#and they are the most vulnerable to being left behind
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Book!Eowyn & Theoden Compared to Film!Eowyn & Theoden
So I love both versions of Eowyn, and I think the film manages to capture key aspects of Eowyn's character. That said, I do think that film!Eowyn does differ from book!Eowyn's character is one fairly significant way.
This meta isn't a criticism of either version, as both book and film present well written and moving stories, and both versions of Eowyn and Theoden are rich and interesting characters. Instead this is a look at how changes from one medium to another have knock-on-effects in other parts of the narrative.
Film!Eowyn, from fairly early on, shows greater warmth and vulnerability about her. We're more likely to see her laughing or crying, whereas book!Eowyn is for the most part either stern, or full on weeping.
Film!Eowyn is notably frightened before entering battle, comforting and receiving comfort from Merry, and is terrified when the Witch King comes at her with his mace. Book!Eowyn meanwhile is notably without fear of death or wish for life.
While this is a stark difference, I do not think this marks a massive difference in their core personality (both of them are still loyal, dedicated to their country, ready to fight to the death for those they love, frustrated at the confines of their society, and wishing for a greater lot than the one granted to them).
Instead, I think this difference is the natural result of their differences in circumstances, and both versions of Eowyn are consistent within the narrative logic of their respective medias.
Compare book!Eowyn's situation to film!Eowyn's. Shortly after book!Theoden's recovery, book!Eowyn is left behind to deal with the people at Dunharrow, while Eomer and Theoden ride away without her, along with the Fellowship. Film!Eowyn meanwhile; due to the plot being streamlined, travels with Theoden and the people as they seek refuge at Helm's Deep. This mean she isn't "exiled" as she is in the books, and not only does she get to spend time with Theoden, she spends time with Aragorn and Gimli as well, developing friendships within the Fellowship. Eowyn also starts a friendship with Merry as well.
The frost that settled on her during the years of Grima is given a much earlier chance to thaw, whereas Eowyn only gets this opportunity in the books later on, in the Houses of Healing with Faramir.
However, I would argue the biggest influence on the differences between book!Eowyn and film!Eowyn began before the narrative began, with her relationship with Theoden.
In the films, Theoden's relationship with Eowyn was expanded and given more focus. This; I think, was a creditable choice, as Miranda Otto and Bernard Hill's chemistry was excellent, and led to some of the most heart warming and moving moments in the film. Certainly, they gave Bernard Hill a chance to really shine as Theoden, and show his vulnerabilities as well a strengths.
The love Theoden has for his sister-daughter in the films really shines through, and seeing as they were introduced together, and their lasts big scenes were the two of them together on the Pelennor Fields. We get an epilogue of Eowyn in the Houses of Healing with Eomer and Aragorn and Faramir, but this is a wrap up. Eowyn's core arc closed with Theoden recognising her in the aftermath of battle, assuring her that he is at peace with his end, and affirming his love for her. In many ways, Theoden's story and Eowyn's story is Theoden and Eowyn's story. Their arcs conjoin with each other's more than they do with any other character's.
Compare this to the books. All those wonderful scenes between Eowyn and Theoden in the films were written for the films, and have no correlating scenes in the books. The closes we can find is perhaps when Theoden gives Eowyn rule of Rohan in his stead, however, there we see stark differences.
In the books, Theoden names Eomer as heir, and makes it clear that if he dies, a new ruler is to be chosen. When the people say they want someone else from the House of Eorl to rule in his stead, he needs reminding from Hama that Eowyn is of his house and is admired by many.
We don't see Theoden look up from his enchantment and smile on seeing Eowyn's face, we don't see him offering her words of comfort and solace, vowing to her that she will live to see happier days, and more than duty he wishes her to have happiness again. He doesn't express regret for what she endured in his household after the death of his parents, or shame that she had to serve a king in growing fear, when he "should have loved her like a father."
And when he dies, he dies with Eomer and Merry at his side, not Eowyn. He dies without ever knowing Eowyn lay just a little away from him. He dies having never known his niece at all.
Now, film!Theoden isn't flawless in regards to Eowyn. He is still paternalistic and still uses sexist conventions to overrule Eowyn's will in order to meet his own ends, but in sending Eowyn away, in telling her she must get the people to Helm's Deep instead of staying and fighting, in saying she "must do this, for me", it is clear that his main motivators are protective love, and real respect for her capabilities. To be fully just, he would have to give her the same opportunities to fight as he does Eomer. But their relationship is incredibly close, with mutual respect and affection on both sides.
This is a very different sort of relationship between Eowyn and Theoden in the books, where we have several instances of Theoden passing over Eowyn, declaring Eomer alone to be last of their house, and dying quite poignantly never knowing that Eowyn had fought beside him. Tolkien delivers a bittersweet story of two family members that loved each other, but were never fully reconciled, with one taken for granted and unseen by another, and ending with those issues unresolved.
Both stories have a lot of merit, and both are delivered in a moving and evocative way. However, in changing the nature of this relationship, arguably the definitive relationship in Eowyn's life, it is inevitable that Eowyn herself has to change.
For all that Eowyn in the films is more obviously vulnerable, more fearful of her life, more likely to wear her heart on her sleeve, whereas book!Eowyn bottles all of it up until she cannot hold it in any longer, and does not fear death because she wishes for it, film!Eowyn's greater outward vulnerability comes from possesing a stronger emotional resilience than book!Eowyn.
The relationship she has with Theoden is evidently more respectful, more intimate, more nurturing. We can suspect that before his illness, film!Theoden was a greater source of comfort and support than book!Theoden was, and after his recovery, film!Eowyn and film!Theoden has a chance to re-establish their bond in a way that book!Theoden and book!Eowyn never do.
Having a much more competent and respectful primary care-giver naturally had a knock on effect for film!Eowyn. Theoden's love and support, the rapport between them, gave Eowyn greater emotional resilience, which means she had a greater wish for life. Death in the films is probable and she tries to make her peace with it, but she does not long for it as she does in the books. She is also quicker to form connections with others, and show them her true feelings, because she has had Theoden's love and affection growing up, teaching her it is alright for her to do so.
In contrast, there are very few people Eowyn can show her feelings towards. Even when she finally drops the dutiful daughter act, she rides to battle shrouded in secrecy, referred to as Dernhelm even by the narrative, hiding herself from Merry.
In both film and books, Eowyn rides at her uncle's side, and fights to protect him. However, the nature of this protection comes across very differently.
Book!Eowyn, who never fully received the validation she needed from Theoden, whose life had been given over to serving him, offers her life so he might have dignity in death without fear, because her life has no value for her. All that she is has been given over in service of Theoden, and here at last, in dying for him, she might receive some renown for her services to him. And while she spares him a painful and inglorious death, Theoden dies never knowing of, and therefore never appreciating, the sacrifice Eowyn made him.
Film!Eowyn, bonded with her uncle through mutual respect and affection, faces the Witch King full of fear, but still she holds her ground. It is not a death wish or a sense of life being meaningless that allows her to stand against the Witch King when all others fled, but love and love alone. Love does play a part in Eowyn's actions in the books, but in the film's it is her single motivator, her one source of courage.
And when Theoden passes, he passes having seen Eowyn's face, knowing her, telling her she has already saved him, showing gratitude for their years together, and goes with her name on his lips.
It is interesting exploring how earlier changes in an adaptation have knock on effects later on in the work. The films changed a significant part of Theoden and Eowyn's relationship, and therefore a significant part of Eowyn's personality, but these changes were to play up to the actor's strengths (the films would be lesser things for denying Bernard Hill those beautiful scenes with Miranda Otto, and now that he is gone we can fully appreciate the skill he showed in those scenes all the more), and these changes had internal consistency. While they didn't exactly match the books, they made sense in the world the films were creating, which is the crucial thing.
#Lord of the Rings#Lotr#Eowyn#Theoden#meta#film vs book#Bernard Hill#Miranda Otto#I was thinking about this meta before the news of Bernard Hill's passing broke#and knowing he's gone has made me appreciate his work in these films all the more
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daisy
"Aren't they as gorgeous as you?"
tags: jjk, yuji itadori
notes: angst, ik im terrible since jjk universe has already lot of angst. what can i say? im a hoe for this shit.
The pink-haired boy walked through the corridors until he reached the room where his friends and teacher were relaxing.
"Yuji! You finally decided to show up! We thought were not going to see you today since yesterday you returned late" exclaimed Gojo as he stood up from the couch to approach the teenager "Are you okay?"
Yuji's last mission didn't end up well. Despite successfully exorcising the curse, there were some sacrifices made. As a result, Yuji stayed in his bedroom for three days until he felt recovered.
"Yes, I'm okay Gojo-sensei" he smiled as usually, trying to conceal the fact he was not feeling okay.
That last mission really took a toll on him.
"You still have the rest of the month off, so take it easy" Satoru added, tousling his student's hair.
Yuji nodded, focusing his gaze on the floor
"I was planning on visiting y/n" he confessed.
It wasn't a request for permission, Yuji was going to do it.
"Tell y/n I said hi" Megumi said with a soft smile to his friend "If you need anything, just call"
With that, Yuji continued his walk, leaving the Tokyo sorcery school behind. He felt a knot in his stomach; Yuji had been visiting you since he recovered, feeling guilty of your condition.
He followed the routine he had been following for the past two weeks. He passed by the convenience store were you used to buy snacks together. He walked by the arcade where he spent all his money just to get you the plushie you wanted. He walked by the bench you two had your first kiss. He stopped by the florist to buy you yours favorite flowers, daisies. He continued his walk towards the bridge where he confessed his feelings to you, and you accepted him. His heartbeat always increased when he recalled the last memory.
"I can't wait to see you" he said in a low voice as he held the daisies in his hand.
He began walking towards where you were, reminiscing about all the wonderfull memories he had shared with you. It still felt unreal for him that you had accepted his feelings. Yuji considered you the most genuine person and the one he loved being with the most.
The moon was already arising on the sky, urging Yuji to hurry as he really wanted to see you. Five minutes after, he was there, by your side. Carefuly he placed the daisies he had bought for you in a plastic vase.
"Hi honey, hope I didn't kept you waiting too long. I said I would be here at 5 pm, but I got distracted. Anyway, I brought you daisies, your favorites. Aren't they as gorgeous as you?" Yuji admited with a big smile as he showed the vase held in his hands "Oh! By the way, Megumi sends you greetings"
However, he knew that smile wasn't genuine. After the mission, no smile he made was genuine. His vision started to blur due to the tears that were threatening to fall, but he held them back. Yuji didn't want you to see him like that since he swear it to you.
He sat on the ground, trying to compose himself. Attempting to stay calm by taking deep breaths to ease his mind, but it didn't work. Before he even realized it, he was sobbing uncontrollably. Yuji left the vase with the flowers on the floor to wipe his tears. Ten minutes passed until Yuji had no tears more left to cry, grateful that there was no one else to see him in that vulnerable state except for you.
"Sorry... I promised you I wouldn't cry..." the pink-haired boy whispered as he got up "Tomorrow I will come again, don't worry. Wait for me, okay?"
Yuji left the flowers by your side and stared at them.
"I really hope you are in the daisy fields you have always craved for"
And just like the past two weeks, he departed from your grave, filled with sorrow and feeling heartbroken.
#jjk#jjk angst#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#yuji itadori#jjk yuji#yuji jjk#yuji x reader#yuji x you#yuji x y/n
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listen, i absolutely get ramon not wanting to talk to sunny & feeling hurt/betrayed by her helping tubbo
like, i'd hazard he might even feel more betrayed by them than tubbo himself—bc sunny & ramon probably talked about what family meant to him (during their sleepovers or something) and ramon has no insight into why they'd do that whereas tubbo, for all his actions have hurt ramon, very clearly has the emotional capacity of a wet paper plate and issues running deeper than marianas trench
but that makes it all the more heart wrenching that he won't hear her out (and you can see in the backgrounds of vods her multiple attempts over several days to get his attention just to be rebuffed) bc i bet if she could explain herself even a little things could be so different
it reminds of the situation from the other week where sunny wasn't talking with em and tubbo tried to explain that, even if you're mad at them, suddenly stopping talking to someone you love could make them feel awful and worse than you intended
and that is what's happening to sunny. it's miserable to see bc she was already so isolated and ramon, as her big brother, is someone she put a lot of trust in to be there for her and listen to her and it must feel to her like that was an empty promise to have him not even hearing her out.
and it's particularly tragic bc sunny didn't even want to mess with fit and pac. yes, she was "tempted" to aid tubbo in his quest, but I really don't think it was bc she was actually worried about being left behind when she agreed. i think she could tell tubbo was scared and hurting and not ready to accept the change and didn't want him to be alone. she didn't really have another option and every adult can see that but ramon is young and blinded by his hurt
and now sunny is left feeling abandoned and forgotten and replaced and it's exactly what their pa said would happen; self fulfilling prophecy :(
#qsmp sunny#qsmp ramon#and it IS tubbo's fault#but the trust fractured between sunny and ramon isn't something I think he can fix#they need to talk themselves#he's set his own daughter up to experience exactly what he feared#and the extra sad thing is that his base fears weren't even misplaced#the morning crew dynamics are shifting with the relationship and with the return of mike and addition of bagi#and they are the most vulnerable to being left behind#and he lashed out bc of it but sunny is accidentally suffering the most#where ramon got a huge explosion of family sunny just got more isolated#where everyone can see tubbo's insecurities a mile off sunny's are more hidden#where tubbo can talk his mouth off sunny's voice is silenced just by looking away from her#like she's SO vulnerable#i am going insane thinking about how vulnerable she is it's so horrible#qtubbo please i know ur just a mentally ill 20yo crying for help but she needs so much support and ur the only one there#qsmp
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Toji has never once shown his vulnerability towards the scar he has on his lips. He never even talks about them. But you know he is somewhere insecure about it when he stops and stares in the mirror while shaving, green eyes scanning the scar. Or when he purposely rests the right side of his face in his hand so the palm hides it. He thought he was being subtle with it, but you noticed. You noticed how deep down he was scared to even talk about it, let alone wear it with pride. That scar was a nightmare and he hated how it was visible to him, to everyone in the most obvious place.
"Toji?" you cooed from behind, walking into the hall while he was watching TV.
"Yes, baby?"
"I bought a new gloss, and i want to test if it's transfer proof."
"Don't know what that is but c'mere, lovie. Sit on my lap while you do it." You smiled and plopped yourself on his laps. Before he could finally look at you, you pressed your tinted glossy lips at the end of his lips where the scar settled.
he tried opening his lips to catch yours but you didn't really kiss his lips. he was so confused why you were pecking one spot.
*one peck. two peck. three peck. smooches tightly*
"D'ya know? I love this." You ran your thumb over the skin. "It makes me realize how strong you are, Toji. Sooo strong. Please don't hide it. It makes you look more handsome." He couldn't form words. The sudden love bomb opened a can of bad memories. Yet, oddly, he was comforted by your words. For a man so big, he was still weak over you and your love. Because you determined his vulnerability. Which is why your relationship was perfect. He is not the kind of man to be vocal about his issues but you read him like an open book. You understand him before he even has to spell it out.
Toji rested his forehead against yours, inhaling and exhaling with his eyes closed. God. He feels so in love, it kills him. What would he do without you? Everyone picked his flesh till it was just his heart exposed in the dirt, still struggling to beat. But you found it. Not to pick anymore flesh(there was none left). But to rip open your ribs and keep that heart locked in you forever. Safe and sound.
#this got so sad and cute towards the ending i wanna cry#toji x reader#toji fushiguro#toji fluff#jjk x reader#toji angst#toji fushiguro fluff#fushiguro toji x reader#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk angst
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dating simon riley means constant clinginess. large arms wrapped around your waist at any given moment, simon is most comfortable when he's holding you. after being away from a long mission, he'll find you wherever you are in your shared apartment and silently crawl into your arms like a puppy. he'll bury his face into the crook of your neck, slowly inhaling to bask in your scent that he missed more than anything. with an amused chuckle, you'll wrap your arms around his warm torso, gently rubbing his back. "no hello?" you'll tease, to which you always earn a content hum in response, along with simon's hold tightening ever so slightly.
dating simon riley means lots of playful teasing. if you make a typo in a text message, he'll begin spelling the word as your typo for the rest of the day. if you believed in a silly fact, he'd bring it up for the rest of your life. "this is like when you thought our blood was actually blue" he'd snicker, which would cause you to whine for him to stop and swat his arm.
dating simon riley means constantly being cared for. simon is a man who can do everything, or at least tries to. he somehow manages to get to all the chores before you do, which has ended in you reassuring him that you can handle it many, many times. when doing something potentially dangerous like standing on a ladder, handling a knife or using tools, simon will constantly glance in your direction to make sure something won't slip and injure you. like a spidey sense, he's quick to pull you away or come to your rescue if you're in a situation where you're about to hurt yourself. "you alright?" he'll mumble softly, dark eyes laced with worry that is a rare sight to be seen by anyone else.
dating simon riley means you have a second wardrobe. his large clothes are just too comfortable to resist, and he's often left searching the apartment for a shirt that you had placed amongst your own clothes. though, he makes no effort to steal them back from you, as seeing you in his tshirt, his boxers and his hoodie fills him with a loving possessiveness. he'll walk into the kitchen to see you turned away as you wash dishes, wearing one of his shirts as a short dress. managing to silently sneak behind you even with his bulky frame, he'll wrap his arms around you from behind and place a kiss against the nape of your neck. "you look so pretty in my shirt, love." he'll then purr into your ear.
dating simon riley means seeing a side of him that many never do. whether it be physically or personality wise, you see so much of simon that you can't remember the last time you referred to him as ghost. his large pointy nose, his dirty blonde hair that he always forgets to fix in the mornings, and his lopsided smile that appears when you tell the corniest of jokes are all things that many have never seen and never will. he speaks so softly to you; a low tone that you can feel reverberating in his chest when you lay against him. simon is kind, patient and vulnerable with you, and will mutter the words "i love you" against your lips, just loud enough for only you to hear.
dating simon riley means being friends with the rest of the 141. you were the one who wished to host hangouts at your apartment, wanting those closest to simon to like you. despite their intimidating demeanors, you quickly realized just how kind they were. they know just how important you are to simon, which is a rare feat in itself, so they would never treat you in an ill manner. soap will always refer to you as "the missus" when speaking to simon, which never fails to make you giggle when you overhear their conversations.
masterlist
#just a small blurb bc i wanted to write smth#im working on fics i promise!!#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost cod#call of duty#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#mw2#mw3#modern warfare#fluff#headcanons#x reader#imagine
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First time: Jason Todd x reader
A/N: despite the title and the gif there's nothing explicit in this story. :D :D
***
Your first time with Jason left you in tears.
Not because it was bad or rough or hurtful.
Quite the opposite it was all a girl could ask for. He was so careful, holding you like you were a glass doll that could shatter upon being treated too harsh. Touching you just the right way, kissing you just the right way, moving just the right way, hitting the g-spot perfectly at every thrust, creating the most satisfying pace without missing a beat.
Checking on your face expression over and over to know whether to stop to avoid crossing boundaries or to continue because your eyes were closed and lips open, breathing out his name. He didn't need to constanly ask the questions what to do or if something was good, the man could defnintely read the room.
Not to mention the mind blowing orgasm that left you panting and crying out his name in endless strings of syllables, cause saying one word on one breath was pretty much impossible.
And while he was expecting some compliments or praise, instead he got a sobbing, shaking mess with tears running down his girl's cheeks like a waterfall.
"Baby... princess, talk to me, did I do something wrong?"
Was I too hard?
Was that too much?
Did I read the signs wrong?
Did I hurt her?
DID I HURT HER!?
His mind was spinning and he had no idea how to behave or react. Words failed him once more upon seeing you in this state, fragile, vulnerable, laying on the side, your back to him with your knees to your chest and arms wrapped around your shaking form.
"Y/N ..." he whispered, snuggling closer to your form, slowly, hesitantly wrapping arms around your waist from behind, ready to withdraw at the slightest gesture of discomfort. Mentally preparing himself to be pushed away, yelled at, even slapped or scratched.
Nothing like that happened.
The second his calloused hands met with your sensitive, sweaty skin, you turned around and burried your face in his chest, unknowingly taking all the weight from his shoulders. Snuggling so close as if you were trying to melt into him, to dissappear.
And it was pretty obvious you felt safe therefore he couldn't have hurt you.
So what happened?
He had to know. He had to ask.
"Princess-" he started, tightening the grip on you, planting soft kisses on top of your head and brushing your hair in the most tender way he could produce (which was THE MOST).
"I'm okay-" you sniffled, the words muffled a bit due to the stuffy from crying nose. "I'm okay..."
'Then why-"
"Cause I never thought I could be loved like that." you pulled back looking deep into his eyes. "with all my imperfections, with all my insecurities and doubts and-"
"What?" he scoffed and laughed all the tension leaving him immediately, creating space for his usual bickering and teasing attitude. "You crazy, woman?! You thought I would be measuring your thighs or something?" he pinched her leg playfully causing her to squirm.
"Hey!" you puffed and shoved his arm playfully "do not use my sensitivity against me!"
"I would never." Jason grabbed you again and started ticlking mercilessly until those tears from before were replaced by giggles and smiles.
"Jason!" you cried out trying to cover yourself from the unexpected assault, rolling in the bed. "stop! stop! you said you won't-!"
"I never said a word" he retorted continuing the attack.
"You said-!"
"Nah, I won't be saying much any time soon. You, however-" he pinned you to the bed hovering over you and meeting your eyes with a smirk on his face "you'll be saying my name a lot. As long as I get those crazy thoughts about insecurities out of your head, baby."
And seriously, how could you say no to those pretty eyes, dexterous lips and curious hands?
#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#jason todd smut#red hood smut#jason todd x you#red hood x you#jason todd x y/n#red hood x y/n
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look at me a little more | dbf!joel miller x f!reader
A/N: first of all, SMUTTT so much smut up ahead. holy crap this is the longest thing i've ever written (pathetic, i know, blame the commitment issues) enjoy lovies!! also lmk if you want a part 2 maybe possibly!?
m!dni | requests open.
summary: dbf!neighbor!joel accidentally drenches you (virgin!reader) while washing his car and you can’t help but notice the way he eyes you up. it’s only once he’s in your bedroom, fixing your closet door as an apology, that you realize the best person to rid you of your virginity and teach you precisely how to please yourself and others had been right in front of you the whole time; it's getting joel on board with the whole idea that's the hard part.
word count: 5.5k
tags/warnings: SMUTTTT, virgin!reader, dbf!neighbor!joel faces moral conflicts (to fuck or not to fuck!?!?), porn with plot, sooo much tension, dirty talk, use of pet names, blowjobs, handjobs, cumplay, reader eats joel's cum, grinding, making out, oral sex, no!outbreak au, reader's innocent in the sense that she doesn't really know how to do a lot of things when it comes to sex but still has a ton of desires
masterlist
There was a certain shame that came with being infatuated with your dad’s best friend.
You were sitting around on the porch on a hot summer afternoon, wearing your shortest cotton shorts as you sipped the juice box brand you had loved since you were a little girl. Legs crossed, foot tapping the air, and most importantly, eyes absolutely trained on the ripple of Joel Miller’s biceps as he washed his car.
You didn’t know why you liked to stare at him so much. But you did know it was wrong. Immoral. Eyeing up someone in their forties? What was wrong with you? That was your dad’s best f—
“Hey, Mr. Miller!” You called over, shutting down every ounce of doubt in your mind.
He turned around without hesitation, and when he did, you waved. The first time you’d done that, he had to work a little harder to figure out the source of the voice, eyes searching in random directions before finally settling on you. But now, it was like he knew exactly where to look—And, well, that was all it took for you to decide you would be spending the next hour washing a car if it meant spending time with Joel.
So you settled your juice box down on the wooden floor of the porch and skipped over to his house. He must not have heard your footsteps behind him over the sound of the hose, so your simple tap on his shoulder resulted in him whipping around, hose in hand, as he consequently drenched you.
You yelped, breaking out into nervous laughter both from shock and how cold the water was. Joel fumbled to turn off the hose as he began profusely apologizing. “Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry—”
Then he properly saw you. From Joel’s perspective, your clothes were reduced to translucency, practically melting into your skin.
But you didn’t know that. You never fully grasped just how vulnerable you had become from his accident, so when you caught him averting his gaze as quickly as he could, you were a little confused.
“You—Uh—I,” Joel stumbled before clearing his throat, “There’s clothes. Inside. Sarah’s. You can, um, you can go and… y’know. Change into them. Walkin’ all the way back to your house doesn’t seem like a… viable… option.”
By then, a blush had already risen to your cheeks just from how delicately Joel was treating you. As if you were something he had to be careful with, like if he didn’t think long and hard about every word coming out of his mouth, there would be consequences.
“Lead the way.”
Joel gave you a firm smile before swallowing the lump in his throat and motioning for you to follow him as he walked. Once he had the front door open, he let you go in first. Even as you carefully walked past him, you could feel his eyes staring at you.
“Up there,” Joel gestured, “Um, first door on the left. I’ll… be outside.”
As he explained, you subconsciously scanned over the planes of his body—probably a habit you picked up from the multiple weeks of watching him work. But then he was turning to leave, and you could tell he was still really tense. You didn’t know why a simple accident had him so tripped up, but you had the urge to alleviate his worry.
“Hey,” You called, arms wrapped around yourself in an effort to stave off the cold. He turned around, concerned until he saw your soft smile and relaxed a little, “On a scale of one to ten, how sick and tired are you of washing that truck?”
There was only one way to break Joel out of his nervous state; you had to make the situation lighthearted; you learned that from years of watching him hang out with your dad.
He searched your eyes for a beat, eyes completely unwavering, before muttering, “Like a fifty.”
You both breathed a laugh at that. For the briefest moment, you thought you noticed Joel’s gaze flitting to your chest. Your breath caught in your throat, but before you could do a double take, his eyes were glued to yours again.
“So then,” You started, regathering yourself and pushing away whatever your brain was conjuring up, “How do you feel about replacing one lousy chore with another?”
“What kinda chore we talkin’?”
“Well, my closet door’s all screwed up. And you know, instead of apologizing for soaking me by way of expensive concert tickets and a brand new car, like how I know you were planning on doing—”
“—Oh, of course,” Joel sarcastically remarked, playing along as you quickly noticed the worry on his face faded into a crooked grin.
“Well, I really think I can just settle for the closet door fix. Go ahead and save the brand new car for when you break my toaster.”
“Okay, okay,” Joel laughed, “I get it. Go change, then you can lead me to this broken closet door.”
-
Sarah’s clothes definitely belonged to a fourteen-year-old. Not your taste, but then again, if you were fourteen like her, you probably would’ve dressed like that too.
You couldn’t settle on a top, all of them were either too small or bore a graphic design too childish for you. You did find a pair of stretchier shorts that fit alright though, so you decided you’d just pick up one of Joel’s shirts from the pile of clean laundry you saw sitting atop the washing machine downstairs.
When you made it out the front door, the hose was away and his toolbox was resting on the ground by his feet. Joel was drying up his car with a cloth, and when he heard you hop down the steps and subsequently turned your way, you weren’t exactly expecting him to completely stumble at the sight of you in his shirt.
“Oh—You, uh, I thought you were gettin’ Sarah’s clothes?”
“I was, none of her tops fit so I grabbed one of yours from the laundry downstairs.” You absorbed Joel’s cryptic reaction and began to worry. “I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I really should’ve asked—”
“—No, no, it’s fine. Really. Doesn't matter.”
Joel picked up his toolbox, then the both of you began walking over to your house. It wasn’t that far away at all, probably a couple of hundred feet at most, but he opted into small talk anyway.
“Um,” Joel began, “What’d you come over for in the first place? Didn’t really get a chance to ask ‘cause of this whole… debacle.”
You giggled at his old man vocabulary. Debacle.
“I wanted to help with your car, but looks like those plans got derailed.”
He breathed a polite laugh. “Yeah, well. Guess it turned out that way.”
Before an awkward silence could fall upon the both of you, your brain settled on something to bring up.
“Hey, my dad’s having that July 4th barbecue the day after tomorrow. You’re coming right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it, honey.”
Honey? Honey. Honey honey honey honey—
He cleared his throat. “Where is your dad, anyway?”
You were both standing on your porch now, Joel’s eyes raking you over as you fumbled with the front door.
“Um, I think he’s out working.”
“Great.”
Great?
Before you could ask him what he meant, Joel realized what he had said. “Wait, no, not great. I don’t—I don’t know why I said that. Sorry. I’m sorry.”
You pushed the door open. “Hey,” You brought a hand up to his chest and patted it, “You’ll give yourself a heart attack if you keep assuming all your mistakes are colossal and worthy of that much panic.”
His shoulders seemed to relax a little at that—you weren’t sure if it was your hand or your words that did it.
Eventually, you both found yourselves in your bedroom. You were sitting on the edge of your bed as you watched Joel work. Kneeling on one knee with a screwdriver in hand, he fumbled with one of the closet door’s hinges as he muttered little things to himself under his breath.
“Thanks for this, Mr. Miller.”
He turned to you, nodding as he seemed to process that he was in your bedroom. Your bedroom.
“So,” Joel began, as he dug through his toolbox, “Is your boyfriend visiting too? Or, y’know, girlfriend. Three months is a long ti—”
You softly smiled. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend.”
He turned to look at you again as he turned a screwdriver, this time scanning you over. “Hm, I don’t believe you. Sweet thing like you? Single?”
“Oh, stop,” You blushed, shooing him off.
Joel stood to his feet, dusting his hands off on his thighs. “All fixed. Next time you ne—”
“—I’ve never been in a relationship before. Actually.”
Joel stared at you for a moment before diverting his gaze to the ground. “I, um…”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. You don’t wanna know about my completely nonexistent dating history,” You lightly smacked your forehead, “Wait, it’s existent if we count the boy I dated for a week in fourth grade.”
Joel laughed, sitting down next to you on your bed. “It’s okay. I haven’t really dated anybody since Sarah’s mom, either. Long-term, anyways.”
“Yeah, well at least you’re not a virgin.”
Joel seemed to tense at that, and you immediately regretted saying it.
“Oh gosh,” You cringed, hands gripping your head, “I really just say anything, don’t I?”
Joel chuckled, head hung between his shoulders with his eyes squinted shut. You eventually laughed, too, simply because—and you realized it sounded stupid—Joel’s laughter was contagious.
“Alright, alright,” Joel beckoned, “Lemme be serious for a second. C’mere.”
You slumped down next to him, staring up at the ceiling before turning to make eye contact.
“That’s not something you have to worry about. You got time, honey, you’re in college. All that crap about late blooming isn’t real. It’s about whenever you’re ready, and whenever you find the right person to do it with.”
You smiled up at him softly. “Thanks, Mr. Miller.”
“Joel. Just Joel.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. So you stayed like that, searching his eyes for something you didn’t have the courage to say out loud.
“Joel,” You echoed, repeating his name back to him, bottom lip caught between your teeth.
“I, uh…” Joel trailed off, his gaze flitting down to your lips. “I…” He tried again, but it went nowhere.
You exhaled, and almost immediately, his hands cupped your face as he leaned forward and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to your lips.
It was warm, and gentle, and amazing, and you didn’t know if you could ever let him stop kissing you with how delightful the scruff of his beard felt against your skin.
He did break the kiss after a few seconds, though, and it left you breathless. “Joel…”
His muscles seemed to visibly tense as he mistook your speechless state for confusion. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why—”
“—No. No, I liked it,” You smiled softly at him, “I, um, you know. Wouldn’t mind if you kissed me… again.”
With reassurance that you weren’t absolutely appalled, his limbs relaxed. He leaned forward again until he was kissing you. Slow at first, languid. But then it turned fervent and desperate, breaths being exchanged into one another's mouths as lips slotted together like fingers intertwined—so perfect, as if they were biologically designed to do so.
It wasn’t long until he had your back flat against your bed, and you felt his growing hardness dig into your hip.
“Y’know what that is, don’t you?”
You nodded hesitantly.
“You know why it’s there?”
You shrugged.
He gripped the fabric of your—no, his—shirt as his voice rumbled, “You prancin’ around in my shirt did that.”
Without a second thought, you clumsily palmed him there through the thick fabric of his jeans and reveled in the consequential shuddering moan he let out
“Joel, I don’t… I don’t think I know what I’m doing.”
“That’s okay, honey, I’ll teach you.”
Propping himself up with his elbow, he placed his hand atop your own and guided the movements of your open palm. Things like pressing your hand further into him so as to increase the pressure between his legs, and encouraging back-and-forth motions that had his hips rutting and his breath hitching.
Once you got the hang of it, he removed his hand from your own. You felt his hand snake down your neck, then the side of your torso.
“I trust you,” You whispered, fingers playing with the happy trail peaking Joel’s pants, hoping to absolve him of any guilt or doubt.
But the second Joel’s fingertips grazed the waistband of your shorts, he froze. He was staring off somewhere to the right, so you followed his gaze until you found what he was so disturbed by.
A framed photo on your nightstand, one of you standing next to your dad on vacation in Maui.
You understood immediately; that picture was an astute reminder of exactly who’s daughter Joel was about to debauch.
Your hand fell away from his crotch as he leaned back on his haunches and ran his hands through his hair with worried eyes.
“Joel?” You whispered, but then he was completely backing off of you as he muttered curses under his breath. “Hey, no, come back. What’s wrong?”
It was a dumb question. You knew what was wrong. Even though you were well beyond legal, it seemed to mean little in the situation—the facts were, if he touched you, it was betrayal.
“This is…” Joel panted, standing to his feet and raking his hands through his hair, “I shouldn’t have… Fuck. Fuck. I have to go.”
And just like that, he was gone.
-
That night, your lights stayed on and you didn’t close your curtains.
You stripped yourself of Joel’s shirt first, going excruciatingly slow in case Joel happened to be watching through his neighboring window. You occasionally shot glances at his window on the off chance that the window illuminated, but you quickly realized if the two of you made eye contact that wouldn’t be good either. You’d gotten all the way down to your underwear before you spotted his light flick on from the corner of your eye.
So you did the first thing that came to mind; You turned your back to your window. Panties halfway down your legs, torso bent with your knees straightened as you slowly shed your clothing. Hoping. Hoping for him to avert his attention ever so slightly and accidentally catch you like this. Hoping he would think of it every time he talked to you.
Without ever making eye contact, you would never know if Joel actually saw anything, and he would never know you hadn’t actually “forgotten” to close your curtains.
No pressure on either of you.
You went to sleep with a hand shoved down the front of your panties as you thought of all the things you wanted Joel to do to you.
-
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Jesus. What time was it? You stretched until sleep left you and opened your eyes as wide as you could (not very wide at all). From what you could gather, the sun was definitely up. You, however, did not have the willpower required to read off of your phone screen 5 seconds after waking up, so you answered the phone without reading the contact.
“Hello?” You groaned, voice gruff from sleep.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
You knew that voice anywhere. Almost immediately, you shot upright and cleared your throat as you rubbed your eyes. “Oh, hey Mr. Mill—uh, I mean, Joel,” You breathed a nervous laugh before remembering his question, “No. No, it’s okay I was like, basically awake already, um, so… what’s up? Why’d you—Why’d you call?”
“Right, so just to preface, I understand things are not... ideal... between us right now. But to be honest, you’re the only person available who I trust with this, and… let me just explain. I got called into work unexpectedly and Sarah’s gonna be home alone. Lately, she’s been getting into these rebellious fits, and I just don’t want to risk another situation where she sneaks out at night to meet up with her boyfriend again.”
“Sarah and rebellious fits? Really?”
“Yes, believe it or not. So do you think you could just hang around my place for, to be honest, a long while? It’s looking like I’m gonna be home really late tonight. Oh, and I can pay you.”
“Oh, shut up, you’re not paying me.”
Joel exhaled appreciatively through the phone. “Okay, well I’m home right now if you wanna come by and eat some breakfast. Least I could do. I gotta leave in like thirty minutes by the way, so. Take your time but also don’t take your time?”
You smiled, hoping he could hear it in your voice. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon.”
“Thanks, honey.”
Oh god. There it was again. You thought you might actually pass out, but you quickly turned off your racing brain enough to mutter a small “mhm” before abruptly hanging up.
Okay. Joel Miller. Your dad’s best friend, who was this close to absolving you of every ounce of innocence in your body… just asked you to watch his daughter. What could go wrong?
When you got to his house, he had left already (you definitely took too long in the shower). He did leave out a plate of food, though, along with the message, “Thanks again. Enjoy the pancakes,” scratched out on a post-it note.
And boy did it turn out to be a long day. Sarah wasn’t that much of a handful, she mostly took care of herself. The hard part was lunch.
You attempted to cook something for the two of you, but it only ended in disaster when you left the quiches in the oven for too long. Then you decided Penne a la Vodka couldn’t be that hard, and you couldn't be more wrong. A whole box of pasta was ruined because Sarah didn’t realize the pasta went in after the water boiled, not before. Eventually, you both just accepted defeat and ordered Panera Bread.
Later, Sarah popped into the living room to let you know she was going up to her room to take a nap, and you figured you’d do the same on the couch.
The last thing you read was the time on the cable box; 7:37.
-
Metal clanking. The turn of a key. The creaking of a door. The blaring siren of an alarm system.
“Jesus—Fuck. I thought I told her to turn off the alarm at 8.”
And Joel’s voice.
You jolted awake, blinking wide as you moved to sit upright on the couch. The time on the cable box was 11:50.
Soon, the alarm stopped, and not long after, Joel’s figure came into view. He was wearing a denim button-up with work pants and work boots.
“Hey,” Joel called, setting his things down next to the kitchen island.
“Hi,” You replied, “How was work?”
Joel gave you a polite smile before pulling open the refrigerator door to retrieve a beer. With his head still poked inside the fridge, he replied, “The usual.”
“Well, what was the usual li—”
“—Were you asleep?”
“Uh…" You cleared your throat in an effort to stall as you debated whether or not you would lie. "Yeah, I was. Sorry.”
Joel took a swig of his beer, staring at you from across the room for a minute before blurting out, “The usual is busy. Extremely busy and tedious. But, um, how was Sarah? Hope you weren’t asleep too long.”
“Nope,” You lied, “I Wasn’t asleep long at all. Sarah was great. We had a bit of trouble with lunch, but everything ended up fine.”
“Good. Good. Well you can head out now, thanks for taking care of her.”
No. You did not want to "head out." You rose to your feet. “Joel?”
He looked around as he swallowed his beer. “Uh, yeah?”
“I actually wanted to talk to you. About yesterday.”
He peered down at the ground, swishing around the bottle in his hand. “That’s—That’s okay, honey. I think it’s best we forget that happened.”
“What? But why?”
Joel crossed the room and sat down next to you, leaning back against the couch while you sat back down on the edge with your elbows resting on your knees.
“Come on,” He started, “Don’t act like you don’t know exactly why we’re… this… is impossible.”
“Joel, I—”
“—I’m sorry. You should get home now.”
You turned around to face him. “Joel. No one has to know.”
“As I said, I’m sorry. I handled yesterday… terribly. There were a million different ways to go about that, and I somehow chose the worst one. But we don't work. We can't work.”
You felt your eyes begin to water, but you tried to push the feeling down.
“Hey, hey,” He lulled, the hardness of his attitude falling away as he noticed the sad shine in your eyes, “Don’t cry.” He pulled you against him, rubbing your shoulder firmly.
“Joel,” You mumbled in a small voice, sniffling against his denim shirt with a frown.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to justify what he was quickly realizing was inevitable. You were an adult, somebody else independent of your father. It was your choice who to get involved with, just like it was his. This was mutual.
He knew he would regret it later, but your innocence and desperation allured him to the point of no return.
“It’s late,” Joel began, voice gentle as he offered you one last out, “You should go home. You need sleep, you’re not thinking straight. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“No,” You replied, removing yourself from his body so you could look him in the eye. “I don’t want to leave. I want you to… I want you to do what you said you’d do.”
Knowing exactly what you were talking about, he redundantly asked in a whisper, “And what’s that?”
You wiped a stray tear as you clumsily moved to straddle his lap. Almost automatically, his hands found their way to your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into the slivers of skin peeking between your cami tank top and the waistband of your shorts. But it seemed at some point his consciousness realized what he was doing because his hands suddenly dropped to his sides. And, well, you just wouldn’t have that, so you grabbed hold of his wrists and returned them to where they were settled on your hips before you rested your own hands on Joel’s chest.
“You remember, don’t you?” You shifted in his lap, “You said you’d teach me.”
“How to have sex.” He said it more like a confirmation rather than a question.
You blushed at his blatant use of the word. It was like every fifth thing coming out of his mouth was sending your brain spiraling. You cleared your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, sex. Blowjobs, orgasms, literal sex. All of it.”
Silence for a beat. “I have one condition,” Joel warned.
“Yeah, what is it?”
“The second I suspect your dad is onto us, that’s it. It’s over. No more messing around, none of it. I can’t lose my best friend.”
You nodded. You probably shouldn’t have agreed so easily, but you didn’t actually think you and Joel would ever get caught.
“Okay, then,” Joel whispered. “Good. What do you wanna do first? Start off easy.”
You looked around the room nervously, careful not to make eye contact as you spoke. “Like. I dunno. Maybe for right now, I could just… touch you. Touch it, I mean.”
Joel nodded, and when your breathing began to grow the slightest bit uneven from nervousness, he noticed and rubbed your upper arm reassuringly. “Hey. Relax. Climb down and sit right there on the ground between my legs, and I’ll show you where to start.”
And so you did. Joel peered down at you with heavy lids as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and thus began your first lesson.
“Unbuckle my pants.”
With shaky hands, you removed his belt and undid his fly. You couldn’t explain why, but as soon as you caught sight of the bulge in his boxers, your mouth watered.
“What…” You began, “What now?”
“Whatever feels comfortable.”
With a light, feathery touch, you delicately traced a singular finger along the outline of his cock. Joel shivered at the contact, hands shooting to grip the sofa. Touching it felt different this time, more intense because you could feel every ridge and vein; you blamed it on the much thinner fabric dividing your fingers and his cock.
Your breath shuddered before speaking, “Can I take it ou—”
“—Yes, God, yes.”
You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling downwards until his cock sprang free. It was thick, long, and wet at the tip, and you found yourself instinctively leaning further into it.
“Okay,” Joel sighed shakily, “Now just form a circle with your fingers and stroke it.”
You did as Joel said, and when your fingers finally made contact with his cock, you sighed at how velvety the skin was there. Soft and smooth, except for the trimmed hair surrounding the base. You stroked him steadily, biting your lip as you watched the wetness leaking from his tip spread down his shaft.
“Twist at the tip, honey, twist at the—Yeah, just like that. So good, you’re doing so good.” You couldn’t help but smile when Joel tilted his head back from the pleasure of it all.
With Joel still reeling from the contact of your hand, you took his momentary refusal to look down at you as an opportunity to surprise him a little.
You leaned forward and kitten-licked his tip, and it had him finally making eye contact with you as he whispered, “Oh, do that again.”
And so you did, adoring the look of pleasure strewn across Joel’s face.
Joel offered you a quick, crooked grin. “How’s it feel?” He asked, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip as your tongue played with his tip.
You pulled away for a moment to respond, “How’s what feel?”
“Licking a man’s cock.”
You let the spit that had gathered in your mouth drip down onto his length. “I have the urge to do more with it.”
“Like what?”
“Like put it all the way in my mouth.”
And so kitten licks turned into long stripes up his shift, which turned into eager suckling on his tip, which turned into forcing his cock down as far as it could go without making you gag.
Joel’s hand gripped the back of your head, but he never pushed you down. Whenever you did accidentally end up gagging, he petted your hair, mumbling encouragements as best he could through the blinding pleasure. Things like, “Yeah, honey, doing so good. That’s it. Just a little more. Mhm.” And his affectionate nature, his gentleness, his reassuring words—he was exactly how you hoped he would be like. Not to mention, the general hotness of it all had your hips canting down against nothing, in desperate search of relief.
“M’close, sweetheart. Take it—Take it out.”
“I don’t wanna,” You replied in a hoarse voice as you jacked him off.
“You’re not ready for that, honey, just take it out. Take it out.”
You reluctantly complied, removing him from the tight heat of your mouth, drool dripping down your chin as you stroked him rapidly.
“Joel, I… I think I’m wet.”
He moaned a curse at that, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths as his orgasm approached him. “Jesus f-fuckin’… Tell me more.”
“I need you to touch it for me next time. Please. Maybe you could… Maybe you could put your mouth on it like how I put my mouth on you.”
“Yes, yes, oh fuck, I’m cumming, don’t stop stroking it,” Joel moaned, hot white spurts shooting up and all over your hand as you stroked him through it.
With his breathing still labored, he panted out in a high voice, “You’re lying. You’re f-fucking lying. Tell me the truth.”
“About what?”
“This isn’t—You’ve done this before. No way you made me cum this hard and it’s your first time.”
“Well,” You breathed a nervous laugh, “That’s flattering. But you’re my first. Trust me.”
When his orgasm fully subsided, Joel lay slumped against the sofa with his legs spread wide. You remained between them with your head resting on his thigh as you just stared at his cock. Took it all in, every curve, every vein, and inevitably, the cum that spurted itself over the surrounding area.
“What are you doing?” Joel chuckled, petting your hair as you smiled.
“I’m… I don’t know really. I just can’t stop looking at it.”
But then curiosity got the best of you, and you began to drag your fingers through the mess at his base. It caught Joel off-guard, his entire body stiffening as he watched you.
“What does it taste like?” You asked quietly as you examined the cum on your fingers.
“Oh my god,” Joel groaned through his labored breathing, “I swear, if you do what I think you’re about to do, I’ll be hard again in five seconds.”
“I’ll take my chances,” You joked, bringing your finger to your mouth and licking it clean, ultimately wincing at the taste. “It’s like, bitter. And salty. And kinda sweet. But mostly bitter and salty. To be honest, it’s kinda nasty but I can see myself getting used to it.”
“Wow,” Joel sighed, “You just really know how to set the mood. Make things real romantic.”
“Oh, shut it,” You huffed, playfully swatting his thigh before getting up and plopping down next to him on the sofa as he got to work stuffing himself back into his pants despite the mess he made—that was a problem for future Joel.
“Gonna miss you, little Joel,” You joked to his crotch.
“Oh my god, you’re the worst,” Joel chuckled painfully with his fists in his eyes. “I’m never letting you near ‘little Joel’ again.”
“Mm, no, because I just made you cum so hard you thought I was lying about being a virgin.”
He sighed at that. “You got me there.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
You both laughed at that; In fact, you both were laughing a lot. And at everything. In your head, you blamed it on the ecstatic high of being in each other’s presence this way.
When the mutual laughter died down, Joel looked at you for a moment, admiring you. Then, slow and hesitant as ever, he leaned in to kiss you.
“Do you taste it?” You whispered, breaking the kiss as you fought another giggle.
“Yes, actually. Wait, don’t say it please, this is actually a nice moment—”
“—Your cum!” You loud-whispered.
Another sigh. “My cum.”
You eagerly kissed him back after that, swearing off mood-breaking jokes for the rest of the night. Eventually, you even became too tired to kiss, simply letting your forehead rest against his. Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand snaked up your leg and inched under the leg of your shorts, using force to push your legs open wider.
“Need me to take care of this?” He asked into your mouth before letting his kisses travel down to your neck.
“Joel,” You breathed, breaths beginning to come out in rapid succession as your hips gyrated in response to how dangerously close Joel’s hand was to your pussy. “I… I’m tired.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do a thing,” Joel breathed, removing his hand from beneath your shorts in order to pull down the waistband. “It’s a yes or no question. Just give me a yes or a no.”
Your breath hitched as you opened your eyes and stared at the little bit of empty space left between you and Joel. The throbbing between your legs was bad, but it was something about the delayed gratification of saving things for later that stopped you from saying yes. “No, I… I think that’s it for tonight.”
Joel withdrew his hand, reassuringly cracking a brief smile. “Hey, uh, spend the night. It’s way too late, I’ll sleep on the couch.”
You shrugged. “Yeah, but what about Sarah?”
“I came home super late, you fell asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”
You thought about it for a second before agreeing. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thank you. But I’m taking the couch.”
“What? No—”
“—Joel. I’m taking the couch.”
He looked at you skeptically but then agreed. “If you change your mind just let me know.”
“I will. Goodnight.”
Joel squeezed your leg before getting up and making his way to the stairs. “Goodnight.”
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Worst nightmare
She had him wrapped around her little finger.
Coriolanus knew she did. He's no longer the same teenage boy trying to wrap his head around what this achy feeling in his chest is. He no longer convinces himself it's hunger, or that he's just confused. He knows the feeling is longing, desire, lust, or maybe even love.
After everything that happened in District 12 with Sejanus, with Lucy and the people he left behind he had hoped he'd never have to go through this again. A foolish hope, he realizes now. He's a human being and it's almost unavoidable there are people out there who would know just the right thing to say or just the right thing to do for him to lose his ambition focused mind in the fog that is love, or obsession in his case. He's not sure there's really a difference between the two.
But he thought he knew better than to let someone in again. He hadn't liked how Lucy made him feel vulnerable, and how it had hurt when he realized she'd left him in the woods.
Yet here he was, pressing this infuriating woman against the wall with her legs wrapped around his hips, their lips barely parting to breathe before pulling the other back in.
She was perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
She was also his close friend's wife.
He always thought of himself as a gentleman. Sure, he did questionable things and studied under the most questionable woman of Panem during his time at university, but at least he was polite about it. Or at least, he acted in the way one would expect a gentleman to act.
Kissing your old classmate and close friend's wife is not very gentleman-like. He knows this but when she tangles her hand in his hair the way she does, he can't find it in himself to care.
“Festus will come find me” she murmured into the kiss. He ignored her and started to kiss his way down her neck. He's not going to acknowledge another man's name coming from her mouth when his mouth is the one making her keen so sweetly.
She repeated her words and when ignored her once again she gently nudged him back a bit so she could look into his eyes “Coriolanus, you know he can’t catch us. Everything will be ruined”
He thought he might start laughing. He honestly pities the tree somewhere out there whose single purpose is to replace the oxygen her husband wastes. “Festus Creed does not have the capability of ruining anything for me”
She hummed and brushed his hair off his face. “Your mood before we came here seemed pretty ruined to me”
His grip on her waist tightened at the memory of Festus drunkenly clinging to her, embarrassing her, during the entirety of the evening before Coriolanus had cleverly thought of an excuse to whisk her away.
“Very daring, to take me away from my husband in front of all those people” she whispers, her hands coming up to rest gently on his shoulders. “Not at all like you to take that kind of risks”
He didn't bother responding to that and simply rested his head in the crook of her neck, pulling her body as close as possible to his. She rolled her head to the side, giving him better access as her eyelids fell shut. His nose grazes up and down the length of her neck, breathing her in.
It had been a long day. His path to becoming Panem's president was set and he was prepared to wait for the perfect moment now that he has the right people on his side. He was not an impatient man, but so close to his goal it was hard not to long for time to speed up just a little bit.
That's why he'd already been annoyed when he arrived at this fundraiser which must be the 10th this month, and then he had to watch Festus wrap his arms around her. It was just too much.
When they are together, it's like all the noise is cancelled out and he can finally feel at peace. His mind finally rests and he enjoys when they focus solely on each other and nothing else.
“Marry me” she murmurs in a voice like honey.
He's taken aback, pulling away from her to look at her wide-eyed. He hardly noticed anything around him; he felt disorientated, dizzy. His mind worked feverishly. Did she really just ask that? Did he imagine things?
It takes a moment for him to gather himself enough to answer her. “What?”
She tilts her head to the side with a grin, linking their hands. “Marry me. You want to become president and you have all it takes to become one except for a wife. People will expect you to have one by the time the campaigning truly starts, and you know no one works a crowd better than me. I have them hanging onto my every word within seconds,” she pulled him down slightly so she could comfortably wrap her arms around his neck “With my family name, and influence, and your talent as a natural leader, combine the two of us and Panem would be yours by the end of the year”
He stared at the wall on the other side of the room.
Laying her fingers on his left cheek, she turned his face to look at her. “Just imagine how powerful we could be together as a couple”
He was imagining it. But...
“They'd never allow you to divorce Festus” he said with certainty. This he knew for sure. The family name and influence she spoke of would not be as impactful if everyone knew she divorced someone from the Creed family. They'd call her crazy, and steer clear of her.
“We could not marry unless Festus were dead”
Her eyes darted between his, her hand cupping his face. She truly was ethereal.
“I know”
Her response is entirely too calm and he frowned at her.
During events he would often watch her socialize and play the crowd just like she said, until they were hanging onto every word that fell past her pretty lips. She always seemed so genuine when she talked to people, but he had caught the glint of ambition in her eyes, just like him.
She was an impeccable liar without a tell. She could lie to whoever she wanted to. Despite that she tended to be a very honest woman. He knew he would be able to count on her if she was on his side. Her, with her always impeccable appearance and her fashionably styled hair wearing nothing but lavish clothing standing out blindingly, concealing her still very much venomous nature. Perfect. Absolutely perfect she was.
Festus was undeserving of a woman like her. He'd always thought it but now he was sure of it.
He could already picture it. Him, waving down at the crowd with her by his side, the envy of Panem. There would always be people against him and his tendency of making unethical choices. But how could they doubt his leadership if a woman as good as her was married to him? They'd believe she'd keep him on the right path.
She was working her way to the top, and she was succeeding. So it would only make sense for her to ask him. Festus had his sights set on presidency too, but if she believed Coriolanus had a better chance... Coriolanus tried not to let it get to his head.
Was she insinuating he kill Festus for her? So they could marry and she could become Panem's First Lady? Did she know he'd killed before? If she did, she obviously wasn't bothered by it or scared of him because of it.
But then there was Festus. Coriolanus didn't particularly like the guy, in fact, seeing Festus trip was the highlight of his day not even a week ago, but could he kill the Creed heir? He had killed before but in this situation it's less trivial. It's not about survival, nor about making it to the top. He was sure he could make it without her...but still... did he want to, without her? Is she not worth it? Is having her by his side worth killing Festus Creed for?
She's not worth it, he thought and tasted the lie as soon as it crossed his mind.
He met her eyes and thought of her smile – the smile he can't ever seem to get out of his head – and-
He was going to kill Festus Creed.
Memories of Sejanus flashed across his mind. Sejanus had been in the way of him ever returning to the Capitol. So he took choices that haunted him, but he didn't regret. Just like he wouldn't regretting ridding her of her infuriatingly incapable husband.
Truthfully, Coriolanus was surprised Festus was able to stand with a spine that weak. Always following what others told him to do, never thinking for himself, so easy to manipulate. Yet he saw himself suitable for presidency?
His hands have settled on her waist seemingly out of pure instinct. His throat felt dry, and he swallowed several times before he tried to speak.
“Yes” he nodded, decision made “Alright”
Something bright flared in her eyes as she looked at him. After a pause, she practically launched herself at him, knocking into him so hard that he had to take a step back. He laughed quickly. One of his hands is still on her waist, but the other cups the back of her neck as his thumb strokes over her throat.
She tilted her head up and pecked his lips. Something horrible tugged at his chest, and he knew. There's no one more dangerous in the world than her. Because he's obsessed and in love as she gazed up at him through her lashes.
The blood was thundering through his brain. Happiness filled his chest; a dizzying sensation and his head swam with emotion. His arm slid around her waist, his hand coming to rest on her hip.
“Mrs Snow” he whispered like a promise, smoothing his thumb over her cheek.
"What is it?" she chuckled "Why are you looking at me like that?"
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, roughly but passionately.
"You are my worst nightmare and the woman of my dreams all at once"
#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow#tbosas#tbosbas#president snow#coryo x reader#coryo snow#the hunger games#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow x you
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summary: vil falling in love with you
type of post: short fic
characters: vil schoenheit
additional info: romantic, FLUFF, reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, takes place during/after book 6
author's note: vilyuu is such a good and underrated dynamic I'm never not obsessed with it. always thinking about him. holding them like dolls making them kiss mwah mwah
One might be bold enough to assume that actor and model Vil Schoenheit had been a victim of Eros before.
With the world under his thumb and millions of adoring fans at his beck and call, it was easy to fantasize about the image of a shining star that had left a string of broken hearts behind him. His persona of perfection gave off such a dazzling impression that any other truth is simply unimaginable. Beautiful, talented, devoted...
...Untouchable to such a degree that the very truth of the matter was that Vil Schoenheit had never been in love. He had no use, let alone time, to indulge himself in something that he found distracting at best and frustrating at worst. For most of his life, romance was nothing but another part to play, a frustrating rumor to dispel, a disaster to witness, something that nagged at him from the outside yet never made itself a home within him.
This idea of the confident heartbreaker Vil Schoenheit was nothing but a reflection of the image he put out, shone back at him by tabloids and fan accounts. It was a hollow interpretation, fueled by fantasies of a Vil that didn't exist in flesh and blood. And so, every time an invasive interviewer or pesky reporter inquired about the state of his personal affairs, he answered truthfully: Vil Schoenheit could easily go throughout life focusing solely on his career, on improving himself, and not miss out on anything at all.
There have been very, very few things that Vil has called himself an idiot over. That answer was one of them.
Because the very second he saw you again after being separated by Styx, the want to smack you for being so reckless in coming after him was only secondary to his want to hold you and cry until his water-proof mascara was running.
Love is such a strange emotion. Vil could never understand why Rook was so obsessed with it, how the vice housewarden fell in love with every beautiful person he saw. For his whole life Vil thought it to be painful, to be distracting, to be finite and often times nothing but a shallow reflection of all of one's ugliest traits.
And now, it made him feel weak and messy. He hated feeling messy.
...And yet, what he wouldn't do to have his lipstick smeared over your mouths. To have you see him with his hair undone and eyes bleary with sleep, and to see you in that state as well. It was not the time, nor the place, but he wanted to cradle you in his arms until this terrible, sickly feeling of longing you'd left him with went away.
For the first time in his life, Vil was suddenly terrified of being alone.
No, not alone- he was terrified of being without you.
To never see your smile again would be a fate worse than death, worse than growing old and haggard. How terrible to think that just one simple person could so easily undo everything about him, and yet, he wanted more of that very feeling. He would unwrap himself layer by layer for you if you asked, taking off all of the years of discipline and poise, and lay vulnerable before you so that you could be soft and simple together. Vil had always regarded romance as difficult, but falling in love with you was surprisingly easy.
He did not have to save Grim from the Underworld, despite what he claimed. Such a risky move cost him everything he loved, everything beautiful about him, everything except for you. And as much as he mourned for himself, he knew he would do it again and again if it meant saving the smile on your face.
And perhaps he was too wishful with his thinking, but he could have sworn he saw that same familiar glimmer of affection and admiration in your eyes when you met his gaze. As if you couldn't even see the pasty, wrinkled mess he'd turned into, and were peering at something behind it.
It made him feel utterly exposed and offered him no comfort, but the thought that you were looking at something not even he could see lingered in the back of his mind, even after his magical energy was rejuvenated.
He had become so familiar with everyone around him being a mirror, reflecting his carefully crafted image right back at him, showering him with two-dimensional praises, that being seen as an object of flesh and blood and tears was a strange notion. To behold his presence and see a person with wants and needs and flaws rather than a flat surface, a decorative magazine atop a coffee table, left him with a strange feeling in his chest. The thought both bothered and warmed him.
Vil Schoenheit was so hopelessly in love with you, and it didn't hurt. It wasn't difficult or ugly or forced, it took not even the least bit of effort. He sunk into the feeling like a warm bath which never grew colder, and he let that be his new reality. It felt strange to imagine that there was a time where he didn't love you, where he didn't look at you as if you were the moon itself, where you weren't such a part of his being that he couldn't imagine life without you.
And he never expressed these feelings in words. They existed inside of him, running through his veins like the very blood that kept him alive and warm, and they weren't distracting, just another part of him that he kept tucked away to occupy his thoughts on rainy days.
...But the best part of it was that he didn't need words. Because when you looked at him, when you saw the Vil the not even he could see, you could already tell they were there. The mirror, the pane of glass that had always existed between himself and others, was non-existent for you.
Vil thought that someday he might be able to see himself through that glass the way you did, but he was perfectly content with simply looking at you instead for the time being.
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Omega is not okay
I know we've all been over the moon about Crosshair and Hunter's dynamic in The Return, but I want to draw some attention to Omega in this episode, and something that I think Joel Aron is trying to draw attention to with his lighting choices.
Omega is not okay.
Joel has made pointed out many times that he loves doing reveal lighting (think the overhead light in Crosshair's cell or on the freighter at the end of A Different Approach giving him a halo, or how Hunter stops short of the overhead light on the Marauder before stepping out to greet Omega). And throughout this whole episode, the light is breaking over Crosshair and bathing him in warmth more and more. He is slowly returning the light and coming home to his family.
Omega, however, in nearly every single scene in this episode, is in shadow.
Yes, her hairstyle is contributing to the fall of light on her face, and yes, she has her hat on while they're on Barton IV. But this is showing that her psychological state since they escaped Tantiss is uneasy, at best, and very conflicted and darkened, at worst. Even when she wakes up in the comfort and safety of the Marauder, she is shrouded in shadow. And even in scenes where the light wraps around and highlights Crosshair's face, Omega's is kept harshly defined, and she is often looking away from the "camera".
Even when we see her somewhat happier at points in this episode, usually due to watching her brothers reconnect, her face is not as well lit as theirs.
Omega kept her positivity and optimism at the forefront while she and Crosshair were in prison, and throughout most of their escape. It's what we most associate with her--being a ray of sunshine and encouragement for those around her. Now, however, she has the opportunity to relax a bit, for the adults to be handling certain things, and the trauma and perspective shift that she has just gone through is coming to the forefront.
Her survivors guilt, her shock at not being the only female clone, her confusion and questions over who she is and why she is so important, the cruelty she's seen Hemlock be capable of, and her continued empathy for anyone who is suffering is all swirling around in her in ways that she doesn't know what to do with yet. Yes, she has seen much suffering in the galaxy already in her short life, and has always been adamant about her need to help others. But ultimately it had never impacted her like this. Until now.
Crosshair has been broken and remade by his experiences. Omega is being broken and remade by hers as well. And I'm not sure the boys fully realize just how much yet.
Omega refuses to be left behind. She feels responsible for the fact that the rest of the clones are still on Tantiss. She feels guilty that she could have a chance at a life still and they don't. She feels an all-encompassing need to help them if she can, even though she is still young and vulnerable. This is ultimately going to conflict with Hunter's desires to keep her safe and hidden. Echo has already chosen the fight. Wrecker is willing to go wherever he's needed. Crosshair has been through too much to not be willing to fight back however necessary.
Hunter is going to eventually realize that while Omega is still a child, and does need to be protected, at the same time, her own sense of responsibility is going to eventually supersede his desires.
Echo and Crosshair especially will be able to understand some of what she is feeling and hopefully help guide her through it. Hopefully, Omega will be able to reconcile who she is, what she is capable of, and what is outside of her ability to fix, sooner rather than later. But it's safe to say she will never be the same after this. At least she has a little bit of reprieve before facing whatever is next.
#the bad batch#tbb#star wars#the bad batch spoilers#tbb spoilers#omega#omega bad batch#tbb omega#the return#tbb season 3#the bad batch season 3#the bad batch season 3 spoilers#tbb season 3 spoilers#some light edits#somelightedits#somelightramblings#some light ramblings
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I HAVE WRITTEN SO MUCH IN MY NOTES IN THE PAST HOUR OH MY of today n then to-do dump n other stuff too 🫣
#🌙.rambles#i write my answers for asks in my notes like i'm writing my first draft for an essay 😭😭 tbf writing long stuff here on tumblr is like#writing letters to me. i love it so so much. i ended up ranting in my to-do list though cries. that said tho.... one thing i wrote here tha#i want to ramble about in tags. thinking abt college since some relatives asked earlier. since i'm aiming to head into top unis here yh#not gna have my close friends to be in school w which makes me a bit sad 🥹 but god i'd love to one day experience studying w friends#at houses or cafes or libraries. one thing i'm excited abt growing up is having more freedom in going out w people#also thinking abt how i love childhood friends to lovers so. i want my own in a way. but ion have ^ that r potential love interests tho so#friends i have in hs are what i'd next ideally like if it were possible. cries that would be my ideal type bcs i love the idea of#growing up together in these somewhat vulnerable stages i think. we're all learning so much n so young. but nah not gna happen most likely#wna reconnect w my old friends to keep contact n widen my circle. more friends. friend groups. i'm not the most social person esp irl but#i think for most of my life i've had inconsistent friendships so it's gotten lonely? closest friends r kinda drifting away as we grow older#n w everything in the present i think i'm afraid of being left behind. i wish i cld open up. be more honest and less hesitant w reaching ou#i know what i want n i'm just afraid to seek it out directly but. anxiety. i don't want to be a bother but i rlly crave#deep and authentic relationships. i'd really seek them out but maybe the inner child in me can't really let that guard down yet ?#deep down i think i'm afraid of being hurt again n left behind. forgotten. (don't leave me behind. please stay with me. tell me it's real)#there's so much i don't want to forget. so much i want to hold unto. so much i want to do. that keeps me going. i want to learn so much#listening to kingdom hearts right now is making me emotional.... now that i'm growing older i want to do so much more#was nearly crying while writing this in my notes because it hurts so much and i think i'm so so afraid#love... whether it be familial or platonic. one day romantic too. goddamn listening to don't think twice reminds me of my young dreamer sel#& love for life as a whole n myself too. i want to keep my childhood. i'll have what i can. do what i can. ffs life's too short so#i'll reach out more. even if i get anxious embarrassed shy / i need to actively challenge that. even if i'm afraid. face my fears#like goddamn i want to open up i want to be honest. i'm not embarrassed by my emotions bcs it's human. but i just can't#i'll do it all. i really will. life goes by far too fast and i don't want to lose all of this. so i need to be stronger. better#but simultaneously i just want to rest n idk be a kid again and stop thinking and worrying so much#adolescence.... holding unto my childhood while also making steps towards adulthood. n i'm so afraid but i know it'll be alright#so long as i trust myself ? i know a lot of pain. i'm certain that i'm capable. but. ffs. tears in my eyes. (i'm afraid. i'm so afraid aren#sorry for the rant i just realized again n. yk i'm human n that's something i need to be constantly reminded of#spending time with people and indulging in my passions give me life but. the former is so fleeting n i'm afraid of being left alone#the latter is so hard when time's going far too fast and it feels like i can't keep up with it all#'don't think twice' : 'if you want to make it happen/ nothing's impossible / all you gotta do is say the word/ the walls will crumble'
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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter five)
pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader
warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)
chapter: 5/6
words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)
chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.
moodboards
series masterlist
a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!
i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.
He was back to ignoring you again.
But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.
Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.
Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.
You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.
This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.
The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.
For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month.
Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.
He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.
This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.
Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.
You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.
He was going to have to need you more.
You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.
You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.
So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.
You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.
Until it wasn’t.
“Something’s wrong, what is it?”
Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.
“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It’s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”
“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.
Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”
“But you’re not dressed-”
“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
She smiled softly.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.
“Come in.”
You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.
“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.
He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.
“Lucille forget how to do her job?”
“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”
You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.
“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.
His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.
“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.
“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”
The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.
So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.
He cleared his throat.
“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”
You paused.
“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.
“What is it?”
“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”
You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.
It was quiet for a moment.
“Consider it done.”
You looked up.
“Really?”
“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.
“I- no, but…”
“It’s something that matters to you.”
You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.
“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”
“Thank you. Or, I mean…”
He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -
You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.
“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.
“Yes. Almost.”
The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.
As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.
You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-
You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.
Or so you thought.
It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.
The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.
And he knew that too.
It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.
“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.
“Sure.”
You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.
“You were upset today.” He started.
You swallowed.
“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.
“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”
You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.
“Do you even care if I’m upset?”
“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”
You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.
“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”
He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.
“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”
The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.
“Fine. Go.”
You nodded.
“Goodnight.”
You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.
That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.
“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”
A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.
Well.
Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.
Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.
“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”
Another eruption of giggles.
“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”
“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”
You gasped in mock modesty.
“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”
“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”
You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.
It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.
“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”
A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.
“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.
“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.
“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.
You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.
“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”
“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”
“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.
“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”
“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”
Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.
“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”
A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.
Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.
Show him what he’s missing.
Simple. It’s what you did best.
“Watch and learn, ladies.”
A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.
The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.
Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.
You didn’t think about any of that.
Because your lips were on his.
Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.
It was sinful.
You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.
He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.
Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.
It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.
Not in this lifetime.
The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.
You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.
How’s that for tasting your own medicine.
Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.
“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”
His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.
“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”
You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.
“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.
He stepped closer.
“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.
“Nothing.” You shrugged.
“Didn’t feel like nothing.”
“That’s called acting, Snow.” You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”
He folded his arms.
“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”
“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.
He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.
He glared at you when you laughed.
“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”
You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.
“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”
You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.
There was a rap on the door.
“President Snow?”
“Just a minute.” He said coolly.
“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.
“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”
“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”
He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.
“How many of those have you had?”
You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.
“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.
“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”
His eyes pierced yours.
“Doll-”
“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.
“Okay, that’s enough.”
“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.
“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”
You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.
“Sweetheart.” He warned.
“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”
He gave an incredulous half-laugh.
“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”
“That depends. How long is forever?”
The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.
“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”
You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.
“You missed a spot.”
You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.
He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.
“Thought you said we’d talk.”
“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”
“Seriously?”
He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.
“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.
“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”
He offered another unimpressed glance.
“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”
You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.
He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”
You took that in.
“Do you feel that way about me?”
He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.
“No. Not really.”
“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.
“Not necessarily.”
“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”
His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.
“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”
“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”
“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”
You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.
“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”
He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.
“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”
He frowned, waiting for you to continue.
“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”
“What?”
You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.
“I’m no better than a whore myself.”
You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.
After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.
“Sit down.”
You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.
“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you.
“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.
You kept your eyes averted.
“Am I wrong?”
He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.
He was mad.
“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?
“I don’t-”
“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”
You felt a tear spill down your cheek.
“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”
“Of course not."
“But you’d replace me if I left.”
“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”
A chill caressed your spine.
“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.
“What?”
His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.
“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”
His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.
Your voice was pathetically quiet.
“Then why don’t you?”
He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.
“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”
You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.
“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”
You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.
You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.
“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.
A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.
“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”
“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”
“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.
“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”
The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.
You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.
“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.
“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”
“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.”
“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”
“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.
“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”
You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.
You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.
“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.
“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”
“What kind of things?”
She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.
“He’d kill me for telling you.”
“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”
She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.
“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”
You swallowed.
“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”
“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.
After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?
Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.
You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.
Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.
It had a false bottom.
Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.
Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.
Military. The districts. The dog tag.
You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.
Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.
But why? When? And why keep it a secret?
In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.
You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.
You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.
You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.
They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.
Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.
You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.
Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?
Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.
Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.
When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.
He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.
Rage.
Your eyes met his in the mirror.
“Coriolanus, I-”
His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.
“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”
“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.
“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.
The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.
“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.
Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.
“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”
“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”
He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.
Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.
“How did you find this?” He snapped.
You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.
“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.
“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”
“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.
You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.
Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.
“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”
He scoffed.
Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?
“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.
“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”
“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.
“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”
Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.
“Good.”
Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.
He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.
Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.
“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.
“What?”
When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.
“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”
What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.
Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.
So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.
His fingers slipped under one of the straps.
“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.
“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”
More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.
And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.
You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -
“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”
Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.
“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”
He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.
You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.
“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”
He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.
But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.
“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.
Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.
“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”
You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.
Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.
You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.
One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.
“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”
You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.
This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.
“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”
“I can’t…” You trailed off.
“You can tell me.”
Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.
“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”
He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.
“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”
You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”
“What? No, that’s not…”
He cut you off, looking into your eyes.
“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”
“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”
“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”
You nodded into his chest.
“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.
“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”
You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.
“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.
“Coryo?”
He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.
“Yeah?”
“Can I stay with you tonight?”
His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.
“Of course you can.”
a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)
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Not gonna lie, love the Only Human Series and some of the fluff you do.
Thinking of including this in my own fanfics, but want to see how you would make it. Hunter is a medic and a smart one…
How soon until she exploits the 141’s monster weaknesses?
Soap pinning you down only to give out to belly rubs, Gaz getting preened and his feathers ruffling when you hit the relaxing sweet spot, etc.
Cw: teasing, using vulnerabilities, tell me if I missed any.
At a certain point, you’d gotten tired of their shenanigans, the small pranks and fright they pulled on you when they felt especially cheeky. Gaz and Soap were the biggest culprits, their streaks of mischief the highest than any. Soap would jump you when you lounged around in the Task Force’s personal red room, his round fingers finding a sensitive spot under your ribs and sinking into it with a conviction as strong as he had in battle. Gaz was the cheekiest of them all, throwing you a flirtatious grin before he swept you off your feet, pulling you left and right to appease his little need for attention, his talons finding comfort under your arms and teeth under your jaw.
Whereas Horangi and Rudy were more… mellow, their mischief calmer and rarer than the two first. Horangi, being a stalking feline, stealthily made his way around you, feet carrying him from shadow to shadow with utmost silence without alerting you of his presence and jumping at you when the moment was perfect. Rudy was the least problematic, his gentle soul a being of tenderness, yet still full of eager teasing, whispering sweet words in your ears while you worked, drawing your mind elsewhere until you shooed him off, still squirming in your seat.
You swore the others knew —you knew they did. Ghost’s shoulders would shake in silent chuckles, his eyes warmly staring at you and Soap fighting on the couch after you fell down. Price smoked his cigar while he watched you, his shoulders slumped down and posture relaxed, unbothered by your screeching and Gaz’s cackling. Alejandro, for all his sugary smiles, did little to hide his wide grin, enjoying watching your thighs clench and bite your lip when Rudy pressed himself against you, breathing flirtatious words in your ear. And König, the giant percht was consciously acting as a wall between you and Horangi, helping him get an upper hand into scaring you, his low rumble and big hands caging you between them after a scare, wandering over you until you scolded them.
You would get back at them —you did. Soap was your first victim, the first out of eight that you would make him regret ever tiring you. You knew his tail was sensitive, the soft furs and the nerves connected to his spine made it especially prone to overstimulation, which made it your perfect weapon against him. When you found him relaxing on the couch, his body draped over it, tail swaying softly, you stalked towards him and pulled on it. He jumped, a loud moan slipping from his lips, his back shuddering as your brushed your hand from the base to the tip of his tail, his fur bristling up.
Horangi had the same vulnerability, his tail standing out like a red signal, dangerous and weak. This time, you used Königagainst him, walking as quietly as you could behind the percht, following them and only sliding aside when you found his tail curling upwards. You’d never heard him screech as loudly as he did, his ears raised so high as he whipped around, cheeks flustered and eyes wide as he stared at you, his pupils dilated. Your stroked his twitching tail, smirking at his dark blush as he stumbled on his words, forcing him to curled towards you with shaky hands clutching your arm and waist. You turned a big, bad tiger into a small house cat.
Gaz was more tricky, you knew his wings were sensitive, the pin feathers prone to feeling the change of air current or touch but the muscle of his back, between both wings, was the most sensitive, it was robust, but a weak point for most flying hybrids. You teased him when he came for a check up, realising his wings had a few new feathers, short and young, still so new as they grew out of its root. You unconsciously brushed your fingers over them, gazing at his bare back ripple and tense, his sculpted back jerking and muscles moving at the slightest touch, then you found an excuse - you couldn’t even remember - to knead his pectoralis muscles and watch him stiffle his moans and squirm beneath your touch.
Rudy was the hardest to pick at, he didn’t have any animal characteristics or sensitive spots a monster would have, he - essentially - was a human with special powers. Then, you figured that you might as well give him a taste of his own medicine, turning the tables against him and tease him red. You had no qualms in hissing out promises and filthy secrets into his ear, your hands running over his shoulders and sliding down his arms, holding him still by the hips. You couldn’t hold down the smile that kissed his lobe, feeling the skin warm with a fiery blush, listening to him stammer and choke down any whimpers that threatened to slip. It was your turn to leave him squirming and blushing, biting his lip to stop himself from following the sway of your hips, eyes bleeding out his need for your touch and affection.
Revenge tasted the sweetest when served cold.
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Hello! I love the way you write! Would I be able to request the reactions of some of the twst boys to MC telling them they snore (whether it's true or not)? I think Malleus, Riddle, and Azul would have fun reactions, but anyone you feel like writing would be great! Thank you!
Thank you for the compliment heuheu... much appreciated <3
When they snore
Featuring: Malleus, Riddle, Azul, Rook, Vil
General warnings: Gender neutral reader
Malleus
The moment you told him he snores, he was concerned. Was he troubling you with his sleeping habits? Were you unhappy sleeping with the fae because of this, to the point where it was noticeable? The moment the words left your mouth, he began to word vomit.
"Is that an issue? Is my snoring preventing you from getting a night of good rest? I...Suppose I could sleep elsewhere if it will grant you a full night of sleep.." Que him going down a rabbit hole of solutions, you couldn't get a single word in. Eventually, it came time for classes to begin, to which you hadn't the chance to explain your statement to the panicked fae.
When night fell and it was time for bed, his tail swayed sadly as he stood in the doorway. "I suppose I shall sleep out here, my love," He said, as lightning of vibrant green flashed outside your window.
As he turned his back and began to sulk away, you quickly ran up behind him with a bear hug.
"Malleus, would you stop and listen to me for a second?" You laughed, "When I said you snore, I was going to tell you it was cute. Like an animal snoring lightly. You seem so at peace curled up in bed with your light snoring..."
The lightning went away as fast at it had came, and you felt his tail wrap around your waist as he turned to face you, arms pulling you close.
"Ah...ahem. I apologize for my unbecoming behavior before, then. I...was rather saddened at the thought I caused my beloved to lose well-needed sleep."
He's never been called cute before, but he's also never slept in the same bed with another person. So I suppose there's a first for everything <3
Riddle
Snores like a cat. The first time you had slept in the same room, the first thing you noticed was his high-pitched yet soft snores that were short and far between.
The morning you woke up, the first thing you said was; "Did you know you snore?" Riddle blinks at you a couple times before hitting you with his annoyed face (you know the one.)
"Snoring is perfectly normal," He told you, "It's caused by the rattling and vibration of tissues-"
You got a lecture on the scientific reasoning behind snoring. When he finished defending the nature of his sleeping habits, you finally hit him with the "You snore like a little cat! It's cute!"
His face turns as red as his hair, as always when he becomes flustered.
"W-w-wha- a cat?! How dare you compare me to a cat! I..I am not a cat..."
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.." You seemed pretty guilty about upsetting him, he muttered "I suppose I'll let it go..." and moved on.
All in all, as long as you aren't losing sleep because of him, he will forgive you for your previous teasing statements. However, from that day forward, you have noticed his ears take a rosy hue with shy glances your way before he heads to bed...
Azul
"Did you know you snore? Pretty loud, too. Is that like...a merman thing?"
His face turns red IMMEDIATELY. He was so embarrassed. The first time he allows someone to be near him in such a vulnerable state, and he blows it by being a snorer. A loud one, at that.
"Snoring is not common for merfolk! Being under the sea, most don't struggle with such a thing...but I would say being above water, the air that goes through my soft palate-"
Great. Another scientific review on snoring. Only Azul, on the other hand, cannot seem to keep eye contact with you.
"Please don't tell anyone. You must sign on it!"
You spent an hour comforting poor Azul, telling him it's nothing to be ashamed of, and giving him lots of hugs and cuddles. But he still continues to insist you sign a NDA to the information you had uncovered.
He was incredibly shy about having you sleep with him again, yet you managed to convince him. Azul is much more insecure than you may think about his image, however, you always seem to break his walls down.
Although, you did notice he began to wear nose strips at night, with books on sleeping habits and potions to help with snoring...old habits truly die hard.
Give him extra cuddles for the existential crisis you had instilled in your poor octo boyfriend <3
Rook
Oh boy. You had no choice but to tell him. He snores like your average forty-year-old dad. You genuinely lose sleep over it, even waking him up
"Rook, Rook. Honey. Please. I can't sleep. Your snoring is just too much, I'm sorry."
He actually finds it kind of amusing? For some reason? He asks you excitedly to tell him more about the things he does when he's sleeping.
He didn't really take you too seriously until he noticed the physical wear and tear. The bags under your eyes...
"Mon Cheri! Your eyes...have you not been sleeping well?"
"Rook. Your snoring. It's horrendous. Please."
He spends an hour doing EVERYTHING under the sun to help his snoring, for your sake! Moving around how his bed is set up, mouth exercises, the way he sleeps...He refuses to use strips, he doesn't like how they feel, and says it prevents his senses from being at their 100%.
He finds a way to help alleviate it, and you end up investing in some sleep time headphones. You make it work, because dealing with his sleeping habits is better than sleeping without him~
Vil
"Did you know you snore?"
He stares at you with his jaw open and his eyes wide. What...what do you mean he snores when he sleeps? Does he sleep with his mouth open? Does he look utterly ridiculous when he sleeps? All of these questions he bombards you with.
"Vil! Vil. I was kidding. I'm sorry. You sleep so quietly that I have to check if you're still alive sometimes. You're like a sleeping statue of perfection."
He was not amused. He almost had a heart attack and invested in the world's most expensive treatments.
Tackles you to the bed and ruffles up your hair, laughter ensuing at your silly little prank.
"Well, it's YOU who snores, potato. You're lucky I let you sleep here and not outside like a dog," He chuckles. He says this, yet you knew he loved you too much to go a single night without you by his side.
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#twisted wonderland#Twisted wonderland X reader#twst#twst x reader#twst headcannons#Twisted wonderland headcannons#Malleus#Malleus draconia#Malleus draconia X reader#Rook hunt#Rook hunt x reader#azul ashengrotto#Azul ashengrotto x reader#Riddle rosehearts#Riddle rosehearts x reader#Vil schoenheit#Vil schoenheit X reader
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Mahito
TW: slight NSFW, degradation, dehumanization, Stockholm Syndrome, Mahito in and of himself, platonic to romantic yandere
fem reader
Mahito makes it a point to treat you like an animal – his human pet.
Ever since he first took you. The cage, the collar, the petting, and the treats.
Most of the time, when he talks to you, he acts as though you’re incapable of understanding complex conversation, using only a few words and simple commands – a smile stretching his face, stroking your head when you do good. Other times, he acts as though he’s forgotten you can even speak at all. The worst part is – you don’t really know whether he’s faking or not.
He takes you for walks and plays with you – letting you off the leash for a game of hide´n´seek in the forest where he chases you down barefoot – he doesn’t really care about the rules or that he’s breaking the basic premise of the game. He just laughs, liking the way you pant and wince against the mossy floor after he’s hunted and tackled you down for the umpteenth time, sweaty while you beg him to take you home with teary eyes and puffy cheeks. Home – being where he keeps you.
You used to refuse, you used to run away and fight him when he caught you – with scratching and clawing and biting and barking, but you soon learned to behave. He told you he had no use for rabid pets and threatened you with transfiguration, warning you not to bore him, and ultimately – after having seen him twist enough people into mockeries – you stopped doing much more than obey.
You’re constantly blue with bruises and stinging from scratches – but you wash in the hot springs when Mahito brings you along – soaking your aching muscles in the warmth while he cheats in playing Marco Polo, sneaking a peak and tagging you with a laugh – awfully resembling that of a child. You swear you often have to shake the feeling of mothering him out of your head before doing something regrettable.
Other times, he’ll take you to the beach. You asked him once how it was possible, but he’d just booped your nose with a smile and told you it was something you wouldn’t be able to wrap your little head around – and, looking towards the horizon of the never-ending sea, inside what you could have sworn was a concrete building, you couldn’t help but agree with him.
Sometimes you see his friends and hide behind him. He thinks it funny and excuses you, laughing out that you’re shy. And you suppose he’s right.
You used to be shy around him, too. You don’t know when you accepted it – being his pet.
Lately, he’s been inviting you to sleep with him in his hammock instead of your cage. And everything except your left brain betrays you as you lie snug against his side, with his arm softly holding you around your midriff. He’s so warm, and your whole body feels cottony at the pleasantness of another’s embrace after having gone so long without it. Actually, you almost cry, resting your head atop the rise and fall of his chest, closing your eyes to the steady beat of his heart thumping just beneath your ear. In the moment, you even forget he isn’t human. It just feels nice.
You don’t even mind when he dances his fingers up your arm in ticklish touches. Instead, you nuzzle into him with something so vulnerable as a moan leaving your lips.
His eyes travel from reading the pages of his book to the blissful look on your face and the way your smaller hand grips his tunic – but he doesn’t make much of it aside from raising a brow.
He’s seen scenes like this at the theatre – sappy love stories Junpei used to cry his eyes out over – awkward teenagers in dark silent bedrooms and clothes on the floor, then kisses and hugs and naked flesh and sweat and heavy breaths and moaning. He can’t deny it makes him curious despite never having felt any personal need to truly understand any of it. It's a human thing after all.
Your warmth makes him wonder, though. He’s always enjoyed the soft feel of your skin on his fingertips, whether you’re trembling or not – it has an interesting texture – warm and doughy. He could imagine it would feel good pressed against his body, too.
Without a word, he tugs your shirt up your torso, pulling on it until you raise your arms and allow him to remove it entirely. You became a little tense then, hiding your naked chest from him by folding your arms.
He takes off his tunic just as casually, and you don’t understand it, but suddenly you feel a little blushy. But you don’t say anything – almost as though you’ve forgotten you can speak just the way he pretends.
His skin’s ashen and pale – but his torso is just like a normal guy’s – toned with muscles, two nipples, and a belly button. Oh, and stitches. Like a patchwork.
He lifts his arm, and you take the cue, laying down again – now skin to skin. He’s even warmer now, you note – and something about the feel of bare skin makes your head hot. And you can't help how that heat spreads between your thighs – but you keep it to yourself.
He lifts his book and begins reading it again, turning the pages with the same hand he holds it up with. But his free hand travels from resting on your hip to your chest.
You suppress a shudder by biting your lip, and he cups your tit with absentminded curiosity – paying you not a glance while his eyes lazily skim the words in front of him, giving your breast a firm squeeze.
He keeps track of your small shufflings despite you trying to keep them to yourself – charting what touches elicit your reactions. Soon, he finds your nipple, feeling it stiffen with yearning beneath his thumb, pushing it like a button only for it to bud out again. You stifle a sound he hasn’t heard from you before.
He reads his book finished, then lets it drop flat on the floor beneath you. His statement is like a resolution. “Let’s play a new game.”
You peek up at him from the nook of his arm. “Game?” You ask, but he's already maneuvering your body despite it causing an unsteady swing in the hammock.
He ignores both it and your question. Giving you those very curt commands one would say to a trained pet. “Up on my lap.”
You follow. “Okay-”
You’re straddling him next. Bare-chested while he lifts both hands to cup each tit.
You’re fully flushed now, face steadily getting dewy from the heat as you look away – bowing your head off to the side with your teeth sunk into your lip.
He’s playing. Groping the pillows with fingers now swallowed in the fat before releasing again, twisting the perky nips with eyes feeling a little foggy at the sight. His mouth suddenly waters, thinking about how it looks as though they were made to be eaten – no, not eaten exactly, but something else, something similar...
Indulging the thought, he leans in and envelopes the sensitive things between his lips, sucking on them with his warm wet tongue circling and flicking the point.
Old instincts resurface at the pleasant feeling and you grind your hips down on his lap without thinking.
He falls victim to it, too – taking your hips in both hands while grinding whatever it is that’s gaining weight between his thighs up into that place between yours.
The feeling is more than nice, forcing his entire body to be both mellow and tense with a hunger for more all at the same time.
He presses his face entirely against your chest, nuzzling between the soft mounds there with his cheek. Hands slipping from your hips to pull you closer and grind you harder down on his lap, slithering his arms around the small of your back and hugging you hard.
And you don’t want to think about how fucked up it is when you need it so badly – rolling your hips down, riding that bump you feel nudged against your crotch – like it's the only source of comfort you've had for months. You think about its size – it feels big – you can’t help but picture it – long and pale, probably with a curve and a sharp spine – fuck, you need it – want it pounding your guts, want his pelvis slapping against your clit as his fat cock shoves against your womb – filling you up with thick and filthy warmth-
You still with a shudder when you climax, breaths heavy and shaky. In the blind chase, you’d caressed his head and held it to your chest like a lover would, hugging him close with your body pressed flat against him.
He’s also panting, hot and damp huffs dewy against your skin.
There's something sticky in his pants… and he could have sworn your souls had merged there for a moment...
He’s never felt that before.
#yandere jjk#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk mahito#mahito smut#mahito#yandere mahito#mahito x reader#mahito jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen mahito#jjk imagines#jjk headcanons#jjk headers
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Can I please have "Fuck I'll Make it Fit" with Daniel Ricciardo please?
1k ✭ Celebration
☆*🍯 ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆
“You think you can be quiet for me?” Daniel whispers in my ear from behind. Pushing my torso down further against the balcony. Forcing my ass to push out and exposed pussy on display from under my short skirt. He runs his two fingers between my folds before pushing them both inside of me. Pumping his fingers in an attempt to stretch me. “You’re already squeezing my fingers, fuck imagine my dick.” Daniel groans into my ear. Scissoring and then curling his fingers. Moans escaping my lips as he adds another. Daniel shoves two of his free fingers in my mouth in hopes of suppressing each unholy sound leaving my lips. Groaning and grunting in my ear. His front pressed against me, and bulge pushed against my ass.
“You see those people, all they have to do is look up and watch me fuck you with my fingers.” The risk of someone catching us in the middle of this act was somehow arousing.
Allowing myself to wallow in the sensation of his fingers. Daniels brought me closer and closer, from the way his words left his mouth and how he thrusted in me, never losing his pattern of stroking my g-spot at every touch.
I bite Daniels fingers, falling into how he finds pain to be a pleasure. My pussy clenching as he groans, and I finally release. Sparks of pleasure shooting through my body.
Daniel doesn’t wait a second to put his two fingers between his lips and start undoing his jeans. Moaning at the taste of me before having to help himself. Quickly pulling his jeans down his legs. The brunette then flapped the back of my skirt up, revealing me fully. One of his calloused hands slapping my ass before massaging it a little. Spreading me open so he can run his tip up and down my folds. Mixing his precum with my own slick before he starts pushing against my entrance.
“Fucking stubborn aren’t ya?” His fingers burn bruises into my hips while he holds me tightly as he forces his tip inside of me. “Fuck. I’ll make it fit.” Not going softly on my needy pussy, already pulsating around him. His cock creates a burning sensation as he finally gets a fraction of himself inside of me.
“Do you think you can take me all?” Daniel whispers to me, his voice almost a purr that blends with gravel.
“Do you think I can?” My voice nearly a breath.
“Let's find out.” An abrupt, rough ram of Daniels hips takes away the last bit of oxygen I held. Fully making me lose any last fragment of composure I had. A scream caught in my throat as my mouth gaped open and deep pants substitute my voice.
“Taking daddy’s cock like my good little whore.” His words have an undertone of vulnerability. Only expressing the way I felt. So vulnerable as he controlled all the power. Dominating my body to move at the pleasure of his dick and harsh hands.
One of Daniel's arms sneaked up my arched back, grabbing onto my hair and creating a makeshift ponytail to force my head up. Seeing stars even in the daylight.
Each of my hands held onto the edge of the balcony, trying to stabilise my body, but always getting denied when Daniel pounded into me so hard that my legs shook. Even some of the more basic things become a struggle.
The delicacy of his cock being memorised by my pussy and hazy mind. Each thrust brings my intense climax closer. The knot in my stomach grows tighter and tighter, binding together even more until it becomes something I can’t withhold.
My walls compress against Daniel's dick. Coming around the bottom of his shaft, and eliciting the most satisfying moans from his lips. My head being forced back even more as Daniel releases as well. His hold against my hips and hair, never been tighter.
Coming inside of me and painting my walls with his cum.
“Look,” Daniel guides my head down, eyes watching the familiar group of men that stare back at us. “they’re all hard watching the way your tight pussy fits me all in.”
#f1 smut#f1 x reader#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#formula 1#f1 fic#f1 fluff#f1 x you#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo smut#daniel ricciardo f1#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo fanfic#daniel ricciardo x female reader#daniel ricciardo x ofc#dr3#dr3 x reader#dr3 imagine#danny ric#formula 1 smut#formula one smut#formula 1 imagine#formula one#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you
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