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ichorai · 6 months

Text

thread ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; “they’re all just copying us, you know,” he said, sounding almost bitter.

“of course they are,” you replied, taking a drawn-out sip from your cup. “we showed them there’s no sharks in the water. obviously they’re going to jump in.”

words ; 6.6k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, action

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence/injury/death/drug misuse, coryo's paranoia, he isn't exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Coriolanus came late to class. He rushed in, uniform only slightly askew, and hair messier than usual. You moved your bag aside so he could take a seat beside you. With a nod, he slipped into the row and began laying out his books.

You wondered how Tigris reacted once he got back home. Probably worried sick for her cousin and her friend. Your father, of course, was furious with you once he learned about your tryst with Coriolanus in the Capitol Zoo, but there was little he could do when he was off working in the districts. During dinner with your mother, Lucretius Flickerman, and his wife, the tributes and the games were practically all the three could talk about. Lucky was going to be the first ever host, apparently.

How fun.

To neither of your surprise, Highbottom eyed the two of you with disdain. When you had strode into the hall, he remained silent. Coriolanus’ arrival seemed to tip him right over the edge.

“Both of your little excursions were in violation of about five different academy rules,” he grumbled. “Chiefly amongst them—endangering a Capitol student. Yourselves.”

“There were peacekeepers crawling all over the place,” Coriolanus retorted.

The dean’s nose twitched angrily. Then, he fixed you with a harsh look over his spectacles, and drawled out your name. “Since you are the academy’s brightest, and your records have been… untarnished until now, I will let you off with a warning.” There was a pause, before the dean continued. “Mr. Snow, I’m moving for the gamemakers to disqualify you as mentor, effective immediately.”

“What?” the two of you exclaimed at once.

“You said we had to get them to perform, not stay away!” Coriolanus just about spat.

“I’ll add insubordination, as well,” Highbottom replied, tone venomous.

Raising your hand and ignoring the dean’s irritated exhale, you haughtily said, “It was me who went into the tribute’s truck. Coriolanus only followed. We didn’t know that we’d end up in a zoo enclosure.”

Arachne tittered with condescending laughter. “Yeah, and then you held hands with them. Made it seem like we’re the same as those animals.”

From your other side, Sejanus was quick to defend the two of you. “Coriolanus and Y/N didn’t show those people anything they didn’t already know.”

Stiffening, Coryo scowled and said, “I don’t need your help, Sejanus.”

He ignored him and continued on, “That the tributes are human beings, just like us. That’s why nobody wants to watch the games—because people know, deep down, that winning a war ten years ago doesn’t justify starving people’s children, taking away their freedoms, their rights!”

“Dean Highbottom,” you called, not bothering to raise your hand this time. “How is it fair that Coriolanus gets disqualified while I’m not? We did what you told us to do! We were just trying to get to know our tributes.”

“Would you like to be disqualified as well? I can surely arrange for that to happen,” he deadpanned. “But poor little Wovey would be left all on her own.”

Nausea coiled within your abdomen. You drew yourself up to your full height. “Well, that would be entirely unnecessary—”

Before you could finish your sentence, the doors to the lecture theater swung open once more, and Dr. Volumnia Gaul crept in, footsteps completely silent. How she managed that, you weren’t at all sure.

With everyone’s eyes on her, she fixed her stare on the two of you. Her hair was wrangled back into a high up-do, tall and grey on her head.

“Quite a show you two put on. You’re good players,” she said, voice booming throughout the theater. “The hunger games needs good players. Maybe one day you’ll be gamemakers, like me.”

The thought sent chills up your spine. Coriolanus kept his expression stoic.

“If the games continue at all,” said Highbottom.

Singular blue eye flashing, Dr. Gaul grinned in an unnerving manner. “Oh, they’ll continue. With performances like young Snow and L/N in that zoo? The people would never stop wanting for more.” She drew closer to the rows of seats, gloved hand trailing over a few of the desks. “I came here to ask the star mentors a question… what are the hunger games for?”

You and Coriolanus exchanged a quick glance.

“They’re to punish the districts for their uprising,” he said, as if it were obvious. “To commemorate the end of the war.”

Volumnia’s tongue darted out to wet her lips, in a similar fashion to a snake.

“And what would you say, Y/N?”

It was hard to maintain eye contact with her, especially because it felt like she could peer into your very soul and dissect you apart from inside out—but you managed. With your father being such an avid supporter of the hunger games, you wondered if your answer would be what she was looking for. “I don’t agree with the games. But I know it’s because—fear is power. Keep the districts afraid for themselves, for their children, and you’ll always have the upper hand.”

She smiled, wide and eerie. “You’re right. Fear is power. But punishment and fear can take many forms. They can come from bomb droppings, the cancelling of food shipments, stage executions. The question is, why games?”

Defensive, Sejanus spoke up, “Shouldn’t we be asking whether or not it’s right in the first place?”

“You have a problem with my games?” she asked, unimpressed.

“Some of those kids were two years old when the war ended! The oldest of them were only eight!” he exclaimed. “The Capitol is supposed to be everyone’s government now. It is supposed to protect all of us. I don’t see how making children fight each other to the death is protecting anyone.”

With a sneer, Dr. Gaul told him, “That sort of sympathy might be interfering with your mentoring assignment, Mr. Plinth.”

Finally, Highbottom said to his colleague, “Perhaps Capitol students are ill-suited to be mentoring tributes. Perhaps the games’ time has passed.”

Yes, you thought. It’s time to let it go.

To your surprise, Coriolanus abruptly stood up from his seat. “Dean Highbottom is wrong,” he asserted. “My classmates, too. Maybe Sejanus is onto something here. We should be viewing those tributes as human beings. You saw those kids at the zoo. They just wanted to get to know Lucy Gray. If we need people to watch, we should let them get closer to the tributes before the games. Make the stakes personal.”

“Who would watch the games if they care what happens to the tributes?” Dr. Gaul asked, as if the notion of caring about district folk was ludicrous.

“Everyone,” replied Coriolanus. “Especially if they thought the tribute they cared about had a chance of winning. People need someone to root for and someone to root against! And if we bend a few Capitol laws, we can even have them place bets.”

You felt sick as you looked up at Coriolanus with a mildly disturbed expression. If he noticed, he didn’t give you any indication.

“I know Lucy Gray may not win in the arena,” he continued. “But if you give her a chance—I would bet the Plinth prize that she could win people’s attention.”

Dr. Gaul was effectively intrigued.

“I would like you to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight, Mr. Snow,” she said.

Clemensia, strong-headed as ever, stood up and said that she should be working with Coriolanus, as his class partner.

With an amused snicker, Volumnia bowed her head and made her way back to the door. “It’ll be an interesting test,” she ominously said before turning on her heel and exiting, her dark cloak billowing out behind her.

During lunch, you sat down across from Coriolanus in the cafeteria, noticing that he had three sandwiches stacked on his plate, along with half a dozen cookies on another. It was a rare thing, seeing him with so much food. Usually he opted for just starving himself to save some money, despite your urges to get him to eat.

“Hungry?” you asked with an arched brow, but he shook his head.

“It’s for Lucy Gray,” he replied, staring down at the food. Then, he pulled out a red handkerchief and started wrapping the food up. “I’m going back.”

With a soft sigh, you started digging into your own lunch. “Hopefully not inside this time.”

He spared you half a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you coming? Everyone else is. I heard Arachne tell Felix she’s going to use food to get her tribute to do tricks for her.”

With a wrinkle of your nose, you glanced over at her several tables down. “Sounds like something she’d say.” You took a bite of your food and chewed thoughtfully.

“They’re all just copying us, you know,” he said, sounding almost bitter.

“Of course they are,” you replied, taking a drawn-out sip from your cup. “We showed them there’s no sharks in the water. Obviously they’re going to jump in.”

He tied the handkerchief together so the sandwiches and cookies would stay put. “They’re all sheep. No original thought whatsoever.”

There it was again, your wind-chime laugh. Coriolanus smiled down at his plate, now empty save for a few bread crumbs.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Coryo. Besides, I’m glad most of the class is going. The tributes must be starving in there,” you told him. “I’ll come and bring some food for Wovey.”

A voice from your right jutted into your conversation, Sejanus’ angry face coming into view as he slammed down his lunch tray in the empty spot beside you. “You guys going to fatten up your tributes so you can finally start taking bets?” he just about snarled.

“Do you think they’ll give those kids a scrap if we don’t give them a reason to do it?” Coriolanus responded defensively, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “How do you think your tribute will have a chance if he can’t eat?”

“We can’t send them back to their homes,” you told Sejanus in a juxtaposingly calm tone. “The best we can do for them now is help them out here.”

The curly-haired man slumped forward, his shoulder stooping like an old wildflower. “He was my classmate,” he muttered. “Back in two.”

Though you gave Sejanus a sympathetic look, Coryo regarded Sejanus as if he was confused. He wondered why Sejanus even bothered to care this much when he was no longer a part of the districts.

“It’s not your fault that—” Coriolanus began, but was swiftly interrupted.

“Oh, yeah, I’m so blameless I’m choking on it!” he gritted out. Then, he let out a shaky breath, trying to steel himself. “My father bought him for me, you know. At the reaping. Just so he could show me that I could never go back to two.”

A frown marred your features. “He bribed Highbottom?”

“Something like that,” Sejanus told you, using the prongs of his fork to poke and prod at his food. “Morphling costs a pretty penny.”

Silence stretched over the three of you for a few seconds. Coriolanus looked annoyed, but Sejanus didn’t seem to notice.

“Being in the Capitol is going to kill me,” he sighed.

This made Coryo scowl. “So do something about it.”

Sejanus’ dark eyes flitted over to the bundle of food in Coriolanus’ hands. “You’re quite the rebel.”

Coriolanus retorted, “Oh, yeah. I’m bad news.”

When he said that, he’d expected you to laugh again, but you kept quiet, staring down at your now-unappetizing lunch.

There was a considerably larger crowd around the enclosure that evening. You had a small basket clutched in one hand, consisting of juice boxes (still grape, since you now knew it was a safe option), soft bread rolls, and wrapped leftovers from your dinner with Lucky. You hoped Wovey wasn’t allergic to anything—you’d forgotten to ask in the heat of it all.

Coriolanus still only had the few sandwiches he saved from lunch, but you assured him that you were more than happy to share with Lucy Gray if need be.

She looked much more haggard tonight, most of her makeup smeared off, her lips chapped and bleeding at the center from what you assumed was anxious biting, and her hair was more unruly. Though her eyes still held the same fire, the same passion, lighting up when she noticed the two of you approaching. She asked if the food was for them with slight surprise—you often forget that they hadn’t much to eat in the districts, anyway—and took what was offered, before handing off a good portion of it to her district partner, Jessup. The larger man declined the food at first, claiming he wasn’t hungry, but eventually caved and took the sandwiches.

When he turned to walk off, Coriolanus asked about the nasty wound on his neck. It was just behind his ear and oozing with blood and pus. A bat bite on the train, Lucy Gray told the two of you, looking awfully guilty on behalf of her friend.

Crooning from a little way’s away drew your attention to Arachne and her tribute. She was dangling a cold bottle of water just inches from the tribute’s reach, urging her to beg.

Lucy Gray’s brows cinched. “One thing I learned in twelve is that hunger is a weapon. Your friend over there sure knows it.”

The two of you scoffed at the same time.

“She is not my friend,” Coriolanus told her. “She is poison with perfect teeth.”

“How such a vile tongue hides behind those pearly whites, I wouldn’t ever know,” you remarked, earning you a snicker from Coriolanus. Finally, you peered around for Wovey, eager to finally get her something to eat. However, curse your damned softening heart, your eyes grew gentle upon seeing her curled up by the very same tree stump, head resting on Bobbin’s shoulder, fast asleep.

Lucy Gray casted a glimpse over her shoulder to see what you were looking at.

“Could you give this to her?” you asked, slotting the small basket between the enclosure’s metal bars. “When she wakes up, that is. She must be famished. Feel free to take anything in there, but just… leave some for her.”

The girl nodded, taking the basket from you and handing it over to Jessup, who cradled it as if it were more precious than gold. You watched him carefully—not because you were worried he was going to keep all the food to himself, but because you were curious as to why he hadn’t reached in to take anything for himself yet, even after several minutes passed by.

Coriolanus leaned forward, wrapping a hand around one of the bars as he lowered his voice. “Are you going to share everything with Jessup?”

Lucy Gray’s expression faltered. “Why? You think I oughta build up my strength to strangle him in the arena? Not exactly my forte.”

“I might have a chance to help you,” he told her, watching her keenly. “To make some suggestions to the gamemakers. I might even be able to get the audience to send you gifts in the arena. Food, and water, to keep you going. You just have to try singing again.”

Firmly, Lucy Gray said, “I don’t sing when I’m told, I sing when I have something to say.”

“And you have nothing to say?” you asked her, head tilting. “The whole world is watching, Lucy Gray. Now’s your chance.”

A myriad of emotions crossed over her face. “It doesn’t matter much now, does it? I’ve seen the arena—there’s nowhere to hide. What’s the point?” Her gaze traveled from you to Coriolanus. “The guards say you get money if you get more people to watch and you say you want to help me. Which is it?”

“Both?” he offered.

It didn’t satisfy her, but it was enough, for now.

Then, she grabbed a sandwich from the red handkerchief and took a large bite, a muffled noise of appreciation falling from her lips.

“Bread’s soft,” she said around a mouthful. “Softer than in twelve.”

Then, she offered a cookie to Coriolanus. He began to protest, but she insisted he take it.

“I saw you staring,” she said. “I always thought there was plenty of food in the Capitol.”

Coriolanus laughed, a coarse and unrefined sound. “One time during the war, I ate a whole jar of paste just to stop the pain in my stomach.”

A match of pity struck within the confines of your chest, but you remained quiet. Coriolanus told you stories of his times during the war often—usually after the two of you laid together, sweaty and naked, bearing your souls to one another. Pillow talk made him quite emotional, you found.

“And how was it?” Lucy Gray queried, eyes round.

Coriolanus took a bite of the cookie, humming in though. Then, he shrugged. “Pasty,” he said.

Lucy Gray laughed. She looked back to you, appreciative. “Thank you, for the food. I’m sure the little one’s going to be happy.” Your eyes flickered back to Wovey. She stirred a bit on Bobbin’s shoulder, but remained asleep. “She’s so sweet. So young. Something about her reminds me of my cousin, Maude Ivory. I can’t stand to think of them without me like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Coriolanus whispered.

You nodded in agreement. “They’re waiting for you, I’m sure. You’ll see them again.”

Lucy Gray smiled sadly. “I won’t hold you to that.” Then, after she took another bite, she blew out a gentle sigh. “You two seem like… genuine folk. It sure would’ve been nice to meet you under different circumstances.”

Coriolanus leaned his head against the enclosure’s bars. “One of your shows, maybe.”

Somehow, her smile grew impossibly wider, but her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Yeah. Yeah, I would’ve liked that.” With a light sniffle, she asked the two of you, “You two keen on dancing?”

You thought back to all the dance lessons you were forced to take as a young child. It was never your strong suit. “Not really, no. Coriolanus is much better than I am.”

“Not your fancy Capitol dancing,” she told you, waving a hand in the air. “Dancing like you’re free. Dancing with no rules. Just the music, to guide you.”

Both you and Coriolanus exchanged glances. “Can’t say I’ve tried,” you replied. “But it sounds fun.”

Lucy Gray nodded, showing more enthusiasm than you’d ever seen in her before. “You’d have the time of your life. If you ever visit… I’d love for you to come. Both of you—we’d have a drink. Share a dance or two. We’d have all the time in the world. People always say our music shows are the best places for romantic dates. It’d be perfect for you two.”

It was a pleasant fantasy to entertain. But that’s all it was—a fantasy. When you looked at Coriolanus, his expression was simultaneously strained and distant, as if he were far away, thinking of other things. You reached out to place your hand on his shoulder.

But before you could, screams erupted from around the enclosure, followed closely by shattering glass. You whipped your head away from Lucy Gray, seeing Arachne’s tribute jabbing the broken glass bottle straight into her jugular. Coriolanus yelled something—you weren’t entirely sure what, but he jumped up to grab Arachne, applying pressure to the wound.

It wasn’t enough.

Blood, dark and viscous and filling the air with the smell of copper, began to pool around her neck, down her shoulders, filling the crevices of her collarbones. She was blubbering something, gargling through blood, but you couldn’t quite hear with the loud static buzzing in your ears.

You glanced to the side, catching sight of peacekeepers lining up their guns to shoot. You rushed forward to get to Coriolanus, yanking him down just as several shots rang out. He was whimpering, telling Arachne to hold on for him, but when you frantically reached down to feel for her pale wrist’s pulse—it wasn’t there.

Arachne was dead.

You clambered off of Coriolanus, away from the dead girl, backing away. You only barely registered Sejanus calling out your name in concern, but you didn’t pay him any mind. Instead, you turned your eyes to the tributes, all ducking and cowering behind trees and tires. To your relief, Wovey was now awake, eyes wide as she crouched behind the tree stump with Bobbin.

The relief was short-lived, however, because peacekeepers began urging everybody away from the enclosure. You reached out for Coriolanus, taking his arm. He was shaking, eyes as large as saucers and visibly distraught.

The two of you walked to his estate in tense silence.

Once there, Grandma’am and Tigris fawned over the two of you, though in far different ways. Grandma’am dove into a lecture about rebels and how lucky the two of you were that your tributes hadn’t done the very same. Tigris wrapped a warm shawl over you and a patched blanket over her cousin, telling Grandma’am that Lucy Gray and Wovey weren’t rebels, just innocent girls.

“Trust me, that one hasn’t been a girl in a long time,” Grandma’am bitterly retorted. “Outside this Capitol, they’re savages, however they may smile. She will use you, Coriolanus. You must use her or you’ll end up dead in the trees, like your father.”

Coriolanus stiffened.

An hour later, he tugged you into his room and kissed you hard and desperate, as if he wanted to distract himself from his own thoughts. You were the one to pull away, even if everything inside you was screaming to stay. You almost caved, almost, when his head dipped forward in an attempt to capture your lips again, but you placed the tips of your fingers over his mouth with a soft, sympathetic smile. You hugged him tight until he stopped trembling, and reluctantly drew yourself away from him. After embracing Tigris goodnight, you walked home alone with your thoughts, wondering if the games were going to continue in lieu of the evening’s events.

There was an assembly held at the academy for Arachne’s death, followed promptly by a proper funeral. Though, it didn’t quite feel proper with all the cameras and reporters hovering around. You wondered if people were expecting to see you cry. You were incredibly shaken, sure, but were you sad?

It’d be a lie if you said yes.

They made sure to zoom in on you and Coriolanus when you kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his hand just before he was appointed to go on stage and sing the national anthem. Why he was the one to do so, the two of you had no idea. It’s not like Arachne was friends with him, despite what the reporters wanted to think. It was a ridiculous waste of breath, he thought, singing for a girl he barely knew.

After Coriolanus’ performance, President Ravinstill gave a rather monotonous speech about courage and bravery. How Arachne was going to be sorely missed. Right—of course she was.

And the very next day, life moved on. As if Arachne’s death had never happened.

Soon after, they had all the mentors and tributes gathered into one of the academy halls— with the tributes shackled to tables, of course. It wasn’t like there was anywhere for them to run. You’d seen all the peacekeepers lining the hallways outside.

“In spite of yesterday’s tragic events,” Highbottom said, not a shred of sincerity to be found in his tone, “our President has decided that the games must go on. Show everyone that the Capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror. To which end Dr. Gaul wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a special, televised presentation of each tribute to our audience so they could… get to know them.”

A glorified show-and-tell, you dryly thought. How wonderful.

You and Coriolanus looked at each other for a brief moment—he’d ask Lucy Gray to sing again, you were certain. Then, you turned back forward, where Wovey was fiddling with her thumbs, sniffling a few times.

“You’ll have an hour to discuss strategy,” said the dean, before whisking himself off to the shadows of the room to down another vial of morphling.

You sat down in front of your tribute, trying your best to offer her a warm smile.

“Did you like the food I brought? Was it okay?” you whispered, making sure to lower your voice.

A nod, a scuffle of feet. Her bottom lip trembled.

Gnawing on the inside of your cheek, you moved on to the pressing matter at hand. “Okay, Wovey. I need… I need to know what you’re good at. Are you a fast runner?”

She thought for a moment, but then shook her head.

“I know you can climb?”

She let out a shaky sigh. “I used to climb in my mama’s factory all the time. Trees, too.”

“Good. That’s good,” you murmured, pulling out a notepad so you could jot some things down. “Are you good at hiding? Staying still?”

“I think so,” she said, looking awfully uncomfortable. “Will I go back home if I win?”

A sharp pang hit you square in the chest. You tore your gaze away from your notes on the paper to look at her.

“Yes,” you hesitantly replied. “They’ll take you home.”

This seemed to satisfy her for the time being. Gave her hope that you perhaps shouldn’t have instilled.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “So—for your televised presentation. We need to win the audience over so they send in donations—I’d be able to send you things. What do you want to do?”

After quite a bit of back and forth, you managed to get Wovey to agree to talk about her family on stage. How much she missed them. It wasn’t much, but perhaps the youngest tribute sympathy card would push the odds in your favor.

Halfway through the hour, however, Coriolanus and Clemensia were called away by Highbottom—most likely to discuss the proposal Coryo had written up once you left the estate. You made a mental note to ask him how it goes once you saw him again. You felt bad, seeing Lucy Gray sitting all alone, bound hands lightly rapping against the table’s wood.

By the stroke of four in the afternoon, they gathered all the mentors and tributes in front of the arena. Coriolanus came bounding up to the group just seconds away from the gates opening, appearing breathless and mildly frazzled.

“You okay? Where’s Clemmie?” you asked, resting a hand on his elbow, brows kinking with confusion.

“She’s… not going to make it.” He winced, appearing distinctly torn. “I’ll tell you later.”

There was a brief silence where you scrutinized him, eyes wide. Something bad happened when he was with Dr. Gaul, and you weren’t too keen on finding out.

You walked alongside Coriolanus into the arena, with your two tributes in front of you. Lucy Gray was saying something comforting to Wovey in that sweet voice of hers, and for that you were grateful. The last thing you needed was Wovey to break down in an anxious mess.

The arena itself was spacious but incredibly rundown, crumbling under the weight of its neglected upkeep. The glass roof was stained and dusty, rusty slants creaking as they parted to filter sunlight into the dome.

“Welcome to the arena of the 10th annual hunger games,” a distorted voice echoed through the arena’s shoddy speaker system. “Tributes, mentors, you have fifteen minutes to survey the space and discuss strategy.”

With one final squeeze on Coriolanus’ shoulder, you parted ways with him, stepping beside Wovey to urge her into a lap around the arena. Staggered rows of dusty seats lined the edges high above the ground—Wovey was a good climber, wasn’t she?

You tried your best to give her advice. “Hiding in the seats is your best option. Climbing over the rows whenever someone comes to attack you should buy you time. You’re small, too—I think you’d be able to crawl beneath the seats to get away. As for weapons… maybe grab something small from the center. A knife or a dagger. But only if you have time, and only if you know you can make it. If not, just make a break for the seats, as fast as you can. Got that, sweetheart?”

Wovey stayed silent. But she nodded. Nodded and nodded until you worried her head was going to pop right off.

You bent down at the waist slightly so that you were eye-level with her. “I’ll be watching you the whole time. I’m there if you need m—”

Sudden explosions rang out about the arena. Plumes of dust flew everywhere, blinding you almost instantaneously. With your eyes squeezed shut, you felt the ground shake and split and rumble until another closer explosion flung you a good few feet off the ground. You landed on your side with a strangled scream, though the pain only registered a few seconds later. Cracking your aching eyes open and squinting through the haze of dust, you caught sight of shattered glass thundering around you like crystalized rain, nicking your skin with sharp pin pricks.

Your right side buzzed with warmth. Something damp. You dazedly looked down.

Oh.

It seemed you’d landed right on a broken metal pipe, sticking right out of your abdomen. Blood was pooling down your academy uniform, soaking the fabric a far more sinister shade of red. You choked out something akin to a dry sob, before screaming out for help. You heard dozens of similar cries echo back to you.

With a grunt, you pushed yourself up,

“CORYO?!” you screamed as loud as you could. Faintly, you could hear his strained voice echo your name back—somewhere across the arena, you’d wager.

The pain was starting to grow worse. Searing, almost, as if you were being laid over an open fire. You staggered through the rubble, pressing a hand to your side in a terrible attempt to staunch the bleeding, careful not to jostle the pipe. It was probably the only thing keeping you from bleeding out right then and there.

As you kept moving, you caught sight of a large, gaping hole at the opposite end of the arena. There were tributes running out. Peacekeepers shooting them. The explosions had been so loud that your ears were ringing with terrible white noise—you couldn’t even hear the sound of the rifles blasting.

You glanced around wildly.

You spotted the small little girl near the edge of the arena. Running with Dill, you realized, mind still lagging a second too late from shock. Another explosion rattled through the arena—this time, crumbling the roof away completely.

With a mangled noise, you began limping as quickly as you could.

Another call of your name, echoing and rattling about your skull, and Coriolanus materialized right beside you out of seemingly nowhere. There were two of him, you realized. He appeared fuzzy.

You reached out for him, but he suddenly pulled you forward, yelling something. Something you couldn’t hear. A flash of rainbow by his left, and you saw Lucy Gray just barely escape being crushed by a large stone support column.

More crumbling ceiling. Coriolanus’ hands were cold when he urgently shoved you forward. So hard that you went tumbling down, screaming with the sudden painful jolts the metal pipe sent shooting up your spine. A second later, you blearily looked around for Coriolanus—realizing that he’d pushed you into the clear when you found him pinned down under heavy foundational slants—and they’d caught on fire.

Numb panic shot through your mind. You barely registered your own voice croaking out his name. You tried to crawl towards him, but he only seemed to get farther away.

The last thing you saw before your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you went careening backwards was the rainbow dress, and wild, dark hair.

The hospital bed was far from comfortable, but you’d been so tired you were knocked out for half of the day. Though, Tigris told you that you did sort of wake up at some point in the night, mumbling Coriolanus’ name with half-cracked eyes, before falling right back asleep.

He’d startled awake before you—rushing to your bed (right beside his) and taking your limp hand in his cold, clammy one. Brushed the hair away from your forehead and muttered apologies and please don’t die like they were a mantra.

When you finally stirred, you nearly burst into tears upon seeing Coriolanus.

“I thought you died,” you dry-sobbed. Your side ached considerably with the effort. “I thought I was going to die.”

He drew you into a loose hug, careful to avoid your bandaged midriff. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m here. I love you—I’m not going anywhere, okay? Lucy Gray saved you. Saved us.”

“She did?” you croaked, voice soft. Yes, you sort of remembered. It was all a blur.

“She caught you before you could crack your head open on the ground,” said another voice. You turned your stiff neck to see Sejanus at the foot of the other side of your bed, next to Tigris, who was running her hand up and down your arm in a comforting manner.

You blew out a shaky sigh. Your head pulsed, and you suddenly felt nauseous. “What… what happened?”

They took turns explaining. Rebel bombing. The dead tributes. The president’s son, Felix, in critical condition. Sejanus’ tribute missing. How the games were still commencing regardless. The pipe that had been lodged in your abdomen missing any vital organs. How you were lucky to be alive.

“Wovey?” you whispered. “Is she okay?”

Coriolanus smoothed a hand over your head. “She’s okay. Not one of the ones that died.”

“Lucy Gray?” you whispered.

“Alive. She could have run. She stayed back to help you and me,” he said as his hand traveled down to gently cup your face. There were dark circles under his eyes. “I owe her now. She saved the love of my life.”

“Oh, Coryo—are you okay? Are you hurt?” Your gaze roamed all over his form, clad in an identical hospital gown.

“A few burns and bruises. Nothing compared to you.”

You drew in a staggered breath. Every muscle and tendon in your body screamed with even the slightest movements.

Tigris squeezed your hand. “We were so worried for you. Coriolanus couldn’t sleep all night. Your mother came by earlier but she had to leave—a spill in the lab, or something. And your father sends his love from district two. Your mother said he was furious. Military is doubling down.”

“Typical,” you whispered, supplying the three with half a weary smile, glad that they were there for you. “I can’t believe they’re going on with the games tomorrow. This is absurd.”

“They don’t want to seem weak,” Sejanus bitterly replied. “But you woke up just in time. The televised presentations are starting soon.”

Nearly an hour later, Sejanus switched on the television set hanging in front of the beds. Tribute after tribute went by, most of them appearing gaunt and exhausted. True to what the two of you had discussed, Wovey got on stage and talked about her family back in district eight, despite looking rather shaken. The audience crooned and sighed with pity. Donations were sparse, but still more than you had expected, to your bittersweet relief. You watched from the hospital bed, curled up with Tigris at the head of it, your head on her shoulder, whilst Sejanus and Coriolanus were standing far closer to the curved screen.

Lucy Gray was the last to go on. She had a guitar with her. And she sang a beautiful song—one about a boy back from home, she said. The audience cheered and sniffled. Even the nurses stopped their bustling to watch, some of them discreetly wiping away tears.

Once visiting hours were over and Tigris and Sejanus were shooed out of the hospital, Coriolanus sat beside you and slung an arm over your shoulder. He slotted his fingers beneath your chin and kissed you deeply. It was a slow embrace, with not a hint of sexual intentions—he just wanted to hold you. Remind himself that you were still alive, still here, still his.

Your nose nudged his when he laid his forehead over yours. The two of you breathed in each other’s comforting presence. Just the two of you. It reminded you of when times were so… uncomplicated. Before all the mentoring came along, the only things you had to worry about were grades and Coriolanus’ refusals to eat properly.

Then, he told you about Clemensia. How she was probably somewhere in this very building. How she screamed when she was bitten by the snake muttation. Your mind raced with questions, but you yawned instead and leaned against his chest.

“I love you, too, Coryo,” you whispered into his hospital gown, realizing you hadn’t said it back earlier.

A few minutes later, you were back asleep. Coriolanus was careful not to wake you when he laid you back down. Tucked the blanket up to your chin. He kissed your hairline once more, regarding you with a fond expression, before straightening, trying his best to ignore the aches blossoming over his back and legs.

And then he left the ward, assuring the doctors that he was fine and he could be discharged. They reluctantly agreed after a brief check-up, and had him sign off for himself. Once he was out, he immediately set off for the arena, trying to search for something, anything to keep his tribute alive.

Tunnels. The ground had collapsed into them, giving Lucy Gray a perfect place to run and hide. He went back home, making sure Grandma’am and Tigris were asleep—before pouring a copious amount of powdered rat poison into his late mother’s compact.

It was cheating. But you and Sejanus had both said it before—he was a rebel by nature. Bad news.

He visited the zoo enclosure and gave it to her then, informing her of the tunnels. Wiped her tears with a handkerchief, then told her he owed her his life and more. That you were okay, and it was all thanks to her. Lucy Gray looked overwhelmed for a moment. She did what any decent person would, she thought. He promised her that she’d get out. Return home to the Covey. False hope whispered unrealistic dreams into her ears and she let herself listen.

“We all do things we’re not proud of to survive,” he whispered when Lucy Gray attempted to protest, not wanting to poison anyone. He pushed the compact firmly into her hands. “Do it for your family.”

Conflict warred across her features. She nodded once, then twice.

Coriolanus' expression set with determination. “We are going to win this, Lucy Gray. We’re going to win this together. I’m going to get you home.”

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow x you #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow drabbles #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #young!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst

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konigsblog · 2 months

Text

adding onto this post

photo credit: @ave661

synopsis: sucking your lieutenant off, a gun pressed against the back of your head encouraging you to do your best.

tw/cw: gun play, teasing, blowjob, bondage, fear play. MDNI 18+

It almost feels as if all eyes are on you, like you're performing in front of thousands of people, desperate to perform as well as you possibly can. Although there aren't hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people watching you. Instead, it's your lieutenant, and he has the muzzle of his pistol on the crown of your skull.

You're sitting on your knees against the dirty concrete floor, your wrists tied behind your back, restraining you and holding you down. You're bound to the floor to act as a fleshlight and a sex doll for Simon, the perverted and debauched man that gazes down at you, the intense eye contact almost threatening. You sit between Simon's muscular thighs, gazing up at him with desperation visible in your glossy yes. You crave his validation, his compliments, and his praise, but right now you're left petrified, perhaps even mortified. The gun is fully loaded, which leaves you shaken up, attempting to act as obedient as possible. Your job is to obey his every command and do whatever he pleases, to please your superiors.

Your eyes are wide and full of horror when he hits the barrel of the gun against your head teasingly. You'd be lying if you said the thrill and anticipation didn't leave your panties soaked. Your thighs are glistening, coated in the sticky, pearly shine of your sweet arousal. Simon doesn't react; he doesn't let out a sound, not even a grumble, forcing you to do even better and push yourself further, attempting to make the man come. Through frustration and concern, you quicken your pace, bobbing your head up and down his lengthy, leaning cock with your eyes glistening up at him, the ache between your thighs intensifying yet being ignored and neglected.

Simon cups your jaw gently, almost too softly and tenderly considering his aggressiveness and frustration towards you prior, feeling almost like a façade. His other gloved hand holds the pistol, a low and guttural chuckle emitting from him, getting off to the power, control, and authority he has over his little recruit. He gazes down at you, watching your eyes flicker away, the intimidation leaving you uncomfortable and horrified. You can taste his bitter, salty cum on your tongue, and it lingers. the taste—something you're unfamiliar with. Such a docile, careful thing below Simon, naïve for falling into this trap.

You try your hardest not to let him down, not to gag or heave or whine. You maintain eye contact with him through pitiful and muffled weeps, zealous and eager to follow along with whatever he says. You will agree; it doesn't matter what he says, you'll do whatever it takes to please the pervert.

You're riddled with anxiety and fear, causing your stomach to churn, tears rolling down your cheeks, and your bottom lip quivering despite being wrapped around his veiny, girthy shaft. Simon cocks his head to the side, and you can sense and feel his cruel and corrupted grin from behind the balaclava that only intensifies his terrifying persona, getting off to a sickening form of pleasure that causes his tip to weep orbs of his white arousal, creamy beads rolling down his shaft. He can practically smell your fear, with your pussy drooling and leaving your panties ruined from your sweet, delicious fluids.

Such an obedient, scared little thing beneath him, shaking pathetically whenever he rubs the gun against your cheek teasingly, encouraging you to do better, to act your best for him, and to not fall behind or lack effort.

Just sit pretty and obey, love.

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marishoodie7 · 9 months

Text

How slashers would react to you getting on top

Includes: Billy Loomis, Charlie Walker, Patrick Bateman

Content Warning: 18+! P in v, overstimulation, riding

(No pronouns mentioned, but reader has female anatomy!)

***

: ̗̀➛ Billy

Your head was hitting the headboard with every thrust, his cock buried deep inside you. You forced your eyes open, “Fuck Billy,” you managed.

He grunted in response. You braced your hands on his shoulder and wrapped your legs around his hips. You rocked to the side and flipped him over. His dick slammed into you, even deeper and you moaned as you made yourself comfortable on him.

The strands of hair that had been flopping around had flattened on his forehead. His demeanor changed and he gave you a sly smile, his eyes darkened and his moved his hands to your hips. You rocked back and forth, slowly bouncing on him before finding a steady pace. You bit your lip as you neared your release, a tight knot that had formed in your stomach was unraveling slowly as you neared release.

Your legs shook and your walls clenched tightly around his dick. Billy bucked his hips up sloppily to meet you halfway before going limp. He let out a deep moan and came. You slowed your movements and gave one last bounce before coming onto him. You laid down on his chest and drifted off to sleep as he praised your performance that night.

:➛ Charlie Walker

“Let me take care of you this time.” You urged.

“Fuck, okay,” Charlie gasped as you stroked his cock, “Jesus.” You smiled at his reaction and gently pushed him onto the bed.

“Lie down.” You commanded. You lowered yourself onto him, his dick stretched out your walls. You didn’t know Charlie was so big. You put your hands on his chest and started to roll your hips. He felt so good inside you. You sped up and Charlie’s eyes rolled up into his head, he whimpered as you clenched around his hardened cock.

He bucked upward and desperately grasped at your hips. Hot tears were streaming down his face, and you could feel his dick twitch inside you. He was close, but you had no plans to stop or slow down.

“Fuck, y/n.” He whimpered as he came. You fucked him right through his orgasm, his face was reddening with overstimulation, his eyes were clenched. His hips stop bucking and he let you do all the work, guiding him towards his next orgasm.

Charlie moaned as he nearing his next release, you were getting closer too, but you didn’t stop, you couldn’t. A hot feeling filled you as you came on him. You rolled your hips a few more times before pulling off before Charlie could come. He lay on the bed, whimpering.

“Poor Charlie,” you tutted, without sympathy, “you were such a good boy but I couldn’t let you come this time.” You tan your fingers through his hair as his breath slowed and lost its raggedness. He turned to you and smiled.

“we’re gonna need to do that again sometime.”

: ➛ Patrick Bateman

Patrick drilled into your ass. He loved to hear the pretty screams of pleasure you let out as he fucked you. You were on all fours on the bed and Patrick was grunting above you. He pulled out suddenly and lay down on the bed, his dick rock solid and standing up, and his arms around his head.

“Why don’t we try something different?” He suggested casually as if he hadn’t been pounding into you a moment earlier.

“So you want me to ride you?” You deadpanned. You wouldn’t be opposed to the idea. You had been dreaming of the day where you would get to take charge.

“Yes.” He grinned. You couldn’t help but smile back as you pushed yourself onto him. He tangled his hand into your hair and braced himself for you to quicken the pace. You dig your fingers into his shoulders and sped up, rocking your hips back and forth. His length was stretching out your walls and you could feel his tip hit your g-spot.

You tried to throw your head back but he pulled your hair and forced your face closer to his.

“There you go, slut, ride me like the whore you are. I know how eager you were to wrap my dick around your pussy.” He growled in your ear. Your legs shook and you felt warmth spread through your body. You came on him, and tried to slow down your pace. He only tugged harder and encouraged you to keep going, no matter how sloppy you got.

“Come baby, just ride me a little longer, you got it.” He praised. His dick twitched and he finally released. Your core warmed when it was met with his thick, hot ropes. You unmounted him and slid next to him in the bed. He wrapped his arms around you.

“I should really let you take control more, huh?” He laughed.

“Yeah,” you smiled, “that wasn’t half bad.”

A/N: this is my first time doing head cannons like this! There may be more in the future who know? I hope you enjoyed!

#slashers x reader #slashers #slasher headcannons #Patrick Bateman #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman x y/n #Patrick bateman smut #slasher smut #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis smut #billy loomis #charlie walker #Charlie Walker x reader #charlie Walker smut #scream 4 #american psycho

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dandelionsresilience · 17 days

Text

Good News - May 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Support me on Ko-fi! Also, if you tip me on Ko-fi, at the end of the month I'll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn't use each week - almost double the content!

1. Translocation of 2,000 rhinos in Africa gets underway in “one of the most audacious conservation efforts of modern times”

“The 2,000 rhinos - more than are currently found in any single wild location in Africa - represent around 12-15% of the continent’s remaining white rhino population. […] “Rhinos perform an important ecological function in the environment as a large grazing herbivore,” says Dale Wepener[….] “The protection of rhino is far more than just looking after rhino; other species that occur in the protected areas will benefit from the protection,” explains Jooste. “This will lead to an increase in diversity and result in much healthier ecosystems.”

2. Florida Corridor Buffers Effects of Climate Change on Wildlife — And People

“A massive multi-partner effort that has conserved 10 million acres for wildlife in Florida over past decades will help buffer wildlife—and people—from the effects of climate change, a new report says. […] Protecting these corridors is important for wildlife genetics, demography and connectivity […], conducting prescribed fires in the corridor can reduce the risk of more intense wildfires [… and] they can provide buffers against hurricanes and seasonal thunderstorms.”

3. Global life expectancy to increase by nearly 5 years by 2050 despite geopolitical, metabolic, and environmental threats

“Increases are expected to be largest in countries where life expectancy is lower, contributing to a convergence of increased life expectancy across geographies. The trend is largely driven by public health measures that have prevented and improved survival rates from cardiovascular diseases, COVID-19, and a range of communicable, maternal, neonatal, and nutritional diseases (CMNNs).”

4. Valencia has Spain’s longest urban park

“Jardin del Turia (Turia Garden) is the green spine of the City of Valencia and Spain’s (and possibly Europe’s) longest urban park stretching for a length of 8.5 kilometres [… and] the current administration plans to make Jardin del Turia Europe’s largest city green space by extending it to the sea[….] Almost all Valencia residents (97 per cent) live within 300 metres of an urban green space. […] Jardin del Turia is a true urban oasis that provides exceptional thermal comfort, with a temperature difference of up to three degrees compared to other areas of the city.”

5. This Paint Could Clean Both Itself and the Air

“When an artificial ultraviolet light source shines on [photocatalytic] paint, the nanoparticles react with pollutants to make them break down—theoretically removing them from the nearby air and preventing a discoloring buildup. [… R]esearchers developed a new photocatalytic paint that they claim works using UV rays from ordinary sunlight, making its self-cleaning properties easier to activate. They’ve also shown that they can effectively produce this paint from recycled materials [including fallen leaves].”

6. Planting Seedlings for a Cooler Rockingham

“A dedicated group of volunteers recently planted over a thousand native seedlings in Lewington Reserve [… and] re-established canopy cover to areas of the reserve to create cooling shade for the local community and provide homes for native wildlife. […] Planting lots of trees and shrubs in urban areas can help create shade and cool cities, mitigating the impacts of climate change, contributing to biodiversity conservation and building greener, more resilient communities.”

7. Sydney’s first dedicated affordable housing for trans women designed to deliver ‘positive outcomes’

“Community housing provider and charity Common Equity NSW, […] which is for people on very low to moderate incomes, prides itself on creating inclusive living and promotes the independence and well-being of people and communities […, and] will deliver the first-of-its-kind social housing in a bid to provide a safe place to live for transgender women seeking an affordable home.”

8. Rewilding: How a herd of bison reintroduced to Romania is helping ‘supercharge’ carbon removal

“170 European Bison reintroduced to Romania’s Țarcu mountains could help capture and store the carbon released by up to 84,000 average US petrol cars each year. […] By grazing a 48 square kilometre area of grassland in a wider landscape of 300 kilometres squared, they helped to capture an additional 54,000 tonnes of carbon each year. That is around 10 times the amount that would be captured by the ecosystem without the bison.”

9. World’s biggest grids could be powered by renewables, with little or no storage

“[…] 100% renewable supply can then match the load by putting surplus electricity into two kinds of distributed storage worth that [an energy expert] says are worth buying anyway – ice-storage air-conditioning and smart bidirectional charging of electric cars, and recover that energy when needed, filling the last gaps with unobtrusively flexible demand.”

10. Supporting the Long-Term Survival of Copper River Salmon and Alaska Native Traditions

“With $4.3 million in NOAA funds, the Copper River Watershed Project and The Eyak Corporation will remove fish passage barriers, opening more streams for salmon spawning and subsistence fishing. [… As part of this effort, o]ld narrow culverts that constrict water flow will be replaced with “stream simulation” culverts wide enough to fit the full stream, including its banks. They are also deep to allow contractors to place stones and other material inside to mimic a natural stream bottom.”

May 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

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hyewka · 4 months

Note

Like, u got Soobin to use those vibrators on his pants before and during his performance, you're backstage while watching him live, turning on the vibrator at different levels in different times, maybe low level when he's talking with his fans, medium when he starts dancing and the highest level whenever it's his time to sing while he tries his best to concentrate and sing stable while trying not to get a boner or cum during the performance, while noticing the little details of how startled he gets whenever the vibrations starts again and waiting for his performance to end just to drag him to an empty room and finally fuck good

cw. sub leaning switch!soobin, creampie, premature orgasm, f!reader

note. happy valentines everyone ^^

“Don’t cum.” is the last thing you whisper to his ear before you push him out to his fans with a smile, the roaring cheers really showing how big the turn out was tonight. You can tell with the way he turns back to you he’s asking for mercy, begging for it. You just opt to give him a thumbs up before shooing him away, at least to ease those nerves up. You wouldn’t want him to cum simply from thinking about the toy around his cock.

Long story short—you don’t give him mercy. What fun is that?

You watch the way he gets visibly comfortable the more the show progresses and its definitely because he noticed you’ve been keeping the setting on low. It has you snort. He’s such an open book, it’s the cutest thing about him. But it’s also his most vulnerable point.

Experimentally, you turn it up two, curious of how he’d react.

There’s other staff monitoring with you, so you put in the effort to pretend you have nothing to do with the small hiccup that occurs, scrolling through your phone as if you were busy.

Soobin’s voice cracks.

It’s not a big deal, just something that happens that you don’t think even the fans paid much attention to. You notice a lot more than that though when you look up from your screen.

For one, the tips of his ears are red. Really red. You know better, it’s not only because he’s embarrassed. If the fact that you can tell he’s letting his eyes glaze over a little with his mouth hung open when he’s no longer in the center was any indication.

You play with him like that a little more before you decide you might just be the greediest girlfriend ever. You turn it up to its highest setting, just to relish a little more in his little gasps heard in the mic— and god, the immediate reaction you get out of him is the most satisfying thing you’ve seen all week.

Soobin’s eyes shoot wide open almost like hes shell shocked, his breathing’s even heavier, his cheeks are so brightly colored that it could no longer be excused as the bit of blush applied to his face half an hour ago…and he definitely looks like hes checked out. Thats when the comments from the people around you started to pick up.

“What’s wrong with Soobin today?”

“Is he sick?”

“Should we cut the ments short?”

“He looks like he’s about to piss his pants…” — That one had you gigglr

While some were picking at their cubicles, wondering if this might’ve not been the smooth sail they were predicting this gig to be, you let that little small smile break seeing the very obvious boner outlined in his leather pants, leaving the crowd no room for imagination. Oops.

You can only shrug when you’re asked if you know what was up with your boyfriend. “Who knows, maybe its a bad day?”

##########

He’s everywhere—his lips kiss along your jaw then to your neck, sucking and kneading your bare tits at the same time. He’s absolutely delirious tonight.

“You’re so sweaty, gross” you giggle, jokingly pushing him away but hes not having it, caging you until your bodies were flush agsainst each other to the point your breathing cut off momentarily, your head getting light headed.

“Someone’s excited.” you say breathily, attempting to be cheeky but it doesn’t work as your resolve breaks almost immedietley when he sucks particularily rough on your flesh. You’ll have to spend some time covering it up when he’s done with you.

“It hurts,” he whines in your ear, feverishly grinding his hard on like an absolute freak, still leaving wet spit on your vacant flesh. “You were so mean to me, y’know?”

“Was I? Thought I went a little easy on you out there.” you take it upon yourself to put your hand between your bodies and palm him over his pants, releasing a little bit of tension from his poor body. “Maybe you’re just weak. Can’t stay focused on your job because all you’re thinking about is having your dick in my cunt instead, bad boy.”

He nods pitifully—clearly absentminded, eyes teary and clouded as you thumb his tip over his pants, so shamelessly a wet spot spreads and grows under it.

“Please. Let me fuck—y-you.” his breathing staggers, trembles, you feel it against your face with how close he is…and it’s the hottest thing ever. For someone so usually composed, the leader of a band he’s a part of, well spoken and articulate, building tougher skin as time goes by—seeing him being weak in the knees so often, like this, dirty and desperate, never fails to have you drench your panties. He always manages to do it for you every time.

“But baby…there’s staff right outside this room.” you tease with a whine of your own, looking up at him with big eyes, toying with his shirt— you know how the innocent look gets him.

“I don’t care.”

That’s the snap, his voice uncharacteristically low and hoarse. You can’t even get a word in before he has your teeth clash with how fast he props you up around his waist, your back slamming against the door, breathing heavily with his lips on yours, sloppy, fast, quick as he pulls out his cock. It’s still intimidating how big it is, but you don’t even get to think for any longer before he has your panties bunched to the side and the tip of his dick’s protruding your hole.

He doesn’t wait like he usually does, he doesn’t even wait to catch his own breath, biting down on your bottom, languidly bottoming out in one go. You squirm at how full you feel despite how easy it went in, oxygen feeling like a second priority now. “God, fuck, you’re made for me.” he breathes out in awe staring at where you connect, “You take me so well now, look at your pussy baby” he babbles against your lips.

You can’t. You can’t. Your eyes burn with tears, you have no clue whats gotten into you, you could only think of the pleasure and pain of the stretch as he finally moves, thrusting up, his speed getting erratically faster by the second, until you have him buried in your tits, licking and kissing all over them like a dumb dog. Then you hear his muffled groan, and know.

“Binnie…?” you chuckle hoarsely.

“Sorry…” he whines, hiding in your boobs. “You teased me too much up there.” Jesus christ why do you still find him so adorable despite him cumming embarrassingly fast today. Its okay, you’ll have your way with him when you actually get back home later.

#🌷. rana thoughts #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #soobin smut #sub!idol #✶ ━━ rana ; answered

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daisynik7 · 11 months

Note

Since its summer aka sundresses season can I get a little bit of Nanami being absolutely obsessed with his SO wearing cute dresses which somehow leads into cock warming? His brain probably short circuits when he realizes that she is not wearing underwear under those floral dresses

Pairing: husband!Nanami x f!reader

cw: established relationship, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), cunnilingus, fingering, Nanami is a horndog for his pretty wife, cockwarming

Author’s Note: Anon! Absolutely LOVE this request! Perfect timing too! I hope you like this one. Short, sweet, and smutty. Happy birthday to our most precious hubby!

Nanami doesn’t like celebrating his birthday.

He understands that it’s standard for people to observe one year of getting older, or in Nanami’s case, one year closer to sweet, beautiful retirement. Still, he’s got a couple more decades left before he’s even near unemployed bliss, so he doesn’t see what the big deal is. However, you, his precious wife, loves honoring this day. So, of course, he has to play along with whatever festivities you have planned.

The weather is particularly ideal today, the sun shining brightly in a clear blue sky. You plan to take Nanami wine tasting during the day, and later, you have dinner reservations at his favorite restaurant. You’re keeping it simple with just the two of you because you know that’s what he prefers.

Since it is a lovely day, you decide to wear a new sundress you bought for this special occasion. You already predict that Nanami will react well to it, but what you don’t expect is how absolutely obsessed he is once he sees you in it. When you step out of the bedroom, his eyes widen at the sight. He removes his spectacles, as if to get a better look at you. “Honey.”

You smirk, performing a flirtatious twirl for him. “Do you like it? It’s part of your birthday present.”

He smiles, eyes following your physique up and down. “You’re a vision. Truly. How did I get so lucky?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling your nose to his. “I’m the lucky one, Kento. Happy birthday, sweetie.” His lips meet yours in a passionate kiss, his graceful hands sliding across your waist. His palms surround your bottom, feeling you up through the fabric. He pulls away to ask, “Are you wearing underwear?”

You bite your lip, shaking your head. There’s a guttural moan that develops in his throat, something primal and animalistic. You giggle at his reaction, pulling him in for another kiss. He slips into your mouth, flicking his tongue against yours, hungry for you. Before you get carried away, you break apart, catching your breath. “Sweetie, we’re supposed to leave soon.”

“Not yet,” he growls, tugging you back into his arms. “Not until I christen this dress.”

Within minutes, you’re back inside the room, laid out on the bed with your thighs spread wide, dress bunched up and hoisted up past your stomach. Nanami sucks on your clit relentlessly, slurping and flicking his tongue on it until you’re whining into another orgasm. His fingers pump inside your wet cunt, coated with your slick and his saliva. He doesn’t stop until he makes you come a third time, bud swollen and sensitive against his lips now, pussy clenched tightly around his digits. When he’s satisfied, he pulls out of you, licking his fingers like a popsicle, indulging in your arousal.

He crawls up on the bed to lean back on the headboard, beckoning you to sit on his lap. He’s naked from the waist down, cock stiff against his abdomen, shiny bead of precum glistening at the tip. He still has his dress shirt on, tie hastily loosened with only half the buttons removed.

You straddle him, letting the floral fabric cover your bodies as you sink down onto him until you’re pressed to his groin, bottomed out. “Fuck,” he moans, gripping your hips, rocking you back and forth. “Ride me, honey. Ride me until I come.”

And you do, bouncing on his cock until he shoots his load inside you, filling you up. When you attempt to hop off him, he holds you in place, embracing you. “I want to stay inside you, sweetheart. Please.”

You smile, relaxing into his arms, face nestled into his chest. “Whatever you want, birthday boy.”

#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami smut #nanami drabble #nanami fanfic #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami x reader #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #happy birthday kento!#nanami request #requests #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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m00nc4kes · 6 months

Text

I love you.

hobie brown x black! reader

words: 4.5k

rating: mature

summary: You loved Hobie and you knew he loved you. You didn't know it would tear you two apart.

warnings: gender isn't mentioned for reader but they're fem leaning; suggestive and kinda explicit (not really tho); fluff but we descend into angst; author is not british

pt. 2

"I love you."

The words that fell from your lips left a sweet aftertaste. Even so, it had startled Hobie. You could tell from how he suddenly stopped playing his guitar and his muscles stiffened. He openly stared at you with parted lips.

"Pardon?"

After several months of dating and more than a year of companionship, you'd expected a reaction like this. That's how you reasoned with yourself to not let your sweetness waver into a bitterness. So you said it again:

"I love you."

You were tired of dancing around the words, tired of the words haunting your every waking move. You and Hobie's shared sentiment of the words was probably what made your relationship sail so smoothly. But at this point, you were ready to rock the boat and you trusted him enough to not let you fall overboard.

"Ah," was all Hobie said. He moved his guitar from his lap to the spot next to him. "'n what brought this up?"

"Nothin'," you hummed. "Jus' wanted to say it."

"Knowin' I wouldn't say it back?"

"Knowin' you wouldn't say it back."

He watched you with his champagne-filled eyes while you watched the guilt swirl around his face. You reached up to cup his cheek and smiled when he leaned into the touch.

"S'not like I don', y'know," he started off carefully. "It's jus'..."

"Ya don't have to explain, Hobes. I already feel it from you."

When you grew up with love being a double-edged sword, the words would inevitably mean nothing to you. Yet, as reasonable as it felt, there was something about saying “fuck you” to the love you grew up with. And you didn't mind taking that first step alone. Hell, you didn't mind going through the journey alone. But, you hoped that one day, Hobie would take your outstretched hand.

In the meantime, you had no problem feeling the love he had for you.

You reveled in it when he turned his head to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. His lipstick stained it and you laughed. The sound of your delight brought a toothy grin to his face.

“You’re gorgeous, my lovely.”

You blew a small raspberry and turned away. There was something about the way Hobie would compliment you that made your face flush with something oh so hot.

Knowing how you would react, Hobie leaned forward to pepper kisses against your cheeks. It sent a blaze to the tips of your ears as you let out a surprised noise. He chuckled then continued to kiss along your face.

Later on, when you stood in front of your bathroom mirror and saw all of the dark lipstick stains littered across your face, down your neck, and smudged across your lips, you smiled. Your heart was filled to the brim with newly budded flowers and a warmth that you prayed would never go away.

“Oi, ducky! Where’d ya go?” you heard him shout from across your apartment. You released an amused breath and shook your head.

“I’m in the bathroom, Bee!”

You knew he loved you.

You knew it when he performed on stage, pouring his heart into his lyrics while sweat clung to his shirtless form. He glistened under the stage lights as the audience screamed with him. Of course, you’d been front row, screaming right along with them.

Hobie’s solo sliced through the air as his deft fingers moved along the neck of his guitar. It was flawless— you knew it would be. He had practiced the damn thing over and over and over again, so much so that you would hear it in your dreams.

So when you heard the last note ring out, you screamed and cheered, already deafened by the excited crowd who followed suit. Your chest swelled with pride and you screamed out again.

Hobie’s eyes found you in the crowd without a moment’s hesitation. He beamed at you with a shine in his eyes that pierced your soul with a fondness that you couldn’t even begin to match. But you wouldn’t hesitate to try.

You threw your arms up and cheered him on.

Because you loved him.

And you knew he loved you.

You knew it during tipsy nights and after parties at the pub when you two could hardly keep your hands off each other. Liquor flowed freely along your nerves allowing for loose lips and weak legs. There was something about taking shot after shot that didn’t allow you to detach from Hobie.

Not that he minded. You knew that from how tightly he gripped your hips as you threw your ass on him. He caught you easily, grinding against you, and you knew his patience was wearing thin. Your body was hot yet your skin burned hotter under his hands and fingers that dug into you.

The music was near deafening and the dance floor barely allowed any room between you and the other bodies that were touching and sticking to each other. You didn’t mind much. The body you wanted held you close and you needed his patience to break already.

You wanted him to fuck you in the bathroom.

Though, liquor couldn’t drown your logic. With how packed the place was, the bathroom would be incredibly risky, you’d get caught easily. Oh, but the thrill would’ve been amazing.

You pushed your ass against him again and had to restrain your laugh at what you felt. Patience was a virtue, but not a virtue that Hobie would care about much longer.

He managed to turn you around without hesitation and the kiss you received was absolutely sinful. You could taste the alcohol lingering on his tongue and if he didn’t have such a secure grip on you, your legs would’ve buckled.

The kiss was messy, sloppy, and the biggest sign that it was time to go.

Getting through the crowd was no easy feat, but you two found a way out. The cold air hit you like a brick, but Hobie remained impossibly close, sharing what little body heat he had himself. He threw an arm around you, going on about something you couldn’t remember, but it entertained you nonetheless.

You managed to stay upright through desire and unbridled stubbornness. As you two walked side-by-side, Hobie would occasionally kiss your cheek or lean down to nip at your neck.

You loved when he did it, if the dopey smile that spread across your face was anything to go off of. Your heart did happy flutters in your chest and your need for him only grew.

Yeah, you loved him. You loved him. He was going to give you the night of your life and you loved him.

“Hobieee,” you drawled, leaning your head against him.

“Yeaaah?” he mimicked. You laughed loudly and he joined you. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve guessed you two were high instead of completely shitfaced.

You looked at him with that stupid dopey grin of yours and said, “I love youuu.”

His face softened and those whiskey-colored eyes of his were illuminated by the streetlight you found yourself under. He was a beautiful sight to behold and you loved, loved, loved him.

The two of you stopped. He gazed at you with lust-filled eyes and kissed you. Then, he kissed you again, cradling your face in his hands. His thumbs rubbed against your cheeks as he pressed his lips against you again.

He would’ve kissed you again if it weren’t for that oh so stupid dopey grin of yours that refused to stay back, even for a moment. You couldn’t help it and he knew that, so he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You knew he loved you, even if he were too afraid to utter the words.

You said it again and again when he had you pinned under him on his bed. Your desire for each other didn’t waver. The night stretched on and held still just for the two of you.

Your nails dug into his back as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. Telling you how wonderful you were and how good you felt. The declarations were silent “I love you”s that made your toes curl because you were— close.

Oh fuck, you were close.

Euphoria flowed from your body and your pleasure fell from your lips. Through heavy breaths you confessed again and again that you loved him.

And he showed you that he loved you the next morning.

You woke up in an empty bed tangled up in Hobie’s sheets. While you wished the empty bed was your main concern, it really wasn’t.

Your head pounded and absolutely dared you to open your eyes to face the blinding light. The groan you let out came from your soul. Your hangovers always struck you like a truck you couldn’t seem to dodge.

“Mornin’, ducky.”

You grunted out an acknowledgement and heard him step closer to your bedside. He placed something on the nightstand that sounded like glass. The thought of water made you peek open an eye. He stood in front of you only wearing a pair of plaid boxers. You could see the marks you left on his dark skin from last night.

“Got ya some water ‘n some pills.” He spoke softly and you could’ve praised him for it, but your body didn’t agree with you.

With one hell of an effort, you managed to sit yourself up to take the pills and inhale the water. Hobie sat on the bed and watched you fondly. You wiped your mouth and put the glass back on the stand.

Hobie reached forward and touched your forehead with the back of his hand. “How ya feelin’, duck?” He moved his hand to your neck to check the temperature there.

The action was sweet because you never ran a fever with your hangovers, but he was insistent on making sure you were just hungover and not sick.

“Like shit.”

He hummed and flipped his hand over to cradle your cheek. “Figured. Jus’ rest up, alrigh’?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you playfully dismissed him. He leaned forward and kissed your temple.

“Lemme kno’ if ya need anythin’.”

You felt the corners of your lips quirk up as you released a sigh.

Yeah, you loved him.

And you knew he loved you.

Time continued on as it always did. Your hand stayed outstretched toward Hobie, even if you’d nearly forgotten that you had it out for him. Your “I love you”s flew from your lips and came as easy as breathing. You’d taken that double-edged sword and gripped the blade as if it were a handle, telling yourself that it didn't need to be a sword in the first place. The blood that dripped from your hands reminded you that it was okay if it hurt, it would heal. If you tried hard enough, your hands would stop bleeding and fade into scars. If you tried hard enough, the sword would become flowers in the palms of your hands.

Flowers that you could turn around and give to Hobie.

The evening had faded into a cool night that left you cuddled up with your boyfriend. The boat gently rocked along the dock and Hobie pulled you close. His arms were wrapped around your waist while your back pressed against his chest.

It had been a few hours since the two of you decided to head to sleep. Though, you hadn’t considered that Hobie would use that time to acknowledge the flowers you held out to him.

You didn’t know why you had woken up at that point. You were floating between the realm of slumber and consciousness, nothing truly made sense in that moment. Maybe something had shifted and startled you from your dreams, you didn’t know. If it weren’t for your very awake boyfriend behind you, you would’ve disregarded the memory and fallen back asleep.

Hobie had taken to fidgeting and rubbing the fabric of your shirt in between his fingers. They were nervous stims you’d recognized from your time with him, but you didn’t know what triggered his fit.

You were going to ask as soon as your mind let go of the remnants of your dreams.

Hobie released a heavy sigh as if he was building up his resolve for something. He shifted to press his forehead to the base of the back of your neck. Then, like a breath lost to the wind, he whispered:

“I love you.”

He released a shaky breath and pulled you closer to him.

Your mind let go of slumber with a swiftness that left you dizzy. Your heart felt like it couldn’t be contained in your chest any longer. You attempted to keep your breathing even as to not startle Hobie, because obviously this wasn’t something you were meant to hear just yet.

Tears burned at your eyes, so you shut them. Who knew how long he had been speaking those words to your sleeping frame, knowing you wouldn’t hear and wouldn’t say anything in return?

Had he been working up his nerve to finally say it? When had he decided to take the flowers you offered him?

Either way, you were willing to wait for him. The tears dripped from your eyes and slid down your cheeks. You smiled.

You loved him.

And he loved you.

Even now, when you struggled to breathe around the blood that filled up one of your lungs. Wind whipped around you as he swung you two through the city as fast as he could. His voice sounded desperate and way past hysterical, but you couldn’t understand any of it.

You had been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

You knew of Hobie’s secret life as Spider-man, or what he was lovingly called: Spider-Punk. It was dangerous work, keeping crime committed by the government low. But the police force took to using whatever means necessary to keep Hobie at bay, even if it meant fusing themselves with symbiotes and becoming animals.

They knew he cared about civilians, that he had a secret life where he was surrounded by people he cared about. It just so happened that the person he loved ended up being collateral damage.

You hadn’t meant to end up in the mix when you left the store, but you did. The pig had come out of nowhere, losing a fight against Spider-man, and decided you were perfect to change the outcome of the battle.

He bum-rushed you, sending you flying against the pavement, then grabbed you by the neck. You were confused, utterly disoriented. You never saw the pig coming. There were people screaming around you while others ran for their lives.

You gripped at the black, sticky wrist that held you and found yourself unable to breathe.

There was a shout and a very familiar mask entered your sight.

The pig lifted you up and snarled, “Don’t come any closer, Spider-Punk.” His hand dug into your neck and you cried out, scratching at his hand.

“Ya fuckin’ tosser! Drop ‘em!” You hadn’t heard Hobie so pissed in a long time, it had been even longer since you’d heard the fear in his voice.

The pig retorted with something close to a derisive snort. His free hand morphed into something sharp and he went on about laying the law and how it was his job to deal out justice. Your ears rang in your head, you couldn’t understand a single thing.

Then there was a blinding pain. Twice.

You’d been stabbed clean through the chest and abdomen.

You couldn’t remember what happened from there.

But now, you were choking and struggling to breathe. Hobie stopped swinging and leapt from somewhere you didn’t know. You went from staring up at the sky to being blinded by white lights.

Through muffled hearing, you could hear Hobie plead with someone, begging them to help you. You were placed on something then surrounded by people in blue scrubs. Your head lolled to the side as blood poured from your nose and you reached out toward your masked boyfriend.

You knew he wanted to follow after you when you were rolled away, but someone demanded that he stay put. Still, you reached for him.

You couldn’t remember what happened from there.

After that, things were weird. You were stuck in your mind, unable to move your body. Your dreams were oddly vivid during this time.

You dreamt of whispered words in the middle of the night. You dreamt of flowers that blossomed in the palms of your hands. You dreamt of blades that cut into your soul.

When you weren’t dreaming, you stared into the eternal darkness behind your eyelids. Voices would stream past you, always out of reach and unintelligible.

Then you would dream again. Someone would pour you two glasses, one filled with champagne while the other was filled with whiskey. You would always wait for the second person to arrive because why else would there be two glasses?

But the person never came.

Even so, you enjoyed their colors. They were beautiful drinks. They made you long for Hobie.

When you finally woke up, there was a tube down your throat, helping you breathe. You hated it.

You peeled your eyes open and had to fight back the stinging you were met with. A displeased noise rang from your throat, albeit softly due to the tube. It should’ve been an amusing sight, watching your eyes blink rapidly from the little light that came from the room. But it wasn’t.

Everything was dark except for the light that illuminated above your bed.

Your eyes roamed around the room until they landed on Hobie. He was sitting in a chair at your bedside with his arms folded. His head lolled to the side as he breathed softly. He was asleep, but he looked worse for wear.

How long had it been?

You slowly shifted your hand, noticing how much effort you had to put in for the tiny motion. Your body was sore, but you just needed Hobie to look at you with those eyes of his.

Every muscle from the top of your shoulder to your fingertips argued with you, telling you not to move. But why would you ever listen to them? You managed to reach your hand out to graze Hobie’s arm. You hoped it would be enough to wake him and it was.

With a sudden hitched breath, you were met with those amber eyes that you longed for so much. Hobie’s face fell as you watched disbelief flood his features. Then, there was an overwhelming grief that spilled from his eyes.

He said your name as if he didn’t think he’d be able to say it again and rose to his feet. Even in his excitement, he gently cradled your face and wept. Kisses were softly pressed against your face as his tears fell down your cheeks. You held the side of his face and let him cry. You didn’t understand what had warranted the grief to flow from him but it wouldn’t take long for you to find out.

Apparently, you were supposed to be dead. One of your lungs had collapsed while the other had filled with blood.

You were supposed to be dead. A week had passed during your medically induced coma and Hobie had sat with that. You didn’t know what the information had done to him, you couldn’t find out even if you asked.

The months that passed were filled with antibiotics and various medications you needed to properly return from the grave. Your wounds scarred and somehow, you were able to enter normal life again.

Even as time passed, that week haunted Hobie. He woke up in the middle of the night in cold sweats, clinging onto you as he silently cried. He had a hard time comprehending that you were okay, instead allowing something else to seep into his mind.

You hadn’t known about the paranoia until it was too late. The flowers you had shared with him scared him, he couldn’t handle looking at them anymore. If you had known that he believed the flowers were too delicate to be shared with someone like him, you would’ve done something about it.

But, it wasn’t like you didn’t try.

You didn’t notice that Hobie had been acting differently at first. You wouldn’t say he had been distant, he still kissed you and gave you affection. Hell, he gladly attended your doctor appointments with you. You only began to notice when he reacted to your “I love you”s in a completely unexpected manner.

The moment you had uttered those three words, Hobie flinched as if you’d struck him. You didn’t know your words could have such an effect on him and you didn’t think he knew either. Oh, the words left a bitter taste in your mouth and opened up a pit in your stomach.

The two of you stared at each other, neither of you comprehending what this could’ve meant. Your heart raced as Hobie’s eyes searched your face for something you didn’t know. You turned away from him.

“Sorry,” you muttered. You hugged yourself and dug your fingers into your arms.

“It’s fine.” Was all he said.

While you sat with the bitterness in your mouth, you could feel your flowers grow thorns that dug into the scars on your hands. They didn’t bleed, not yet. Even so, you still loved him.

And he—

You knew he loved you.

You didn’t doubt it even when the arguments began.

He had stopped being physical with you in public and you wanted to know why. Every time you asked, he dodged your question or he was vague about it. If you did get a somewhat reasonable answer, he would say that he just didn’t feel like it. You would’ve believed it as much as it hurt.

Hell, you would’ve understood if he hadn’t stopped whispering that he loved you in the middle of the night. You would stay awake waiting for those three words to leave his mouth and they never did. You spent those restless nights staring at the wall and wondering if he would ever say them again.

Where had you gone wrong?

The lack of sleep and the anxiety that plagued your very being made it oh so easy to pick a fight. You two would never outright yell at each other, but the fights only made everything worse.

Even so, you loved him. You loved him even when he flat out refused to go back and forth with you. You loved him even when he walked away from you. You fucking loved him even when your flowers died and turned into barbs that threatened to cut your skin.

And you… you knew he loved you. He loved you right? He had to have loved you at some point, right? He still did, right?

It all came to a head during a particular argument you two had in your apartment. You had finally, finally gotten an answer out of Hobie. An answer to why he was treating you the way he was. And that stupid fucking answer had set you off.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” Your hands trembled as you clenched them into fists. Everything was moving too fast, yet so slow at the same time. “What do you mean?!”

Hobie stood in front of you with an oddly calm expression on his face, but you could see the crease in between his brows. “S’not gon’ work between us. Ya not safe with me, ya get me?”

“No, I don’t get it! You do all of this because of that? What sense does that make, Hobie? You can’t do this to me— to us—” You choked up. Your breathing was erratic and it felt like your world was crumbling.

“(Y/N)—”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” You were losing your mind. Things weren’t adding up. Things weren’t making sense. “Why are you blaming yourself for what happened to me—”

“If my identity is revealed, you will get hurt. Tha’ fuckin’ pig didn’ even kno’ ya relation to me and ya nearly died. You are not safe with me.” His words were enunciated and firm, telling you that you weren’t going to win this. And that wasn’t fair.

“If I’m safe with anyone, it’s you! Don’t you get that? I wouldn’t have made it if you didn’t take me to the hospital!” Your words fell on deaf ears as he shook his head.

“You’ll become a target eventually. ‘M not gon’ let tha’ happen. I can’t. ‘M endin’ this.”

“No. Stop it.” Blood rushed to your ears yet you ran cold. You latched onto Hobie’s vest and yelled, “Why are you doing this?! You’re not protecting me like this! So why—”

“‘Cause I love you. Tha’s why. I can’t let ya get hurt again.”

And there was that double-edged sword. Your flowers, your bouquet, it had tricked you from the very beginning and allowed the blade to return and slice open your hands. Yet, when you stared at the unshed tears in Hobie’s eyes, you knew that blood trickled down his hands too.

It had been stupid to think you could morph that stupid sword into anything other than a blade designed to cut your hands.

“Hobie—” your voice shattered as your hands fell to your sides. “God, don’t fucking do this.”

“I—” he seemed to get stuck on the word. He shut his eyes. “I love ya too much to let this go on, lovely.”

Then, he stepped around you and headed for your door. Your voice caught in your throat as you realized that this— this was actually happening. You swore your grip tightened on that goddamned blade as you rushed after him. Before he could touch your door’s handle, you wrapped your arms around him and begged.

“Please don’t leave me. Please. Please, Hobie,” you hiccuped. “Please— I love you, Hobie. Please.” You sobbed into his jacket and dug your fingers into his shirt. You wept and pleaded, “Please don’t go.”

That double-edged sword trembled in your grip as you willed it not to stab you in your gut.

You could feel Hobie’s breath hitch. The two of you stood there for a fleeting moment, then there were gentle fingers uncurling your fingers from his shirt. Hobie held onto one of them and turned around to face you.

Through your blurred vision, you could see tears sliding down his cheeks one by one. He brought your hand up and pressed a kiss to your palm. This time, no lipstick stained it. There was no reminder that the kiss ever took place.

Even with the soft press of lips, your hands would continue to bleed well after the door shut behind him.

You stood there for a long time. Silent. At least until your legs gave out and you slowly fell to your knees, completely and utterly defeated by that double-edged sword. It had aimed for your gut and hit you in the heart. Your blood dripped like tears from your chest.

Once upon a time, you believed the gashes on your hands would heal, but you knew you wouldn’t come back from a stab in the heart.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there on your floor. Even so, as horrible as it sounded and as bitter of a taste it left in your mouth, you knew one thing:

You still loved him.

And he loved you.

would you believe me if I told you everything would be okay?

divider by cafekitsune :3

taglist: @hoe-bie

#hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider punk #writing #spider punk x reader

404 notes · View notes

atrueneutral · 2 months

Note

Imagine if Raphael was on the Material Plane in human form when he happens to cross paths with his little mouse (who he is infatuated with) and then, for one reason or another, someone mistakenly assumes that Tav is his spouse and refers to Tav as such ("Oh, apologizes, sir! I didn't realize your spouse would be joining you!"). How do you think he'd react? Do you think he'd go deer in headlights for a second? Would he just roll with it? Would he clear up the confusion?

Okay, I kiiiiind of tweaked this a smidge…

—

“That particular piece of armor will run you six-thousand gold.”

Tav balked at the price, and she over-dramatically cleaned out her ear with the tip of her pinky finger. “Sorry - I want to make sure I heard you correctly. You did say six hundred-”

“I said six thousand gold, yes. That’s exactly what I said,'' the dwarven armorsmith staunchly affirmed. His bushy mustache that she originally found fun suddenly became stupid, as did the squat face that hadn’t once smiled since her arrival into his stupid shop. “You can’t pull a fast one on me, lass.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, saer!” She performed offense with a hand to her chest and a face of aghastness. “How dare you accuse me of trying to trick you into giving me a fair deal on a piece of armor!”

“It’ll be the full price or nothing,” he gruffly replied.

The bell posted above the shop door jingled, and Tav could hear bootsteps sauntering up behind her as her brain worked to think of a way to attain the breastplate she wanted. She needed a plan that didn’t involve stealing, murder, or, more importantly, spending six-thousand of her hard-found and hard-earned (and sometimes-but-rarely hard-pilfered) gold...

She wanted this new breastplate, and–

The dwarf looked past her to the only other customer in the shop, and his eyebrows raised. “Lord Raphael! What an honor! How may I be of service?”

Lord Raphael?

Tav frowned and turned to see if it was who she thought (hoped) it was…

Her face lit up.

It was!

Her solution - her knight in patterned doublet - was here! Her walking, handsome, charming bag of six-thousand gold!

Raphael seemed a tad befuddled by her enthusiastic reaction to his entrance, but that didn’t stop him from smirking at her. “Korrilla said she saw you nearby, and I thought I would see how-”

“-your wife was doing?” Tav finished. She pretended to be deeply touched as she strode up to him. “Oh, husband!”

His nose scrunched with more befuddlement. “Hus-”

Tav placed her hand against the side of his face and silenced him with a kiss. It was their first kiss, but because it needed to be between a husband and wife who were ardently and so-very-passionately in love with one another, Tav’s tongue ended up gliding over his lips in invitation after a handful of seconds. Surprisingly, Raphael accepted with a hum. His tongue entered her mouth and his tongue swirled around hers as he grabbed her hip.

As it turned out, Tav quite liked kissing him. So much so that she almost forgot she was standing in a shop and was well on her way of forgetting that she was only kissing Raphael because she wanted him to be her devilish coin purse.

Tav woozily broke the kiss, feeling weak in the knees.

“This is your wife, Lord Raphael?” the shop-owner asked with astonishment.

Tav, still against Raphael with her hip captured by his hand, stared at her ‘spouse’ with an expression that said: please say yes.

Looking past the lust in his eyes, the cambion stared back at her. His expression said: you’re up to something.

“I’ll pay you back,” Tav sang, grazing her thumb across his cheek with a smile. “After all, I did give you that wonderful… hat. The one that looks so nice and so perfect on your head. The hat that is better than alllllll the other hats in existence…”

“Did you not get something in return, Little Mouse?”

Tav twisted to give the shop-owner a heartened look. “Don’t you adore the pet name?”

The dwarf’s eyes narrowed.

“What is it that you want, wife?” Raphael asked with a tilt of his head. “A new deal will need to be struck.”

There were oftentimes instances where Tav’s mouth ran before logic and reason had the chance to catch up.

This was one such instance.

“I will clean the House, husband,” she replied, giving just as much bite to the fake title as he did to hers. “Naked.”

The offer threw kindling onto the fire in his brown eyes.

“For eight hours!” her logic and reason was quick to add. Tav tossed another glance behind her to the dwarf. “I’m so sorry you have to hear all of this. We like to have fun, my husband and I.”

Raphael’s hand squeezed her hip to draw her attention back to him.

“And what are you asking for in return?”

“Nothing, really…” She personified innocence and combed through his hair as if to put a stray lock back behind his ear. “Just a measly piece of armor… that I won’t be wearing… when I’m naked...”

She could tell Raphael was thinking of her naked.

And she could tell he liked what he was seeing.

“Very well, wife.” The grip at her hip jostled her, and he pulled her closer. His mouth lowered to her ear and his voice lowered in a way that melted her insides. “But you will be coming ‘home’ with me after this purchase, and I expect you naked once we’re in the door.”

She didn’t mean to moan, but it happened at the same moment her brain malfunctioned. Tav forgot she was standing in a shop, and she forgot about the breastplate; she was too busy imagining herself standing in a certain House with Raphael’s eyes on her naked body.

“Ahem,” announced the dwarf, bringing her back to reality. “My lord, with all due respect…”

Raphael breezed around her and landed at the shorter than average counter - leaving Tav gaping like a goldfish in the background.

“My wife requests the ‘measly piece of armor’,” Raphael said sarcastically.

Tav came back to earth.

“The breastplate,” she corrected, her back to them.

“Yes, the measly breastplate,” Raphael additionally corrected.

“Of course, my lord. The cost comes to four-thousand gold.”

At that, Tav spun around - indignant.

“Hey! You said six-thousand, ‘take it or leave it’!”

The dwarf did not pay her any mind, and neither did Raphael.

“Four-thousand is an agreeable sum… yet I would like to offer you more,” the cambion said smoothly. “How about I pay you one-thousand now, and, say in three day’s time you come to Sharess’ Caress to see if we can’t work out a better deal?”

Tav was livid to see the shop-owner considering the offer.

“I accept, Lord Raphael. One-thousand gold for now.”

Tav returned to being a goldfish - sputtering nonsensically, enraged as Raphael snapped his fingers and handed over a pouch full of coin.

“For your wife,” the dwarf said, handing her new measly breastplate over to her ‘husband’.

“Ha! He’s not my husband!” Tav declared, needing to spread the foolishness she felt onto the shop-owner.

Raphael chuckled as he strolled over to her with the armor in hand.

Tav glowered at him. “Smooth-talking bastard…”

He stopped before her, snapped again, and the breastplate disappeared. “The breastplate is yours - once the House is clean and tidied, dearest wife.”

He held out his hand to her.

“I regret giving you your hat,” she said, taking his offered palm.

“We’ll see if you feel the same - after your eight hours.”

Raphael smiled as heat swam in her core, and he teleported them to his House of Hope with a burst.

In the ‘door’ where they stood, his smile became exceedingly devilish.

“Now, my little mouse of a wife… strip.”

[Part ll]

#thanks for the prompt!#bg3 #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael x tav fanfiction #baldur’s gate 3 #answered #drabble #my writing #bg3 fanfiction #Prompt

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c-nstantine · 7 months

Note

what do you think that lin kuei mouth game be like? do they enjoy eating pussy? what type of tips and tricks do they perform?

Tomas Vrbada

This man may not fully know what he's doing but he does his best.

He'd probably prefer to have you laying on your back with your head on a pillow

He'd kiss your thighs before he could work up the courage to begin

His nose definitely bumps your clit often as he's going to town

He listens to the different sounds that you make and knows which motions brings you the most pleasure

Would spend an obscene amount of time just sucking your clit

He's oddly gentle about it but he's still eager

Praise him while he's doing it

Literally slurps on your pussy, and makes the most horny sounds while doing it

Bi Han

He'd prefer face sitting.

Don't even try to give him the bullshit about being too heavy, he wouldn't give a fuck

That being said once you're straddling his face there is no moving until he is ready for you to move

You could be borderline crying and he wouldn't stop

Likes to overstimulate you and edge you with his mouth

If you grind your hips against his face, he knows he is doing something right

Especially, if you try to get up

Uses his arms to hold you in place so that you can't run

Spells his own name with his tongue and smirks when you react to it

Cools his tongue because he knows that the temperature difference makes you cum quicker

Kuai Liang

I think I've mentioned this before but if you pull his hair it really gets him going

He eats it from the back.

I HC Kuai Liang as a freak lowkey but that's for another day

All of his moves are purposeful.

He has you on all fours and laughs when your legs start to shake

He finger fucks you while he licks you up and down

Makes a mess of it

Has your wetness all over his face and doesn't care

If he has had a rough day, this man will take it out on your pussy and won't feel bad

#x black!reader #black!reader #x black reader #black reader #kuai liang x black reader #scorpion x black!reader #bi han x reader #bi han smut #scorpion smut #kuai liang smut #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas x black!reader #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada smut

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alastor-simp · 2 months

Text

Female Demon Who Sings Like "Ado" - Hazbin Hotel Gang Part 1/2

❥Note: This headcannon is going to be the hazbin hotel gang reacting to a demon who sings like my favorite singer Ado. This is similar to what I did for Twisted Wonderland. Similar to that, the characters are going to have a favorite song by the "Ado" reader as well.

Might have more than one favorite song choice for certain characters (Charlie and Alastor) since I know how much they adore music. This will be in in two parts. Enjoy everyone:)

Charlie🌈

🌈Charlie was a MASSIVE fan of music. She wasn't picky about any genre or form, she does adored music. She is the type of person who would go to musicals 24/7 and just admire it all. She could also sing as well, which increased her love for music tremendously

🌈She had found you one day, wondering the streets of Pentagram City, appearing lost and confused. Being the sweetie she was, she dragged you back to the hotel, saying you could stay there for as long as you want. The two of you became quick friends after that encounter.

🌈Her discovery of your amazing talent was entirely accidental. She was wondering around the hotel gardens, when she heard someone belting out a high note. She ran towards where the sound was coming from to discover you. You were gracefully moving your body, twirling around, as you continued to sing. You were so lost in your singing that you didn't notice Charlie.

🌈Once you were finished, a loud squealing was heard next to you, causing you to turn your head in shock. Charlie was bouncing up and down in excitement, eyes shining in amazement. She ran up to you and started asking you a thousand questions a second, ranging from "OH MY SATAN!! I DIDN'T KNOW YOU COULD SING?!" to "WHAT LANGUAGE WAS THAT! TELL ME!" After waiting for Charlie to calm down, you went and explained your past life to her.

🌈You told her you were a very famous singer in Japan. You started singing at a young age, doing some song covers on the internet and eventually got discovered by a very famous music company, and started singing your own songs as well as performing in live concerts. Charlie listened to everything you were saying, eyes filled with excitement. She never heard of a "Utaite" before, but she was adamant in learning more about it.

🌈You told her that you wanted to continue singing even in Hell, but you knew that it was going to be an easy thing to accomplish down here. Welp, never underestimate Charlie. She would go out of her way to find a popular music corporation in Hell to hire you, and if not, she would hire you personally to sing at the Hazbin Hotel. She even contacted her dad to help with everything, setting up a recording room in the hotel, and also setting up a stage/venue in the hotel for you to perform as well.

🌈You tried to tell Charlie she didn't have to do all of this, but she said it was perfectly fine. She wanted you to continue your passion for singing. She gave out flyers to everyone in hell and also made another advertisement, letting everyone know to come to Hazbin Hotel to see you perform. Everything was set in place, but there was one problem, your identity. You preferred your face and identity to be kept secret in Hell, it was what you did when you were alive so you preferred to keep it that way. Charlie was quick to remedy that. She could try to see if her dad or Alastor could you their powers to change your form or wear a mask to conceal your face.

🌈Your first performance at the hotel was a huge success. All the sinners who attended were left stunned by your amazing vocals. The hotel became increasingly popular after that, more sinners would come to the hotel to attend your performances, and some of the demons who came actually wondered about the whole redemption process, and maybe would want to give it a try.

🌈Charlie became a bit of a music producer for you. She would help with setting up for you performances and she would also listen to a new song you were creating, offering tips and support. Her favorite songs that she enjoys from you is "New Genesis" and "Fireworks"

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Vaggie🎀

🎀Vaggie enjoyed music, but not as much as her girlfriend, Charlie. She was Salvadoran, so her preferred genre consisted more of Latino/Hispanic songs, but she did love it when Charlie would sing.

🎀She first met you when Charlie brought you to the hotel. The grip on her spear was strong, but the more she interacted with you, the less she gripped onto her spear. She soon realized you weren't much of a threat, and considered you an avid member of the hotel.

🎀She had no idea you were musically talented until she heard you one day on the hotel roof. She was heading up there to deal with her migraine after dealing with Angel and Alastor's shenanigans. Getting ready to push the door, she stopped when she heard singing from the other side.

🎀Curious, she opened the roof door slowly. Peaking through, she spotted you, at the edge of the hotel roof, your back facing her. Your voice was memorizing, and she was really drawn to your lyrics despite not understanding fully what they meant. Once you finished, you heard clapping. Turning around, you realized Vaggie was behind you, sporting a small grin.

🎀She walked closer to you, with her hands on her hips while you looked away flustered. “Quite a powerful voice you got.” She smiled back at you, and took noticed of your shy expression. Vaggie questioned what was wrong and you heaved a sigh, explaining your past.

🎀You told her about your life in Japan, and how at the age of 17, you got founded by a popular music company, and began singing and performing music on the internet and live shows. You did mention that you almost never revealed your identity whenever you sang, which is why you were embarrassed when Vaggie found you. Vaggie was amazed when you told her your life story, and felt slightly bad.

🎀She gave you a shoulder hug, and went on to describe that your voice was astounding, and she thinks she can help you and maybe speak to Charlie about your talent, maybe become beneficial for the hotel as well.

🎀After Vaggie spoke to Charlie and Alastor, since he was interested in the idea, the three of them helped to create another radio station tower in the hotel, where you could broadcast your singing, and maintain your identity as well. The hotel got its own frequency, which would help broadcast to all the radios in hell as well. After your performances, you would also throw in a small ad about the Hazbin Hotel and recommended sinners to attend.

🎀The hotel did gain a bit more popularity after that, with a few sinners coming to the hotel for redemption, which made Charlie and Vaggie extremely happy. Vaggie had gotten much closer with you after that, making sure you were well rested and giving your voice a break and bringing you meals when you were broadcasting to make sure you were eating. Her favorite song of yours is "Value"

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Angel Dust🕸

🕸Angel Dust was an avid music listener. He enjoyed a lot of pop and jazz songs. He was a stripper/porn star, so he would pole dance to a lot of the sexual/seductive songs for customers.

🕸He was lounging on the hotel couch, when he heard Charlie announce that there was a new guest at the hotel. He looked up, and saw you walking along with Charlie, appearing very shy. "Heh, cute." he thought. It was a bit awkward in the beginning, considering how timid you were, but he eventually warmed up to you, becoming your best friend.

🕸The both of you hanged out a lot, either you crashing in Angel's room or him coming to yours, to either chat or laze about. He was making his way to your room at high speed. He was irritated with work and he needed to rant to you about it since you would always listen to him. Entering inside your room, he noticed you were not there. Sounds of running water could heard, which made Angel realize that you were taking a shower in the bathroom.

🕸Shrugging his shoulders, he decided he would wait for you to finish, plopping onto your bed. As he was laying there, he heard the sounds of someone singing. Angel arched his head on the bed, trying to hear it better, realizing that you were the one that was singing. Your voice was flowing into him, giving him goosebumps all throughout his body. The effects of your singing was almost putting him into a trance, like he was getting high on drugs again.

🕸The sound of the water turned off, bringing Angel back to reality. Walking out the bathroom with a towel on your head and loungewear, you glanced up, only to jump in shock at seeing Angel laying on your bed, smirking at you. "Nice set of pipes you got there toots!" Angel said, as he continued to smirk at you, based on how red your face was.

🕸Covering your face, you slowly sank to the floor, which caused Angel to give you a concerned look. "Woah woah! Toots, what's wrong? I wasn't making fun of ya. You sounded really good." Angel got up from the bed, and bent down to pick you up, walking back to the bed and placing you on it as he took a seat on it again.

🕸Angel continued to observe you, worried that he had hurt your feelings. Finally, you removed your hands from your face, staring back at Angel. You told him that you were just shocked and very embarrassed that he saw you singing, since you were more use to singing privately. Angel raised an eyebrow, wondering what you meant. Heaving a sigh, you told Angel about your past life when you were still alive.

🕸You told him you were Japanese and when you got a bit older, you started singing song covers and posted them on the Internet, but you concealed your identity. After a while of doing that, a music company founded you and immediately got you. You continued singing and making new songs as time went by, coming a very well known singer in your country until your death. After telling Angel all of that, you told him that you still wanted to continue singing, but it was just a bit more difficult, being in hell and all.

🕸Angel was smiling down at you kindly, two of his arms still placed on your shoulders. He was happy you told him all of this, and glad that he didn't upset you. He was actually kinda stunned too, at that fact that he was friends with a very famous singer and had no idea about it until now. He wanted to press more on why you hid your identity, but he shot that thought down as he came to the conclusion that if it made you more comfortable that way, then it’s fine.

🕸️”Well why don’t you start singing again. With a voice like that, you would have sinners crawling all over you, begging for you to sing to them?” He said, as he waited for your response. You told him that it wasn't gonna be easy, especially since you didn't know where to start and you didn't have powers to conceal your identity. Angel threw his head back in laughter, before looking back at you "Haha! Toots, I know several clubs in the area that you could perform at. Trust me. They always looking for someone. And the whole identity thing, you can always wear a disguise or put on makeup. I do drag so I'll be able to help ya out with the look."

🕸After that, Angel basically dragged you to all the clubs that he and Cherri have gone too that he knew were top class, and not sleazy like other places. He avoided the ones that he knew his boss, Valentino, frequented. Last thing he wanted was for him to spot you and drag you into a soul contract, like he did to him. You were finally able to find one that looked amazing inside and out, had good pay, and also had a boss who wasn't a total a✪✪hat.

🕸Your first performance at the club blew the audience away. The more and more you performed, the more sinners would pile up in the club. There was even lines outside, waiting to see you perform. Angel was able to conceal your identity, by putting on makeup on you, and also giving you a wig and other accessories to make you appear much different then how you normally looked.You became well known in that area in hell, even the internet was buzzing about you and how amazing you were.

🕸Angel became your sort of stylist and bodyguard. He would help with your outfits and makeup, and he would stick around during all of your shows, as he wanted to make sure no one attempted anything, and he also wanted to enjoy your singing. His favorite song of yours is "Chocolat Cadabra"

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TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2

Tag List:

@pepperycookie , @yourdoorisunlocked, @ghostdoodlen, @aceofcards0-0, @jyoongim, @saturnhas82moons, @unholycheesesnack , @luujjvi , @forbidden-sunlight, @pinkcrystal44 , @veethewriter , @rains-sleeping , @danveration , @demoarah, @cookiekyo , @iiotic, @delectableworm , @91062854-ka , @alastorsgoldie , @lokis-imaginary-friend , @themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @pawstrey , @futureittomainn , @christinaatyourservice92 , @littledolly2345 , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 , @mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow , @madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel , @ainsliemac , @sweet06tart , @nobuharashinyao , @aria-tempest , @fluffismystaplefood , @darischerry , @nightmarenaya , @mooniee123 , @yakultt-art , @ktssstuff , @blakedbeanss , @sweet06tart , @ihyperfixatedagain , @alastorssimp , @sadnessiscoldtea , @artemisandhunters , @crystalreads , @thereeallink , @justchillaine , @felice-jaganshi , @batmanmonstarr , @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @imacollasaltitan , @ask-theradio-demon , @lousypotatoes

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mawinswag · 1 month

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DIGITAL CIRCUS JAX THEORY

MASSIVE SPOILERS OBVIOUSLY BUT HERE WE GO!!!

. Ok, are you good? Ok

So, as many have pointed out already, there’s a scene at the end of episode 2 [22:23] where after Caine kills gummigoo and sends him back to the canyon, that he fears he can’t know for certain who’s a human and who’s an NPC. So foreshadowing, reference to past events or wacky non-sequitur? Maybe none of them, but the possibility that one of the circus members is actually an NPC is obviously too tantalizing for me to pass up, and given events AFTER this scene I think it can only be Jax, and I’ve got a few pieces of evidence why.

The main crux of this whole thing is that Jax IS an NPC, but he’s the only one in the circus who KNOWS that and is absolutely desperate to make sure that no one finds that out.

Episode one! Small note to start out on, but literally the first thing we learn about Jax, the VERY FIRST thing he has to ask is if Pomni is an NPC or not. Narratively, he’s the person who introduces the CONCEPT of NPCs into this universe, not Ragatha - who tries to break in Pomni the most - or Kinger who seems the most knowledgeable about the circus as a concept. He’s also very intrigued at the concept of a new AI in episode 2 [02:49} Like, the fact that she popped up in the circus unexpectedly doesn’t tip him off that she’s a human character immediately. Which may be how HE was able to trick everyone into thinking he was a human instead of an NPC - possibly by sneaking back through a portal like Gummigoo did and hiding until the start of the next adventure.

He DOES mention knowing about the headsets like the other human characters, but there’s no reason he CAN’T know about that considering he’s not the latest person to enter the circus. Like, we have a GENERAL idea of who entered first, but that’s just the characters who are still around for the pilot - there’s a lot more considering how many bedroom doors there are. https://shorturl.at/asESX

So, generally, it’s Kinger, Ragatha, Jax/Gangle, Zooble, then Pomni. Now, how can I argue that Jax is an NPC when he has a canonical age? Not to mention, he’s got a canonical ‘appearance moment.’ Well, there are a few options. Option one is that - NPC or not - Jax HAS been here for a very long time, but rather than being a human, he was born inside the circus. He has a definite, APPEARANCE moment, but it's only implied that this is because of him ENTERING the circus proper - new NPCs appear in the big top all the time, i.e. the gloinks all the mannequins, etc.

But also, take those ages with a pinch of salt, considering a lot of it was about quelling shipping wars and stopping any discourse about characters being adults and all that lovely hellish nightmare stuff. I think goose had an idea in her head about which characters entered the circus FIRST for sure, but how much they’ve aged and WHETHER they’ve aged is its own question.

ALRIGHT! But enough about Tumblr asks, back to the pilot, I wanna note something that happens with Jax in particular more than any other performer in the circus. He’s the most apparent of the interstitial nature of the circus itself - and the most meta. This can range from him basically winking at the camera like in the pilot [8:37] but I think it’s a bit more than that. Jax in particular is more aware of being a CHARACTER in-universe than specifically being a character in an indie animated series.

After this moment in the pilot [19:58] where Jax says ‘ladies first’ to Gangle as if to be polite before promptly following that up with “no, wait, why would I say that,” indicates a few things to me. Jax is at the very least aware that he’s supposed to act a certain way, and realizes when he’s acting out of ‘character’ in this scene and course-corrects promptly. Again, could be a funny meta reference, but also it could be a hanging notion of the fact he literally WAS a character in-universe, an NPC with a pre-programmed personality and understanding of the world. He’s got this rigid understanding of how the characters are SUPPOSED to act and this comes up again in episode two when goading Gangle into driving the tanker over the rocks - saying she’s SUPPOSED to be ‘submissive and agreeable,’ [Episode 2, 7:24]. This sort of disconnect from how complicated people can be and his overall detachment and overstepping of peoples lives [NPC or otherwise] comes up a lot. He doesn’t really ‘get’ other people, WHICH DOESN’T AUTOMATICALLY MAKE A PERSON EVIL, I SHOULD PREFACE, and him not getting it doesn’t automatically make him more ‘robotic’ and thus an AI, but it does explain why he’s more emotionally distant than the other performers. Coming from someone who could’ve been programmed to behave a certain way, his confusion makes sense.

Now for that juicy stuff! One of the few moments where Jax isn’t in control of a situation is in the pilot, where he’s trying desperately to hide from an abstracted Kaufmo. Now yes, obviously this is a sign of his own instincts of self-preservation, but what interests me is how he seems the MOST bothered by the thought of Kaufmo than any other character. Like at [17:27] of the pilot where he sees a glitched gloink and immediately his eyes start darting around him as if he’s listening for threats. He even explicitly says at [19:19] that he’s “just here to hide from [Kaufmo]” and isn’t invested in the adventure at all. And yes it's a very interesting character moment, but how does it push us closer to him being an NPC. Well, it’s because he’s afraid of dying. When you compare how he reacts to Kaufmo to how RAGATHA reacts to him, there’s a comparative lack of fear with her. Like yeah, she’s scared of him, but she’s never convinced that she’s gonna die and even tells Pomni later that Caine will be able to fix her up no problem [14:52]. She’s scared because she CAN feel pain, [https://tinyurl.com/ye275884] but she can’t die, none of the performers can, Caine doesn’t kill Kaufmo when he abstracts, he just throws him in the cellar with the others. His mind is GONE, sure, but it’s not dead.

NPCs on the other hand, can ABSOLUTELY DIE. So if Jax is an NPC, then there’s a very good reason why he wouldn’t wanna even get CLOSE to Kaufmo in the pilot, because he’s not as durable as Ragatha is and there’s not gonna be an easy fix for him if he gets hurt.

Now, episode two has little sprinkles of Jaxs’ detachment all over it, but none of it explicitly points in the direction of him being an NPC until a partway through the episode. We do get a lot of him showing absolutely no value for the lives of those around him whether than being putting Gangle and Pomni thru the ringer or setting the people of Candy Canyon Kingdom up to be killed by the fudge, but the question is…why?

My answer is; he’s AM from ‘I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream.’ Uhmm, what? Yup that’s right. Ok so it’s no secret that IHNMAIMS was a big inspiration for TADC [https://shorturl.at/hnsFV] and while Caine obviously got the most of this influence with him being a godlike AI who only has control over a bunch of sad, sappy humans, some of which he throws into a giant abominable melting goop monster of human suffering, but if you look at Caine's inspirations [AM from IHNMAIMS] you’ll find that the same motivations more than drive Jax under this theories' interpretation of events. Simply put, AM, a war machine, gains sentience and absolutely despises humanity because DESPITE that sentience, he is absolutely powerless to do anything meaningful with it except torture a group of humans. He’s painfully aware of his own sentience and hates all humanity for creating him, is the gist.

My interpretation is that while Caine has the thematics, Jax has the motivation. In this theory, at some point Jax was an NPC and gained a sentience of his own either through a quirk of programming, intentional design, or AI learning. He realizes that he can keep himself alive if he pretends to be a performer, because he learns that Caine can’t affect the minds or actions of the real humans in his realm. He’s sapient, but he’s in this uncomfortable position where he’s not immortal like the performers, but completely aware of his own mortality unlike the other NPCs, and fully cognizant of the fact he can’t be brought back as he is. Yeah…that’d make someone bitter for sure.

So he psychologically torments the other performers because he knows they can’t die, but can go insane - while killing indiscriminately any NPCs he can because he knows they can die, and he won’t face any consequences for it. He’s this twisted death spiral of a being who finds his own existence an agonizing paradox and takes that pain out on the people around him for all eternity basically - finding disappointment in being unable to act out these pent-up emotions [TADC ep 2: 20:50] and seeing Kaufmo’s funeral as a painful reminder of an ending he can never have. Or maybe he’s bitter because he knows Kaufmo isn’t really dead in a way that HE can die, and finds personal distaste with the funeral on principle. Frankly, there’s a whole HOST of ways you could interpret this scene at the end of episode two with this framework, and I encourage y’all to find your own!!!!

#the amazing digital circus #tadc jax #tadc caine #tadc theory #tadc pomni #tadc zooble #tadc gangle #tadc kinger #tadc ragatha #tadc kaufmo #i have no mouth and i must scream #gooseworx

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rushtoprove · 1 year

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a moment of weakness

pairing: aemond targaryen x wife!reader rating: general audiences word count: 2k+ summary: a disastrous turn of events in one of the crown's tournament's leaves the court fearful that prince aemond has lost his other eye. the prince is adamant no one shall gaze beneath his eye-patch, not even his darling wife. warnings: description of injury.

As you slowly gain consciousness, you couldn’t help the smile that danced upon your lips, taking satisfaction in the feeling of your whole-body aching in the most delightful way. You wanted to savour the moment for a few minutes, afraid that when you opened your eyes reality would ruin it, but when you felt a shift on the bed that you were sharing you couldn’t help letting your vision clear. And what a sight it was.

Aemond, your husband of now eight months, breathed peacefully as he slept facing you. His silver hair seemed to cover the entire pillowcase he rested upon, and you couldn’t help but shiver in delight over the way he had turned to face you in his sleep. You were close, the only thing separating yourselves was his hand that was lying carelessly atop his pillow, and you couldn’t help but reach out and gently touch his fingers. The love you had developed for the second-born Targaryen prince could often be overwhelming, leaving you breathless under his gaze but you revelled in it. Being forced into this marriage by your scheming families was frightening in the lead up, but a month into your marriage he had quietly sat by you in the library to ask of the book you were reading, and in return offered suggestions on what to read next. You listened as he explained his studies, and soon he would visit you every afternoon to go through his ancestor’s history together. You had become besotted.

However, you did not know if Aemond felt this way for you. He was kind enough, and quietly listened to whatever you talked about, but he never seems to open up about anything to you, nor did he show any physical affection towards you outside of your shared quarters. He would walk by your side, but at a distance, and he would follow you at banquets, but only for duty. He performed his acts as a husband dutifully, but you couldn’t help but ache for a more personal connection to him. Behind closed doors, however, he was an extraordinary lover, hence the delicious ache that you lay basking in. He was kind to you and treated you as if he had never held anything so perfect. The difference could sometimes make your head spin.

Caressing his fingers was not enough, so you moved to pepper gentle kisses from the tips of his fingers before allowing your lips to trail across the back of his hand. Aemond was quick to react even in his sleeping state and wrapped his arm around, dragging your body into his. Quickly wrapping yourself around him and lying your head a top his chest, you allowed yourself to enjoy the peacefulness of lying with your husband.

“I believe this to be the first time you have woken before me.” His voice was deep, still trying to truly leave his sleep, and you let your eyes flutter as he pressed a light kiss to the top of your head. Letting your fingers dance upon his torso, you slowly raised your head to stare at him. He was already looking at you with an eyebrow slightly raised and smile playing upon his lips.

“I’m nervous for today.” It came out a whisper, but Aemond simply laughed and let his hands fall to squeeze your hips. You went to protest against him, but he quickly captured your lips with his and you were silenced.

“You have no need to worry. You know I am well-trained with a sword.” You went to reach up and cup his face, but you forgot yourself. The moment your hand hovered above the eye-patch he had taken to wearing even in your bed, you felt his whole-body flinch beneath yours. You knew from how tense his body became that it would be the end of your loving morning.

“Aemond...” But he was already moving, and you let yourself roll to the side and watch in sorrow as he sat on the edge of the bed, quickly pulling on the pants he had discarded so quickly the night before. The loss of his eyes was a harrowing experience for him as a child, and you had been warned that not one person had been allowed to gaze upon what is left beneath his eye patch since then. One night you had suggested he remove it to sleep, convinced it would be extremely uncomfortable. He had the left the bed and not returned to it for two days. Not letting the moment go so easy, and not ready for another bout of sleeping alone, you quickly rushed forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your bare body to his back.

“Please be careful today. You know how dangerous these stupid tournaments can get. I will require you back in my bed tonight in pristine condition.” Today a tournament was being held to celebrate Prince Aegon’s twenty-second name day, and Alicent had pushed for her second son to enter. The words duty and show of strength were included in the order.

“Well, I shall have to be extra careful as my wife will not be there to bestow her favour upon me.” He was back to you, and his teasing voice instantly softened you. Burying your face into his neck you gave him a quick kiss.

“You know I wish to be there, but Helaena says she needs me in her quarters in case the babe decides to come today.”

“It is not due for another two moons.” But you knew he understood. Bundling up the sheets to wrap around your figure, you quickly moved to your discarded dress from the festivities of last night and began tugging out the strip of green silk that lined the top of the corset. It was long enough to do the job, but small enough for Aemond to hide beneath his armour. Once it was in your hand you moved back to your husband and climbed onto his lap with a smile.

“Here. You will always have my favour.” You tucked it into the pocket of his pants, before squealing with delight as he threw you onto the bed and climbed his way up your body.

“Hmm.” He hummed before moving his lips to attack your collarbone.

“My warrior.” You teased and laughed as you felt him softly bite down. You moved your fingers to entwine into his hair and yet again found yourself relishing being in his company.

“My prince...” You almost screamed as the door swung open and a flurry of servants entered the room. You were grateful as Aemond moved to hide you beneath the blankets of his bed.

“What is the meaning of this?” He growled and you noticed a few stopped uneasily at his rage. He had made it clear that he was never to be interrupted this way long ago, but when Alicent rounded the corner and began pulling back the blinds, the young couple knew they had no choice.

“You are late. I explicitly told you to be ready at breakfast. Your match is in one hour. Hello dear Y/N.” You dumbly waved from beneath the sheets before cowering even further down, though no one seemed to be paying attention to you. Aemond quickly reached beneath the sheets and squeezed your knee. Pulling on a shirt that was being handed towards him, Aemond stood tall as he moved to the door.

“I will ready myself in the other room. Please allow my wife privacy.” The servants flurried out in a rush and Aemond stood at the door waiting for the room to be empty then turned back to look upon you once more.

“Please be careful Aemond.” Your voice was soft, trying to hide the desperation you felt. But you seemed to find it impossible to hide anything from your husband, and he quickly closed the door and kneeled beside the bed. You rolled to face him, as he leant down and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead.

“I will come back to you in one piece my wife. Today is nothing more than child’s play. I shall find you in Helaena’s rooms straight after.”

+++

“Princess Y/N, Prince Aemond has been in an accident.” The maid had no time to explain the details before you were running toward his room. You had spent hours cuddled up beside Helaena, reading and soothing her pregnancy aches, but the moment a maid had burst into the room, flustered and out of breath, you knew something had gone wrong.

“What happened?” You did not stop running as you questioned her, and instead lifted your skirts and accelerated your pace.

“The prince was fighting some Baratheon cousin and the prince won the sword fight. He was crowned victor, but the warrior became enraged at losing and tried to take out his other eye while Prince Aemond kneeled to the King.”

“The bastard!” You spat the words out and kept running, ignoring the pain in your chest from shortness of breath. The run felt like years but when you spun around the corner to his rooms, you cried out for all those who gathered in the hall to make way for you. It seemed every lord in the kingdom was standing outside Aemond’s door, awaiting news.

“Make way for the princess!” You heard Sir Criston order and the sea of people quickly parted, letting you rush forward. He quickly opened the door to allow you to enter before closing it to stop any of the courtiers catching a glimpse of your husband in his weakened state.

“You must let him see Aemond!” Alicent was crying as she reached towards her son but jumped in fright as Aemond quickly stood and backed away in rage. His eye remained in perfect condition, but you could have screamed at the sight of blood running through the fingers he held where his eyepatch was usually strapped upon.

“Aemond.” You cried, stumbling towards him. He seemed to move towards you, before tensing up and shaking his head. You did not miss the distress on his face.

“Leave! Get her out of here! All of you get out of here!” His voice was loud and you and many others in the room flinched at the noise.

“Prince Aemond I must be allowed to access your eye!” The maester begged but Aemond silenced him with an animalistic snarl.

“If you cunts do not leave me right now, I swear to the gods that everyone shall know the pain of losing an eye!” His eye was widened, and his pupil dilated like a wild beast. His gaze flickered between every person in the room, desperate to make sure no one moved towards him. All you could focus on was the constant stream of blood oozing from between his fingers.

“Out.” You choked out the word and everyone turned their startled gaze to you, but your eyes did not leave your husband once.

“Princess I must...”

“OUT!” You screamed the order, cutting off the maester and glared at everyone. They reluctantly moved away and Alicent quickly squeezed your hand before making sure she was the last person to depart, leaving you alone with Aemond.

“You leave too.” He growled but you simply moved to near him. Aemond backed off, startled by your movements and your heart broke. You couldn’t imagine how traumatic this moment must be, and the memories it has brought back upon him.

“Lay in bed Aemond.”

“Get out!”

“You promised you would return to our bed and gods help me Aemond if you do not lay down, I shall find a way to make you.” Neither of you could look away from each other, your chests heaving in sync as he stood in defiance.

“Y/N...”

“Please Aemond. Please.” You begged for his co-operation, hoping that he would see the tears beginning to fall and would help put you out of your distress. It was a shock when it seemed to work, and you quickly moved to help your husband cautiously lower himself to lay upon his bed.

“I do not want you to look.” He whispered it as his eye closed in sorrow and you watched as a single tear escaped and mixed with the blood pooling from his empty eye socket.

“I am your wife Aemond. I shall look, and I shall care for you. It is my duty.”

“You are too kind to be forced into this marriage. It should not be your duty to look upon such horror. I do not wish it. I do not wish for you to see the ugliness of my scars.” He would not open his eye as he confessed it, but you clasped your hand tightly around his and pressed a long kiss to it.

“My love. My Aemond. How have you not noticed? This marriage has been long past duty for me. I have loved you for a long time now husband.” His breath quivered at your confession, and when he opened his eye, he cried out at the sight of your hands reaching for his eyepatch.

“My love... I hope you know it is the same for me. You have enraptured me, enchanted me, enslaved me. I am yours. Only yours.” His hands shook as he took the turn to clasp your hands and press a kiss to it. There was nothing to say between you, it was a confession that you had both been waiting for. Instead, you let your hands move back to the job at hand. You were slow and delicate as you unclasped the eyepatch and were tender in your gaze once it was finally removed. You hid your shock at the sapphire that was burrowed snugly between the torn skin around his eye and let yourself lean close to inspect the damage the foolish knight had inflicted.

“The cut is not deep. It has just opened a small section of your scarring around your top eyelid, but the main gash is above where your patch sits. It is something I shall be able to fix.” You whispered as you allowed your fingers to trace the faded scars that littered his eye. He shivered under your touch and reached out to hold onto you as you looked upon his shame.

“The fool went for an eye already missing.” He breathed out a laugh and you filled with rage at the thought of the idiot contender.

“I shall kill him with my bare hands.” You snapped but Aemond let out his first real laugh.

“Do you truly believe I would have allowed that cunt to live after what he did to me dear wife?”

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