#once he realizes that’s what he’s done. he cares about him so much

[nereidprinc3ss]

slumber party

in which there's only one bed. fem bau!reader x spencer reid

fluff! warnings/tags: dark humor, (the word molest is used jokingly once but in my defense your honor its completely on brand for early seasons cm humor, if u cancel me u have to cancel the whole cast those are the rules, its just a joke cause reader always flirts w him aggressively, pls don't come for me i have a wife and children and three boyfriends to take care of,) mutual pining, bullying and death threats as flirting, they love each other so much and bicker like children, glasses spencer, (moans), emily and rossi are mentioned bc canon means fuck all to me, i think thats it but this is my most out of pocket duo so if i'm wrong lmk a/n: just a silly little thing that i cooked up, not a masterpiece but i think its cute!! I hope u enjoy!! lmk what you think!! looooveee youuuu

“Oh, there is no way.”

Your duffel bag hits the dingy carpet as Spencer is still closing the door behind you. 

“What? Is it—”

You give him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows raised as if to say, what are you going to do about this?

But he only manages to meet your eyes for a split second before they’re back to the singular queen bed, darting over the white sheets and pillows like he might find another mattress if he looks hard enough. 

Sharing a room with Spencer, you can handle. You've done it before. Whenever the team has to pair up at a hotel, you two are an obvious choice. And while you occasionally butt heads, mostly you adore each other and it's great.

But sharing a bed is a whole other situation.

One you were not prepared for. And evidently, neither is he.

Watching his big anxious eyes flit around the room nervously, you feel sort of bad for your reaction. You know you can be a bit… abrasive, sometimes. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just—I’ll see if I can share a bed with Emily or JJ in their room—”

Just then there’s a knock at the door. Spencer looks relieved to have something else to focus on, turning back around and quickly undoing the latch again before opening the door to reveal your favorite raven-haired SSA. Emily leans past the doorjamb, eyes immediately honing in on the awkward sleeping arrangement. 

“Oh my god! You guys too?”

“What?” You and Spencer ask at the same time. Emily raises her eyebrows at this and glances between you, but otherwise doesn’t comment. 

“Me and JJ only have the one bed. I thought it might just have been us.”

You frown. There goes your plan of sharing a room with them. 

“What about Morgan and Garcia?”

Spencer snorts.

“Something tells me Penelope wouldn’t be too torn up about it if that's the case.”

“Hotch and Rossi?”

The room goes quiet and a little chilly as the thought disturbs everyone equally. Emily frowns deeply.

“I don’t even… I can’t picture that.”

“Can we please not try to picture it?”

“Great. Okay, well. I just wanted to make sure everyone is suffering equally. Good luck, champs.”

“Thanks,” Spencer mutters dryly. Emily smiles, eyes darting between the two of you for just a moment too long, before pushing off the door frame and disappearing from sight. Once the door is closed again, a heavy silence ensues. “I’ll… I can take the floor—”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. We’re both grown-ups. Besides, we like each other, right? It’ll be like a slumber party.”

“I’ve never had one,” he admits. His glasses slip further down his nose as he frowns. Your fingers itch to push them back up. 

“Then I’m happy to be your first,” you tease, facing him fully with your hand on your hip and barely resisting the urge to add, I’ll be gentle. “Do you want the shower first or can I?”

Spencer has a habit of looking you up and down like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Some might find it odd, but his utter lack of social graces is, lucky for him, incredibly endearing to you. 

“You can have it first,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “Just don’t do that thing where you get the entire bathroom soaking wet.”

“Aw. But I love doing that. It’s my favorite part,” you tease, scooping up your bag once more.

Twenty minutes later you’re emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, clad in loose shorts and a college hoodie. 

“Nice outfit,” Spencer says from the spinny-chair at the desk, examining your outfit choice with a scrutiny you wish you’d been prepared for. Really, you wish you’d known ahead of time you’d have a roommate and brought some alternate sleeping clothes. “I had no idea you felt so passionately about… Scooby Doo?”

“Shut up right now,” you grit, tossing your bag into the corner of the room and tugging your hoodie down over your cartoon-patterned shorts as far as you can. 

“What?” He’s laughing as he brushes past you on his way into the bathroom, bearing his own bag. “It’s a good look for you.”

Your face is burning as you choose the side of the bed furthest from the door. Springs creak underneath your weight as you sink down, sitting with your legs hanging off the side for a moment before swinging them up onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard and side-eyeing the empty space next to you. There’s really not very much of it. The bed feels even smaller than it looks. 

From the bathroom you hear the sound of the shower squeaking and starting up again—a cacophony of droplets against tile on the other side of the wall. You try not to be nervous as you imagine Spencer filling the space beside you in just a few minutes, hair wet and in pajamas. And yet you spend each second wondering if he’s almost done, wondering if the shower will finally sputter to a halt, and once it does, wondering how long it’ll be before he’s out again. It’s ridiculous how impatient you're getting—and by the time you finally watch the door knob twist you feel crazy. 

“I think that was your longest shower yet, Dr. Reid.”

The teasing affords you a moment to ogle him head to toe, taking in his choice of pajamas—tonight, familiar plaid pants and an MIT crewneck—as well as his hair which has already begun to dry. Briefly you wonder if he does that thing guys do, where they lean down and haphazardly dry their hair with a towel because they have no concern for its texture whatsoever. But you kind of doubt it, because his hair always looks so soft. 

“You were sitting here waiting for me?” He chuckles, and honestly you’d been expecting a shyer response. But you adapt quickly. 

“Maybe I was. Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Ha-ha.” He opens a drawer in the dresser and begins unpacking his clothes into it. It's a funny habit of his. You never unpack your duffel. “You took the better side of the bed.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the woman. I get to do that.”

“Well you should know that if an intruder breaks in, I’m not fighting him off. You’d probably have a better chance than me.”

“And my chances will be even better if he’s distracted with you first.”

“So I’m just bait?” He scoffs, looking back at you. Strands of wet hair hang so prettily around his face, like the perfect frame around a work of art. You smile sweetly from your spot on the bed before playfully biting at the air in his direction. The message goes unspoken but reads loud and clear. Of course you are. You make such good bait. 

That gets a blush out of him and he has nothing else to say as he turns back to his drawer. Happily you lean back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and bouncing slightly in place. Beneath you the mattress springs groan and squeak in protest. 

“I hope you're not going to be this irritating all night.”

It's clearly lighthearted, but you promptly stop and frown at his back. 

“Call me irritating again and see where you end up sleeping tonight.”

“I just don’t see how you’re even more hyperactive than usual right now. Has anybody ever told you that you’re crepuscular?” Spencer asks, finally sliding the drawer shut and going to shut the overhead light off. Your eyes narrow. 

“Obviously nobody has told me that.”

“It means y—”

“I’m most energetic within the few hours around dusk and dawn. Contrary to your belief, Dr. Reid, other people are also capable of looking up words in a dictionary and remembering what they mean. Are you going to stand in the corner all night or are you gonna come to bed?”

“I am,” he scoffs, clearly embarrassed and shy and embarrassed of being shy. “I’m just… you look like you kick in your sleep. And hog the blankets.”

You shrug, folding your knees to your chest and hugging them quaintly. 

“I’ve never had any complaints. In fact, you should be so lucky to share a bed with me. All five star reviews, baby.” 

You toss a suggestive wink in at the end, which seems garish enough to break the tension so that Spencer can stop lingering in the corner like a sleep-paralysis demon and move to carefully take his place next to you. He almost mirrors your position, but his legs are too long to quite manage your level of compactness and so they simply fold underneath him. A few silent moments go by, in which you have the dumbest smile on your face and you keep glancing over to the side, waiting for him to be looking back at you. 

“This is already the least relaxed I have ever been in a bed.”

“Good thing we’re not going to sleep yet.”

Finally he looks at you, a casual mix of hesitance, concern, and moderate curiosity coloring his features. 

“We’re not?”

“Oh, my god, Spencer,” you snort. “I’m not gonna molest you. We have to do slumber party stuff, remember?”

He flushes again, glancing at the digital clock in his bedside table. 

“But it’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“At slumber parties you have to stay up until you literally can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”

Still, your insistence that you follow the international code of sleepover law goes unabided by Spencer. He simply leans over to flick off his lamp, bathing the room in darkness. 

“I appreciate the effort,” he says, and your eyes haven’t adjusted but you can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets as he gets under them, “but unfortunately we have to be awake and alert in five hours.”

“You’re no fun,” you huff, but climb under your own side of the cover and scoot down until you’re flat on your back, covered in blanket and hands folded on your sternum. 

Spencer doesn’t respond. 

It’s silent for maybe five minutes, during which your brain doesn’t slow down at all. Maybe you are crepuscular. Or slightly nocturnal. You have nothing but energy. 

In an attempt to get comfortable, you try adjusting your position.

The mattress squeaks. 

You do it again. 

Another squeak. 

A second goes by, and now you’re intentionally jostling about, squeaking the mattress as much as you can. 

“Would you stop that?” Spencer says, voice already gravelly with sleep. You manage, but you’re already devolving into a fit of giggles. “I’m going to smother you with this pillow,” he threatens, but you hear the disgruntled smile curling his words. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to rest.”

Another moment passes. He sighs deeply. You smile into the dark. 

“What are you in the mood for?” He asks flatly, and you’ve won. 

“Tell me a secret,” you immediately demand in a hushed tone, flipping on your side to face his back. “Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

“I don’t—”

“Shh! You have to whisper it. Those are the slumber party rules.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” he whispers, clearly flustered, and to your delight, rolling to face the ceiling. “None that you’d want to hear.”

“Oh, now that’s just not true. You’re an enigma, Spencer Reid. You fascinate me.”

You’re only sort of kidding. 

“I… fascinate you?”

“Completely. You know, ever since you moved your desk across from mine I get distracted just staring at you and wondering what you’re thinking about. But you’re very… hard to read, sometimes. I think it’s because you’re a Scorpio.”

“The position of the stars at the time I was born has no bearing on my personality.”

“Fine,” you concede, still in a glorified stage whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t display the archetypal Scorpio traits. You’re all brooding, mysterious. Kinda, I don't know... intense and sexy and unknowable…”

“Sexy?” He laughs, breaking the whisper rule. You grin and let it slide. You’d hoped he would catch that one. 

“Hey,” you snap, losing the smile immediately and lightly shoving against what you hope is his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be telling me a secret, damnit. I won’t let your wiles and charm distract me from getting what I want.”

“When have you ever let anything stop you from getting what you want?”

Truly, your cheeks are going to start aching with this constant back and forth between poker-faced and huge Cheshire smile. 

“Stop flirting and answer my question, Reid.”

With the amount of times you’ve made him sigh tonight he must be dizzy. You chew your lip apprehensively in the silence, picking a loose thread on your pillow. It’s so pitch black in the room, you can’t see him where he lies only a few meager inches from you. But you can feel his presence. You can feel the unexpected bass to his voice when he’s tired and speaking this lowly, which you’ve never heard before.

“All the secrets I’ve never told anyone are just… depressing.”

Your heart sinks a little at the way he swallows between words, like that in and of itself was hard to admit. Unthinkingly your hand slides into the small gap of white cotton between the two of you. 

“Not very good slumber party material, I think,” he laughs self-consciously. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

The sentiment comes quieter and more serious than you’ve been all night. If only you had the words to tell him that he can tell you anything. That you want to hold his secrets for him under lock and key. That you would never, ever do anything less than offer him kindness and support—even if it doesn’t always seem that way when you’re teasing him. 

“Do you have any secrets you’ve never told anyone else?” He murmurs eventually, so soft it could kill you. 

And you do. There are plenty of dark ones, probably not all dissimilar from those he’d elected not to share only a moment ago. 

But you don’t bring those up. 

Instead, you decide to admit to something silly. Still, it makes you nervous as you feel it coming loose in your chest. You’ve really never told anyone this, and it’s perhaps more vulnerable than you’d realized before the words were already leaving your mouth. 

“I, have…” You pause to laugh at yourself, and continue on. “I have a stuffed dragon that I take with me on every single case.”

“You do?” Spencer laughs, so loud and unexpected it almost hurts your ears, angling his head toward you. Blood rushes to your face. 

“Yes. He usually sleeps in bed with me. He’s an excellent listener and has been the origin of several of my most genius breakthroughs. You remember Gibson Cooper?”

“Family annihilator from Houston?” 

“Correct. He’s in prison because Oscar helped me make the Cook Creek Campground connection between the O’Hara and Diangelo families.”

“You have a stuffed profiler dragon named Oscar? Is he here?”

“He’s—I mean, I wasn’t expecting to share a room with someone.”

“So he’s in your bag.”

“Yes,” you seethe, “and I will not be introducing you to him. He doesn’t do well with men.”

“You are genuinely psychotic.”

You huff.

“Fine. I’m sorry I told you anything.”

You’re about to roll over onto your other side—but Spencer surprises you by catching the hand that had been outstretched in his direction. He carefully intertwines your fingers and squeezes gently. 

“You’re right. That was mean. Thank you for telling me about Oscar.” His tone is surprisingly teasing, and you’re so uncharacteristically flustered by this rare show of physicality and affection that you can’t muster an adequate comeback. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind filling your silence, though, sounding a little more solemn now. “I’m sorry I don’t have any secrets for you.”

The way his voice gets all thin and scratchy sometimes—it’s like the earnest sincerity just pours out of him. He can’t control it. He can’t be anyone other than who he is. Maybe that’s a part of why you love him so much. You wonder if he knows how much you love him. It’s not exactly a secret—anyone on the team would be able to tell as much. You’ve been relentlessly teased for the way you are with him. For your batting lashes and your lingering touches and your unabashed flirting. But beneath it all is true affection, and nobody doubts that. 

“It’s okay,” you decide with a squeeze of your own, after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll think of something. ’Cause, y’know—you’re stuck with me for at least a few more days.”

“Oh, god,” he laughs, and releases your hand, rolling over to face away from you. But you don’t mind. You’ll get lots more time to invade his personal space over the coming week or so. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams,” you sing-song, turning away to face the wall with what is perhaps your biggest, stupidest smile yet.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine

[alvojake]

PARK SUNGHOON HARD THOUGHT

「warnings」 : 18+ MINORS DNI!!

「notes」 : this is dedicated to @pockettwinzz. I hope that you enjoy this small Hoon hard thought that conspired from your mental crisis. I may or may not have gotten a tad carried away.... whoops.

alright, so imagine this..... you and sunghoon are in the middle of a heated make-out session in your shared bedroom, and clothes are sprawled all around the room haphazardly. neither of you cares, though, too worried about the feeling of each other warm skin against the other. sunghoon had his hands underneath your underwear, squeezing the flesh of your ass, eliciting a small moan from your lips, giving him the chance to slip his tongue inside yours. you so easily became lost in his taste that your mind was starting to get foggy. the only thoughts occupying it were your boyfriend and how good he felt against you.

sunghoon chuckled against your open mouth as you rocked your hips against his, seeking any kind of friction you could. he let you seek out your pleasure for a few moments, relishing in the sound of your soft whimpers. then his grip on your back end tightened, halting your movements and causing you to pout.

"are you that desperate already, princess?" he leaned forward, leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw until he reached your ear. "I haven't even done anything yet."

"hoon..." you whined again, trying your best to fight against his tight hold, but it was pointless; he was far too strong.

"you gotta use your words, baby; what do you want?" he asked as his lips left, searing kisses down the side of your neck, causing your eyes to flutter at the sensation. when you didn't answer him, he pulled away to take in your already fuck-out expression, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

realizing that he had stopped, you allowed your eyes to open, meeting his hooded gaze. the intensity of his gaze was enough to leave goosebumps all over your skin and heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. you once again tried to move against his hold, but just like all of your previous attempts, it ended in failure.

the smirk then fell from sunghoon's lips, and his grip got unbelievably tighter. it was tight enough that you were sure that bruises in the shape of his fingers would be embedded in your skin the next day, but the pain only made your desperation grow.

"I said use your words, princess; only good girls get what they want, right?" he growled, his upper lip pulling back just far enough to reveal his pointed canines that you love so much.

you let out a pathetic cry when his hand came down, landing a harsh smack on your ass cheek. tears started to pool on your waterline as you looked at your boyfriend with a pleading expression, an expression that sunghoon would kill to see every day. then the words started to tumble from your lips.

"hoonie, please just fuck me. I'll be good, just fuck me, I want your cock so bad." the pleas fell from your lips like a testimony, and sunghoon couldn't help but smirk once more, satisfied with your answer.

"then don't let me stop you. take whatever it is you want, babydoll." his tone was teasing as he leaned back slightly, taking in your perplexed expression.

then within seconds, your needy eyes had come back, and you were scooting down your boyfriend's legs, far enough to pull his boxers down, allowing his hard cock to spring free. your mouth started to water at the sight of the angry red tip, watching the little beads of precum dribbling down the side before getting caught on the vines.

however, your need to have your pussy filled rather than your mouth was much much stronger. so you stood on your knees before moving your underwear to the side, far too gone to bother taking them off. sunghoon watched as you slowly sank yourself down onto his dick until he was fully trapped inside of your heat, biting the inside of this cheek to keep from groaning at how tightly you were squeezing him.

"fuck hoonie...." you whined out, hands gripping his biceps to try and stabilize yourself.

sunghoon then sat up straighter, causing him to push even further into you, which in turn caused a loud moan to fall from your parted lips. his hands then found your hips as you started to rock yourself against him, eyes rolling back at the feeling of his cock rubbing your velvet walls just right. so much so that your ability to think straight was completely thrown out the window, carried away by the wind.

"oh, is my poor baby already fucked stupid?" he chuckled as he latched his lips onto your collarbone, sucking deep purple marks along your skin, listening to all of your little noises. "don't worry, princess, I'll take care of you."

then within a blink of an eye, he had your back pressed against the mattress, hand pinned above your head as he pounded into your needy hole without an ounce of mercy. not stopping until he was completely drained dry and you were on the verge of passing out, stars dancing across your vision when your nth orgasm hit just as sunghoon finished.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

#♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :𝓴𝓪𝔂 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓼: :; #sunghoon #park sunghoon #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #enha sunghoon #enhypen park sunghoon #enha park sunghoon #enhypen #enha #enhypen smut #enha smut #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon imagines #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen imagines #enha hard thoughts #enha imagines #kpop #kpop smut #kpop hard thoughts #'*•.¸♡ 𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓮 ♡¸.•*' #╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ 𝓱𝓪𝔃𝓮〖🐇〗 #*ೃ༄ 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓼˚◞♡ ⃗

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 1] Offerings

Story Masterlist

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

*Just want to preface that this is a historical AU but there will be some historical inaccuracies so if you see something odd, don't point it out. Also this is still a curse AU! if that isn't clear with four-armed Sukuna. Anyway I hope you enjoy!! Any general story warnings can be found in the masterlist!

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna is missing something, he’s not sure what it is but he knows that he’s bored. He’s bored of everything that once thrilled him, tired of the same routine. But no matter what he does, he feels empty. 

He’s done everything possible to soothe that boredom, which has come to the expense of many lives. It entertained him until it didn’t. Occasionally he does find joy in the horrors that he causes but it doesn’t feel like that’s enough anymore. There’s something that he’s missing, but he’s not quite sure what it is. 

He has everything a man could possibly want– Although he isn’t exactly a man so his wants and needs are obviously different. He isn’t going to be fulfilled by the foolish ideals of happiness that men have. He doesn’t have much of a guide though, therefore he’s lost in how to fix his problem. 

“Uraume.” Sukuna’s voice isn’t all that loud, yet Uraume nearly comes running to fulfill his request. The temple is uncomfortably quiet; everyone is ready to fulfill Sukuna’s every request, and their king does not raise his voice unless adrenaline rushes through him, or he’s upset. No one knows which is the worst of the two. 

“My king.” Uraume kneels down before him. He’s quiet, too embarrassed to even bring up this question. It’s unlike him. Uraume is truly the only person that he respects which is why asking the question is hard for him to actually say. He wouldn’t trust anyone else with it though.

“What do men usually do?” He asks, which is odd for Uraume to hear. Sukuna was a man too, once upon a time. But he doesn’t remember that stage of his life, and he’s sure he wasn’t happy either which is the reason why he’s the monster he is now.

“I’m not sure.” They sound reluctant. “If you could be more clear, I can search for an answer.”

“Get out.” He orders, and they bow again before exiting the room. He wants to be left alone to gather his thoughts. He has all the time in the world to figure himself out, but he wants even more time. He doesn’t want to be bothered now of all times at the very least.

“There’s a woman with an offering.” A servant tells him from the other side of the tatami doors, followed by a shrill cry that makes a smirk come to his lips. That’s his answer.

Sukuna wants a successor. 

“Take it to the servants, answer to her needs.” Sukuna answers, not really caring to listen to any requests. His mind is now preoccupied, detailing his next course of action. He needs to find the perfect woman to carry his heir, which he knows will be a hard task– Perhaps the hardest challenge that Sukuna has come by in all of his years of living.

“Please eat, Haru.” You put the bowl beside the young boy’s mat. You’ve been slowly watching your brother’s health deteriorate, slowly watching his death near. Worst of all, you have been looking for a cure that seems impossible to find because it’s not something that’s affecting anyone important. 

It’s not a disease that’s affecting anybody else, really. It’s not infectious, you quickly found that out. You were glad about it at first, but then you realized that there’s no cure yet. Days pass by, and he gets worse. He refuses to eat anything, and when he does, he can’t keep it down for more than a few hours. His death is imminent.

“I did everything I could to get the right ingredients for your favorite food. Auntie made it extra special for you.” You make sure to tell him, but he can barely move. You kneel down beside him, grabbing his utensils and preparing a bite. “Just one bite, Haru.”

“I’m sleepy.” Is all he manages to mutter, and you feel a pull on your heartstrings. Your hand caresses his arm.

“Just one bite, okay? Then you can sleep all day.” You try your best to convince him. All he does is sleep, and no matter how many hours he sleeps, he wakes up tired. He prompts himself up, and you’re fighting back a smile– It’s barely any progress, if you can even call it that. “Open up.”

There’s a smile on your lips as you bring the food to his mouth, and he begins to chew. He takes the utensils from your hand, grabbing the bowl of food and putting it on his lap. You stand up and tell him, “I’ll get you some water.”

“He’s finally eating something.” You share with your aunt, making sure your voice is low since there isn’t all that much space. Her eyes go to him, and she really wants to say that it’s a sign of him getting better but it really doesn’t mean anything. Sometimes he eats everything that’s made for him, but he throws it back up. 

“I really wish this meant he was getting better… But we both know that he’ll get worse tomorrow.” She responds, and you want to curse her for even mentioning it but you know she’s right. You don’t like hearing it though, you’re helpless. There’s nothing more you can do for Haru, you’re just waiting for the day to come. 

“I really think he can get better.” Your eyes begin to feel with tears, knowing that you don’t even believe yourself. You’ve tried everything you possibly can, but you know that his time nears. You can’t just accept that fact though, he’s your baby brother, you can’t let him go. “Let me get his water.”

“I’ll get it… Think about what the medic said.” Your aunt reminds you of the visit from the physician. One that you’ve forgotten because you refuse to consider his one and only suggestion a possibility. The words flow back to your head,

“Your best bet is the deity up north. You have to bring him an offering, and if he deems it worthy enough, he will cure him.” “But if he thinks it’s beneath him, he’ll kill you.”

You don’t want to risk anything, but lately that seems like your only option. He’s not getting any better, even though you so badly want to say that he is. Throwing up everything he eats is not much improvement than not eating at all. You just have to figure out what is considered an offering worthy for the deity to save him, and to save yourself. 

“I’ll be back, I have to figure something out.” You say, smiling back at your aunt and your little brother. They barely acknowledge you before you leave the house, which you’re thankful for. You just need a moment to gather your thoughts, decide what you’ll do next. 

You need to sort out your offering for the deity, an offering that will hopefully sort out all of your problems.

“My king, there’s a woman with an offering.” It feels like the hundredth time that week in which Sukuna hears that sentence. Humans are greedy beings, and they all fucking need something. It’s unnecessary, purely materialistic– It’s a side of humanity that he appreciates though. How much a human is willing to sacrifice for wealth or the promise of good fortune. Sukuna can’t judge, he's the sole winner in the end.

“Let her in.” He says, and the tatami door slides open. A poor maiden with a pale yellow kimono, and a woven basket in hand. You walk in with your head down, following the strict instructions that were given to you. 

You’re trembling as you kneel down in front of the deity, bowing down to him. You remain bowing for however long he pleases, keeping your eyes shut because there’s tears building up. You have never been this terrified. Willingly putting yourself at death’s door is no easy feat.

“Rise.” He orders, and you straighten your upper body, remaining on your knees. You don’t dare look anywhere past his feet, keeping your eyes low and steady. You know that he’s staring you down, studying you. A smirk on his lips, thinking about how he’s found her. “What do you want?”

“My brother…” Your voice is shaky, and you try your best to compose yourself. You can’t start crying in the middle of it, you’ve gotten this far, he’ll surely kill you if you begin to sob at his feet. “He’s sick. The medic can’t cure him, and he told us you were our only choice.”

He’s not really listening. Something about a brother is all he grasped. He’s more into the way your lips move, and the tears of pure fear that well up in your eyes. He can tell that you really made an effort into your look today, even though you don’t look extravagant. Which for some reason he likes, he doesn’t want an arrogant woman in his chambers, he already has enough of them. He especially doesn’t want one of them carrying his heir.

What really draws him in is that certain look in your eyes. The clear innocence that’s written all over your face. You’re the perfect lily that he can’t wait to tear apart, petal by petal. That finalizes his decision.

“What do you have for me? Open the basket.” He orders, and you do as he says. Regret washes over you as you open it, immediately knowing that it’s not enough. You don’t know what came over you when you had the bright idea of picking it. You unfold the cloth with shaky hands, revealing the gift for him. He’s usually furious with these types of gifts, since they hold no value to him but he wants to hear your reasoning since he has other plans with you, “Why do you come to me with this?”

“Pomegranates aren’t native to the land, and they’re scarce this time of season. I found some while searching for an offering and thought it was a sign.” You explain, and he scoffs. A stupid reason, one that should get you killed. If he wanted fruit, he would send Uraume to get it for him. He guesses it’s creative though, especially when almost every person that walks through the temple is willing to sacrifice a life. But you don’t gain points for creativity, no one ever has.

“Pomegranates? What am I supposed to do with that?” He’s mocking you, and you swallow the lump in your throat. He’s right, what is he supposed to do with a pomegranate? He’s not like you, he’s not just going to eat it. You’re usually smart about this type of thing, but you guess desperation got the best of you this time around, and now you have to pay for the consequences. As to be expected, there’s no answer from you, and he orders, “Look up at me.”

Your eyes slowly move up his body to his face, and you’re in awe at the sight. A mix of emotions flow through your body. He really isn’t a human. You were terrified earlier, but now you’re simply astonished. You never really believed the tales that were told about him since you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that a being like him could exist. But now he stands before you.

“Do you really think I’ll do anything with the fruit?” His voice sounds serious, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. You shake your head which irks him. “You have a voice don’t you? Use it.”

“No, my king. My apologies.” It’s strange, but you sound more confident as you look at him compared to before. It brings some sort of satisfaction to Sukuna since usually people that are allowed to look directly at him can barely communicate.  

“I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself.” He’s thinking about how merciful he is– Which isn’t entirely a lie since Sukuna never gives a second chance. Except you have no idea how you can redeem yourself unless he dismisses you. Little do you know what he’s thinking for you. “I have a proposal for you.”

“A what…?” Your eyebrows perk up as curiosity takes over you. A proposal from a deity, it’ll surely be something that you have yet to hear. 

“Bear my child, and I’ll forgive you.” He says, and you almost fall back. Your ears must be deceiving you, there’s no way that the proposal that you just heard is real. Your eyes are wide open, and you hear him laugh. It must be a joke then. 

“Uraume!” Sukuna yells, wanting it to be clear that he doesn’t want to waste a single second. Not even a second later, and they’re in the room, waiting for their king’s command. “Take the maiden and prepare her for me tonight.”

“Wait– You’re serious?” You dare to ask. You haven’t even agreed, yet he’s getting you ready for tonight, to have a baby with him of all things. “You don’t even know my name, why would you want me to carry your baby?”

“What’s your name then?” He asks, clearly irritated by the question, and you have no choice but to answer. If you don’t, you’re screwed. “There we have it. Take her, Uraume.”

“Wait!” You shout, but Sukuna isn’t going to listen to more of it. Uraume guides you outside, a task that they usually do harsher. At any other time, they’d be dragging you outside but you’re not just anybody. 

You’re the woman that will carry King Sukuna’s heir.

#jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna jjk #sukuna x you #sukuna jujutsu kaisen

[dear--mars]

Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?

── Synopsis: Soulmates. The concept sounded unreal, too good to be true. And it seemed it was. Nothing lasts forever and the thought of being together even in another world was just a dream.

── Characters: Blade, Aventurine, and Veritas

── CW: can't find anything. (please let me know if I missed any.)

── Notes: kinda occ ngl... [angst/no comfort]

── Word count: 591 + 891 + 867 = 2349 words in total

Blade ── Blade was a wandering soul. Both of you knew that and yet you still tried to tie him down. But could you really be blamed?

How could you think he wanted anything else when all he did was send mixed signals? One moment he’s cold and distant then he’s all over you, being needy and needing your comfort. So was it any surprise when you eventually got tired of his on-and-off behavior?

So you left. 

You started a new life on the small planet of Adion. You worked a job you actually liked, made new relationships, and never stressed too much about things that didn’t matter. It was the turning of a new leaf.

But with joy come sorrow and suffering.

A loud banging at your door echoed throughout your house. You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to fall back asleep, but the noise breaks the peaceful sleep you’re so desperately clinging to. 

You sat up, rubbing your eyes before taking a look at the clock for a few moments, it’s two in the morning. You had no idea what was going on but you had a familiar sense of deja vu that you couldn’t shake. 

"Damn it… Who the hell is that?" You mumbled to yourself before getting out of bed to walk to the front door. But once you saw who was at your door, every hint of fatigue fled your body as your blood ran cold. 

It was Blade.

You slightly faltered as your mind ran a hundred miles per hour trying to think of how he found you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a step back, not wanting to be in his vicinity.

Wordlessly, Blade reached out and stopped you. In the past, you would’ve said that Blade was one of the hardest men to read but as of right now, you could tell every thought that ran through his head.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you haven’t seen each other for a few months. The slight tug on his eyebrows that showed frustration, the dark circles under his eyes told you that he hadn’t slept for a while, and lastly the desperation and relief hidden in his eyes.

“Why?” was the only thing he croaked out.

You immediately understood what he was asking and a flash of irritation crossed your face. “Are you serious? Why? Why did I leave?” You asked, finishing his question. When you saw him nod, you scoffed.

You pulled your hand away from his but it chased after your warmth instinctively. “Why wouldn’t I leave? What have you done for me to make me want to stay?” You spat out harshly.

Blade flinched and gritted his teeth. He reached out to grab your hand again, this time intertwining his fingers with yours. “Maybe not in this lifetime but do you think we’re soulmates in every other universe?” He mumbled out, clearly in a vulnerable state.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not anymore. You cared way too much in the past, it was time to move on from this chapter in your life. Time to move on from Blade. “Do you leave me in every universe?” Your tone was bitter.

Even more so than him. Only then did Blade truly realize just how much power you had over him. You could make him the happiest he had ever been, more than he thought he could be but you could also drag him into the deepest depths of pain and agony.

Aventurine ── Aventurine. What a man.

At times you couldn’t believe he was yours. Waking up next to him and seeing his smile made you fall in love with him all over again. But you should’ve suspected something was up with a man so perfect and flawless.

You should have anticipated this turn of events. The plot twist was so overused that the only appropriate response you could get out was laughter. Lovers betraying each other—how cliché. 

How could someone be so blind just because of love? You couldn't fathom it. You hated this trope and Aventurine knew that. Maybe that’s why he was smiling ever so slyly when he revealed his true intentions. 

After telling you the truth, Aventurine left your home cold and empty, taking any semblance of warmth with him. Years passed and you were forced to move on. Did you still love him deep down? Of course, but time moved forward whether you were ready or not.

Aventurine was born lucky. Being blessed by Gaiathra Triclops from birth, Aventurine grew up always having luck at his side. A fact that he hated but one that he relied on often. 

That’s why he thought no matter what, he’d always win. But Aventurine hadn’t known that his ‘luck’ only really constituted physical ideas and plans, not emotions. Especially his or yours, not after everything he did to you.

Aventurine felt a void in his chest like something was missing. You, Obviously but he would never admit that. As “carefree” Aventurine is, he still has his pride. He used you even if it was for work, catching feelings wasn’t an option.

But it never hurt to see how you were doing, right?

That’s the excuse Aventurine used as he sat in your hotel room. He never would’ve thought you’d be here in Penacony but it worked out in his favor. (Everything always did.)

Aventurine hears the door creak open and footsteps but they stop as soon as you laid eyes on him. Your eyes widened, you could recognize that tuff of blond hair just about anywhere in the universe.

Your breathing gets a bit heavier as your hands curl into fists. Aventurine doesn’t need to turn around to see you’re upset but he does anyway. He wants to see your beautiful face after all. 

God, you were extraordinary. Even after years of being apart, you still looked the same. If anything, you grew to be more attractive. Your soft skin, your plump lips, and your luscious hair that shined even under artificial lighting.

“Hey. It’s been a while, huh?” He asked, hiding his true feelings and masking them with a facade of confidence and nonchalance. “Never expected you to come to Penacony of all places.”

Your heart ached when Aventurine spoke to you with an air of familiarity. You hated how he acted like nothing happened between the you two. You ignored his words, cutting straight to the point. “What are you doing here.” You asked but it was more of a demand.

Aventurine raised his hands in mock surrender. “What’s with the hostility? I just came here to say hi and catch up.”

“Get out.” Your tone was bitter.

“Come on-” You cut him off,

“No. Get out of my room. Or wait, should I beg you to stay like last time so you’ll definitely leave?” You mocked, in slight disbelief of Aventurine’s audacity.

Aventurine ever so slightly faltered at your tone and words. “Okay, ouch.” He joked but deep down your actions hurt. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” But when Aventurine saw the glare in your eyes, he decided to drop the facade.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he did when he was feeling guilty or bad. “Do you remember our first anniversary? When we were having that picnic under that giant weeping willow?” He reminisced with a strained smile.

“You asked back then if we’d be soulmates in every universe and I said yes, knowing that I’d have to betray you. I feel like it’s my turn.” Aventurine paused and took a deep breath. “Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?”

You didn’t hesitate in cutting down any and all expectations, Aventurine held. “Why would you think that when you ruined it for us in this one?” You counted with a question of your own.

Aventurine froze before smiling, trying to mask the pain in his expression. “I have to admit I wasn’t expecting you to say something so cruel but I understand,” Aventurine said with a smile, trying to act playful and nonchalant. 

He then left your room without any more complaints. The truth of the situation didn't hit him until he saw you at the bar, laughing and drinking with another man. Maybe my luck has finally run out. He thought, trying to shove back any emotions from leaking out.

Aventurine had never truly wanted anything in his life. He couldn't afford the luxury of wanting something. He never asked for all the wealth he amassed or the luck he was born with. Hell, he didn’t even really want freedom. After being chained down for so long, Aventurine wouldn't know what to do if he was free.

But you were different.

He wanted you. But he couldn’t. 

And that was what pissed him off the most.

Veritas ── Dating Veritas was not for the weakhearted. Due to his extreme talent and unparalleled intelligence, he holds himself in high regard. He comes off as candid, self-centered, and condescending. 

Even mocking or narcissistic at times. But you knew him better. Veritas was just a bit too blunt but he was sensible and levelheaded. He wasn’t a bad person. In fact, it’s the opposite. 

He firmly believes that intellect isn’t confined to geniuses and seeks to distribute knowledge to the entire universe, all to “cure” ignorance. He wants to help people but is just a bit odd or “mean” while doing it. 

He does have a bit of an eccentric temperament but he meant well. That’s what you always told yourself but that excuse was starting to grow old. You were trying to be considered an understanding of where he was coming from, you always have been.

But you can only take so much. A person can only get knocked down so many times before they decide it's better to just stay on the floor. And it seemed you were reaching that breaking point with Veritas.

He would always point out your mistakes, nitpick something irrelevant, or just for the sake of it. You started to wonder if he even loved you. Never once did he really show affection toward you.

At first you tried to acknowledge that he might not feel comfortable with that but after years of being together, if he still wasn't comfortable enough with you to show basic affection… You couldn't help but wonder, what the hell have you been doing for the past four years of your life?

One day you had enough. 

Your words rang clearly throughout his study, "Veritas, I think we should stop seeing each other." You said vaguely but the message was clear. 

Veritas froze upon hearing your words, not expecting you to say such a thing. "Why?" he asked simply, the coldness now turning into a sharp tone. The suddenness of this topic left him confused, a part of him wanting to lash out at you, but he refrained.

"I just don't think we're compatible as a couple."

Veritas scoffed as soon as you finished speaking, feeling slightly annoyed at that word. Was 'compatibility' the thing that doomed their relationship? "So you have realised we are not compatible after so many years of being together?" His tone now sharp with the hints of slight aggression.

You didn’t flinch at his cold tone. "You don't have to get so defensive, I'm not blaming you." You said with a gentle expression, which was odd for you. You've always been more hot-headed and impulsive so seeing you like this was weird to Veritas.

"It's just that I want to be loved in a more open way and you can't provide that for me which is okay. That's just not you, and I don't want you to change yourself for me. I'm sure you're more suited with someone who's like yourself. I'm just not the person."

Veritas could tell by your calm explanation, that you’ve been thinking about this for quite some time and that fact stabbed his heart in a way he’d never felt before. "I tried my best to love you as much as I possibly can, but apparently that was not enough for you..."

"Just because you love me doesn't mean I feel loved." You countered and Veritas froze. "Let's think about it this way. Let's say you're trying to teach somebody something. It's easy for you so you have high expectations for the person you’re teaching. But that person just doesn't get it. They're trying their best but they're not understanding. You would feel upset or annoyed, right? Because their best isn't good enough for you." You tried to explain in a way he would understand.

“The fault wouldn't be placed on the person who's trying their best, it would be placed on the one who had unrealistic expectations.” You finished with a strained smile. You loved Veritas, with all your heart but you couldn’t go on like this.

Veritas had to stifle the urge to argue for a moment. He hated how accurate your example was, but he also understood your point. “Do you believe in fate? Destiny and or soulmates, things like that?“ He asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

You paused, raising an eyebrow at him. Veritas was an intelligent man when it came to logic and reasoning. Things like destiny and fate weren't “logical” in the slightest. “I suppose.” You answered carefully.

“Do you think we’re soulmates in every other universe?” You blinked at Veritas’ question. Never in a million years would you have thought that he would ask you something like that. You sighed and decided to give him a taste of his own blunt medicine.

“Do you treat me like shit in every universe?” Veritas felt his heart shatter at your response. He didn’t know you felt like that. He didn’t know that he was treating you so badly to the point where’d you had to resort to this.

He regretted asking. This would perhaps be the only time he wished to remain ignorant, despite his life goal of getting rid of it. 

- Navigation -   - Supernova -

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr angst #hsr imagines #hsr fics #hsr headcanons #hsr drabbles #blade #blade x reader #blade angst #aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine angst #veritas #veritas x reader #veritas angst #marsworks

[fortheb0ys]

I wanna dress Will Graham up all nice and pretty just to mess him all up again :3

BROOO YOU GOT ME THINKING!! Give me like two sentences and I could go on and on if I'm feeling it. So I offer you my ramblings🤲

Does anyone remember that one Criminal Minds episode where this lady collects human dolls?!?

Well, make that into male reader insert <(´･ω･`<)

CW Sorry, i realized I don't put these often : reader is a serial killer and will is profiling him, reader views people as objects, reader can't tell what's real and will uses that to his advantage, will refers to himself as a 'sex doll', murder (not too descriptive), reader loses his virginity, sex, stalking, kidnapping, obsessive behavior NOT PROOFREAD ENDING IS RUSHED!

FEM ALIGNED + MINORS DNI

You watched Will from a distance, become fascinated by Will's beauty. His curly hair, his facial structure, his build, his everything.

He haunted you. You saw him everywhere you went.

Will was different from the rest. A body of pure perfection. The others ones in your collection were unamusing, marred in compaison to him.

Once you've had gotten your hands on him, your collection fell neglected. Left on the shelf to collect dust. Disposed of them when they broke.

Will was your prized doll like one of those vintage Christmas Barbies.

Once you've finally gotten your hands on him you noted he wasn't in perfect condition. It was quite clear under closer eyes, a few nicks and scratches. You'd treat him better than anyone else would. You wanted to keep him from farther damage.

At first, Will was a bit hard to play with. His face model was always in a scowl. Brows knitted in anger.

You thought about redoing his face, scraping off the base and painting a new one. Thoughts about the last time you've done it deterred your decision. Their faces had always came out disfigured, never getting quite right.

His hard shell didn't deter your love for him. You treated him gently, bought things for him, making small conversations at your little tea parties. His anger was met with your kindness.

It took a while till Will's shell chipped away. His scowl disappeared, replaced with a friendly smile. Happiness to see you home from you doll hunting.

Soon he became the best doll you've owned. A pleasure to have company with.

His voice box sounded much different from the others. The other doll yelled crude obscenities. Of course, their angry words didn't last long as taking out their boxes quieted them down.

Will was kinder. He was more willing to carry a conversation. He'd let you play with him without protest. Let you play with him, brush his hair, change his clothes. The others were hard to move, their sticky joints refusing to move.

Of course, the hunt for new dolls didn't stop. Once Will met these new friends, he became cold. Back to the old Will.

Will never liked play to nice. Mean and unpleasant words were barked at the others. They broke quicker than anticipated. You'd find Will covered in red, broken dolls at his feet.

He'd plea that he was special. That you couldn't have any other dolls. He was the only one that's supposed to be in your collection. Red, teary eyes begging to be the only doll in your collection.

You pulled him into close embrace, feeling his pounding heartbeat against your chest. Whispered promises as he cried at your every word.

Your precious Will, beautiful yet so broken. You plege devotion solely to him.

Since than you only cared for Will. Every moment was spent with him.

He seemed to enjoy playtime as well. He'd sit quiet and pretty as you changed him. His hands always posed between his legs. His joints bent seamlessly as he shifted in his sit.

One day while picking his clothes for the day, Will made mention that he had working parts down...there. That they'd the react when played with.

He said he was a 'sex doll', that only he's the only one.

He guided you as you were inexperienced. Spoke you through each step. Your fingers nervously stretching him. Your eyes trained on Will's face, looking for any sort of discomfort.

Fingers still he's face contorts. You weren't sure if it was discomfort or pleasure. You weren't going to risk breaking your precious doll by testing which one.

Your hand begins withdrawaling from between him. Before you could do or say anything farther, Will's hand shoots forward to grasp your wrist.

"Don't fucking stop." Will growls as his grip tightly.

His eyes darken, a glint of something beneath them. Like there was a secret to be shared behind blown out pupils. It seems almost sinister.

Your heart skips a beat and your mouth goes dry and all you could do was give him a small nod. Sex brought out this side of an otherwise gentle Will. One you were not willing to challenge.

Once Will felt like he was fully prepped and ready, he made you withdrawal your soaked fingers. With shaking hands gripping your cock, guiding it to his ready hole. A hiss sounding from Will almost made you stop but you wouldn't dare to do that again.

It felt so fucking good. Stinking in inch by inch. His hole stretching to fit your cock. His insides warm and wet. Pleasure consuming your entire being.

Did all dolls feel like this? Why haven't you tried this before?

Once Will completely bottomed out, he gave you a slight squeeze. You had to hold yourself back, nearly cumming after only just a moment.

Your eyes shut tight as your head falls against Will's chest, trying to focus on breathing. Shaking breaths timed with Will's heartbeat.

A sharp kick to your side, a signal that Will wants you to move. Eyes snap open to look deep into Will's. That look still present, now even darker.

"Take it nice and slow." Will spoke sweetly behind a kind smile. He's gentle once again. Will's changes in mood were slightly off putting.

You began to move at a slow pace, sloppy as you tested the water. Thrusts were shallow and somber. Will's hand grip at your hips and begin guiding your movements.

"Follow my lead." He locked eyes while you felt the need to look away.

His hands push you forward establishing a rythm. Pushing in deep to hit something the made Will gasp and pulling out till your tip was the only thing in him.

You tried focusing on keeping the order as you roll your hips into him but everything felt so good your mind went numb. Will's grunts turned into moans as you kept nailing the spot in him that made him sing.

You push your entire weight onto, trying to reach deeper and deeper. Confidence is now yours when Will clenches around you. The heat is suffocating, sweat pools down your back.

One of his hands leaves your hips, guiding yours onto his weaping cock. Your fingers tightens around it, jerking it in rythm with your thrusts. White drips for his tip on his stomach. He's as close as you.

Your thrusts finally lose pace and your thrusts become shallow once again as you feel like the end is near. Will pulls you in a kiss, swallowing your little sounds, cumming together. White paints your bodies.

You pant as you collapse on top of Will. Your eyes fall heavy as you focus on catching your breath.

"Will you stay with me forever, doll?" You plead once the room had fell silent.

"Till time separates us."

You pull Will close, your head against his neck. In that moment he felt real, almost human. Like his heart beat just as yours. Like flesh and bone.

#god i can't tell if I hate this #idk might delete 😕 #it's been sitting in my drafts since march it seems #will graham #will graham x male reader #hannibal x male reader #will graham x reader #dom male reader #sub character

[fightmewiatch]

The emotion behind the way Edwin uses fuck is so heavy, because outside of the pilot episode and the scene on the stairs, he doesn't swear. He's a proper boy, repressed and focused and he bottles everything up.

In the Pilot, "The police don't know what to do with a fucking witch", he isn't swearing about the witch. He's angry, and he's upset, and he's frustrated. He's trying to focus on solving this case, saving the girl, doing the right thing, fixing things. Edwin spent seventy years in Hell, fighting for a way out (the detail in his journal, he didn't get out on the first try, he spent those 70s years trying over and over and over to find a way out - but that is a story for a whole other time), torture and pain and heartbreak, only to get out and fall into the school to find out no one cared that he died. "An act of God." The school wrote him off, everyone wrote it off and that was it, that was the end of it, no one cared that a 16 year old boy went to bed and was never seen or heard from again, poof, gone. He spent Charles' last moments with him to keep him company, and calm, and not scared, the two of them knowing what had happened only for the school to once again cover up the death of a 16 year old boy and pretend that whatever happened didn't. Edwin spent the next 30 years connecting with Charles, trying to help ghosts so they don't spend their entire afterlives in a state of absolute sorrow and heartbreak like has. We get such a bare taste of the ghosts they've saved and helped move on, who knows how much good they've truly done, how many they've saved from going to Hell on technicalities like Edwin had done. He's frustrated with Crystal, because he's spent 30 years working with Charles and only with Charles, he knows his friend, he knows how he behaves and how he works and how he acts, those two are connected on a level some people only dream about, and here she comes, she latches on, and she joins them to help but she's so hyper focused on herself and David (understandably so), that she isn't giving the same attention to the case that Edwin and Charles have always done, and he's angry, and he feels like it's going to happen to this girl, he is worried that her focus on David, is going to cause them to fail. Crystal has every right to be upset and scared and everything else that she is, but she doesn't consider, until that moment, that Edwin has a right to be upset about how it seems to be interfering with the case. The way that she reacts when he says "The police don't know what to do with a fucking witch," she realizes it then just how important this case is. Edwin was dragged to hell, the boys around him obliterated - leaving behind the idea that maybe he was, too - so to the school, maybe Edwin just disappeared, like Becky, like all the other little girls over the years in Port Townsend. Solving Becky's case is so damn important to Edwin that he is taking it personally. And while it's subtle, Charles reacts to him swearing, too, as though Edwin does not swear. And based on the rest of the season, it's clear he really doesn't. The way he swears in the pilot is from a place of complete and utter sorrow and anger.

In ep 7, it's different. He's spent the whole season struggling with who is he, trying to come to terms with a feeling he'd repressed for at least a century, and he's had to do it while dealing with the Cat King and Monty and watching Charles flirt with Crystal and struggle through his own rage, he's done it as quietly as he could, as if bringing it up out loud might ruin everything that he's worked so hard for. But now he's in Hell, again, now he's trying to get out, again. Edwin encountered the reason he was sent there in the first place, and found out what really happened. Edwin spent all those years thinking it was purely malice that got him sacrificed, only to find out it was just because Simon had a crush on him, and did an absurdly stupid thing thinking it was harmless. I think in that moment, Edwin realized how easy it is to misunderstand something - because clearly, Edwin had absolutely no idea that Simon liked him at all, until the moment he admitted it in Hell. And then Charles shows up. Charles came to save him, armed with a bomb, a Molotov cocktail, and Edwin's notebook with a map of hell on it. Charles came down, he listened to Edwin's directions, he ran behind him most of the time to make sure Edwin was going to get out. Charles was with him, saving him from one of the rooms, following him to the stairs and up. He stopped with him, even when they needed to keep going, Charles let him have a moment on the steps. Edwin is in shock, he cannot believe it. All these years, all these write offs, all these moments where Edwin genuinely didn't think he'd ever get out of Hell if he were to go back, believed that if they ever got caught by Death or anyone from the afterlife, he would be damned forever because who gives a shit about a technicality, who cares about the poor boy that was sacrificed and written off by the rest of the living. Edwin didn't know what else to do or say, the emotions he'd kept bottled up while he tried to figure them out were coming out one way or the other. "It's so fucking stupid, it's unbelievable." Edwin didn't think he deserved it, thought it was stupid to come down and save him, because who would do such a thing. Charles risked himself to come down to Hell to save Edwin. Edwin never thought he'd be worth it. And when Charles just shrugs it off a bit, reminds him that he was gonna do it, and he's so easy about it that Edwin just. Confesses. And corrects him, when Charles misunderstands for a second. Charles didn't think twice about "Great. Love you too. Can we go?" And he really didn't even hesitate to reassure Edwin when Edwin clarified what he meant, that they had forever to figure things out.

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #okay i am pretty sure i derailed somewhere in here #ecause i'm only like 45% sure of what i wrote #i just kept writing #i have a LOT OF FEELINGS about Edwin and his use of the word fuck #and a lot more feelings about this show #so idk enjoy my ramblings about Edwin and emotion

[chewnotchoke]

tropes i'd give to boynextdoor + their theme songs

it's my first time writing here on tumblr so i hope u like it! reading experience would be better if ypu try to listen to the songs! enjoy <3

sungho - strangers to friends to lovers

- song: get you by daniel caesar

𓍯 it all started from the cliché 'i was dozing off and was too sleepy after school i slept on his shoulder without my knowledge.' he smiled to himself once you got off of the bus because he thinks you were too cute.

𓍯 you started running to each other often ever since you take short walks by the park every afternoon, and sungho walks his dog there as well. (he saw you once walking and he started doing the same so he could see you everyday)

𓍯 "can i pet your dog? what's his name?" you slouched to pet the corgi you thought was cute. "sungho." "pardon?" you chuckled. "ah-i mean sochi."

𓍯 you started being friends with him when you offered to walk his dog one day. luckily, sungho lives across the street in the same neighborhood.

𓍯 walks with his pet turned into walks with sungho himself where you would find yourselves eating at a restaurant for dinner. sungho would offer to walk you back home just so he could spend more time with you even though your house is just five minutes away from his.

𓍯 sungho has always liked you from the beginning. you liked him when you two were walking late at night and he was yapping nonstop about his hobbies, favorites, and of course he would also ask about your interests. you realized he's so nice to also talk about you and he wasn't that narcissistic guy who just talks about himself. "what about you, do you like this too? i didn't think you'd like that...oh! i felt like you were into these kind of things!"

𓍯 you never found out you two have met before at the bus until you asked sungho his first impression of you.

𓍯 "ms. y/n..have you ever dated before?" he dropped a random question on a normal day where you'd walk with him and sochi. "uh..i haven't...?" it was kind of embarrassing for you that you've never dated before. "then would you be fine with dating a guy like me?" he stops walking and faced at your direction as the corner of his lips form a smile.

riwoo - second chance romance

- song: everything by the black skirts

𓍯 this hurts because you're in the same circle of friends with him. at first, youre the type of exes who would walk past each other without a word. riwoo's heart would ache everytime

𓍯 couldn't and would not entertain other girls because he's waiting for you to come back

𓍯 he would message your close friends in the circle to ask how you're doing. one time, he found out you were sick and your friends were all busy and your classmates didn't know where you lived so he rushed to your apartment with medicine and porridge and ended up taking care of you. despite knowing your door passcode, he knocked on the door to give respect without actually barging himself in until you let him inside.

𓍯 "are you okay?" he hugs you out of worry. "riwoo, you can't just hug me like this." he snaps out of it and realized what he's done which might have put you in an uncomfortable situation. "i'm sorry." he apologizes. "no, it's okay. i'm worried you might catch it too. thank you for taking care of me."

𓍯 he's very caring and thoughtful even as exes. when he notices you're down, he would anonymously leave your favorite food on your desk because no one else knows you best aside from him. he knows you would not eat it if you knew so he tries his best to keep it a secret from your friends.

𓍯 cried on your shoulders when he was at his peak of vulnerability because he misses you so much and he said he could not handle walking past each other anymore and acting like nothing happened between you two. "can we try again?" he looked straight into yours with his eyes pooled with tears. "only if we both promise we'll do better this time." and from that day onwards, your relationship with riwoo was better than before.

jaehyun - 'i wont give up until you fall for me'

- song: adore you by harry styles

𓍯 this man is a down bad loser in love for you. when i tell you there's no other woman in the world for him, trust me.

𓍯 he likes you a lot but not in an overwhelming way. he just wants to prove he can take care of you well.

𓍯 jaehyun is very open when it comes to expressing his love for you. social anxiety is scared of him because he's always verbal about his feelings even when surrounded with a lot of people. "can you slow down, pretty?" you've been trying to walk in a fast pace because he's been calling you pretty. you weren't trying to run away because you hate it, you just don't want him to see your red face because you honestly love it when he compliments you. "there's so many people can you please stop calling me that?" he quickly catches up after you. "then you should stop being so pretty and cute in front of me." he sniffs like it was so easy for him to say that. the people around you looked in your direction and smiled at jaehyun's remark.

𓍯 would intensely stare at you every chance he gets because he loves admiring all your features. "has anybody told you you have such pretty eyes?" his comment would leave you all flustered. "when will you stop looking at me?" you rolled your eyes. "hm...until you melt?" he gave you the sweetest wink, teasing you.

𓍯 you started dating when you accidentally confessed he's good looking and he makes your heart race. "i bet there aren't any other guys in the world like my boyfriend!" your friend starts bragging about her man. "tch! i bet no one's as handsome and sweet as jaehyun!" both jaehyun and your friend were surprised with what you just said that you started running away when jaehyun was asking you to repeat your words. "what? you think i'm handsome? does that mean you like m—oh my god! do you like me too? are you my girlfriend now?!" he jumps around the street with how happy he was to finally win your heart.

taesan - brother's bestfriend (jaehyun as your brother)

- song: sweater weather by the neighborhood

𓍯 your brother brings him home a lot to play games and you'd ask your mom if she has prepared some snacks for them just so you can enter their room to deliver the food and shoot a glance at him

𓍯 you know a lot of girls like him and you're glad he's best friends with jaehyun because you get to see him hang around your house.

𓍯 although he's not the type to strike a conversation first, he actually looks at you when your brother talks to you and you would accidentally meet eyes with him where you would immediately look away

𓍯 he unconsciously grew this habit of watching out and taking care of you after all the times he has seen your relationship with your brother. one time jaehyun left the two of you at the park after forgetting something at home. taesan would grab the end of your shirt to pull you closer after a bicycle just passed by. "be careful, jaehyun might scold me." no. it wasn't because of jaehyun. it's because he cares for you.

𓍯 he tried to keep his little crush on you a secret because he's scared jaehyun might not like him for you.

𓍯 "hey! you're supposed to wash the dishes today! dont even dare to pass that job to me again and run away later!" you threw a pillow to him before walking away. you glimpsed at taesan who was sitting beside him before you run upstairs. jaehyun chuckles, "ah that kid...isn't she cute?" jaehyun glued his eyes on the tv while pressing the keys of his game console. "yeah, she is." taesan didnt know it would come out of his mouth. jaehyun slowly turned his head to the flustered taesan. "what did you say..?"

𓍯 your first kiss with him happened when you were reaching your brother's book in the shelf. when you turned around, taesan was towering you while he reaches the book for you. your faces were too close he ended up kissing you with consent and that's how you started dating.

leehan - slowburn/first love

- song: spring snow by 10cm

𓍯 he's just so first love coded!

𓍯 the opposite of jaehyun. he tries not to make it obvious that he has fallen for you.

𓍯 the type to look at you when you're not looking. he knows you were looking at him from afar at the cafeteria and when your friend talks to you, he'd grab the chance to look at you the same way and he would find himself smiling on his own.

𓍯 would tilt the umbrella towards your side while his shoulders are already wet just so you wouldn't get rained on.

𓍯 loves admiring you from afar because he gets to look at you without feeling embarrassed.

𓍯 during a class retreat, you got asked by your classmates what's your ideal type. leehan was too dense to realize you were talking about him. "someone with sparkly eyes...and fluffy hair? someone who looks like they'd make a good partner?" you answered. 'hm? is there some guy like that in our school?' he thought to himself.

𓍯 king of acts of service. not good with words but he's insanely good in expressing his feelings through actions.

𓍯 it took wayyy too long before the two of you confessed to each other. it was so obvious to all of your friends that you like each other but you and leehan are the only ones who don't know about it. maybe because you're refusing to believe he would like someone like you.

𓍯 "how could you fall for someone like me? i don't think i'm as good as other girls and you're just...way too out of my league." your eyes were glued to the ground, in a disbelief that leehan likes you. "what do you mean 'someone like you?' you're everything i could ever ask for..." he brushes your hair with his fingers before pulling you into a hug.

woonhak - friends to lovers

- song: this is what falling in love feels like by jvke

𓍯 he's very extroverted, but when it comes to expressing his feelings, he tries to be nonchalant about it. (he doesn't want to be teased by his friends).

𓍯 would get this and that for you because he remembers you mentioning how much you liked it. "what's this?" you asked wonhak who placed a cinnamon bun on your table. "just saw it when i was passing by." he answered without looking at you.

𓍯 would use "y/n, wanna try the newly opened restaurant down the street?" as an excuse to go out on a date with you because he infact have been to that restaurant already.

𓍯 you knew you were starting to fall for him because his smiles started to hit different than normal days. "oh, woonhak? i dont remember you being this cute?" woonhak shyly rubs his nape, at a disbelief that you found him cute.

𓍯 you fell asleep on their couch while hanging around his house and he pulls the blanket over your body so you won't get cold. he started admiring you in your sleep and thinks you have such long eyelashes. he'd flinch when you move and pretended he was doing nothing.

𓍯 "hey! woonhak! look at this!" you were all giggly while playing around the water fountain and he was standing, watching you have fun before deciding to get himself wet and play with you around the fountain as well.

𓍯 he offered to dry your hair with a towel. he'd be so playful with it and mess with your hair for fun. "hey! stop it!" he would laugh and then pat your head with so much affection.

𓍯 you love teasing him that he likes you because he's so cute when he gets flustered like his secret has been revealed to the world, but you didn't expect it to backfire immediately. "what would you do if i do like you?" he says.

reblogs are very much appreciated ><

#boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor fanfic #park sungho fluff #park sungho x reader #boynextdoor sungho #sungho x reader #boynextdoor riwoo #riwoo x reader #riwoo fluff #myung jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #boynextdoor jaehyun #myung jaehyun fluff #boynextdoor taesan #taesan x reader #taesan fluff #han taesan #leehan #leehan x reader #leehan fluff #boynextdoor leehan #boynextdoor woonhak #woonhak x reader #woonhak #woonhak fluff #chewnotchoke

[skywqlkergf]

⠀ dealer!sam monroe x cheerleader!reader

⠀　　⠀　　　　back to school

⠀　　⠀　　⠀　series masterlist

monday morning, the kind that every teenage girl regrets. the kind where you have to worry about seeing a man you're upset with. your parents are back in town, and you have to plant a happy smile on your face.

you bound down the stairs, heading for the kitchen and getting some breakfast. you sit on the bar next to your father, he's drinking coffee and staring angrily at the wall. it's always something better left unsaid, because once he starts there's no coming back from the screaming match that's bound to happen.

as soon as you're done eating, you give each of your parents a kiss on the cheek and walk to your car. they barely acknowledge you, as per usual. little nods and hums when you speak, the only things they care for were reputations. how people see their lovely daughter, such bullshit.

once in your car, you just sigh, and start it mumbling to yourself about how this day better go half-way decent or it would be your last. it was an empty promise, but it made you chuckle dryly. you put on a playlist to try and lighten your spirits, it doesn't really work.

the drive takes entirely too long and not long enough at the same time. fifteen minutes will never be enough.

you're greeted by your friends as you exit your car, bright smiles and asking how your weekend went. lying, you tell them that it was a quiet weekend, not doing too much.

“well, you know what i heard?” the brunette spoke up, kylee, she giggled as she spoke, holding a hand over her mouth. after spending so much time with sam, you realize you don't really like your friends. losing some kind of sparkle after your deep talks, cheap gossip seems so futile.

“what?” your eyebrows raised, and worry set deep in your chest. the last thing you need is the most back-stabbing girls you ever met to know about your weekend adventures.

another one finishes for her, this time a redhead with olive skin. lila, with a bit more of an accusatory tone, “eric and sam monroe got into a fight, some people are saying it's about you.”

your world pauses around you for a moment, sam's injuries weren't from a deal gone bad, but because he was probably standing up for you. eric was always one to have to run his mouth, serves him right.

“yeah, eric had to go to the hospital. he's fine. sam is insane.” the third girl from your close-knit group spoke up, bethany. she spit sam’s name like it was a curse, and while you were deeply upset with him, you wanted to rip her head off. you swallow hard and just hum, “oh, that's odd.” it was spoke in a dejected tone. you wanted to yell at sam and thank him, maybe cry in his arms too. you felt so conflicted.

the loudspeaker garbles out, “sam monroe, y/n y/l/n, and eric taylor report to the principal’s office at once.” and naturally of course, you wouldn't be let off that easy.

you cursed under your breath, and made the walk, the girls you call your friends whispering about you as you do.

you find sam already sat inside, his eyes are puffy and he's looking right at you, but you refuse to make eye contact. eric is also there, sitting in the chair farthest from sam. this puts you between the pair. his face is different colors of reds, blues and purples, yet he still has a smug look planted on his face.

as he turns his head to give you a disgusted look, there's a very obvious print of sam's ring. you almost want to laugh. it's exactly what he deserves.

you want to look at sam, stare into his soul, hope it'll tell you something. how could he beat up eric for something that has to do with you, and then continue to abandon you. confusion floods your senses.

“i’m sure we're all aware of why we're here,” the principal finally talks, he sounds tired.

“i’m not.” you speak up, your voice firm. you'd be damned if you're getting dragged to the depths of hell because of teenage boys.

“mr. monroe, please inform, ms. y/l/n, why we're here.” the principal has a warning tone, obvious this might be the final straw for sam. and with all things considered, you're not gonna let that happen.

“i uh,” sam's hand comes to scratch the back of his neck, he shakes his head defeated. he doesn't want to tell you, you can see it in his body language. the usually confident boy is curling into himself.

you finally look at him, since he has to talk to you. your eyebrows are furrowed and he can see it, you're disappointed. or hurt, he can't exactly tell. now that you can see him, you can tell life hasn't been exactly peaches for him either. his face is splotchy, eyes red and swollen, hair messier than normal. there's even skin missing from his lips from picking and biting them. you were still hurt, still angry, still upset. however, everything in you is telling you to pull this boy into your arms.

you have to protect yourself, you can't let him hurt you. but could you let him hurt himself in the meantime? you didn't know.

after sam finally recalls the fight, leaving out the parts of weed, which you were well aware of. your heart leaped once again, this man played your heartstrings like a bass.

you gave a dirty look to eric, and a soft one to sam. you can't just hurt him when he's looking at you like a puppy that's been kicked one too many times.

“i could be wrong, but isn't anything that happens off school property not the school's business? isn't that what the school board says when a kid gets cyber bullied and they kill themself? it's not the school's fault, cause it happened at home?”

the principal sighs, putting his head in his hands. it was obvious this was being pushed by eric, or perhaps his parents. probably to get sam kicked out of school, but this wouldn't be the first time you argued with school officials.

eventually argument leads to silence and the principal waves you all out, despite eric’s disdain. you step out of the office, now a scowl on your face.

the hallway’s empty, and since you and sam have classes in the same block, you and him walk away from eric. you wait until you're not in earshot, and pull sam into the girl's bathroom by the collar of his shirt.

you can tell he wants to talk to you, to explain something away. you'd rather rip the fucking bandaid off.

“quit with the puppy eyes and talk," your voice is cold and angry all at once. sam has never even heard you use a tone close to this before. especially not with him, it made anxiety creep up his back. he hated that you were mad at him, he almost wanted to leave.

“i’m sorry, cheer, i-i,” he chews on his lip again, and you want to roll your eyes. your arms come to cross over your chest, and it reminds sam of the beginning, of how it all started.

“you, what? you're stupid? i know that. you're an ass? i know that, too. gonna tell me anything I don't know?” you're spitting venom at him, and he flinches at it. you cringe at the look on his face, you just want to shake him and tell him to make a choice.

he laughs, it's cold and dry, and sounds a bit like he might cry again, you try to keep up a harsh exterior but your resolve is slowly crumbling.

“i am, i am all of those things, and you, you're perfect and i, i, you don't, you shouldn't have to put up with me, my bullshit, i,” his voice is breaking, it's shaky, and he's shaking his head.

you scoff, eyebrows furrowing together, “really? that's what this whole disappearing act is about? because you feel bad for yourself? god, sam, this is bullshit. this is shitty, you're being shitty to me. you're right, I don't deserve this. be a fucking grown up for once in your life and take responsibility.” you're laughing, cold, like steel. your laugh comes out angry, while his was so sad.

“we had sex and when i woke up, you were gone, fucking ghost, and all because your ego is a fucking mess? you acting like some fuckboy who just learned empathy. stay the fuck away from me until you can act mature and be serious about this. i am not some goddamn plaything you can just put down when you feel like it, okay? all or nothing, I'm done doing this shit. i love you, and it's killing me." you were crying now, your tears match the ones spilling from his eyes, as you tear him apart.

you wipe harshly at the fast falling tears, “goodbye sam.” and you storm from the bathroom, out of the side door of the building. you leave the school, you don't know where you're going but you can't be here. the day's just started and you're already done.

#dealer!sam monroe x cheerleader!reader #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe one shot #sam monroe life as a house #life as a house sam #sam monroe fic #sam monroe angst #sam monroe blurb #sam monroe drabble #sam monroe fanfiction #sam monroe series #sam monroe x y/n #sam monroe x you #sam monroe x reader angst #sam monroe x y/n angst #sam monroe x you angst #shut up callista

[rottenpumpkin13]

Serious ask: how do AGSZCL act when they feel guilty?

This calls for a dip into canon

Sephiroth: The events that trigger Genesis' degradation replay in his mind over and over, like a movie he can't turn off, and the guilt eats him alive. He blames himself, replaying moments that he could've done things differently, because then everything would be different. Genesis wouldn't get hurt, and he would still be here. Angeal would still be alive. He's long learned to numb his guilt and make peace with his duty as Shinra's weapon, even if it means killing the innocent and participating in Shinra's violent pursuit of power. But it's different when the source of the guilt has to do with the people he cares about. By hurting them, it's as if he's hurting himself, and the wound is constantly reopened no matter how much he stitches over it with reason.

Genesis: He's not one to openly admit he's wrong, not even to himself; in fact, he's the first to voice how he enjoys being right, which is why guilt feels so vile when it finally settles in the pit of his stomach, demanding his attention. He ignores it initially, stroking his own ego with twisted reason. But reality hits ten times harder when you don't make peace with it, which is when Genesis finds himself inconsolable, manic as he realizes the extent of what he's done and how there's no going back. Ever again. They're all dead; Angeal, Sephiroth, Zack, dead, dead, dead.

Zack: He hates guilt; it digs beneath his skin, it feels gross, it constantly demands his attention despite his attempts to push it away. So he reluctantly confronts it, aiming to rectify his mistakes and take responsibility for his actions by reasoning with himself in the events that the person is dead. Once he addresses and makes peace with it, it allows him to return to a semblance of normalcy. But the residue of guilt lingers like a bitter aftertaste, a constant reminder of his mistake. It resurfaces over and over again. Like a ghost. Because that's what Angeal became.

Lazard: He's quick to own up to mistakes, a trait developed during childhood where he often shouldered blame even for things beyond his control, stemming from a sense of feeling like a mistake himself. He handles guilt with what he perceives as maturity in his adult life, pushing it aside temporarily during moments where he knows guilt will be inevitable if he fails. And then he tries to counteract his guilt by taking action to reverse situations, often putting himself in harm's way to protect others. In his dying moments, Lazard comes to the realization that his existence was never a mistake in the first place. He finds peace with his guilt.

Cloud: Guilt becomes such an ugly thing for Cloud in his adult life, and he's so blissfully unaware of it as a little boy, guilty for accidentally breaking his mother's favorite mug. He feels it everywhere, as fresh and raw as the first time. He feels guilt when he looks at the buster sword. He's guilty when he looks at the ribbon on his arm. He's guilty when he's staring at the bottom of an empty liquor glass. He's guilty when he stands in Aerith's church. He's guilty when events replay in his mind, things he shouldn't have done, things he shouldn't have said. But he's realistic. He knows he can't go back and change things, so he learns to live with the guilt. It becomes an extension of himself, and he learns to ignore the sickness gripping him. Peace will come to him eventually, but by then he's already learned to live with guilt.

Angeal: His first encounter with true guilt comes with the passing of his father—a natural additional to grief. That type of guilt encompasses regrets of missed goodbyes, words both unspoken and words he regrets, and moments he wish he could've shared with him during his father's lifetime. This guilt becomes a constant presence, shaping his approach to handling subsequent feelings of remorse as an adult. He draws back into silence when he's guilty, despite his efforts to make amends with whatever the cause of it is. As a SOLDIER, guilt is natural. 'It comes with the job' is what he tells himself—whether it's from being too demanding on his trainees or moments preceding drastic actions. But some actions are as unavoidable as the guilt they evoke, or so he thinks.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #zack fair #cloud strife #lazard deusericus #headcanons

[thebrokenpapergirl]

S2E4 - Louis' Plan

This episode had me on the ropes, I'm not gonna lie. I need time to process all the other things that happened before I can attempt to talk about them.

That being said: Louis' plan to get the coven in line has been doing somersaults in my brain.

Louis decides to step up to the game in the last 15 minutes of the match and the thing is... the thing is... HE COULD HAVE WON.

Louis should have stepped up to the game much, much earlier. Two years prior, to be exact. The second he realized Armand almost killed him, but chose not to, because he cared for him. Louis should have started to pay more attention to this damned coven seeing as it almost got him killed once already. Yet, he doesn't.

A year into his relationship with Armand, and the plan he suggested of letting Santiago have enough rope to hang himself could have worked.

Not now.

The first words out of Louis mouth should have been: "We have to kill Santiago."

(Listen... I love Santiago, but in order for Louis and Claudia to have a chance... my man needed to perish.)

Killing Santiago would've been a clear message to the coven and it would've put into question all the manipulation he has been doing behind the scenes. Because Santiago is not targeting Armand. He is targeting Louis. Louis was the change in the status quo.

He will hurt Claudia, not because he dislikes her or resents her, but because he knows it is the easiest way to hurt Louis, and in so doing punish Armand for his "abandonment" of the coven.

Louis decides to take the reins, but because he hasn't done this in a long time, he shies away from the brutality. He needed to handle this situation with the same ruthlessness he handled Paul in the first episode of season 1.

Louis will also feel more emboldened to give Claudia the companion she wants, Madeleine, breaking more rules and giving Santiago the perfect ammunition. (All of this adding to the wreck of Lestat's return from the "dead".)

Now his plan will have Santiago assume more power than he should ever be allowed, which will culminate in the trial. The problem is that Louis doesn't have a clear grasp on Santiago, he is severely underestimating him, because, as Armand has stated this entire fucking episode, Louis does not pay the coven any mind. Santiago has been stacking the cards in his favour ever since Louis showed up.

Louis has now, once more, indirectly been the cause of Claudia's life being forfeit due to his not very well thought-out plan. The fire that ends Claudia's human life = the trial that ends her immortal one.

So even if Louis' memories of Claudia's death are intact. It makes sense why he stays with Armand. Louis has to stand by the choices he has made or the guilt will eat him from the inside out and leave nothing behind.

Louis loves Armand. Armand loves Louis. The tragedy was inescapable.

Armand could have stopped it, but he thought Claudia's fate was inevitable. Louis intervention made Claudia's fate inevitable.

They are the only two people who will ever, truly understand the calamity of what unfolded.

#iwtv #amc iwtv #iwtv season 2 #iwtv spoilers #interview with the vampire #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire season 2 #interview with the vampire spoilers #louis de pointe du lac #armand #claudia de pointe du lac #He could've done it #He almost had it #fuck my life #I'm sorry if this makes no fucking sense #to anyone but me

[anothergameofwickedgrace]

I wanted to share thoughts and analysis on Full Moon (the last scene, at least).

I'll start with saying at the end of the day, I'm gonna be partial to Stolas in this since Blitzø hurt him pretty bad, but I will defend them both. Because the situation is complicated, and Blitzø is also hurting.

Blitzø obviously did and said extremely hurtful things, but I want to break down his actions since he's the one who's not upfront with how he feels.

(Please no discourse on my post. I'm just sharing my personal opinions and interpretation.)

I'll start at when Stolas asked for the grimoire back.

Blitzø is confused and unhappy about the situation. He's clearly uneasy with how Stolas is acting. Understandable. However, he doesn't exactly handle the situation in the best way.

The first thing he does is question if it's because he's skipped the past few nights. The tone he uses feels kind of manipulative (a trait he does possess), especially how he talks about being busy (which assuredly isn't the full truth even if true. With some of the stuff he says earlier in the episode, I'm pretty sure he's been avoiding having to talk to him. He seems to feel like there's maybe something wrong, and doesn't want to face it or make things more complicated).

Blitzø is scared to lose the book, obviously, but I think it becomes pretty clear that it's not the book that is his main worry, but Stolas. Sure, it's a big part of the initial panic but I feel like his reaction would've been more angry than scared and worried if that was the main thing.

The second thing he does after Stolas tells him to hand it back is offer to fuck him. Telling him how good it'll be. How he doesn't disappoint. Because that's how he deals with this stuff. Seduction to get what he wants (like he did the night he stole the book). Because he thinks that's what Stolas wants. Because if he fucks him real good, then Stolas will still want him here. But Stolas makes it clear that sex isn't want he's after.

Once Blitzø has the stone, that scared and upset feeling goes away. He's genuinely happy and thankful that Stolas did such a kind and considerate thing. At least for a moment.

When Stolas tells him that they are no longer bound to an agreement, he starts to panic. He's worried that he's not good enough. He's scared that Stolas is done with him. He says he can do better. You can hear the desperation in his voice.

Stolas assures him that he's not doing anything wrong and thats not why he was doing this. That he was doing it because wanted him to be able to make his own choice to stay. To make it right and fair. Because he cares so deeply for him.

I'm very happy at how upfront he was about it all. He told him he was under no obligation to stay, and you can see the fear in Blitzø's eyes when he says this. He thinks Stolas doesnt want him around anymore. But Stolas almost immediately clarified that he still wanted him to stay.

And you can see it on Blitzø's face how much Stolas's words do mean. You can see it's something he wants to hear, his expression goes so soft. He so desperately wants it to be true but absolutely refuses to believe that it is.

So he turns it back to what he's comfortable with. The thing he admittedly focuses on when he feels like he's getting in his own head. Sex.

Obviously Stolas must be trying to roleplay, because how could he have feelings like that toward him? That must be it. He's so in denial of the reality of it, he will not allow himself to see it.

Until it hurts Stolas. Until Stolas makes it very clear that he was being serious and honest.

What Blitzø did is awful and hurtful. It seems almost mocking knowing that what he's 'roleplaying' is real to Stolas. The "I love you" is especially devastating. He most definitely was not trying to hurt Stolas here. You can see on his face that he's unsure in what he's doing when he starts to talk. And when Stolas stops him, you can see the disappointment and sadness as realized he did the wrong thing.

But he was convincing himself that what Stolas said wasn't true. Because any thought otherwise seems impossible to him.

He's wrong, though. And I completely understand why Stolas kind of just shut down here. That's like a knife to the heart.

And Stolas explains why. Explains that even though he's wanted him for so long, for Blitzø to only see sex in what he says and does was pretty telling to how he viewed their relationship. And that crushed him.

The moment Blitzø realizes that he was serious, his whole view shifts. He gets upset. Very upset.

The one thing I will wholeheartedly stand by Blitzø saying is when he asks if he could give him a fucking minute (Now I disagree with what follows, but I'll get back to that.). Stolas did drop kind of a big thing on him, something that shattered everything he had told himself. And then walked away, which isn't exactly fair.

Again, I don't fault Stolas for walking off, not wanting to hear more, saying he had his answer. Blitzø was unintentionally hurtful, and he's upset and devastated. But at the same time, he really didn't give Blitzø any time to process what was happening and what he was telling him.

He probably didn't think he needed to because interpreting what Blitzø did at face value would be exactly how he interpreted it. And he's not fully wrong that Blitzø sees things as sexual. He purposely sees them that way. But what happened shouldn't be taken at face value. Though Stolas had no way of knowing that.

Now back to what follows that. He says some pretty shit things to Stolas. He's upset and lashes out at him.

The things he says aren't fair nor are they correct. He's projecting his issues with royals in general onto Stolas. He has a dislike for nobility, one that stems from feeling like they step on the little people and don't care about how their 'lessers' feel. That they don't give a shit about imps like himself. The image he's built of Stolas is completely warped by his view on royalty. Fizz has even called him out on it ("It sounds like you just hate him for being a prince").

One of the things that stood out was his line about how he can't treat him like one of his imp butlers and just dismiss him away. He feels like Stolas is throwing him away. Stolas is very clearly leaving because he's hurt, but Blitzø takes it as a kind of rejection. (Like at Ozzie's, he can't see clearly what's going on.)

As I mentioned before, I think the main fault Stolas's has in this situation is not giving Blitzø any time to process and understand everything that was currently happening. He shouldn't have sent him away. He should've at least listened to what Blitzø was trying to say. Tried to understand what he might be feeling.

Because Blitzø was trying to apologize. Once he saw how much his words affected Stolas, saw him crying because of the things he did and said, he realized he fucked up. And honestly, he needed to see that. He needed to know that his actions and words can and do hurt Stolas.

But I don't blame Stolas for teleporting him away, even though I think he was wrong in doing so. Blitzø basically twisted the knife that had already pierced his heart. It broke him. Hearing how lowly Blitzø (incorrectly and through his own convincing of himself) thought of him shattered him. Because how could a relationship be any kind of possible if the other person thinks you're shitty and awful? And to hear that from someone you respect and care so deeply for is so incredibly heartbreaking.

It's why I'm on Stolas's side (not that there even needs to be sides). He was trying to do the right thing. He was being kind and caring. He didn't really do anything wrong, but still got so deeply hurt.

But I can't really blame Blitzø, even though I think he's in the wrong here. Even though he caused a lot of pain to someone who only wanted good for them both. He's hurting too. He's a very broken person with a lot of issues he hasn't worked through. His actions and words were awful and mean. But he's struggling. This isn't an easy situation for him. He couldn't even comprehend someone loving him because he hates himself so much.

It's why he lied to himself about Stolas. Because how can that be true? And because you can't get hurt if you don't actually get close to someone. If you pretend that it's nothing and doesn't matter, it can't hurt you when it inevitably falls apart.

But they aren't true, the things he's been telling himself. And that sends him reeling. The realization comes crashing down, and feelings just come pouring out.

The situation is messy and complicated. And I feel for them both.

#not important to the post #but Blitzø challenging Stolas to fight is surely an interesting way to handle things #what did you think would come out of that? #how could that possibly help? #also he'd kick your ass bud #hes super powerful #helluva boss #stolitz #stolas #blitzø #blitzo #blitz #stolas goetia #helluva boss spoilers #wicked hb #wicked writes

[grimgrazia]

Makima and Motherhood

The symbolism Fujimoto uses to connect Makima to maternity is something that really stands out to me in CSM part 1. Even without the visuals, Makima’s demeanor alone is very “parental,” (not necessarily in a good way, but she still has that presence about her.) To be clear, this analysis will focus more on the connection between Makima and motherhood, the symbolism Fujimoto uses, as well as the irony behind it. I plan on doing an entirely separate analysis for her character in general.

Before getting into the manga, I want to point out some of the imagery used in the anime. A very well known frame from the anime comes from its third ending. Makima is depicted as the Virgin Mary, floating in front of a kneeling Denji, who looks as if he’s worshipping or praying. A lot of people use this scene for bf/gf memes which I kind of find funny (and low-key Freudian). The visual is not really emphasizing Denji’s infatuation with Makima but rather her control over him, which stems from Denji’s desire for a mother figure.

One of the most misinterpreted parts of CSM is Denji and Makima’s dynamic. People often describe Makima as someone who used seduction to manipulate Denji but that’s not really the case. However, to say that she didn’t explore this tactic in the beginning of the manga would be a complete lie. Where she really becomes a mother towards Denji is, ironically, on their movie “date.” The movie theatre scene is a crucial moment for both of their characters but I’ll touch on that later.

For many people, mothers are viewed as this authoritative role model for most of their childhood. Anything she says or does must be correct because she is your mother. It’s easy to look back when you are older and call children stupid for it, but it’s natural instinct. Mothers for many are a source of security and comfort. That is what Denji saw in Makima. That is what Makima wanted Denji to see in her.

When reading CSM, it’s obvious that Makima groomed Denji but I feel like not many people acknowledge how she groomed him and why it’s so disturbing. Like I said earlier, it’s true that she explored seducing Denji but she abandons this idea once she realizes what it is Denji truly longs for, even if he doesn’t realize it himself. He wants the security and comfort only a mother and a family can offer, so she provides exactly that for him. What’s ironic about it is she’s giving Denji exactly what she wants, which probably contributes to her jealousy and hatred for him. What she’d Denji into such shock at the end of Part 1 is that on top of the people he cared about being killed, he learns that the only person he had was 1.) not really a “person” at all and 2.) hiding her animosity towards him in order to manipulate him. I can only imagine how baffling it must be for your own “mother,” who’d showered you in affection since the day you were born, to all of the sudden flip the switch in the cruelest way imaginable.

Also, it is important to understand that multiple things can be true at once. Makima was never attracted to Denji romantically, sexually, or even platonically. In fact, she makes it quite clear at the end of Part 1 that she views him as insignificant and distasteful. It’s a bit shocking considering how much attention and effort it would take to manipulate someone like that. However, this doesn’t change the fact that she groomed him.

It’s common for their to be some sense of attachment to an abuser, especially in a familial scenario like the one that plays out here. A very sad and disturbing part of all of this is how Denji, despite everything Makima has done, is extremely hurt by the fact Makima cannot even remember his scent let alone his face. That being said, I love how a huge reason Denji defeats Makima is because she only recognized Chainsawman’s scent, not Denji’s.

Although it’s sad, I do like the way Fujimoto hints at Makima only seeing Pochita, not Denji. For example, every time Makima and Denji hug, Makima puts her head on Denji’s chest, right over where his “heart,” Pochita, is. My personal favorite detail is the image of Makima reflected in the chainsaw’s blade. Even as Denji is attacking her, her eyes aren’t focused on the assailant but the weapon because it is a chainsaw. It’s a really creative way of showing that Makima’s fixation was solely on Chainsawman, not Denji. She didn’t even recognize Denji without Pochita as his heart.

As I mentioned before, Makima is depicted as the Virgin Mary a lot. Despite being such a dark character, she’s often engulfed by a warm light in these images to compliment the illusion of safety and love she creates. One of these comes from Chainsawman ending 5, where for a brief moment a painting of Denji and Makima, that is a reference to Michelangelo’s “La Pietà,” can be seen. The reference to this famous sculpture is another nod to the mother-son dynamic between Denji and Makima as well as a way of foreshadowing Makima’s intention to bring Chainsawman back, but let Denji die in the process.

**Another cool detail is how the shadow of the window pane looks like a cross. I love all the religious symbolism so much.**

Another interesting part of their dynamic is the idolization. Denji puts Makima, someone who doesn’t care about him, on a pedestal. He sees her in a divine light. Interestingly enough, Makima admires Chainsawman in a similar way. What Makima and Denji have in common here is that neither devil they look up to truly acknowledges their existence as an individual. This is just one of the many ways in which Makima and Denji parallel each other.

An iconic yet ambiguous part of the manga is Denji and Makima’s movie theatre hopping spree. (On a separate note, that actually seems like so much fun.) They culminate their movie marathon with a Soviet film called “Ballad of a Soldier.” To better understand the manga I watched this movie on my own and I can confirm, it’s sad. Makima’s emotional response to it is probably the most memorable part of the entire ordeal. She sheds tears as the mother and son embrace in the film.

A person might cry during a movie because they can sympathize with the characters or situations. It’s difficult to realize this unless you take a step back and ask why a certain scene made you cry, because it’s a lot more than “it was sad.” In Makima’s case, she is not crying out of sympathy, but out of yearning. The relationship depicted in the film is what she wants. Denji is crying beside her as well because he also wants that type of relationship. They both want a family, a stable source of security and comfort. This scene is also alluding to what Pochita tells Denji at the end of part 1. He tells Denji to give Nayuta lots of hugs, to become the family Makima didn’t have.

It’s also interesting how Denji and Makima’s roles flip in part 2. Obviously she is no longer Makima, as her new incarnation is Nayuta, but I believe this was very intentional. Denji sort of becomes a parental role model to Nayuta, much like how Denji viewed Makima. Only this time, it’s genuine. Another reason I really like Nayuta’s character is because of how different she is from Makima. It’s fun to compare and contrast their characters. I really love the parallels. Character design wise, I like how Fujimoto kept the braid. It’s symbolic of not just the control devil’s chains, but bonds.

Speaking of chains, the chains coming from Makima’s womb are also symbolic of maternity. The first time she’s shown using this power is during the infamous Gun Devil showdown. It seems the chains grant her the ability to use the powers and contracts of other devils and humans. The chains seem to connect to the navels of those she controls, acting as an umbilical cord of sorts.

Obviously the uterus to navel connection is symbolic of motherhood, but why chains? The chains are also symbolic of the dynamic between Makima and other characters. She can’t form genuine connections, so she uses her powers. The chains are representative of how people’s admiration of her isn’t a choice. She’s using her powers for her own agenda, but she also may be trying to feel less lonely. However, even she knows it doesn’t substitute a real relationship. Her power requires her to have a superiority complex, and it’s her nature as the control devil that makes it so hard to achieve her dreams. Makima does understand that all of her relationships are superficial, and it bothers her.

Despite all of these roadblocks, it is not impossible for the control devil to form a bond. Pochita knew this and Nayuta is proof of it. I believe Makima was capable of forming those bonds at one point in her life, but ultimately her upbringing destroyed any possibilities of that happening by the time Part 1 begins.

I post these on tiktok before tumblr because I write them in Pages, and it takes a while to put the pictures in on here. I gave up on my Denji and Doors analysis with the photos but I’ll try to be better about it moving forward because I do think visuals are important.

#makima #chainsaw man #art #manga #analysis #writing #anime #symbolism #motifs

[pxparkerr]

peter parker bisexual moments

#there’s a lot of evidence that wade likes peter so I wanted to shine light on some of the times it’s pretty clear he reciprocates #also from the last issue: peter unintentionally pushes wade to kill when he doesn’t want to. and then collapses with his head in his hands #once he realizes that’s what he’s done. he cares about him so much #didn’t include it because that could be interpreated as platonic #BUT the sequence of ‘sure. love.’ then peter’s silence before he fucking hugs him I #out of the blue. #spideypool #peter parker #deadpool #wade wilson #comics #peter parker bisexual moments

[whynotimtired]

The best part of Will saying he wants forever with Mike so blatantly is that he isn't the one who brought it up, Mike was. In an act of projection he asks "What did you think? That we'd actually get to be together forever? When we're both boys?" and will says yes. He says yes, and Mike immediately regrets it.

#not even going to get into how earth shattering it was for me to make that reference #i didnt even realize that's what i was writing until halfway through #he said yes. he said yes. (it was the worst thing I'd ever done.) #accidentally implying he doesnt also want forever with Will #gonna scream #this is so stupid dkndnd i just woke up #byler #will byers #byeler #mike wheeler #stranger things #mike wheeler is gay #AND KNOWING THAT WHEN WILL MOVED ALL MIKE DID FOR A FULL MONTH WAS LOCK HIMSELF IN HIS BASEMENT AND PLAY VIDEO GAMES #LIKE #IT CANNOT GET MORE BLATANT THAN THIS #will 'i want forever with you' byers and el 'hes my first boyfriend' hopper #also imagine how much white hot rage mike felt when will said 'you called maybe a couple times' when mike called CONSTANTLY- #and will NEVER called him back #i hate the roller rink scenes they both think that theyre being ignored and dropped by the person who they care about most in the world #& the idea that once mike finally got on the right page and understood what the painting & the speech meant. WILL flew to a whole diff BOOK #mikes like holy shit he loves me this is all ive ever wanted & then wills over here like TELL HER YOU LOVE HER CAUSE YOU'LL NEVER LOVE ME #mike 'I thought my wants were something i had to grow out of. i thought i you would never love me the way i do you so i tried to move on- #but YOU want ME?? YOU want forever with ME? Then i want it with you.'

[tovaicas]

some of the threads probably could've been handled better but as a whole I love alphinaud's HW character arc so much

#saint.txt #spoilers #major spoilers #ishgardposting #long post #in tags #the reason him being the mouthpiece for ish.gard at zenith annoys me so much is not just bc he robs esti.nien of a much-needed moment #but also bc alphi.naud should not be seeing himself in the ishg.ardians. he should be seeing himself in the *vault.* #HW spends most of its runtime explicitly forcing alphi.naud to see for himself the real actual cost of war after an entire series #of patches where he has played with soldier's lives like they're distant toys or tools and even then doesn't fully conceptualize it #until esti.nien extremely bluntly tells him he's sending someone he cares about into mortal peril like he's asking them to go to the store #as much as I hate it HW through sohm al directly challenges him bc he just blindly follows the ishg.ardian assumption that all #drav.anians are vicious and violent monsters hellbent on destroying poor innocent ish.gard and in his own complacency #he has directly participated in perpetuating the violence and war crimes committed against the drav.anians. #I don't want alphi.naud standing in for esti.nien to relay how badly the vault has betrayed its people #I want alphi.naud's threads to line up and for him to have a genuine realization that he has done a horrific act of violence to an innocent #party and have to struggle with what this means for his sense of self. He killed dragons in sohm al and justified it as self-defense. #alphi.naud should stand there at zenith and for all his conviction realize that he sees himself in the vault. bc he has directly sent #soldiers and friends who trusted him directly to their deaths with a flick of his wrist while he sat nice and safe from on high #nice and safe and protected from the realities of his violence / and perpetuated a great act of evil bc of his own complacency. #that he treats someone he cares abt more like a tool and never considers there is a real chance that for every battle he sends them into #they might never walk out of again - just as the vault sends scores of dragoons and knights to die needless deaths against dragons #and he only realizes this fact once someone else very well-acquainted with the cost of war points it out to him #HW's threads of 'you do not need to be intentionally evil or an asshole to perpetuate evil acts' is so good

[atrwriting]

future problems — coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

hi everyone :) jumping on the bandwagon

this man is so fine i couldn’t help myself. i hope everyone had an amazing holiday if they celebrate — i celebrate christmas, so here is my almost 10k word christmas gift to all of you xoxo love u all v much thank you for reading !!

as always, warnings: corio-lame-o is a fucking warning holy fuck, smuuuuut, arranged marriage (i think this counts?), coriolanus is a distrustful evil fuck (but he’s super hot), fem!reader, reader is married to this dickhead (i say as if i wouldn’t want to be lmao), angst, sexism and misogyny is def in here, p in v penetration, m receiving oral, choking, dom!corio, asshole!corio, sub!reader, subspace kinda

informal warnings: bro what the fuck was i on this is literally 10.2k words and i refuse to edit because im super lazy anyway we die like men you've been warned

anyways… here is future problems:

he never wanted to get married.

he saw it as a potential problem, one that would most definitely lead to loose ends — and he hated loose ends.

despised them.

however, his innate need to maintain an image was far more important to him. he weighed the costs and benefits in his head like an algorithm — check, check, check. coriolanus’ mind left no stone unturned, especially when future problems were to be squashed before they could ever be wiped from memory. in the end… he decided he would marry.

and it would be you.

he never allowed himself to be naive — so he would never allow himself to marry someone he already loved. lucy gray? a child’s want for something they can’t have, and something they wouldn’t realize until later that it was a walking regret. no — he could never marry someone that would harm him. absolutely not. out of the question. therefore, it had to be you.

it had to be you because what harm would you cause him? you were shy, quiet, of satisfactory social standing, and uncontroversial. everything a patriarch of the snow family would want. deserved. be entitled to.

he needed someone that wouldn’t be a problem — a loose end in the future. he had conquered so much — he refused to let anything else, especially as irrelevant as a significant other, stand in his way.

however… it did not aid him in his stone-cold lack of a love affair conquest that you were absolutely breathtaking.

at first, it was just an ego boost. he simply couldn’t stop his thoughts from voicing, of course she’s perfect. the snow legacy can only have perfect.

but then… oh, then…

then he saw your smile.

oh, your smile.

your fucking smile.

the first time he caught himself enjoying it — he scolded himself. he refused to see you for a week. a punishment of sorts. more so for him than for you. after, he refused to let his eyes wander on the pretty features of your face for him to witness a reaction to something someone had said or done. he didn’t want to be reminded of what it was like to experience joy or peace because someone else was experiencing it — that was what almost costed him everything he had built.

no one would ever tear that down. not again, not ever.

no one.

when the day of your marriage came, it was business as usual. he refused to meet eye contact, and did not partake in more conversations with you than he had to. he could tell you felt uncomfortable — but he forced himself not to care. he drove it down, down, down like a miner drilling for more coal — hoping, one day, it would be worth it.

and it was… until he was sick.

it was a minor ailment — nothing major, but he was on bedrest for about a week or two. he had employed enough adequate members to his staff to feel that things would at least be taken care of until then. he also found comfort in the fact that two weeks was not long enough for something irreversible to occur. if a problem had taken placed, he would be able to rectify it once he was well and able and… set aside the responsible party.

however, he did not expect one problem.

and that would be you.

he knew you were asking to see him. he knew, he knew, he knew, but he refused to let you in. you were not disrespectful — you had only asked once a day, which happened to be every day in the afternoon. he had picked you specifically because you were too quiet to be annoying. however, his own perfect, pristine, and proper plan had stabbed him in the back. he had never considered that the perfect, pristine, and proper wife would be this dutiful to him, checking in once a day on his condition and to speak with him. despite his illness, he laughed at himself — leave it to him to not expect the expected: the hand-selected dutiful wife would, in fact, be dutiful.

he had to put an end to it. he couldn’t keep saying no for another week. how was he expected to get better if you kept bothering him?

so he let you in. this once. just this once. he reasoned that if he let you in this once, you would be less persistent. just this once — and another problem would cease to plague his mind.

just this once, he chanted in his head. just this once.

he sat up straighter, and attempted to shape his hair so it wasn’t terribly unkept. he reasoned that if you saw him appearing to be healthy, you wouldn’t feel the need to come back. he thought —

but he couldn’t finish the thought.

because you walked in.

smelling like fucking lilacs.

lilacs, of all things. lilacs! not roses, not anything else — lilacs. he did not hate lilacs, but he despised the actual flower. only beautiful for so long before it died and the stench was intolerable. an inconvenience. a nuisance. a guaranteed future problem.

however, when you gifted him with a small smile — you realized why small shows of beauty were so valuable in this world. no one else saw your smile — except for those closest to you. people he hand selected to be around you to prevent future problems. he realized then — he had more control and ownership over your smile than either of you thought.

he was so stunned by your smile he didn’t even notice the tray of tea and cakes in your hand. you took a few steps towards him and he shifted in place.

“i brought your favorites,” you spoke softly. “i know you should rest — i just wanted to ask if there was anything i could do to make your recovery easier.”

“no, thank you,” he replied, voice raspy. “i should be well in a few days.”

you nodded and offered an uneasy smile. his eyes flickered over to how once you had set down the tray on his beside, you slowly wiped the palm of your hands down the front of your dress. your eyes were cast absentmindedly in front of you, on the wall — and he could tell something was plaguing your thoughts.

he then also realized there was a book on the tray, much to his dismay.

“someone had mentioned that this was your favorite author. this was published a few days ago,” you began. “i understand that you have been experiencing headaches, and may find it difficult to read… so i wanted to offer to read aloud for you, in case you found these walls dull.”

you smiled — it was an attempt at a joke. he smiled back, but only to be polite. “today i find myself wanting to sleep. i appreciate your offer.”

you smoothed your hands over your dress once more before nodding and forcing a smile. “i’ll leave you to it, then.”

you did not bid him farewell — and he found himself wondering if he was annoyed or grateful. you simply exited the room, and let the door shut softly behind you.

he scrunched his eyes at the door, swallowing hard.

however, he didn’t understand why.

he had wanted this. the perfect wife — knowing when to take a hint and frankly, fuck off. you had done that, perfectly well — so why was he pissed?

he then found himself glaring angrily at his favorite tea cakes. the swap of sugar for honey, another one of his favorites. his favorite author, a book he was excited to read when he was better. he knew that you hadn’t asked about him — he employed people with the requirement to let him know when you were asking questions. he knew your every outward thought and concern, and sometimes even the ones that weren’t shared aloud because they were so evident on your face.

and then he realized: you noticed things like he noticed things.

however, he knew why he went out of his way to notice things, but why did you?

his jaw clenched as he glared angrily at the wall in front of him. he picked up a tea cake and chewed it aggressively, swallowing it half-intact. he coughed at the barely there food, anger rising further to his flushed cheeks.

he needed to understand how, and he most certainly needed to understand why.

he never went out of his way to get to know you, because he thought he already did. he thought he had you boiled down to one thing, and one thing only: passive. incapable of proving to be any sort of roadblock that was capable of getting in his way. now that he knew you shared something with him, what else was shared? was there something he had to look out for? was there something he missed? was he wrong about you?!

he had to know. he had to.

to do that… he called you back that evening. it was two hours before midnight, and he knew you were awake. despite having separate chambers, he knew your daily schedule. you would be reading at this moment, and he would ask you to read for him.

as if on cue, he heard a soft rapping on the wood of the door. he beckoned you in, and you entered the room. you were clad in a night dress with a matching robe over it, all pink silk. this time, he returned your smile.

"i apologize for the late hour," he spoke. "i hope you had not retired for the night."

you shook your head, your tendrils of perfect hair shaking slightly. "i was reading. i am glad you sent for me — can i get you anything?"

"i was hoping the offer to read for me was still on the table," he rasped. "i find myself unable to sleep."

you blinked once, staring at him. in an instant, a small smile was threatening to overtake your face into a large one. you cast your eyes down to a blushing manner, but his eyes narrowed slightly on your face. what would you get out of reading for him? what we he not seeing? what did he miss?

"of course," you responded. "i have not had a chance to read anything by this author. i am glad i have the chance now."

why. why. why.

he did not show his discontent. he simply rested back against the pillows as you reached for the book on his bedside table. you sat down on a chair on his side, and you crossed your legs. he eyed the small portion of the exposed, soft skin of your legs and wondered if your new ploy would be to try and seduce him. however, you quickly covered your skin with the extra material over your robe and placed the book in your lap. once opened, you read for him.

he was not listening to what you were saying, but he was listening to how you said it. the tone, the enunciation, the pauses, and the speed. he wanted to find some clue as to why you had made it a point to be at his beck and call, and he wanted to see how long the act would last until it dropped.

the act would drop. it always did.

the hour would approach midnight before he found that he could not discern anything from how you were reading aloud. his plan did not yield the results intended, as you had not broken from fulfilling his task for two hours. two hours. you had not stopped out of boredom or exhaustion, nor to talk to him. you were poised, soft, and he hated to admit it... but sweet. he found your voice sweet, and he hated it.

and he fucking hated himself for it.

he needed this to end so he could plan further. out of necessity, he yawned. if you were to apt at picking up clues, then hopefully you would believe that he was finally tired. you had succeeded in his given task, and you were free to go.

but you had kept reading for him.

he grew angry.

when you had paused to breathe, he spoke up. "I think i am able to sleep now. thank you, sweetheart, for indulging me."

your eyeline raised with your eyebrows, almost out of surprise. you either were not expecting him to ask you to stop, or you did not want to stop. he wondered which, and if that would answer his ultimate question.

"my apologies, i should've inquired sooner," you replied. "he is a very talented writer... i found myself enjoying his perspective."

you grabbed a piece or scrap paper from his bedside table, and tucked it in between the pages where you left off.

"most people would fold the corner," he remarked, eyes drifting closed — a show.

you smiled. "i didn't want to ruin the integrity of your book. goodnight, coriolanus."

she left with another smile — and all he was left with was confusion, and rage.

the next morning, he found himself wanting to call you back in for a further rouse interview. he would have if he had a plan in place.

that was the second thing about you that annoyed him: you annoyed him to the point where he wanted to act without a plan in place. a loss of control —which he was highly against.

that would have to be righted immediately.

he spent the morning reading the pages that you had already read to brief himself as if he was listening last night. he reasoned with himself that the best course of action would be to ask you to read to him again to see if you had grown comfortable enough to let a few of your true colors slip.

they always slip.

the sudden task that was presented to him gave him a new bout of energy that he needed to inch closer to recovery. it gave him the push he needed to be closer to walking out of this room and continue to run panem, and he was lost grateful to you for giving it to him — almost. at the moment, you were a problem — and that needed to be corrected. immediately.

he found comfort in control, so he was very content with routines. he had grown accustomed to bracing himself for your check-in in the afternoon. however, it did not come until the approaching hours of the evening had almost descended upon the capitol. he waited, and waited, and waited — so long that he considered asking you to come for himself. the hour would approach dinnertime when you had finally asked about his well-being, and he sent for you.

how dare you ask so late in the day, as if you didn't care? he allowed you access to his life that he had denied you for so long, and you return his kindness with carelessness? this would not do. this most certainly would not do.

you had knocked on his door, and he had to stop himself from sounding to eager. he permitted you entry, and you entered with the same soft smile.

"good evening," you greeted.

"hello," he replied, voice still raspy from his sickness.

"I wanted to ask if you need anything," you announced.

he offered a small smile. "i enjoyed our time last night. perhaps you would read for me, again?"

your eyes fell to the floor in a blush. "of course. I was hoping to read more of the book eventually. i found it intriguing."

you sat down in the chair and pulled the book in your lap. as you were opening it, he spoke, "i thought when you had not checked-in in the early afternoon you found the book dull — afraid i would ask for you to read it for me again."

you shook your head as you smiled. "i like his writing very much — i was concerned as to whether i had prevented you from sleeping the night prior, and didn't want to disturb you further."

he swallowed. "why would you have disturbed me?"

your eyes glanced upwards from the pages to rest on his face. coriolanus stared back as slight concern washed over your features, making your lips part and your eyes widen. your tongue darted out from between your lips, and smoothed over the skin of your bottom lip. you responded, "before you fell ill, we hadn't spent much time together and i understand that is because of your position — but, to be frank, i wanted to respect your space.”

your answer perplexed coriolanus. he wanted to find out what type of person you were — and your answers were not yielding the expected results. there was no obvious form of manipulation in your words, which then worried him. were you smarter than he believed you to be? were you as cunning as him? more so?

so he went with what was natural: manipulation.

“i apologize my station has not granted us the freedom to get to know each other further,” he replied, holding your gaze. “it is a regret of mine.”

you smiled in an affirmative manner, like you didn’t believe him but accepted his answer anyway. this expression arose the same feelings he now detested your presence for: he acted without calculating his actions and the outcome they would produce.

“what troubles you?” he asked.

your lips parted and slightly quivered. you were not expecting him to ask.

“i-i was worried that i may not… please you,” you admitted. “that… you may regret our union.”

“you have been a kind and dutiful wife,” coriolanus spoke, eyes holding yours. “there is no regret.”

there was that affirmative smile again. he found himself hating it — wishing it would be replaced by the warm, soft one.

“i guess i was hoping that, when i was married, the marriage would be more than… a union.”

your candor shocked coriolanus. he would never have expected you to say something… so out of turn.

“please, forgive me,” you spoke, slightly laughing and waving your hand in the air. “the hour is almost late and i was hoping to read more. do you still wish me to?”

“please,” he answered and nodded.

you gave him a quick, thankful smile, and began reading.

this would be the second night coriolanus had not listened to a word you had said.

he had gotten his answer, and it was possibly as bad as the one he was actually afraid for.

you were good. pure, innocent, and your outlook on the world untainted. you were not striving to find a loose screw and let the empire fall. you wanted… to support the man who built and kept the empire together. it was worse than anything he could’ve ever imagined — you actually cared for him.

you cared for him, and now coriolanus snow was fucking terrified.

and yet... he had asked you to return to his chambers every night after that.

for research purposes, of course. only research purposes,

to read to him, but his goal was to learn more about you rather than the text.

you would sit there and read until he asked you to stop. when he did, you would close the book, smile at him, place it back on his nightstand, and bid him goodnight.

after, he would wrestle with the blankets and pillows in order to find out how to deal with this.

how had he not expected this?

his only fault was that he neglected to realize how far your shyness would go. you had grown comfortable with him — and you admitted that you wanted something more, something he always felt he could not give. you weren’t shy — you just weren’t open with people you weren’t comfortable with.

he should’ve known. he should’ve. fucking. known.

he didn’t know how to deal with this, if he was being honest with himself.

he told himself that he asked for you every evening to get to know you better, for his own sanity and safety; but then he began to realize he had found out everything he needed to know.

good and honest. how fucking unfortunate.

he saw a part of you, but now he needed to know more.

so what did he do? he sent you flowers. flowers. an arrangement of red roses and lilacs.

he hated himself for the lilacs.

he got somewhere with you when he had made the first move before — maybe this would yield more promising results.

however, it didn’t.

all he received in return was an extra tray of food that had arrived in the afternoon. his favorite tea cakes, and a handwritten thank-you note detailed in your appreciation for the beautiful flowers. you signed your name, and that was it.

she doesn’t make first moves, he thought. she responds to them.

he knew what he had to do.

he found himself feeling better that day — well enough to end his sick leave and return to his matters. dinner was approaching, and he sent for you to join him for a private dinner this evening.

he was washed, dressed, and coiffed within the hour.

he found you in the dining parlor waiting for him, inspecting his large bookcase. you were trying to reach a book a bit above where your height would allow, extending yourself onto your toes. coriolanus walked up behind you, towering over you, and retrieved the book for you.

you glanced up at him with wide eyes. “thank you, coriolanus.”

“what intrigued you?” he asked, grinning softly.

“first one i couldn’t reach. i was working my way up.” you smiled at him, and then the book. “please — you must be hungry. let us eat.”

you sat down at the table across from him. dinner manners were rather stiff and uncomfortable, but your upbringing that was similar to coriolanus’ prevented you from straying from them. you ate in silence for a few moments before you spoke.

“how do you like his new book?” you asked.

coriolanus cleared his throat. “i find it riveting. i wouldn’t have been able to read it for some time if it hadn’t been for you.”

you smiled at your plate, blushing. “his points are very interesting. i was never very interested in politics — so the insight of someone so heavily involved with them is very informative. do you find that your opinions align with his? or does he not share your perspective?”

he appreciated your willingness to engage with him about topics you weren’t very fond of. an underrated trait, not found very often — he had to admit.

“a bit of both,” he responded. “the one thing he does not discuss is how important it is to have a certain type of person or persons in your regime that allows the flow of success to continue.”

you nodded. “you have built a strong administration — i’m sure he would admire what you have to say.”

“what do you believe?” he asked. “about partnerships?”

you swallowed, contemplating your answer. “i think… a successful partnership is where everyone is complimented by another. for instance, someone is better at briefing documents rather than the presentation of them, and another is the opposite.”

“which one are you?” coriolanus inquired.

you paused once more, folding your lip under. he realized that was a sign you were uncomfortable — unaware of how to proceed. after a moment, you answered, “i feel the most confident under a strong leader. i prefer to be behind the scenes. minute details are easier to be taken care of that way. while you and i are different, i respect you for being the strong leader panem needed. i am sure the majority would agree with me.”

now was the time.

“it is easy to be strong when one’s wife makes sure they are well,” he replied, eyes resting on your face. “i hope you know i appreciate your willingness to accept change and make sure needs are met.”

you smiled at him once more, then turned back to your food.

damn, he thought. didnt bite.

“and for being the companion i… didn’t think i would come to enjoy the company of,” he added.

you glanced up at him then, astonishment written in your eyes as plain as the words on the paper you read for him every night. “may i ask you… a question?”

he nodded.

“did you believe you wouldn’t enjoy my company before, or after you had first met me?”

“i don’t understand.”

you swallowed, clearing your throat. “were you… wary of the idea of marriage, or wary of me?”

your gaze did not break from his. you were braver than he thought.

“marriage,” he answered honestly, hoping to witness your reaction.

there was the affirmative smile — the one he hated. “thank you for — for being honest.”

your eyes didn’t wait for a response. you turned back to your food, and left him dumbstruck.

“i hope i have not displeased you,” he stated.

“no, coriolanus,” you spoke. “if i am being honest… i was wary i would not be suitable for you. if i have not displeased you, then i am well.”

“but you stated you wanted more,” he countered, tone even.

“i hoped we would… spend time together,” you answered. “and we have.”

it was coriolanus’ turn to be at a loss for words. what would this admission relay? it only solidified what he was afraid of — you wanted a marriage filled of love, and he was not prepared for that. ever.

“the flowers were beautiful,” you spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “thank you for sending them.”

“your lilac perfume is a wonderful addition to the capitol,” he spoke, unsure where this had come from. “i wanted you to know that.”

you weren't supposed to say that you weren't supposed to tell the truth you weren't supposed

you smiled at him appreciatively, that accompanied a slight twinkle in your eye. you were quick to return to eating, but coriolanus couldn’t stop staring at your face. he realized then that was his new favorite smile.

there was a moment, a small moment, where he wondered whether it would be such a crime if he did allow himself to enjoy your company more than he had. in that moment, he couldn’t think of how it would go wrong. for that moment, you were a simple, low-maintenance, beautiful woman on the other side of the table with him that just liked spending time with him — and he enjoyed that you weren’t a problem. would it so bad if he entertained the idea?

he immediately cut himself off. of course it was a bad idea.

once dinner has finished, he had requested to walk you back your chambers. if time spent together was what kept you at bay, he could manage that. he most certainly could.

when the pair of you had approached the door, you stopped for a moment and paused reaching for the handle. you spoke, “would you… like to come in?”

“not tonight,” he rasped. he gave you a polite smile. “another time.”

he watched as you blinked your eyes a few times and your lips quivered. you didn’t meet his gaze, for it fell — in what appeared to be embarrassment.

oh.

you invited him in to… to…

that he had not expected.

before you had the chance to leave, he swooped down and grabbed your chin in his thumb and forefinger. he pressed his lips to yours ever so softly, holding it there. the moment your breath caught in your throat, there was a strange feeling inside his chest that made him feel like he’d like to quell your worries by catching you off guard another time. and another. and another. and another. he couldn’t have you feeling rejected, no — not when he didn’t want to reject you. he needed heirs, sure — but they could wait. he would contemplate how long later.

once he pulled back, you smiled. inside you were bursting, and you wanted to hurry behind a closed door so he could not see your reaction. he continued to hold your chin and gaze at your face. feeling brave, you looked him in the eye as you bid him goodnight and went into your room.

you left him standing outside your door, facing its wood paneling.

what was he to do?

he wanted to keep you as emotionally far away as possible to avoid anything like this occurring. he was prepared for people who had an ulterior motive… not a young woman who only wanted to be good to her husband.

the worst part was… not every part of him wanted him to keep you away.

would it be so bad, if he had actually courted you?

you were not anyone from his past, no. you were not irresponsible and impulsive, and you could be trusted to remain within a designated role and space. you were rarely outspoken — you never strayed from your cue cards, nor did you get smart in private. you never spoke out of turn, which coriolanus always knew — this was just the first time he was more turned on than he was just grateful.

he reasoned a reward was in order.

he found his knuckles wrapping on the door before he could stop himself.

the small movements inside your apartments stalled for a moment, pulled taut like a string in an instrument. he could picture you — standing still and silent, waiting for an explanation.

then he heard footsteps approaching the door before the door handle turned. when you opened the door, the first thing he saw was your eyes.

those big, beautiful eyes that looked at him with surprise — and the slightest bit of hope. coriolanus would most likely try to convince himself that he stayed completely still to exercise a form of control over you — but deep down, he would never be able to believe that completely.

however… when you reached out with your soft, delicate hand, and pulled at his own — it didn’t matter why he did it, because he won.

he shut the door behind him, keeping your gaze.

“i would be coy and ask if we could spend time together in a... different way than usual…” you began, sighing. “but up until this moment i was convinced we would never…”

coriolanus was in no mood to quell insecurities and anxieties. he understood that words could not compare to actions, and so he would do just that.

coriolanus stepped forward, and pressed his large hands against the sides of your face. for a split moment — you almost looked terrified. he usually relished in that look from others, but with you it only made him concerned — angry, even.

“i don’t know what it is about you.” his voice was shaky. it was the first moment in your entire marriage that coriolanus had shown even a shred of weakness. “you smile, you obey, you take my transgressions like they’re fucking sweets. why?! tell me!”

your big, round eyes were blown wide as your brow was knitted together. your lips were parted in an innocent manner, and it only fueled his anger. one of your hands came up to gently lay across the back of his. “coriolanus — have you ever considered that i just wanted to get to know you?”

his eyes searched yours like they were an important document and he couldn’t believe what bullshit he was reading. his lips pursed in a manner that suggested a sour taste, and you felt your joy slipping, slipping, and slipping.

“coriolanus — if you want to go, then go.” your voice was breaking. you knew he was a cool, hard man — but this? this? it was almost too much. “you don’t have to stay if you don’t —“

he couldn’t take your nonsense anymore. he shut you up with a kiss.

he smashed your lips together like it was the first thing he should’ve done when he walked back into the room. a squeal died in your throat at the contact, but coriolanus held you there and upright. both of your hands found the firmness of his chest for balance. when he pulled away — he barely did. he kept his lips an inch away from yours as little tuffs of air pushed past. he leaned his forehead against yours, almost bonding the two of you.

“my greatest displeasure will be making you regret this,” he rasped, eyes screwed shut.

your breathing began to hasten as you contemplated your next words. you began to stroke coriolanus’ hands with your thumbs, hoping to coax him. “you say that like it’s inevitable.”

“it is not far from,” he choked through anger and sadness.

you couldn’t help but stare back at him as he almost glared at you — but then you realized that wasn’t the case. he wasn’t glaring at you — he was glaring through you. whatever traumatized him, whatever made him so distrustful of the world around him and the people in it… you realized then that you represented all of that to him. you had to be different. you had to show him that you were different than all of that.

“i’ve trusted you,” you whispered, almost pleading. “i would like for you to try and trust me. please, coriolanus… i’ve never asked you for anything — just this once —“

coriolanus shook his head, dismissing you. “it’s corio.”

he slammed his lips to yours. his kiss was that of a fight; burning with every cut of anger, frustration, desperation, and sadness in his soul. you weren’t sure if he accounted for your inexperience, but you let him lead as you swallowed all of his suffering. you knew you may never be everything you wanted to be for him — but for this moment, or for whatever he would allow — you could be his escape, and he could be yours.

just this once, you both thought. just this once.

his hands were on both sides of your face, caging you in as you were at the mercy of his bittersweet affection. you tried to keep up with him, almost afraid that you wouldn’t be enough for him — but corio didn’t care. he couldn’t have cared less as he backed you into the foot of the bed. he didn’t stop kissing you as the back of your legs hit your soft mattress, and you were forced to sit down.

with his tongue tangling with yours, you managed to lift your hands to the top buttons of his shirt. he batted your hands away and went to work on his own buttons. you reached behind for your zipper to your dress and attempted to undue it.

corio then pushed your hands away with that too — ripping the zipper down its track and pushing the sleeves down your shoulders.

“corio —“ you gasped through the kiss, struggling to keep up with him.

he pulled away for a short moment, staring into your eyes. “i have denied myself being with you for so long — nothing is stopping me now.”

he held the glare, and you could only stare back at him in fright. however, that was when you realized that he had felt the same way, or at least similar — you both wanted each other, and had been scared to approach the other. your heart filled with warmth, threatening to explode, but all you could do was nod.

he seemed to calm down then, glancing down towards your lips where he prodded your bottom lip with the tip of his numb. “i have wondered for so long what it would be like to kiss my perfect wife — and now that i know, i don’t think i’ll ever give it up.”

you smiled at that. “can i tell you what i have been wondering?”

his eyes met yours once more, almost a warning. you didn’t falter, though. he replied, “yes?”

“i’ve wondered what it would be like to please you,” you spoke softly, a pink hue rising to your cheeks.

his flat look broke then, softening. a smirk greeted his features and you could see his confidence in himself rise. “my lovely wife wants to please me?”

“yes,” you spoke, holding your breath. “if you’ll let me.”

bright and striking, flames of mischief came to light in his irises. emotions of excitement and fear rose within you, and you weren’t sure which was stronger. all you could do was watch as your strong, powerful, larger than life husband stood over you, chin raised, looking down his nose at you, as he unbuckled his belt. his pants and briefs, once around his ankles, were discarded — but you didn’t see that. you couldn’t look away from his eyes — holding you, and your gaze, in place.

it was like you were an enemy he was testing. you didn’t know what he expected, let alone what would make him happy — but you hoped his expectations were slightly lower in light of your inexperience. you swallowed the hard rock of nervousness in your throat, stood up, and gestured for him to sit down on the edge of the bed. he raised an eyebrow at you, but complied. you sat down on your knees in between his, and waited patiently for direction.

“can you…” you began. “can you teach me?”

he smirked once more. “take me in your hand.”

you bent your head lower, and grabbed him by the base. he was hard and warm in your hand as you saw him trying to fight the twitching feeling in his limbs. his muscles were tight, afraid to show weakness. you grew uncomfortable — you didn’t want him weak, but you did want him to feel comfortable enough with you to enjoy a fucking blowjob.

holding his muscle upright, you stuck your tongue out and licked around the tip of his cock. he was salty, but smelled so masculine after a long day. his scent infiltrated all of your senses and had captured your attention. it made you hungry, greedy — so much so that you closed your lips around his cock and began to suck.

he jumped then. “teeth,” he spat.

you paled in embarrassment and fright — but didn’t allow your fear to show for long. you adjusted your tongue and lips — so that your top lip was folded under your top set, and your outstretched tongue covered your bottom set. hollowing out your cheeks, you took him into your mouth once more.

a low hum filled his chest.

you couldn’t see him, and could barely hear him — corio was being a selfish lover and not letting you know whether or not he was enjoying himself. he told you once before you were doing something wrong, so you tried to trust that he would tell you.

that was easier said than done, frankly. with your free hand, you reached up and began to massage his sack in the soft skin of your palm. the hum in his chest turned deeper and louder, and you felt his hips twitch once.

maybe it shouldn't have mattered that he wasn't vocal — but it wasn't like he was shy. you would not fault him for not doing something he didn't want to do, but it was like he was denying you that. if you were making him feel good, and he was fighting the volume of his moans — how fucking dare he deny you of that! there you were, constantly at his beck and call, and he couldn't even freely moan with you? you were obedient, quiet, grateful, everything he wanted — but this? this? too much. absolutely too much of an ask.

you had to do something.

"mr. president," you cooed, twisting your soft tongue around the tip of his cock. "you're awfully quiet above me."

he let out a laugh as he struggled to keep his composure. one of hands found the back of your head as his fingers struggled to tangle themselves in between your strands. they were tugging and pulling, but there was no strength in his grip. his grip — wouldn't catch. couldn't catch. corio, you husband — struggled day in and day out to keep the control in the capital and inside his castle. there was a part of you that believed he just needed to let go, let someone else be in control — but you were his pretty little wife after all. you had until death to try everything. losing control could wait, because tonight... tonight was about making corio the grateful one for once.

you let your loose grip run circles up and down the length of his cock. his shaft was wet and thick, begging the attention of the light from above so the skin was able to glisten. the tip of his cock, red and angry, almost neglected — never had you seen something so delicious, nor deserving of affection. your lips, swollen, wrapped themselves around the tip of his cock as you sucked. notes of salt and sweat mixed together on your tongue, and you hummed at the taste.

"taste sweet, mrs. snow?" you heard from above you. your eyes glanced up to find corio's eyes glazed over with pleasure. his eyelids were drooping over, and all you could think about how badly you wanted to make him close his eyes in bliss. your eyes watched his eyes, but his eyes watched the way your mouth sucked him in. "being so good for me. let your husband see what else you can do."

your ears perked in interest. you didn't know what he meant, but you were intrigued to see if he would teach you.

"please... show me what you like," you spoke, extending your neck as he lowered his face to yours.

"so eager to please..." he spoke, staring down at you in awe. his hand slid down for your scalp to cup your cheek. he looked into your eyes like he was studying you — searching for something surface level. a flaw, or something good... you weren't sure. "i suppose some would say i'm lucky."

you didn't like the sound of that... but you didn't let it show. you gave him a hint of a smile. "i don't think it matters what anyone else thinks. i think what matters is you telling me what you like... so you can decide if you're lucky or not."

he chuckled at that, but his laugh was reserved. always holding back, your husband. "you really want to be a good little wife for me... don't you?"

you fell into the strength behind the hand on your face and keened into his touch. his hand was warm against your skin. "please, corio... please let me."

he stood then, and your gaze raised with his body. you gazed up at him as he stared down at you. there his eyes went again — searching yours. he stood closer to you then, bending down slightly. "it would please me if, at any point, you told me to stop because of the pain. i don't want to hurt you." his voice was low and soft then, immediately striking you. "can i trust you to do that? hmm?"

"i'll tell you," you replied, nodding your head. "i promise."

"never break a promise you make to me," he warned.

you nodded your head once more, unsure how to proceed. he led you over to the side of the bed where he gestured for your to lie down. with the passing of time, you became more and more aware of how bare you both were in front of each other. you were ready to let down every fence of insecurity for the man before you... but there were still walls of his that threatened to come down. he was hot and cold every other moment, it seemed... and you weren’t even sure where to begin.

“husband,” you spoke, unsteadily, as he found his place between his legs. “you seem so… distrustful of me. what can i do? please, corio, i just want this moment to be special for us — for you.”

there his eyes went — searching yours again. it was like he was rereading a page in a book over and over, hoping to find the hidden message in the black and white scripture. his eyes, going back and forth, appeared to be looking over unclear smudges and scribbles as his lips began to purse. you almost said something — stopped him from withdrawing into himself, but he moved before you could.

he sat back against the pillows, which faced a mirror across your bed. you rose curiously, hoping that he would finally give you some direction. he simply took your hand in his, and gestured for you to come closer. “come,” he spoke.

in his lap, maybe? you thought curiously. you went to throw your leg over his, before he stopped you. with a furrowed brow, you watched as he adjusted you so your back laid against his chest.

“do as i say,” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers up and down your spine.

your eyes were cast to the side, his outline in your peripheral vision. you nodded, letting your lips fall apart. you felt one of his hands on the soft skin of your thigh, grazing upwards towards your hips. you almost let your eyes fall closed, hoping to lose yourself in the sensations, before corio stopped you.

with that same hand, he reached upwards and grasped your chin between his fingers. your eyes shot open as he moved your head to now face the mirror, and the pair of you in it.

shallow breaths were pushing past your lips as you stared into the mirror. your cheeks were flushed, your hair in a slight disarray, and your lips were swollen. with a flutter of your eyelashes, your gaze flickered towards corio’s reflection. your husband was always perfect — so even the slight persuasion from tidiness was a remarkable sight to you. his eyes were focused — unable to remain cool, calm, and collected as usual.

his eyes, you thought. his eyes will always tell me.

“you will watch,” corio spoke suddenly, voice hard. “you will keep your eyes on my hands. you stray, and i leave. understand?”

you nodded, looking into his eyes through the mirror.

he cocked an eyebrow.

“yes,” you spoke, almost breathless. “i understand.”

corio’s hand then found its way to your center. the tips of his finger tips, soft and hot, lightly drew a line up and down your slit. your eyes wouldn’t leave the mirror — focused on his fingertips. it was like your skin knew every correct button to tap, tap, tap. every part of you was so sensitive, so keen to his touch that you were embarrassed. you felt so pathetic against his chest, bent to his will — but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. the voice in your head was whining and hoping you would give in, just give in, let down your guard, give in, forget manners. you wanted to keep your composure as long as possible, but when corio’s middle finger found your clit…

oh… you were done for.

one of your hands immediately snapped up to find corio’s bicep and clutch onto whatever foundation he could give. you didn’t dare let your eyes meet his, even in the mirror — what if he stopped? what, huh? what then? when you were the closest you had been ever? you couldn’t allow yourself to be greedy, not when he was being oh, so selfless.

the circles he was drawing taunted your ability remain calm. he rolled your tiny clit underneath the weight of the tip of his finger and pressed down with every circle. it pushed, and pulled, and fucking pried at every fiber of your being. you could only force yourself up and back against corio, whining like a pathetic mess.

“running away from me, my sweet?” he whispered in your ear. “when i’m being so kind?”

his words bit at your ear, reminding you of your position in his world. your eyes were threatening to drift closed, hoping, praying, that corio would let you slip this once from your responsibilities. naive, you were, to believe that.

“remember our deal, wife,” he darkly cooed in your ear. “one request was all i had. i refuse to be denied it.”

“i know, i know…” you whined, rolling your hips with his hand. “it just feels so good, corio… i’ve never… no one’s ever…”

“i can tell you never knew how bad your body would crave it,” he spoke, nipping at your earlobe. “even your pussy obeys me, drenching my fingers. too sweet for this world, aren’t you?”

“just wanna be sweet for you, corio,” you whined as your vision began to blur.

the approaching orgasm was anything but a warm and fuzzy feeling around you. it was hot and jagged — making your muscles jerk, yet force your hips to roll into every movement of corio’s. the cloud over your brain felt like a warm haze of the finest whisky or tobacco the capital could offer. you were numb, drunk, and unable to process the world around you unless it was corio. his touch, his taste, his scent, his look, his orders… everything was setting you off and keeping you in place all at once. your body was hot to the touch, feverish as it tried to fight your sophistication and just fucking —

“that’s it, sweetheart. so focused on the mirror you can’t even find the strength to let go for me,” he spat, pressing a kiss to your cheek and breathing in your scent. “ride my hand like the good girl you are. you wanted to show me, remember?”

tears were brimming your eyes and blurring your vision. your teeth were gritted and bared for him. one of his hands came up to loosely grasp your throat as your hips began to spasm. it was so much, too much, so much —

“corio, please —“ you cried. “please let me look away. i can’t — i have to cry, i can’t —“

there was no softness in his movements against your aching clit. corio had now employed two fingers to dip into your core, collect your slick, and rub it along your sensitive bud in harsh circles. it sent your mind through a suffocating tube and gasping for air. you were begging, pleading — unsure what would happen if you were denied the ability to finish in peace. you began to cry in frustration and fear, so sensitive to the touch and his approval.

“corio…” you whimpered. “please, please let me…”

“do it,” he spat, holding your throat and kissing your face. “show your husband how fucking messy you can be for him.”

you grasped onto him and threw yourself back.

it was like a rollercoaster. twists and turns, yanking your body every which way. corio’s body rocked with yours as the sensations climbed and fit into every single one of your limbs. your lungs, burning, were screaming for air as you tried to fight for consciousness. the world was white, milky, foggy — unable to navigate, let alone exist in. all you could feel was corio’s body moving with yours and coaxing you through the most insane moment of your entire life.

tears fell down your face, and you struggled to conceal it. corio refused to let you hide from him. he bent his face low to yours and pressed the side of his face against the side of yours.

his breaths were heavy, similar to yours.

“corio…” you whimpered, almost whining.

“i know, sweetheart,” he cooed. “so good for me, weren’t you? asking so obediently and politely.”

you nodded, pressing your forehead against his. “i’m sorry that i was —“

“what’re you sorry for?” he demanded.

you clenched your jaw. “i was — i am — i’m worried i was too much — i was so — out of control —“

he shut you up with a kiss. coriolanus snow refused to allow you to continue, or else he knew he would be offended if he had let you finished.

“i wanted that,” he stated. “every bit of that. what, you don’t find it agonizing to be prim and fucking proper every day?”

you laughed uneasily, a bit spooked by his outburst of aggression. “i thought you — i thought that was what you wanted from me.”

he shook his head. “out there — it’s necessary. in here, when it’s only the two of us? don’t ever hide yourself from me. you must promise.”

you swallowed as your haze began to disappear. “only if you promise the same."

you saw his jaw pulse from the corner of your eye. “i promise.”

“i promise,” you returned.

you quickly reconnected your lips. you couldn't let the moment slip away. you needed to seize him while he was there — trusting you for the first time in your entire relationship. you found both of your hands on the side of his face and held him to you. corio fought for control, but you gave in immediately. the need for him to need you was stronger and more satisfying that anything else you could've experienced in that moment. you turned around, straddling his lap and pushing him down to the bed.

everything you were doing was improper: grabbing your husband, forcibly kissing him, sitting in his lap, pushing him down... you almost stopped. you almost gave into the insecurity and made friends with with meekness and shyness once more. however, you made a promise — and you intended to keep it.

"i want you inside me, corio," you whispered against his lips. "please, i want to feel you —"

"again, sweetheart?" he ripped himself from your lips to grunt out his teasing. "one taste, and you're addicted?"

you hummed approval against his lips, tangling your tongue with his. with one hand on the back of your head, holding your face to his, corio's other hand fished between the pair of you and grasped his leaking cock in his hand. the tip was red and swollen, aching for some stimulation or attention. he spread his precum over his tip and with a firm hand, corio slid his cock inside of you.

you arched your back away from corio. the feeling of him being fully sheathed inside of you bent your attention in every which was. both of your hands cradled the back of his head into your chest, where he found himself nestled between your breasts. his breaths were hot and heavy, moist against your skin. his swollen lips found one of your perky nipples and sucked it into his mouth, caving to his primal urges. coriolanus snow wanted every part of you for himself, and needed to place that claim on every part of your body. he wanted your thighs to shake and ache from being locked around him, your fingers to tremble from your hard grip, and he wanted your lips to be bruised from how hard he made you bite them. and, most of all, he wanted every loud moan to rip itself from your aching throat and fill the perfectly painted walls of this damned room.

he cursed you when you threw a hand over your mouth, and he immediately ripped it away. "don't you fucking dare," he spat.

you ignored him. he was your husband, and he was the scariest man you would ever meet, and yet you ignored him. most of all, your hips ignored him. they began to roll against his own the best they could for their inexperience. up, down, and grinding down was the best they could manage before corio grabbed you by the flesh of your hips and moved you to his liking. and when your mouth parted and a loud cry made your throat shake when he twisted your hips forward, he knew he found the spot.

"do not ever deny me what i am owed," he spat, fucking into that spot that wrapped a tight band around your abdomen. "i want to hear how good i am making you feel, and i will. i get to hear. those are mine. i am owed those."

again, you ignored him. what did he expect when your eyes began to roll back into your head and you began to match his pace? you were close, you were so, so close...

that was when corio grabbed you by the chin, refusing to let up his pace. his eyes were full of darkness, yet focus. like he had found his prey. you tried to focus, tried to give him the respect the deserved... but you couldn't. your mind was swimming, and your arching cunt was dripping down his length and onto the skin of his pelvis. you were lost. so fucking lost.

"yours, corio!" you whined. "all yours. only yours."

his voice was gruff against your lips as his thrust became rougher. "say it again."

your eyes began to drift closed as you leaned your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips against his. his cock had found its way to the most sensitive and purest part of you and ripped down every wall you had. you sobbed, "yours, corio. only yours."

corio threw you off of him and your back hit the bed. he was on top of you in an instant. he threw your legs up and pressed them against your chest. with your ankles on his shoulders, he pushed himself inside of you and began to relentlessly punish your perfect fucking pussy.

"mine, you got that?" he spat against your ear. "i have watched you, day after day, put on this fucking act! perfect and proper — but i made a proper whore out of the most desirable woman in the capital, didn't i? and now she's mine — forever warming my bed."

"forever, corio," you whined. your sobs were music to his ears, going straight to his cock. your cunt was raw from the friction and slick, unsure if corio should stop or keep going — but you didn't let him guess. "inside me, corio, please... want it to bad. been so good for you..."

his hand was around your throat and demanding your attention. "as if i'd waste a drop when every man in the capital would be able to see you round with my child. you want that wife? my seed, my child? you want to be fully claimed by me?"

"yes," you cried, tears falling down your cheeks. "give it to me, husband, please —"

corio reached down in between your hips and rubbed your clit with whatever energy he had left. his thrust were growing sloppy, but his movements against your swollen bud were worse. he was hissing in your ear as he continued the assault against you. your moans were loud as they escaped your lips and filled the room, setting corio's skin on fire. sweat dripped down from his brow and down his neck to mingle with yours as your second orgasm of the evening began to approach. it snapped the rubber band in your lower belly and you immediately sobbed into corio's neck. his hips continued to rut in you, forcing you down onto the bed as he swallowed all of your sobs for himself. your nails dug into his back and down his spine, hoping to rip parts from him that he had taken from you.

when corio came, you were in a stupor. cock drunk with your mouth hanging open, dazed. when corio came, one of his hands grabbed your messy pile of hair, wrenching at the roots. he pulled you to the side to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck as he pumped your cunt full of his cum. your walls were hot and sticky, full of him, but it only caused the most sickeningly warm feeling to spread throughout you. every primal need of yours was satisfied, and corio could see every bit of it on your face. the pride that welled within your husband... shameful. no man should be in possession of such an ego boost like making the prettiest, more desired woman in all of panem break from all bounds of social etiquette. you were warm, and wet, and craving every bit of his touch, so he couldn't deny you... not anymore. not when he felt the same. with each sob that left your mouth, he felt a kick in the pit of his stomach as his balls throbbed. never in his life had a woman ripped from him what he had taken from her, cheeks hot and muscles worn out.

he would regret it in the morning, maybe, but not now. no — not now.

"husband, forgive me, but..." you spoke. "my mind is a mess. i don't think i can read to you this evening."

corio rolled his eyes and laughed. "that good?"

you pressed a kiss to his lips as you hummed in approval. "never wait that long to bed your wife again."

he chuckled darkly. "watch it, sweetheart."

---

love u guys sm sorry it was so long ty for reading love u love u love u

-L xooxoxooxox

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