#mr presider is losing his mind

[s1ck-pupp3t]

MR PRESIDENT IS

B

ACK AND READY FOR BUSINESS BABY!!!! WOOOO!! BACK IM BACK IM BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For a limited time only.

[leonw4nter]

“Would it be bad to kiss you?”

“No, I’ve been waiting for you to ask me”

YALL BETTER READ THIS FIC I DO NOT PLAY WHEN IT COMES TO FICS THAT HAVE THE CAPACITY TO SEND ME INTO A COMA .

CANDY HEARTS

PAIRING: RE2!Leon x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: It was Valentine's Day at the precinct and everyone was giving out candy grams for their secret admirers. Who knew that one piece of candy would have so much of an impact?

CONTENT/WARNINGS: FLUFF. Mutual pining. Alcohol consumption. One kiss. Flirting and confessions at the end. Canon-adjacent. Modernized era (they have cell phones). The og gang is together and are all above the age of 21. Leon being silly and not knowing about social cues. Chris plays matchmaker & Claire is a jokester. Jill likes margaritas and Rebecca is the mom of the group. They are all friends and live happily ever after cause I said so.

WC: 3.7k

NOTES: I am back from the dead, and I come bearing gifts. This was just something I wanted to write for Valentine's Day, and I don't even know how the idea came along the entire way. Here’s some nice fluffy stuff with a bit of added corniness, something new from me. Hope you all enjoy and like it! Comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

✰ ── �� Navigation ⟡ Main Masterlist ⟡ AO3 》

February, supposedly the month when red and pink mesh together to signify the one thing that couldn’t be explained. Love. Romance. Companionship.

It was a silly thing really, something that Leon didn’t understand, mostly because to him, it couldn’t be real. That didn’t mean he wasn’t curious, that he always wondered what it would be like to be so attached to another person it felt like being two parts of one whole. 

It was another full week of the month, the days passing by as quickly as they started. Another day, another patrol, that was what he knew as part of his routine. Heading toward his locker to grab his gear, he was surprised to see a small heart-shaped lollipop wrapped in a red bow. He raised a brow at the strange object, curious fingers reaching out to inspect it closer.

“What do you have there?”

His head turned to the side at the sound of your voice, more so feeling your breath on his neck as you peered over his shoulder. Holding up the red lollipop for you to study, you took it from his grasp, the very tips of your fingers barely touching his before you held the wrapped candy.

“Leon, do you even know what this is?”, your eyes held that same mischievous gleam it always did when you were with him, and simply gave you a shrug. “It’s a candy gram silly”

“What? Someone just put a lollipop in my locker?”, Leon didn’t get why someone would even bother putting something like this for him to find.

“It’s for Valentine’s Day, something that the precinct wanted to do to celebrate. If you get one of these, it means someone is your secret admirer”, the way you described the entire ploy was almost comical to him, and he only chuckled.

“So it’s like a crush type of thing?”

“Sort of. Did you even read the note?”, and from the way he looked like a deer in headlights you knew he didn’t. You motioned over to the small red note that was hidden underneath the piece of candy. Carefully, he went to unfold it and read over the words that were written in cursive black ink.

I can’t turn water into wine, but I’m hoping to turn you into mine.

You watched as Leon quickly became flustered at the funny pick-up line, rolling his eyes and trying to hide the subtle blush he got from reading the words over and over again.

“I don’t like this game”, Leon grumbled under his breath, trying to shake off his embarrassment and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Oh cmon, it’s supposed to be funny. But listen, if you don’t want your lollipop I’ll gladly take it”, you smirked as his eyes met yours, pink lips curling up to match your grin.

“What? You didn’t get any candy grams of your own so you have to steal mine?”, he unwrapped the lollipop, popping it into his mouth and humming as he approved the taste. Cherry, his favorite.

“For your information, I got three. I just munched on all of the candies already I wanted another”, you placed your hands on your hips, the uniform only accentuating the curvature of your figure that Leon tried his hardest not to notice.

“Really? You got notes too or were you too busy eating your lollipops you forgot to notice”, he was teasing you now, going into his locker to put on his tactical belt and wrapping it around his hips. It fit snugly on his body, the leather belt he wore underneath to hold up his cargo pants seemed to add to his slim figure. Not that you were paying attention either. 

“I did, but didn’t pay too much attention. I got a nice one though, said something like My candy heart is all yours. Real cute stuff”, you leaned against the wall as you waited for Leon before going on patrol. He was one of the only good things working at the R.P.D. had to offer, and coincidentally it just helped that he was also your friend. Having known each other for a while now, being like this came naturally, remembering how easy it was to be with him when you two first clicked. 

“Sounds corny”, he said with a shake of his head, closing the metallic door and gesturing the both of you to start walking out of the room and into the main hall.

“Yeah, you’d know everything about being corny wouldn’t you?”, you taunted him back as you walked through the halls of the precinct, keeping track of all the patrols you had on the board today.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Are you coming on this patrol with me or what?”, he already knew the answer, didn’t have to so much as second guess to know that you’d be riding along with him.

“Of course I am. Who else will bother you with their favorite pop songs?”, you walked ahead of him, and his gaze went down your back to look at the handcuffs that jingled every time you took a step.

He definitely wasn’t looking at anything else.

-

It was a long day of work patrolling the city before Leon finally had some time to himself to relax. Thankfully, he didn’t have to work the overnight shift and could lounge at home to watch some shitty reality TV or whatever tickled his fancy. Of course, that was before he got a text message from you, ever the pest constantly wondering what he was up to. Not that he complained.

There’s a whole theme night going on at the local bar. Free shots at 10:30 pm. Bring your ass over here, and wear red!

Drinks? With you? That wasn’t anything out of the ordinary considering how familiar it felt to be around you, but he still couldn’t think of anything else he wanted to do for the night. So, he pretended like he didn’t want to be dragged out of his small apartment as he trudged his feet toward the shower to get dressed. He shouldn’t have cared so much about being presentable, usually, he never did. But for you, he was willing to try new things.

For the first time in probably ever, he’s forgone his usual color palette and took out a red button-down, rolling the sleeves up towards his forearms. Leon was always more fond of shades that reminded him of the sky, blues, greens, and white. Red was out of his comfort zone, but going out on Valentine’s Day night was enough to make that ball of anxiety tighten in his gut. Topping it all off with a bomber jacket, he left the keys to his jeep behind and took a cab instead, playing it safe if he ended up drinking something that would surely knock him off his feet.

He seemed to be counting down the minutes to the moment he walked into the bar. Scanning the area, he looked for any sight of you amongst the crowd, walking past several pairs of people lip-locking and downing shots in groups. The energy was electric, the music was lively, and as he continued to trek further into the bar that’s when he spotted you.

There you were, sporting a red deep-cut blouse and leather pants that were tight along your thighs. He caught the glossy red lipstick you put on for the occasion that only brightened your teeth as you laughed with those around you. And when you turned your head to find him standing there, he gulped down the pang he felt in his chest.

Yeah. He’s screwed.

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for you for so damn long. Good to know you listened to me for once”, you walked up to him, grabbed a hold of his wrist, and pulled him toward a corner of the bar where your other friends were sitting. Unless you cared to look for it, his pulse spiked when your fingers wrapped around his wrist. Maybe you felt it, maybe you didn’t, but that brief touch was cut short when Leon was brought to the table.

Most of the newfound gang was there, Chris and his sister Claire were there sharing a beer, while Rebecca was forcing Jill to be a bit more social. It was supposedly a normal night even though you were out of your uniform, forcing Leon to find a point on the wall to avoid peeking over in your direction. Chris kept him occupied, offering him a drink that he sipped to ease the nerves he felt, all while Claire teased him about wearing red instead of his usual navy. This wasn’t so bad, I’ll make it through the night, he thought to himself. 

It only took a few drinks for everything to spiral out of control. The blame is to be put on tequila. It was always tequila, but thank god it was the weekend. 

Just like you warned him, 10:30 pm rolled around and the bar burst into cheers as servers carried shot glasses filled with red liquid. Everyone at the table had one, and Leon watched as you downed the shot with ease, a wild grin on your face as you did. With your encouragement, and Claire’s taunting, he drank the shot and winced at the stinging of the liquid going down his throat. He hated taking shots, that you knew, but he’d do it so long as it made you happy.

This is why you leave the clear liquor to me and you stick to your beer. He remembered hearing you say that to him one night when you made him drink vodka, the raging hangover he got in the morning only further proved your point.

He’s lost count of the number of shots you consumed, splitting them between Jill and Claire, and an extra you forced Chris to take despite him sticking to his beer. Rebecca remained as the group chaperone, making sure nobody did anything too embarrassing tonight. Hearing a particular song that brightened your mood, you brought Claire towards the middle aisle where others seemed to follow you to dance in the small space.

Propping his elbow up against the wooden table, Leon leaned back to simply watch you move to the music. His whole body felt warm at the sight, seeing how you swayed your hips to the beat of the song and Claire did the same. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, his eyes ran up the stitching of your leather pants, over the deep v-line cut of your blouse, and again towards your face. Sure, you were attractive, he wasn’t blind. But what he was the most fond of was your smile, all cheery and wide to the point where the corners of your eyes crinkled.

He could see that look all the time and never get sick of it. The only thing he’d change was that he was the reason why you beamed like that.

“You’re doing it again”, Chris said out loud with a smirk, knocking Leon out of his little fantasy before meeting eye to eye again.

“I’m not doing anything”, he challenged in denial, Chris only chortled and shook his head.

“Unless you’re watching Claire dance, you know exactly what you’re doing”, the brunette matched his sister in humor, Leon exasperating in disbelief and took another sip of his beer. “You like her. You should do something about it”

“Chris…”

“C’mon, man. How much longer are you going to stand on the sidelines and just watch? Even I’m getting tired of the tension, it’s killing me”, ever the dramatic man, he wrapped a thick arm around Leon’s shoulder, bringing him in closer as if he were telling him a secret.

“You had a chance with the candy grams you realize that right? Sure, free candy but why not make it special?”

“Who says I didn’t do just that?”, the blonde said before it could be filtered out properly, sighing and downing the rest of his bottle.

“You’re joking. Seriously? She got like three of those things”, Chris’s brown eyes widened the slightest bit, not wanting to believe the truth.

“Does it look like I’m laughing right now?”, Leon chuckled incredulously at the realization that these feelings he’d been harboring for so long were starting to pour out of him the more he drank. “I don’t know how to talk to her. Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway, she’s not into me”

“Leon, you must be an idiot or something because she is into you. Who do you think gave you the candy gram?”, Chris muttered, probably not meaning to say it the way he did but it sounded like a confession.

Leon didn’t have time to ask for more details when you came back to the table on his side, an energetic Claire going towards Jill who was down three margaritas and growing sleepy. He could practically smell the perfume off of you, jasmine and soft vanilla, things that he found comfort in and sought after through his day-to-day.

“I think that’s enough dancing for me, I got dizzy”, you said, finishing the last bit of your watered-down drink and slamming the glass down on the table. From the way you were standing, your body almost leaned against Leon’s, ever inching closer toward him.

“Do you want to leave?”, Leon asked you, ever the concerned friend and partner despite the fact the alcohol was starting to get to him too.

“Nah, I’ll stay a little bit. Do you want to go?”, the way your eyes were hazy when you spoke to him brought that same twitch in his chest he usually ignored when he was around you.

“If you’re good, then I’m good. I’m not leaving without you”, he didn’t mean to say it in a different context outside of friendly, or maybe he did, but when he avoided a visceral reaction from you he figured he was in the clear.

“You got it boss”, you joked with him, but your hand lightly skimmed against his by accident, a shock running through you from the light touch. You didn’t meet his eye, instead, you felt the way his pinkie came closer to your own, discreetly curling around the digit.

It was a shy touch as if to gently test the boundaries of what was other than a cordial relationship. Leon started to grow anxious, thinking maybe he messed up, his mind beginning to spiral until you squeezed his finger back in silence. He tried not to make it obvious, but he looked over at you to see you smiling, and for that second he thought his small dream had come true.

“Another drink and then we’ll call it quits”, Chris’ voice popped the bubble that you were both in, but your hands didn’t move from where they were.

Yeah, one more drink couldn’t hurt, so long as you two remained like this for the rest of the night. 

-

Leon regrets having that one last drink. The world around him was spinning, and his feet were lugging across the floor as if he was going to sink into the Earth any minute now. He nearly forgot that he wasn’t going home alone, that you were beside him, doing your best to support his body as you brought him over to your place like you had done a few times before.

Unlocking the door to your apartment and walking inside, Leon was hit with the same scent of jasmine and soft vanilla that he recognized as your own, faint layers of cinnamon engulfing him when you brought him over to your couch in a slump.

“I’m never letting you drink that much again”, your voice sounded almost distant, but it was comforting nonetheless. You walked away from him, your footsteps growing faint until you came back with a glass of water he graciously chugged.

“Wasn’t so bad, I can handle my liquor”, he slouched further into your couch, his head beginning to whirl from everything he drank.

“Leon, I had to carry you inside. You’re drunk”, you glanced at him with that same mischievousness you always had reserved just for him. Even if you had a better alcohol tolerance than he did, your pupils being dilated told him that you were in the same predicament

“Not complaining”, he was damn near mumbling now, his head pivoting to look at you fully. You were right there next to him, all dolled up in a way he hadn’t seen before. In the back of his mind, he imagined you did it just for him.

So pretty.

“You think so?”, your voice brought him out of his current haze, watching as he blinked once or twice before realizing he said his inner thoughts out loud.

“I-I…huh?”, Leon was stuttering now, looking towards the floor and growing embarrassed at the slip-up. You couldn’t help but giggle under your breath, and he prayed to God it wasn’t at him.

“Leon…I don’t know if you can tell but I’ve been trying to send you signals that I like you for months now. You’re a tough nut to crack”, you were speaking, but your words stopped filtering through his brain the moment you said the words ‘I like you’.

You like me?

“Yes, you cornball, I do”, you answered him anyway, catching him off guard at the response. At this rate, he’ll spill his deepest darkest secrets because he can’t tell the difference between what he’s thinking and what he’s saying. “The candy gram, that was me. Thought it might register in your head but it didn’t”

Leon looked like he had uncovered the biggest truth known to man. It was astonishing to witness, how he couldn’t process the thought that you were actually interested in him. You could see the gears starting to turn in his head, and once the revelation settled in his mind his lips were formed in a gentle smile. 

“That was a really bad pick-up line”, Leon said, making you laugh even harder. Your hand made contact with his chest, patting against his body with every sound that slipped past you. 

“And yours was any better?”, your hand didn’t move from where it sat on his chest, mindlessly caressing the material of his red button-down. 

“Yeah, I think ‘my candy heart is all yours’ is one of my best works”, he was almost cocky when he talked, but his facial expression was anything short of dorky. You both looked like a bunch of love-drunk idiots waiting for one to say what the other wanted to hear. 

“Hmm, that sounded like you. Is this you admitting that you gave me that candy gram?”, you were leaning on him, shifting so your body was closer against his. The tequila still running through your system heightened your senses, the natural scent of Leon’s cologne was enough to make your heart flutter. 

“Something like that”, he grinned bashfully, blue eyes looking at you intensely. He took in every detail of your features he could get, moving some of your hair out of your face and curling it behind your ear. His hand didn’t move too far, resting his palm against your cheek and running his thumb against the warmth of your skin.

“Would it be bad to kiss you?”, he whispered his words to you, as if his feelings would only be safe in the four walls of this room. 

“No, I’ve been waiting for you to ask me”, you moved so your chest was pressed against his, hands moving up towards his neck and caressing the hair at his nape. 

Leon didn’t have to wait too long to feel your lips meshing with his, sighing in what he could only describe as pure satisfaction. A shiver rushed down his spine and broke off into the rest of his body, blood pulsing through his veins at rapid speed the more his heart pumped in his chest. He pressed your body against him, wrapping an arm around your waist and keeping his other hand on your cheek.

Leon felt drunk, both literally and figuratively off of you and everything that you were. Things made sense for the first time, having you like this here with him. It was all he wanted, all he needed, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough. Against his wishes, he pulled away for air, staying close by to rest his forehead against yours. 

“About damn time Kennedy”, you teased him again, but your expression was tender. You noticed how your red lipstick stained his lips, no doubt leaving barely any left on your mouth. “Red looks good on you”, you put a thumb against his lips, rubbing at the plush skin you just felt for the first time.

“Does this mean I get to ask you to be my Valentine?”, he looked so cute when he asked you, rolling your eyes at his question, but you found it endearing.

“You’re two hours too late, but I’ll happily be your Valentine anyway”, you gave him one more smooch on the lips, and the happiness on his face was damn near palpable. “But you owe me a better one next time, you hear me?”

Next time.

“Loud and clear. I’ll have a better pick-up line to use on you”

“If you start getting corny, I will leave you on the couch”, the playful threat didn’t worry Leon in the slightest, his smile getting wider with every passing second he spent with you.

“Awe come on, I meant what I said. My candy heart is all yours”, his nose nuzzled into your neck, kissing your soft ticklish skin and breathing you in, marking your scent into his memory.

This time around, he thinks he’ll thank the tequila instead. Perhaps Cupid is real, a little overdue, but he still got the job done in the end.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[starlightxsvt]

Sibilance. | j.ww (M)

synopsis ➳ ❝ he is always getting in trouble and it is your job to get him out each time. the problem is, the more time you spend with him, the bigger trouble it becomes for your heart. in the end, who will get you out? ❞

pairing ➳ lawyer fem!reader x rich badboy!wonwoo

genre ➳ smut, slight angst, good girl bad boy trope ig

word count ➳ 4.9k + 800(patreon bonus)

warnings ➳ mentions of fighting, injuries, bruises, reader wears glasses, dom!wonwoo, big dic!wonwoo, messy makeouts, degradation(he calls her a sl*t during seggs), unprotected intercourse, reader is lowkey down bad for him(aren't we all), male oral(reader's first time giving bj), slight nipple play, cream pie, rough sex, no aftercare, open ending ;D

A/N: yes this is a repost

You step out of the police station, the click of your heels echoing against the smooth, shiny floor leading down to some stairs. With your phone pressed to your ear by your shoulder, you shove the documents into your bag and try to zip it closed, all while listening to the Chairman, your richest client over the phone.

“Yes Chairman, I will get him home right away.”

The call disconnects as you manage to zip your bag, a sigh of relief falling from your lips. You allow yourself a moment to breathe, a moment to inhale a lungful of the cold night air. After how hectic the past hour has been, the only thing you need right now is a drink and a solid eight hours of sleep.

However, you will not be getting any of that.

You find Wonwoo standing a few feet ahead of you, his back facing you as he waits there with his hands in his pockets, kicking stones on the ground and looking around with boredom.

This man is the creator of the biggest chaos. He should come with a neon sign flashing on his forehead that reads “trouble.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to deal with him without losing your professionalism. “Mr. Jeon, let me drop you home.”

The tall man turns around as you approach him, and a wide, mischievous smirk graces his lips, “How many times have I told you not to call me that, Princess Lawful?”

Pushing your frames up your nose bridge, you narrow your eyes at him, not appreciating his hearty attitude.

“I don’t get paid enough for your bullshit, you know.” You comment under your breath, reaching into your pants pocket to search for your car keys.

“Oh please,” he rolls his eyes. “You are like what— twenty seven? And you have a five figure income monthly.”

“Whatever,” you grunt, fishing deeper into your seemingly endless pocket before finally finding your key. Wonwoo comes closer to you and casually snakes an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his body, his firm chest bumping against your arm as you stiffen up from the contact.

“Don’t worry, I will ask my father to give you a raise,” he leans down to whisper in your ear, making your breath stutter. Despite the cold weather, you can feel your face heat up, the dangerous proximity messing with your brain. It is all too much— his touch, his smell, his voice, a lethal combination that makes your knees weak.

You look at the taller man, in the back of your mind wondering how you ended up here. After graduation, you were lucky enough to get a job at one of the most reputable law firms right away.

Maybe not entirely luck, but through your hard work. You had sacrificed your youth, eyesight and skin for the job as you came out the top in your class. The plan was to work nine to five and within a year or two, end up with a fat paycheck every month. Things were going according to your plan until earlier this year when you made a huge breakthrough in a very important case that even your seniors were struggling with. That got the attention of your company president, Mr. Pi who immediately had you put in the legal team of the Jeon family as a junior advisor. He said there was an empty position and you would be the perfect fit. He promised that the workload would not be too much as you would primarily assist the senior lawyers in their tasks and the pay would be good.

It was a mistake to believe Mr. Pi.

The first time you saw Wonwoo was in the early morning on a Monday, one week after joining the Jeon family’s legal team. As you were sneaking sips of coffee from your tumbler in a meeting room full of old men discussing boring things, Chairman Jeon, Wonwoo’s father barged in followed by the trouble stirrer himself.

Wonwoo stole your breath the moment your eyes met him for the first time.

There was something magnetic about him. Other than his drop dead gorgeous looks, broad shoulders and tall build, there was something in his aura, something in the way he walked and carried himself that charged a room with tension and stole everyone’s attention. Once his eyes locked with yours, he stood in front of the door for seconds that felt too long, the look in his fox shaped eyes changing. They flickered with mischief and some amusement as he tilted his head to carefully scan you, a subtle hint of smirk growing at his lips.

For a moment you had forgotten where you were, letting yourself get carried away in his hypnotizing gaze and attractive smile, the little nicks and cuts on his face increasing his appeal by a hundred times.

He was trouble. You knew it right away. You saw it in his eyes, the mischief, the defiance, the chaos he could not wait to cause. He was your polar opposite in every sense and you knew he picked up on it right away. And you also knew you would not be able to get him off your back.

That was indeed, true.

Wonwoo’s first ever case that you handled was assigned that fateful morning. His father gathered everyone to brief about the situation that went down. Wonwoo had gotten in a fight at a bar the previous night, breaking a guy's arm and it was your job to compensate and cover the issue as smoothly as possible.

It has been quite a while since then and for whatever reason, Chairman Jeon always ordered you to handle his son’s cases. Of course, you could not say no to him so for the last ten months you have been working like a dog, cleaning up Wonwoo’s mess everytime he got in trouble, which was often.

It was during one such time, about three months ago, after you had gotten him out of the police station, that the mistake happened.

You slipped and caused trouble for yourself, committing something that altered your course of life.

You slept with Jeon Wonwoo.

Things have been messy since then. Not for him but for you. He definitely has more control over you now, crossing your professional boundaries whenever he pleases.

You are left in ruins, emotionally.

Wonwoo is an attractive, complicated man and you can’t help that you are attracted to him. There is obvious palpable tension between the two of you but ignoring that, you know very well the type of guy he is.

He is not boyfriend material. He is not good for your heart.

Yet now, as your body is pressed against his in the cold winter night, you cannot prevent your heart from dangerously thudding in your chest, a heated feeling rising in your belly.

“Take me home, Princess Lawful,” Wonwoo says, squeezing your shoulder. “I had a long day, you know?” There is an innocent whine in his tone and you can’t help but wonder at his duality.

“Fighting people?” You throw an annoyed look at him, freeing yourself from his grip and marching towards your car.

“Among other things,” he chuckles, his tone is light and playful as he jogs to catch up to you.

Thirty minutes later when you turn off your ignition in front of his house, you look beside to see him asleep in the passenger seat. No wonder it was so quiet in the car. He sits with the seat reclined, arms crossed over his chest as he faces the window in his side, the black locks of hair falling over his eyes.

In the dim light coming from a nearby street lamp, you admire the man next to you, your hands instinctively reaching to touch his face. Once again, your heartbeats quicken, a lump forming in your throat when you try to analyze this strange feeling in your chest. The tip of your index finger brushes his cheek, right below a cut and his lips form a knowing smile.

Your blood runs cold as you snatch your hand back.

This bastard was awake.

His eyes open, the piercing gaze making your breath stutter in your throat. “What dirty ideas were you having, hmm?” He smirks, leaning closer.

You immediately duck your head low, fiddling with your seatbelt in the dark to yank it open.

“I knew you were admiring me.” He easily snaps off his belt and resting his arm on the armrest between the two seats, he tilts his head lower to meet your bashful eyes. “Were you going to kiss me, Princess Lawful?”

You inhale a sharp breath before your hand moves on its own accord, ready to slap him. Wonwoo, however, catches it, his bony fingers wrapping around your wrist in a gentle yet firm grip as you lock eyes with him.

As always, he is calm and poised, a lazy smirk on his face, looking like he has the entire universe and beyond in his palm.

Wonwoo has this effect on you, this weird thing where words get stuck in your throat and your brain fumbles. Right now is one of those as your eyes remain locked with Wonwoo’s hypnotic gaze, leaving you unable to look away no matter how much you want to. Slowly, he pulls your hand towards him, his lips to be exact, as you watch with horror how his lips come in contact with your knuckles.

Suddenly, it is sweltering inside the car even though it is below zero outside. You are brought under a spell as you watch with parted lips how softly, sensually Wonwoo’s lips trace kisses over your knuckles and the top of your hand. The sensation shoots tingles throughout your entire body and at this moment, Wonwoo could ask you to bring him the moon and you would do it.

“Come inside.” His voice is feather light but you know he demands it.

Fuck, no, you cannot let this go on.

You snatch your hand back, shifting in your seat to be as far from him as possible in this confined space.

“I have an early day tomorrow,” you object, not meeting his gaze.

“Oh come on,��� He almost whines. “I am injured, you know.”

You turn your head to look at him with skepticism. He watches you with a pout on his lips, his eyes shining as if he is a child waiting for candy. It is a complete whiplash from his previous attitude.

“Don’t believe me?” He sits up straight, determined to prove something as he turns on the overhead light. Then pulling up his windbreaker and his turtleneck, he shows you his lower back where, on the left side there is a big, purple mark blooming.

You gasp, immediately pulling the material of his clothes higher to get a better look. “My god, how did this happen?”

“The guy pushed me real hard. Hit my back against this table.” He explains casually, fixing his clothes. “Come on now, help me treat it.” He announces, not sparing a glance at you as he gets out of the car, his movements relaxed and confident as if he is sure you will follow him.

You do so silently, matching his pace as he approaches his house, the faint crunch of gravel beneath your feet the only sound. He climbs the small steps leading to the front door, its polished surface gleaming in the soft glow of the single overhead porch light. The neighbourhood is very posh, with picture-perfect houses standing at equal distances, their elegant designs glowing softly under the street lamps. The chill in the air adds a crispness to the atmosphere, as the two of your footsteps break the silence where no one is stirring.

Wonwoo’s fingerprint unlocks the door with a beep and he immediately steps inside. The door remains open as you linger in the cold night air outside, hesitant.

“What’s wrong? Do you really enjoy standing out in the cold?” The man cranes his neck to look at you.

With a soft sigh, you step in.

The minute the door shuts closed behind you, Wonwoo’s mouth latches onto yours. He attacks you almost, passion overflowing from him as he presses you against the door in a frenzy.

You knew this would happen. Yet you came in.

There is no one at fault but you.

He shoves his tongue inside you, tasting your mouth like a starved man while his hands do a quick work to shake off your coat from your shoulders. The warmth from his body blankets you in an addictive sense of comfort, his hands moving to hold both of your wrists in a bruising hold against the door.

There is no escape.

Your body submits, relaxing against his as you let yourself feel every bit of the sensations. When Wonwoo pulls away, the space between the two of you charges with tension, the heat increasing with the way his dark eyes bore into yours.

“I have been wanting to do that for a while now.” He breathes, his voice gruff. He lets go of your hands and skims his fingers on your back, pulling down the zipper of your blouse.

Your lips are swollen, his bruising kiss lingering on your lips as you unconsciously lick them, trapped in the dark pools of his eyes.

You are so ruined.

Wonwoo takes a few steps back, his fingers working deftly to remove his windbreaker and his turtleneck. You see him wince due to the bruise when he moves his body and you stop him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“Maybe we should get a look at that first.”

Wonwoo scoffs and you know he will not listen to you. You are about to force him when he takes off his trousers that leaves him in his boxers only and all thoughts fly out of your mind when you see the bulge forming in them.

Wonwoo sports that cocky, insufferable look on his face. “Stop drooling, Princess Lawful.”

You frown, ready to refute when he utters the next words that stun you into silence.

“On your knees.” The playful expression is gone from his face as he looks at you dead in the eyes, palming himself through his underwear.

You are a frozen statue, waiting for him to repeat himself because there is no way he just said that.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” he grunts, yanking you closer to him by your arm. He looks down on you as you feel his breaths on your skin when he whispers. “Get on your knees. And take your top off. I want you to suck my cock. I want to see that nerdy face choking, messy with tears.”

Your throat is a dessert. Your eyes are wide with horror, your hands clenched into tight fists as you try to wrap your head around his dirty words. Wonwoo easily pushes you on your knees, your mind still trying to catch up with what is happening. He, in fact, removes your blouse for you, leaving you in your nude coloured bra as goosebumps break into your skin. His intimidating bulge stands in front of your face and you sense a rush of panic within you.

There is no way you can do this.

Fuck, this is your first time giving a blowjob to someone.

But you cannot let him know that. You would rather plunge yourself in the cold sea and get eaten by sharks. So, with the same determination that helped you finish law school with straight A’s, you set out to prove yourself. With trembling hands, you pull down his boxers and the image of his long, thick length is daunting, immediately making your throat hurt.

Wonwoo's hands snake around your neck, his fingers caressing the base of your low pony as he pushes your mouth closer to his dick.

Shy and unsure, you hold him using both hands, the hard, warm member a foreign sensation beneath your fingertips. Your tongue darts out, giving his tip a kittenish link.

“Stop playing,” Wonwoo warns. “You know how to suck cock, right? Or do I need to teach you that?”

Offended, you push your glasses up and wrap your lips around his tip, sucking on his precum. The breathy sigh that parts from Wonwoo’s lips indicates that you are on the right path. You continue sucking, covering more of his length, adding an inch bit by bit to get used to the feeling of him in your mouth.

Wonwoo, however, does not have the patience and he extends an arm to the wall to support himself while using the other to hold your neck as an anchor as he starts to thrust in and out your mouth in shallow movements.

“Fuck, you look so hot like this,” he pants, his eyes trained on your face, your swollen, spit coated lips wrapped around his length as you look up at him with doe eyes behind your steel frames. “This is my new favourite scene, Princess, you dressed for work and on your knees for me.” He grunts, increasing his pace, his thick length going deeper and making you choke.

The entire scene is so erotic, his filthy words paired with gurgling noises coming deep from your throat and tears that blur your vision. Between your legs, your pussy throbs with pain as an urge to touch yourself grows. You can not do that due to the layers of clothes still covering your lower half so you press your thighs together, focusing on getting him off.

You hollow your throat to the best of your capability and his length goes in deeper than before, prompting you to choke and pull back your mouth from him, bursts of cough coming from your lips.

In front of you, Wonwoo stands, panting harshly as he rubs his slick length, his dark eyes watching you wipe your tears and spit while trying to stop the coughs. “You look so hot right now.” He breathes, the dark depravity in his voice making you look at him.

“I want to come on your face so bad but more than that, I need to get my cock inside you. Fuck you so good you will feel me tomorrow morning when you are at your meeting.”

You can only blink as your pussy throbs at his promise. By now, you are sure that your underwear is a soaking mess.

“Stand up, Princess Lawful.” He orders with a smirk on his face. You immediately comply, standing on shaky legs. Wonwoo wastes no time to press your back flat against a nearby wall, his fingers rapidly working on taking off your belt. He unzips your dress pants and pulls them down halfway along with your underwear in record time. His eyes remain focused on your core and you shy away from his gaze, covering yourself with your hands. He immediately pushes them away and easily slips a finger inside your wet core.

“Oh god,” you moan, your eyes falling closed. Wonwoo scoffs, a cruel smile of lust kissing his lips as he whispers in your ear, “Fuck, look at you. You are dripping. Did sucking my cock turn on so much?”

You nod, an arm coming up to hold his shoulder, the firm muscles feeling so good under your touch.

“Say it,” he commands, using his free hand to grip your face in a firm hold, squishing your cheeks.

“Y-yes.” You whisper, chasing his fingers with your hips. You need him inside you so bad you are going insane.

“Good little slut.” He grins before lining himself up with your entrance and thrusting his entire length in one swift motion.

“Fuck!” The first thing you feel is pain, the entirety of his thick length shoving inside you so hard you swear you feel him in your belly.

Deep in the back of your mind, there is the sensible part of you who shakes her head at your desperation and carelessness. Even though you have an IUD, you still should have used a condom.

That is the issue, all common sense and logic fly out the window when you are near this man. That is why he is so bad for you, for your heart.

Wonwoo suddenly presses his lips to yours, breaking your train of thought. His tongue moves inside your mouth in tandem with his thrusts as your entire body jolts at the force. His fingers hold your ass and the back of your thighs in a bruising grip as he drives inside you mercilessly, each thrust harder than the last one.

You are going to come right away.

Wonwoo however decides to stop. His grip on you loosens as a harsh pant comes out of his mouth, his eyes scorching with animalistic lust.

Then, before you can question or protest, he roughly tugs on your arm, pulling you with him as you two cross the short distance to his bedroom. Standing in front of the bed, he unceremoniously pushes you on the soft mattress, murmuring. “Lie down.”

You do as told, shuffling back into the bed with confusion as Wonwoo fully takes off your trousers and your underwear.

“I can fuck you better like this, on the bed.” He grins as an explanation, making heat rush to your face. Not wasting time, he slides back inside you, a low groan of pleasure falling from his lips at your warmth. The sound makes your pussy clench around his length as a soft mewl falls from your lips when he hits that sensitive spot within you.

“Fuck, keep making sounds like that and I will come right now.”

You once again clench at the idea and a smirk graces Wonwoo’s lips. “You want that, no?” He increases his pace, his right hand tightly holding your waist while his left hand slips down a strap of bra from one of your shoulders, exposing your breast. He squeezes your breasts, pinching and tugging at your nipples which heightens your pleasure. You throw your head back, your fingers gripping onto his arms as you whine, “P-please, I want to come.”

“Such a good slut, begging so nicely.” He huffs, using both hands to grip your waist, his cock driving deeper inside you than ever before due to the angle. Your legs shake and your toes curl as you taste your orgasm coming. 

Wonwoo leans on top of you, covering your body with his as he licks his way from your collarbone and below, all the while moving in and out of you. His lips wrap around your nipple as he sucks and bites and finally the coil in your belly snaps.

Your body spasms, a loud cry of pleasure falling from your lips as you are thrown over the edge and taken away by your release. Wonwoo spurts inside you at the same time, his low groans of pleasure and strings of curses sounding like honey to your ears.

For some time, you find yourself lost in your head, your senses fading into the background. Time slips away as you enter a trance-like state, the aftershocks of pleasure radiating through your body and paired with the day’s exhaustion, you feel like you are floating away on a cloud of bliss and ecstasy.

After a long while, when you are fully back in your senses, you see Wonwoo lying beside you, his eyes closed. Judging from the way he is breathing, he seems asleep. 

The clock on the wall reads 10 pm.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you sit up on the bed, your joints feeling sore.

You can not shake the overwhelming pity you feel for yourself.

This is what happens when you cross the lines with a guy like Wonwoo.

Alone and exhausted, an emotional mess as you drown in self pity while the guy that has ruined you physically and emotionally sleeps away peacefully. 

Even asleep, he radiates an exquisite beauty, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the lights that fill the room. As you gaze at him, you find yourself wondering what it might be like if this were love rather than lust—if you could stir his heart to race and flutter as yours does for him.

How silly. How pathetic.

With weary steps, you move through his house, first going to the bathroom to clean yourself before gathering your scattered clothes and putting them on. You are about to leave when you suddenly remember the bruise on his back.

With a sigh, you take an ice pack from the refrigerator and wrap it in a towel. Then you pull out the first aid kit from the bathroom cabinet, slightly annoyed to find it untouched and brand new, just like you left it a few months ago. He has yet to use it no matter how many times you requested him to. 

Shaking your head, you place the kit on the bedside table, taking out some compression bandage and a painkiller and placing them outside and within his view. Then, finding a sticky pad, you scribble some notes and stick them on the bottle of the pills, hoping he sees it and follows your instructions.

When you are done setting everything, the man is still fast asleep, his face squished against the mattress as he lies on his front. Gently, you tiptoe near him and peek at the bruise on his back.

He will be in pain later for sure.

Tentatively, you place the ice pack on his back before quickly stepping out of his bedroom. The towel will diffuse the chill so he will not wake up immediately, giving you enough time to leave. 

As you drive your car through the quiet neighbourhood, you make a promise to yourself.

This was the last time you crossed boundaries with him. 

You loathe this emptiness in your soul as you drive away from him late at night, feeling discarded after a quick fuck when all your heart desires is to lay in the warmth of his arms.

That is not your reality and you accepted it. 

From tomorrow, there will be no you and Wonwoo beyond the professional responsibilities that tie you together.

—

NEXT MORNING, 10 AM

As soon as the meeting is over you head for your office and sink down on your chair, sagging into the leather with a deep sigh of relief. The delicious aroma of the coffee heals you as you take a sip, a soft groan falling from your lips.

Today is going to be a long day. You definitely should have prepared better for such a day because being sleep deprived along with a throbbing ache between your legs is definitely not the way to go about it. 

You realize Wonwoo did keep his promise as you can still feel him between your legs, the memories and sensations of last night still too vivid. 

Shaking your head at the unwelcome thoughts, you begin pulling out all the necessary files from your bag and spreading them on your desk when there is a knock at the door.

You look up and before you can tell the person to come in, the door opens.

Wonwoo steps in, making your heart shudder as if the mere thought of him has summoned his physical presence.

He looks dashing as ever, sporting his signature cocky smile as he closes the door behind him. “Good morning, Princess Lawful.” He chirps.

Frowning, you push up your glasses, not finding his presence amusing. You remember the events of last night and the promise you made to yourself. Now is the perfect time to honour it. 

“What are you doing here?” You question, standing up from your seat.

He pouts, approaching you. “Am I so unwelcome? Had some business nearby. Thought I would drop by your office.”

“Do you have anything to consult with me?”

“Yes,” he hums, his gaze sultry. He comes closer to you and easily wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you against his body, his eyes fixed on your lips. Once again, you are overpowered by his touch, smell and everything he makes you feel.

This must stop.

Mustering all your strength, you push him away with a firm hand on his chest. The man stumbles back, looking at you with confusion. With a deep, calming breath, you take a step back and focus your gaze on him, your sharp eyes piercing through his.

“This is over.”

“What?”

“Whatever we were doing…messing around, it is over. I am done.”

“What?” His mouth is agape. He looks absolutely stunned as if your words make no sense to him.

“Mister Jeon Wonwoo, I do not owe you any explanation.” Your tone is sharp, matching your gaze. He frowns, his eyes going dark as he mirrors your gaze. “From now on, I will not be seeing you outside of work, is that clear?”

You see his jaw clench. He inhales a sharp breath, the soft sound cutting through the air fizzling with tension.

“Fine,” he spits with eyes filled with an accusatory intensity so heavy that you feel a physical weight. “Whatever you say. Let's not see each other again.”

You nod, stiff.

You know very well it is a lie. These words are a mere facade of an agreement, bound to be broken. You will see him again for you are two magnets with fierce, crackling attraction. 

Nothing can keep you apart. 

The air thickens with heavy tension, your sharp gazes locked with each other, cutting through the air and charging the atoms with an unending flare. If someone listened closely, they might even hear the hisses of sparks forming and spreading all over.

Sibilance, they call it.

want more of them? head over to my patreon and subscribe here to read their first meeting from wonwoo's pov!

A/N: before y'all think this is the end let me share my plan. so I will be turning this into a series which I will upload from time to time. they will be short episodes, kind of like a slice of life story which will mainly focus on the relationship of these two and their growth. so buckle up, because their journey is just beginning! as always, if you enjoyed reading this, please reblog and share your thoughts. i would love to hear what you guys have to say and what expectations you have from this couple!

on a side note, can we just talk about the overwhelming response of the teaser? like 1k notes in such a short time and also for just a teaser? y'all really love bad boy wonwoo huh. i was pleasantly surprised by the numbers it was doing, even better than a few of my full length fics. not complaining tho! ><

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© startlightxsvt 2024 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

[evielmostdefinitely]

i can just imagine corio having sex with her in the president’s office the day he’s inaugurated and he loses all control bc he’s so obsessed with her and drunk on power in that moment

money, power, glory |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: after coriolanus' inauguration, the two of you christen his new presidential office.

contains: smut 18+. dom/sub themes. spanking. dark coriolanus. mean dom! coryo. pinvsex.

“Gem of Panem, Heart of Justice,” You sang dramatically, hands flinging to your chest, stumbling steps into the large office- The President’s office, which now was all Coriolanus’. 

“My darling girl,” Coriolanus couldn’t hide his grin, the champagne clouding his facade. You both had indulged at the celebration, the private party after the inauguration hosted by his in-laws, your parents, to celebrate his new role. To celebrate Panem’s new leader. 

“You give us light!” You trilled with laughter, flicking on the small switch, the lights of the office shining brightly. 

“Can you behave?” Coriolanus bit back a smile, your hand dropping from his grasp, stumbling to the middle of the room, eyes shining in awe at the many artifacts, tools and gizmos that it held. “I’ve only just got the keys. I don’t want to burn it down on my first night.” 

“I would never burn down the Gem of Panem!” You continued your song in a silly voice, spinning drunkenly behind the desk. Your brows raised, pulling the large chair back, smooth leather, firm and tall. 

“Don’t you even think about it-” Coriolanus wagged his finger at you, taking a step towards the desk. 

You smiled wickedly, a cackle of a giggle that echoed off the walls, left Coriolanus dizzy with a feeling he still wasn’t sure of. Falling into the large chair, your legs hanging over one side, head lolling over the other. “Seat of Power! Strength in… something. Coryo, what’s the words again?” 

Coriolanus feigned shock, brows raised sternly at you. “You don’t know?” He mocked, grinning wolfishly when you pouted, eyes still dazzling. He hovered over your frame, hands stilling the chair from swaying to hold you steady. “The First Lady of Panem doesn’t know the words to the Capitol’s anthem?” 

“Oh, please,” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “That’s the dark day’s song. We’re not in the dark days anymore.” 

“Still,” Coriolanus leaned down towards you. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, a very rare indulgent of his. “A very important part of Panem’s history.” 

“I know that, Coryo.” You grumbled, head spinning from your position. You reached for him, hand smacking against his chest clumsily, pulling on his vest for aid to lift yourself. 

Coriolanus scoffed at you, his hands reaching for you anyways, steadying you in the chair. “Do you?” He hummed, a wicked glint in his eye that had your mind racing, spine tingling with anticipation, heightened from the alcohol. 

“Of course,” Your words were jumbled, slurring a bit more than you’d usually allow. “I went to the same Academy as you, Mr. President.” Your manicured nail jabbed into his chest, right over his heart. 

“I wonder sometimes if you’re not deceiving me, darling.” Coriolanus muttered, holding your hand in his. You feigned shock, jaw dropping dramatically, eyes sparkling up at him. “Your indelicacy makes me think you were raised in the stables of Ten.” 

“Coryo!” You shrilled, his smug smile filling your heart with warm joy at his teasing. It was so rare of him to show you this side of him, playful and silly. He always kept such a stoic, cold demeanor at times that felt far too formal to be from your husband. 

Coryo pulled you from the chair lightly, a hand on your hip to steady you while he sunk down into the firm leather. Hands rubbing down the smooth arms of the chair, fingers curling around the ends like a king on his throne; in a way, he was. 

You watched him, spine straightening and jaw flexing back into that vision of pure power that had your knees shaking, pulsing between your legs. “Well, since you already think so lowly of me,” You stepped between his spread legs, hands sliding over his own. 

“Perhaps I should behave like a feral district woman, hm?” You purred, knee brushing his, mind foggy with the effects of the alcohol. 

“Meaning what exactly, my love?” Coriolanus hummed. He’d play your little game, indulge if for no other reason than his own entertainment. That look in your eyes, lip rolling between your teeth, he knew what you were hoping for- what you were needing. 

Your head tilted to the side, biting back a grin that had his heart jumping, fingers curling around the edge of the chair. “I’m so unpoised?” You quip, knee hiking to rest on his gently. “Perhaps I should go back to the party, really show you what a lack of decorum looks like.” 

“You won’t.” It was final, not a challenge, not a threat, simply a fact Coriolanus was stating. You both knew you wouldn’t, but Coriolanus played along with your little game. “I would advise you not to.” 

“Oh?” Your brows raised, heeled foot falling flat on the ground with a loud clap! that echoed through the office. “You think I won’t?” 

“I know you won’t.” Coriolanus' head tilted, eyes narrowed in a frigid glare. 

You scoffed, defiantly pushing away from him, and for just a moment, Coriolanus thought you actually might. “I’ll show you a feral woman, Coriolanus.” You grumbled, stumbling of a step away from his desk. 

Coriolanus stood. “Come back here.” His voice boomed authoritatively through the office, stilling you for a moment. “Don’t make me tell you again.” 

“You’re not going to do anything.” You muttered under your breath, slow steps towards the door. Your heartbeat in your ears, racing with excitement. 

Coriolanus’ lips twisted, swallowing back a smile, stepping out from behind the desk. He knew how you wanted to play, and he was more than happy to. The first warning stomp of his shoes against the wood had you whipping around, eyes wide with excitement, maybe fear. 

Another step and you were scampering towards the door, still in your heels, tiny shuffles and stumbles towards the door. Coriolanus caught you easily, just as your hand wrapped around the gold crested handle of the office. Hands on your waist, pulling you by your waist towards him, anchoring you to his side. 

“Don’t you dare!” You growled, digging your heels into the floor, scuffing the freshly polished floors. 

Coriolanus tsked, head shaking at you. “Oh, my darling, do you have any idea what you’ve done now?” His tone so chilling it left you shivering. You wondered for a moment if he was still playing or if he truly was angered by you. 

When he settled back into his chair, pulling you over his spread thighs, you got your answer. “Here I was thinking that you might have learned. That I had finally taught you how to behave after all those lessons.” Coriolanus sighed heavily, dramatically, securing you over his knee. 

Heat rushed to your cheeks, squirming over his lap. “Coryo, I have-” You huffed, just as bratty and petulant as when you two had first begun. 

“-Oh?” Coryo’s tone rose, nearly taunting you. “You just proved to me you haven’t, so are you lying now, too?” Coriolanus hummed, shaking his head in disapproval. His hand moved to the swell of your ass, leaving you jumping at the gentle touch, far too excited for what was to come. 

“I have to say,” Coryo pushed the hem of your dress up, letting the fabric settle and pool at the middle of your spine. “I’m disappointed in you. I thought you would have learned by now how to behave.” His hand smoothed over your exposed skin, pinky swiping near the edge of your panties, teasing you. 

He smirked when you shuddered, a whine trapped behind your closed lips. He could feel your hips clenching, willing yourself to remain still, not to grind against his leg though he knew you so desperately wanted to. 

“I suppose it’s my fault.” Coriolanus’s hand glided over your ass, squeezing each cheek firmly. “I’ve let you behave so poorly.” Fingertip trailing down your clothed slit, pulling a desperate gasp that had him grinning. 

“Don’t worry,” Coriolanus nearly cooed, leaning down, a hand trapping yours at the small of your back, pinning it into place. “I’ll make sure you remember how to behave again.” A squeezed to your wrists that had you biting back a whimper, a warning that he was about to begin. 

Coriolanus’ hand fell on your upturned bottom, the resounding echo of each spank bouncing off the walls. Your whimpers and whines, silent cries mixed in, making the most wonderful melody he’d ever heard. One he wanted to keep on a loop, play when his mind was clouded with fears and doubts. 

You bucked in his lap, squirming against his hold, fighting every stinging spank that landed one right after the other. A sniffling mess- a mess, indeed. Coriolanus knew you could feel his cock prodding your side. The way you’d whine when it would accidentally brush into you, thighs pressing together, grinding for friction. You really were no better than a feral from the Districts. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” Coriolanus growled, his hand resting over your ignited skin, still hot from his assault. 

“Yes.” You whimpered. Your head spun, dizzy from the champagne, from the throbbing between your legs, a clouding of pure need. 

Coriolanus hummed, finger slipping back between your legs over your clothed heat. A finger pressing into the soft fabric of your panties, your own arousal seeping through. Spit filled his mouth at the thought of how you’d taste. He had half a mind to shove you onto the desk, devour you until you had soaked him and the mahogany wood. 

But you weren’t playing like that tonight. He didn’t want to go soft on you, break away and show mercy, he couldn’t. Not now, especially, it was no time to begin faltering. 

Instead, Coriolanus did shove you over the desk, bared after he’d yanked your dress; tore the fabric, pulled you to his side and spanked you again when you whined about it. There was no warning, no light teasing. No, Coryo fucked you like a machine. Hard snaps of his hips, spearing his cock further and further into you. 

You gripped the desk, palm flat against the wood as your only anchor. It was nearly barbaric how furiously he was fucking you. Jaw set in a tight clench, eyes hard on yours, commanding your gaze back at him. Wordless from him, save for the few grunts and sharp sighs out of his nose. Coryo fucked you like an object, instead of his wife. Fingertips holding your waist in a bruising grip, jackhammering into you with a fury that made your ears ring. 

He filled you, when he finally finished. Sat back in his chair leaving you limp on the desk in front of him. Brainless, broken from his cock, spilling his seed, dripping it on the desk. He’d make you lick it up later, a watchful gaze that demanded your eyes back to his as you lapped up your mess- his mess. That was the first time, but hardly the last, that Coriolanus Snow- President Snow- would be unrelentingly cruel in that office- in power.

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x f!reader; Douma, Akaza and Kokushibo.

General warnings for the next chapters: nsfw (minors do not interact), modern au, age gap, dom!muzan, sub!reader, sugar daddy dynamics, choking, semi-public sex, car sex, spanking, vaginal sex, virgin reader, business agreement, murder, death, torture, trauma.

Warning for this part: none! Just Muzan sending Douma and Kokushibo to stalk you.

Plot: Kibutsuji Muzan, the ambitious, high-flying politician the world needed, knew that in order to resemble the incarnation of the perfect man, ready to lead the Country, he would have needed a beautiful, young girl by his side. He did not care if it was real love, or just a façade. All he cared about was to make a certain impression. Meeting you was literally a manna from heaven. You signed the agreement, he treated you like a goddess. This was the beginning of a twisted fairytale, but you knew better than falling for him and, surely, he was not going to lose his mind for you. Or so you thought.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

THE AGREEMENT.

Muzan stared at the pictures scattered on his desk. He had made up his mind. You were truly a delicacy, indeed. It appeared like Douma had done a pretty decent job in searching the city for a woman whose appearence whetted Muzan’s appetites.

You were young, cheerful, working at a local restaurant to pay for your studies: the perfect candidate for being the future First Lady.

He knew everything about you. Your address, your friends’s names, your zodiac sign, your favorite ice-cream flavor and even your ex’s identity. Tracking you down and spying on you was easy. How could you, a sweet, lovely girl, imagine that the soon to be President had his plum red eyes on you? Your naivety intrigued him. He could play you like a doll, spoil you like a child and treat you like a princess. He did not care if your heart was going to belong to someone else. All you had to do was smiling for the pictures, being his future wife, show the world you were head over heels for him and, naturally, tell the medias you were his property.

He was confident about the outcome of your first, fateful encounter. He was a good-looking man, persuasive and pretty intimidating even. You would have probably fallen for his charm and forgotten about the terms of the contract anyway.

A knock on the door was the signal that you had arrived. Sending Douma to pick you up would have probably been detrimental to the mission and he knew better than letting you slip from his fingers. Kokushibo, on the other hand, was the best choice he could have ever made. Prefessional, authoritative and precise, he had apparently fulfilled his mission.

“Come in” Muzan said, flicking his gaze up to the door.

A second later, the door creaked open to reveal Kokushibo. He took a step forward, taking his sunglasses off and bowing his head to his boss as a sign of respect “She’s waiting for you in the dining room” he announced flatly, causing a smirk to cross Muzan’s face.

What an obedient girl you were. He was almost taken aback by the way you had decided to follow a stranger in a Maserati and trust what he had said. Either you were smart, or far too easy to play with.

“Thanks, Kokushibo. – Muzan stated, straightening his tie and grabbing the contract from the messy desk behind him – You are dismissed” he added shortly, walking past the tall dark-haired man and making his way to you, the new branded attraction of his house.

You were sitting on a black-leather chair, the goblet of red wine, a Chianti, that the dapper bodyguard had poured for you was settled on the crystal table, inviting you to take a sip. You resisted the tempation, it would have probably offended Mr. Kibutsuji, if you had not waited for him.

Yes, you knew who was requiring your presence. You had a really good photographic memory and you had recognized the shiny car of the politician’s bodyguards. You had watched it on the tv’s reports, you had seen it parked nearby your house for the past six months. He had probably sent his dogs to stalk you.

What truly puzzled you was why he wanted to see you. Kokushibo did not answer your questions. You had not told him you knew who he was working for, or that you had figured out who was asking for you. You had just followed him to the car without making a scene. He was a kind man, after all, just a bit frosty.

To snap you out of your stream of consciousness was the deep, velvet voice that kept you company during your lunch breaks, when you turned the tv on in a pathetic attempt to catch up with the daily news.

“Y/N L/N, welcome to my residence” Muzan said, a small smile curling his lips.

He was handsome, tall, elegant, standoffish and filthy rich. You were not used to interact with people coming from the upper class, let alone trying not to embarrass yourself in the presence of the man of the hour, the man that people loved and loathed at the same time.

“Good evening, Mr. Kibutsuji. – you said, standing up quickly from your seat and walking up to him – How may I help our soon to be President?” you quizzically asked him, eyes downcast not to falter under his piercing gaze.

You had stopped three, or four strides away from him not to invade his personal space, but your breath hitched in your throat when he met you midway. The alluring perfume he was wearing intoxicated you and, when he gently grabbed your hand, you were forced to shift your attention on him again. You were paralyzed, his eyes searching yours to make sure you were focused on him and him alone. He brought your hand to his lips, letting them brush over the back of your hand in a drammatically slow and intimate demeanor.

Shivers ran down your spine and you released a breath you did not know you were still holding, when he flashed you a sly grin, the same he directed to the camera, when he made his glorious appearences on the most popular talk-shows of the Country.

“Please, darling, call me Muzan. – he cooed, gesturing for you to take a seat and hesitantly letting go of your hand – I’m so glad you’ve accepted my anonymous invitation. You’re brave” he commented, walking over to the table and filling his own goblet of wine.

You softly smiled and made your way to your seat “Just observant. I thought I had recognized the car and your bodyguard” you admitted, reaching your hand out to grab your own glass.

The dark-haired man hummed, as he swirled the reddish drink into the cup “I should have known you were smart, a quality I absolutely adore finding in a woman. – he purred, sliding some papers towards you on the polished surface of the table – To answer your question, the reason why you are here lays within the lines of this contract”.

A contract?

You forrowed your brows, your eyes settling on the neat pile of papers under your nose. Did he want to hire you for something? You thought he already had a secretary and you clearly were not suited to be his bodyguard. What did Kibutsuji Muzan want from you, a mere student, then?

“I’ve personally drew up the contract. We can discuss some terms, if you are not comfortable with them” he explained, taking a sip of his drink and walking towards the stained glass windows of the large dining room. The landscape was breathtaking. The city lights, the skyscrapers dominating the industrialized area of the city and the yellowish lights of the cars rushing down the avenues were the spectacular view you were beholding.

Reading the whole contract would have probably taken you hours. There was no way in Hell you would have signed it without pondering each and every clause, but you gave it a quick reading and some words were now permeating your brain.

‘Wife, payment, tv, affectio maritalis, sexual performances, moving, money’.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your shaking fingers fidgeting with the charm of your necklace, a small, silver crescent moon, as you blurted out your question “What do you exactly want me to do?”.

Muzan did not turn to face you, he kept his intense gaze trailed on the city line instead “Be my wife” he simply said, earning a gasp from you.

“I’m sorry, what?” you breathed out.

“Adore me in public, love whoever you want privetely. Just a yes and I will shower you in money, gifts, respect and a life you could only dream of for the rest of your life… Are you in, my sweet Y/N?” he taunted you, turning towards you with the most dazzling and wicked smile you had ever seen in your whole existence.

You did not know what crossed your mind in that very instant and the following moments were fuzzy and fragmented, but all you knew on your way back to your small flat was that you had agreed and, when Kokushibo told you that he would have come to pick you up in the weekend, you were ready to start this new life as Kibutsuji’s ‘babygirl’ , as he had called you before you left.

You slumped onto your bed, droopy eyes and tipsy, unaware that a pair of golden and rainbow-colored eyes were watching you slipping into a well-deserved slumber.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi, there!

It’s my first post on this platform and I still need to understand a few basic things about Tumblr. Hopefully, I’ll be able to give you weekly updates, but I make no promises. This is going to be a small fan fiction and my main project for a little while. However, don’t worry, I’ll try to update some other one-shots & scenarios about other characters. Likes, comments and reposts are really appreciated!

X O X O

[littledovesnow]

president snow, the prelude

a/n: so there were like 750 words that didn't make it into the final fic for president!coryo, here they are! i wasn't going to publish this, but it sets up a lot of the backstory for future fics i have planned :)

-----

The room was electric as Lucky Flickerman’s face popped up on the TV, ready to announce Panem’s next president.

Your husband, who was freshly twenty-five and had his name on the ballot fo the first time, stood next to you, hand laced in your own.

“You’re a shoo-in, Coryo, I don’t know what they’re even doing counting the votes. Everyone knows you’re going to come out on top. After all, Snow lands on top.”

Coriolanus smiled softly at the sound of his family’s favorite phrase. He knew he had most likely won the election as well, but he wanted to hear the final vote before celebrating anything.

“The results are in,” Lucky Flickerman’s dramatics were dialed to a hundred tonight, as he flicked open an envelope brought to him by a station worker.

“Panem’s next president is,” he trailed off, wanting to build the anticipation.

You could feel the electric in the air, squeezing your husband’s hand as Lucky opened his mouth to continue. “The Capitol’s own Coriolanus Snow!”

Cheers erupted from the Snow’s great room, Coriolanus’ closest family and friends having gathered for the momentous occasion.

Mr. and Mrs. Plinth, who thought of you considered your in-laws, wasted no time in congratulating the young man, their next president. “We always knew you had it in you, Coriolanus. Ever since you and Sejanus first were mentors way back when!”

You and Coriolanus shared a look, neither of you had ever come out with the truth about what happened when Coriolanus was exiled the summer after the 10th Hunger Games.

Putting on a smile, Coriolanus hugged the older woman, and shook hands with his late classmate’s father. “You’ll do this nation proud, boy.”

“Thank you, Mr. Plinth.”

Mrs. Plinth brought her attention to you, the nation’s next First Lady. “You’ll be a splendid First Lady! Oh, the Capitol will be overjoyed to have a young couple at the helm again! Especially once a child is brought up!”

You stopped yourself from frowning, instead giving the woman a soft smile.

Coriolanus watched with a careful eye, not wanting to cause a scene at the woman’s comments. He and you had been trying for a child for a few months, to no avail. One of his first tasks as president would be to find better fertility care, as he was growing worried that each failure was taking a larger toll on you than you let on.

“If you’ll excuse us, I believe I do need to go make a speech.” Coriolanus smiled, tugging you out of the room with a promise to catch up at his inauguration.

You waited until you two were in the privacy of your bedroom before letting any emotions go, inner turmoil over your husband’s victory and sadness over Mrs. Plinth’s comment.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Coriolanus murmured; voice much softer than when he is in public. “What’s going on in that pretty mind of yours?”

 You looked at your husband with tears on deck, stomach rolling over. “She’s true. The Capitol’s going to want us to start a family as soon as possible. I’m going to be seen as a failure if I can’t even get pregnant!”

Coriolanus wrapped his arms around you as your emotions crumbled, heat growing in his heart. He wanted to immediately call for her to lose her tongue, with little regard that she was one of the two people who had helped him financially be able to make it to this point in his life.

“We’ll figure it out, my love. I vowed to help you become a mother, and it’s a vow I intend to keep.”

You sniffled, wiping your nose on your sleeve, earning a tsk from the president-elect. “I just wish it was as easy as It is for everyone else. I deserve this, for God’s sake!”

Coriolanus frowned, hand running up and down your spine. “I know, my love.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, so he kept his lips closed.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments more, until there was a knock at the door, an Avox opening it once Coriolanus granted permission.

Holding a phone up, the Avox gestured to Coriolanus, who begrudgingly stepped away from you to take the call, which was Lucky Flickerman himself, conducting a phone-style interview live on air.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes, playing into the pizazz and cheer over the phone, stating how excited he was to have this honor as president, all while sitting on the luxurious bed you two shared, hand moving up and down your arm as you curled into his side.

-----

a/n: and there it is folks, basically why i made coriolanus want funding for a fertility clinic :)

[harostar]

Listen.

Beyond all the genuine reasons to vote for Harris this November, allow me to present a more fun reason.

PETTINESS.

Don't you want the walking embodiment of Mediocre White Man Failing Upwards to lose to a highly-accomplished Woman of Color?

Don't you want Mr. White Nationalism to lose to the daughter of immigrants?

Don't you want Mr. "Grab 'em by the Pussy" to get his ass kicked by a woman?

I can think of no greater rejection of everything Trump has come to represent than electing Harris as our first Madam President.

It would destroy all those little nazi wannabes' minds.

It would be the biggest possible fuck you to them that doesn't involve direct violence.

Make Nazis Cry.

[rhettabbotts]

happy birthday, mr. president - bob floyd

pairing: president!bob floyd x wife!reader

summary: after a hard week, the last thing bob wanted to do was attend his birthday party. so instead, he plays out one of his biggest fantasies with you.

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ only. SMUT. bob eating you out in the oval office. slight bondage. slight degradation. dirty talk. mention of cameras. edging. p in v. unprotected sex. breeding kink. riding. title kink? (calling bob mr. president). drinking.

a/n: brought to you by me rewatching scandal and losing my mind. also haven’t stopped thinking about @therebeccaw’s beautiful president bob moodboard <3 also for @lt-bradshaw! thanks for bringing up president bob on the dash last night.

Bob hated parties. No matter how many balls and galas he attended, it never got any easier. He fussed with his bow tie for the umpteenth time before finally giving up, letting out a huff of frustration as he buttoned his cufflinks. 

His head snapped up at the sound of the bathroom door opening and the sight before him made him weak in the knees. You floated into the room with such grace, completely ignoring the gobsmacked look on his face. You fiddled with the back of your diamond earring, struggling to fasten it in place. 

“Baby, can you zip me up the rest of the way?” You asked nonchalantly. You moved to stand in front of him, finally catching his cobalt eyes in the cheval mirror. 

“You look beautiful,” Bob professed. His hands curved around your front to rest on your stomach, pulling you tight against him. His eyes darkened as they traveled over your body, lingering on the way the bodice hugged your breasts, pushing them up enticingly. “How am I supposed to make it through the night with you looking like this?”

“You’ll live. Now, zip me up so I can fix your tie.” 

His bottom lip jutted out slightly in a pout, causing you to playfully roll your eyes. As he moved the zipper up the last couple of inches you couldn’t reach, he pressed a kiss to the top of your spine. 

“Do we really have to go?” Bob questioned as he rested his chin on your shoulder. One hand moved back around to your front, sliding up your chest and groping you through your dress. 

“It’s your birthday. You can’t miss it. Behave, Bobby. You’ll have me all to yourself this weekend when we go to Camp David,” you asserted. “It’s just for a couple of hours. You’ll survive.”

“Highly unlikely,” he muttered as you busied yourself with his tie. You had it knotted in no time, looking pleased with your work. 

“There. All done,” you said, patting his chest before turning away. He caught your wrist, tugging you back to him swiftly. He looked down the bridge of his nose at you, eyes squinting in the way they did when you defied him. A challenging look that made you burn with desire. 

“Can we do that thing we talked about a few weeks ago?” He spoke quietly. Between the grip he had on your arm and the way he was looking at you, you were ready to say screw the party and tear his shirt buttons off with your teeth. But you knew you couldn’t do that. You didn’t get the luxury of skipping out on these things anymore. 

“The thing…”

“It is my birthday, you know,” he quipped, the corner of his thin lips twitching up into a devilish smirk. You were about to respond when Charlie knocked on the door, letting you know guests had begun to arrive. 

“Mr. President. Ma’am. We’re ready whenever you are.”

Bob dropped your wrist, linking your fingers together and squeezing your hand once. He let go to slide on his suit jacket and you brushed out any wrinkles that appeared, straightening the pin he wore on his lapel. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, craning his neck from side to side. 

“C’mon, darling. Let’s get this over with.”

You slid your arm through Bob’s, holding on tightly as you walked through the corridors of the White House. You knew he still got nervous being around so many people. But he never let it show. He was poised, a true leader. The road to the White House was not easy but you believed he was doing what he was always meant to do. Be who he was always meant to be. It made your heart swell with pride to see your husband succeed. 

“Quit starin’,” Bob muttered, sneaking a glance at you. You pinched his arm in response. 

As the doors opened to the East Room, applause erupted and you felt Bob tense ever so slightly. He was whisked away by a few senators, a champagne flute placed in his hand as they tried to schmooze him into passing their bill. He looked over his shoulder apologetically and you waved him off. You knew how these things went. You’d find your way back to him eventually. 

It took exactly forty-five minutes before Josh, Bob’s chief of staff, came up to you. He pulled you aside and leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“We’ve lost him.”

You tried to bite back a smile, surprised he lasted as long as he did. 

“I know where he is. Thank you, Josh. Do me a favor… keep the West Wing off limits.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

You wandered through the long hallways, taking your heels off halfway to the Oval Office. For the duration of the walk, you considered what Bob had asked for earlier in the night. He had mentioned that he wanted to try something different. You had discussed everything beforehand so you knew exactly what would play out. 

You would stumble into his office, he would take you over the desk. He’d be trying his best to avoid the cameras, but if you didn’t… The thought of sneaking around, the thrill of potentially being caught, it turned you on tremendously - and Bob knew that.

There was a soft glow coming from the large room as you entered through the side door. Bob was sitting in his leather chair, feet propped up on the cherry wood desk. He was nursing a glass of scotch, the amber liquid swirling around in the crystal as he finished his sip. His tongue darted out to catch a rogue droplet from the corner of his mouth. He looked so powerful sitting behind that desk. He could bring the whole world to their knees if he just asked. 

“Good evening, sir,” you said meekly. Even after a year in the White House, it still made you nervous coming into the Oval Office. Bob’s neck craned towards you and there was a lazy smile on his face. The lamp cast shadows over his face. From where you stood, you could see the sliver of grays at his temple. They started appearing more and more as the days went on, much to Bob’s dismay. Stress, you would inform him at the end of a long day.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he slurred. He straightened himself in the chair, setting his feet on the floor before standing. Your heart pounded against your ribcage as his dark eyes devoured you without saying a word. 

“I’ve been looking for you. You promised me a dance.” Your husband hummed, taking one last swig of his liquor before rounding the desk. His tie was hanging loose around his neck, the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt undone. 

Your mind ran wild with salacious thoughts as he unbuttoned the cufflinks. The slight clatter of them being haphazardly set aside was the only noise that filled the room. He rolled up his sleeves messily, veiny forearms being put on display. Your mouth dried up looking at his hands, wishing they would reach out and touch you already. 

Bob walked slowly towards you, pinning you in place with his gaze. 

“Mr. President,” you breathed. 

“I like it when you call me that,” he indicated. “Say it again.”

“Mr. President,” you purred this time. He circled you, stopping behind you like he had earlier in your room. “We shouldn’t-“

“I think we should. I think it’d be a wonderful idea.”

“But the cameras…”

“Let them watch,” he muttered in your ear. “Let them see you beg your president to let you cum.”

You whimpered at his words, pressing back into his warm body. You were already begging, a silent plea for him to take you. He wasn’t going to give in to you that easily.

Bob started shuffling the both of you towards the desk, pressing you forward until the edge dug into the tops of your thighs. You could feel how hard he was in his slacks. You knew he needed this. It had been a hellish week and he spent his birthday in meeting after meeting, leaving no time to see each other until you were crawling into bed. 

His strong hands gripped your hips and spun you around to face him. His expression was devious, you knew what his plan was. He whipped the tie from his collar and you obediently held your wrists out. 

“Good girl,” he said, pressing a searing kiss to your lips. As he pulled away, you chuckled softly. A smudge of red lipstick adorned his mouth. 

“I think you just like me tying your ties, mister,” you said. Bob had expertly knotted your wrists together with the black satin material. His response was a cheeky grin and a shrug of his shoulders. 

Maneuvering you onto the wooden surface was a small feat, he manhandled you with such ease it made your head spin. Papers scattered everywhere as he shoved them aside. He pressed against your sternum until you were flat on your back, bound wrists dangling above your head. 

He made slow work of kissing down your body, mouthing at your cleavage. Sucking small love bites into the tops of your breasts. He dropped to his knees with no preamble, diving under your dress and moving up until he landed between your thighs. He pulled your lace panties to the side and buried his face into your soaked cunt. 

The first flick of his tongue against your clit caused your hips to buck and your mouth to fall open. Bob knew how to eat you out like no other. He sucked and licked and nipped against your most sensitive parts until you were a quivering mess. 

Your mind wandered back to your previous thought about how he could bring the world to its knees. And yet here he was, the most powerful man, on his knees for you. It made your breath hitch and your thighs shake. His wanton moans vibrated through your entire body. You couldn’t see him, not with the way he had his head shoved under the skirt of your dress, but you felt every move he made. Every shake of his head, every indention his fingertips were leaving. 

You were babbling nonsense. You weren’t even sure if it was words. Variations of ‘Bob’ and ‘Sir’ and ‘Mr. President’ spilled from your lips and it seemed to make Bob that much hungrier. 

“Bobby, please. Please, I’m so close. I’m so-“

And then he stopped. 

He pulled away so quickly your hips chased his mouth and you whined desperately. His hair was a mess, loose curls that were once slicked back flopped onto his forehead. His cheeks were flushed, his lips wet with your desire. 

“You bastard,” you mumbled, trying to steady your breathing. You had been right on the edge. But you knew that’s what he wanted. You knew what he had in store. 

He said nothing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He said nothing as he moved you off the desk and around the back of it. He said nothing as he nearly broke the zipper on your gown, practically tearing it off of you. A small pleased noise escaped him as you stood before him in your underwear, wrists tied and breasts on full display. 

“Such a dirty slut, aren’t you? Letting me take you in here where anyone could walk in. You like that though, don’t you? Yeah, I know you do.”

He moved to sit once more in his chair, thighs spreading wide as he palmed over his cock. A whimper caught in your throat when he pulled himself out. You’ve said it a million times before but Bob Floyd had a pretty dick. And you would never tire of the sight.

“Want you to ride my cock, pretty girl.”

Bob pulled you into his lap and onto his cock without much warning. The stretch never failed to make you gasp, no matter how many times it had been. He settled you until he was to the hilt, full of him. He reached down to untie your wrists and you tangled your fingers through his hair instantly. 

You couldn’t move much on your own so Bob took matters into his own hands and bounced you. Hands holding your hips tight enough you were sure there would be bruises by tomorrow. It was quick and messy, your thighs were burning and you couldn’t hold back your moans. 

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna finally make you a momma. We'll have little babies running around this place before you know it. Fuck, sweetheart. I’m the luckiest man alive,” Bob rambled. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room and you silently prayed Josh listened to you before. 

Your nails clawed at the part of Bob’s chest that was exposed, slipping your hand inside the half buttoned shirt to scrape against his nipple. It caused his eyes to roll back and his hips to stutter. 

“Moan for me, Bobby.” He did. Loud and unabashedly. 

The fast rhythm had both of you close in no time. His mouth attached to your breasts once more and that was it for you. You clenched around him tightly, throwing your head back and nearly screaming as he continued the brutal pace into you. It took him a few more thrusts before he was releasing inside of you, filling you full of him. 

You slumped against his chest, hot breath washing over his damp skin as he rubbed up and down your spine. 

“I can’t believe we just defiled the Oval Office. We could be arrested,” you joked. 

“Not the first time,” Bob said. “Thank you for indulging me, honey. I love you to the moon and stars.”

“Happy birthday, Mr. President,” you giggled. A weak groan tumbled from his lips as his dick twitched inside of you. 

“Don’t do that to me right now.”

“Is that an order?” You challenged, rolling your hips teasingly. 

“You little brat,” he muttered against your lips, picking you up and walking you over to one of the couches. It was a long and glorious night. 

Several weeks later you stood in the en suite bathroom, with four positive pregnancy tests sitting on the counter. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting tickled. 

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

First Dates (Luke, Marius, Artem, Vyn)

Cw: Fluff

NXX boys x Fem! Reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Luke

Luke’s style seems to gravitate towards stuff like them park dates and county fair dates, so that’s what he does for your first

He picks you up early on a Saturday morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed. You're almost annoyed because no one should be so perky before 10 am in the morning. And he doesn’t need coffee rude

The two of you stop for a quick breakfast before descending on the theme park

After that you run through the usual culprits: twirly rides, house of mirrors, a couple roller coasters (before lunch, not after), pretending to be scared at the haunted house rides

he shows off his aim at some of the game booths winning you exactly what you want

You even manage to convince him to do face painting with you

In all honesty, it feels like being kids again. Except kids don’t hold hands and find secluded areas to make out

In the evening you find a nice little hill--scratch that, the two of you are definitely sitting next to each other on the Farris wheel while you watch the fireworks

Marius

A date with Marius is upscale. You definitely need a fancy dress which he has no problems paying for

It comes in two parts

First he takes you to an art gallery. One he totally rented out for the night

You’re more than happy to watch him smile and talk about his art. He always lights up and sometimes loses that mask of the rich little shit and it is a treat

You spend several hours there, but he’s mindful of your comfort. Heels are a bitch to walk in for long periods of time. 

When you’re ready to leave, Marius takes you to a super fancy restaurant. You went a little pale when you saw where you were going, then reminded you that Marius has the money to volunteer to give you ridiculously expensive dogs. A private reservation overlooking a quiet park is no biggie for Mr. Acting President von Hagen.  

All in all, it’s very nice. You can’t get out of being the object of his teasing and no matter how fancy the joint, he still gets full named. 

Artem

A first date with Artem is classic. Dinner and a movie. 

The two of you ended up going back and forth about who picked the movie and diner, eventually settling on you picking the movie while he picked the diner.

You did your research and picked something that would appeal to both of you. A reshowing of a timeless chick flick: The Titanic (Is the Titanic a classic in 2030?)

Artem makes sure he has plenty of tissues he knows you’re prone to crying at the end

Afterwards, you two have an in depth debate over whether Jack and Rose would have both fit on the door. He tells you that if that ever happens, he’ll make sure both of you survive. 

For diner Artem takes you to a nice Mom-and-Pop restaurant. It turns out he’s been going there since he was a kid and the proprietors are really happy to see that “Artie finally found himself a nice girl. It’s about time.”

Despite their gentle teasing, the food there really is some of the best you’ve ever had

Of course, Artem drives you home himself and walks you to the door

Vyn

And last, but never least Vyn “here are my red flags” Richter

On the scale of fancy to classic to casual, Vyn ends up bringing you on a date that rates somewhere between fancy and classic. It’s classy, it’s upscale, but it’s not oozing “I run a conglomerate” either

He takes you to see a ballet or an Opera. Swan lake, maybe, Something refined, much like your date

Of course, you have very good seats. Vyn wouldn’t have anything else.

After the show, you go to a quiet, but upscale restaurant. It’s one well known for it’s wine, which the guy is an absolute stickler for. 

Vyn is a complete gentleman the entire time. Really, he always is. Treating you with nothing but the utmost respect, despite his concerning manipulative tendencies and you enjoy seeing a glimpse of what Vyn is like when you’re not calling him Dr. Richter.

[redistrictgirl]

As of August 25th, 2024, Kamala Harris is slightly favored in the race for the presidency.

The Vice President's convention bump has arrived. Her margin in the polling average has increased to an astonishing 2.9 points, bringing the environment nearly to the median in the post-Trump era - a mind-boggling achievement when you consider that just five weeks ago, we were headed towards another 2022.

The most important hue changes here are Wisconsin and Arizona, two states that are Ms. Harris's best chances at making the final push to 270 votes. However, Pennsylvania is also rapidly joining that club as state-level polling in the Keystone State has come back down to Earth, bringing the focus back to the blue wall. About 85% of Ms. Harris' paths to victory require her to win Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Michigan (which has gotten marginally bluer), and Nebraska's second congressional district. By contrast, Mr. Trump still only has about a 70% chance of winning if he flips either of Nevada or Arizona.

By contrast, the former President is relying on holding North Carolina as well as flipping Georgia - if he loses either state, winning Pennsylvania becomes much less helpful for him. Indeed, Mr. Trump's chances of victory collapse to an astonishing 5% if he does not win both. Consequently, he must have significant distress at the ground he's lost in the Southeast - Georgia's hue has reverted back to where it was two weeks ago, while he is neck-and-neck with Ms. Harris in North Carolina's polling average.

Interestingly, the states at the fringe of the board have drifted somewhat. New Hampshire has become fairly safe for the Vice President, but she has lost just enough ground in New Mexico to truly put it on the board. However, the outlook is much bleaker for the businessman - Ohio and Nebraska's first congressional district, which contains Lincoln and some of the Omaha suburbs, are both on the board on top of lost ground in Texas and Alaska.

Overall, this week is about as good as Ms. Harris could have asked for, but her path to victory is still relatively strict and it would not be a shock to see Mr. Trump recover ground in the coming weeks. The Vice President must not just rest on her momentum, but build upon it (potentially by winning the left's favor after a convention clearly targeted at the median voter), while the Former President needs to turn around his campaign and focus on optimizing his paths to victory.

[mercicide]

COUGH. HACK. AHEM. Mildly dubcon idea.

Now that we have PSC president!Keigo, it opens some fantastic opportunities for CEO Keigo.

Most notably:

Head of Commission Keigo who always treats his employees right, rewarding them for good efforts.

Who's just a little infatuated with his sweet little secretary.

Who sweet talks you into visiting his office on the top floor, citing a want to discuss a 'promotion.'

Who eats you out on his desk before he fucks you on it, silencing your hesitation with your own sounds until you're too blissed-out to protest that wait, that's against policy...!

Everyone assumes the reason your legs are shaky when you leave the building is just the nerves. But of course, there's nothing to worry about!

Because the Commission President would never misuse his authority like that.

And he would never do it again next week.

- magpie anon ✦

LOSING MY MIND OVER THIS ASK—

Okay. Okay.

When Keigo invites you into his office, it's a shame he only has one chair; but that's alright, Keigo assures you. Really, he doesn't mind if you sit on his desk! It's just a little chat, he'll be out of your hair in no time.

Don't mind the click of the lock behind you.

You make a million excuses for why Keigo's hand has to rest on your knee as he prattles on about your impeccable performance lately.

That shouldn't be there.

And yet...

Hawks is your infuriatingly attractive work crush boss, so you swallow the leap in your throat at the feeling of his large, calloused hand trailing up from your knee towards your thigh.

A thumb rubs circles on your inner thigh, silently coaxing you to spread your legs— and when you mindlessly obey, the bastard is all smiles.

He knew you would be pliant for him. That's part of what Keigo loves likes about you.

Not his fault that you look so pretty like this. It's not Keigo's fault that you lift your hips for him when he sinks his thumbs into your waistband and slowly pulls the fabric down, down to bunch at your ankles and expose that pretty little cunt for him to taste.

He wouldn't break eye contact for even a second.

It's only natural.

His lips make contact with your thigh, trailing kisses up toward your core where he latches onto you with a rumbling hum from his throat.

This is natural.

He just needs to lap his fill between your thighs, making you feel what he feels when he thinks about you. He needs to shut up your pathetic little excuses for how "this could get you in trouble, Mr. Hawks" and "what if someone sees, Mr. Hawks?"

Be honest. You were meant to be here, bent over and creaming for the third time around his thick cock to keep him satisfied, all from the moment he first laid eyes on you as his pretty little new-hire.

[codenamesazanka]

super absurd fic idea

Post-MVA, but pre-Jaku war.

A giant planet-destroying asteroid is headed towards Earth, and despite scientists-from-all-around-the-world's best efforts, there is no technology that can stop it. Heroes - and complex combinations of Heroes - can't stop it either. Whatever solution whoever has come up with just won't work. Earth is doomed...

Except when someone in Japan realizes maybe Shigaraki Tomura might be able to do something about the asteroid with Decay, especially since it can get totally disintegrated without the danger of big fragments flying to Earth.

Basically, for whatever reason, the world has absolutely no choice of avoiding this asteroid collusion except for Shigaraki decaying the whole thing.

fic is not about that tho. It's about the HPSC sitting down with Shigaraki and the League and the PLF executives trying to negotiate a deal.

“So,” Shigaraki said, single red eye from behind that awful hand staring down Hawks and the HPSC president. “You want me to go out to space, and destroy the asteroid.”

Shigaraki asks for total and eternal immunity for him and his army, and total control over Akihabara in exchange for this job. Then he changes his mind to get the whole Chiyoda Ward instead, might as well.

Toga pipes in that she wants Shinjuku, so Shigaraki adds that into the deal. Then she remembers Shibuya, so that gets added too. Seeing how they're just asking for anything, Mr. Compress wants Minato - but Shigaraki doesn't want it, too many Heroes stationed there. Compress says there's really good restaurants in Minato and besides, they can just kick all the Heroes out. Before long, they're asking for all of Tokyo as like. idk. independent city-state where the PLF rules.

ReDestro pipes up that they wanted the whole country, didn't they? Shigaraki says there's no way the government would hand that over, they rather become extinct by asteroid than lose that much dignity, so he's currently just asking for Tokyo. besides, when he comes back, they could always just try taking over the country with Tokyo serving as a base.

This is all discussed openly in front of the HPSC who tries to enter the conversation but always get shut out.

Someone eventually gets fed up and asks, Doesn't Shigaraki want to save the planet he's fucking living on?

Shigaraki shrugs, says he was planning on destroying it anyways, so not much difference. He doesn't care. (The League goes along, because they know Shigaraki knows they don't want to die either, but he needs to put up this act - and he does it so convincingly.) On the opposite end of things, tho, it's clear that HPSC/the world cares a lot but doesn't have any choice, cuz otherwise they wouldn’t have come groveling to him.

Fic ends with Shigaraki and the PLF giving a whole list of absolutely absurd demands, as well as Shigaraki requesting the whole League goes with him to space, because he knows

Heroes will definitely try to do something while he's gone

It's s p a c e

They're get to ride a freakin' spaceship.

Oh, and he's taking a a few very important hostages like world leaders and celebrities as well so Earth doesn't try to blow up the spaceship after the mission is completed.

anyways, the League goes on what's essentially an all-expenses-paid vacation to outer space. And all Shigaraki has to do is spacewalk out and touch the asteroid.

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 Scenes of chaos and horror after the Israeli occupation army bombed a gathering of civilians attempting to obtain a clear internet signal in the Al-Jarn area of the Jabalia Camp, in the northern Gaza Strip, resulting in the deaths of at least three Palestinians. 📈 The endlessly rising death toll in the Zionist entity's ongoing genocide in the Gaza Strip now exceeds 37'713 Palestinians killed and over 86'377 others wounded since October 7th. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

WAR IN GAZA, DAY 264: SENIOR ISRAELI OFFICIALS AND ACADEMICS DEMAND U.S. CANCEL NETANYAHU'S VISIT TO CONGRESS, GENOCIDE GOES ON AS CIVILIANS ARE TARGETED BY OCCUPATION BOMBS

On 264th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 4 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 60 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 140 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands, of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or who's bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

Writing in an opinion piece published by the New York Times, several former Israeli officials and academics have called upon the United States to cancel a planned speech to the Congress by the embattled Zionist entity's Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu.

The officials writing the opinion piece include David Harel, President of the Israeli Academy of the Sciences and Humanities; Tamir Pardo, former director of the Mossad spy agency; Talia Sasson, former director of the special tasks department at "Israel's" State Attorney's Office; Ehud Barack, the former Israeli Prime Minister; and Aaron Ciechanover, winner of the Nobel Prize in Chemistry.

The officials and academics write that inviting Netanyahu to speak before Congress is a "terrible mistake," and that his appearance before Congress will "not represent the State of Israel and its citizens," resulting in the rewarding of Netanyahu's "scandalous and destructive conduct."

Coming from positions of politics, the sciences, technology, defense and law, the writers feel they are well placed to judge the effects of Netanyahu's extremist government, adding that "like many, we believe that he is driving Israel downhill at an alarming speed, to the extent that we may eventually lose the country we love."

The officials continue by saying that Netanyahu and his regime have failed to create a plan for ending the war in the Gaza Strip, and that the Occupation Prime Minister has been unable to secure the release of Israeli hostages detained by the Palestinian Resistance in the Strip.

"At the very least, an invitation to address Congress should have been contingent upon resolving these two issues and, in addition, calling for new elections in Israel," they write in the Times.

The officials go on to declare that, "Inviting Mr. Netanyahu will reward his contempt for U.S. efforts to establish a peace plan, allow more aid to the beleaguered people of Gaza and do a better job of sparing civilians."

They warn that, again and again, the Netanyahu administration has rejected U.S. President Joe Biden's plans to remove Hamas from its position of power in the Gaza Strip by establishing a peacekeeping force in the Palestinian enclave.

"Such a move would very likely bring in its wake a far broader regional alliance, including a vision to solve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, which is not only in Israel’s interest but also in the interest of both political parties in the United States. Mr. Netanyahu constitutes the main obstacle to these outcomes," the officials said in the Times.

"The man who will address Congress next month has failed to assume responsibility for the blunders that allowed the Hamas assault, initially blaming security chiefs (then quickly backtracking), and has yet to announce the establishment of a direly needed state commission of inquiry headed by a Supreme Court judge to look into the fiasco," they added.

The writers go on to list the many ways in which the Israeli Prime Minister has weakened the Israeli occupation, while giving examples of the ways in which Netanyahu's coalition partners endanger the rights of Israeli citizens, including the example of the violent suppression of Israeli protests against the government, as well as Netanyahu's insistence on enshrining into law the exemption from military service for the Ultra-Orthodox at a time of war.

"Above all, many Israelis are convinced that Mr. Netanyahu has obstructed proposed deals with Hamas that would have led to the release of the hostages in order to keep the war going and thus avoid the inevitable political reckoning he will face when it ends," the former officials and academics said of Netanyahu's corrupt administration.

The writers go on to point to Israeli public opinion, which they say has turned against the Prime Minister's administration as Netanyahu's coalition hangs on tightly to its slim majority in the Israeli Knesset.

The officials continue by slamming Netanyahu's seeming lack of concern for the hundreds of thousands of Israelis displaced by Hezbollah's retaliation in the north of the occupied Palestinian territories, resulting from the continued Zionist aggression in the Gaza Strip, while growing demonstrations in the occupied territories threaten Netanyahu's position as the protest movement continues to grow in strength.

"That’s where Mr. Netanyahu’s speech to Congress fits in with his political needs. No doubt it will be carefully stage-managed to prop up his shaky hold on power and allow him to boast to his constituents about America’s so-called support for his failed policies," the officials said of Netanyahu's speech to Congress.

They warn that Likud and the far-right's supporters in the occupied territories will be emboldened by the speech before Congress, coming to the conclusion that it will further hinder the chances of making a deal that could see the Israeli hostages released.

The officials conclude by saying, "Giving Mr. Netanyahu the stage in Washington will all but dismiss the rage and pain of his people, as expressed in the demonstrations throughout the country. American lawmakers should not let that happen. They should ask Mr. Netanyahu to stay home."

Meanwhile, the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation continued in the Gaza Strip, with several airstrikes overnight and into the morning that resulted in dozens of casualties.

In just a few examples of the Zionist entity's war crimes in Gaza, an occupation air raid targeted a residential house belonging to the Abu Awad family in the city of Beit Lahiya, in the northern Gaza Strip, with initial reports stating that three Palestinians were killed in the assault, while at least a dozen others were wounded.

Subsequently, additional reporting stated the death toll in the Beit Lahiya strike had risen to 15, while several others remained in critical condition.

Following that strike, occupation aircraft fired a missile towards a gathering of civilians attempting to obtain an internet signal in the Al-Jarn area of the town of Jabalia, in the northern Gaza Strip, after which, three Palestinians who were killed in the strike were transferred to the Indonesian Hospital in the city of Beit Lahiya.

At the same time, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) bombed, and detonated with explosives, several residential homes in neighborhoods southwest of Gaza City, as well as the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of the city, while the systematic destruction of residential neighborhoods and public infrastructure in the city of Rafah in the south continued unabated.

According to local reporting, the occupation army detonated a number of residential squares in the Saudi neighborhood, west of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, as well as in neighborhoods east and northeast of Khan Yunis, while violent occupation artillery shelling and airstrikes hammered the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip.

Local reporting states that a number of civilians were killed, and many others wounded, as a result of IOF artillery shelling of various neighborhoods of Gaza City, including the Al-Sabra, Al-Zaytoun, and Tal al-Hawa neighborhoods.

Simultaneously, Zionist artillery detatchments resumed their bombardment of the eastern areas of the Bureij Refugee Camp, as well as targeting agricultural lands west of the Nuseirat Camp, both in the central Gaza Strip.

Local reports write that 5 civilians were killed in an artillery strike, and were subsequently taken to Al-Awda Hospital in the Nuseirat Camp after being targeted in their residential apartment, while occupation artillery shelling also targeted farmers in the grape vineyards, west of the New Camp area in the Nuseirat Camp.

Occupation soldiers also detonated a number of residential buildings in the vicinity of the Zoroub roundabout, west of the city of Rafah, south of Gaza, coinciding with heavy artillery shelling of the central and western neighborhoods of the city.

Palestinian sources have also reported that a number of wounded civilians arrived at the European Gaza Hospital in the city of Khan Yunis, south of Gaza, after intense occupation bombing pummeled citizen's homes in the town of Al-Khuza'a.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the infinitely rising death toll now exceeds 37'718 Palestinians killed, including at least 10'000 women and more than 15'000 children, while another 86'377 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

June 26th, 2024.

#source1

#source2

#source3

#source4

#source5

#videosource

#graphicsource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[latriii]

𐄹 DEJA VU ? — y.jw x f!reader ★

| OO18. BALCONY MEMORIES

tuesday 12:40pm — jungwon’s house

“JUNGWON STOP CHEATING.” yn screamed, continuously pressing the x on the controller.

“IM NOT EVEN CHEATING. YOU JUST SUCK.” the boy laughed so hard his stomach started hurting.

the two have been playing games for a good 2 hours since they couldn’t go out and do whatever they wanted to. the sounds of laughing, tapping due to the controller, and smacking noises from yn kicking the boy filled throughout the room.

they were really starting to get along, the sight of a new bond opened for these two without them even realizing it.

yn threw jungwon’s controller on his bed out of frustration. she hated losing and thats all shes been doing since she started playing against him.

jungwon placed his hand on the girls thigh and lightly tapped it. “stop being so upset.”

yn scrunched her nose, “shut up.”

“its not my fault you suck.” jungwon said, earning another kick from yn. the boy bursted out laughing once again as he fell over. he really enjoyed being around yn, these interactions really confirmed his feelings for her.

the door cracked open revealing jungwon’s mother. she had a plate of beautifully cut fruit for the two.

“you guys seem to having fun.” mrs yang said, placing the plate down on the table the two were sitting at.

“yes! your son is being so annoying though.” yn said, grabbing a fork and sticking it into the fruit to be plopped into her mouth.

mrs yang chuckled, ruffling jungwon’s hair. “thats just how he is when he likes someone.” and with that, she walked out leaving the two alone once again.

yn froze, glancing at jungwon who had also stopped moving due to his mothers words.

“you like me?” the girl questioned, as she ate another fruit.

jungwon was completely taken aback. was he going to tell her now? he already told himself he was going to wait to see if sunghoon liked her. but like, his mother already sold him out…

the boy just nodded. leading back against his bed, trying to look as unbothered as he possibly could.

yn found this cute, him being flustered because of her question was amusing.

the girl placed down her fork and crossed her arms. she just stared at him. he gulped, not knowing what she was thinking.

“i like you too. but ask me out when were both back on a balcony.” the girl smiled at the boy, throwing her leg over him as she wrapped her hands around him— catching the boy off guard.

the boy hummed in response.

“you remember how pretty the balcony was, right?” yn said, she was now sitting on top of him staring deeply into his eyes.

“of course i do, i also remember making out with you.” jungwon smirked, wrapping his arms around the girls waist.

yn hit jungwon’s chest playfully. jungwon just smiled, he was relieved that there feelings were mutual.

now he just had to find a way to ask her out.

m.list — prev next

| 𐄹 DEJA VU would be word that went though yn’s mind when she saw the class president at her new school. the uncanny resemblance YANG JUNGWON had with the guy SATO YN kissed at a party last weekend ran through the girls mind. but there was one problem, they were complete opposites. they aren’t same person, RIGHT ?

latri’s zz .. tbh i dont rlly like this chapter and ill do sm better when he actually officially asks her out !!

TAGLIST @eulris @yenqa @jungwonsgfnameyukie @taegyuul @chaechae-23 @astrae4 @winteringdream @l0veflrws @leaderwon @wtfhyuck @softpia @kyyuri @jangw2nyo @curly-fr13s @baekhyunstruly @wonioml @sydneylam777 @woncheecks @soobsdior @beomsbeanie @j-wyoung @ilovewonyo @officiallyjaehyuns @hyuckscore @maimoirs @haefims @pr-da @nokacchan @sserafimez @heartsforjngwn @lhees01 @kyuupidwrites @shinsou-rii @ensrfm @strwberrydinosaur @cwsana @rikimylover @haoqwrld @soobisrealgfnotfake @sunooluver @wonyoungsvirus @aeminju @tzyuki

[ralfmaximus]

Trump seemed tired, dejected and confused this weekend. Covering Trump’s Sunday appearances, the Times wrote,

Mr. Trump began his at an outdoor rally at an airport in Pennsylvania where, his shoulders slumped and his voice subdued, he threw out his prepared remarks to tell supporters that he “shouldn’t have left” the White House after his loss to President Biden in 2020.

The same report later noted that Trump “proceeded to deliver dark, rambling and at times angry remarks in which he attacked polls, assailed Democrats as ‘demonic,’ and suggested he would not mind if reporters were shot.”

Politico was even more scathing. “Donald Trump barreled through Sunday in a state of seeming rage from which nothing and no one appeared safe,” it reported, noting his statements about regretting leaving the White House and threatening death upon reporters. Politico also noted that Trump lost his stride by the second stop of the day.

By the time he hit North Carolina, Trump seemed at times to lose track of both which state he was in and what he was talking about. Speaking to supporters on an air strip in Kinston — taking the stage two hours late — Trump mistakenly suggested that Pennsylvania Senate candidate David McCormick was in the crowd. “We have great Republicans running, and you have one of the best of all right here, David McCormick,” Trump said. “David is here around some place, you know, we just left him. He’s a great guy.” He also told a fictional story about the deceased Al Capone and MyPillow CEO Mike Lindell having dinner together, and Lindell offering Capone pillows.

Jay Kuo sums up the final few days of campaigning. Trump threatening reporters with death, declaring that he should never have left the white house, and forgetting basic facts like where he is at the moment... you know, the usual stuff.

[jellofish-of-the-deep]

Y/N Dies of a Caffeine Overdose and Lycaon Finds Your Corpse in a Public Bathroom

Read on ao3 here:

It was a day like any other for the employees of Victoria Housekeeping. Rina was ordering her Bangboos (Bangboo? Bangbi?) to dust the bookshelf, Ellen was holding the vacuum cleaner in one hand while tapping at her phone in the other, and Corrin was busy being useless.

In the middle of the room stood Von Lycaon, proud and diligent president of the company, the pocket watch in his paw reflecting gilded sunlight onto snowy fur. In a smooth, practiced motion, he stowed the watch in his breast pocket, sighing.

“Corrin, although I admire your tenacity, your performance has been lacking this morning. I have noticed a twenty-two percent decline in incomprehensible sobbing from you today, and an almost seventy percent decrease in rampant property destruction. At this rate, you are never going to hit your quota.”

“Ah!” squeaked Corrin as she tripped over thin air, catching herself by stabbing her saw blade into their very rich client’s very expensive and irreplaceable rug. The rug spontaneously burst into flames. The pair looked at it for a second, before Corrin practically slammed her head into the ground. “I-I’m very sorry for not meeting your expectations, Mr. Lycaon!”

“It is quite alright Corrin, we each have our off days. However, may I inquire as to the reason for your lapse in focus? If there is any way in which I may assist you in upholding your ‘dojikko-moe’ character, as the kids these days call it, I shall be happy to lend you my aid.”

“Please… please don’t ever say that again, boss,” Ellen muttered emotionlessly, blood trickling from her ears.

“Well, you see, Mr. Lycaon… I-It’s [Y/N].”

Lycaon raised an eyebrow. “The Proxy?”

“Yes! I’m just so worried about them, Mr. Lycaon… Oh, they’re not in danger or anything! At least, I don’t think so…”

Lycaon did that thing that hot fictional men do where they put their index finger and thumb on their chin. “Would you care to elaborate, Corrin?”

“Oh, yes! Well, it started last week…”

One week ago

After two hours of crashing into every single person who walked by, Corrin finally managed to escape the train station and step into Sixth Street. It was one of her favorite places to visit, as it was never too loud and there were plenty of alleyways she could duck into to break down crying at a moment’s notice.

Unfortunately, Corrin did not have time for a nervous breakdown today, as she was here to run an important errand for Victoria Housekeeping: namely, to repair their Butler Bangboo that she mistook for an Ethereal yesterday before promptly brutalizing it with her fully charged EX Special Attack. Now, if she remembered correctly (a rare occurrence), she just had to turn this corner to get to the Turbo Remodeling Shop…

“FUCKING SHIT GOD DAMN IT I’M GOING TO END IT ALL!”

At the sudden string of expletives, Corrin yelped and dove headfirst into the nearest trash can, startling the cats that happened to be sleeping inside and leaving Corrin with a fresh set of claw marks on her face.

“W-What was that?” Corrin whimpered, peeking around the corner. The noise, she now recognized, was coming from the music shop, Bardic Needle.

“WHAT DO YOU M E A N, I’M OUT OF MASTER COPIES??? I HAD HUNDREDS OF THOSE LITTLE SHITS SAVED UP!!!”

A tired, robotic sigh echoed across the street. “Please, [Y/N], this is quite inelegant-”

“QUIET, ELFY, OR I’M DOWNLOADING YOUR AI INTO A B-RANK W-ENGINE!”

That was [Y/N]’s voice! But what exactly was upsetting them so much, Corrin wondered, as she trepidatiously slid open the door.

“H-Hello, Master Pro-”

“CORRIN SWEETIE PLEASE YOU HAVE TO HELP ME I’M LOSING MY MIND,” [Y/N] screeched, causing Corrin to flinch and knock over an antique record player.

The legendary Proxy was hunched over in the middle of the store surrounded by a comically large pile of nearly identical music disks, hair completely frazzled, eyes bloodshot, looking as though they had just snorted several lines of Ether powder. Elfy stood in the only uncluttered corner of the room, hands dragging down her face, muttering to herself about closing down the shop and taking a swan dive into the nearest Hollow because Corruption couldn’t possibly be worse than this. Corrin hadn’t realized that robots could have bags under their eyes.

Corrin cleared her throat. “You seem to be in a lot of trouble… M-May I ask what is bothering you, Master Proxy?”

[Y/N] visibly took a deep, shaky breath, and tried to lower their voice. “Well, you see… I’m trying to farm Fanged Metal Drive Disks for mommy sorry I mean mommy sorry I mean mommy sorry I mean Jane Doe, but these stupid things KEEP GIVING ME HP AND DEF SUBSTATS!!”

Corrin cowered in fear at the sudden volume, but [Y/N] continued to raise their voice to a howl. “AT THIS RATE I’M NEVER GOING TO REACH 420+ ANOMALY PROFICIENCY FOR MY TOP TIER S-RANK DUMMY THICC HOT RAT DOMMY MOMMY WAIFU! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!”

“Please, try to calm down, Master Proxy! I-I don’t exactly understand any of what you just said, but I’m sure it’s very complicated Proxy things that I’m not knowledgeable enough to understand… A-Anyways! Let’s try to think about how to approach this!”

Corrin frowned. “You mentioned earlier that you were ‘out of Master Copies’, whatever that means, but… Is there a way to get more of them? O-Or, maybe there’s another way to get…” she looked around at the hundreds of music disks piled on the floor, “…whatever it is that you need, without them?”

“I can’t get any more Hi-Fi Master Copies,” [Y/N] groaned, “I’ve already maxed out my Fortnite Battle Pass this season. And the only other way to get these is through Routine Cleanup, but I’ve already used my Battery Charge for today… Unless…”

[Y/N]’s eyes widened.

“OF COURSE! I just need to get more Battery Charge, and then I can suck the military’s dick for CDs as much as I want! And the best way to do that is…”

[Y/N] turned around, crouched down into a running start, and tore through the wall of Bardic Needle, leaving behind a [Y/N] shaped hole.

“CAFFEINE!!!” echoed their voice, leaving Corrin and Elfy to stare at the now-demolished music store.

“W-Well, I’m glad I could help?” Corrin called back, hesitantly.

Elfy very calmly turned around, sat down in her chair, and began a factory reset.

Present day

“So, then they went to the coffee shop, you said?” Lycaon asked, rubbing his temple.

“Yes, Mr. Lycaon! I spoke with the barista later. Apparently they had a heated argument, because he’s only supposed to serve customers one coffee per day, but he gave up after [Y/N] threatened to drink a k-cup mixed with ketchup and orange juice.”

“I… see…” Lycaon frowned, unsure as to how to process this.

“Was it with or without pulp?” Rina asked, scribbling in her cookbook. Her two Bangbongle flew out from the drawer they were cleaning.

“Ewwwww, orange juice with pulp fucking sucks!” Drusilla pitched in.

“Fucking sucks! Fucking sucks!” Anastella parroted.

“Rina, for the sake of our clients’… survival, I would urge you not to replicate the Proxy’s handiwork in a professional setting,” Lycaon coughed, as Rina’s Bangbussy giggled to each other.

“Do it when I’m around,” Ellen said, “I kinda wanna try it.”

“Ahem. Returning to the matter at hand,” Lycaon gave a pointed look to Rina and her Boob, “I do not understand much about the underlying issue myself, but I am concerned about how much stress it seems to be putting the Proxy through. Corrin, was this the last time you spoke with them?”

“Yes, Mr. Lycaon, I-I tried to message them several times this week but they didn’t respond, and when I went back to their video store there was only the Bangboo at the front desk… I’m really worried about them, Mr. Lycaon…”

Lycaon sighed. “It is no wonder you have been struggling as of late.” He retrieved his pocket watch and flipped it open. “Well, as proud representatives of Victoria Housekeeping, it would be quite unbefitting of us to leave a client in want of assistance, would it not?”

He smiled and reached down to pat Corrin’s head, who squeaked and leaned into his paw. “Don’t worry, Corrin, I’ll go check in on them, to make sure that our friend is doing okay.”

The mood was becoming too fluffy for a crack fic, so Corrin promptly tripped and broke a vase that was filled to the brim with live spiders.

~~~

After sending the Proxy a message and confirming that there was no response, the first place Lycaon investigated was the Random Play video store. He was greeted only by the cheerful ehn-nas of Bangboo 18, which was disappointing but expected.

He then tried Bardic Needle, which was permanently closed. Listening to the gossip on the street, he learned that the owner of the place had transferred her consciousness into a Bangboo and ran off into the night to find a new calling in life. To each their own, Lycaon supposed.

Finally, Lycaon walked into Coff Cafe, and was greeted by a robot slumped over on the bar.

“Ugh… I swear to god, [Y/N], if you keep coming in like this, your next coffee will have cockroach powder in- Oh wait, you’re not [Y/N]!”

Tin Master looked up at Lycaon and sagged noticeably in relief.

Lycaon raised an eyebrow. “Good morning to you, sir. As a matter of fact, I have come here for the purpose of inquiring about that very person. You’ve seen [Y/N]?”

Tin Master groaned. “Been taken hostage by them, more like.” The robot slammed his head down onto the bartop. “Yes, I’ve seen them. For the past week, they’ve been coming into my cafe every ten minutes to order a coffee. Twenty. Four. Hours. A day.”

The barista sighed. “I know that my cafe is open 24 hours, but even us robots need some downtime to recharge, you know? But every time I try to explain that to them, they just pull out a thermos of that horrid concoction…” He shuddered. “I’ve had to run on low power mode just to survive! Isn’t it awful?”

Lycaon blinked. “I… am very sorry to hear that, sir. Are they here right now?”

“Yeah, they went to use the bathroom. That was what, ten minutes ago, now?” Tin Master looked up at the clock and squinted blearily. He rubbed his eyes. “Huh, I could’ve sworn it hasn’t been that long.. I guess my internal clocks are malfunctioning from battery deprivation.”

Lycaon tried to quell the rising anxiety in his throat. “May I ask sir, how long ago did they enter the bathroom?”

“About two and a half hours ago.”

Lycaon’s eyes widened. “And they’re still in there?”

“I never saw them walk out, that’s for sure.”

Lycaon sprinted past the disoriented barista and slid to a stop in front of the single-stall bathroom. He hurriedly knocked on the door. “Master [Y/N], are you in there? Can you hear me?”

He placed his ear against the door. He faintly picked up on weak gurgling that his heightened Thiren senses were able to identify as that of the Proxy.

“Master Proxy! Forgive my intrusion, but I am opening this door to confirm your safety! Yell at me if you wish for me to stop!” Lycaon shouted as he broke open the lock with one swift kick (he made a mental note to reimburse Coff Cafe later). He pulled, and the door swung open.

The bathroom was a complete mess. The mirrors and tiles that were normally kept, according to Tin Master’s sanitary standards, “shinier than my ex-wife’s crocodile tears during the custody battle, like, she had artificial tear ducts installed into her frame and everything,” were spattered with speckles of fresh and vaguely coffee-scented vomit. In the middle of the carnage was [Y/N], slumped over and drowning in the toilet bowl.

“Proxy!” Lycaon yelled in alarm. His cybernetic leg pistons fired as he propelled himself towards [Y/N], grabbing them by the collar out of the toilet with one hand and steadying them with the other.

[Y/N] coughed and sputtered, dangling limply from Lycaon’s arms. Their skin had turned a deathly pallor, and Lycaon could see their cheekbones - when had the Proxy last eaten anything of substance? They opened their eyes. “Wha- Huh? Where am I-”

“[Y/N]! You are currently located in the lavatory of the Coff Cafe establishment on Sixth Street. What happened? Do you require me to call you an ambulance?”

The video store manager groaned. “Probably, yeah, I think I might’ve had too much caffeine- urp-” They gulped, then turned around and threw up violently in the toilet. “Uh, shit.”

There was now a bloody mess inside of the toilet. “That’s not good,” [Y/N] mumbled, blood dripping from their mouth. “Chat, I think I grinded too hard.”

They collapsed.

“Proxy!” Lycaon yelled, catching [Y/N]. He pulled them close to his chest, and took out his cellphone. “I am going to call an ambulance for you, Master, just stay with me!”

[Y/N] closed their eyes, sighing dreamily. “Oooohhh… I can’t believe I get to spend my last moments on earth cradled in the arms of a furry butler sexyman… My life’s mission has been fulfilled, now I can die in peace.”

Lycaon paused, and coughed into his hand. “You will have to pardon my coarse language, Master Proxy, but I must ask: What the actual fuck?”

[Y/N] took one final breath, and went limp in his arms.

“Proxy? Proxy?!” Lycaon shouted, checking for a pulse. Their heartbeat was as still as a rock.

“No… Proxy!!!”

~~~

The funeral was a sombre one in spite of [Y/N]’s efforts to “spice it up”, according to their will. At one point, an unnecessarily high-quality animatronic made to resemble [Y/N]’s rotten corpse violently burst from the ground, causing Nicole, Billy, and Corrin to faint. Corrin somehow managed to land on the casket and smashed it open, creating even more chaos as everybody scrambled to repair it. Anby was the only person who found it funny, which [Y/N] would’ve considered a win in their book.

Ben, the executor of the will, downed two bottles of aspirin. (As unwilling as he was to set up pranks for a day of mourning, the terms of the will were VERY clear and legally bulletproof. Ben wondered how much money [Y/N] spent on lawyers and elaborate props for this. He also wondered why they had to choose him, of all people.)

Rina floated over to where Lycaon was standing.

“You realize it’s not your fault, dear,” she said to him with a saddened expression, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. Even her usually energetic Bag were silent today. “You did everything you could.”

“I know, Rina. It’s just…” Lycaon hung his head. “I have failed my clients in the past, over the course of my career. But never before have I had one lose their life while under my watch. Not just a client, a comrade …” He clenched his fist. “I should have been there sooner.”

“Not even you can be everywhere at once, Lycaon,” Rina reassured him. “At the very least, you made sure that they weren’t alone when they passed away. Speaking of which,” she tilted her head, “What were their last words?”

Lycaon thought about it for a second.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck.”