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kasagia · 1 year ago

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The grudge (Losing your memory pt. 2)

Pairing: Young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: You promised you would destroy him. Be his ending at all costs. The fight between you begins. Both about his position as President of Panem and about the feelings you still have for him. But the question still haunts you... is your Coryo really gone? The second part of Losing your memory, but can be read as a separate oneshot. Although I recommend reading it. Inspired by: "The grudge" by Olivia Rodrigo and @uhnanix idea/request Taglist: @uhnanix @serving-targaryen-realness @diannana @aoi-targaryen @omgsuperstarg @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi @un06 @tallulah477 @snowspubes @hueanhdang @snowspubes @phsychobanana @blythlover ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

"Wait... what do you want to do?" Clemensia Dovecote asks in shock when you invite her over a few days after your birthday party.

"You heard me." you reply calmly, playing with the Sejanus bracelet on your wrist.

"This is madness, Y/N. You can't… you…"

"You think so?" you ask, amused by her scandalized reaction. "The Capitol has seen stranger, worser things." you say, getting up from the couch and walking over to the mini bar to pour you both a drink. "Besides, you have to admit, it's an… exciting idea. People are going to love it… well, maybe not the old farts and those idiots from our year, but... I'm very optimisitc about it."

"Yes, but… my God, HE is going to hate you for this." she says with a growing smirk on her face. You laugh heartily and hand her the glass.

"This is the least of my worries. The question is... will you stand by my side?"

"Y/N? You've been quieter lately, has something happened?" your mother snapped you out of your thoughts as the three of you ate dinner together.

You replayed your conversation with Clemansia from a few months ago, wondering how to break the news to your parents… actually, now was as good a time as any. You doubt there would ever be a good time to convey something like this.

"I… actually yes." you say, clearing your throat and getting ready to drop the bomb on them.

"Is that Coriolanus? Did he propose to you?" you choke on the drink you were drinking and look at your mother with a dose of disbelief and disgust.

Apparently, the ridiculous amount of roses, chocolates, dresses, and even fucking jewellery that Coriolanus was sending you didn't go unnoticed by your mother. After the first month, you thought he would take the hint, but since he tirelessly sent you gifts, you stopped returning them to him damaged (e.g., cut roses and burned clothes) and decided to give them to the servants and maids and simply ignore that poisoned snake.

"What?! No, of course not. Besides, I wouldn't say yes like... never." you shudder at the thought, at which your father laughs, joining in on the conversation between the two of you for the first time.

"Then what is it?"

Their expectant glances intimidate you for a moment, and for the first time, you wonder if the decision you've made is right. But there was no turning back. You won't let Coriolanus win so easily (or, rather, at all).

"I… well. I've submitted my candidature for president of Panem."

The silence in the room after your statement is... extremely disturbing. They both freeze; your father holds the fork halfway to his mouth, staring at you in amazement, and your mother looks like they've frozen her. For a moment, you wonder if you've given them a heart attack. But your concern for them quickly fades when their loud collective screams echo throughout the dining room.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

"So I guess I won't have your votes then?" you ask jokingly, going back to cutting your steak.

"Are you crazy? A female president?!" your mother asks indignantly, and you roll your eyes. Honestly, you were a little surprised at her shock. As if you would ever play her role as an obedient wife.

"You may not know it, mother, but more and more female politicians appear in the government. Right, dad?" you ask him, using your only-daughter charm on him, mentally thanking everyone above that this man never treats you with disrespect and hostility like other fathers would if their only child was a girl.

Maybe you kind of enjoyed being his precious diamond after all. Even if that made you desired by all of Capitol's young men, who were more than willing to take your hand in marriage and dowry.

"That doesn't mean you have to be one of them! Y/F/N, tell her something!" you look pleadingly at your father, and after his long silence, you already know that you are melting his heart to your will. All it took was a little, gentle pressure.

"What are your real chances of winning?" he asks with a sigh as your mother looks at him with disbelief.

"Y/F/N..."

"I think my only serious opponent is Coriolanus. People are fed up with these fearful politicians who have been arguing with each other for a long time. Me and Snow are a fresh take on Capitol affairs. We are young and ambitious. People may choose us out of curiosity alone. And among the female electorate, I think I have a much better chance than him... if you can convince mother to let me do this, of course. I won't do anything without your blessing and support." you reply, looking at him confidently. His face is unreadable, as are his eyes, and you silently hope that you have inherited his ability to hide your emotions.

"Y/F/N you can't think about that seriosuly. She can't do this!"

"If you want to be in power, wouldn't it be better for you to join forces? Run a joint campaign. You would become Prime Minister, and he would become President if being a First Lady didn't suit you."

"I am Y/L/N. I am taking everything or nothing." this one sentence makes his façade break down. He smiles and clears his throat, trying to hide his proud smirk behind his glass of wine.

"Very good. You know your bank account number. If you need more campaign funds, in a reasonable amount, of course, you know who to ask." you smile at this and get up from your chair, ignoring your mother's words of protest.

"Thank you, father." you say, kissing his cheek and leaving the dining room, leaving him to deal with your mother's anger. You had to call your staff. The game was about to start.

You enter the parliament building quite uncertainly. You are wearing a white suit made by Tigris. The black vest, which is intended to liven up the outfit, fits you a bit too tight, but you blame it on the fact that you've been stress-eating sweets lately. You will ask her to sew you appropriate clothes later.

For now, you wanted as few people as possible to know about your candidacy. You trusted Tigris, but there was no way in hell you could let Coriolanus find out about this beforehand. You will present him with a fait accompli.

Just like he did when he chose Lucy Gray.

You notice him first. He is wearing a blood-red suit and a snow-white shirt. You wonder if subconsciously it's his reminder of the deaths of the people who allowed him to be where he stands now, but you prefer to think that the bastard simply has no conscience.

You could easily escape from him, but you don't want to. Not any longer. He will be the one running away from you. So you walk straight up to him, the click of your high heels echoing off the marble floor of the Parliament building.

"Nice suit." you say to him. He lifts his head and turns to you as he hears your voice. You can't read the look in his cold, blue eyes, but you don't care about that now. You're only here to stick a pin in him before his performance. "You wore your father's clothes and now you wear Sejan's? Maybe you haven't really changed at all." you scoff at him, and he shakes his head with an equally mocking smile as yours.

"This is probably the latest collection from your favorite designer. Not that I remember." he says, putting his hands in his pockets and watching you carefully as he takes a step towards you.

"Impossible. My favourite designer is Tigris. And I heard that lately you're too much of a snobbish, self-assured asshole to wear what she made for you."

"Maybe it's because she's turning you against me, trying to convince you that I'm a monster?" he says this ironically as you both stare at each other.

You notice that the rose is missing from his jacket pocket. His hair is also messier, as if he's running a nervous hand through it—a habit that obviously hasn't died with your Coryo. You frown at this but shake it off to respond to his taunt.

"Maybe you are actually a monster, Coriolanus? Didn't that occur to you? How could anybody do the things you did so easily? Or maybe Dr. Gaul calls this an unconventional, out-of-the-box way of thinking?"

"At least she's not pretending to be someone she's not." he growls at you, furious, a grudge shining in his eyes, at which you seethe in anger. He, of all people, has no right to resent you.

"At least I can honestly say I'm not a murderer. And what about you?"

Before you can react, he takes a step towards you. One of his hands wraps around your throat like a snake. However, he remembers that you are in a public place and quickly moves his hand to your cheek and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His icy eyes are locked on yours as he tries to read any reaction from you. You give him nothing. And you're damn proud of it.

"If you didn't come to wish me luck in my first public appearance as a candidate for president, you should go. Before I give you a real reason to call me a monster, little diamond." he whispers quietly, the tone of his voice laced with threat, but you don't give a damn.

"Oh, snowy… I really wish you a lot of luck. You'll need it, my boy." you say, patting his chest dismissively. You walk away, making sure to bump his arm with yours as you move past him to go to the hall where the first recording for the presidential candidatures of Panem is to be held.

And you already know that it will be hard for you not to look at him, as a furious surprise will appear on his face when he sees that you will also be presenting your programme and announcing your candidature.

You've regretted your candidature many times over the past two weeks. Partly because you had to spend more and more time with the devil in a fancy suit. You didn't see this coming; you were too busy thinking about preventing him from winning. Now you had to attend balls with him and other candidates and various events that helped promote your campaigns, smile at cameras and photographers, and try to remain as polite and courteous to others as you needed.

Like now.

You were attending some important business event, and your uncomfortable high heels were digging into your skin, hurting you. But it was worth bleeding a little. You looked drop-dead gorgeous.

"Tomorrow you have an interview with the Capitol Times; the day after tomorrow we are promoting in the children's ward at the hospital; at the end of the week we both have to go to Fulvia Cardew's engagement party. And in the meantime, you have to go to at least three fittings of new clothes that Tigris made." Clemensia says, writing something down in her small notebook.

"Thanks, Clem. I don't know what I'd do without you." you say with a small smile as you sip your glass of champagne.

"You'd have to keep that stupid calendar and schedule yourself. If you want to help in some way, you can finally answer one of the many calls from Coriolanus. He torments both me and the servants in your house at night."

"And make my mother lose hope that someone is courting me? No thanks; this way, I have peace from her, and I don't have to talk to him longer than I should. Besides, I thought you liked it when I gave you the gifts he somehow managed to leave at my door."

"At some point, yes... but you will finally have to clean up the relationship between you two. Even if we win, Coriolanus will remain an important political player, and it would be good to have him on our side. Besides, it's obvious that he… oh shit. Gaul is coming." she says, terrified, and leaves you. You turn around just as the co-creator of The Hunger Games walks up to you.

“Miss Y/L/N. Congratulations. You surprised me.” you swallow the rest of the champagne and set the glass on the table behind you, preparing to face this crazy woman.

"I think half of the Capitol was in a similar condition. But I appreciate the gesture, Dr. Gaul." you say this with a polite smile as the woman looks you up and down. You're glad you're keeping yourself from trembling under her scrutinising, watchful gaze.

"Mr. Snow seemed to be particularly surprised. As soon as he returned to the lab, he came up with wonderful ideas for next year's Hunger Games." she boasts, and you smile fakely. It sickens you to think about what these two could have come up with for these poor children. But you don't show it. Instead, you chose to strike back.

"I heard that after Lucy Gray's disappearance, their... popularity dropped a bit. I hope things are going well with the sponsors? It would be such a shame if the project and ideas had to be... cancelled due to a lack of money."

"We're doing well. When Mr. Snow becomes president, I think the government will be more willing to fund them."

"IF Mr. Snow becomes president, Dr. Gaul." you correct her, slightly irritated. The woman smiles and nods her head mockingly.

"Of course... If." she says it with a wolfish, menacing smile.

You both stare at each other with hatred for a moment, both of you refusing to give up in your little battle. The atmosphere between you is tense.

You flinch when you feel a hand on your back. The delicate scent of roses begins to float in the air.

"Dr. Gaul. I am so happy to see you here. Y/N, you look amazing as always." Coriolanus says as he leans in and places a kiss on your cheek. You would wipe it in disgust if there weren't other people around you.

"Mr. Snow." Dr. Gaul greets him.

The mysterious smile never leaves her face as she watches the two of you. You remember what she just said. How Coriolanus was still so eagerly working with her on the Hunger Games. His hand on your back starts to burn you in an unpleasant way.

"Excuse me. I need to get some fresh air. It started to stink in here." you say, subtly implying that it's the scent of Coriolanus and his rose that bothers you as you walk away from them both.

You go to the roof of the penthouse, which is surprisingly empty, and take out a cigarette. You search for the lighter, thinking about what Gaul told you. Somehow you felt even more distant from Coriolanus... as if she emphatically confirmed what you already knew.

Your Coryo was completely gone. And there was nothing that could bring him back to you.

But why did you still care about him anyway?

"I didn't know you started smoking." you flinch when you hear his voice behind you.

You ignore him, trying to light the lighter, but to no avail. Apparently, today everything must have gone shitty for you. Seeing your struggles, he walks over to you. He takes a lighter from his pants pocket and holds it to your cigarette, lighting it.

"What the hell do you want?" you ask him madly, at which he raises his eyebrows, but he is not moving away from you.

"What? You won't even thank me? You know, I've helped you there. I could just leave you to talk with Gaul, but I walked in and took her attention from you." he says, stuffing the lighter and his hands into his pockets as he leans on the railing next to you, staring at the skyline of the Capitol below you.

"I didn't need a fucking hero. I could have left her at any time. Unlike you, I don't play vaseline, I don't humiliate myself, and I don't do anything I don't want to, just to please other people." you snort and blow a cloud of cigarette smoke at him. He coughs, looking at you offended, to which you just smirk.

"You know, I remember the time when you were doing everything in your power to please ME. In many, many ways, actually." he says, using his hand to wave away your clouds of cigarette smoke.

"Keep these memories close to you because they will never happen again. I'd rather be burned alive than ever sleep with you again." you say it with obvious disgust. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the furrow of anger forming between his eyebrows. "Don't frown. Or make-up artists will have a hard time covering your wrinkles."

"I have no idea why you are so aggressive and act madly when it comes to me. I didn't do anything to you." he responded firmly to your mocks, never taking those ice-blue irises off of you.

"That's the problem, Coriolanus! You think that you don't do anything wrong, when the truth is that you are taking actions that are terrible. I feel like puking just looking at you and thinking about how many children will suffer because of Dr. Gaul's and your crazy ideas." you burst out furiously at him. You are now standing opposite each other, both of you glaring at the other in a furious, defiant way.

"The Hunger Games are necessary."

"Bullshit." you interrupt him before he can make any arguments. You see him sigh, running a hand through his gelled hair.

You catch yourself subconsciously missing his curls and how you used to stroking them when he was lying with you on your couch and reading a set book for one of your classes…

"Have you ever been in the District? 10, 11, 12? No. You didn't. You have no idea what kind of people are leaving there. You live in the safety of the Capitol, and you have no idea how quickly these rats can start a civil war and rebellions. Did you forget what they did to us? How have we suffered? I lost my father, and my family went poor. I had to pretend that I was still a rich snob. Tgiris, my grandmother, and I starved more than once; they wanted to throw us out of the apartment. I had nothing but a meaningless name and family."

"You know, that was the time when you had everything. You had friends, family, and a girlfriend. My love and limitless devotion, respect, and admiration. Now what do you have left? Money? Power? Glory? Besides, people are not the same. They can be good, Coriolanus. The fact that you are too afraid to see or admit it is proof of how huge a coward you actually became." you say it disappointedly, dropping the cigarette to the floor and stomping on it.

"I am not..." he pauses as you look up at him, and your eyes meet. He thought that no one could silence him. But one look from you, full of resentment and sadness, makes him fall silent.

You make him feel weak. As if he was still that poor teenager who had to hide his family's terrible financial situation. Only now he's hiding the fact that your words are actually reaching him. That they actually hurt him.

He couldn't afford to have any weaknesses. He had to be strong, tough, and decisive. However, after one look at you, it was enough for him to begin to question everything he had learned under Dr. Gaul. To question everything he did after the fucking Hunger Games and Lucy Gray.

"Yes, you are. Everything you are doing and every bad decision you've made, you made out of fear. Fear of losing your life. Of losing your position. Of never coming back to the Capitol. You are a coward who desperately tries to play the brave man that matters in this world."

"You have no idea what it was like in the district! Or in the Hunger Games, when I had to get Sejanus out of there. You don't know what you would do in such a situation, so don't you dare stand there and judge me. Not when all I could think about in those days, what kept me away from absolute madness, was you." he says, desperately trying to present his actions to you as right, to make you understand his point of view and the reasons why he did all of these.

"Maybe not. Maybe I don't know what it's like. But I would never become the cause of the death of my best friend. You have his blood on your hands. I will never forgive you that." you notice him flinching at your words, but that's all you can see through the mask of indifference he suddenly decided to wear. But his eyes—his eyes and the emotions hidden in them—remind you so much of your Coryo.

"Do you think I have removed it from my memories? That his screams didn't haunt me in my dreams? That I simply forgot about him?"

"You are certainly on a good way to do it, Coriolanus." your soft whisper gives him goosebumps. You look at each other for a moment. When you realise he has nothing to say, you shake your head, laughing bitterly, mocking yourself for thinking for a moment that he really was more than just the cruel Gamemaker, and turn away.

You walk towards the exit, but suddenly you hear his quick footsteps behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist with one hand and holds your hands with the other, making sure you don't break away. He rests his forehead against the back of your head, inhaling your scent for a moment before whispering into your ear.

"Do you remember that place?" he asks, his nose stroking your cheek. "Our second date. Sejanus, let me take you to one of his parents' penthouses. They were supposed to be on vacation, but they came back earlier. We had to hide on the roof and wait since they would leave so we too could. We had a picnic here. I was holding you close to my chest, a little closer than I am doing now. It started to rain. I was furious because I wanted everything to be perfect for you, and as always, everything went terribly wrong. I wanted to look at the stars with you and run my hands through your hair while you fell asleep on my chest, cuddling up to me as if I were your teddy bear. I loved feeling the weight of you on me. In every circumstance. Anyway, we gathered everything and ran to your house. You let me into your room through the window. We took a hot shower together and..."

"And then happened the worst sex I've ever had." you interrupt him, trying to regain control of the situation. He only laughed at that, which made your heart skip a beat when, for the first time in so many months, you hear him laughing truly, not in a mocking, bitter, or fake way.

"The worst? Your moans and scratches on my back proved otherwise. Besides, considering it was the first time for both of us, I guess I did a good job. Your silky skin has haunted my dreams since that night. It never stopped. And judging by the way you are breathing right now, you also seem to think about that time fondly. We can do it again at my place tonight if you want. I am now in a much better position to truly make your nights unforgettable."

"I'd rather be bitten by one of Dr. Gaul's snakes, but thanks for the offer." you huff, getting out of his arms and pushing him away from you as you go to the exit of the Plinth's penthouse's roof.

"Don't tempt me. You know I can arrange it. Sucking the poison out of your delicate skin with my mouth is a really tempting alternative." he says, following you as you both return to the main hall.

"Disgusting pervert." you whisper over your shoulder so that only he can hear you in the crowd of elites and reporters who have gathered.

"Both of us, my darling. Both of us. But the point is..." he grabs your hand and helps you down the stairs as if he was a true gentleman. You would roll your eyes at this, but people have already noticed, you know, that you have hardened the mask of politeness on your face. "I remember everything. I am not losing my memory. I never will. Not about you. Not about us." he whispers, and you feel his blue eyes burning a hole into your temple with how intensely he stares at you.

"You must be mad to think that I will just go back to you. Besides, I don't have time for you. My voters are waiting for me."

He chuckles and gives you a mysterious, quizzical look that you can't read. But before you can analyse his stance, he pulls your hand to his mouth and places a gentle kiss on it. His full lips tease your skin, setting it alight with the reminder of all the times he's had the opportunity to do this.

He pulled away from you as quickly as he leaned into your hand. He smiles, giving you a view of his pearly teeth. How pleased the devil is...

"We shall see, my little petal." he whispers. Your old nickname he gave you one day is sounding as perfectly sweet as it used to, and you are not sure how much strength you have left in you to not let him melt your heart. Then he walks away from you, leaving you in the crowd of other people.

And you stand there, rooted to the floor, and all you can do is stare at the back of his head as you try to snap out of the feeling of his lips against your skin, trying not to dream of experiencing all of him again.

A week later, you were returning from another party. You managed to sneak out a little earlier than usual without anyone noticing. Relieved, you got into the empty elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. You leaned against the wall and sighed, rubbing your neck, where you wore a diamond necklace. Your momentary alone relief didn't last long.

As usual, you smelled him first. The faint hint of roses hit you as the man leaned against the wall of the elevator next to yours, giving you some space. You glanced at him casually. This time, he didn't have a rose on his vest. He was also much paler.

"The makeup artists chose the wrong powder for you." you say, not knowing why you even initiated a conversation with him.

"Was Thomas so tired that he couldn't stay with you until the end? Was he too scared to hold on to the precious diamond that had fallen into his hands like a grain to a blind hen until the end of the night?" he responds to your taunt. You frown at the hint of jealousy in his voice.

Coryo has always been possessive and unsure of your relationship and whether you might leave him one day for someone better. Therefore, any man's attention towards you caused... unpleasant feelings for him. He obviously still had this behaviour towards you. Even though you were no longer together.

"He has an exam. Anatomy or some other shit. But don't worry, he will definitely accompany me when the election results are announced."

"Seriously? Are you now going to show off with that little boy-toy?" he asks you furiously. You can feel how his cold blue eyes are piercing right through you.

"Livia Cardew?" you scoff as well, opening your eyes to glare at him with an equally disgusted look. "But you know what? Actually, I'm not surprised. The biggest whore in Capitol. After you, of course."

"You slept with that whore 374 times. Which makes you equally slutty, little petal." he says with a cheeky smirk. You huff, folding your arms as you look at him in disbelief.

"I can't believe you were pathetic enough to actually count this."

"You're lucky I've lost count of the number of orgasms you've had because of me."

"And you are disgusting." you shake your head, impatiently waiting for the elevator to go down to the ground floor so you can get far away from him. You try hard not to think about all the times you had… done this.

But he doesn't let you go that easily. He leans down and brushes your hair back to give him better access to your ear to whisper.

"And you crave me as much as I crave you, my darling."

"Do you think that just because you started donating to charity organisations, I will suddenly fall into your arms or into your bed? You think I don't know you're doing this as part of a campaign? To get more votes? Are you that stupid to think that I will fall for it and believe that you are trying to be a better man for me?" you ask him, angry and defensive, mocking him.

"I'm starting to doubt my ability to do anything you could approve of. But it's nice that you still care about me enough to be interested in what I do."

"You can give up your candidature for president if you want to see me happy." he laughs at your words, looking at you with a mischievous smirk.

"And make it so easy for you? No way, my darling. We both know that only the two of us have a real chance of winning. You should finally surrender and join me. We both know this is where we'll end up. I, with you by my side, just as it has always been."

"Not always. I remember very well the time when it was only you and your songbird." the elevator is on the second floor when he aggressively presses the stop button.

You try very hard to hide from him the fact that you feel insecure in this situation. In a small space, with him practically at your fingertips, you don't know if you can control yourself. So you try to remember all the disgusting crimes he committed.

"It was just a game. A show for the Capitol. You know I had to win. It didn't end the way I wanted, but you know perfectly well that I had to do it." he says, placing his hands gently on your shoulders as he tries his hardest to keep your eyes on him and you standing still in your place for the time he talks.

"I've already told you this. There is always another choice." you growl in his face, furious, refusing to give up.

"You wouldn't even talk to me if I still remained a nobody. You would have dumped me the moment it became known to all Panem that my family was poor and that Snow's name meant nothing. And marrying you would only be a distant dream of a madman."

"As if you had any chance now." you mock him with a laugh. You somehow push him away from you and press the start button. The elevator starts moving down again.

"I have your parents' blessing."

"And my disgust and resentment towards you."

There is silence between you for a moment. He stubbornly stares at your face, trying to read some emotion there, but you give him nothing but a blank stare at the door in front of you as you impatiently wait for it to open.

"What do you do when you win?" his question catches you off guard for a moment. You look at him in shock.

"What?"

"What do you do when you win? Bring an end to the Hunger Games? Try to get me killed? Why are you doing all of this?" he asks, standing directly in front of you. Your chests rub against each other with every breath you take. You lift your head slightly, staring at him defiantly.

"So YOU won't win." you finally reply, shuddering as he takes your hand gently in his and starts tracing patterns on it with his thumb.

He leans towards you so that you could rest your chin on his shoulder if you wanted to. You shiver, feeling the warmth of his body close to yours and feeling his lips gently brush against your earlobe.

"Snow lands on top." he whispers, hot air caressing your ear as he bites the lobe of it.

"Y/L/N takes everything." you whine, digging your nails into his neck. He gasps in surprise, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he presses you against the elevator wall with his body.

"Or nothing. But don't worry. When I win, there will be no one who can stop me from marring you."

"IF you win, then I will be gone. You will never find me. Just like your little songbird." you can see the fury in his eyes at the mere mention of her. His grip on you tightens.

"She is not mine. You are. Accept it and end this. You don't want to be president. I do. There is nothing more powerful than you and me, so and this damn kind of punishment for me and accept your place as my First Lady."

"Maybe I don't want this… but it will be so funny to watch you fail," you say, tilting your head and watching him closely as his nostrils flare with rage at your stubbornness. "Besides, I'd rather shoot myself in the head than be your wife."

"There was a time when you wanted it. When it was all we dreamed of. You and me. Together. Against the whole world."

"That's how it was. When I thought you were worth something more, when you were my top priority. I thought you wanted something more than money and power, but it looks like I never meant for you that much to be as important to you as you were to me. Or maybe I didn't know you at all." you say, no longer hiding the hurt in your voice, and you press the button on the damn elevator to get away from him.

You promised yourself that you wouldn't show him how much he hurt you or how much you missed him. But apparently he wanted to make sure he destroyed not only your Coryo but you as well.

You look away from him, ignoring the fact that he suddenly went quiet next to you. All he did was look at you. And you avoided his gaze, afraid that you would melt in front of him and that you would show him your heart again.

The elevator opens, and you sigh in relief. However, it doesn't last long. You tense up when you see reporters downstairs, waiting at the exit.

"Smile for the picture." you say, and drag him with you towards the exit.

You quickly let go of his arm as he obediently follows you, and you try to ignore the fact that his fingers lightly brush against your hand as if he wants to grab it. You move away from him gently and quickly walk past the reporters and paparazzi.

You quickly get into your car and nod to the driver to go. You lean back in your seat and sigh deeply, placing a hand over your racing heart. You can't help but glance at Coriolanus.

Thanks to your car's tinted windows, he can't see you. Still, he watches your car with his eyes, and for a small moment, you think that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't all rotten to the core. Maybe, in his twisted way, he still cares about you.

The first round of elections was behind you. As you expected, Coriolanus and you achieved the greatest results. The game for the presidency of Panem has begun to be fought solely between you two.

And you were about to play the first dirty card against him. Clemensia nods at you as you head towards the podium and the microphone.

"Good evening, everyone. Thank you very much for all your votes and the trust you have placed in both me and my, well, rival after all." people chuckle gently, you find Coriolanus' curious gaze in the crowd. "I am convinced that, no matter who of us wins the upcoming elections, Panem will be in good hands anyway." You see a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes as he comes closer, moving freely through the crowd. The look in his blue eyes never leaves you for a minute. You would tremble, intimidated by his attention, if you didn't know, what would happen in a few minutes. "Without further ado, I would like to introduce someone who will certainly make this evening more pleasant. You have no idea how much I had to beg our star of the evening to agree to perform today. Ladies and gentlemen. At my ask and to your delight. The one and only Lucy Gray Baird!"

As you leave the stage, you glance at Coriolanus, seeing him staring at the woman with the guitar appearing on stage in shock and mild horror.

You stand further away from the crowd, on the other side of the room—as far away from Coriolanus as you can be—and watch him carefully, leaning against the wall.

You have to admit that Lucy Gray is stunningly beautiful. And the legend she has created around herself, her voice, and her skills only make her more perfect in the eyes of others.

You're not surprised that she charmed Coriolanus months ago and now. In fact, you expect Snow, too overcome with emotion upon meeting her again, to forget his façade and pursue her. With a bit of luck, maybe your people will be able to take compromising photos of him.

But you are surprised when, after watching her for a while, he shifts his gaze to the crowd of people, looking for something. You freeze when his eyes meet yours. You raise an eyebrow, not sure why, instead of staring at the girl, he stubbornly searches for your gaze. Or rather, you don't want to admit that you know the reason why, because that's exactly why you quickly leave the great hall of parliament and run away from the man who is now walking towards you.

And much to your misfortune, Coriolanus Snow learns from his mistakes. That's why you suddenly bump into someone a few metres from the exit at the end of the corridor leading to the elevator. You collide against a wall of toned muscles. His arms quickly wrap around you, keeping you from falling.

"Leaving so soon?" his whisper sent unwanted shivers down your spine, as did how close your face was to his.

"Get your hands off me." you snap at him and get out of his grip. You stare at the elevator, contemplating how to get past him and get in, but he sees your intentions in your eyes and blocks any escape route with his body.

"What game are you playing?" he asks, staring at you. You lift your head, returning his defiant glare. "I don't even care how the hell you found her. Why is she here? What do you need her for?"

"Shouldn't you try to catch your little songbird before she flies away again?" you mock, ignoring all of the questions he asked you.

"I am." he says, staring firmly at you, making you more confused by his actions than before. He should have been after Lucy Gray… why the hell was he keeping you pinned to the wall, blocking your only escape route with his body?

"What?"

"I am not letting you run away. We are solving this here and now." he says this, looking around the hall. You take advantage of his moment of inattention and try to free yourself from his strong grip, but he doesn't move even an inch in your struggle. Fuck his peacekeeper training.

"We have nothing to solve, get it into your stupid head!" you shout at him in frustration, unable to get out of his arms.

"You know what your main problem is? You don't allow yourself the idea that you might be wrong or that you don't know everything about me. I may be a monster, but I've never lied to you. About anything. Lucy Gray and I had nothing when you were with me. Whoever gave you these stupid rumours was lying. Ask her. She'll tell you that the only thing I did was kiss her. When I was drunk in District 12, exactly the day after I got there. And do you know why? Because I was convinced I had fucked up my life and I would never see your damn face again. And fuck, even kissing her couldn't get you out of my mind. All I thought was you. All I think about is you. I can admit it out loud. How about you?"

"I despise you." you growl angrily, struggling in his arms.

"Yes? Then why did you frame Livia for engagement to Festus? You think I don't know it's because of you that they were caught fucking in the garden together?"

"I wanted to discredit you. Show that your girlfriend is sleeping with anyone on the side. Besides, you made Thomas fail at university, and he had to retake his exams today, which is why he couldn't show up. I had to take revenge."

"No. You were jealous of me. You wanted to get rid of her and you did. Why are you playing the gardener dog? Why don't you just admit that you want me?" you roll your eyes at him, trying your hardest to hold on to your internal irritation and fury at him. But it was a very demanding task, considering how his mesmerising icy-blue eyes were now watching you very carefully.

"I don't want you." you say, trying to sound firm but also a little indifferent, enough for him to believe you. But you can see by the way his eyebrow raises that you've screwed up something.

"Yes? Then kiss me." his sudden command leaves you extremely stunned. You almost lose the fight with yourself to keep your jaw from opening from shock.

"What?"

"If you despise me, if you don't care about me, then you will have no problem with kissing me and walking away like nothing had happened." he explains, moving closer to you, your noses brushing against each other, you feel his breath brush against your lips, and the warmth of his mouth is so close that it makes you feel as if you could actually touch him.

"Let me go. I'm not going to make a fool of myself for your own amusement. Those days are gone forever; we are not a couple, and we will never be together again. Get over it!"

"Then kiss me. C'mon. Prove your point. Kiss me as if you hate me. As if you despise every little part of me just as much as you claim. Prove that you have absolutely no feelings towards me despite hatred and grudges."

And God, you want it. You want it so much that it hurts you not to be able to press your lips to his right here and now.

You know that the moment your lips meet his, all your cold demeanour towards him will melt away like snow in spring. You know that you will easily return to his arms, giving yourself to him and proving nothing in your favor. And you've come so far—too far—to let him see past your facade now, to let him make you want him even more than you already do.

You shiver as he leans in so that his nose brushes yours as he gently cups your cheeks in his hands. He doesn't make the first move. Of course not. This cunning snake tempts you to give in to your greatest, darkest desires, which you feel ashamed of for having managed to survive in the recesses of your heart.

"End this torment. For both of us sake."

Just a gentle touch, you think, hearing his whisper and feeling his body softly press against yours, complementing you perfectly as always. One taste of his lips. Just one...

Your heart beats fast, and your breaths are mingling in the small space still left between you two. With a trembling hand, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His fucking eyes are all you can look at, the unspoken request shining so brightly in them that you can't mistake his desire for anything else. And you give in, tilting your head to place your lips so close to him...

A loud bang makes you both pull away from each other. A drunk senator staggers towards the elevator, nodding at the two of you. He mumbles something under his breath, and after a quick glance towards Coriolanus and a nod of his head, you decide that he will walk him away and make sure he doesn't tell (or remember) how outrageously close the two of you were just moments ago.

You walk back to the party, trying to calm down enough to let the blush fade from your cheeks.

You make sure that Clem sends Lucy to her hiding place after her performance, and you continue to politely smile and pose for photos, promoting your allegiance.

And the next day, when you are reading the morning newspaper, you notice in one of the photos that this bastard put a rose behind your ear.

It was raining heavily.

It was late at night as you were preparing for your speech the next day. You walked around your room with a piece of paper in your hand, gesturing and practicing proper intonation and posture.

“Miss Y/L/N?” you stop when you hear the voice of one of your maids. "We have… an unusual situation."

"What? Did something happen?" you ask, confused at her uncertain tone of voice.

"It depends on how you interpret the situation, miss." you raise an eyebrow at her questioningly. She points to the window. You frown in surprise, but walk over to the window anyway.

"What the bloody hell is he doing here?" you whisper, seeing Coriolanus standing in your garden. He was completely soaked. His hair and coat were soaked with water, clinging to him as he stared at your window, standing still as the rain hit him.

"David says he's been there for several hours. He tried to talk to him and get him to leave, but Mr. Snow… just stands there."

Your first instinct would be to close the curtains and pretend he wasn't there, but you didn't want to think about the scandal that would start if anyone found out that your rival was standing outside your window in the full rain like some lovesick puppy. It was obvious he had to be here for a reason. It was probably some dirty play on his part. Something that was intended to negatively impact your candidature.

But then you looked at him. Even when you showed up, his gaze was... disturbingly empty. He couldn't fake it that well. It was not like he could completely hide his reaction to seeing you.

"Does anyone else know about this?" she shakes her head, and you sigh. You have no idea why he's standing outside your window in the heavy rain. You're just thanking fate for him choosing the day your parents left the Capitol to behave so strangely. You just hoped no meddlesome paparazzi saw him. "All right. Make sure it stays that way." you ask her and walk out of your room.

Walking downstairs to get to your coat and umbrella, you wonder why the hell he's standing outside in front of your mansion, staring at your window, risking getting sick with all the rain pouring down on him furiously.

It has happened before that he was standing under your window. Before this whole Hunger Games thing started, Dr. Gaul and Lucy Gray he would often sneak up to you through your window to talk about what was bothering him.

But that was a long time ago. And now you had no idea what he was doing out there and in all this rain.

You wrap your coat around yourself and take an umbrella as you go outside. The rain somehow seeps through your shields, hitting you unpleasantly. Water droplets start to soak into your clothes. You wonder how he stayed there for so many hours.

"What the hell are you doing here? Are you crazy?! Is this another one of your sick tricks against me?!" you shout, walking towards him. But he doesn't answer. His eyes are locked on you as he stands there, motionless. You notice that his eyes are bloodshot from crying, and his hands are shaking slightly, as well as all of his body. You don't know if it's from the cold or from crying. "Coriolanus?" you ask, starting to seriously worry about him.

He trembles even more, not looking at you. He fixes his gaze on your shoes. What worries you is that he is completely oblivious to the rain pouring down on him. As if he didn't feel anything at all anymore.

“Alright, come on.” you say, pulling him by the arm towards your mansion. You hide him a bit under the umbrella, but it doesn't change the fact that he's soaked like a dog. Maybe even worse.

His silence, the lack of any emotion on his face, worries you. You haven't seen him like this before. So… empty.

You enter the house through the back entrance. You put the umbrella down and turn towards him. Seeing that he's still not reacting to any stimuli and acting like he's on some kind of autopilot, you walk up to him and start unbuttoning his coat.

He doesn't comment on your behavior. Neither do you say anything. You just want to get him out of all those wet clothes so he won't get seriously sick... You have no idea why you worry or why you care. Maybe you are on some kind of autopilot too.

As you lead him to your room, you are involuntarily reminded of all the times he snuck there with you. When you were still the closest people to each other in this world. When you came to each other for comfort. When you were each other's only shelter.

"I should still have some of your old clothes here. You should go change and take a warm bath. There's no way you wouldn't get sick after this." you say, walking over to your clothes chest and looking for some of his old shirts and pants.

"Grandma'am is dead." he says it in an empty, emotionless tone of voice. You freeze in shock and slowly turn to face him. He still stands where you left him, his gaze blankly fixed on the space next to you.

You don't say anything. You don't know what to tell him anyway. You just stare at him, waiting for him to say something more. It bothers you how he just… doesn't do anything. Acting as if all that was left of him was an outer shell, a facade that barely held together.

You walk up to him and take his cold hand hesitantly into yours. You stare at them for a moment and look up, meeting his icy, bloodshot eyes.

"I... I am so sorry, Coriolanus." his bitter laugh at your words might be a good sign after his disturbing behaviour earlier, but somehow it worries you even more than his silent attitude and blank stare.

''You will never forgive me, will you? You will always see me only as a monster? As a murder and nothing more?" he asks, hearing that you still call him by his name, even at a time like this. The version he hated, instead of the sweet nickname he hadn't heard in a long time. Which even Tigris stopped using.

"Thta's not..." you start, concerned at the calm tone in which he says it. As if the truth of what was happening between you was starting to dawn on him.

"This is exactly what I am to you! A heartless monster! But you know what?! I AM NOT! And you... you are a hypocrite." he starts getting angry and pushes your hands away from him as he paces around your room.

"Me?!" you scream at him, disbelieving. You step in front of him, blocking his path and forcing him to face you.

"YES! You! You may not be a murderer, but you do something much worse. Your indifference, your hatred, and your aversion towards me—do you think it doesn't do anything to me? You've been killing me and hurting me day after day since I left the fucking Capitol and was sentenced to exile. And since I came back, your face, your voice, and your memories haunt me more than ever before. Missing you is killing me. Watching you from afar is killing me. Not being able to hold you in my arms is killing me. You said you could confidently say you're not a murderer. I do not agree. You kill me every day, and each time in a more cruel way. But all I can do is follow you like some faithful puppy, waiting for you to change your mind and give me a chance to show you that I'm not lost, that I'm not a monster, and that I didn't WANT any of this to happen! I spend every sleepless night, when I can't pass out in bed due to exhaustion and lack of sleep, thinking about you! And even now... when my life is falling apart around me, all I can do is... come to you. Just like I've always done."

He's shaking with emotion, and you think you've never seen him so moved or so shaken before. You wonder if he might have gotten drunk, but those thoughts quickly leave you when he suddenly leans down and wraps you in his arms. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as he continues to shiver. His wet clothes start to soak yours, but all you feel is his breath on the skin of your neck.

"I miss you so much, petal…" he whispers, and you stroke his wet hair, unable to tell if it's his tears soaking the collar of your shirt or his wet clothes or skin from rain. In fact, it doesn't really matter to you at all right now.

"Why did you come here? Of all places…"

"And where else could I go?" he interrupts you, his eyes looking at you so… pleadingly. As if there really was no other place on earth he could go in such a situation, where he could wallow in his grief and despair.

"I don't know… to Livia or…" he cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. He tangles his hand in your hair and pulls you in for a kiss. His lips are terribly cool against yours, but it only enhances how amazing you feel as he caresses your lips tenderly with his.��

He slowly steals the warmth from you, which you're strangely happy about while he's deepening the kiss. You press yourself against him, slowly warming him up, his wet clothes uncomfortably transferring their wetness to yours, which you ignore in favour of kissing him. Just like the drops of cold water dripping from his hair onto your forehead, which doesn't sober you up and doesn't make you move away from him. If anything, you place your hand around his neck and pull him closer.

Eventually, though, you both have to pull away, gasping for air. You both take shaky breaths, his forehead resting against yours, as your senses slowly begin to come back to you. But you're secretly glad that his hands don't leave you as he uses the pad of his thumb to stroke your cheek, your lips, your cheekbone, anywhere he has a chance to touch you, as long as he doesn't take his hand away from your face.

"Only you saw me in my fragile form. Only you saw my shattered heart and the shell of myself. I... only allow myself to be vulnerable with you." he whispers with his eyes closed, keeping his forehead pressed against yours, trying his best to hold on to you as if you were his only anchor.

"Being sad, mad, or vulnerable doesn't mean being weak. Don't be ashamed of having emotions. I... all I ever wanted... was for you to... to be something more than all of these people in the Capitol. To be someone more than what Dr. Gaul tried to mould you into. You are a good man, Coryo. Please show me that you can still be that man. That my friend and lover is still there."

You don't talk to each other anymore after that. You don't know whether he has heard your request or is even considering granting it. All you know is that you lost that night. That the rational part of you had gone to fuck itself, seeing him so vulnerable and hurt, just as you were.

So, when he tries to break away from you and walk away, you grab his wrist tightly, stopping him.

"Stay. Don't go." you whisper. You don't know if it's a request or an order. He doesn't think twice about it either, turning back to you after a moment and pulling you into his chest as he holds you tightly in his arms and buries his face in your hair.

And he stays. You manage to get him to take a hot shower and some medicine in case he catches a cold.

This night, you fell asleep in each other's arms. Every now and then you stop stroking his hair, his back, and drawing patterns on his chest to use the pad of your thumb to gently wipe away the tears that sometimes fall from his gorgeous blue eyes.

And in the morning, when all that remains from him is a scent of him, of his cologne, and a dent on the pillow, you can't help but feel disappointed and silently hope that maybe your Coryo is still alive.

You haven't had a chance to be alone with him since then. You both are too busy running your campaign and the ongoing rivalry between you two.

However, you notice that he has stopped sending gifts, late-night phone calls, or other ways of getting your attention. Whatever relationship you had was purely political. You didn't know whether to be happy or cry.

Tigris stopped talking about him. You don't know if it's a good change, but she doesn't mention her cousin anymore. She was quieter after her grandmother died. The black clung to her wardrobe and skin, highlighting her paler than usual complexion.

It was the evening they were supposed to announce the election results.

You took the elevator to the top floor of the Snow apartment, picking up Tigris and Clem on the way and heading to your house to either celebrate your success or failure.

You sigh tiredly, leaning against the elevator behind you. You close your eyes and listen as it moves up to the next floor.

You open your eyes when you hear a soft, buzzing sound. Things have changed a bit since you were last here. The interior was, of course, renovated and more elegant, but somehow... more emptier.

You try to shake off the feeling as you go further.

"Tigris?! I'm here!" you shout as you enter the living room.

You look around curiously, waiting for the blonde. You walk over to the bookshelf, looking through its contents. You choose one of the books and sit on the couch, but before you open it, you notice a framed photo on the coffee table.

You take the frame in your hands and look at an old photo of you and Coryo at the end of one year at the Academy. You cup your hand around his cheek, pulling him closer to you as you press a kiss on his cheek.

You smile as you remember the circumstances of taking this photo.

Sejanus found an old camera among his father's belongings. He insisted on taking photos to celebrate the end of a difficult year of study for all of you. You didn't know that Sejan developed the photos and gave them to Coriolanus.

And you certainly didn't expect him to keep them.

“I'm afraid Tigris is not here.” you place the photo on the coffee table and slowly turn towards Coriolanus. His hair is not combed with gel; it is slightly messy, and he has those adorable, damn curls on his head again. "She left a few minutes ago. You must have passed each other."

"Oh. She probably went to Clem's." you say, standing there slightly awkwardly and looking at him. He's wearing a black shirt and pants. Slightly wrinkled for your taste and definitely too wrinkled for his. "Are you alone?" you ask, unable to stop yourself.

"I am." he says, putting his hands in his pockets, walking around the couch so that he's now standing next to you, and picking up the book you were planning to read before Tigris came downstairs. "I guess your Thomas is waiting for you at your home."

"We... kind of broke up. Well, we weren't together, but… our paths diverged." you admit, taking the opportunity to have his back turned to you as he walked over to put the book back on the shelf. You can see his shoulders tense slightly. You've never wanted to run your hands down his muscular back more.

"What a pity. Right when I remembered his name…" he murmured. You take a few steps towards him, the click of your high heels echoing throughout the empty apartment.

"You always knew it, you were just too offended and angry to use it." he chuckles at your words and turns to face you, leaning his back gently against the bookshelf.

"Maybe." he hums, nodding his head, his eyes studying you intently.

"Maybe." you repeat after him, warmth rising in your chest as you see a stray strand of his hair fall onto his forehead.

"You should go back. I believe they will announce the results soon." he moves past you to grab the photo from the coffee table and places it on the chest of drawers next to the chair next to the bookcase. In the meantime, he turned on the TV, and he was right—they were going to report the results soon.

"What will you do if… you don't win?" you ask him, and he freezes for a moment. He sets things on the shelf, trying to arrange everything perfectly as he ponders his answer. You are getting a little nervous since you can't see his eyes or facial expression.

"I'll think of something for myself. Don't be happy. You won't be able to dance over my grave for a long time." you snort, shaking your head in amusement at his answer.

"I believe that in this case, it will be you who will be dancing at my funeral. And quite quickly."

"Stop it. You know damn well that I would never hurt you." he snaps at your answer as he turns to face you. You have been taken aback by his sudden reaction, but your defense system quickly kicked in.

"Sejanus..."

"I regret it every fucking day. Every day I wake up in the morning and don't see you on the other side of my bed. Every day I spend time surrounded by people I can't trust. Every day when I see Tigris' betrayed look and your disappointed, hurt gaze, it haunts my dreams as much as his screams. And maybe I'm a monster because I really don't care if he lives or dies, but I REGRET IT. Honestly. By you. Because of you. Because I lost you. I... I had lost you." he whispers the last sentence, as if it's only now dawning on him what really happened. It breaks your heart to see him like this, especially after what happened a few weeks ago.

"Coriolanus..." you say this and reach out to grab his arm, but this time he's the one pulling away from you. And the treatment you've gotten from him, just the same as you've once treated him, is tasting bitter.

"Just leave." he says, his eyes averting from you as he stares at the window overlooking the Capitol.

You walk up to him and place your hand on his shoulder. He turns his gaze away from the city in front of him and looks at you questioningly, not understanding what you are doing right now.

'Coriolanus... I..."

"And the president of Panem becomes… Y/N Y/L/N! Congratulations, Madam President!" the hosts' shouts and fanfare echo from the television, interrupting you. It takes you a while to realise what happened. Your hand falls from his shoulder as you stare dazedly at the TV behind him. You won. You became president.

Realisation hits you. You have no idea what will happen next. And... you're afraid. But not that you can't handle it. Not that you'll have a lot of new responsibilities, or even how many people you'll have to deal with from now on. NO. You are afraid that HE will never be close to you again. And the last few weeks... the last few weeks, maybe even months—had shown you that you couldn't live without him next to you anymore.

You needed Coriolanus Snow… as much as he needed you.

"Congratulations." his words snap you out of your shock and numbness. He sticks out his hand, waiting for you to take it and shake it. But you can only stand there, staring at him as you try to sort out your feelings. "You won't even shake my hand? Am I not worth even that, Madam President?"

You shake your head.

You hear him snort, laughing bitterly at your action, believing this is another example of your stubborn behaviour towards him. He drops his hand, obviously hurt, and is about to respond when you suddenly take a step towards him, cup his cheeks in your hands, and pull him in for a kiss.

He is surprised. Probably the same as you, but he gets over it rather quickly as he automatically responds to your kiss, caressing your lips with his as fervently as ever.

At some point, you end up on his couch, your hands moving from his neck to under his shirt. Your touch breaks him out of the trance you put him in. He takes your hands in his and moves them away from his body.

"I don't want your pity." he huffs, pulling away from you as he stands in front of the couch. You pull him towards you by his shirt so that he's straddling you, and you kiss him again, effectively silencing him as your hands land on the buttons of his shirt.

"You've never had it." you mumble between kisses, trailing your fingers over the bare skin and muscles of his back, and he moans softly into your neck, leaving a few hickeys there along his way to the buttoms of your own blouse. "It was always either my love or grudge."

"And now?" he asks, moving away from you again. His blue eyes stare intently into yours, and you know your answer depends on how this evening goes. And you missed the comforting feeling of his skin against yours too much to worry about his morality, of which you were apparently the sole soul that wanted and was able to take care of.

"Both of them." you reply, licking your lips. Maybe he was right from the beginning? Maybe you were destined to end up together? Maybe you were really the only thing that could keep him on the right path? But were you willing to devote your life to keeping him in check?

"I can work with that." you moan as he kisses you while lifting you off the couch. Your blouse falls somewhere on the floor as he carries you along the familiar path to his bedroom.

His lips caress yours gently like never before. His hands are practically everywhere, gently stroking every bit of your exposed skin. He pins you against his bedroom door and sucks on your neck, leaving a hickey. You moan again, causing the same reaction from him.

"Please, don't ever leave me again." he whispers into your mouth before trying to devour you again.

"Then don't give me a reason to do it." you whisper back, combing his hair as he pulls away from you enough to open the door. He kisses you all the way to his bed, stroking your waist gently.

He lays you down on the bed, his mouth moving to your neck, licking and sucking, leaving a few marks there as his hands moved down to the button of your pants.

"Wait. Wait." he listens to you immediately. He freezes, lifting his head to look at you with concern and a worried expression on his face. "You're not mad that I won?" he gives you such a beautiful smile and laugh that, for a moment, all you can do is watch him.

He was so ethereal... breathtaking in every sense of this word. You have no idea how you managed to stay away from him for that long... even knowing what he did.

"I love you. I have always loved you and always will. I'll get over the fact that you won't be my First Lady."

"Well... you can be my First Lord... or something like that..." he laughs at that and leans in to kiss you. You cup his cheeks in your hands and pull him closer to you. You moan into his mouth as his bare skin touches yours.

You whine in protest as he pulls away from you. He looks deep into your eyes and caresses your cheek tenderly with his hand.

"You sure?" you smile slightly and nod, placing your hands on his shoulders as he pulls you closer to him again. "We shall create a dynasty, my beautiful little petal." he promises you, placing soft kisses on your collarbones. You run your hands through his blond locks, pulling his head and lips to yours. "My most precious diamond." he plants another kiss, this time on the corners of your mouth, undoing your bra. "Mine."

"Coryo..." you moan, and he responds in kind, happy to finally hear his nickname falling lovingly from your lips like it used to.

You don't care what happens next. What will happen the next day? What will happen when you take over as president? Will he try to gain more influence than you? Will he continue working for Gaul? Or maybe you will unite your forces and create a presidential couple that Panem has never seen before. You do not know. All he cares about is his touch, his mouth, and his body against you.

And in the morning, when you wake up wrapped in his arms as he places kisses on your temple and tenderly, lazily draws patterns on your back with his fingers, you realise how good it was to be back where you belonged.

You realise how good it felt to wake up in your Coryo's arms again. Even if neither of you were the same person you once were. And you will certainly have more than one fight, dramatic breakup or silent fight for influence and power.

But after all, love was stronger than any grudge you could feel towards your Coryo... or at least as long as he still was him.

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daemonbrain · 5 months ago

Text

a/n: Shamelessly inspired by the fact I hit a curb, ran a stop sign, and almost hit a mailbox within 5 minutes of each other. So I present to you Graves x reader who can't drive! Feel free to drop a comment 🫶

Phillip Graves who loves exactly three things: His shadows, his truck, and his girl.

The downside? He has to keep the three things as far from each other as possible.

He would be damned if he let his pretty girlfriend know about all the questionable things he did for work. All you needed to know was he handled things, brought home the bread, and came crawling right on back as soon as he could.

But as he sat in the passenger seat of his F-150, he knew damn well he'd tell you every shady dealing or national secret him and his shadows have ever learnt to get you the hell away from the wheel.

He thought it was a joke when you hopped into the drivers seat! You had booked a reservation for some sushi place you liked and he had taken a little too long to get ready, only hurrying down when he heard the yell of his name.

"I'm comin', i'm going!" He mumbled.

You stood ready by the door with a smile. You dangled his keys in front of your face and to be entirely honest Phill didn't pay attention to a word you said.

How could he? Your hair all done up, a nice pair of heels, and a dress he's never seen before but is sure that it's somewhere on his bank statement. Too much time staring at your moving mouth, not enough time on it.

Interrupting you mid-sentance, he pulls you in for a gentle kiss. When your hands went to caress the stubble on his cheek, he responded with a groan and a bite on your lower lip, feeling his heart beat with fondness for the lovely lady in front of him.

Pulling away only a fraction, you look up at him with those eyes he could never resist.

"Is that a yes then?" You said, excitement clear in your tone.

Leaning back in, he presses his mouth to yours again. After a moment he digs his fingers to your waist, causing you to swat at his arm.

"Earth to Phill?! Yes or no?" You repeated. Groaning, he rolled his eyes and reluctantly separated from your body.

"Whatever you want sweetheart."

Which is how he finds himself in this precarious position. It was no ones fault but his own and now he was gonna pay big time. You had hopped right into the drivers seat leaving your dumbfounded partner to connect the dots on his own.

He should have objected thinking back, he really really should have. Commander Phillip Graves who has been around the globe, shot at, and knocked around more times than he can count did not want to deal with the fallback of wrangling you out of there.

When you reached your hand out to switch the gear, instead of holding the break like you should've, the loud sound of the engine revving blasted in his ears as you pressed the accelerator. You jolted in your seat, instinctually grabbing his forearm.

"Baby! You hit the gas."

Upon seeing his widened eyes, you couldn't help but chuckle. Laughing it off, you apologize and start up the truck.

At least that incident was stationary. It got so much worse.

"Shit, that was a trashcan."

"Phill turn up the music. That ambulance siren is distracting me."

"Did I just roll that stop sign?"

He was gonna die in this metal box. The two things he loved most were going to kill him. Phillip Graves death by bomb? No, Phillip Graves death by his wonderful girlfriends horrible driving.

In fact, he'd probably have a better chance if he had been in that tank than with you.

"Hon you're uh- this is a 35 zone and you're goin' 58."

You made a pfft sound and waved him off. Gosh he really wished you kept both of your hands tight on that wheel at this speed (at any speed really).

"Those things are like suggestions. This could totally be like a 45." You said.

"You'd still be- oomph!" Phillip was interrupted by his body being jerked against his seatbelt. Without a moments delay, his arm shot across your chest to keep you firmly pressed to the back of the seat.

Without a second of acknowledgment you slap the steering wheel with a scoff.

"Come on, that was bullshit! Hardly enough time to stop." You complained while staring at the shine of the red traffic light.

"Well maybe if you-"

Nope. Not gonna do that. He didn't even have a chance to raise his voice a note higher before you were glowering his way. No thank you ma'am.

"Nothin'. You're right. Bullshit."

He would hide the keys away from you from now on. He'd dig through your purse when you went to the washroom and snatch them up before you'd even have the chance to ask to drive home.

If Phill was gonna die any other way than old age amongst the horde of kids and grand-babies y'all would have together one day, it was not gonna be because you flung him into a fuckin' electrical pole.

Suddenly, the truck began to move faster...

and faster...

The moment he heard your squeal, his heart dropped to his stomach.

"Phill! Phill my heel is stuck-" The panic in your voice was palpable, the sight of cars in the distance coming closer in view by the second. Tears had begun to gather at your lash line in alarm.

With the reflexes as a man with his own PMC, his unclicks his seatbelt and practically flings himself over the console. Grabbing your foot, he jiggles it from the wedge it trapped itself and pushed on to the break you had made no attempt to use.

Another hard stop, but one made just in time before any collision could take place. Snapping out of your stupor, you allow the truck to slowly roll for a moment while a red faced Phillip looked at you with fury that knew no bounds.

"Pull over."

With a grimace, you attempted to reply. Only to have Phill grab the wheel and fully turn you to the side of the road, signaling and all.

Clicking on the emergency lights as he opens, exits, and closes his door while you still reeled from your miiiiinor incident.

Opening your door, his stern expression warranted no argument as he held a hand out to help you down.

"Out right now. No buts or nothin'."

Hastily complying, you slip your palm into his and scampered to the passenger seat.

After you buckled your seatbelt in and Phill had time to huff and rejoin the road, he uses his free hand to grab on to yours and press a tender kiss to your knuckles while keeping his blue eyes stubbornly fixed forward.

…

Safe to say you let him play his own music this time.

#call of duty #cod fanfic #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x you #bad driving #cod mw2 #hes stressed guys #phillip graves fluff

292 notes · View notes

ilongfor-the-arts · 2 years ago

Text

Tea and Music

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: smut!, language, mild begging, choking, unprotected sex, use of “good girl”

Summary: Part two of Poetry in Motion! These are the events that happen after Marquis meets our ballerina reader.

Word Count: 6.7k

Read Part one HERE!!!

Taglist: @jiawalker

The limo crushed the small stones under its tires as it drove along the white gravel path. The entire estate was completely covered in trees and green once we passed through the golden gates. I couldn't see the sides of the gate from the car, so I assumed his estate extended for miles.

Not a blade of grass was out of place.

I would have flirted with Vincent sooner if I had known he was concealing a mansion.

Our conversation two nights ago was extremely straightforward. He introduced himself, and I asked him one question before he insisted on speaking with me in person.

His address was on a street I'd never heard of before. I thought that perhaps it was in the Paris slums. His fancy suits and elegant demeanor were just a ruse to convince people he was wealthy.

But, alas, he lives in a mansion. Who would’ve guessed?

As the car approached the large front doors, I tried to hide my surprise. His house was something out of a movie. To take it all in, I had to turn my head completely left and right. It possessed at least three levels. It was made of lovely white vintage brick and black shingles. Two poles supported an enormous balcony on opposite sides of the large double front doors.There were dozens of tall arched windows. The architecture was inspired by the French countryside, but it was elevated to the highest level.

It appeared vintage and loved, but not worn.

“Alright madame, we are here.”

My trance was broken by the posh driver.

“Oh, yes.”

He opened the door for me, offering his hand to ensure that I would not be inconvenienced in the slightest.

I could grow accustomed to this type of treatment.

I hoisted myself up by grasping his smooth palm.

“Have a pleasant visit, madame.”

He spoke with a classy accent. His elegance, however, couldn't compete with Vincent's. The elderly driver jumped back into the driver's seat and began bustling away, rocks crunching beneath the tires.

I cocked my head upwards, hesitant. I could feel nerves brewing within my stomach. The butterflies were flying free. I took a deep breath, steadying my mind.

I honed in on the rustling of the trees, waiting until the butterflies had completely dissipated.

I couldn’t believe I was about to enter the home of a man I had just met.

I knew his name.

I knew he liked ballet.

I knew where he lived.

And, that’s it.

I climbed the few steps leading to the glass double doors.

Should I knock?

No, he was expecting me.

I gently pushed open the door. The hinges didn't creak in the least.

The doors opened to reveal a large room with white marble floors and a double staircase that swirled to the top floor. The banisters were made of gold, the dark wood walls were covered in expensive-looking paintings, and each room was separated by a large, open arch.

“Hello? I’m here!”

The waves of my voice echoed around the large, nearly empty room. I felt dwarfed by the high ceilings.

“Welcome.”

my heart skipped a beat. Vincent appeared out of nowhere, sauntering through the archway on my left, hands in pockets.

He remained silent, waiting for me to break the tension.

“Uh-Thank you for having me… your house is beautiful.”

As the gravity of the situation became clear, my tone became somewhat shaky. Vincent gave a small smile.

“Thank you very much. I have quite a few estates-“

Woah, woah, woah. A few estates? As in more than one?

“But this one is by far my favorite. It’s lavish, and quiet.”

The trees gently rustled. In the distance, birds chirped. My heart was pounding in my ears.

“See? Nothing. No sounds except those of nature.”

My knees shook. Those two previous statements felt like one big, blatant sexual innuendo. I hoped that sex wasn't the sole reason for having me in this lovely estate that just so happened to have no neighbors for miles.

He leaned against the wooden arch, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dress pants. Vincent furrowed his brow as he observed my concern.

“Please, don’t be worried. I know I was just given the pleasure of becoming your acquaintance. But, I assure you, I possess a sophisticated character.”

The corners of his mouth turned upwards.

“Come.”

He said this as he stepped away from the arch, motioning for me to follow him into the next room.

“I have something I believe you will enjoy.”

I returned his stare. His beautiful eyes shone with warmth. He seemed to have changed slightly now that I was in his house. He appeared to be... more at ease. Neither his gaze nor his tone indicated any discomfort. He was no longer concerned with maintaining any sort of facade.

I couldn't bring myself to be afraid of him.

I smiled.

“Alright.”

My short heels clacked against the marble. As I strolled past him, I captured his familiar scent and was overcome with nostalgia.

The room I entered was significantly smaller than the one prior. Rather than being adorned in paintings, there was merely one green landscape above the unlit fireplace. One wall was entirely covered in wooden shelves, each of which was crammed to the brim. When I looked closer, I noticed that each section was filled with vinyl records. Some are still wrapped in plastic, while others have clearly been loved for years.

“Oh wow! You have quite the collection!”

I exclaimed as I ran my fingers along the spines of various records. Marquis laughed, amused by my intense interest.

“Oh wow!”

I had to use a surprising amount of force to pry one of the vinyls off the shelf as it was jammed into a completely full rack.

“You have the music from Giselle!”

Vincent strolled over to me, leaning over my shoulder to observe what had captured my attention. It was a record, with a lady and man engaged in dance. The lady wore a blouse and bodice, while the man donned tights and a decorated top.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

His hot breath cascaded across my face and neck as he inquired. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized he had placed his frame directly behind mine.

“Yes, I do. I was in it a long time ago. And, ever since it’s been one of my favorites.”

“Ah, you were in it?”

I flipped the vinyl to the back, reading each track and reminiscing.

“Yes, I was Giselle.”

“But of course you were.”

I scoffed, dismissing his high opinions of me.

“It really was not that impressive. It was a small community theater, and it was years ago before I decided to pursue ballet professionally.”

“It makes little difference where you do it. I'm sure you danced as well as someone from the Opéra National de Paris. Your talent is just as visible in a small theater as it is in the world's largest.”

I pushed my finger between two vinyls to create a gap so I could slip the record back into its original position.

“You flatter me.”

Vincent dragged his fingertips along the spines. As he did so, I fixed my attention along his veiny digits, my brain beginning to slip into places it hadn't been in a long time. I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to return to the present. Vincent drew his gaze across the records, studying them and searching for a specific item.

“Ah!”

He discovered what he was looking for.

“Swan Lake, another one of my favorites.”

He pulled it from the shelf and began to study it.

“Tchaikovsky's music is a work of art. He manipulates the instruments, allowing them to move in a poetic manner. It truly is unparalleled.”

He cocked his head to the side, meeting my eyes.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

He raised his brows, inviting me to respond. I shuffled towards his hot body, nodding.

“Yes, of course, it’s a classic.”

This cover depicted a woman bending over a lake, with a swan at her side. Beautiful blues were used to paint the entire cover.

“One of my dream roles is the swan queen.”

Vincent's lanky fingers pried the record's cover apart, and he slid the vinyl into his palm.

“One day, that role will be yours. I have no doubt about it.”

He handled the record with extreme grace and care. Despite being a large and rather intimidating man, his touch was featherlight. He opened a small cabinet located in the middle of the shelves with his opposite hand, revealing a beautiful maroon record player.

“And when you appear as the swan queen, it will be your role for the rest of your life. The audience will know instantaneously that no performance before or after yours will compare.”

Vincent placed the needle on the record's edge. The sound of a rich oboe filled the entire room. He placed his hands on his hips and viewed the black circle spin in a circle. The atmosphere became cozy and inviting. Despite being in a secluded mansion in the middle of the French countryside, I felt oddly at home. My heartbeat was regular.

Vincent glanced over his shoulder.

“Do you drink tea?”

He inquired.

I was so enthralled by Vincent's lovely figure that I had to shake myself awake when he spoke.

“Oh! Yes, of course. I love tea.”

Vincent unbuttoned the cuffs of his white dress shirt, rolling his sleeves up to reveal lovely veins dancing across his forearms. I gulped, my face growing hotter as butterflies began to hatch within my lower abdomen.

“Would you care to drink tea with me on the porch as we indulge in this lovely music?”

I nodded, unable to hide the grin playing on the corners of my mouth.

“I would like that very much.”

Vincent brought out a large silver tray, atop which was a lovely china set with pink flowers and gold stems.

“I would expect a wealthy man like you to have help. Rich men don’t make their own tea.”

I said, my tone slightly mocking. Vincent chuckled, plopping down onto the cream colored cushions.

“I don't usually make my own tea. But I specifically requested that we spend the day alone. The bustle of people detracts from the peaceful energy.”

I put a sugar cube in one of the adorable cups and poured tea on top, watching the sugar break and dissolve.

I picked up the saucer and leaned back, my body relaxing against the plush cushions. I had a fantastic view. My back was to the house, leaving the entire garden open for inspection. The green stretched as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a few healthy trees. The property had a gray gravel path that twisted and turned. At the horizon, the gentle hill of the land met the flawless blue sky.

The scenery was lovely. I wish I knew how to paint.

My hair was tousled by a gentle breeze. The soothing music wafted through the house, reaching my ears as a mere whisper.

“Are you enjoying the view?”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, savoring the cozy energy as I sipped my tea. The steaming liquid poured down my throat, warming me from within.

“Yes, it’s beautiful.”

I rested the cup in my lap.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I feel like we talk so much about me.”

I said, chuckling slightly.

Vincent sipped his tea while crossing his legs and gazing out at the horizon. His gorgeous side profile was highlighted by the gentle glow of the sun.

“My life is… not very interesting.”

His demeanor had transformed. Instead of being charming, he had become aloof.

“Oh, I’m sure your life is plenty interesting. I mean, come on, this house is ginormous! What do you do?”

Vincent grit his teeth, avoiding the question.

“I made all of my money in real estate.”

He returned my gaze, his fondness restored.

“Oh! That sounds interesting.”

I took another sip of my delicious tea.

“You must’ve gotten extremely lucky.”

He flashed me a tight smile.

“Yes, absolutely. I consider myself extremely fortunate to be where I am now.”

The birds in the distance chirped peacefully, blending with the music to create a cohesive energy that flowed through my being.

“Please, tell me if I am crossing any boundaries with this question.”

I perked up. He had piqued my interest.

“However, you are a very attractive woman. And you are constantly expressing yourself through the arts. I find it difficult to believe you don't have suitors flocking to you at all times.”

I gulped, my gaze fixed on the tea in my lap.

“Well, honestly, it’s difficult to keep a relationship when you’re constantly either in the theater, or searching for your next opportunity. The little free time I have almost never lines up with the free time of others.”

He fixed his gaze on me, listening intently to every word I said. I'd never had a conversation with a man who was so enthralled by me.

“I’ve had relationships, but it's difficult to make them stick. Lately, I’ve kinda given up. It’s stressful, y’know?”

Vincent hummed.

“Yes, I can imagine.”

He sipped his tea one last time, leaning back completely to display his stunning neck. He leaned forward and placed the china cup atop its saucer before assuming his previous position.

"Well, with me, you never have to worry about that, ma chérie." My few important obligations rarely interfere with my personal life. And, if they do, I promise to commit to our relationship and not let it fall through the cracks."

His dedication surprised me. I raised my brows.

“Well, that is very kind of you. I appreciate the reassurance.”

“That is, if pursuing a relationship with me is something that entices you.”

His statement piqued my interest. I suppose I hadn't considered the question, "What are we?" I was definitely interested in pursuing a relationship with him, despite only having become acquainted a few days ago. I felt a genuine connection, and I'd be a fool to pass up this opportunity.

Also, the reality that he was filthy rich drew me to him.

I finished the sweet tea, placing it on the black wire coffee table.

“Yes, I believe I would be interested in that.”

I gave him a genuine smile, which he returned.

“Good, I am glad to hear that.”

He folded his hands and tucked them into his lap, his gaze following. He was deep in thought, as if caught between reality and his thoughts. Vincent came to after what seemed like an eternity. He returned his gaze to mine. His attention had been drawn to a new emotion. He was looking at me with calculating eyes, as if he was carefully pondering what to say next.

This was unusual for him, as he always seemed to know exactly what to say.

“I don’t mean to sound creepy when I say this, but I have been admiring you for a while.”

To be honest, I didn't mind. And I didn't think he was creepy at all for expressing his admiration for me.

“In all honesty, I’m flattered. The way I see it, I wouldn’t put myself on the stage if I was afraid of extreme admiration. I mean, that is kind of the goal of a performer. Y’know, to make people fall in love with the performance.”

Vincent nodded, his smile widening. He was pleased with my response.

“I recall seeing you perform for the first time. It was about two years ago, in Coppélia. You played a minor role, but your beauty captivated me, and the more I sought you out, the more I fell in love.”

There was something sensual about the thought of Vincent admiring me from afar for years. It all seemed so forbidden, him watching me from a box, carefully calculating the best time to ask me out.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you ask me out sooner?”

Vincent shrugged.

“I assumed you were in a relationship. I tried to forget about you, but you were always on my mind. Then I didn't see you at the Opéra national de Paris for a year. My job was particularly demanding at that time. It was best if I concentrated solely on that. So I didn't go looking for you. I assumed that chapter of my life had come to an end. Then I notice you're performing in La Bayadère. And I knew that whatever force governs our universe had given me the opportunity to become your acquaintance.”

I couldn’t stop my face from breaking into a grin. I’ll admit, it felt insanely good to be admired by someone.

“Are you a nostalgic person?”

Yes, extremely.

“Yes, I am.”

“Ah!”

He exclaimed, rising to his feet.

“In that case, I have one more thing I think you would like to see.”

I followed him through the house. If I didn’t have him, I would undoubtedly be lost. Each lavish hallway felt as if it extended for miles. I followed, and followed, and followed. Until eventually we reached a pair of black double doors. They were covered in beautiful flower designs. Vincent turned the golden knobs, pushing the doors open to reveal… a bedroom?

Wow.

It was a nice bedroom, to be sure. The floors were tan wood, and the walls were a dark brown color. A large, black chandelier hung from the ceiling with an expensive crystal thread. The bedframe, curtains, and dresser with a large mirror all looked like they were plucked from the queen's bedroom.

In fact, the whole place felt like it belonged to a king. The gold accents, intricate details, and visibly expensive fabrics all gave me the impression that I was in Buckingham Palace.

Vincent headed over to his dresser, which was located on the opposite side of the room as the bed. He began rummaging through various objects, searching for something.

“Ah! Here it is! I knew I kept it!”

He gave me... a leaflet? No, it's a program. It was the program from my first performance ever at the Opera Nacional de Paris, Coppélia. My eyes shot open.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you kept this!”

I flipped through it, reading the names and contemplating all the wonderful people I'd had the pleasure of working with.

“Of course I kept it.”

I raised my eyes to him. He smiled, pleased that I had found enjoyment in this little bit of nostalgia.

“Um-”

I began.

“I-I don’t mean to take your memories from you.”

I said with a small laugh.

“But, would you mind if I kept this?”

“But of course! There is no need for me to keep a silly little booklet now that I have had the pleasure of meeting the object of my affection.”

We shared a moment of peaceful, happy silence.

“Besides, if it makes you happy, I'll gladly give it to you. We've decided to pursue a relationship. So, it is my responsibility to do everything in my power to please you.”

His gaze darted to my lips before returning to my eyes, implying something taboo.

His eyes grew dark. My posture became stiff. Vincent took a large step towards me, and I had to tilt my head almost completely backwards to look him in the eyes.

I was hit with a wave of déjà vu. I was no longer on the streets of Paris, but rather in Vincent's bedroom. This time, there was nothing preventing us from delving head first into our desires.

He cupped my cheek, running his calloused thumb over my cheekbone. My breath caught in my throat. My lower abdomen was in knots, more from anticipation than from nerves. There wasn't much that could happen on the dark streets of Paris. But suddenly everything was possible and within reach. All I had to do was reach out and grab them.

“The relationships you’ve been in… have any of them had the pleasure of…”

His voice trailed off, beckoning me to finish the thought.

I gulped, a lump forming in my throat.

“No.”

My voice quivered as I felt overpowered by his pressing gaze.

Vincent tutted crispy.

“Pity.”

He stated, his voice lowering to a sensuous whisper. I envisioned him whispering sweet nothings into my ear while thrusting mercilessly into my tight cunt.

My stomach flipped.

My knees shook.

All of the blood in my body rushed to my core.

Wetness began to pool in my panties.

I adjusted my weight uncomfortably, anticipating Vincent's next move.

He leaned forward, his lips inches away from mine. I desperately wanted to break the tension by pressing my mouth to his, thereby beginning the downward spiral of pleasure. However, my train of thought was derailed when I felt Vincent’s opposite hand glide up my thigh.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sighing in pleasure as his digits swiftly located my clothed clit. He tenderly massaged my sensitive bud. The subtle sensation was utterly euphoric. My head bowed forward, my hands anxiously clutching his white dress shirt.

Vincent jerked my head upwards, forcing my misty eyes to lock with his lust blown pupils.

“You’re already so wet, ma chérie. And I have barely even touched you.”

His velvety accent became 10 times more seductive now that it had fallen an octave.

“Oh, it will be so wonderful to watch you come undone.”

He pressed his plush lips to my jugular, applying gentle kisses to my neck as he continued to draw figure eights onto my clothed clit. I threw my arms around his neck, hanging onto his strong frame as my knees threatened to give out.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your thighs and taste your sweet little cunt.”

I couldn’t handle the erotic tone combined with the featherlight touches to my clit. It was far too much for my touch starved body to handle. needed something. I was ravenous for his mouth, his fingers, his cock. I wanted so badly to be destroyed by him, to be given such pleasure that I fear coming back to reality.

“Vincent.”

I said between heavy breaths.

“Yes ma chérie?”

My jaw hung upon, mouth unable to form coherent sentences.

“P-Please. I need you-I need you so bad.”

Vincent drew back, his lips slamming into mine. Our mouths matched like puzzle pieces. We were so glorious together that I swear I could hear angels singing in perfect harmony.

“What would you like me to do to you ma belle, hm?”

He said in between fiery kisses.

“Make me cum, Vincent, please.”

His tongue slid into my mouth, giving me a fleeting taste of his passion before he quickly yanked it back. I was flustered. Our connection had been severed, and I was unsure as to why.

Vincent grasped my chin, forcing me to keep my head still.

His hair was struggling to remain neat. The single, dangling strand was a great metaphor for his once well-kept demeanor now crumbling before my eyes.

“Beg. Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to make you cum.”

He demanded.

Mt jaw quivered. His hand had retreated from my core and now lay atop the swell of my hip.

“P-Please Vincent. I need you. I need you so bad.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes disapprovingly.

“Oh, ma chérie, I know you can do better than that.”

He placed his lips to mine, swiftly reigniting the flame before suffocating it once more.

“Be my good girl and beg.”

I locked gazes with Vincent, feeling his sexual energy course through my body in waves.

“Please-“

I began, my desire somewhat strangling the words within my throat.

“Please Vincent… Please, I need you to make me cum.”

I brought my palms to his chest, attempting to quickly unbutton his dress shirt. Unfortunately, my hands were far too jittery and the buttons were far too small for me to make any significant progress.

“What exactly do you want ma belle, hm? Tell me.”

His velvety accent wafted through me whenever he spoke, adding to the wetness that had begun to pool in my panties.

“Please, please. I need you.”

Thankfully, the sexual tension had subsided just enough for me to compose meaningful sentences.

“Please, please, I need you. I need your mouth between my legs. I need-I need you to fuck me. I need your cock so bad. Please, please make me cum it’s all I can think about.”

A devious smirk spread across Vincent’s face.

“Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

He connected our lips, reigniting the raging fire of desire that burned between us. Vincent hoisted me off the floor, his large hands traveling up my short sundress and resting against my ass. He carried me with ease, his hands gentle but his lips aggressive.

Vincent tossed me onto the bed with little regard for tenderness. However, I was barely impacted by the blow, as the mattress quickly suppressed and conformed to my physique.

I lay, my gaze fixed upwards towards Vincent’s lanky frame. The dim yet sensual lights foregrounded the sharp curvatures of his face. His long digits located his top button and he began to leisurely undo his shirt without breaking eye contact.

Suddenly, I became aware that my dress had ridden up my thighs, exposing my evident desire. I grasped the hem, pushing it downwards in a futile attempt to conceal my yearning. Vincent ceased his movements, crawling over the end of the bedframe with haste.

His hand wrapped around my wrist, pinning my hand above my head.

My eyes darted upwards, the breath hitching in my throat as I perceived his close proximity. Vincent’s previously quintessential appearance was slowly dissolving. A few strands of hair had broken loose from their original location and were now dangling aimlessly above his brow. Furthermore, his shirt was halfway undone, exposing his prominent collarbone and somewhat highlighting his toned chest.

“Don’t cover up for me, ma belle.”

He murmured, his sultry accent sending a wave of desire to my lower abdomen. My cunt throbbed.

“I want nothing more than to see every inch of you.”

Vincent lodged his thigh between my legs, his clothed knee grazing against my hot core. I jolted, a wave of heat coursing through my body. My back arched instinctively, mouth falling open as I involuntarily ground my hips against his thigh in an effort to increase friction.

Unfortunately, he revoked his leg before I was able to procure further pleasure. His free hand followed the soft curve of my side, sending shivers down my spine. My body became cold with anticipation. Goosebumps rose along my skin.

Vincent’s calloused fingertips grazed against my clothed clit. Heat radiated from my wet core as I squeezed my eyes shut. My brow furrowed as he began to slowly draw figure eights onto my clit.

“Ah, you are so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.”

His soft lips connected to my jugular, peppering gentle kisses down my neck.

“I’ve thought about this moment for a long while.”

With his hands required to support his weight as he descended, his powerful clasp released my wrist. I entangled my fingers in his silky hair, further ruining his pristine image.

“Although I pride myself on maintaining a certain level of class, I can’t deny that I’ve often thought about how satisfying it would be to bring you immense pleasure.”

He continued to press his lips against my hot skin, his face now level with my clothed breasts.

Vincent leaned back on his knees. He dragged his eyes up and down my frame, running his tongue across his bottom lip. I suddenly felt small under his gaze.

His tender fingertips located the ball of my ankle, and he hastily removed both of my short heels, tossing them aimlessly to the floor. After he had discarded my shoes, he trailed his large palms upwards, caressing my calves, then my thighs. I watched intently as his veiny hands slipped under the hem of my dress. Vincent hooked a finger in the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs at a painfully slow pace.

Once I was fully exposed, he assumed a position between my legs. Thankfully, the bed was grand enough for him to lay comfortably.

All the blood in my body had rushed to my core, and I could feel my heartbeat throbbing vehemently within my lower abdomen.

Vincent trailed his moist lips along my inner thigh, gazing up at me devilishly through his lashes as he did so. He was well aware that his teasing behavior was propelling me into a state of lust filled desperation.

When he established that he had prolonged my suffering enough, he hastily buried his face between my thighs. I gasped, throwing my head back onto the opulent pillows. My thighs instinctively clenched around his head, but Vincent’s strong hands pulled my legs apart to free himself.

He flattened his tongue against my clit, taking his time to draw out his movements so as to not supply me with an orgasm too hastily. He was thoroughly enjoying the elongation of my pleasure.

After a brief moment of supplying delicate sensations to my clit, I felt the tip of his finger prod at my entrance. I threw my hands upwards, grasping onto the bed frame, my knuckles quickly turning white.

“Oh fuck!”

I exclaimed, grinding my hips against his gorgeous face.

“Vincent-Vincent your mouth feels so good, holy shit.”

I spoke in mangled cries, not caring to keep my voice down. After all, there was no one around for miles to be bothered by my proclamations.

His middle two fingers pushed into my entrance, thrusting upwards to stimulate my walls.

“You taste wonderful, ma belle.”

He uttered, continuing to fuck me with his fingers throguhout the duration of his praise. Vincent located my g spot. My nails dug into the bedframe, undoubtedly leaving prominent scratches. He took note of my non verbal cues.

Vincent increased the intensity of his fingers. Quickly, the coil of pleasure began to tighten within my lower abdomen. I bucked my hips against his face, but Vincent quickly stifled my movements by pressing my hips into the mattress.

“Are you close?”

He murmured against my clit. The gentle vibrations set my nerves ablaze with white hot desire.

“Yeah, yeah I’m so close.”

I mumbled, my arms beginning to tremble as I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt my orgasm begin to seep into the corners of my brain.

Vincent’s long digits expertly located my g spot with every thrust.

His warm mouth continued to duck and stimulate my swollen bundle of nerves.

The erotic sounds of his fingers fucking my cunt reverberated loudly throguhout the predominantly empty bedroom.

“Then cum for me, ma chérie.”

His endearing words proved to be the last necessary step in reaching my release. The tension that had built within my stomach exploded as I came gloriously all over his face. My back felt as though it had been rammed into a solid brick wall.

My chest heaved, and I found it arduous to supply my lungs with sufficient oxygen.

My eyelids began to flutter open as the movements of both his tongue and fingers slowed. When he removed his digits and mouth, I was overcome with a glorious sensation of complete satisfaction. Both my mind and body succumbed to bliss. I had never before experienced such an absence of disquiet.

Vincent climbed over me, his torso now bare.

I cracked a small grin, my palms flattening against the expanse of his soft chest. His lips shone with my arousal. I trailed my fingertips slowly downwards, halting when I reached his thick leather belt. I began to undo the buckle, however, Vincent caught wind of my intentions. With one hand, he engulfed both of my wrists, pinning them above my head. I gasped.

“Oh, no, not now.”

His gentle lips tenderly kissed the soft divot behind my ear. I took a deep breath, the scent of his pricey, heavy fragrance clouding my mind.

“I have waited far too long for this moment. It would be foolish of me to allow you to furnish pleasure when my desire has been consuming me for years.”

Vincent moved off of me and stood to remove the remainder of his clothes. With a pleasurable whoosh, he pulled his belt from the loops of his formal pants. Subsequently, he removed his shoes and allowed his trousers to gather about his ankles.

He met my stare, the mellow hue of the faint overhead lights collecting within his green irises.

“You look beautiful.”

Once again, the heat from my body began to travel downwards.

Vincent’s boxers were the final article of clothing to be removed. I gulped audibly, as his sizable cock was now standing fully erect.

Holy shit, I thought to myself.

He possessed one of the most winsome cock I had ever laid eyes on. I clenched my thighs together, my cunt eagerly clenching around nothing.

When he had finished undressing, he climbed back over me and our lips met once again. I melted into the kiss, exhaling sensually as I sunk into the plush mattress. Vincent’s hand grasped the hem of my dress, tugging it upwards until I was forced to raise my arms.

Thankfully, the supportive nature of the outfit allowed me to function in the absence of a bra. As a result, my entire body was now fully exposed for Vincent’s piercing gaze.

He discarded the dress and dropped his hips suggestively until his prominent erection pressed against my lower stomach.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, beckoning him to progress further. Vincent shuffled his hips, tip now dangerously close to my aching cunt. But, before he slipped inside of me, he raised a free hand and tenderly brushed a few unruly strands of hair from my damp forehead.

“If you wish to stop at any moment, merely apprise me and I shall cease.”

I gave him a nod, throwing my arms around his neck to provide an anchor. Vincent pressed his lips to my neck, applying a few gentle kisses before sliding his cock into my wet cunt.

My walls stretched, hastily conforming to his rather large girth. My back arched into his solid torso. I inhaled sharply as he buried the entirety of his length deep within me.

“Are you alright, ma chérie?”

His body stilled. I groaned in mild frustration.

“Y-yeah. I’m more than alright. P-please just fuck me already. I-I need you so bad.”

Vincent pulled back. His lips were plush. His hair was disheveled. His cheeks were a bright shade of pink.

His disarranged appearance was a stark contrast to the previously sophisticated man I had met at the start of this afternoon. However, I do consider the duality of man to be a topic of the utmost enticement. There is something captivating about the notion of commencing a relationship with someone who has a secret side that solely you have the pleasure of becoming acquainted with.

Without further words, Vincent began to roll his hips. The slight pain of his cock quickly dissipated to create room for immense pleasure.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head.

“Does that feel good? Hm?”

He spoke with a slight vocal fry. The raspiness of his tone elicited a visceral reaction. I dragged my nails along his smooth back, undoubtedly breaking skin.

He grumbled deep within his chest.

When I didn’t answer, Vincent pulled his face back, blown pupils meeting mine. I gazed at him through half lidded eyes. I found it difficult to ignite passionate eye contact when I was presented with the distraction of his cock expertly grazing against my g spot with every fervent jerk of his hips.

He wrapped a large hand around my neck. My pulse rose to the top of my skin as black spots began to cloud my vision.

“Come on, ma belle, be my good girl. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

I exhaled a shuddering breath.

“F-fuck… you feel so good inside me Vincent.”

I gulped.

“Y-your cock feels so good.”

Vincent’s skin began to sheen with a thin layer of perspiration. The unruly strands of brown hair deepened in color as they stuck to his forehead. I moaned pornographically as the grip on my neck constricted once more. My jaw dropped. The brief lack of oxygen only added to the flurry of incoherent thoughts bouncing around my skull.

“Oh, my, you’re such a good girl for me.”

He gulped, a soft sigh escaping his swollen lips.

“You’re taking me so well.”

The erotic words combined with his smooth accent contributed to the tightening of my lower abdomen.

I was close, dangerously close.

I could feel my body reaching the edge, and I would soon fall into a state of euphoria.

Vincent’s adjusted his hips ever so slightly, his tip now reaching deeper than before.

I instinctively turned my head away. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I buried my face into the bed. My brow furrowed. My eyes squeezed shut as I anticipated my release.

Vincent utilized his thumb to reposition my face.

“No, don’t look away. Be my good girl and look me in the eyes.”

I forced my eyelids open, meeting his piercing stare as ever so slightly increased the frequency of his thrusts. Every instinct beckoned me to throw my head back, but I fought the desire. And, I instead kept my eyes fixated on Vincent’s blown pupils that had almost entirely consumed his irises.

“I want to watch you. I want to see your face as you cum all over my cock.”

I gave him a slight nod, indicating that I could hear while trapped in my lustful stupor.

His hand traveled downwards, gently caressing my curves before reaching my swollen clit. Vincent applied gentle pressure, and, with that, I let go.

I kept my eyes fixated on him, allowing my face to contort as it pleased.

Vincent groaned loudly, his cum coating my walls.

He continued to fuck me throguh my orgasm. His movements gradually slowed as the fog of euphoria began to dissipate. My chest rose and collapsed with fervor.

When I deemed it safe to break eye contact, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut. Suddenly, I became aware of the gravitational pull the bed exerted on my body.

Jesus, I was exhausted.

Vincent removed his cock from my core. However, he remained atop me, tenderly pushing my unkempt hair back to create mild uniformity.

“You may stay here, if you’d like, for however long you wish.”

His voice was as it had been prior to our physical encounter.

I giggled, my mouth breaking into a slight smile.

“Your house is magnificent.”

I met his gaze, his eyes now possessing a tender quality.

“I don’t know if I ever want to leave.”

I said with a scoff.

A smirk played on the corner of his lips.

“Then don’t, stay here for as long as your heart desires.”

#marquis de gramont x reader #marquis x reader #marquis de gramont #john wick series #john wick smut #john wick movies #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick #john wick 4 #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skargard #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard icons

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renshengs · 7 months ago

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fate/命运 and the 大梦归离 fangs of fortune finale

the choice that zhuo yichen makes during his and zhao yuanzhou's final confrontation is one of the loveliest and most profound decisions in writing and narrative that i have seen.

zhuo yichen choosing to be the one who stabs zhao yuanzhou makes for a conclusion wonderfully juxtaposed with yinglong and bingyi's ending, where yinglong does the impaling himself to free bingyi of that burden.

in a story like this, a story fundamentally a tragedy and haunted by the cycle of fate as so many xianxia stories are, fangs of fortune has its own way of exploring the concept of fate/destiny. that it is, as both zhao yuanzhou and zhuo yichen's are, a story written long before you were born, a story determined by all that came before you. like zhuo yichen says in episode 23, "no matter how many times i read [this book], the ending is always the same".

and it's true—fangs of fortune does not try to lead you away from this. once the direction of the story becomes clear, it never tries to convince you otherwise. but during their final confrontation, zhuo yichen's choice is both an acknowledgment and a statement. yes, he and zhao yuanzhou are caught in this cycle of continuous death and grief. yes, they cannot escape it. there was never any other way. but still—even the smallest of changes can dictate a shift in the narrative. zhuo yichen couldn't refuse to kill zhao yuanzhou, but he could change the way he did it. he could take on the burden of grief. he could choose to be different from bingyi.

it's a fantastic depiction of 命运/mingyun, which is often translated as the most common chinese term for "fate". if you're an avid cdrama fan you'll see this term being thrown around a lot, and i think it's important to note that the concept of mingyun is more about the interactions between predetermination and individual choice, which separates it from the idea that fate/destiny is one straightforward, rigid path.

what i mean is, you can never escape the cycle of fate, but you can change the angle at which it flows.

applied to zhuo yichen and zhao yuanzhou: again and again, a bingyi clan swordsman will someday be forced to slay his dearest friend for the sake of saving the world. this is their mingyun; the ending is predetermined, but even so, this doesn't mean it leaves them with no choices at all. and their last confrontation is an example of this. zhuo yichen couldn't save his dearest zhiji, his beloved friend, but he could free him of the guilt yinglong shouldered for bingyi all those generations ago. he could make it his own to carry, and, in doing so, turn their last confrontation into his final act of love instead of a choice made from fear, from hesitation. the end doesn't change—zhao yuanzhou still dies, and zhuo yichen has to walk the world without him just as bingyi had to live on after losing yinglong. but that choice matters; that choice was his to make with his own two hands. and it is not less impactful because zhao yuanzhou was going to die anyway; it was made out of a selflessness and consideration that, as we see in the extra epilogue episode, will set their legacy apart from their ancestors'.

in a genre so heavy with the idea of fate/destiny and the ways it impacts our lives, fangs of fortune brings itself to a conclusion with a particularly loving twist that truly takes to heart the idea of mingyun and how we live with it—that the choices you make, no matter how small and limited, are always meaningful, even if they don't change how the story ends.

#can you tell i really like this show. Can you #大梦归离 #fangs of fortune #zhao yuanzhou #zhuo yichen #sheng says stuff

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gyuwoncheol · 2 years ago

Text

Worth It

Pair: Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: Smut smut smut. Pwp. Fiancé!Mingyu, established relationship. 18+ only (MDNI).

Summary: Basically what happens when you tell Mingyu you’re his for the whole night.

Warnings: Mingyu in a white button down (this deserves a warning, yes), pwp, slight soft dom!Mingyu, very brief mention of dying but more as an expression, marking, oral (f. and m. receiving), unprotected piv sex (stay safe, children), wall sex, fingering, hand job, multiple orgasms, cum eating, brief light spanking, biting (it's actually just nipping), light anal rimming, squirting, overstimulation, use of color system, dirty talk, praise, use of pet names (good girl, greedy girl, baby), Gyu actually being really sweet if you look at the tiny details, mention of a married Jeonghan, speeding while driving (do NOT do this). Please let me know if I missed something!

WC: 3.5k

Author’s Note: I was working on 2 other wips when Mingyu just wouldn’t leave me alone. This is the result of that. Not my best work and not thoroughly proofread. But it is what it is. I just really needed to get this out of my system because the man is killing me. My inbox is very much open if you wanna thirst on Gyu with me!

Smut directly under the cut

“Gyu, if you keep touching me like that, i’m gonna wanna suck you off” you warned, swatting your fiancé’s hand away from your thigh

“I don’t see why that’s a problem” He shrugged happily, knuckles gripping onto the steering wheel tighter, excited at your proposition

“It’s a problem because you always close your eyes when you cum. You’re going to crash the car. I’d like to get fucked tonight, not die in an accident”

Mingyu laughed at your statement, not even disagreeing in the slightest bit. Yes you were both horny, but safety always came first, especially when it came to you. He wasn’t so sure what came over you. One moment you were both happily celebrating the wedding of your friends, and the next, you were whispering the dirtiest things in his ear during what he thought would be a romantic slow dance with you on the dancefloor.

Who could blame you though? Your fiancé looked every bit of scrumptious in his white button down today, plus he perfectly played his role of doting fiancé through the night: always holding your hand, always keeping you in his line of sight in the rare moments you two were separated, and always whispering 'i love you's'. He tried to be nice and not rush out the wedding venue right after the dance, and he succeeded for a while, but as the party drew on, it was getting more difficult to hide his boner so he practically dragged you to the car whilst waving a quick goodbye to your friends.

"It's not my fault you're getting me riled up the whole night" he reasoned

"It's also not my fault I'm engaged to the sexiest man in the world"

Mingyu raised his brow at you whilst stopped at a red light, "it kinda is though... You did say yes when I proposed"

"Then you better show me it was worth it" You challenged

Just as the lights turned green, Mingyu could feel his dick twitch in his pants and he swore he never pressed on that gas pedal faster than he did.

He couldn't even wait for you to unlock your doors before he was already kissing down your neck, his whole body pressed onto your back so you could feel his hard on. The feeling of his wet tongue on your burning skin had you fiddling for the wrong keys "Gyu! Slow down! I need to get us in" You pleaded with your source of distraction, "I'm yours the whole night, just let me get our keys right"

"That's funny, you definitely weren't telling me to slow down or wait longer while you whispered all those things on the dance floor... But I will take you up on the offer of having you all night. That is noted" he said the last sentence in a low growl, sending chills down your spine.

Thankfully, the right key finally clicked and your door flew wide open. Mingyu drove you to the closest wall, your head lightly thumping against the hard surface.

"shit! sorry baby" Mingyu's eyes grew wide, his hand immediately reaching over to the back of your head, worried he had just hurt you.

You couldn't even care less, pushing your lips back on his for another kiss but Mingyu stopped you with his free hand, keeping you at half an arm's length. "No, no. I need to know. Are you okay?"

You saw just how quickly his eyes went from horny to caring and it got you even more turned on.

"I'm okay baby, hardly even felt it" You rushed out, reaching for his neck to draw you closer to his lips again. This time, with his full cooperation.

It was everything but calm and collected. Mingyu didn't even leave you any room to fight for dominance as his tongue explored your mouth feverishly.

He groaned when he felt your nails scratch lightly at his chest, his buttons now all undone and giving you access to his tanned skin. You slowly made your way through his chest, leaving love bites where you could and stripping him off the shirt. When your knees hit the floor, you excitedly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his black slacks, exposing his very hard cock that was fighting for release from the confines of his boxers which you eventually freed.

His angry tip momentarily brushed your lips as it sprang up against his stomach and Mingyu let out a moan from the brief contact. He just about died when you gently held his shaft, your tongue sticking out and just centimeters away from where he wanted you. It was as if time stopped for Mingyu. If he just knew where his phone was, he would have definitely memorialized this in a photo.

Mingyu's precum was right there and you just needed to taste it, swiping your tongue fully on his tip before swirling it around him. You heard him curse which only prodded you even more, your thumb gently pressing down on where your tongue was just a few seconds ago as you slowly started to pump him up and down with both hands. The harder you worked him up, the more precum oozed out of him and everytime it did, you repeated the motion of pressing down on his tip before twisting your hands on his length.

"Fuck baby, pleaseee" His voice strained. There was something about seeing that diamond ring on your finger as it wrapped around his cock that always got him in a mess

"Hm?" you blinked innocently, looking up at him through your lashes

"Mouth.. Tongue.. Please, I—" He stuttered and that was all you needed to finally get your lips wrapped around him, sucking with a fervor that had your fiance's eyes rolling to the back of his head. The taste of him sending a gush of wetness between your legs.

Mingyu's mouth hung wide open, letting every whimper and moan come out in full volume as you slowly took more of his length with every bob of your head. You retracted when you were half way through, making sure your tongue was dragging on the underside of his cock to add to the sensation. A string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick.

"Been wanting this the whole night" you mumbled before letting more of your saliva drool onto his cock, earning a groan from your fiancé

You pumped him several more times with your hand before your mouth took him in again. This time, you took your time swirling your tongue and sucking him in, slowly making sure you were able to stuff as much of him down your throat.

"Babyy— fuck, k-keep going" He encouraged. His large hand still behind your head, not pushing but also not letting you move away.

You relaxed your jaw more and willed yourself to breathe through your nose. You moaned when he hit the back of your throat and it set goosebumps all over his body, a strained call of your name reverberating through the walls of your house. Your fingers covered what the rest of your mouth couldn’t and you synced your movements enough to have Mingyu jerking in no time

"So fucking good. Swallowing me so well"

Your tongue continued to move back and forth on the underside of his cock while your throat continued to spasm and your hand played with his balls. When you had adjusted well enough, you squeezed his right thigh to indicate you were good to go and he could fuck your face.

And fuck your face, he did.

With your mouth open wide and tongue sticking out, your fiancé went to town. His hand now fisted your hair in a ponytail as his cock continuously rammed through your throat, hitting the back every single time. You thanked yourself for wearing your toughest waterproof makeup and setting spray because at the rate Mingyu was going, you were definitely tearing up and drooling. As his movements stuttered, you held tightly to the back of his thighs so you could swallow as much of him as you can.

Mingyu closed his eyes shut at the feeling of your tight throat squeezing his cock, "Shit, baby I- I'm so c-close"

You moaned one more time, setting him off as his pelvis jerked and you saw his head fall back.with a groan. Thick spurts of his cum coated your throat and it only made you moan against him harder, fully adding onto the stimulation your fiancé was feeling. You swallowed thickly with all he had to give you, milking out Mingyu to the very last drop.

"FUCK" He exhaled, finally stilling you by the shoulders and slipping out. You gasped for air and wiped your face with the back of your hand, a tantalizing smile staring up at Mingyu

He noted how you swallowed him dry and wiped the tears that stained your cheek.

"My good girl.”

You smiled at him, proud of the work you've done and the praise you got. "Your good girl" you repeated

"Cmere" he called, helping you up hastily and trapping you against the wall for the second time that night

His hand found its place again behind your head, cushioning it from the wall, while the other was hiking up your long silky dress.

"Gyu..." You inhaled sharply when his mouth latched onto your collar bone, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Just then you felt his fingers cup your pussy and you both moaned at the feeling

"Fuck baby, no panties?"

You shook your head, biting your lower lip to contain the cheeky smile forming

"Why didn't you tell me? We could've gone home as soon as Jeonghan said 'I Do'… y/n, you're leaking" Your fiance stated the obvious when he brushed your thighs, not even giving you the chance to answer his question

“All you, Gyu”

You saw his pupils blow out at your statement, a cocky smirk written all over his face, two thick fingers immediately slipping into your wet hole “What’s that?”

“S-shit..” you gasped, “it’s you. All cause of you.” you repeated, body jerking at the way his fingers hooked on your insides

“My good girl already so wet just sucking me off huh? Didn’t even need to touch you to have your sweet pussy soaking"

"oh my go— Oh god"

If the squelching sounds you could hear weren’t enough an indication to how wet you were, surely the slippery sensation in your pussy and thighs were

"Jump" you heard Mingyu demand and you lifted your feet off in no time. His strong arms supporting you by the thighs, his hands just below your pussy where he definitely felt some of your juices dripping. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you were now perfectly sandwiched between the concrete wall and your human wall.

"Mingyu" you mewled, forehead dropping to his shoulder when you felt the tip of his cock slip right into your cunt. Your body involuntarily moved higher but Mingyu was quick enough to pull you down, sheathing a few more inches of his length inside you

"Look at you, so wet, you don't even need prep to take me" He praised, pushing another inch further into you as another strangled moan ripped through your throat

Soon enough, your pussy was contracting against Mingyu's dick, the slight pain present awhile ago was now coming in waves of pleasure for you.

"S'good thing you're soaking baby 'case you're tight pussy's sucking me in so well"

Mingyu couldn't stop whispering dirty things in your ear, prodding you enough until you were exerting all your upper body strength to bounce on his cock. A couple times he would completely slip out with how wet you were but he was always quick enough to sheath himself back into your hole before you could fully whine.

"babyyyy" You moaned, the orgasm suddenly appearing hot in your heels already. "m'close. Please.."

"Please what, m' love?" Mingyu thrusted deeply, hitting your gspot with perfect accuracy. If he hadn't held you so tightly, you were sure you would’ve fallen out

"Cum... P-please. Please let me cu--" the last word dying in your throat when he fully withdrew his cock only to push it right in with double the force of the last. You were seeing stars and the knot in your stomach was holding on for dear life.

"My good girl wants to cum?"

"YES!" You cried out, "Please.. was good. I w-was good"

Mingyu chuckled, thoroughly enjoying how broken you sounded when begging for release. With a low whisper to your ear, he let you have what you asked for "Let go, baby"

If Mingyu wasn't back to being fully erect awhile ago, then he is now with the way your gummy walls clamped so tightly around him, your orgasm flowing through you as your fiancé moved his body against yours in soft body rolls to help you ride out your orgasm.

"so good, Gyu. So good.. so good" you chanted with hushed tones

When he felt you calm down, Mingyu planted a kiss on your temple telling you to 'hang tight' when he suddenly lifted you off the wall and made large strides to the stairwell of your home, all while still being inside you. In a moment, he opened your bedroom door, stopping at the light switch for you to flick it on.

"Y/n" he called you in a tone that sent shivers down your spine. He was now standing at the edge of your king sized bed, eyes staring deep into your soul. "Dress off" he demanded.

It was only then you realised how he had been fully naked since forever ago while you were still definitely covered in silk and cotton. You threw the material on the floor at the same time Mingyu slipped out of you and threw you to the bed, your body lightly bouncing on the mattress sending you into a giggles

"I love you" you declared to the man still standing tall with his arms crossed at the edge of your bed. Your eyes glanced at his cock that stood against his stomach, still glistening with your slick, before raking up his toned abs and then back to his face.

"I love you baby" Mingyu replied with a smile that boasted his canines

It was romantic really, but only for a few seconds, because when Mingyu saw your cum drip out of your hole, his pointer finger made quick work to scoop it up and plug it back in your hole. The gasp you let out had him flashing you a devilish grin, one you knew all too well.

He lifted your legs slowly, placing them over his shoulders while he maintained eye contact with you, his face inching closer and closer. The smell of your sex just making his dick twitch for the nth time that night. When he deemed himself close enough, he blew cold air on your pussy, enough to make your hips buck up, immediately latching his mouth onto your wet folds. A strangled moan of his name was the first thing he heard, followed by the lewd squelches his mouth made against your cunt.

"Ooohhh my goooood, Mingyuuuuu" you drawled out when his tongue entered your hole, slurping all the cum he had just caught a few seconds ago

He beamed when he finished swallowing your juices, his face lifting up with a toothy grin, "So sweet. All mine" he declared, before licking a fat stripe from your hole to your clit.

Your moans got louder the more he controlled your writhing in bed, not at all caring that you were about to get wrecked with another orgasm with the way his mouth was making out with your pussy: licking through your folds, sucking and swirling on your clit, pumping his tongue in and out of your hole. He felt your fingers run through his hair before harshly pulling at the strands but it only prodded him more. Taking hold of your legs, he raised them forward so you were now folded in half. A growl rumbled through his chest when he saw just how puffy your pussy got from what he did.

Mingyu delivered two light spanks on your ass before he dove back in to nip and suck at your skin before soothing it with his tongue. The feeling of his teeth grazing your inner thigh was a welcomed addition to every sensation you were feeling down there.

"Keep going, Gyu" You panted, "Please"

Your fiancé didn't need to be told twice, making sure he didn't leave any area of your pussy uncovered. Between the light spanking, sucking and nipping, the skin on your thighs were now blooming a bright shade of pink.

He knew you were close when your right leg trembled with a jerk.

"Cmon, baby. Be my good girl and cum for me.."

Your eyes met his briefly before pushing his head down to meet your hip. Your orgasm was right there, you could feel it wanting to fall, to break, but you needed something more you couldn't exactly pin point. You squeezed your breasts with your free hand but to no avail. Your fiance's tongue was slurping from your hole, his nose stimulating your clit, yet it wasn't enough.

"Gyuuu.... So c-close, pleaaase! N-need mo-oore"

It's a good thing Mingyu knew your body more than you did, because the moment you felt his thumb tease the tight rim of your ass, you didn't only cum, you squirted.

“FUCK, YES” Mingyu celebrated

A silent scream racked through your chest, knocking all air out of your lungs. If your ears weren't just ringing so loudly, you would've heard Mingyu moan out more curse words before diving into your cunt to lap up everything he could. In just a few seconds, your back was arching again as you fought to push his mouth off you. Your whole body was shaking from that earth shattering orgasm, your pussy feeling like it was on fire as overstimulation crept in.

Mingyu laced his fingers through your hand but his attempt to ground you was contradicting the words that came out of his mouth.

"Don’t push me away, baby. Thought you needed more? didn't think my good girl was gonna be a greedy one tonight"

He was chuckling at how far gone you were, mumbling incoherent words to him. All he could really make out was the occasional call of his name.

"Baby.." you groaned desperately when you felt him leave light kisses on the knuckles of your hand that he was holding

"Hmm?"

"I—" you stammered, between the wetness of your sheets and your insides still trembling, you weren't really sure how to string words together

"Does my greedy girl want more?" Mingyu's brow raised, the tone in his voice suggesting that he was not done with you yet. You felt his whole body hover over you, a comforting warmth that made you feel safe and loved despite every single dirty thing he was just doing to you.

"You can give me more, right baby?" Your fiancé asked while one hand pumped his hard cock languidly

"you did say I could have you the whole night… you meant that, right?"

Mingyu saw you look at him in a daze, nodding eagerly even though he knew his words were still registering in your brain

"Y/n, baby… color." He cleared out, wanting to make sure you really did want this. He could read you well in moments like this, but even if he did, Mingyu always made sure he heard the words from you.

He saw you pause and he was ready to drop everything, ready to scoop you in a cuddle then run you a warm bath while he changed the sheets. He could care less if he didn't get to cum a second time tonight, at least he had his fair share awhile ago. But he waited patiently for your words.

The silence lingered long enough that he felt like asking the question again, just in case you didn't hear him.

"G-green, Gyu" you choked out, your throat feeling dry as the desert "But... could I get some water, please?" You asked, your face wincing at how difficult it was to form that one sentence alone.

You were sure it had only been two seconds since you asked, yet your fiancé was already helping you sit up, a jug of water with a straw in hand so you could quench your thirst. Mingyu gently cupped your cheek as you drank, his thumb caressing your skin before planting a soft kiss on your forehead

You smiled gratefully at him after drinking probably half the jug, "Thank you, babe"

He drank some water too before settling it down on the floor, and then facing you. The crinkles on his eyes were showing and despite having his hair stick out in odd places, he still was the most handsome man you've laid your eyes on.

"I love you, y/n"

You closed the gap between you, a chaste kiss on his lips despite getting a slight taste of yourself. "I love you, Gyu"

Your hand held the back of his neck, the mischievous glint in your eyes making a reappearance after that necessary water break. Mingyu's devilish grin followed suit too when you uttered your next words, a redeclaration of how this all began.

"I'm yours the whole night."

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kamosaki · 27 days ago

Text

Folded

Pairing: Toji x Wife!Reader

Summary: You just wanted to do the laundry and Toji just wanted to do you

Warnings: Swearing, smut (mdni), oral f!receiving, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex

Your back ached as you bent down to put yet another load of laundry in the washing machine. Practically everyone in the house was out of clothes. Lucky for you the kids were at your parents for the night so you could just wear Toji's shirt and an old pair of underwear. But not so lucky for you this outfit drove your husband crazy.

"C'mon mama, you know how long it's been since I seen that pretty ass in a thong, just bend over f'me." Toji was kneading at the flesh of your ass as he leaned up against you. You paid him no mind as you got clothes out of the dryer and through them in the laundry basket.

"The last time I wore a thong I got pregnant." you say as you place the basket on your hip and head to your bedroom. "I remember that night, I fucked you so good you were crying. Then you cried again when you saw those two pink lines." he laughs.

You smack his chest before setting the laundry basket on the bed. "Thats not funny." He stretches across the bed in front of you so there's no where to fold the clothes. "Excuse you, I'm trying to fold our laundry." You attempt to push him off the bed but he doesn't budge.

"And I'm trying to fold my wife but she's too worried about our kids socks." he says as he puts his hand behind his head and closes his eyes. "What does that even mean?" You go to move the basket yet again but suddenly you feel your husband's arms wrapped around your waist and you're being tossed on the bed.

"What the hell Toji?" He's got you on your back with your knees pressed all the way to your chest. "This is what I meant, mama." he whispers against your neck. All that separates his aching boner and your dampening cunt is your thong and his sweatpants.

"But the clothes..." you say knowing you really don't care about the laundry anymore. "Fuck the laundry. You gonna let me have a taste or what." You throw your head back before nodding. He lowers himself as he pulls your panties to the side. "Hold your legs back doll."

You move to keep your legs spread the way they are. "Atta girl." He licks a stripe all the way up your leaking folds. "Taste so good mama. Love this pussy." You clench at his vulgar words. "You clenchin around nothing? Lemme fix that." He runs a finger through your folds before slipping inside.

A moan escapes you as you feel him suckle your clit. The blend of the two sensations has you reeling. "That feel good, doll?" The only reply he gets is a whine as you start squirming beneath him. He lifts his face from your soaked core. "Don't start running now, we just getting started."

"Babe, please." you beg. "Be patient, mama. Ima give it to you good." He lowers his sweatpants to pull out his aching cock. No matter how many times you sleep with your husband his size always intimidated you. You gasp when you feel him nudge against your clit. He collects your arousal on his tip before gently starting to slide in.

He's holding your legs now. He watches your hands ball into fists as your body adjusts to the intrusion. "Doing so good f'me. Look so pretty taking me like this." You look away, the praises suddenly making you grow shy.

"Keep your eyes on me doll. Wanna see how good I make you feel." He bottoms out with this statement. He lifts your legs so they're against his shoulders now. You can feel every inch of him like this. Gently, he pulls his hips back before thrusting forward. You throw your head back in pleasure. "What'd I say about looking away?"

He grabs the back of your head and forces you to look at where the two of you are connected. It's a vulgar sight, watching how he slips in and out of you. That being said, you can't look away. "You like seeing chow I stretch that pussy out, mama?" he asks with a harsh thrust. "Yes!" you cry out and he finally lets you lay your head back down.

He's thrusts are rough now. The bed frame squeaks with every move, the beds a mess, and you can't even form a coherent thought. "Mmm." you whine not even fully aware your doing it. Toji leans down so your eye to eye. "What was that, doll?" He doesn't slow his brutal pace, if anything he started going even harder.

"I-ah." you try and fail at answering him. "You gonna cum? That way your tying to say?" He feels as you clench down around him. Having been together so long, he knows your body and it's queues. "Mhm." you nod, agreeing.

"Me too, mama. You gonna let me cum in this pussy?" Toji asks into your neck, placing gentle kisses wherever he can reach. Your eyes flutter closed feeling him on your neck. "Yes, please cum in me." Thats the first full sentence you've been able to say in a while and he was listening.

You feel his hand slip between your bodies and start toying with your clit. Your nails dig into his biceps as you feel your orgasm building. Tojis thrusts get increasingly sloppy as he nears his own high. You cry out as you let go.

Tojis not far behind you, soon you feel him pumping his release inside you. He practically collapses on top of you as you feel his entire body weight press you into the mattress. Slowly he pulls out, careful due to how sensitive you are.

Just as he's about to speak the sound indicating the washing machine is done goes off. "Damnit." Instantly you're up and on your feet. At least you were for about a second before your legs gave out on you. You hear Toji laughing on the bed above you. "It's not funny, asshole."

A/n: Wrote this instead of folding my own laundry </3

Check out more of my stuff here!! :p

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji x y/n #kamosaki

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gyuldaengie97 · 2 months ago

Text

EYES ON ME

OLDStranger!mingyu x YNGStranger!reader

In a moment of introspection, thirty-two-year-old Y/n finds herself at ‘Revel,’ a club catering to a more sophisticated crowd. Feeling adrift after a lackluster relationship and a stagnant career, she becomes captivated by a mysterious man named Mingyu, who exudes a calm, commanding presence. Their connection sparks an intense

Word count:2K+

Warnings: dom!mingyu, a little bit smut

My first time writting something please give love and comment,let me know what you think of it ☺️

The bass thrummed in my chest, a familiar, slightly melancholic rhythm that usually served as a temporary anesthetic for the low hum of dissatisfaction I carried around lately. It was a Friday night, and I was doing what I often did when the quiet of my apartment felt too loud: I was at ‘Revel,’ a club known for its slightly older, more sophisticated crowd than the haunts I’d frequented in my early twenties. At thirty-two, I felt adrift. My last relationship had sputtered out with a whimper, my career felt stable but uninspiring, and the future seemed less like an open road and more like a gently sloping plateau. I needed... something. I wasn’t sure what.

I nursed a gin and tonic, watching the kaleidoscope of dancers. The energy was infectious, but I felt like a spectator, separated by an invisible wall. Then I saw him.

He wasn't dancing. He stood near the bar, away from the main crush, holding a glass of amber liquid. What drew my eye wasn't his clothes – a simple dark shirt that fit well – but the sheer stillness of him amidst the chaos. He was a rock in a swirling current. He must have been in his late forties, maybe early fifties. Silver threaded his dark hair at the temples, giving him an air of distinction. His face wasn't classically handsome, but strong, with sharp angles and deep-set eyes that seemed to absorb everything without giving much away.

And then, those eyes met mine across the crowded room.

It wasn't a fleeting glance. He held my gaze, direct and unwavering. It felt like the music faded, the lights dimmed, and the surrounding bodies dissolved. There was a palpable intensity in his look, a quiet confidence that bordered on something primal. My stomach did a strange flip. It wasn't just attraction; it felt like recognition, like stepping onto solid ground after being buffeted by waves.

He didn't smile. He simply lifted his glass slightly, a silent acknowledgment. My hand trembled as I lifted mine in return.

He took a slow sip, his eyes still locked on mine. It wasn't predatory, not in a way that felt threatening. It was possessive. As if he had seen me, and I was now his to observe. My skin felt warm.

He finished his drink, set the glass down deliberately, and began to walk towards me. He moved with a calm, unhurried grace that contrasted sharply with the jerky movements of the dancers. As he got closer, the air around me seemed to thicken. He didn't navigate the crowd; the crowd simply parted for him.

He stopped a foot away, close enough that I could see the fine lines etched around his eyes, the thoughtful set of his mouth. He smelled faintly of something clean and expensive.

"Y/n," he said, his voice low and resonant, cutting through the noise effortlessly. Not soft, but controlled, like a powerful engine idling. How did he know my name? I hadn't spoken to anyone. He must have heard me talking to the bartender earlier.

"Yes...?" My voice was breathy, uncertain.

"Mingyu." It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact. Mingyu. The name suited him.

He didn't ask if he could join me. He simply turned slightly, indicating the small space next to me at the bar. It was an assumption of permission, not a request. And I found myself shifting instinctively to make room.

"You looked... a little lost in the music," he said, finally breaking the intense gaze, though his focus remained entirely on me.

"Maybe just observing," I replied, finding my voice, trying to sound more composed than I felt.

He tilted his head, a small, knowing gesture. "Or waiting to be found?"

My cheeks heated. It was a bold statement, intimate, almost challenging. "Maybe," I admitted, surprising myself with my honesty.

"And have you been?" His eyes were back on mine, searching, assessing.

I held his gaze. This was different. This wasn't the usual club small talk. There was depth and intent behind every word. "I'm not sure yet."

A slow, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. It didn't reach his eyes, which remained serious, but it transformed his face, hinting at a warmth I hadn't expected. "Let's find out," he said.

He ordered another drink, his hand resting casually on the bar near mine. His fingers were long and strong. Every movement he made was economical, purposeful. He didn't fidget, didn't scan the room. His attention was solely on me, and it was intoxicating.

We talked for perhaps an hour, but the details of the conversation are hazy now. It wasn't about jobs or hobbies. It was about perspectives, feelings, the quiet dissatisfactions of life, the search for meaning. He listened more than he spoke, nodding occasionally, his eyes never leaving my face. When he did speak, his words were measured, thoughtful, occasionally punctuated by a dry wit that made me laugh.

He had a way of looking at me that made me feel completely seen, flaws and all, and still desired. It was unnerving and exhilarating. There was a constant undercurrent of intensity, a sense of something coiled and powerful beneath his calm exterior.

At some point, he reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from my cheek. His touch was light, but sent a jolt through me. "The music is getting louder," he observed, his voice still steady despite the rising volume around us. "Shall we find somewhere quieter?"

It wasn't a question. It was a direction. And my only thought was yes.

We didn't go to another bar. He led me out of the club, his hand lightly on the small of my back – a possessive touch, guiding me through the exiting crowd. He flagged a taxi with a decisive gesture, opened the door for me, and slid in beside me.

The ride was silent, comfortable. The air in the taxi was still, a stark contrast to the club. I could feel the warmth radiating from his side, the solid presence of him next to me. My heart hammered against my ribs, anticipation coiled in my stomach. Where were we going? I didn't ask. I trusted him implicitly in that moment, a trust born purely of instinct and the powerful connection we'd forged in the noisy heart of the club.

He paid the driver without a word, his movements efficient and practiced. We were standing in front of a modern apartment building, sleek and understated. He didn't fumble for keys; he used a card key with practiced ease.

His apartment was beautiful. Minimalist, spacious, filled with muted colours and interesting art. It felt calm, ordered, a sanctuary. It reflected him perfectly – controlled, sophisticated, with hidden depths.

He didn't turn on many lights, just a few soft lamps that cast pools of warm light. The city lights twinkled through the large windows. He offered me a drink. I shook my head, my throat too dry.

He didn't push. He simply nodded, took my hand, and led me further into the apartment. His touch was firm, confident. He didn't ask if I wanted this. He knew. And somehow, so did I.

He stopped in the middle of the living room, turning to face me. His grip on my hand tightened slightly. His eyes, in the soft light, held a depth that was almost overwhelming. The quiet confidence I’d sensed earlier solidified into something more. This wasn't about polite consent; this was about a mutual, unspoken understanding of what was about to happen, and a willingness on my part to cede control.

He didn't rush. His gaze traced my features, lingering on my eyes, my lips. It was a slow, deliberate undressing with his eyes alone. A silent command to stand still, to be looked at. And I obeyed, captivated.

When he finally spoke, his voice was even lower than in the club, a soft rumble that vibrated through me. "You are beautiful, Y/n."

He lifted my hand, bringing it to his lips. He didn't kiss it; he simply pressed his lips to my skin, a brief, focused touch that was more intimate than any kiss. It was a claiming.

Then, still holding my hand, he began to unbutton my dress. Slowly. One button at a time. Not with urgency, but with meticulous care, his eyes watching mine for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt. There was none. Only a rising tide of desire and a strange sense of peace in relinquishing control.

As the dress parted, revealing the skin beneath, his gaze intensified. He didn't shower me with compliments; his focus was entirely on the physical process, the unveiling. It was incredibly erotic.

When the dress slipped to the floor, he stepped closer, closing the small distance between us. He didn't touch me yet, but I could feel the heat emanating from his body. He looked at me, standing in my slip, with an expression that was purely, intensely masculine desire, controlled and powerful.

He lifted his hands, cupping my face gently. His thumbs stroked my cheekbones. "Look at me," he commanded softly, and my eyes, which had instinctively fluttered closed for a second, snapped back open. He needed my full attention, my complete presence.

He kissed me then. It wasn't tentative or exploring. It was deep, immediate, consuming. His mouth on mine was firm, demanding, but not rough. It was a kiss that took, that claimed ownership of the moment, of my response. My hands found their way to his neck, my fingers tangling in the short hair at his nape, pulling him closer.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against mine, both of us breathing heavily. "To the bedroom," he murmured, his voice rougher now. It wasn't a suggestion.

He led me by the hand, through the dimly lit apartment, towards the bedroom. The sheets on the bed were crisp and white. He didn't ask me to sit or lie down. He simply gestured, a subtle turn of his head towards the bed. It was understood.

I sat on the edge, my legs feeling unexpectedly weak. He stood over me for a moment, his gaze intense. He didn't undress himself yet. His focus remained solely on me, on my body, on my reactions.

He knelt down in front of me, slowly, deliberately. My breath hitched. He reached for my feet, his large hands gentle yet purposeful as he slipped off my shoes. Then, his fingers traced the line of my legs beneath the slip, slowly, deliberately massaging my calves upwards towards my thighs. His touch was knowing, awakening nerve endings I hadn’t realized were dormant.

He didn't ask if I liked it. He simply did it, watching my face, responding to the subtle shifts in my expression, the quickening of my breath. It was a dance of silent communication, of command and willing surrender.

He was in control, completely and utterly. And as I sat there, vulnerable and exposed under his gaze and touch, I realized with a jolt that this was exactly what I had been waiting for, what I had unknowingly craved. The relinquishing of agency, the freedom that came with letting someone else take the lead entirely. It wasn't weakness; it was a profound trust, a release.

He stood up and finally began to undress himself. His movements were slow, unhurried, building the tension. When he was naked, he was magnificent. His body was lean and strong, sculpted by time perhaps, but powerful. There was a scar on his shoulder I briefly wondered about, but my focus was drawn back to his eyes as he turned towards me.

He didn't rush onto the bed. He stood there for a moment, allowing me to look, claiming my gaze just as he claimed everything else.

"Lie down, Y/n," he said, his voice a low command that resonated deep within me.

I obeyed instantly, my body anticipating his touch. The sheets were cool against my skin. He came onto the bed, his weight settling beside me. He didn't immediately cover me. He continued to look, to touch, to explore with his hands, his mouth, his gaze.

His touch was both firm and incredibly sensitive. He knew exactly where to touch, how much pressure to apply. He explored my body with a quiet intensity, a deliberate pleasure in discovering every curve, every sensitive spot. He didn't ask for permission; his touch was an assumption of welcome, and I welcomed it completely.

He positioned my body subtly, guiding my legs, my hips, with a firm hand. He was deliberate, taking charge of every movement, every angle. There was no fumbling, no hesitation. Just a clear, confident direction that I found myself eagerly following. It was the erotic manifestation of the control he exuded in every other aspect of his being.

When he finally entered me, it was not a sudden thrust, but a slow, deep claiming. His eyes were locked on mine, watching for my reaction, ensuring I was with him every step of the way, even as he led.

He set the pace, a steady, deep rhythm that built slowly, relentlessly. His hands were on my hips, controlling the movement, guiding me. He leaned down, his voice a low murmur against my ear, words that were both descriptive and commanding, pushing me further, urging my surrender.

I clung to him, lost in the intensity, the sheer pleasure of being completely consumed by his presence, his touch, his will. It was raw, powerful, and utterly exhilarating. Every instinct was focused on him, on responding to his commands, on giving myself over to the experience he was orchestrating.

The climax, when it came, was shattering, a wave that broke over me, leaving me breathless and trembling in his arms. He didn't withdraw immediately, holding me tightly, letting the tremors subside.

He finally collapsed beside me, still holding me, his breathing deep and even. He didn't speak for a long time. He simply held me, his hand stroking my hair.

Lying there in the quiet after the storm, wrapped in his arms, the city lights a soft glow outside the window, a profound sense of peace washed over me. It wasn't just the aftermath of physical release; it was the sense of having found something real, something intense, in a world that had felt increasingly flimsy.

I fell asleep like that, held securely against the solid warmth of his body.

The next morning, I woke slowly, the unfamiliar surroundings coming into focus. The sun was filtering through the curtains, casting soft lines across the room. I was still in his bed. He was awake, propped up on an elbow, watching me.

There was no awkwardness, no rush. His gaze was softer than the night before, but still held that depth, that steady attention.

"Good morning, Y/n," he said simply, his voice calm.

"Good morning, Mingyu."

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face, the same gesture as the night before, but softer. "Sleep well?"

"Yes," I admitted, a little smile touching my lips. "Surprisingly."

He smiled back, a genuine, warm smile that lit up his eyes. It was the first time I'd seen it fully, and it was disarming.

We talked that morning, over coffee he made with quiet efficiency. It was different from the night before. More relaxed, more revealing. We talked about our lives, our hopes, our fears. He was decisive, yes, and confident, but also thoughtful and surprisingly gentle. The dominance wasn't gone; it was woven into the fabric of his personality – his certainty, his ability to take charge – but it wasn't an aggressive force. It was a calm strength.

"I wasn't entirely expecting last night," I said, choosing my words carefully.

He leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee. "Nor was I intending it, initially. You simply... drew me in." He paused, his eyes holding mine. "You respond beautifully to direction, Y/n. There is a strength in that surrender."

My cheeks flushed slightly, but I met his gaze. He wasn't flattering me; he was stating a truth he had observed, a truth about myself I hadn't fully articulated until now.

"It felt... necessary," I confessed. "To let go."

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Sometimes, taking the lead is the only way to allow someone else to truly follow. To be fully present."

We talked for hours. About the strangeness of our meeting, the intensity of the connection, the unexpected depth we found in each other. There was no pressure, no assumptions about what this meant. But the air between us crackled with possibility.

When it was time for me to leave, it wasn't a hurried escape. He walked me to the door, holding my hand.

"Will I see you again, Mingyu?" I asked, my heart pounding slightly.

He didn't hesitate. "Yes, Y/n. I want to. Properly." He reached out and cupped my cheek. "Let me take you to dinner. Somewhere quiet. Tomorrow night?"

"I'd like that very much," I said, relief washing over me.

He smiled again, that full, warm smile. "Good. I'll text you the details."

He didn't ask for my number; he already had it, I realized, probably from the bartender connection earlier. Of course he did. He was Mingyu.

Walking out of his building, back into the bright light of day, I felt different. The plateau I had been standing on seemed to have sprouted unexpected foothills, promising new vistas. The uncertainty was still there, but it was layered with excitement and a profound sense of having experienced something transformative.

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gatheringbones · 6 months ago

Text

[“Liz, a cis-lesbian Latina, earned a low income; however, she lived with her wife from whom she was separated, but continued to contribute to her livelihood. Liz also was close to finishing her bachelor’s degree at the time we spoke. When I asked Liz to rate the photo of woman B, a “more visibly trans” Latina, she described the photo in this way:

Liz: Uh . . . this is a wig [on woman B]? [pause] um (laughs) [pause] I don’t know. It’s going to be a [pause] 5 [for woman B]. . . . Because is [pause] she has, I mean she’s a woman. I know she’s a woman, because if she’s dressed up like that and she is, you know, she’s posing like that for the picture, she looks like a woman. So is, she should be considered a woman, but uh in terms of how attracted I am, I’m not because [pause] I see the masculine um [pause; gestures at face]

alithia: Facial structure?

Liz: Yes, facial structure, so I’m not attracted and I also see that it’s obviously a wig. So yeah, but I’m gonna give it a 5, because it’s, I always appreciate and I always uh admire that, you know, they feel like a woman and regardless of what they are, I, I really, I call it bravery. And I love that, but the question is how attracted I am right? Yeah, so I’m gonna give it a 5.

Liz’s response highlights a disapproval of the wig’s visibility as synthetic hair, rather than real human hair. Such a statement points to her desire for a natural look in a woman. Liz’s lack of attraction to a woman due to her wearing a synthetic wig, though, as detailed in chapter 1, is attached to classed and racialized notions of hair and “real” hair. Human hair wigs that use hair grown and harvested from people (mostly women often in the Global South) cost hundreds of dollars, with some even costing up to two-thousand dollars. Transgender women, though, do not always have the financial resources available to afford higher quality wigs that also require higher upkeep than a synthetic wig. Liz additionally highlighted earlier in the interview a desire for a White woman, in particular. While cisgender, White women wear wigs, wigs remain more associated with Black and/or trans women than they do others.

Earlier in the interview, Liz explained to me that education mattered to her in terms of her attractions to women. She preferred “women who have some kind of education . . . They don’t necessarily need to have a bachelor’s degree . . . but at least the intention of pursuing one.” Liz’s lack of attraction to this woman was not simply out of dislike for a particular hairstyle or a particular wig. Instead, Liz’s description of woman B was shaped by raced and classed femininities and notions of desire. Woman B’s wig and aesthetic, in many ways, exemplified what Schippers terms “pariah femininities,” or the embodiment of those characteristics and behaviors that “are simultaneously stigmatized and feminized.” Woman B was hyperfeminine but did not embody hegemonic femininity.

In comparison to Liz, Amanda was a cis-bi, Black woman who lived in poverty, did not have stable housing, and had not completed high school. Amanda was the only cis woman participant to intentionally choose a “more visibly trans” participant. Amanda desired a woman who looks like she parties and goes out to clubs and bars often. She did not find woman B to be more beautiful than the others, but she liked the way woman B dressed. Amanda chose woman B “only because it looks like I’ll have more fun with that person, and then just by the background, it looks like they have that street life like that.” Amanda, then, both chose “visibly trans” women not because of their physical features but more so based off dress in comparison to others who found these women unappealing because of their physical features and clothing. Amanda herself wore clothing like woman B and had brightly colored box braids, and she desired a woman that was a “hustler . . . because you know how to get money.” Amanda’s attraction to woman B because she “looks like [she has] that street life” highlighted her affiliation for pariah femininities. Amanda did not desire a woman who embodied hegemonic femininities nor White, middle-class femininity. “More visibly trans” women like woman B displayed a pariah femininity that, for Amanda, was desirable not because of how it looked but for what it represented.”]

alithia zamantakis, from thinking cis: cisgender heterosexual men, and queer women’s roles in anti-trans violence, 2023

#alithia zamantakis #trans literature #gender stuff #currently reading #pariah femininities

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deceit-and-knowledge · 3 months ago

Text

Ooc: (WARNING LONG) the jealous pv brainworms NEED FOOD

crediting radbonkloverpalace for this idea (specifically their pv one) (full idea is on this post)

I definitely have an obsession with jealous pure vanilla 🤭 <- blog owner VERY MUCH needs to see more it. Pv being jelly is very adorable to me (I feel like this statement becomes funnier when if you know you know)

Is this an rp blog, yes. Is this an ask blog? Yes

Is this a writing/fic blog YES AS WELL. I make the rules >:)

Please read all of this (I cooked with the ending 👉👈

Cookie featured in this is just a random one created for this (so not an oc but I can draw em) : cherry garcia cookie (she/her)

Also I genuinely advise listening to jealous by Nick Jonas while reading this lmao or shameless by Camilla cabello

the two head into Mont Blanc's Cremé Republic boutique, full of elaborate outfits and icings. Magnificent gowns and robes for all cookies of any size or age.

Looking around, shadow milk cookie sets his gaze upon some intricate designed clown themed dresses, the feminine side of him SCREAMING for a better outfit to better convey her inner beauty that she somehow shows on the outside. Speaking of that, the two lovers separated allows for shadow milk to be all alone.

As he admires the outfits, shyly picking at the icing upon them, pretending in his head to just be buying them for his minion daughter candy apple cookie. However none of these outfits are really at all in her style and are more of a black sapphire type outfit. He does intend on getting his dear dolly a nice suit or robe to make him look as angelic as he should be.

Without notice a cookie appeared next to him, a young lady. She had pale blonde hair and strawberry blond coloured dress with white frills. Her hair tied in a messy bun with a cherry hair tie. Her dress had brown chocolate flecks and her neck had a chocolate bar as the centre of her bow tie. She introduced herself to shadow milk, it's hard to tell if she's a mere customer or a worker

cg: um.. hello! Admiring the dress selection I see~! *Chuckles*

s: *let's out a "mrrp" but covers his mouth before the sound finishes before angrily glaring at the lady*

W-hat do YOU want!?

cg: hehehe.. you talk funny.. what's your name?

s: ...eh..

...uh...WAIT FUNNY!? ARE YOU INSU-

cg: no no! I like how you talk! You have a nice voice too.. hehehe..*twirls her side bangs*

s: what..? Um.. t-thank you?... My name is blueberry cookie..

cg: nice to meet you, blueberry cookie, I'm cherry garcia cookie.

She nudges herself a little bit closer to "blueberry cookie" admiring the dresses with him.

cg: are you just looking or are you buying these for someone? A girlfriend maybe?

s: oh no no no! Haha.. I'm looking......

...I can't call her my minion and I can't tell a stranger why I'm actually looking at these..

... I'm looking at these for my daughter! Her name is-... Caramel apple cookie! She's a dear.. I adore her.. heh.. *smiling like a proud parent*

She's so sweet, smart and kind.. but she struggles to make friends. She's so lonely without me or her brother, I hope he's keeping her company.. his name is.. dark grape cookie.

I've raised them for only a few years because I took them in. They were homeless orphans and I gave them a roof over them, love and all the things they could desire, they're definitely spoiled but they don't let it get to their heads. dark grape cookie is just like me in many ways it's so weird. He LOVES talking and acting just like moi~ so I bought him a microphone. He uses to livestream and run a radio podcast but he doesn't tell me what it's called. I think he's embarrassed or something heh. As if I don't hear him yapping away in his room.

But he's wonderful to-... *realises he's literally just rambling about his minions/kids to a stranger* .... *Gets embarrassed* ahaha.. uh. Sorry am I talking too much.

cg: oh no it's fine! That's so precious... you sound like wonderful father! Those two kids must feel so incredibly lucky to be housed by such a loving man.

You sound so lovely! *Nudges closer*

s: do you have kids?

cg: no...haha. but I do wish to be a mother one day, I've always been a family oriented cookiel

s: ah. *Notices how close she is* um.. you're.... pretty close to me. Do you want to look at this dress or something?

cg: oh! Um. Yes! Haha sorry. I should've said something, my bad!

"blueberry cookie" moves out of the way, looking at the other dress next to the one he was just looking at. Debating if he should purchase the dresses and use his buying it for his daughter cover up or if he should peruse a bit longer. He glances over at cherry garcia cookie. Coincidentally catching her looking at him, she seemingly looks away and hides in her hand, her face flushing red. It confuses him on why she's behaving so weird. Utterly clueless to her advances and clear interest, he gently brushes past her and goes to look at some other dresses.

she follows, albeit discreetly. Gently, ever so often she inches closer and boom she's next to him again. He notices it and she laughs. He talks, she laughs or fidgets with her hair or her dress. Battering her eyelashes innocently at him. Speaking sweetly or softly, looking at his eyes. Curiously asking him things, getting to know him but it's mostly lies. Her face blushed and lips stammering as she speaks. The hearts in her eyes is something "blueberry cookie" can't recognise.

he innocently yet accidentally touches her hand as he checks out a dress, she yelps and jumps back in surprise. Looking at him with a bashful look.

cg: o-oh my! Haha sorry..! *She slinks back towards the other dresses further away from him in her embarassment*

*only return again but with confidence*

So.. Blueberry cookie, I've never seen you in the cremé republic before, are you new here?

s: well...yes and no.. I've "visited" the cremé republic with a then...protege? .... student? I was like a guide for him! I taught him stuff! I didn't like it here. Too much drama and I love me some spicy drama! Haha..but politics is a tad boring to me.. so wasn't my interest.. but it's been a few years since that so I haven't been here in awhile. I definitely don't live here, I...I live in the cuckoo town square.

cg: oh my! Me too! Though I only moved there recently.. I'm currently visiting my sister. Maybe... You could show me around~

she leans super close to "blueberry cookie". her efforts at flirting now painfully obvious to literally everyone

Including pure vanilla cookie. He waltzed on over, keeping a happy face and being all smiles. He politely tried to introduce himself but cherry garcia cookie panicked at seeing THE king pure vanilla cookie.

cg: his majesty!?

pv: haha um. Hello..

Blueberry cookie, are you doing alright?

s: yeah I'm alright. What's the matter?

pv: n-nothing! Haha.. um.. *he nudges in next to "Blueberry cookie" between him and cherry garcia cookie*

I was just checking out how you were..

s: I'm fine, just looking at dresses for apple..

pv: ah! I'm sure she'll love something here.

cg: ....y-you're friends with his majesty!?

s: yeah..?

pv: y-yes we're...quite.. good.. friends.. very good friends! *Slowly slides a bit closer to "blueberry cookie"*

cg: wow! That's so.. amazing! Blueberry cookie! You're such an interesting cookie.

s: you could say that~ ha!

cg: hehe *fidgets with her dress*

pv: *tugs at the back of "blueberry's" suit*

cg: it must be so wonderful to be friends with the king of all cookies..

Are you like his guard..?

s: ...er.. I suppose you could call me that..! I'd die for this cookie!

cg: you really must care for his majesty.. he's such a sweetheart I can't blame you!

s: yeah!

pv: ..mm.. *tugs again*

s: ...hm.. pure vanilla cookie what's wrong?

pv: ah! Um. Nothing..

"Blueberry cookie" looks over at pure vanilla's face, he seems embarrassed.

s: .........You don't need the restroom or something..?

pv: I'm an adult. If I needed that i would just inform you.. I'm alright..

He seems irritated by something now but it's hard to tell what. He can't be hungry because he just had soup and toast not long ago. He even ate a cake from a stall. Unless he-

s: do you have a stoma-

pv: Blueberry cookie, I'm alright dear.. my body is perfectly alright. Nothing's amiss if that's your worry..

s: okay then..

cg: what's the matter sire?

pv: ..... hehehe... Everything's alright! Please believe me..

s: ooooh wait! You're anxious!

pv: ...........y....yes......... <- lie

can we-

s: *pats his shoulder* you're alright pal!

pv: h-huh... oh.. um.. haha..

cg: so Blueberry cookie what's it like working for pure vanilla cookie?

s: ...Uh.. not bad?

cg: do you live at the vanilla castle?

s: only a few times a week. Like I said I mainly live in the cuckoo town square!

cg: ah! *Clasps her hands together and she admires "Blueberry cookie" with her loving gaze, the clear admiration for him in her eyes*

Cherry garcia cookie looks him up and down, inching ever closer she is now directly in front of him and the bashful angel that is pure vanilla cookie. Who is still relentlessly tugging, grabbing at and obviously trying to get his "guard" away from her.

The realisation hits these two that they can't admit their relationship. It's public knowledge pure vanilla cookie has a girlfriend named condensed cream cookie. Not a boyfriend named "Blueberry cookie". I mean what? Is the king of all cookies cheating on his girlfriend? This cookie doesn't even look like her. He has faded almost grey blue dough not powder blue with a teal tint dough! He has a marking on his eye, she didn't. She had blue and off white teal frosting. He has blue and black frosting.

It doesn't make sense!

But that doesn't seem to be pure vanilla cookie's issue.

He gently wraps his arm around "Blueberry cookie's" as cherry garcia continues to blabber on to her clear crush. At least clear to him not who she likes who's still clueless. It's frustrating and teeth grinding to pure vanilla cookie. "Just notice and we can leave because she's weird" he thinks. He grumbles internally. The eyes on him glaring at her with looks of vitriol and hatred. The aggressive glare in his slit eyes as he looks down upon his enemy.

this innocent little cookie with her love struck eyes, lusting for HIS boyfriend. Fills him with rage. A rage only the eyes that show his true emotions can display as showing it on his face would be a terrible look for a king. He's more relieved this anger isn't on camera. paparazzi would eat this up

That's his. HIS cookie. "My cookie" he thinks. They were meant to be together. Forever. As he gently fidgets with "Blueberry cookie's" hair. His subtly fading with each insecurity filled second. Cherry garcia cookie is quite pretty, pure vanilla cookie worries his supposed beauty won't beat hers and this witch will claim his other half.

grabbing at and trying to pull away from her but "Blueberry cookie" fails to notice.

cg: that's so wonderful! You're so smart! Hehe~.. *twiddles her hair*

s: heh! Thanks cherry garcia cookie!

cg: *puts her hands over her mouth because he said her name, her face red*

s: you're a smart cookie yourself!

cg: *squeals*

pv: *tugs harder at "blueberry cookie's" suit, nearly ripping and clawing from sheer angered strength alone*

s: ah!....(Thoughts) What's his deal!? He keeps pulling at me. But everytime I ask he says nothing! What's his deal...

"blueberry cookie" looks over at his sunshine. Seeing the hateful look in his many eyes. But the nervous yet seemingly forced happy look on his face. He glares down cherry garcia cookie. Why? He wonders. The gripping and trying to pull away must mean something as he observes. It then clicks in his brain.

Pure vanilla cookie is jealous. Immensely jealous. He's being possessive of what's his but neither "blueberry cookie" or cherry garcia cookie notices. But he just did. He is JEALOUS and that's just precious!...I wonder. How far could he be pushed into his jealously and resentment....How..far.. could he be shoved into acting out?

so "blueberry cookie" conjures up a plan. He starts by complimenting and being friendly, not flirty but just kind to cherry garcia cookie, which she laps up. Hook line and sinker she took the bait. A girl as desperate as she is being would easily mistake a mere kind gesture as a flirt. Her blatant attempts at getting her hopeless romantic self a date is futile until now, hope fills her heart and while it hurts to this to her, she hasn't explicitly asked nor attempted anything.

She gently moves ever closer, resting her hand on "blueberry cookie's" elbow. He hates the sensation of her touch her weirdly textured silky cream gloves upsets him. But the feeling of pure vanilla cookie's grip growing ever tighter is much more thrilling and a great distraction. He wants this cookie erased from history he's that jealous. The look on his bashful face trying to conceal his anger is exciting. It tickles him just the right way. his wings puff up and wrap around him, the soft yet warm feathers cuddling up to his cold dough feels like a zap of electricity to his beating heart.

This wave of excitement at his sunshine possessing and claiming him, the idea of him trying to mark him with his powdery white wings, stain his arm and bruise it with his obssessive grip.

That kiss at the diner was already a thrill now this. He can't even actually try or do anything, it must be eating at him. Gnawing at him. Killing him and it feels so good.

"blueberry cookie" smirks at his sunshine before going in for the kill he *GASPS* shakes cherry garcia cookie's hand to thank her for being so kind to him. It KILLS pure vanilla cookie inside.

he finally has had enough, he can't take anymore. His hands wrap TIGHTLY around "Blueberry cookie's" arm and he begins to drag him away.

pv: my apologies cherry garcia cookie but we have to leave! We have VERY important matters to attend to! Good bye! *Drags shadow milk off*

The two leave the store, without purchasing a thing which is unfortunate.

s: wowie! That was sudden what's got you all angry~?

suddenly shadow milk is pulled into an alleyway.

pv: you want to know why I'm so angry? That cookie was ALL OVER YOU. she wanted you! You belong to ME. *he says while grabbing on to his collar, pinning him against the wall, his other hand blocking the way out, his wings shielding the two from others gazes.

Wanting his bluebirds eyes only on him, pure vanilla tilts his head to look into his eyes.

s: aww is dolly jealous? Well well well, how cute, he's all angry and possessive. It's thrilling *flicks his hand gently down pure vanilla's wing* to see you all riled up! Hehe!

pv: mmph- ...ugh.. listen to me! You BELONG to me. You and I are meant to be together, forever. Us. No one else. You ARE MINE. MINE you hear that you little teasing brat..I love you more than anything.. you are mine..

s: my nil nil aren't you a jelly one~ I'm yours? I'm flatter-

pv: *pins shadow milk more to the wall, gently tracing his finger on his chest, right where his soul jam would be if not for the outfit change spell*

*he lays a rather aggressive bite on shadow milk's neck to claim and mark him as his, lapping up his sickly sweet jam as he does.*

You're.. mine.. and yes I'm jealous.. you are my everything..

I love you..i don't want to lose you, you. Belong to me. My heart belongs to you. You are my other half and MY soulmate.. we share an understanding and bond no other cookie couldn't understand.. a soul bond no other cookie can even get close to.. I would do anything for you...for you to remain mine..

You.. are irresisti-

s: berry!.. berry..

pv: huh..*takes hand away after realising what he's probably touching*

s: *catching breath* ...*pants* ugh..

*huffs*

S-sorry.. you were..

pv: I just realised sorry.. I didn't know your soul jam was there intially..

s: haha... you're cute.. you get so... flustered. Like a little tomato..

pv: hush..

86 notes · View notes

justinspoliticalcorner · 4 months ago

Text

Lisa Needham at Daily Kos:

In the last three weeks, Donald Trump has wreaked havoc on the American constitutional order. His actions have encroached on Congress' domain, and his administration is ignoring court orders. When the executive branch usurps the powers of the other two branches, that violates the separation of powers and creates the most stark constitutional crisis imaginable. So why won’t anyone say it? Neither the mainstream media nor Democratic elected officials seem capable of calling this what it is. Instead, we have the surreal occurrence of media outlets accurately describing how the administration’s actions violate the Constitution, followed by vague hand-waving about how maybe that means a constitutional crisis will happen at some as-yet-undefined point in the future. Take NBC News’ coverage of the Federal Emergency Management Agency continuing to freeze funding despite not one but two court orders telling them to knock it off. By any measure, the executive branch just straight-up ignoring the authority of the judicial branch is an actual factual constitutional crisis.

But NBC twists itself in knots, framing the issue as one about federal employees being caught between Trump’s demands and court orders, saying those officials are “at the ground level of a potential constitutional crisis in which Trump is claiming expansive powers that test traditional limits on the president’s authority and could circumscribe the roles of Congress and the courts.” Besides the clunky hedging—what does it mean to be on the ground level of a potential crisis? Do crises have floors to ascend?—this is a wildly odd framing. It puts the onus for the crisis on the people carrying out Trump’s orders rather than Trump himself. It also frames Trump as chafing against some vague “traditional limits” because the piece is unwilling to speak plainly. Other outlets hedge by misstating what is happening. On Wednesday, the Washington Post talked about the consequences of Trump ignoring court orders but framed that as something that is not yet occurring: “Should the Trump administration begin openly defying court orders, the country could be barreling toward a constitutional crisis, legal experts warn.”

The administration is already openly defying court orders. A court literally already said so, with John J. McConnell Jr., a federal judge in Rhode Island, ruling that the administration ignored his previous order and continued to freeze some federal funding. Yes, other presidents have slow-walked implementations of court orders and have publicly complained about rulings, but that’s not what is going on here. Imagine President Joe Biden, who routinely got kicked in the teeth by conservative courts, asserting that courts can’t tell him what to do and threatening the judges themselves. That’s what Trump did on Tuesday, complaining that “it seems hard to believe that a judge could say, ‘We don’t want you to do that.’ So maybe we have to look at the judges. ‘Cause I think that’s a very serious violation.” That’s been JD Vance’s stance for a while now, even before joining the Trump ticket. He believes the real constitutional crisis is when the Supreme Court steps in and tells the president he can’t do something. After Trump suffered a spate of adverse rulings, Vance took to X to gripe that “judges aren’t allowed to control the executive’s legitimate power.” That’s a true statement in that it would be an overreach for the judicial branch to limit the executive branch’s legitimate authority. The issue here is that Trump and Vance don’t believe there are any limits on their authority and that only they define what is “legitimate.” They are so committed to that view that they won’t even respect court rulings that only temporarily pause their efforts while cases proceed. [...] It all feels reminiscent of Trump’s first term, when the media went to comical lengths to avoid saying Trump was lying. Instead, we got things like “demonstrable falsehoods” and “over-broad boasts.” That persistent failure to grapple with the fact the president outright lied thousands of times, to call it what it was, is what got us here today. The constitutional crisis we’re facing isn’t just about Trump running roughshod over separation of powers. It’s also about the fact that the courts lack adequate enforcement mechanisms when the president refuses to follow the law.

America is in a Trump/Musk-fueled constitutional crisis.