#melanie ( side character )

[witchinatree]

i love when there is a character that i can overthink about. get rotated in my brain, idiot. i hope you heal from your traumas

[gammija]

i love s4, and im enjoying listening to it with the magaday, but i forgot it would also lead to the worst thing: seeing people interpret media differently than me on the internet OTL

[isa-ah]

sorry I could talk for hours. I've done an insane amount of character building w Isaiah over the years

[redcallisto]

undefined

Devour

[itgirlb0y]

melanie king for my magnus escape room au! she works as an intern and is kinda shit at her job (she doesnt rlly care abt it). she just wants to figure out why theres sm suspicious disappearances and weird happenings at the escape room.

[roleplay-abiogenesis2]

From the Beginning.

@crystalsymphony || Closed Starter for Melanie Sinclair~

What If? Scenario in which Cyno and the Traveler get caught up into the Stormterror Crisis.

Note: References events from the Archon Quest "Knights of Favonius".

"In that case we need a plan."

Out of the window, it was an inferno of gales. Like invisible fire, the dragon's gusts were running rampant through the stone-walled city, consuming and tearing everything in its path. Through the glass, Cyno could see the citizens of Mondstadt running for shelter. Boarding their doors and windows trying to protect their homes. He could hear the crystal vibrating within the wooden frame.

All the while, the emergency meeting in the room was still taking place. The young man of Sumeru hadn't intruded the conversation. However dire the situation, he was still but a guest.

One whose exotic origins had become far less interesting in the presence of the mysterious "traveler" the Outrider had brought along. The young girl had caught everybody by surprise when Dvalin had descended on the city mere moments ago. From where he'd observed, perched on top of a roof and assessing the situation at hand, he'd been privileged with a front-row seat to the spectacle of the outlander riding the wind as though gifted with wings of her own rather than a cheaply made glider.

How she'd fought Stormterror and came out unscathed, even managing to chase off the massive beast of fangs and wind, was nothing short of a heroic feat.

"With Stormterror now directly attacking Mondstadt, we may have an opportunity to cut this problem off at the source." The Acting Grand Master, Jean, was still speaking when he looked back to the middle of the room. It seemed she was convinced to involve the new champion in the Knights' matters. "Lisa has revealed the sources of Stormterror's power with her detection magic."

Kaeya, the Captain of the Cavalry, was also present. "Is that so?"

"They're located in the abandoned Four Winds' Temples." It was Lisa to speak now, the librarian. Of all the people present, the one most familiar to Cyno. Uncharacteristically energetic for a change, it was however only a sign of how dire the situation was. "Stormterror's ability to whip up these kinds of storms can be attributed to it drawing power from the temples."

Jean nodded. "Our objective is to deal with three of the four temples. I trust everyone understands why we are only dealing with three. Time is against us. The storm is rampant. There is no point in maintaining a defensive position."

Many heads nodded in agreement, though Cyno's own did not move. Instead, he let his eyes rise to meet those of the Witch of Purple Rose, as she turned to regard him with a sheepish smile.

"I'm sorry, it seems our reunion has been cut short again." She spoke softly, in that strange suave way that even to this day sent a cold chill up his spine. Some things, he could just never get used to. "Thinking of coming along? We could use a hand, as I'm sure you've noticed."

Was that a light jab at the Acting Grand Master for pushing the task on someone that was nothing less of a stranger, no matter how impressive at that? As Cyno's crimson eyes stole another glance of the brunet in her foreign-looking clothes, he thought so. Lisa had a sense of humor just about as unique as his own. One with thorns.

"I am headed in that direction, either way." He replied calmly, earning a pleased hum from his former senior, and a relieved look from the Acting Grand Master. Only Amber standing across that small circle of people seemed less than enthusiastic. Understandable maybe, given their past. But Cyno didn't take her skepticism to heart. He knew it was her own way to still express care for Collei.

"Alright. We need to take initiative and act before the situation escalates." Jean spoke once more, resolute. "Melanie, was it? This man here is Cyno. Since both of you are not as familiar with the landscape, I ask that you accompany Amber to the Temple of the Falcon just outside of the city gates. Rendezvous with Kaeya and Lisa at the other two Temples when that is taken care of. I'd rather not have anyone go inside on their own."

[diathadevil]

My post canon HC for Princess Tutu is that after Gold Crown is restored the main cast just ends up reforming themselves through a bunch of modern music. Fakir goes from listening to MCR to switching it over to The Killers. Maybe even Paramore (something him and Rue would eventually bond over).

Meanwhile Ahiru ends up learning about Carly Rae Jepsen’s discography.

[chipotle-chicken-avocado-melt]

Am I the only one who’s not convinced by Jon/martin? When they got together it was less culmination of 4 seasons of building and developing and more of a “wait did I miss like a whole season” moment. I feel like I must have missed something because I am more often asking if they even like each other

[naturesapphic]

Pressure

Billie eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, strap-on, daddy!billie, tongue sucking, choking, cussing

A/n: @bilswildflower said she wanted someone to write it so I thought I would make a little something hehe

Billie had you against the wall pounding into you with no mercy in her veins. You were in one of the rooms backstage on the Stephen Colbert show and Billie had already went on, but will soon be performing one of her songs called “lunch” live. She would be going on in ten minutes and here she was fucking your brains out.

“F-fuck daddy!” You moaned out as Billie had your legs wrapped around her waist and your hands clawing at her clothed back. Her face was in your neck leaving love bites behind as she used one of her hands that was holding you up and trails it up your body. She lifted her face out of your neck and gripped your throat in her ring covered hand and kissed you deeply.

You both moaned in each others mouths and Billie starting shoving her tongue down your throat. You whimpered as her tongue explored your mouth and removed her hand from your throat to trail down to your stomach and apply pressure to see where the strap is. She smirked against your lips, breaking the kiss “mmm…right there…let’s see if I can go deeper how’s that mamas?” Billie whispered against your ear and you felt your eyes roll in the back of your head at her tone.

You whimpered out a yes and Billie gave you a smile and leaned down to kiss you again. She used her strength to put one of your legs over her shoulder and started pounding into you more at this new found angle and you moaned loudly. Hearing the moans and noises you make because of her makes Billie go absolutely feral. You kept moaning against her mouth and Billie takes that at another invitation to push her tongue in.

She swirls all in your mouth and finds your tongue and starts sucking on it, leaving trails of spit coming down the side of y’all’s mouths. You felt the strap on go deeper and deeper and Billie put her hands on your stomach against and pressed down back on it and smirked. “That’s more like it. Are you gonna come for daddy sweet girl?” She asked and you nodded, pressing your sweaty forehead against hers. Her thrusts started to become faster and harder making your legs shake, as you let out one final guttural moan before you came all over her.

She smiled and slowly pulled out of you, your cum leaking out of your pussy. Billie licks her plump lips at the state you are in and picks you up in her arms and sits you on the couch. She goes into the bathroom and gets a warm rag and starts cleaning you up as you sat on the couch, panting. “You did so good for me babygirl. So good.” She praised you and you gave her a tired smile as she leans down to kiss you softly. Someone knocks on the door telling Billie she’s about to go on and she looks at you “stay here and get some rest baby because im no where near done with you.” She rasped out and gave you a wink before helping you put your underwear and pants back on.

She then gives you her blazer to cover up with while you take your little nap. Billie walks to the door before spinning around and looking at you with a loving expression “I love you mamas.” She said sweetly and you felt your heart burst at the sincerity in her voice. “I love you more bils.” You say and she gives you a wink before she walks out the door. You smiled to yourself before covering up with her blazer. You nuzzle it up to your nose since it’s smells like her and fall into a deep sleep.

A/n: hehe I hope y’all enjoy and I hope @bilswildflower this is what you wanted! Remember my requests are still open for Melanie Martinez, billie eilish, and my other characters I write for. Remember to stay hydrated and that I love you! And this fic is also for @billiesbabygirl

Tag list: @mxqdii

[dollwrites]

𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 — 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, coercion, dub con, giyuu treats reader like a pillow princess ( derogatory ), degradation, virgin!reader, dacryphilia, the teensiest bit of dd/lg vibes if you squint, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ pacify her by melanie martinez

“What would you do to keep your family safe?”

you hadn’t even stopped to think about it. the slayer was standing in front of you, azul gems cold and unreadable— awaiting your answer. you didn’t hesitate. “Anything. Just please, please help us.”

maybe you should’ve been more specific.

“Please be gentle,” you’d whispered upon watching him undress. you’d sat on your bed already stripped, hugging your knees as he did so, your eyes tracing every scar that littered his lean, toned abdomen. there were more than you’d imagined, some bruising that hadn’t yet healed, but he didn’t wince when he tossed his uniform aside. “It’s… my first time.” the apples of your cheeks were on fire, and you tried not to glance down at his manhood. it was a surprisingly difficult feat; you’d never even lain eyes on a naked man, and you were trembling, absolutely wracked with the anxiety of it all.

you look up at him, and he’s busy untying his hair. it erupts in thick, raven tresses that waterfall over his shoulders and down his back. those cold, blue eyes are zeroed in on you. “Be a good girl for me and I’ll be good to you.” was what came out of his perma-frown. your heart slammed into your rib cage in rapid thumping. he took a step towards you, and at first, you scooted back; you weren’t sure why you felt the need to recoil, other than how intimidating he was. he hardly spoke at all. the entire time you’d told him about the demon wreaking havoc in your village, he’d simply stared at you. now, as he was about to climb in your bed and take his compensation up front, you were getting cold feet. he stopped, brows furrowed, and wrapped his fist around the base of his cock. the movement glued your eyes to it, and they widened in awe. thick and heavily veined, nestled in a bed of dark hair and already sporting a girthy, red tip, he was a perfectly proportioned specimen, even to your untrained gaze. “You don’t have all day.” he mutters, running the pad of his thumb along one of the prominent veins, his eyes flickered to the window. it was still spilling daylight on to the bed where you sat, but it was orange and fading. “It will be nightfall soon. You want my help, yes?”

“Yes!” you blurted, nodding, “Please, please you have to kill it.”

his head tilted to one side, and he gave you an order. “Then, spread your legs and keep your end of the bargain.”

you do so, more or less ungracefully, opening your knees wide. this new position called for your hands to plant themselves on the mattress behind you, to steady yourself, and with the subtlest arch of your back, you offer your naked body to him. you couldn’t watch him stare at you, so you avert your gaze to the window, the setting sun bathing you in warm light.

in less than five steps, Giyuu was across the room and on the bed on his knees, grasping both of your thighs to pull you closer. you gasp, sliding up the ramp his legs provided. you could feel the warmth of his thighs as he drags you along them, the definition of muscled pads creating dips for you to ride over. the friction against your core was unexpected, and you elicit a soft and breathless sound. he arches a brow, watching your expression. “You’re sensitive.” he said, matter of factly, and you nod, sheepish, keeping your eyes far away from his. your knees were quivering, stuck on the outside of his biceps with your toes hardly grazing the sheets, the muscles in your legs were much too taut, making it impossible for the position to be comfortable. “Virgins always are.”

he’d practically whispered it, but you still heard it. it made you wonder if he did this often; did he travel from village to village, offering to slay the demons that lurked there and, in exchange, would deflower the innocent and desperate women like you?

you opened your mouth to speak, unsure of what you could even say, but nothing except a pitiful bleat escapes it. Giyuu had pressed the swollen head of his cock against your core, dragging it along between your folds, teasing your tender sex. you can’t help it, your eyes fall to the display between your bodies and you gasp, watching your netherlips slot around his thickness as it slides against you, the slit kissing your swelling clit each time. “T—that’s— what are you—“

“Shh,” it’s a rumble in his throat, his eyes shut as he just enjoys the sensation of grinding against you, “you’re going to soak me first.” one hand hooks around your lower back bringing your body closer to his, and the other keeps his cock steady and strong. “Your little cunt could never take me without help.” he was right, because the more you stared at the sizable tool as it rubs into you, the more you feel an ache in your stomach, how the hell was that supposed to fit inside you? his cock was shiny with your essence when he shifts under you, tensing his calf muscles to get a better angle, and after one, final rub, he pushes the thick tip between your lips, and it splits you open.

yipping, startled, your hands fly to his chest, giving him a faint push. the insertion burns, forcing you to open up more than you ever had before. “‘S… too… big…” your knees dig into his biceps when he ignores your whining and pushes himself deeper. “It’s…” panting, you shook your head, trying to squirm, but he’d got a vice hold on your body, keeping you in place, “not… going to fit…”

“It fits.” he replies, stern, and uses the hold on your back to press you forward, meeting his push, and your body yields with a hapless whimper from your trembling lips, stretching around his cock. “Feel that?” you nod, blinking tears back. “That’s me taking your innocence,” he insists, leaning close so his parted lips drag over your chin, not quite a kiss, but a growl vibrates in the back of his throat, “no one else will ever have you like I have you right now. Not the boy next door, not your husband on your wedding night. I own your body. It’s mine. Say that it’s mine.”

chewing on the delicate skin of your lip, you tried to control your breathing, but with each buck of his hips, he was pumping another inch into you, tunneling through uncharted territory, and your tight walls frenzy around the intruder. “It’s—“ you squint, humiliated and aching, “it’s yours, Giyuu…”

he moans, pleased, and digs his knees into the mattress to propel you forward, pushing you on to your back. your head hits the fluffy pillow, one hand landing beside your face whilst the other tries to keep a palm flat on his chest, but it slides on to his abdomen as he sits up at the join of your bodies. he grabs one of your legs at the ankle, allowing it to straighten along the shape of his chest, your foot hanging limp over his shoulder, and he nuzzles into it, kissing the silken flesh found there. for a moment, you’re caught up in watching the way he praised your leg, mouth forming seals over every inch he can, kissing it from ankle to knee, allowing the edges of his teeth to tease the sensitive area behind the knee. then, he cuts his navy eyes to your countenance, catches you staring, and you’re immediately sheepish. it felt as if maybe you shouldn’t be watching.

“You’re soft.” he says in response, hips falling into a slow, steady rhythm. this position opened you up to him, allowing him to delve deeper into you. his palm slides from your ankle to grip your thigh tight against his abs, using the leverage to bounce you forward into him, meeting his hips when they snap forward. you start to call for him, pressing your elbow into the mattress as you try to sit up, but his free hand grabs your chin, instead, urging you back down against the pillow. “Just—“ even his breath has started to tremble, chest rising and falling more heavily now, “just lay right there… Just take my cock…” his thumb shifts and traces your lower lip, eyes slitting as he stares down at you, “That’s all I need from you, just lay there, let me fuck you…”

your tongue pokes at his thumb when you whimper, eyelashes wet with fresh tears as he bottoms out and he pushes it into your mouth. at first, you want to reject it, spit it out, the foreign taste of saline on his skin, and the rough, broken pad that must be irreparable from all of the wear, but he only forces it deeper when you squirm and whine. “Suck on it.” he instructs, fingers digging into your thigh.

so, you do as you’re told, wrapping your lips around his knuckle, suckling hard on his thumb. when his pace picks up, and the creeping pleasure partnered with the predominant pain of being stretched for the first time mix together and overwhelm your senses, you’re mewling and sniffling, tears on your face, but you’re staring up at him, uncertain if you even want him to stop anymore.

he looks down at you, his inky locks hanging in his eyes, and he pushes himself hilt deep, stilling there, experimenting. your eyes roll back, but you clamp down around his thumb and suck harder, whining muffled. “I know, I know,” he mumbles. it was taunting, but utterly lacked any emotion, faux or not, other than lust. “I put it right in your guts, didn’t I?” you nod, looking up at him, your mouth sealed around his thumb, but you wince when runs his hand along your thigh and careens it over your belly to press down where he’s nestled. another pitiful, slurred cry. “Go ahead, make all those pathetic sounds you want.” he encourages, rubbing in firm circles, hips rocking, but he simply pumps at the same, incredible depth, as your head rolls around on the pillow and your back arches. “I’m going to cum just like this,” Giyuu shivers, rubbing the bump he’s created in your belly in tandem with his deep strokes, “balls deep in your virgin cunt while you suck on my thumb and squirm, ah, my pretty little crybaby.”

[evanpetersmybf]

All he asked for was you

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Tate loves you too much. He would do anything for you, to keep you by his side, to make you love him forever. He would cross any line to make you his, it doesn't matter how evil it is... But was it really worth it?

Genre: ANGST!! and some smut

Word count: 5,104

Warnings: Obsessive, stalkish and violent behavior, implicit toxic relationship; mentions of weapons, murder, mental health issues, family issues, school shooting; use of Y/N, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v. (i hope i'm not missing any...) NOT PROOFREAD !!

A/N: English isn't my first language!! Sorry if I have some mistakes and if Tate's a bit ooc (i tried to keep him in character as much as i could). I wasn't sure (and still not) if this is good but I spent days writing it, so I had to post it.

A small playlist with songs that inspired me for this: monster by meg and dia, pacify her by melanie martinez, all i want is you by rebzyyx, skyfall by adele, psycho by doko, paparazzi by lady gaga, dark red by steve lacy.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ��ྀ

Tate never believed in love, nor was he a romantic one. 

In fact, he despised it. How could he even believe in that feeling when he never felt loved by his own mother? At least that’s what he pretended.

The blond always had the facade of a tough guy, although he couldn’t fool anyone. Constance knew well he was a sensitive boy. Probably the most crybaby ever to exist… And the most unstable one.

Now he was here. His chest going up and down, breathing shallow and fast. His eyes were darting around the room, looking for something or perhaps someone. Some silly tears were rolling down his cheeks while he anxiously fidgeted with a ring on his finger. The clock on the wall continued its tick-tack. The time kept running. His heart kept beating. It was getting late.

He refused to look at the wooden floor. He didn’t want to accept reality. If Tate did that, he would feel like the biggest monster on Earth.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stay like this.

He had to do something real fast.

Today, 18:40

You were supposed to arrive at 19:00.

But he remained there, next to the corpse of his rival. A bloody ax beside the dead man’s bleeding head.

Whom he thought was his worst enemy, was someone really dear to you.

Well, Tate fervently believed this was something justified. He couldn’t stand that fucking asshole anymore! That scumbag needed to be put back in his place. And Tate only did that. Furthermore, he actually helped him. He took him away from this shitty world. It was a favor.

He had already killed his mother’s boyfriend, so why was he feeling guilty?

Maybe because his victim was special to you. Because his death would hurt you. And Langdon swore to God he would never let anybody or anything hurt you, including himself.

He loved you.

He wanted to be the one to hold your hand forever.

Tate snapped back to the present and frowned. He picked up the weapon, putting it in his backpack. He didn’t even mind cleaning it. Then, he proceeded to knelt right next to the lifeless dude and cleaned the blood surrounding his body; afterwards, he dragged him to the basement and…

19:00

A knock on the door.

You arrived.

“DAMN IT!” 

He left his dead foe lying limp on the cold basement ground and quickly ran upstairs, straight to his room. He also left the backpack there.

Tate spent the last twenty minutes cleaning the mess he made in the living room after he atrociously smashed your friend’s head, forgetting that had poor time to get ready. 

He desperately looked for clean clothes, scrambling the entire closet in search of fresh garments while he cussed at himself, at his mother, at that freaking boy, at the entire world but you.

Finally he found some jeans and a striped shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror after changing and cleaned the tiny drops of blood that stayed on his face and hands. He never realized he left the bloody clothing on the bed.

Another knock.

19:07

Tate opened the door, immediately throwing himself at you and giving you one of the warmest hugs. His demeanor with you was completely different; you were the only creature capable of changing his fucked up mind into something more beautiful, more peaceful. The issue was that it only happened when he was with you, otherwise he would be aggressive and rude as usual.

You got the best of him. 

“Missed you so fuckin’ much, babe…” Voice muffled since his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Tate always did the same thing; clinging onto you like a small koala would.

“Heh, me too, hun!” You spoke with the same soothing voice he adored. Tate giggled and placed a tender kiss on your jawline, then another, and another, and another.

Soon enough, he was peppering kisses all over your neck, making you moan softly. Oh those sounds. He could hear you melting under his touch, his embrace, for the rest of eternity.

He loved making you squirm, making you laugh, making you feel loved.

He was way too sweet.

Only if you knew.

Four weeks before today…

Tate has always had the bad habit of stalking you. Yeah… He wasn’t proud of it. But can you blame him? He’s constantly afraid of you leaving him. He wanted to make sure you never did so… Otherwise he would die. Literally.

Don’t ask how he would die. You already know the answer.

You two were supposed to have a date, albeit you had to cancel your meeting.

And that, of course, made him overthink. It didn’t matter how many times you told him you were going to study; he felt betrayed, as if you were rejecting him. And Tate hated and feared rejection to the bone.

“Pretty please? Please, Y/N! I don’t wanna go home early, mom’s gonna be there and-and–”

“Tate, I can’t skip this. I have like, a test every day next week and I must study. I don’t wanna fail. Please, sweetie. I promise I’ll make it up to ya’, mhm?” 

He rolled his eyes and whined, almost throwing a tantrum. He didn’t try to manipulate you on purpose. It came out naturally. “But I need you, Y/N! Why do you always do the same, huh? Am I not that important? Don’t you love me any longer?”

His childish crying continued for a couple of minutes, until it stopped and the blond agreed a deal with you.

You thought he was calm now, but no. How naive.

You went to the library to study as you said… Without noticing he followed you.

Quietly, he got into that maze of books after you and hid behind some shelves.

Tate noticed you sat on an empty table. Thank God. Oh?

Who. Is. He.

A man Tate didn’t know sat next to you. Really close. Too close for Tate’s liking. He tried to think he was a stranger, that he wasn’t going to talk to you… He was wrong.

He clenched his hands into a ball when he saw that idiot talking to you, and the worst part was that you followed suit. It seemed you two were friends or something.

How DARE YOU talk to another man? No, how dare you talk to another HUMAN BEING!?

Tate was insecure 24/7.

If you weren’t there, Tate was falling apart. It was simple.

No Y/N, no happy Tate. Was it too hard to understand?

Three weeks before today…

It was Friday. Tate was impatiently waiting for you outside the campus, hanging a small bouquet of flowers he picked up.

Once he spotted you coming out from the building, he waved his hand and embraced you tightly once you were in front of him. He gave you the adorable present.

“Tate!”

“How did you do? Did you pass your tests? Don’t tell me, I’m sure you did.” Said, grinning from ear to ear. He was away from you for an entire week. How did he survive? He didn’t know, but he was glad to have you with him again. “Tell me about your life in the last days, baby. Please? I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!”

There he was, the one and only drama queen Tate Langdon.

You talked about the tests, about how the teachers were being a pain in the ass (which clearly triggered in him the intense desire of hurting them because they stressed you), and… About a guy. The same guy from the library, with whom you spent the entire last week studying. He couldn’t stand it. He saw him as a threat to your relationship, especially since he was an old friend that you met many years ago. 

As the days went by, you gave him more reasons to hate that jerk. Why? Well of course because you spent hours at the library doing homework or studying with him. Or even hanging out with him and other people.

In reality, you went out with him to a museum just once, and then skating with other colleagues. Nothing compared to the time you spent with Tate; in a week, you would hang out with him almost daily, and if you were way too busy, he would go to your place and spend the night there. He was so attached to you to the point he had to see you at least once a day. And that’s why he was so jealous of your friend. Tate couldn’t stand the idea of you sharing your life with someone else who wasn’t him or your family… And he also got jealous of them, but he was handling it.

Two weeks before today.

After Tate’s pleas, you decided to introduce your friend to him.

Probably a big mistake.

The date was really awkward; your friend tried being nice, and Tate acted surprisingly kind. Of course it was odd; usually, he despised all of your friends and treated them badly, yet this time was different. You were stunned, however, you tried to ignore it and instead got happy as he finally accepted a random person as your buddy. 

Still and all, he hated that moron. It didn’t matter how much he tried liking your pal, he was jealous of him. He was getting on his nerves. He denied the fact that you had more love for other people that wasn’t him. Tate desired being your only one. Your number one. Your entire world. Because that’s what you were for him. And he was willing to do whatever to keep you with him.

Tate exchanged numbers with him and meticulously plotted a plan to ascertain he would never talk to you ever again. At first, it came out as a simple “I’m gonna scare the shit outta him”, nonetheless, it turned into a darker idea, very likely involving physical violence.

One week before today…

The last few days, Tate won Peter’s trust. Ah yes. That’s your friend's name. You were glad that he finally opened his warm heart and began to meet more people besides you.

You thought he needed a friend, an empathetic person who could support the blond when you weren’t available, that way he would feel less lonely and depressed.

They went to the cinema, to the arcade, even to a music store. Everything was going according to what he planned.

Eventually, he invited Peter to his place to play chess and other board games on a Sunday afternoon, before you arrived and had a date with Tate due to your anniversary. 

Today, 16:00

Peter and Tate were eating pizza and having a great noon, talking about their lives and random stuff, like school and music. They both enjoyed Nirvana, and since Peter played the guitar, he agreed on teaching your boy how to.

If it weren’t for Tate’s twisted mind, they would’ve been best friends.

The guitarist wasn’t a bad guy. He was a great buddy that really appreciated you and the crybaby, but Langdon had something else in mind.

18:00

The men watched a movie. Tate didn’t even know its name; in fact, he didn’t even pay attention to it. Instead, he was focused on his next actions, plotting them carefully.

“Crap, mom’s gonna arrive soon…” Tate mumbled with annoyance, biting his nails and tapping his foot on the floor. He was lying. You were going to arrive, not Constance.

“Damn, bro. Well, I don’t have a problem. I wanna meet her.”

“Huh? No no no, you shouldn’t. That bitch is crazy.”

Peter scoffed, disagreeing with Tate’s rude manner to call his own momma.

“Hey, you shouldn’t talk like that. I bet she loves you!”

That pissed him off. “You don’t know anything, Peter. Your family is different. Your life’s different. You won’t understand!” He yelled, standing up from the couch and now pacing around the room, trying to keep it calm.

“Dude, calm down!

“NO! I fucking won’t!”

The screaming continued for a while. Tate revealed his unstable and crystal self. Even something so insignificant could drive him to the edge, like what happened today. That definitely surprised the other one, who used to think that Tate was a sweet boy. “I dunno why Y/N is dating you.”

“What did you say?” Tate abruptly stopped pacing.

“Y/N. Y/N doesn’t deserve you.”

“WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT!?” He pounced on Peter, gripping his neck with one rough hand, applying enough pressure on the sides to stop the blood circulation in his carotids and make him lose consciousness.

Before passing out, Peter, getting pale, managed to croak out: “Because she deserves better…”

Soon enough, he fainted, giving Tate minutes to think about what else to do. 

Your boyfriend wasn’t planning on murdering Peter today. No, he didn’t have time. He also was supposed to meet you.. But this was the perfect excuse! And not only that; he indirectly admitted he was in love with you! Or that’s what Tate interpreted with his delusional point of view.

Peter didn’t feel anything romantic for you, he was just worried Tate might be too unhinged to be your partner.

Thus, he went to his room and grabbed his backpack. Then, went to the garden shed and picked up the ax that belonged to his father, and a bottle of lye.

He had to get the job done quickly, nevertheless, he lost track of time.

18:30

Tate came back to the living room, just to notice that Peter wasn’t there anymore.

“FUCK IT!” Langdon got nervous. What if he escaped? What if he told you that Tate was crazy? He couldn’t allow this, not at all.

Thankfully, or maybe not, Tate found Peter crawling towards the front door, the poor dude still feeling dizzy after being choked.

Tate didn’t have any mercy.

“Where do you think you’re going, lil’ piece of shit!?”

18:38

Tate finally did it. He brutally murdered Peter, smashing his head several times with the ax.

He got rid of that little issue. He took him to somewhere clean.

Once he assured the other man wasn’t breathing, he dropped the weapon on the floor, making a loud metallic thud.

19:10

Tate was pinning you down on the couch, the same couch where your dead friend was sitting just an hour ago.

His hands were traveling all along your body, tracing sweet patterns on your skin.

Eventually, his fingers were clumsily pulling down your panties, not minding to take off your skirt. “Did you bring this for easy access, baby?” Tate chuckled and buried his face between your legs, holding your thighs in place; his lips plastered messy kisses over the warm flesh, biting it and leaving tiny marks after sucking.

Your reaction was alluring to him; he enjoyed listening to your pleas, to your whimpers. If it was for him, he would spend the entire day making you cum over and over again.

He finally got rid of your underwear, tossing it aside. Without further ado, the boy spread your folds with his large digits, and continued to lick your throbbing wet cunt.

“So fucking pretty… So wet for me, huh?”

His tongue lapped your small clit two or three times, then, traced a zigzag and circles on the sensitive nub. While he devoured you, he inserted his middle and ring finger, pumping them in and out of your cute hole, curling them and hitting the right spot to make you feel butterflies.

Tate could feel his arousal growing; his erection being restrained by the tight fabric of his jeans. He was desperate, yeah. But he always put you in the first place, and that included pleasuring you before him.

After a while, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, fucking your pussy with the agile muscle and now rubbing your clit with his thumb, applying pressure that sent electric waves through your body. He stopped using his tongue on you and instead looked at that stunning face of yours. He was delighted with your flushed cheeks, with every single gesture you did, with the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He wanted to take a picture of you to remember this moment forever.

His thumb increased the pace, while his free hand lifted up your blouse and tried to undo your bra. He couldn’t. You giggled when he groaned in frustration; he was too horny to think straight and that’s why you helped him to take off the garment.

Tate sighed and after that awkward and funny moment, he kept rubbing your bud, using your own juices and his saliva as a lubricant, intensifying the sensation. His left pinched and pulled your nipple, making you gasp and twitch beneath him, whilst his mouth abused your other one, greedily sucking on it.

“Tate, ‘m gonna cum! I-”

Tate cut you off by kissing you harshly; his tongue invading your warm mouth, exploring it and then nibbling your bottom lip until it bleeded. He licked the tiny drops of blood, savoring the metallic taste of it.

Unable to hold on any longer, you reached your orgasm, coming undone while Tate kept caressing your pussy, decreasing the velocity while you finally calmed down.

He left you panting; your heart beating so fast just like his.

You tried to sit up on the couch, breathing deep for more air, but the blond prevented you from going away.

“Where do you think you’re doing? We’re not done yet, you’re gonna cum again!”

Tate carried you bridal style and went upstairs straight to his bedroom. He threw you on the bed.

Without stopping looking at you, he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans along the boxers; his dick already erect and throbbing, the veins thick and the tip leaking precum.

Using the clear liquid as lube, he stroked his shaft for a while, jerking off to the sight of you. He groaned and whimpered, closing his eyes as his hand pumped himself.

One of your hands went to your breasts, massaging them softly as your right went down between your legs, slowly teasing your womanhood and coating your index finger with your arousal, using it to rub your aching bundle of nerves.

Tate’s dark room was now filled with both of your moans; Tate calling your name several times and you begging him to fuck you.

He couldn’t stand this anymore. He NEEDED to be inside you, to feel your warmth enveloping him. “On all fours. Now.” You immediately obeyed, feeling as eager as him.

“Look at me, mhm?” He positioned behind you and rubbed the tip against your wet folds, teasing you for a bit. Afterwards, he slowly entered his cock inside your slit, moving it slowly at first. His thumb went to your clitoris, toying with it just like minutes before. He picked up the pace and fucked you fast and hard; his cockhead brushing your cervix. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Tate pulled your head towards him, still with the deep thrusting.  “Fuck, Y/N! You’re so pretty… So fucking precious, so fucking mine!” Moaned against your ear, voice raspy and agitated.

Panting, you stopped looking at him and instead looked to the bed. Why? Who knows, but you did it. And you saw Tate’s dirty clothes. Dirty with blood. A lot of blood.

You froze. Maybe it was red paint? 

“U-uh, Tate?” You muttered, feeling already bewildered by the sight. You tried not to jump into conclusions, although you knew Tate and he has always been… Secretive.. And aggressive, of course. 

After your boyfriend heard your shaky whisper, he stopped moving, even if he wanted to keep going. “Hm?”

“What’s this?” Tate sighed and pulled out from you, not understanding what you meant. 

“What’s what?”

Without saying anything else to him, you grabbed the shirt and touched the weird stain. It was still fresh. You took your fingers to your mouth to taste it; and the metallic tang was too obvious. “Tate, what the fuck is this!?”

You threw it at him. Freaked out, you stood up and picked up your clothes, putting them on again, all meanwhile Tate connected the dots and realized he was probably going to get caught.

“Wait, Y/N! It’s not what it looks like, I swear, damn it!” He yelled and grabbed your arm, not wanting you to leave like this. He had to save his reputation, he couldn’t let you think bad of him even if you had all the right. Because, why the fuck the fabric was soaked in blood?

“Then what is it, Tate? WHY DOES IT HAVE SO MUCH BLOOD!?”

“CALM DOWN, PLEASE!” 

You attempted to get away from his grip, struggling with him until, somehow, you managed to do so. However, you tripped with his dirty shoes and fell, realizing they were also stained with the red liquid. “Tate, what…? Why? What is this?”

“Nothing, I swear!” He didn’t have any excuses. Saying it was paint would’ve been lame. You were too smart and he knew lying wasn’t a good choice.

Feeling overwhelmed with the matter, you went downstairs, walking as fast as you could. Passing through the living room, a very familiar bag caught your eye. It was definitely Peter’s. You decided to grab it and realized it had his phone inside. Something was off.

Tate was standing behind you; fists clenched and heart beating like crazy. He tried to approach you, still thinking about what to do or what to say. 

“Tate… What is this doing here? Peter’s here?” 

“Huh? Yeah… He— He came earlier and had to go soon, he left this accidentally, yup…” You could see him fidgeting with that ring on his finger, again. 

“Bullshit!”

Tate scowled and grabbed your chin, making you look at his dark orbs. “Tell me, Y/N, do you trust me or not, huh? Look me in the eyes and say you don’t!”

The struggle continued for what seemed eternity. You trying to run away from the house and he trying to make you stay. “Please, Y/N, just listen to me!”

“You did something to him, right? I know him, Tate! He would NEVER leave his phone like this! Is this a joke?”

“Why do you care so much about that asshole!? What has he done for you!? Tell me!”

“Oh my, you’re jealous! I knew it! All that crap about being his friend was a lie, right? Tate, you’re being delusional! I can have friends, I can hang out with whoever I want, whether you like it or not!” 

Tate pressed your cheeks between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, squeezing the flesh with his veiny, big hand, pressing it tightly enough to leave the mark of his long digits on it.

“You can’t! You’re mine. Only mine. Since the day you were born you were meant to be mine. Not his, not anybody, just me.”

“Tate… We should end this…” You thought this was the best for both. Being in a relationship with him was draining; always being careful to not hurt him, make him jealous or mad. He was such a sensitive boy that always took everything too personally. He felt everything a little too much.

Since the beginning you knew he was unstable and that he had many issues, but you tried to see beyond his sick mind, you tried to understand him despite being so different.

Tate felt so safe with you. You were the only person who understood him, or at least made attempts to. 

He felt rejected by the entire society, even by his own mother, until he met you and he had a minimum spark of hope that the world didn’t suck that much.

That’s why he clung to you. That’s why you were his everything. He would lose his mind if you leave him.

He felt like dying when he heard you wanted to finish the relationship.

He couldn’t breathe. 

Some tears were now falling to the floor, his eyes puffy and an ugly frown on his face. His mouth twisted as he sobbed loudly, tugging the hem of your shirt while he begged you to stay. He was crying like a newborn, like a baby who had to be apart from his mother for a second.

“No no no no, you can’t do this to me!” He whimpered, his speech cracking as he tried to hold you close whilst you were stepping back. You were slipping through his fingers, you were leaving him.

“Tate, if something happened to Peter, I will never forgive you! Can’t you see you’re hurting me?”

Tate swore he would never hurt you, nor let anyone. But here he was, finally snapping out of it and seeing the cruel truth. 

“You’ve been hurting me the whole time, Tate! I tried to understand you, I really did, I tried to help you, to save you from yourself! But it’s impossible. I’m losing myself here with you, I don’t even know who I am anymore! You don’t want help, do you? ‘Cause it doesn’t matter what I do, you’re never satisfied! You suffocate me!”

All those words were like daggers penetrating his skin, touching his nerves and making him die of pain. You were tearing him apart, just the way he was destroying you.

He finally let go of you, feeling a tornado of emotions. Tate felt depressed, mad, resentful, like he was going crazy. Though, he knew he had to leave if that’s what you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to break another promise.

Thereby, he confessed his crimes to you. He explained he killed his mom’s partner a few days ago, and that now he had killed your friend. Why? He was jealous, he was scared you’d left him. You did it before you discovered the cruel reality, anyways. That’s why he told you. Because he couldn’t lose anything else.

The situation was utterly disgusting. Tate was sick. He murdered an innocent man and then proceeded to fuck you, as it was the maximum test of love, as if his life meant nothing.

You knew he wasn’t what people often considered “normal”. But this was definitely more than just being a “weirdo”. Tate needed psychiatric help… And being arrested, of course.

“You make me wanna puke, Tate! You’re the evil!”

Without hesitating, you left Tate behind, running as fast as you could from that living hell.

You just wanted to cry, curl up into a ball and wake up from this nightmare. You wished it was merely a bad dream.

Tomorrow morning, you’d go to the police, but for now you needed to sleep.

Monday morning, 11:05

You couldn’t sleep all night. You spent hours thinking about everything, about how this looked like a cruel joke to you. Eventually, you fell asleep at 4AM, and didn’t wake up at what seemed almost midday. 

An intense sound of police sirens woke you from your slumber. Startled by the loud noise, you rubbed your eyes and went to the window, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Police cars and SWAT vans were going in a specific direction… Towards Tate’s street. It couldn’t be, right?

Did his mother find the corpse? Or perhaps something else?

You looked at the clock, realizing it was late and you had to go to class. 

08:00

After the most painful night of his life, Tate decided today everything would be over.

He had to cleanse the world… To take people to somewhere else, to some place full of peace away from the piss and the vomit that runs down the streets.

He was doing this not only because of your breakup, but also because of many other reasons. Your split up was the straw that broke the camel and drove him to the edge.

10:40

 After shooting the school, Tate left the place, looking unfazed about what he just did. He was unhinged. 

He peacefully got into his place, went to his room and stayed there for some minutes. 

The blond sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the gun right next to him and stared at nothing. His gaze was empty, but also there were some tears threatening to spill.

His mind was a whirlwind. Some part of him was satisfied, but the other was confused, wondering what was he thinking, what had he done?

What would you think of him now? Were you even there? Did he kill you too and he didn’t even notice?

In the end, he recognized he indeed was the evil you said. Damn it. You were right, again, as ever.

Tate wanted to hear your voice, to comfort him, to hear you saying everything was okay. That he’d be okay. He desired to hear “I love you” from you once more.

11:15

You went downstairs to find your family apparently mourning you.

They thought you were at school when the shooting happened. They believed you were gone, but here you were. 

Eventually, they explained to you what happened.

The first thing that popped into your mind was Tate’s wellbeing, still unaware that he was the culprit. You were afraid something terrible could’ve happened to him, you were regretting your last words to him, but you also had to get him prisoner.

Your heart dropped when they explained to you he was the shooter.

No, it couldn’t be possible. 

It was possible. After all, he had already killed two men.

Even if you despise what he did, some part of you still longed for him, still was in love with his once kind heart.

A terrifying feeling of dread filled your body, making you feel numb, as if none of this was real… 

11:25

After running to Tate’s house and seeing it surrounded by the cops and the SWAT team, everything stopped. Constance’s distressed cries and pleas were heard from outside, followed suit by the sound of bullets. It was over now.

Tate was certainly a troubled individual who dedicated his entire life to searching for something, to feel something, to feel loved.

All he asked for was love, to be loved, to love. All he wanted was you.

But at the same time, your love led him to an never-ending obsession that ultimately broke both of you.

He became your biggest regret.

All he feared, all his nightmares came true. Everything he was so afraid of was him and only himself. 

[chobani-flip]

meeting friends and family @bucktommypositivityweek

a bit of bucktommy fluff that unfolded as i wrote it

--

putting the car in park, buck checked his watch. shit, he was late. he was so late. he eyed the bags on the seat next to him and wondered if he should have bought the other two types of muffin as well. but he was so late, and today of all days, that he seriously doubted if tommy's love of cake might work in bribing his forgiveness.

but it hadn't been his fault! he couldn't just stand by when kathy went into labor right there next to the chicken nuggets! or it might have been kate, buck wasn't sure he heard her equally pregnant friend (mallory?) right the first time she'd moaned their names at him before thrusting two shopping carts containing two toddlers into buck's free hand once he'd introduced himself as a firefighter and dialed 911. then she proceeded to lean against the walgreens freezer and talk both herself and her friend through lamaze breathing, while buck clutched his phone with his shoulder and gave directions to sue blevins and at the same time tried to keep the toddler in the green bear tshirt from biting the toddler in pink, taking turns smiling encouragingly into their crying faces and the equally distressed but less snotty face of the walgreens manager.

and once he'd calmed the kids down a bit and nowak and wyatt from the 127 arrived, he couldn't just leave them to go to the hospital on their own. luckily, it didn't take very long for melanie's (?) partner to arrive, but still.

so now buck was late, by about two hours, on the evening that he and tommy had offered to babysit jee for the first time together.

remembering his own complete exhaustion after he'd spent an afternoon running around his niece that first time maddie had him watch her, buck was sure he should have bought those extra muffins.

buck didn't really know what he expected to find when he opened the door to his loft, but it definitely wasn't his niece sitting in her high chair at the kitchen island, quietly nibbling a carrot stick and staring at his boyfriend as though he was a new paw patrol character.

at a second glance, buck closed the door behind him and felt a bit like doing the same.

because tommy was holding a large piece of cucumber and two leaves of ice berg lettuce on the other side of the kitchen island and...

"...and like we said, because newton's third law of motion says that any action has an equal and opposite reaction, like when-"

"when i jump on the trampoline!" jee pulled the carrot out of her mouth to yell in excitement as tommy grinned at her in approval. buck felt a little faint.

"exactly, princess! and when the airfoil here," tommy shook the lettuce, "splits the air, the air pressure on top is smaller than on the bottom, that makes the air move faster downward and that generates lift!"

"lift!" jee yun cheered and danced in her chair, and buck had no idea whether she actually understood the lesson in beginner aviation just now, or if she just liked how tommy nodded approvingly at her as he handed her a wedge of cucumber. buck watched in disbelief as she rammed it into her mouth like a little chipmunk and grinned wide and green at his boyfriend, who couldn't possibly appreciate it for the miracle it was.

buck had been forced to pinky promise her never to include cucumbers in any of her snacks, "not even hided in yummy dip!", because they were "wet and ew".

although buck had to admit, he too would do (and had done) a lot of crazy things in order to get tommy to look and smile at him, so he couldn't blame jee yun too much for her change of heart.

he must have make some sort of a sound, because in the next instant jee was wriggling on her chair so much it was a wonder it didn't topple with her in it, and tommy was throwing his vegetable airplane model back into the salad bowl as though he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"uncle buck! uncle buck!" jee yun yelled, interrupting his stunned staring. "this is uncle tommy!" she added when he came up to her and at her request, lifted her into his arms.

"yeah?" was the only thing buck could think to say, as he pressed a scratchy kiss against her cheek, and turned to stare some more at his gorgeous boyfriend the tips of whose ears were turning a lovely shade of pink.

"he's a pilot!" jee yun continued to cheerfully shout in his ear.

"no way!" buck gasped.

"way way!" she yelled, and then went on to explain very seriously that she shouldn't jump on the bed because she didn't have a "jet-gin" or an airfoil and so she wouldn't fly because she couldn't "genate lift". buck nodded, also very seriously, and agreed that uncle tommy was "so cool!"

"the coolest," he said as he watched tommy start to put away the groceries.

buck had a feeling that the title of the favorite uncle that he had won from albert by knowing which brand of dino chicken nuggets to buy had just been stolen but he couldn't say he minded very much.

[melminli]

teachers pet - by melanie martinez

pairing: young coriolanus snow x fem. reader

summery - if i'm so special, why am i secret?

word count: 2k+

contains: student coryo (academy is basically a uni), teacher reader, age gap (coryo is in his early twenties while the reader is somewhere in her thirties), teacher x student relationships, dark themes, cheating (reader is married), mommy issues, manipulating, blackmailing

The life of a nerd didn't look as bad as it was portrayed in movies or books. However, it must be said that Coriolanus Snow had neither the stereotypical look nor behavior of a nerd, which may have been the reason why he was hardly treated like one. He had only the best, the good grades of a model student, the popularity of a popular student, and the good looks of a young man his age.

Cute girls queued up to get a chance with him since he seemed like a dream. In a world full of boys, he was a gentleman, a young man with a secure future. Some of his classmates would joke that he would be the future president of Panem, although they always had a slightly confident undertone while saying that. To be honest, no one would be surprised if he would be someday.

"Come on, Coriolanus! Let's go for a drink, you're never coming with us!" Complained the voice of some side character. "I'm sure you have a good chance with most of the girls in the bar - or boys. Whatever you like, I don't judge." He joked, and Clemensia hit him on the shoulder with her fist to warn him to take it down a notch.

She spoke in his place. "Leave him be. He's not into that sort of thing. I'm sure he'd rather spend his time doing more productive things." A slight grin stretched across her features. "Maybe you should try that sometime. Perhaps then you wouldn't fail half the subjects."

Festus interrupted the conversation as he walked past the group. "Come on, Clemmie. Leave the poor guy alone. We're students. It's normal to go partying every now and then." His eyes looked somewhat defiantly at Coriolanus. "You only live once. There's no need to waste it."

Alcoholics and drug addicts use the same excuse, stupid idiot. Coriolanus had enough of this whole interaction. It was time to wrap it up. "Of course, and everyone is free to live this life the way they want." He said with a falsely charming smile when he finally got a chance to speak. "I'm afraid I don't have much time either, I'm already in demand elsewhere."

Unfortunately for him, Arachne couldn't hold her tongue and had to carry on the conversation. "And so late on a Wednesday, too? Don't tell me our teacher's pet is in trouble. Has Mrs. Lola finally realized that you're just trying to get better grades with your flirting, and she doesn't actually have a chance with the pretty boy?" She joked as she mentioned the older woman who was getting closer to retirement with each passing year.

But her comment didn't make the intended person bitter, but Festus, who had to grit his teeth in annoyance. "Can't believe that shit works. I complimented her the other day, and she gave me a look like she was cursing me and the rest of my bloodline." He sighed. "I don't even want kids."

Coriolanus was getting impatient. If at least Sejanus was here, he could cover for him enough to leave, but no, they didn't share every damn course there was. He couldn't believe that this bothered him somehow. "No. Actually, I have asked to speak with Mrs. Rosey regarding her assigned homework." He announced, mentioning your name.

His pretty literature teacher. The only woman he wanted.

The eyes of the person who had started the whole thing in the first place lit up briefly. Coriolanus didn't bother to remember his name. "Oh, she's that one young teacher, isn't she?" He asked. The title wasn't really that hard to get since most of the teachers at the academy were dinosaurs. "She's pretty hot, I regret dropping literature man, but at the end of the day it's just an unnecessary course that requires extra work."

Okay, now Coriolanus was not only annoyed but also angry and had to stop himself from looking too passionate. "Right, see you tomorrow." He quickly said goodbye and paid no further attention to what the others were saying as he made his way to the teachers' lounge. He quickly fixed his tie and hair before knocking on the door. Fortunately, he didn't meet anyone else in the corridors who wasted his time unnecessarily. His patience was getting thin, and he didn't think he had enough of it to make him exchange more false smiles and words.

"Come in..." He heard your muffled voice call through the door before he slowly opened it, and his eyes immediately turned to your table. You, too, looked up from the papers in front of you and met his figure as you turned your chair to the side. "Mr. Snow, you said you had a question about the assignment I gave you."

There was a step between you two, but your voice still felt close. Maybe it was because you two were the only ones in the room since it was pretty late. Now that Coriolanus was looking down at your figure, you looked quite exhausted and seemed barely able to keep your eyes open. Judging by your desk, you were in the middle of correcting last week's quiz, but he doubted that was the only thing you were working on. Your usually well-groomed appearance was a little more disheveled. There were strands of hair peeking out from various places, and the first few buttons of your shirt were undone. "You never called me." Was all he said as he watched you avoid his gaze.

Your tongue licked over your dry lips as you searched for the right words. "I don't think that has anything to do with the assignment." You replied. Maybe my mistake was, hoping he had a question in the first place. "I'm not going to talk about other matters, I'm busy." You tried to explain to him.

Coriolanus laughed in disbelief. He placed his coat and bag on the chair next to him before leaning back against your table. "Oh, please. I can understand you wanting to keep our special time a secret, but don't try to deny it." He spat out, placing his hand on the papers to stop you from continuing to work on it. "Do you regret the things we shared, huh? Don't lie to me."

You met his gaze after you sighed. "Look, Mr. Snow. I'm sure you'll understand me when I tell you that you should rather concentrate on your studies, don't you think?"

His jaw tightened further as you continued to skillfully evade his questions. As if you didn't care at all, as if you didn't care about him. He was fully aware that what he was getting into was something short-term, but he still wouldn't allow you to throw him away as easily as trash. "Oh, so it's Mr. Snow now? What happened to Coryo."

You stood up so you could speak to him at eye level. Coriolanus has always been a bit more clingy with you. You expected no less, and yet it didn't make this whole procedure any less difficult. "Look, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I'm married, and you know that." You tried to work through the situation. You grabbed his arms to comfort him with your touch. "There are so many young girls out there who want you. I'm so much older than you, and I'm also your teacher. From the beginning, this was something that wouldn't last."

He shook his head. "I don't care about them. It's you I want, please. Only you." He begged, and this time, he was the one who grabbed your arms to stop you from leaving, from leaving him. Coriolanus could see in your eyes how his desperation couldn't convince you, and he wished it would. Not only because he wanted to, but also so that he wouldn't have to resort to other methods, but you left him no other choice. "It would be a scandal if the whole thing came out, don't you think?"

You just sighed tiredly when he didn't let you go. "Sweetie..."

He softened a little at the pet name, but that didn't stop him. "No, you can't just use me until you're satisfied and then dispose of me. I will tell everyone and you know that as a teacher you will be in a position where people will accuse you of taking advantage of me." He explained as he pushed you between him and the desk while he watched the look of irritation on your face. His one hand came up to gently stroke your cheek, but his true intentions were visible through the strong grip on your arm. "And of course, you can try to tell the truth or try to defend yourself, but you know who they're more likely to believe."

He hadn't only pushed your body in a corner anymore. "So what? We're going to keep doing this until you're satisfied and let me go." You asked, seeing no long-lasting result.

That was your mistake. It hadn't been long since you'd been married, so Coriolanus was aware that you hadn't changed your surname. He liked that about you. He liked the sound of Rosey, and he too wanted to hold you like a little pretty rose in his grasp. "Yes. Except I won't let you go. Ever." he said with a slightly dreamy look.

You dared to disagree. "Mr. Snow - " you began, but changed your tone when you saw him grimace angrily and tighten his grip on your arm. " - Coryo, look. You're a smart boy, and yes, I enjoyed our time together, but it's not right that - "

" - I love you, and if it's wrong, then I don't want to be right. Why can't you understand that already? I know I'm young, but I'm not naive, so don't talk to me like I am." He spat out in annoyance and finally reached the end of his patience. His eyes glanced briefly next to you at the table where the sheets of paper were now messely scattered around. It seemed you were in the process of correcting his. how convenient. his hand grabbed it and held it in front of you. "Let's play a little game. If I pass this quiz, you'll give me something I want."

Your eyes didn't move from his. You knew you had to play along whether you wanted to or not, and you didn't seem to get far with values and morals. You doubted you would do it at all with him. "And what do you want?" You asked him simply.

He leaned closer to you. "A kiss."

You met his eyes and took the paper from his hand without even glancing at it. "You passed." You confirmed and pulled him into a soft kiss.

This is how he liked you. When you touched him tenderly like now and stroked his hair lovingly. Coriolanus only felt like this with you. Do you think he wouldn't have tried to get away from you? He did, first with several girls who just wanted him to give and give and he hated that they just took from him and thought it was enough if they just stood pretty next to him or leaned back and spread their legs. Hated them, and so he tried women who were older than him and then women who had the same color eyes as you, some who smiled like you and then some whose voice was similar to yours. He liked those the most because with them, he could just close his eyes and imagine it was you.

Then he finally got tired of just imagining it, and once he had a taste of what might be, there was no going back to his old ways.

"I love you." He finally said as you ended the kiss and he leaned his forehead against yours while his hands wrapped around yours. "Don't ever think about leaving me again and don't make me out to be crazy for wanting you."

What am I supposed to do with you, little snowflake, now that you don't melt away? "All right, Coryo, I won't." You just replied and saw no point in arguing with him anymore. You knew him well enough to know how possessive and dominant he could get. However, you liked him more when he was dependent on you and sought your approval. "But be good and a little nicer to me, will you?" You said and squeezed his hands. "Because if I wanted some stupid man who was full of himself, I'd go to my husband."

He nodded quickly, giving in easily now that it was clear that he had you. "Of course, anything you want. I'll do anything you want." He spoke and took your hand in his up to place a kiss on it. "All you have to do is ask for it."

Coriolanus would take care of your useless husband. You wouldn't need him when you were going to marry him soon.

[aritsukemo]

Your heart's too big for your body.. | Muichiro and Yuichiro Tokito

Warnings: Mentions of the reader throwing up in Yuichiro's part! All my emetophobic folks beware!!

A/N: I honestly don't know what this is lmao- I planned a completely different set of characters when I wrote this but as I was listening to Melanie Martinez's Crybaby album, I guess my mind just went to two characters who bring me a bunch of comfort. Like, as I listened, I felt kinda sad so my mind just imagined a bunch of scenarios with these two comforting someone.. ( Also, in case anyone's confused. Muichiro's part is set in a more modern au like the Kimetsu Academy au, Yuichiro's isn't )

"What the fuck," Is the first thing the teal-streaked medic mumbled when you stumbled into the Butterfly Manor half conscious, blood dripping from your head. and your hand poorly covering your stomach which had a horrifyingly-large gash on the center of it.

"T- Tokito.." You called, although you could barely get the words out before you tilted. Luckily, Yuichiro caught you in time before you completely hit the floor.

As your head hit his shoulder, a quick wave of panic shot through him. After all, it wasn't often that a Hashira—especially one of your caliber—to come in this wounded, or wounded at all for that matter.

As he helped you to your feet, Yuichiro threw your arm over his shoulder, ignoring your blood that had quickly begun to stain his clothes, and called for some assistance before guiding you to the nearest patient room and sitting you down on the bed where you immediately flopped over.

"Shit," He cursed out, finally noticing how bad of a state you had gotten yourself in. You showed obvious signs of having a concussion—a severe one at that. But he had little time to focus on that before you began choking.

With quick movements, Yuichiro helped you sit up only for you to immediately fall forward and cough up your stomach, staining the bottom half of his clothes with your blood and what was most likely your breakfast, shit.

It was only then that the Kakushi had rushed in, staring at the sight in surprised horror only to finally rush to your side after Yuichiro shouts at them to unbutton your uniform vest and press down on your stomach wound while he prepared the bandages...

When you finally awoke, you were experiencing one of the worst headaches of your life. The Kakushi had long been sent off, but Yuichiro was still there. Towering over you, scrutinizing you.

"How are you feeling?" Was the first thing he said. It came out in a rushed, whispered tone of voice instead of his usual vexed one.

"My head hurts.." You mumbled in which he hums and mumbles something involving Shinobu and medication under his breath. Although, it was hard to really concentrate on his mumbling when your head felt like it was being split open and the strong taste of metal was lingering on your tongue..

"So what happened while you were out?" Surely you had run into one of the Twelve. Logically speaking, there would be no other way for you to obtain such injuries. Unless you somehow tripped into a bear's mouth or something on your way home. Although he hopes that isn't the case. You were an idiot, but hopefully not that stupidly clumsy.

Your eyes drifted to your hands subconsciously, an expression of which the medic could only think was embarrassment slowly forming on your face.

"It was my fault," You began, and Yuichiro was already furrowing his brows, "I underestimated my opponent and nearly got another slayer killed as a result.."

"There was another demon slayer there?" His voice suddenly grew low as hed muttered his next words with poorly masked dread, "..What happened to them?"

"They..ran away," Wait..what?

"They did..what?" The sudden sharpness of his tone has you wanting to shrink away from him, "Say it again. I want to hear it. Now."

"There.. There were multiple slayers.. One of them attempted to help out, but in the end..when I was pushed back.." You pause, looking for the right words to your next sentence that wouldn't shove the truth of what happened in your face. The disheartening truth that makes your chest tighten and your heart sting. The truth that your comrades had left you to die, "I awoken and my comrades..had all..retreated to safety."

"So, they left you to die," You wince. The way he always worded things always sounded so painful to hear. It squeezed at your heart in a way that made your eyes sting and your throat tighten, but you try to brush it off as best you can.

"No, they just—"

"Decided to save their own worthless asses as soon as the fight didn't go their way and left you to clean up the mess?" As his anger grew, so did his voice, "No way you slice this will make the truth any less apparent that they left you for dead!"

"How many times have I told you about this? You need to understand that most people only care about keeping themselves happy and alive and don't care who dies at the expense of that! Not you, or me, or anyone else!" He's right. Both of you are aware of that and as a result, silence replaces any words that would've been spoken after that—well, that and the tears that are beginning to form in your eyes because of the intense stinging..

You raise you hand, your eye instinctively closing as you wipe at your eye, your tears smear as a result, but you could care less. As long as it got rid of them.

At some point, the silence was broken with the sharp sigh that slipped from Yuichiro's soft lips. He shuffles closer before leaning down where the coldness of his thumbs comes in contact with the warm skin just under your eye. They capture the tears that manage to escape and gently flicks them away.

"You shouldn't waste your tears. Not on them, and certainly not on me.." He tells you, but it only makes you want to cry harder—which you ended up doing.

"I'm.. I'm sorry..*hic*.. I.. I.." You couldn't even get your words out from how much you were choking. This was so embarrassing and you wished you could just crawl in the hole and never come out of it..

But you can't. So you'll just have to make do with Yuichiro caging his arms around you as you sobbed instead.

"Thank you for coming," You told him, intending for it to sound more like an happy and excited little kid than a heartbroken and dissapointed adult. He looks around, streamers and banners decorate the walls, rounded tables and chairs were dressed down in various colored flowers and other assortments—all of which were mixed and matched in your favorite colors—and a beautiful multi-tiered cake sitting in the middle of a long rectangular table in the back of the room—the cake's decor trailing down the layers and onto the table where it then hangs off the wood, like hanging wisteria trees..

Not a soul in sight.

It was confusing to him. He vividly remembers the long nights with you, both of you up at ungodly hours, dressed down in your pajamas. He remembers being on the phone with you, staring intently at the slumped beds that had begun to slowly form under your bottom lashes and the faded look of drowsiness on your drooping face. He remembers your hands, tiny cuts of all shapes and sizes dented in your skin from the many slip ups and paper attacks that happened that night and previous night. He remembers the afternoons slowly turning to evenings and then nights and he remembers you working nonstop on your invitation cards. Each were just a tad bit different, some of the handmade decorations being different sizes and beautified certain ways to mask the small but noticeable mistakes you made on some of them. He remembers how proud you looked everytime you finished a card, showing him while flashing the widest grin he's ever seen from you. He remembers how pretty each card looked..

Why didn't anyone show up?

"I suppose everyone was busy today," You said, but he couldn't tell if you were trying to answer the silent question in the air or trying to tell yourself that to make yourself feel better, "I knew I should've waited til' the weekend.."

"Why.. Where is.." He didn't know what to say. You were pretty well known throughout school, everyone loved you or so it seemed. Why is he the only one here?

"Y'know, when I first started passing out the cards, most people told me that they probably couldn't make it. It made me a little sad, but then I was asked if I could help them out.." You told him. He hated the look in your eyes as you said it, "Heh..I ran all over the place running errands for all those people..they said that because of me they'll have enough time to at least stop by and drop off their gifts.." You began to walk, your shoes dragging against the wooden flooring of your living room, Muichiro cringed at the screaking sound it made.

"I did all of that..and no one showed. I waited all day.." Your voice was so shaky and fragile, like a mirror slowly cracking. It felt like the shards of glass were slowly falling off and shoved down his throat.

Then your voice suddenly raised, "But it's okay!" You said, "It's okay," You repeated, "That just means there's more cake for the two of us to enjoy!" You stop right infront of the large cake, your head rolling to look back at him. His own mirror began to slowly crack as his teal eyes met your teary ones and you flashed him a smile, one thinned out instead of the usual full, bright one you always blessed him with.

It was heartbreaking. It made him want to cry. And he did. He didn't realize it, but the tears had begun to slide down his cheeks one after another..

"I'm..so sorry," He said as if he wasn't the only one standing here before you, "..I'm so sorry, Y/n.."

"Why are you apologizing? It's okay, Mui. Don't feel bad. I'm okay.." You croaked, watching with your bottom lip shaking as he neared you. Biting down on the skin when he enveloped you and his sobs filled your ears.

"It's okay. I'm okay. I'm..I.." With a loud hiccup to signal that the dam has broke, you fell apart completely. Body trembling as you leaned into his shoulder, mumbling words of reassurances over and over like a damaged record.

"I'm..fine.. I'm okay.. No need to cry.." You said, but your words comforted neither him or you—if anything, it only made your tears come out in quicker, thicker clumps, completely ruining the little makeup look you had spent an embarrassing amount of time doing.

At some point, you two hit the floor. Neither of you noticed it, but you were curled up in each others arms on the cold, lonely floor. Tears wetting each others' sleeves. It was a mortifying sight. If anyone walked in, there's a chance you'd both be made fun of for being such crybabies over a simple birthday party gone wrong.

But you never left his embarace and he never left yours. You both sat there, tangled in that messy embrace and sobbing, heavy feelings weighing in both of your hearts.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[squeeneyart]

[Image description: A digital greyscale lineup of five characters, from left to right: Jonathan Sims, a stern-looking, medium-skinned shorter man with shoulder-length greying hair in a white button-up with a tie and dress slacks and shoes gripping a tape recorder; Martin Blackwood, a nervous, tall light-slinned fat man with glasses and long hair in a loose ponytail in jeans, converse, and a black t-shirt under a white button-up; Tim Stoker, a calm, smiling, tall fat man with dark pushed back hair in a similar outfit to Jon but with tennis shoes, and a manila folder tucked under his arm; Sasha James, a tall dark-skinned woman with long, wavy hair and glasses holding a laptop case and wearing a sweater and white skinny jeans and flats. She seems to be saying something while smiling; Melanie King, a slightly shorter dark-skinned woman with dark curly hair and one side of her head shaved wearing a polo shirt and jeans rolled up showing her ankles and dress shoes, gripping her phone and looking exasperated. End ID]

felt like doing a character lineup, so tma season one archive staff plus melanie it is

bullies jon and melanie by giving them the same shoes

[lamaery]

Since the line art / sketches for these have been reblogged more often, than the reblog with the coloured version (and I like the coloured version), I dare to repost this one. So that it may be shared and seen more as well. At the danger of being repetitive... Have an additional Mr Spider :D

Now with colour and description (thank you @saintbleeding for that, I expanded on it a little bit) ------------------------ [ID: Two versions of a sketch page of characters from The Magnus Archives (the first is the sketches, the second has them rendered in full colour): Martin is pale and freckled with light blond hair and light violet glasses and is holding a thermos and cup, with text in the steam billowing from them reading “Let’s hope it’s not oolong”; Jon has a brown skin tone and dark wavy, grey-streaked hair coming down to his shoulders, He watches with a sad, wide-eyed, stare, His eyes are glowing in a bright, green and small eye symbols are forming around his head; Tim smiling and looking slyly to the side; a small, low-detail bust of Sasha with dark skin, round glasses and a large blob of dark her bound to the back of her head, behind a larger, more detailed bust of Not!Sasha looking over her shoulder (not by op: both of them are meant to be differing designs for Sasha, but the bigger sketch showing a young woman with a blond bob of hair could work for Not!Shasha quite well); Jon and Martin grinning smugly, Martin has a purple towel hanging over his shoulder, Jon is wearing a soft salmon colored hoodie, which is too large for him; Tim lounging on a wheely-chair and wearing an open Hawaiian shirt, holding a mug with a paper umbrella and smiling; Georgie is dark-skinned with short curly hair that has a red shade to it and freckles on her face. She is looking mistrustfully off-camera with an arm around Melanie, whose face is downturned. She has dark glasses concealing her eyes. The second image is a stylized, spidery figure consisting of a dark black, uneven blob for a body, a smaller black blob for a head, with almond shaped eyes scratched roughly and randomly across it, including a small bowtie at its non existent neck. Thin, scraggly, slightly hairy lines bent in many unnatural angles for the eight legs of the creature. A tiny hat adorned its head. It is with a splatter of bright red. End ID.]