#whew it's been quite a spring

[princesskealie]

taking my mom to the doctor again tomorrow~ please send any good vibes/prayers/thoughts her way that all goes smoothly! 🙏🙏

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter six)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, roughhousing, overstimulation, mild bondage, insane amounts of teasing, some mild dubcon scenes/allusions to dubcon, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, hair pulling, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, eventual piv (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 6/6

SERIES MASTERLIST

words: .......13.5k

a/n: WHEW what a wait. thank you, as always, for your patience this past month or so! as i’ve mentioned i’ve been busy as hell, but it is with many internal screams that i can say! welcome to the final chapter of this series!! what a ride we've all had these last few months! buckle up for like. essay length extensive smut and also plot. in varying order. as always, feedback makes my world spin round at rocket speed, and just. thank you guys for all the love ever since i posted chapter one last november (november me with a brand new sideblog had no clue this would become a Thing i finished let alone a Thing people liked!! that's all on you lovely humans. ily)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

Heaven was his head between your thighs.

His hands on you, everywhere. Hot mouth pressed to your skin, your neck, your thighs, your cunt. He was slow. Thorough. Pulling cries out of your mouth that got louder and louder until your back arched on the bed and you lay slumped and panting, twisted in his sheets. Taken apart and stitched right back together.

It hadn’t started like this. Not even close.

You woke to a soft light on your face, the curtains parted slightly. Your throat felt sore, and you were tired. Body heavy, slumped across a bed. His. It came back to you in fragments. The party. The photograph. His hand in your hair. His eyes after, apologetic and pleading. Falling asleep right here, next to him, but there was nobody beside you anymore. Your eyes adjusted to the room; you’d never seen it at this time of day, with sunbeams lighting up the walls. You could hear a soft tapping sound, like rain on the windowsill, but it was a bright and sunny spring day out.

Typing. That’s what it was.

Steady, satisfying clicks as the typewriter punched ink onto paper. You turned your head towards the desk across the room.

Coriolanus was sat there, focused, a breakfast tray pushed to one side. He didn’t notice you for a while, and you rolled over to take him in, a slight squint in his eye as he concentrated. You pulled your tired body up and leaned against the pillows, and he turned.

“Morning.” He said in surprise.

“Hi.”

This was strange. Like a warped sense of a morning after.

“Coffee?” He offered. “It’s still hot, I think.”

“Please.”

As he stood to pour from the French press, you took a look around you, eyes landing on the nightstand. A glass of water stood tall next to the silver chain he’d given you last night.

So innocent. If someone took a peek through a crack in the wall, they’d think you were a perfectly normal couple. Domestic bliss.

Not so much, you thought, as he walked over and handed you a cup.

He didn’t linger, but sat down at the foot of the bed, and that only made things stranger. He’d never been one to shy away from physical proximity, but here you both were, sipping just-hot coffee as he eyed you carefully. Like you were an animal in an enclosure, and he hadn’t quite figured out which approach to take with you yet.

“Are you working on something?” You nodded toward the cluttered desk.

“Just the usual. Work.”

“Oh? Didn’t know you worked in here.”

“I don’t, usually. Never have, in fact.” He sounded sheepish. This was entirely new. “But I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

Oh.

You said just that.

“Oh. Um, thank you.”

“I can go if you’d like. Leave you to rest.”

“No, that’s okay. Stay.”

His eyes softened a little, shoulders sinking down.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

You considered. You hadn’t really thought much about it.

“Tired, I think. This is helping. Thank you.” You sipped at the cup of coffee, careful not to spill it on his sheets. An oddly comfortable silence hung in the air.

“I called Cordelia. She’s coming over this afternoon, we can figure it all out. Print a story you’re happy with.”

“Wait, what? We don’t have an appointment for three more weeks.”

He glanced awkwardly at the floor, and cleared his throat.

“I thought you’d want to make it as quick as possible. It will be, and it won’t shine badly on you. I’ll get Lucille to pack your things, and if you don’t want to go back to your parents, I’d be happy to put you up somewhere in the city for as long as you’d like. It’s the least I could do after everything that I-”

“Coriolanus, stop.” You shook your head, bewildered.

“Can I ask you a serious question?”

He paused.

“Of course.”

“How the hell are you meant to know what I want if you’ve never asked me?”

He frowned, eyes darting from the floor, to you, to the floor again.

“I… Well, I assumed that-”

“Don’t assume.” You interrupted. “God, when will you stop assuming you know what’s best for me? It’d be nice to feel like I have a say in this. Don’t you see that if we do this, we’ll just end up right back where we started? I don’t want that, do you?”

“Doll, I think this would be for the best.”

“Why, am I getting too difficult for you now? You got someone new lined up ready to take my place? Someone less complicated? More complacent?” You snapped.

“Of course not, it’s not that.”

“Then why? Why do you want me gone? Because it’s pretty damn clear that you do from where I’m sat.”

He sighed, turning to face you, but looking at your lap. You gripped the cup with a vice, like you were trying to snap off the handle. You placed it on the nightstand.

“I’ve just been wondering if this has become about something… else, to you. and I wanted to say that if that’s the case, this can’t continue. Because… well, I’ve grown fond of you, and it isn’t fair to keep you hoping.”

Your confusion softened your sharp edges.

“Hoping for what?”

For whatever reason, he didn’t meet your eye as he spoke.

“Hoping that… I can give you something I don’t think I’m capable of. Or at least, not anymore. It’s not fair on you. I can’t give you what you need.”

“And what exactly is it that I need?”

He shifted, looking awkwardly to the floor. At first, your frown only deepened, then it hit you. A knowing smile crept onto your face.

“Oh my god… you think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

His frown only widened your grin. you were pretty sure you must’ve looked insane. Despite yourself, you let out a laugh, and his frown only deepened.

“When you… you’ve been upset lately. The other week at the luncheon, and then last night, I thought it was-”

“That I was, what, in love with you?”

A cocky, shit eating grin now took over your face.

He started a sentence, but stopped himself. You could see it on his face; he was completely thrown.

“So you’re not.” He checked.

“Oh, don’t look so disappointed, Snow. ‘Course not. That’s never what this was about, I mean, we have rules for a reason. Sure, we’ve been breaking them like it’s our day job, but not the golden one. Never the most important.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked a little sheepish.

“Don’t worry, gorgeous,” you repeated, “I’m not in love with you.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. His shoulders sank down, like he was relieved.

“I see. That’s good, that’s… for the best.”

“So will you cancel Cordelia?”

“Okay. If that’s what you want., it’s done.”

You nodded.

“See, this is better. It’s a lot easier when you ask me things. And I’ll be the first to admit I haven’t exactly been the most talkative either.”

“It’s not exactly our strong suit.” He agreed.

“Yeah. You know, while we’re on the topic, there’s something else you can do for me.”

“Anything.”

“You can run me a bath. A hot one. With bubbles.” You added.

It was slight, but you saw it. He perked up.

“Okay, doll.”

The bath was hot, and it smelt like the softer parts of him, like fresh linen and the spice of his cologne. Again, he didn’t linger, just ran the bath, saw you into the room and let you be. It was frustrating – while it was nice to soak in the hot water and feel your muscles relax, you wished he would just talk to you, instead of acting like you were something to avoid, something to walk on eggshells around. This change in his demeanour wasn’t a completely unwelcome one – you didn’t mind feeling as though you had the upper hand, and held all the cards for once – but you didn’t like being treated like you were broken, either.

You sank your head underneath the bubbles and stayed down there for a few seconds, the rush of water clouding your eardrums. It was a peaceful kind of noise, and when you came back up for air, you found yourself breathing a little easier.

You pondered. Processed, considering the steps to take next, rolling your neck out and stretching your feet to the edge of the tub. Anytime you thought you’d reached any sort of plateau with Coriolanus, something new would pop up out of seemingly nowhere. You hadn’t minded the danger at first, it drew you in and kept you hungry for more, but you’d grown tired, weary from the whiplash knotting your neck.

When the water cooled, you looked around, but couldn’t see a towel. You cleared your throat.

“Snow?” You called out.

Soft footsteps. Then, his voice from behind the door.

“Everything okay?”

“I just need a towel. I can’t see one near me.”

“They’re in the linen closet in the corner.”

You eyed the floor between the tub and the closet.

“I’d have to get out and drip bathwater all across the floor. Can you just come in here and hand me one?”

Silence.

“Please?” You added.

More silence. Then he quietly cleared his throat.

“Yeah. Okay, fine. I’m coming in, I won’t look.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

The door cracked open and he made a short beeline to the closet, unfolding a towel and holding it out. When he walked to the side of the tub, he looked off to the side like the colour of the walls was suddenly the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

You pulled yourself out of the water, shivering as the cold air hit you. Then you backed into the towel and took it from him, wrapping it around yourself, sinking into the soft cotton. He stood behind you, paused, seemingly suspended in place and unable to move. You heard him draw in a breath, inches from the back of your neck.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. His breath caught on the droplets of water gathered on your skin, and it warmed you and gave you a chill at the same time.

“I know you are.”

Then in a flash, you spun around, lips on his, hungry. He kissed you back like he had something to prove, and hell, maybe he did. His hands tangled in your wet hair and yours made for his shirt. The towel slipped to the floor and fell in a pile at your feet. One button came open, you broke the second, which flew into the air and landed on the floor with a tap. He pulled you in closer, hands all over you, and you worked frantically at the third, not caring if it broke, not caring about anything.

“Doll.”

You looked up at him, at his blown-out eyes.

“Want you to fuck me.” You breathed.

“I can’t.”

You jolted to a stop, catching your breath. He took a step back.

“What?”

He pulled in slow breaths, like he was trying to cool himself off. His eyes pressed shut.

“Not like this. Not until I know you trust me again. I don’t… I can’t hurt you again. I won’t do that. I need you to forgive me first. Completely.”

You exhaled slowly, then cleared your throat, lowering to the ground to pick the damp towel off the tiles. When you came back up, half-covered, he was staring at a spot on the wall again, breath laboured.

You tied the towel around you, and looked right at him as he looked away, eyes averted.

“You sure about that, Snow?” you drawled. “You sure as hell don’t look it.”

He swallowed thickly.

“I’ll let you get dressed. I’ll just be in the bedroom.”

You brought your hand to your lips, brushing over where he’d just kissed them once he’d turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. You eyed your pile of clothes with disdain.

He was back at his desk when you walked out, wrapped in a shirt he’d offered you, hair towel in hand. He didn’t look as focused on his work this time.

“I cancelled Cordelia. So don’t worry about that.”

“Thank you.” You made for the bed, and climbed back onto it. “Rather just talk to you anyway.”

His jaw tensed. It seemed he was still doing everything in his power not to look at you.

“You know, there’s this thing called eye contact. Remember that thing Cordelia waffles on about? It’s important when you’re having a conversation with somebody. I’m a big fan, myself.”

His eyes shot daggers at you. But at least he was looking.

“And what did you want to talk about, exactly?”

You shrugged, and he glanced back at the desk, and pretended to study one of the papers there.

“I don’t know. All of this, I guess.”

Much to your annoyance, he didn’t answer. Your eyes swept the room again, and you brought the towel to your hair. The sun was high enough now to light up the silver chain on the nightstand, and you took it in your palm, turning it over.

“Did you mean it when you said I could have this?” You wondered aloud.

He looked at you again.

“Wasn’t sure if you remembered that.”

“Well, I do.”

“Then I meant it.” His words shouldn’t have made you smile, but they did.

“Will you put this on me?” You asked.

“Uh. Sure.”

The chair creaked as he pushed it back from underneath him, and he walked over to you cautiously, perching on the bed, taking the dog tag, then ever so gently brushing your hair to one side.

“Can I just ask-”

“Anything.” He said quickly.

The cool metal slid onto your chest as he secured the chain, falling low.

“When you were out there, did you…” you swallowed.

Say it.

“…hurt people?” You praised your voice for not shaking. The silence in the room was deafening. But he finally answered.

“I did what was necessary.”

“It must’ve been awful.”

“Yeah.” He said quietly. “It was.”

“Do you think about it much?”

“More than I care to admit. But it was a long time ago.”

You turned to face him.

“Doesn’t make it less real. I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine how hard it must’ve been.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. What matters is that I’m here now.”

You smiled.

“You didn’t get too bad of a deal of it either, President Snow.”

He put your hair back into place, fingertips trailing your shoulder.

“I certainly didn’t.”

You thumbed the cold steel, an odd feeling of satisfaction washing over you.

“Was it worth it?” Your voice sounded quiet, even to you. You were fully aware of the weight of the question, heavier still from the complete understanding that you barely knew what you were asking.

“Yes.”

It should’ve scared you, the surety in his voice. But it didn’t.

Warm breath caressed your shoulder blade, and it really shouldn’t comfort you, but it did. You cleared your throat.

“Thank you. For putting it on. I always get these things tangled.”

“My pleasure. I meant what I said though, sweetheart. No wearing it where anyone’ll see, okay? I need you to promise me.”

You turned your head, shifted so you faced him. You suddenly realised just how close your faces were, and your voice dropped low.

“I promise. It’s nothing new. We’re no strangers to secrets, you and I.”

Your noses were almost touching, and he was looking down at your lips. You drew in a breath, and inched in impossibly closer. You felt his breath on your lips, hot and shallow. Your nose bumped his.

And then his lips were on yours again. But just as quickly, he pulled away.

“Don’t.” You pleaded.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t. Not until I’ve fixed this. Please, just… tell me what you need me to do. I’ll do whatever you want.”

You sighed, pulling away.

“This is what I want, Snow. But…”

“Yeah?”

“I just… never knew it would get so complicated. I think for now, maybe I need a little time.”

“Okay. We can do that.”

“I might go home over this weekend. Spend some time with my parents. No tricks, okay? No messengers, no word from you, the entire time. I’ll come back here on Monday morning, and I’ll tell you what I’ve decided then.”

He nodded.

“That’s fine.” He cleared his throat again. “So you’ll leave tomorrow morning?”

“If that’s okay.”

He seemed as satisfied as one would expect with that solution.

“Yes. Of course, anything you want.”

“Thank you, Coriolanus.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say he looked a little disappointed by the formality.

“And Snow?”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Before I go, will you lie next to me for a little while?"

It was oddly intimate, the way the day stretched on. He lay next to you for a while, and you sank into the sheets and eventually dozed off. When you woke, he was still there, quietly tapping at the typewriter and poring over paperwork. You spent the rest of the day in his room, in bed mostly, with food being brought up to you which you shared in mutual silence or casual conversation. Lucille packed your bags, and you spent the night in his bed, a little distance between you. But when you woke up, you had to slowly pull away your woven limbs.

Leaving was a quiet affair. Snow gave you a chaste kiss goodbye, and Henry snuck you and your bags through the back exit and kept to backroads, so nobody would know who you were or where you were going. Your parents didn’t know why you were visiting either; they didn’t need to. As far as anyone was concerned, you were taking a short weekend trip to check in with your family.

The two days passed quickly. You spent the time reflecting, debating what your next move would be, and listening to your parents argue. You found yourself glancing at the clock by Saturday afternoon, and by Sunday night you were practically crawling out your skin ready to leave. You considered what he’d offered you; an apartment on your own, somewhere in the city. But the thing is, you’d grown used to his moods, to just having him around, if only to dig your fingers into and pry open, searching for secrets. Life would feel awfully dull without it. You’d never met someone who was a match for you, who challenged you. You wondered if he felt the same.

Monday morning rolled around and you let out a heavy sigh of relief as you climbed into the car. Henry glanced back at you, but didn’t comment.

The second the manor came into sight, your head clouded with doubt. Would he want you to stick around? You’d spent the last couple of days toying with all outcomes like some omniscient god, but until now you hadn’t considered the fact that Snow might’ve done some thinking through of his own.

But as you pulled up at the side door, there he was. Standing perfectly poised, waiting for you, and all your worries washed away as he looked at you. Henry opened the door, and Coriolanus offered his hand as you stepped out the car. He looked at you with the same intensity as he had that very first night in his room, when you’d finally dropped the charade, and you returned the stare. Even just feeling his hand on yours set your skin on fire.

When you finally got inside and it was just the two of you, he stopped you.

He looked regal before, proud and superior. Now, you could tell it was a façade, laced with a nervous discomfort.

“Well?” He prompted.

You looked at him. Took in the way his eyes couldn’t stay in one place for too long, the tightness in his jaw that only appeared when he was under pressure, and the slight urgency seeping through his otherwise controlled question, and realised then that you hadn’t been the only one going a little insane these past few days.

And now, you had the upper hand again.

“Upstairs,” you answered. “Your room.”

When the door closed behind you and he paced towards the desk, you almost smiled at the parallel. It felt like an age ago that you’d strutted in here, dressed in his suit jacket with something to prove. You knew the cards you were about to play now like you had then, but your thoughts still raced.

Snow cleared his throat.

“So? Have you made up your mind?”

You waited for him to turn and face you.

“I have.”

“And?” So quick to reply. You’d never heard him so on edge.

You wet your lips, taking a step towards him. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying stretching this out a little, watching him squirm.

“I’ve decided that… I’m staying.” You said finally.

He let out an audible breath, almost like he didn’t care about you hearing his reaction anymore. Like he’d been strung out the entire weekend, just like you. Like he’d imagined this conversation in a million different ways. He stepped towards you. This was an old dance; one you knew well. You closed the gap between you, and his hand grazed your jaw.

“I’m glad to hear it.” He said. You held his gaze, he brushed your lip with the pad of his thumb.

“Can I…” His voice dropped.

“Not just yet.”

You relished the little frown that knitted his brows.

“I know you, Snow.” You continued. “You’re good at what you do. You’re better at this than anyone out there. You’re dedicated, and I think that… something tells me you’re going to be President for an awfully long time. I want to be by your side when that happens. I’m not going away when this arrangement suits me too. But I have terms.”

He watched you as if he was mesmerised, and you wondered if he even noticed the way you slowly walked him towards the bed. You hid your smile as the spell broke, and the back of his legs bumped the ottoman. He gazed down at your lips, just a little thrown off kilter.

“Tell me.”

You got closer, lifting your hands to the lapels of his shirt and giving them a tug, turning him so you were stood against the ottoman and he was facing you. He moved so easily, as if this was a dance, one you’d practiced a hundred times over.

“Let’s start with this. You said you’d do anything for my forgiveness, right?”

“I meant it.”

“Good.” You nodded, “Because there is something you can do for me.” Your hand traced his jaw, and he leaned into it.

“Name it.” He whispered, lips pressing against your palm. “It’s yours.”

You leaned towards him, faces close, noses touching, foreheads pressed together. You could feel the almost on your lips, could feel his breath. You relished in the feeling, that electric tension between the two of you. You held onto it, inhaled it like smoke, before cutting it loose.

“Kneel.” You breathed.

Feeling his brows twitch gave you a rush, and when you pulled back, he looked like art. You slowly moved down, sitting on the ottoman, holding his gaze. Then slowly, steadily, like he was walking a gossamer-thin tightrope, he shifted, nudging your legs open to stand between them, and lowered himself down to the floor, knees gently knocking against the hardwood one at a time. You give him a slow nod.

“Like that. Good. Stay there.”

Your legs parted a little further, and his eyes lined up with the way your dress lifted, bunching at your hips, exposing black lace with white trim, barely covering the space he seemed to lean towards.

He wet his lips, glancing up at you. Eyes bright but laden with want, so heavy he thought he might drown in it.

“Can I…” He whispered, and you felt it more than heard it, his hot breath tickling your thighs.

You smiled a little, and shook your head.

“Fuck. Please, doll.”

“Did I ask you to beg?”

“No. But… what can I do?”

You pulled your lip between your teeth as you considered.

“You can take these off. Slowly.”

You sighed when his palms brushed your hips, pushing your dress up then hooking soft fingers into the band of your underwear, slowly pulling them over your hips and down your thighs. He was gentle, pulling back but staying oh so close to you as he pulled the lace past your ankles, tossed it to the side, and moved in again expectantly.

“And now?”

You pushed your legs apart again, just enough. Drew in a breath.

“I want you to watch.”

A sound slipped from his mouth, and you weren’t sure if it was just a shaky breath or a quiet curse. His eyes darted between your face and the heat between your thighs. If you couldn’t already feel the mess you’d made, the way his lips parted and his eyes went heavy-lidded would give it away in an instant.

His gaze followed your hand, unwavering as you slowly brought it between your legs, and lazily trailed your fingers towards where you were aching to be touched. Then with a gasp, you brushed your finger against your clit and starting drawing slow circles, slipping further down to push against your opening, slipping through the mess you’d made just from seeing him knelt on the hardwood. 

You kept your head tilted back and your eyes closed, touching yourself with Snow knelt between your legs incredibly brazen, even for you. He was mere inches away, laboured breath dusting the skin of your inner thighs.

But as you melted into the feeling, sinking deeper than you could imagine in just a few short seconds, you opened them again. And there he was, darkened eyes fixed on where your fingers ran messy circles on your cunt, and you let out a soft whine. It was enough to make him redirect his stare to your face, and you couldn’t help but stare back, pressing harder against your clit with a broken sigh. You planted your feet on the floor as you shifted your hips a little, getting slightly closer, making it easier for you to carefully swirl a finger around your entrance, then gently push inside.

“Fuck.” He breathed, rocking forward slightly, to which you shook your head, knee pressing against his shoulder, pushing him back. His pleading eyes drove you on, pushed you to fuck yourself faster, obscene wet noises filling the quiet space.

He looked wrecked; lips parted, eyes begging, glancing up at you. And it only made you all the more shameless, bucking your hips and crying out, gasps slipping from your mouth that you couldn’t deny were getting played up a little for effect. He stared on, looking so fucking small between your legs, so hard you could only imagine it hurt.

You weren’t sure if he noticed he was breathing in tandem with you, but as your breaths picked up, got a little strained, so did his. His eyes slitted, heavy with lust as he stared on.

You got a little cocky; let it go to your head. Nothing would ever beat the rush of adrenaline you felt from seeing the most powerful man you’d ever known giving into you, letting you set the rules. It was intoxicating.

“You okay down there, sweetheart?”

He sighed, slow and heavy.

“I…” He trailed off, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Is there something you need?” Your voice was breathier than you would like, control slipping from your fingertips, but it was still there and the way he looked up at you. His mouth opened again, jaw agape, on his knees like it was a silent prayer. You fucked yourself faster, mean, dripping down your fingers. He finally spoke.

“Please.” He whispered.

“What did you say?”

“I said -” he swallowed “- I said please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me touch you. Put my mouth on you, I won’t even use my hands. Just let me… baby. Come on.” His voice was raspy and ruined.

“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson yet? I’m not so sure.”

His breath was shallow, eyes wide and blown out.

“I’ll prove it to you. Just let me touch you, and I’ll do anything you want. Please, doll.”

You hummed, pretending to weigh it up in your head.

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely. Go ahead. But keep your hands to yourself.”

“Thank you. Fuck. Thank you, baby.”

He listened, inching in cautiously, like he was expecting you to change your mind, then he pressed his mouth to you and there it was.

Heaven.

“Oh fuck.” Your breath hitched in your throat.

You hummed as he dragged his tongue over your folds, setting your nerves alight, instinctively rocking into the pressure you’d been thinking about since you got him on the floor. His hands, you noted, sat dutifully on his thighs, gripping onto them like it took a physical reminder for him not to reach out and grab your hips, push his fingers into your soft skin and own you.

As welcome as that sounded to your foggy mind, this was about proving a point. You were the one calling the shots here. So you rocked gently against his face as he kissed your clit, lapping at the heat between your legs, only pulling away at intervals to catch his breath, the daylight making the mess on his chin glisten, only to dive back in again, movements slightly limited by the lack of his hands, which you could see was bothering him.

You couldn’t help but tease him a little between gasps.

“I have to say I missed this. Seeing you underneath me.”

He looked up at you. But there was little defiance in his eyes, just want. Want so depraved that it sent a flush through you, making you feel a little unmoored.

“If I didn’t know better, Coryo, I’d say you were enjoying this.”

Face buried between your thighs, a broken whine sent a little shock through your core. You moaned, getting a little strung-out, a little breathy.

“Is that a yes?”

You felt him nod.

“Good. Glad to see you’re putting up less of a fight this time. It wasn’t so hard, now, was it? Giving in?”

This time, his eyes contained a little more fire. He pushed his tongue firmer against your clit, cutting off your question with a gasp. A few moments passed, and you heard him hum.

“Is there something you want to say, baby? Go ahead.”

He pulled back, catching his breath again.

“Still don’t want me to use my hands?”

You shook your head.

“Then can you… if it’ll feel better.” He glanced at your hand, resting lazily on your thigh.

“What?” You knew what he was getting at, but he shot you back a look as if to say, don’t make me say it.

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I’m not.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Then say it.”

“Put your hand in my hair. You can… be rough, if you want to. I don’t mind.”

Your smile turned into a sly grin.

“You want me to pull your hair? You sure?”

“I’m sure. I don’t… I liked it, last time.” He confessed quietly.

“Liked what?” You pushed.

He took a steady breath, looking down at the velvet seat you were perched on. He gritted out the words steadily, pointedly.

“When you sat on my face. I liked it.”

You pressed your lips together to hide your smile.

“I know you did.”

He paused, looking down at the floor. Then he looked back up. You brought your hand to his hair, fingers running through the soft strands. He started peppering kisses along the insides of your thighs, something he’d been too desperate to consider when you’d first given him permission to taste you. Now, they sparked the fire even more, and as much as you liked the careful attention, you guided his head to where you needed it. Keeping his words in mind, you gave a slightly rough tug on his hair, and he responded with a pained hum that edged you closer.

At one point, you saw his hand shift to try towards his pants, but you yanked his hair in response.

“No touching yourself yet. Or I’ll only let you watch, okay?”

You built up a rhythm, growing careless with the tugs on his hair so that you felt pressure in all the right places. Your fingers pulled harder as you got close, and you could hear his shallow breath as you took what you wanted from him.

“Fuck. Coryo, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that. You wanna make me cum?”

He nodded as best as he could with your hand gripping tight in his hair, and the motion only brought you closer, legs growing weak and tired, hooking over his shoulders now that you’d let him closer. You felt the ache build, almost painful with how long it had been, and you felt yourself snap, spinning out of control as your hand tensed, then fell from his hair. Then his hands were on you, gently this time, smoothing over your bucking hips with a level of control that you melted into as the feeling washed over you. He didn’t stop, pressing his tongue against you harder as you fell apart, shaking like a leaf as he worked your cunt until your cries bordered on screams.

“Fuck. Oh my god, that’s it, I’m…” You broke off into a shout, something so outlandish it sounded foreign to your own ringing ears, but you were too far gone to care. You could vaguely feel yourself grabbing at him as he pulled away, at his hair, his hands, anything, as you slumped back onto the bed. Slowly, he propped himself up, placing a knee between your legs and leaning over you. And his eyes, heavy and wanting, had you aching all over again.

He held back a little, clearly still in the space you’d pushed him into.

“Can I…” He whispered, those desperate eyes fixed on your parted lips as you caught your breath.

“Yeah.” You gasped, and he lowered his head towards you.

This time, he kissed you softer. Still hungry, still wanting, but slow, methodical, like he wanted to relish it. Almost like he wasn’t trying to own you, but in that moment, you could almost go so far as to believe the contrary. And your head swam with pride, feeling his lips on yours as he gently pressed you into the soft mattress.

But you didn’t sit in the feeling for too long.

“Was that okay?” He gasped.

“Yeah. More than okay. But you used your hands at the end there, baby. You know what that means?”

His eyes narrowed as his head cleared a little.

“Lie on your back for me.”

He obliged, dropping onto the mattress and shuffling up to lean against the pillows.

“I missed you, you know.” You murmured as you followed suit, hovering over him to get another kiss.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. Thought I was gonna go out of my fucking mind with how much.”

“Yeah?” You smiled.

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, did you?”

“I hoped not. Glad I was right.”

You smiled again, and shifted closer towards him.

“I could always show you how much I missed you, if you wanted.” Your eyes darted down to the front of his pants, the outline of his hard cock pressing against the material. He went a little quiet again, nodding a little, and you grinned. Climbed onto your knees so you were just a little above him, then swung a leg over one of his to sit carefully on his thigh. You paused for a beat.

“I won’t touch you until you tell me to, baby.”

He sucked in a breath.

“You can touch me.”

You tutted.

“What do we say?”

“Please.” He added quickly.

Without a word, you leaned in, brushing a hand over his cock, starting gentle, but quickly adding pressure. You could tell he was holding back, jaw clenched and eyes fluttering as he tried to control his breath.

“Not getting shy on me again, are you?”

He didn’t answer, just met your eye and you took it as a challenge. Unbuttoned his slacks and with a glance and a nod, slid them down his legs. You licked your palm slow, making sure he was watching closely.

“Fuck.” He breathed.

“Well, if you’re not gonna talk to me properly, I’m just gonna have to work harder then, aren’t I?” You drawled as you slipped your hand underneath his boxers. There was a soft thump as his head dropped back onto the headboard and he cursed as your fingers grabbed the base of his cock.

“Like that?” Your mouth pulled into a sly smile.

He hummed, breaking off into a sigh, lips parted and eyes towards the ceiling as you fisted his cock. I’ll take that as a yes.

You swirled your thumb around the head of his cock, gathering messy precum that had gathered at the tip from your teasing, and it hit you then that most of your interactions until now had been psychological, toying with words, with ideas and almosts. You knew by now what made him tick, which words you could use to push him to the edge, but you’d barely had the chance to touch each other. But you were a fast learner, and you knew what you wanted from this.

You wanted to make him fall apart.

So you picked up the pace, and it must’ve ached with how fast you were fucking his cock with your fist, but his determination not to lose his cool made it all the more exciting. It got wet, and that was one thing his composure couldn’t hide. It egged you on, shifting your own hips on his tensing thigh as your sore cunt pressed against the muscle.

“You can hold back all you like, but I can tell you’re fucking close.”

His eyes fell shut in a lust-clouded haze, breath picking up. His cock twitched in your hand and you grinned. You were tempted to take it down your throat, really see how he held up then, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction just yet, and you were on a high learning just how to make his body respond to your touch, how to make him weak. So you worked your wrist and felt his legs jolt a little, and you knew it was a matter of seconds.

“If you want to cum, you’ll have to ask nicely. I don’t know how generous I’m feeling just yet. Convince me.”

“Jesus.” He gasped.

“No, just me. Go on, baby. Beg me. You wanted to earlier, right? Now’s your chance.”

An honest-to-god whine left his mouth, voice cracked and completely fucking ruined. You slowed your motions.

“No, baby, don’t stop. I’m so fucking close, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum. I fucking need it, I did everything you said, I got on my knees, I fucking… fuck, I did what you told me, didn’t I? Everything you asked? And I didn’t touch myself, I haven’t… fuck. All weekend, I haven’t-”

You pressed your lips together.

“Poor thing. You’ve gone this whole weekend without cumming?”

“I was a little fucking preoccupied.” He gritted out.

“Over little old me? You shouldn’t have.”

“Please,” he repeated, “I need to cum. I did what you wanted, doll, I- shit-”

Satisfied, you picked the pace up again, obscene wet sounds filling the room as his hips rocked a little into your hand as he got close again. Too far gone now to hold back, his face contorted in pleasure, eyes fixed on you. Then, in a seemingly small motion as you leaned into him a little, the dog tag that had been sitting tucked under your dress - and had stayed hidden against your skin all weekend - slipped out, the pendant swinging into the air beneath you, and as Coriolanus caught sight of it, you felt his hips tense, then his cock was twitching and spilling into your hand.

“Shit, that’s so… oh my fucking god, doll.”

You pulled your hand from his boxers and brought it to your mouth, cleaning it off a little.

“You really did need that, huh?” You smirked, and he sighed.

“Yeah. I really fucking did.”

You nodded at his boxers.

“Can I take these off now?”

He pressed his head into the headboard again and nodded, so you carefully pulled them down his legs. Panting and overheated, he unbuttoned his shirt as you threw the fabric to the floor.  What he didn’t expect you to do, though, was put your hand back on his still-twitching cock that sat tired and used against his stomach. He flinched a little as you palmed it, and you looked at him mischievously. Started to move your hand again, slow and steady, but firm.

“That’s… baby. Stop, I already came, I… fuck.” He winced, sucking in a sharp breath. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You chuckled, voice turning a little dangerous.

“Oh, you thought we were done?”

“Doll, that’s not – shit – that’s not fucking funny. It’s sensitive, I…” It turned into an uncomfortable hum, but you felt him twitch under your palm, slowly getting hard again. His leg gave a little involuntary kick, much to your satisfaction.

“I… what the fuck.” His voice went quiet and strained, and yours got menacing.

“Oh, you can take it, can’t you? Thought you said you liked me taking the lead a little. You can handle it, can’t you, Snow? Or do you want me to stop?”

“Mm. That’s… was different. Please.” You kept going, a rush washing over you as you wondered if he even knew what he was begging for. You got more daring, rubbing your palm over the tip, and grinned when he cried out.

“You want me to stop? Just say the word. I will.”

He was half-hard again, more cum leaking from his tip as you sped up just a little.

Eyes squeezed shut, he shook his head frantically as the rest of him trembled.

“Didn’t think so.”

His face was twisted like he was holding on desperately, trying to maintain control as you relished in his permission, and palmed him harder.

“Jesus fuck.” He said, voice getting louder now, legs twitching and hips bucking up in little jolts you were certain he couldn’t stop if he tried. You had him now, pliable like clay between your fingertips, shaking apart.

“Is that too much for you?” You taunted, getting cocky now.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He snapped, but it fell flat when his voice broke halfway through the question. You laughed.

“I know exactly who I am, Snow. I’m the girl you’re gonna be stuck with for a long time, and I’ve got some demands to make. So listen closely, because I’m only going to say this once. You know what happened last week?” You were aware you were starting to sound almost as insane as him, but you didn’t care.

“You don’t ever,” you spat, “do that to me again. If you do, I swear on all of Panem, I will fucking kill you. Do you understand me?”

He whined, desperate, so far gone you weren’t sure he was fully listening.

“Say you fucking understand.”

“I… I understand. Fuck. Please. I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so fucking sorry-”

“You’re lucky I’m giving you another chance. From here on out, you only get to treat me like a whore when I tell you to. Okay?”

“Yes. Yes, okay. I understand. I’m… shit.”

“This is a partnership, starting now. We help each other. We trust each other. We talk to each other. We don’t go behind each other’s backs, or fuck around with other people. Okay?”

“Okay. That’s… doll, can you slow down just a little? You’re… I’m…”

“You’re gonna cum again?”

He nodded, chasing his breath. You leaned towards him, lowering your head to his chest and dragging your tongue against his collarbone.

“Good. You can cum again, Coryo.”

“Thank you. Thank you - fuck. That feels… I’m-”

“You gonna cum all over my hand again, baby? Do it, I’ve got you. You can cum now.”

The second time he came was with a pained cry, painting your hand until it dripped down your wrist and onto his stomach. When you finally released your grip, he slumped down and sighed, aftershocks still jolting through him.

“You heard what I said, didn’t you?”

“I did. And I understand.”

“Good.” You murmured into his ear, and you felt goosebumps rise on his torso, “Then I think we can come to an agreement.”

The week went by in a blur of whispered words and tangled limbs. He rarely left you alone, and you barely felt the time pass, every waking moment spent together, flesh on flesh. When he worked, it was at the small desk in his room, and he took plenty of breaks to lounge in bed with you or run you baths.

You learned each other’s tells, growing comfortable touching each other, but Snow stuck to his word, much to your annoyance.

Not until you trust me again, he’d said. Wasn’t it clear enough by you staying?

You’d all but moved into his room, sending Lucille back and forth with hampers for your clothes, which now hang in one side of his closet, or sat folded in his previously empty drawers. You felt closer to him than you ever had before, and the two of you had skin littered with bruises which made you grateful you didn’t have any public functions to attend for quite a while. He’d stopped leaving you to go into the city and work, instead managing people from afar, and letting them get on with their jobs so he could weed out the weakest links.

For the first time, it felt a little like he was yours. Or as much yours as he possibly could be. And as you spent more time together, not just half-dressed and desperate, but talking, really talking, you slowly started to feel like you could be his, too.

“Tell me it feels better than he did. When you were together.” He whispered one morning, when you’d not long woken up and he’d immediately ducked under the covers to get between your thighs. He paused, fingers inside you, looking at you intently, and at first you were confused as to what he meant. You heard the tinge of vulnerability in his voice, and took the cue.

“You really think you deserve that? After everything?”

“No.” He whispered, eyes dropping down again.

“So what do we say?”

“Please.”

“One more time for me.”

He spoke up, voice gorgeously wrecked.

“Please. Tell me it’s better.”

“That’s good. And since you’re being good, I’ll tell you. He didn’t…” you swallowed, catching yourself, “He didn’t really like doing that. what you’re doing.” Your facade cracked a little and you glanced off to the side, not sure what reaction you were expecting.

“Really?” His voice was dumbfounded. It made you laugh.

“You know, Snow, a lot of guys don’t. They’re lazy about it. Want to get it over with, get to the real thing.”

A wide smile pulled at his lips, wolfish.

“Who wouldn’t want to do this?”

“Easy for you to say, handsome.”

He grinned wider.

“Can I try something?”

“I don’t know. will I like it?”

“I think we both will.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“Okay, Coryo.”

His smile only deepened, pulling into an excited smirk as he gripped your hips once more, lightly kissing your thighs as he got closer to where you wanted him.

You gasped as his tongue worked you, and when you came, he kept going, easing up only after you’d fallen apart more times than you could keep count.

“Can’t believe you still won’t fuck me.” You pouted one day, as he sat at the desk with a pen in hand, scratching against paper.

He turned around to face you.

“I told you why. Not until-”

“I trust you again, I know. But how do you know that? I could trust you just fine and you wouldn’t even know it.”

“I’ll know.”

You hummed.

“Or,” you started, slipping off the bed and pacing towards him, “you could just fuck me now and call it square.”

He chuckled.

“Nice try, sweetheart.”

You pulled a lip between your teeth as you stood next to him, and he moved his chair out towards you. You smoothed a hand over his dress shirt, and grabbed a hold of his tie. Then you hooked a leg over both of his and lowered yourself onto his lap, face right next to his. You’d grown comfortable with being close to him, and while it still felt electric, you could handle it better. You rocked your hips on his as you got comfortable.

“Feel familiar?”

He hummed in response.

“I’m getting flashbacks.”

You smirked.

“Can I take this off?” You tugged at his shirt.

“Only if you play nice. No acting up, okay?”

“If you say so.” You shrugged, making quick work of the tie and buttons. Once the shirt was off, your lips were all over him, trailing over his chest and neck, tongue tracing lines across his collarbones.

“You don’t have to be anywhere for the next week, do you?” You murmured into his ear.

“No.” His breath hitched a little.

“Good.”

With that, you closed your lips around his pulse, and sucked.

While you littered his whole torso with bruises, and your neck was given a few of its own, you started rocking your hips lazily against him, playing coy like you didn’t know what you were doing, like you couldn’t feel him rock hard between your legs.

“Now this really is taking me back.” His voice strained when he spoke.

You only hummed in response, lace panties bunching in an all-too-familiar way. But you didn’t work your hips like you had something to prove this time, you went slower, taking your time, but staying deliberate in your movements. Your lips met his, breaking away only to breathe, then again when you felt his hips roll a little and his breath get laboured.

You rocked your hips harder, nice and firm. You could feel his cock twitch through his pants, right up against the wet spot forming on your panties. The friction had you shaking.

“Feel good?” You breathed.

“Yeah. Feels real fucking good, sweetheart.”

You smiled as your head lolled back, gasping loud to make sure he really heard it.

“You know what would feel even better, though?”

He mumbled something back but you didn’t catch it, lost in the haze.

“Think it’d feel better if you were fucking me for real right now.”

You didn’t expect the broken moan that escaped him, hands gripping your hips hard. Like the thought of it was enough to make him shatter.

“Baby,” he warned, “don’t.”

“But it would be so easy.” You pressed, “pushing my panties to the side and fucking into me right now.”

“Doll-”

“I know you want to.” you whispered against his ear.

“Do you now?” His strained voice told you everything you needed to know.

You nodded. “Mhm. I know you do. I also know that it’s driving you crazy, having me this close, but not able to take what you want. You must be going out of your mind, you know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because I am too. I’m tired of this rule, Snow. Let’s just forget about it, and fuck me already.”

“Get up.” He said firmly. You started.

“What?”

“You heard me. I said get up, sweetheart.”

You climbed off his lap and stood, cautiously, legs shaking from how close you’d gotten. He did the same, towering over you a little as you failed to hide the smile on your face.

“Get on the bed.”

You took in a breath, shaky with nerves.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

You sat back on the bed, peering over the mattress as he ducked down to pick up something from the floor.

“What are you-”

“Eyes closed.”

“Okay.” You shut your eyes, then felt him get close to you, his lips meeting yours as he knelt in front you, mattress dipping as he shifted. His hands brushed your arms, slowly pushing them behind your back as you melted into him, and before you could open your eyes, you felt the smooth silk of his tie wrap around your wrists and pull.

“What-”

“You want to act up, doll? Fine. Let’s see how many times I can make you cum all over my fingers before you’re begging me to stop.”

His hand slipped between your legs, pushing your lace panties to the side and pressing a finger into your wet cunt as you cried out. Your eyes pleaded at him, desperate.

“But why can’t you-”

“I said,” he repeated, pressing his finger into the spot that make you see stars, “not. Fucking. Yet.”

He spent hours fingering you open, making you cum until you cried. Then he cleaned up your tears and kissed like you were his whole world as you fell into an exhausted sleep, his words floating around in your head.

The black box was tied with a crisp white ribbon, and sat waiting for you on your bed. You approached it with caution, thumbing the piece of card on top of it. It was a note written in ink.

Wear this tonight. Think you’ll suit it well.

-       C.S

You’d gone into your room to collect something of yours to take to Snow’s room. You rarely went into your room anymore, most of your things had found their place in his, much to your satisfaction.

It was the first day in about two weeks that Coriolanus had finally had to leave the house to go into the city, but he’d promised it would just be for the day. It was also the first gala you had to attend since you’d made your decision, which you were slightly nervous for, but mostly excited to get out of the house, because although the sacred oasis that his room had become, it would be nice to have a change of scenery.

And that brought you back to the beautifully wrapped box lay in front of you. You were buzzing. You turned the note over in your hands, pulling it to your face to breathe it in. It smelt like newly printed books, and something distinctly him.

You recognised the label on the box, it was one of your favorite designers. You pushed the lid away to reveal the most beautiful dress you’d ever laid your eyes on – and you’d seen some impressive pieces.

It was a dark crimson red with gold embroidery, soft as silk. You unfolded it gently, letting the fabric spill out towards the floor. It was a little more revealing than anything you currently owned, with a deep slit up the leg and a plunging neckline, waist cinched, but the rest of the dress was floor length. A smile crept onto your face.

After counting down the hours, it was finally time to make your way downstairs. Snow stood in a full suit, waiting at the bottom of the staircase.

“You look beautiful.” He remarked.

“You don’t look too shabby yourself.” You smiled in response.

You met at the foot of the stairs, and he took your hand in his.

“Thank you for the dress. It’s gorgeous.” You added, not sure why you were lowering your voice in your own lobby.

“I knew it would suit you. Now you’re almost ready to go.”

“Almost?” You frowned, not sure what you could possibly be missing.

Coriolanus lifted his hand to pull the white rose from his breast pocket. He examined it, then lifted it to your hair and tucked it gently behind your ear. Your lips parted in surprise, and your hand reached up to meet his.

“But it’s your signature. I couldn’t-”

“I know. But people won’t be looking at me tonight. They’ll be looking at you. And this way, when they do, each and every one of them will know that you’re mine.”

That knowing smile crept back onto your face, and you leaned in to press your lips to his.

When you pulled away, you thumbed his tie, realising the color matched your dress exactly.

“I’m sensing a similar theme here.”

“Well, it’s been a while since we’ve been seen out in public. It’ll be good to show up like this, show a strong front, not leave any doubters.”

You hummed.

“And when we get home?”

His stare drew you in; you could get lost in it and never find your way out.

“That depends.”

Your gaze lowered to his lips, then back up again.

“Missed you today.” You said.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You promise?”

He smiled.

“I promise, sweetheart.”

“Snow?”

He hummed in response. Your hand felt like it could melt into his, thumb brushing your palm.

“What would you say if I told you that I trust you now?”

His hand stilled. His eyes bored into yours.

“I’d say… that I believe you.”

You held your breath in, letting the anticipation wash over you.

“Later?” You whispered, and he nodded.

“Later.”

The ball was one of the most extravagant you’d seen, large chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and fountains of champagne dotted around. The health minister had outdone himself, and when you said so to Snow, he muttered a comment about him spending more time planning parties than doing his real job. But he smiled to all the right people, and his hand in yours calmed your nerves as a large procession saw you into the ballroom.

You danced until your feet turned numb, spinning on the ballroom floor, every time Coriolanus put his hands on your waist or wrapped his hand around yours drawing you in further, bringing you closer to forgetting everyone was watching you when his eyes were on yours, each stare becoming some secret language you were now terribly well-versed in. He didn’t let himself get distracted this time, quickly gravitating back to you any time he got pulled away into a conversation, and you basked in the attention, the two of you flirting to high heaven. When you’d spun until you were dizzy, he went to get you a drink, and you stepped off the floor of twirling couples.

It was then that you saw your mother, standing anxiously to one side, the stem of a champagne glass pressed between her fingers. Your parents rarely made it to these functions, but apparently, they had made time for this one. Suddenly aware of your frown and not wanting to arise suspicion, you plastered on a false smile and swanned through the crowd in her direction.

“Oh, darling. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course I am, mother, I wouldn’t miss it. Is everything alright?”

She glanced around the two of you nervously, fiddling with her glass. You touched her shoulder and gently guided her further into the corner of the room. You rarely saw her this distressed, usually the picture of grace and poise.

“What’s wrong?” You pressed.

“Have you heard from Nathaniel?”

Your brows furrowed.

“Nathaniel Greene? Not in a long time.” You figured the little stunt of yours from the month before should go unmentioned.

“I heard from his parents the other day. They’re completely distraught.”

“Why? What on earth happened?”

For a second, echoes of threats that had long settled to the ground popped back into the forefront of your mind, and you swallowed thickly. You sat down in two small chairs at the side of the room.

“They can’t begin to understand why. Perhaps it was work, perhaps he was gambling, or in debt, but nothing could possibly explain such a cruel fate.”

“Mother, tell me what happened. Is he…”

Her hands shook, and you took the glass of champagne from her and placed it on a nearby tray.

“He’s not dead, my darling. It’s worse. A messenger came to his house late the other night. They asked him to pack a bag, and they took him away. To… I can barely say it.”

“Mother,” you gritted, “tell me.”

“A peacekeeper, of all things.” Horror filled her voice. “They sent him away to the districts, for the next twenty years. But what could he have done? I can barely understand it. Can you imagine? A young man of his standing, wasting away in that place? His family is ruined.”

Right then, the crowd around you parted in a way that could only announce the presence of one person.

“Sweetheart, is everything okay?”

You lifted your head to meet cool blue eyes and a slightly suspicious stare. From where you sat, Snow towered over you both, drink in hand.

“Everything’s fine.” You replied, “my mother isn’t feeling too well. Do you think we could find my father and have him take her home?”

He nodded at an Avox nearby who stepped dutifully away without missing a beat, and a server offered your mother a tray with a glass of water on it. You stood and faced Coriolanus, conscious of the now very interested crowd, and nodded to the large double doors that stood to your right.

“A word?”

He followed you in cautiously.

“I just heard something interesting.” You started.

He stood up straight, setting his jaw when you finally turned to face him. Even though you were barely alone, just a closed door between you and hundreds of people, it felt electric to be standing so close to him again with nobody watching you.

“What’s that?”

Playing it safe. An interesting move.

“Oh, just some rumor about an old friend of ours.”

“Who would that be?”

You smiled.

“I thought it was funny you asked about him the other day. Were you worried if I left you I’d go back to him?”

“Not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t play coy, Coriolanus.” You drawled. “You sent Nathaniel off to be a peacekeeper so I couldn’t go back to him.”

His stony façade fell through a little.

“And if I did?”

The deep frown you’d plastered onto your face for your mother’s benefit fell away, and your lips curved into a smirk.

“I’d say... well played.”

He blinked.

“You’re not upset?”

“Over him? Barely.”

“You’re - ” Snow paused, “so you’re not angry that I sent him away? The districts are hell, you know.”

“I’m sure. I don’t care, Snow. If anything, I’m impressed.”

“Why?”

You shrugged.

“He had it coming. He slept with my closest friend a week after we ended things. He never knew I found out. I’ve just been waiting, really, for him to get what he deserves. I doubted you’d let him off without a warning. There I was thinking you’d lost your touch for a while.”

You wanted to bottle the feeling you got from his eyes burning into you, with something that tasted like admiration.

“I nearly did let him off, for your sake.” He confessed. “But... if that's the case, I'm glad I changed my mind."

“So am I. It was that weekend I left, wasn’t it?”

“Damage control." He said tightly, "You can’t blame me.”

“Thought so. Good work, Snow.” You stepped towards him and revelled in the apprehension on his face with a smirk. “It’s a shame for his family, but they were never particularly nice. Collateral, I suppose.”

“You really don’t care at all?”

“Does it look like I care?”

“No.”

“I think you can read me as well as the next person. So I don’t care. Is that so tragic?”

He shook his head, bewildered. A strange smile appeared on his face.

“No, that’s… that’s good.”

You smirked as a thought popped into your head.

“How long do you think he’ll last out there?”

“Who knows? I hope you’re not banking on him ever coming back.”

You fiddled with his tie, smoothing it down.

“Never. We can’t all be Coriolanus Snow, can we?”

“Certainly not.”

You stepped even closer, and his back bumped softly against the wall. His gaze fell to your lips. You'd painted them a red so deep it was almost black, matching the dress.

"You like the color?" You asked.

"Yeah. Reminds me of when you kissed me in front of everyone and I couldn't get it off."

You laughed.

"Well, it was one way of getting your attention."

"It drove me fucking crazy, you know. It's all I thought about when I jerked off for weeks."

Fuck. Your eyes went a little heavy, laden with want.

“I hope this hasn’t changed our plans tonight.” You murmured.

“Has it changed them for you?”

You shook your head quickly.

“No. You?”

“Of course not.” He brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face.

“Good. Because now he’s out of our way, I’m tired of this party. I want to go home."

His eyes darkened a little and he drew in a breath.

“I’ll go say my goodbyes.”

With one of his hands on the doorknob, you stopped him.

“Snow?”

“Yes?”

“I don't want you to be nice. Later, I mean.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was just a few squeezes shy of breaking off the doorknob.

Your body slammed against his bedroom door with a force. His hands travelled under your clothes; wanting, needing to touch. You sighed and gasped at the feeling, his cold hands on your skin shooting chills through you, tugging off your clothes, kissing your neck, taking all that he wanted but still desperate for more. The rose had long fallen from your hair and lay, forgotten, on the hardwood. He kissed you with purpose, like he was once again trying to prove that he owned you, all the while understanding that he couldn’t. Maybe that’s what pushed him to touch you, to kiss you like it was the last time, like he was scared you’d float away somehow, even though you both know that wouldn’t really happen.

You understood it, because you felt the same way about him.  

You revelled in it, in the way his hands wrapped around your back, lowered to your legs, and lifted you up to push you harder against the door. His lips travelled across every square inch of bare skin he could find, your dress pushed down to your waist, lace bra exposed.

“Take it off.” He whispered, and you arched your back, reaching for the clasp and unhooking it with lightning speed. The lights were dim in his room, casting shadows that danced as the two of you moved together. Your head fell back against the solid wood as Coriolanus licked a trail up your neck. It was depraved, more passionate than anything you’d felt before. You could hardly think, blood pumping through your veins faster than you could stand. The only thing louder than the rush of blood in your ears was the sound of your breath mixing, hot and heavy as you took, impatient and without apology.

You cried out as his hips pressed harder into yours, and you could feel his length pressing up against you for the hundredth time. Except this time, you could finally let yourself imagine him inside you and trust that he wouldn’t turn this into another round of the game you’d thought endless. You squeezed your legs around his hips.

“Bed.” You gasped, and he grinned, wolfish and thrilled. You were the luckiest girl in Panem, to get to see him look at you that way.

“Been waiting to get this dress off you since I had it made.”

“Don’t tear it. Be gentle.”

“With you, or the dress?”

You narrowed your eyes as he carried you to the bed and placed you down on the mattress.

“Thought I told you that already.”

He was careful with the dress, slipping it over your hips and draping it over the back of the desk chair. When he came back, you were propped up on your elbows, legs bent at the knee, stare unwavering, panties the only thing left to take off. He was still wearing too much, shirt messily undone, pants still fastened but barely concealing the tent beneath them.

“You sure about this?” He checked.

“That a trick question?”

“Doll.”

You laughed. 

“Yes, I’m sure. Take off your shirt, handsome.”

He pulled off the white shirt methodically, and you shifted onto your knees to pull off his belt and toss it to the floor, eager to speed things along. You took in his toned chest and let your gaze sink down to his boxers, where his cock stood painfully hard beneath the material.

“Can I…” You prompted.

“Fuck. Yes. Please.” He sighed as your nails trailed up the bare skin of his thigh and brushed softly over his cock.

You smiled at the addition and took one last glance at his face, anticipation clear on his features that morphed a little in the near-darkness. Then, you pulled the material down his legs and his cock sprung free, and you forgot that you’d done this before, that you were used to this, to him, to being with him in almost every sense. It all slipped away, and as your hand reached to touch him with nothing between the two of you, it felt like the first time you’d ever done it. The breath he sucked in as you started to push the precum around his tip urged you on, making you brazen, and you readjusted your knees on the bed and got closer, then licked a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip.

“Oh my – fuck.” He groaned, and you couldn’t help the smile on your face, grateful for the darkness.

“That okay?”

He laughed, something dark and untethered.

“You fucking know it is. Such a fucking tease.”

“Wouldn’t be such a tease if we’d done this sooner.”

“Somehow I doubt that, sweetheart – ah.”

He was cut off by you taking the tip of his cock in your mouth and sucking hard as you gripped the base. You pumped your hand a few times and revelled in the sounds he made, choked out grunts and broken sighs, mixed with the occasional curse or a cry of your name.

You felt his hand gently brush against your hair, ever so cautious.

“Can I…”

“Mhm.” You hummed in the affirmative, and he sighed, all low and shaky as he pushed his fingers through your locks, not guiding, just careful pressure on your scalp as he let you take the lead.

“Baby,” he gritted out, “I don’t know how much longer I can… fuck, that’s-”

He sucked in a sharp breath as you stopped, pulling off, lips swollen. You looked up at him, stunned as he caught his breath.

“Coriolanus?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we turn a light on? I can’t… I want to see you.”

In the shadows, you could just make out the glint of his eyes and a dumbfounded smile.

“Of course.”

He stepped away, kicking off his boxers, and you watched him reach over the desk to switch on a small lamp. It lit up his face and you took him in, a thin cast of sweat shimmering across his face and chest. When he turned, you glanced away like you hadn’t been staring. He caught on with a grin.

“Like what you see?”

Such a dick.

“I’d like it better if you were over here.” You mumbled as he paced back towards you.

“You’re the one who wanted the light on, sweetheart. Now I know why.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Snow.”

“Coryo.” His breath danced against your lips as he closed in, lips sealing against yours as he pushed you back on the bed.

“Coryo.” You repeated with a smile when he pulled away kissing down your neck and chest, feeling the shape of the name in your mouth.

Then his hands were on you again as if they’d never left. More heat pooled between your legs as he trailed his hands down your thighs, and you let your head fall back as his fingers pressed through the seam of your panties.

His breath got shaky again as his fingers pushed the scrap of wet fabric to the side. You gasped as his thumb went straight to your clit, determined, rubbing tight circles against the hard nub.

“Oh my god, Coryo, I-”

“So fucking wet, sweetheart. Is this all for me?”

It was too much all at once. You pressed your lips together tightly and nodded. Beside yourself, your left hand pressed against your mouth to muffle your moans.

Then he fucking stopped. Your hand fell from your mouth, and you felt the lace get pulled down your legs.

“What are you…” You trailed off. The dim light let you make out his face and you could see his expression now, wanting, but careful, methodical.

“Open your mouth.”

When your lips parted, a little in response, but moreso in surprise, the two fingers he’d been using on your clit slipped into your mouth, pulling your jaw open as his other hand propped him up. You could taste yourself, hot and heavy, spilling onto your tongue.

“I want to hear you, baby. You can’t cover your mouth like that if I’m gonna hear you.”

You nodded, brain a little dead.

“Good girl. Now I don’t have a free hand, know what that means?”

You cried out a little, tongue trapped beneath his fingers.

“Touch yourself, doll. I’ve got you. We’re gonna get you nice and fucking close, okay?”

A little self-aware with him hovering right above you, you snaked a hand between your legs, but when you saw the look on his face you stopped wasting time, pushing two fingers inside yourself, heel of your hand bumping your clit as a whine slipped past your lips.

He kept talking, whispering hot and heavy into your ear, dragging his lips over your neck, pressing kisses wherever he could reach, every touch burning your skin like it was molten. When you’d lost yourself enough, mouth still parted; his fingers gentler now he’d made his point, he ducked his head lower, trailing his lips over your tits, placed his mouth over your nipple and sucked. Your moans got louder, feeling like every inch of skin he covered was hardwired to your cunt, your fingers getting tired and sloppy as you got yourself closer, dripping down your thighs.

You made a sound and he glanced up at you, pulling his fingers from your mouth.

“Just fuck me. Please, I can’t wait anymore, Coryo.” You whined, trying desperately to slow down your breathing.

“Poor baby. Couldn’t make yourself cum first?”

You shook your head, any more and you were sure your eyes would start to water.

“That’s okay, doll. I wasn’t gonna let you anyway.”

He lowered himself down towards you, arms either side of yours, crowding you in. Then his hands travelled down, lower, and your eyes rolled back, mouth agape as you felt his cock press against your entrance.

“Fuck.” You whispered, and he was strangely quiet. You blinked, and looked down at him, and you’d never seen such a pained look on his face. His lips parted, eyes heavy and slitted as he looked down at where his cock rubbed up and down like he was in a trance, slowly nudging your clit and getting himself wetter, tip glistening in the dim light.

Desperate for friction, you started rocking your hips, aching for him to push inside of you.

“Not just yet.” He breathed, voice strung-out and insane. “I won’t make you wait much longer, baby.”

“Please. I need you to fuck me. Don’t make me fucking beg.”

Usually, you’d see a sly smile appear on his face, but he just pressed his eyes closed as if the thought was going to send him over the edge. It was the sweetest torture you’d ever felt. Then, finally, you felt his cock catch at your entrance, and slowly press inside. You gasped at the pressure, at the size of him, and he was barely even moving.

“That’s it, baby.” He breathed. “I’m right here.”

He shifted his hips a little, and you clawed at his back, nails digging in until he hissed, rocking your hips to beg for more. You didn't want him holding back, not when you'd waited months for this. You strained your neck lifting it from the bed to whisper in his ear.

“I meant what I said, Coryo. Don’t be fucking nice.”

It was as if something in him snapped. Like he was holding on by a single thread, and you’d send him spiralling out of control. His hips jerked forward and you cried out as he filled you to the hilt, then rocked into you again, picking up a pace that was almost punishing. You tasted it, still wet on your lips, clung to your skin, and now, deep inside you.

Danger.

“So fucking pretty. Does my pretty girl need to get fucked, huh? Just like that?”

You could barely form words, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him in further, feeling pinned open and beautifully used. Your cries melted together in your head until you could only understand bits and pieces, and as he fucked you, unrelenting, you felt your back slide up the mattress. Your nails dug into his back, and you were sure they must’ve drawn blood. His forehead pressed against yours,

For a second, he slowed, looking down at you.

“That okay?” He muttered.

You nodded, frantic, barely there.

“Yeah.”

He sped up again and your legs grew weak. He reached his free hand down to grab hold of your thigh and push it higher, the new angle making you see stars, clenching around him impossibly tight.

“Good fucking girl.”

At some point, as you exchanged fewer words and more heated glances, you felt your hand slip from his back and come to rest against over his on your thigh, to hold it in place. He took it in stride, taking it in his, fingers interlacing as his thumb brushed yours.

You didn’t think much of it. How could you? Not when he was stretching the walls of your cunt as you gripped him like a vice. Not when you could barely hear the words coming from either of your mouths. But oddly, it was the gentle contrast that pushed you to the edge as he fucked into you just like you’d asked, hard and unrelenting, mean.

Despite it all, it was the thumb that brushed yours that had moans spilling from your mouth as you both took exactly what you wanted from each other. It sparked something in you, something that let you know you were safe here, that there weren’t any walls between you anymore, no twisted games that wouldn’t benefit you both equally.

“I’m close.” You gasped as his cool blue eyes spilled into yours, and you knew he was all yours.

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? I can feel it.”

You nodded silently, muscles in our thighs tensing around his back, the hand that was twisted into yours now falling onto the bed beside you. He gripped it tighter, and fucked you harder, with a point to prove. When your eyes slid shut in ecstasy, right on the edge of falling apart, he squeezed your hand, palms hot and clammy against each other just like the rest of you.

“Look at me, baby.” He urged, fighting for breath. “You’re so fucking close, I need – shit – need to see you when you cum for me.”

It wasn’t hard to keep your eyes open, to keep them on him when he looked like that, like he was carved by the fucking gods, brow scrunched and shining with sweat, eyes bluer than ever, lips parted in an o shape. It was the prettiest sight you’d seen, and your hand tensed around his when you came, trembling like a leaf, mouth parting in a shout you barely heard, eyes focused on him, only him as he fucked you through it.

"Fuck, that's it, doll. Like that? Right fucking there?"

You cried out in response, and as you spilled apart, you heard your name slip past his lips through your ringing ears , followed by a string of curses, each one filthier than the next, not letting up once as he followed you over the edge, hips stuttering as you felt warmth fill your walls and his head fall down onto the pillow beside yours.

A few moments passed as you let the feeling wash over you, feeling the wonderfully sore, sticky mess between your thighs after he pulled out. You heard him catch his breath, then tumble onto his back by your side. You sighed as you stared at the ceiling, then at him, and with a smile realised he’d been looking at you.

“Like what you see?” You echoed. He smiled, coy.

“You know I do, beautiful.”

You sighed, satisifed.

“Keep calling me beautiful, Snow, and I might start thinking you want to fuck me.” You teased. “Wouldn’t want to give a girl the wrong idea.”

He laughed, bright and loud. A few more seconds passed, and you hummed.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Nothing.” You shrugged. “I’m just a little annoyed I didn’t get to ride you.”

He swallowed then smiled, almost awe-like, transfixed. It was a feeling that you’d gotten used to over the past few weeks, but it felt new this time. Different.

“You’re not done?”

“Are you?”

He glanced at your lips, then back up again, voice earnest.

“Not with you, sweetheart.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“Good. Then lay back. Head on the pillow for me.”

He obliged, blonde curls spilling over the fabric. You liked it when he grew his hair out a little, you thought as you hooked a leg over his waist. His hands came up to touch you, but you pressed his wrists back into the mattress.

“No touching, Coryo. You hear me?”

He nodded, eyes darkening again, and you lowered your head to kiss him, deep and slow. Felt yourself meld into him with a smile as his cock hardened against your thigh.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the white rose he'd given you, discarded haphazardly on the wooden floor.

And something inside you just knew, you’d never get bored of this.

a/n: hope you liked it. thank you again for the love and for screaming along with me this whole time <33

taglist: (more in the comments) : @superchatnoir07 @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904@pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @ohstardew @ohmeadows

[crispbeigepages]

~Broken Dreams~

CW| Death, Swearing, Angst

I'm so sorry girlies

Osamu Dazai was fascinated with death. The idea of dying was ironically what kept him going, so why.. Why did it hurt so bad now?

The plan had been going smoothly like usual, with Double Black being sent on yet another mission to eliminate an enemy of the Port Mafia. It was just some gang, what could go wrong?

Everything. Absolutely everything.

"Whew! You didn't even have to break a sweat, Slug!"

Dazai taunted, a large grin on his face as he eyed the redhead. The redhead in question, Chuuya, was not so amused.

"Fuck off Mackerel."

There was a certain shine to Dazai's eyes when he was with Chuuya, something that had only appeared after the two had met.

Chuuya wiped a bit of blood splatter off his face before turning to walk away.

"Let's just report back to the boss-"

Before either boy could react, a flash of light shot past them.

A bullet.

The two turned around to see not only a new enemy in front of them, but all of the gang members that were previously dead had come back to life. Though, they didn't quite look alive. Something about them was unsettling and lifeless. Maybe it was the crooked way they stood or the fact that they retained the injuries that they had before.

The figure in the middle of it all, the new enemy, had this mysterious aura around them. The only real feature they could make out was the figure's height, the rest covered with a dark hooded cloak and silk gloves.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Chuuya exclaimed in annoyance, dreading not the upcoming battle, but the idea of having to deal with Dazai for longer than planned.

The figure said nothing, simply standing there.

A moment passed before the figure suddenly raised their hand to point at the two boys. This signal was clearly the 'go' command for the zombie-like gang members.

"Shit..."

Chuuya and Dazai exchanged a glance, nodding. It was their silent agreement on a plan.

Chuuya sighed in annoyance as he slowly discarded the gloves on his hands, taking a few steps towards the encroaching enemy. Almost as if a switch was flipped, red sparks began crackling around Chuuya.

Corruption.

The power reserved for last resort situations was finally coming out.

Dazai looked on with a grin, having no worries about the outcome of this battle. Any enemy was an easy kill for Chuuya's corruption and Dazai's ability was always there to bring him back to normal.

The battle went a bit longer than anticipated due to the ability of the mysterious figure, but it was still lightwork for Chuuya and Arahabaki.

Soon enough, the sight of blood and death returned to the alleyway they stood in. Dazai waltzed with a spring in his step over to the ferocious Chuuya, humming a tune as he gripped his shoulder.

Like usual, Chuuya fell into Dazai's chest out of exhaustion, leaving the two on the ground comfortably. Dazai chuckled, jostling Chuuya a bit as he flipped the boy around, presumably to look at his 'stupid' face.

"Jeez, normally you last longer before collapsing~"

Dazai teased, his clear innuendo falling on deaf ears as he wiped some residual blood splatter off of Chuuya's face.

Except.. Something was off.

Chuuya was normally more restless in his sleep, and Dazai could've sworn he'd wiped that blood off his lip already..

"Chibi?"

He called curiously, jostling him again.

The realization hit Dazai like a tidal wave, his eyes widening. More blood had poured from Chuuya's mouth as he was moved.

Dazai was shaking, an emotion he seldomly felt creeping up on him.

Panic.

His fingers darted to Chuuya's pulse, only confirming his fears.

Dazai didn't make it in time.

"C-Chibi..?"

The soft question echoed through the alley, emphasizing Dazai's uncharacteristic stutter.

"Chibi, wake up damnit!"

Dazai demanded, shaking Chuuya in desperation.

"Chuuya!"

...

"C-Chuuya.."

Then it came, the familiar feeling of wetness on his cheeks that he knew all too well.

It started of slow and quiet, small sniffles turning into choked sobs as Dazai repeated Chuuya's name to no avail. Soon enough, Dazai stopped shaking Chuuya and instead held him close to his chest.

Dazai Osamu was fascinated with death, reveling in the sight of it, so why did it cause such a painfully empty feeling in his chest? He didn't even like Chuuya.. Why was this so painful?

Dazai held Chuuya's head to his chest, burying his face into that pretty red hair. Chuuya's scent wafted up into his nose. It was a smell Dazai had grown to love, even finding it comforting. What was once comforting was now even more painful.

The sparkle in Dazai's eyes had faded, replaced by empty nothingness. Dazai felt empty, completely numb aside from the searing pain in his chest.

In place of a boy with ambition and a sick reason for living was now an empty husk. There was so much happiness he'd unknowingly linked with Chuuya, all taken away in an instant.

It was his fault.

That thought stung the most, that if he'd been just a little quicker, Chuuya would still be alive.

With a broken voice, he muttered into Chuuya's hair,

"Chuuya please.. Don't leave me..."

The broken cry of broken dreams..

[nanowrimo]

Don’t Let Your NaNoWriMo Engine Idle

Now that November is over, you may be taking some time to rest, recover, pursue things other than writing—or possibly continue to work on your story! Today, author and baker Amy Wallen shares some ins-pie-ration for moving forward with your novel:

Coming off the adrenaline rush of NaNoWriMo, so many feelings rush through us—relief, pride, and exhaustion are just a few of them. 

Relief because, woohoo, you survived! Those last few days as you rounded the bend when your family wanted a pie, and you had to be nice to your in-laws, you just about gave in, but instead you bought a pie at the store, kept your mouth shut, and got your writing done. Or, like me, maybe you wrote extra before and after to make up for taking that day or two of rest (shhh, don’t tell) over the holiday. But, whew, you typed the 50,000 words by the end.  

Pride! You should be dancing the Snoopy dance because you did it, you met your goal; or even if you didn’t quite meet the goal, you kept at it and reached the finish line—first draft of a novel, or a hell of a start. 

Exhaustion because even though you let the laundry pile up, ate more prepared than fresh foods, and your exercise regimen may have slacked off, you still had to go about your regular day (some of us had to keep earning a living). 

You are on the other side and it feels so good. Reaching a goal does that—makes us feel exhilarated and gives us the incentive to keep trying for more, to reach another goal, and another. 

NaNoWriMo is just the beginning. “Beginning?!” you ask. “You want me to do that same big push forever?” 

Why not? Agatha Christie did. Okay, maybe we aren’t all Guinness Book of World Record writers, but we are all writers, every single writer has one thing in common with all other writers—we write. Every day.

Maybe there’s that adjustment made for getting around the holiday bend, but November was the perfect warm up for getting that daily habit revved up and set into place. 

December has a few holidays in it too, and more pies to be baked. But your writing still needs to be nurtured. Don’t you hear it calling to you? That draft is ready to be revised and rewritten, submitted, and then out in the world! NaNoWriMo provided the jumping off, so don’t let your novel freefall with no one to catch it. Let the laundry pile up a little longer (clearly everyone survived wearing their sweater an extra day or two), buy your pies from your pie baker friend, and give your novel that gift of attention it deserves. Keep the momentum going, because it’s a whole lot harder to get a cold engine started again than to stay warmed up because January is just around the corner. 

January, the month of resolutions. No one ever made a resolution to do more laundry, but plenty of resolutions have been broken to finish that novel. If you stay with it, by spring you could have the first of two novels written for the year, like Agatha. Or, at the very least, another draft. 

Set a goal, then another. When you’re exhausted, stop and make a pie. Then pick up your pen again and keep writing. How else are we ever going to get to read your book?

Amy Wallen is most recently the author of How to Write a Novel in 20 Pies: Sweet & Savory Secrets of Surviving the Writing Life. Bestselling author of a novel, and a memoir, she teaches writing workshops in California, France, and anywhere she’s invited, usually with pie. She was associate director of the New York State Summer Writers Institute for 7 years and founded DimeStories—three-minute stories told by the author and featured on NPR. https://www.amywallen.com/

Illustrations by Emil Wilson.

[imaginethezeldaverse]

Hot Spring Mishap (Yunobo x Reader) - Part 1

I originally started this in an ask but it got so long and I wanted to go another way with it that I decided I wanted to make this a mini series instead. Not sure how many parts yet - probably 2? Definitely will be nsfw later because hello have you seen what I post? Anywho, enjoy. Reader is written female/afab.

This time of year always rendered the hot springs in Eldin rather crowded. You'd been dying for a soak yourself, but found it difficult to get there at a time where it wasn't completely overrun by Gorons or tourists. Being that you lived in Goron City as a merchant made it extra frustrating; it should be easier than it is to get some time to relax! Particularly wound up after your long day, you do your best to try and sprint to the hot springs just a walk away from your home. But to your horror and exasperation, they are, once again full of townsfolk and visitors. "Ugh...I'm never gonna get the opportunity at this rate," you begrudgingly sigh, hanging your head. "Yeahhh, these get pretty crowded, don't they?" sounded a voice behind you. Startled, you whipped your head around to immediately face an axe insignia. You recognized it immediately, belonging to the very Goron who visited you at your shop every day as he handled business in the city. Hand to your chest, you took a deep breath as you looked up to a friendly face, "Oh Yunobo! Whew, you scared me." His hands immediately went up, "I'm sorry! I just heard what you were saying about the hot springs, didn't mean to frighten you." You looked back at the hot springs, disappointed all over again that you haven't been able to sit in one for so long. "Seems like the hot springs have really gained some popularity huh?" you said, trying to hide your disheartened expression. Yunobo hummed in agreement, "But that's why I don't use 'em. The ones higher up on Death Mountain are better." 

Higher on Death Mountain? You didn't know there were hot springs up there! Sensing your confusion, Yunobo explained, "Tourists don't know too much about them, well kept Goron secret, y'know?" and he rubbed at the back of his head, "B-But you've been in the city for quite a while now, I don't mind telling you!" You would come to find that it would take two cart trips up there, but he was right - on the back end of Death Mountain were several smaller hot springs, some even being blocked off by walls of long-cooled magma. What a delight! "Yunobo, thank you for showing me this! I hope it's alright if I come here." He grinned jovially at you, "Everybody in the city knows you well enough by now, you're basically one of us! What's ours is yours." This touched you tremendously. Goron City was very inviting already, but Yunobo had always been exceptionally kind to you. You remembered when you first moved there to start your business - he carried your things for you effortlessly, helped you make connections with people in town and travelers who would escalate your sales, always popped into your shop to check on you as a daily routine. You owed the Goron a great debt - one that he swore never needed repaying. Thanking him, you promised to treat him to sirloin rock roast later this week, your treat. For now, you decided to head home - the knowledge of finally having a place to relax putting you at ease. However, that night you found your sleep restless. Your poor tired body ached for some tension release, making it difficult to rest. All of your thoughts immediately went to the hot springs Yunobo had mentioned earlier that day. Would it really be so bad if you took a dip this late at night?

You gathered what you needed for your late-night soak and headed off to the carts to make your way up Death Mountain. You had to give it to Yunobo, he was a lifesaver. Not a soul in sight up here! Still though, you headed towards the secluded springs - the privacy and quiet sounding heavenly in your mind (plus you weren’t exactly keen on any Gorons catching you naked should that be a potential problem). It was quite steamy in the closed off hot spring, not that you minded. You welcomed the warmth, letting it envelope your body. Just to be sure it wasn’t too hot, you dipped your toes in.

“Ohhhh my goddess” you moaned with joy, the temperature being nothing short of perfect. After fully undressing and carefully keeping your things in the corner of your space, you slowly entered the spring, the soothing heat encasing your body. The shudder that left you was sinful, followed by the tension of your day whisking away at the water’s embrace on you. Your muscles released in your soaking, each minute renewing the vitality you’d had near the beginning of the week. Swimming a bit was your next idea, working out a few kinks in your back and legs as you paddled. A quick intake of breath and you dove under, allowing the spring water to caress your temples and relinquish all the stress your scalp had been holding onto. With you being underwater, the sound of footsteps didn't hit your ears past the surface of the hot spring. You resurfaced with a large splash, your hands weaving into your hair to wring it out as you stretched to your full height. A large gulping sound had your eyes snapping open in its direction. At the entrance to your hot spring was YunoboCo's one and only president, his face as red as a Hylian tomato. It hadn't registered to you why he was so impossibly flushed...until you realized you were completely naked from the navel up, and he was completely without any clothing as well. Your arms immediately wrapped around your body, covering your chest as you tried to avert your eyes,

“Shit! Yunobo, I’m so-"

“I’M SO SORRY!” he screeched, moving to scramble back out of the hot spring entrance. As he did, you took notice of the water that had pooled at his feet from your sudden upheaval. Without thinking your hand shot out to grab his, "YUNOBO, BE CAREF-" You managed to snag his wrist cuff, but not before he was already slipping. The force of your tug and his stumble had him falling clumsily into the hot spring, effectively sloshing you both to the opposite end by the wave of his fall. Back slammed into the magma-cooled rock, you hissed at the impact. Yet almost instantly you lost focus on the pain. Crowding your frame against the edge of the spring was the Goron champion, his arms caging your body between him and the carved rock. Yunobo’s face was contorted in what looked like pain as he collected himself from the fall, while yours was slowly turning crimson. His face was she inches from yours, your chests nearly pressed against one another. Any words or noise you could have possibly made died in your throat with the closeness of his proximity. “Ergh...” Yunbo groaned, shaking his head, trying to rattle himself back to his senses, “I’m incredibly sorry about all this...are you oka-”  Your wide-eyed stare nearly inches from his own paused his sentence. It was then he realized how he had you, confined to the very little amount of space he had created for you. His hands had a grip on the edge of the hot spring, but in stopping himself from careening into you any further, instead he just shoved you into a corner, with his body being the cage. Anyone could walk in at a moment's notice and insinuate just about anything from the way you both looked right now: him with his rigid stature pressed in close and you with your soft eyes wide looking both scared and in utter shock. He absorbed everything at once, and with a shout, immediately jumped backwards. Yunobo backed away from you slowly this time, his entire face the same shade of the red earth that surrounded Death Mountain.  “I-I’m so s-s-sorry” Yunobo stuttered out with a shake, terrified by what just transpired. Surely, you’d think he was despicable after this. He turns on his heel, lifting himself out of the hot spring, snatching up his things and rolling away with a loud “PLEASE FORGIVE MEEEEE”  You stare in stunned silence, your arms still around your body as you watched the hero roll frantically away. There was a heavy flash of guilt in his eyes before that you didn’t like, and it made you feel guilt of your own. He didn’t hurt you...it was an accident. He understood that, right? The remainder of your time at the hot spring is spent in unease, Yunobo was a good friend, seeing him upset at any capacity made you sad.  You would talk to him tomorrow, you decided. 

[toweroftickles]

REIMAGINED TICKLING #4: The Shmorgasbord

A lot of times when I see a tickling scene in a movie or TV show, I imagine how fun it would be to see other characters in those same situations. You know, like "Oh I wanna see X character get tickled like that." So I thought I'd try writing a few drabbles where I'll take a famous tickle scene and reinterpret it with new characters in new settings.

This is Part 4 of an ongoing series…I had a bunch of ideas for shorter crossover scenes, so they’re all smashed together!

Rescuers Down Under/Kid Icarus

"WAHOOHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

The warm spring wind whipped through Pit's locks. His foot carved a canyon slice into the top of a low-hanging downy cloud as he soared through the sky with the speed of a rollercoaster. But the Power of Flight wasn't giving lift to his own feeble wings. This time, Pit was instead dangling in the breeze, carried aloft by the arms of the newly-reborn Phoenix.

In its adult form, the flaming bird had once been much more gargantuan...just one of its mighty talons was bigger than Pit himself...but Pit liked this younger reincarnated version better. For one thing, it didn't try to eat or step on him. It was the perfect size to grasp the angel boy's biceps and airlift him across the sprawling human continent below.

What a rush!

"And unlike some of us, HE doesn't have a five-minute time limit." Viridi's snarky voice reverberated in between Pit's ears, descended from on high as if she were speaking right next to him. "Just imagine, if you came to work for the Forces of Nature instead..."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Palutena, Goddess of Light, uncharacteristically smarmy, butted in. "I'm sure my Captain would rather have five minutes of flight and MY wisdom at his disposal, than that overgrown turkey and YOURS."

"What?!"

"I-I'm perfectly happy with everything you both can do for me, Lady Palutena....Viridi..." Pit insisted, desperate to break the tension.

Unseen by either, Viridi rolled her eyes…and her giant new pet followed suit.

Suddenly, Pit gasped. A sharp claw stabbed at his belly, but it wasn't trying to tear him open. The Phoenix's digit was scratching his ribcage, in between and underneath the bones, pressing into him like he was a squeeze toy.

"HAA-Ha!! Heehee-Heehee-Hee!!! Pff! HngHng-HNG!!" Pit's voice cracked as he burst into loud, uncontrolled spasms. He flailed his desperate limbs around, kicking in all directions, and the Phoenix could barely maintain its grip on the squirmy centurion. He looked like a jumping bean having a seizure.

“Sheesh, what’s wrong with you?” Viridi scoffed.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Palutena giggled, a knowing twinkle in her voice. “Pit’s very ticklish. Aren’t you, Pit?”

“AHH! *gasp* Hmhm-Hng!! Hee; n-hohohoheh! *heave* Ha-Huh…AH! You’re poking; you’re pohokihing!!” the hysterical angel boy squeaked. Tears were welling up in the corners of his eyes.

No! No no no stop! I'm gonna fall!!!

The Phoenix wouldn’t quit; its talon was jabbing into a soft spot above Pit’s liver, clawing up and down along his side, tracing circles around his belly button…the goddesses were laughing as they watched him gleefully wiggle…

It was only a few more moments before the tickling stopped, but to Pit, it felt like ages. He slumped over in the bird’s arms, struggling to catch his breath in the harsh wind. His tummy was sore.

“WHEW……whoooo….Ha….Ha-ha…”

"Heehee...awww, are you ok, little guy?"

Pit blushed. He'd gotten used to Palutena teasing him over the years, but it was always worse when someone like Viridi was around.

"Heh-Heh...whew...yeah; I don't want him to do that again though!"

"Well don't wiggle too much, or you'll end up flat as a pancake!" Viridi giggled smugly.

"Mmmm...pancakes...."

Few things could pull down Pit's chipper mood. Barrel rolls and aerial somersaults carried him on the wind and toward the sun, no longer besieged by Underworld forces...toward home, where breakfast awaited him.

It always felt good to fly.

Samurai Pizza Cats/Street Fighter

The noonday spring sun blazed proudly overhead. Sporting her green-and-orange summer vacation duds, Makoto looked like a lost Mario Brother (er, Sister). But she felt like a change. After all, this wasn't the usual Shadaloo-funded recruitment tourney with a massive prize pool and worldwide media coverage. This was a proper, no-holds barred, pure-cut street brawl...the only rules this time were "no biting" and "no dismemberment." Tons of combatants were trying out all new weapons, all new fighting styles...anything they could imagine. But Makoto? She was still determined to be just as great as Ryu in her own ways. Only her honor mattered.

Defiantly twisting her hat, she stamped her sneaker into the dusty marketplace street. A chalk ring was drawn around as the innumerable food stalls were pushed apart. A crowd of hundreds gathered to watch, and out of the teeming mass stepped a slightly more solidified mass...one named Rufus.

(“Waddled” may be more accurate than “stepped.”)

“Hey, Rufus! Whatcha hiding behind your back?” Makoto asked him, genuinely friendly as usual. “Don’t be shy; I’m sure you’ve got something awesome!” Her question, though, was met with something truly bizarre.

On the ends of Rufus’ hands were rubbery fake thumbs, easily longer than his other fingers, and so round they were almost teardrop-shaped.

“Rufus is fighting with an apparently all-new and ‘totally awesome’ style that he did not feel like disclosing to our governing body…I don’t know what the hell he’s doing, but I don’t think any of you will mind if I nap through this one, folks.” The fight’s announcer wasn’t even pretending to take that walrus-in-a-unitard seriously.

"Just you wait! Yeah! You’re cool, man, but I’m the best! That's right!"

Makoto stared awkwardly at the burly biker’s new prosthetics. Thumb-wrestling? Is he gonna try to squeeze my head like a tick?

Rufus was a doofus…(Huh; I should remember that one, she mentally noted), but he was also powerful. No time to drop her guard. She flexed her muscles in a vicious chop and readied a kokutsu dachi stance, tensed like a spring about to pop.

"Well whatever kinda new gimmicks you've picked up, my Rindo-kan karate is gonna tackle the challenge head-on!"

DING! The starting bell! The match was on!

Makoto immediately swung her leg out into a chest-high kick, but instead of guarding or leaping away (as she expected), Rufus grabbed her ankles and slammed her against the ground like she was a rag doll. It was too quick for her to retaliate…with an uncomfortable belching grunt, the bubble of muscly lard that was Rufus pounded Makoto into the dirt. His gut rolled over her thighs, trapping her face-down and immobile.

"Gahhhh, get off me! Fight fair!" Makoto yelped, clawing at the dirt.

"HA HA HA!" Rufus bellowed in triumph. "You are the first, and like, only, to fall victim to..." he whipped out his enormous rubber thumbs..."RUFUS' TWO-FINGER EXPLODING HEART MASSAGE PARLOR TECHNIQUE!"

The nodulose bulbs pressed down intensely into the backs of Makoto's sides, right around the firm, muscular lumbar tissue, and rubbed in tight semicircles. Her nerves buzzed to life, and even she couldn’t stop what happened next.

"Pp-HHAA, HAHA-HAHA HAHA!! AH-Ha Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Haaa!!!"

It tickled! It tickled like crazy! Makoto lost all carefully-meditated control of her body and just exploded into wild, hysterical laughter. Her gravelly voice scraped at the inside of her throat, blasting out desperate shrieks from deep in her lungs.

"You think I got no skills to bring up against Ken Masters, dude? Now all I gotta do is get you punks in my way to loosen up first!" Those giant thumbs kneaded hard into Makoto's lower back with brutal strength. They just kept rubbing and squeezing every inch of her quivery sides.

"NOOO; HAHA-Haha!! Stop it, that tickles!! HA-HA HA-HA HA!!! No more, no mohohore!" she screamed furiously. Jetstreams of angry tears sprayed from her tightly-clenched eyes. She kicked and slapped the earth and thrashed like a bronco, but the poor girl couldn't wrench herself free of Rufus' massive weight. Her face was red from laughing. She didn't even notice it when Rufus’ thighs lifted off of her and allowed her to roll around on the floor...nor did she notice when she tumbled outside of the chalk circle that marked the arena’s edge, curled into a helpless fetal ball.

DING!!

"Ring out! Rufus is the winner!"

There was no applause. (Well, apart from Rufus' girlfriend Candy, who whooped enthusiastically in her annoying dollar-store Harley Quinn accent.) Only gasps. Mostly, everyone was just confused.

"What?! No, th-that's not fair! What kind of cheap tactics are those?!" Makoto shouted, her voice wavering from embarrassment and fury as she stood back up on wobbly legs. Her sides and her lower back were tingling as if numb, still reeling from the intense "massage" they'd just received. Her cheeks were scarlet, her breathing raspy and hard. She'd never felt so humiliated in front of the other combatants.

"Sorry, Miss Makoto, but thumb-tickling isn't against the rules in this tournament. We unfortunately have to disqualify you." The announcer's voice was firm, but sympathetic over the loudspeaker. And everyone had heard it. There was a murmur snaking throughout the crowd, as well as her fellow Street Fighters.

Makoto's stomach sank. Her lip quivering and her brows furrowed, she turned on her heel and slowly walked off. The brim of her cap shielded her eyes.

An instant one-punch KO would have been better.

Tarzan/Luca

It all happened so fast. Hot, blinding light washed over Luca, drying him instantly. For the first time in his life, there was no liquid cooling him. His face fell against a bed of rough pebbles. He whipped around like...well...a fish out of water. But he wasn't just a fish anymore.

His scales were gone.

In their place was an eerie, pinkish-white smooth surface. His blue cranial scales had retracted, replaced by a messy mop of something brown and seaweed-like. He screamed. He covered his eyes. He didn't even have time to process what was happening, so consumed was he by paranoia. But the kid nearby, who had pulled him out, just sat on a nearby rock, smirking and completely placid.

“AHHHH!! Help meeeee!” Luca wailed.

“First time?”

“Of course it is!!! I’m a good kid!!” His parents were gonna kill him!

“Hey, relax. Breathe.”

But Luca wasn’t paying attention. In the throes of his panic attack, his strange new body lurched forward and fell onto the once-purple human boy.

"Yah!"

“And what are THESE?!” Luca squeaked in terror, his voice cracking.

“Uhh, yeah, yeah, I know; no scales. See, they’re…yep, that’s it.” Luca’s new friend (?) was clearly a bit weirded out.

The tan-skinned boy accidentally yanked his wrist away from Luca with too much force…with little warning, his momentum sent him flying backwards off the rock he was sitting on, and he landed on his back in the beach pebbles. Luca shuffled forward on his elbows, still in a blind frenzy, until he was halted in his tracks by the strange kid’s right foot pressing against his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, whoa, kid; calm down,” the other stammered.

“WE HAVE FIVE FINGERS AND TOES?! How do we control that many at once?! Where are our webs?!” Luca grabbed the other boy’s foot and began to pull on & inspect the digits, and suddenly, the kid fell backwards in a fit of crazy, high-pitched giggling.

“PFFF, Heehee-Heehee-Heehee! *gasp* DAHH! No no no, dohohon’t! That tick-hlhl-hlhl-hles! *gasp* Heheh-Haha-Hahuh! No g-het ohoff, get off my tohoes, gehet off my toes, G-HET OFF MY TOES!”

Out of nowhere, the boy threw his foot out and smacked Luca right in the chin. Luca sailed back through the air until he crashed flat on his back in the shallow incoming wave, and the wet sea formed a perfect halo of green scales around his newly-human face. He was dazed. But as he laid there, attempting to come out of his stunned state, the world slowed down, and Luca finally looked at the surface for the first time.

Moving air brushed through the plants, making them wave back at him. Some kind of strange fish squawked and flapped their fins miles above his head. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before.

“Well…isn’t it great?”

“No! I-I-it’s bad, and…I’m not supposed to be up here! Good day!" Not saying another word, Luca disappeared back beneath the waves.

It took him a few moments to realize that he left his staff behind.

James & The Giant Peach/The Bad Guys

The Bad Guys had a bit of a tradition going. On each member’s birthday, no matter what, that intrepid burglar was granted once-a-year permission to take over from Mr. Wolf and plan a heist herself. (A tradition NOT observed by a certain serpent.) And Miss Tarantula had not-very-subtly been dropping hints about the Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s fortuitous reopening for about three weeks.

Wolf swallowed nervously as the whole group, dressed in black bandit jumpsuits, crawled through chilly steel ductwork beneath the building’s entrance. (All of them except Shark…he was driving the getaway van, and also disguised as a nun driving a bookmobile.)

Mr. Snake grumbled. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Webs, but she wasn’t very transparent about what exactly her plan was, and this was a brand new museum. They’d robbed the old one plenty of times, but the thing had been totally redesigned from the inside out. Just as he had the thought “We’re clueless,” he bonked into the end of the trail. Light streaked in from a grate above.

“Alright, sweetheart, I guess it’s all you,” Wolf said. Neither Snake or Tarantula was sure which one he was talking to, but they both proceeded regardless.

Quietly, Mr. Snake lifted the grate with his head, and it slid to the ground with a metal clunk. He was in the dead center of a blue moonlight patch shining down from a rose window. The polished, disinfected scent of marble and ancient vases enveloped him. They were in the cavernous white atrium. Just ahead was the grand staircase leading up into the various gallery wings. A quiet little security drone, about the size and shape of a black thumb drive, cast its blinking red light out onto the floor, humming to itself. There was nowhere that the reptilian safecracker could move without tripping an alarm.

“Ok, Webs, so what’s your brilliant plan now?” Mr. Snake hissed down in his signature sarcastic drawl.

“Glad you asked, big guy!” she told him through his earpiece. “Are ya ready? …you’re gonna be the bait!”

“WHHHHAAAT?!?” Snake’s furious outburst echoed all around the museum.

“Shhhh!!!” hissed Mr. Wolf.

“Who do you think you are?!”

“Snake, you have to trigger the motion alarms!” their master planner snapped.

"Why me?!"

"Hey; you guys said I was in charge! Me! Now trust me on this!!"

“Ohmygod I’m gonna fart,” Piranha muttered under his panicked breath.

“Are you nuts?! Absolutely not! I’m not doin that! And you can’t make me!”

“Oh yeah?!” Miss Tarantula laughed wickedly and jumped up onto Snake’s midsection. Chuckling to herself, she started tapping her extremely fuzzy legs at sonic speeds, the same way she used her “beast mode” keyboard to hack a vault, along the dead center of her companion's elongated body…and suddenly, Mr. Snake began to wiggle.

“Kkheh! Heh…Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! Heh…Hey! G-het off me!” he yelled down at her. He was trying to maintain his snarky demeanor and keep still, but Webs had found his ticklish spot. He was writhing angrily in all directions, involuntarily bashing his head into the museum floor. “HHHEHeh Ha-Ha! Hn-Hn Hn! St-hop it!”

Right on cue. The red lights snapped on and the blaring museum siren roared to life.

“Alright, guys, get ready; they’re coming!” Wolf commanded his team with a hint of nervousness. This wasn’t what he’d planned at all.

“Cootchiecootchiecoo……….ahcootchiecootchiecoo…” Tarantula teased Snake in her low, raspy voice, giggling as she danced and watched him squirm.

A dozen truncheon-brandishing security guards burst through he doors and thundered down the marble stairs with a terrible roar.

"Halt! Stay where you are!!"

Every second they grew closer to the helpless constrictor that lured them in a puddle of light.

“GKHNNN!! K-Heh, Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! You…you stupid jerks!! Hnuh…This isn’t fair; Ha-Ha Ha-Ha HA!!”

All of a sudden and with a violent, involuntary contortion, Mr. Snake twisted himself out of Tarantula's grip and leapt high into the air until he cast a shadow down on the charging cops, and they could only stare, bewildered, at the crooked and cackling-faced snakeskin he left behind.

The mob were barreling down far too fast to alter their course now. They all stumbled over one another as they rammed full-throttle through Mr. Snake’s abandoned skin….and straight into the almost-invisible web of patented tarantula-silk nanothread that stretched across the entire atrium behind it. They were already trapped in the net by the time Snake returned to the floor with a splat.

Bingo.

“Alright, guys, let’s get moving! We’ve only got a couple minutes!” Tarantula called triumphantly as she hopped out of the hole in the floor.

“Webs, you’re a genius.” Mr. Wolf climbed up too, followed by Piranha, and the group charged into the museum proper.

“Gah! I am going to EAT you!” Mr. Snake roared angrily at Tarantula.

“Ooo, yeah, scary; I’ll just make sure to tickle you from the inside on my way down!” she laughed at him.

Her plan had gone off without a hitch. By the time the local police were finally dispatched to the source of the alarm, every silkskreen print and multi-limbed Hindu statue in the museum was already gone. Millions in art, down the drain.

And in a bookmobile across town, there were four gleeful partygoers, popping corks and celebrating a night of revelry...

....along with one very sour snake.

[tarrenterror25]

Ah, Tarren - congrats!! So excited for you, absolutely so well-deserved. Reading your fics and thots and posts has been such a pleasure! And this is such a fun celebration - I can’t wait to see what you share with us 💖

Could I please request: Alfred Pennyworth + Regency + “I feel things for you that I shouldn’t.”?

Congrats again, my friend!!! 💖✨

OKAY so you and @communism-bitches requested the same thing! So this one is for the both of you! For that, this is longer than 500 words 💕

Thank you so much, J! 💕 I'm so glad you've enjoyed reading my fics and thots! I get all warm and fuzzy reading all of your feedback! Thank you so much for supporting my writing 💕

Thank you so much, H! 💕 Thank you for being who you are and for supporting my writing! I'm so happy you enjoy reading my fics and thots!

This one was the biggest challenge for me! Whew! I've never written regency AU before so thank you to the both of you for being my first! I hope you guys like it!

100 follower celebration

Alfred Pennyworth x F!Reader

Alfred Pennyworth + Regency + "I feel things for you that I shouldn't."

Tags: Age-gap, boxing Word Count: 1.2K

It's that time of the year when Oswald Cobblepot is hosting his annual soiree at his home or his "winter palace" as he calls it. You hate going, but for you to refuse the invitation would cause a stir. It's not that the party is boring or dull, quite the opposite actually.

It's a madhouse.

The gentleman and ladies present never seem to get along, but somehow they all attend anyways. Cobblepot manor is always packed with guests and lively with all kinds of festivities. Usually during a card game, Mr. Dent would seemingly become a different person should he lose and you could always expect the most scandalous of gossip to come from Ms. Vale who just seemed to know everything about everyone. Often you would spend time with Pamela who spent her time in the gardens, preferring the quiet of the flowers versus the crowds. Sometimes you would chat with Harleen, she was great fun to be around though a bit raucous for a lady.

But there was one person who, for the past few years, made it all worthwhile. Since the two of you crossed paths, you looked forward to seeing him here.

You and Alfred Pennyworth, the mysterious guardian of Bruce Wayne, first met in the parlor of Cobblepot Manor where a game of charades was taking place. The two of you hung back in the wings of the room and, dare you say, mildly flirted with each other. Both of you talked all night and you quickly forgot the bickering taking place in the parlor happening over the game. Every year after that, you two sought each other and would spend the entire evening talking about nothing and everything all at once. You even dared to exchange letters with him this last year.

Now you're here, dressed in your finest gown and you're looking around, trying to spot Alfred, but there's no sign of him. Usually you find each other rather quickly. You adjust your gloves and wander the halls of the manor, fighting through the crowds of people looking for him, but he's nowhere to be seen.

Did he not come this year?

Oh, how your heart starts to ache.

You've grown so fond of him; your last letter might have been a tad playful in its tone and you recall how when you wrote that you realized your fondness was indeed an attraction to the older gentleman. Like a butterfly to flowers in spring, you found yourself always gravitating to him and quickly found it wasn't just his personality you liked. You never forget the year you saw him remove his coat and roll up his sleeves as some of the gentleman went out to the yard for a bit of rough housing. You could not deny the awakening in you as you watched the older man hold his own against the younger men. One young lad who was talking a big game came to regret the challenge when Alfred dodged his right hook and delivered a quick solid jab to the man's stomach making the younger man double over in pain before falling to the ground. Alfred, ever the gentleman chuckled and kindly helped him up.

You head outside where more people are gathered. There's a table with some morsels placed enticingly on some serving dishes and as you reach for one of them, your hand brushes another that simultaneously has also reached for the same. Your eyes flick over to the hand, it's broad and looks strong, a gold ring with a "W" on its face. Your gaze travels up the arm and to the person next to you and you smile as your heart flutters.

It's Alfred.

He smiles, too, but it looks...melancholic.

"Pleasure to see you as always, miss," he says placing his hands behind his back.

"You're here!" you say excitedly, but then chance a playful quirk of your brow as you ask, "Have you been avoiding me?"

His smile grows a little wider and he holds up his left hand, his right coming to rest on his chest. "You've caught me," he says.

Sensing a somberness in his tone, you ask, "...Truly?"

Wordlessly, he glances around to be sure no one is paying attention to the two of you. He gently grasps your hand. The gesture makes your breath hitch as he leads you away from the crowd, quite stealthily you might add. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you have disappeared.

He stops when the two of you turn a corner and reach a small set of steps leading up to a balcony overlooking the section of yard not occupied by guests. No one seems to have been bothering to venture in this area.

The pair of you sit on a stone bench on the balcony, his hand still holding yours for a brief moment more before letting go. The older man finally lets out a sigh. "I was hoping we wouldn't run into each other this year," he says.

"Why?" you ask. "Have I done something?"

"No, no, miss," he assures you. "I suppose...it is I who has done something."

"I don't understand," you say shifting a bit closer to him.

His gaze flicks down to where your knee brushes his and then back up to your face. If you had blinked you would have missed his tongue darting out ever so slightly to lick his lips.

"I feel things for you that I shouldn't," Alfred says. "A man my age...it is probably inappropriate."

You smile and let out a small chuckle, relief washing over you. "Alfred," you say turning your body to face his even more, your gloved hand coming to rest on his. "I feel things, too."

He looks surprised. "You do?"

"I do," you reply.

A content silence hangs between the two of you as you gaze into each other's eyes.

"I'd like to ask before it's too late," Alfred says. "I'd like to request that next year I do not see you like this." His hand comes up to cup your face. "I do not wish to rendezvous with you in empty hallways or secluded balconies. I should like to see you accompanying me to this event instead."

"Yes! Of course!" You smile bashfully and repeat yourself, trying to contain your enthusiasm.

There's a silence again.

"Alfred?"

"Yes?"

The two of your scoot closer to each other, thighs pressing against each other, his hand still on your cheek, brushing his thumb across your skin, and his other hand coming to rest on your waist.

"Can...Can I kiss you?" you ask softly.

Your bold nature has the corners of his mouth turn up as he smiles at you, his blue eyes beaming with adoration. He slowly leans in towards you and kisses you. It's a soft and chaste kiss, but slow and romantic. His lips linger on yours long enough that you can taste the fruit and tea he's had from the party. When he pulls away, there's a growing desire in the pit of your stomach for more. He seems to sense it as he speaks and says with a chuckle, "We should be getting back now."

[littlelambreads]

A3! Fan Fiction — “I’m Youth, I’m Joy!” // Episode 5

Izumi: All right, great warm ups, everyone.

Sakuya: Hanako-chan, thanks for teaching us some new ways to warm up!

Tsuzuru: Yeah, we’ve been to America before and acted, but we haven’t had the chance to work with many people from other countries. There are different practices that can be learned.

Izumi: Hanako-chan, since you will be our featured guest with the Spring Troupe, we’ll start by having you practice etudes with these members so everyone can get a feel with each other.

Hanako: Understood.

Izumi: Let’s have…

Citron: Me! Me! Pick me!

Izumi: Sure, Citron, you can go first.

Citron: Lately, I’ve been watching American platoons!

Hanako: Army troupes? Interesting…

Itaru: You mean cartoons, right?

Citron: Cartoons! Yes! Right now, I’m watching Tom and Jerry!

Hanako: Oh! Tom and Jerry! That’s a good one!

Citron: Let us do an etude with that!

Hanako: I’ve never done that before, but yeah, let’s do it!

Izumi: Ready, set, start!

Citron: Oh no! It’s Tom! He’s after me!

Itaru: So he’s Jerry? LOL. That’s Citron for you. Sorry, Hanako-chan, looks like you’re Tom.

Hanako: …

Izumi: The atmosphere turned sinister! Was that Hanako’s doing?

Hanako: Heh, heh, heh…

Izumi: Unlike her audition where you could feel her emotions through her acting and singing, she is only acting now. Her acting is very dramatic here. I can see the humorous and sinister display that is like Tom and Jerry! She really is good!

Chikage: Did she choose to be silent because Tom and Jerry is a silent cartoon? Animations can be silent and still communicate everything because of exaggeration in drawings. She’s doing the same with her acting. What a dangerous girl.

Izumi: And stop!

Hanako: Haa, haa…

Citron: Whew! That was frosting!

Masumi: It’s exhausting.

Sakuya: I like how you circled your arm before you launched the bat! It reminded me of the exaggerated movements of animations!

Tsuzuru: You chose not to speak at all like the show, but I could clearly see Tom’s, er, your emotions.

Chikage: Not bad.

Itaru: Good job.

Izumi: Great start! Let’s have you and Itaru go next?

Itaru: Me next? Let’s get it.

Hanako: Ready.

---

Masumi: Director praised me.

Itaru: Congrats.

Sakuya: Hanako-san, you were really good! How long have you been acting?

Chikage: I would also like to know. I am quite intrigued.

Hanako: How long? I’ve been acting for as long as I can remember.

Chikage: I’ve heard your parents are involved in the theater realm.

Sakuya: Really? I didn’t know!

Citron: A theater princess!

Itaru: It’s kind of like Tenma who did film acting since he was young.

Masumi: Regardless of circumstance, you stayed with acting.

Citron: Wow! Masumi joined the conversation.

Masumi: Haa…

Tsuzuru: I see. Even though she is the product of theater, it was her choice to stay in theater.

Sakuya: You must really love it! You even came to Japan to grow and learn more!

Hanako: …I, I guess so.

Banri: Ah, so it was Spring Troupe. I was wonderin’ who was making so much noise.

Sakuya: We just came back from practice!

Banri: Eh, you’re done? Good work.

Juza: Sounded like you guys were working hard.

Kumon: Yeah!

Itaru: Banri, what a strange group you’re with. LOL. 

Muku: We kinda ran into each other!

Banri: Hah? You guys dragged me with you all on your own!

Juza: You can stay.

Banri: Huh, really? I changed my mind. I’m going.

Chikage: Were you going somewhere?

Kumon: Muku and I won a whole bunch of tickets in a drawing today for a themed amusement park!

Muku: The theme is Peter Pan and Wendy!

Hanako: …

Hanako: “Boy, why are you crying?”

Muku: !

Hanako: I enjoyed the most of the movies and plays about Peter Pan and Wendy that I’ve seen.

Muku: …Would you like to come!?

Kumon: Woah, Muku!

Juza: Muku, it isn’t good to shout indoors.

Banri: Pfft. Pot meet kettle.

Hanako: Really? Is that alright?

Kumon: Yeah, we have more tickets! Would anyone else like to come from Spring Troupe?

Masumi: Pass.

Citron: Oh no, I can’t. I have a meeting with Mrs. Tanaka and the ladies’ association today.

Banri: What is your life? Honestly.

Itaru: Yeah, this old man’s got stuff to do, so I’ll be heading back.

Sakuya: Can I come? I’ve been reading that story to the kids at the daycare so I’m a little curious!

Tsuzuru: Me too. I think it will be good for some inspiration.

Kumon: All right! Let’s do this!

Banri: You, too, Chikage-san.

Chikage: Me? 

Banri: You didn’t say no, right?

Chikage: I’ve got no choice. All right.

next

[ayumicchi14]

GAKUEN K -WONDERFUL SCHOOL DAYS-

Fushimi Saruhiko Route

EVENT 03

This event is pretty long whew. Sorry for the late update. Translation below

Konohana Saya: (Hnngg, what a good morning)

Konohana Saya: (I guess because it's spring, so it feels too good and make me sleepy...)

Konohana Saya: *yawn*

Konohana Saya: "Ah, I'm sorry!"

Munakata Reishi: "No, it's alright. Ah, so it's you. What a perfect timing."

Konohana Saya: "?"

Munakata Reishi: "Since I have something to tell you, can you come to office head room after school?"

Konohana Saya: "O-Okay. I understand. After the class is over, I will go immediately."

Munakata Reishi: "Please do. Well, bye then."

Konohana Saya: (I wonder what is it about...)

*Munakata's room*

Konohana Saya: "I'm Konohana Saya from second year."

Munakata Reishi: "Please come in."

Konohana Saya: "Excuse me."

Munakata Reishi: "I apologize for calling you before club activities."

Konohana Saya: "No, it's alright. Um, what do you want to talk about?"

Fushimi Saruhiko: "I'm Fushimi from second year."

Munakata Reishi: "Come in."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Excuse me."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "So you're busy. I'll come again later."

Munakata Reishi: "No problem. What is Fushimi-kun's business?"

Fushimi Saruhiko: "A report about the case this afternoon."

Munakata Reishi: "So about that case. Please tell me the details."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Alright. Today at 12:35, there's a call from general student that an uproar has been happened in the school canteen."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "We're going to the actual place right away, just as we were going to check the reason behind the uproar as well as trying to subjugate the situation—"

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Looks like the reason was because there's too much crowd who were purchasing the limited quantity menu "Pom-pom bread"."

Munakata Reishi: "So "Pom-pom bread", huh."

Konohana Saya: (Pom-pom bread. What kind of bread is that... I'm curious)

Fushimi Saruhiko: "By the way, there's no one hurt. But, looks like the main reason that the uproar became so big was because of red club. That's all the report."

Munakata Reishi: "Thank you very much. Looks like it will be better if we're strengthening the guard of school canteen on the limited menu day."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Well, you're right. Especially the red club members couldn't hold back to the general students."

Munakata Reishi: "Anyway, Fushimi-kun."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Yeah, what is it?"

Munakata Reishi: "It's about the limited quantity of "Pom-pom bread" that you said earlier..."

Munakata Reishi: "Please check up when the next arrival is."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Understood."

Munakata Reishi: "Are you curious about "Pom-pom bread" too?"

Konohana Saya: "Ah, yes. Because it's a name that I've never heard before."

Munakata Reishi: "Well, let's buy some when they restock it."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Then, since my report is done, I'll be excusing myself."

Munakata Reishi: "Fushimi-kun, I have something to tell you too."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Me too?"

Munakata Reishi: "Yes. I have something to tell to both of you."

Konohana Saya: (I forgot because the impression of "Pom-pom bread" is strong, but I've been called because Munakata-senpai have something to tell me)

Munakata Reishi: "Konohana-san, your first exam is started soon, right?"

Konohana Saya: "Ah, yes. I heard all blue club members have a good grades, so I want to do my best."

Munakata Reishi: "That's a good way of thinking. Because blue club member who don't get an average grade around 90 have to quit the club."

Konohana Saya: "Eh? Is that true?"

Fushimi Saruhiko: "He's joking."

Munakata Reishi: "No, it's true."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "That rules, I've never heard about it before."

Munakata Reishi: "Yes. I made it just now."

Konohana Saya: (Just now!?)

Munakata Reishi: "Still, her transferring was an irregular one. So, it should take into an account as well..."

Munakata Reishi: "Let's call it a pass with a grade more than 180 by combining both of your grades."

Munakata Reishi: "If that's not met, both of you have to quit the club gracefully."

Konohana Saya: "Eh, both of us have to quit!?"

Konohana Saya: "That means, even if Fushimi-kun's grade is 100, if my grade in occasion is 79, we have to quit the club...?"

Munakata Reishi: "Yeah, it will be like that."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Tch."

Konohana Saya: "Fu-Fushimi-kun, I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

Munakata Reishi: "Please do your best, by working together, both of you."

Konohana Saya: (Munakata-senpai looks like he's having fun)

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Oi, absolutely, don't get the grades below 80."

Konohana Saya: "Yeah. I will studying from now on and do my best."

*classroom*

Konohana Saya: "Ah, Fushimi-kun."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "What?"

Konohana Saya: "Do you want to study together in library after school?"

Fushimi Saruhiko: "I refuse. Do you, really have a confidence in getting those grades?"

Konohana Saya: "I'm hard working on it."

Konohana Saya: "But, there is still something that I don't understand. If you don't mind, I want Fushimi-kun to teach me a bit."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Hmph, with that state, I have to get a bit high grades."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "I don't have a time to answer your questions. Ask somebody else."

Konohana Saya: (It's not good to depends too much on Fushimi-kun huh)

Konohana Saya: (Okay. First of all, let's go to the library first)

*Library*

Neko: "Aahh—geez—I don't know anymore! Hey, let's take a break for a minute."

Yatogami Kurou: "What a spoiled child. We've just started it."

Yatogami Kurou: "First and foremost, it's because your normal behaviour in class is too intolerable." 

Yatogami Kurou: "Because you're sleeping in class that you have to suffer the consequences before test."

Neko: "Kurosuke is really like a teacher. Shiro, help me~!"

Konohana Saya: (Over there are Kurou-kun and Neko-chan)

Isana Yashiro: "Well, it's true that Neko's grade is not good."

Konohana Saya: (And Shiro-kun too)

Neko: "Ah! It's Gohan! Gohaaan~!"

(TL note: "Gohan" is the nickname that Neko gave to Saya. Basically it means "Rice" or "Meals")

Konohana Saya: "Good afternoon. You all are doing study group here?"

Isana Yashiro: "Yep. You're right."

Yatogami Kurou: "A gathering to drive Neko into a studying. For short it's study group."

Neko: "Kurosuke is such a sparta! If I'm doing a mistake he will get angry right away!"

Yatogami Kurou: "I'm not angry because you made a mistake, but I'm angry because I didn't see any seriousness in you."

Konohana Saya: "If I'm not mistaken, Kurou-kun have a good grades right? Kukuri-chan also said that you're doing well in both school and sports."

Yatogami Kurou: "No, it's not that much."

Yatogami Kurou: "The blue club that you affiliated is full of excellent student."

Isana Yashiro: "Especially Munakata-san and Fushimi-kun are the regulars of top rank."

Konohana Saya: "As I thought, Fushimi-kun is smart."

Konohana Saya: (Somewhat, I feel a pressure. I have to study hard)

Konohana Saya: "Umm, there is something that I want you to teach me about. Can I ask you?"

Yatogami Kurou: "Yeah, let me see it."

Yatogami Kurou: "Classic literature huh. If this is the case..."

Konohana Saya: "Here... This keigo, I'm not sure who it was directed at."

(Keigo: it's a polite expression in Japanese language. In Japanese it's usual to use polite speaking style (?) When talking to someone older or has a high rank. Because asian tends to have hierarchy culture in society)

Yatogami Kurou: "That's it."

Konohana Saya: "I see! Kurou-kun is so good at teaching."

Yatogami Kurou: "Konohana too. It saves the trouble that you're quick to understand."

Neko: "Kurosuke, your attitude is really different when teaching me! It's not fair!"

Isana Yashiro: "Eehh—? Don't tell me Kurou likes..."

Yatogami Kurou: "W-What are you talking about?"

Yatogami Kurou: "Because she wants to study seriously, so I'm putting a reasonable attitude."

Isana Yashiro: "Although you said it, your face is red, isn't it?"

Yatogami Kurou: "It's not red."

Isana Yashiro: "It's red, it's red~!"

Neko: "Kurosuke is all red~!"

Konohana Saya: "You two, your voices are..."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "It's noisy."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "This is not your playground. If you want to be noisy, get out."

Konohana Saya: "Ugh... sorry."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "You're so optimistic, huh? Do you want to make me score the points and thoughts you'd make it easy?"

Konohana Saya: "I don't think about that. Even now, Kurou-kun teaches me what I don't understand."

Yatogami Kurou: "She's right. Also, we're the one who were noisy, not her."

Yatogami Kurou: "I'm sorry for making a loud noise at the library."

Yatogami Kurou: "But, what do you mean by scoring the points?"

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Outsider who doesn't know anything don't get into it."

Neko: "Glasses meanie is really a meanie."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "An idiot who the grades are in dangerous state should be quiet."

Neko: "Wha—"

Fushimi Saruhiko: "The next time you all are going noisy, I'll control you all as the discipline committee member, understand?"

Isana Yashiro: "Yes, we're very sorry."

Isana Yashiro: "Wheew—Fushimi-kun is scary."

Yatogami Kurou: "Even if you said it cheerfully, it doesn't have any persuasiveness."

Neko: "He is annoying~ I am not an idiot!"

Isana Yashiro: "Hey, that reference book looks like it's been used a lot."

Konohana Saya: "Eh? Reference book?"

Isana Yashiro: "Yeah. It's right in front of you."

Konohana Saya: "!!"

Konohana Saya: "Since when... I wonder whose it is."

Konohana Saya: (Don't tell me this is...)

Isana Yashiro: *giggle* "Your face, looks like you know whose it is."

Konohana Saya: "Yeah, maybe."

Konohana Saya: (Amazing... every page is littered with detailed writing)

Konohana Saya: (I don't know... so Fushimi-kun is a hard worker)

Konohana Saya: (I had a vague idea about smart people, just as I thought hard working is important)

Konohana Saya: (Okay! Let's surpass the test by relying on this reference book!)

*Munakata's room*

Munakata Reishi: "Konohana-san's grade is 86 points, Fushimi-kun's grade is 95 points. If we're combining both, the result is 181 points."

Munakata Reishi: "Looks like you two are saved from quitting a club. Congratulations."

Konohana Saya: "T-Thank goodness...! It's all because of Fushimi-kun!"

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Please never make this rules ever again."

Munakata Reishi: "That depends on you two. From now on, please strengthening the unity as a pair, okay."

Munakata Reishi: "Well then, you two can go now."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Haah... excuse me."

Konohana Saya: "Excuse me..."

Konohana Saya: "Fushimi-kun, thank you so much!"

Konohana Saya: "It's all because Fushimi-kun that I don't have to quit from blue club."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "I'm just taking my test as usual."

Konohana Saya: "But you lend me your reference book right? There's a lot of writing into it, and it's really helpful."

Fushimi Saruhiko: "Reference book? Oh, it's because I didn't use it again so I leave it there. There's no other intention."

Konohana Saya: (Even though he said that, he must be lend it to me...)

Konohana Saya: (Anyway I'm really glad I can clear it. I have to do my best in the next test so that I won't get panicked even if I'm being told out of the blue)

[missamyshay]

8. 26. 80-89.

8. what’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? do you seek it out? how well do you take it?

I think I probably should seek it out more than I do. I’m good at taking it when I’ve asked for it. Unsolicited criticism, to me, is rarely ever constructive.

26. do you like to write one-shots or series, and why?

I really enjoy writing longshots. Some of my favourite fics have been longshots of 10-20k words. I love the freedom (or perhaps the constraint?) of building and living in a whole world that only exists in that one bubble, and doesn’t spill over into other chapters. I like being able to spend time with a fic, to kind of fall in love with it on my own, before giving it to people. Having said that, though, there is a payoff of consistent engagement that chaptered fics give that doesn’t come with oneshots. I find series kind of difficult. My cycles series came to me quite organically, but other than that, I’ve struggled to find the sweet spot between a one shot and a chaptered fic (which I think a series is).

80. do you try to put themes, motifs, messages, morals, etc in your writing? if so, how do you go about it?

I don’t know, I think most people who have a lot of themes and motifs in their work would agree that they kind of show up there by accident. As for messages and morals, I think if the writing is good enough, (and the readers are discerning enough) these don’t have to be explicit to be seen and felt.

81. if you could go back in time and give your younger self a piece of writing advice specific to you, what would it be?

“You’re the very first and most important reader of your own writing. Make sure you write what you want to read above all.”

82. "proper" punctuation or all lowercase?

Proper punctuation, absolutely. All lowercase??? What are we doing here. What kind of chaos is this. (Unless it’s a title, then do what you want.)

83. less is more or more is more?

Less is always more but I’m a wordy gal so I’m always trying to remind myself of this.

84. said: overused or underused?

‘Said’ gets such a bad rep but I think she’s great. Lovely and reliable. I think that the real issue is when writers don’t know how to indicate who is speaking without using conversational markers. There are so many ways to do this, one that I consistently lean on is to tell you what someone is doing while they’re speaking, which removes the need for ‘said’. I only ever use other terms when it’s important to the tone of the conversation—e.g., I use ‘breathed’, ‘murmured,’ ‘whispered’, etc a fair amount because I want you to be able to hear it the same why I do.

85. what would be on a moodboard for your current wip(s)?

Moodboards for my current WIPs are some of my favourites I’ve ever made:

86. which season best matches the mood of your wip(s)?

Curious Time: Summer, mainly because it’s only ever set in June.

sparks and embers: autumn and spring. Transitional seasons. Things dying, things being reborn, and all that.

spotlights and moonlight: I think winter? And I’m not sure why. Something about the glitz and glam of holiday parties and events in contrast with cosy moments at home by the fire.

87. does your writing style change depending on the genre you write?

I don’t think so. But I think that’s what makes it a writing style—the fact that it’s distinguishable even if you pick it up and put it in another setting or genre.

88. if you could have another author write your wip for you (bc we all dream of this occasionally), who would it be?

Honestly? Any single one of my beloved and trusted moochies.

89. sarcastic narrators: entertaining or overdone?

I think sarcasm doesn’t come as naturally to people as one might think, lol. So a lot of the time when writers attempt to do the sarcastic narrator thing, it feels more like a rude, or disinterested, or generally just off-beat narrator. When done right, though, sarcastic narrators can be great.

Whew this was long! My bad!

Writer Asks

[cyarsk52-20]

FOOD & DRINK

So, Here Are Some Teas That Will Make Your Sex Life So Much Better

SHELLIE R. WARREN

MAR 22, 2023 07:00 AM EST

Even though we’re officially exiting one season (winter) and entering another (spring), that doesn’t mean that your tea game has to slow down. Aside from the fact that springtime tends to still have some pretty chilly nights, there is nothing like a tall glass of herbal iced tea that’s been sweetened with honey and a bit of fresh fruit on the days when it’s warmer outdoors.

And while we’re on the topic of teas, why not consume some that will make things hotter in the bedroom? Yep, there are certain ones out here (12 in this article) that have some strong data to support the fact that they can do wonders for your libido — on a few different levels.

So, after reading this, commit to picking up some loose-leaf tea (oftentimes it’s best). Boil for 20 minutes, let it cool, put it in a mason jar and let it steep for 48 hours (with your favorite sweetener). Then add some ice and take it all in. You’ll have an all-natural concoction that will get you maximum herb intake and quite possibly some pretty intense orgasms too (whew-whee!).

1. Ashwagandha Tea

If there’s one artist who tickles me as much as he low-key terrifies me when it comes to the random ish that comes out of his mouth, it’s Kevin Gates. On the laughing tip, I literally cried as I was reading the comments under this particular Twitter post because it’s clear that either he doesn’t know how to pronounce maca (maa·kuh) or ashwagandha (aash·wuh·gaan·duh) or he was really going out of his way to make the cadence work in this song. LOL. Anyway, he does help to prove the point that this herb is that one when it comes to boosting libido levels.

Since ashwagandha has a solid reputation for reducing stress and anxiety, improving athletic performance, and even making depression-related symptoms easier to bear, it would make perfect sense that it’s known for being an aphrodisiac too.

There are studies that support that it can be helpful when it comes to strengthening women’s orgasms, in part, by reducing vaginal dryness and discomfort during intercourse. Some studies reveal that it can help to increase testosterone levels in both men and women as well.

A word of caution on this one, though. If you’re diabetic, breastfeeding, have an overactive thyroid, or take sedatives, run this one by your physician first. As with just about any herb, ashwagandha can be potent and come with unwanted side effects for certain types of individuals.

2. Green Tea

Okay, so from what I’ve read and researched, on average, a cup of brewed coffee is gonna have somewhere around 96 mg of caffeine per cup while that same cup of green tea is gonna land at around 28 mg. So, if you’re someone who wants to ease off of caffeine a bit this year or you want a pick-me-up that doesn’t pack as big of a punch as coffee does, green tea will do it. Some other benefits include the fact that it’s loaded with antioxidants, it can help to improve your brain function, it fights off the free radicals that are in your system and it can help you to lose weight.

On the sex tip, aside from the fact that the caffeine that’s in it can give you a boost of energy on the days/nights when the mind is willing but the flesh is weak, green tea also can improve and increase blood circulation which results in longer erections for him and better orgasms for you.

3. Saffron Tea

The brief backstory on saffron is it’s a spice that comes from a flower. It’s said to have originated in Greece and is one of the most popular spices when it comes to cooking. It ain’t cheap, I’ll just tell you that now. Still, it’s got some benefits that are worth noting.

Saffron reduces body inflammation, helps with weight loss, is effective at minimizing PMS-related symptoms, helps to put you into a better mood, and is said to lower blood sugar levels and heart disease risks too.

The reason why the tea form of it made it onto this particular list is that some studies say that saffron is beneficial in naturally treating men who deal with erectile dysfunction (ED) while also improving the libido of women who take antidepressants.

4. Vanilla Tea

Vanilla tea is dope on a few different levels. It’s slightly sweet even without anything like sugar or honey in it. It contains quite a few antioxidants. It’s got a way of increasing your metabolism while decreasing your stress levels at the same time. It also contains properties that help to soothe your nervous system and improve your quality of sleep.

Since I already know that vanilla is an aphrodisiac scent, I’m not surprised at all that it’s also a libido booster in tea form. Some studies say that it helps to heal erectile dysfunction while increasing arousal. Others say that it can enhance a man’s sexual performance over time. 

And again, since the scent of vanilla alone can increase arousal in men by almost 10 percent, that sounds like a solid enough reason to have a sip — or two.

5. Damiana Tea

One day, I’m gonna share my journey with Damiens. I’ve had three in my lifetime and whew, chile. Anyway, when it comes to damiana tea, one of the things that it’s most known for is improving the quality of sex lives.

As a shrub that is quite popular in traditional Mexican medicine, damiana has been used for everything from bronchitis and fevers to fungal infections, anemia, and gastrointestinal issues.

What makes it a win in the sexual pleasure department is it contains a powerful amount of flavonoids (compounds that are found in fruits and vegetables) that can intensify your natural sex hormones. The stronger your hormones are, honey…I’m pretty sure that you already know the rest.

6. Cinnamon Tea

I can’t believe that it’s (almost) been four years since I’ve talked about how applying cinnamon essential oil on your partner’s genitalia can make for a really good time (hey, don’t knock it until you tried it; I talk about all-a-dat right here).

As far as cinnamon in tea form goes, it’s another one that’s filled with antioxidants. Cinnamon tea also helps to lower inflammation and blood sugar levels, contains powerful antibacterial and antifungal properties (which is great when it comes to treating tooth decay) and it can make period cramps less painful. As a serious bonus, it also helps to fight certain HIV-related strains (the more you know).

And what makes it great for your libido? For one thing, the lower your blood sugar levels are, the less stressed you’ll feel and the less constricted your blood flow will be; this means longer and more intense orgasms. Also, because cinnamon is spicy, the turn-up of heat in your body can also heighten your arousal levels.

7. Maca Tea

If you clicked on that Twitter link, you heard Kevin (attempt to) combine maca with ashwagandha — and honestly, that’s one hell of a combination, y’all. That’s because maca is well-known for being an aphrodisiac too.

Before getting into how/why, some other benefits of this herb are it helps to keep free radicals out of your system, improves your memory, and is also pretty good at reducing symptoms that are directly associated with menopause.

As far as coitus goes, it’s got all kinds of ways to improve it. Maca has been proven to increase a man’s sex drive, make sex more pleasant for postmenopausal women, improve a man’s sperm quality and put you and your partner into a better mood. So, if you’ve never had a good reason to try maca before, now you’ve got a few of ‘em.

8. Ginger Tea

Ginger is another popular spice that comes with some strong medicinal properties. That’s why a lot of people use it to treat motion sickness, keep their blood pressure in check, help keep cancer cells at bay, and to reduce bodily inflammation.

Since ginger is also seen as being a natural stimulant that increases blood circulation while reducing oxidative stress, it’s just one more tea that can help your sex life out. Oh, and if you’re trying to get pregnant, that’s another reason to add it to your diet. That’s because the properties of ginger can improve the quality of sperm while also strengthening ovarian follicles. How dope is that?

9. Rose Tea

If you’ve always wondered what rose tea is made from, you can literally create it yourself by steeping fresh rose petals. As far as the reasons why it can be good for your health, rose tea is high in vitamins C and E, it contains properties that help to lower your blood pressure, the polyphenols in it can help to reduce pain and discomfort, it can help to keep your skin radiant and your hair healthy and it’s a great immunity booster.

And why would your sex life appreciate it so much? Rosewater, period, helps to decrease stress and increase blood flow. The calmer you are and the more blood that’s flowing to your genital regions, the better your sexual experiences can be!

10. Spearmint Tea

Off the rip, one of the things that I like about any mint tea is it can help to make my breath smell fresher. When it comes to spearmint specifically, it gets applause for also treating motion sickness and nausea, lowering blood pressure levels and even improving your memory. Some other things worth noting are the fact that spearmint tea helps to fight bacterial infections and decrease the pain that’s related to arthritis.

Sex-wise, because spearmint tea is a stress reducer, it can also help you to feel calm and relaxed. And, since it also is known to be a hormone balancer, it can make getting in the mood easier when you’re PMS’ing or you’re going through menopause.

11. Ginseng Tea

If there’s any herb on this list that you probably already knew was good for your libido, ginseng would have to be it. We’ll get to why in just a moment. For now, let’s tackle some other reasons why you should consume it more (or more often).

Ginseng helps to do everything from reducing fatigue and fighting inflammation to improving brain function and strengthening your immune system. In fact, if you feel a cold coming on, a few cups of ginseng, very early on, can help to knock it right on out.

Your sex life will appreciate ginseng because it’s another tea that helps to treat erectile dysfunction by reducing oxidative stress that may be lurking around in a man’s blood vessels (especially in the ones down below). Ginseng is also a winner because it can give women more energy to even want to have sex. Definitely something to keep in mind on the days after work when you want some, but you need a pick-me-up to get the engines started (if you know what I mean).

12. Horny Goat Weed Tea

I mean, for real, though, anything that has the word “horny” in it must work…at least a lil’ bit, right? Believe it or not, horny goat weed (also known as Epimedium) is popular in the traditional Chinese medicine world and has been linked to helping people who deal with asthma, osteoporosis, PMS and Alzheimer’s, and Parkinson’s Diseases.

BY FAR (and yes, I am yelling it), what it’s best known for is getting bedrooms in check. It’s got a great reputation for naturally treating ED (which is why it has the nickname “natural Viagra”). It contains phytoestrogens which is a plant-based form of estrogen (which can help with natural vaginal lubrication, for starters). It can also balance out your cortisol levels (your natural stress hormone) and strengthen your libido. So, if feeling horny is what you want to do, horny goat weed can make that happen — and then some, chile.

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Featured image by Dean Mitchell/Getty Images

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SHELLIE R. WARREN

After being a regular contributor for about four years and being (eh hem) MIA in 2022, Shellie is back penning for the platform (did you miss her? LOL).

In some ways, nothing has changed and in others, everything has. For now, she'll just say that she's working on the 20th anniversary edition of her first book, she's in school to take life coaching to another level and she's putting together a platform that supports and encourages Black men because she loves them from head to toe.

Other than that, she still works with couples, she's still a doula, she's still not on social media and her email contact (missnosipho@gmail.com) still hasn't changed (neither has her request to contact her ONLY for personal reasons; pitch to the platform if you have story ideas).

Life is a funny thing but if you stay calm, moments can come full circle and this is one of them. No doubt about it.

Sent from my iPhone

[cumaeansibyl]

Charles was only gone for two weeks but it felt like approximately a year and a half, for both of us. however! he has returned! and it's an inexpressible relief. last night he infodumped to me about the Battle of Leyte Gulf. at present he is working on his model train layout. nature is healing. (it's funny how someone can be on the other side of the house but it still makes a difference.)

in less encouraging news, remember the department I'm covering for at work? the person who accepted that job has now declined it, for reasons I'm not yet clear on because the department head isn't quite clear either -- possibly they didn't like the benefits, but that's a union job so the compensation's pre-negotiated and can't be altered. anyway last I heard they had reached out to the second-choice candidate, who the search committee judged as qualified but not quite as experienced. but it's been a couple weeks so who knows if they're still available -- should find out this coming week. if they're not, I fear it means a new search. argh!

at least it's spring break this coming week, which means I'm not on vacation but I'm working from home and people should have less for me to do. and I booked a massage on Tuesday because I deserve it. whew.

[skyler10fic]

To Have and to Hold: Ch. 7 Captured

By Skyler10

Summary: Honeymoon destination revealed, Bobbi and Hunter come back into the picture ;) (pun intended), and Daisy and Carol stretch that Mature-for-sexy-times rating after some dressing and undressing.

Read on Ao3

------

Spring indulged the city with a sneak preview of its glory with a sunny, warm week to end March. All knew that it wasn’t here to stay just quite yet, but it was coming in full soon, a promise, a kiss of days approaching. 

For the past rainy week, Carol had dedicated her free time to honeymoon planning. She knew they wanted something relaxing, beachy, and new to both of them. After her talk with Daisy about making more decisions regarding the wedding, though, she was careful not to lean too hard on Daisy to make the final call. She clicked through search results for LGBTQ-friendly honeymoon destinations. There was no point in looking at islands that didn’t want them there in the first place. Every destination listed in Europe looked gorgeous but far away. Within the US, Hawaii seemed ideal but also far in the other direction. Miami seemed within their budget and fun, but not as relaxing. And hot and humid. They needed something farther north. 

One website offered just the thing: Pegasus Resort on Cape Cod, especially run by and for LGBTQ couples. They would take a ferry boat ride to and from the cape. Besides planning their activities, all she would have to do is book their flights and hotels. And a dinner for the resort’s upscale restaurant, of course. The other restaurants were more casual, and Provincetown had more options, but a special romantic dinner was basically a requirement for their honeymoon.  

Carol heard Daisy come in from her yoga class and called to her. “Hey! How was yoga?” 

“Hi. Good.” Daisy walked into the dining area where Carol was sitting at the table with her laptop and snacks. She leaned down to peck a kiss to Carol’s cheek. 

“I’ve got a honeymoon plan ready if you want to hear it?”  

“Ooo honeymoon? Uh, yes, obviously.” Daisy scooted one of the other chairs next to Carol’s so she could see the screen and took a few grapes from the snack plate. 

Carol took her through the Pegasus Resort website, photos of the area, and a few ideas of things to do. 

“And best of all, it fits the budget.” 

Daisy’s eyes widened. “For real? Babe, I’m so impressed. I’ve never been to Cape Cod.” 

“Me either! It’s not set in stone yet, so if you want to change anything, we can, but if not, I’m going to get it booked.” Carol’s mouse hovered over the Book Now button. 

Daisy bounced in excitement. “Yes, book it! While it’s still miraculously affordable.”  

Carol set to work filling out the information. Daisy weighed in when necessary, and soon enough, they had all the transportation and accommodation confirmation emails in their inboxes. 

Carol relaxed into her chair. “Whew, it feels good to have that done.” 

Daisy stood and reminded her, “Next up, our appointment with Bobbi and Hunter to talk about decorations and photos. We have about half an hour.” 

“Half an hour, huh?” Carol let her eyes linger over Daisy’s sports bra, bare midriff, and form-fitting yoga pants. 

“Unh-uh,” Daisy shut down her line of thinking. “I have to actually shower and get ready, and that is not enough time. Tonight. After.”

Carol stood and kissed Daisy with a promise on her lips. “Tonight it is.”

Daisy smiled against her and pulled away reluctantly. The clock was ticking and they couldn’t miss this crucial appointment.  

—----------- 

When Daisy and Carol arrived at the cottage and half-acre grounds that now served as Bobbi and Hunter’s office, they learned Hunter was out shooting some B-roll for another wedding video, but Bobbi was ready for action. She had only been in the business a few years, hence her availability so soon to their date, but she already had a system for each element: decoration packages, florists she worked with, photoshoot options… she even had suggestions based on their colors. She may not have had a long resume in the business, but she certainly had the skills, style, and strategy to be a rising star within it. 

Daisy lit up at Bobbi’s guidance and competence. Carol still didn’t know the difference between a dahlia and a peony, but seeing Daisy happy was all that mattered to her. Being out of her element didn’t help with her resolution to be a more active participant, however, so she relied on Bobbi’s photos for visual references. 

After hours of decoration options and floral arrangement talk, Bobbi sent them outside to walk around the grounds for a break. Bobbi said it would help her get a sense for how they interacted naturally. She’d be nearby if they needed anything, and she would shoot a few practice candids but not close enough to hear them talk. 

The spring breeze was still chilly enough for them to wear their leather jackets (brown and relaxed fit for Carol, black and stylishly cut for Daisy), but the fresh air helped them unwind. They made their way down a dirt path to a pond lined with willows. Carol slipped her hand into Daisy’s as they walked and tried not to be self-conscious that Bobbi was watching them. 

“So,” Daisy began as they reached the pond, “what are you thinking of all this? You’ve been quiet.” 

“Right now,” Carol stalled, “I’m thinking about how your hand fits in mine and how beautiful this all is. If we weren’t already here to plan our wedding, I might propose.” She leaned in toward Daisy and winked. 

Daisy smiled but didn’t let her off the hook that easily. “And what about in there?” She tilted her head toward the cottage. “I know this isn’t really your thing, but I want you to be happy with it too.” 

Carol tried to put some of the terms together correctly. “I think the corsage ideas are exactly what your mom, grandma, and Aunt Wendy and Victoria would all wear, which is a wide range of personalities, so that’s something. And the… mmm… hanging things for the chapel walls? Also good. How about you?” 

“Yeah, for sure.” Daisy squinted against the sun as she looked out to the pond. “I’m honestly not sure we need decorations for the aisle. The chapel is so small, you know? I also wanted to ask you first, before Bobbi brings it up, what do you think about a unity candle in the ceremony? Or something like that?” 

“Unity candle? I don’t know. Tell me more.” Carol furrowed her brow and tuned in. The flowers and ribbons and table centerpieces were one thing, but ceremony symbolism and meaning-laden rituals were another. 

Daisy let go of Carol’s hand and held up two imaginary candlesticks. “Okay, so we’d each have our own candles lit before the ceremony, or we can light them, but the point is we would use them together at the same time to light a bigger middle candle. The important part to me is that we don’t blow out the individual candles.” 

“Ah. Right!” Carol followed the metaphor. “So we’re still individual people, but also we’re a couple. And getting married doesn’t change that we’re each our own person.”

“Exactly.” Daisy shrugged. “If you want to. If that’s too cliche or cheesy, we don’t have to, though.” 

“No, no, I like it. So Bobbi’s going to ask us to pick out candles then, right? Because I have to be honest, I haven’t given much thought to wax color and consistency or height or whatever.” 

Daisy smiled and slipped her arms around Carol’s waist. “I don’t think we need to stress about it too much. They are pretty basic and I have one or two in mind.”

“Thank you.” Carol leaned in and kissed Daisy sweetly. “And the candle is accurate because you light me up.” 

Daisy pulled back but kept her arms firmly around Carol. “The fire-themed puns are already starting?” 

“Well, you do set my heart aflame,” Carol explained. 

“Here we go,” Daisy sighed. 

“One, this was your idea, and two, you are the light of my life. You might even say my love burns for you.”   

“Done?”  

“For now, yes. For the rest of our lives? Just getting started.” Carol assured. 

Daisy rolled her eyes and kissed her. When they parted, she shook her head. “Now you’ve got me thinking of them too.” 

“Yes! I want to hear it!” 

Daisy dropped into a sultry voice. “Babe, you’re the hottest thing since fire was discovered.” 

Carol tried not to laugh. “Okay, we’ll work on it, but a solid start. A+ for the sexy tone, though.”

“Thank you,” Daisy said proudly and then noticed the sun was lowering in the sky. “We should wrap this up. But I haven’t forgotten about tonight.”

“Me either.” Carol winked. 

They walked back to the cottage to finish their appointment with Bobbi and discuss photo poses and locations. Bobbi showed them the practice shots she had taken of their break, and they scheduled some photos of the two of them in normal clothes and some in their gowns. 

—--------- 

On Sunday afternoon, picking outfits for the photoshoot (besides the wedding gowns, of course) led to a full circle moment. As Daisy sat on the bed looking at makeup pro tips and couple posing ideas, Carol put on her deep red jumpsuit and black blazer that looked like the one she had tried on in white at the bridal shop. 

“How about this?” she asked to get Daisy’s attention. Daisy looked up from her computer and took in Carol’s outfit. 

“Yes, please.” She didn’t hide her lingering gaze. “I know exactly what I would wear with that one too.” 

“Yeah?” Carol stepped in front of the closet door mirror, which was long enough to reflect the whole outfit.

Daisy set her laptop on the bedside table and walked up behind Carol. “Three words. Little. Black. Dress.” 

Carol’s eyes met hers in the mirror. “But which one?” 

“My turn to try on.” She closed the closet door behind her so it would be a surprise until she had it on. When she opened it, Carol was sitting on the side of the bed, idly scrolling through the poses Daisy had left open on her computer. 

“How’s this?” Daisy asked, one hand on her hip with the other gesturing down the dress. Carol’s eyes followed her hand and continued down Daisy’s strong legs. Daisy had added heels for maximum effect, highlighting her calves. 

Carol walked over and stood beside her in the mirror. “Very sexy. Look at that power couple. Damn.” 

Daisy turned and pulled Carol in by the hips for a surprise kiss and then backed away just as quickly. “Okay, we have to pick out the casual outfits before I jump you for real.” 

“We have time for both,” Carol pointed out and took off the blazer. She hung it on the hanger and then took off her jumpsuit. “Your choice. I can put on my shirt or not.” 

“Stop,” Daisy whined. “You know I’m highly distractable. Shirt on first, I find something that looks good with it, and then I take it off. In that order.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Carol winked. She decided to speed up the process by walking into the closet and picking out a navy and lavender plaid button-up for herself and a blouse in a matching lavender top for Daisy. “I figured out we have these weeks ago and thought they might be good.” 

“Our wedding colors! Wow, these colors really are us.” 

Carol handed her the blouse. “And I figured we’d just wear jeans with them.” 

Daisy took off her black dress and heels and put on the blouse. She passed Carol and picked out a pair of jeans from the closet. “Hmm, these.” 

They were not her most comfy jeans for everyday wear, but they complemented her form in the right ways for a photoshoot. Carol picked a similar pair for herself. 

When they were dressed, they stood in the mirror together again. 

“What do you think?” Daisy asked.

“I think this is it.” Carol flattened her collar. Daisy turned to check out how her outfit looked from the back, and Carol wet her lips. “God, those jeans were made for your butt. I’m always both jealous and turned on when you wear those. It’s very confusing.”

Daisy laughed. “Like you can talk.” She swiftly squeezed Carol’s round bum in her tight jeans. 

“Hey!” Carol laughed. “Okay. That’s a casual outfit, a dressy outfit, and our wedding dresses. That’s enough, right? We still have two hours until we’re meeting Elena and Mack for dinner and to talk about the ceremony.”

“Yep,” Daisy popped the p. She grabbed a small black gym bag with rainbow handles they had gotten free at Pride but hadn’t used. “Anything we need for the photoshoot can go in here, and we can hang the other clothes in the garment bags with the bridal gowns.”

“Good plan.” Carol took the bag from Daisy and dropped it near the foot of the bed. “Okay, that’s enough dressing. Time for undressing.” 

Daisy kissed her and, as promised, unbuttoned her shirt until it was free. Carol took it and her undershirt off, and Daisy stripped off her own blouse and paused to kiss her again. She pulled away to hang the shirts on hangers so they wouldn’t wrinkle. Impatient, Carol wrapped her arms around Daisy from behind and unbuttoned her jeans while she was hanging the shirts. Daisy grinded back against her in retaliation, and Carol kissed her neck. 

“You know,” Daisy said, turning to unbutton Carol’s jeans in return. “This would go faster if we did one thing at a time.” 

“Okay.” Carol took off her jeans, laid them out on the bed, and stuck out her bum as she leaned over the bed and slowly and deliberately rolled them into a tight, neat log. She raised an eyebrow at Daisy, who was staring with her own jeans around her ankles. 

“Point made.” Daisy rolled up her jeans quickly and stuck both pairs in the bag. “We can worry about shoes later.” 

“Exactly.” Carol led her to the bed and in seconds, they were entangled, with hands tugging at undergarments and lips meeting again and again and thighs slotting naturally between each other. 

Daisy had an odd thought cross her mind that she was grateful to not only be born in an era and culture where they didn’t have to hide their relationship and could be married but also one in which they didn’t have to wait until marriage to have this. Not that it had ever been particularly accepted for queer couples to marry as long as they refrained from premarital sex, but it was more that she was relieved that figuring out sex wasn’t part of their wedding stress. Getting married had plenty of complications and emotions attached without that element. 

“What are you thinking about?” Carol asked as she saw the pensive expression on Daisy’s face. Carol stroked up and down Daisy’s side, and Daisy’s expression softened. 

“Just that I’m so glad we don’t have to figure this part out on our wedding night.” 

Carol involuntarily let out a little laugh and then agreed. “We would not have made it this long if we were supposed to wait.” 

“True, but can you imagine having to worry about not even knowing what to do and having our first time after all of this? Months of planning and scheduling vendors and life commitment, then to also be like sooo how does sex work anyway?” Daisy ran her fingers up Carol’s stomach to her breast and teased her nipple in emphasis. 

“That is way too much pressure for a honeymoon.” Carol rolled on top of Daisy and teased her inner thighs before working in to her warm, wet core. “Knowing every part of you, years of memorizing every sigh and gasp and moan… that’s what our honeymoon is going to be, and I wouldn’t trade one messy, imperfect night of all the time it took learning each other.”

Daisy bucked her hips into Carol’s touch and let out one of those moans. “Fuck, yes. Mmmn!” 

It hadn’t always been sexy to learn what they liked in sex, and they still tried new positions and toys on occasion that might or might not be for them, but their “Is this normal? How do we even do this?” days were worked out in college, during dates that turned into sleepovers and late nights studying for anatomy exams turned “studying” each other’s anatomy, so to speak. They had been young and awkward and new to it all together, and they found through experience what online advice in sapphic sex articles worked and didn’t for them. Now, as an established couple about to be married, they hardly had to think anymore about what to do with their hands, getting twisted up in the sheets, or being embarrassed or self-conscious about their bodies. Their legs and arms and lips and tongues seemed to just simply fit, as if they were made to be intertwined in lovemaking. But every movement and muscle memory was from years of vulnerable communication, awareness, and practice bringing them higher and higher out of the awkwardness of inexperience into the ecstasy of expertise. 

The wisdom from experience helped Carol time Daisy’s orgasm just so she was desperate but not frustrated. And it helped Daisy know when to reach for one of their vibrators, and which one, when Carol needed more to finally crest over the edge of pleasure. After Carol came, they kissed deeply, letting their tongues play, as the vibe still buzzed beside them. Daisy retrieved it and placed it between them, aligning with Carol’s folds so it was securely held against them both. She knew by now exactly where to put it and how to keep it there with their position.

“That took practice, for example,” Daisy panted. 

“It did, mmmhmm,” Carol agreed, turning it into a moan of pleasure.

Daisy did have to adjust it as her hips bucked, but they ended up coming together nearly at the same time, a rare feat, providing further emphasis that the work they had put in over the years was well worth every awkward, weird, imperfect moment it took to get there. 

—--------------- 

That night, as Carol was in the shower, Daisy had an idea of what her wedding gift to her would be. She searched her favorite wedding websites for the new-to-her term: boudoir photography.  She’d seen packages on Bobbi’s website, and looking into it, she thought Carol would appreciate it. It was a bit challenging to find pose ideas for brides that didn’t seem porny or made for the male gaze, but she could do the solo ones herself, and then if Carol was interested in some together, they could finish the shoot after the wedding with some creativity and adapting.

[mycreativewritingjourney]

Day 5

Whew ... There has definitely been a hiccup in my posting this weekend, probably from work and this being a new thing for me. Bear with me, I'll get better.

Inspired by my day job.

The Carousel

Filtered rays of sunlight danced through the trees as a new day's sun emerged from the horizon. The park was quiet in this moment, only the sounds of nature to be heard. The coming hours would be otherwise. I drew a deep breath and started to get myself ready for the day ahead of me. Sunny weather meant lively activity would ensue.

I gathered the food and drinks that were needed at the carousel's concession stand. After wiping down the counters I started to set up the treat display and fill my pretzel maker.

A little family walked by and I overheard the young girl say, "Mom! The carousel! I want to ride the horsey!"

"Is the carousel open yet?" Her mother looked at me.

"Not quite, when you hear the music playing I will be ready for business." I smiled and continued to set up the concession cart.

The carousel was old, older than myself, though it was made from fiberglass instead of wood. Many of the animal's paint was wearing and chipping. The lights that surrounded the circus tent like top were burnt out or missing. Despite its aged look the joy it brought to children and the nostalgia it gave to adults kept it running every year.

I finished up my opening duties and connected my phone to the little Bluetooth speaker that played music while the carousel spun. The carousel itself didn't play the traditional music associated with them. With the music playing I took another deep breath and watched as couples and families enjoyed walks in the nice spring weather.

The day passed quickly with hundreds of children coming to take a spin and parents buying drinks and snacks. While I had a lull in business the, affectionately named, squirrel, Chunky Charlie started to climb the little path fence next to my cart. He was after the individually packaged cookies I had in front of my register. I saw his first attempt and was able to shoo him away, but as my carousel slowed and I stepped away to open the exit gate for this group of kids he made an attempt to get one of those cookies. He was successful too! Snatching the cookie he took off. Laughter came from the few families that had witnessed his thievery and my vain attempts to stop him.

As I was closing down for the day a family approached. "Is the carousel still open?" It sounded almost like a plea coming from the young mother.

I looked at my watch, "I can do one last ride for the day."

Relief washed over her face and I could see her whole body relax. "You hear that sweetheart, we can still ride the carousel today." She reached out for the hand of a little boy, "Thank you, this means a lot."

"It's my pleasure." I smiled as I opened my gate one more time.

The afternoon air was sweet and warm. A slight breeze followed me with my now empty containers that had carried the snacks I started my day with. The sounds of nature once again filling the quietness of the park around me.

[vikkibat]

Gooood last morning of 2022! 🌅

Whew, it's almost over. I've done some reflecting on this year and it was umm... something.

If 2021 was like a weird extended DLC for 2020, then this year was the one DLC that went through production hell and got churned out a very strange mess full of ups and downs, giving off vibes more conflicting than I'd like to go on about... But I'm still alive, so that's something basic and good I can take away from this lol

This year had me all kinds of busy: Dog walking, pet taxiing, doing sound for a short film project, managing art comms, preparing several presentations, doing a storyboard for another project, it runs the gambit. While I'm glad it kept me productive, I can't say it has left me with the time or energy to focus on things I enjoy, hobbies, passtimes and so on.

I will say that May, August, and September presented some pretty stressful chapters for me and they had me do some much needed spring cleaning in a way. Reorganizing, decluttering, rebuilding from scratch, etc.

The fear of losing my oldest dog Choko was definitely one of those things that had me deeply wounded. I'm pleased to report however that the meds we treat him with are helping him a great deal with his condition. With all the love and care we can give him, he could very well make it through 2023 hopefully!

October to November proved to be much smoother rides for me as the year was almost over, but December came along with those holiday blues and it had me doing unhealthy amounts of ruminating. Spending time with friends and family helped ease things up considerably though, along with discovering a potential new hobby/passtime.

So in conclusion: Not a terrible year, but it could've been better

My 2023 resolutions are to improve my communication skills, go outside more, eventually quit a job that I don't vibe to anymore lately, dedicate more time to fun personal art, actually go back to enjoying games and movies, seek out a new hobby, spend more time with friends and family, and overall keep carving out joys for myself in life.

And that's all I have to say on my end. I hope to keep improving as a person as the clock ticks on, but I'm so glad y'all have stuck around with me on this journey. Can't have made it this far without you! 💗

Hope y'all enjoy the end of 2022 ~ ✨🫂✨

[estherdedlock]

Of course, now I can’t stop thinking about where the remains of our Greek class would be today.

The trouble with this exercise is that we’re not sure how old they’d be, because we don’t really know when the events of The Secret History take place. Donna Tartt does a good job of giving us almost no chronological milestones to ground the book in a particular year. Richard is narrating from nine years after Bunny’s death: since TSH was published in 1992, that would put the story’s setting in 1983. But references to certain things in the book would suggest a later time. Richard goes to see a Vietnam War movie starring Charlie Sheen with the fictitious name of Fields of Shame: its real-life counterpart, Platoon, was released in December 1986. Later in the novel, we find mentions of compact discs and laptop computers, which would place the story in the late 1980s or even the early 1990s (part of me thinks that these were editor’s suggestions to make the book feel more up-to-date).

Since Donna Tartt attended Bennington from 1982 to 1986, she would have started her junior year in 1984. Richard transfers to Hampden at the start of his junior year, so I’m going to use that as my benchmark and say that the action of TSH takes place between the fall of 1984 and the spring of 1985. Francis is 21, so he would now be 58. Richard and the Macaulays would be 57.

Francis is the easy one, because Donna Tartt herself told us what became of him. In The Goldfinch, he makes a brief appearance as one of Hobie’s wealthy New York friends/clients. There’s no mention of “Mr. Abernathy” having a wife or children, so we can assume that Priscilla has been out of the picture for quite some time. Francis appears to have a reasonably good life, even if, as Theo Decker says, he seems to have “some ill-articulated scandal or disgrace in his past.” (Such a tease, that Donna Tartt!) This is what Francis was up to in 2013, at least---unless he got very sick or started a relationship with someone, there isn’t any reason to believe that he’d be doing anything different by now. 

Richard, I think, predicted his own future when he was speculating about Henry’s: “I had always pictured Henry teaching Greek, in some forlorn but excellent college out in the Midwest.”

(I’ll briefly pause so we can all recover from the terrifying prospect of having Henry Winter as a college professor.)

Whew, okay. Moving on...

I can’t imagine that Richard would have stayed in California, not when he hated it so much. And yet, I can’t see him returning to New England, or anywhere in the Northeast: too many memories. The Midwest would be a perfect place for Richard to have landed...and for some inexplicable reason, I’m specifically thinking Wisconsin. Of course he’s a professor: his education hasn’t really trained him for anything except academia. But not Greek---English literature. He’s rumpled and tweedy and still rather boyishly good-looking. At least a quarter of his class has a crush on him. He may have been married at some point, but no longer. He doesn’t have any children.

I’m probably getting too Sebastian Flyte-ish with Charles, but I’m sorry to say that I think he’d be dead by now. I think he may have committed suicide, or just let himself decline so far into alcoholism and eventual drug addiction that it was basically a slow suicide. Or it may have been the sort of accident that plagues troubled people: a car wreck, a house fire, a bad fall down the stairs. But then again, you never know. If Charles somehow managed to pull himself back from the brink, I think he’d only have been able to do it with the help of some kind of religion---not because of his substance abuse issues, but because of his guilty conscience. I don’t see him getting deep into Christianity, though, maybe something like Buddhism. Perhaps he’s up in the Himalayas, with a shaved head and orange robes. And there we’ll leave him.

Camilla is a novelist. She would have needed to make money somehow, but I don’t see her doing blue-collar work or embarking on a corporate career (for which she would have had to go back to school, anyway). When we last saw her in TSH, she seemed to have committed herself to taking care of her grandmother and eking out a living on whatever was left of the family money (so Southern Gothic!). That would have given her ample time to write.

Funny thing is, I see her being financially successful but not the sort of writer who’s a  darling of the critics or a household name (she doesn’t write under her own name at all). Maybe she’s had a career like Andrew Neiderman, who’s been writing as “V.C. Andrews” since the real Andrews died more than 30 years ago. Or maybe she reliably churns out cozy mysteries and romances, the kind that you buy at the drugstore, read at the beach, and then leave for someone else at the laundromat. This is by choice: Camilla doesn’t want to be famous. She wants to be comfortable, and left alone. She still owns the family home in Virginia, which she’s beautifully restored, although she doesn’t spend much time there. Mostly, she lives at the beach, where her well-appointed bungalow is peak Coastal Grandmother aesthetic.

She’s not a grandmother, though, or a mother, and has never been anyone’s wife. She is as solitary in her habits as she ever was...no, more so. She takes long walks on the beach, alone. She goes to mass every Sunday and holy day, but never receives Communion. She reads Greek in the evenings, listening to the waves roll in.

She has never stopped loving Henry.