hiding the hostility and coldness in your tone. He frowns at this, obviously not happy with your allusion.

"Maybe you are pregnant?" He replies mockingly, and you glare at him. He smiles at this, placing his hand on your bare knee. You regret not wearing a longer dress. At least you wouldn't have to endure the feel of his skin against yours. Reluctantly, you remember the time when you dreamed of his touch.

"You wish." You say, shaking his hand away as you place your leg over your knee. He doesn't care and instead places his hand on your other knee, making sure the railings of the lodge cover his hand as he gently slides it under your dress. You shiver as his cold hand presses against your warm thigh.

"Oh, you have no idea." He leans gently towards you to whisper in your ear.

Before you have a chance to push him away (or slap him), Coriolanus stands up and gives the opening speech of this year's Hunger Games. You glare at Dr. Gaul, and she just shrugs and turns her attention to the tributes. Only now do you notice that the cameras are focused on your row... and especially on you and Coriolanus.

"Aside from our little jokes… it hurts me that you didn't show up to any of the events I invited you to." He says, sitting down again as the reaping of the tributes begins.

He rests his elbow on your armrest and leans in to whisper in your ear. You know that, from a distance, it looks like he's flirting with you. And you don't like it one bit. Especially since the lives of 24 young teenagers are crashing down at the same time.

"Are you talking about your political events?" You ask, trying to shrug him off and move away from him. He doesn't let you, though, taking your hand in his and placing his hand on your knee, pulling you closer to him.

"I'm talking about our dates, darling."

"We are not together anymore. And we are not going on any dates." You remind him dryly, with great hostility in your voice. The bastrad doesn't even tremble.

"I dare to disagree with you. I never said I was done with you." He says dismissively as his hand roams freely under your dress, tracing patterns on your thigh. You shiver, despising him and yourself for the way your body responds to his touch.

"Well, I am done with you." You say it firmly, with all the confidence in your voice.

"Are you sure? Your sister is a hell of a smart beast. What a pity if the university did not accept her due to... the increased number of applicants."

"Are you trying to bully me? Threaten?" You ask incredulously, finding the strength to push his hands away from you. He gives you a slightly offended look, but instead of taking your hint and moving away, he tucks your hair behind your ear.

"I'm asking for a little cooperation. The Capitol would see me better if I was... in a committed relationship. And now all eyes are on the two of us and the tributes. They'll disappear as soon as they stop transmitting, and then the eyes of the Capitol will be only on me and you. And because you're sitting very close to me, people will think you didn't come here alone... even if that's what you originally wanted."

"You bastard..." You hiss at him angrily, and he just smiles, half amused, half cocky.

He raises his hand and caresses your cheek tenderly. You want to move away from him, but he holds your jaw tightly with his fingers. He tilts your head up slightly, forcing you to look into his icy blue eyes. He smells of roses and cigars... you wonder if he started smoking after your breakup or for business, to increase the number of contacts during these smoking encounters on the balcony.

"Just one kiss and a smile, sweetheart. Is that so much to give to ensure your younger sister a secure place at university?"

"And what later? Will you force me to get engaged to you? Get married? Create a fictional family?" You ask him furiously, knowing full well that if you give this devil a finger, he will soon demand your entire arm.

"I'm not asking you to marry me. Just about pretending to be my date... for now. You don't want your sister to suffer just because you didn't want to place a kiss on my cheek, do you?" You sigh, knowing he doesn't leave you much of a choice.

"She will choose whatever field of study she wants." You make sure by bargaining with him before you agree to anything he wants you to do. He nods, and you can only hope he has the decency to keep the agreement.

You smile sweetly at him and place your hand on his cheek, turning his face towards you. You press a kiss on his other cheek, making sure to leave a trace of your lipstick. You hear people whistling and clapping in applause.

You pull away from him and keep a fake smile on your lips, ignoring his happy, cocky smirk and tone of voice as he stands up and says an ending speech. As did the shocked looks from your family and Dr. Gaul's mischievous smirk.

You have no idea that this is just the beginning. And even if you do, you try to convince yourself otherwise.

You've had enough.

For a month now, Coriolanus has been showering you with various gifts, following you around like a shadow, taking you to the laboratory, and bringing you home. He forced you to get into his limo once. The next day, it took you an hour to cover the hickeys he left on your neck.

You weren't together; you pushed him away as much as you could, and he tried at all costs to get you back into his arms or bed or into your pants. But now he has crossed the line.

That's why you stormed straight to his office again, bypassing all the secretaries and security with your natural grace.

And what unnerved you the most was how the bastard had the nerve to smile in amusement as you barged into his office.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You snap at him angrily, closing the door behind you. You walk over to his desk, the click of your heels echoing around the room as you throw your purse onto the chair and cross your arms, glaring at him.

"I have the impression that your greetings have become more and more dry and aggressive, haven't they, petal?

"My sister failed her first exam, even though I know she wrote it damn well. As it turns out, her professor is a dear friend of yours. Do you have any explanation for this?" You ask him accusingly, and he just smirks and shrugs, not even hiding the fact that he wasn't involved at all.

"Perhaps she didn't study enough?"

"Do you want to take it out on someone? Take it out on me, but leave Y/S/N out of it!" You shout at him madly, pointing a finger at him. He tilts his head at you in curiosity and stands from his chair, walking around the desk and standing in front of you.

You don't feel comfortable about him being so close to you, but there's no way that you'll show him that he's making you feel nervous and anxious.

"Calm down, sweetheart. This is exactly the reaction I needed from you." He says, his icy blue eyes piercing right through you, making you almost shiver under his intensive gaze. Even when you were in heels, he was slightly taller than you.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" You growl menacingly, crossing your arms defensively. He just smiles and gently brushes your hair away from your face, smiling softly. He is not gentle. You know about it. He's waiting for your slightest slip or show of weakness.

"I've been trying to contact you for weeks, sending letters, calling, leaving notes, and trying to start a conversation."

"You push me into a limo and molest me." You say, defeating all his attempts to make you feel guilty.

You won't have any Stockholm syndrome. He is the one who pursues you; he is the one who harasses you and won't let you move on after the breakup. He didn't even fucking acknowledge your breakup! The problem was with him, not with you. And you know he saw it fully in your eyes—the certainty that what was between you was far from a healthy relationship. And he doesn't like the direction you're going with your conclusions. That's why he resorts to heavier measures.

You hold back a gasp as he suddenly closes the gap between you with one step and places his hand on your cheek. You let him stroke it tenderly as he leans towards you to whisper seductively in your ear.

"You moaned so beautifully for me that even a deaf person wouldn't think you were forced. Admit that you miss me, just like I miss you. You'll make it easier for all of us."

He pulls away from you just enough to look into your eyes again. You decide to try and play his game and lick your lips, moving your gaze between his eyes and his mouth. You tilt your chin up and lean in, your lips almost brushing against his as you whisper.

"Listen to me carefully, because I'll only say this once. I. Will. Never. Come. Back. To. You. So take a hint and leave me alone." As you finish speaking, you reach for your bag and step away from him. You're walking towards the exit when, halfway there, you hear his quick footsteps behind you.

"Not so fast." He grabbed your wrist and turned you towards him, holding you close to his chest. His eyes turn a raging ocean colour with anger and annoyance at your teasing and mockery. "Do you really want your sister to have to take thousands of exams? Work harder because you couldn't commit one evening to me?"

"Evening?" You ask indignantly and in outrage, at which he laughs.

"Nothing dirty. Although I like your way of thinking..."

"Coriolanus." You interrupt him before he can continue the topic. He rolls his eyes at you, clearly not appreciating you interrupting his fun.

"I need a date for one evening. And after the successful show we put on at the opening of The Hunger Games, people are hungry for... well, more of us. What do you say? Will you find enough courage and willingness to accompany me, my love?"

"And you'll leave Y/S/N alone? No more creating problems for her to get my attention?" You make sure. He smiles... differently. With a strange, dangerous glint in his eye that makes you feel more uneasy than how you were since he pulled you to his chest. And you realise how close he actually is when he leans in, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"Have I ever broken my promise to you, Y/N?"

"Surprisingly not." You answer after a long moment, trying to remember any such situation. He always did everything he promised for you. You didn't know if it was his advantage or… a more disquieting trait.

"You see. You have my word. I will fulfil everything I promised you, my little petal. Everything." He whispers softly, making you shiver as he gently takes a rose out of his jacket pocket and places it behind your ear. You knew this supposedly sweet act of his very well. It was the importance of his territory.

After his words, there is a long silence between the two of you. You hold your breath, mesmerised, as you stare into his icy-blue eyes. He was always so… composed around you. It was as if he was always able to do and say exactly what he wanted and planned. It was as if your entire interaction was just a game for him, a game he was convinced he couldn't lose. He lost his temper with you only once—when you surprised him with that break up…. but you aren't sure if he acknowledged it.

You come to your senses and out of his strange charm the moment he leans in so close to you that your noses gently brush against each other.

You pull away from him, much to his displeasure, and clear your throat. You keep your eyes on him, and in a challenge—one of the few acts of rebellion you can commit—you reach for the rose in your hair and take it out.

"When and where is this event?" You growl through clenched teeth.

"Friday evening. I'll pick you up at 8 p.m." He says it nonchalantly, putting his hands in his pocket. He acts as if nothing happened, and he was just inviting you to the party. As if he wasn't threatening your sister's future to force you to hang on his arm as an ornament for one evening... or maybe even longer.

"I'll go there myself."

"Not happening. You're coming there with me. Transportation is on me. After all, you're my date. It would look bad in public opinion if I didn't treat you like... a princess." He says it firmly, with a delicate smile on his lips—not the pleasant, warm one, but the cunning, cold one he showed when he won over his opponent. The one you were starting to get used to.

And you think while looking at him that if you were the princess in this story, then he was the dragon, keeping you in your palace or tower away from other people. To make sure you were completely at his mercy.

"I'm not sitting next to you in the limo or any car. And if you lay your hands on me, I will cut them off with those dull knives they serve to people with the dinner." He's more amused by your threat, but nods obediently. He takes a few steps towards you but stops, leaving a decent distance between you.

"I'd like to see you try. But you have to behave yourself. Or little Y/S/N will repeat her first year at university. Are we clear?"

"Yes. And I already have a dress, so don't you dare send me anything, understood?" He chuckles mockingly at your words, his pearly white teeth gleaming in the sunlight. You know him too well to be enchanted by such a sight of him. After all, the wolf seems beautiful too, until it attacks you.

"Perfectly. I can't wait to see you then." He says it in a sweet tone of voice. You shake your head and walk towards the exit. "And Y/N." Reluctantly, you turn towards him, your hand on the doorknob. "If I were you, I would have stopped ignoring my calls."

"Go to hell." You say it in an equally sweet tone of voice as his.

You smile at him and throw a rose towards him, bowing. Just like Lucy Gray. You smile victoriously and walk out, slamming the door behind you. You're glad you were able to finally throw him out of control and get him angry.

You leave the building with your head proudly held high. But the truth is that even though you try to pretend that you are controlling your situation with Coriolanus, the truth is that you are not. And you are absolutely terrified by it.

"You look beautiful, Y/N." your sister says as you are walking down the stairs of your house. It was Friday evening, and you were waiting for Coriolanus to come pick you up.

"Thank you, Y/S/N. Revise for the exam?" You ask, walking over to the mirror and putting on your earrings. Your long silver dress hugs your curves perfectly, revealing just enough skin that you don't have to worry about feeling Coriolanus' touch on you.

"Yes. I don't have a handsome boyfriend who would take me to the Capitol Gala. I envy you so much."

"You have nothing to envy, honey. Besides, Coriolanus is not my boyfriend. We broke up." You remind her, maybe a little too harshly judging by the way the younger girl flinches. You sigh and walk over to her with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I just... don't like to remind people about it all the time. Coriolanus and I... we are just friends."

"But you were together at the Hungry Games opening ceremony! All my friends say that you two are a sweet couple and are perfect for each other." She says, adjusting the necklace around your neck, at which you smile fondly. You hug her and place a kiss on the top of her head.

"Sometimes people just… aren't meant to be together. Even if they think otherwise, remember how our parents wanted you to start dating John?" You ask, wrapping one arm around her. She winces and flinches at the memory, making you laugh out loud. You haven't laughed honestly in quite a few weeks.

"Is Coriolanus a self-absorbed idiot? That's why you don't want him?" She asks, comparing him to the boy who courted her.

"No. Not at all. He is... extremely attentive." You say it thoughtfully. And maybe other people would take it as a compliment, but to you... it was a dangerous trait. Alarming. Worrisoming.

"Well, anyway, I hope you have a nice evening. Maybe you two can talk, so he'll stop calling and sending you all this stuff. Don't get me wrong, it's nice to get jewellery from you every other day, but it must be... tiring for you if you don't love him anymore."

You smile at that. She was so… innocent; you, too, once were and believed in love. That's why you were with Coryo. He was gallant, elegant, and handsome. A true gentleman. Until he showed his true side—the side you are now afraid of. He was capable of doing many things to make sure he would get what he wanted. And now he wanted you.

"I want you to be careful..." You say, stroking her braids.

"Of what? Overworked because of studying all night?" She asks teasingly, clearly amused by your serious tone and sudden thoughtfulness.

"Of powerful men." The silence in the room after your words clearly makes your sister anxious, as does your depressed mood.

"Y/N... is everything okay?" You put on a fake smile and hug her one last time before putting your shawl around your arms and grabbing your bag.

"Of course. Don't worry about me. I'm going to have a fun night. Study. I promise it will be worth it." You say, placing a kiss on her forehead, and leave the room and house as you hear the car horn.

"Do you enjoy yourself?" Coriolanus asks, leaning in behind you and whispering in your ear as you stand at the table with alcohol and sweets.

"The champagne is delicious." You turn to look at him, to not have him behind your back, and finish the rest of your drink. You lean on the table, setting the glass down as you look at him carefully. "When can I go back home?"

"Just a few more moments, my petal." He places his hands on your shoulders, massaging them gently. You let him, leaning further into his side and closing your eyes tiredly. "Do you like it?"

"You're a poor masseur, but for lack of better hands…"

"I meant tonight. All those people who fawned over you and looked at you with respect and awe. All these women and men who wanted to fulfil your every little wish... don't you like this feeling of power? Superiority? Knowing that they will do anything to gain your favour?"

"You do it every day around me. This is nothing new." You say it dismissively and turn your back to him, taking a piece of cake from the table and eating it.

"I can stop. And I will stop if you keep pushing me away every time I try to get closer to you, every time I put my hand on your waist, every time I lean in to kiss you, and every time you push my hands away from under your dress. If you continue to insist that you are not mine, I will do things you have never imagined... even in your darkest nightmares."

"What do you want so desperately?" You ask him, irritated, putting the empty plate on the table and looking at him with an angry look as you are sick of whatever game he was playing with you.

"You." He says, taking a step towards you and grabbing your chin. He traces his fingers along your jawline, staring at your lips before returning his gaze to your eyes. "We had a good time together. You won't deny it."

"We had. And then you cheated on me." You remind him, feeling furious and hurt.

"It didn't mean anything. I told you. I'm sorry. I could have told you before it happened, let you know what I had to do… or found another way..."

"It does not matter. I don't want you anymore, Coriolanus." You tell him honestly, as you are fed up with everything that has happened between you over the past few months.

"You will change your mind."

"No. I won't." You shake your head, making his confident demeanour fall. He stares at you coldly, processing a plan in his head as he gently tightens his hand on your wrist.

"You'll do it if you still want to matter here. Do you think that if I win, I'll let you work in the lab on secret government projects? After you broke my heart so savagely in front of the entire Capitol? Do you think your family will still be willingly invited to social parties? That your family will have any future?"

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm warning you. You can either accept me, become my wife and First Lady, or I will make sure you get kicked out of the lab and sabotage all your research for the rest of your life."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Are you sure?" You stared at each other for a moment. You sigh, angry and frustrated, and shake your head, not believing what's happening. "Let's go outside. You could use some fresh air to calm down." Before you can answer him anything, he leads you outside, his hand on your back and suspiciously close to your ass.

You sigh, feeling the cold air of the Capitol on your hot cheeks. Reluctantly, you take Coriolanus' arm as he leads you deeper into the garden to a more secluded spot.

"You wouldn't have a bad life with me. As my First Lady, you would have everything you wanted. I would fund your research. You could leave Dr. Gaul's lab and build your own, not wait for her to die, so you can inherit her legacy. You could have built your own one."

"No, Coriolanus! You can't bribe me! If you really think that I am shallow enough to agree to marry you and to play according to the illusion you have created in your head, then you are delusional. WE. ARE. DONE."

You turn around and try to get away from him. But before you can, Coriolanus grabs your hand and spins you around, causing you to bump straight into his chest.

Before you can even think about slapping him, he captures your lips with his. You moan even more in shock into his mouth when you feel him place something cold on your finger.

You somehow manage to wriggle out of his grip enough so that his hands and mouth can't reach you. You stare at the ring on your finger in shock. A big fucking diamond that probably glows in the dark and you could gouge out his eyes with if you hit him... which you really wanted to do right now.

"What are you doing?! Corio-mph!" He cuts you off with a kiss before you can get anyone's attention with your scream or really hit him.

You struggle against his grip, your nails digging into his arms, but he just groans and pins you to the tree, ignoring the pain you caused him. Before you can even realise where his hands are, he reaches back and unbuttons your dress. The material slides down to your hips, giving him a perfect view of your bare breasts.

You shiver as you watch him lick his lips and lean down to fuck the skin of your collarbone with kisses, holding your hips in an iron grip as he pins you to the tree. The cold air hits your bare skin, in contrast to Coriolanus's hot breath and tongue.

"I missed you." He whispers in your ear as his hands cup the curve of your breasts and squeeze them.

His touch is everywhere, slithering over you and clinging to you like a snake, wrapping itself around you tenderly and greedily, taking advantage of every opportunity he has. His mouth is as dynamic as his hands, biting at the tender spots of your neck, licking and sucking, marking you as his own when all he can think about is your body, pressed against him.

"I can give you everything. The whole world. For your touch, kiss, and moan when you come around me. All you have to do is accept me, me, and our future. It only takes one yes from you to make you my equal... and it only takes one no from you to make me destroy everything you love and everything you know. I will be the only one you can come to and the only person you will remember. I will destroy you if that is the price of having you, Y/N. I promise you that."

His whispered words against your skin, the hot touch of his tongue in all the right places on your neck, his hands teasing your breasts, and your quick, heavy breaths are distracting. You can't think straight, not when he's stimulating your senses, teasing your nipples, or when he's whispering his dark promises you should've been afraid of.

You come to your senses the moment one of his hands cups your abused breasts and slips under your dress, cupping your pussy. His long fingers tease you through the fabric of your panties, collecting the wetness he caused, and that's when the gravity of the whole situation hits you.

"No. Stop it. Stop! Help!" You scream, trying to push him away, but he covers your mouth with his hand brutally, drowning out any screams. You squeal as he presses his knee against your clothed cunt in an attempt to tease you.

You look at him with wide eyes as you freeze when his knee begins to rub against your most sensitive, wet (to your defeat and disgust) at his attention, part of your body.

"It ends only with me inside you, so you can either be a good girl for me or continue to be a stubborn brat and delay and deny us our pleasure. You have no idea how many times I came just from watching you from afar. You have no idea how much I want, crave, and desire you. I can't think or function normally. I can't create any plans without thinking about how wonderfully this tight pussy felt around me and how I need your soft walls to tighten around me again. So shut up and let me bring pleasure to us both, or try to keep fighting. Your stubborn struggle only excites me more, my petal."

To confirm his words, he presses himself against you, making you feel his hardness pressing through his pants and pressing against your lower abdomen. You breathe quickly, trying to think of a way out of this situation. You were in the fucking garden in the middle of a party—the gala of the year! Someone must have come here. He couldn't have just... taken you here.

"So? Will you finally accept your fate and place by my side, or do I need to break you? And trust me… I'll have even more fun."

His hands move to your hips. He changes your position, pressing you against the tree, his length rubbing through his pants against your clothed and wet core. You are trapped.

You could resist him, and maybe he would let you go... but then what? You and your family will be destroyed in the eyes of the Capitol if he wins and becomes president. You'll be finished, and your whole career will go to hell if you don't do it.

So you sigh, defeated. You close your eyes, place your hands on his shoulders, hold him for balance, and nod your head, surrendering to him.

"Look at me." You reluctantly comply, meeting his icy eyes with yours. His pupils are fully dilated, a faint blush decorates his cheeks, and you see the glint of victory and satisfaction in his eyes as he delights in his prey. You. "I need your words, my little petal." You bite your lip, furious that he's making you beg for him like a bitch in heat. As if he wasn't the one who desperately needed you all this time.

"I... please." You spit out, not looking at him. He grabs your neck in his grip and forces you to meet his gaze as his clothed body presses against your naked one, only in panties, your dress having slipped completely off of you at some point in your... conversation.

"Please what? More conviction and self-confidence, darling. Continue to be my little brat."

"Just fuck me, Coriolanus." You say it angrily, meeting his smug look. He smirks cockily, and in one quick movement, he cups the cheeks of your buttom with his hands and lifts you up, pinning you to the tree with his hips. You moan as he rubs against your clothed pussy and squeezes your ass tightly.

"Gladly." He growls, crashing into your mouth hungrily.

You gasp as he tears your panties in half, the cool night air hitting your exposed, hot womanhood. He moves his mouth to your breasts, sucking hickeys there as he teases your slick folds, making you blush with embarrassment at how wet you were for him.

He's not trying to stretch you or prepare you for taking his thick length after... such a long time of separation. The undoing of his belt and the zipper of his pants are the only warnings you get as you feel the tip of his cock with pre-cum rubbing at your entrance.

As he begins to enter you, you lower your head and bite into his neck, ignoring the collar of his shirt that covers most of his skin. Your saliva soaks his shirt as you moan into his neck.

"You know, I could have fucked you raw the day you thought you could leave me. I guess I should've done that. Put you over my knee for being a brat, give you a few spanks to remind you of your place, and fuck the baby inside you so you can focus on something meaningful. After all, your womb belongs to me, as do all of you. Although I don't know if you'd moan as sweetly and loudly as you do now… What kind of feeling is it? Having someone who you swore you despised wholeheartedly inside you? You take me too well, darling. Your smart, stubborn mouth may call me the worst names, but as long as those wet and tight down there welcome me like home, we both know what the truth is. We both know you want it as much as I do." He says, grunting as he pushes his cock into your tight pussy.

You both moan as he buries himself up to his balls inside you.

He grabs your hair and pulls your face away from his neck, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss as he gives you time to get used to the feeling of him inside you again. You mockingly think to yourself that he's waiting because he's afraid he'll finish too soon.

He fucks a line of kisses along your jaw as he begins to move. You hiss, digging your nails into his shoulders as you hold on to him. You think you've made a few little holes in his shirt with your nails, but that's your last concern now as he pounds into you faster and faster.

You both try to be quiet, trying not to attract anyone's attention, although, judging by the loud music coming from inside the building, it's unlikely that anyone will be looking for you. And hearing your grunts and moans is rather a huge challenge, but still, the last thing you want is for someone to walk into both of us...

"Mine. Only mine." Coriolanus growls into your neck; his thrusts are faster and more precise, making you bite your lip to hold back your moans, but he doesn't let you do it for long. He wants to feel and hear all of you. He wants to revel in his victory. That's why he kisses you, biting your buttom lip to the blood. He pulls away and leans his forehead on yours as he listens to the little sounds you make as he fucks the brain out of you. "Can you feel how deep I am? How well am I filling you? You will be a beautiful First Lady. Fuck. My future First Lady. My future wife. The mother of my children." He moans in your ear. You don't answer; you take ragged breaths, listening to the squelch of your joined bodies echoing around this secluded part of the garden.

You think about everything. About how perfectly he fills you, what a bastard he is, how he drives you crazy with his words and moans and touches and thrusts, and how bad it is that you enjoy having sex with him and despise what he has done. But you have some needs too...

Unfortunately, Coriolanus was the only one who could meet them and satisfy you.

"You were meant for me. Just like I was for you. We are the two sides of the same coin… WE. ARE. UNITY." He growls, making one last few hard pushes into you, making you both cum. He captures your lips in a kiss, muffling both of your screams as you fall apart around him, feeling his warm seed flood your womb.

You shake, wrapping your arms around him tightly, trusting him to hold the weight of both of you as you see nothing but white light in your orgasmic haze. You can't feel your legs, but you know you're still clenching them tightly around him. Your mind is empty; you feel amazing, electric bliss, but it is immediately followed by the realisation of what you have done.

You gave yourself to him. You agree to be engaged to him. The entire Capitol will be watching you. You will have to marry him if he wins the elections.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when he starts to move. But you don't open your eyes. You don't want to see him in his post-orgasmic state. You don't want to see his smug smirk and the twinkle in his eyes. You feel him press a kiss on your temple and slowly pull himself out of you, making you both moan.

You shiver as he sets you on your feet, supporting your waist with his hands. You feel how his seed, and your juices are lazily oozing down your thighs, reminding you of what you agreed to. About your deal with the devil.

You whine, grabbing his wrist in protest as he swipes the excess of your combined cum from your thighs and cunt.

"Don't worry, I know your limits." He says, pulling his hand away from your grip and licking it off. He gives you one of his fingers to suck, which you reluctantly agree to as he stuffs it into your mouth. "Good girl."

"Screw you."

He laughs at your hostility and zips up his pants. He reaches for your dress and helps you get back into it. After he rips your panties, you have to go without them, clearly feeling... the effects of your hot little moment.

"And what now?" You ask him as he puts on his jacket and buttons it, trying his best to hide the bloody marks you left on him.

"We go back to the party, I say goodbye to everyone I need to, and we leave. I have some rings for you to try on in my apartment. The one on your finger is only for a moment. It's big enough for them to notice it and start gossiping. You can choose which one you like more. My bed was also rather lonely and cold without you in it." He suggests, seductively, running a finger along your bare arm as he places the straps of your dress over your shoulders, making sure they don't slide down.

"Don't hope for more moments like this. I can play the doting fiancée in front of the Capitol, but behind closed doors, I'm not going to pretend that you're anything more than a pathetic, cold man who needs affection from someone who despises you with all her heart." You growl and push him away from you. You put your heels back on and take out your lipstick, powder, and mirror from your purse, fixing your appearance.

"It didn't look like you despised me when you cum around my cock just a few minutes ago." He points it out and walks over to you. He fixes his hair and yours and offers you his arm once you fix your makeup. You roll your eyes when you see in the mirror that he has tucked a rose behind your ear. AGAIN.

"Oh, shut up. I'd come around anyone. I haven't had sex in months." You say it angrily and place your hand in the crook of his arm as he leads you back towards the building and to the party.

"Same here." You snort derisively, not believing his confession even for a second.

"As if I could ever trust you again. Besides, you can fuck with Cardew and the others as much as you want. I don't care."

"I prefer to be with you, my little petal. Smile. We'll have company soon." He puts his arm around yours, pulling you closer to him as you walk down the path. In fact, Lucky Flickerman comes around the corner, talking with some women and men. They all giggle. The man stops when he sees the two of you.

"Oh... well... it looks like our future president is a womanizer." Coriolanus grimaces at his last word but is clearly happy that Lucky believes in his victory, so he smiles politely at the man.

"Quite the opposite. We just celebrated our engagement." He announces it proudly, and you hear the rest of Flickerman's company gossiping livelyly, watching you even more closely.

For the first time, you appreciate Coriolanus' strong arm wrapped around your waist. It's rather hard for you to stand after what you two did together a few minutes ago. You're glad you were able to finish before the group left for their walk.

"Oh! Congratulations! You have to come to my new show. People will go crazy when they hear about how Capitol's most popular couple is taking the next step in their relationship! And I think we are all very curious about your beginnings. And the wedding will come soon! I guess right after the election, am I wrong? Oh, it doesn't matter, lovebrids. It is indeed an amazing year for the society of Capitol and Panem."

"We will, Lucretius. Maybe as a presidential couple? Who knows... What do you think about it, my darling? Would you like an interview about us?" Coriolanus turns his head and looks at you questioningly, with mock concern and affection in his eyes. Only you can see how false his act is... or at least you think he is just pretending.

You hear one of the women gushing over the look and the way Coriolanus addresses you. The clever bastard plays the card of a guy who is head over heels in love to gain even more sympathy from society before the elections.

"It would be amazing, honey." You reply with a smile, leaning more into him as Flickerman and the others say how adorable the two of you are.

And you just stand there smiling, playing your part as the happy bride. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Coriolanus stealing glances at you, and you can't help but wonder... is he really that good at acting, or is he serious in his desire for you and your feelings?

Coriolanus's arm wraps around your waist possessively, like a snake, as the two of you pose for photos. Camera flashes blind you, but you keep a fake smile on your lips.

Several months have passed since your... interaction in the garden. You continued to play his loving fiancée in front of the Capitol, but you remained cold and uncaring towards him. You haven't fucked in the garden since then. You made sure to push and move away from him whenever he got too close to you in private.

Luckily, you didn't have to move into his apartment, and you still lived with your parents. You managed to convince him that moving would be pointless if you were about to move into the presidential palace. You prayed every day that this wouldn't happen.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that he turns his head to look at you. You automatically do the same without thinking much about it. And that's your mistake. When you meet his intense gaze of icy blue eyes... you can't look away. You feel like he's holding you tightly by the chin and forcing you to look into his irises... But how can you look away when you see emotions in his eyes that they would never dare admit to you? And judging by the way it sent photographers into a frenzy as they screamed in excitation, you know you're not the only one who saw it.

You still can't figure out if it's just an act or if he actually has feelings for you. Something more than a sick obsession. Maybe you were really starting to have symptoms of Stockholm syndrome?

He pulls you from your thoughts as he leans towards you to tell you something, trying to shout over the crowd around you.

"Are you ready? Shall we go to our seats?"

You nod at him. He takes your hand in his and leads you inside the building, where the official announcement of the results is to take place. The crowd around you whistles in delight as he sees how protectively he treats you and how he guides you through the crowd while making sure you keep up with his pace and don't follow him. He has you beside him, gently distant away—enough for him to be able to cover you in case of any danger.

He leads you to a place of honour next to Dr. Gaul. He kisses you on the cheek and leaves to take his place on the podium in front of the cameras with the other candidates.

"Nice ring." The woman next to you says, a teasing smirk on her lips.

"He would put a collar around my neck with his name on it if he could. I suppose you would help him with that." You snort indignantly and furiously, at which she laughs.

"I can't deny that I'm rooting for you two." You roll your eyes at her and focus your gaze on Lucky, who opens the event.

You know very well that if he becomes president, you will lose everything. All your freedom. You will have to play the role of his devoted wife and mother to his children for the rest of your life. It is true that you will have funds at your disposal to conduct your own research in the laboratory, but will it make you happy? Could you live like that?

"But there can only be one winner…" Lucky's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You and the entire Capitol are waiting for the results. To hear the name of your new president. "And that is CORIIOLANUS SNOW! Ladies and gentlemen, let's salute our president!"

The world is dying around you. People shout and chant the name of Coriolanus; there is a huge noise of applause and joy. You won't leave your seat. You sit there, frozen, realising the harsh truth. Now, nothing can stop him. He can do anything he wants, and you know damn well that he, like all these people, has no boundaries.

"But where is he? Where is our president?" Before you can look around, you feel hands cupping your face as someone pulls you to the left. Coriolanus' lips crash against yours, and you can only moan into his sudden, passionate kiss and let him do whatever he wants. "Oh, yes, that's where he is! Where else could a man be after hearing that he had won? Of course, at the side of his chosen one, his life companion, and his beloved! This is how it should be, my friends! This is who the Capitol has chosen! A man who loves his woman above all else and shares his joys and sorrows with her. That's the real power, my friends. The power of love. Ladies and gentlemen, our president, who is heading right this way, Coriolanus Snow!"

You don't remember what happened next or what speech he made. Strangely enough, consciousness fully returns to you after a few glasses of champagne and wine. You are standing near the bar, away from the large crowd. Coriolanus is already giving another interview when Dr. Gaul approaches you.

"I warned you." She says, and you raise a questioning eyebrow at her. "When you started dating. That there is nothing more dangerous and beneficial to women than powerful men."

"You knew since then?"

"Of course. He is obsessed with power and control. He had his little songbird, but she ran away. Then he met you and you became his new... love interest or obsession. This boy is hard to read sometimes." He tells you as you both look at Coriolanus. Somehow, he feels your eyes on him. He nods at Dr. Gaul and throws you a smirk before his attention returns to the journalist.

"So... it was never true?" You ask, placing your empty glass on the bar.

"I think he cares about you... on his own way." She tells you, which doesn't make you feel any better. You sigh deeply and order a glass of vodka, which you immediately drink. "Oh, don't be so sad. That's life, my child. My husband was just like him. He was a controlling manipulator, but he had one thing that I didn't, the thing that helped me achieve greatness and be where I am now. To be a legend. An icon."

"And what was that?" You ask resignedly, focusing your attention on her.

"Money. A rich and, above all, powerful man is able to do anything if he is madly in love. And Mr. Snow is a perfect example of this. Tell me... how much money has he already put into you? How much did you get in return for the ounce of attention and closeness he so desperately craves? You didn't want to be a whore, but we women have to act like one sometimes."

"There must be another way." You argue, unable to accept such a… cruel truth, but she just laughs bitterly, mockingly.

"There is not. This is the world of men, my child. It is their pride that guides and makes all important decisions. Behind every man, however, there is a woman who... has the strength to overshadow his pride and direct him the way she wants. Unfortunately, you have to seduce him if you want to get what you want. But I know you. And I know you will be able to do it. I know that you, of all people, are the closest to following my path and carrying my legacy."

"I am not like you." You respond quickly, outraged by the ideas she's giving you and her opinion of you.

"Of course not. There are no women or men like me. Besides, you may become the First Lady. The most powerful woman in all of Panem. Take it. Accept his proposal and the ring that you think will be your prison. Use it wisely. To your advantage. It's a chance that not many of us have. Think about it."

You don't have a chance to answer her. Coriolanus approaches you with a huge smile on his face. He places a quick kiss on your cheek and wraps his hand around your waist before turning his full attention to Dr. Gaul.

"Congratulations, Mr. Snow. Or should I say... Mr. President?" She asks him teasingly with a smug, proud smirk. Eventually, her student became president.

"Dr. Gaul, you, of all people, can call me whatever you want." He responds with extreme happiness—a sight that is truly rare. You also think that he is more clingy than usual.

"I shall leave you two to celebrate then, President Snow." She says it with a smile and walks past you, giving you a wink.

You sigh, which doesn't go unnoticed by Coriolanus. He rubs his hand gently over your back and stands in front of you, leaning against the bar.

"We have to go. Photographers and papparazi are dying to take a picture of us both." He says, adjusting the necklace around your neck. You grab his hand and place it against your neck, staring at him from under your eyelashes as you lean towards him and whisper seductively.

"Don't you want to accept my... very warm congratulations first, Mr. President?"

You see that he is surprised by your behavior. He freezes for a moment in shock, looking at you carefully. He licks his lips as his thoughts race, and you casually run your hand over his vest, supposedly straightening it but actually caressing him gently, especially his abdominal muscles through the fabric of his clothes.

"What do you mean?" He asks shakily, swallowing as you intrude even further into his personal space.

"You know what..." You whisper, pressing your leg against his crotch. He hisses, feeling you rub your knee against his cock, which is hardening from your attention. He looks around the room quickly, relieved to see that no one is looking at you.

"Why such a sudden change?" He asks, quickly grabbing your hand that was getting dangerously close to the waistband of his pants as he begins to lead you out of the party and into a more… secluded room.

"There is no change. I still hate you and despise you. But what can I say... I am very drawn to a powerful man, my darling..." You mock him, calling him cute nicknames as he closes the door behind you.

You gasp, surprised, when he pins you immediately against the door. You feel his length press against your hip as he leans over you to whisper in your ear.

"You're going to fall in love with me again. I promise you this, my little petal." And with that, he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, sealing his oath.

And as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moan as his hands roam and tease your pussy with his fingers, preparing you for him, you wonder if even despite your dislike for him, he'll be able to do it. After all, he was a powerful man... but you were an equally powerful woman.

[sh1-n0bu]

hhhhhhhhh

no no no you guys just don’t get it. irl i’m fucking small, okay? like i’m 163cm. 5’3 or however that would turn out to be. and you guys need to understand that being that small and having an s/o who’s an absolute giant compared tk you (bonus points if they’re in a position of power and commanding) and yet to have your powerful s/o become nothing more than a pathetic whining, whimpering mess who’s just begging for your touch while on their knees with tears welling in their eyes *bangs head against wall bangs head against wall bagns head against wall*

imagine being the lover of jing yuan. he’s a powerful man, a literal general of an entire army and yet the moment he sees you, he’s tugging on your sleeve, pouting as he asks for you to touch him. he’s been such a good boy and holding himself back for you, please help him out? he can get you your favorite snacks! or do you need shoulder massages? jing yuan is running around like an errand boy, trying to please you jusg so he can feel your hand tightly wrapped around his cock.

imagine being the lover of blade. he’s a scary guy. quiet, reserved, cruel and most definitely won’t hesitate to resort to murder if he wants something. or simply if he felt like it. imagine him crawling on your lap with loud whines and soft whimpers, grinding his hard on on your thigh. you always tell him to learn how to use his words but bladie just never seems to get it. maybe you should edge him again until he learns his lesson?

imagine being the lover of gepard landau. he’s the captain of the silvermane guards. the most trusted man and silvermane guard in the entirety of belebog. the people adore him and his subordinates look up to him, wanting to be strong and reliable just like their captain. if only they knew their captain was wearing a hidden collar underneath his high collared undershirt. one that said just who he would kneel to.

imagine being the lover of sampo. he’s a cheeky guy. lies and manipulation tactics ready up his sleeve. he knows how to weasel his way out of every dirty situation. but he would never lie to you. never you. not when you made it clear on just how rough you can be in the bedroom after finding out he lied about not tricking one of the astral express crew. but sometimes, sampo wants to lie again and have you know of it just so he can be put in impossible positions while he sobs and drools deliriously.

imagine being the lover of imbibitor lunae. he is the high elder of vidyadhara, the most respected individual amongst his own race. he’s elegant, divine, ethereal, calm and collected. a person of authority and power. if only the people knew just good you wreck him with only just your fingers. how his tail would curl around you asking for more while he sobs for you to be gentle. he’s always so sensitive in his vidyadhara form. just tug on his tail or guide his head to between your legs by his horns, he would become a mindless, pliant baby in no time.

imagine being the lover of welt. he’s a calm and serious man of the astral express crew. often being their guidance and pillar to lean on when things get a bit too much. heck, sometimes he even acts like a tired dad (that “maaarrrcchhhh” scene in xianzhou quest). hell, he was even formerly the second herrscher of reason, a being that’s literally able to bend the physics of reality itself. and yet he would do anything just so he can feel you around him. he wouldn’t hesitate to try and please you so he can be inside your warm walls, moaning and trembling as you ride him.

imagine being the lover of kafka. she’s a scary woman, no doubt. just a single whisper and you would be nothing more than her cute little puppet. and yet she uses her powers for more… different reasons when with you. ordering you to fuck her cunt, finger her open in the dark alleyway, to let her sit on your face so she can ride herself into overstimulation. kafka loves when you’re in control. especially when wringing orgasm after orgasm from her shaking body.

imagine being the lover of himeko. she’s the one who rebuilt the astral express, a respected and well known genius of a beautiful lady. anyone would be lucky to meet her. but the only luck himeko wants is to feel your fingers inside her. how she would give everything just so she can hear you whisper all sorts of vile things in her ear as you pinch her clit, telling her to keep quiet so she won’t wake up the others.

in conclusion, reverse size kink my beloved🥰🥰

[em1e]

万次郎 // GIVEN THE CHOICE ⠀ ༝ ༝ bonten!mikey ⠀ ༝ ༝ 8.4k words ⠀ ⚠︎ big brother!draken, mentions of violence, character death, manga spoilers, pregnancy, angst, suggestive?, implied fem!reader but no pronouns. ⠀ — you've always liked mikey growing up. how do you tell him years down the line that you've had his kid?

there’s not much to say about being the younger sibling to draken. 

even less about his delinquent friends he seemed to follow around like a puppy. 

but you could say a lot about his friend mikey. self-proclaimed leader at the age of eleven, you watched from the sidelines as he became the true leader of his silly group toman, saw how it’d develop to something more as you grow older. 

and as the years pass, you become more acquainted with those same people he’s always around - namely one baji keisuke, who made it very apparent from the start he wanted to be your friend because ‘only cool guys have a weak best friend’ and apparently no one else in toman was weak. 

days turn to weeks turn to years with you in their shadow, but you’ve never seemed to mind. 

you enjoy your view from the sidelines. 

“you can’t tell anyone.” you warn baji with a finger pointed in his direction, eyes narrowed as if that could somehow make your threat more lethal. 

he holds his hands up in mock-defense, taking a step away with his shoulders slouched, “you have my word.” 

you look away from him, arms crossing over your chest as you answer. 

“sorry?” he tilts his head, leaning forward, “didn’t quite catch that.” 

you feel yourself flush, hiding your face to mumble the reply, “mikey.” 

there’s a beat of silence for all of five seconds before he starts laughing. 

“you have a crush on mikey? of all people?” 

you shove him away from you when he leans against you for support, yet still manage to press your hand against his mouth because he’s so fucking loud, “quiet down,” you hiss out, “they’re supposed to be ‘round the corner, will you shut up?!” 

“just think it’s funny how you ‘nd your brother have a thing for each of the sano siblings-”

“quiet!” 

draken and mikey stumble upon you with a fist full of baji’s hair, the other hand pressed firmly against his mouth while he has his own shoving at your face to keep you away. 

and that’s just how most days go - when they aren’t terrorizing the city, they’re bothering you for one reason or another. 

until it isn’t. 

until kazutora gets released from juvie and baji leaves you in the dust and then dies after. . . it’s a lot to take in, especially for someone so young - so close to someone who suddenly drops it on you that they want nothing to do with you, and then you hear during the aftermath from your brother that he was begging for you to forgive him, for you to take care of mikey, too, because someone has to. 

until draken finds you curled in on yourself sobbing because even to the end, baji put other people above himself and it’s so fucking unfair that that’s how he meets his demise. 

you stay in your room for a week without moving. it takes draken practically dragging you out of the space to get you into the world again, mikey at his side with a frown. 

and maybe it’s from the mutual trauma of losing someone so close to you (despite it being a thousand times worse for mikey, since he was actively there at the scene), but you and mikey grow closer after baji’s death. 

you make sure one another eats, that you’ve done your assignments on time, that you’re getting enough sleep, that you’re taking care of yourselves. 

it stays like that for a while, you tucked behind mikey and draken like a secret, something no one else can touch or bother with emma at your side. 

and then she dies, too. 

her death was the breaking point for them, you think. 

unexpected and quick and cruel that mikey had to watch her pass, the tensions eating away at them and bursting at the seams from the announcement of her death. when draken came back home with busted knuckles and tear-stained cheeks, it broke you because your big brother was supposed to be the strong one. a piece of you chipped away when he crumbled in your embrace, sobs wrecking through his body while you held him close. 

the funeral isn’t any better, tensions still high, and draken steps away at the end when you move to talk to mikey. 

you promise to check in on him when you can, pull him into a hug while offering your condolences, and when you separate he doesn’t look at you as he says his thanks. 

when you make your way to draken, you will yourself to glance back at mikey and . . . he looks so small, standing beside his grandpa. unfocused on the people that come up, shake his hand with frowns, then leave. as if feeling your stare on him, he looks up to meet your gaze, and with such a small glance, you can see how heavily everything’s weighed down on him. how cruel the world has been to him, and how it remains unrelenting of punches. 

he looks away before you do, and draken pulling you close to him by the shoulder to keep you from walking into someone draws your attention away from mikey. 

weeks turn to months, passing without a hitch, and you do your best to check in on mikey when you can. some days you visit and his grandpa answers the door, turning you away because mikey’s out and he doesn’t know where he is - most days your texts and calls go unanswered. 

ken later informs you toman’s disbanded and he isn’t sure what to do with himself. despite your best efforts, getting in contact with mikey becomes harder and harder, until it becomes an impossible feat altogether. 

years pass with no contact - with everyone lives moving forward, with your brother owning his own bike shop and inupi coming to work with him, and you getting an insane job offer for your dream position. it’s crazy amazing for someone your age to see an opportunity like this, and you’re elated beyond belief by the proposition, except . . . it’s on the other side of japan. 

you’d have to leave everything you’ve ever known for the chance of a lifetime, and it’s your brother who encourages you to take it. 

“who knows if something like this could happen again,” he says with a smile, ruffling your hair in a way that big brothers do, “you’ll always have a home here to come to if things don’t pan out.” 

you see everyone you can in the weeks before you leave, even manage to pin down mitsuya for coffee before he leaves for another exciting runway event in italy (you tease how you wish you’d be going there instead - he offers an invite once you’re settled in your new apartment). 

the only person you couldn’t pinpoint a location for was . . . mikey. 

despite your many calls to the old number you have stored in your phone, searching for him at his old childhood home, even asking draken and the other friends from his old gang - no one knew. you amaze yourself with your own detective skills, though, by some miracle able to find an address - you applaud yourself as you step to the door, double checking the apartment number matches what you have written down before you knock. 

there’s a moment where you stand dumbly waiting for someone to open the door, and you think for a second maybe you have the wrong apartment, or maybe he’s not home, or -

there’s a click of the lock sounding, the door creaking open just enough for you to see the darkness inside. 

you brighten when mikey peeks his head around the door, leaning against the frame and just . . . staring, expression unreadable. 

“hi . . .” you breath out, “’ve been lookin’ for you.” 

“that spells trouble.” he says without missing a beat, looking down both ends of the hall before he pushes the door open further. an invitation to enter, one you take gratefully. 

“for who?” you can’t help but tease, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you spin to face him closing the door, “me? or you?” 

“depends on how this goes.” he shrugs, leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. 

you don't take his words as the threat they are, smile still as bright as when he first pulled open the door, “how have you been? it’s been a while.” 

“‘ve been better,” he looks away from you, “definitely been worse.” 

“wellll, “ you spin on your heel to get a look at his apartment, reaching for the wall where the lightswitch sits and flipping them on, “what have you been up to? s’nice apartment, even better with the lights on.” you chastise lightly, making yourself at home somewhere you surely could never consider it to be. 

when you turn back to face him, he’s already behind you, hand on your wrist, still touching the switch. 

“what do you want, (y/n)?” he asks. your gaze softens on him, now able to take in the light bags under his eyes, the way his frame is smaller than you remember. 

“to talk,” you answer gingerly, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, “to see you and know you’re not dead in a ditch in roppongi.”

“you can clearly see i’m not, s’there more?, ” the words leave his lips bitterly, contrasting how his eyes flutter closed, how he leans into your touch. 

“‘m moving pretty far,” you add after a moment of silence, “otherside of japan. just wanted to see you’re okay before i leave.” your thumb rubs gentle circles into his cheek, head tilting when his eyes snap open at the admission. 

“what for?” he pries, and the way he asks reminds you of when you were kids; when he’d beg and beg and beg to play with the toy you were already playing with if only for the fact that you were playing with it, how he’d whine and pout until you relented because you couldn’t stand the idea of him being upset with you. 

“a job,” you’re completely transparent as you answer, “‘the opportunity of a lifetime’. it felt . . . i dunno, wrong? to not share the good news with you-mph?” 

you're silenced by him suddenly pulling you to him, lips pressed to your own with his hands cupping your cheeks, and truth be told it’s everything fourteen-year-old you dreamed of and more. everything you ever wanted in life kissing you in his apartment before you go miles and miles away to start a completely different dream and it hurts. 

but you don’t have it in you to push him away, not when he presses you against the wall to deepen the kiss, or when he pulls your clothes off of you with a desperation that leaves you whining and begging, or when he guides you to his bedroom and continues his affection that holds the passion and emotion that’d been buried under fifteen years of dirt. he brings out each skeleton from the closet with every thrust until the both of you are spent, laying naked in each other’s embrace until you fall asleep. 

it’s surprising, almost, to wake up the next morning alone in a bed that isn’t yours. 

there’s no sign of mikey when you look around the apartment, the only tell of him even staying in the form of a stack of cash with a note in his familiar handwriting left on the kitchen counter. 

hope this helps you get started in the new city. - mikey 

a number sits in a smaller font under the note, in even smaller writing it says for emergencies, use this number. 

it feels weird, taking the money with no way to show your appreciation, so you rip a small corner from the paper and write your thanks out, the promise of visiting him soon when you’re back in town added with a heart at the end of your note. 

two days later, and you’re driving to a new city with your entire life packed in suitcases and boxes - a moving truck scheduled to deliver your belongings a day after you get to your apartment. 

almost two months pass, and you find you’re settling well; everyone at the company adores you, and the building your apartment’s in sits across from a nice ramen shop that you like to go to every tuesday night after you get paid. 

you come down with a stomach bug, one you can’t seem to shake, and after a week of calling out and forcing yourself to work despite being exhausted and crabby and ill, you go to the doctor. 

imagine your surprise when he tells you you’re fucking pregnant. 

two months, in fact, proven with the sonogram he sets you up with, and you’re calling your brother in hysterics in your car when the appointment is over. 

“pregnant?” he repeats over the phone, after taking the first five minutes of the call just trying to calm you down, “by who?” 

you’re chewing your lip raw as you answer, “mikey . . .” 

there’s a beat of silence, before you’re whispering out, “‘m scared, ken. i-i’m miles from home and-and i just started this job and i don’t even know if i can take care of a baby on my own-” 

“you’re gonna keep it?” he asks, tone genuine. 

“i . . . yeah, i think so - i-i mean, i want to . . . is that stupid? is that a stupid want for me to have?” your lip wobbles waiting for his answer. 

“no, but . . . s’lot of work, (y/n). if it’s something you do want, you know i’ll support you in any way i can, you just gotta tell me how to help.” 

“i wan’a come home.” you settle, and the way the words leave your lips remind you of a child, begging a parent for something so small when this is anything but. 

“we can do that,” draken promises, “i’ll get a flight and help you pack or get inupi to ride with me. we’ll figure it all out, don’t stress.” 

you sniffle, wiping at your face hastily, “kay . . . okay. thank you ken.” 

“f’course,” you can hear the smile in his voice over the phone, “s’what big brother’s are for.” 

and the next few weeks are filled with moving your life back home, with the help of draken and inupi. the people at your job are nothing but happy at the news for you, despite being sad to see you go - they wish you the best in life, though, and even offer another position to apply if you ever decide to come back to the area. it’s sweet, really. 

you move into draken’s house and have a healthy baby boy that looks so much like mikey, you think it might kill you. you name him shin. 

he makes you promise to not try to seek out mikey one night, after you’d rocked shin to sleep and put him down in his crib. 

“no one knows what he’s been up to,” he argues quietly when your brows furrow at the demand, “and frankly, the few ties i still have with gangs make me worried from what little things they tell me.” 

“but those could just be rumors,” you frown, “he deserves to know he has a kid.” 

“it’s dangerous, (y/n).” draken settles with the finality of a parent telling their kid they can’t have another cookie, “‘m serious. don’t try to contact him.” 

despite the weight the conversation holds, you can’t help but stick your tongue out at him childishly. something he returns, only to narrowly dodge the stuffed animal you throw his way in opposition. 

and though the warnings loom in the air, you can’t help but try to let mikey know - calling the number he left countless times, trying to use your rusty detective skills that aided you in finding him almost a year ago, just trying to make him aware that you had his son. 

you don’t seek child support, or demand otherworldly things that a parent could only dream of (a rocking chair that massages your back and automatically rocks? you drool at the thought), you just feel it’s something he deserves to know. something he should be given a choice to be a part of. 

except he’s known since you moved back. 

it was a difficult task, keeping tabs on you when you were so far away, but he knew from the day you settled into draken’s home by word of mouth from koko. it must’ve been a punishment for koko, to check in on all of their friend’s from their pasts, to make sure their lives are going how they want them to and make sure everyone is happy. 

mikey couldn’t stomach the photos koko would offer, waving them away and requesting the verbal update instead, and when your son is born, he’s only informed that there’s no father on the birth certificate. your attempts to contact him died in vein, the number he gave you belonging to an old throw away phone he got rid of a week after he left it with you. he didn’t think you’d ever need it. 

three years pass, and koko would be damned to say the kid doesn't look like a photocopy of mikey. wild blond hair, all bright eyed and sweet. 

you work at a diner now, usually leave shin with draken and inupi for your nightshift and ken takes him home when he’s done at the garage. 

it’s cute, the way they interact with him - they let him get in the way of their work, careful so he doesn’t get hurt, but allow his curiosity and grubby hands grab hold of tools and bolts and pieces they need. 

you're not overly fond of letting shin have his way with whatever he can pinch between his fingers, since usually whatever he does find ends up in his mouth like a chew toy, but ken and inupi tease you for being too overprotective. 

you still live with ken, despite insisting the need to get out of his hair, but he promises it’s okay to take your time since he adores his nephew and doesn’t mind helping, and inupi’s became a good friend by proxy. 

it’s rare for you and your brother to argue, especially in front of shin, and truly you’re not sure what sparked the conversation in the first place - all you know is you’re upset. 

“inupi, tell my brother it’s unfair for mikey to not know he has a kid.” 

“inui, tell my sibling if mikey wanted to be involved, he would be. simple as that.” 

“we don’t even know if he knows,” you groan out, leaving inupi to hold up his hands defensively. 

“i have no argument in this.” is all he offers. 

“but you have some insight, “ you counter, kneeling down when shin tugs on your pants, “you know the story-” 

“i’m just sayin’ you’ve tried for three years-” draken starts.

“four.” 

“-four years, “ he continues, “and you’ve gotten nothing. i don’t see a need for you to continue if you’ve come up empty handed for so long.” 

“because, ken-” 

shin’s lip wobbles for a second before he bursts into tears, gripping the front of your shirt until you’re shushing him and pulling you towards him in a hug, “shhh, baby, it’s okay. what’s wrong?” 

he continues to cry despite you rocking him, and it takes draken pulling him out of your arms while tickling his sides to make him stop. 

“prob’ly didn’t like the arguing.” inupi comments, dodging a wrench you throw his way with a glare. 

“we’ll talk about this later,” you sigh out, standing on your toes to squeeze shin’s cheeks, “i love, love, love you.” you emphasize each ‘love’ with a kiss to his chubby cheeks, happy to hear his crying replaced with giggles and incoherent toddler babble. 

your shift at work isn’t anything special - you have some regulars that come in at the odd hours of night, and by the end of your shift, you’re the last to leave; finishing out some paperwork the managers can’t be bothered to do despite getting paid far less than them to do it. 

you fish your keys from your bag, unlock your car, ready to begin the short drive home but . . . your car won’t start. 

of course it doesn’t. it’s an older model, one you were supposed to take to the scrap yard for a slightly newer model last month but couldn’t because shin unexpectedly got sick and you had to fork out some cash to make sure he got better. 

you sigh, pop the hood of the vehicle as if maybe some of your brother’s knowledge of mechanics could somehow transfer to you, and call the aforementioned male. 

it rings. . . and rings . . and rings. no answer. 

you try again. 

nothing. 

you kick at the front bumper in frustration, running a hand over your face in search of another contact. surely inupi is awake at two in the morning, right? 

the call rings out, and you’re really worried it’s going straight to voicemail for a second, but he picks up on seemingly the last buzz, “hello?” he sounds groggy, like you did just wake him up. you don’t have time to dwell on the thought when a group of guys appear from the sidewalk, spotting and attempting to talk to you in one breath. 

“car won’t start?” one asks, nudging his friend as they make their way closer to you, “we can help.” 

you turn away from them, “hey inui, can you come get me from work? ken didn’t answer and my car won’t start.” 

“hey.” the guys are much closer now, one stepping around to the front of the car while the other two stand off to your right, vying for your attention. 

“yeah f’course. there other people around you?” there’s some shuffling from inupi’s end, like he’s getting out of bed. 

“yeah. um, how long till you can be here?” 

“ten? minutes maybe.” you swallow at the answer. 

“great, i’ll see you in five.” 

you pull the phone from your ear slightly, turning back to face the two guys to your right, “i don’t need any help, i have a friend on the way-” 

there’s only a moment between you dismissing their assistance before the guy who was at the front of your car is shoving at your shoulder and pinning you to the side of your car, one hand pressed firmly to your mouth while the other squeezes your wrist until your phone falls from your hand and kicks it away. 

you shove a hand at his face, trying to reach into your bag for your taser or pocket knife or a really sharp pencil when the guy moves his hand from your mouth to your throat, squeezing hard enough you’re sure it’ll bruise, while tearing your bag from your shoulder and throwing it to sit with your phone. 

the smell of alcohol comes off of him in waves when he grins, leaning down to get a good look at you, “we can ‘elp ya,” he offers, “but not for free.” 

your nails bite into the skin of his wrist, the need to breath overtaking every other sense desperately while you continue to kick and claw at him.

his grip only relents at the sound of a motorcycle idling in the parking lot, but the pressure of his hand still keeps you in place by the throat, head turning to address who could see fit to interrupt this ‘exchange’. the man on the bike adjusts the mask on his face, tucks his long platinum hair to the side, seeming to ignore the eyes on him. 

“diner’s closed,” one of the other guys says, stepping towards the stranger, “and we’re kinda busy here ourselves-” 

he doesn’t get the chance to really say what they’re doing when the guy steps off the bike and just swings. 

his fist meets the guy's cheek with a harsh thwack while mumbling, “shouldn’t touch shit that doesn’t belong to you.” 

the guy holding you up releases his grip completely, leaving you to drop to the ground when your legs buckle under your weight, frozen and left only watching as the two remaining men are taken down easily by your potential savior. 

when the three stay unmoving on the ground, he crouches in front of you, adjusting the mask on his face once again while taking in your shaken form. 

“you okay?” you don’t trust your voice, so you only nod, “is someone on the way to get you? or d’ya need a ride?” 

you nod again, “i-inui’s coming.” you manage to whisper out, unable to catch the way his eyes widen slightly as he stands to his full height. 

he begins to walk away, back to his motorcycle that’s still running, but his steps hesitate when you call out, “is that you, koko?” 

he doesn’t turn to face you, doesn’t address if you’re correct in your assumption, “don’t worry ‘bout all this,” he says instead, “i’ll take care of it.” 

and then he’s climbing onto his bike, pulling out of the parking lot less than a minute before inupi’s pulling into it. 

you’re still on the ground when he rushes towards you to see if you’re okay, stepping over the unconscious bodies with little regard. you recount what happened, which inupi dismisses since he remained on the phone until he pulled into the parking lot. 

“do . . . was it really koko?” he asks, helping you up from the cement and gathering the items that spilled from your bag, offering your now cracked phone to you with a frown. 

“i’m not sure . . . i never really knew him like you did, “ you reach into your car to grab the important belongings and shove them in your bag, “it didn’t look like him but . . . it sounded like him. was his eyes, i think.” 

inupi looks away at this, “so what do you wanna do? ‘bout these guys?” 

you swallow, keeping your stare away from the three on the floor, “he said he'd take care of it and i don’t . . . i just wanna go home.”

“okay,” inui’s hand finds it place at the small of your back, guiding you gently to his bike and helping you on, “i’ll take you home.” 

when inupi walks you through the foyer, draken’s in front of you the second the door falls shut. 

you can see his worry in the crease of his brow, from the way he grabs your shoulders to give you a once-over and frowning at the way your neck seems to be irritated beyond belief, “are you okay? i-i had to put shin back to bed because he woke up ‘nd i didn’t have my phone on me but when tried calling back but you didn’t answer.” 

“‘m okay . . .” you assure, peeling yourself away from him, “gonna go shower . . um, inui can tell you what happened.” 

your voice is so small as you speak, ken can only nod and watch you disappear into the hall before he turns to inui, who delves into the story based on what he heard over the phone and what you told him when he arrived.

you scrub your skin raw in the shower, until it almost stings from how harsh you rub. you slip out of the bathroom quietly after, sneak your way into shin’s nursery and sit by his bed for just a second to decompress, rubbing the boys back softly while he sleeps. 

the peace is disrupted by ken peeking his head around the door, “c’mon, we gotta talk ‘bout it.” 

you almost pout, childlike, “do we have to?”

the look he gives you offers no leeway to argue, so you sigh and press a kiss to shin’s hair before standing, deciding now isn’t the time to start an argument. 

inupi’s gone when you come out to the living room, tucking your legs under yourself as you sit on the couch with ken beside you. 

you feel like a child they way you explain what happened, unable to look at him as you speak. ken visibly stiffens at the mention of the potential koko coming to your aid, interrupting you mid story to remind you, “you know it doesn’t matter that he helped you, right. you’re not gonna go out lookin’ for him or mikey or whoever else.” 

you frown at his words, opening your mouth to argue but he shakes his head before you can, “no, (y/n), ‘m serious. it’s too dangerous.”

you look down, defeated, but nod your head, “okay . . . fine.”

and really, you had full intention to abide by the warning. but . . . your boss called you the next day, said something about the diner being closed for the next few days because of something you couldn’t be bothered to remember and that you’d still be paid for the lost hours. 

the details don’t matter, really. you drop shin off with draken as usual, avoid mentioning the fact that you have the day off, and leave with the intent to use the next free hours just . . . looking. for koko or mikey or anyone who might know anything about either of them. 

it’s stupid, you think, to search and pry so openly, bouncing from bars and clubs asking anyone who’ll listen, but within three hours, you’ve gathered the following; 

mikey runs some big name gang. baton? batten? something. 

he has some executives that help run his gang, some of which own a few of the clubs in the shiftier parts of the city – haitani’s? you think they’re called?

the haitani’s are close to koko, who’s close to mikey, and really that’s the only thing you need. 

so you continue going from club to club, under the impression that apparently the haitani’s frequent their own clubs just about every night. you hear about a nicer club towards the edge of the city, one they favor to the other’s since the liquor is stronger and the girls are prettier – but these are all things you’ve heard from other people, so who knows how true it really is.

when you make it to the club, you wonder if your sundress is something considered to be ‘underdressed’. surely the juice stain on the front isn’t working in your favor as the bouncer gives you a once-over. 

“yer lookin’ for who, now?” he asks, one brow raised with his arms crossed over his chest. 

if you had any sense in you, you’d probably be scared of the way he eyes you down, but growing up around idiots who don’t know when to stop messing around has really ruined your fight or flight response. 

“the haitani brothers..” you reply, mocking the way he crosses his arms over his chest, “i heard they sometimes come by here, i thought maybe-” 

“you thought, huh?” his eyes rake over your form, and your arms shift protectively around yourself instead of mocking him, “well i think you should get outta here ‘fore you get hurt.” 

“i just need to know if they’re here-” 

he turns away from you with a hand pressed to the earpiece sitting in his ear, looking into the building before he turns to face you again with a squinted glare, “you sure they’re the right one? yeah. yeah. right. i’ll send ‘em up.” 

he gestures towards the inside of the building, nodding his head, “straight ahead, up the stairs.”

with those instructions, you head towards the back of the club and find a set of stairs, separated by a velvet rope with another bouncer standing in front of it. as if expecting your arrival, he unhooks the rope from its place and steps aside, gesturing for you to follow the stairs up. 

at the top of the stairs sits a closed door and when you push it open, peeking around it to get a look inside, you see a nice couch with two guys perched on them - one with a girl who you can assume is from the club sitting in his lap, while the other sips from the drink in his hand, eyeing you the second you’re past the threshold. 

the one with the girl in his lap openly squeezes her ass, grinning at you when you look away quickly. he leans forward, whispering something in her ear, and she stands with a pout, practically glaring at you as she leaves. 

the door clicks shut behind her, and you’re left in awkward silence with the thrum of music playing under your feet. 

after a moment, the one with a drink in hand tilts his head at you, “what’s a pretty thing like you doin’, askin’ for us by name?” 

“‘m lookin’ for koko . . .” you voice is smaller than you remember, making you almost cringe in on yourself at the way they eat it up. 

“why’re ya lookin’ for our koko?” 

“w-we’re friends.” you stutter out, “i just. . . need to talk to him.” 

“where’d all that confidence go?” the one who had the girl in his lap tsks as he stands, “we heard you over his comms, you were practically demanding to talk to us - now you’re a stuttering lil’ mess. what happened between now and then?” 

he stops in front of you, head tilted as he looms over you, “maybe you should get to know us first. ‘m ran, that’s rindou. thought we knew ‘bout all the nice things koko keeps hidden away.” 

though he isn’t speaking to you for the last part, his eyes don’t leave you while they rake over your face, over your body. he reaches to cup your cheek, almost pouting at the way you flinch away from the contact with a frown. 

“i’m just lookin’ for koko.” you settle with, leaning away from him. 

ran actually does pout at this, bottom lip jutted out. “you’re tellin’ me we can’t have some fun before he gets here?” 

“that’s exactly what they’re sayin’, actually.” someone says from behind you, and you jump when you’re being pulled away from ran by your upper arm. a glance behind you reveals the man you’ve been waiting for - koko, with his hair pulled neatly to the side and a scowl on his face. 

ran grins at the sight of him, clapping his hands as if he wasn’t just making you uncomfortable. rindou just clicks his tongue. 

“s’a shame you got here so quick. thought we’d have some time to get to know ‘em.” 

“as if you’d try.” koko accuses, fingers digging into your skin, “you know he’d be pissed if you did anything.” 

“who said anything ‘bout trying anything. just wanna know who’s got our dear boss so worked up all the time.” 

instead of giving him the satisfaction of a reply, koko fully faces you with his eyes narrowing to further slits, “you must be crazy to come here, even crazier to ask around for us in the first place.” 

“i need to see mikey,” you frown, “was the only way i could think of since it was you that showed up the other day, right?”

you can see the way he clenches his jaw, muscles tight, “doesn’t matter. do you know how dangerous it was for you to ask around for us? mikey isn’t someone you can just see anyways-” 

“why can’t they?” rindou, seemingly the only sensible guy in the room, questions, “they wanna talk to ‘im, he’d only be one call away.” 

“you know why.” koko snaps, heavy weight of his glare moving from you to the male, “we can’t just-” 

ran’s phone rings from his pocket, effectively silencing koko mid sentence, and when he pulls it out, he waves it in front of koko with a sharp-toothed grin, “speak of the devil.” 

you open your mouth to ask, maybe even demand the phone from ran as he answers, but a sharp squeeze to your arm from koko leaves you quiet - a silent warning heard loud and clear. 

don’t say a word. 

ran’s eyes rake over your form as he answers, licking his lips like you could be his next meal, “yeah? he just got here. no, i would never! i’m offended you think i would,” whatever mikey’s saying has him grinning like a schoolgirl, gaze moving from you to koko, “if ya wanted to talk to him, why didn’t you call him. yeah, whatever, whatever, fine.” 

he offers the phone to koko, who grimaces at the device. 

“wants to talk to you.” ran elaborates, as if the implication wasn’t clear enough. 

koko snatches the phone from him with a glare, letting go of your arm to turn away from the two of you, “hello?” 

you can barely make out the sound of someone on the other line, lip pulled between your teeth when you see how koko’s face pinches in distaste for whatever mikey could be saying. 

“are you sure that’s a good idea. no, that's not what i'm saying at all - okay, fine. yeah, i’ll take ‘em there. sure. bye.” 

he hangs up with a scowl, tossing ran back his phone as he turns to reface you, “come on, we’re gonna go somewhere.” 

“to mikey?” you ask, hope leaking off your tongue. 

he doesn’t reply, opening the door and gesturing for you to exit the room when you don’t immediately begin moving. 

you offer a small wave goodbye to ran and rindou, despite the fact that there was no pleasure in meeting them in the first place, and you miss the glare koko sends them once you’re walking down the steps. koko leads you out of the club, guiding you by the upper arm through the sea of people until you’re stepping into the cool night air outside. 

though you’re no longer in the middle of the thrum of people, koko’s grasp on your arm doesn’t leave until he’s stopping in front of a sleek black car. a cadillac, maybe? mercedes? you’ve never been good with vehicles. 

he opens the door for you, though, and you have enough sense to mumble a small thanks as you climb in. 

when he enters through the driver’s door, he pauses for a minute, letting the silence wash over the two of you while gripping the steering wheel. 

“it really is stupid of you to come around here, ” he says finally, still looking straight ahead while you move to carefully pull your seatbelt on, “i shouldn’t even take you to him, you know. i should just take you home.” 

“you don’t have room to talk about stupid decisions,” you snap in time with the click of the buckle, “inupi and i have mourned the loss of people we care about who are still alive and well, that’s not fair.” 

you see the way his jaw clenches, knuckles turning white from how hard he holds the steering wheel. 

“we made sacrifices for you-” 

“i made sacrifices too,” you frown, thinking about the lost opportunities to raise your son, “and i just want five minutes of talking to mikey. is that too much to ask?” 

“you have other people to look out for instead, “ koko clicks his tongue, grip relenting as he looks over to you, “just remember that you asked for this.” 

the weight of his words settle heavy in the air as he puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking lot. 

the car ride is silent aside from the soft music that plays from the radio, turned to low volume. koko doesn’t move to break the silence, and you don’t have it in you to disrupt the tension that builds, anxiety creeping under your skin until it pops into goosebumps on the surface when he pulls in front of a large apartment building. 

“you’re gonna go to the top floor,” koko explains, not looking over at you, “he should already be there.” 

“should?” you parrot, nerves catching up with you. 

“if not already then soon.” he clicks the button to unlock the doors for you, and your breath stutters at the sound, fingers dancing around the door handle. 

“okay . . . thank you, koko. it’s . . . it is good to see you again. inupi would be happy to know you’re okay.” 

you don’t stay long enough to hear the way he inhales sharply, don’t see the way he tenses from the words. koko doesn’t wait for you to enter the building before he drives off, and you don’t look back as you push open the doors. 

the lobby is cold, you note dully, and it must be the reason your hairs stand on end when you find your way to the elevators. you wrap your arms around yourself after stepping inside of them, pressing the button to the top floor and willing your heart to not beat out of your chest. 

you realize just how much money mikey must have when the doors open to a penthouse - the entire floor being taken up as the apartment. you slowly step inside, sliding off your shoes by elevator and peek around inside the open area, spotting a living room, kitchen, and dining room all in the space. there’s a hall that cuts off towards the right of the room and you wonder if that’s where the bedroom(s?) and bathroom are. 

it feels wrong, almost, being here alone. though the room is definitely well furnished (the couch itself looks like it costs more than your broken down car), it feels . . . devoid of life. like maybe it’s only a place for rest - not a home. there’s no comfort of connection anywhere in the building, no vulnerability in personal property. you make your way further into the living room, eyeing the art hanging on the wall as if it could mean something to you. 

“i really thought he’d take you home.” you jump at the sound of a voice, whirling around to face whoever could be speaking. 

your mouth dries at the sight. 

mikey, but surely not your mikey, with his hair cropped short and paler than anything you remember, with bags under his eyes and frame thinner than what could be considered healthy, steps into view from the hall, hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

words die on your lips when he stops beside you, leaning back as if really taking in the painting you were eyeballing, head tilting, “heard you wanted to talk to me. must’ve been important if you went through all that trouble just to find me.” 

you don’t know what possesses you to take the first swing, to hit at his shoulder and his chest with tears welling in your eyes, but you do. 

and by some miracle, he lets you. it probably helps your hits are weak, with no intention to really harm - only needing an outlet for the emotions you’d been harboring for four fucking years. 

“why didn’t you call me,” you whisper when you’re finished with your barrage of hits, letting him guide you to the couch and sit you down on it, placing himself on the other end, “i-i wrote to you, i texted, i called, i looked for four years, mikey, and i got nothing in return. do you even know what for?” 

when you look at him, his gaze is set straight ahead to the wall across from the two of you, to the flatscreen tv that’s been off since you’d arrived - and who knows how long before that. 

“i’ve been busy.” he offers instead of answering, stare unwavering despite the way you frown and sigh out your disappointments. 

"too busy to respond? to even acknowledge my existence? what kind of fucking answer is that!?" you’re heated all over again by his lack of concession, at the way his eyes don’t leave the screen of the tv until you’re standing up from the couch with your arms out beside you, then tucking them into yourself and turning away from him, “koko was right, he should’ve just taken me home-” 

“why’d you come?” he asks instead, gaze finally moving from the tv to you. 

the question makes you pause, dig your nails into your arms as if that could somehow ground you. 

“i . . . we have a son.” you say finally, not turning to face him as the words leave your lips. 

you’re met with a beat of silence before he says, “i know.” 

i know. i know. i know, i know i know i know. 

he knew. 

he knew. 

“you know?” you repeat, turning to face him, suddenly quieter than before. 

“that you had a son,” he clarifies, face unreadable as he continues, “wasn’t sure if he was mine.” 

“how?” you press, legs buckling under your weight and leaving you to fall back down to the couch. 

“we . . . i’ve had koko do check-ins on everyone, every now and then,” he looks away at the admittance, “to make sure their lives are going well. did you know mitsuya’s a designer now? hakkai’s even modeled a few of his designs, and chifuyu and kazutora own a pet shop together, too” he’s deflecting, you can tell from the way he keeps his stare even and away from your own. 

“i do know,” you snap, “because they visit when they can. they want to see their nephew when they’re able to come by.” 

the way you bite your words out should sting, should hurt in a way he can’t place, but they don’t. he’s done this to himself, he knows, he’s just reaping what he’s sown. 

“why’d you leave?” you whisper out, “w-why’d you just disappear? why didn’t you respond to me? why did it take me getting hurt for you guys to make yourself known?”

he opens his mouth to reply, to say anything, but he doesn’t have an answer that will satisfy you. he knows that, and that is enough reason for him to keep his mouth shut. 

“have you seen him?” you’re still whispering, appalled he couldn’t assume your son was his - as if you didn’t pick the name shin for him. mikey shakes his head and it has you pulling out your phone with shaking hands, shoving it in his face until the lock screen photo of you, your son, and draken glare brightly back at him. 

his gaze moves from you to your phone, eyes scanning over the photo before they flit over to your face. 

“i didn’t know he was ours.” he defends, looking away, and you push the phone further into his face so he can’t escape it. 

“i’m telling you now that he is. “ you’re leaning into his space now, emphasize the need to look at the photo with another shake, and when he looks at you, really looks at you, his eyes trail from your own to your lips, to the bruises that marr your neck from the night prior. 

he tips your chin up to get a better look at them, setting you with a look when you offer some resistance, “did those guys do this to you?” you nod, “they won’t touch you again. no one will.” 

you frown at the implication, pushing his hand away with the hand not holding your phone, and he grabs that hand by the wrist when he spots the bruises decorating the skin there, taking it in with a still expression. 

“i can take care of you guys,” he settles, “make sure you never need or want anything. you won’t have to work at that shitty diner anymore. our kid would have anything he could ever desire.” 

his hand comes up to cup your cheek, wipes the stray tear that falls from your eyes, and against your better judgment, you lean into his touch. 

“i’m not asking that of you,” you explain, closing your eyes and willing any other tears that want to fall away, “you don’t even know his name.” you remind him, opening your eyes and standing when your phone starts to ring. you wipe at your face hastily, looking at the caller id, and only get a glance of the name ken before mikey’s pulling you down into his lap. 

you make a noise of disagreement, phone falling from your grasp to the couch beside the two of you from the sudden movement. 

“tell me his name.” he says, one hand still holding your wrist while the other keeps you in place by the hip. 

he practically demands it, eyes boring into your own as they search for the answer. 

“shin,” you reply after a moment, pulling your lip between your teeth, “i named him shin.” 

the hand at your hip grips it tighter, fingers digging into the flesh until it almost hurts. 

“after?” 

“shinichiro, yeah.” you don't know if it’s really necessary to clarify, but you don’t have a second to think about it when he suddenly surges forward, capturing your lips with his own. 

you falter for only a second before you’re returning the kiss with fervor, the hand not being held by mikey gripping the front of his shirt to pull him closer. 

“i will take care of you guys,” he promises when he pulls away from your lips to press his own to your chin, trailing down to your jaw and settling at the junction of your throat, peppering kisses at the free expanse of skin until it’s decorated pretty with hickies. 

his fingers dance under the hem of your dress, pulling you flush against him until your senses are full of nothing but, “can give ‘nother, you guys’ll have everything you could ever want.” he continues, the hand moving under your dress skimming across the tops of your thighs and pressing against your stomach. 

you whine, quiet and high in the back of your throat that leaves him grinding against you, hand moving from your stomach to your bare hip to guide you. he’s saying so many things, whispering so many assurances in your ear, and for a second, it’s too much. 

too overstimulating and happening too fast, but the way he holds you is so familiar, so comforting and warm and god you’ve missed him so fucking much. your phone buzzes to your right from the couch, and you pull away for a second to see it light up, see your brother’s contact pop up in that short amount of time before he’s forcing your attention back to him with a pinch to your hip, fingers pressing into your cheeks to turn your head back towards him. 

“eyes on me,” he demands, “keep your eyes on me.” 

[roosterforme]

Midnight Confessions | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It's getting harder and harder for Bradley to hide his feelings for you, especially when you offer to drive him home on his birthday. Before he knows it, he's drunk in your passenger seat, confessing everything he's kept to himself. He may not remember all of it in the morning, but you certainly do. 

Warnings: Fluff, drinking and swearing

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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"Hey, Midnight!" Phoenix called across the bar as she grinned up at Bradley. "Can you come here?" Bradley watched you turn away from Omaha and head in his direction with a smile on your face and a beer in your hand.

"What are you doing, Nat?" Bradley muttered to his friend, trying not to stare at you as you walked over to him. The last thing Bradley wanted was to get a little bit of attention from you now just to have to watch you and Omaha laughing together all night. 

"I'm giving you exactly what you want for your birthday," Nat replied with a devilish smirk. 

"Please don't," Bradley groaned, but you were already there, in his personal space. "Midnight," he said with a nod in your direction.

"Happy Birthday, Rooster," you whispered with a laugh, kissing his cheek so quickly he thought he had imagined it. "Next drink is on me." He swallowed hard, swirling the ice from his whiskey and Coke around in his glass. "Looks like I was just in time," you said, plucking the glass from his hand and heading for the bar.

"You're cruel," Bradley told Phoenix as soon as you were going. "You're evil, and I wish I never told you I have a thing for Midnight."

Nat rolled her eyes so hard Bradley was honestly afraid she wouldn't be able to see as well to fly ever again. "You think you're a locked box or something? You're transparent to me, Bradshaw. Literally an open book. As soon as Midnight showed up at Top Gun, I had your number. She's cute, she's smart, and she flies exactly like you do."

He watched you at the bar, and of course fucking Omaha was right there with you once again, his hand resting on your lower back. "I fucking hate him."

Nat snorted. "Omaha? You never used to have an issue with him before," she said, eyeing Bradley with an amused look. 

"He's annoying," Bradley said lamely. "And he's got nothing going for him except for that jawline." 

"Hmm," Nat hummed, shaking her head and scrutinizing him. "He's got pretty eyes too. And nice teeth. And his hair is actually similar to yours."

Bradley grunted and tried to ignore the scene at the bar while he picked up some darts. It was his birthday. He should be having a good time. He sighed and threw three darts in a row before Hangman joined him. And then he remembered why he never played darts when Jake hit three bullseyes in a row.

"Happy birthday," Hangman drawled with a lazy grin.

Bradley was saved from having to respond when you placed your hand on his forearm and handed him a fresh drink.

"Thanks," he told you, taking the opportunity to look at your face for a few seconds longer than he normally would. Big mistake. You got his heart rate going and made him feel speechless, and you weren't even doing anything. 

"So, what does the birthday boy have planned for the rest of the night?" you asked, staying with him even though Omaha was hanging around. 

"Oh, probably just getting blackout drunk and trying to forget that I have feelings," he replied casually, taking a sip of his drink.

"Yeah, I've tried that," you responded just as casually. "It doesn't work."

"Shit," he replied with a laugh.

"Yeah," you said, leaning in a little closer. "But I have a better idea."

Bradley shook his head and grinned. "No. Don't you remember? Penny said she'd kick us out if we played strip pool again."

You started laughing, and the sound of it this close up made him feel a little smug. Take that, Omaha.

"I swear, all it took was getting Bob to take his shirt off, and Penny looked like she was going to murder us," you said, still laughing brightly as you took him by the hand. "But we can play regular pool, if you want."

Bradley would have followed you anywhere. And then you were lacing your fingers with his, just so briefly, before letting go of him to grab two pool cues. And Bradley ended up playing with you as his partner while his friends handed him drink after drink. You were pretty good at pool, but he was better, and the two of you were unbeatable. Plus, this gave Bradley an excellent opportunity to stand very close to you and whisper in your ear. 

"Nah," he whispered as you bent down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear before he pulled back a little. He thought he heard you sigh as he said, "Go for the corner pocket with the nine ball."

"Okay," you agreed, and Bradley got to watch you beat Omaha and Hangman. And that was really all the birthday present he needed tonight. But then you jumped up and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Smoked those losers!" you said loudly, and this time you had Bradley laughing. Then his hand settled around your waist, and as soon as he felt your denim jeans against his fingers, he had to back up a step. You just smiled and turned to re rack the balls.

Bradley didn't notice it at first, but after another two hours, he was definitely drunk. 

"Give me your keys," Nat told him around eleven o'clock as she held out her hand. 

Bradley had to lean against the pool table while he dug around in his pocket to get his keyring out. He watched with unfocused eyes as she removed his Bronco key and handed him the remaining house key on the keychain that said I'M SO FLY.

"How am I gonna get home?" he asked Nat, leaning in a little closer to try to focus. "Nat, I'm too fucked up to even use a ride app."

She smiled and patted his cheek. "Midnight offered to drive you."

"No!" he groaned. "Nat. You can't do this to me."

"Happy birthday," she crooned, disappearing off into the crowd with his key, leaving him holding a pool cue as you approached him again.

"Why don't you finish your drink, and I'll drive you home?" you asked with a smile so pretty on your lips, he was just dying to kiss you.

He realized he was staring at you now, but he couldn't figure out how to control his body and turn away. Riding in your car with you right now was going to be a disaster. He just fucking knew it. And now he was still staring at you as your smile grew. He would do anything to be able to look away, but now you were giggling, and my god, Bradley just loved that sound. But he tried so hard to look away until you bit your lip and reached out to touch his forearm again, and then he knew he wasn't going to be able to look away from your face ever again no matter what.

"Fuck," he grunted, wondering who had let him drink this much.

You were rubbing your fingers along his arm, and Bradley's brain helpfully informed him that he could have a boner right now, no problem.

"Fuck," he repeated. But you were still smiling. 

"You are so drunk right now," you said softly, shaking your head. "Your cheeks are beat red. You look adorable."

"You're adorable," he whispered, and your laugh was loud and bright. 

"Okay, you just finish this, and I'll take you home whenever you want, birthday boy." You picked his drink up off the table and he took it from you before you turned away.

Oh. You had thought he was joking when he called you adorable. That was good, because he hadn't meant to say anything like that at all. Not out loud. He was going to have to hold his own damn mouth shut in your car. 

He had no idea how long he had been standing there with his glass in his hand, but he was watching you talking to Omaha. Fuck that guy, for real. But he looked annoyed right now. Bradley liked that expression on Omaha's face. He also vaguely thought nobody should ever be looking at you with annoyance, because you were perfect. 

Bradley took a few steps so he was closer to you, because he was drunk, and going home sounded like a good idea. Then he heard Omaha.

"What do you mean you're taking Rooster home? Like you're taking him to your house?"

You replied right away, and your voice sounded crisp. "He's drunk. It's his birthday. I offered to drive him home. To his house. You need to relax."

Bradley liked that tone of your voice when you were talking to Omaha. Especially when your eyes and voice softened as Bradley made his way over to you. "I'm ready to go, Midnight," he said, and you took his hand right away. Bradley shot Omaha a smug smile and saluted him like a real asshole, even though he knew nothing would ever happen with you. But the look he received from Omaha combined with his middle finger in the air had Bradley laughing. 

"Did you have a fun night?" you asked, slipping your arm around Bradley's waist to help him walk. He probably looked like an idiot right now, but he didn't care. 

"Yep," he replied. "Thanks for playing pool with me. And thanks for the drinks."

"Oh, it's no problem," you said. "I know you'll pay me back on my birthday."

Bradley draped his arm around your shoulders even though he firmly told himself not to. "I'll buy all your drinks on your birthday. All that microbrewed shit you like."

You laughed as you led him to your car and unlocked it. "Just get in, birthday boy."

"It's not my birthday anymore," he whispered. "It's midnight." And then he laughed and added, "Well, you're Midnight, actually." He groaned and ducked down into your car when you opened the passenger side door for him. "Just ignore me."

You leaned in and helped him get his seatbelt on. "Now that would be impossible, Rooster."

Your face was close to his, and you weren't moving. Why weren't you moving? You weren't drunk. You'd had one beer, hours ago. You should be moving away from him. "You okay?" you finally asked, patting his chest where the seatbelt crossed him. 

"I like your face," Bradley told you, and then he wanted to disappear into thin air more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

"Thanks," you whispered with a smile. "That's sweet. I'll take you home now, okay?"

Bradley just nodded and cradled his face in his hands as you shut the door and walked around your car. When you closed your door and started the engine, he dared to glance at you before turning to look straight ahead. He would be home soon. And he could climb in bed and this would all be over.

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

Bradley was drunk. You'd never seen his cheeks so rosy or heard his voice so raspy before. It was a cute look on him, even though he seemed pretty far gone. But teasing him a little bit was always fun, because you knew nothing would ever happen.

"I like your face, too," you told him as you backed out of the parking space. "It's a very nice one. Handsome."

Bradley groaned and gaped at you. "What the fuck, Midnight?"

"What?" you asked, glancing at him before you pulled out onto the street. "You're handsome. All you guys are."

"Fucking Omaha," Bradley muttered, and you laughed as he cross his arms. 

"You don't like Omaha?"

Bradley scoffed. "Lieutenant Jawline? He can fuck right off."

You were now howling with laughter as you tried to make a left turn. "What does that make you then? Lieutenant Mustache?"

Bradley chuckled and tilted his head back. "I guess so. But that would make you Lieutenant Sexy Laugh and Beautiful Face."

You gasped and glanced at him as your belly swooped. He was flirting with you. But he was drunk. "That's too long to fit on my name tag."

"Baby, you're so perfect, you deserve two name tags. Maybe even three," he mumbled. "Maybe even a hundred name tags. I can think of a hundred different things I like about you."

You swallowed hard as you turned onto his street. After you had driven two blocks in a daze, you asked, "What's your house number?" You couldn't remember. You were having a hard time remembering anything. Because Bradley Bradshaw could think of a hundred different things he liked about you.

"I dunno," he groaned, pushing his fingers through his hair. "I can't remember anything except that time you wore shorts when we went to the beach and your bikini top was pink, and Nat made fun of me for being too embarrassed to tell you I think you're pretty."

You laughed softly as Bradley's eyes opened wide. "You are so drunk, Rooster! I can't believe we got you this drunk."

"I'm not that drunk," he muttered, turning in his seat to look at you as the light turned green.

"You don't even remember your house number!" you said, driving slowly down the street 

"I think it has an eight in it."

You laughed and pulled over, turning to look at him. "Rooster, what am I supposed to do with you?"

His eyes were soft as he lazily searched your face. "I can think of a few things. They all involve your lips."

You were the one gaping now. His eyes were unfocused, and no matter how badly you wanted to feel his mustache against your skin, you kept yourself a few feet away from him. When he leaned in, you brushed your fingers through his hair to keep him from getting closer. "Rooster," you whispered as he melted into your touch. "Do you want me to just take you to my place?"

His eyes bugged out, and he started to stutter. "Shit, I, well... Midnight, I-I..."

You let yourself stroke your fingers through his hair for a few more seconds before you eased him back against the seat and pulled back away from the curb. "You can sleep it off at my place, and I'll take you back for your Bronco in the morning."

"Sleep? At your place? Of all the things I have imagined doing there, sleep was not one of them."

He was very clearly a mess at the moment, but you couldn't help yourself. "Oh really? What have you imagined?"

He groaned loudly, closing his eyes and rubbing his palms along his face. "Imagined kissing you after I took you out to dinner. Kissing you on your couch and in your bed. Imagined how good you must taste."

Then he was quiet. You thought he must have fallen asleep. And as you pulled up to park in front of your apartment, you couldn't believe you'd gone out on a date with Omaha and let Omaha kiss you when there might have been even the slightest possibility that Rooster wanted to do those things. 

He was breathing softly now, his head resting on the window. When you got out and opened the passenger door slowly, he jolted awake and tried to climb out with the seatbelt still on him. You tried not to laugh, but it was just too funny. 

"Sit back, Rooster," you whispered, and you leaned across his big, warm body to unbuckle him. Then you took him by the hand and laced your fingers with his. You loved the way his hands felt, so big and secure. 

"That feels so nice," he murmured, pulling your hand against him. "Where are we going?"

He was trying to lead you away from your building, and you had to keep pulling him along with you. "Come this way, Rooster."

"Okay, baby. Whatever you want."

You just shook your head as you unlocked your building with his big body looming behind you. "I'm taking you to my apartment. You'll be fine, okay?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed, and you wrapped your arm around him to get him inside. He stumbled down the hallway to your door, and once he was inside, you took his hand again. 

"Here's my bathroom," you said, turning on the light and leading him in. You dug around in one of the drawers and found an extra toothbrush. "You can use this. And the bedroom is next door."

"Thanks," he whispered, bending down to kiss you cheek softly. "Love you." You stood there stunned as Bradley turned toward your toilet and started to unzip his jeans. 

Then you quickly darted out of the bathroom and closed the door. You were stuck somewhere between laughing and dying from shock. This is not what you had signed up for when you agreed to drive him home! But maybe it was even better. Or maybe it was a lot worse, and he didn't really feel this way at all.  

When you heard the toilet flush, you headed to the kitchen and filled two glasses with water. You'd let him sleep in your bed and you'd crash on the couch. You were pretty sure he wouldn't even fit on the couch anyway. The couch he told you he had imagined kissing you on.

What was going on here? 

The bathroom door opened, and you heard him say, "Midnight? I'm getting in bed."

"Okay," you replied with a laugh as you carried the waters into your bedroom. "I think you should drink this." He was wearing nothing except his boxer shorts, and your jaw dropped open. Because he was stunning. Big and muscular and fucking hot. "Water," you muttered, handing him a glass. 

He downed the whole thing in one big gulp, and then he set the glass down, swaying on his feet. "I think I need to sleep."

You nodded at him, and he was reaching for your hand, and you had no idea what to do. "What do you want, Rooster?" you asked, but he was scooping you up into his arms.

"Sleep," he muttered. 

"With me?" you gasped.

"Yep."

And a moment later, Bradley was behind you with his big arms wrapped around you, and he was sound asleep. 

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

Before he even cracked his eyes open, Bradley knew he had a headache. So he just burrowed further into the soft, sweet smelling blanket. He knew this smell. It was familiar and comforting. When he gathered the blanket up and buried his nose in it, he realized it smelled like you.

His eyes were open then, even though his head was pounding. He had never been in the room before. But he was sure it was yours. And the spot in bed next to him was still warm. 

"Oh no. Oh no," he groaned, covering his face with his hands. "What did you do?" Suddenly it was hard to breathe. He was in his underwear. In your bed. Hungover. Yesterday was his birthday. How did he even get here? He could remember playing pool with you at the Hard Deck, and then Nat took his key away. And... oh shit, he got in your car.

He was stumbling out of bed, looking for his clothing. He found his jeans and shirt neatly folded up on your desk chair. As quickly as he could, he pulled everything on and headed down the hallway.

You were in the kitchen, wearing shorts and a tank top, brewing coffee. You were perfect. Holy shit, you were everything. And he had already fucked this up.  

"Midnight?" His voice was rough and raw, and when you turned to look at him with a gorgeous smile on your face, he thought he was going to throw up. 

"Morning, Rooster. Sleep well?" you asked with a smirk. Bradley couldn't formulate solid thoughts. You were handing him a cup of coffee. You weren't wearing a bra. He had been in your bed with you, and he couldn't remember anything that happened.

"Did we hookup?" he blurted loudly, and you froze with the coffee mug in your hand. "Oh, shit, Midnight. Please tell me we didn't sleep together."

You no longer looked happy. But you were shaking your head with your eyes locked on his. "No," you whispered. "We didn't do anything."

As relief washed over Bradley, you turned away from him with the mug and looked out your kitchen window. "Thank goodness," he sighed.

"Yeah," you said softly. "That would have been terrible."

"Absolutely," he said, still catching his breath.

But now you didn't seem to want him around at all. "I'll call Nat and see if she can meet us with your key." You kept your back to him as you reached for your phone, and then Bradley closed the distance to you. 

"Hey, Midnight?" he asked, taking your phone from your hand. You glanced at him over your shoulder with annoyance. "Thanks for driving me last night."

"No problem," you replied quietly, avoiding his eyes now. 

"But why did you bring me here?"

You rolled your eyes. "You couldn't even remember your house number, and it was so dark, I couldn't tell which one was yours. Now let me take you back to your car, please?"

But then Bradley remembered telling you he could think of a hundred different things he liked about you. He remembered holding your hand and kissing your cheek. 

You were walking across the kitchen away from him, but he chased you down, lacing his fingers with yours. You only looked slightly surprised. "Did I completely embarrass myself last night?" he asked.

Despite your best efforts, you were smiling at him again. "I thought you were pretty damn endearing, actually." You tried to pull your hand out of his grasp, but he held you tight. 

"I can think of more than just a hundred things I like about you. So many more than that." He pulled you a little closer still. "You let me sleep in your bed with you?"

You sighed. "Don't worry, Rooster. We didn't hook up. We didn't even kiss. You just spooned me and passed out immediately."

Bradley groaned and tipped his head back. "I spooned you? I got to cuddle with you, and I don't even remember it? That's not fair!"

Another smile was dancing along your lips as you nodded. "You're really great at cuddling. Very warm." But then you bit your lip and looked at the floor. "Would it really have been so bad if we did more?"

"Yes!" he nearly shouted, and your startled eyes snapped up to his. "Baby, I want to remember that stuff in vivid detail!" 

You laughed and now Bradley was smiling. And then you kissed him softly, and he thought his heart was going to pound out of his chest. "You said some crazy stuff last night while you were drunk," you whispered, but he kept you close to him.

"I am pretty sure it was all true," he promised you. "But I'd be more than happy to fact check with you."

"You said you like my face."

"That's a fact," he said, nodding. 

"You said you wanted to do things with my lips."

"Oh, yeah. That's definitely a fact."

"You said you imagined taking me out to dinner and kissing me."

"Many times."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" you asked, sounding annoyed.  

He kissed you again. "Fucking Omaha, baby. What's that all about?"

"Oh," you said softly. "That is something that is basically nothing. At least on my end of things. And I could happily put a stop to that."

"Like today?" he asked, running his lips along your neck. 

"Like five minutes ago, Rooster."

Then you had your arms around his neck, and Bradley's hands were all over you. Your soft sigh as he kissed your lips had him scooping you up into his arms. "Can I have a do-over? Can we get back in your bed and cuddle?"

"Yes," you whispered as your mouth brushed his neck while your fingers went to his hair. 

This time Bradley kept his clothes on, and when he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest, he laced his fingers with yours. "I like this. We should do this all the time."

"We will," you promised, and his lips and mustache found your neck as he buried his nose in your hair. "I hope you had a fun birthday."

He needed to remember to thank Nat for being a pain in his ass when he saw her later. "I did. But today is even better."

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

Midnight, you're so lucky, babe! Upgrading from Lieutenant Jawline to Lieutenant Mustache! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls for putting up with me.

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[spudangle]

Companion Bed/Sleeping Preferences

Lae'zel. Brought up as a warrior she definitely prefers practicality over comfort. Big luxurious soft beds are not for her, they’re too much of a hassle to get in and out of, not proficient at all. But if she has to, then she can pretty much sleep anywhere, be it while lying down, sitting, or standing. If she were to choose, she would probably prefer a hard surface over a soft one, so that her back feels nice and straight in the morning. She’s probably the companion who goes to bed first if she’s not on watch duty, and were it not for the elven companions then she would also be the one to wake up first quickly getting ready for the day. However she’s NOT allowed to sharpen her sword until after everyone else has gotten up.     

Shadowheart, too, has been trained to be able to sleep under most conditions, and a comfortable bed hasn’t really been commonplace for her under Shar.

But unlike Lae’zel, Shadowheart would actually enjoy having a bit of comfort in her life, especially after leaving Shar. It’s just something that she has to rediscover gradually. The feeling of the soft warm bed that she has at the Elfsong—a stark contrast to the cold stone of her old bed—is nice, but she almost finds it too warm at first quickly having to throw off her duvet to not overheat. The smell of clean linens however is perhaps her favorite thing, reminding her of a childhood long forgotten. Post-game she would probably enjoy having her own sleep rituals that she can do for herself and not to appease some cruel goddess. 

Astarion is a man of luxury. That means that he wants as big and soft a bed as possible, he practically wants to drown into the mattress. And it HAS to have clean silk sheets, he is done with damp dirty sheets that smell like they’ve been fucked to death. The bed is preferably a curtained four poster so that the warmth can’t escape, because obviously the bed has been warmed up by a bed warmer before he gets in. I know that there are several takes about the wooden board that he has in his tent, but I personally believe that it's there so he doesn't have to place his bedroll directly on the dirty ground. Anyways, Astarion wants a comfortable bed because he is a creature of comfort, and if can’t rest peacefully then he can at least suffer while in a comfortable bed. 

Gale also is a man of comfort when it comes to beds. His bed in Waterdeep has at least ten pillows, however he can only sleep with one otherwise he gets neck pain. The extra pillows are there so that he can sit comfortably while reading in bed. The bed itself is probably also really pompous looking, not exactly like the one from his last night alive scene, no it’s more pompous than that, it’s probably round. Yes it’s round. It’s a round four poster, decorated with golden constellations and heavy velour curtains hoisted up with thick tasseled ropes. And boy did he miss his bed when he had to leave Waterdeep. It’s not that he can’t sleep anywhere else, it just takes him a while to get used to new surfaces. ALSO, Gale most definitely talks in his sleep. Has he ever set something on fire in his sleep? He would never admit it, but he also can’t say no.    

Wyll. Since being cast out by his father Wyll quickly got used to not having a regular bed. He’d either be camping or he’d be offered shelter for his heroic deeds by the people who he helped. He probably enjoys camping quite a bit, finding the quietness of nature relaxing. Either that or he’s too much of an optimist to admit to himself that he misses having a warm bed. Wyll is also most definitely a morning person. Early bird gets the worm and all that. In fact he gets restless if has to laze around in bed for too long. Lastly, sleeping after he gets his horns is, if not a struggle, then at least something that takes some getting used to. For instance, he can’t lie down without a pillow. Not on his back. Not his side. Not his stomach. So pillows are a must, or at least just something that takes the strain off his head/neck while lying down.    

Karlach is probably the most restless sleeper of the gang. Not in the sense that she doesn’t sleep well—because she does—but she is a very animated sleeper, either kicking or punching the air, or she gets those weird twitches while dreaming. So unfortunately she’s not just a bad bed partner because of her body temperature, which sucks because she loves spooning before falling asleep. So, she’s either cradling Clive or her blanket for comfort. She also prefers sleeping in cold environments, which was fine when the group hadn’t reached Baldur’s Gate because when you’re outside then there’s always a draft. However the Elfsong doesn’t offer that same luxury, but at least she gets to sleep next to the window.

Halsin can also pretty much sleep anywhere, not because it’s practical, but because he’s always comfortable, at least when out in the wild. After all, the perk of bear form is that you’re well-padded for any surface. And he is a heavy sleeper. Give this man a good hearty meal, and he’ll sleep for 12 hours. This also means that any bed partner of his should be careful that they don’t get smothered under him, because if he is in deep sleep then you cannot wake him. He has also most definitely talked himself to sleep when telling his children goodnight stories before bed, only to then wake up and find that he’s the one that's been tucked into bed.

(If you’re interested in more bed thoughts then I also have this post)

[pinguwrites]

To Lend a Hand | Thomas Shelby

Pairing -> thomas shelby x sister!reader

Summary -> After catching your brother masturbating, you decide to go to him for help in a matter you've been struggling with—the art of pleasure, and specifically, how to do it for yourself.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), a little dark!!! bc dub-con near the end, age-gap (not specified, but reader's in her early twenties and tommy late twenties/early thirties), fingering, incest (half siblings so reader doesn't have to be white/reader's implied to not be fully white), masturbating, oral sex f receiving, fingering, mention of lizzie perverted!tommy, spanking/slapping pussy, tommy's lowkey condescending, use of sir

Disclaimer: Peaky Blinders characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Thomas Shelby wasn't sure how it happened. He hadn't meant to fall for his younger sister, not when you were so young and innocent and filled with potential, but things happened, and, as he reasoned with himself, so did love. He didn't choose it, nor could he stop it, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he tried to push down his desires. He would find himself touching your shoulder whenever he could, siding with you whenever you argued with the other siblings, and even taking the blame for you when you got in trouble. He knew he could never have you in the way he wanted. You were a forbidden fruit, an apple he could never take a bite out of.

He always thought it was cruel. You were right there, right in front of him, but just out of his reach. Your laughter made him smile on even the darkest days, your touch made him warm in the coldest nights, and when he was alone and scared and vulnerable, all he had to do was come into your room and curl up in your arms as you held and comforted him to sleep.

He tried to drown his feelings with sex. Partially as a distraction from you. He wanted to guide his attraction to other women, if possible, though he also just enjoyed fucking and the pleasure that came with his cock buried deep inside of a hole.

But sometimes it wasn’t enough. Sometimes, while he had whores on all fours, he would still think of you, of his beautiful little sister, and how it would feel to fuck you, to marry you, to love you in all the ways he wanted to.

Tommy made sure no one was nearby before he sat down on his bed and pulled out his cock. It was a big thing, a fact he was proud of. Long and thick, and it always got hard fast. He just knew you would like it, if only he could show it to you.

He spit on his hands and started pumping his length, his chest rising and falling. His breaths came out in shallow gasps as he increased the speed of his movements, imagining his hands as yours. You would be on your knees, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes, teasing him no other woman could.

This wasn’t a rare occurrence. He wanked a lot, like most men did. When he was in the military, as a teenager wet behind the ears, and especially now, though a lot had changed from each of those periods in his life.

He felt like he was just getting worse and worse. Like a rusting car. He was an awful person, he couldn’t deny that, but he didn’t want to be an awful brother to you.

He caught a glimpse of himself in his mirror, the small one on his dresser, but he looked away. A part of him was ashamed. All you needed was someone to look up to, yet here he was, coming at the thought of you.

"Fuck!"

Tommy froze and turned his head, only to see you, the devil herself, at the door, eyes wide and stuck on the scene at the bed.

It was like time had frozen. Tommy’s hand was still on his cock, but he wasn’t moving. He was looking at you, and you were looking at him — or more so, his body.

But before Tommy could say anything you shut the door. He could hear the sound of your footsteps as you hurried away.

Shit, he thought. Shit! He should have made sure the door was locked. What was he thinking? Had he just ruined things between you and him? He knew you were aware of his lustful activities, but to see it in person . . .

He sighed. The mood was ruined. He put his cock back in his pants and got up to wash his hands. He was going to have to talk to you about, make sure everything was okay.

It was not a conversation he was looking forward to.

+++

“Tommy?”

Tommy recognized your voice, and the gentle knocking of your knuckles. He was in his office, just finished arranging a meeting via his secretary, when you stopped by.

He hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to you yet. This was the perfect time.

“Come in, sweetheart.”

He always called you that, despite what his Aunt Polly and Ada thought. Ada used to be jealous that he never gave her such an endearing nickname, though she quickly got over that as she aged, and Aunt Polly, well, she thought it was inappropriate, but in her desperation to hope nothing was going on, she eventually ignored it and chalked it up to sibling affection.

Arthur and John never really cared. They always thought he was being soft on you, and while there was the occasional teasing, nothing major ever came out of those talks.

You walked in, looking down. Your face was filled with conflict and indecisiveness, as if you were hesitating to tell him something.

“Listen,” Tommy said. “I’m sorry you saw that. A girl like you has no business—”

“It’s not about that,” you blurted, playing with the hem of your dress. You never did that unless you were nervous.

You sat down on one of the couches near his desk, finally meeting his eyes.

“I just . . . I have an odd request.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Odd request, eh?” You didn’t say anything, unsure of how to continue. “Well, don’t keep me in the dark. Tell me what it is that has got you all flustered like a silly school girl.”

You huffed at the comment and paused, then decided to just go through with it. Tommy wouldn’t judge you, would he? He never did in the past.

“I’ve been with men. A few times. Sex and all that,” you started, trying to be as brave as you could.

Tommy did not like hearing that. He knew you had partners. He warded off as many suitors as he could, but you were sneaky, and found ways to slip through his restrictions. The thought of you fucking someone else made his heart thump with silent anger, however hypocritical it was. Both because he wanted to protect you, and also because he wanted it to be him you were with.

“Go on.”

“But they’ve never . . . you know.” You made a confusing motion with your hands. “Look, you promise that if you don’t like where this is heading, you tell me to stop and leave? And we never bring this up again?”

“I don’t want you to stop.” But seeing the look on your face made him nod. “I promise.”

“They’ve never.” You wrung your hands awkwardly. “Made me come,” you finally said.

Tommy didn’t give any indication, nor expression that showed he was surprised, but he was. Out of all the things he was expecting you to say, this was not one of them.

“And what has that got to do with me?”

He hated how harsh he was being, but he felt like he was going to break at any moment. Break this facade, carry you in his arms, and pleasure you himself.

It was just more proof that these other men didn’t deserve you. They couldn’t even give you an orgasm.

“I just — you know, I was wondering, how much do you know about women? I know you see Lizzie and your other whores, and I know you do it for your own pleasure, but do you know how to . . .” you trailed off.

“I’ve made women come, yes,” he answered. “Many times.”

“Could you . . .” You took a deep breath. “Could you show me how?”

This time, Tommy did have a reaction, a very visible one. A faint blush dusted his cheeks, though he tried very hard to keep that from showing.

“Sweetheart,” he said slowly, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m sure you can do that on your own.”

“But I can’t,” you said, getting bolder by the second. “I’ve tried, and I just can’t. And, well, you know how to — and —and you’re the only one I trust!”

You were seriously regretting this.

“I’m sorry,” you added quickly, getting up from your seat. “I’m sorry, Tommy. Please don’t be mad. Let’s just forget about this and move on—”

But Tommy stood up as well, and grabbed your wrist. “No.”

You stood there, scared. He wasn’t going to yell at you, was he? Even worse, what if he told Polly? You were done for, this was all over. It was going to be so miserable during family meetings and Christmas dinners and —

Tommy tilted your chin up. “You want me to touch you, is that it? You want your big brother to pleasure you?”

You nodded, rubbing your legs together.

How could he say no? How could he say no when you were asking him so politely? It was his job after all, no? To teach you things? And he would be damned if he let another man do it for you first. It was his responsibility. His opportunity.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Tommy.”

He tapped your cheek twice. “Good. But if I’m going to do this for you, we need to have some rules, alright?

“One: you don’t tell anyone. No family, no friends, no strangers. Got it?”

“Yes, Tommy,” you said, biting your lip, something that made him loose his focus for a moment.

“Two: you listen to me. No saying ‘stop’, no disobeying my orders. You said it yourself, you don’t know how to do it. I’m the experienced one. You trust me and take it. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tommy’s eyes darkened in lust. “Go to your room and lock the door. Wait for me.”

Feeling a rush of excitement flush your body, you grinned and ran off to do as he said.

A while later, you heard his voice and welcomed him in, making sure to lock the door behind you guys this time. You didn’t want someone else to share the incident you had earlier today. That would be absolutely mortifying.

You expected him to go easy on you, to take things slow, but was shocked when he pushed you onto his bed, held your legs up, and pulled down your skirt.

Now, you were only in your panties, trying to cover your thighs. “Tommy!” you squeaked, feeling shy all of a sudden, even though this was your idea.

“Legs up,” he ordered.

You stayed still. “It’s okay if you can’t make me, you know.”

“I will,” he responded arrogantly. “Now, are you going to do as I say?”

You instinctively closed your legs together. This was more embarrassing than you anticipated. You were wet and horny, but still.

He crawled on top of you, cupping your face in his hands. His lips were inches from yours, and all you wanted to do was reach up and kiss him.

“I know you’re scared, but you asked for this, sweetheart.” He brushed the hair out of your face. “I won’t hurt you. All I want to do is make you feel good. Will you let me to do that? Will you let your big brother take care of you?”

His words were enough to convince you. You slowly took your panties off, an agonizing pace for Tommy. But the moment you tossed them to the side of the room you closed your legs again.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it . . .” There were so many things you hadn’t thought of. You were grateful he was willing to help you, but what if it all went wrong? What if he thought you were disgusting and left? What if he made fun of you?

No. Tommy wouldn’t do that, you told yourself. Stop doubting him.

Tommy gave you an incredulous look. “Like what? Your cunt? Oh, sweet girl. I already love it.”

He placed a pillow under your lips and settled you down properly, finding a comfortable position for both you and him.

“You’re tense.” He ran a hand up through thigh, making you shudder. “Relax.”

You shut your eyes, arms above your head. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Your wildest fantasies were finally coming true.

Tommy pried your legs open, and after a few moments, you felt him kiss your clit, gently, but firm, murmuring with that sincerity he reserved for only a few, “Beautiful.”

Your eyes flew open and you looked down, seeing Tommy between your legs. You immediately went to run your fingers through his dark brown hair. No man had ever gone down on you before. You thought Tommy would just finger you and get on with it, but here he was, about to eat you out.

“Relax,” he repeated, hand still running up and down your thigh.

You closed your eyes.

He kissed your cunt again, but a little lower this time. “Beautiful.”

Did he realize how flustered he was making you?

Another kiss, lower. “Beautiful.” Another one. “Beautiful.”

He started sucking, delicately on your clit, looking up at you through fluttering eyelashes as he observed your reactions, but just in a few moments, after he briefly sweeped his tongue over, he lightly bit down and increased the intensity. 

You moved your hips up and down, squirming. You had never felt like this before. You had tried fingers and pillows and objects but none of that compared to Tommy’s mouth on you. He was like magic. 

Your continued running your fingers through his hair. You loved playing with it. Sometimes, you wished Tommy would grow it out longer.

“Put your hands here,” Tommy said in between kisses. “I want to hold them.”

He placed your hands down in a straight line, so he could interlock his fingers with yours as he ate you out. It felt oddly romantic. Like there was no one else in this moment but you and him, him and you, together in an act of pleasure.

You squeezed Tommy’s palm, struggling to keep yourself still. You didn’t want to accidentaly buck your hips up into his face, or squiggle away from him, but you were finding it increasingly difficult not to.

Tommy didn’t seem to mind. He just rode you through your movements, nose brushing up against your cunt. He was making obnoxious sucking sounds, like puckering, which made you try and hide your face by turning your head to the side.

He pulled away, making you whine in disappointment, but then he slapped your cunt and you yelped at the stinging, still nice sensation.

“Tommy!” 

He did it again, harder, with a grin on his face. “Like that?”

“No-o,” you lied.

That didn’t stop him. He left a few more slaps to your body, revelling in your reactions, but before you could close your legs, he pulled them apart and plunged a finger inside your hole, vigorously rubbing up against that swollen spot inside of you.

You moaned, arching your back. “Tommy.”

“Such a sweet girl, eh?” he praised. “My sweet girl. Can’t believe you’ve never cum before. I’ll be your first.”

Tommy was more interested in giving you your first orgasm than claiming your virginity. The idea that it was him, not you, or any other man, that could make you feel this good, that was the only one that could make you feel this good, inflated his ego.

His fingering was rough. You tried to take note of how he did it, curling his fingers inside of you, but it was difficult to focus, and before long, you felt something unfamiliar come rushing through your body, and with a jump of your heart, you realized what it was.

With a cry, you came onto his fingers, feeling a little dizzy for a moment. It wasn’t necessarily as mind-blowing as portrayed in those romance books you always read, but it certainty felt amazing, like if you could do it all day, you would, just in your room, groaning and sighing, nothing but you and yourself.

But Tommy didn’t stop.

You looked down, eyes wide, as Tommy continued to pump in and out of you, his breath labored, but his pace even faster and rougher, to the point where you felt like your mind was jumbling up.

It felt good. Too good. Too much for you to handle.

“Enough,” you tried to say, throwing your head back onto the pillow. “I came, s’enough.”

“No,” Tommy growled. “I know what I’m doing.”

“It hurts a little,” you mewled, grabbing onto his arm. You tried to pull him out, but you were too weak, and your efforts were futile. “Please.”

“I told you no saying ‘stop’, didn’t I?” He kept rubbing up against that spot, not caring for your protests. “I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart. Trust me. You don’t know anything.”

You took in his words. You were overwhelmed, but you knew Tommy was right. He did know better, he always knew better.

Eventually, you could feel another orgasm coming. This time, when you came, Tommy stopped, and watched as the white juice poured out of you. He licked it up, and for a moment you were scared he was going to start all over again, but he just licked the cream off his fingers, and gave you a kiss to the forehead.

You looked down. His cock was hard. You could see it buldging through his pants. After catching your breath, you reached forward to unzip it, but Tommy didn’t let you.

“Why not?” you asked, curious.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

Oh, how Tommy wanted to let you play with it, but it wasn’t right. He couldn’t take advantage of you like that.

He had done his work, and now it was time to leave.

He cleaned you up and got off your bed, only for you to follow him.

“Can we do this again?” you asked desperately. “I like being with you.”

Tommy thought for a moment. It wouldn’t hurt. He could see himself making a habit out of it. He was only concerned about his family, what they would think, and what would happen between you and him if things went wrong.

He wanted you as a lover, but he didn’t want to loose you as his sister either.

“Yeah. When you need it, come to me. No one else, you understand?”

You nodded, smiling excitedly. He felt a little bad. You were so young. You were confusing your sisterly affection for romance, and here he was, using it as an opportunity for his own desires.

“Remember,” Tommy said, his voice low. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t ever,” you promised.

He lingered for a moment, then left the room, creeping back down the stairs to his office, leaving you inside. 

It was difficult to get any work done after that. All he could think about was you, and the future of your love. He wasn’t sure what was to come, but all he knew was that he was glad it was with you.

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@meetmeatyourworst

@mrkdvidal1989

@smailaway

[nymphiria]

HOUSEMATES — GENSHIN IMPACT

♱ ∿ feat: KAVEH & ALHAITHAM

༉ — fem!reader, voyeurism, dubcon, rough sex, masturbation, peeping, jealousy, nasty kaveh, breeding kink, insinuation of threesome

a/n: wrote this in one go ♡ unedited

of course he’s not jealous.

why would he have any need to feel jealous? especially of someone so cold and stoic like alhaitham — a virtually friendless person, a walking blizzard. hell, he can count the people in sumeru that like him on one hand. how he tolerates alhaitham is a housemate is a mystery that maybe not even the god of wisdom can solve. it’s a joke to think that a man as princely as kaveh would be envious of the great scribe of the akademiya.

which is why he thinks something must be wrong with you.

the first time that alhaitham brought you to their shared home it was like he saw a ghost. if someone told him earlier in the day that his housemate had a girlfriend, he would’ve laughed in their face. in kaveh’s mind, seeing a dog shoot a bow was more believable than alhaitham coming home with a woman. if the smug look on the scribe’s face said anything at all, it was that he knew exactly what was going through kaveh’s head. what a lucky bastard.

you’re so sweet with him, too. more often than not you’re at their home visiting your boyfriend. it’s adorable how you always come with something in mind; you bring him dinner, deliver extra parchment, or drop by just to spend time with him. kaveh sees how you look up at alhaitham with so much adoration in your eyes when you both think no one’s around to witness your private kisses. even though he doesn’t reciprocate your affections in public, you never seem to waver in your insistence.

even now as alhaitham is brutalizing your pussy, you take all he has to give you and even ask for more.

‘her back must hurt’, kaveh thinks to himself as he peers inside the ajar door. the harsh arch that he has you bent into can’t be comfortable for you; it’s a wonder you’re still breathing with your head being forced into the blankets. as much as alhaitham claims he loves you, it sure wouldn’t look like it from the outside based on how hard he was fucking you. the grip he had on your hips was sure to leave bruises in the morning; your poor scalp probably had it worse with the cruel tugs on your hair.

you weren’t supposed to be here. at this time of day, alhaitham was always at the akademiya or on duty somewhere that kaveh had no interest in knowing about. the scribe was renowned for taking his duties seriously; how would it look if the scholars knew that he was skipping out on work to blow his lovers back out?

his cock strained against his trousers as he watched the scene with eager eyes. it was tempting — you took his friends cock so well that it would’ve been a crime to look away. kaveh drooled at the sound of your soaked pussy being fucked so deliciously but he decided to leave after a few minutes. he’d indulge himself just a little longer then pretend he never saw it happen. but once alhaitham pulled your head up from the bed, he almost wished he kept you there.

kaveh had never seen you look so… debauched. fat tears ran down tour flushed cheeks and ruined the pretty makeup you took your time to put on everyday. god, it was a sight for sore eyes. alhaitham’s cock must’ve been truly something if it could reduce you to such a brainless little thing, just one step above a sex doll. kaveh didn’t know how long he had been stroking his cock in time with alhaitham’s thrusts. he had only taken himself out of his pants for a relief of the pressure, not to pleasure himself. maybe it was the need to get rid of his erection, maybe it was the eroticism of the situation.

or maybe it was the need to imagine how you would feel wrapped around him.

how would you look when he pushed you back into his bed? when he stripped you bare and kissed every inch of your body? absolutely perfect, he bets. you were already so gorgeous when taking alhaitham; you’d be heavenly when his cock slipped inside of you for the first time. unlike his roommate, kaveh would worship your body like the goddess you are. he’d breed your little pussy until you couldn’t hold anymore cum inside of you. even when the milky white drips down your thighs, he’d dutifully clean you up like the loving boyfriend he wanted to be.

yes, boyfriend. alhaitham didn’t deserve to have such a devoted girl by his side, one that didn’t receive the love she craved for outside of the four walls of the bedroom. kaveh would make sure to shower you in gifts and his adoration. once his debt was cleared, he would vow to build a palace more opulent than the palace of alcazarzaray in your honor — a temple as testament to your beauty and grace. your gift would be the crown jewel of sumeru, his magnum opus.

he was so caught up in his daydreams and desire to cum that he didn’t notice the verdant stare being sent his way. even as he watched kaveh stroke himself from the sliver of the doorway, his thrusts never faltered. if it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have care enough to pull his attention away from you. but this wasn’t just anyone else, it was kaveh. archons know he would never pass up on an opportunity to humiliate him.

“if you’re going to get off on this, at least make yourself useful and fill her mouth.”

[saijspellhart]

Things I liked about the Netflix ATLA and some critiques:

Before you read. Please go watch the series, take off your blinders and keep an open mind. It’s surprisingly good. This review has spoilers.

They reordered some scenes so that emotional moments would have a larger pay off. Like getting to see and experience Aang’s relationship with Monk Gyatsu, and seeing his tribe before it was destroyed. So when he has his breakdown in the air temple with Sokka and Katara later, you really feel and understand his agony.

Azula is introduced earlier, with a story running simultaneously with the Aang’s journey but not involved with his. So she has a chance to be more fleshed out and explored before she becomes a major threat. Only time will tell if this more complicated Azula comes close to the animated one. Big shoes to fill, but not a bad start.

Fire Lord Ozai plays a more sinister and oppressive role. Not a faceless boogeyman anymore. You get to see his machinations and the cruel games he’s playing with his family, and see the emotional abuse that warps them.

Appa is adorable as fuck, and so is Momo. So well animated, such gorgeous care put into them.

Kyoshi, Kuruk, and Roku make more of an appearance. With Kyoshi narrating the prologue. And if you loved the novels you’ll see they incorporated more of Kyoshi and Kuruk’s backstory from the novels than what we saw in the animated cartoon.

The acting was competent, even if a little wonky at times. I found Sokka very endearing, I loved the kid they cast as Aang and you can tell they really tried to find a balance between serious and playful. They didn’t always hit it, but the effort was there.

Zuko was great. I think they nailed him and he had great chemistry with the actor playing Iroh.

King Bumi was great, I love how they made his internal struggles more complex. He wasn’t just a crazy old man anymore. He was a crazy old man who was weary and worn down by the horrors of loss and war. A crazy old man who struggled to reconcile that the best friend he lost is the avatar and wasn’t there for him.

I loved the costume and set design. It was like stepping into the actual world of ATLA. Cities were complex and well constructed. Every setting was incredible and the attention to detail was intense.

Zuko’s boat is full of artifacts he pilfered from the Air Nomads while hunting for the avatar.

They changed how Aang got the bison whistle so it makes more sense and fits more seamlessly into the story. It never made sense why a random peddler would be selling a bison whistle if air nomads and bison have been gone for 100 years. Not impossible for a peddler to do, but not probable. The Netflix series actually gave more meaning for the artifact and changed how Aang received it.

Emotional points in the show are now more intense and brought me to tears.

Commander Zhao is more competent and conniving, and his presence felt more dangerous and less comedic.

Sokka’s outright sexism was changed from putting girls down, to just manly machismo, talking himself up. Not gone, but not degrading. They decided to let the sexism message shine more prominently with the northern water tribe, rather than tackle it twice with Sokka too. (Sokka’s sexism being solved in one episode was never well written to begin with. And the animated series quickly forgot about it and moved on to him tackling more important issues, like his being a non bender inadequacy, his leadership journey, his physical combat journey, and him finding himself as more than just the funny sarcastic guy.) For time constraints, it was better the Netflix series did not to tackle the same problem twice, especially when you might not have the resources to give both sexism issues the gravity it deserves. By focusing the sexism problem to the northern water tribe they were able to give Katara more attention.

We got to see Katara’s water-bending go from being ultra sloppy and weak to badass. It feels like they are spending more time focusing on her developing into a warrior rather than being the mom of the group. I’m honestly not sad about it. She’s still the hope ridden, emotional glue, but now it feels like she explores that warrior side a little deeper. It felt so earned when she got the title of master at the northern water tribe finale.

The actor playing uncle Iroh nailed the role. I couldn’t think of a better live action adaptation of Iroh. I love him so much.

The shirshu looks fucking phemonal.

Koh was scary as fuck and I love it. They really nailed his horror elements. Even if I’m a little sad that they changed some things about his face stealing. (He eats faces now to steal them, rather than stealing when someone shows emotion.)

The three actresses who play Mei, Azula and Tailee actually look appropriate for their age. Since they are introduced earlier, they are clearly younger, and since this show is intended to get more seasons, the casting choice made sense as we are intended to watch these girls grow up over the course of the entire show. These actors will get older, and the characters will get more menacing and sharper. It’s great. It’s thoughtful. I love it.

We get to see Zuko’s dynamics with his crew more. And find out that he did more than just speak out against his father at that meeting. His outburst at that meeting saved an entire squad of soldiers, and they don’t even know it. Zuko feels such disdain and bitterness because of the situation, and his crew doesn’t even know why. It’s so complex, you can see how the abuse Zuko endured causes him to take out his anger on his crew, and in turn they are bitter back. And it’s this cycle, that festers. But the crew also grows with Zuko, they change and evolve as he evolves. And it’s such a delight to watch.

They could have cut the Secret Tunnel minstrels altogether, given the time constraints and that the episode was mostly fluff in season two. A fun romp, but not necessary. But the creators knew people loved the minstrels so they found a way to use them anyway. Because they knew they were special. I am thankful for that, even if they show up waaay earlier than they should.

I was honestly more sold on Sokka and Suki’s relationship in the live action. It’s was so adorkable. Do I wish it had more time to develop? Yeah, of course I love a good slow burn. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun as hell watching the two flirt so badly with each other. Sokka being a buffoon, and Suki overstepping and being too rough, before realizing she was being too hard.

Some Critiques:

They reordered some episode storylines to happen at the same time, and while it does bloat some episodes. it’s understandable due the episode and budget limitations. In the cartoon, during the inventor episode Katara didn’t have a lot to do, and during the freedom fighters episode Sokka didn’t have a lot to do. So they ended up combining both stories into one hour long episode in the live action, so that both Katara and Sokka would be involved in something. Is it the best? No. But it makes sense. I get it.

Katara starts off bland in the first episode and it takes a bit for her to grow into the character.

The past avatars can be a bit strong with the doom and gloom, and I wish they’d toned that back.

Koh and Heibei (I dunno how to spell the panda spirit’s name) got combined to the same episode, and Koh stole Heibei’s spotlight. Again, I understand why these got combined, but I think it could have been handled a little better and Heibei should have gotten more closure.

There should have been a ninth episode, placed between the two episode Koh storyline, and the Northern Water Tribe storyline. Why? Because the Koh storyline was really heavy and intense. And it leads right into the season finale. An extra ninth episode should have been added with a more lighthearted tone. Something to ease the tension between the two very intense storylines.

Aang should have been using a glider to flit about the temples in the first episode. But it’s not something that ruins the whole show. It was a dumb that only happens in a single episode in the season.

I really missed Momo and Appa’s presence. They appeared atleast once in every episode, but it was still sad they weren’t more of a presence. Again I understand why. They were so beautifully animated that everytime they were on screen it (without a doubt) cost the production thousands of dollars. They were generous including as many of the unique animals and creatures as they had.

I still don’t think Sokka had enough time to develop a relationship with Yue at the northern water tribe. It was rushed and contrived in the animated version, and it was rushed and contrived in this Netflix version. There also wasn’t any of the chemistry like Sokka had with Suki to make the whirlwind romance work. I never liked the romance from the original, and I wasn’t a fan of it here. But that’s ok, because it’s such a small and insignificant thing.

In conclusion most of the changes I can see made were due to budget, and episode limitations. The creators were clearly trying to bring theater-cinematic quality to what was essentially an eight hour long film. And you cannot deny that this show is stunning. Absolutely breathtaking. Most of the episodes cut were filler, and while hilarious and mostly loved by fans, were stories not as necessary in the grand scope. You could feel the love and appreciation the creators included in this series. It wasn’t soulless, it wasn’t a heartless cash grab, it wasn’t a shot for shot (thank god) but it also didn’t butcher the source material.

I understand that the animated show creators had creative differences with the live action Netflix adaptation creators. But that doesn’t mean that the Netflix series completely failed. As every fanfic writer out there knows, the original authors are not going to love what you create based on their works. Tolkien hated every adaptation of his works, HATED them. But no one is going about saying that the Lord of the Rings trilogy movies were hot garbage. A creator doesn’t have to endorse a project for it to be good.

Netflix ATLA is good, it’s not perfect. And it never was going to be perfect. The cartoon it was based on wasn’t perfect either. But the ATLA cartoon was definitely some huge shoes to fill that set a bar very high. Any adaptation was going to struggle to be just as good.

I think the Netflix adaptation was a treat and a pleasure to watch. I think people should go into it with an open mind and see that it’s not trying to replace the cartoon. It’s a love letter to the cartoon.

PS: According to behind the scenes commentary on the Nickelodeon ATLA cartoon, the reason we didn’t get a season 4 was because the creators wanted a live action film. Nickelodeon offered the original cartoon creators the option to make season 4 or to spend the budget meant for season four on a live action ATLA film. The original creators chose the live action film directed by M. Night Shamalan. They wanted a live action for their show over a 4th season. They had no idea M. night would butcher their baby with his pathetic film all those years ago.

This show was a second chance after the M. night abomination. And you know what? It’s a pretty decent adaptation. And guess what? With a resurgence of interest in the series, we are getting more animated content for the original animated series. There’s definitely something for everyone on the horizon if this succeeds.

[p1nk-matter]

shiggy fluff cause he deserves all the love // inspired by @aslutforfictionalmen's post (here's my interpretation, i also spontaneously wrote this @/3am so his quirk may have been erased not his trauma tho)

‘’There is no reason to be wearing that’’ you laugh as you look at him.

Tenko in a suit has to be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. ‘’It's just a drive-in movie theater’’ you tease as he scoffs.

‘’Yeah well I can’t win, can I? Tracksuits are too casual, I remind you of a busker, remember? And what’s wrong with that by the way, you wish you had their talent–’’

‘’Enough, we’re running late’’ you cut him off but can’t hide your smile when he’s all annoyed lecturing you in a fucking suit.

The movie chosen was cliché, borderline comical especially when you’re accompanied by a tall man with questionable appearance. How you even convinced him to join you is beyond comprehension, most likely because you promised him to play Nintendo Switch, his latest obsession. You’d play with him regardless, a man with a childhood lost, robbed from things you experienced firsthand at a younger age but Tenko couldn’t really see it. You on the other hand recognized it, and through small acts (annoying as such because for some inexplicable reason he always lost to you) you showed him everything he’d missed.

‘’I wrote you 365 letters. I wrote you everyday for a year!’’

Ryan Gosling says as you feel a hand squeeze yours tightly, shoulders touching as the night sky glows above the projector. You turn to look at him confused, The Notebook was one of those films you’d seen a million times, failing to evoke powerful emotions after some time but it was still a very satisfying rewatch. Tenko turns his head.

‘’What’s wrong?’’ you say, anxious he might be having another panic attack. You knew how to calm him down but never the extent of it and that scared you.

‘’It’s nothing’’ he whispers, his voice is composed, you note, good.

‘’Yes... it wasn't over, it still isn't over..’’ Gosling continues.

‘’Can you believe he wrote to her all this time? This is so fucking cruel!’’ he almost shouts, as a couple of heads turn to look at him annoyed.

‘’Oh my god, are you crying over the movie right now?’’ you want to burst out laughing but the stares warn you otherwise, both your tones too loud. You can’t believe what a sucker for romance he is, he always acts all tough but ends up being hungry for love anywhere he can find it. You kind of get it, it also kind of breaks your heart.

‘’I’m so posting this’’ you tease as he wipes his eyes clean with a tissue he had in his pocket.

‘’I swear to god if you don’t shut the fuck up’’ his voice is shaky but his eyes are glued to the scene, anxious for what’s coming next. Will they make up? Maybe even make out, have sex? Poor him, he’s unprepared for the bittersweet end.

-

The drive back home is silent, you take it he’s still thinking about the film, contemplating its ending, unsure whether he likes it or not.

‘’Sooo.. did you like it?’’ you ask.

‘’It was ok’’ he feigns indifference and you don’t continue. You allow him to ponder before speaking up, he almost always adds something on his own.

‘’I just think it’s funny she married the other guy, you know.’’ he says.

‘’What was she supposed to do? She didn’t know about the letters, remember?’’

‘’Still, if she really loved him, she should’ve waited, should’ve been alone, grieved on her own. How could she do this?’’ he asks as you sigh.

‘’It’s just a film and people make mistakes. You never know until you tell them.’’ you reply but this time he doesn’t continue.

-

‘’So what do you want to do?’’ you ask once you’ve arrived home, it’s already past midnight but both of you are too lively for sleep.

‘’You promised Nintendo’’ he reminds you and you sigh. Not your favorite part of the day but you silently take a seat next to him on the couch.

3 rounds of Mario Kart racing on the Nintendo Switch and Tenko is losing consecutively as he whines frustrated: ‘’Enough!’’

‘’I just don’t understand why you’re always losing’’ you tell him, as far as you know he was unlocking the game levels with ease on his own.

‘’I don’t know, shit, you ask way too many questions today’’ he complains, ‘’I’ll go change, this suit is itching the fuck out of me’’ he continues as you get up.

He finds you scrolling on your phone, a towel wrapped around him, droplets falling from his hair, which he must’ve aggressively ruffled (in failed efforts to dry) as he literally drops his body onto yours, scaring you and making you drop your phone.

‘’Tenko, fuck agh!’’ you groaned, ‘’my phone!’’

He was so annoying and on top of that soaking your shirt too.

‘’I’m sorry’’ he smiled, he wasn’t really sorry, he missed you, he thought. Even though you were together the whole day, he still missed you. So much. He couldn’t get enough of you, any moment shared only made him more anxious for your next departure, he wished he could somehow glue you to his skin forever.

You playfully slapped his arm and he retaliated, pinching your nose as you pouted.

‘’Don’t pout’’ he warned, ‘’I'll bite you.’’ he said but you didn’t listen. He brought his mouth to yours as his teeth sunk on your lower lip, pulling at it and letting it out softly.

‘’Ouch, you douche!’’ you faked pain but he knew he didn’t actually hurt you, he could never.

There was a moment where neither of you did anything, must’ve been less than a minute, before he leaned closer, mouths in close proximity as he noticed your eyes shut.

I want to kiss her, he thought and he did. Soft lips brought to yours, as you immediately kissed him back, cupping his wet neck and bringing his face even closer, deepening the kiss. His arms quivered, threatening to make him lose his balance and fall on top of you, he lost himself every time you kissed him.

His hand slid down your waist, positioning you higher on the couch as your hungry mouth searched for his again, needy breaths escaped your lips, a sight that made him feel the all too familiar pain in his groin, a towel was still draped around him and you were still in your outside clothes.

A peak across the room showed him the window curtains open.

‘’Give me a minute, baby’’ he said as he got up to close them, returning to you with his arms stretched out, ready to move this somewhere more comfortable.

–

He was awakened by an asleep arm, your weight had fallen on it and he felt numb.

He gently tried to remove it but you moved around and whispered in a raspy voice, god, how much he loved that voice.

‘’What is it?’’ your tone sounded anxious, were you afraid something was going to happen to him? Could it be that you cared that much?

Without a word he shushed you.

‘’It’s all right, go back to sleep’’ he said moments later, a pain in his chest since he couldn’t tell you that actually yes, there was something on his mind.

‘’You know, you have to tell people how you feel, remember?’ you spoke so wisely even after an interrupted slumber and he couldn't help but smile.

‘’I know baby, goodnight’’ he said as you sighed and turned around.

For Tenko could not tell you that nothing compared to this, nothing like doing nothing with you and to admit this to himself was a big liability. He would tell you eventually, maybe he’d write it down, he found it easier, but on that day he chose to wrap his arms around you again, risking numbness, than to speak the words.

[inkdrinkerworld]

ahhh i love chubby!reader and spencer!! what if she overheard someone talking about her weight in a negative way and when she runs into spencer he instantly goes into his own kind of awkward comfort mode bc he secretly has THE biggest crush on you and any other time he would be VERY proud that he managed to get you to hug him but now you’re crying and oh no he doesn’t want you to be sad especially not over the way you look!!

It’s gross. To hear people make comments about your body behind your back in the way you do.

It’s all snide, backhanded comments disguised as compliments. Your stomach rolls because none of your team is near enough to hear them and you don’t feel like making a scene.

Your mind changes when you hear, ‘And it’s so obvious she likes him but what would he do with a girl like her? He’s less than half her size. She doesn't deserve someone like him.’

Your blood boils and you flick away imaginary dust and lint from your clothes before making yourself known.

“You might not like the way I look but you’re much more unattractive than you find me because that’s just vile. You should be ashamed of yourselves. It's none of your business but Spencer and I are dating.”

The local officers blanch and you walk off ignoring their stunned silence and stutters for an apology.

Your hands shake as you sit next to your team and you’re silly for thinking Spencer wouldn’t notice it. Spencer noticed when you had dusted the ends of your hair a week ago.

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice so low it's barely a murmur. Spencer's eyes remain trained on you as you nibble on your lip trying to decide what to do.

"I've been better," you say and Hotch saves you from more questions by instructing, "Y/N I need you to speak to the local police and get every name they have for people who came in."

No one else notices the way your back stiffens as you stand. Spencer does, "I'll go with her, and we'll call Garcia."

Spencer takes you to a secluded hallway and tips your chin up, "What happened, sweetheart?" it's cruel for him to whip that out at work, but it has the same effect it does when you're at home curled in his lap while reading.

"The locals were saying things about me- which is fine, I'm not everybody's cup of tea. But they were extra mean and rude about it." you debate whether to say the rest, but it comes out before you come to a real decision. "They said they don't know why I think I deserve your attention and they said you're too small to be with someone like me."

Spencer gasps like you've burnt him. He feels heat searing his chest as he replays your words. He doesn't know exactly how to comfort you without his words being hard and rough.

"But I stood up for myself," that eases some of the pressure in his chest. "I told them they should be ashamed of themselves and that I wasn't just some girl pining after you and we were together."

Spencer presses his forehead into yours. "I'm glad you stood up for yourself, but you shouldn't have to defend yourself at work or in general. You're amazing and stunning and you're more than anything I could've dreamt up for myself."

His words are soft, sweet and it melts the remaining worry in your bones that even though Spencer loves you, he had regrets.

"They're fucking assholes," he deadpans quietly and you laugh. "But we have a job to do so we'll be civil for the rest of the time we're here but the second we're done, we're messing with them."

[stolitzsings]

I still feel really bad for Stolas at Ozzie's. I feel like he was sort of facing an impossible choice there? I think he absolutely could and should have stood up for Blitz more; even if he couldn’t shield him from Ozzie, the knowledge that Blitz was under some sort of protection or banner of courtesy from a demon prince might have made at least Verosika back down. He could at least have defended him.

At the same time, Stolas’s whole strategy for surviving life seems to have been deferring to the status quo or "what should be." His father told him to marry Stella, so he did. As a demon prince he was supposed to stay in his marriage, so he quietly accepted Stella's mistreatment of him to maintain that status quo. And when a Sin himself called out Blitz, well, Stolas went back to his strategy of keeping his head down.

We know that Blitz’s first instinct is to protect his friends, even if it puts him in the line of fire. But well, Stolas doesn't really seem to HAVE friends. He didn't have to put himself in the line of fire because he was always there to begin with. He was always the target. The one person in his life he might have had to protect was Via, who seems to have at least an OK relationship with her mother judging by her reaction to Stolas yelling at her. So either Via was never a target of her mother's vitriol, or Stolas was able to insulate her from it by absorbing it himself. Maybe a bit of both. Either way, he was her primary victim from the start. So his instinct at Ozzie's was to quietly accept his jokes, except that now someone else was also a target.

I've seen the scene at Ozzie's compared to the way Ozzie stood up for Fizz at the end of s2e7, and I think they are definitely important parallels. However, there's one pretty glaring difference: Fizz and Ozzie are already in a loving, committed relationship. When Ozzie yells that he loves Fizz, it may be news (to some degree) to the rest of Hell, but it certainly isn't news to Fizz. The same can't be said of Stolas and Blitz. When Ozzie asks if he gave up his perfect family just to fuck Blitz, Stolas COULDN'T deny it, because that would mean telling all of Hell- INCLUDING BLITZ- that he was in love with him. And at that point in the evening, after he'd been anxiously trying to get Blitz to engage with him at all throughout their supposed date, he had every reason to believe those feelings weren't returned. And what other reason could he give?

He missed his opportunity to stand up for Blitz, but when Ozzie turned his sights on him, Stolas had no choice but to tacitly confirm Ozzie's assumptions. And honestly, I don't even think Ozzie was trying to be cruel, at least not to Stolas. Blitz was a target because of his past with Fizz, but Ozzie could have just as easily been sort of impressed with Stolas, especially given his apparent reputation as a stuck-up bore. I mean, Ozzie literally holds Stolas up as embodying the meaning of lust, right after tearing down Moxxie for not being lustful enough. Ozzie had no way of knowing about the fragile, tender thing that Stolas and Blitz were just beginning to create.

Unlike Blitz, Stolas isn't someone who usually jumps into action. He wasn't prepared to leap to Blitz’s defense because he wasn't used to having anyone to defend. And by the time he was in familiar territory- becoming a victim himself- he had no way to defend him without offering up his heart on a platter for Blitz to reject and the rest of Hell to ridicule. So he stayed quiet, and it all came crashing down anyway.

[musashi]

ace attorney popped the fuck off by doing that thing where certain characters have ‘hidden’ sprites that you only see once in the whole game, usually it’s an emotionally closed off character offering a smile in the final hour of their story to show a sense of peace and closure, but ESPECIALLY they popped the fuck OFF by having franziska von karma break down crying in hers.

‘the angry/mean character is actually deeply emotional and using anger to keep it at bay’ is an incredibly common character archetype but it is so often done in a more shallow manner. like they will just bust out their tragic backstory in the 11th hour and we’re supposed to sympathize because awww they’re sad :( but we already know everything there is to know about franziska pretty much immediately. we know she is a child prodigy, we know she is a genius, we know she is fierce and dedicated and that she loves what she does. and we know she’s lost her father, and we know she’s upset with her brother and wants to see him again. but she does not invite pity, because she does not want it. she lays these details out clearly and concisely when they’re relevant to what is being discussed--they simply are. she remains as she is, and she fights the same way she always has, for what she believes in.

franziska goes through it. we watch her go through it. we watch her lose everything, and then we watch her have to be confronted with the fact that her brother disappeared on her and is utterly remorseless about it aloud. and then we watch her get shot by a violent hitman, and kick and scream and fight while she’s bleeding out because she wants to go to court. she has to be dragged to the hospital by force. never once does she back down an never once does she present anything other than this steely determination and resolve. until the very, VERY end. until POST CREDITS. she doesn’t even crack until AFTER THE CREDITS HAVE ROLLED!

and it is KINDNESS that breaks her! it is softness that makes her cry. i feel like to a lot of people what miles says to her in that scene might seem cruel, but it isn’t about what he says, it’s about what he does.

by franziska’s own admission she has abandonment issues. one of the few single insights we get into her pain is that people tend to discard her and make her feel left behind. miles fled back to his home country and left her all alone in germany to pursue his career, and he wasn’t wrong to do that, but it obviously hurt franziska and she felt neglected and like he didn’t bother to keep up with her. and then when he took his dramatic fucking sabbatical, he refused to loop her into that, too. miles decided without the consent of the people who love him that he was not worth it. he was unbelievably selfish to disappear the way he did, blinded by this idea that he is not loved or worth love. franziska loves him more than anything, and he did that to her on the tail end of her father’s incarceration. she lost both of her favourite people in the span of a few months. 

she ran away at the end of JFA and intended to give up on everything. and she ran away from him because if she abandons him first, he cannot abandon her. but nothing miles says in that scene undermines the fact that he chased after her. he could look her in the eyes and tell her she was scum to him but the fact of the matter is he followed her. he loved her enough to not be content just letting her give up and run away. he chased after her. can you imagine what that must’ve meant to her? 

he didn’t have to chase her. and he didn’t have to bring her whip back. and when he said ‘if you stop being a prosecutor, this is where we part ways’ i think we all knew he was not being literal. i think we all knew he was full of shit. i think what miles meant by that was to light a fire beneath her. to say that he had no intention of stopping, that he would keep on fighting, and that he wanted her to fight alongside him. they’ve always been rivals and they have always pushed each other to do better and be better, and miles knows that rivalry drives franziska unlike anything else. she doesn’t actually want to stop prosecuting, she’s just emotionally vulnerable and struggling to cope and throwing a bit of a tantrum about it, and so he pokes at an old button he knows will clear her head. franziska is a difficult person, but miles edgeworth knows her more than any person in the world, he knows how to love her and he does. he loves her so much.

she has seen a lot of pain in JFA. she has seen a lot of wicked words thrown her way, a lot of pushback, a lot of antagonism and banter and bickering, but the one thing no one shows her is kindness and love. phoenix tries, when he brings her flowers, but he gets nervous and backs out at the last second. gumshoe tries, but he does it out of earshot where she can’t hear. every nice thing someone says about franziska, they say while she is not there to listen. miles is the only person who looks her in the face and says he loves her. 

it is love that allows her the space to fall to pieces. it is love that shatters her veneer and turns her into a sobbing mess. she’s literally just a little girl who was forced to grow up too fast. she’s 18 years old and everything’s so hard. she just needed a fucking hug. 

no scene in ace attorney will ever, ever, EVER mean more to me.

[exhaslo]

Hi I have a weirdly specific request for a Miguel fic! I was watching a fav movie Dirty Dancing and the part where baby and Johnny are practicing and they do the crawling to Love is Strange, I was wondering if you could write a one shot of the reader attempting to make Miguel less stressed at his office by dancing for him and when the “hey Sylvia? Yes Mickey?” Part comes on she’s crawling over to him and on his lap and smut ensuuuuues and he plays along cos he can’t help it. SO SORRY IF that’s so jumbled idk how else to describe it 🤷‍♀️

Sooooo, embarrassing enough, I've never seen Dirty Dancing. I could never get into those movies as a kid or even now. But I'll watch that scene so I have an idea of what you mean and I'll do my best to write it!

Also, sorry this was late!! I can't catch a break at both jobs for the holidays!

Warning: Minors DNI, dry humping, smut, almost caught, teasing

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

No one liked working at Alchemax and if you did, you were insane. Alchemax was a company that would literally drag your soul down to the depths of hell if you even dared to relax. Shit, it was impossible to quit because the CEO would drug everyone who tried to leave. Especially if they were a good worker.

You fell into that group of good workers; however, you knew better than to quit. Once you saw some of your coworkers acting funny, you were stuck. At least you had something to keep you going at this horrible job.

Your sexy crush of a coworker, Miguel O'Hara.

You would do anything for that man. Give him coffee-check; help with a project you knew nothing about-check; stay hours late to help Miguel with an assignment-check. You were down bad for that man, and honestly, you were ready to make your move.

Miguel was a man of few words. He was one of the coworkers whom many avoided because of his resting bitch face. His tone felt cold and cruel, but hell, you loved that about him.

"He's pissed again," One of your coworkers whispered.

Your ears perked up, knowing full well that they were talking about Miguel. Already walking with a skip in your step, you went to Miguel's office with a nice large cup of coffee in your hands.

--------

Miguel threw his chair across the room, letting out a frustrated yell. Everyone in the lab had left already, leaving Miguel all alone in a fucked up lab. Breathing heavily to calm himself down, Miguel cussed before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Miguel?"

Ah, music to his ears. Miguel inhaled deeply, listening to your sweet voice as you entered his lab. You were the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on. Oh how Miguel wanted to eat you up. To have you in his arms, crying out his name.

"(Y/N), brave as always," Miguel said softly.

You just smiled, handing him a cup of coffee. His hands grazing over your fingers just for a moment. Miguel felt the urge to hover over you, watching that creeping plush cover your cheeks.

"The others are just lazy wimps." You said with a chuckle. Miguel hummed in response as he took a sip,

"Indeed. Now I have to clean this mess and do a mountain of paperwork."

"Why don't you have the others clean?" You asked. Miguel glanced at you,

"Ha, and why would they do that?"

Miguel watched your smile turn mischievous . Oh, how he loved that look. You were such a trouble maker sometimes. Always giving Miguel a rise with your antics. Another thing that Miguel loved so much about you.

"Weeeeell, maybe because you are suuuuch a genius and everyone wants to willow at your feet." You teased, bumping your hips against his, "How about I help you with your paperwork later?"

"So you aren't going to help me clean either?" Miguel hummed, resisting the urge to grab your hips.

"Nope~ I have a report to finish."

Miguel watched as you skipped out of the lab. Your ass swaying ever so slightly. Damn, Miguel wanted you bad. Licking his lips, Miguel just closed his eyes and relished your fleeting presence. He was going to have to be patient until later.

---------

You held your cheeks as you paced back and forth in front of Miguel's office. Everyone had gone home for the day expect the two of you and now you were about to seclude yourself in a small room with him. You had already planned this all out.

But you were still nervous.

"Wow, that really is a lot of paperwork." You whispered, entering the office. Miguel scoffed,

"I told you,"

You huffed your cheeks out since Miguel had his stressed tone. Slowly approaching him, you kept a smile as you readied your plan. Miguel kept watching you, wondering what you were doing as you placed your phone on the counter.

"(Y/N), music isn't going to help." Miguel said with a soft sigh.

"Not with that attitude."

You swayed your hips with the music and stroked your hands across his shoulders. You could feel Miguel tense up. With a soft pull, you motioned Miguel towards you and kept dancing to the rhythm. Miguel was still not moving with the groove.

"Loosen up, let your body do what it wants,"

Miguel felt a shiver run down his spine as he followed your movements. To let his body move to how it wants? Hopefully you won't regret those words. Placing his hands against your hips, Miguel felt drawn to you like a drug.

"There we go, but someone is a little handsy~" You cooed.

"Moving to the music," Was all Miguel whispered.

You felt your heart race as Miguel's hands kept roaming your body. You teased him and pulled his hands back a little, which ended up with his face near your chest. Immediately letting go of his hands, you bit your lower lip as Miguel grabbed your ass.

"Eyes up here," You sang, moving his hands away.

You shuddered softly as Miguel brought his face to your belly. You gently raised his chin, making eye contact with Miguel. He looked different. You weren't sure what it was, but it was starting to turn you on. This dancing was getting sexual.

Miguel's hands were groping you ass and stroking up to your stomach. You shuddered once more, moving his hands again. Miguel licked and kissed your stomach, making you shiver.

"Miguel," You muttered, gently moving him away.

Miguel inhaled deeply, as he moved away from you. As you kept dancing, Miguel kept his eyes on you. He got on his knees and knew that this was going to be hard for him. He was losing his control against you.

"Hey, (Y/N)" Miguel hummed to the tune. You turned towards him, sliding over,

"Yes, Miguel?"

"Could you call me your lover boy?" Miguel's smirk started to show as he sang to the song. You pressed your body against his chest,

"Yes, lover boy?"

Like instinct, Miguel grabbed your face and brought you in for a deep kiss. Neither one of you hesitating as your tongues started to battle each other. You crawled onto his lap, straddling him as Miguel won the battle of your tongues.

You moaned softly as Miguel kept his kisses against your neck while his hands kept wandering your body. You felt like you were on fire. Everything Miguel did was turning you on more and more. Gasping softly, you started to rub your hips against Miguel's crotch as he kissed your chest through your shirt.

"That's not in tune to the music," Miguel hummed.

With a bite, Miguel undid your button down shirt and bra with his teeth alone. You were surprised and honestly, impressed. Complying with his demand, you started to grind to the music as Miguel kissed and sucked your nipples.

"Hah, hey lover boy~" You hummed to the music. Miguel picked you up and laid your back against his desk,

"Yes?"

"You aren't going to fuck me to the rhythm are you? Because I don't think I can last that long," You chuckled. Miguel smirked to your response, his hands already working on your pants,

"Is that a challenge?"

You wanted to whine and complain, but Miguel had continued his kisses and grinds. Once he undid your pants, Miguel made sure to do the same to his. His dry humping getting a bit rougher and faster as he kept playing with your breasts.

You flung your head back from the friction, moaning in the process. Who would have known that your plan was going to work so well. Arching your back, you cried softly as you felt your growing orgasm. Miguel was rubbing you in just the right spot.

"Miguel~" You moaned out, trying to move your hips more.

Miguel grunted softly as he made quick work of your panties. He immediately stopped rubbing against you and brought his fingers to your swollen clit. His lips captured yours again as he rubbed against your sensitive bud, bringing you to your first orgasm of the night.

"Miguel, are you still here?" One of your coworkers knocked.

With haste, you dropped down under the desk while Miguel turned off your phone. He cleared his throat as your noisy coworker entered and simply dropped off more paperwork. Once he left, Miguel leaned back and groaned towards the sight of you.

"Maybe we should get back to work?" You said with a soft chuckle. Miguel glanced at his paperwork, then you,

"Hm, perhaps." With a smirk, Miguel placed the music once more, "You can still help me be my desk while we work."

"Desk?" You questioned. Miguel grabbed your hand and placed you on his lap, "Ohhhhhhhhh,"

"Let's see how long we can last staying in tune, hm?" Miguel hummed as he brought you in for a kiss while rubbing your clit once more. You pressed yourself against his chest,

"Not long."

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

I hope you enjoyed this! I had to rewatch the scene from that movie a few times to try and understand the movements, haha.

@tojishugetiddies

[tadpolesonalgae]

High Lords and their kinks

a/n: this got so out of hand so quickly

Warnings: smut. just so much smut

Rhysand:

We all know he has a breeding kink, and with a smart mouth like that he definitely knows how to put it to good use on you

He has those lovely, deliciously sensitive, big illyrian wings at his back—practically a walking weak spot. And after all the teasing he puts you through with that cruel, silver-tipped tongue, you’re perfectly entitled to put him through his own set of trials

You cannot tell me he doesn’t get off on showing you off—at least a little. Whether it’s subtly matching jewellery pieces, having his scent marking your clothing, or having you astride his thigh before his court in the Hewn City, he delights in letting everyone know you’re one another’s.

Helion:

Is there anything I can actually add that isn’t obvious? He has a whole library at his fingertips, and knowing how much of the internet consists of porn in various forms, you cannot tell me there isn’t a secret alcove he has or even a whole other library (private, for your and his use only, of course) dedicated specifically for his personal interests.

He’s definitely familiar with sex toys, are you kidding me? He could go from cooking meals for you and letting you try on his golden snake armband, to having you gently spread apart for him on his bed, thighs pushed open, forearms bound at your back, eyes blindfolded as tears of pleasure spill down, a vibrator secured perfectly over your clit while he latches his mouth over your pretty nipples, keeping himself deep inside your dripping cunt.

And he’d use them outside the bedroom, too.

Sharing erotica that has heat spreading through your bodies—whether it’s reenacting scenes together, or being told to read a page aloud as he applies himself to you, it’s something both of you take pleasure in, finding equal enjoyment in the physical intimacy as well as the emotional side of getting to discover and share new experiences together.

Thesan:

Hear me out on this: threesomes.

We already know he has a male lover, so sharing you with someone else—someone he cares for and trusts—isn’t an issue. Quite the opposite.

Getting to watch as both his partners touch and explore one another, kiss and discover, or turn their sights on him—absolute heaven. Especially after a long day of work, dealing with High Lord business, then getting to just relax into his lovers’ arms? Utter perfection.

And it’s non-sexual too: waking up with a warm body pressed either side that’s been softened from sleep, sharing meals and nabbing pieces of food off each other’s plates, swapping clothes and sharing scents until they’re so thoroughly combined no one would remember what belongs to who since they all smell the same.

Kallias (and Viviane):

Temperature play.

Hot baths, a thick lather of bubbles looking like foam across the surface, heat soaking into your body until you’re sweating, all the while he’s running cool fingertips over your skin, so perfectly sensitive as he plays with you leisurely, brushing teasingly over your nipples, dipping between your thighs to press the cold pad of his digit flat to your clit.

I might be biased, but I feel like Kallias would also have some hints of a breeding kink.

Sinking into your warm, wet heat—how could he resist filling you up, hoping that you take to him, latch on and keep him tucked away inside.

Now, adding Viviane into the mix, things get so much messier.

Nights that would start off clean cut and strict would slowly devolve into sloppily grinding against one another, turned dumb and pliable by relentless pleasure. Kallias often finding himself rolling his hips to one of you, the other placed atop their mouth. When it’s not that way round, it’s him who’s lying on the bed, panting and fucked out while Viviane rides his cock, you keeping him docile and distracted beneath your cunt while your hands explore her breasts, cupping and thumbing across her nipples, mouthes latched together intimately.

Tarquin:

Oh boy, we’re touching on some monsterfucking here, no way around it. I mean, come on, his whole theme is to do with the sea, of course tentacles are going to come into play one way or another when he partially transforms.

Hundreds of small suction pads settling across your body, bath water lapping at the sides while you lean into him, panting with heat and need. It’s like having tiny mouths licking and suckling at the best spots across your skin, one placed deliberately over your clit while his fingers work you apart, then switching between using his mouth and his tentacles to tug and suck at your nipples, loving how you cry out for him.

I also think he’d absolutely love seeing you in lingerie—lovely pale green lace with creamy white frills, reminding him of sea foam. How you’ll sometimes adorn yourself in pearls, their pale shine complimenting the threads of your underwear, making him desperate to touch you, to at least feel you against him in some way.

Beron (+Eris, separately):

He is an utter control freak but in the best way (cannot believe I’m saying this—kind of struggling)

Anything from collars, to leashes, to chains, ropes, ties, even his belt, he knows how to use them on you, to wrap you up in such a way that he is in complete and utter control over your body, deciding how much pleasure to doll out that night. Going as far as to have a little bell attached to the collar, just to add that edge of humiliation.

Now, despite how dominating that might sound, he loves flipping you on your back, keeping your thighs spread apart even as you try to shut them when he spins you into overstimulation. And why wouldn’t he?

Using his mouth on you, reducing you to such a blabbering mess gives him ultimate control over you—who needs daemati abilities to shatter minds when you have heated fingertips and a mouth that knows how to put its harsh properties to use?

Eris—he knows his strengths, and plays to them.

While others might spend precious minutes going around, lighting every candle, he can do it with a fraction of a thought, filling your room with a soft glow, helping you settle into that mood.

It’s taken a bit, but you’ve managed to narrow down the selection of scents to a specific combination—reaching the point you’re no longer able to smell even a hint of vanilla without utterly soaking your underwear. Though maybe that had been part of a secret plan of his, to get you to associate a scent so powerfully with pleasure that you’d be at his mercy with little more than a candle to blame.

While he can be teasing, and a little mean at times, he enjoys slowly kissing his way down your body, murmuring how much he adores you, how he cherishes you, how he loves the way you thread your fingers through his hair. And you love hearing those whispered confessions from his lips, because it means he feels safe. Safe to speak with you, to trust in you, to allow himself to be comforted by you. He has someone to be with.

Tamlin:

Obviously, monsterfucking again

Probably in possession of a wicked power kink as well as in favour of some predator play. Getting to chase after you beneath a full moon—there’s something so ancient and ritualistic about the practice that just eases some tension in his beast’s bones. Catching up with you and clasping the nape of your gown in his jaws to raise you from the ground as you squirm helplessly, unable to do much against such a massive creature.

I do think that behind closed doors, he wouldn’t mind the power imbalance going in the opposite direction though… Being forced to just sit and wait patiently while you strip yourself of your clothes, teasingly tossing your underwear into his lap while you lay back on the bed, pleaded with how his fangs have subconsciously pushed from his upper lip, pupils dilated with ferocious hunger—needing to bed you.

Hybern:

Loves getting head

We’re in unfamiliar territory over here, but he knows his way around some nasty spells. Incantations that have you riding him desperately, aching for release after release, grinding tight against his hips so he touches those spots that have you sobbing.

Potions are also frequently incorporated—that make you need him with every part of your being with such an acute intensity he makes a mental note to lessen to liquid’s concentration next time.

He also like seeing you in different crowns, one time putting you in one made of bone, then ordering you to remove your dress without dislodging it—if it was nudged, he’d edge you until you were crying, but if it fell… Mother save you.

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

[tomlinfonda]

Inside me there are two wolves.

One who thinks that the writers are either stupid or cruel, and that the finale was so incomprehensibly bad that I shouldn't try to make sense of it. And that I should move on.

The other one is a subtext-and-metaphor-hungry beast that is manically obsessed with finding a reason, at least subtextually, for the incomprehensible mess they made out of these characters, especially Ted, in the finale.

Everyone is so right to point out that Ted in previous episodes would not have acted like this. I think the reason for the sudden regression in his character is Dottie.

That morning, full of smiles, in a good mood, Ted starts his walk to work.

He cheerfully strolls through the streets, saying hello to his neighbors, making chit-chat with them. He is (as Trent said it in 1x03) out there in the community. He is, more importantly, part of a community. Until suddenly-

"Mom?"

Dottie's arrival changes everything. Ted gets worse and worse throughout the episode. In the hotel room in Manchester, the football anthem "Blue Moon", with the haunting lyric "You saw me standing alone" plays over Ted's lonesome figure, in the shadows, depressed.

Juxtapose that with his first scene: the lively neighborhood and daylight.

At the end of the episode, his conversation with his (manipulative) mom hits him deep. He feels immense guilt over not being there for Henry. And he's been torn over this for the entire season.

His mom, and the way she acts, and the way she manipulates him, push him in the wrong direction: Kansas.

I think Ted has disassociated for most of the finale. But I also think that he is intentionally pushing people away. Maybe he thinks that this will make it easier for him to leave, maybe he thinks that this will make it easier for them to let him go. Maybe he just hates himself so much that he cannot accept their help. Maybe he feels guilty that they're showing him so much love, when he knows he will abandon them.

Either way, he quits. Something that he would not have done, even in season 1. So his regression goes farther than the first episode, deeper into his past. He goes from:

to having doubts on the plane about leaving without winning the whole fucking thing

but leaving anyway.

And this is one of the most curious things to me. Rebecca offers to bring Henry to him in England by helping relocate Michelle:

And yet, he refuses. So, sure, this is about being there for his son. But given the choice between his son with his beloved community, and his son without his beloved community, he chooses the latter.

I've heard the argument that we don't know for sure that Ted doesn't have a support system in Kansas. But from a narrative perspective, it's important that we haven't been shown that hypothetical support system at all. And given that he actually returns to Kansas without the one person who we know supported him before coming to England, it comes across as a terribly isolating situation.

So why would Ted choose to part from his found family, even though bringing his son into that family would be an option? My theory is that he just really fucking hates himself. I think he wants to punish himself, maybe for being away from Henry for so long, maybe for something else. I don't think he believes that he deserves love or even credit for how he helped the club.

I mean, Rebecca and Trent offer him exactly that this episode: credit for what the did for the club.

And he rejects them both, choosing instead to remove himself from their lives, to erase himself from the narrative.

I think he's lower mentally than we've seen him for a while.

I think he's in his dark forest.

So the plane departs and then lands. And Ted is back in Kansas, driven through the prosaic, picket-fenced, isolating, depressing American suburbs to the house where Henry and the ex-wife who doesn't love him are waiting for him.

And the light might be golden, and he might be reunited with his son. But as we close in on the last shot of the show, you can see his smile try to fight the sadness in his eyes and you know.

He's not happy.