#he seems like a piece of shit just in general; but this is what just makes me loath his stupid ass
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mean mouth
foreword: and if I said Eddie liked when you talked a lil' mean to him. what then. n e ways. just a little exploration of his early-day sub tendencies. I generally write Eddie as older but since this takes place in some nebulous time before s4 u can think whatever u want +18. ‘unnamed freak’ is Jacob. punk band name was not thought of by me but isn’t it great <3
cw: gn!reader w/breasts + V, oral (R receiving), unprotected PiV, soft!dom(ish) R, Eddie subbing from the top 😎, gotta-be-quiet-when-we-fuck trope my beloved
wc: 3.7k
____
The first time it happens, it’s an accident.
Eddie’s a blur of motion in the little trailer kitchen, knocking against your knees where you’re propped up on the counter (not entirely helpful but, in his words, ‘much-needed eye candy for the chef’), closing cupboards with a bang and talking animatedly over the hiss of onions cooking.
Your boy is loud, always has been, and tonight is no different- he’s crowing and cackling, recounting a particularly genius foible that he’d orchestrated during last night’s campaign, wooden spoon dipping in and out of heated pots over the stove like some crazed frizzy-haired potions master.
“And then.” He punctuates with a jab of the spoon towards you, a long drip of spaghetti sauce narrowly missing your leg- you flinch and squeak in alarm, but Eddie just grins wildly, eager to get to the punchline. “Red rolls a natural. Fucking. Twenty.”
“Holy shit!” Your smile is wide, natural and easy for him- Eddie’s excitement is infectious.
“I know!” Eddie spins back to the stove, plunking the wooden spoon back into the simmering sauce before opening the oven. Heat from the broiler rises in a mouth-watering cloud of herby smell, and Eddie reaches for the metal sheet of garlic bread, still talking. “Couldn’t fuckin’ believe it. And then I- shit!”
You don’t put the pieces together until Eddie’s spinning away from the open oven, whole body moving with the force of his hand being shaken in the air- he’d touched the roiling-hot metal with his bare hand.
“Oh, shit, babe-” Sliding from the counter, you nudge the oven door closed with a foot, reaching out to assess the damage- but Eddie’s a whirlwind, jumping up and down, swinging his injured hand around in jerky movements, howling in pain.
It’s kind of freaking you out, ‘cuz you can’t tell if he’s playing up or if he’s actually got a third-degree burn. The voice that comes out of you is commanding, one that you rarely use, firm and louder than his hollering.
“Eddie, for fuck’s sake- stand up and let me see it.”
That seems to do the trick. Eddie’s eyes snap to you, pausing mid-hop, and you take advantage of his semi-stillness to snatch his wrist and drag him towards the sink. The water runs cool and you turn his palm over in both of yours, breathing a sigh of relief when the pink welt across the bridge of his hand doesn’t have any blisters.
“Under the water,” you instruct, pushing at his silver-link braceleted wrist until he gets the memo, letting the flow from the tap ease the burn.
Eddie hisses through his teeth, and then goes quiet for the first time in ages.
There’s a few moments of this strained silence as you watch his hand carefully, color leaching back into his palm until you notice Eddie’s looking at you sideways.
Your shoulders hunch in a bit, arms crossed over your chest as you take a step back, misinterpreting his look as wounded. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just-”
“Hey, whoa, no-” Eddie’s hand automatically reaches for you, dripping water on the floor until he remembers his injury with a wince and plunges it back under the tap. “You don’t have to apologize for that. At all. Um.”
His left hand, the uninjured one, braces against the linoleum, ringed knuckles creaking as he shifts his stance. He sounds uncomfortable, and you’re about to start apologizing again until he lifts his head, eyes twinkling- “You were so bossy. It was totally hot.”
A shocked laugh burbles out of you, unsure if he’s joking or not- when he shifts his weight again, your gaze flickers down to the zipper of his dark jeans- he’s fully hard.
“Oh my god.” Split between amusement and mortification, adrenaline from seeing him get hurt fizzing through your veins, you laugh again- this time, sardonic, into your hands, shaking your head. “Jesus christ, Eddie.”
“Can’t help it.” He’s close to whining, hips pressing flush into the cabinet, partly to relieve the ache in his groin and partly to toy with you. “Goddamn. Sound so sexy when you tell me what to do-”
There’s a teatowel hanging from a nearby rack; you snatch it up and whip it at Eddie’s shoulder, playful and irritated as you snap, “Shut up.”
“Oh, yeah, just like that, baby-” Eddie’s fake sultry voice earns him another towel-whip, this time at his neck- he squawks, ducking to avoid another blow while still keeping his hand under the water.
“Ridiculous. You’re ridiculous,” you announce with finality, slinging the towel over your shoulder and turning on your heel. “I’m gonna get the burn cream. Try not to cum or die while I’m gone.”
His bright laughter follows you all the way down the hall.
___
The next time it happens, it’s sort-of on purpose.
Eddie’s glowing with a post-show rush- a local business convention meant Corroded Coffin got to play for a nearly-packed room. Nevermind the fact that their Bruce Springsteen cover was the one bringing in the most applause; Eddie’s always been able to feed off the energy of a crowd, and tonight was a riotous success.
The Hideout is loud but your boy is louder, as per usual. There’s sweat curling the baby hairs at his temples, bright spots of flushed pink in his cheeks from the round of whiskey you’d bought the band as a congrats.
He’s making a toast to his laughing bandmates, to beautiful you, to any nearby drunk who will listen, proclaiming his lust for life with one boot on the well-worn table in noble pose.
“And to Bev, the best of us-” Eddie tips his half-empty glass towards the nearby bar, shouting over the din of the jukebox and lively chatter, “-may your sharp-tongued wit live on!”
Bev pauses service to flip him off, and Eddie collapses back into the comfort of your arm over the booth’s top, grinning when the band trio of Jeff, Gareth, and Jacob nearly fall out of their chairs with laughter.
It’s always hot to see Eddie in his element, and tonight’s not an exception. He turns to lean into you, looking down the slope of his pretty nose like he knows why you’re staring.
A charming wink precedes, “Come here often?” but his flirting is interrupted when Jeff gets up for another round and bumps the table- whiskey sloshes over the side of Eddie’s cup and coats his hand in stickiness.
He swears viciously, yanking out his bandanna to wipe at the mess while you laugh over the rim of your own glass at him. “Real smooth, babe. Good thing you killed it on stage, otherwise I might not take you home.”
Eddie’s eyes light up, inhaling for another cheesy line to wow you with when his gaze flicks past you and his face falls.
Across the table, Jacob mutters, “Oh, shit,” and Gareth glowers.
Following their eyelines, you look over your shoulder to see Nico Hawley, frontrunner of Hawkin’s own punk band (the Scumshots), enter through the front door in a cloud of cigarette smoke.
When you turn back to Eddie, he’s already twisting the damp bandanna around his rings. The usual softness of his doe-brown eyes are now flint-sharp, and with a rush of panic, you remember the last time Eddie and Nico ran into each other; the night had ended with you back at the trailer, holding a cold pack to Eddie’s split lip, which he’d received from engaging in what he referred to as “friendly fisticuffs”.
There was nothing friendly about the way Eddie stood, then, to his full height, dark and imposing with his big mane of hair and leather jacket. The other Corroded boys won’t start any shit themselves, but will absolutely back Eddie up (fearless leader, resident shit-starter, instigator extraordinaire).
Time’s running out for you to get a handle on the situation, Eddie already moving to slide past you out of the booth when you snag his left jacket sleeve in a tight grip.
The first yank you give stops him in his tracks; the second, more intentional tug gets his face level with yours, Eddie’s hardened stare giving way to confusion as you pull him into your space.
In that same authoritative tone, you pin Eddie in place with a fistful of leather and command, low, right in his ear to be heard above the bar noise, “Don’t. Sit down and be good.”
At first, you’re not sure it worked, because Eddie’s just staring at you- slightly slack-jawed, pretty pink o mouth as his gaze flickers to your lips, back up to lock in your gaze again.
And then, by some miracle, Eddie obeys. Like a well-trained, marvelously-behaved dog. He’s back in his seat with a jolt to the booth, hand curling around his whiskey again.
Curls spill and shift around jacketed shoulders as he shoots the rest of the glass, adam’s apple bobbing, other hand slipping to cup your thigh hidden from view. “It’s not worth it,” he announces to the rest of the group, sounding strained, staring at the bottom of his empty glass, knuckles white with force.
Jake sighs, relieved, but Gareth scoffs, tipping the neck of his beer across the table to point, goading Eddie with “Since when have you been the one to take orders?”
“Shut up,” Eddie shoots back, blood returning and redistributing enough from where it had all rushed south, enough to defend you and himself against his drunk bandmate. “We’re already on Hop’s shit list, asshole, can’t be catching any more charges for stupid fuckin’ bar fights.”
Nico had disappeared into the throng of people at the bar while your group has been arguing- probably for the best that he’s out of eyesight. Unperturbed by Gareth’s comment (he likes you fine, he’s just grumpy from the alcohol and itching for a fight), you sip your drink and give him a shameless wink.
Underneath the tabletop, Eddie’s palm flattens over your jeans, fingers dipping to toy with the denim seam hugging the fatty plush part of your inner thigh. You shift your hips, subtly, feeling flush with heat and power. Just a couple of words and you have him eating out of your goddamn hand.
Jeff returns, setting a handful of beers in the middle of the table. “Saw that shitstain Hawley at the bar. What’d I miss here?”
Gareth swoops in with accusatory explanation, seizing another bottle out of Jeff’s hands. “What you missed is Eddie’s balls on a leash-”
“Jealous you don’t have someone at home to tie you up, Emerson?” Eddie’s dig comes swiftly, lips quirked in a smile around the rim of his drink.
There’s a raucous burst of laughter, Gareth’s curly mop of hair gets ruffled playfully, and everyone eases back into celebration, all while Eddie’s thumb edges closer and closer to the apex of your thighs.
___
The next time, though? Totally on purpose.
There’s a sliver of gold from the hallway light spilling under Eddie’s closed door, left on in case Jeff or Gareth needed to use the bathroom during the night.
And despite the fact that two of his bandmates are passed out on the couch and floor just a short walk away, Eddie’s hands are exploring the length of your body under the sheets like he’s got plans to map you with his tongue.
“We- ah- can’t.” Your whispering scold is interrupted with a sharp gasp when Eddie nips at your neck. “No fooling around. Not when we have guests.”
His left hand drips over the swell of your breast, squeezing and kneading, your nipples perking to attention (traitors) underneath the bra you haven’t yet had the chance to take off.
Eddie adopts your quiet tone as he speaks between kisses that trail further down your body, not outright ignoring your weak protests but not doing much to combat them, either. “Mmm. Got me so worked up. Been driving me crazy since the bar, y’know that? ‘S cruel, baby, can’t just talk mean and expect me not to act on it.”
“Wasn’t mean,” you counter, hands shifting automatically to wind through the soft locks of hair tickling at your stomach as Eddie continues his path downwards. “Didn’t wanna have to patch up a split lip. Had to make you behave somehow.”
The vibrating groan Eddie gives against the soft skin of your stomach tickles; when you squirm, shushing him again, his hands slide to your hips, pinning you in place.
Nose to your navel, warm breath fanning across the strip of skin just above the band of your panties, Eddie sounds strung-out already, close to begging. “Please, baby. I’ll be good. Make it so good for you. I’ll be quiet-”
His head snaps up at your sudden gasping laugh, chin perched on your tummy as he scoffs. “What, you don’t think I can keep quiet?”
“Eddie Munson, you couldn’t be quiet to save your life.” Your hands migrate to his cheeks, squishing them together fondly as he grins around your touch, his thumbs working circles at your bare hips.
“Ye of little faith.” In the dim light of the room, Eddie’s teeth are a flash of white before his mouth dips to press against the wet patch at your underwear.
“Fucking… shit-!” The expletives fly out harshly, only because you weren’t expecting the wet stripe of his tongue against your clothed folds. Head dropping back to the comfort of your pillow, you get one hand in Eddie’s hair again, the other finding its way to twist at the sheets.
You can feel his smile, equal parts smug and sympathetic as he coos saccharine to your inner thigh- “Now, now, angel. Gotta be quiet.”
Not willing to lose the fight, you focus on clamping your mouth shut, eyes closed in concentration- even as Eddie slides your underwear down and off, a quick flash of blue fabric before it’s swallowed by the floor’s darkness. Even as he seals his lips over your clit, sucking hard like he’s been deprived of your taste for too long.
When his tongue breaches your entrance, a soft gasp escapes, one that has your head turning sideways to grab some pillow with your teeth.
Eddie brings the wetness from your entrance up again, spreading it over your pulsing clit, nerve endings fizzing bright and hot in your stomach from the attention.
On instinct, your right leg kicks out, jolting with the spasm of pleasure- Eddie’s quick, though, taking advantage of the movement to find a new hold at the back of your thigh; rings biting cold, he pushes until you bend for him, your knee now pressed towards your chest.
“Gonna make it so good for you.” Eddie’s mumbling pussy-drunk rambles into your cunt that’s now on display, dragging his nose through the slick that weeps out of you, all for him- “So wet for me, angel. Fuck’s sake. This all for me?”
As if he doesn’t know. The hand that isn’t busy holding you open trails up your thigh, middle finger teasing at your entrance before slipping inside, no resistance thanks to the river of slick that rushes to greet it.
There’s a soft squelching noise as Eddie adds a second, curling them up, stroking against that tender gummy spot that always skyrockets your pulse.
The noise is almost enough to give you pause; feeling wild and flush with heat, your hand tightens in the crown of Eddie’s hair, eyes popping open as you prop yourself up on an elbow to give a strangled hiss of warning through your teeth.
Eddie senses your unease, pulls his fingers and mouth out and off (a travesty), softening the blow by giving a placating kiss to the top of your mound. “Shhh, sweetheart. S’okay. You hear that?”
Past the noise of nighttime crickets from the nearby cracked window, past the hum of the kitchen, you hear it as Eddie crawls back up- distant, tandem snores from the boys in the living room.
“They sleep like the dead. Like rocks,” Eddie promises, settling his weight into his hands planted on either side of your head, hair creating a curtain around your faces as he leans in. “So we can get our rocks off.”
“That was awful.” You kiss him anyways. He tastes like you, earthy and warm and wet, saliva mixed with your arousal as the kiss turns sloppy.
Eddie rocks his hips forwards, the friction from the fabric of his boxers making you both gasp into each other’s mouths. He’s achingly hard, cock leaking and smearing precum through the cotton; there’s a hurried, manic shift as you both work to strip the last pieces of clothing from yourselves, his boxers and your bra following your underwear from earlier into the dark of the room.
And then Eddie is sliding his cock through the folds of your pussy, slicking up the sizable length as much as he can before the tip nudges at your entrance; Eddie’s arms tremble with effort as yours wrap around his shoulders, soothing with a kiss to his cheek- “Lotta talk about keeping quiet, Munson. That’s all it was? Just talk?”
Now that his mouth isn’t intent on making you fall apart anymore, you’ve got some breathing room to tease. To be the one to work him up. Tucking a curly lock of hair behind his ear, your fingers trace adoringly over his temple before sliding to grip the back of his neck. “Gonna prove me wrong, hotshot?”
With this new proximity, you can see Eddie’s eyes- fixed intently on yours, black pupils nearly eclipsing the soft amber of his irises. He looks slightly feral, sweat sticking his bangs in place, lips parted, spots of pink staining his cheeks.
As if he doesn’t trust himself to speak, Eddie’s near-silent as he slides himself in to the hilt, jaw dropping as the warmth from your walls encompasses him completely.
The chained guitar pick around his neck tickles between the valley of your breasts. He pants, chest heaving, not daring to move yet; your breath stutters. You can feel him in your throat.
“So big,” you murmur, an honest reaction but one that has Eddie’s brows drawing together, a little whine escaping as his hips jerk forward, reflexive to your words.
“Fuck. Oh, fuck.”
Eddie’s voice, strained though it may be, is on its way to regular volume. At the back of his neck, your hand flexes, a warning as he begins to rock steadily into your tight heat.
“Gotta be good.” Biting back your own groan, you sling your leg over his waist. At this angle, you can press your heel to the dip of his lower back. “Be good and quiet for me and I’ll let you come in my p-”
His hips snap forward, audibly, subsequent wet noise obscene, filling the room. Eddie moans into the curve of your neck before your sentence is even fully formed- “Jesus, baby. Oh my god. Can’t say stuff like that, gonna come too quick-”
His cock fits along the contours of your cunt like you were made for him, ridged tip dragging against that same sensitive spot of your front wall with each pull and thrust.
Eddie’s forehead thunks into yours as he rolls it back and forth, mindlessly. All the tease has melted out of his voice: it’s been replaced with a lust-filled rasp, rock-salt and deep.
Your voice, however, is all tease, still hushed but laced with mischief despite your mounting pleasure. “Yeah? Gonna come in my pussy?”
It’s almost not fair and you almost feel bad, seeing the way Eddie fights to make his gasp silent as the channels of your cunt clench in answer to his fucked-out expression. With his next thrust, Eddie loses the battle- a hoarse, blissful moan much too loud spills over and out into the quiet room.
Moving quick, your hand slips from the back of Eddie’s neck to his mouth, palm flat over the plush of his lips.. The commanding tone comes easy this time (with practice, you’ll surely be a natural).
“Eddie. Be. Quiet.”
Usually, Eddie’s got stamina enough to prioritize your pleasure, making sure you’re taken care of at least twice before he even thinks of himself. Tonight, though, he’s already been straining in his jeans for hours, unbearably turned on from your earlier sharp words, pushing the limits of desperation.
Your words, once again, do the trick. Eddie’s cock pulses, and he comes hard, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your hand, chorus of whimpers successfully dampened. His dark brows knit together, eyes pinched shut, nostrils flaring with each stilted breath.
He’s so fucking hot when he comes, hair a riot around stormcloud eyes that open to take you in. Even prettier when he’s coming down, leaning into your hand for support before you take it away, guiding and encouraging him to lay down.
Eddie collapses, carefully enough that it doesn’t jostle you, but still with his full weight. The crown of his head radiates heat against your chin.
His arms wrap solidly around your middle as he whispers (he’s learning) in croaky fragments, “Jesus fucking H. I think you just broke my brain. Smashed it into a million little pieces. Never come so hard in my life. I’m in love with you.”
The laugh you give him is quiet but golden, the rise and fall of your chest causing his head to bounce a bit (but Eddie could die happy between your breasts so he doesn’t mind). “See? It’s worth it to listen to me, sometimes.”
“You’re so smart. Gonna do whatever you say, forever and ever. Cart-blank.” And then he’s pushing up onto his elbows, keeping his face level with your left breast so he can suck your nipple into his mouth, gently worrying his teeth over the peaked bud.
Previously tangled in the sheets, your hand flies up to grab his shoulder, nails digging in. “Fuck. Fuck, Eddie. That’s good. And- ah- it’s ‘carte blanche’.”
He leaves the comfort of your breast with a sigh. “Whatever you say, princess. Gonna let me fuck you some more? Your turn to be the loud one.”
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The Art Of Being Kidnapped [1/2]
next / Ao3 link with CWs
“Byeeee! Have a nice time!” Tango’s cheery lilt echoed across the icy cavern before the metal door, built like a vault, slammed shut. A superhero Jimmy didn’t recognize rolled across the slick floor, momentum from being thrown inside carrying him a considerable distance. Sometimes Jimmy forgot Tango was quite strong; certainly not the beefiest among his line of work, but enough to send a small avian skidding across the floor of his dungeon.
The avian’s wings and hands were bound, just like Jimmy’s were, but the ropes were only meant to last for travel, and sure enough, within minutes of writhing and foaming at the mouth on the ground (which he didn’t have to do, his legs weren’t bound..), the superhero was free, flying to the door and slamming the full force of his body against it, predictably, winding himself immediately.
Jimmy stifled a laugh as the avian stumbled backwards with a heaving chest, falling into a sit to catch his breath. It was a wonder he hadn’t noticed Jimmy yet, but then again, the particularly angry superheroes always took a bit more time. Unfortunate. Jimmy hoped this guy wasn’t as much of an asshole as he looked (after many years of this, Jimmy got pretty good at figuring out who he was dealing with relatively fast), but if that was the case, Jimmy was sure he could needle a larger tip out of Tango in the case that this guy really gave him trouble. This was an unusual job in the first place; Jimmy had never been asked to trap participants in a maze before, then supervise while they traversed it. But Decked Out was fun and Tango paid handsomely, so really, Jimmy didn’t mind the change of pace.
“Help?” Jimmy tried, though the hero didn’t hear him over his own banging on the door and ferocious screeching. He got a sense of dejavu watching, though he’d seen this kind of temper tantrum about a thousand times by now. Still, the familiarity of this hero was something he couldn’t quite shake.
“Hey! Help me? Please?” Jimmy wiggled a little pathetically against his restraints, far from tight, but enough not to slip out without effort. Personally, Jimmy would rather save his energy for the hero.
The avian turned, then froze where he stood, like the guy he was called to come save was the last thing he expected to see at his feet. Jimmy suppressed a sigh. This guy was going to be insufferable.
“JIMMY!?”
Jimmy stopped. Now, that sort of reaction wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for heroes that knew him, but Jimmy had never seen this one before, so unless this guy had been warned (something which, hilariously, never seemed to be the case), Jimmy didn’t know what to do with that. But the avian didn’t sound angry.. Oh, worse idea, Jimmy used to know this person. Not the least bit unlikely given he attended the shittiest college in the city with all the poorest, most troubled kids around. Jimmy hadn’t even lasted long enough to get a degree, it was just too much. Hence the work he did now.
Exactly what that was..? Well, when people asked what he did for work, he usually answered freelance. Freelance kidnapping? Freelance being kidnapped? He was still working on the title. Needless to say, living in a place like this you learn pretty quickly that 90% of the ‘superheroes’ and the villains they fight are either cripplingly insecure, pieces of shit, or both, but sometimes the wannabe villains have a bit of an attention craving they just can’t scratch on their own. It turns out that Doing Evil can be a lot of work, and sometimes you just want to take out your daddy issues on an equally unstable individual under the guise of villainy without all the fuss! So for a price, Jimmy makes the fuss for them! He’ll scream, let himself be dramatically carried away, shoved into an unmarked van, generally manhandled- whatever gets the attention of an unsuspecting superhero who Jimmy would then lead into a trap, arena, whatever he’s getting paid for, and bam! Everyone’s happy!
Some villains didn’t even want the attention of superheroes, they just enjoyed catching Jimmy off his guard, which, by the way, was not part of any of his contracts, but Joel wasn’t going to stop Kidnapping First, Paying Later anytime soon, so at this point it was just a fact of his life he had to get used to.
Oh right, the job he was doing right now.
“Do I know you?” These words seemed to snap the hero back in his facade, the avian shifting his weight in a show of nerves.
“I- no, I don’t think so. No, no, definitely not. Probably not. Sorry. Just reminded me of someone I know.”
Jimmy snorted, rolling his eyes. “Someone called Jimmy? That’s my name too, what a coincidence.”
“You don’t have a brother, do you?” The hero looked sheepish, but it was good natured, a ghost of a smile just visible under his mask.
“Oh yeah, I’ve got one. He looks exactly like me and’s called Jimmy, how did you know?”
Ther hero crossed his arms in a sweeping gesture, snarking with a scoff, “Oh shut it with the sarcasm,” but even though the tone behind his voice was teasing, Jimmy felt like he had been transported right back to his college dorm. He recognized that. He knew exactly who this was. Short, dirty blonde avian with dark talons and a darker temper? Of course he became a superhero, what a damn perfect fit for a guy like that. ‘JIMMY?’ He recognized that too. The scream, pitched in all the worst ways. After a while, every word Grian spoke was like pulling a cheese grater over and over across his ears until they were nothing but stumps. Yeah, Tango would be tipping him big today.
“Jimmy? You okay?” The direct address snapped Jimmy back to reality, though he wasn’t sure how much he had missed. Regardless, Grian did get to work, kneeling to undo his restraints. Jimmy was relieved to stretch his wings, slowly getting to his feet once the ropes were cut. “This is embarrassing,” Grian said, and Jimmy was sure it was, “Forget I said anything. I think we shared a class or two, that’s all.”
“I get it.” Jimmy mumbled, tucking his wings back. “Tango’s been sending out all sorts of reports and notices to trick people into coming out here, so it’s your lucky day I guess. You won’t be staying long though, he just wants you to run the dungeon and then you can fly off.”
Grian’s eyes were obscured by the mask, but Jimmy was pretty sure they narrowed. “I’ve never heard of a ‘Tango’ before. Who is he? How long have you been here? Is he just keeping you here as bait?” How sweet of Grian to not realize he’s been set up yet. Well, Jimmy wasn’t about to break the news if he didn’t have to.
“He keeps a low profile. Tango’s been shut in working on this place for the last fifteen years, so I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of him, especially since the location is so out of the way of the city. Decked Out is newly finished- it’s a game, basically. He wants to watch people play it. It’s not what you’d call ‘up to code’ though, so it’s pretty dangerous. Need the athletic sort to make it any bit interesting. But yeah, I’m bait.” Jimmy shrugged, “He keeps me around to explain the rules. Usually the kidnappee, you, is a little more receptive to someone on their level, me, rather than.. y’know.”
“I’ll get you out of here.”
Jimmy laughed, he couldn’t help himself, though he quieted when he saw the bottom half of Grian’s face screw up, bracing himself to be yelled at. It never came.
“I’ve heard that before,” Jimmy settled on instead, taking a careful breath. He didn’t like the way Grian was looking at him. He never really liked the way Grian looked at him; despite his softer features, Grian’s face was anything but kind.
“Well I’m sure you’ve heard this before as well, but I’m different. I do my due diligence unlike most of the douchebags in this town. Where’s the way out?”
Stubborn. Vindictive. Jimmy wondered if Grian had changed at all in the dozen years since they’d talked. He shrugged. “The gate isn’t open yet, but it should be ready soon. Until then, what should I call you?”
Grian blinked. “Oh- CuteGuy. You can call me CuteGuy.”
“Well then, CuteGuy, once you go in you’re going to get a compass-“ Jimmy stopped short at yelling from down the hall, Grian as well freezing in his place.
“UNHAND ME AT ONCE! I SWEAR if you singe my uniform I am SENDING YOU THE BILL!” Oh! Well that was a lovely surprise. Jimmy heard Tango grumble something in response, but he was mostly drowned out by HotGuy’s dramatics. Good man HotGuy was, always making sure to give those supervillains what they paid for, though, Tango wasn’t exactly looking for a fight.
At once Grian was on his toes, creeping toward the door, but Jimmy shook his head. “I would stand back.”
‘Tango breathes fire’ was left unsaid when Grian shot him a sharp glare, not listening of course, and Jimmy wasn’t about to fight him, perfectly content to watch Grian get a face full of flame as Tango swung the door open. Grian reeled back with a startled yelp, but Jimmy doubted he was actually too hurt, not when Tango was skilled in controlling the temperature of his fire. His eyes would certainly sting though; deserved, certainly, for thinking Tango wouldn’t be ready for an attack. Idiot.
In the wake of the flame, a thoroughly netted HotGuy was pushed inside, decidedly much heavier than an avian and therefore unthrowable, but HotGuy didn’t seem to mind, struggling valiantly until the metal door slammed shut, Tango continuing to grumble from the other side as he walked down the hall.
“Jimmy!” HotGuy threw up his arms, a gesture hindered by the net. Jimmy snorted, moving to help HotGuy out while he continued to blabber on, “I was hoping you’d be here! It’s been a while dude, how’ve you been? Still going strong?” HotGuy didn’t even wait until the net was entirely untangled to try and stand, movement that made everything needlessly difficult, but Jimmy didn’t mind. Though he didn’t get the chance to respond either when HotGuy screamed, practically jumping into Jimmy’s arms.
“CuteGuy! How long have you been there, standing all stiff and puffed up and angry like a miniature gargoyle, look at you!”
Grian did, in fact, look like a puffed up cat, but HotGuy’s comment snapped him out of his frozen state, shooting back with a huff, “Miniature? How big do you think gargoyles are?”
“I mean, probably pretty big! Protecting stuff and all.”
Grian sighed sharply, a sound that set Jimmy’s feathers on end. But Grian didn’t push back, changing the subject. “You two.. know each other?”
HotGuy jumped to his toes, eyes absolutely radiant as he turned to Jimmy. “He doesn’t know?” his tone was colored with excitement, and Jimmy had to laugh, shaking his head.
“Know what?” Grian snapped at HotGuy, sucking away all the joy from the air, “What don’t I know?” Jimmy couldn’t stop himself from whirling around, an aggressive movement that seemed to catch Grian off guard, surprise clear in his raised wings, but Jimmy stopped himself, shaking his head. Not worth the fight. HotGuy looked confused by the rise in tension, bringing Jimmy back down to Earth.
“I doubt anyone else will come,” he said instead, stony, “I rarely get two at once. The gates should open soon.”
Grian. God. Jimmy should be over this by now. He thought he was over it.
Jimmy was a sociable guy. Making friends wasn’t a chore for him, but keeping them was much harder, and finding perfect fits seemed nearly impossible. Oftentimes he felt very out of place. He was an athletic sort of person, sporty, but a lot more sensitive than most guys. He really enjoyed being in shape, the structure of practice and working out, but he didn’t always love the social aspect of playing competitive sports, and college football wasn’t an exception. Too much pressure, too much toeing the line of people he wanted to associate with, and don’t get him wrong, these guys were his brothers, that’s just how the intensity of college sports worked, but Jimmy never felt able to be wholly.. there. They just weren’t exactly right, not warm enough, not free enough with their interests and hobbies and love.
Grian was his randomly assigned roommate for the first semester of college dorm life, and like most people Grian was pretty reserved in the beginning. Didn’t have many friends, kept to himself, but liked to go to the dining hall and such with Jimmy if for no other reason than to have someone to go with. Grian was chatty once you got him going, and weird, unabashedly odd in all the best kinds of ways. They didn’t have many common interests, but talking with Grian made Jimmy want to check out the things he was into, to understand all his incredibly specific rants and takes on topics Jimmy had zero knowledge of. Grian was fun, a little shy at first, but genuinely delightful to listen to, confident in his opinions in the way that put you on board even when you had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. He was charming! He was kind of cool in a way, the dorky kind of cool. The ‘cringe is dead and Grian killed it’ kind of way.
But even on his best behavior, Grian was always so.. angry. It changed the atmosphere of every room he entered, thick and boggy like wading through swamp water. There was just something wrong with him, like, literally wrong, the type of wrongness that sparks concern, that makes you wonder what happened? The type of wrongness that makes an outsider want to meet you with compassion, to help you, to make your miserable world a little bit less drab.
The delusions of a savior complex, really. But at first it wasn’t that bad. Grian was mostly reclusive, but despite a bit of awkwardness, he was surprisingly socially adept, charming and funny when it came to first impressions and relatively skilled at being liked by his peers. But the warning signs were there. The constant balling of his fists when the smallest thing didn’t go his way, the twitch of his strained smile, his always-tense shoulders. Grian seemed to view every social interaction like it was war, and he’d do anything to win. It was like he knew how pervasively unpleasant he was inside, how bubbling negativity coated his insides like black tar. He needed to be competitive. He needed to be on top.
And somewhere along the line Grian had decided Jimmy was the enemy.
Jimmy didn’t know what he’d done to make Grian hate him so much. Was it the positivity? Jimmy had tried to offset the stream of anger with his own suggestions; maybe she was late for class, maybe the sun was in his eyes, maybe they just missed the trash can and didn’t notice- He hadn’t been trying to challenge Grian, he didn’t even believe half of the excuses he spouted whenever Grian whined or complained about something entirely inconsequential, he just wanted his ex-roommate to realize that not everyone was personally out to get him, y’know?
How Grian decided Jimmy was one of those people working against him, Jimmy had no idea. Sometimes Jimmy thought that Grian was psychotic, like, literally in the Very Mentally Unwell sense of the word. He was just so.. defensive. Paranoid. Mean, and not always on purpose, he would just say things that dug at Jimmy’s patience until he was constantly teetering on the edge of snapping back and really making a mess of things.
Most of the time though, when Grian was mean, it was on purpose. At some point early on Grian had decided he couldn’t trust Jimmy, and god Jimmy spent so much time trying to earn that trust back just to be slighted over and over- petty things, constant criticism over the slang he used, the music he listened to- god forbid Jimmy forget something in the dorm or come back a little late from a bar after Grian had gone to sleep.
And the worst thing was, Jimmy wanted to help him! He still wanted to help Grian after months and months of being mistreated. He wanted to be a friend to someone who clearly needed some sort of support in a city that was run dry of resources for even those who could afford them. Jimmy wasn’t stupid. He’d grown up on the edge of poverty like so many of his peers, worked to help pay his parents’ debts since he was first able. He’d watched high school classmates do the same, fall to drinking or drugs, die before they even hit 18. He spent so much time being afraid for Grian, intrusive imaginings of how he might die young haunting boring lectures. Oftentimes he’d be overwhelmed by those anxieties, intense impulses sending him sprinting back to the dorm, throwing the door open certain of what he’d find, just to see Grian in his lofted bed, headphones in, glaring at his phone. Sometimes Grian would look up, meet Jimmy’s frightened eyes, then look back down. Sometimes he’d be ignored altogether. Sometimes.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
Grian knew Jimmy’s schedule by heart, memorized before even Jimmy had it down. Oftentimes, Jimmy found that Grian would get quite upset, if either of their schedules were changed last minute. If Jimmy showed up somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be when Grian wasn’t expecting it.
That made bouts like this all the more embarrassing. Grian wanted an answer. Jimmy didn’t want to know what he’d say if he heard Jimmy was worried about him for no reason. So he lied. He always lied.
“I forgot. I’ll go now.”
Grian would scoff. “Idiot.” Jimmy heard that a lot. Stupid. Dumbass. Idiot. The like.
Jimmy wasn’t stupid.
But the harder Jimmy tried, the more Jimmy pushed, the more vindictively abusive Grian became. That first semester of college were some of the worst months of Jimmy’s life. Trapped in a dorm room not much bigger than a prison cell with a guy who went out of his way to find fault with every singular thing Jimmy did. You’re so loud Jim, you’re so damn loud. That was his main complaint. As much as Jimmy loathed Grian’s voice, the other seemed to despise his own tenfold whether Jimmy was singing, talking on the phone, or simply speaking to friends while playing games, Grian had these physical reactions like he wanted to tear off his own skin. By the end of the semester, both of them sat on their sides of the room in complete silence.
Jimmy didn’t see HotGuy coming when the hero launched forward for a hug, a gesture Jimmy returned with a laugh as HotGuy squeezed, picking him up and spinning him around. At this point, Jimmy had accepted HotGuy had way too much energy to spend doing anything else, and honestly, he couldn’t say he minded. It was nice to have someone be so excited to see him.
“How long has it been? Over a year, surely!” HotGuy practically sang right into Jimmy’s ear, and Jimmy couldn’t help the dry thought of how much Grian must hate HotGuy from slipping through. “I missed you! You’ve got to come by more often, come on, work can’t be that hard to come by in the big city, huh?”
Jimmy wheezed a bit under HotGuy’s grip, tapping his shoulder somewhat urgently, “Okay, bud. Can’t breathe. Time to put me down, big man. And yeah, work can be that bad when everyone knows who you are. Sorry!”
“I’m feeling out of the loop here,” Grian cut in, but to Jimmy’s own sick delight, HotGuy didn’t even acknowledge the other hero, focus entirely on Jimmy.
“So what’s it this time? We busting you out? Dramatic chase? Explosions? Actually, I would rather not get blown up. But this guy’s got a fire thing going on, is stuff going to explode?”
“You’re not busting me out,” Jimmy waved HotGuy off when the other lingered a little too long in his personal bubble, “There’s an exit at the end of the game whether you win or lose, but since you’re going in one at a time, there won’t be any-“
THE DUNGEON IS READY FOR ITS NEXT VICTIM
The gate ahead began to churn open and cool air whooshed through, particles of ice and snow dusting the path ahead. Jimmy laughed off HotGuy’s mortified looking expression, uncomfortably avoiding Grian’s eye. He didn’t imagine a trapped Grian was a very pleasant one, and given the loaded silence as Jimmy started toward the open door, he got the sense Grian was thinking quite intensely. Jimmy had zero desire to know what was going on in that head.
“Come on,” he said, forcing a smile to a wary looking HotGuy, “It’s not too bad. I’ll grab you both your compasses and give the rundown. You’ll have to leave that bow though, sorry. It’ll be returned to you later.” HotGuy blinked back to attention, scrambling a little to catch up while Grian stayed at the rear, quiet.
“I have to leave my bow? Are you sure? I don’t know if I like the sound of the uh- dungeon. Do I get anything to defend myself? What’s down there?”
“Tango’s dogs are down there. You don’t want to shoot Tango’s dogs, do you HotGuy? Those are his pets!”
“Well-“ HotGuy looked flustered, like a guy who probably would want to shoot Tango’s dogs, but didn’t want Jimmy to know that. There was a reason Jimmy didn’t outright say Tango’s dogs were actually ravagers. “Alright, but do Tango’s dogs eat people?”
“They might shake you around a bit, but no, they won’t eat you. Plenty of people have gone through the dungeon plenty of times, lost, and hopped right back in. It’s meant to be played over and over, you’ll be fine.”
“And it’s the only way out?” Grian’s voice sliced the air, hard and focused, and Jimmy nearly jumped at the sound. Everything sounded so critical out of his mouth.
“You think I’d lie?” Jimmy couldn’t crush down the snark as he side-eyed Grian behind him, but Grian’s expression barely shifted, his wings only lowering slightly.
“I didn’t-“
“Wellllll,” HotGuy cut in unhelpfully, missing the tension as he wrapped a playful arm around Jimmy’s shoulder.
“Okay-“ Grian shook his head, hands brushing his face in loose fists, “What is going on with you two.”
“Nothing! Nothing!” HotGuy jumped up and away, instead falling back to walk with Grian, getting in his space and tousling his hair. The casual movement made Jimmy freeze in place, but Grian only squeaked, batting at HotGuy with palmed hands, careful not to catch the other’s skin with his talons. For a moment Grian met Jimmy’s eye, and then it was over, HotGuy grabbing at his hands and wrestling him without a single care in the world.. Whatever.
Warily, Jimmy left them to do their thing. He didn’t feel good about it- actually, he felt a lot like he was leaving HotGuy with a ticking time bomb, but he did have to get their compasses, so might as well go while Grian was in a good(?) mood. What a novel concept that was. Jimmy sighed, zipping up his coat as he stepped into a side room.
For a long moment he considered giving Grian a Level 2 compass, but that wouldn’t really be plausible, and honestly Grian probably wouldn’t make it out of Level 1 anyway. Tango wouldn’t be happy either; his focus was on testing how new players reacted to the game, and anything beyond Level 1 would probably be overwhelming.
Hm. Would Tango let Jimmy into the tunnels to watch Grian’s run while HotGuy was still in the waiting room? Jimmy would really love nothing more than to watch Grian scream and run around and eat shit on the icy paths, but Tango wouldn’t want HotGuy unsupervised, so it probably wouldn’t happen. Unless Jimmy sent HotGuy in first.. Surely the few extra minutes spent with Grian would be worth it. Yeah, no, that would be good. He’d give HotGuy an easy artifact spot so he’d either win or be carried out by a ravager quickly, then send Grian deep into Level 1. Yes. Perfect.
“Is this it?” HotGuy asked when Jimmy returned, fingers curled around the bars of the gate that separated the three of them from the dungeon. Grian was looking as well, though more intensely, head pressed against the bars like he wanted to gather as much information as humanly possible. Jimmy couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
“Yeah,” he started, slipping into his prepared speech, “So basically, the point of the game is to find an artifact hidden in the dungeon, then bring it back to the start without getting caught by Tango’s dogs. The artifact placement is random, but your compass will help you find them; they point in the direction of a hidden panel on the floor. Once you find the panel, press your compass to the spot and it will be exchanged for an artifact. Then bring it back here.”
“How do we start?” Grian turned, eager, or maybe just antsy as he eyed the compasses in Jimmy’s hands.
“Not yet, and you’ll go one at a time, HotGuy first.” Though Grian didn’t look satisfied, and in a panicked gesture to appease him, Jimmy added, “Here, both of you can take these and once you’re ready you’ll press the bottom to the indent over on the panel by the gate,” Jimmy handed the compasses over gingerly, HotGuy taking it with curious fingers and Grian outright snatching it out of Jimmy’s hand, but before Jimmy could recoil or even react, Grian was on top of the panel, slamming his compass in before whirling around and grabbing Jimmy’s hand in a vice grip.
“I’m getting you out of here. Come on, HotGuy! Let’s get this over with.”
Jimmy’s mouth ran dry as the gate screeched open, only managing to squeak out a “One at a time!” before he was yanked forward, HotGuy cheering behind him. Jimmy nearly tumbled down the steps as Grian bolted into the maze, struggling to catch his tongue enough to form words. “This really isn’t necessary!”
“We’re going to save you, Jimmy!” HotGuy sang, oblivious to his distress, “Don’t worry a hair on your silly little head, with us you’ll be out of here in no time!” HotGuy winked and Jimmy didn’t get the chance to groan, far more preoccupied with Grian’s refusal to let go, and only having the mind to struggle out of his grip as the gate shuddered to a close.
“The game isn’t- guys-“ Jimmy stumbled back to the gate, but it would not be reopening any time soon. “The game isn’t meant to be played with three people! I don’t even have a compass! You need an artifact to get out!”
“Sounds to me like you only need one,” Grian said, perfectly unconcerned despite the new danger, not that he knew the ravagers were around, “I’m sure all three of us can scoot out at once if we’re quick, and if this ‘Tango’ tries to do anything about it, there’ll be two of us to keep you safe.” Jimmy didn’t even get the chance to respond to that before Grian clicked his tongue, “HotGuy, give me your compass.”
“Why? What if I want it?” HotGuy smirked and Grian scoffed, hopping forward to snatch it from him. HotGuy stepped out of the way and held it high out of Grian’s reach, causing the other to squawk and ultimately slip on the ice when he jumped to grab it. Jimmy found himself flinching when HotGuy laughed in Grian’s face, but the hero’s joy quickly turned to a shrill yelp as Grian leapt on him, clambering up his body with the compass in his sights. Unfortunately, the added weight unbalanced HotGuy on the ice and sent both of them tumbling to the ground. Certainly within Grian’s reach, the avian lunging for his prize and rolling out of range of a possible retaliation before getting to his feet.
“Right then.” Grian examined both compasses with great scrutiny, walking a little ways in different directions and nearing corners Jimmy just hoped had a ravager behind them. But Grian was never punished for his lack of attention, never straying too far. In fairness, HotGuy was doing very little to be careful himself, struggling to keep his footing without the talons Jimmy and Grian had; Jimmy would have given him grips for his shoes, but someone was in a hurry. For himself he would have grabbed the fluffy socks Tango had made to help keep his feet from getting too cold, so that was just another thing to resent Grian for. (Grian would not get socks. He did not deserve them.)
“HotGuy’s artifact is closest, so we’re going there.”
“How’d you puzzle that out? Actually, I don’t care.” HotGuy shuffled closer, poking his head over Grian’s shoulder. HotGuy caught Jimmy’s eye, throwing him a narrowed eye smirk before wiggling his fingers and jumping on Grian, wrestling the screeching avian until they both slipped, a crushed Grian losing his grip on the compass and unable to reclaim it before HotGuy scrambled over him (both parties kicking and screaming) until he slid across the compass, grabbing it with both hands.
“If it’s my compass, I get to hold it!” HotGuy got to his knees, arm shooting into the air to brandish his prize.
Grian let his head hit the ice. “We are never getting to our location.”
Jimmy crossed his arms. “Hey, HotGuy gets around the city fine. He could be a great maze navigator.”
“Thank you!” With some struggle, HotGuy got back to his feet, the momentum sliding him back into a forked path where he promptly fell back on his ass.
“We are never getting to our location.”
“You just wait CuteGuy, I’m gonna..” but HotGuy trailed off, eyes blinking wide as he stared at something down the tunnel. Jimmy’s feathers rose as he heard the grunt, but Grian didn’t seem to understand, looking between the two of them with a confused expression before the ravager bulldozed down the hall, HotGuy having no time to run before he was bowled down the hall, “THAT’S NOT A DOG!”
Jimmy spun on his heel, but the noticeable absence of Grian made him turn back around, having to lunge to grab him before the idiot tried to fight a ravager on HotGuy’s behalf.
“Other direction!”
“HotGuy’s-“
“He’ll be fine. We need to go.” Jimmy didn’t give Grian the time to argue, grabbing his wrist and overpowering him when it came to dexterity on the ice. Grian squawked, but luckily ravagers were not sensitive to sound, extra lucky when they turned a corner directly into the face of another and Grian shrieked, nearly falling on his ass before Jimmy pulled him up and back in the right direction.
“Get out of its line of sight!”
Grian only continued to shriek in response. Great. But after dragging Grian kicking and screaming around a couple corners, the ravager got off their tails, grunting as its heavy hooves lumbered down another icy tunnel. Grian let himself slide to a stop once Jimmy let go of his wrist, drifting to a wall and sliding against it to sit on the rocky ground and catch his breath. Jimmy hardly stopped himself from rolling his eyes.
“They don’t have much object permanence,” he mumbled instead, “Poor hearing as well. Still, maybe try to stop screaming. There’s about five around on this floor, so at the very least we know where a few of them are. We should keep going.”
“There’s more than one floor?”
“Yes, but our artifacts are on Level 1. It’s not too bad. And if we’re quick, we might still be able to find HotGuy. The ravagers are trained to take someone out of the game once they’re sufficiently down for the count, which is usually about two hits. If HotGuy got away, his artifact is definitely easier, but Tango will take the compass if he’s down, so we have to find him quickly. I think I know where he’ll end up, but stay on your guard.
Grian was quiet for a moment, catching his breath, sure, but the silence seemed deeper than that. Grian was always an intense thinker, the kind of intensity that weighed the air.
“You’ve been in the dungeon before? Tango is putting civilians in here?” He sounded angry. Not surprising, really, but..
“Yeah,” Jimmy shrugged, struggling not to feel defensive, “Not that many though. One guy just won’t leave. It’s kind of a volunteer program.”
“You’re not a volunteer.”
Technically, this was true. Jimmy was being paid; to run the dungeon as well as lure superheroes into it, though he hadn’t run it since a ravager broke a rib on Level 2.
For a moment Jimmy thought about telling Grian the truth, ditching the ‘helplessly kidnapped’ act and putting everything out on the table so Grian would stop trying to rescue him and leave well enough alone. That way at the very least he could call for Tango who might let him leave through a maintenance tunnel and not have to continue with whatever the hell was happening here. Jimmy didn’t even get the chance to register a deck before they started! However, the thought was dismissed immediately, partially because they only had one compass. In the case that Tango decided to be petty, Jimmy was not about to throw himself into the tusks of a ravager, and he could fantasize all he wanted about throwing Grian to the wolves and stealing the compass for himself, but it just made more sense that they stuck together.
But there was the fear, too, far more persuasive than any sense, the kind of deep seeded instinct that would have Jimmy sprinting in the opposite direction rather than be alone with his college tormentor, look him in the eyes, and tell him he’d been deceived.
Grian always thought Jimmy was hiding something from him. There had been multiple instances of Grian rummaging through his things, not taking, just looking, but not quite putting things back where they had been before. It really messed with Jimmy’s head- what he was even looking for? Grian didn’t have money to spend, but even when Jimmy had left his valuables and cash unguarded, Grian never stole. Jimmy never knew Grian to want anything either; weed, alcohol, the like, but for the most part Jimmy didn’t keep any of that in the dorm, and Grian never expressed interest. Grian didn’t even borrow pens or notebook paper; Jimmy was pretty sure he’d rather die than ask for help in any form, but regardless, it drove Jimmy crazy just to have Grian rummaging through his shit and having no idea what he wanted.
“Hey, if you need anything man, you just let me know, alright? I’ve got extra school supplies if you need to borrow anything for exams,” Jimmy had said one night, testing the waters in the rare occurrence when Grian’s headphones were off.
Jimmy would never forget the look of distaste Grian threw him, head cocked and eyes dark and narrowed; Grian didn’t even have to say anything to hurt him most days. “No.”
And that was that.
He never dreamed of confronting Grian, no, Jimmy would never bare his hand to a cornered animal. But one thing was for certain, he kept his phone and laptop passwords close, changing them regularly. Anything remotely private he locked up in his closet while he was out, Grian’s eyes burning into his back, suspicious and untrusting. He always made Jimmy feel so afraid. He wasn’t hiding anything or whatever it was Grian had convinced himself Jimmy was doing, he just wanted to keep his privacy private. Jimmy still had a habit of hiding his things, squirreling them away in odd places even when he was living alone. He didn’t realize he was doing it most of the time, but at some point it was pointed out to him (“This is why you can never find anything Jimmy, who keeps their receipts under the blooming mattress!”), and Jimmy had no doubt where the habit came from.
Apparently Jimmy’s lack of answer to Grian’s question was enough of an answer to him. “I’m going to get you out of here.” Intense. Always so intense.
Jimmy had no desire to fight him. “Okay.”
#hermitcraft#hermitfic#cw: past abuse#tw: past abuse#jimmy solidarity#solidaritygaming#gtws#goodtimeswithscar#grian#tangotek#decked out#decked out 2#hotguy#cuteguy
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underrated genre of character playlist entry: songs a character would relate to because they do not understand their situation, themself, or the song itself well enough to realize it is not accurate (and might well straight up be a callout for people like them). which song is your blorbo's fight club
#whosebaby talks#general fandoms tag#shitposting#genuinely this is one of my favorite things to put in a character's playlist#for one thing i seem to like characters who listen to The Plagues and go WOW COOL BLOODTHIRSTY VENGEANCE FOR A WORLD THAT'S WRONGED YOU#and miss or ignore the part where it's meant to be tragic and moses is devastated because they're people and it's his home too#pericles is the first one that comes to mind because the autisms are autisming all over sdmi currently#but he's definitely not the only one#the only thing is it makes me a little itchy because it makes me wish i could put a little note when i share a playlist that#'no this playlist is not about them being a misunderstood hero they just have a severely distorted view of the world'#sometimes because 'misunderstood hero' would be uh. uhhhhh. it would sure have Implications with some instances#but also because No That's Wrong!! the distortion in their pov is what makes them a good character!!! in my own interpretation or otherwise!#pericles loses So Much Depth if you just play his understandable and even admirable traits as unironic instead of twisted and warped#and gone horribly wrong thanks to how his flaws and external life circumstances t-boned those positive/reasonable traits + motivations#where did he make his own choices to lean into it when he did have the agency to do otherwise#(see: i think in the newniverse; without the entity's influence; the very things that make him such a terrifyingly effective force)#(which are his primary expression of being an evil piece of shit due to his trauma and external circumstances and his reaction to them)#(and the choices he makes about them; would make him an equally effective force for good because they'd make him an *amazing* activist)#'i am my own definition of a vengeful righteous hero dishing out justice against real evil' is his extremely warped idea of what he's doing#he thinks he's the main protagonist of hell's coming with me and he's. not. he's just enough steps to the left to be a horror instead#anyway i love him and i love assigning songs like this your honor#professor pericles#SDMItag
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I'm still so fucking angry and it's been like an hour.
#how does someone have that level of entitlement#of like oh you must hear everything i have to say about this character in your comment section bc my opinions are correct#also most of what they said about jiang cheng was so fucking wrong??? like bro what language were you reading mdzs in pls try again#like just outright fucking LIES#not even oh they misread this one scene thats excusable literally they pulled shit out of their ass#like god fucking damn even if you fucking hate canon jiang cheng. did you not fucking read my fic. did it seem like he was a bad guy?#can you fucking read at all?#fucking#FUCK#the audacity to be like... im going to lay out why i think jc is a piece of shit#and then im going to throw you a bone and leave one line at the end of this para saying good fic#THAT DOESNT MAKE ANYTHING BETTER#GO THE FUCK TO HELL#BEND OVER LOCATE YOUR ASSHOLE AMONG YOUR GENERAL ASSHOLISHNESS AND FUCK YOURSLEF#like jesus christ some people have no idea how to behave online#its my fucking fic get off my lawn and dont fucking come back you anon piece of shit coward#(also yes ik im vaguing but im not gonna put them on blast bc no one deserves that)#(and yes ill probably delete this tomorrow when im not raging)#but fuck them man fuck them im changing the tags RIGHT NOW
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Walking in on Roommate! Chan | Pt. 2
❣ Summary: A lot can change in a month, but was it truly a change, or simply a realization? ❣
❣ Word Count: 7.41k
❣ Warnings: Non!Idol AU, Roommate! Chris, fluff, smut, slice of life, slight humor, friends to lovers, slight! dom Chris, Dom/Sub dynamics, smut with feelings, sir/daddy kink ❣
❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣
❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, Sir, and Daddy, Reader is referred to as Baby, Good/Pretty Girl, and Princess, lightly edited
❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ Pt. 1
It had been a month since the incident, and though you thought things had gone unchanged between you and Chris, your reality couldn't have been more wrong.
You seemed to linger more on every interaction with him, your brain working double time to process things he'd say or do as of they had a deeper meaning behind them - which they didn't.
He always left you little notes whenever he'd go out with Changbin for an early gym session, so why were you smiling at the hastily written messages and cutely drawn dragon-worm signature?
He always texted you on your break at work to remind you of any plans he made, so why did your heart flutter every time his contact popped up?
He always made sure your favorite snacks were in the pantry, and if you were running out he'd stock them up before you had the chance to add them on your grocery list, so why did you swoon every time your favorite bag of chips was sat on the kitchen counter?
There was no way your world flipped itself upside down over one incident, absolutely no way...
Unless.
"I'm screwed." You groaned woefully, dropping your head to the table in front of you.
Jeongin laughed, taking a piece of meat from your plate, "I told you to stop laughing at that guy's terrible jokes, now look at you!"
"What?"
"Jongsoo, the coworker you kept saying was trying to flirt with you but couldn't catch a hint?" Felix mused, tilting his head slightly, "Isn't that what we're here to talk about? 'Level three red alert', and all?"
"What? No, no," sitting up, you leveled him with a soft stare, "if this was about him, I would've picked a bar - he doesn't deserve the glory of being talked about over barbecue."
"Okay, so why are we here?" Minho huffed as he flipped a strip of beef on the tabletop grill, "Actually, better question, why am I here? Last I checked I never signed up to this whole 'red alert' code talk."
"Hyung, the last time we shared tea that you didn't know about, you ignored me and Felix for a week for 'leaving you out'." Jeongin spoke pointedly, recalling the way he practically cursed them out for 'disrespecting your elders'.
The former groaned, rolling his eyes, "Why didn't you just say you needed to shit talk someone?! Why are we speaking in code?"
"Because one of our friends has a big mouth, the other one forgets a secret is a secret the second you finish talking to him, another one likes sharing gossip online through subs and secret callout posts, one couldn't even buy a fuck to give about any gossip, and the final one... he's not allowed, he knows too much as it is already." You listed simply before taking a sip of your drink, "The group we have right now is formed out of the strongest tea holders, understand?"
"Anyways," Felix snapped you back into business, "what's happening? Why are you screwed?"
Steeling your nerves, you mentally prepared yourself for the word that were about to come out of your mouth.
"I might have a crush on someone..."
"I knew it." Minho announced smugly, taking another piece of perfectly cooked beef from the grill top.
"What?! There's no way you knew anything about this, Hyung!" Jeongin argued, sitting up in his seat next to you, "You don't even like people! How are you suddenly an insider?"
"Look at her!" He pointed the tongs in your direction, to which you tilted your head in confusion, "The past few days she's been watching her phone like a hawk whenever we all go out, she's been way too happy, and she spaces out more than usual-"
"Okay, that part could just be because of Lix's pot brownies!"
"Hey, hey, hey - ex-nay on the pot brownies-ay, okay? The whole world doesn't need to know - I only do it cause people ask me to!" The blond gritted out, pointing his fork in the direction of the youngest as a threat.
"Yeah, sure, next you're gonna say you only model for Hyunjin because he 'asks you to'."
"You little-"
"Hey!" The eldest of the boys snapped the tongs three times, effectively quieting them, "Shut up! We're here to get information, not talk about Felix's entrepreneur business, got it?" He pointed the utensil toward you yet again, "Talk. Now."
"Well- Uh... I don't know, it's not like I wanted it to happen, I was completely fine as friends with this person but then..." Shrugging your shoulders, you felt the events of the past month play back in your head, "I guess things just changed one day? Like, suddenly I could see them in this new light and now every time he does something so stupidly normal I find myself wanting to kiss him until I can't breathe."
"Ugh, that's both disgusting and cute - why did we have to talk about this over barbecue?" Jeongin whined before stuffing his face with a lettuce wrap. "Whosh th' lucky guy?"
"You really think I'm gonna reveal-"
"I swear to god, please don't say it's your coworker," Felix pouted, looking at you with pleading eyes, "you can do so much better than him - you don't have to do the charity work, I promise you."
"Lee Felix-"
"I know your heart's in the right place, but you don't have to cater to him, please."
"Would you please-"
"40 bucks says it's Chan." Minho hummed through a bite of his bulgogi.
The youngest nearly choked on his drink, swallowing a hefty gulp before coughing, "That's such a bad take! Chan Hyung? The man with negative rizz? The man who stays up long enough to say good night and good morning?"
"You say that like it's impossible!" The freckled blond argued, "It happens all the time in sitcoms!"
"Lix, please, I'd rather you not compare my life to a sitcom, I have enough happening for two seasons and a reunion episode as it is." You groaned, dropping your head in your hands with a sigh, "Can we just move on from the confession and talk about the movie night? I don't think my brain can handle the topic of my non-existent love life much longer."
Through a silent agreement, Minho ordered another round of food and the four of you continued onto much lighter - yet somehow more argument filled, conversation.
The coveted movie night was a monthly event that originally started with you and your friends, using the time Chris would be working late to have a movie marathon loaded with snacks, drinks, and cozy pajamas. It wasn't until Changbin caught word of the activity that the small gathering turned into a merged group affair; it was even enough to convince Chris to take time off to join in on the fun.
In the whirlwind of work and the existential crisis of realizing your crush, you'd completely forgotten that the event would be taking place tonight.
Funny, how fast time flies when your world is in shambles.
"Alright, that's all the blankets and pillows from the closet." Chris huffed, stepping back with his hands on his hips as he admired his handiwork; the large couch draped with various blankets and piled high with pillows that were sure to be rearranged in less than a minute of everyone's arrival.
You snuck a glance from your spot in the kitchen, a soft smile growing from his look of personal accomplishment. "Looks great, hopefully we won't have Han and Hyunjin fighting over who gets what pillow again."
He snorted out a laugh, heading over to you, "You think so? Those two could fight over who gets the last chip with an unopened bag right next to them - it's happened before!" Leaning his hip against the island, his eyes glanced over the various snacks covering the surface, "D'you need me to help with anything?"
"Um- Yeah, actually, can you get me the bowls from the cabinet? We can open the chips now, it's almost time for everyone to show up." You turned to look at the stove's clock; 7:33 PM, a little less than half an hour until your shared apartment would be filled with a sea of people.
Chris hummed, pushing himself away from the countertop, and you found your eyes drawn to his frame; a black tank top - sleeveless by his own doing - showing off the subtle build of his biceps, and a matching pair of black shorts you'd seen time and time again.
It was his staple look, simple, perfectly cozy for the impending activities, yet somehow you still felt your heartbeat racing the longer you stared.
Yes, you knew he was attractive, your friends gawked about it for weeks since you first moved in with him, but when was he this attractive?
"The big bowls, yeah?"
Snapping yourself out of your stupor, you nodded, even with his back still turned to you. "Mhm, those are perfect!"
You were in, deep.
You turned your attention back to preparing the chips, opening a bag and sneaking one of the plain potato chips when you felt a hand at the small of your back - the stack of bowls sliding onto the counter a second later.
"Here you go."
This was normal, it was normal for him and his affinity for physical touch, but you still felt a rush of electricity shoot up your spine from his touch - your body freezing as you registered just how close he was behind you.
"Ah- Thanks, Channie!"
Normal. So very, very normal.
"You need anything else?"
Lifting your gaze from the snacks in front of you, your eyes immediately found his; warm and kind, a shade of brown you caught yourself daydreaming of time and time again - distracting enough for you not to realize the mere inches between your faces.
He smelled like mahogany and lavender, a faint musk of the cologne he always wore tinted with your laundry detergent he claimed made his clothes feel softer.
"I, um..." His stare was hypnotizing, sending every productive thought in your brain out the window, "I-"
The sound of the doorbell snapped you out of your reverie, but you could've sworn you saw a hint of sadness in his eyes as he stepped back.
"That might be Han, he said he'd be coming a bit earlier."
"Yeah, no, that's fine - can you finish opening these when you get back? I'm gonna go get changed."
Chris hummed out a short "Yeah" before heading toward the front door, leaving you to collect yourself amongst the colorful serving bowls.
This was going to be a long night.
It wasn't long before everyone showed up; comfort clothes on and ready for the night's movie queue and rounds of snacks.
The seating arrangements remained in their usual layout with the mix of your friends between the couch or the floor, while you somehow always found yourself tucked between Chris and and the corner of the couch - arguably, the best part of any couch in your opinion.
This time, however, the arrangement was met with knowing side eye glances from your half of the friend group, a few of your girls sharing barely hidden smirks and whispers.
Before you could throw a pillow as a warning sign, a blanket of polyester blocked your vision and filled your nose with an all too familiar scent.
"Here," Chris hummed softly, rounding the edge of the couch to take his place next to you, "in case you get cold."
"Aw, you thought of me?" You teased, nudging his shoulder with yours as you unfolded his blanket and draped it across your legs.
"I always think of you."
His words made you freeze, your heart stuck in a limbo of floating to your throat or falling to the pit of your stomach while he carried on with the rest of the group.
I always think of you.
Always.
The revelation had the gears in your head working double time, the events of the past month playing like a movie in your mind - akin to the one currently starting on the TV in front of you.
He always thought of you, his caring nature shown in so many ways besides the ones you grew used to while living under the same roof; if you were running late coming home, you'd always have a text making sure you were safe - or, when you had important dates in your schedule, he'd be the one to remind you when they were a few days away.
Chris always did little things to show that you were on his mind, he always made it clear that you were important to him, that he cared about you as much as he did his friends.
But maybe... Maybe there was more behind it.
Your fingers glided along the blanket covering your lap, the fabric soft and welcoming like the hug of a close friend.
I always think of you.
It was like the three movies passed in the span of seconds, some of your shared friends tapping out after the second film, while the stragglers and self proclaimed cleanup crew stuck around to take in a cheesy family comedy of a man taking his family on a wild vacation.
"Min, you don't have to do that, you know," you chastized the black haired man as he washed the empty chip bowls, "I would've gotten to it in the morning!"
He scoffed out a chuckle, throwing you a knowing side eye, "Yeah, says the person who told me how much she hates the dishes with a passion stronger than Han's coffee addiction."
Deciding to protect your pride - knowing full and well he was completely correct - you wandered back into the living room where Felix and Jisung were folding one of the blankets, while Jeongin rearranged the pillows and Changbin gathered any missed trash lying around.
Felix shot you a sleepy smile, nodding his head toward the stack of folded blankets, "D'you want us to put these back in the closet?"
"No, you guys have done more than enough, seriously! I'll put them away, don't worry."
"What about this one?" Jisung held up the navy blanket you were using, Chris' navy blanket. "Want it folded? Are you still using it?"
"It's actually Chris's, I'll give it back to him."
Said man slipped away to his bedroom in the middle of the third movie, mentioning something about double checking some files for work before wishing you all a good night.
Humming in acceptance, the remaining boys gathered their belongings and headed toward the door, giving each of them a hug and making them swear to text when they each made it home safely.
Minho gave you a soft smile, though a certain glint in his eyes raised warning sign in your head, "Have a good night." He hummed with an air of mischief, slipping through the door before you had even a second to question him.
Frowning at the wood, you clicked the lock into place before gathering everything you needed to close off the living room for the night; tucking the navy blanket under your arm while balancing the other blankets in your hand. You stuffed them back into their bin in the hallway closet with ease, sliding the door shut and making your way toward your last stop of the night.
The sound of your knuckles against the door echoed through the empty hall, "Channie, you up?"
"Yeah, you can come in!"
Turning the knob, you were bathed in a soft purple light from his LED's, walking into the cozy atmosphere to see him laying on his bed with his phone in hand, "Hi."
He smiled, dropping his phone to the side as he sat up, "Hey, you - is everyone gone?"
"Yep, they helped clean up as usual, I'm just here to return this," you held up the blanket, stopping just short of the side of his bed, "thanks for letting me borrow it."
"You know, you can keep using it if you want, it's not like I won't know where it is."
Rolling your eyes, you held it out to him, "Chris, you and I both know I don't need anymore blankets in my room."
"What if you get cold?" He grinned, challenging you with glittering eyes.
"Then I'll use one of my blankets!" You laughed at his cheekiness, tossing the blanket in his direction just for him to catch it before it covered his face.
The room filled with your combined giggles, warmth settling over you as you watched him unceremoniously ball the blanket up and toss it toward his computer chair.
Just as you were about to announce your leave, your mind seemed to have a mission of its own the minute you opened your mouth.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, always - what's up?"
Always - god, was he trying to drive you crazy on purpose?
You needed clarity, something to confirm that you were seeing things that weren't truly there - making a purpose out of words that were simply meant from one roommate to another, one best friend to another.
"So... About what you said in the living room, when you said you always think of me..." You dropped your gaze from his, your fingers suddenly becoming the most interesting thing to you, "Did... Did you mean it?"
"Of course I meant it, you're one of my best friends - I think about you all the time!" The smile he gave you was genuine, warm, filled with so much truth that it made your heart skip a beat.
Steeling your nerves, you looked up at him with a firm stare, "All the time?"
"Yes...? I mean, I think about other people and things too, but for the most part you've always been there... Why are you asking-"
"Did you think about me last month?"
His smile faltered, eyebrows furrowing as he searched your face for a hint of an answer. "What are you talking about?"
"Chris, did you think about me last month - when I walked into your room and I saw you-" Taking a sharp breath, you calming yourself before looking at him with pleading eyes, "Did you think of me?"
The silence was thick, the sound of your own heart filling your ears - you were certain it would beat right out of your chest and run out of the room to save you from this conversation.
"Would..." He cleared his throat, dropping his head as he picked at the sheets underneath him, "Would it be weird if I said yes?"
Your stomach flipped, your knees threatening to buckle and send you straight to the floor but you stood strong. "Would it be weird if I said I wanted you to?"
His head snapped back up and he stared at you with a look crossed between shock and awe, "Are you serious?"
"Honestly, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you." The confession took you by storm, though you couldn't find it in yourself to stop talking, "And it's not just from that night - well, some of it is, but since then it's like... enhanced? Like, every little thing you do just lingers and sometimes I think I'm just going crazy because it's not like you've done anything new - it's just you, yet my heart feels like it'll explode after every text you send, or whenever we're in the same room, and I-"
The sound of your name from his lips stopped your panicked ramble, though the look he gave you did little to calm your racing heart.
"Come here."
Offering his hand, you cautiously accepted it and let him guide you onto his bed, straddling his lap at his instance while trying not to completely evaporate from the close proximity.
"Honestly, this isn't how I thought I'd end up confessing, but I guess there's a lot about us that isn't traditional," he chuckled to himself, his hands naturally finding their home on your hips, just below the waistband of your pajama shorts. "First, I want you to know that I think about you no matter what - you're always somewhere in my mind and at first I thought it was because you're my roommate, someone I care about just like everyone else in my life. But, recently things have been changing and I..." Taking a deep breath, his eyes found yours, a firm, yet comforting gaze holding you captive in those brown irises, "I have feelings for you- I like you, more than just a roommate or a best friend, and I didn't want to ruin things between us if you didn't feel the same w-"
You cut him off with your lips against his, swallowing the rest of his sentence with a small hum of delight - soft with a hint of cherry chapstick.
He melted almost immediately, tugging you closer as a hand slid up your back to keep you pressed against his body - almost as if he allowed anymore space between you, you'd somehow disappear into his dreams.
When you went to pull away, he followed like a desperate puppy and you had to fight the urge to laugh at him, placing your hand on his chest to keep him from coming any closer. "Just so you know, that kiss means I definitely feel the same way."
Chris huffed out a giggle, narrowing his eyes playfully, "No, really? I would've never guessed!"
"Well, I know for a fact you also feel the same way." The lilt in your voice was teasing, making a show of rolling your hips against the mass that was quickly making itself known between your legs.
Biting his lip, he leveled you with a firm gaze, daring, "Don't start something you can't finish, baby."
The pet name made your heart flutter, and you tilted your head up in defiance, "What makes you think I don't wanna finish it, hm?" Grinding your hips yet again, you were able to work out a low groan from those wonderfully kissable lips, "I can finish it, Channie, just show me how."
Before you knew it, he had you wrapped up in another mind melting kiss that had you letting out a shivering moan against his mouth as you tried matching his ferocity.
"You," he panted, nipping your bottom lip, "are gonna be the death of me, you little minx."
He kissed his way down your jaw and neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive spots he miraculously had no trouble in finding, leaving you wondering how much he truly knew about you to discover this information.
However, all of your critical thinking skills flew out the window when he sucked at a spot just underneath your jaw, turning you into a whining mess that only craved him and him alone.
Tilting your head to the side to grant him more room, you simultaneously tugged at his shirt - almost offended that he decided tonight of all nights to wear one in the privacy of his own room.
"Off, Chris."
He pulled himself away from the paradise that was your skin, gazing at you with simmering eyes, "Say please?"
Pouting, you pulled at the offending cotton once more, "Chris-"
His hands immediately found your wrists, tugging them gently behind your back as he tilted his head, fixing you with a tsk of disapproval. "Use your manners, princess, you know how this goes."
Your body temperature spiked, flashes of him saying the same fated words as a tease just to get you to beg for him before he inevitably gave you what you wanted, playing back like a film reel.
You know how this goes.
Swallowing down the demand threatening to bubble up, you relaxed in his hold and softened your undoubtedly needy gaze, "Please, Chris? Can you take your shirt off, for me?"
The smirk that stretched his lips had your stomach doing flips, the mere glimpse of the cocky energy he had inside of him making your mouth water and your pussy flutter with need.
"That's my girl."
He let go of your wrists to hike the hem of his shirt into his hands, before tugging it up and off with the coveted crossed-arm maneuver that he never failed to use as his prized flirting trick - and, god, was it a good trick.
Despite having seen him shirtless countless times, seeing him shirtless up close had your brain melting.
"Remind me to thank Changbin for keeping you in check with his gym routine."
"As much as I appreciate the compliment, could we maybe not talk about our other friends while I have you in my lap?"
Barely holding back your laughter, you nodded and slipped your own pajama shirt off in one go as a peace offering, tossing it to the floor where his currently laid. "Yes, sir - won't happen again." When he went rigid underneath you, you arched an eyebrow, "Oh? We have a sir kink, do we?"
Before you could tease him any further, he surged forward and caught your lips in a feverish kiss, passion fueled and determined as his warm hands found the new, uncharted territory of your back.
"You're playing with fire, princess." His tone was firm, laced with warning as he nipped at your plump bottom lip, "You really think you can handle it?"
The tantalizing threat of a challenge had your heart skipping a beat; you'd seen him get into one of these moods before, asking an open ended question that he already know the answer to, and playing that game now held too many promising rewards in the end.
Preparing yourself for the next words coming out of your mouth, you gave him an innocent smile, "I know I can handle it, sir."
That was the straw that broke the camel's back, graciously earning you the split second of weightlessness before you were pinned on your back with every sense of yours surrounded by Chris; the feeling of his soft, cool sheets against your back, the smell of him ingrained into the cotton threading, and the heart stopping sight of him hovering above you bathed in that soft purple glow.
"Tell me you want this." His eyes locked onto your own, brown irises filled with caution and hope, "If you want me to stop, I'll stop, and we can pretend we never let it get this far, I promise."
"I want this- God, I need this, I need you, Chris - keep going, please."
With your consent given, his fingers danced up your thighs and over the cotton shorts you wore - a matching set to the shirt that was long forgotten - before dipping past the elastic waistband to drag them back down the expanse of your thighs.
They were unceremoniously tossed to the ground with the ever growing pile of clothes, and when he turned to give your panties the same, eventual treatment, his jaw nearly dislocated from the rate it dropped at; a bright blush turning his ears and neck red.
"Holy shit- I-I mean, fuck- Please... Please tell me you planned this"
You were now laid in his bed fully nude, which meant you weren't wearing panties for as long as the movie night went on, and that thought alone had his dick painfully straining against his own shorts.
Shaking your head, you timidly knocked your knees together, bristling at the exposure of cold air against your pussy, "I, um... I really wish I could say I planned it, but I didn't." Blinking up at the ceiling, a sheepish laugh shook your shoulders, "It's more comfortable sleeping without them, you know?"
Of course, you knew he knew from a few fated encounters with him early in the mornings, courtesy of wandering eyes and a not-so-small situation he tried keeping tucked away - it seemed that between the two of you, underwear was a foreign concept in the privacy of your shared apartment.
Chris groaned, a low, aching sound that begged for mercy to be taken on him, "You're absolutely going to be the death of me, there's no way you're real right now - this has to be a dream." Resting his hands on your knees, he silently waited for your hum of permission before pulling them apart, following the angle of your thighs down to catch his first glimpse of your pussy. "Fuck, if this is a dream, please don't wake me up."
"Chris."
Your insistent whine didn't fall on deaf ears as he wasted no time in scooting down his bed and ducking his head between your legs; plump lips peppering wet kisses along your soft skin, from the inside of your knee down to the highest point of your inner thigh, before skipping entirely over your cunt to repeat the process to your other leg.
Each caress of his lips sent chills up your spine, sparks of electricity shooting through your nerves and powering the growing desire within the pit of your stomach. Thankfully, you wouldn't have to suffer much longer as his second trip down ended with the warm sensation of his tongue swiping through your lower lips with a careful curiosity.
A sound crossed between a sigh and a moan floated through him before his hands squeezed the flesh of your thighs and he all but dove his head toward your pussy; lapping messily at the arousal dripping from you while aiming to explore your fluttering walls.
"Oh, shit-" Hands flying to his hair, you gripped at the roots as shock tinted pleasure shot through you, "Oh my god, Chris- Oh, god!"
The only sounds coming from him were muffled moans and lewd slurps, the only instances of his mouth leaving your pussy being him shifting his head up to focus his devilish tongue along your clit, and him pulling away for mere seconds of air before getting back to work.
He was eating you out like a man starved, and all you could do was lay there and take it with wanton moans and whines of his name.
"Chris, baby," you panted breathlessly, fingers tugging at his roots in hopes of gaining his attention, "baby, w-wait-" Pulling a bit harder, you were met with a groan of pleasure, sending your back into a small arch as the vibrations flowed through you.
With a small gasp of air, he pulled away just enough for you to catch the shine of your arousal coating the tip of his nose and lips, pupils blown with a fog of desire that made your mouth run dry.
"What's wrong? Did I hurt you? D'you wanna stop?"
"No, no, you're amazing - if we stopped now I might actually die," giving him a reassuring smile, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his forehead, "but as wonderful as your tongue is, I'd rather come on your dick first."
"Fuck." Pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, he sat up with a groan, "We're going to have to do something about that mouth of yours."
Blinking up at him with faux innocent eyes, you tilted your head, "I'm just telling the truth, sir."
He smirked at the pout set on your lips, leaning over you to nip gently at the flesh, "That's fine, I just wonder what else it can do." Sweeping you into a feather light kiss, he murmured softly, "You'll show me later, though, won't you, princess?"
Your pussy fluttered, clenching around nothing as you nodded without hesitation - only focused on getting those pretty lips, tinted with the taste of your arousal, back on your own.
"Good girl."
Chris pulled back, laughing at your whine of disdain while his hands got to work sliding down his black shorts with ease, shifting to get them fully off and added as the final item to the pile on the floor.
In the midst of all of his moving, you were able to catch a glimpse of just exactly what he was packing and your jaw dropped - the accidental peek you'd seen a month ago barely comparing to the full on staring contest you were having now.
He was big, bigger than most you'd had before in almost every way, and you nearly began to consider if it would even fit; your gaze trailing up the slight curve it held, mouth watering at a prominent vein running along the side.
"I'll go slow."
Your gaze snapped back up to meet his own, the previously cocky aura he held now warm and comforting, and your - admittedly needless - worries subsided.
"And I meant what I said earlier," reaching over to his nightstand, he pulled open a small drawer to take out a small, obvious box, "if you want me to stop, just say so."
Leaning up on your elbows, you watched as he pulled out a foil packet, "Do you know about safewords?"
"Yeah," bringing his full attention back to you, he tilted his head, "d'you have one?"
"Pear, for a hard stop, or the light system if it's easier for you to work with."
Scoffing out a laugh, he shook his head, "Whichever works for you, baby - I'll remember."
As you laid yourself back onto his bed, he made work of ripping open the condom packet, taking out the rubber and sliding it on with careful, yet experienced ease.
"Y'know, I never thought someone could look hot while putting on a condom, but I don't mind being proven wrong." When he ducked his head in embarrassment, a familiar sheepish blush beginning to turn his ears red, you giggled at your small achievement.
"It's our first time together, I didn't want to just assume that... you know." Growing past his shyness, Chris settled himself between your legs once more, one hand holding the back of your knee while the other wrapped around the base of his cock - a shiver of brief relief running down his spine. "Ready?"
Taking a deep breath, you nodded, "Ready."
Dropping his gaze, he leaned forward to press the covered head of his dick against your glistening entrance, biting his lip at the warmth emanating through before pushing onward - working the tip past your walls slowly.
The increasing stretch had a low moan escaping you, each inch introducing a new wave of pain tinted pleasure that shot from the top of your head to your toes. "Fuck, Chris."
He wasn't faring any better on his end, the lack of attention given to his dick since you first sat in his lap had him beyond sensitive and holding fast to his promise like a lifeline - go slow, go slow.
"Relax for me, baby," he gritted out, shivering as your walls clenched around the half of his length he managed to sink in, "just a little more, okay? Just need you to let me in."
"'M trying - you're so big." You couldn't find yourself to care about the desperate whine that took your voice, not when you were being deliciously filled with more to come.
Abandoning his hold on your thigh, he licked the pad of his thumb before bringing it to your clit, rubbing gentle circles in hopes of helping you relax further - and it worked. He was able to slowly sheath the rest of his dick inside of you, breathing a sigh of relief, while you shivered underneath him, canting your hips against the consistent flicks of his thumb against your sensitive nub.
"M-Move- Oh god, please move, Channie."
"Are you sure you're ready for that? I can wait-"
"Channie," looking up at him, you tried your best to give him a firm stare through the mind fogging lust, "I need you to fuck me; the color's green, it's so green, I promise - please, just fuck me already!"
He took his thumb off of your clit in favor of holding onto your hip instead, hovering over your body and keeping himself balanced with his left hand.
Licking his lips, his eyes searched your face for any signs of doubt, but he was simply met with desire and need. "Okay, only because you said please."
A smile lit up your face, and just as you went to give him a teasing reply, your body jolted forward and a surprised moan shot past your lips instead.
Another sharp thrust rocked your body and your hands scrambled to find purchase on his broad shoulders, latching onto him to take every quick, deep thrust he delivered before he fell into a regular pace of thorough strokes that had you seeing stars.
Chris watched every subtle shift in your expression after each thrust, drinking in the cute pinch of your eyebrows and pout of your lips while the sounds of your moans created a symphony in his head.
"Beautiful," he murmured, shifting his knees to allow him to drive deeper into your dripping cunt, "my pretty girl, taking me like you're fucking made for me."
The shift in his hips led you to lift your own, and the resulting graze of his cock against your g-spot had a near pornographic moan leaving you - neighbors be damned.
Swiping his tongue across his bottom lip, he made a mental note to keep that angle as long as he could. "There it is - Fuck, look at you."
Your nails scratched down his shoulder blades, earning a sharp hiss of pain from the man above you, yet he continued on without hesitation.
"I wish I told you sooner," stifling a grunt, he switched up the pace with slow, shallow rolls of his hips, "could've had this pussy wrapped around me every fucking night."
A helpless whine vibrated through you, but the following moan was something neither you or him was prepared for.
"Daddy!"
There was a brief pause, not even lasting a full minute though it was glaringly obvious to you - even in your blissed out haze. Blinking up at him with worried eyes, you were ready to apologize for the mortifying slip up until you realized he wasn't looking down at you in disgust - but, rather, unrestrained lust.
"Daddy, hm? Is that what my pretty baby wants?" Sliding his hand down your thigh, he maneuvered to hook your leg in the crook of his arm and bring it up higher, evidently opening you up more. "I don't mind, it's fitting - you don't need sir right now anyways, isn't that right, princess? So," rutting his hips into yours, a cocky smirk curved his lips, "keep being a good girl and tell daddy just how good he's making you feel."
You could've died right then and there and considered it a fulfilling life; pinned underneath your best friend, your roommate, fucked within an inch of your sanity while he murmurs the dirtiest sentences you ever imagined from those glorious lips of his.
"O-Oh, god- P-Please, daddy-"
"Please, what, baby? I love hearing you beg, but you have to tell me what you want."
He knew what you wanted, he could feel it with each pulse of your cunt, the way your leg tensed in his hold while your body writhed underneath him - you were close, and he wanted to see just how far he could push you.
"I-I want- Fuck-" You squeezed the flexed muscle of his bicep, while your free hand fisted the pillowcase underneath your head, trying your best to gather the brain cells to make a comprehensible sentence through his unrelenting pace. "I wanna come- wanna come for you," blinking up at him with glossy eyes, you submitted instantly, "please, daddy, can I?"
Chris' pace faltered for the smallest of seconds, his heart swelling and his dick aching for the release he'd been fighting back since he entered your warm pussy - there was no use in stalling for more time, not when you needed him as much as he needed you.
"Hold it for just a little longer, princess." When you gave a displeased whine, he leaned down to kiss the pout off of your face, "It won't be long, I promise - ten seconds, you can count with me, yeah?"
Nodding desperately, you snuck another kiss from him before waiting for his next instruction, trying your best to suppress your lingering orgasm.
"Good girl - now, can you use your fingers to play with your clit for me? You can keep holding onto me, just use your free hand."
You followed his directions diligently, quickly licking your index finger before managing to work your arm between your bodies and finding your puffy clit with ease; the lightest touch sending a shock of pleasure through your system.
"'S too much, I-I can't-"
He shushed you, "You can, I know you can, just count with me, okay? Focus on me, baby - starting from ten."
Swallowing back a whine, you took a shivering breath, "T-Ten."
"Good, keep counting."
As your slow, broken countdown continued, he took the time to adjust his position one final time; sitting up straight and using his left hand to gather your leg in the same position as your right, holding you spread open and fully subject to his will.
"Seven... S-Six- Oh my god-" Your eyes rolled, your body feeling like fire was liking at each of your limbs as you rubbed quick circles around your clit.
"Don't stop counting, princess," Chris grunted, licking his lips as sweat beaded along his forehead, "come on, five."
A short sob broke past your lips, eyebrows pinching together, "I c-can't- I can't, daddy!"
"Four." He continued on, angling your legs slightly higher and focusing on the almost hypnotizing wet slapping sound of your pussy all but drenching his cock and the sheets underneath. "Three - almost there, baby, keep holding it for me."
You made a noise, not caring what it sounded like as long as it was known that you were still hanging in there, if only by a thread.
"T-Two - my perfect girl, doing so well for daddy, s-so fucking proud of you," he gritted out, breaths coming in bated pants as he exchanged the speed of this thrusts for more power, watching your back arch off of the bed in the process. "One - come, come for me, baby."
Your body followed through before your mind had the chance to comprehend his words, white-hot pleasure flooding through your veins as you came with a cry of his name - at least, you hoped the sound that came out resembled his name.
Chris groaned, doing his best to fuck you through your orgasm until he came with a shivering gasp, almost pained, high pitched whines falling from his lips with each wave; his dick quickly being surrounded by the warmth of his cum filling the latex.
Hours could've passed before you were able to come back to your senses, blinking your eyes open and dazedly looking at the man above you.
Even after sending you to the moon and back, he looked as breathtaking as ever; chest heaving and head tossed back, large hands now caressing your thighs as your feet met the mattress once more.
"Fuck." He laughed breathlessly, lifting his head to look at you with glittering eyes, "You okay? That- I didn't go too far, did I?"
Oh, he was going to be the death of you.
Shooting him a tired smile, you shook your head, "I'm more than okay - that was amazing, daddy."
You didn't miss the way his dick twitched inside of you from your words, his hands squeezing you softly.
"Princess, as much as I love hearing you say that, I might end up fucking you through the mattress if you keep it up."
Biting your lip, you not-so-subtly glanced at the open box on his nightstand before looking at him with daring eyes, "If I call you my boyfriend, can you fuck me into the next morning?"
He paused as if heavily pondering your words, then slowly pulled out of your sensitive walls with a grunt, "If you let me call you my girlfriend and let me take you on a date, you can call me both and I'll fuck you until you can't walk."
A bright smile found its way to your face and you nodded happily, "Deal, boyfriend."
With a grin as bright as the sun, he made quick work of taking off the used condom before tying it and tossing it in the small trash near his nightstand; returning to hover over you with warm eyes, "Deal, girlfriend."
Safe to say, he upheld his end of the deal with flying colors, and you planned the date as soon as you regained the ability to walk a day later.
✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @instabull, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay
✧. ┊Tagged lovelies for Pt. 2 [If you want to be added to my official tag list please fill out the form below]: @turtledove824, @boi-bi-ahaha, @skzworlddomination44, @brojustfknkillm3
✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!
#skz smut#stray kids smut#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#bang chan smut#bang chan fluff#bangchan smut#bangchan fluff#bang chan x reader#bangchan x reader
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So for basically my whole life I'd grown up with and was resigned to accept that the chinese concept of formal/nice clothing of my and the previous generation has been western clothes. So at any awards ceremonies or performances, entertainers would show up mostly in western suits/dresses and maaaaaybe you'll spot the occasional cheongsam if they're going for a Wong Fei Hong vibe. Which, you know, kinda sucks if you have any concept of western cultural imperialism in asia.
So when the hanfu revivalist movement started, I was waiting to see when it would enter the mainstream -- my hope was for fashion designers to integrate traditional/dynastic elements into their work and make it common place enough that I can buy this shit online for ME. Because I WANT.
Though some of the designs can be a bit hit or miss, I am LOVING what various stars and entertainers are wearing out and about now.
Anyway - here's a collection of Xiao Shunyao's modern hanfu inspired/hybridized stage outfits from the last couple years. For his MLC performances, his stylists seem to be borrowing inspiration from his Di Feisheng and possibly other character costume silhouettes.
I'd been seeing a few comments about how his outfits play with gender - and some of his outfits do! But I think the interesting thing to discuss is from which standard is he playing with gender? Because from a western perspective, the things he does with his western suit tops, belting on top of the jacket for a tightly cinched waist, and the addition of a trailing skirt = femme. But if you're talking from a hanfu-hybridized pov, that's just a modern take on hanfu and having any of those elements is not inherently femme and would often read masc to me.
So these things aren't necessarily gendered because they exist traditionally in chinese men's clothing or costume designs (ie video games, comics, historical fiction illustrations and film, etc, so therefore in the modern lexicon of masculine/acceptable for men):
presence or lack of a skirt
silky, velvety, gauzy or sparkly material choice, esp in formal or stage clothing
short or long length of skirt
embroidery
flowers/floral/bird designs
folding fans
certain styles of makeup
beading, gold, tassels, jewels
non-chunky jewelry
headbands
widely flowing silhouettes
What XSY's stylists are doing with some western clothing items are interesting. I'm convinced there have been one or two western jacket tops made of thinner material that they're folding over the front, and belting down instead of buttoning (which then matches with his other outfits that are designed specifically to do this). Then they're adding a skirt, cloak or bracer element to it.
The western portions often bring a military minimalist feel which they balance with a more gauzy material in the skirt or cloak portions.
Things I think are playing with gender:
row 1 - image 1: red di feisheng-inspired outfit
The lace-up girdle is there to match the bracers in both material and style. And it's positioned to be similar to the heavy belt that Di Feisheng wears.
HOWEVER. That style of girdle/corset-like clothing item can't be divorced from the modern idea of sexy leather corsets. So imo, this waist piece on that outfit was a choice. Especially when paired with his allergic-to-collars-higher-than-his-sternum necklines. And if you take into context how masculine yet female coded his character is in the drama, the whole look evokes that.
row 2, image 1: black western suit with belt on top, hat, cloak, black boots and not-visible but also a black tassel fringe skirt
Hat and cloak moves the intention of the outfit from western toward a more Asian slant, because alone, it looks like a western black suit with western heeled boots, cinched waist with a lady's belt (seated photoshoot) and western style tassel skirt.
The suit top consists of a vest and a shrug-like sleeve portion that appears masculine at first glance. But take the shrug and pair it with the tassel skirt (I can't find the red carpet photos but here is a better view of the skirt when seated), and I think you got a look that's both intentionally edging toward the femme in a western sense but also confusing matters by hiding within the parameters of both western and chinese traditional male styling.
row 2 - image 2 : white asymetrical western jacket styled in a front fold-over style, gauze skirt, trailing pearl embellishments
The more traditional leaning version of this is the white outfit in row 3 that he wears to the Hi6 Hello Saturday variety show -- the skirt portion on that outfit is one I'd consider non-gendered.
Row 1, images 2 and 3 are examples of masculine/neutral uses of gauze that plays with flow of form but isn't inherently femme.
This stage outfit is very western-appearing masculine suiting, until you hit the skirt which is giving me long ballerina tie-on skirt with the additional swan/mermaid pearl strings. Imo, another example of deliberately using traditional masculine styling but switching it up with the combination of material choice and make that is feminine.
row 2, image 3: black space military boots, black suiting, black -silver ombre sequin trailing skirt and white gauzy shawl with black floral design
The over all design is going for a masculine military-feel. (think this outfit for shen langhun) But instead of a thicker military cloak, it's replaced with a woman's gauze shawl and a skirt that trails behind him very much like the back of a woman's formal fish-tail gown when he moves around.
If you take into context Wang Herun's outfit is a white-silver sequined dress cut in a way to also give a space-military-queen vibe, imo they both coordinated their outfits to balance out with both femme and masc qualities.
Thoughts? I'm curious what others think about this.
While I wait for the CNY photoshoot for XSY's red and black look, here's him with his stage collaborators with a nice range of skirt lengths, period influences and material choices. The woman in the center is the one with the most military-fighter design out of the bunch. The dudes are all in variations of formal-wear-with-good-kicking-boots (and lots of crotch space).
#xiao shunyao#mysterious lotus casebook cast#my royal ramblings#fashion#chinese fashion#gendered fashion in cultural context
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Random Big Three One Piece NSFW Headcanons:
(I’m DEEP into my one piece era)
Luffy
First and foremost he loves using his devil fruit powers on you. Will stretch his fingers that little bit further inside you or expand his dick to fill you just that little bit more.
Honestly I feel like he has a high sex drive considering his high drive in every other aspect of life.
At the beginning he is all about his self satisfaction but over time he learns how to be a more generous lover.
He has a huge appetite and I feel like that carries over into eating you. He eats all of you. You also have to teach him to kiss cuz in the beginning he acted like he was chewing on a piece of jerky😭
Will do a swift little aftercare but he only cuddles when he is going to sleep. He can’t sit still for too long otherwise.
Zoro
Loves coming home from a mission that almost killed him! And before he’s even fully healed, sinking right into you. Chopper (who along with the rest of the crew can hear your “activities” ) tries to tell him to take it easy but no!
He also likes to touch and hit on you in front of Sanji to make him jealous. He’s not even the biggest fan of PDA but he does it cuz he knows it gets under the chefs skin.
Really likes smacking his dick against you whether it be your face, your cunt, your tits. Loves when his precum splatters all over you.
This man loves to record and critique the video afterwards. Mostly himself tho. Also learns what you seem to like most and what you don’t. Improves his technique for next time.
When he’s tired, he lays back and makes you do all the work. Teases you when you cant keep it up and takes forever to take mercy on you and help out.
Sanji
Sanji’s favorite thing in the whole world is feeding you a good meal, running you a warm bath, rubbing you down with a moisturizer while giving you a massage and then fucking you nice and slow till all either of you can do is fall asleep in each others arms
Baby boy is so obsessed with everything that is you. You breathe on him in a certain way or look him in the eye a second too long and he’s hard.
He 100% strikes me as a lady should never be down on her knees” type. But he only says that shit to be courteous. If you do tho, he’ll put a pillow down underneath you to put your knees on. Or he’ll ask you to do it while he’s laying down so you can lay between his legs.
Sneaks you onto the deck of the ship to eat his favorite meal underneath the stars.
Sanji is so vocal. Asking how you’re feeling, telling you how good you’re doing, and just generally whimpering and moaning in your ear.
#one piece x reader#one piece smut#one piece thoughts#one piece luffy#monkey d. luffy#sanji smut#luffy smut#straw hat luffy#luffy x reader#luffy#zoro smut#one piece zoro#roronoa zoro#zoro#zoro x reader#sanji headcanons#vinsmoke sanji#sanji x reader#one piece sanji#black leg sanji#ronoroa zoro
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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter four)
pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader
warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, roughhousing, overstimulation, insane amounts of teasing, some mild dubcon scenes/allusions to dubcon, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)
chapter: 4/?
SERIES MASTERLIST
words: 6.3k (🫠)
i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.
a/n: thank you for your patience while i got my shit together (christmas edition). enjoy, this filth seems to get longer with each chapter. i’ll be gone for a few weeks over the holidays, so no chapter updates for a bit, but have no doubt i’ll be back for more in the new year <;33
Coriolanus Snow was not a patient man. He’d played the long game enough times in his climb to the top of Panem to know that once he got up there, he wouldn’t be sitting on the sidelines anymore, waiting for life to happen to him. He would take what he wanted from whoever he wanted, with no delay.
Who were you to tell him what he could and couldn’t have? Who were you to deny him, walking away like you’d won, like you’d just played him like a fiddle and left him out in the dust? He replayed your self-satisfied smile as you disappeared from his view and he stood there, considering his options. The most tempting would be to follow you back to your room, to shove you up against a wall, to tear off his jacket and watch that smug look melt right off your face.
The second would’ve been to send for the whore, but it would’ve been a cheap thrill and besides, you’d made a point of getting rid of her.
He’d almost had you, he could see it. Could see the quiver in your lip as your blown-out eyes had rolled open, before you’d climbed off his lap. He was certain that if he chipped away at enough of your resolve, you’d give in. The thought of having to work for this incensed him, who were you to make demands from the President himself?
But the calculating part of his brain decided, with disdain, that he would have to be patient for once. He doubted you could go very long before giving into him; he’d seen it in your eyes, it had taken everything in you to leave him that night.
You wanted to go on a power trip? Fine. Snow knew it would be short lived, and you were making enough of a spectacle of yourself that it should prove entertaining to him. He decided he was going to let you have your fun, brief and fleeting as it may be. He always did enjoy a chase, and he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.
You wanted to play? Fine.
He closed his door, leaving it unlocked.
Let the games begin.
Breakfast was a sweet kind of torture. You’d wrapped a short, silk dressing gown around your underwear set from the night before, confident after your first good night’s sleep in weeks. Headed downstairs early, so you could be there when he walked in.
“Morning, sweetie.” You smiled as you sipped at a cup of coffee.
Snow’s eyes narrowed. He sat opposite you without a word, pouring himself a cup and buttering a piece of toast. His morning paper was neatly folded on the side, and you eyed it quickly, before taking him in.
It was subtle – something probably only you could pick up on, knowing what you did – but it was there, in the slight crinkle of his usually perfect shirt, in the way he took coffee instead of tea, in the way he focused carefully on spreading the butter to every edge of his slice of toast. You glanced down again, a mischievous sense of pride filling you up.
You’d gotten under his skin.
Finally.
“Well,” you cleared your throat, “I don’t know about you, but I slept like a log. You?”
His eyes met yours heatedly, but he didn’t reply. One of his footmen stood posted by the door, eyes straight ahead.
“No?” You faked pity. “You look a little tired, Coriolanus. Rough night?”
Nothing. He didn’t respond to your taunts, but instead took his paper, unfolding it, and you watched intently with a glint in your eye as you saw him react to something slipping out of the pages and into his lap.
He let out a surprised scoff, lowered the paper, and looked straight at you. Your eyebrows raised in response.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, with a lilt in your voice.
When he finally spoke, his voice was steady.
“Leave us, please.” He said to the footman, without breaking off his stare once. The footman obliged, closing the door behind him. His eyes bored into you with a similar intensity as they had the night before.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” He asked, but it was flat like a statement.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You batted your eyes, feigning innocence.
He lifted his hand from his lap, holding up the pair of white lace panties you’d tucked between the folds of his newspaper. Raised his eyebrows in a question.
“Oh,” you smiled. “Whoops. I’d been wondering where I left those.”
His stare remained unfaltering, and you rubbed your legs together.
“Very cute, sweetheart.”
You smirked.
“You think so? Just something to remember me by. Lucille said you’ll be gone until tomorrow for work, I wouldn’t want you forgetting about last night.”
His eyes darkened, never leaving yours as you stood, making your way down the table.
“It’s a shame, really. I feel a little guilty about what I did. I got you all worked up for nothing.”
He scoffed, watching as you got closer.
“Yeah, you seem all torn up about it.”
You hummed, reaching him, and nodded at his lap, where his hand gripped the white lace.
“May I?”
“Be my guest.” He said tightly.
You straddled his lap again, and he looked up at you. You felt another surge of that power, standing over him with very little between you, as you ran your palms over his jacket, smoothing it out, then plucking the white rose from his breast pocket, and tucking your panties inside. As you pushed the rose back in, you smiled, satisfied.
“I should be more careful about misplacing things,” you mused, “Could’ve sworn I threw those in the laundry. You want to know something funny?”
“What?” Snow watched your hand pull away, and you met his gaze again.
“I’m not even sure I’m wearing a pair right now.”
It happened so quickly, it knocked the breath out of you. One second, you were balanced with your legs either side of his, and the next, you were pushed back onto the table as he stood, grabbing your waist, and leaning over you. A plate shattered on the floor, but Coriolanus didn’t flinch.
You squirmed but he gripped your hips harder, sliding one hand up to support your back and stop you from toppling straight onto the table. The cold wood pressed into your bare legs, and a glass dug into your back. You realised with a shaky breath that your dressing gown had fallen open. He was stood flush between your legs, pinning you down.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He snapped.
“I told you, didn’t I?” A hum as his hips rolled into yours. “Whatever I want.”
“I could force your hand, you know.” He commented. “Right now.”
“You think I wouldn’t want you to?”
His face was unreadable. His head dipped towards yours, and when he spoke it brushed against your lips.
“You really are a whore.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I know you’re all bark and no bite. You want to know why I know that, Snow?”
He huffed.
“Why?”
“Because I think you like chasing me.” Your eyes lowered to your legs, pressed apart by his hips. Your ankles wrapped around his lower back and pressed him in further. His jaw clenched.
He followed your gaze, and you felt his breath hitch when he saw that you weren’t lying, there was nothing between the two of you except his pants.
“Fuck.” He whispered.
It did something to you, hearing him so desperate. You pulled him in again with your heels, and he looked back at you. He rocked his hips, velvet cloth rubbing against your bare cunt, and you gasped at the feeling, still sore from last night.
Any time now.
“You want to fuck me, Snow?” You whispered. “Do it. Right now, I won’t stop you.”
His breaths were heavy as he rocked his hips again, firm, and it was obscene, really, how you could feel the outline of his cock pushing against you through the thick material, and his breath was getting laboured.
Almost there.
“Knew you’d give in.” His voice was rough as he pressed in harder, and you whimpered, eyes fluttering shut, “So fucking desperate. Didn’t expect you to open your legs this soon, though. Thought you’d rile me up for a few days first. But look at you,” he rambled, “giving up so easily. Where’s all that fight now, sweetheart?”
A loud rap sounded at the door.
There it is.
You couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across your face as he stopped still.
“Oh,” you blinked innocently at him, “I wonder who that could be.”
“President Snow? We’re ready for you, sir.” The footman’s voice was muffled through the door.
“Well, would you look at the time? I guess duty calls, Mr President.”
He scowled, shooting ice cold daggers at you.
“You bitch. You knew.”
“And you fell for it.” You smirked, digging your heels into his back again. “Who’s desperate now?”
He scoffed, meeting your eye again.
“You think you’re so smart, little girl. You really think I’d mind if they walked in on me fucking you into the table?”
“I know you’re not against having an audience, Snow. But what are you gonna do, hang the health minister if he walks in? I know you’re not above it, but it’d be a slight inconvenience. Surely there are wiser ways to spend your precious time.”
“Yeah? Try me.”
His nails dug into your back as he pulled you in closer. For just a second, you had a doubt. But not long enough.
“I’m calling your bluff, Coriolanus Snow.”
He shook his head. Peeled himself off you with a huff, and tried to smooth out his shirt, glaring at you the whole time.
“I’ll be right out.” He called.
You slid off the table and stood, tying your gown, then reaching to fiddle with his collar. He batted your hand away.
“Let me.” You reached out again.
“Fine.”
Your hands smoothed over the material, straightening it out, then once you were satisfied, they rested on his chest for a beat.
“You look handsome.” You confessed quietly, not meeting his eye as you spoke. You could feel his stare burning into you as you did. When you finally looked, his expression had shifted to something unreadable again. Confusion, perhaps. It was times like these when you wished you could read his mind.
The moment finally passed and you cleared your throat, trailing a hand over his breast pocket, a physical reminder of the game you were intent on winning.
“This was fun.” You declared with a smile, putting the mask back on. “Hurry back. What time shall I expect you?”
“No later than noon.” He watched as you stepped away.
“I look forward to it,” you smiled, playing with the string of your gown, “sweetheart.”
With Snow out of the house, you jumped at the chance to head straight upstairs, making a beeline for his room. Something inside you just knew the door would be unlocked, that he wouldn’t be able to resist. You were right.
At last, you were able to take a good look around the room, touring it as if it was some art museum. And it wasn’t far from it; with wood panelled walls and strong beams on the ceiling, plush velvet throw pillows and bedsheets, with crisp white linen tucked underneath. You wandered around for a while, brushing your fingers over the sides, taking it all in. It was perfectly neat, almost jarringly so. You wondered if he always kept it like this, or if it was for your benefit. Since he’d probably guessed you’d be going inside, you took little guilt in peeking into a few drawers, and flipping through the pages of the book on his nightstand.
Your curiosity then took you into the bathroom, where, after scanning the shelves, you decided to undress and take a shower, steam and the smell of his soap filling the large room. You took the opportunity to slide your hands between your legs and replay the morning’s events, filling in what you’d have had liked to have happen instead of him leaving. When you were finished, you wrapped yourself in a soft towel, and walked out, spotting a glass bottle of cologne on the edge of the sink. With a smile, you gently sprayed a little on your wrist, breathing it in, sighing deeply as the smell of him went to your head.
You got dressed again, thumbing through his closet, basking in the buzz you had from being in his space. You sat on his bed, taking his room in from a new perspective. When you were satisfied, you headed back to your own with a smile, only coming back that evening with a handful of your things, before falling into a peaceful sleep under his sheets.
A few days passed after that morning, and you barely saw Snow. He’d come back, but gone straight to his office, where he proceeded to spend long hours on the phone, stuck on some important business you had no business nosing about.
So, you waited, your games paused and painfully anticlimactic. You hated feeling like a helpless housewife, but this was apparently what you’d been reduced to. You saw your friends some of the evenings, and your family on others. Then you’d come home to hover outside Snow’s locked study to listen to the sounds of pen on paper, peppered with the occasional sigh. You would have waited for him to come out, but you gave up as the hours drawing longer. He stayed holed up in his office, night after night, and by the time he’d finished the evening’s work, sleep had long carried you away.
It hadn’t all been dull; you’d fallen into a habit of sneaking pairs of your underwear in with the clean laundry that was carried up to his room, and that had earned you a little attention, but it was merely in passing. A few heated glances at the dinner table, a brush past each other in the hallway. You’d go so far as to say it was almost like flirting, only laced with the undertones of something far heavier. It wasn’t enough for you now that you’d tasted what you could have if only you reached for it, and you started to go a little stir crazy again.
One of these nights, you’d slipped into his empty room after dark, and lay in his bed, trying to stay awake as long as you could, but sleep caught up to you and by morning, you woke alone, wrapped in soft sheets, no sign of Snow except for a slightly warm dent on his side of the bed that had long been abandoned.
You got nothing. Not a touch, not an argument, not a kiss. For a week and a half, until he was called away again. Your annoyance had started to creep back up on you tenfold by then, and you were practically crawling out of your skin.
You saw your family for dinner more and more, making a habit out of filling the empty space he'd left with small talk and laughter. It was on one such night, when you'd been silently mulling over what move to make next, that your mother mentioned a name you hadn't heard in years, and you knew right away what to do. You were done hiding away, you wanted to make yourself known. Make every second Snow spent in your presence a living hell, and a reminder of what you’d denied him. You'd hoped for something outrageous, something that would push him to the very edge. And if this didn't work, nothing would.
Nathaniel Greene was an old flame of yours. He’d always been good to you, warm and well-meaning; and he was handsome, in a gentle, boyish way. When your mother mentioned him, a beautifully cruel idea struck you. You weren’t naturally as cold-hearted as Coriolanus, but as the weeks had gone by, you’d begun to believe that maybe, in order to win this, you needed to be. Nathaniel would be perfect; the two of you had been school friends, you had history, something Snow couldn’t compete with, and you knew that would drive him insane. He was all soft edges, smiles, and pleasantries, everything that Snow wasn’t.
You felt a sliver of guilt as you began putting your plan together, but you reasoned that you and Snow had bruised each other, and low blows were what it would take for you to press into his the hardest. This was always never going to be simple; it was a messy game, and you needed to get your hands dirty.
Besides, he’d paraded a whore around the house for you to watch him fucking for weeks on end. It was fair game, you reminded yourself. So with that decided, you rose to the occasion, and the plan was set into motion.
That was how it came to be that on the day Snow returned, he walked in to find a guest sat in his living room. You were all false smiles and batted eyelashes when you saw him.
“Coriolanus, you’re back. I’d like you to meet Nathaniel, he and I used to be friends at school.”
Nathaniel rose from his seat on the sofa, and leaned toward Snow to shake his hand.
“Mr President, sir, it’s an absolute honor to be in your company. You have a lovely house.”
Nathaniel missed the slight tick in Snow’s jaw, but you didn’t. He offered his hand in response.
“The pleasure’s mine. Any… friend of my girl is always welcome here.”
My girl. The words went straight to your head, and Coriolanus pulled you in for a kiss that lingered half a second longer than usual, like he knew.
“Would you like some tea, sweetheart?” You asked, “Nathaniel and I were just catching up.”
“I remember that summer.” You laughed. “Your aunt took us to the coast, and we swam in the ocean at least twice a day. It was so cold one morning, your cousin’s lips turned blue. And on the way home, we had to stop at that inn, do you remember it?”
“With the owner and his crazy beard.”
“The crazy beard owner!” you exclaimed. “And the room you and I stayed in was so laughably small, the bed touched three of the walls all at once. Cozy, though.”
Nathaniel glanced awkwardly between the two of you, clearing his throat.
“Yeah, those were, uh… good times.”
Fire ran rampant through Snow’s eyes. You didn’t look directly at him, but your peripherals gave you plenty of satisfaction.
He was enraged. Good. You’d been mercilessly torturing him for the better part of an hour.
“Oh, Nathaniel, that reminds me, I’ll go get the book I was telling you about earlier.”
“Book?” He frowned, “I don’t-”
“You know the one! I’ll be right back.” You interrupted, then practically bounced out of your seat and walked toward the library. At the far end of the large room, you paused, pretending earnestly to scan the spines for a particular title.
You were quiet, making sure you could hear the echo of Snow excusing himself, followed by steady footsteps approaching you from behind.
“Something wrong?” You asked, keeping your back turned.
He grabbed your waist and spun you around. Backed you up until you were pressed to the wall, wooden shelves digging into your spine.
“Give me one good reason,” he spat, “why I shouldn’t kill that boy right now.”
You blinked.
“What’s wrong, Snow? Can’t take a little jealousy? Surprising, given your recent choice of company.”
“So that’s it? All this to get a rise out of me? You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.” he scoffed.
You smiled, meeting his eye.
“Oh, but maybe I should. See, Coriolanus, here’s the thing.” you leaned towards him, running a finger down the front of his dress shirt, catching over each shining button as it glided down. “I haven’t decided if I should fuck him, yet. What do you think I should do?”
“I think,” he snarled, grabbing your wrists and pressing them against the wooden shelves, then dropping his voice down to a whisper, his breath mixing with yours, “that I should fuck you right here while he listens in the next room, and show him who you really belong to.”
You faltered, if only for a few moments. Your pride wavering as you heard the want drip from his voice, still getting used to his eyes skating across your skin the way you’d hoped and prayed they would for months. If you wanted it, you could take it right now, and you almost folded. He moved in ever closer, and your head dropped against the bookshelf, letting his lips graze your neck, blonde curls dusting your shoulder. You stayed there, suspended, letting it roll over you like water.
“What would your little friend in there think, if he could hear how much of a whore you really are? I wouldn’t even let you cover your mouth. I’d just hike up your slutty little dress and send you back out there with cum dripping down your thighs. How do you think he’d like you then?”
Your breath hitched, and you squeezed your eyes closed, pressing your legs together. Tried to rationalise the logic of throwing your plans to the wind and letting him stake his claim on you.
You considered it. Briefly.
But you were already in so deep, you had to see this through. Snow had fucked with you, then left you out to dry, and you had to make sure he would never do it again. So no, you wouldn’t be the one to fold. He would, on your terms. And now wasn’t the time, not yet.
So you collected yourself. Pulled away, batting your pretty eyes at him.
“Oh, but I’m having so much fun.”
“Don’t test me. You’ve proved your point.” he seethed, stepping closer, and one more inch and you might burst-
“Nathaniel’s waiting. I’ll see you at dinner, Coriolanus.”
With that, you slipped away, silently catching your breath.
You’d just finished dinner alone, no Snow in sight, and you were walking back towards the hallway when the doors swung open.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your hands were above your head as Snow pushed you into the dining room wall. This was starting to become a habit. A sly smile pulled at your lips.
“Stings, doesn’t it? Getting a taste of your own medicine.”
He got in close, rage burning hot in his eyes.
“What you did was different, and you know that."
"I don't know, Coriolanus, was it? I've just been so bored, lately. Idle hands, I suppose."
If looks could kill, you'd be a goner.
"That's your excuse? At least I had the decency to fuck a stranger. Tell me you didn’t-”
You laughed.
“You really think I’d do anything without making sure you watched? God, Snow, you don’t know me at all.”
He moved in closer.
“If you ever do that again, if you so much as look his way, I’ll have him whipped in the middle of the city. Or maybe I won’t bother. I’ll just have him hung, and I’ll make sure you’re there at the front of the crowd to watch him drop, knowing his blood is on your hands. Do you understand me?”
You set your jaw. Shrugged.
“Okay.”
He frowned. You took pride in the way you could see it, him trying desperately to figure you out.
“Okay?” He repeated.
“You heard me. You think I really care enough about him, that I’d invite him into the house just to make you jealous, then expect him to end up alive? How stupid do you think I am?”
You did care about Nathaniel, at least enough to not want him dead, but Snow couldn’t know that. Not for this to work.
“You’re bluffing.” But you could hear in his voice that he wasn’t sure.
“Am I? Your threats don’t phase me, Coriolanus. Do your worst, I don’t care anymore. What, did you think I’d try to talk you out of it? You think I’d beg?”
His bewilderment caused him to drop your wrists, and you took the chance to push yourself away from the wall.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But I won’t fold. I meant what I said that night. You want me to be yours, you want to own me? You have to earn it. My way. You’re not going to get anywhere trying to scare me into submission. It won’t work.”
Disbelief flashed across his face. You stood your ground, raising your head up high, leaning in.
“I don’t want to fight you, Coriolanus.” You confessed. “Your room. An hour. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Say what you wanted about Coriolanus Snow, but when you asked him to be on time, he obliged. You didn’t even need to hear his footsteps to know he’d come, which you’d grown finely attuned to by now, enough to hear them leave his office two rooms away and walk the short distance to his room, swinging open the door you’d left decidedly ajar.
And you made sure what he walked in on was a sight to behold; you, sprawled out on his bed in nothing but a white shirt of his, unbuttoned all the way down, falling to your sides. Your head pressed into his silk pillowcases, legs parted lazily as your hand rubbed slow circles on your clit beneath the red lace of your underwear. You could tell from the look on Snow’s face when you rolled your head to the side and looked at him that you’d had the desired effect, that you’d orchestrated this perfectly, because he couldn’t take his eyes off your hand, hips rocking into it, the visual made all the more lewd by the scrap of fabric hiding your movements, leaving his brain to fill in the blanks.
You slowed.
“Glad you could make it.” A small smile formed on your lips.
“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.”
“I have. Your bed’s a lot softer than mine.”
He hummed, crossing his arms.
“Why did you ask me here, sweetheart? This is my room, after all.”
Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and even that small motion wasn’t lost on him. Your hand stilled.
“I waited for you.” You said quietly.
He let out a sigh, ragged and tired.
“I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart. If you knew how badly I wanted to see you-”
“Don’t. I don’t want your apology.”
His expression gave way to confusion for a split second.
“Okay. What is it you want?”
You paused, gaze flitting between his eyes and his mouth. Then you swallowed, your voice an embrassing whisper.
“I want your mouth on me.” It almost hurt to hold his stare, but you did.
“That so?” was the response. You cleared your throat.
“You say you’re sorry, Snow? Prove it. I’m right here.”
He paused, like he was mulling you over. Like he was figuring out just how to play his cards. Then a small smile pulled at his lips.
“Take your hand away.” His voice was rough, and it gave him away.
You obliged, watching him step towards the bed, towards you. He rolled up his sleeves, eyes on yours and your stomach twisted.
There he is.
“If you’re going to be making demands, it’s only polite that you ask nicely. Wouldn’t you agree?”
You nodded, flushing under his stare.
“You want me to take these off?” He smoothed his hands up your thighs, thumbs hooking into the band of your panties. You'd missed feeling his hands on your skin.
You nodded again, and he tutted.
“Yes.” You corrected. “Please.”
“Good. It was about time you learned some manners.” He slowly slid them off, and you lifted your hips to help him. His gaze slid between your legs, and you shifted your knee so you were covered.
“Not getting shy now, are you? Open your legs for me.” He instructed, and you obliged, burning under the heat of his gaze as he unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off before moving in towards you, kneeling on the ottoman. You were already soaked, and you could feel the heat building even more, just from having him near you, having him see what a dripping mess you were.
“Shit.” It was no louder than a whisper, but your perked ears caught it and you pressed your lips together.
He tentatively pushed his thumb through your folds and you whined, a look on his face like he couldn’t quite believe what he was looking at. Did it again, and it caught on your clit, your breath hitching in your throat.
“Please.”
“Good girl. You know how many times I’ve thought about this over the past week? I’ve lost sleep over it.”
“Coriolanus.”
He smoothed his hands over your thighs again, and you yelped as he suddenly pulled you forward, hooking your legs over his shoulders. He kept staring, and you couldn’t take it, blood rushing from your head, so you dropped it back onto the pillows.
“Look at me.” He squeezed your thigh.
You did. You felt a sliver of pride as you noted the slight flush in his cheeks, like maybe he was more worked up than he was letting on.
“You know how many times I came all over those pretty panties of yours, wishing you were wearing them? Think I lost count.”
You couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped you as his breath brushed over your folds, wound so tight you thought you would burst.
“Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Say it again.”
“I want your mouth on me. Please, put your mouth on me.”
You didn’t need to tell him twice, because with a sharp inhale, he pressed his mouth onto your cunt and dragged his tongue over your clit, slowly, firm and deliberate, like he had an itemised list of exactly how to cause your undoing. You gasped at the sudden contact, and your hips bucked off the bed, before his fingers gripped into your hips the way they had the other night, and slammed you back down.
“So fucking needy. Were you really that worked up? Parading your little boy toy around will do that, huh?”
“I’m sorry.” You gasped, as he worked his tongue over your clit again, tracing slow, firm circles that made your legs weak. You grabbed a handful of his hair, blonde locks twisted between your fingers as he pulled away again. You whined.
“See, that’s the thing. I don’t think you are. But you will be.”
You didn’t have time to wonder what that meant, because his tongue was all over you again, lapping at your entrance, lips sucking loudly at your clit as you moaned, free hand twisting creases into his bedsheets.
“Fuck.” You keened as your hips bucked harder, searching for friction that was so close to being enough. Your heels pressed into his back and your hand tightened in his hair, to which he retaliated by digging his nails into your thighs, scraping against the almost-healed bruises that were left from the previous week. The pinch brought you further into that headspace, where you could feel yourself slipping away, crying out as you thrashed under the pressure of his tongue on your cunt.
You kept rocking your hips, hopelessly trying to grind against him, but his hands held you down firmly, keeping the pace torturously slow. You couldn’t help your spaced-out brain from slipping back to weeks ago, when you’d watched him do the same to his whore on this very bed, and you made a sound of protest that just melted in with the rest of your noises, going unnoticed.
You didn’t want to feel this way, to feel disposable, like he could just have his way with you and throw you out. You knew that if you didn’t do something, you’d lose yourself altogether. And you couldn’t bear that thought, of having to give in. Not like this. Not when he held all the cards again.
“I want to sit on your face.” You breathed without thinking, strung out and desperate. Coriolanus pulled back. A smirk on his lips, which were swollen red and covered in your slick. You whimpered as the soft light caught him, showing you the mess you’d made of his face, dripping down his chin.
“Do you now?”
“Please. I’ll ask nicely, I’ll – I’ll beg, if you want me to. Just please, let me sit on your face. I can’t take it anymore, I’m so-” You broke off, gasping as he pressed a soft kiss onto your clit, causing your legs to jolt.
“Poor thing. You really want it, don’t you?”
“Yes. Please, I’ll do anything. Just… please.”
“Good girl.” He murmured, trailing soft kisses down your thigh. “Since you’ve asked so nicely, I’ll let you. Just for a few minutes, okay? Think you can cum that fast?”
“Fuck, yes. Thank you.”
A messy tangle of limbs as he pulled his shirt off, sliding flat onto the bed, hands guiding your shaking legs as you inched over his torso. It was nearly too much, watching his pretty face as you lowered yourself onto him, but you couldn’t look away, hands grabbing the headboard to steady yourself.
You couldn’t help but think back to that night, riding his thigh like you were being paid for it. As he carefully eased your hips down, thighs either side of his face, you knew this was going to be a hundred times better than that. And Snow didn’t disappoint, lifting his head to nuzzle your clit as you sucked in a breath, hips jolting forward. You dropped a hand to grab onto his hair, and he didn’t retaliate this time, letting you wind your fingers around his curls as you started to move slowly, rocking your hips against his mouth.
This was much better. The angle was perfect, pressure everywhere you needed it, and you tipped your head back as you moved, one languid lick causing it to drop forward again to look at Snow.
The only time he really moved was to pull you in firmer, and the motion reminded you of how he’d pulled you into his thigh, and before you knew it the ache in your stomach was growing into a throb, burning you up until it felt molten, until you felt drunk from it. The coil tightened further as you got into it, rolling your hips, tugging Snow’s hair to the point where you were sure it must’ve been hurting him, but he either didn’t care or just didn’t stop you. As your hips bucked faster and you looked down at his face, eyes hazy as he ate you out like he was starved, you couldn’t help it, you just started talking, rambling near nonsense and it wouldn’t stop.
“Fuck, that’s it, right there. You’re gonna make me cum all over your face if you keep that up. Holy shit.” Your grip in his hair tightened, so hard it was pulling his head back so you could grind against him just right, clit catching on his nose, cunt spasming against his tongue, and he winced, a broken sound escaping the back of his throat, but it only egged you on. Your voice breathy but taunting, getting cockier by the second.
“Does that hurt, baby? Am I pulling too hard?” His eyes narrowed, but his tongue only fucked into you harder. “You can take it though, can’t you? Fuck. You’re being so good for me, letting me fuck your face like this. Feels so fucking good. Shit, I thought you’d take more convincing, but look at you, eating from the palm of my hand.”
His hands gripped into your hips again, nails digging crescent moons into your skin, and you tightened your thighs around his head which only made him dig harder, the pain tipping you over the edge as you shouted out, hips jerking as your thighs shook, and Snow only pressed in firmer with his tongue as you came, riding out your high with a strangled sob.
He didn’t give you chance to come down from your orgasm, instead pushing you off his face and flipping you over. You landed on your back, scared for a second that you’d be punished for getting carried away, but his lips met yours in a sudden battle for dominance. You moaned into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his tongue. He’d never kissed you like this before. It lit another fire in your stomach, just when you thought you were done.
After what felt like a lifetime getting drunk off each other, he pulled away, and you got to see the mess you’d made of this man. There he was, propped above you, the most powerful man in the country, blonde hair a sweaty wreck of tangles, parted lips sore and swollen, your cum smeared across his mouth and chin, mixed with the trail of your wet tongue in the places you’d just cleaned him up.
You tasted it on your lips, heard it in his laboured breath, saw it in his blown-out eyes, felt it in the small space between you.
This was what power felt like.
He was shaking his head incredulously, like he couldn’t quite believe you. Then, ignoring your hiss, his head dipped between your legs again, smooth tongue rolling over you like cool water on a burn. You flinched, a broken sound slipping from your lips.
“Oh, come on. You can give me one more, right?”
Fuck.
“Coriolanus, I can’t-” You whined as his hot breath lit you up, long fingers sliding inside you.
“You will. Come on, baby. You can take my fingers, can’t you?” His voice mimicked yours as he opened you up, speeding up a little. You hummed as he pressed against your sweet spot, and you hated how it seemed like it was so easy to him, to take you apart like this.
“Good girl. Look at me.” He scolded, when your eyes rolled back, squirming from the overstimulation, pressing his thumb against your clit just to watch you jolt.
“You’re going to do something for me. You’re going to promise me you won’t ever see him again.”
“What? Who, Nathaniel? I-”
He pressed into your clit again, mean, and you squeaked.
“Don’t say his fucking name. Promise me, right now. Say it.”
“I promise. Never again. I’m sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry.” You sobbed.
“Good girl.” He smiled.
“Don’t want anyone else, just you, please. Please, Coriolanus. Will you promise me too?” Your words were airy, and your voice shook.
He slowed his fingers, and shifted himself up to place his lips on yours.
“I promise, sweetheart. It’ll just be us.” His fingers pressed into you harder, scissoring lazily, but every movement lit all your nerve endings on fire. You were so wet it was almost humiliating, or it would be if you weren’t so turned on, obscene sounds bouncing off the walls as he worked you open. Coriolanus could tell, smiling as he whispered praises, sweet nothings into your ear and added a third finger, thumb brushing across your clit as the sensitivity quickly morphed into more pleasure.
“You close again, baby?”
You only whimpered in response, head jerking as your eyes squeezed close, arm sliding down to grab his wrist, pushing it further. You were wrecked, and he knew it. It was his doing.
“Ah.” He knocked your hand away with a knowing smile. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I’m listening.”
You paused, at a mental crossroads, but as he twisted his fingers just right, pressing deeper, you dropped all your inhibitions. Squeezed your eyes closed, cunt gripping his fingers, and confessed.
“I want you to fuck me.” You whispered.
You knew full well what it meant. You didn’t care anymore; you’d had your fun, and you were ready to fold. Lay all your cards out on the table. This ache inside you had never felt so loud. You refused to open your eyes, which were threatening to fill with desperate tears.
“Ask nicely.” He pulled his fingers back, dragging them along your sweet spot. You were starting to lose feeling in your legs.
“Please. Please, fuck me. I’m done, now, I promise. I won’t do it again, Coriolanus, I’m so sorry-”
“Say it again. One more time. Look at me.”
You sighed, eyes flooding with hot tears. You finally opened them.
“Please, Coriolanus. Fuck me.”
He smiled, but as quickly as it arrived, it morphed into something sinister.
“No.”
His hand stopped, fingers slipping out of you before you could stop them. Your high started to slip away. You rocked your hips, confused out of your mind. Driven to your edge, and then in the same breath, catapulting to a stop.
“I- wait, no… what?” You sounded delirious.
He shrugged, casually lifting his fingers, sucking them off with a pop.
“I don’t think I will. You’ve done quite enough, and I’ve had a long day. So I think you should be on your way now.”
You gaped, dumbfounded. The tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, but you held them in like they were your last shred of pride.
“But… you said we wouldn’t… I thought-”
He traced a hand across your check, gently, and it took everything in you not to sob.
“I meant what I said. But I’m not quite ready to forgive and forget. You should go and get some sleep.”
“Coriolanus, I- please.” You begged him, eyes wild and desperate.
“Stings, doesn’t it?” He raised his eyebrows and something inside you sank like a heavy cruiser. “A taste of your own medicine.”
a/n: sorry mom
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hi hi!! could i request blade, dan heng, jingyuan, (and anyone else u may want to add) reacting to finding out you’re being creeped on at work please? i’m going through a similar situation at my job atm and would really appreciate it :’) thank u! <3
I hope the situation gets resolved soon sweetheart, you don’t deserve some creep making you uncomfortable or being well…a creep in general.
Jing yuan:
The dozing general seemed a bit more alert when you admitted to him that you were being creeped on at work, a place where this sort of thing shouldn’t be happening at all but is nonetheless.
He can tell that you were greatly affected by it and would do anything and everything in his power to rid you of it all. Jing yuan promises that the anxieties and the stress of having to constantly look over your shoulder, praying that the person responsible for all of it wasn’t nearby would be gone in a heartbeat.
His status as the General was more then enough to scare the creep stiff and profusely apologise for not knowing that you were his partner, rather then apologise to you like he should be, only for Jing Yuan to smile apathetically and say:
‘I’m not the one you should be apologising to,’ he then gestures towards you, ‘they are. So I’d suggest you get on your knees and plea for forgiveness. Quickly.’ He adds with a seriousness as his eyes glowed gold upon opening them and his smile faded.
Needless to say that the creep handed in their notice not long after the encounter with the General.
Dan Heng:
Hates, hates, hates seeing you this scared and uncomfortable by the actions made by one person who thought that it was acceptable to be a freak. All Dan Heng wanted to do in that moment was comfort you and reassure you that everything was going to be okay, but how could he when he himself wasn’t quite sure that was going to be the case?
He hates being uncertain, especially when it’s in regard to your safety in general, because he couldn’t fathom anything happening to you and he was there to protect you like he should’ve.
So instead he helps you in arranging a meeting with your manager about the creep’s behaviour towards you, going as far as to keep a list of all the things they’ve done during their tenure at your workplace in the instance should you not be believed. ‘Just in case.’ He’d say to you as he produced a thick folder filled with the creeps vile actions within the past few months alone.
Thankfully your manager wasn’t a piece of shit and the folder of evidence was enough to take action against the creep, and within immediate effect the bastard was gone by the end of the week; Just as procedures were later put in place for the safety of all employees who believed they were being harassed in the workplace.
After all was said and done, Dan Heng would still want to walk you to work and back, just as a precaution and a reminder that he was always going to be with you no matter what.
Blade:
Doesn’t take to the fact that you were being creeped on lightly and especially not when it was at your workplace either, and he will most likely try to take action into his own hands through any means necessary.
He’s aching to unsheathe his blade and put it to good use and end the pathetic creeps life for ever coming near you with impure intentions without feeling an ounce of guilt. However Blades sets this thought aside and decided to focus on you instead by standing guard outside your workplace until your shift finished.
He didn’t care. He’ll stay as long as he needed if it meant knowing that you were going to be okay, and even if the creep did try to pull something, Blade would be there within seconds to rip them to shreds. However Blade was already an intimidating bloke alone with his physical appearance, that he didn’t need to do much to scare the creep stiff, staring them down with his ruby eyes.
His natural stone face was also benefactor that Blade had going for him in terms of frightening the creep into handing in his notice that very same day. While It may not be how he wants it to end, but that didn’t mean Blade stopped waiting outside your workplace for you.
Just incase a new creep arises in the old one’s place and he needed to get a bit…physical.
#hsr imagines#hsr imagine#hsr x reader#hsr x you#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#Honkai star rail imagines#Honkai star rail imagine#dan heng x reader#dan heng x you#Dan heng imagine#Dan heng imagines#hsr dan heng x reader#hsr blade x reader#hsr blade x you#blade imagines#blade imagine#blade x reader#blade x you#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x you#jing yuan x y/n#hsr jing yuan x reader#hsr jing yuan x you
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AHHHH I NEED MORE KEEGAN IN MY LIFE PLEASE could you write some Keegan h/c?
Pairing: Keegan P Russ x fem! Reader
Warnings: just general stuff, language, bad driving, NSFW under the cut, mdni, spit kink
A/n: it’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing😌 Keegan is such a bad bitch, he deserves more attention
• Starting off - I’m pretty sure that Keegan would want a civil partner; someone not related to military and actually as far as possible from all the war stuff. First of all, it’s to avoid having constant fear of losing you on the battlefield - it’s a highly dangerous job, sometimes coming out alive is not only a matter of skills, but also pure luck. Secondly, the amount of trauma and emotional damage Keegan carries is more than enough for two people - he needs someone grounded and, well, more stable, someone who will be able to give him a piece of blissful domestic life, faraway from all the constant war Keegan lives in.
• Always referring to you as his girl in conversations with other people or when introducing you to someone new. “That’s Y/n - my girl” “That’s for my girl, she likes pink” “My girl doesn’t like the smell of smoke so I’m trying to quit”. It’s also a way of showing everyone that you’re his - letting others know from the very beginning that you’re taken and no one better try anything with his precious girl, otherwise a few bones will be broken.
• Gives off annoying older brother vibes. He’ll always playfully nag you, and it’ll only become worse once you start dating. Placing stuff on the highest shelves just to watch you struggle to get it yourself, drawing some silly doodles on your notes, messing with your makeup that you spent nearly an hour organising neatly, punching your favourite plushie just to get a rise out of you. And of course, constant bickering! “Keegan, can you pass me that book?” - “Fuck no” *passes the book*. “Keegan, I want some sushi” - “Well shit, what am I supposed to do about that?” *already placing an order online on his phone*
• Another amazing driver here. Keegan has horrible road rage, hitting the car horn aggressively, yelling most intricate insults out the window at whoever that happened to piss him off. I also have a feeling the he drives really fast and reckless, teasing you whenever you ask him to go slower - so you better always buckle up. And yes, he definitely got in a few minor accidents - scratching or leaving indents on other car’s bumper.
NSFW here~*•.
• And while we’re speaking of driving - just imagine giving him a sloppy noisy head while being stuck in a long traffic. Keegan is seething with hot anger, rolling his eyes on other drivers, lack of nicotine adding to his distress. And here’s a sweet lovely you trying your best to make Keegan feel at least a tad bit better, soothing his booming annoyance with your silky tongue swirling around throbbing shaft, cheeks hollowing to provide stronger suction, allowing Keegan to set the pace. And it seemed to work wonders on him - his nape against the headrest of driver’s seat, pretty blue eyes half lidded, staring at the car ceiling, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard, feeling your throat wrapped around his cock.
• Oh, how nasty he is. Biggest spit kink ever - ordering to open your mouth nice and wide just to spit a thick globe of saliva in it, then closing your jaw and making sure that you swallow it. Will gladly let you spit in his mouth as well; loooves messy wet kisses - either during make out session or after you gave him head, slurping up your spit mixed with his cum from your lips and chin. Very often uses his spit as lube, or telling you to spit in his palm before spreading it all over his needy leaking cock, plunging it deep inside your warmth.
• A horndog. You never have to ask him if he’s in a right mood because yes, he is. He is always in the mood to fuck. Now, he always lets you know that it’s totally fine if you say no - Keegan will never pressure or guilt trap you into any kind of intimacy, no means no. You can always cuddle up together or do something fun like cooking, dancing or simply dorking around. But if your sexdrive happens to match his - oh boy, I’m sorry for your neighbours. Let’s just say - there’s hardly any surface in your flat that you didn’t fuck on.
• It’s nothing new, but this mug is cocky. Like, I don’t think he has unimaginably big dick - not small for sure, but not huge as well; but the way he works with it - a chef’s kiss. Keegan just knows how to angle his hips to massage that one spot within you, how you like your clit to be played with, how he quickly discovers and memorises all the sweetest spots of your body. “Aw, cumming already? I barely touched you, does it feel this good?” - he’d purr, curling three of his long fingers inside of your needy cunny, thumb flicking swollen clit while hot mouth sucks on perked up nipples.
• Daddy kink? Daddy kink😏
Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is very important, give writers some love<3
#keegan p russ#cod keegan#keegan russ#call of duty keegan#keegan russ x reader#keegan x reader#keegan russ x you#keegan russ smut#cod mwf2#cod x reader#cod smut#cod#cod x you#cod x y/n#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty writing#call of duty#call of duty x reader#call of duty x you#call of duty smut#call of duty ghosts#call of duty headcanons
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Your Boyfriend Owen
Yandere Male x Gender Neutral Reader
(CW: Noncon/dubcon, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, chaining, general yandere behavior, social awkwardness, creepy staring, mild scent kink.)
Word Count: 2.5k
(This was supposed to be a small couple hundred word drabble... oopsiedoodles...)
It was the first day of your last year in college.
At the end of class there was a student lingering at his desk. He was your age and of average build, maybe a bit on the skinny side, with disheveled medium length black hair that was a bit wet with sweat and glasses that were a bit crooked.
He seemed really distraught and panicky as he typed on his laptop.
You introduced yourself and asked him if he needed help with something.
He went silent and awkwardly stared at you for a moment before speaking.
“Uh… hi, I’m Owen.”
He was obviously not used to people approaching and talking to him.
I-I don’t know how to get assignments and submit them on this updated online portal we have this year! I just cannot figure it out!”
You leaned over his desk and took a look at his laptop, you happily showed him how to navigate the new system. You didn’t blame Owen for being so high strung, the classes were tough and this new portal was pretty confusing.
What you didn’t realize was that in this simple act of helping him you had made the biggest mistake of your life.
Owen was stunned that you were helping him. You must have liked him! No one was this nice to a random stranger.
As you leaned over his desk to use his laptop he noticed you smelled so nice.
If he hadn’t already been sweating from his previous issues with the student portal you may have noticed the blush that crept across his face.
When you finished he thanked you nervously before you left for your dorm.
There was plenty of foot traffic to and from the dorms, classes, and the food places on campus. It was very easy for Owen to go unseen as he followed you to your dorm.
He… just wanted to make sure you got there safely. And also wanted to see where you lived.
Over the course of the next few weeks Owen you constantly caught Owen staring at you in class and he never failed to greet you when you sat down or try to talk to you when you left. You were always polite but… it was a little creepy to be honest, but you ignored it because it was pretty harmless. He just had a crush on you.
It was far from harmless though, during the time of day that you had classes and he didn’t he would sneak into your dorm and take little “treasures” that he was sure you wouldn’t miss.
A used pair of underwear that still had your scent from the day before. Maybe a shirt if it wasn’t one of your favorites, he knew which ones you wore most often.
As far as he was concerned he was your boyfriend, even if you didn’t know it yet, and good boyfriends noticed small details like favorite clothes.
He also took note of super important information like what food seemed to be your favorite, wherever you ate lunch he was sure to be in the crowd watching you.
Things probably would have continued on like that for a lot longer, just a creepy stalker pining for you, but then one day you helped someone else in class.
They didn’t deserve to even breathe the same air as you! He was fuming, he clenched his hands so hard that his nails bruised his palms. To grace such a nobody with your assistance drove him beyond jealousy.
But that did not even compare to when he saw you the next day eating lunch with the slime ball.
Why would you do that to him? Surely you liked him, not this piece of shit. He must have forced himself into your space and you were just too sweet to push him away.
Owen had to do something before things escalated too far. And he didn’t have to wait too much longer to have his opportunity.
There was a huge Halloween party coming up and he knew for a fact you would be going.
He went with a masquerade ball costume, complete with an intricately decorated Venetian mask.
When you were at the party he waited for the perfect moment to make his move. He stared at you the entire time, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment. Even if he hadn’t been planning something he wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes off you. You had decided to go as a pale faced vampire, it made him wonder what your teeth on his neck would feel like.
When you were all alone, and after your judgment was a bit off from a few drinks Owen came over and introduced himself and started chatting you up before offering you a drink.
He was a bit of an oddball, but he was always nice right? What was the harm?
You accepted the drink and soon everything was a blur. You weren’t rendered entirely unconscious, just helpless, compliant, and a touch clingy.
Owen escorted you out of the party with you leaning on him heavily, his face was red beneath his mask, his darling was relying on him for support! Just how it should always be~
Not many people at the party knew you, and even if they had they wouldn’t have thought much of you leaving in this manner, you just appeared to be a little drunk and leaving with someone who you trusted.
Owen stroked your cheek gently and guided you gently into the passenger seat of his car.
It was really happening, he was taking his love home.
He lived with his parents, in the large basement of their house. He was the true epitome of a basement dwelling freak.
You clung to him and nuzzled into his neck as he brought you inside. You didn’t know why, but you felt so needy.
He sat you down softly on the bed, he had changed the color of the sheets to match yours. He wanted you to feel at home and get adjusted to being here as quickly as possible and thought it may make the transition easier.
To that end he had also hung copies of the same posters you had hanging in your dorm, had the bookshelf filled with every book that he had ever seen you reading, and while everyone else was at the party he had even managed to snag a few things from your room.
Most notably your Nintendo switch and your blankets. They were drenched in your scent~
In your drugged state you couldn’t quite make sense of your surroundings… it looked kinda similar to your room… but not…
“Wh-wherrre aare w-w-weee?” You couldn’t speak without slurring your words.
“We’re home! Th-this is where you live now!
That didn’t seem right… did it? It felt a bit off… But why would this nice man lie to you? He gave you a drink and a ride… home.
“You’ll live here with me and I will take good care of you!”
“That’sss sooo n-nice of you”
Owen smiled, he knew you may feel differently once the drugs wore off, but he had taken precautions just in case. What mattered was that you were here, you weren’t leaving, and you’d eventually admit that you liked him and wanted to be here with him.
He sat down beside you on the bed and wiped the pale makeup from your face gently, you leaned into his touch with a cute sigh that made his heart swell and his cock twitch.
You were so perfect. Eventually you would be like this without the drugs, he just needed to be patient and train you until you saw that you needed him as much as he needed you. He had wanted to wait until that point to make love with you.
But… you were acting so sweet and needy. So malleable. And he could tell that you really needed it, your face was flushed and you kept grinding your crotch slowly against your arm that you had between your legs.
You stared up at him in confusion as he began to peel away his clothing, his cock bouncing free. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it. Then he carefully took off what you were wearing, slowly. He wanted to savor the moment. The person he loved more than anything else in the entire world was about to be revealed completely to him.
“So p-perfect~”
“Whaaaa are you doooinnng?” You looked up at him while not even noticing you were already grinding into your arm again.
He rubbed your thighs gently before replying.
“I’m g-going to help you with this,” he said as he caressed your crotch.
You blushed and smiled, in that moment all you could think that Owen was just so nice. He had already taken you home and now he was going to help you with your arousal too!
You spread your legs to allow for easier access as he fumbled with the lube.
He was considerably more nervous than before.
“I-it’s my first time, I hope I’m okay~ I-if I’m not we can pr-practice until I get it right!”
Owen applied the slick fluid liberally to his cock, where it mixed with the precum that his cock was practically drooling, then he scooted you to the edge of the bed and knelt between your legs, using his tongue to get you nice and stimulated.
The scent and flavor of you was almost enough to make Owen cum almost immediately, he was more drugged by your smell than you were on actual drugs. He moaned loud, taking it all in.
Before he caused either of you to orgasm before the main event he managed to pry himself away and apply lube to your entrance, sliding in a couple of fingers and twirling them around inside you.
You bucked and moaned, desperate to have more inside you as the lube mixed with all the saliva he had deposited inside you.
“Neeed morrrre,” You started crying a bit, you were just so desperate. You were like a bitch in heat and nothing would take care of it except Owen’s cock.”
“S-so needy! Don’t cry honey bun, I will take care of you!”
You tried to get your sobbing under control as he kissed you deeply.
“Gosh, y-you’re pretty even when you’re crying…
Then he stood beside the bed and propped your legs up on his shoulders. He rubbed the tip around your hole a bit, wanting to ingrain this moment into his memory for the rest of his life, before grabbing your hips and plunging his entire length inside of you in one movement.
The two of you gasped in unison, finally you felt that yearning void in you start to fill and he was inside of you.
It was much better than he had imagined in the fantasies he had so fervently jerked off to.
The heat, the tightness, your insides were enveloping his cock in pure bliss. And the smell of your sweat mingled with his and the scent of sex was just indescribable.
He slid in and out rhythmically, bending down and biting your neck as he did so. Claiming it as he sped up faster and faster.
Owen couldn’t help not lasting too long, and luckily for him you couldn’t either in your drugged state.
You cried out as you came hard, the force of your climax shaking through your body, pushing Owen over the edge. He filled you with plenty of cum before wrapping his arms around you lovingly.
“I love you so much!”
Your intoxicated mind felt the perfect response to this was, “I looo-love youuu toooo.”
When you woke up you were clothed and all cleaned up, and you could scarcely remember a single thing after the party. You had an awful headache and it took you a few moments to realize that this was certainly not your bedroom.
You felt someone spooning you from behind.
Owen. Owen was spooning you!
You must have gotten black out drunk and hooked up with him.
The thought made you feel sick to your stomach.
You immediately jumped out of bed and went to put your shoes on when you finally saw it.
A long thick chain that led to a shackle around your ankle.
You screamed.
Owen woke up instantly and tried to console you. He had been worried this may be your reaction.
“C-calm down honey b-bun. Just let me expla-”
“Don’t call me honey bun you sick freak!” You shouted the words with as much venom as you could muster, with tears threatening to roll down your face at any moment.
“HELP! HELP PLEASE!! SOMEON-”
Owen grabbed you from behind and put his hand over your mouth, using his other hand to hold you close to his shirtless form.
You still yelled, but it was pretty muffled. You could only hope someone had heard your initial outburst.
“Shh baby, calm down, it will be okay I promise~”
He kissed the top of your head and you tried to shake him off but you were still weak from last night, and he was stronger than you had anticipated. You finally went still and silently cried, your voice too strained now to say much of anything.
Then you heard footsteps coming from above you, they got louder as they approached. Did he have roommates? Had they heard your plea for help? You allowed a spark of hope to ignite inside of you.
You couldn’t see it, but Owen was blushing deeply.
“O-oh jeez, I didn’t want you to meet my parents y-yet. Not until you felt b-better.”
A man and a woman came down the steps. They both had features that reminded you of Owen.
The woman spoke while the man stood behind her, “Just what the HELL is going on at this early hour!? The sun is barely out and I have to work later tod-”
She met your eyes, only just now realizing that her son had someone in his arms. You could see her gaze follow the chain that bound your leg to the wall.
Seeing your tear streaked face, red and puffy from crying, shaking from fear, she gave a look of sympathy. Your hope grew. Would she help you escape her loony son? Your sore throat strained to form words, but they only came out muted and garbled through Owen’s hand.
“Owen! You didn’t tell us you were dating! Honestly, with how awkward you are, I was a bit afraid you’d never take a liking to someone.”
Then she looked at you again.
“You’ll be okay, I know it’s hard at first, but you’ll settle right in.”
“I-i made sure the shackle was lined with something s-soft so it doesn’t hurt them. J-just like you told me how you did when y-you started dating dad!”
You saw the man bite his lip and gaze down sheepishly.
Owen was in his mid 20s, if his age was any indication… if he was conceived when his parents first met… then you were going to be here for a very long time.
#yandere x reader#yandere boyfriend#yandere scenario#male yandere#yandere male x reader#yandere x gender neutral reader#My OCs#My OC Owen#yandere imagine
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Donald Trump is on the verge of becoming the GOP nominee for the presidency for the third straight election. What might have seemed like a historical blip in 2016 that was remedied by Trump’s general election defeat in 2020 is now an eternal black mark on the Republican Party.
Hijacked by Trump, purged of its traditional middle-of-the-road corporate conservatives, and transformed into a cult of personality, the Republican Party is unrecognizable as the party of Lincoln. Gone are the Bushes, Cheneys, and Romneys. In are the worst group of scoundrels, hacks, hangers-on, and would-be authoritarians this nation has ever seen.
Whatever quaint and out-dated notions remained that Iowa’s Midwestern conservatism and its rural and highly educated populace would serve as an important early filter in the nominating process can be put to rest.
A majority of Iowa Republican caucus-goers went for Trump after the travesties of the Trump presidency: the failed response to the COVID pandemic, the indignity of losing to Joe Biden, and the insurrection at the Capitol, among so many others.
Iowa GOP Embraces Insurrectionist For POTUS
Racist losers choose racist loser to represent the party of racist losers.
Also, just to keep some perspective: Shitler “won” by getting about 44,000 people in one state, known for its high concentration of white supremacist christians.
Don’t be fooled by media that this is some kind of meaningful comeback for him. He’s still a criminal, he’s still a liar and a conman. He’s still going to prison for the rest of his life. This is not his political comeback. This is forty thousand pieces of shit in a nation of around 340 million people who overwhelmingly despise him.
Stay vigilant. Get out the vote. Don’t get complacent, but don’t be fooled by a “comeback” narrative that horserace-driven media needs to sell advertising.
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Bangtan’s Receptionist
Pairing: Mafia Boss!Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader, implied ot7 x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: Mafia AU, swearing, Death, blood, injuries, mentions of human trafficking but nothing too detailed, guns, character death.
Summary: Bangtan’s contracts are clear and concise. They are to be followed to the letter, including the most important rule, do not touch their men.
A/N: Just another generic Mafia Yoongi Drabble I couldn’t stop thinking about since Haegeum came out. 🫠 I could possibly turn this into a little oneshot series for each member, let me know if you want more!
- Tae 🥰💜✨
Request to join my taglist here!
Masterlist
Min Yoongi, in simple terms, is a straight cut business man. With his 6 other colleagues, his brothers, he runs Bangtan Industries, which on the outside seems like a clean cut courier company. On the inside however, the cargo that is transported by Bangtan Industries is more than just letters and stationary for offices. Yoongi and his boys, as the rivals know them, are extremely loyal to their men who work alongside and under them, even so far as to including in contracts that they can be terminated if any harm comes to any member of Bangtan Industries, even as far as the janitor who cleans the office on weekends. Any attack on their men is an attack to them directly, and the whole world knows of this fact.
You were hired 3 years ago by the CEO of Bangtan, Kim Namjoon to be the front of the company, their receptionist and on occasion, assistant for all 7 leaders. They’re all particularly fond of your bubbly presence in the office building, always happily greeting the bosses with a smile and providing homemade lunches on occasion, which usually is more often than not. You always make sure the boys keep their health up, not even phased by their attitudes when they spent too many hours without sleep. You’ve been the most consistent employee, and the members are more than grateful to have you.
“Good morning, Master Min!” You chirp as Min Yoongi strolls through the office door, adjusting his tie. He can’t help but give you a soft smile.
“Y/N, you know that I’d rather you call me Yoongi when its just us. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Oh, I know, I’m just way too used to it!” You grin as you place a take-away coffee cup and a wrapped toasted sandwich on the desk in front of you. “Breakfast is served.”
“You also don’t have to do that every morning too.” He lets out a huff with a grateful smile. “I hope you got your usual too. If I find out you didn’t, I’m forcing you to take your break early to go get.” Yoongi chuckles as you wave the second paper cup on your hands. He nods with finality and takes your makeshift breakfast for him and makes his way to his office.
After a quiet morning, you’re startled by a loud bang of the doors to the entrance opening and a large man in a 3 piece suit with his gaggle of men trailing in behind him, clearly armed, stalking up to your front desk.
“Good morning, sir. How can I be of help today?” You hum, the large men not phasing you.
“We’re here to see Min.” The man grumbles, hands squeezing the edge of the desk.
“Oh of course,” you smile, typing up on your computer. “Give me a few moments to see if he’s available to see anyone right now.”
You can feel the mans eyes on you as you’re typing, waiting for the response to pop up.
“Ah, I’m sorry sir, Master Min isn’t available right now. You are more than welcome to take a seat and wait until he’s ready-”
You yelp as the man reaches over, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up so you are face to face with him. You wince, his nails digging into your skin and small trickles of blood running down your arm.
“Listen here, you little bitch,” he seethes, “i have been trying to get on Min’s ass for 2 weeks about my fucking cargo I purchased from him and it still hasn’t arrived yet. If you don’t get him out here, I’m storming in there myself and getting my shit back.”
“What on earth is going on here?” Yoongi steps out from his office after hearing the commotion, adjusting the cuff on his white button up as he stalks up to the reception desk. “Ah, Mr Yang. I was waiting for you to show up.”
“Min.” Yang hissed, dropping your wrist and pushing you back into your seat, which Yoongi takes note of. “Where the fuck is my cargo? You said it would be here within the month and yet its the 27th and nothing.”
“Miss L/N.” Yoongi speaks, causing you to snap your head towards him. “Did he hurt you?” He eyes your wrist, which you’re trying to hide under the desk, clearly not very well as it is still in Yoongi’s line of vision.
“O-oh, no, Master Min. I’m fine, really.” You stutter out, giving him a smile.
“I will deal with you after I take care of business.” He murmurs, looking down at your hidden wrist, blood smearing into your blouse. “Mr Yang, if you could come inside. I do believe my receptionist shouldnt have to deal with the likes of this, wouldn’t you agree?” His tone is icy as Yang grunts, nodding his head before pushing past Yoongi and strutting through into his office with his men following behind. “Y/N, I would recommend playing sone music for the next 10 minutes, okay?” is the last thing Yoongi asks of you before closing the door behind him.
“I dont understand why you are so upset, Yang. I gave you exactly what you asked for.” Yoongi hums, sitting at his desk and watching Yang and his men stand over the desk menacingly.
“Thats bullshit and you know it, Min.” He barked, slamming his fist on the table.
“Oh, is it?” He raises his eyebrow, leaning forward and placing his chin on his hands. “Do explain why, because the way I see it, you asked for X amount of drugs and X amount of guns and ammo. Am I wrong?”
“You know what half of those drugs were code for, you ignorant shit.”
“Oh, no no no.” Yoongi chuckled, standing up, revolver in hand. “See, now, if you were implying what you think you are implying, and I truly hope you’re not, then you’ve worked with the wrong man.” He smirked, holding the gun up towards Yang.
“You see, if you read through the terms of our contract - Bangtan do not associate with anything involving trafficking women and children. I truly hope that isnt what you wanted.” Yoongi tilted his head, glaring at Yang. “Is it?”
Yang swallowed lightly, looking between his men, who all have their guns by their sides and their hands up. They know Min’s reputation. They know better than to fuck with them.
“Ah…” Yang sighed anxiously, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “You are right. I believe I was mistaken. It appears that all our cargo was in order. Isn’t that right, boys?” He glanced between his men, who all nod shakily. “Now that we have that misunderstanding out of the way, I don’t think there’s anything else to talk about, so I will take my leave now, Min.” He turns to leave, only to freeze when the revolver now presses against his temple.
“Ah ah ah, not so fast.” Yoongi chuckles, kicking Yang’s knees out from underneath him, forcing him to kneel. “I would’ve been willing to let you go, no questions asked about what fucked up shit you’re into,” he leans down now, whispering into his ear. “but then you laid hands on my receptionist.”
Yang’s eyes widen, struggling against Yoongi’s boot digging into his legs. “What?” he breathed out.
“Did you even read the contract, Yang?” Yoongi hissed now, pressing the gun harder against his head. “Now, you are more than welcome to come in here, ranting and raving about me and the shit I do, I really couldnt give a flying fuck.. but as soon as you touch my people and my men, now theres fucking hell to pay. Rule number fucking 3 my friend. Do NOT touch my men. Do you have anything to say to defend your pathetic ass?”
“I’m sorry,” Yang blubbers out, hands shaking. “I really didn’t mean it, Min! I-I-”
“Save it for hell, Yang.” He squeezes the trigger, letting the body fall to the floor.
“Come on,” you hissed, aggressively rubbing water over the sleeve of your blouse, earphones blaring music in your ears as Yoongi directed. You’ve been scrubbing for 5 minutes and sadly nothing is working for you. At this point, you haven’t even looked at your arm, now bruising and stained with small trails of your blood.
A figure steps into your line of sight, causing you to lift your head quickly and push the headphones off your head. “Oh, Master Min!” You gasp out, seeing his white shirt splattered with blood. “Did you need me to get your shirt booked in to the dry cleaner?” You start typing up the website to get the booking made when you feel his hand take your wrist.
“Does it hurt?” Yoongi asks quietly, looking down at you through his eyelashes, letting his fingertips run along the marks Yang left.
“O-oh.. um.. a little, but nothing I cant handle!” You smile sweetly at him as he shakes his head.
“You shouldn’t have to handle it at all.” He frowns, using a damp cloth to gently wipe away the trails of your blood before taking some paper towel and drying your arm off. “I do apologize, you didn’t sign up to deal with that shit. I should have been out here waiting for Yang’s arrival.”
“Master Min,” you smiled softly, letting him tend to your arm - you knew it made him feel better when he helped Bangtan with their wounds. “Please don’t stress, I knew what I signed up for for this job.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as he delicately starts placing bright pink Hello Kitty band-aids over your scratch marks.
“Dont laugh.” He grumbles, patting the band-aids down so they stick. “Jimin insisted that we got these to make Taehyung laugh whenever he was hurt.” He lied, Jimin had snuck to you that Yoongi kept his Hello Kitty band-aids with him just in case any of the girls in the office - another word for just you and you alone - were hurt - he just never got to use them until now. But you’d never tell him that you knew. Instead, you just smile and let Yoongi tend to your wounds.
It may not be the best job in the world, but at least you know your bosses have your back.
#bts angst#bts fluff#bts ot7 x reader#bts x reader#yoongi x reader#yoongi angst#yoongi mafia AU#BTS mafia AU#BTS AU#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi x You#min yoongi
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hi yes i’ve been craving cod content but writer’s block sucks so
can i get some headcanons for soap , ghost , and könig [seperate] w/ a gn!reader who generally acts cold and stoic but the second they’re alone or when they see something that catches their interest , they get really giddy ?
thank youuuuu
Simon ‘Ghost’
He absolutely loved seeing that spark in your eyes
The moment your eyes locked onto the limited edition art book for your favorite game, you were a goner
He saw the way you gingerly picked it up like you were going to break it and his heart melted
You were radiating excitement, clearly biting your tongue to keep yourself from bursting
So he decided to be the best boyfriend and ask you about it, and he was floored at how much you knew
You went on about how they took inspiration from different artists from different time periods and even listed the pieces they used, pulling them up on your phone to show him
Only going into further detail on the inspiration behind those art pieces, he was amazed by how much you knew about art
Your knowledge seemed endless and the excitement and awe in your voice was infectious
John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:
You’re never gonna live it down sweetheart
You both were driving home when a commercial on the radio came on announcing your favorite band, you gasped so hard it scared the shit out of him and he slammed the brakes
Then you quickly apologized and explained what happened, Johnny couldn’t stop laughing, despite your breathless giggles telling him to shut up
When you got home, Johnny bought the tickets and asked you to tell him everything about the band
You wasted no time putting together a playlist of their songs by order of your most to least favorite, even going so far as to explain why they’re your favorite and how they became your favorite
Your smile could light up the sky, he felt like he was right there with you when you recounted the first time you heard the songs and how you were feeling
Now that he knows this band is a catalyst for that enchanting side of you, he’ll do everything he can to bring it out of you
He lives for the sparkle in your eyes and the excitement in your voice, it’s addictive
König:
God he lives for those moments
Ever since that first time he saw you get so excited when you two walked past the pastry shop, he decided he only ever wanted to see that look on you forever
So he makes it a point to take you to different bakeries a few times a month, just so he can see that sparkle in your eyes
He’d ask you about the different pastries, where they come from, how they’re made, what are some different flavor combinations you’d recommend, he wants to know it all
And he’s watching you explain it all the whole time, chin resting on his palm, hearts in his eyes as you answer his questions diligently
He almost worries that you’re not breathing when you go into detail about why the egg custard pastry is such a valued desert in Portugal
God he loves seeing you get so excited, he loves the joy in your eyes, and he loves hearing all your knowledge, he could listen to you forever if you asked him to
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#konig x reader#könig x reader#cod x reader#mw2 x reader#cod mw2#cod mwii
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Shadows [Alastor x Reader]
Enemies to lovers?
Warnings: Allusions to death and murder
You and Alastor can't stand each other, but your shadows beg to differ (1.1K)
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In life, I was a mastermind of manipulation. A con woman who could sweet talk anyone into anything. I had money, I had influence, I had control. People came to me when they wanted something, but it always came with a price. For some, their lives. Some people just have no respect for the hand that feeds them. They called me the Shadower because they could always feel me watching. I had eyes and ears everywhere. It was only a matter of time before someone else got the upper hand, and shot me right between the eyes. The circumstances of my death make me so angry, I choose not to think of it much.
When I arrived in Hell, my surprise was brief. No doubt that I belonged here, but I didn't expect it all to be real. I didn't expect to have such dramatic changes in my appearance. My teeth became sharp, my eyes crocodilian, my nails became claws. I looked scary, and I liked it. Was I supposed to give my old ways up? Ha! As if. I built my empire from the ground up before, I could easily do it it again with all my knowledge. And now, I had real magic power, and I could really be a shadow. I was accompanied by a sentient shadow, a helpful friend in my business. I had a quick rise to power, becoming one amongst the Overlords.
They didn't seem to know what to make of me, and I was addicted to their intrigue and fear. Who could be next? They didn't dare cross me and find out. I didn't care much for the others besides a general sense of respect for each other's strength. But there was one, Alastor, who I could not stand. His smug smile, his stupid static voice, his ego. He always had to be the center of attention, and just couldn't stand that he was no longer the talk of the town.
"You don't even have your own gimmick."
"Just mad I do it better, Smiles?"
"Ha! Are cheap words the best you've got?"
"Ha ha, at least my words are audible. And I'm not the one with a tacky bow tie."
"Ha ha ha! I hate you."
Despite our animosity, there was one thing we could agree on. It's infuriating how much our shadow creatures love each other. The first time we'd met, our shadows bounded for each other as if they were old friends. His eyes widened in shock, but his smile never faltered. I hardly quirked my eye brows at the scene. It was like two dogs playing at the park. The red demon tilted his head at an awkward angle as he inspected me. "My, my! What a playful friend you have. You must be the new arrival everyone is just buzzing about. I am Alastor, the Radio Demon. I'm sure you've heard of me." He introduced, offering his hand. "Not in the slightest." I said, shaking it. His eye twitched, but his smile widened.
Ever since then, at every meeting, we had to pretend our shadows didn't fly together like magnets. It almost would be amusing if it weren't attached to that piece of shit. I simply don't understand it. Is it comfort in knowing there is another like them? Or is it all just a game to piss us off further? It's hard to tell. Sometimes it seems like they don't notice anyone else in the room, but sometimes they seem like they're sat together, gossiping about us like old ladies. Every time we left each other's presence, they seemed to reach for each other, not wanting to be torn apart. I have no idea if Alastor has noticed it. That would require him to have half a brain.
One night I decided to go to a speakeasy I frequent. I sat at the bar alone, but I could feel the fearful eyes on me. I smile behind my drink. I thought tonight was going to be a good night, but I was wrong. I didn't even know Radio Boy was around until I felt my shadow slipping away. They were dancing freely to the upbeat swing music, having the time of their lives. I scowl, and flag the bar tender for another drink. Maybe if I turn around, I can pretend it's not happening. Alas, the radio static fills the room, overlaying the music. I feel a presence behind me, but I already know who it is. "Alastor." I say, still facing away. "Why (Y/n), I never expected you to have enough class to visit to such an establishment."
"You came all the way over just to say that? You must be more obsessed with me then I thought." I say calmly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of me turning towards him. I can feel the comment burning up inside him. I smirk. "I could say the same. It's almost as if you were following me. You must admit, this does seem more my style." Finally I turn around with a shrug. "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."
His eyes narrow. "An interesting turn of phrase." Our shadows join us, seemingly swirling around people us excitedly. My shadow forces me out of my seat. My glass falls to the floor, shattering, and my body collides with the deer. "Watch it!" I growl at the two incorporeal beings. Alastor seems just as angry, his static getting louder and his limbs growing. I hiss with hostility at the act, letting my claws out. In the blink of an eye he returns to normal. "Coward?" I ask. "No. I simply came here for a relaxing night, not a fight. I can't be ruining my favorite place after all." I notice the bar has mostly cleared out save the employees and musicians. When it looks like two Overlords are about to have a turf war, you don't want to be around if you're the little guy.
The shadows begin dancing along the walls as the music returns. "Hm. Perhaps we should follow their lead." Alastor suggests, holding a hand out in a gentlemanly fashion. "What's your play?" I ask skeptically. "I'm simply suggesting to have a little fun amongst our banter. After all, it's been awhile since I've had a worthy dance partner." I smile coyly at his words, and take his hand. "Alright, but I think this proves who's obsessed with who."
"Keep dreaming, my dear." He says, twirling me to the beat. "Are you sure you can keep up with me?" I ask, matching his rhythmic kicks and skips. "Don't forget who grew up doing this. You don't know everything." For once, our words aren't laced with so much hostility. I guess tonight will be a good night after all.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin#vivziepop#hazbin alastor#hazbin charlie#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel x you#radio demon
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sick days ; satoru gojo
when 8-year-old megumi falls sick, you and your co-parent / maybe-boyfriend go down a rabbit hole.
gojo satoru x gn reader fluff, child-rearing, confessions, mutual pining (reader & gojo are school friends in their early 20s!)
'regret' was a word you have exiled out of your vocabulary.
it was a part of being a new (unwilling) parent to 2 overly intelligent kids, you supposed; you couldn't regret things.
'regret' was a word that would eat away at their little kid brains and latch on to the wormholes of insecurity in their heads, stretching them out and out into big voids that would probably take over their short, sweet lives. (it was like saying you regret anything would instantly equate to you regretting taking them in, and you couldn't have that.)
generally, your journey navigating the raising of toji fushiguro's children after his death wasn't difficult save for the obvious mental health issues he'd inflicted on his young kids. (you hadn't known the extent of it until megumi pretended he wasn't crying when you forgot to pick him up from school once. it was a real eye-opener.)
but it wasn't like you needed to establish authority. megumi and tsumiki generally followed your word and looked up to you- there were no issues there.
the real root of the problems was your silver-tongued and stupid-looking accomplice, gojo satoru.
you'd never regret taking tsumiki and megumi in. you'd never regret the actions you'd allowed gojo to take against their father. the only thing in the world you really did regret was giving gojo satoru your spare house key.
"who wants cake?"
you return from picking up megumi and tsumiki from school to a kitchen that seemed like it'd been through many small explosions. the smell of smoke hung faintly in the air. gojo loomed behind the counter like a bad omen and you scooted the children behind you warily.
"satoru," you began as if you were scolding a petulant and sulking child, "what are you doing in my house again?"
yes, again. because this was the 3rd day in a row gojo had blown off his missions and all his deep, deep piles of shit at jujutsu high to deal with to come harass you.
"why do you look so upset to see me!" gojo whines as his posture drops dramatically. he feigns a sigh with a hand over his heart. in doing this, he drops the skillet (why does he have a skillet when he's making a cake?) on his toe.
instantly, a stream of firey profanities and angry curses spews from his mouth as he hops around clutching his foot. tsumiki covers megumi's ears. he can still hear everything.
"satoru," you hiss, "not in front of the fucking kids, dude."
the tall man rises back up and shrugs, nonchalantly trying to pretend he hadn't basically been rolling around crying a second before.
despite this being a regular tri-weekly occurrence at this point, you still berate gojo. and by berate him, you just curse him out. megumi and tsumiki shuffle out from behind you with their schoolbags, and gojo beckons them toward the kitchen and to him.
"you're so irresponsible, you dumbass!" gojo places a piece of sweet red velvet cake onto a paper plate for tsumiki. he nods to you sweetly, as if encouraging you to keep going.
"why are you always here, burning down my house, when you have mountains of paperwork to do back at the school? you are a grown-ass man child." another slice is served to megumi.
"you need to get out. now." megumi and tsumiki scurry off to their rooms. gojo has emerged from the kitchen now, and he's nodding encouragingly. he's got an apron on and his sunglasses are shoved in his hair and he looks so strangely domestic that you don't bat an eye at first when he comes behind you and massages your shoulders.
"let it out," he says, and you sigh because his hands really do work through the knots in your back, and jesus christ, is there anything he's not good at?
hold on. just what is he doing?
you flip your hand back, effectively smacking him in the face as you storm into your kitchen and start angry-cleaning. you'd like to curse him out some more but you're so embarrassed and flushed and you know gojo well enough to be certain that he'd notice if you spoke.
"let me help you clean." you don't protest as he starts picking up his own mess alongside you, and there it is again: that familiar premonition, that tick in your chest, and that honey-sweet scent you've grown to call in your mind the 'gojo-sense' because it was a sensation you've only observed around him before.
you've known gojo satoru since day 1 of your schooling at jujutsu technical college, and you've known him every day since then, much to your discretion. unfortunately for you, he was one of your closest friends- so close, in fact, that he'd so kindly offered megumi and tsumiki to you after he found (kidnapped???) them post-toji's death.
(you're pretty sure megumi and tsumiki hadn't been kidnapped. you've grown close to them in the year-ish you've been raising them and you think they'd tell you if they were. you think.)
in all your years of knowing gojo, you could count the times you've felt like you truly understood him on one hand. the count lies at 2.
the first time dates back to his very first time trying alcohol. it was almost the end of your 3rd year, and shoko had snagged a bottle to share with your little group.
you remember gojo being pensive about trying it, and trying to bluff his way out. and you remember the confession that followed, that he'd never tried it before. shoko and geto laughed. you don't remember if you did, too, but you remember gojo looking at you hesitantly before he took his first shot.
and then he almost threw up.
again, your other friends laughed and teased, but you were too caught by the question of 'why did he look at you' to bother.
it didn't help that, during this time, you had a major crush on him. it was gone now, though, you swear.
the second time you think you understood gojo satoru was the night of riko amanai's death. it had happened so fast. you remembered his smile and then you remembered his tears as he cried for the first time in front of you. you remember holding him, your best friend, and then you remember not being able to as infinity filtered between your fingers and blocked you from his skin.
that was the night that gojo satoru vowed to never let anyone through his walls again. you would not be an exception. but unfortunately for him, you were already in his secret garden.
so despite you thinking that gojo had closed you out of his inner world forever, he had a place for you all along. you just didn't know.
the two of you remained heavily ingrained in each other's worlds, despite this rift. you were a package deal, and more often than not gojo could only be found when you were nearby, much to your irritation- and much like right now.
"you still need to get out of my house," you grumbled, but with less drive. this is how it goes every day- gojo appears. you try to get him to leave. he does not. you give up. repeat.
"you gave me your key," he reminds, and you're not looking at him but you can hear his smile. "and i could get in without it, anyways. you can't really do much."
"thanks for informing me about how you're a master burglar. i should report you to the cops."
"as if i couldn't take the police," gojo scoffs. you almost smile.
"regardless of whether you could take the police or not," you say, waving a crusty whisk in his face, "you couldn't take me. so you'd better leave."
(you probably couldn't take gojo in a fight. not that he would ever hurt you but there is no competing with the strongest. but he always listens to you, just like he does at this moment.)
"okay, okay, fine," he relents. he finishes helping you clean and is gone in a blink with his stupid little teleportation ability, and you know you're the one who wanted him to leave but you can't help but feel a little empty now that he's gone.
you know he'll be back soon enough, though. and you're proven right because your phone buzzes with gojo's special ringtone and he's already informing you that he'll be home for dinner and to not finish the cake. this prompts you to glance over to the kitchen counter, where said cake was not there.
you blink, before concluding a ghost probably got it. weirder things have happened in your household. you do feel a little sympathy for the ghost's stomach, though- that amount of sugar would be enough to kill them again.
you shrug your shoulders before carrying on with your life, sitting on the living room couch with your laptop to type out a report about some bullshit you don't care about and how it'll affect sorcerers and whatnot.
it's not until you call megumi and tsumiki out of their rooms for dinner do you realize that it was, in fact, not a ghost that had eaten the cake.
tsumiki arrives at the dinner table first, ever-so-polite, helping you set up 4 places (the extra in case gojo made good of his word and dropped by to eat.)
megumi doesn't arrive until a few minutes later, just as you were about to go collect him from his room. he stumbles out of his door like he'd just fought 7 wars consecutively, his face paler than death and his 4-foot self shaking like a leaf in the wind.
he almost slams into you, with the way he staggers through the hallway to the kitchen. he doesn't meet your eyes as he apologizes profusely, flopping onto a chair like a fish.
almost instantly, the poor boy passes out face-first on the table. you and tsumiki exchange a worried look as you press the back of your hand to his forehead, only to feel that megumi was burning up.
"surprise! did you miss me?"
you shoot gojo a glare as he materializes in the kitchen a few feet away. at his loud and rather irritating voice, megumi usually would've woken, being a light sleeper- but the 8-year-old was still knocked out with his face on his plate like it was a pillow.
"satoru, no offense, but could you keep it down?" tsumiki, ever-the-saint and ever-so-helpful, inquired politely. "megumi's sleeping."
at this, gojo furrows his brow, turning his head to the sleeping child.
"oh."
you can almost see the cogs turning behind gojo's thick skull before he asks: "what's wrong with him?"
you blink at him. "connect the dots, dumbass."
tsumiki laughs awkwardly, quickly grabbing her plate of food before speedwalking away to her bedroom, calling out a quick, "i'll be in my room if you need anything!"
you sigh, unable to blame the poor girl. if you had a choice, you wouldn't want to deal with gojo either.
gojo turns back to you with raised brows. "our family is falling apart. our daughter is running away, and our son is dying."
"that wasn't funny in the slightest."
"i think it was."
you exhale, a half-smile forming on your face. "okay then, mr. comedian, could you help get megumi to his bed?"
gojo doesn't need more prompting. he's already carrying megumi like he weighs less than a feather, with a gentleness you often forget he has. you're even more surprised when you see that gojo's hand actually touching the fabric of the boy's clothes- his infinity is off.
you don't mention it, even though you're sure that gojo knows that you've noticed. you try to ignore the way your heart thunders as you watch from the kitchen as gojo carries megumi to his room, observing from afar as he tucks the boy into his sheets carefully and ruffles his hair. you try not to smile like a fool but you think you do a poor job of hiding it.
when gojo returns to the joint kitchen and living room of your apartment, he pulls himself onto the counter next to you to sit, ignoring the various seats at his disposal.
"well, he's sick."
you snort. "yeah, no kidding."
you're still watching megumi's bedroom door but you can feel gojo's gaze land on you, as it often does. "he'll be okay. don't worry about it too much."
a certain softness warms your heart and you release a breath you didn't know you were holding. "yeah. you're right. it's no big deal, he'll be fine."
megumi was not, in fact, fine.
at 6 in the morning, you feel a soft, incessant tapping on your arm. you stir groggily, only to hear a familiar child's voice- megumi's voice.
you sit up, rubbing your eyes as your vision adjusted. you realize you weren't in your bedroom- you were on the living room couch. and gojo satoru was curled up close behind you.
you'll deal with that later, though, because megumi looks like he's on the verge of tears. wordlessly, instantly, you put a hand on his back and kneel down to his eye level. you can see tears welling up in his eyes and concern burns your lungs.
"is everything okay?" your whisper is met by sniffles and you pull the boy into a hug, which he allows, burying his face in your sweatshirt sleeve.
"i'm sorry. i threw up and i don't feel good. sorry."
you might cry too, as you hold him close and rub his back.
"it's okay, don't apologize. i've got you."
at some point, megumi falls back asleep. you hold his sleeping form on your hip as you shake gojo awake. he grumbles and groans until you smack his arm and he stirs.
"what? is everything okay?"
you're almost impressed with how gojo instantly scopes out the situation- from the sleeping, sickly child at your side to your tired, worried expression.
"i have no idea what to do."
you're whispering but you don't have to be, as your guilty confession tumbles out. you're hardly 20 and your child who you got roped into raising is sick. you could hardly function properly yourself, and then you became a parent-ish, and then your kid got sick. to say you were stressed was an understatement.
gojo blinks. you think he understands the weight of your words because he stands swiftly, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder.
"i'm not sure either," he whispers back, "but we can figure it out."
the two of you devise a plan, consisting of googled remedies from mom blogs and random doctor's offices, and gojo's childhood experiences with getting sick.
while he cleaned megumi's room (a task you'd assigned him, seeing as you were already holding megumi and didn't want to wake him, and not because you just really didn't want to), you shuffled through your kitchen to riffle through cabinets and drawers, in search of flu medications, cough drops, or anything that might help.
ultimately, all you came up with were bandages, gauze, and iodine- the lifeblood of a jujutsu sorcerer. you sigh, fighting the urge to slam your head into the wall.
gojo shows up next to you, running a hand through his hair. you'd be flustered if you weren't so irate.
"nothing?"
"nope."
gojo sighs and you're reminded for a second about how scary this must be for him, too. he's only your age, and just as powerless as you. helplessness is not a feeling he must encounter often, so it must be particularly awful when it happens.
you almost feel bad for him, but then a playful grin cracks his face, and he pulls out jingling car keys from his sweatpant pockets.
you narrow your eyes. "oh, no. you are not driving anywhere, not at this time of day. it's still dark out."
gojo clicks his tongue and starts walking to the door. "i'm not driving. we are. think of it as... a road trip! i think i have some medication at my place."
you wave your hand in the air dismissively. "just.. teleport us there, or something? i'd rather die than drive with you again."
"i told you! i'm a good driver! i was just messing with you!"
"you crashed your car into a tree, satoru."
you startle yourself with your use of his first name, but you don't think he notices because he bounces right back.
"it was funny!"
you shake your head. "not happening."
"i can't teleport us."
"why not?"
gojo looks a little guilty at this. you soften. "i don't really trust myself with my abilities anymore. i don't know. it's kind of stupid."
"no, it's not stupid. i mean, i trust you," you try hesitantly, "but if you don't, we can drive."
you put aside your fears of gojo behind the wheel and you're glad you do because he looks at you in a way that makes you feel like the only person alive. "i'm a good driver. swear."
gojo is, to your surprise, not a horrible chauffeur. unlike the first time and last he drove you somewhere, there are no crashes or screaming or anything of the sort.
the streets are quiet with only the occasional car buzzing past. you don't think you've been to gojo's apartment. yours has been the go-to spot for whenever he or shoko would want company.
it's almost a calm ride, with gojo steering wordlessly and megumi snoring softly in the backseat. you're honestly impressed he hasn't woken up yet. you thrum your fingers against the dashboard, pulling one leg underneath you as you sat.
"we're here," gojo states. you glance at him drowsily from the corner of your eye, watching him leave the car and head to the backseat to retrieve megumi. your follow suit and leave the car, gazing up at the towering, swanky apartment building before you.
"this is so above my pay grade," you breathe, "are you sure they'll allow us commoners in here, my liege?"
gojo laughs softly, "no. you might have to wait out on the curb."
the building's lobby is a boring beige, with glass chandeliers providing a dim white light. it feels plasticky and stuffy and you're a little afraid to touch the elevator's buttons because you don't want to break them.
gojo's apartment is no better. the decor is minimalistic, and it hardly looks lived in. the only signs of life are the coffee mugs in the sinks and the jars of candies on top of the fridge.
his apartment might be big and high-end, but it feels so devoid of life, and you suddenly realize why gojo spends most of his time at your place.
it might be small and cluttered but it's warm, and cozy, and lived-in, and god knows that's what gojo needed. you can't imagine how isolated he must be in everyday life. your heart aches.
gojo sets megumi down on the couch with the gentleness of an angel, not that it was needed because in his current state, the boy could sleep through 12 nuclear explosions and then some.
wordlessly, gojo beckons you to follow him to a room situated at the end of the hallway. it's big and just as empty as the previous rooms, with only a dresser and a bed pushed into separate corners.
gojo rustles through the dresser drawers, presumably in search of medicine, but your gaze wanders to something else- the only real decor you've seen in the house.
there are two framed photographs sitting on top of his dresser. you take one in your hands, squinting to make out the image in the dark. you recognize it as yourself, laughing and looking behind the camera. geto and shoko are in the background, walking together on the pier.
you remember this day. it was the last mission of your first year at tokyo jujutsu high, and the four of you had decided to go out and get ice cream. it had begun to rain, but you hadn't cared. in the photo, your hair was clinging to your face but your smile was bright.
you remember the joy of that day more than anything. apparently, gojo did too, because he kept this photo despite it being years in the past.
the second frame contains a blurry photograph. you can't tell what it is at first, but after staring for a moment you realize: it's megumi, you, and tsumiki. megumi is younger in this somehow, despite the fact that it must have only been a few months ago. he's sprawled across your lap, and you just know that he would hate this picture.
tsumiki is sitting on the floor with you attentively, listening to you, as you show her something on your phone. she's smiling and looking at you with such reverence and admiration, and you feel a strange sort of pride.
you put the photo down and feel gojo staring at you. you turn to him, and he holds up a blue bottle- ibuprofen. "i get headaches."
you blink at him. "i like these pictures."
he smiles awkwardly. "yeah, me too."
and maybe it's the fact that it's encroaching on 7 in the morning, and you're delusional from the stress, and maybe this is a bad decision but you turn back to the pictures and smile and say, "i used to have a huge crush on you back in school. like, around when this picture was taken."
gojo doesn't react, staring at your hand as you point to the photo taken in high school. it's silent for a few moments before he speaks. "that's funny, y'know, because i liked you in this one."
you blink as he gestures to the recent photo. you laugh.
"you're so lame. how do you manage to always have the stupidest pick-up lines?"
you wait for gojo to laugh with you, but he keeps looking at you, and you cease your laughter.
"satoru? is everything okay?"
he takes a minuscule step closer and suddenly you're hyperaware of everything- your heartbeat, his face, your skin, you can feel it all.
"i wasn't joking," he says.
"oh."
you feel your heart thunder in your throat. gojo's eyes stare into yours and you look back into his and you have never been more lost for words than you are right now.
gojo takes your silence as a cue to continue.
"i liked you then, and that hasn't changed. you've been with me through basically everything. i don't know how to say this," he fumbles over his words now and you're reminded that you were only a teenager a few years ago, "but you make me feel less alone than i ever have."
if you were to speak at this moment, you wouldn't be sure what would come out of your mouth. so you place your hands on either side of gojo's face and plant a chaste kiss on his lips.
it's brief and easy, and it's over before gojo's fully processed what's happened.
but apparently, it was far, far too long because a little voice speaks from the doorway, sounding exasperated beyond his years. "can you guys figure this out later, i feel like i'm dying."
amused, you watch as gojo stumbles to the door holding the blue bottle, and watch him usher megumi over to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
you follow from a few feet away, watching as gojo tries to battle his embarrassment, and savoring it because you're certain that, come morning, he will be absolutely shameless.
you were right. by the time you arrive back to your own apartment, with megumi again asleep in the backseat, he's already discussing pet names and marriage and boasting about how you're lucky because he's just such a good kisser.
tsumiki is near-frantic when you return, and you mentally facepalm for not remembering to shoot her a text explaining your absence. you and gojo spend a good 5 minutes consoling her after placing megumi in his room yet again.
her confusion is only halted when a bolt of realization passes through her, and she manages a smirk that you didn't think she could be capable of.
"why are you guys holding hands?"
you blink, and look down at your right hand, which was currently intertwined with gojo's. you snatch it away and roll your eyes with a dramatic huff, crossing your arms over your chest.
gojo looks shattered.
"what betrayal," he wails, slumping onto you like his bones turned to jelly. you push him off and he lands on the floor sprawled out like a starfish.
"my own partner," he huffs from the ground, "hates me. my life is so hard."
tsumiki's eyes pop out of her skull. "partner? oh my gosh, what did i miss?"
you groan and cover your face with your hands.
a 4th voice chimes in. "don't worry. it wasn't pretty."
megumi stands in the hallway, looking fine as ever, and decidedly not sick.
you blink at him. tsumiki stares. even gojo raises his head off the floor to make sure that the boy was not, in fact, a ghost.
"aren't you sick?" gojo asks.
megumi rolled his eyes. "well, i was, but i'm better now. i think that was your cake from last night. it was so nasty it made me want to die."
you look at gojo. he sits up and shrugs sheepishly.
regret was not a word you use lightly. but right now, you really, really regret letting gojo satoru into your apartment.
author's note: dont think abt the timeline of this too much pls
#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojou x reader#satoru gojou#gojou satoru x you#gojou satoru#jujutsu kaisen gojou#satoru x reader#satoru gojo#jjk fanfic#jjk#jjk fluff#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen#reader insert#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru
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