#people in this world are so thoughtless

[bullseyelover]

BENJAMIN “DEX” POINDEXTER aka BULLSEYE therapy prop notes from Daredevil S3

[happy10thousandyears]

Con thoughts

[stellacendia]

Actually I've decided I'm sick of being cis people's only irl experience with genderqueer/nonbinary people

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

[comicaurora]

So uhh. If you feel like talking about it. As someone who lives in the US, how are you being kind to yourself on this upsetting morning <3

Checked in with my loved ones first and foremost.

It's interesting. The vibe I've been getting from my circle is very different from 2016. Much less… dread and horror at a realignment of the understanding of what can and can't happen here, now, in this place and day and age. More "fuck, guys. again? whatever. enjoy your consequences, maybe you'll manage to learn something this time."

Frustration and anger is not the most positive feeling, or even the most fair one to express, but it is a protective one. It hurts a lot less than most alternatives.

And it's quite a shift. It was earthshattering back then. How could this have been allowed to happen? Why couldn't it be stopped? Why couldn't we stop it? Why couldn't I stop it? Why couldn't everyone see what this meant? Why couldn't I make them understand? Did they really not care? What did that mean about humanity as a whole? Were we so thoughtless? How could anyone be trusted?

It seems… much less earthshattering to see it happen twice. Disappointing, sure. Frustrating. But nowhere near as devastating as the first time I saw it unfold. We already knew it could happen. I've already had time to digest the implications. Now I'm just freshly disappointed.

It also feels less indicative of Crushing Truths Of Reality this time. We've seen shit get bad. We've also seen shit get better from here! We know both outcomes are possible, even inevitable. We know hoping for a better future is always worthwhile. This isn't the apocalypse. It's an unremarkably bad turn of events brought on by unremarkably self-centered well-documented human impulses. It's utterly mundane in its unpleasantness. It doesn't need to be dignified with despair.

A democratic election, no matter the outcome or the side we're on, makes us all acutely aware of how outnumbered we are by people whose worldviews and priorities are demonstrably incomprehensible to us. And the first time you get outnumbered, it's a shock. Defeat is haunting. It didn't matter how badly you wanted it; by the very function of democracy, you do not have the power to override greater numbers. (insert electoral college caveat here)

The second time through, I find myself focusing on a different facet that has dramatically reduced the amount of spiralling I'm doing. I don't expect this to work for everyone, but for me specifically, it helped to crystallize a few thoughts:

You don't have the power to control anyone else. You don't. You can't share your worldview and your revelations with them. You can't make them think or understand anything. You can lay it all out for them, but you can't make them listen, and you can't make it click. A mentor can't make their student learn a lesson; that's why teaching is so complicated and hard. An active choice must be made by the person to enable themselves to understand, and they must put the pieces together in their own mind before it makes sense to them, and the pieces must have been presented in a way that makes sense to them in the first place. Lead a horse to water, can't make them drink.

These elections highlight a disconnect in what different groups of people care about; and no matter how clearly you explain yourself or how passionately you perform, caring cannot be forced on someone. Understanding and connection cannot be forced. You cannot make anything or anyone matter to someone. They have to choose to see how it matters in order to internalize it. If they choose not to, that is not your failing. You couldn't have made them do it by just Explaining Better. They are not your responsibility. They make their own choices. You can't reach inside their head and connect the dots for them.

I'm a storyteller. I make stories and put them out into the world. I hope people get something good out of them, but I have no control over what that something is. I want people to be thoughtful and kind and compassionate and hopeful and see themselves reflected in stranges, no matter their differences. I can craft stories that I hope encourage this. But that is the extent of my ability and the extent of my responsibility. I control no-one's actions but my own, and so while I am not having the best day, I am at least content that I am doing what I can, and I am not shattering myself against impossibilities trying to control the things I can't.

Sometimes, people make decisions that I think are really bad. I can't make that not happen. All I can do is try to make decisions that will result in things I think are good. Today, that means checking in on people, and not assigning too much dramatic narrative weight to an ultimately mundane set of unremarkable bad decisions outside of my control. We'll take life as it comes and help each other out when and how we can. Everything else is out of our hands.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cherry Picking.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: After your first night with Spencer, you wake up and see that he's left you two dollars and a thank-you note on your bedside table.

Words: 2,3k.

TW: lots of mentions and references to sex, but nothing completely explicit. the reader is quite dramatic and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This idea just came to me out of the blue, and I have to say that Sex and the City has had a bit of an influence. I love the chaos, the conversations between friends, and Spencer being the best man in the world (I'm picturing him kind of like in his season four version).

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Saturday afternoon

“Two dollars?!”

Penelope's and JJ's simultaneous exclamations and surprised faces when you finished speaking were pretty much to be expected. They noticed a change in your expression and took a moment to compose themselves, as did the rest of the people in the room, who glanced curiously at your table from time to time. It was certainly a fascinating sight, three women having an animated conversation about their lives over milkshakes as if they were drinks, especially considering that one of them was pregnant and her belly looked like it was about to explode.

You didn't blame anyone for reacting that way, especially not your friends. You were still pretty shocked by what happened, especially by how thoughtless the man you'd developed feelings for and worked closely with over the past few years was. It was a unsettling to find a tip on your nightstand after one of the most memorable nights you'd ever had. You still remembered the excitement you felt when you went to Spencer's apartment yesterday to watch a movie as part of your fourth or fifth date. He seemed nervous when you started kissing more intensely, and the couch wasn't the best setting. The sensation of your body on his bed and his lips on your skin was incredible.

It was a good memory, extremely good if you took away the embarrassment of waking up the next day in his empty bed with money waiting for you, as if you had performed a service.

“Maybe there was a misunderstanding and the money was left on the table by mistake.” Jennifer spoke again in a reassuring tone after turning the matter over. “Spencer can be a little clumsy sometimes.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line as you listened to her attempt to provide an explanation for his actions. But given their friendship, this was to be expected.

“And he was in a hurry to catch his plane and go to his mother.” Garcia added with a forced smile, trying to lift your spirits. “It all makes sense.”

Yes, it was understandable that he was leaving in a hurry because he had to catch a flight to spend his weekend off with his mother. That didn't worry you, but there was something else that was curious.

“How do you explain the thank-you note?” You asked, taking out the paper and the two dollars you'd pulled out to show them as proof from your purse.

“It was a thank you for hanging out with him, a sweet gesture.” JJ said, taking a sip of her milkshake and patting her belly.

It seemed more like a sour gesture to you, that you had been left with your dignity on the floor. As you left his apartment, you didn't know whether to cry or laugh because it sounded like a bad joke that the only man you thought was decent and for whom you allowed yourself to have feelings would do such a thing.

“My love life is going downhill.” You said.

Just then, the restaurant door opens and Emily appears. After greeting her and apologizing for her late arrival, she asks about the cause of your apparent distress. As a profiler, she was astute enough to know something was wrong just by looking at you.

“What's wrong, honey?” She started talking as soon as she sat down next to you and took a quick look at the table. “Those milkshakes look good, I want one.”

“Spencer thinks I'm a prostitute.” You spoke up without thinking, which surprised Emily and caused her to briefly lose her grip on the menu.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Perhaps you were too direct in saying something that you had been trying to ignore for your own mental health.

“Just a heads-up, we've got a baby in the room. No need to say that word!” Penelope was the first to speak, gently covering JJ's belly with her hands. “He can hear you.”

At that moment, Reid and his comments about pregnancy data at every stage came to mind. You felt a little uncomfortable because you knew it was a little unrealistic to focus on the positives at a time like this.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, baby.” You looked regretfully at your friends and spoke to Jennifer's belly, giving it a gentle caress. “Don't listen.”

“I need context, please.” Emily said confusedly, trying to understand what was going on and why you had said what you had said.

You let out a deep breath, preparing yourself to recount the story once more.

“Okay, Spencer and I made...milkshakes. Very good milkshakes, really good if you know what I mean.” You tried to explain slowly, watching your words and your friends' expressions. “I woke up when he was leaving, he gave me a kiss on my forehead and said to keep sleeping, that he had to catch his flight.”

“That's sweet, but weird to know.” Emily commented quizzically, looking at the menu intently again. “What's the part...you know?”

“Oh, when he thought I was-” You stop yourself as you see how JJ looks at you. “A pie maker.”

You could tell from their expressions that they were about to laugh at your attempts to keep the conversation friendly.

“I woke up hours later to find two dollars on the nightstand with a thank-you note.” You finished the story. “To him, I'm worth two fu...sugary dollars.”

Prentiss stared at you for several seconds, waiting for me to tell her it was a joke. Only when that didn't happen did she speak. “That sounds weird and awful, but I don't think he would do something like that on purpose. Especially you, he really likes you.”

“He likes me enough to give me two dollars.”

When you finished speaking, you experienced a moment of discomfort in your stomach as your own words took effect. You were surprised to find that on a deeper level, what had happened was causing you more pain than you had anticipated.

“That doesn't sound like Reid at all. I've known him for years, and he's not that kind of man.” Penelope said with a frown, trying to reassure you. “I'm sure it's a mix-up.”

You were looking for the same thing and hoping it was just a misunderstanding, but your previous bad experiences made you think otherwise. You'd met enough men to know that they could always be worse. What was different now was that you really liked this particular man. You really longed for him to be different from everyone else.

However, things weren't always as you'd hoped. You'd invested a lot of hope in making your fairy tale come true, and it was starting to take its toll.

“Have you had a chance to speak with him?” JJ inquired.

“He's with his mother, I won't bother him.” You replied with a strange simplicity that made your friends suspicious. “I'm fine, I've calmed down.” You added as you saw their worried faces.

“I love you, but sometimes you scare me.” Emily said, watching you drink from your smoothie as if it contained a painkiller. “It's not okay to pretend that everything's fine.”

“It's understandable to feel a bit discouraged about this. Things may seem challenging at the moment, but I believe things will improve when you discuss this with him.” Jennifer's hand gently touched yours, offering a comforting gesture.

“I'm sure everything will be fine. You have our support if you need it.” Penelope joined in with the motivational words and gave you a reassuring smile.

You took the last sip of your milkshake and leaned back in your seat for a moment before replying. “I'm fine, girls. I don't plan to lose my head over a man, I promised myself.”

They looked at you with some skepticism, but you didn't flinch. You were confident that if you were mentally prepared not to be defeated, or at least not to look defeated, you would be well prepared for the day of the meeting.

You weren't going to lose your mind over this.

Monday morning

You were definitely losing your mind, and no cup of tea or internet video that promised to do so had been able to relax you one bit. You had been cooped up in the office you shared with Penelope for several minutes, pacing in your chair while everyone in the conference room waited for information about a new case and your presence. The mere thought of having to face Reid again was making you feel pretty uneasy.

All weekend, you had been trying to reassure yourself that you were doing well, that you were not hurt or affected by what happened, that it was just one more disappointment to add to the long list you had written since you were a teenager, and that it was normal for someone with your luck. You were not a princess, you were not going to meet a prince, and you were old enough to know that.

But being in the same building as your prince turned toad was not as easy as you had hoped. You prayed that your presence would not be necessary and that the jet would soon take off to take them all away, especially him.

A few sudden knocks on the door startled you. You automatically thought it was your boss coming to scold you for being late, and your blood froze.

“I apologize for the delay, Hotch. I assure...” You spoke promptly as soon as the door opened and a male figure appeared.

But obviously, it wasn't him.

“Oh, sorry, I'm not Hotch. But hey, how are you?” Spencer smiled at you and walked toward you, looking a little nervous.

“Fine.” You replied dryly, getting up from your seat to grab your tablet and some folders to carry into the conference room.

In your mind, you had planned to make a scene as soon as you saw him and make it clear that you didn't cost just two dollars. But after thinking about it a lot, the fear of losing your job over it was greater. And now it was a mixture of that reasoning with your feeling of paralysis at actually having him in front of you.

“I...I missed you over the weekend.” He stopped you before you could walk away, gently holding your hand. The feeling alone made you stop and look at him angrily. “I thought about you a lot, too much, and I bought you something.” He let go of your hand to pull a small box out of his pocket.

“How dare you?” You blurt out, taking a step back.

He looked a little uncomfortable and seemed to be in pain. “I'm sorry if I overstepped. I didn't mean to impose. Did I cross a line? I'm so sorry, I just thought-”

“What? That you could embarrass me even more? Didn't I already go through enough?”

That's when you took out two dollars from your purse and gave it to him.

“Could I ask why this is?” Spencer was still frowning and looked just as hurt as you.

His apparent lack of understanding of the situation made you much angrier. You had thought he was probably the smartest man you had ever met in your entire life, but suddenly, in your eyes, he was an idiot.

“I'm refunding your payment, Reid.” You replied firmly, without hiding your frustration.

The confusion on his face seemed to multiply as he tried to understand. “What are you talking about? I gave you your money back.”

You tilted your head slightly to one side.

“Saturday morning, I left on the nightstand the two dollars you lent me a week ago when we bought coffee. You know I don't like being in debt.” Spencer began to explain calmly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and present the facts in a clear and concise manner.

Oh, you do remember lending him money at some point, or rather, inviting him for coffee that he said he'd pay you back. That day when his hair was perfect in the wind, when he smiled at you and told you some interesting facts about coffee beans.

“I mentioned it when I said goodbye, but you looked so tired that I left you a thank you note in case you forgot.” He went on to explain. “A lot of studies say that you wake up to full strength at least 20 to 30 minutes after you actually open your eyes. And you still had them closed when I said goodbye.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I...I thought you-” You fell silent as you saw the stunned look on his face. You didn't want to look crazy, so you quickly added. “I just thought wrong.”

“I'm sorry, I don't understand.” He said, a little embarrassed. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, no, I just...did you bring me a gift?” You changed the subject, taking the box he had previously offered you. Inside was a necklace with a cherry blossom charm.

“Your computer wallpaper is a picture of cherry blossoms. And I saw this necklace in a store when I was walking with my mom, and I thought you might like it. But it's okay if you don't want it-” He spoke fast until you interrupted him.

“I love it, thank you.” You smiled at him and took the necklace out of the box. “Could you help me with this?”

With some trepidation and uncertainty still present, Spencer positioned himself behind you with the jewel in his hands, carefully brushed your hair aside and fastened the necklace around your neck. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin made you feel a slight shiver.

“Thanks.” You said as you turned around to face him. You gave him a hug, though you were a little unsure.

He returned your embrace, feeling a sense of relief that things between you were okay. “You don't have to thank me.”

“It's not about the gift. It's just a way to say thanks for being you.”

Perhaps he was your prince after all.

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Sim Jaeyun

doll!jake x fem!reader warnings: fluff, smut (mdni), subby!jake, oral (m. rec), creampie, slight throat fucking, whimpering and whining, pet names (baby doll, pup), begging, anything else lmk! wc: 7.7k synopsis: it's your first week at your new job and you make a shocking revelation that puts your world in a spin and lets you experience something you never knew was possible masterlist | sunghoon a/n: hi! this is the first part of a 4-part series! again, i need to thank the requester for this because i am having so much fun writing it <3 the plot and everything will be gradually laced within each chapter so, while they can stand alone, it's best to read them all. thank you for everything and as always, likes, reblogs, feeback is all welcome!

p.s, please read the intro it sets up the whole story so you guys know how y/n got there and who soonyeol is.

You've been inside this home for exactly 42 hours and 51 minutes and surprisingly nothing significant has happened.

The silence surrounding the mansion is unexpectedly comforting, providing a much-needed respite from the hectic city life you've despised. The constant noise - whether it's the cries of babies, the grumbles of angry men, or the blasting car horns powered by thoughtless road rage - has progressively worn on your tolerance. No one talks about how exhausting it all is.

Maybe this is why people go on holiday, you wonder. Even though you're here for work, there's a sense of relaxation in the air that leaves you feeling peaceful. 

Before Soonyeol went on her ominous business trip, she left you a binder full of strict instructions on how to mind her house. It’s packed to the brim with dos and don'ts such as; cooking exactly 4 meals for the dolls at 5.30pm, placing them around the dining table, and never entering their rooms unless transporting them to their recreational activities. 

Each doll had their own rigorous routine, with some reading, some playing the guitar, and so on. Soonyeol made it clear that sticking to these routines is a must, which included the difficult chore of physically changing the towering dolls in the morning and before bed. They weren’t exactly hollow or porcelain, they were super realistic, their skin had some form of heat to it, and they had some weight to them but not as heavy as they first appeared. You had asked Soonyeol what they were made of but she brushed your question off, leaving you even more curious, the only conclusion you could come up with was sandbags or clay.

Currently, you are in the kitchen, cooking up a meal that none of them will touch. Of course, you didn’t expect them to chow down on your homemade lasagna considering they couldn’t even move their mouths, but seeing everything laid out and untouched after you give them exactly 35 minutes to eat (a rule in that godforsaken binder), it fills you with a sense of unease.

Within the mansion's walls, time seems to grind to a halt unless you make it move, you as the sole animate presence amidst the silence. 

You bring the plated food into the dining room, placing a dish in front of each doll. Despite the absurdity of the situation, you play along dutifully, conscious of Mia's warning that the dolls may be rigged with hidden cameras. To be fair, their eyes do seem to follow you, or perhaps that was just your imagination.

“This is such a waste of food,” you scoff, placing the last plate down to the doll with freckles on his face who is labelled in the binder as Sunghoon. You can’t help but think about all the food that is being wasted when there are people still relying on food banks, it makes you bubble with anger, yet, you’re the one doing it. You could easily just not feed them and just pretend to Soonyeol you did, but again, the eyes that surround the castle could be the difference between you keeping this job and going back home with nothing.

Soonyeol could easily fire you if it got back to her you starved her precious babies while she was gone, and that £5,000 is enough money to get you by while you look for another job, so you’ll do as you’re told for now.

With a resigned sigh, you wipe your hands on your apron and offer a forced smile to the lifeless dolls, "Enjoy," you mutter sarcastically, before turning on your heel and retreating from the room, leaving them to their silent feast.

“Thank you!” 

The words catch you off guard, freezing you mid-step. Did you actually just hear that? Slowly, you spin on your heel, astonishment written over your face. There they sit, precisely as you left them, their expressions the same as before. Yet, undoubtedly, the voice came from their direction.

Narrowing your eyes in suspicion, you examine them closely, your fingers poking Sunghoon’s shoulder to try and elicit any response, but one never comes. 

You could have sworn you heard a voice, a soft accent drifting into your ears. It’s not like it could have been the TV or radio, Soonyeol was lacking in the entertainment department, opting for more classic ways to entertain herself like board games and books.

"This place is making me lose my mind," you scoff, disbelief mingling with a nervous laugh. You are officially losing the plot, thinking the dolls can suddenly speak. What’s next, they’ll suddenly get up and help you with the dishes?

Maybe you just need to go for a walk around the mansion, touch some grass or whatever. Your mind needs some nature to set itself straight. With a final incredulous glance at the dolls, you shake your head, dismissing your fanciful worries. 

Stepping into the garden, you're greeted by the warmth of the summer sun kissing your skin. The sprawling lawn stretches for acres, overgrown yet hinting at hidden beauty beneath the tangled vines and moss-covered statues.

The pathway is clear, giving you a chance to wander further into the field. With some TLC and a green thumb, you ponder whether you could turn this landscape into a true garden, it’s not like there is much else to do, but would Soonyeol be okay with that? Everything else in this house is seemingly stuck in a different century; the large gold-framed portraits, the scatter of porcelain dolls that look like something straight from a horror movie, and the furnishings scream Renaissance. Maybe she prefers it that way.

You are perplexed by the mystery surrounding Soonyeol and her isolated living. A lack of information about her and this home has you grasping at straws. The mansion has no internet or even a good phone service which raises your suspicions about her more. There is only a landline phone that is set to make local calls. All you've learned from this information is why she resorted to placing a job advertisement in the newspaper.

Questions swirl in your mind. Why choose such isolation? Living alone, devoid of company or modern comforts, seems unimaginable. Two months might be tolerable, but for someone to endure years in solitude, it's perplexing. But then again, who are you to judge? She might prefer her own company and God knows there must be a lot less drama.

Lost in thought, you reach out to touch a thorn from a withered rosebush, only to recoil in pain as it pricks your index finger, "Shit!" you shout, instinctively sucking on the wound as blood wells up. Why you felt driven to touch such an obviously dangerous plant escapes you completely.

Sulking back inside the house, you walk directly to the kitchen, the sight of familiar surroundings provides some consolation as you go towards the sink, your injured finger throbbing with each step. Who knew a thorn could cause so much damage?

You reach for the basin and turn on the cold tap, hoping for a little relief. As chilled water falls over your wound, you sigh with relief, the coolness relieving the pain immensely, with a sudden sensation of peace flowing over you. 

The clock's chime breaks through the quiet, jolting you back into reality. It's 6pm so it's time to tend to the dolls again. You reach to get a plaster from the first aid kit, only to find it empty except for a single bandage and some foil blankets. Panic sets in as you examine the seriousness of your bleeding finger; it’s a neverending flow of crimson which only makes you pout, sucking on it once again.

Desperately searching the kitchen cupboards, you find bits of kitchen roll and sellotape. It's not ideal, but you have no other choice. You gently wrap the kitchen roll around your wound, securing it with sticky tape. The improvised dressing will have to suffice; the thought of spilling your blood on Soonyeol's cherished dolls sends chills down your spine. You don't want to think about what she would do.

Stepping into the dining room, you're greeted by the familiar sight: cold food arranged neatly before the four unyielding dolls. Their impassive stares seem to pierce through you, sending a chill down your spine.

With a theatrical pout and arms crossed, you address the silent company, "Didn't quite hit the mark with my culinary masterpiece, huh?" you jest, met only with the silence of inanimate figures. Chuckling to yourself, you gather the untouched plates onto the cart, contemplating a pragmatic solution, "Well, I suppose I could just freeze these and give them to you tomorrow," you quip. Soonyeol said to feed them, she didn’t say it couldn't be the same meal over and over again.

After clearing up the dining hall and putting the meals in the freezer, you make your way to retrieve the rusty wheelchair you are convinced will give you tetanus from the hallway closet. It’s the easiest way to transport the boys from A to B, and you daren’t carry them anywhere in case you drop and smash them. 

As you unfold the chair, a creak reverberates from behind you, causing your muscles to tense involuntarily. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as a chill courses through your veins. While the old house has its usual symphony of creaks and groans, this sound feels different, more sinister, as if someone - or something - is lurking in the shadows.

“Hello?” you say whispering yet not daring to look behind you. If you have learned anything from the multitude of horror movies you’ve watched over the tears, it’s that as soon as you look back, all shit breaks loose.

You stand there with your heart pounding in your chest and you scold yourself inwardly for succumbing to irrational fear, "Come on, Y/N, pull yourself together," you mutter, attempting to rally your nerves. But the silence that follows your whispered reassurance only amplifies the unease settling in the pit of your stomach.

With a resigned sigh, you steel yourself for whatever may lie behind you, “Fuck, Y/N, just turn around. If you’re going to die, you might as well get it over with,” you chide yourself, voice tinged with frustration.

Thinking it’s best to just face whatever your demise is, you swiftly turn around, half-expecting to come face-to-face with some unseen terror. Yet, all that greets you is the empty hallway, bathed in the dim glow of the flickering lights. There's no sign of an intruder, no lurking threat—just the same mundane surroundings you've grown accustomed to.

You never thought you’d think this, but you’re happy to see the tiny collector dolls that line the hallway.

A mixture of relief and embarrassment floods over you as you realize the absurdity of your fears. "God, I'm losing it," you mutter, a manic laugh bubbling up from deep within. With a self-deprecating shake of your head, you lightly slap your forehead with the base of your palm, chastising yourself for letting your imagination run wild.

First, the talking dolls, now this unfounded paranoia—it's becoming increasingly clear that the isolation of this mansion is taking its toll on your sanity. 

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you shake off the lingering unease and embarrassment to focus on your duties. 

With a determined stride, you make your way back to the dining room, the memory of your brief bout of hysteria fading into the recesses of your mind. You push the wheelchair over to the table to retrieve one of the dolls, however, a glint of blue catches your eye.

A plaster - suddenly, inexplicably there, resting in front of the doll named Jongseong.

Your brow furrows in confusion, disbelief coursing through you. "How... was that there the whole time?" you mutter, disbelief colouring your tone as you glance between your injured finger and the God-sent plaster.

With a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, you reach out to pick up the plaster, examining it closely as if searching for any sign of trickery. But it appears to be nothing more than an ordinary adhesive plaster.

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," you mutter to yourself, unable to suppress a nervous chuckle. The rational part of your mind insists there must be a logical explanation for the plaster's sudden appearance, but logic seems to have taken a backseat in this peculiar mansion. 

Surely you would have noticed it on the table when you were serving the food…right?

Deciding to set aside your questions for the moment, you carefully retrieve the plaster and apply it to your injured finger, the soothing sensation providing a small measure of comfort.

As you finish tending to your wound, you cast a wary glance at the dolls, half-expecting them to spring to life and offer an explanation. But they remain as silent and motionless as ever, their enigmatic presence only adding to the mystery of this place.

With a resigned sigh, you focus once again on getting the dolls to their rooms. Maybe if they’re out of your sight, you’ll stop conjuring up these ridiculous notions that are swirling in your mind.

“C’mon Jaeyun, let’s get you to bed,” you say softly as you pick him up with a strong heave. The weight of him in your arms is a humbling realisation that you need to start going to the gym more because lifting a doll shouldn’t be this taxing.

Plonking him onto the wheelchair, you begin to make your way to his room. The corridors grow longer each time you make the journey to their respective bedrooms and with the house being the size that it is, transporting them is the equivalent of taking a quick nip to your big Tesco and back.

Finally reaching Jaeyun's room, you turn the ornate handle and push the wheelchair inside. The room is bathed in a soft, amber glow, casting a warm hue over the plush furnishings and intricate decor. With careful precision, you guide Jaeyun onto the bed, taking a moment to study his features up close.

The doll's face, once unsettling in its hyper-realistic detail, now holds a curious fascination. Despite the initial unease you felt in their presence, you can't help but admire the craftsmanship that went into their creation.

Jaeyun's eyes, a rich shade of brown, hold a mesmerising depth that seems to draw you in and they glimmer with an almost golden hue when touched by sunlight, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to his already captivating features. His lips, full and luscious and they evoke sense of envy into you, marvelling at their perfection. His nose, a graceful arc that sits harmoniously amidst his features, only adds to the beauty.

With gentle admiration, you touch his bottom lip with your thumb, amazed at its softness. If Jaeyun were a living, breathing being, you can't help but imagine how irresistible those lips would be, how you would find any excuse to steal a kiss. The feel of his lip beneath your thumb is uncannily real, its texture mirroring your own, and as you release it, it springs back into place as if alive.

Your eyes dart over his face, drinking him in as you fix his long, dark hair, “You’re so beautiful,” you whisper, the words leave your lips almost unintentionally, spoken in peaceful tones as if frightened to disrupt the calm tranquillity of the moment. 

“Thank you.”

Your entire body goes rigid as you hear the same words from the dining table, mirroring the exact accent you had heard before. The hand that had been gently brushing aside the stray strand of hair now drops to your side, your eyes fixed on Jaeyun's mouth as it forms into a bright smile.

As if gasping for air, you stare at him in disbelief, pointing a trembling finger in his direction. "Y-you just spoke!" you manage to exclaim, your words choked with bated breaths. Panic threatens to engulf you as you try to understsnd what is happening.

Your mind races, grasping for something, anything to hold onto as the world spins around you but there's nothing, and your body betrays you, collapsing to the ground in a desperate attempt to escape the surreal nightmare unfolding before you.

With wide, terrified eyes, you watch as Jaeyun moves slightly, preparing yourself for the inevitable scream that threatens to tear from your throat. But before you can utter a sound, he rushes towards you with a look of panic etched on his features.

Jaeyun's eyes are filled with concern as he gazes down at you, his hand covering your mouth to stifle any outcry. With a gentle yet urgent expression, he leans in closer, his lips forming almost silent words as he implores you to remain quiet, “Please. Shhh, I’m sorry!” he says with urgency, trying to stop you from bellowing out and causing alarm.

Your chest rises and falls with the rapid beat of your heart, your head suddenly feels faint and conflicting emotions wash over you. Fear, confusion, disbelief - all vie for dominance as you struggle to make sense of the impossible situation unfolding before you.

With wide, frightened eyes, you stare up at Jaeyun, searching his face for any sign of explanation or reassurance. But all you find is the same look of concern mirrored in his gaze, a silent plea for understanding.

“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you,” he utters, his body now relaxing as he feels your mouth close under his palm, “If I take my hand away, please don’t scream, okay?” 

His words are filled with panic, a frantic attempt to prevent more concern. When you look into his eyes, you can sense the sincerity in his plea, a glimpse of humanity you didn't think was possible.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still, the air thick with tension and uncertainty on both of your parts. But then, with a shaky breath, you nod in silent acquiescence, willing yourself to trust the doll before you. 

Jaeyun’s hand slowly withdraws from your mouth but is still armed in case you fall through on your promise to stay quiet. Once he's satisfied that you won't scream, Jaeyun rises to his feet, offering you a shaky hand. You accept, noting the slight tremor in his grip, evidence that he's just as affected by this inexplicable turn of events as you are.

Standing before him, you can't shake the feeling of disbelief that washes over you. None of this makes sense - talking dolls, moving on their own accord - it's all so implausible, so surreal. And yet, here you are, faced with the undeniable reality of Jaeyun's existence.

"What are you?" you ask tentatively, withdrawing your hand from his as you study him intently, searching for any clues to unravel the mystery.

Jaeyun tilts his head in confusion, his expression mirroring your own bewilderment. "I'm a doll, you know that," he replies matter-of-factly.

"Yes, but how are you moving? How are you speaking? Are you possessed? Alive? Am I dreaming this?" you barrage him with questions, your mind racing with a million possibilities, each more absurd than the last.

“I’m Sim Jaeyun, manufactured in 2002,” Jaeyun says as though it’s so obvious, which to his defence, it is - the stamp on his back that you’ve caught sight of while changing him is proof, "I'm the model made for Australia. G'day mate!" he adds, attempting to inject some levity into the conversation with an exaggerated Australian accent. But his efforts fall flat in the face of your mounting terror and confusion.

"I don't understand," you whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty, "How is this possible?"

Jaeyun's expression softens, sympathy flickering in his eyes as he meets your gaze, "I wish I had all the answers," he admits, his voice gentle yet tinged with resignation, "But the truth is, even I don't fully understand what's happening to me. I ended up here one day. The others just tell me not to ask questions.”

As Jaeyun's words sink in, a surge of disbelief sweeps over you, threatening to overwhelm you in a sea of bewilderment and despair, "Others? You mean..."

"My brothers, the ones you've been looking after for Soonyeol," Jaeyun says, his voice calm.

The realisation hits you like a tonne of bricks: all four dolls, like Jaeyun, are somehow alive. You've spent the last two days living under the same roof as these living dolls, entirely oblivious of their true selves. The idea of it sends shivers down your spine, and a dreadful feeling rises in the pit of your stomach.

Every creak in the floorboards, every echo in the halls - you had chalked them up to the ageing mansion itself. But now, you realise that they were caused by these living dolls moving about, silently watching and listening to your every move.

You contemplate the idea that you're going insane because the stress and isolation of the mansion have finally taken their toll on your sanity. But deep down, you know that this is far too real to be a figment of your imagination.

Sensing your distress, Jaeyun guides you to sit beside him on the bed, his touch gentle yet strangely disconcerting. A doll is offering you comfort while your mind is in a whirlwind of emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. In what world is any of this normal?

His thumb strokes the back of your hand as you sit in silence. A small smile creeps on his face and a blush somehow paints itself on the apples of his cheeks as he remembers your earlier comments.

“You think I’m beautiful?” he asks gently, drawing you back into reality from the maze of your mind.

“What?”

"You said I was beautiful," he repeats, his tone gentle yet earnest, his eyes filled with a quiet joy. Jaeyun's smile widens slightly, his body shifting to fully face you.

As you finally meet his gaze, the weight of his words settles upon you, and you see just how much your earlier compliment meant to him. The twinkle in his eye reflects a depth of emotion that mirrors that of a human, his happiness evident in the way his features soften and his eyes light up with warmth. If he was beautiful before, he is otherworldly now.

“Yeah…you are,” you confess, now reciprocating his blush.

Jaeyun's hand gently cups your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine and you can't help but feel something blossom within you. His palm, slightly cool against your flushed skin, serves as a reminder of the surreal reality in which you find yourself.

Jaeyun's lips suddenly meet yours, enveloping you with his gentle kiss. Touching his lips earlier paled in comparison to the sensation of his soft, plump mouth moving against yours, and it sends a shiver of pleasure coursing through your veins; for a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to be swept away by the intensity of the moment.

But as reality crashes back down upon you, the weight of what you're doing comes crashing down.

This is a doll, not a real person.

You push Jaeyun away and your mind suddenly clears, “What are you doing, Jaeyun?” you ask both perplexed by his actions and a little disgruntled by yours.

His wide eyes only serve to make you feel guilty, there’s a tinge of hurt in them along with confusion. His hand removes itself from your face, leaving your cheek cold and craving his touch again.

"Soonyeol says I should kiss when I want to show my appreciation," Jaeyun explains, his voice tinged with confusion and a defeated tone that tugs at your heartstrings. It's clear that he's not accustomed to being rejected like this, his owner obviously giving him what he wants.

Now that you think about it, Soonyeol must know they’re real, meaning she has relationships with these dolls. Granted, you figured that out when you were undressing them and saw they are anatomically correct, but now this is a whole new layer. She has formed connections with them that go beyond using the dolls for her pleasure. 

"Isn't it cheating?" you ask, locking eyes with Jaeyun, ignoring your swift realisation of the risk. Those beautiful brown eyes seem to draw you in, inviting you to forget all reason and succumb to the burning need between you.

He shakes his head slowly, a tinge of hesitation in his eyes as he chews his lip, "No. Soonyeol shares us, which means I can be shared. It's how it works," he says, his words laced with desperation as he tries to defend his actions. He knows Soonyeol won’t see it that way, but he needs you for his own selfish pleasure; he can’t wait two months until his minder comes back.

However, the rational half of your mind perks up one last time, refusing to be influenced by Jaeyun's words, forcing you to express the painfully evident reality that lies between you, "You're a doll, Jaeyun," you say, the words thick with reality.

However, as if feeling your wavering resolve, Jaeyun's demeanour changes, his puppy-like appearance giving way to one of mischief and longing. With a sudden boldness, he comes in closer, your noses touching as your breath hits his lips.

"I'm a doll with everything you need," he says seductively, sending shivers down your spine as his luscious lips brush against yours with each syllable. 

Your heart races as Jaeyun's proximity overwhelms your senses. Despite the nagging voice of reason in the back of your mind, you find yourself unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence.

As Jaeyun leans in for another kiss, his persistence and gentle touch send a rush of heat coursing through your body. You find yourself melting into his embrace once more, unable to resist his lips on yours. His smile against your mouth fills you with something beautiful.

His hand finds your cheek, his touch tender yet possessive as he deepens the kiss, sending your senses reeling. The surreal sensation of his tongue, colder than any other person's you’ve had the pleasure to kiss, intertwining with yours only adds to the intensity of the moment.

But as the kiss grows more passionate, you feel Jaeyun's hands begin to roam, his touch becoming more urgent and insistent. The way he impatiently tugs at the hem of your t-shirt and his hips practically humping the air through desperation, heightens your own arousal.

You draw back, taking your shirt off, giving him what he wants. Jaeyun's eyes light up in delight at the sight before him, his gaze raking over your exposed skin with hunger. Without hesitation, his hand instinctively reaches out to touch you, his fingers grazing over the fabric of your bra as he seeks to explore every inch of your body.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, as he stares up at you. You understand why he’s so used to getting his way, that face of his could start wars if he asked. 

With a soft smile, your fingers continuing to thread through his hair with a gentle touch, "Nothing in comparison to you," you confess, your words spoken with genuine admiration.

Jaeyun's response is a soft whimper, his body trembling slightly under your touch as he leans into your caress. It's clear that he thrives on the affection and validation you offer him, cherishing every compliment and sweet gesture. He isn’t going to take control of this situation, he wants you to lead him, to make him feel like he is yours.

And he looks so fuckable right now.

Feeling emboldened by the rush of desire coursing through your veins, you seize the opportunity to take control of the situation. With a newfound confidence, you gently push Jaeyun back onto the bed, straddling him as you hover above.

His eyes widen in surprise, a mix of anticipation and excitement flickering in their depths as he watches you with rapt attention. With a playful glint in your eyes, you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, your hands trailing down his chest and exploring every contour of his body.

Jaeyun responds eagerly, his hands roaming over your back as he returns your kiss with equal fervour. But as the heat between you intensifies, you can sense his longing for more, his desire for you palpable in every touch and caress.

You plaster on a mischievous smile and lean back slightly, teasingly tracing your fingers along the waistband of his pants. He hitches in anticipation, his eyes darkening with desire as he silently urges you to continue.

With deliberate slowness, you begin to unbutton his pants, savouring the feeling of power that courses through you with each movement. As the fabric falls away, you're met with the sight of his cock outline, his arousal evident in the way he strains against the confines of his underwear.

You lean down to press your lips against his neck, trailing soft kisses along his jawline as you whisper in his ear, "Do you want me to look after you, baby doll?"

He mewls out and nods quickly, knowing that is the only thing he needs right now. Your touch is different to Soonyeol’s, yours is filled with a new fire that you’re discovering, while Soonyeol’s is experienced and knows of Jaeyun’s wants and needs. He can’t deny that he feels even more alive than before right now.

Trailing one finger over his clothed cock, you apply pressure as you reach his tip, causing him to whine out. You aren’t typically in charge in the bedroom but you can’t deny how easy it is when Jaeyun is underneath you, silently begging for you to claim him.

You pull down his boxers, seeing his cock in a new light. Honestly, you tried not to stare at it too long when you changed him but you knew whatever Soonyeol had ordered, she ordered it with herself in mind. He was average-sized but curved to the right, meaning he could hit places some others couldn’t; even the thought made your mouth water.

There’s a desire to know how his cock is standing to attention considering there isn’t any blood in his body, but this whole situation defies logic so what’s one more question to add to the pile? All you can really think about is how good having him inside you will feel.

Grabbing his length, you begin to pump him gently, still trying to navigate how fragile he is and how far you can take this. He isn’t made of glass but you still need to be careful. 

His reaction is immediate, his jaw slackening as you pick up the pace, your movements becoming more assured. Jaeyun’s legs kick slightly as his body involuntarily moves under your touch, desperate for more than you’re offering him.

Sensing his need, you lean in and give his cock a teasing lick before spitting on it, slickening the surface to make your motions even smoother. His breath hitches at the sensation, a low groan escaping his lips as he arches into your touch, craving more of the pleasure you're giving him.

With a hunger that matches his own, you release him from your grip and lean down, taking him into your mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. His gasp fills the air as you envelop him, the wet heat of your mouth sending shivers down his spine.

"Y/N..." Jaeyun's voice is barely a whisper, filled with a mix of disbelief and pleasure.

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze with a smouldering intensity before returning your focus to the task at hand. With practiced skill, you move your lips and tongue in tandem, exploring every inch of him with a fervour that leaves him trembling. 

There is an urge to look after him, with each whine and whimper he screeches out in response to your tongue flicking over his tip, you want to cherish him as your own. You carefully watch his face to make sure he is enjoying himself which clearly he is, his eyes screwed shut and chest heaving despite the lack of air.

Pushing his length further into your mouth, you feel the tip of him hit the back of your throat, piercing your tonsils as they involuntarily try to swallow around him. You switch between bobbing your mouth and enveloping his whole cock down your throat, staying there for a moment as you nuzzle your nose against his lower abdomen.

His fingers thread through your hair, a silent plea for more as you continue to lavish attention on him, each suck and swirl of your tongue pushing him closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"Oh god, Y/N," he groans, his voice thick with need. "I-I can't... I'm gonna..."

Can he cum? Like physically, is your mouth about to be filled with doll cum? You’re going to find out eventually.

But who says he can get everything he wants just at the bat of an eyelid?

You pull back slightly, your lips glistening with saliva as you gaze up at him with a wicked grin. "Not yet," you tease, your voice husky from the beating your throat has just taken, "I want to hear you beg for it.”

His eyes widen with anticipation, a need burning in their depths as he watches you, “But Soonyeol always lets me cum,” he pouts, the edges of his mouth drooping down.

“I’m not Soonyeol though, am I?” you retort, your hand stroking him again, “I can stop completely if you want?” 

Jaeyun doesn’t like that idea, shaking his head manically and chanting ‘no’ as he looks at you with pleading eyes. His minder is kind, always giving him the pleasure he needs when he wants it, so this is new to him, yet, he can’t help but find some pleasure in the prolonging of his orgasm.

“Come on, baby doll, beg for it,” you murmur against his tip, looking up at him through hooded eyes as you tease the tip of his cock.

His breath catches in his throat at your words, his mind a haze of desire as he struggles to find his voice, "Please, Y/N," he gasps, his voice thick with need, "Please let me cum. I need it, I need you so bad."

The desperation in his voice and his tiny weeps send a shiver down your spine, and with a satisfied smirk, you relent, taking him fully into your mouth again. 

You aren’t like this in bed but he just manages to bring out this side of you and you can’t complain about it. 

As Jaeyun's fingers tangle in your hair, a shiver of anticipation courses through you, heightened by the primal instinct driving his actions. You feel the tension building in his body, his movements becoming more urgent as he approaches the brink of release.

With a final tug at your roots, he tightens, his balls drawing up as he releases into your mouth with a guttural groan of pleasure. His hips buck uncontrollably, driving himself deeper into your throat as he rides the waves of ecstasy coursing through him.

You surrender to the moment, allowing him to take control as he thrusts into your mouth, his movements are rough yet achingly intimate. Each sensation sends sparks of pleasure racing through you, mingling with the taste of him on your tongue as he spurts his essence. It’s not exactly cum, it doesn’t taste like it, but it’s filling your mouth up, some of it dripping out onto the bed below you.

And as he finally reaches the peak of his pleasure, his body trembling with the force of his release, you swallow him down, accepting him completely. You lap up the last few drops before giving a gentle kiss on his bell, smiling slightly as you relish in your work.

Jaeyun’s face exhibits one of pure bliss, his grin wide and his eyes closed. He looks so ethereal right now, your only wish is to cater to him. Soonyeol must have her hands full if she does this with all of them, no wonder she would need two months off.

Sitting up, his hands pull at your jeans, unbuttoning them with determination but you stop him, “Jaeyun, what are you doing?” you ask.

“I’m going to fuck you, is that not okay?” Jaeyun’s eyes have that spark in them just like before but more intense, like he’s bursting to the brim with happiness.

You can see the determination in Jaeyun's eyes, the fire of desire burning bright despite the recent climax. His eagerness to please you matches your own desire to cater to him, but you can't help but feel a twinge of apprehension.

"Are you not tired, Jaeyun?" you reply gently, placing a hand on his cheek to capture his attention, “I don't want to push you too far."

Jaeyun's expression softens at your words, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity, “I’m a doll, Y/N, I don’t get tired.”

Damn, maybe you should invest in one of these unalive-alive dolls with the £5,000 you’ll get from this job.

He sees your astonishment and laughs softly, his teeth on full display, “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re confused, Y/N,” his voice is back down to a whisper, his hand enclosing yours on his cheek as he nuzzles into it. Jaeyun knows how to use his charm to get what he wants but it’s significantly easier when the person he is trying to persuade wants it just as much as he does.

You find yourself nodding in agreement, unable to resist his enticement. With a shared understanding, you move in to capture his lips in yours, sealing the moment with a delicate kiss.

His hands go back to work, pulling at your jeans to take them off of your hot body. You help him out, pulling away from his mouth to undress yourself, leaving you both naked and wanting nothing more than to be entangled in one another.

“Wow,” he utters as his eyes trail your body from head to toe. His owner is beautiful but you have something about you that is sucking him in, the curve of your hips and the stretch marks on your thighs; you’re a vision he never wants to forget.

You turn scarlet as you see him staring at you, suddenly feeling less confident than before. But he quickly eases your mind as he licks his lips and pulls you into his lap, placing you to sit right on his cock, “I think you were wrong earlier,” he mutters into your shoulder as he places kisses along your chest.

“What do you mean?” Confusion lingers in your mind as you process his words, your fingers instinctively tangling in his hair as you look down at him with a mixture of surprise and affection.

“When you said you weren’t as beautiful compared to me. I think you’re so wrong,” he admits in a hushed tone, hands roaming along your waist and down to your thighs, feeling every inch of you.

Leaning down, you kiss him again except this time, you grind your hips, letting his cock slide between your folds and his tip brush against your clit teasingly. The action makes you both groan out in lust, wanting nothing more than to be tangled in one another. 

Jaeyun lightly slaps your ass to signal you to hover slightly, ready to dive into you. He hasn’t had sex with anyone other than Soonyeol so his eagerness is palpable, his mouth fighting a bright smile akin to a puppy.

Once you’re above him, he guides his cock to your hole and sharply pushes into you, causing you to fall forward onto his chest.

He enthusiastically bucks his hips up into you, ensuring that he is catering to every inch of your pleasure. Although he enjoys being looked after and cared for, he will always reciprocate; your enjoyment is as important to him as his own.

It's funny how different he is with you than with his owner; with you, he wants nothing more than to impress you, evident by the way he's focused on fucking into you, but with Soonyeol, he does whatever he wants to give her pleasure but there's no need to put in massive amounts of effort.

You feel his dick pressing deep into you, that curve that you noticed earlier is now doing wonders against your walls. Meeting his thrusts, you bounce on him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pick up your pace. 

The sound of your skin slapping against Jaeyun is like music to his ears, the smile he was trying to fight off now splitting his face, the joy of fucking you so obvious from his expression. He wants to do this forever.

Looking down, you see him lost in glee and lust as he continues to thrust up into you at a fast pace, his gaze down at where you’re pussy is sucking him in. Gently, you lift his face to look at you, his wide gleaming eyes now staring into yours.

“You’re doing so good, pup,” you assure him, kissing the tip of his nose. He feels his non-existant heart soar at your words, his face radiant with your praise. And you weren’t just saying it, he truly was sensational, probably the best you’ve had in a long time. 

Jaeyun takes your words of appraisal and uses them to fuck into you harder, his mouth now attached to your nipple and he sucks and licks at it like a man starved.

You can feel that familiar coil in your stomach that signifies you’re close to release. Snaking your hand down to your clit you begin to rub circles on it quickly, but as soon as Jaeyun notices, he nudges your hand away and takes care of it himself, rubbing and pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger.

Throwing your head back, your breathing stops momentarily as you push out your orgasm, your wetness coating your inner thighs and his cock as you cum harshly around him, “Jaeyun, fuck!” you cry, hands gripping any part of Jaeyun they can.

Jaeyun shudders as you clench around him, spilling himself into your heat along with you. He rubs his face desperately against your tits, relishing in the feeling of you against him. He has this aching need to be as close to you as possible.

Both of you are in complete and utter bliss as you hold one another, coming down from your highs.

As Jaeyun peppers open-mouthed kisses along your neck, he savours the sensation of your heartbeat, saddened slightly by his lack of. If he had one, he wished you could hear how loudly it was beating from pure satisfaction and tenderness.

"That was incredible, Y/N," he murmurs against the curve of your nape, his smile pressing warmly against your skin.

You tenderly kiss the top of his head and linger there for a moment, your fingers tracing light strokes along his back. But as the clock chimes once again, signalling the passage of time, reality intrudes upon your blissful moment.

"Fuck, I need to get the others to bed," you say regretfully, reluctantly withdrawing yourself from Jaeyun's embrace. The air feels colder now that night is settling in, and the absence of his touch leaves you longing for his warmth.

Jaeyun watches you with a mixture of understanding and longing as you get dressed, his gaze following your movements with a hint of reluctance, he wants you to stay beside him the way Soonyeol does, to look after him a little longer.

Before you part ways, Jaeyun reaches out to gently grasp your hand, "Y/N," he begins, his voice soft yet filled with urgency, "Please, don't tell the others. We aren’t supposed to tell you, and they already think I’m incapable of keeping a secret,” he says disheartened, the last sentence laced with vulnerability.

His plea catches you off guard, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes. Kneeling beside the bed, you take his hand into yours and kiss it softly, “I promise, I will not tell anyone, okay?” you reassure him, punctuating your sentiment with a smile, “This stays between us.”

It’s a promise not only to him but also to yourself. At the end of the day, no matter how good it was, you fucked a doll - an alive one, but still a doll. 

With a grateful smile, Jaeyun leans in to press a gentle kiss against your lips, a silent gesture of gratitude for your understanding, “Thank you, Y/N. This won’t be the last time, will it?” he asks tentatively, trying to seek out how you might feel about the entirety of the situation.

You weigh up the question in your mind. On one hand, you would have someone to talk to and indulge in, but on the other, it’s risky and if Soonyeol found out, you know there would be hell to pay.

“Let’s just see how it goes, pup,” you say vaguely, kissing his forehead one more time.

This mansion is filled with secrets that you need to uncover, and you have two months to do it.

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emikotakayami @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

[kooksbunnnn]

HOW WAS YOUR DAY: NAMJOON

Summary: Just namjoon fingering you in his studio as he asks you about your day.

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: idol!Namjoon×reader. fingering, squirting, namjoons lap (it's a warning, yes), kissing.

Authors note: I want him. SO BAD. ___________________________________________

"I was uh..I was walking by her when I c-came and she g-gave me such looks-" you try talking as Namjoon’s fingers abuse your clit. He had you sat on his lap, your hands around his shoulders, your hips sat on his left thigh as he spread your legs slightly to fit his hand under your skirt.

"She did?" He asks, you nod whining. His hands work slowly as if he had all the time in the world.

You had visited him at his studio because you missed him. It had been days since you saw him, so you came bearing coffee and food. But as soon as you entered the building, the new recruit in his managing team gave you a dirty look.

You were his girlfriend for fucks sake!

"I wanted to smack her so bad, ohhh my-" you trail as he dips his fingers inside you to gather some wetness getting back to your clit again, rubbing it in faster more precise circles.

You gasp, squirming as he lazily sucks a hickey on your neck while making you see stars.

"So good joon fuck I love your fingers." He hums against your skin, squeezing your waist with his other hand resting against your back while his fingers tortured you back and forth from your climax.

"Did you eat something, love?" You nod, feeling the knot inside you, forming slowly and very gradually. His hands slow down his ministrations, and you whine as you feel your legs shake out of sensitivity.

"Joon-" you breathe out as he smiles proudly at the purple mark he gave you on your neck, marking you as his.

"What did you eat?" He asks with hooded eyes admiring the mark he left while you try to make phrases inside your dizzied head.

"I- some- ah fuck- I had a gimbap with my colleagues, mm-" You words stop with a hitch in your breath as he slides two fingers slowly inside you. You try holding his wrists, but then your hands end up clutching your hair because you feel so good.

"Colleagues, huh?" He says, curling the tip of his fingers slightly to tickle that spot.

"Oh shit right there!" Your head falls back as you feel that spot being rubbed in a way that makes your eyes roll.

"Was Mark there too?" You just gasp as his fingers rub your insides and his thumb rubs your clit from the outside. Your brain short circuiting at the amount of pleasure you're receiving.

You squirm in his hold as his other hand makes you stay still. His tongue licking around your earlobe while his fingers abused the little spongy spot inside you.

"I asked you something, love." his voice was so gentle yet firm, making your mind search for the question he asked. Your brain was too dizzy to think with his thick thighs underneath you along with the hard on he had, so you just moaned, clenching hard around his fingers.

He pulls his hand out and smacks your swollen cunt, shoving his fingers once again. Asking you again, silently.

Was he?

"I dont know, I dont know-" you repeat with a high-pitched whine, your voice echoing and bouncing against his studio walls. You're glad the studio was soundproof, or people might think Namjoon was killing someone in there.

He chuckles mocking your thoughtless face, "so dumb, my baby, look at you, my baby can't answer coz I fuck her open with my fingers huh? My perfect little cocksleeve." You clench hard as he makes you feel smaller by each syllable. You squirm in his hold, making him bite your skin underneath your ear.

"I'm close so close oh-so cl-so-" he chuckles as you babble dumbly, breathing heavily against your ears that it makes your mind wander to how hard he must be right now.

The moment your mind travels to his dick you miss it inside you, you want to feel him inside you, the stretch of his fingers making you miss the way his cock split you open 3 days ago.

3 fucking days.

You think you might die if you dont get fucked by him today.

Your eyes water as you feel your orgasm coming closer, his hard on pressing against the back of your thigh, making your mind swirl with dirty thoughts.

Your fucked out brain getting reminded of the way he pounds you against the mattress, the way he fucked you in his balcony 35 floor above the city. How he fucked you open with his cock in front of his mirror, fingers inside your mouth as he pumped himself dry inside you filling with his warm cum.

His warm cum. Oh god.

"Jesus, you're crushing my hand so hard." He says through his teeth as he feels your thighs tightening around his hand, your face buried in his chest.

When he fastens his pace, he pulls your legs apart by his other free hand, making you spread open for him on his lap. Your other leg now in his hold from under your knee, resting on the table in front of him. You were exposed to the studio walls, feeling vulnerable suddenly.

He keeps you open to the cold air in the room while his warm fingers plunge deep inside you. Squelching so loudly you wanna hide of embarassment, but you're so close you think you'll go crazy.

"Oh god--" you breathe out as he picks up his pace, his stimulation on your clit and the spot inside you constant. You legs shake in his hold and your eyes start tearing up.

"Oh make me cum make me cum please? Please? Oh god please!" You mumble mindlessly, pleading him, requesting him, begging him to make you cum as he coos, his fingers never faltering. Your fingers clutch his hair desperately as you look into his eyes, begging, your eyebrows furrowed as he smiles almost mocking you.

Evil.

"Cum baby, cum whenever you want, make a mess, go on" he says, his breathe heaving in your ears. It's as if he had turned a switch inside you that made you arch your back in his hold. Your cunt squeezing around his fingers as your cum sprays all over his lap. He groans as he feels your walls pushing his fingers out, making him fill you up with his fingers again, making them squelch loudly.

He holds your hips chuckling darkly as you squirt all over his joggers, his fingers fucking you through your high but he needed more so he pulls his fingers out to rub your clit sloppily and you sob.

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you feel your teeth clash as you breathe hard against him. Your body vibrates and thrashing in his hold as he growls against your lips.

"Yeah, good girl," he groans against your lips as you gasp, twitching.

His tongue plunges inside your mouth, and you squeal against his lips, your lips not even moving as you just gasp. Your eyes roll back, your hand clutching onto his neck desperately as his fingers rub your folds, making sure you spill everything you have inside you.

"Thats it thats it, my perfect girl." He coos against your lips, you breathe heavily, tears flowing down your eyes.

You whine, holding his wrists out of oversensitivity, smiling, feeling light-headed.

He smiles looking at you and teases your clit, flicking his index against it. Your body twitches as he does so, just to laugh at how pathetically your body squirms in sensitivity.

"Tch-tch-tch" he mocks you, grinning as your head falls back, his hand cupping your pussy making your eyes roll back. He squeezes, massaging your folds to calm you down.

"You did so good, my baby." He kisses your forehead, caressing your hair. "You okay?" He asks, his voice calming and deep. You nod tiredly.

"Good," he kisses your cheek, "because you're gonna do that again, but on my dick this time," he says, kissing your cheek again, tenderly.

Well, fuck.

___________________________________________

[mysicklove]

𝐅𝐈𝐗 𝐌𝐄

DAY 2: SUB SPACE + MOMMY KINK

With: Satoru Gojo

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Sub! Gojo, Fem? reader (no pronouns just use of names: mommy and mama), unreleastic portrayal of sub space, mentions of BDSM (rough treatment, degradation,whips, mistress/master use), safeword use (at the end), lots of cooing, Gojo unable to think properly, praise, comfort, clingy/needy Gojo

A/N: this was actually really fun to write! i did a little research on what subspace feels like, and it says it varies from person to person, but it is a sort of euphoric experience. sooo idk! lol. also, a lot of ppl r here for gojos personality, and I feel bad bc he is not like his usual self in this bc of his headspace...dont hate me gojo simps

Gojo Satoru is kinky. Plain and simple. He has tried many different things throughout his lifetime, and he is now confident enough in many different types of sexual play. He spends way too much time on the internet buying all sorts of toys, cuffs, ropes, whips, just to build his secret obsession. He has been with many people, and has always pulled them down to the dark side with him. 

But through it all, he has never found a partner to really push him to his limits. They all get too scared to hurt him, and call their safeword too early. They get uncomfortable when he sobs for mercy, or in other situations, begs for more pain. Gojo doesn't want to be just treated harshly, he wants to be broken. His standards are higher than most.

And finally his dreams came true when he met you. You've been into BDSM for years now, and even if the two of you are dating, you have a strict contract of rules you must obey for eachothers safety. It was cute, he was practically trembling in excitement when he saw the agreement, signing his hame sloppily, and waiting for your next move.

It was strange seeing someone so cheery and upbeat turn into a different breed during a scene. He was long passed the brat now, every defining thought fucked out of him. He's been slapped around, beaten, scolded, forced to orgasm, and humiliated in the past two hours. He has never had anyone treat him this rough. 

A huge part of him loved it, and a small part of him twinged in fear whenever he heard you begin to move again. It sent a multitude of thoughts to his brain, What now? Are you going to hurt him? Was he being good now? Another punishment? 

His blue eyes follow your every movement, and he flinches when you bring your hand up to his face, expecting another slap. You chuckle at the movement, gently petting his face. It takes him a second to realize what is happening, but from there, he melts into your hold. He presses himself deeper into your hand, eyes heavy from exhaustion.

Satoru accomplished his goal though. He was, for the first time ever, wrecked. His hair is matted against his head, damp from sweat. His body is covered in hickeys, bitemarks, bruises, scratches, and marks from the flogger. He was trembling, muscles contracting every couple of seconds without permission. Drools coats his lips, and it starts to drip down his mouth and onto his chin. His eyes seem to be in a different world, cloudy, and half lidded. His cock lays spent against his thigh, flushed red, and leaking just the last of his cum.

But even through it all, he's smiling at you. It’s a fucked out sort of grin, lazy, but content. His cheek is pressed against your palm, and he's nuzzling into it, basking in the softness of your touch, contrasting your earlier actions. “There ya go. You doing all right, Satoru?”

He blinks at you, slow, and thoughtless. “Yeah.”

You climb onto the bed next to him, brushing his hair back affectionately, and a little worriedly. He looked rather beat, and his exhausted eyes made you want to end the session now. “Alright, lets clean you up, and get you to bed,” You soothe, hands rubbing at his thighs, hoping your touch brings him comfort.

Immediately he pulls away, a small pout on his face. “Noooooo,” He uncharacteristically whines, grabbing at your hand. “Wanna…Wanna go some more. I'm doing good, right Mommy? No more punishments,” He pleads, tears coating his eyes. “Reward. Wanna reward, pleaseeee.”

Mommy wasn't todays title. You were called mistress, and master today solely. His words made your eyes widen, and you instantaneously knew he was deep into the subspace. You've seen glimpses of it, the way he becomes uncharacteristically obedient and he gets slightly giggly, probably from the light headed feeling, but he looked deep into his now. His words dragged out, and his body was obviously spent, but still he craved your approval; he wanted nothing more than to please you now. 

Affection, love and care is what he needs right now and you were happy to provide him with it. So, you straddle his lap, and place kisses on every surface you can touch. His body is warm, and he goes slack against your hold, mouth falling open. “Do you want to cum again, ‘toru? Or just attention?”

He goes silent for awhile, his mind hazy, and not liking the idea of making his own choice. He wanted you to take care of him completely, to let his mind slip away, and for you to control his ever thought, movement. “Please,” He mumbles, face scrunching up with frustration.

You are quick to apologize, recognizing his situation almost instantly. “Alright, alright. I'll take care of you. Lets cum one more time, can you do that for me, pretty boy?”

Pretty boy. A nickname unlike the harsh ones he received earlier: brat, slut, dog, whore. In the moment it only increased to turn him on, but now, he wanted to be good. The thought of you calling him those names made him want to tear up, and sob into your arms. He didn't want you to be mean anymore, he wants you to love him. To praise him on anything and everything. 

He jumps when he feels your hand drift back to his cock. It aches from all the abuse from earlier, and he lets out a shaky whimper, not liking the pain as much as he once did. “H-Hurts,” He yelps, wishing for you to make it better. To fix it all, why did everything ache so badly? He wants comfort, and as quickly as possible.

You kiss at his tears and pull his face into your neck. “‘m sorry. Was Mommy too rough with you today? Shhh, it’ll feel better in a bit, just relax,” You encourage, beginning to slide your hand up and down his length. He twitches and mewls from beneath you, fighting the feeling of overstimulation and pleasure. He wants this, he wants this, he wants this so badly, but he wishes it wasn't so uncomfortable.

He shakes his head into your neck, “Wasn't too rough. I'm fine, Mama j-just make me feel better, please,” he whispers, voice hoarse, and soft. One of your hands pet his hair, while the other strokes him off, shushing his cries, and reassuring that he will feel better soon.

You were right of course, the pain of overstimulation died off, and Gojo felt like he was melting. Everything is so warm, so light, he feels like he was on cloud nine. He feels loved, and every loose thought was traced back to you. “Love you s-so much.”

You grin at him, pressing your lips to his. His lips are chapped from his excessive panting, but you don't mind, licking at the plush flesh. He whimpers and groans, his hands pawing at you to pull you impossibly closer. When you pull back, he follows you, letting out a small huff in complaint. You pepper his face with kisses in apology. “Love you too. Such a good boy, Satoru, I'm so lucky to have such a pretty boy.”

He withers under the praise, nodding his head dumbly. He wants to coax so more out of you, but he can't think of ways, so he just rest his head on your chest, and chants, “Mommy” on repeat. 

Your hand is slow in pace, careful to not overwhelm him. It slides up and down easily, his previous cum acting as lube. His cock is bright red, and you almost feel bad for it after pulling so many orgasms from it earlier. You are suprised he is still even awake, sure, he looks and acts exhausted, but by this long he is usually passed out. He must be awake only because he is searching for praise and comfort from earlier. To not find himself in a sub drop.

You catch his eye, and a wobbly smile pulls at his face. You chuckle at him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Whaddya want from me?” He asks, voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.

“Hmm?”

He taps his forehead against yours, hazy blue eyes staring into yours. “Wanna command. Wanna be useful for you.” 

You smile warmly at him and he shivers, leaning up to kiss you again. You hand rubs over his small slit, and he gasps, pausing just centimeteres before you face, and moaning out. 

“You are deep in this, aren't you sweet boy?” You murmur, mostly to your self, slightly astonished. It was one thing for him to ask for praise, and to make decisions for him, but actively seeking instructions from you was another. It was fascinating, and adorable to say the least, how desperately he craved approval, or wanted to feel needed, useful. Nothing how Gojo usually was like.

You thumb at his tip, and he heaves, trying to keep up with your words. But everything you say other than “sweet boy,” seems to tuned out. Everything feels blurry, expect for you face, and your sickenly sweet tone. “D-Don't understand. Please!”

“Okay, shhh, it's alright. I want you to cum for me. Can you cum for Mommy, Satoru? That's all I want you to do.” An easy command, one he can definitely fulfill. He can do that – he can definitely cum for you. Gojo feels his chest bloom with butterflies at the idea of what you'll say to him once he follows your wishes. How much praise he will receive. How good and useful he is being. It makes him shiver with excitement.

Your hand picks up speed when he nods, and he gasps, gripping onto your arms from the suddenness. His hips buck upward into the makeshift hole, and you coo at him, telling him to relax his hips. He abides without question, melting into the sheets, and you give him a kiss for a reward. 

He feels himself begin to teeter along his high, and he glances up at you, eyes wide and slightly panicked. He needs to ask for approval, he has to ask to cum, the rules were basically engrained in him, but everything is spinning, and he's beginning to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of the pressure. He feels his voice go dry, and tears begin to pool in his eyes at the prospect of disappointing you.

You take notice of his fearful face immediately, quickly leaning over to cup his face. “You can cum. Relax, hey, its alright, I want you to cum.”

He breathes a shaky sign of relief, and you wipe his tears away, thinking back to earlier of how you wiped his tears away from the ruthless pleasure/pain mix, and now simply because he was afraid that he wasn't able to ask permission before cumming. You would be lying if the power didnt get to your head.

You thoughts are cut off when Gojos entire body jerks, and a muffled, “Fuck!” is let out. His orgasm hits him like a truck, and he trembles, riding the waves. His voice is too scratchy to let out any real noise, so he just silently cries into your chest. Cum dribbles down his cock pathetically, obviously spent, and not having much left to give. You don't seem to notice it though, instead focusing on your lover, and trying to make his orgasm as pleasurable as possible.

When he comes down from it, his legs are shaking, and his eyes are hooded with exhaustion. “P-Plea–Coconut,” He weakly gets out, and you hands fly off his body in seconds from hearing the safety word. You pull away, hoping to not overwhelm him, but instead he clings to you. “Don’t go. Don’t go. Mommy, I can't. J-Just–I…Praise!” He splutters, coherent thoughts flying out of his head, as he slumps into the bed.

You nod, staying away from his cock, and instead placing his head into your lap. His body curls around you in seconds, still slightly trembling. “Did so well. Good boy Satoru. My good boy, I am so spoiled. So lucky to have you." You coo, reaching your hand up to run it through his matted hair. "Took everything so well. I'm so proud of you." A small smile pulls at his face, and everything feels so warm "I love you so much, you know that?”

“Hm,” He hums, nodding his head slightly.

You smile at him. “My perfect boy. It's time to go to sleep, I'll take care of everything. Just rest for me, that's all I need you to do.”

But he didn't even hear the last of your statements, already passed out onto you, his chest rising and falling from his heavy breathes.

You sigh, and stare affectionately at the man. His naked body littered in marks, and he still managed to sleep contently with them. His body was drained of everything. Just like he asked you to do so hours prior.

Your hands roam the nightstand, grabbing healing cream, bandages, and a wash cloth. And with one last sigh, you place Gojo's head onto the pillow, and begin the long process of cleaning him up.

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[occamstfs]

Start-Up

Gabriel hates the start-up he works for. Though this morning it seems there are more immediate things he should be concerned with as men something strange begins to change men around the world.

Couldn't let all these other authors have all this fun without me! Here's my own take on the theme of Viral Transformation! Now I did muddy the waters a bit by setting my virus story at a social media start up but I think it works haha! Do check out the stories by all the other amazing writers who took part!!! -Occam

There was something strange going on in the city today and Gabriel wasn’t quite sure what the cause was. It’s not like there’s a commotion or anything, on the contrary; the streets were quiet but there was just something sinister in the air. He works for a new social media start-up in the wake of most of the big platforms collapsing, succinctly named Web. Gabriel didn’t have a ton of faith in the app and was growing increasingly tired of dealing with the CEO’s inane demands but hey, as long as checks keep clearing.

Reuben’s, said CEO’s, most recent crusade was banning the use of any competing sites or networks on company property, which unfortunately includes Gabriel’s personal devices. Who knew start-ups could be so draconian, though when the rich boy in charge has a fleet of lawyers and the lowly programmer just needs to make ends meet that’s how it goes it seems. All this to say, Web is thus far incredibly unsuccessful as a news platform and poor Gabriel is unable to see the chaos going on in the city behind closed doors as he walks into work.

The programmer artfully misses chyrons scrolling past telling all men to stay indoors and not to make unnecessary journeys as he mindlessly scrolls on the app he has spent countless hours producing. “Ugh.” Gabriel rolls his eyes as he sees post after post from thoughtless gym bros. Reuben swears this is a massive demographic for them but the programmer has constantly spoken up to the contrary. What could they possibly gain by making yet another platform for men who could barely read. Any indulgence or encouragement towards this demographic was sure to push away more reasonable, serious people.  

Eyes still glued to his phone in search of any shred of news, Gabriel doesn’t notice the state of the receptionist as he wanders past to take the elevator up to the office, “Morning Ron.” Only after a few seconds with no response does the coder finally tear his eyes away to see the young man in quite a disheveled state. He chokes back a gasp as he sees Ron quickly remove the hand that was shoved in his pants as he too only just notices the presence of his fellow man, “UHH Morning Gabe- I was just uhhh, getting something out of my pocket?” His rapid movement sends the sound of fabric tearing through the air as whatever remains of the button up he was wearing falls in pieces to the floor.

Desperate to put this encounter behind himself Gabriel mashes the close door button in the elevator. “Ron can’t have been masturbating just now.” he assures his reflection in the elevator doors. “He’s a good kid, smart kid.” He says of the man maybe five years his junior. Still, at the very least Gabriel is surprised that he came to work wearing clothes that clearly didn’t fit? He can’t help but summon the intimate look at Ron’s body he just received and can’t imagine how the receptionist bulked up so quickly? He can’t think of a single occasion of Ron mentioning going to the gym. 

Elevator clicking ever upwards he figures Reuben must be to blame, first he wants lunkheads using our app and then he convinces employees to waste time at the gym. Ah! That stupid gym! Gabriel punches a fist into his own palm as in the back of his mind he remembers the CEO taking up valuable office space to create a company gym for any employees to make use of. One of the many ‘benefits’ of working on Web. “God I hate startups.”

The elevator doors clink open and Gabriel exits to find the office space seems to be a ghost town. No one is using cubicles and he only sees a few of his fellow department heads have made it in so far. He grumbles to himself, “God-damnit if today could have been work from home I’m leaving now…” Despite his irritation, he enters his office and immediately starts getting to work. Waiting on his desk is a short list of suggestions on how to improve the platform from Rueben, which he promptly discards with little ado. Checking his own to-do list for the day he finds a one on one scheduled with one of the few coworkers he actually respects, Alexander Blainely, head of marketing. 

Most of the other executives were yes men, but Alexander seems to have an actual head on his shoulders. Gabriel always finds their meetings far more stimulating and productive than most other drudgery that goes on in this office. Returning into the open workspace, Gabriel shivers as he feels something in the air yet again. Completely unplaceable, it’s almost certainly nothing, but he remains on edge. His discomfort only grows as he nears his friend’s office and his hitherto directionless uneasiness finds a source. Hearing somethin a little more than disconcerting he whispers under his breath, “what the fuck? Is that moaning?” 

Barely audible when he shuts the door of his own office and wanders into the otherwise silent suite, it increases in volume with each step towards that of Alexander’s quarters. Gabriel grits his teeth and rages in his own mind for trusting anyone in this god-forsaken venture to treat their job with a shred of dignity. Arriving at the door and confirming that the man is clearly exerting himself somehow with a clear disregard to decency in their shared workspace, Gabriel scrunches his face and takes a deep breath. Hesitating at the thought of catching someone he had thought was a compatriot in flagrante delicto, his ire overcomes his usual prudence and he barges in. Never could he be prepared for the sight that awaited him.

Alexander sits on his work desk masturbating with his eyes closed as he rapturously traces over a muscular body that Gabriel flat out knows he has never had before today. Tongue lolling out of his mouth and dripping with drool as if he were a dog, Gabriel can’t help but loose a gasp as he sees with every pump of his cock, with every fervent breath and heady gasp from Alex, his body is continuing to change. 

Seconds pass and his skin browns with an unnatural tan under the LED lights in his office. Meanwhile he continues to surge larger, biceps already larger than when Gabriel stumbled in, the head of marketing’s shoulders pack on muscle as his neck thickens and his whole torso widens with strength. Thighs bulge meatier as his cock quivers higher, stretching inches further into the air as his already massive balls pulse larger. Gabriel’s gasp announcing his presence, the masturbating man opens his eyes and, almost as if it were a defense mechanism he loses control and cums.

Gabriel can’t tear his eyes away from the titan at the moment of his release. Every already massive muscle on his body expands as veins bulge out from the clear stress of the transformation. As load after load shoots out in inhumanly quick succession, Gabriel freezes as he sees facial hair and body hair that somehow already looks shaved begins to decorate his beyond masculine form. Sweat glistening off the man’s sculpted body makes him aware of the aura of musk that has clearly been filling this room, one that is impossibly similar to the general malaise that he has been assailing his senses all morning. Finally realizing what is happening in front of him, Gabriel slams the door shut and sprints down the hall, accompanied by nothing but his own gasps of exertion. 

He doesn’t take a second to think until he’s safe back in the sanctum of his office. The only place since this morning where he hasn’t felt the dreadful haze that he only just became totally aware of. Hopefully safe here, he allows himself a moment of reflection, connecting his brief encounter with Ron and his unfortunate meeting with what can’t have been Alexander. “Fuck it.” He starts to pull out his cell to check the news but before he can make any progress, he realizes there is something warm and sticky on his shirt. Looking down to see what it is he immediately drops his phone and tears off his suit. God. Some of that must-be imposter’s cum got on his button up. He throws the shirt away and scrubs at his skin where the man’s fluids got on him with fury. Using hand sanitizer like it’s a cure he scrubs and scratches until his skin burns red and raw. 

After he’s confident he’s done all he can to remove any trace of Alex from his body, Gabriel grabs the backup shirt he keeps in his desk for just an occasion as this. Or rather, in case he spills coffee on himself or some other accident that makes sense at all. His mind craving any degree of normalcy the thought of coffee stays with him. Oliver should be making it in about now. His pulse begins to quicken as he feels concern for the intern, in fact it’s racing far faster a tempo than it usually reaches at its most accelerate. Putting his hand on his wrist as concern for himself eclipses that of Oliver he finds both come to a head as his door opens and he falls out of his chair in shock.

“Jesus Oliver, knock next time!” The programmer shouts cowering behind his desk. Oliver quickly sets down his handful of mugs and goes to help his boss up, “So sorry Gabe! I just saw you were in and you usually don’t mind at all.” Standing up, Gabriel inches behind the intern and quietly closes the door, he looks Oliver up and down for anything out of the ordinary. “Are you, feeling alright Ollie?” The man purses his lips and pats himself down, clearly not in the same headspace of his usually stoic boss, “Well, I believe I am sir? Is, uhm, everything alright with you?” Oliver’s eyes flicker around the room seeing the discarded clothes and taking note of his boss sweating more than usual. In fact Oliver isn’t sure if he’s ever seen the man really sweat at all, “Did you want me to switch for an iced coffee?”

Gabriel rubs his face and is similarly shocked to find himself sweating, “Ugh. I think this job might be getting to me. Have you seen anyone else in the office today?” Oliver puffs his cheeks and looks at the mugs he set aside, “No actually? Now that you mention it, Ronnie wasn’t even downstairs which seemed weird. I mean he’s always on that grind to try and impress Rueben.” Gabe scratched his beard and grimaced, usually he’s quite adept at compartmentalizing, it’s how he hasn’t blown up at the CEO thus far. But the impossibility of what he saw in Alexander’s office has left him shaken. His heart rate begins to rise once more as his mind returns to that scene. 

In fact, it’s not the only thing that begins to rise. Suddenly his uncontrollable mind latches onto the image of Alexander’s cock expanding and then blowing its load and Gabriel’s own cock begins to stir. His face burns with blush as he can’t help but dart his eyes to see his usually unimpressive cock begin to inch its way larger down his dress pants. For his part Oliver, used to taking verbal cues follows his boss’ eyeline and balks as he sees the man thoughtlessly go to grab it. Oliver is struck speechless as the ever stark programmer bites his lip and begins rubbing his cock through the linen pants, “Jesus, uh- Uhm- Sir!?” 

Immediately alert he wipes his face and sucks up the drool that was apparently beginning to pool in his throat. Gabriel grabs a tissue and wipes his brow, fervently apologizing to the intern, “I am so sorry Oliver. I don’t know what…” Oliver quickly waves him off, not so much bothered by the behavior as surprised. “D- Don’t you worry about it Gabe, er sir. I’ll just be out here if you need me!” He backs into the door before stepping out with an awkward nod, leaving the coffee cups behind. Gabriel debates whether or not he should report himself to HR before he slams his fist against his desk chair as he remembers they haven’t an HR department. 

Rage at his shitty start-up returning at an elevated degree he gets his head back in the game, despite the best attempts of his wanting package and balls growing bluer by the second. Concerned for whatever seems to be going on in this office, or worse in the world at large, he goes to the internet once more. Without much thought at all he opens Web and starts scrolling to find any information of use. Unfortunately for the higher functions in his mind the programmer is immediately assailed by the mindless user base he so disdains, and rather than feeling the ire he always does towards the dullards and hellions. Instead he finds himself possessed with a desire to drink in every last bulging muscle that presents itself.

Coworkers, friends, reporters- Everyone Gabriel has deemed worthy of attention on the nigh-worthless platform he is forced to use, even those who are straighter laced than Gabriel, have been posting smut on main. Industrious man he may be, the programmer is indeed but a man of flesh and blood, and that blood is rushing through him at a breakneck pace to give him the most intense erection he’s ever enjoyed. 

It’s partially why he’s so adamant about diversifying their app, a weakness in himself for the male form; a weakness that whatever corruption that is beginning to rise within him is gleefully taking full advantage of. He tries to stay focused, return to his concerned research, but after taking a gasping breath he realizes that his own body has begun to produce the musky air that must be spreading the impossible changes he’s trying to get to the bottom of.

Staring at the bulging pecs and hairy asses of men he once respected, Gabe struggles to pay attention to anything but the cock begging for his attention as it begins to create a wet spot halfway down his leg. The zipper halfway undone by the growing beast alone is fully ripped asunder as Gabriel can’t help but full on masturbate in his office, just as he walked into Alexander doing but minutes ago. He tears off his button up with uncharacteristic aggression as it begins to impede his jacking off. As soon as his arms are exposed his attention leaves the app and begins to hone in on his own body. God has he always been so hot?

Gabriel flexes his biceps and smirks as he sees them peak higher than he’s ever imagined they could before now. Raising his arms also exposes his pits, a hotbed for musk and whatever impossible contagion hides within it. He forces his neck to crane down into his pit as sweat begins to stain the undershirt that is rapidly filled with new mass. Intended to be deliberately loose, pounds begin to pack onto his chest and push the garment to its brim, the cotton fabric sticks to his chest tight enough that it would be a struggle to get it off over his new pecs, hearing the sound of fabric straining his cock grows even harder at the idea that perhaps he won’t even need to take it off. He’ll just grow large enough that his massive body will destroy it for him.

This thought flitting through his mind, Gabirel loses whatever shred of self-control remains and goes all out in enjoying the changes happening to him. Rubbing his hands across his sweat-covered tank top and feeling the burning muscles building themselves underneath it. The sound of fabric straining and tearing fills him with pleasure he couldn’t fathom before now as he nears his first rapturous release. Sweat drips from his pits as they grow thicker and curls stretch further afield as to be ungovernable, ever focused on the task of spreading his scent. Steady streams of pre trail down his cock, lathering his hand as his whole body quivers with the anticipation of ecstasy.

Before it can arrive however he receives a scheduled video call from the man he wants to hear from less than any other. Clicking accept as he must, the disdain that Gabriel has always held for Rueben quickly comes to a head. Greeted with the image of a more muscular, just as juvenile, version of the CEO filling his screen, Gabriel can’t help but grit his teeth in rage. Hearing him laugh and flex as he begins playing with the special effects in Zoom, Gabriel doesn’t have a moment to realize that he’s continued to masturbate. Instead,  much like when Alexander was surprised, his anger triggers him to cum immediately with no restraint, shooting loads all over the underside of the desk, his still thrusting hand, and the computer screen in front of him. 

Rueben laughs even harder at the sight, his voice duller than ever as he chastises the programmer, “Yo bro huh! Don’t take out your anger on the little guy! You should head down to the company gym and put that aggression to good use bro huhuh!” Gabriel narrows his eyes as veins bulge in his neck. Unhappy that the CEO might have a point, he promptly slammed the shutdown button on his computer and stumbled to his feet, quite off balance from his powerful orgasm. 

Quickly appraising his filthy condition, he shrugs at the cum covering his skintight clothes. Whatever, the gyms sure to be disgusting anyway, despite just enjoying release his cock bounces at the idea and he bites his lip to avoid smiling in excitement. Something at the back of his mind desperately begs for a second to realize he’s almost lost himself beyond measure. Unfortunately, with another deep breath of his own b.o. the man’s eyes fog over and he lumbers out of his office. 

Turning with an awkward smile as he hears the head programmer’s office open Oliver starts to say, “Hey boss, hope your-” before his mouth falls agape at seeing the disheveled lug that wanders out. Still unsteady on his feet as they begin to tear the expensive leather shoes he had on, the man stumbles forward and catches himself on the intern’s shoulder. “Buh, sorry uh, Oll’” grimacing at the stain he left on the young man’s shirt, he wipes it in further and nods before heading off, “I’m uh… Gonna go check out the gym.” Oliver stares at what he can only guess is cum that his boss just smeared into his shirt before going off to the gym. Rather than confusion at his boss’ behavior or disgust at the surely hazardous substance on his shirt, he can’t help but sniff as something in the air begins to make him feel warm inside. 

Sprinting down the emergency flight of stairs Gabriel leaves a cloud of musk in his wake as he works up more sweat than his body has ever produced before. Each bounding footstep skips an arbitrary amount of stairs as his legs lengthen. Quickly does he lose the few shreds of clothing that remained stuck to his growing form. After his feet finally burst from his shoes he leaves a clear trail of sweaty footprints that could surely be tracked by anyone who wanders past. Though any poor fool who should wander near enough to smell the slovenly detritus in Gabriel’s wake would likely find themselves lacking motivation to do anything but immediately lose their mind to senseless pleasure then and there.

Arriving in the gym Gabriel hungrily eyes the scene and is less than thrilled that he seems to be the only man present. Opting to throw on some clothes for no reason than to feel the friction of fabric against his sweaty skin he finds stained sweatpants littered on the floor and throws them on. After gratuitously appreciating his reflection and adding to the Pollock painting of stains that litter the posing mirror of their company gym, Gabe throws himself intuitively into every machine. He delights in the tension and pull of every straining muscle and grins through the pain as they bounce back larger than with every repetition. 

He doesn’t spare half a thought about wiping down machines, and clearly whatever boorish louts used them previously didn’t either, much to his satisfaction. Each second of his body changing upstairs during his too brief session of self pleasure holds nothing towards the edification, the perfection, he enjoys now as he throws himself into a workout. It’s far more intense than his meager body should ever be able to maintain. Sweat drips from him like a waterfall as hair fans out across his form, rapidly expanding from shaved stubble into fluff that would hold and spread his scent for hours to come.

Taking a break to take a photo of his new beyond exuberant self, as he stands across from the mirror his cock instantly hardens and inches to its almost foot long length down the leg of his sweatpants. Immediately it begins dripping pre down his hairier thigh as he screams in bestial abandon. His brain is so far gone the idea of posting the steamy pics of his sweaty form on Web doesn’t even occur to him. Instead the only thoughts remaining to fill his mind are those to return to the gym and get back to the important mission of increasing his virile strength, or the even more pressing desire to fuck anything that moves. Unfortunately for him he can’t produce a single actionable step towards that end. So he shall simply enjoy his new body by his lonesome until some equally horny man stumbles into the company gym.

“God what is up with me today.” Back on the tenth floor Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose as he is overwhelmed with another headache. Ever since Gabriel paid him the brief visit on his way to the gym Oliver has been getting them with increasing frequency. He removed his shirt, not wanting to wear something fouled by whatever was covering his boss’ hands but the damage was already done. The idea that not wearing a shirt in the office is inappropriate moves further out of reach by the second. The intern scratches the back of his neck and grumbles as he feels a soreness in his arm and traps, paying no mind as his fingers trail through thicker hair spreads down from his hairline towards his shoulders. Typing away at his computer, each keypress moves slower than the last, his hands cramp as they suddenly bulge larger.

Taking the smallest second to appraise his changing form Ollie’s eyes widen as he sees there are two unmissable weights now hanging on his chest, sitting on a small gut that he has been making concerted efforts to do away with. Feeling up the new pecs he blushes as he feels stubble prickle his fingers. Rubbing them and feeling muscle give way to his thicker hands he can’t suppress the grin on his face as he feels the prickly hairs quickly thicken and curl longer, painting his chest with a beautiful forest of hair. His dick immediately surges to the largest size it can achieve in the confines of his dress pants.

Awash in feeling every new inch of his hairier, more powerful body Oliver stands up and gasps as he sees abs clearer than anything underneath the new layer of hair on his stomach. His knees give way as his hips uncontrollably thrust while he stares down at his form growing sexier by the second. He barely catches himself from falling with his right hand on the table as his body continues to hump his pants to no end, while his left trails across his body to discover the new surprises that cover each and every inch. Hesitant to trail towards the package bulging larger in his crotch, he traces his abs back up to his chest and rests on his clavicle. There does he find the greatest surprise yet, barely gracing the tips of his fingers, a beard beginning to push out on a face that has always been unfortunately clean shaven. 

While it took browsing Web and the intrusion of his workplace enemy for Gabriel’s conscious mind to give in to the euphoria of being a new, greater man, the feeling of a beard inching thicker on Oliver’s face is more than enough to give himself over to anything. This alongside whatever corrupting virus is coursing through him to cause these changes, it’s no wonder he falls to the floor and begins thrusting a hole in his pants. His meaty thighs and monumental ass make light work of his dress pants as his cock angles itself upwards, out of the waistline of his impossibly tight underwear. Even while in the process of spraying load after load into the carpet of his office, his balls continue churning, always heavy and ever wanting more release. Ever demanding he find more avenues to spread his changes and heighten his own bliss. 

Now laying on the floor, every exhilarating movement packs more pounds of muscle onto his bulging new body. More pressing than that however is the pelt making its mark everywhere it sees fit to spread. His pubes grow thick enough that no light shall ever touch the base of his cock again before they spread upwards to paint his stomach with dark curls. The deodorant he threw on this morning hasn’t a breath of a chance against the new musk that issues forth from his pits as the bushes therein grow thicker than that on his head before stretching outwards to connect with those new heady hairs he so delighted in on his chest. The hairs around his nipples grow thick enough almost to hide them as he continues frotting against the carpet.

His biceps burn with the effort of holding his body up as veins bulge down the diameter of his meaty arms, thick strands of hair quickly trailing behind to make clear his undeniable masculinity. He feels new curls itching against the back of the elastic band of his underwear as it only just hangs in there. Dark curls reach up the small of his back and quickly race to cover his ass cheeks like fuzz on a peach, creating a seamless jungle of curls from his hairy inner thighs to a dense thicket still inching higher on his back; growing into a forest perfect to be grabbed by anyone lucky enough to ride his prodigious cock.

After an especially vocal release, his shoulders burn as his traps bulge larger, which brings a certain someone’s touch to mind. Sniffing the air he finds himself in a haze of his own musk, though the musk smells awfully similar to that of the man who almost started masturbating in front of him. Following his more sensitive nose, the intern crawls over to Gabriel’s office and confirms his suspicions. Oliver smirks as he imagines that the horny freak is probaly equally wanting of a fuck buddy. 

Pulling himself up to his feet on the doorway, he grunts as his knees wobble a bit and his cock tries to convince him that humping the floor is good enough. Staying strong and holding the human instinct that some things are worth the effort, he walks on feet hairier than paws and wider than flippers to the elevator where he begins a descent to the company gym. Snapping a picture to text his boss he smirks as he thinks despite what Gabriel always says, perhaps working in a start-up has some perks after all.

It isn’t clear precisely what happened on the Fall day when men across the Bay Area began changing into, well, sex-crazed beasts. Some assume it was some strange chemical leak. Others say that it was some spontaneous evolution, though to what end such pleasure seeking changes could help a species is unclear. Some particularly conspiracy-minded folks think the whole thing was a ploy by a Social Media startup that was taking off with men precisely like the ones who changed. Though at the end of the day it doesn’t quite matter how or why they changed but how to prevent it from spreading. Across the nation, men of every walk of life are rapidly changing despite taking the best precautions. 

Closing gyms, quarantining those changing, racing to find any treatment to help those losing their minds and their bodies. Nothing seems to help as every day more men are blowing up with muscle, growing hairier with symptom spreading musk, and losing themselves to their uncontrollable lusts. At this point it’s seeming like there’s nothing that could possibly be done to stop the spread of changes, but hey, at least it seems like they’re happy.

[kasagia]

A powerful man

Pairing: dark!young Gamemaker!candidate for president! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: You thought he was different. That he would never cheat on you. But apparently Coriolanus who came back from District 12, became Gamemaker, and ran for president was not the same man you knew. And you'll soon find out how wrong you were about him. Requested by: @tastycakee Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi Warning: 18+; My first time writing a smut scene, so please be gentle. I hope you will like it...🙈🙈; Coriolanus Snow, toxic behaviour; smut; Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

"Mr. Snow is busy…" you slam the door to Coriolanus' office behind you, closing it in the face of his secretary, who wouldn't let you in.

You cross your arms, glaring at your boyfriend in pure fury. Coriolanus stops writing something and looks up to enter just as you loudly shut the door behind you.

He raises his eyebrows slightly in surprise at the sight of you, then frowns at the pure anger in your eyes and clenched fists. He hopes your anger isn't caused by what he was trying to hide for you... otherwise, he will have some heads cut off.

"Y/N, darling, what are you doing here?" He asks with a charming smile as he gets up from his chair and walks over to you.

"Livia Cardew?" He stops at the mention of her name. He plays confused, frowning as he slowly responds to you, pretending to try to understand what you mean.

"I have no idea..."

"You could at least have some decency and admit that you slept with that whore!" His secretary must have heard your scream. He makes a mental note to talk to her when he's alone and to make sure he sends to the district and hangs any maid from the Cardew's house who spilled his secret.

"Look... it's not that I wanted it." He starts out gently; he tries to calm you down and explain his actions, but as soon as he takes a step towards you, you move away from him and growl like a rabid animal.

"Oh, of course not! After all, it's your dick that makes decisions for you, not your brain!" You shout at him angrily, pressing an accusatory finger into his chest.

He can no longer control himself after you cross the line. His calm, collected mask falls away to reveal his own rage and iritation. He grabs your arms tightly, making you gasp softly in pain as he shakes you lightly and pins you against the wall.

But he controls himself enough to not physically hurt you… at least not more. He just holds you there tightly, taking advantage of your moment of shock to explain his motives to you.

"Listen to me. She was a means to an end. I needed some information from her. I had to get closer, sleep with her, and sneak around her house, especially her father's office. End of the story. Considering it, it wasn't cheating. It was more like business than anything else. Besides, you're way better than her, petal. And I kept thinking about you all the time and how I'd rather have you wrapped around me than that thoughtless, naive bitch."

You feel sick when you hear it, when you imagine him in bed with her, and even more sick when you hear that he doesn't think that he did a bad thing at all. You feel like throwing up, just remembering how you let him touch you and how you treated him, worshipping him as if he were your whole world. You were so stupid and naive.

"You only prove that you are as disgusting, cruel, and manipulative as I thought. You can play with other people and their feelings, but not with mine. Not anymore. It's over. I've already moved out of your apartment, so you can continue running your campaign and exploiting other people all you want. I just fucking hope you won't win." You say it angrily, pushing him away from you.

You take advantage of the state of shock he is in, and you get out of there as fast as you can. The scent of Coriolanus' perfume clings to you, and you already know you need to take a very long bath when you get home to brush it away. As well as the felling of his hands on you. You only hope you won't have any bruises after his very tight and painful grip.

You practically run all the way to your car. You get in, not noticing that your ex-boyfriend is watching you carefully from his office window.

Coriolanus' eyes don't leave you. He watches carefully as you get into the car with his hands in his pockets.

He chastises himself for being so gentle with you. He promised himself after Lucy Gray that he would never fall in love again. And you appeared, breaking his iron resolve with one smile and a kiss. He should have made sure that he had enough control over you so that you would never think of leaving him before he started spoiling you.

All the dinners, sweet words and compliments, and thoughtful dates... he had rewarded you for nothing, and now his disobedient brat thought she could just walk away from him. Yes. He had given you too much freedom.

He should immediately clearly define the dynamics of your relationship, instead of leaving you under the illusion that you have something to say in any matter.

He remembered you from the Academy, even though you were a year younger than him. You were ambitious, like him. You always followed your own plan and ideas. Little rebel. It was cute then, but now he realises he needs to temper your personality. After all, his First Lady had to obey him at all times. You might have had a strong character and fought like a lioness, but absolutely not against him. He will destroy you or teach you obedience. You could be his wolf on a leash or his faithful dog. He didn't see it any other way. And he definitely won't let you go.

Coriolanus has already lost his one bird. He won't let another one do the same and escape from him.

And he even knew who would help him with it.

"I don't understand why they're starting a campaign when there's still a good half a year left until the elections." You grumble to your labmate as you two work on a new tranquillizer for peacekeepers to use on rebels.

"They have to check the identity and background of the candidates, and so on. My father said that the process itself was a good three months of work. Besides, considering that a president usually stays in his seat until he dies of old age, it's better that it lasts longer. Let them at least work hard to earn our votes if they are about to rule over Panem all their lives."

"That's six months of seeing that son of a bitch's face on TV, on posters around town, and on practically every fucking corner. Don't be surprised that I would prefer it to be shorter."

"I don't want to be on his side, but I think he can win. You know very well that he has charisma, money, and... well." She interrupts, blushing a little. You roll your eyes at her. You know that Coriolanus is... breathtakingly handsome. His cold beauty will steal the hearts of many. It will be useful for his media image to hide what a boor he was.

"Big cock?" You joke, no longer vulnerable to the charming side he has been showing the public.

"Y/N!" She hisses at you, laughing softly and looking around the lab. Meanwhile, the rats you were testing on became... too calm. At least Dr. Gaul's snakes will have something to eat.

"What? I'm stating facts. I wouldn't be surprised if he slept his way to the top." You say, as you are preparing new test subjects and reducing the dose of preparation a little.

"Shh! The viper is coming here." She whispers and goes back to work.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that, in fact, Dr. Gaul enters the laboratory. She might be getting older, but she still held up well. The only thing that changed was that she walked with the aid of a cane, which only added to her intimidating appearance. And the fact that she was no longer the main organiser of the Hunger Games. Coriolanus performed this role for her. Although the title was still hers.

"Dr. Gaul." You both greet her and step away from the examination table. She watches you and your work closely, mumbling something under her breath, and raises her cane, pointing at you.

"Y/L/N. My office."

"Yes, ma'am." You say and follow her. You feel your friend's eyes on your back as you follow the woman to her office.

You close the door behind you and take a seat in front of her desk as she nods towards you. Dr. Gaul takes some pills from his desk and swallows them. One of her snakes slithers between your legs and climbs up the desk to wrap around her owner's hand and then her cane. You have not only the piercing eyes of a woman but also the eyes of a snake.

She smiles, seeing that you didn't even flinch, still maintaining your calm demeanour.

"You're not a stupid girl." She says this while examining her pet. "And yet you find yourself in situations that only cast you in this light."

"I beg you pardon?" You ask, not expecting your conversation to become so... personal.

"I always said Mr. Snow would achieve something great. At the beginning, I thought he would be a Gamemaker like me. After all, he is not suitable for being a scientist like us. He has no patience; he needs new challenges, experiences, and adrenaline. But now... you know that you can have the president as... a person who is not entirely favourable to you, right?"

"I understand that there may be some difficulties…"

"Difficulties? Child, do you know him? You must be aware of what he is capable of. Or at least have some suspicions." She interrupts you, looking at you pointedly.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to calm down. You were fed up with the topic of your ex. Apparently, you couldn't just break up with him without making a fuss.

"What did you want to talk to me about, Dr. Gaul? What is it all for?" You ask, slightly annoyed, and she just laughs mockingly, shaking her head in amusement.

"I like you, child. I hope you won't disappoint me. Therefore, think about what is good for your future. Pride is fatal. Money and influence bring opportunities. But you probably already know that. After all, no one who gets into my lab is a saint. Especially not you and Mr. Snow."

"I'm not a whore like him." You defend yourself, crossing your arms, making Dr. Gaul laugh again.

The snake moves from her cane to the desk and nests in your lap. Out of habit, you stroke his head, gaining interest again and a gleam of approval in Dr. Gaul's eyes. After all, this one was a particularly venomous specimen.

"Each of us is. We may not do what they do, but for money... people can do everything. Don't you remember how you sold your dear friend? How did you knock her out of the competition for a spot in my lab? How have you done everything���play every dirty card to make sure that you will become a victor? Just like Mr. Snow. I heard there was a... misunderstanding between you two, but life isn't a fairy tale, Miss Y/L/N. You can go bankrupt and ruin your reputation while waiting for your prince. If you want to achieve something, be known as a great mind like me, and be relevant in this city full of rats and snakes, then you will do the right thing for your future."

"Dr. Gaul, with all due respect, I am acutely aware of what is good for me. And it's definitely not Coriolanus Snow." You say, standing up and letting the snake slither onto her desk again.

"Pity. So prepare a contingency plan. After all, I won't live forever. It is not known who will take my place or whose name will hang above the entrance to this laboratory. It's not my choice. But if it was, I would choose you as my successor. Unfortunately, the future president will have the most impact on that. And then... it may turn out that there will be no place for you here."

"It's not certain who will win."

"Are you sure, child?" Her question can't help but make you doubt. Coriolanus wouldn't give up so easily. You know it. Just like if Coriolanus wins, you're finished. Your entire career… "Go. Think about it. I hope you will prove that you have some mind. It would be such a pity to lose such a talented scientist as you. Especially because of stupid love affairs."

You mutter goodbye to her and leave the office. You're long back at your table in the lab when the secret door opens and Coriolanus steps out.

"Is that what you wanted, Mr. Snow?" The woman asks, turning to face him. Coriolanus moves closer to the desk, but enough to be out of her snake's reach.

"You could have been more intimidating. After all, her entire career depends on her submission."

"If you want her to truly obey you, she must come to you herself. Like a pet. Like a snake. If she sees that your relationship will bring her further benefits, she will come back to you. She's not stupid enough to waste such an opportunity. At least I hope so. You should focus on your campaign."

"I'd like that too. But currently… something else is on my mind." He says, walking over to the tinted window that overlooks the lab. He puts his hands in his pockets and watches you carefully as you work.

"You're wasting your potential. Maybe your children will be wise enough to follow in my footsteps more. One is running for president, and the other is a military chemist. Such a waste."

"Don't worry. One of our children will definitely continue your legacy, you have my word." He assures her while observing you.

You lean over the table, strands of your hair falling into your eyes behind your safety glasses, as you test another biological weapon on rats. You look hot in that scientist outfit. He grunts, feeling his pants getting a little too tight. He regrets that he never took the opportunity to visit you here...

"It better be that way. And for God's sake, don't stare at her like a love-struck puppy like you did with your tribute from 12. Patience. Or you will have to train her to make her obedient."

"You know I like a challenge, Dr. Gaul." He replies with a sly, cocky smirk and turns his head towards Doctor Gaul once he has calmed down a bit and composed himself.

"Go away now. Your last Hunger Games must be amazing and unforgettable, or I'll tell her what you have planned for her." He laughs at this, shaking his head.

"I appreciate your attempts to intimidate me, but you know I'll be happy with any outcome. Whether it's keeping her on a leash or reshaping her to meet my needs as my First Lady."

"But we both know which one you would prefer more." They share a sinister smirk. Coriolanus owed her a lot. He's learned many things under her tutelage... things that he uses to make sure you know that your place is always with him.

"As I said, I love a challenge. I will be expecting you as an honoured guest at this year's Hunger Games and my wedding. Of course, right next to my fiancée."

"Don't scare her away, Mr. Snow." She reminds him when he receives a package from her with the latest biological weapon. He will test it at this year's tributes. He smiles, thinking that it must have come from your talented fingers.

"Snow lands on top, Dr. Gaul." He assures her and says goodbye, leaving through a secret passage.

He still had a lot of things to do.

It started innocently… if that's a word you could use to describe Coriolanus Snow.

You knew he wouldn't give up so easily after your breakup and that he would want to come back to you. And that he will use every means to make sure this happens. After all, he was an ambitious bastard who thought he could do anything if he tried hard enough. And Coriolanus had big plans. Plans that you only became aware of when it was too late for you to try and rescue yourself from him.

It started with roses.

Not just any roses. The most beautiful ones Coriolanus could find in his grandmother's garden. Beautiful white roses. A symbol of love, affection, innocence, and loyalty. Everything that Coriolanus lacks.

They were delivered together with a letter in which he deeply assured you of his feelings and asked for a meeting.

You happily threw them into the fireplace.

Then he started sending you roses to the lab. And from the smiles Dr. Gaul was giving you, you knew the bastard had won her over to his side. At least you and your co-worker had some fun destroying them in all sorts of strange ways, starting with burning them with a laser, throwing them into toxic waste, or even breaking them down into the substance you needed for your experiments.

One day, gifts came along with roses. Jewellery, books, clothes (even underwear, if you could call a thin set of strings that), concert tickets with invitations from him (you'd rather cut off your ears than sit next to him in the concert hall or stand by the stage), he did everything to get your attention. Which you happily denied him.

You avoided him like the plague, missing every event he was supposed to be at (even your little sister's graduation from the Academy). But there was one event your family wouldn't let you miss.

"Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. Miss Y/L/N and Miss Y/S/N. How nice to see you all together. May the odds be ever in your favour." Dr. Gaul greets you as you arrive at the official opening gala of the Hunger Games.

"Dr. Gaul. Happy Hunger Games." You say back.

"You too, dear child. I can steal you from your parents and sister, can't I?" Your parents nod quickly before you can speak. Dr. Gaul takes you by the arm and leads you to the upper lodge.

"I believe I should sit somewhere else…"

"Nonsense. Mr. Snow made sure your family sat near Mr. and Mrs. Plinth. They have good company, so you can make us that pleasure and sit with us." he says, taking her seat. You see that on your seat is a small piece of paper with your name on it.

"Us?" You question the woman suspiciously.

"Hello, petal." Coriolanus' voice behind you confirms your suspicions. Before he sits down next to you, he leans down and places a long, wet kiss on your cheek, while he tucks the rose behind your ear. One that matches your dress perfectly. You have no idea how the bastard did it. "You look stunning, as always. I was worried you weren't feeling well when I couldn't find you at your sister's graduation."

"I've actually been feeling bad for a few days now. The smell of roses makes me sick." You tell him, not hiding the hostility and coldness in your tone. He frowns at this, obviously not happy with your allusion.

"Maybe you are pregnant?" He replies mockingly, and you glare at him. He smiles at this, placing his hand on your bare knee. You regret not wearing a longer dress. At least you wouldn't have to endure the feel of his skin against yours. Reluctantly, you remember the time when you dreamed of his touch.

"You wish." You say, shaking his hand away as you place your leg over your knee. He doesn't care and instead places his hand on your other knee, making sure the railings of the lodge cover his hand as he gently slides it under your dress. You shiver as his cold hand presses against your warm thigh.

"Oh, you have no idea." He leans gently towards you to whisper in your ear.

Before you have a chance to push him away (or slap him), Coriolanus stands up and gives the opening speech of this year's Hunger Games. You glare at Dr. Gaul, and she just shrugs and turns her attention to the tributes. Only now do you notice that the cameras are focused on your row... and especially on you and Coriolanus.

"Aside from our little jokes… it hurts me that you didn't show up to any of the events I invited you to." He says, sitting down again as the reaping of the tributes begins.

He rests his elbow on your armrest and leans in to whisper in your ear. You know that, from a distance, it looks like he's flirting with you. And you don't like it one bit. Especially since the lives of 24 young teenagers are crashing down at the same time.

"Are you talking about your political events?" You ask, trying to shrug him off and move away from him. He doesn't let you, though, taking your hand in his and placing his hand on your knee, pulling you closer to him.

"I'm talking about our dates, darling."

"We are not together anymore. And we are not going on any dates." You remind him dryly, with great hostility in your voice. The bastrad doesn't even tremble.

"I dare to disagree with you. I never said I was done with you." He says dismissively as his hand roams freely under your dress, tracing patterns on your thigh. You shiver, despising him and yourself for the way your body responds to his touch.

"Well, I am done with you." You say it firmly, with all the confidence in your voice.

"Are you sure? Your sister is a hell of a smart beast. What a pity if the university did not accept her due to... the increased number of applicants."

"Are you trying to bully me? Threaten?" You ask incredulously, finding the strength to push his hands away from you. He gives you a slightly offended look, but instead of taking your hint and moving away, he tucks your hair behind your ear.

"I'm asking for a little cooperation. The Capitol would see me better if I was... in a committed relationship. And now all eyes are on the two of us and the tributes. They'll disappear as soon as they stop transmitting, and then the eyes of the Capitol will be only on me and you. And because you're sitting very close to me, people will think you didn't come here alone... even if that's what you originally wanted."

"You bastard..." You hiss at him angrily, and he just smiles, half amused, half cocky.

He raises his hand and caresses your cheek tenderly. You want to move away from him, but he holds your jaw tightly with his fingers. He tilts your head up slightly, forcing you to look into his icy blue eyes. He smells of roses and cigars... you wonder if he started smoking after your breakup or for business, to increase the number of contacts during these smoking encounters on the balcony.

"Just one kiss and a smile, sweetheart. Is that so much to give to ensure your younger sister a secure place at university?"

"And what later? Will you force me to get engaged to you? Get married? Create a fictional family?" You ask him furiously, knowing full well that if you give this devil a finger, he will soon demand your entire arm.

"I'm not asking you to marry me. Just about pretending to be my date... for now. You don't want your sister to suffer just because you didn't want to place a kiss on my cheek, do you?" You sigh, knowing he doesn't leave you much of a choice.

"She will choose whatever field of study she wants." You make sure by bargaining with him before you agree to anything he wants you to do. He nods, and you can only hope he has the decency to keep the agreement.

You smile sweetly at him and place your hand on his cheek, turning his face towards you. You press a kiss on his other cheek, making sure to leave a trace of your lipstick. You hear people whistling and clapping in applause.

You pull away from him and keep a fake smile on your lips, ignoring his happy, cocky smirk and tone of voice as he stands up and says an ending speech. As did the shocked looks from your family and Dr. Gaul's mischievous smirk.

You have no idea that this is just the beginning. And even if you do, you try to convince yourself otherwise.

You've had enough.

For a month now, Coriolanus has been showering you with various gifts, following you around like a shadow, taking you to the laboratory, and bringing you home. He forced you to get into his limo once. The next day, it took you an hour to cover the hickeys he left on your neck.

You weren't together; you pushed him away as much as you could, and he tried at all costs to get you back into his arms or bed or into your pants. But now he has crossed the line.

That's why you stormed straight to his office again, bypassing all the secretaries and security with your natural grace.

And what unnerved you the most was how the bastard had the nerve to smile in amusement as you barged into his office.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You snap at him angrily, closing the door behind you. You walk over to his desk, the click of your heels echoing around the room as you throw your purse onto the chair and cross your arms, glaring at him.

"I have the impression that your greetings have become more and more dry and aggressive, haven't they, petal?

"My sister failed her first exam, even though I know she wrote it damn well. As it turns out, her professor is a dear friend of yours. Do you have any explanation for this?" You ask him accusingly, and he just smirks and shrugs, not even hiding the fact that he wasn't involved at all.

"Perhaps she didn't study enough?"

"Do you want to take it out on someone? Take it out on me, but leave Y/S/N out of it!" You shout at him madly, pointing a finger at him. He tilts his head at you in curiosity and stands from his chair, walking around the desk and standing in front of you.

You don't feel comfortable about him being so close to you, but there's no way that you'll show him that he's making you feel nervous and anxious.

"Calm down, sweetheart. This is exactly the reaction I needed from you." He says, his icy blue eyes piercing right through you, making you almost shiver under his intensive gaze. Even when you were in heels, he was slightly taller than you.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" You growl menacingly, crossing your arms defensively. He just smiles and gently brushes your hair away from your face, smiling softly. He is not gentle. You know about it. He's waiting for your slightest slip or show of weakness.

"I've been trying to contact you for weeks, sending letters, calling, leaving notes, and trying to start a conversation."

"You push me into a limo and molest me." You say, defeating all his attempts to make you feel guilty.

You won't have any Stockholm syndrome. He is the one who pursues you; he is the one who harasses you and won't let you move on after the breakup. He didn't even fucking acknowledge your breakup! The problem was with him, not with you. And you know he saw it fully in your eyes—the certainty that what was between you was far from a healthy relationship. And he doesn't like the direction you're going with your conclusions. That's why he resorts to heavier measures.

You hold back a gasp as he suddenly closes the gap between you with one step and places his hand on your cheek. You let him stroke it tenderly as he leans towards you to whisper seductively in your ear.

"You moaned so beautifully for me that even a deaf person wouldn't think you were forced. Admit that you miss me, just like I miss you. You'll make it easier for all of us."

He pulls away from you just enough to look into your eyes again. You decide to try and play his game and lick your lips, moving your gaze between his eyes and his mouth. You tilt your chin up and lean in, your lips almost brushing against his as you whisper.

"Listen to me carefully, because I'll only say this once. I. Will. Never. Come. Back. To. You. So take a hint and leave me alone." As you finish speaking, you reach for your bag and step away from him. You're walking towards the exit when, halfway there, you hear his quick footsteps behind you.

"Not so fast." He grabbed your wrist and turned you towards him, holding you close to his chest. His eyes turn a raging ocean colour with anger and annoyance at your teasing and mockery. "Do you really want your sister to have to take thousands of exams? Work harder because you couldn't commit one evening to me?"

"Evening?" You ask indignantly and in outrage, at which he laughs.

"Nothing dirty. Although I like your way of thinking..."

"Coriolanus." You interrupt him before he can continue the topic. He rolls his eyes at you, clearly not appreciating you interrupting his fun.

"I need a date for one evening. And after the successful show we put on at the opening of The Hunger Games, people are hungry for... well, more of us. What do you say? Will you find enough courage and willingness to accompany me, my love?"

"And you'll leave Y/S/N alone? No more creating problems for her to get my attention?" You make sure. He smiles... differently. With a strange, dangerous glint in his eye that makes you feel more uneasy than how you were since he pulled you to his chest. And you realise how close he actually is when he leans in, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"Have I ever broken my promise to you, Y/N?"

"Surprisingly not." You answer after a long moment, trying to remember any such situation. He always did everything he promised for you. You didn't know if it was his advantage or… a more disquieting trait.

"You see. You have my word. I will fulfil everything I promised you, my little petal. Everything." He whispers softly, making you shiver as he gently takes a rose out of his jacket pocket and places it behind your ear. You knew this supposedly sweet act of his very well. It was the importance of his territory.

After his words, there is a long silence between the two of you. You hold your breath, mesmerised, as you stare into his icy-blue eyes. He was always so… composed around you. It was as if he was always able to do and say exactly what he wanted and planned. It was as if your entire interaction was just a game for him, a game he was convinced he couldn't lose. He lost his temper with you only once—when you surprised him with that break up…. but you aren't sure if he acknowledged it.

You come to your senses and out of his strange charm the moment he leans in so close to you that your noses gently brush against each other.

You pull away from him, much to his displeasure, and clear your throat. You keep your eyes on him, and in a challenge—one of the few acts of rebellion you can commit—you reach for the rose in your hair and take it out.

"When and where is this event?" You growl through clenched teeth.

"Friday evening. I'll pick you up at 8 p.m." He says it nonchalantly, putting his hands in his pocket. He acts as if nothing happened, and he was just inviting you to the party. As if he wasn't threatening your sister's future to force you to hang on his arm as an ornament for one evening... or maybe even longer.

"I'll go there myself."

"Not happening. You're coming there with me. Transportation is on me. After all, you're my date. It would look bad in public opinion if I didn't treat you like... a princess." He says it firmly, with a delicate smile on his lips—not the pleasant, warm one, but the cunning, cold one he showed when he won over his opponent. The one you were starting to get used to.

And you think while looking at him that if you were the princess in this story, then he was the dragon, keeping you in your palace or tower away from other people. To make sure you were completely at his mercy.

"I'm not sitting next to you in the limo or any car. And if you lay your hands on me, I will cut them off with those dull knives they serve to people with the dinner." He's more amused by your threat, but nods obediently. He takes a few steps towards you but stops, leaving a decent distance between you.

"I'd like to see you try. But you have to behave yourself. Or little Y/S/N will repeat her first year at university. Are we clear?"

"Yes. And I already have a dress, so don't you dare send me anything, understood?" He chuckles mockingly at your words, his pearly white teeth gleaming in the sunlight. You know him too well to be enchanted by such a sight of him. After all, the wolf seems beautiful too, until it attacks you.

"Perfectly. I can't wait to see you then." He says it in a sweet tone of voice. You shake your head and walk towards the exit. "And Y/N." Reluctantly, you turn towards him, your hand on the doorknob. "If I were you, I would have stopped ignoring my calls."

"Go to hell." You say it in an equally sweet tone of voice as his.

You smile at him and throw a rose towards him, bowing. Just like Lucy Gray. You smile victoriously and walk out, slamming the door behind you. You're glad you were able to finally throw him out of control and get him angry.

You leave the building with your head proudly held high. But the truth is that even though you try to pretend that you are controlling your situation with Coriolanus, the truth is that you are not. And you are absolutely terrified by it.

"You look beautiful, Y/N." your sister says as you are walking down the stairs of your house. It was Friday evening, and you were waiting for Coriolanus to come pick you up.

"Thank you, Y/S/N. Revise for the exam?" You ask, walking over to the mirror and putting on your earrings. Your long silver dress hugs your curves perfectly, revealing just enough skin that you don't have to worry about feeling Coriolanus' touch on you.

"Yes. I don't have a handsome boyfriend who would take me to the Capitol Gala. I envy you so much."

"You have nothing to envy, honey. Besides, Coriolanus is not my boyfriend. We broke up." You remind her, maybe a little too harshly judging by the way the younger girl flinches. You sigh and walk over to her with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I just... don't like to remind people about it all the time. Coriolanus and I... we are just friends."

"But you were together at the Hungry Games opening ceremony! All my friends say that you two are a sweet couple and are perfect for each other." She says, adjusting the necklace around your neck, at which you smile fondly. You hug her and place a kiss on the top of her head.

"Sometimes people just… aren't meant to be together. Even if they think otherwise, remember how our parents wanted you to start dating John?" You ask, wrapping one arm around her. She winces and flinches at the memory, making you laugh out loud. You haven't laughed honestly in quite a few weeks.

"Is Coriolanus a self-absorbed idiot? That's why you don't want him?" She asks, comparing him to the boy who courted her.

"No. Not at all. He is... extremely attentive." You say it thoughtfully. And maybe other people would take it as a compliment, but to you... it was a dangerous trait. Alarming. Worrisoming.

"Well, anyway, I hope you have a nice evening. Maybe you two can talk, so he'll stop calling and sending you all this stuff. Don't get me wrong, it's nice to get jewellery from you every other day, but it must be... tiring for you if you don't love him anymore."

You smile at that. She was so… innocent; you, too, once were and believed in love. That's why you were with Coryo. He was gallant, elegant, and handsome. A true gentleman. Until he showed his true side—the side you are now afraid of. He was capable of doing many things to make sure he would get what he wanted. And now he wanted you.

"I want you to be careful..." You say, stroking her braids.

"Of what? Overworked because of studying all night?" She asks teasingly, clearly amused by your serious tone and sudden thoughtfulness.

"Of powerful men." The silence in the room after your words clearly makes your sister anxious, as does your depressed mood.

"Y/N... is everything okay?" You put on a fake smile and hug her one last time before putting your shawl around your arms and grabbing your bag.

"Of course. Don't worry about me. I'm going to have a fun night. Study. I promise it will be worth it." You say, placing a kiss on her forehead, and leave the room and house as you hear the car horn.

"Do you enjoy yourself?" Coriolanus asks, leaning in behind you and whispering in your ear as you stand at the table with alcohol and sweets.

"The champagne is delicious." You turn to look at him, to not have him behind your back, and finish the rest of your drink. You lean on the table, setting the glass down as you look at him carefully. "When can I go back home?"

"Just a few more moments, my petal." He places his hands on your shoulders, massaging them gently. You let him, leaning further into his side and closing your eyes tiredly. "Do you like it?"

"You're a poor masseur, but for lack of better hands…"

"I meant tonight. All those people who fawned over you and looked at you with respect and awe. All these women and men who wanted to fulfil your every little wish... don't you like this feeling of power? Superiority? Knowing that they will do anything to gain your favour?"

"You do it every day around me. This is nothing new." You say it dismissively and turn your back to him, taking a piece of cake from the table and eating it.

"I can stop. And I will stop if you keep pushing me away every time I try to get closer to you, every time I put my hand on your waist, every time I lean in to kiss you, and every time you push my hands away from under your dress. If you continue to insist that you are not mine, I will do things you have never imagined... even in your darkest nightmares."

"What do you want so desperately?" You ask him, irritated, putting the empty plate on the table and looking at him with an angry look as you are sick of whatever game he was playing with you.

"You." He says, taking a step towards you and grabbing your chin. He traces his fingers along your jawline, staring at your lips before returning his gaze to your eyes. "We had a good time together. You won't deny it."

"We had. And then you cheated on me." You remind him, feeling furious and hurt.

"It didn't mean anything. I told you. I'm sorry. I could have told you before it happened, let you know what I had to do… or found another way..."

"It does not matter. I don't want you anymore, Coriolanus." You tell him honestly, as you are fed up with everything that has happened between you over the past few months.

"You will change your mind."

"No. I won't." You shake your head, making his confident demeanour fall. He stares at you coldly, processing a plan in his head as he gently tightens his hand on your wrist.

"You'll do it if you still want to matter here. Do you think that if I win, I'll let you work in the lab on secret government projects? After you broke my heart so savagely in front of the entire Capitol? Do you think your family will still be willingly invited to social parties? That your family will have any future?"

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm warning you. You can either accept me, become my wife and First Lady, or I will make sure you get kicked out of the lab and sabotage all your research for the rest of your life."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Are you sure?" You stared at each other for a moment. You sigh, angry and frustrated, and shake your head, not believing what's happening. "Let's go outside. You could use some fresh air to calm down." Before you can answer him anything, he leads you outside, his hand on your back and suspiciously close to your ass.

You sigh, feeling the cold air of the Capitol on your hot cheeks. Reluctantly, you take Coriolanus' arm as he leads you deeper into the garden to a more secluded spot.

"You wouldn't have a bad life with me. As my First Lady, you would have everything you wanted. I would fund your research. You could leave Dr. Gaul's lab and build your own, not wait for her to die, so you can inherit her legacy. You could have built your own one."

"No, Coriolanus! You can't bribe me! If you really think that I am shallow enough to agree to marry you and to play according to the illusion you have created in your head, then you are delusional. WE. ARE. DONE."

You turn around and try to get away from him. But before you can, Coriolanus grabs your hand and spins you around, causing you to bump straight into his chest.

Before you can even think about slapping him, he captures your lips with his. You moan even more in shock into his mouth when you feel him place something cold on your finger.

You somehow manage to wriggle out of his grip enough so that his hands and mouth can't reach you. You stare at the ring on your finger in shock. A big fucking diamond that probably glows in the dark and you could gouge out his eyes with if you hit him... which you really wanted to do right now.

"What are you doing?! Corio-mph!" He cuts you off with a kiss before you can get anyone's attention with your scream or really hit him.

You struggle against his grip, your nails digging into his arms, but he just groans and pins you to the tree, ignoring the pain you caused him. Before you can even realise where his hands are, he reaches back and unbuttons your dress. The material slides down to your hips, giving him a perfect view of your bare breasts.

You shiver as you watch him lick his lips and lean down to fuck the skin of your collarbone with kisses, holding your hips in an iron grip as he pins you to the tree. The cold air hits your bare skin, in contrast to Coriolanus's hot breath and tongue.

"I missed you." He whispers in your ear as his hands cup the curve of your breasts and squeeze them.

His touch is everywhere, slithering over you and clinging to you like a snake, wrapping itself around you tenderly and greedily, taking advantage of every opportunity he has. His mouth is as dynamic as his hands, biting at the tender spots of your neck, licking and sucking, marking you as his own when all he can think about is your body, pressed against him.

"I can give you everything. The whole world. For your touch, kiss, and moan when you come around me. All you have to do is accept me, me, and our future. It only takes one yes from you to make you my equal... and it only takes one no from you to make me destroy everything you love and everything you know. I will be the only one you can come to and the only person you will remember. I will destroy you if that is the price of having you, Y/N. I promise you that."

His whispered words against your skin, the hot touch of his tongue in all the right places on your neck, his hands teasing your breasts, and your quick, heavy breaths are distracting. You can't think straight, not when he's stimulating your senses, teasing your nipples, or when he's whispering his dark promises you should've been afraid of.

You come to your senses the moment one of his hands cups your abused breasts and slips under your dress, cupping your pussy. His long fingers tease you through the fabric of your panties, collecting the wetness he caused, and that's when the gravity of the whole situation hits you.

"No. Stop it. Stop! Help!" You scream, trying to push him away, but he covers your mouth with his hand brutally, drowning out any screams. You squeal as he presses his knee against your clothed cunt in an attempt to tease you.

You look at him with wide eyes as you freeze when his knee begins to rub against your most sensitive, wet (to your defeat and disgust) at his attention, part of your body.

"It ends only with me inside you, so you can either be a good girl for me or continue to be a stubborn brat and delay and deny us our pleasure. You have no idea how many times I came just from watching you from afar. You have no idea how much I want, crave, and desire you. I can't think or function normally. I can't create any plans without thinking about how wonderfully this tight pussy felt around me and how I need your soft walls to tighten around me again. So shut up and let me bring pleasure to us both, or try to keep fighting. Your stubborn struggle only excites me more, my petal."

To confirm his words, he presses himself against you, making you feel his hardness pressing through his pants and pressing against your lower abdomen. You breathe quickly, trying to think of a way out of this situation. You were in the fucking garden in the middle of a party—the gala of the year! Someone must have come here. He couldn't have just... taken you here.

"So? Will you finally accept your fate and place by my side, or do I need to break you? And trust me… I'll have even more fun."

His hands move to your hips. He changes your position, pressing you against the tree, his length rubbing through his pants against your clothed and wet core. You are trapped.

You could resist him, and maybe he would let you go... but then what? You and your family will be destroyed in the eyes of the Capitol if he wins and becomes president. You'll be finished, and your whole career will go to hell if you don't do it.

So you sigh, defeated. You close your eyes, place your hands on his shoulders, hold him for balance, and nod your head, surrendering to him.

"Look at me." You reluctantly comply, meeting his icy eyes with yours. His pupils are fully dilated, a faint blush decorates his cheeks, and you see the glint of victory and satisfaction in his eyes as he delights in his prey. You. "I need your words, my little petal." You bite your lip, furious that he's making you beg for him like a bitch in heat. As if he wasn't the one who desperately needed you all this time.

"I... please." You spit out, not looking at him. He grabs your neck in his grip and forces you to meet his gaze as his clothed body presses against your naked one, only in panties, your dress having slipped completely off of you at some point in your... conversation.

"Please what? More conviction and self-confidence, darling. Continue to be my little brat."

"Just fuck me, Coriolanus." You say it angrily, meeting his smug look. He smirks cockily, and in one quick movement, he cups the cheeks of your buttom with his hands and lifts you up, pinning you to the tree with his hips. You moan as he rubs against your clothed pussy and squeezes your ass tightly.

"Gladly." He growls, crashing into your mouth hungrily.

You gasp as he tears your panties in half, the cool night air hitting your exposed, hot womanhood. He moves his mouth to your breasts, sucking hickeys there as he teases your slick folds, making you blush with embarrassment at how wet you were for him.

He's not trying to stretch you or prepare you for taking his thick length after... such a long time of separation. The undoing of his belt and the zipper of his pants are the only warnings you get as you feel the tip of his cock with pre-cum rubbing at your entrance.

As he begins to enter you, you lower your head and bite into his neck, ignoring the collar of his shirt that covers most of his skin. Your saliva soaks his shirt as you moan into his neck.

"You know, I could have fucked you raw the day you thought you could leave me. I guess I should've done that. Put you over my knee for being a brat, give you a few spanks to remind you of your place, and fuck the baby inside you so you can focus on something meaningful. After all, your womb belongs to me, as do all of you. Although I don't know if you'd moan as sweetly and loudly as you do now… What kind of feeling is it? Having someone who you swore you despised wholeheartedly inside you? You take me too well, darling. Your smart, stubborn mouth may call me the worst names, but as long as those wet and tight down there welcome me like home, we both know what the truth is. We both know you want it as much as I do." He says, grunting as he pushes his cock into your tight pussy.

You both moan as he buries himself up to his balls inside you.

He grabs your hair and pulls your face away from his neck, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss as he gives you time to get used to the feeling of him inside you again. You mockingly think to yourself that he's waiting because he's afraid he'll finish too soon.

He fucks a line of kisses along your jaw as he begins to move. You hiss, digging your nails into his shoulders as you hold on to him. You think you've made a few little holes in his shirt with your nails, but that's your last concern now as he pounds into you faster and faster.

You both try to be quiet, trying not to attract anyone's attention, although, judging by the loud music coming from inside the building, it's unlikely that anyone will be looking for you. And hearing your grunts and moans is rather a huge challenge, but still, the last thing you want is for someone to walk into both of us...

"Mine. Only mine." Coriolanus growls into your neck; his thrusts are faster and more precise, making you bite your lip to hold back your moans, but he doesn't let you do it for long. He wants to feel and hear all of you. He wants to revel in his victory. That's why he kisses you, biting your buttom lip to the blood. He pulls away and leans his forehead on yours as he listens to the little sounds you make as he fucks the brain out of you. "Can you feel how deep I am? How well am I filling you? You will be a beautiful First Lady. Fuck. My future First Lady. My future wife. The mother of my children." He moans in your ear. You don't answer; you take ragged breaths, listening to the squelch of your joined bodies echoing around this secluded part of the garden.

You think about everything. About how perfectly he fills you, what a bastard he is, how he drives you crazy with his words and moans and touches and thrusts, and how bad it is that you enjoy having sex with him and despise what he has done. But you have some needs too...

Unfortunately, Coriolanus was the only one who could meet them and satisfy you.

"You were meant for me. Just like I was for you. We are the two sides of the same coin… WE. ARE. UNITY." He growls, making one last few hard pushes into you, making you both cum. He captures your lips in a kiss, muffling both of your screams as you fall apart around him, feeling his warm seed flood your womb.

You shake, wrapping your arms around him tightly, trusting him to hold the weight of both of you as you see nothing but white light in your orgasmic haze. You can't feel your legs, but you know you're still clenching them tightly around him. Your mind is empty; you feel amazing, electric bliss, but it is immediately followed by the realisation of what you have done.

You gave yourself to him. You agree to be engaged to him. The entire Capitol will be watching you. You will have to marry him if he wins the elections.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when he starts to move. But you don't open your eyes. You don't want to see him in his post-orgasmic state. You don't want to see his smug smirk and the twinkle in his eyes. You feel him press a kiss on your temple and slowly pull himself out of you, making you both moan.

You shiver as he sets you on your feet, supporting your waist with his hands. You feel how his seed, and your juices are lazily oozing down your thighs, reminding you of what you agreed to. About your deal with the devil.

You whine, grabbing his wrist in protest as he swipes the excess of your combined cum from your thighs and cunt.

"Don't worry, I know your limits." He says, pulling his hand away from your grip and licking it off. He gives you one of his fingers to suck, which you reluctantly agree to as he stuffs it into your mouth. "Good girl."

"Screw you."

He laughs at your hostility and zips up his pants. He reaches for your dress and helps you get back into it. After he rips your panties, you have to go without them, clearly feeling... the effects of your hot little moment.

"And what now?" You ask him as he puts on his jacket and buttons it, trying his best to hide the bloody marks you left on him.

"We go back to the party, I say goodbye to everyone I need to, and we leave. I have some rings for you to try on in my apartment. The one on your finger is only for a moment. It's big enough for them to notice it and start gossiping. You can choose which one you like more. My bed was also rather lonely and cold without you in it." He suggests, seductively, running a finger along your bare arm as he places the straps of your dress over your shoulders, making sure they don't slide down.

"Don't hope for more moments like this. I can play the doting fiancée in front of the Capitol, but behind closed doors, I'm not going to pretend that you're anything more than a pathetic, cold man who needs affection from someone who despises you with all her heart." You growl and push him away from you. You put your heels back on and take out your lipstick, powder, and mirror from your purse, fixing your appearance.

"It didn't look like you despised me when you cum around my cock just a few minutes ago." He points it out and walks over to you. He fixes his hair and yours and offers you his arm once you fix your makeup. You roll your eyes when you see in the mirror that he has tucked a rose behind your ear. AGAIN.

"Oh, shut up. I'd come around anyone. I haven't had sex in months." You say it angrily and place your hand in the crook of his arm as he leads you back towards the building and to the party.

"Same here." You snort derisively, not believing his confession even for a second.

"As if I could ever trust you again. Besides, you can fuck with Cardew and the others as much as you want. I don't care."

"I prefer to be with you, my little petal. Smile. We'll have company soon." He puts his arm around yours, pulling you closer to him as you walk down the path. In fact, Lucky Flickerman comes around the corner, talking with some women and men. They all giggle. The man stops when he sees the two of you.

"Oh... well... it looks like our future president is a womanizer." Coriolanus grimaces at his last word but is clearly happy that Lucky believes in his victory, so he smiles politely at the man.

"Quite the opposite. We just celebrated our engagement." He announces it proudly, and you hear the rest of Flickerman's company gossiping livelyly, watching you even more closely.

For the first time, you appreciate Coriolanus' strong arm wrapped around your waist. It's rather hard for you to stand after what you two did together a few minutes ago. You're glad you were able to finish before the group left for their walk.

"Oh! Congratulations! You have to come to my new show. People will go crazy when they hear about how Capitol's most popular couple is taking the next step in their relationship! And I think we are all very curious about your beginnings. And the wedding will come soon! I guess right after the election, am I wrong? Oh, it doesn't matter, lovebrids. It is indeed an amazing year for the society of Capitol and Panem."

"We will, Lucretius. Maybe as a presidential couple? Who knows... What do you think about it, my darling? Would you like an interview about us?" Coriolanus turns his head and looks at you questioningly, with mock concern and affection in his eyes. Only you can see how false his act is... or at least you think he is just pretending.

You hear one of the women gushing over the look and the way Coriolanus addresses you. The clever bastard plays the card of a guy who is head over heels in love to gain even more sympathy from society before the elections.

"It would be amazing, honey." You reply with a smile, leaning more into him as Flickerman and the others say how adorable the two of you are.

And you just stand there smiling, playing your part as the happy bride. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Coriolanus stealing glances at you, and you can't help but wonder... is he really that good at acting, or is he serious in his desire for you and your feelings?

Coriolanus's arm wraps around your waist possessively, like a snake, as the two of you pose for photos. Camera flashes blind you, but you keep a fake smile on your lips.

Several months have passed since your... interaction in the garden. You continued to play his loving fiancée in front of the Capitol, but you remained cold and uncaring towards him. You haven't fucked in the garden since then. You made sure to push and move away from him whenever he got too close to you in private.

Luckily, you didn't have to move into his apartment, and you still lived with your parents. You managed to convince him that moving would be pointless if you were about to move into the presidential palace. You prayed every day that this wouldn't happen.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that he turns his head to look at you. You automatically do the same without thinking much about it. And that's your mistake. When you meet his intense gaze of icy blue eyes... you can't look away. You feel like he's holding you tightly by the chin and forcing you to look into his irises... But how can you look away when you see emotions in his eyes that they would never dare admit to you? And judging by the way it sent photographers into a frenzy as they screamed in excitation, you know you're not the only one who saw it.

You still can't figure out if it's just an act or if he actually has feelings for you. Something more than a sick obsession. Maybe you were really starting to have symptoms of Stockholm syndrome?

He pulls you from your thoughts as he leans towards you to tell you something, trying to shout over the crowd around you.

"Are you ready? Shall we go to our seats?"

You nod at him. He takes your hand in his and leads you inside the building, where the official announcement of the results is to take place. The crowd around you whistles in delight as he sees how protectively he treats you and how he guides you through the crowd while making sure you keep up with his pace and don't follow him. He has you beside him, gently distant away—enough for him to be able to cover you in case of any danger.

He leads you to a place of honour next to Dr. Gaul. He kisses you on the cheek and leaves to take his place on the podium in front of the cameras with the other candidates.

"Nice ring." The woman next to you says, a teasing smirk on her lips.

"He would put a collar around my neck with his name on it if he could. I suppose you would help him with that." You snort indignantly and furiously, at which she laughs.

"I can't deny that I'm rooting for you two." You roll your eyes at her and focus your gaze on Lucky, who opens the event.

You know very well that if he becomes president, you will lose everything. All your freedom. You will have to play the role of his devoted wife and mother to his children for the rest of your life. It is true that you will have funds at your disposal to conduct your own research in the laboratory, but will it make you happy? Could you live like that?

"But there can only be one winner…" Lucky's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You and the entire Capitol are waiting for the results. To hear the name of your new president. "And that is CORIIOLANUS SNOW! Ladies and gentlemen, let's salute our president!"

The world is dying around you. People shout and chant the name of Coriolanus; there is a huge noise of applause and joy. You won't leave your seat. You sit there, frozen, realising the harsh truth. Now, nothing can stop him. He can do anything he wants, and you know damn well that he, like all these people, has no boundaries.

"But where is he? Where is our president?" Before you can look around, you feel hands cupping your face as someone pulls you to the left. Coriolanus' lips crash against yours, and you can only moan into his sudden, passionate kiss and let him do whatever he wants. "Oh, yes, that's where he is! Where else could a man be after hearing that he had won? Of course, at the side of his chosen one, his life companion, and his beloved! This is how it should be, my friends! This is who the Capitol has chosen! A man who loves his woman above all else and shares his joys and sorrows with her. That's the real power, my friends. The power of love. Ladies and gentlemen, our president, who is heading right this way, Coriolanus Snow!"

You don't remember what happened next or what speech he made. Strangely enough, consciousness fully returns to you after a few glasses of champagne and wine. You are standing near the bar, away from the large crowd. Coriolanus is already giving another interview when Dr. Gaul approaches you.

"I warned you." She says, and you raise a questioning eyebrow at her. "When you started dating. That there is nothing more dangerous and beneficial to women than powerful men."

"You knew since then?"

"Of course. He is obsessed with power and control. He had his little songbird, but she ran away. Then he met you and you became his new... love interest or obsession. This boy is hard to read sometimes." He tells you as you both look at Coriolanus. Somehow, he feels your eyes on him. He nods at Dr. Gaul and throws you a smirk before his attention returns to the journalist.

"So... it was never true?" You ask, placing your empty glass on the bar.

"I think he cares about you... on his own way." She tells you, which doesn't make you feel any better. You sigh deeply and order a glass of vodka, which you immediately drink. "Oh, don't be so sad. That's life, my child. My husband was just like him. He was a controlling manipulator, but he had one thing that I didn't, the thing that helped me achieve greatness and be where I am now. To be a legend. An icon."

"And what was that?" You ask resignedly, focusing your attention on her.

"Money. A rich and, above all, powerful man is able to do anything if he is madly in love. And Mr. Snow is a perfect example of this. Tell me... how much money has he already put into you? How much did you get in return for the ounce of attention and closeness he so desperately craves? You didn't want to be a whore, but we women have to act like one sometimes."

"There must be another way." You argue, unable to accept such a… cruel truth, but she just laughs bitterly, mockingly.

"There is not. This is the world of men, my child. It is their pride that guides and makes all important decisions. Behind every man, however, there is a woman who... has the strength to overshadow his pride and direct him the way she wants. Unfortunately, you have to seduce him if you want to get what you want. But I know you. And I know you will be able to do it. I know that you, of all people, are the closest to following my path and carrying my legacy."

"I am not like you." You respond quickly, outraged by the ideas she's giving you and her opinion of you.

"Of course not. There are no women or men like me. Besides, you may become the First Lady. The most powerful woman in all of Panem. Take it. Accept his proposal and the ring that you think will be your prison. Use it wisely. To your advantage. It's a chance that not many of us have. Think about it."

You don't have a chance to answer her. Coriolanus approaches you with a huge smile on his face. He places a quick kiss on your cheek and wraps his hand around your waist before turning his full attention to Dr. Gaul.

"Congratulations, Mr. Snow. Or should I say... Mr. President?" She asks him teasingly with a smug, proud smirk. Eventually, her student became president.

"Dr. Gaul, you, of all people, can call me whatever you want." He responds with extreme happiness—a sight that is truly rare. You also think that he is more clingy than usual.

"I shall leave you two to celebrate then, President Snow." She says it with a smile and walks past you, giving you a wink.

You sigh, which doesn't go unnoticed by Coriolanus. He rubs his hand gently over your back and stands in front of you, leaning against the bar.

"We have to go. Photographers and papparazi are dying to take a picture of us both." He says, adjusting the necklace around your neck. You grab his hand and place it against your neck, staring at him from under your eyelashes as you lean towards him and whisper seductively.

"Don't you want to accept my... very warm congratulations first, Mr. President?"

You see that he is surprised by your behavior. He freezes for a moment in shock, looking at you carefully. He licks his lips as his thoughts race, and you casually run your hand over his vest, supposedly straightening it but actually caressing him gently, especially his abdominal muscles through the fabric of his clothes.

"What do you mean?" He asks shakily, swallowing as you intrude even further into his personal space.

"You know what..." You whisper, pressing your leg against his crotch. He hisses, feeling you rub your knee against his cock, which is hardening from your attention. He looks around the room quickly, relieved to see that no one is looking at you.

"Why such a sudden change?" He asks, quickly grabbing your hand that was getting dangerously close to the waistband of his pants as he begins to lead you out of the party and into a more… secluded room.

"There is no change. I still hate you and despise you. But what can I say... I am very drawn to a powerful man, my darling..." You mock him, calling him cute nicknames as he closes the door behind you.

You gasp, surprised, when he pins you immediately against the door. You feel his length press against your hip as he leans over you to whisper in your ear.

"You're going to fall in love with me again. I promise you this, my little petal." And with that, he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, sealing his oath.

And as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moan as his hands roam and tease your pussy with his fingers, preparing you for him, you wonder if even despite your dislike for him, he'll be able to do it. After all, he was a powerful man... but you were an equally powerful woman.

[youknowwhoiamassbutt]

A Scott Summers headcanon

Something I have been thinking a lot about lately is the fact that Scott would most likely be visually impaired in dimly lit areas due to his sunglasses.

Hank had factored this in when building his visor of course, but there was no way to eliminate this problem with his sunglasses; needing them to, not only, hold back his concussive blasts, but also hide his crimson glow from the world.

Scott doesn't tell many people about this, of course. He's too prideful to admit that he has limitations. Jean knows, Hank knows, and the professor knows, but it isn't until he nearly runs into Rogue for the millionth time after dark, that he explains to her in a hushed voice to quell her anxious rage at the near accidental touch. This is when Logan overhears. He doesn't directly confront Scott with the new information, instead, he uses it to playfully tease Scott to release his frustrations toward the uptight man. Logan becomes pointedly helpful to Scott at night, letting the other man know that he knows. Scott will never address the issue with Logan, however, because that would mean admitting it. So the two play their little game, Logan helping Scott locate things, informing him of others' presence, and grabbing his arm to steer him away from bumping into things, all the while prodding Scott to admit his limitations. Scott secretly seethes at the uninvited help, but inevitably accepts it, not because he likes it, but because confronting Logan would corner him into admission, and he refuses to let Logan win.

Of course, seeing perfect Scott Summers struggle after dark humanizes him a little in Logan's eyes. It reduces some of the animosity between the two, and eventually, Logan likes helping Scott. It becomes thoughtless and integrates him into Scott and Jean's routine.

[goodolreliablejake]

Fantasy races are an uncomfortable concept, because they present a world that literally works the way racists think that it works. The attempts to mitigate this problem often fail to address the core concern, merely making the idea more palatable.

A big example is trying to correct by changing the language from "races" to "species." This attempt fails for two reasons:

1) Exactly! Racists think that people of other races are a different species. That's the foundation of "race science," phrenology, all of it.

2) Are demihumans different species, though? Like, the interactions between elves and dwarves don't resemble the interactions between different species in our world. They don't act like snakes and lemurs, or whales and krill, or even cats and dogs. More often we've got different groups of people, who may speak different languages and have different cultural practices, engaging in diplomacy or war and struggling to coexist. In practice, they are treated as nations: ethnicities. Except they're ethnicities who are biologically distinct enough to have objective differences in ability.

This is something that puts me on edge in Mass Effect, otherwise one of my favorite games. True, the game ultimately lands on condemning the genophage, and it's not subtle about that. I mean just look at the name... But it's still considered debatable, morally grey, and Mordin Solus remains one of the most charming and enduring heroes of the series. The setting has bent over backwards to make every racist stereotype and talking point as legitimate as possible. In this setting, it is objectively true, scientifically proven that it is in the DNA of Krogans to naturally be violent, warmongering killing machines whose explosively rapid breeding poses an existential threat to the galaxy. That in turn is meant to make us think that maybe forced sterilization is something worth considering. It's hard to ignore the parallels to real life racist propaganda. I don't think it's malicious, just ungrounded and thoughtless; the result of creators to whom these ideals are abstract thought experiments, rather than reflections of real history.

Another big example is Dark Elves. They try to make it okay, to mitigate the message by fleshing them out as characters, by scapegoating an abusive deity rather than an ingrained nature, by erasing the monster manual description that reads "Always Chaotic Evil," by trending skin tone away from black and towards purple, or gray, even pale white. But none of it really changes the core issue, does it? The idea of drow is to equate dark skin with evil, to fetishize that idea, and to tell a story about a subsect of people cast into darkness as a result of sin in a direct parallel to racist Christian beliefs about dark skin being a curse or punishment from God.

So, do I think we need to cancel Mass Effect and stop playing D&D or telling stories about drow? No, not really. I mean... I do all these things. Truth is, I don't have an actionable solution, for myself or anyone. But the dynamic is clearly present and worth describing. And the attempts to challenge it are often insufficient, more about making ourselves feel better about what we're already doing than enacting real change.

[fascistsarefreefood]

I genuinely think humans are naturally good and kind when external forces such as capitalism aren't frightening them into only acting in their best interests.

For example the fish doorbell. Fish looking for a place to spawn get stuck waiting for the weerdsluis lock to open so they can carry on swimming to a breeding ground the fish doorbell is a live stream where you can look out for fish if you see a fish you tap the doorbell icon on the fish doorbell website I checked and it said 942 people were also looking at the live stream last time I was there. Despite everything going on in the world 942 people took time out of there day to check if a fish needed them to ring a doorbell and that is the kind of thing I think human nature really is about.

People are brilliant and thoughtless and funny and easily swayed towards prejudice but also caring and driven to apathy sometimes but we're also bloody resilient and so much more.

[ponderingmoonlight]

gojo x wife! y/n where megumi slips up and calls y/n mom since she helped raise him and gojo starts thinking about how they would be as parents?

Got ya! Love this request, hope you enjoy <3

Megumi accidentally calling Satoru's wife "mum"

Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: basically the request above lol

Warnings: this is pure fluff so enjoy, wrote this on my way to Disneyland so look over any spelling mistakes lol

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul

Megumi always admired your tenderness. Since the day he met you when he was just a kid, you have grown on him like no one else. It seemed like you genuinely cared about him and his sister throughout this entire time, standing up for him when needed while leaving him for rest when he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

Despite being the longtime girlfriend and now wife of a chaotic person like Gojo Satoru, you never lost your spark, your cool temper, your striking beauty. You are simply always the (y/n) he knows and secretly admires from head to toe. He never truly admitted it, but to him, you are like a mother, one of the most important people in his life, the pivotal point of his decisions.

It shouldn’t have been such a big surprise then when he accidentally called you mom in front of basically everyone.

A brief moment of thoughtlessness in the middle of pure chaos. He didn’t put much thought into his words until they eventually slipped off his tongue with no turning back.

“Can we talk about this later mom?”

Gojo stand right by your side, hand casually placed around your hip like usual when his eyes dart towards Megumi immediately. Did he hear that correctly? Did Megumi-chan just call you “mom”?

“What did you just say, Megumi-chan?”

Fuck fuck fuck. A wave of embarrassment rolls over Megumi immediately, gaze fixed to the ground. He just called you mom. Fuck, he just called you mom! Not only in front of Gojo, but Yuji, Nanami and Nobara. This is bad. Very very bad.

“Megumi…”, you breathe out, tears stinging in your eyes immediately.

While you were always keen to give Megumi the best life possible in this cruel world, you never imagined that he’d see you as someone this important in his life. You it’s not always easy, living with Satoru and you. After all, he is the most chaotic person you know while you are the complete opposite of him. It never seemed as if Megumi enjoyed your company this much. While staying with you more than with Satoru, nothing like that ever slipped off his tongue.

But right now, he called you mom. He really called you mom.

“Sorry”, he mumbles, turning away from your widen eyes.

Fuck, how embarrassing. You must think he’s a total freak for saying something like that. Especially given the fact that you and Satoru don’t have any kids yet. Was has gotten into him?

Nanami’s eyes are darted towards him in silence, Nobara and Yuji giggling to themselves while all Megumi is able to do is hiding his blushing face in his uniform. He needs to get away from here. Fast.

Faster than any of you are able to react, he storms out of the room, leaving especially Satoru and you in pure shock.

“I think he really called you mom, darling”, Satoru breathes out.

You wipe your eyes, tears threatening to fall down your eyes.

“I never thought he’d see me like this. It might seem a little stupid, but…Megumi is like a son to me. To know that he feels the same about me is just…so overwhelming…”

Satoru can’t help but admire you. That little blush that creeps up your face, how you smile into yourself like a little child. All these nights you spent by Megumi’s side, caring for him and his sister when sick, having serious conversations with him when he caused trouble.

It dawns to him. You’d be such a good mom. In fact, this is what you already are to Megumi. All this time, Satoru never thought about having his own kids. Still being young, putting you and potential kids in the risk of this cruel world. But seeing you like this, all flustered by Megumi’s innocent words, totally amazed by the word “mum”. Maybe, just maybe…The thought of a baby in your arms crosses his mind, how you hold its tiny hands while humming it to sleep.

“I will look after him”, you announce, fumbling with your hands nervously while everyone around you just stands there bamboozled.

“Hey”, you greet him gently, sitting down beside him on the bench that overlooks the whole area.

His head rests in his hands, gaze fixed on the ground.

“I didn’t mean to say that”, he begins rapidly.

You bring your legs up, hugging them tightly while smiling down at him.

“I don’t have a problem with that at all. It’s just that…I never thought you’d see me as something other than Satoru Gojo’s wife. But I don’t want to interpret too much into it. After all, it was just a slip of your tongue, right? Just wanted to make sure you don’t feel bad or something. Don’t worry about it.”

With one gentle rub of his back you get back up, ready to leave when he suddenly grabs your hand.

“This wasn’t an accident. I never got to know my biological mum. And since the day I’ve met Satoru and you, you were always something like a mother to me. I really admire and appreciate you, (y/n).”

Oh. Your eyes begin to water all over again, you can’t help but swallow him with your arms.

“I feel the same, ‘Gumi”, you matter against the crook of his neck, careful not to touch his hair.

“Now now, what’s going on here? Are you stealing my girlfriend, Megumi-chan?” Satoru’s voice suddenly questions from behind, making Megumi jump out of your grasp in an instant.

“You know you have a real talent for ruining someone’s moment, right?”, you comment dryly.

“See you, Megumi.”

With Satoru’s hand holding onto yours tightly, you wander down the way to Jujutsu High. What a precious boy he is. You couldn’t be prouder of Megumi. And knowing that you had such an effect on him…You feel like crying all over again.

“I hope you told them not to make fun of Megumi for saying that”, you break the silence, earning a little chuckle from Satoru.

“Nanami did that for me, don’t worry. What did you talk about earlier?”

“Just wanted to make sure he isn’t embarrassed and that I know it was just a slip of the tongue. Nothing to put too much thought in. But it seems like he really sees me as something like a…mother figure, I guess.”

“Doesn’t surprise me the slightest.”

Huh? Your eyes dart towards him, feet stopping right in their tracks.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, when he had to draw something, it was always the dogs, you and him. You holding his hand, you cooking, you kicking someone’s ass. Don’t you remember how everyone always thought you are his mother? All those years he looked up to you. It doesn’t surprise me that he sees you as his mum. But I should have seen it sooner, what a great mother you’d be.”

His explanation makes your heart skip a beat. Over the last years, you never lost a word over something like kids or being parents. After all, your situation was clear: you live in a world full of danger and death. No child should have to deal with this right from the start. But the way he looks at you with a warm smile, hand holding onto yours tightly. Does he mean…?

“I don’t know, Megumi’s words made me think about having our own kids.”

“Our own kids?”

You can’t believe your ears. Even though you never admitted it towards Satoru, the thought of having children definitely fills your heart with nothing but joy. And especially his kids…

“You already have been and would be such a great mother. What do you say, (y/n)? Mind if we try it?”

You aren’t able to answer. Instead, you let yourself fall into his already opened arms, giggling like an idiot. A child with Satoru Gojo, the love of your life. Yeah, this doesn’t sound bad at all. In fact, this sounds like heaven itself.

“I take this as a yes.”

“I’d love that”, you breathe out, pressing your lips against his longingly.

“You’d be such a great dad. I just know it”, you huff against his mouth, heart jumping up and down in joy.

“Even though I told Nobara and Yuji to make at least a little fun of Megumi-chan?”

“YOU DID WHAT?”

[kasienda]

Why I love Marinette Dupain Cheng

So, I just watched the London Special and I have feelings!!

I want to preface this by saying that I very much didn't resonate with the second half of season five for a lot of different reasons, but that the special really worked for me, gave me what I needed to get to a place to be excited about the potential of season six.

Marinette is a 14 year old superhero who is fundamentally a good person. She tries to do right by others, and when she realizes that she's done harm she genuinely tries to fix it. Now, her character is often portrayed as someone with ADHD. She is subject to tunnel vision, hyperfixating, anxiety spirals, and not always being great at taking other perspectives into account. She's never been good at anticipating how her actions and choices might hurt someone else.

And I LOVE that about her!!!

You know who else is not great about taking other people's perspectives? Fourteen year olds!! Developmentally, they're LEARNING THIS AT THIS AGE!! They're also LEARNING to make decisions and accept responsibility. And they are NOT good at it!! Take it from someone who works with fifteen years olds DAILY!! Even the most "good" well behaved teenager does and says thoughtless harmful things that hurt others sometimes in excruciating ways. And you ask them, "What were you thinking?" after it's blown up in their face and the answer is ALWAYS, "I don't know" OR "I wasn't thinking."

Developmentally, middle school is about fitting in. It is not easy for kids at this age to stand up for what is right, to make decisions that are healthy, to communicate in healthy ways. Marinette's whole character is about learning to do that! And to showcase that you have to show her making mistakes, sometimes even big ones, and learning to take responsibility for those choices.

Marinette salt hurts me so much because the salt seems to paint her at this malicious manipulative girl who wants to control Adrien and the world on whole. That she's malicious in the choices that she's made.

Meanwhile, the narrative is not framing her as in the right when she makes these choices. Kagami told her she disagreed in almost the first scene. Nathalie told her it was time to tell the truth. Throughout the whole special, it's obvious how much the choice she made is weighing on her, how much she's wondering if this was right. She seems to know on some level that it isn't.

THAT IS SO RELATABLE!!!

Have you ever lied to a friend or to your parents? And then, realized huh, I probably shouldn't have done that, but now you're in too deep and don't know how to take it back? Have you ever NOT told someone about a hard truth about themselves or about you because you didn't want to hurt their feelings, and then have to watch as they get hurt or rejected again and again because they just don't realize what the problem is??? Or confronted with someone around you who has lost a lot and just not sure at all what to do in the face of all that? And then to be given the choice to maybe ease the hurt of that loss with a lie? You think you WOULDN'T at least CONSIDER doing that for someone you love??

Do I think it will bite her in the butt? YES!! AND I AM HERE TO SEE IT!

Nathalie tells Marinette they should tell the truth. And Marinette's like, "but you'll go to jail." And Nathalie nods, accepting this. "But then Adrien will be alone." And Nathalie responds with "he'll have you."

DO YOU KNOW HOW TERRIFYING THAT WOULD BE TO HER??

If she does tell the truth, Adrien DOES lose Nathalie. That would hurt him too. Adrien DOES have to deal with the backlash of being Hawkmoth's son both inside his own head and with the world at large. And maybe in the long term, that would be the better choice. But how many of us choose what's better in the long term??? (THE ANSWER HERE IS ALMOST ZERO! I DON'T CARE HOW OLD YOU ARE!)

Bunnyx tells her there will consequences good and bad to every decision she makes. And what matters is how she faces the consequences. How she tries to take responsibility for them in the future.

Marinette is not trying to hurt Adrien here. She's not trying to manipulate or control him. It also doesn't mean she thinks what Gabriel did was right or that she condones his actions. It certainly doesn't mean she's okay with abuse. Everyone saying that she is has the benefit of the global perspective of knowing everything in the show! Marinette does NOT have that perspective.

Does that mean she isn't causing harm? No! She IS probably causing harm here. As so many of us do unintentionally, or sometimes even knowing that we're doing it because doing something else feels impossible to face in that moment.

And when the truth comes out, and I do think Gabriel's identity will come out (I'm less confident about the senti reveal, but that's more because they're literally not allowed to say the words), Adrien is going to have a LOT to work through. But the thing about Adrien, that all of his defenders seem to misunderstand, is that HE IS FORGIVING! If she explains it all to him, he will be angry and maybe hurt, but he is also going to be the first to understand. He's been the one right there next to her with a front row seat to all the pressures she had to face often completely on her own. I think she will be way more angry and hard on herself than he will be on her. That's kinda who his character is. He's NOT VENGEFUL.

This whole show from the beginning has been about characters making mistakes, sometimes learning from them, and being forgiven for them!! And it's the FORGIVENESS AND UNDERSTANDING given to each other after the fact that has brought the characters together time and time again. Watch origins and look at the class dynamic. Then watch guilt trip. The class has come together in a way they absolutely were not in the beginning! Because they have gotten to know each other and forgave each other. Watch Alya apologize to Marinette for telling Nino about still being the fox, and watch Marinette smile and say she knows what it feels like to need to share your secret with your best friend! Watch Ladybug ask Chat Noir if he understands the weight of a secret, and have him dryly agree that he is familiar with the feeling.

They are all flawed characters who make mistakes, who do things that hurt each other even when they're are trying SO HARD to do the opposite, and that's why I love them!!

I like characters making mistakes! I like there to be conflict in my stories.

And what I love about miraculous is that so far, the resolution to conflicts has always been one of listening to each other, and coming to a place of understanding and forgiveness.