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taeslarityy · 2 months

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outage ༄ joel miller one shot (18+)

-> pairing: no-outbreak joel miller au x female curvy reader

-> word count: 4.3k

-> summary: after a citywide power outage, you're left to deal with the scorching texas heat. until, the well-respected neighborhood dilf — joel miller — lends you a more than generous hand.

-> warnings/tags: sarah is 10/11 so joel had her a bit older, power outage, texas heat, yes this is a warning because its not a joke, reader has a cat!!!, age gap (reader is 24, joel is late 40s), curvy/mid/plus size reader, brief fatphobia, reader has self-image/parent issues + is a lonely gal, fluff, SMUT (18+), unprotected piv, creampie, oral + fingering (f!recieving), squirting, body worship, brief ass play, daddy kink, big ole tits, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, a bit of belly bulge, cockwarming, pet names galore (darlin, sweetheart, baby, _ girl), joel has a huge dick (not canon!)

-> a/n: hi hi! i have been so anxious to begin writing again and currently have some wips that i am just not confident with. so when i saw the lovely @hellishjoel post her #hotdilfsummerchallenge, i was positive i wanted to join in! such a pleasure to be involved in this — thank you kylee for creating such a fun way for this community to get involved! as a curvier woman, i wanted reader to reflect that. because... joel miller is a handsy mf and loves to just grab himself some wide hips, thick thighs and phat tits <3 but ofc, this is can be for various body types. please please please, leave your thoughts and even constructive criticism! <3 DILF NEIGHBOR JOEL, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS!!!!

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

You release a groan of annoyance as the visual of your TV, coffee table lamp and humming of the refrigerator all flicker off into silence. The frills on your throw-blanket settle, as the ceiling fan no longer produces the small gusts of wind that have caused you to be rather chilly on this hot, humid and rainy summer night.

When you made the courageous decision of moving across the country for a new teaching opportunity in Austin — you were never informed on the true brutality summertime unleashed onto Texas residents. More-so, you really had nothing to do but be caged up in the comfortable AC of your home. You’ve been here for roughly 14 months and the only "friends" you’ve made have been the 28 fourth graders you had the pleasure of teaching last school year. Tragic.

Your coworkers, did not handle your arrival pleasantly. Young, beautiful, freshly-educated and determined. That’s what your grandmother referred to you as when you called her sobbing after your first week. Informing her that the seasoned teachers won’t even bat an eye at you, and when they do it’s a look of disgust. Whispering amongst one another. Like you were in middle school again, trying to befriend the popular girls.

“I was foolish to think things could be different for me down here, so stupid of me.”

“Now listen to me, you are the most intelligent woman I know. More than anyone in this family. Bullies like that, it stems from an unknown jealousy and overbearing insecurity. Don’t let a few sour grapes ruin this outstanding career for you. Your students adore you already, and so do I. Just continue to be yourself and if that isn’t enough for them, so be it.”

Your grandmother always knew how to make you feel better. She had been instilling your own sense of confidence since you were a little girl. The only adult in your life to do so. If only her words were enough. Your coworkers just never let up. After overhearing them gossip about you during lunch break, you gave up your attempts indefinitely.

“She really thinks she deserves a place here?”

“Look at her back rolls in that shirt…”

“She really needs to put that sandwich down.”

“Why is she so quiet? It’s freaky, honestly. No wonder she’s always alone.”

You’re not a stranger to being alone. You practically have been your entire life. Your parents never really bothered to form a genuine relationship with you, always so focused on your younger sister. She was the prettier, thinner, more impressive version of you. You have only had one best friend throughout your long 24 years on this earth. She was smarter than you and moved away from the timid small town you shared in Northern Maine, choosing an out-of-state university. So, being alone was a familiarity. You have made peace with it. But being lonely — that’s a whole other ball-park.

The booming thwack of thunder startles you from your thoughts. Your sweet calico boy leaps from your warm lap and scurries under the dining table — tail puffed in fear. “Milo... it’s okay,” you whisper. He just gleams at you with his jet-black saucer eyes. Even you don’t believe your own words. You are not used to storms like this, and you didn’t really prepare. You read some articles online about stocking up: having plently of batteries, candles, non-perishable foods. Yet, you didn’t do any of that.

Rubbing away the moisture from your damp upper lip — the heat inside your home already becoming unbearable. Deciding on a whim, you can head to a nearby hotel for the night. Unsure how long you will be without power and don’t wish to succumb yourself or your cat to the searing temperatures of the night.

The rain has slowed down, as you feel the soft patter on your umbrella. Throwing your purse and water bottle in the front seat, you begin to dread unpacking all this stuff when you get to the hotel. Bags, cat litter, cage — scrutinizing yourself mentally and deciding you better fucking prepare for the next storm.

“Where ya headin’ sweetheart?”

Your heart jumps at the deep smooth Southern voice that fills your thoughts at night. When your hands would find their way in between your quivering legs. Throughout the day. Pretty much all the time.

Joel Miller is the only person in this town that has ever filled the lonely void you can never seem to fill. When you moved to the quiet suburban street, he was the first to come greet you as you struggled to pull your mattress out of the U-Haul. Immediately lending a hand, and proceeding to lug all of your remaining boxes, furniture, miscellaneous items into your new home.

“Pretty lady like you, shouldn’t have to lift a single finger.” He remarked when you you blushed and assured him you could handle the rest, not wanting to be a burden. Even though the sweat dripping down your back was apparent and 5 minutes prior you had no idea how you’d be able to unpack the remainder of the truck. He then assured you — there was no way in hell you were being a burden. Words that were a rarity.

Later that afternoon, he invited you for dinner at his home. You met his lovely daughter, Sarah. Where everyone learned that you were her new school teacher. What were the odds?

Following that, seeing Joel was frequent. From parent-teacher conferences, backyard barbecues for the neighborhood, or even small intimate dinners with Sarah at each others homes. Sarah would even spend the night at yours on occasion. When Joel had a late night at the construction site, or when she just needed some girl time. You adored that little girl, and vice versa.

You also adored the fuck out of Joel.

So when you looked up at his porch, finding him in nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants.. your throat went dry. His tanned skin gleamed softly from the street light — little speckled freckles adorned his waist in various spots. And that darkish grey hair on his chest and fat of his lower tummy that flowed underneath his pants. Your brain fuzzy at the thought of your face pressed against it as you swallow his cock.

But you were not a fool. Joel would never express an attraction towards you. A man like that? He deserved the perfect woman.

“Darlin’?” He speaks again, a bit louder. Disturbing your wandering thoughts.

“I- I was gonna head to a hotel for the night, my house is too hot already. And I don’t want Milo to be uncomfortable.”

Joel’s eyes wander down your body as you explain — the plush jiggle of your tits in that small tank. Nearly spilling out. Slightly damp from the rain or humidity. The chub of your tummy spills slightly from your leggings. A sight that makes his cock swell unbearingly. An act that occurs more often than not when he sees you or even thinks of you for the countless minutes of his day.

“No way. Not gonna let ya drive in this weather. Plus, most hotels nearby are gonna be overbooked. I got the generator up n’ working, got the spare room too. Your stayin’ over.”

“No! No, Joel. I can’t.”

“N’ why not?” His hands have found his way to his hips, popping a knee out and giving you that classic dad glare. Not angry, but confused as to why you’re even protesting when he’s already decided.

“I don’t want to intrude and I have Milo. You and Sarah are allergic.”

“Sarah left yesterday to stay with her mom in California for the rest of the summer. Besides, Milo loves me. I can handle a runny nose as long as I know the two of ya are safe.”

To this, your stomach nearly flips inward on itself. You’ve never been alone with Joel in his home. Not for this long. The few times you’ve come over to help him with dinner before Sarah got home from soccer practice, have always been excruciating. Staring at him without worry. Watching his muscles flex through his t-shirts. Big hands chopping vegetables and plating food. His hand lightly touching your waist when scooting by.

There’s no possible way you can survive a night in Joel’s home.

But, he’s already grabbing his umbrella and walking over to you. He grabs your stuff from the car and tells you to go grab Milo. So, you do.

Joel slips on a t-shirt after he put your stuff in the spare room, disappointedly enough. You nearly told him to keep it off, but held your tongue. You made yourself comfortable at the island barstool as you typed up some early lesson plans, Milo at your feet.

He patters over to Joel who is now leaning against the counter, brushing against his leg. He then leaps onto the granite and purrs against Joel’s arm.

“Psst! Milo get do-“ you beg, embarrassment coloring your cheeks.

“S’ okay, sweetheart. He’s not botherin’ me,” Joel attempts to settle your nerves. Petting Milo’s soft fur and scratching under his chin, that special spot all cats love. “Can I get you anythin’ to drink?” He nods towards the coffee he’s brewing.

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.” You beam at him. Joel’s heart skips a beat every time your cheeks puff up ever so slightly when you smile at him. It’s something he swears is the most endearing thing about you. Of course, he’s only ever shared that with his daughter. Who begs her father to just take her favorite teacher on a date already.

Joel grabs some sugar and oat milk from the fridge, your favorite. He learned from the few breakfasts you guys had shared. A bit of sugar and a nice gulp of milk softens the dark roast color in the mug, he slides it over to you as he grabs his plain black coffee.

“You remembered!” You giggle slightly at the Number 1 Dad title that adorns the mug, taking a sip. You moan at the taste, exactly how you like it.

“Of course I did, darlin’.” You almost hate how easily those pet names roll of his tongue. You summed it up as his southern hospitality, figured he calls any woman those special names. “So, you ready for this new school year?”

An icky feeling settles in your stomach. The thought of returning to the painful and toxic work environment you can only escape when you’re with your students.

“Not without my Sarah girl,” you swiftly change the subject towards the one person he can talk hours about.

He smiles proudly at her name.

“Ya know, she still all mad that you wouldn’t flunk her so she could have another year with ya.” Both your laughs quickly fill the empty house.

“Well, even if I tried to, that girl is too smart for her own good. She should skip a grade in my opinion.” You state, and you’re truthful at that. Sarah Miller is as intelligent as she is quick-witted.

“Yeah, she gets it from me.” At that you roll your eyes playfully. Typing something up before closing your computer and taking another sip of coffee. “Although I love boastin’ over her, I guess I meant are you excited to go back? They treat ya good there?”

Joel watches the color drain from your soft skin. Realizing he touched somewhere that might be too personal. Too raw. “M’ sorry sweetheart, shouldn’t have asked.”

“No- no uh, you’re fine. Um, honestly? No. I’m not excited. The staff there aren’t exactly the kindest bunch.” You confess, slight unease crawling over you.

Joel’s eyes scrunch in confusion. Mind blank on how the kindest soul he knows, could be surrounded by complete opposite. “Whatcha mean?”

You sigh letting the anxiousness settle a bit before speaking again, “they hate me. I don’t even know why, really? I have tried my hardest to get them to accept me but nothing seems to work. Whether it’s jabs at my appearance, teaching style, they’re never satisfied.” Your eyes are burning slightly, haven’t confessed this burden you constantly carry to anyone. “If it wasn’t for your daughter and my class, and… you.. well, I think I wouldn’t have made it through. I try to be strong, I try to be everything that people expect from me but it’s just so hard, Joel.” At that, the fat tears begin to stream down your face.

Joel was frozen in shock. Or maybe anger. Protectiveness. He wanted to hurt the people who made you feel like this. The least deserving of any pain. He sets his mug down and snatches you in his embrace. Holding your head with his hand, stroking your back with the other. He lets you sob almost uncontrollably into his firm chest.

“I just hate being so alone.” You whisper, clutching onto him. You can’t even be embarrassed anymore, you’re so overthrown by his scent, his comfort. Comfort you’ve not felt in so so long.

Joel kisses your temple softly, "promise you're not alone, sweet girl." He nudges your head to look up at his own sorrowful expression. His thumb running over your full lips, a bit swollen from your teeth biting down on them in an attempt to muffle your sobs. "So beautiful." He murmurs as he leans down to place a kiss on your left cheek, his lips skim over yours before he places another on your right.

Joel just barely hears the whimper from the back of your throat when that feather light skim happened. He leans back half an inch, staring into your glossy eyes. "Tell me not to, and I'll let you go upstairs and get some rest. Tell me, sweetheart."

It feels like a whole minute passes by. The soft patter of the rain, the smell of coffee beans from each others breath, the same slow breathing that overwhelms the little space between you both.

Desperation.

Your fingers tighten on his shirt, "don't let me go upstairs, Joel."

Joel smashes his mouth into yours, his guttural groan flying into your soft whimpers. The softness Joel expressed a moment ago is long gone. This kiss is messy, teeth-clanking, tongue inside your mouth. Like he wants to devour you from the outside in. He releases your lip with a pop.

He threads his thick fingers through the base of your hair and yanks it back gently, tongue on your neck. Biting the skin there. "You're so soft, baby. Just need me to mark ya up, is that right?"

You nod as hard as you can despite his harsh grip on your locks.

"I need you to use your words, sweet girl. Let me know what you're thinkin'."

"Everything you do is okay. I want more. I need it all. Please."

"Oh baby, cm'ere," he wraps your lavish thighs around his waist and hoists you into his arms. Easily. Like you're just the most delicate thing he's ever held.

As he walks to his bedroom, you smile into his neck. Arms wrapped over his shoulders, hand rubbing ever so softly at his greying curls. You bite at the skin under his ear and he gives your ass a huge squeeze. Groaning at how his big hands barely hold all the meat there. He couldn't wait to touch and gnaw at this body he loved.

At the foot of his bed, he taps your leg as if telling you to get down. You stand in front of his massive overbearing figure, staring up at him lustfully. You grab the bottom of your compression tank top and pull it over your head, revealing your unsupported chest. Your heavy tits fall a bit.

"My god," Joel falls to his knees in front of you, face nearly level with your pebbled nipples. Both his hands grab a fistful of each, rolling them in his palm. Your sweet noises fill the room and he swears he might've just came in his pajama pants right there. He takes his teeth and bite at the fat above your leggings, licking and sucking at a sensitive part of you. Literally and figuratively.

Joel abandons your chest to yank your leggings and panties down in one move, coming face-to-face with your prickly oozing pussy. He can't restrain himself much longer, spinning you around he pushes you down into his mattress.

He spreads your ass open with both hands, the chub of your lips open ever so slightly as the slick between them strings together.

"Perfect cunt." That's when you feel the chill of liquid spat right onto your puckered hole, dripping down to your clit. He leans in, tongue catching the tangy mixture of your slick and his saliva, right on your throbbing clit.

You screech into the sheets, so turned on from his actions. As he licks up to dip his tongue into your hole, one hand that's holding you open sneaks up your back, to your neck and yanks your head up.

"Nu-uh, let me hear you, baby girl." He demands as he pauses to throw his shirt off as fast as possible — not wanting to leave your cunt for too long without the warmth of his mouth.

He sloppily makes out with your cunt as it clenches and unclenches under his tongue, his beard prickling at your skin. Like he wants your scent all over him for as long as possible.

"Ohh daddy, more more," you whisper hazily, hand reaching back to grab his head desperate to have him as deep as possible.

Joel stops as he processes your choice of title. "What was that, darlin'?"

You freeze at his serious tone. Just now realizing what you've called the man. "Oh my god, I'm s-" Joel grabs your wrist and pins it against your lower back — thick middle and ring finger hooking into you with no warning. Your wetness aiding in the rapid slide of them.

He spits on your puckered hole again and abandons your wrist to land a harsh smack against your ass.

"Only dirty girls say that word, baby. Are you daddy's dirty girl?" He edges you on as he spanks you again on the opposite side. Hard. Unsparing. A side of Joel you've never seen. And oh, does it make you feel that coil tightening within you.

"Mmmm yes yes 'm your dirty girl, daddy!" You groan loudly, eyes swelling with fresh tears. But not tears of pain from earlier, pleasure.

Joel's fingers fuck into you harder, thumb now rubbing at your clit as he leans forward to prod his tongue at your asshole. "Cum for me, my nasty sweet girl. Drench my face. Let me taste you even more." He halts his fingers knuckle deep, hooked inside your cunt as he presses into that spot on repeat. Like he's stroking it out of you.

That's all it takes for you to silently scream as you squirt all over his lower beard covered face and your thick inner thighs, that nearly squish his head from how hard you're coming. Joel just keeps himself situated, never letting up. Allowing you to completely let go and rut back into him, telling him you need more.

"Thaaat's it, my good fuckin' girl.” He praises as he kisses your cunt and ass, he leans over your face capturing your lips in a kiss so messy and depraved. “Open that mouth.” Spitting roughly onto your tongue with a groan as you taste your sweetness that he knows he will forever be addicted to. No chance of recovery.

He ruts his thick bulge into your ass as you whine needly.

"Really want you to fuck my face, now." You beg, hand reaching down to grope him through his loose pjs.

"Mmmmm," he murmurs as his hips keep rutting into you. "Tonight is about you, baby. M' gonna stuff your tight cunt so fuckin' deep you'll feel it in your throat, don't worry." And with that promise, he releases himself, throbbing cock slapping against his lower tummy. You flip onto your back just to see it and your eyes widen at the sight before you.

You always knew it was huge just from perception, but god. It's thicker than your wrist, and looks like it would prod into your cervix. Painful even. Joel senses the worry on your face as he pushes your legs back against your chest. Admiring the way your stomach folds into itself, soft roll after roll. And the thickness of your inner thighs lays heavy. He just wants to get down and feast on you again but he might die if he doesn't feel you wrapped around him.

"You're in charge here, sweetheart. Understood?" He explains as he rubs his fat cock head up and down your swollen slit — notching on your opening with every downward stroke.

You nod slowly, peeking down at the monster between your legs once more. He squeezes your ankle, subtly reminding you to vocalize.

"Yes daddy, I understand."

"Good." And with that, he pushes into your fluttering hole. Your eyes roll back immediately, head thumping onto the soft duvet. He pushes in deeper, barely halfway in and he sees your feet and eyes scrunch a bit. It almost feels like he could rip you apart. Maybe it's because you haven't been fucked in a hot minute — or maybe it's just that Joel is so fucking hung. More than any guy you've slept with.

“Deep breath for me, sweetheart.” He soothes you, as soon as he sees your chest fall — he slams the rest of the way in. Hips flush with the back of your thighs. Cock fully sheathed in your warm soaked cunt. Heavy brimming balls pressed against your little puckered hole. “You feel so damn good. Dripping for me.” Joel’s eyes close at the feeling of you hugging him so tight. He suddenly forgets the feeling of any other woman he’s pleased. Utterly devoted to you from here on out.

When he pulls out all the way to his fat tip — it notches on your opening. Like he has to put in that extra effort to fully remove himself from you. But he doesn’t, and starts fucking into you fully. Never half way, never pulling completely out.. but always making sure he reaches the end of you.

“Da- daddy oh, harder please.” You plead, squeezing his forearm at the overwhelming feel of him nudging your cervix with every thrust.

That confirmation of pleasure is all Joel needs to push your legs back even more — ankles by your head — and began a brutal relentless pace. Grabbing a fistful of your jiggling tit and messy hair, he pulls your head up so you can watch how he ruins you for anyone else.

“Ya see that, see how swollen your gettin’ already?” Joel questions as he holds your head perfectly to observe the slight lifted pudge on your tummy. Paired with the way his coarse hair rubs against your swelled clit — it’s a drool worthy sight.

“Cus’ your so big, Joel.” You sigh, eyes fluttering from the primal force he’s using on your body.

A smug grin flicks across his face at the view. Mind consumed by the most perfect woman. Eyebrows turning inward, the little lines between them deepening as you try to comprehend all the emotions in this moment. Removing his hand from your head, he finds your clit and swipes it upward. Over and over. Leaning down, he sucks as much of your breast into his mouth as humanely possible. Tongue flicking the pebbled area, coercing your orgasm from you. “Cum with me, baby.” His muffled command shoots straight to your filled core.

As he feels you spasm around his thickness, he stills balls deep. “There it is, baby…” Spilling his cum inside your warmth. Plugging you, keeping you full of him. Joel relaxes his body against yours, finding your mouth to kiss you gently. Sweaty foreheads against one another. Joel goes to push off of you, his comforting body heat about to be ripped away.

"No! Wanna feel you longer, please."

Your protest makes Joel's heart surge. "Of course, sweet girl." Wrapping his large arms around you, he flips you both so that your soft plush body lays above him. The new angle makes his spent cock nudge a bit deeper, you both moan at the faint squelch of his cum overflowing your cunt. "You're so perfect," he mutters.

Smiling into his full chest, you leave a swift kiss. "So are you. Thank you for this. For.. everything."

Joel's hands finds your back as he begins gentle strokes onto your supple skin, his head resting atop your own. "Thank you, darlin'. I want you to understand something, you might just be the finest thing that ever happened to Sarah and I. Y'know, she didn't really want to see her mom. Never had the best relationship with her. She just wanted to spend the remainder of the summer havin' ya over everyday to swim and all. That girl admires you more than anyone."

Eyes foggy, you shift to gaze up at him. "And what does her father think?"

Joel pauses briefly, rich brown orbs beaming into yours. "Think she's damn right. She didn't want me to tell you this, but she left so I could have some alone time with you — take ya out. Scolded me sayin' by the time she's back, we better be together." He laughs at the thought, you join him. Picturing that 4'9 ball of fire lecturing her father on the rules of dating.

"So, you're asking me out Miller?" You question with a heavy hopeful heart.

"Should've done it forever ago, darlin'." He confesses, placing a delicate kiss on your temple.

And with that, you place your head back onto the warm chest of the man you've craved your entire life. Realizing, ever since that day where he first greeted you with that sultry gentleman voice — you were never truly alone.

thank you truly for reading! let me know your thoughts below or in asks!! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

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perlelune · 8 months

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NDA | Coriolanus Snow

When you get hired as a nanny for President Snow and his wife's firstborn, you’re beyond thrilled and grateful. But quickly, the perfect facade melts, revealing the ugly truth of what actually goes on in the Snows' house.

Warnings: NON-CON, Capitol! Reader, Innocent Reader, Cheating, Coercion, Blackmail, Power Imbalance

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Your worried eyes track the frenzied glide of the woman’s quill over the notepad. You squint, hoping to discern some of the words she’s scrawling that way, but they are indiscernible…just like the stone-cold expression of the bespectacled woman on the other side of the desk.

She catches you trying to peek. Your heart jumps.

As her sharp green gaze zeroes in on you, you clear your throat and shift in your seat.

She puts her quill down and twines her fingers.

“So what do you think sets you apart from the other applicants?”

You chew on your lip. When you arrived to offer your candidature this morning, you naively believed you’d be early. Instead, you were forced to join the tail end of the massive waiting line stretching far outside the Snows’ estate. It didn’t hit you before that moment, how prized the position is. Each of the women and girls you saw radiated excellent breeding and impeccable manners. Many probably attended the University and could double as a tutor if the need presents itself.

This isn’t your case. Your parents left you and your brother Laertes with nothing when they suddenly passed away in a rebel bombing. You couldn’t blame them. This wasn't the plan. Who plans on dying and leaving their two children to fend for themselves?

Still, you now have a list of bills the length of your arm coupled with a massive mortgage to pay every month. And as Laertes’ sole caretaker, you must ensure you can afford to send him to University once he completes his education in the Academy.

Circumstances denied you that chance. Despite being of university’s age, you couldn’t afford the cost of tuition and had to drop out as soon as you got accepted. You want better for your little brother.

So as soon as you heard the news that President Snow and First Lady Livia Cardew were in search of a nanny for their son Martius, you jumped on the opportunity to apply. You rose before the sun, rummaged through your mother’s closet to find her best dress, and hailed a car to come here.

It’s a long shot, of course. You’re not as polished and impressive as some of the other women. You’re also noticeably younger. But the wages promised alone compelled you to take a chance despite the odds being unfavorable.

Fiddling with your hands, you meet the woman’s impassive stare head-on.

“What sets me apart?” You mull over your answer. You could paint a false, august portrait of yourself, your skills and your accomplishments. Or try to at least.

But what would be the point of pretending to be someone you’re not only to be found out later on? So you elect to tread the path of honesty.

“Nothing,” you say. “But I’m a hard worker. A very hard worker. In fact, I already have three jobs, one at a bakery, another as a clerk in an antique shop and I assist Fabricia Whatnot at her boutique sometimes.” Panic quivers inside you as the woman quickly jots something down on her notepad. You swiftly specify, “...But I’ll quit all of them if I get the position, of course.” You lick your lips as knots tie your stomach. “I can learn everything there is to learn on the spot. I love children, and…” You trail off, gaze traveling to your lap as you muse if you should reveal more. Your fists clench as you add, “I have a little brother who’s a few years older than Martius, and I’m really hoping I get this opportunity so I can give him the life he deserves.”

An unnerving quiet occupies the air. The wait is agony, your nails digging painfully into your palms. The jagged drumming of your heart bleeds inside your ears as she studies you.

Eventually, she leans back in the velvet chair, her face betraying no thought or emotion.

“You’re dismissed,” she says.

Your heart plummets to your feet. You shakily rise, dispirited as you drag your heels towards the door. You steal a glance above your shoulder. The woman’s attention has already drifted away from you as she shouts for the next applicant.

You sourly exit the office. You try to swallow your dejection as you note how many women are still waiting in line, each of them likely more qualified and experienced. It’s obvious you tanked the interview. Shoulders slumping, you take resigned steps through the elegant, palatial hallways of the Snow’s mansion. You get lost in admiring the crystal and gold chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. There isn’t an inch of the house that doesn’t scream excessive, unattainable wealth.

You take your time soaking it in. Chances are you’ll never step foot in such a place in your lifetime ever again.

Distracted, you don’t notice the person in front of you before it’s too late. You bump straight into a hard, inflexible body.

The sudden collision threatens your balance.

Fingers coil around your wrists as you stagger back, preventing your impending collapse onto the marbled floor.

As your attention drifts skywards, your jaw drops at who fills your vision.

“P-President Snow, my deepest apologies, s-sir,” you stammer, flames licking your cheeks.

As if you didn’t make yourself look dimwitted enough before, you now carelessly crashed into the leader of all of Panem. Just when you thought the day couldn’t possibly get worse.

You take him in. It truly is him. Shock fills you.

Tall and dazzling in a crisp white shirt and crimson vest that hints at his lean physique beneath the clothes, his signature blond waves slicked away from his face, he looks every bit the important figure that he is.

The flickering TV screen you own at home doesn’t do him justice.

A gentle smirk unfurls on his lips.

“It’s quite alright. I’m not made of sugar,” he jests.

“No…you’re not, your highness…majesty...I mean sir.”

Your blunder expands his smile. His cerulean gaze drags over your frame.

“Are you here for the nursemaid position?”

“I am, sir.” You unleash a deep exhale, his inquiry tossing salt on the fresh wound. The interviewer clearly wasn’t impressed by your less than stellar performance. Maybe you should have tried to mimic the way the girls with whom you attended the Academy behave more. They carry themselves with such confidence, wading through the world with the certainty of their destinies being secure, bereft of hardships unlike district dwellers.

You envy how carefree they get to be. Everyday you wake up worried you’ll come up short on a bill and you and Laertes will be forced to leave your family home. No matter how diligent you are at work, there never seems to be enough money to sustain the two of you. Even with three jobs, you’re barely eking out a decent living for you and your little brother. Many times, you’ve gone to bed hungry just so Laertes would not.

You don’t even realize tears have filled your eyes to the brim until a handkerchief is daintily pressed into your cheeks.

Flabbergasted, you blink up at President Snow.

“Thank you,” you exhale, stunned by his kind gesture.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

You search his eyes. Genuine interest lights up his pellucid blue orbs.

Without much thought, you confess, “I just don’t think I did very well with my interview.”

As he scrutinizes you in silence, cocking his head sideways, embarrassment rushes through you.

Words anxiously leave your lips in a tremulous string.

“God, I’m so sorry, spilling my problems to you as if you’re not an extremely busy man, sir.”

He shakes his head. “It’s quite alright. And do not count yourself defeated, sweetheart.” Your pulse stutters when he bends over you to whisper, “You may have left a stronger impression than you think.”

He nudges the pocket square between your hands. It’s still damp with your tears. You gape at it in awe. President Snow’s initials are elegantly etched in the left corner of the fabric.

“Here. Keep it. Though I’d much prefer it if you didn’t cry.” He pauses, studying you. “Girls as lovely as you never should.”

His words send your heart into a frenzy. For a while, you’re too stunned to move. You then shake yourself back to reality, noticing you’re now staring at the empty space where he used to stand. He’s gone. You look ahead. He’s already miles away from you, wrapped in conversation with who seems to be an assistant of his.

Your thumbs press against the soft fabric of the pocket square. Cheeks ablaze, you hold it to your nose. It smells like roses, the same delicate scent that wafted from him a few minutes ago. Your back prickles. You pivot and are astonished to find the envious glares of some of the applicants still waiting in line zeroed in on you. Self-conscious, you rush to continue your exit, fleeing away from the hateful stares.

As the outside gates come into sight, you can’t suppress an elated smile. It’s not everyday someone meets President Snow and receives such a gift from him. Shoving the handkerchief in your pocket, you vow to place it somewhere safe and always cherish it.

When you return home, your brother’s already sitting in the living room, his tiny brows scrunched in concentration and his nose buried in his books. Your stomach sinks. Everything you did today was for him. You can’t help but feel you missed out on a huge opportunity, one that’d have changed the course of his life forever. You glance around at the apartment. The walls are crumbling. The wooden floors are creaking. The pipes in the kitchen have been leaking for weeks, a measly bucket you must empty every morning the only thing preventing a flood. And at night, the pitter-patter of rodents’ paws resonates from the ceiling.

Every inch of your family home is in dire need of repairs.

Unfortunately, every penny you earn goes into rent and food, meaning the house falls apart a bit more everyday. Perhaps one day, you and Laertes will awake beneath the rubble of what’s left of your childhood home. Nightmares of that sometimes keep you up at night.

“How was the Academy today?” you chime, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. Worry twists your chest. There isn’t much left. You’ll need to make do with cabbage and whatever other veggies are left. Perhaps you could toss in some leftover dried meat and make a stew.

“My teacher signed me up for advanced trigonometry,” your brother announces.

You close the cabinet and beam at him.

“Oh, that sounds hard. I’m proud of you.” It doesn’t exactly surprise you. Laertes’ always been exceptionally smart. Even his teachers noticed how gifted he is from an early age. Unlike you, he breezed through middle school and now the Academy.

It’s why it’s crucial you make sure he can go to the University. A mind like his shouldn’t be wasted.

You brother shrugs, exuding nonchalance.

“It’s fine.”

You rush to him. You wrap your arm around him playfully and hug him in his chair, pulling his cheek like when he was little. You know he hates when you do that but you can’t help teasing him a bit. It’s your duty as a big sister after all.

“Don’t downplay it. My little brother’s a genius.”

He wriggles his way out of the hug, rolling his eyes.

“Stop it.”

You head back to the kitchen and fire the stove.

“I’ll make you something,” you say, smiling at your brother.

His brows knit. “Make something for yourself first.”

You nibble your bottom lip. You truly hoped he wouldn’t notice, how much smaller than his your portions are. But he’s growing; he needs it. Much more than you. Besides, how can he focus at the Academy and be the brilliant boy he is supposed to be with a growling stomach? You won’t allow it.

“Laertes…”

He shakes his head, his expression firm.

“No. You always do this. This time, we split whatever is left.”

Heaving out a resigned exhale, you nod. You whirl to resume preparing dinner.

You gather a boiling pot from the overhead cabinet and place it on the stove. With the ease of practice, you begin chopping vegetables and tossing them into the pot. You add spices and water. The mouthwatering aroma quickly fills the kitchen. Pride swells in your chest. Your cooking skills have improved so much in the last year since your parents passed. You now manage to bring flavor to the blandest of meals.

Once the stew’s ready, you pour a portion in each bowl, putting just a little more in your brother’s and praying he will not notice.

You place the steaming bowls on the table and take a seat opposite him.

“No books at the dining table,” you admonish, mimicking the exact tone your mother used with your brother. Admitting defeat, Laertes sighs and sets his homework aside. The tiny victory tugs your lips skyward.

He tells you about his day at the Academy while the two of you eat. You’re delighted to hear he’s making a lot of friends and he’s at the top of his class for most science subjects. He’s struggling a bit more with his poetry and ethics classes, but you encourage him by reminding him he can just ask the teacher for extra assignments to keep his grade up.

“I interviewed for a new job today,” you reveal, stirring the spoon in your bowl while waiting for your brother to eat more of his food.

“How did it go?”

“Well, it pays really well so I’m hopeful.”

The hope dancing in his eyes makes your chest ache. You don’t have the heart to tell him you made a fool of yourself today. You may not be gifted like your brother, but you want him to know he can rely on you at least.

Pursing his mouth, he looks down at his stew.

“That’s great. It’d be good if you didn’t have to work as much.”

Your smile falters. “Don’t worry. I have everything under control.”

“Okay.”

His dour tone stirs your concern. You wish you were better at hiding things from him, making his childhood as normal as possible. But your brother’s twelve now, and that’s old enough to sense when things are wrong.

He rises from his seat. You frown as you note there’s still food left in his bowl.

“Finish your plate before going to your room.”

Annoyance pinches his features but he still picks up his bowl and hastily guzzles down the remainder of his stew.

“Happy now?” he says, wiping his mouth.

“Yes. Very,” you cheerfully respond.

He gathers his books and strides towards his room.

Your voice rises.

“Don’t stay up too late to study, okay? I love you.”

“I…love you too,” he mumbles.

You bask in the moment as you clean the table. Thankfully Laertes is still at an age where he says it back. One day he might not. So you must cherish every instant. Every conversation, every hug, every ‘I love you’. Because it could all vanish in a second. You learned that the hard way a year ago.

The day of the interview recedes to the back of your mind as you keep living your life. Work is harrowing, as usual, but you tend to your tasks as best as you can. Your arms ache as you knead the dough in the back of the bakery. You give yourself a second to wipe the sweat off your forehead. It’s been a hectic afternoon. There’s a massive pastry order for some Capitol heiress’ birthday due tomorrow. So you’ve been racing between the front desk and the kitchen in the back. A baker called in sick today, leaving you with twice the workload.

You know it won’t take much to crash into your bed and fall asleep tonight.

To make matters worse, the day hits its nadir when you get your pay that day. You peer inside the envelope for the umpteenth time. An anxious chuckle peals out of your lips.

“I’m sorry I don’t want to complain, but…this doesn’t match the hours I put in.”

The owner scratches the back of his neck, a contrite expression etched on his face.

“I’m sorry too. With the new taxes imposed by the Capitol, I had to cut your salary.”

Slack-jawed by the news, no word leaves your mouth as you stare at him. He sighs.

“If it’s a problem, we can find someone else-”

“No, no,” you interrupt, blinking in panic. “Please, I need this job.”

He acquiesces and you’re forced to thank him despite feeling cheated. You actually scaled back your hours for your other part-times since this one paid more. What a waste.

Dispirited, you return home. As you give the driver a bill for the fare, your insides wrench. Every bill counts. Perhaps you’ll need to walk back home from now on. The streets of the Capitol are notoriously dangerous but you can’t see any other way to save your dwindling wages. You already know you’ll need to request an extension for rent this month. How will you pay it, however?

You suppose you’ll have to figure it out. You always figure it out.

These are the somber thoughts swaying in your mind as you check the mailbox.

Bills. Bills. And more bills. Your already sour mood plummets even more. But a slim, silver envelope sticking out from the pile corrals your focus. Curiosity surges inside you. It looks fancy and there’s a wax seal with the Capitol’s symbol keeping it shut. You rush to open it, heart fluttering in strange anticipation.

You unfold the neatly folded letter inside. As you read the words, you gasp, dropping the letter. Still trembling from shock and excitement, you bend to pick it up.

You take a deep slow breath before reading it again.

This time, a squeal escapes from your lips.

You read it many more times to make sure your eyes aren’t just conjuring wild fantasies.

After a while, you realize they aren’t. It’s true.

Holding the letter to your chest, you toss yourself on your bed and kick your feet excitedly.

You then place your palm on your forehead. In disbelief, you beam at the ceiling.

Somehow…you’ve been hired to work for the Snows. You actually got the job.

Perhaps there is light at the end of the tunnel.

You fidget before the iron gates, smoothing absent wrinkles on your skirt. It’s one of the best outfits you could find on short notice that wasn’t moth-eaten or visibly overworn. You pray it’s enough. You let your gaze wander. The Snows’ estate truly is majestic. The lush gardens. The beautiful architecture. You feel a little small as you admire the mansion.

Remembering yourself, you pivot to the man who drove you there. You fish inside your pocket for a bill and hand it to him. He stares at you blankly from the driver’s seat.

A weary sigh ripples behind you.

You turn, your eyes widening. It’s the woman who interviewed you that day. She wears the same stern expression.

“You don’t need to pay him,” she explains, dismissing the man with her hand. He nods and drives away. “He’s your assigned driver. He’ll pick you up each day and take you back home.”

“Oh.” You offer your hand. “Nice to meet you…again.”

She gives you a lengthy onceover, completely ignoring your gesture. Then she motions at you to follow her. You let your hand fall to your side. Heat blooms in your cheeks. Perhaps, you were too enthusiastic just then. Straightening your spine, you try your best to keep pace with her quick strides.

“I’m Pandora. I supervise most housekeeping duties for the president. I’ll show you around the estate. Then you’ll meet the young Master.”

She gives you a tour of the mansion. You’re even more amazed than last time though you try to suppress your awe and not stare excessively. She shows you the garden as well. The sea of snow-white roses makes your head spin. She specifies that the only part of the house that is off-limits is the west wing of the mansion, as these are the First Lady’s apartments and she must have rest and quiet.

She ends the visit by taking you to the nursery. A smile spontaneously finds its way onto your lips. A toddler plays with his toy train on the floor. With his blonde curls and bright blue eyes, he bears a striking resemblance to his father.

“That’s him? He’s so cute,” you whisper. Even the stern woman’s expression thaws a little as she looks at the child, softening ever-so-slightly. You send her a questioning glance. She gives you a nod of approval.

You approach the boy and crouch in front of him.

“Hi. You’re Martius, right?”

He lifts his head and beams at you. You’re immediately endeared. Again, his smile reminds you of President Snow. You suppose one could probably take over the world with a smile like that.

You turn to Pandora.

“Is his mother around? I should probably introduce myself.”

Her face pinches. “Mistress Livia has been unwell as of late. She is not to be disturbed today as she is quite tired.”

“Of course.” Your lips squeeze shut for a few seconds but curiosity gets the better of you. A question burns on your lips, one that nagged you ever since you got the job. It slips out before you can think it through. “Is this…Is this why the president and his wife require a nanny? The First Lady is sick?”

Pandora glowers at you. You flinch as she steps further inside the room, her searing tone like a whip.

“You are here to do your job, and nothing else. Mistress Livia’s health is no concern of yours. Do you hear me?”

You rise on shaky feet. You forgot yourself.

“I-I understand. I’m sorry I asked.”

“This reminds me. You have to sign this,” she says, handing you a pen and clipboard. A thin stack of papers are attached to the clipboard. The front page spells ‘Non-Disclosure Agreement’ in bold letters at the very top. You scowl as you flip through the pages.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a contract, one signed by every one of the President’s employees.”

“I don’t understand most of what’s written here…”

A frustrated exhale peals from her lips.

“I’ll make it simple for you then. For the duration of your employment here, nothing you see or hear must ever leave this house. You are here to care for the young master, that is all. Nothing else should concern you. Is that clear enough?”

You swallow thickly. It doesn’t sound hard at all. Discretion is essential in every job, isn’t it? But the way Pandora makes it sound, you’d assume there are bodies buried beneath the Snows’ estate. You’d laugh if her death stare weren’t so disquieting.

You peruse the contract, perplexed by most of the legal mumbo jumbo filling the pages. None of it rings any bell. You understand the gist of it however. You must preserve the president and his wife’s privacy. While you don’t know the specifics of the first lady’s condition, her public appearances have been few and far between in the last few years.

She used to be the envy of every woman in the Capitol. Beautiful, young and married to the dashing President Snow.

She was a fairytale princess come to life.

Then their son Martius was born. And when they held him up from the balcony of their mansion for all of Panem to gaze upon, they truly seemed like the perfect family.

Until one day, Livia Cardew simply…vanished.

She was noticeably absent from all the events of the season, some she even hosted herself. Tongues wagged of course, rumors and wild theories spreading like wildfire.

But no one knew the truth of what had happened to her.

The matter seems delicate. You promise yourself not to bring it up again.

You click the pen and scribble your name at the bottom of the very last page.

“I’ve…never signed a contract like that before starting a job.”

Pandora lets out a wry chuckle.

“Well, you’ve never worked for President Snow.”

As promised, you quit your two other jobs to focus solely on Martius. You’re hesitant at first. Your departed parents taught you never to put all your eggs in one basket. And it’s exactly what you’d be doing by trusting the Snows. But when you receive your first paycheck, long before the end of the week, every qualm you had fades. It’s more money than you’ve ever had, more money than you expected. Rent isn’t an issue anymore. Neither is food.

Besides, gifts keep coming from the estate. Clothes mostly, for both you and Laertes, but also jewelry, perfume and other fancy things you don’t need. Overwhelmed by President Snow’s generosity, you try to send some of it back, but you don’t have the heart to return everything when you see your brother’s happy face when he opens his wardrobe one day.

You’ve caught the self-conscious glimpses he casts at his classmates sometimes, when not wearing the Academy uniform. Their clothes are always brand new and custom, perfectly tailored while his are stitched back together by your clumsy hands whenever they fray at the seams. You’re not a seamstress but you’ve always done your best. But you know your best doesn’t compare to the access and privilege those kids have.

Other than those blessings, your time with Martius has been a breeze. Only hazy memories of your brother as a toddler linger in your mind, but you don’t recall him ever being as sweet and calm as the little boy is.

It hardly feels like work, caring for the small child. You spend the day playing along with his games, reading stories to him and, as the day nears its end, the two of you feed the ducks in the massive pond behind the mansion. He even gives them names and gets upset when they fight with each other.

“Lily doesn’t like James anymore,” he whispers to you one day, a sullen pout scrunching his tiny features.

“And why is that?”

“I think she’s angry that he steals her food.”

You chuckle and ruffle his golden locks. The little boy always has a story for everything he sees. At all times, his world must make sense. So if he cannot find a reason to explain what fills his gaze, he’ll weave a tale that matches it. His stories are each more wild than the other and he sometimes utters words you’ve never heard a four year old use.

But you surmise it is expected from the son of the president. When he isn’t with you, the little boy is often with his private tutor. Even at his tender age, the importance of manners and eloquence is impressed upon him.

Martius tugs at your skirt when you make your way to the door. You look down. His blue eyes are pleading.

“You’re leaving again?”

You heave out a long exhale. The little boy wasn’t so clingy before but with your bond growing, he’s been expressing more sadness from watching you go at the end of every day.

You hunker down to his level.

“My little brother’s expecting me.”

His forehead puckers. “Stay…”

“I told you before, Martius. I have a brother. He’ll miss me if I’m not here.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, giving a begrudging nod. Tears already swim in his eyes though. Panic flows through you. You didn’t want to upset him. You pick him up and bounce with him in your arms to try to soothe him.

“Oh, no. Don’t cry, sweetie.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, nearly squeezing you to death when he wraps his arms around your neck. His loud, tearful sobs swell in the room. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow like always, okay? So I need you to be brave for me.” His grip on you loosens as he sniffles. You put him down and the two of you pinky promise that you’ll return. Your heart twists at the sight of his tear-stained little face.

You give his hair one last affectionate pat before rushing outside. If you stay, he might throw another tantrum. No matter what, you can never get mad at Martius. He’s just a child. In the absence of his mother, he’s bound to grow attached to any woman filling a role adjacent to hers. You loathe that you’re taking those moments from the first lady. Though it pleases you to have a steady job and spend time with the sweet boy, it feels wrong that she isn’t there. She should get to see her baby grow up. She should hear his inane ramblings and eccentric stories.

As time wears on, you’re dying to meet her and tell her about Martius. Is she truly so sick that she can’t even see him for a mere few minutes? You’re itching to break the rules and visit the west wing of the mansion. Sometimes you hear blood-curdling screams and wailing coming from the dark halls but you never dared venture through them. You know that if you did, Pandora would crucify you.

Laertes’ well-being matters more than your curiosity.

Humming absently, you halt in your tracks in the middle of a hallway. Confusion has you blinking. A peculiar noise bounces faintly against the walls. Your gaze drifts sideways, where the noise seems to come from. You’re clocking out. Whatever’s going on in the house isn’t any of your business at this hour.

But what if someone needs help? What if it’s something bad? You’d feel awful if you learnt something happened the next day and you pretended to ignore it. So you gingerly approach the wall. Your fingers graze the tapestry covering it.

Your eyes widen when the wall moves, a tiny crack forming in it.

Your eyes bulge. It’s an ajar door, you realize. A secret door one wouldn’t notice if they weren’t aware it was there. Light spills from the slight opening.

Confining your breath, you bend over the crack in the wall to get a glimpse of what’s behind it.

The vision crowding your sight makes the blood in your veins freeze.

President Snow rutting into a maid with his pants down to his ankles. His usually neat blonde locks are tousled, a few damp curls kissing his forehead. His massive cock glistens with the girl’s essence, disappearing into the girl’s spread lips over and over again. Her body is bent over the railing of the bed and her maid outfit is bunched around her hips, exposing her ass, the flesh trembling with each of the president’s harsh, pointed thrust.

Each time he snaps his hips he draws a broken moan from her. One of his hands is around the back of her throat while the other’s on the small of her back. He grunts low in his throat as she clenches around him, thrusting into her even faster than before.

The obscene sound of their coupling rises, coalescing with the feral grunts spilling from the president’s mouth. In that moment, he’s not the poised gentleman you’re used to seeing, he is an animal in rut chasing his high.

A shocked exhale escapes your lips. Your hand flies to cover your mouth. President Snow’s head snaps up, his gaze landing straight on you.

Your heart slams against your ribcage.

You jump back from the door and push the secret door closed. You dart across the hallway, determined to find the exit as quickly as you can. You don’t glance back, your steps hasty and panicked.

Pandora was right. It’s best not not to hear or see anything, to become a tomb in which secrets are buried.

You can only hope he didn’t recognize you through the tiny crack in the door.

Though you’re shaken to your core, you continue your work as a nanny. You still need money. You may have set aside everything you made thus far, but it will only sustain you and your brother for a month or two. Besides, you’ve already handed in your resignation for your other jobs. The positions have likely been filled. You can’t exactly show up out of the blue and ask for your former job back.

No. So you convince yourself that it’s alright. You have a good thing going anyway. You’re making more than you hoped. The child is happy. You’re happy. All is well. Or it would be at least.

…If you could conjure the memory of President Snow railing into the maid far away from your mind.

You want to forget it, bury the moment so deep in the abyss of your thoughts, it can never be unearthed.

But it isn’t so easy. Because every time your mind wanders even a little, you see him again. Skin glistening with sweat and blue eyes alight with lust. The image is tattooed into your brain.

You wonder if the first lady knows. Perhaps it’s why she’s hiding away. The weight of her husband’s indiscretions may have grown too heavy to carry. It sours your heart. President Snow seemed so kind, good and noble. He was nice to you. You still have the breast pocket he gave you tucked away in a drawer. You loathe to think he’d do that to his wife. No woman deserves this.

You lift your head when your name is uttered. You get to your feet. Adrift in your thoughts, you didn’t realize Pandora was in the nursery.

“Yes?”

“The president wants to see you in his office.”

Dread wrenches your gut. It’s exactly what you feared. Does he know? Did he see you? Your pulse picks up. What other reason would there be? He never summoned you before.

“Really, why?”

“He didn’t say, but I’m assuming it’s to congratulate you.”

Befuddlement wrinkles your forehead. “Congratulate me?”

Pandora heaves out a weary sigh. “Well, you’ve done much better than we thought,” she begrudgingly admits. “The young master smiles all the time.” She rolls her eyes. “Even if we must deal with his tantrums when you leave.”

A sliver of pride flutters through you with her admission. Pandora made her doubts about your capabilities plain and obvious from the beginning. It gladdens you that you may have changed her mind a little.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She turns to him, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “It’s a small price to pay for his happiness.”

Your smile vanishes as she adds, “Now let me escort you to the president’s office. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you trail behind her. The entire trek to the president’s office, your stomach’s in knots. You keep wondering if it’s the day you’ll lose your job for being too nosy. You should have walked past the noise. You shouldn’t have peeked.

You inhale a lungful of nerve as Pandora opens the door to his office and frees room for you to enter. Your clammy hands wrench in your lap. He’s sitting behind his desk. You stagger further inside the room as he motions for you to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. He looks the same as the first time you stumbled into him, disarmingly handsome in an impeccable shirt and pants that flatter his long legs.

A sharp contrast to the version of him that has plagued your thoughts lately.

His sky gaze follows you as you take a trembling seat.

“Are you settling in well?” he asks.

“Hm, yes,” you stammer, anxiously twining your fingers. “It’s pretty much the perfect job. I get to be around a cute child all day.”

“I hear my son is very fond of you.”

You bashfully dip your head. “He’s very easy to like. He’s such a good boy, sweet, kind, and curious. You and your wife are raising him well, sir.”

He hums in thought. “I can’t take much credit for that. I’ve tried my best to carve out time for Martius…but work’s kept me busy. As for Livia...” He lets out a humorless chuckle. “Well she isn’t quite herself these days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He places one hand under his chin, scrutinizing you. You try not to twitch beneath his stare, your insides tight with dread.

“Hm, it’s strange,” he states after a minute that goes by like an eternity.

Your head rises. “What’s strange?”

“A girl like you.” His lips drag upward. “Sweet, nurturing, beautiful. Shouldn’t you be married already?”

Your lips part in astonishment. This isn’t the line of questioning you expected. “I-I’m not.”

“No fiancé?”

“No, sir.”

“A lover then?”

Warmth rushes to your face.

“No…”

He laughs, mirth dancing in his cobalt orbs.

“You must pardon me for being so forward but I simply find it astonishing. No suitors? It’s hard to believe since you’re so lovely, sweetheart.” He tilts his head. You shift in discomfort, his attention making you feel see-through. “I mean, a husband would have made your life easier than it’s been thus far, wouldn’t he, dove?”

A long exhale flows from your lips. “I’ve had offers, after I graduated from the Academy. There was even this boy, he was so kind to me.” The memory draws a small smile from you. “He proposed. I’m sure he’d make a great husband, but…”

“But…”

Your mouth dries.

“I know it’s probably naive and unrealistic but I want to marry for love, that great, life-changing love, like in those romance novels my mom used to love, not money or status.”

His eyes twinkle. “Or financial stability?”

Shame gathers in your chest. You know it sounds silly when uttered aloud.

“I know, I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. It’s sweet that you still believe in love.” He appears lost in a faraway memory, his gaze hazing over with remembrance. “I used to believe in it too. I used to think, ‘Who needs wealth and success and power when love conquers all?’”

He chuckles but it’s bereft of amusement.

“Really? What happened then?”

His gaze locks with yours.

“I grew up.”

Confused, you frown.

“But aren’t you and the first lady in love?”

Another laugh bursts from his chest.

“God, you’re sweet.” His tone lowers to a dulcet whisper. “It’s like none of the world’s ugliness has gotten to you yet.” He reveals matter-of-factly, “My wife and I hate each other.” His smile widens at your flabbergasted expression. “Always did. It’s best that way, more…efficient. Of course, there was a time, when we had…passion.” He licks his lips, something you can’t pinpoint flickering in his gaze. “But not anymore. She’s far too gone for that.”

He rises from his chair. You stiffen as he circles the desk, making slow steps towards you.

“Which is why I must…satiate my needs wherever I can,” he mumbles, fingers lurking under your chin, forcing your eyes to fall upon him. “Do you understand my meaning, dove?”

“I…yes.”

Discomfort flares within you. Tension hangs in the air, so heavy it clogs your airways.

He cocks his head, lips slanting crookedly.

“Do you really? With that innocent look in your eyes, it’s hard to tell.” His thumb sweeps over your shuddering bottom lip. “Men have needs. And am I not a man, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes you are, sir.”

He bends over you to whisper in your ear. “You saw everything that day, didn’t you?” Your heart stops.

Flames lick your face as you bow your head. “I-I didn’t see anything.”

His warm breath ghosts over your earshell.

“Liar,” he mumbles.

Your pulse quickens.

He leans back and nudges your chin upward.

“Since my wife fell sick, I’ve been very lonely. And sometimes…” He looms over you, crowding your space as you peer up at him, fingers squeezing the arms of the chair. “I need something soft and warm to forget that feeling.”

President Snow slowly falls to his knees in front of you. His fingers find your thigh, starting to creep under your skirt. A devilish glint sparkles in his cobalt gaze. He finds your center, pressing the sheer fabric into your folds. You gasp. He chuckles at your reaction. He starts teasing you through your panties, tracing your slit and dragging over your tender bud. Your breath hitches as the air around you grows hotter. You grow slick beneath his finger, your thighs shaking as tingles bloom on your flesh.

“Sir…” you whimper, tears welling up in your eyes.

He pushes further inside you, adding another finger, and you unleash an audible breath. You try to close your thighs. He places his other hand on your knee to keep you open for him.

The air in your lungs grows thinner as he rubs your core through your soaked panties. The friction is a delicious torture. Pleasure pools in your belly causing your face to burn with shame. You’re getting embarrassingly wet with President Snow’s attention.

“I just want a little taste,” he murmurs, his deep timbre bleeding lust. “Just one time and it’ll never happen again,” he promises fervently as his lips graze your ankle. You find some relief when his fingers disappear from your drenched center. But your respite is ephemeral. He slips his hands under your ass and tugs at your panties.

Panic widens your eyes. Cheeks ablaze, you pull at the material between your legs with both hands. But he’s stronger than you and effortlessly drags the fabric along your legs. A wicked smile plays on his lips as tears glisten in your eyes. It’s soon down to your ankles. You squeal when the president yanks the panties off your foot, tossing them aside. Cool air sneaks beneath your skirt, swirling over your bare folds.

Hands over your knees to keep you spread, his wolfish gaze sweeps over your glossy folds.

Your skin heats, embarrassment gathering in your chest. You’ve never been this vulnerable and exposed in front of anybody before.

“Please, President Snow, s-stop…”

“But you’re dripping, sweetheart,” he states smugly, sinking a finger inside your weeping core, as if to make a point. Your breath hitches. He takes his finger out sluggishly. You clench when he grazes one of your sensitive spots. “Just as sweet as I expected,” he hums, obscenely licking your essence off his long digit.

Without a warning, he buries his head between your thighs. A sharp exhale leaps from your mouth. His cool tongue traces a wet trail over your folds. President Snow traces maddening patterns over your swollen bud causing your eyes to roll back.

You card your fingers through his silken platinum locks, hoping to push his head away. But the delightful sensations grow too overwhelming. You unravel beneath his sinful ministrations, your limbs twitching as the thread of your thoughts comes loose.

Your grip on his hair weakens. Your belly tightens, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

You jolt as his tongue flickers over your tender heap of nerves.

“P-President…”

He purrs against your folds and the vibrations rock through your core. You squirm in the chair. Your thighs quake. Your vision dims, your mind blank as waves of pleasure swaddle you in their tide. Protests scatter on your tongue, replaced by wanton whimpers and moans.

Electricity ripples through your spine as you cry out.

Bliss engulfs you and your legs turn liquid. Shame swirls in your gut as your juices coat his tongue. He drinks your nectar, elation rumbling in his chest.

When he lifts his head, you hardly recognize him. The feral glow in his gaze chills your blood.

There is no time to collect yourself, realize what just occurred, as the blonde gathers your limp frame from the chair and places you on his desk. Documents and papers are flung to the ground as he grabs your thighs and presses his throbbing hard-on against your cunt.

He hastily unbuttons his pants, freeing his hard length. He fists his cock and guides it through your wet entrance. Your back arches, the sudden intrusion robbing you of air. He reaches the hilt of you in a few seconds, giving you no time to accommodate his thick girth. You collapse over the desk, weak whimpers leaving you as your walls are stretched to their limit. He drags out of you, his pupils flaring as they trace the motion of his length in and out of you. Coriolanus leans over you. He snaps his pelvis into your hips, each of his thrusts tearing tearful moans from your throat.

When you turn your head, hot tears flowing down your cheeks, he grabs your chin so you’re forced to meet his lustful stare. Bracing himself on the desk, he reaches between your bodies to pinch your swollen clit. He plucks at your soft bud until you shatter around him with a sob. His throat bobs, a look of sheer bliss flitting across his face when you clench around him.

“I’ve been dying to fuck you the minute I saw you,” he confesses, trailing soft pecks over your collarbone. A sinister chuckle peals from his lips. “The way you looked at me with those sweet, innocent eyes…it made me rock-hard.” He tilts your chin towards him, his thumb skimming over your parted lips.

Satisfaction glimmers in his eyes as they flick over your prone form.

“You should thank me. Those boys at the Academy wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like you…” His cock twitches inside you. Sticky warmth spills from him, painting your walls and dripping past your hole. Drops of his seed leak onto the desk. A throaty sigh pours from President Snow’s throat as your cunt flutters around him.

His teeth nip the skin of your neck.

“...But I do.”

After what occurs in his office, you hope to avoid President Snow. Those hopes are swiftly dashed however. President Snow lied to you. It doesn’t happen once. In fact, you begin to lose count of the actual number.

Every time the president finds a little spare time, he summons you.

Sometimes you end up bent over the desk in his office as he pours the frustrations of the day into your warm hole. Sometimes he prefers you sprawled on your back in one of the multitude of luxurious beds in the mansion while he devours you as if you were his very last meal. And at times, he grows even more impatient and simply shoves you against a wall before ravaging you.

More than once, a maid or footman has walked in on the two of you, and you’ve had to swallow your shame and embarrassment.

As you’ve come to learn, the entire staff is aware of Coriolanus Snow’s insatiable appetite and none of them seems to care.

You feel sick, desperate, trapped in something twisted and awful you never signed up for.

But how does one say no to President Coriolanus Snow? The entire Capitol yields to his every whim. And you are the same. Here to bow and smile and lie back whenever he demands it.

You long to focus on your job, to care for Martius and nothing else. Whenever the boy looks up at you with those innocent blue eyes, eerily similar to his father’s, your stomach wrenches. You pray he never comes to learn what kind of man his father is. You wish he’d stay just as kind and sweet as he is now.

Those are the thoughts drifting through your mind as you watch Martius play with his toy trains. Your eyes wander towards the window. Outside, orange and purple hues are bleeding into the sky, the afternoon nearing its end. Your stomach coils. It’s during times like these that President Snow often seeks you out. You’ve tried to run away from him but it’s all a game to Coriolanus, and he always delights in chasing you through the hallways.

Your brows crumple as you note that Martius has stopped playing. He drops his toy and rushes to your side. Confounded by his behavior, you’re on the cusp of asking him what’s wrong…but your gaze follows what caught his attention on the other side of the room.

You fall silent, your eyes rounding in shock.

“Martius. Come here, my love,” says the blonde woman in a white robe and nightgown, her arms wide open.

Time stands still for a few seconds. It takes you a while to realize who stands before the door. She looks so different, more ghost than woman, her glassy blue eyes hollow and sunken. But her likeness is unmistakable. Even with her graying, limp tresses and ashen complexion, you recognize Livia Cardew. The president’s wife.

You bolt to your feet. Arms still open, Livia takes slow steps towards Martius.

“I’m your mom, sweetie. Don’t you remember me?”

The little boy’s fists clutch your skirt as he hides his face against your leg.

“You’re not my mom.”

A stricken look twists Livia’s features as she shrinks. As if her own son just drove a knife through her heart. Your chest twinges. While her abrupt appearance is a shock, you can’t imagine how she must feel. You place a hand on Martius’ back and try to nudge him forward.

“Martius. It’s the First Lady, your mother. Go on, hug her,” you urge softly.

He shakes his head, tears filling his eyes as he hides behind you even more.

You’re stunned. Has it truly been that long?

“Martius-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, Livia lunging at you, her eyes wild with fury.

“You! This is all your fault,” she hisses. She points at you and scoffs, “You’re his new whore, aren’t you?” Her mouth wobbles as she grips her head. “First you take my husband, now my son.”

Martius begins to sob. His loud cries overlap with his mother’s frantic yelling. You cover his eyes, tossing Livia an apologetic look.

“First Lady, I never meant-”

Before you can explain yourself, she grabs a nearby vase and smashes it. White roses scatter on the floor. Stomping all over the petals and broken glass, she collects one of the shards and races towards you. Terror numbs you. You freeze as Livia aims the shard at you, scarlet droplets dripping on her nightgown as she squeezes her fist around the glass.

Your eyes shut as you wait for the inevitable strike.

You shiver, waiting still.

But it doesn’t come.

“Livia, darling, that’s enough. It’s time for you to sleep and take your medicine.”

The familiar sound of Coriolanus’ voice causes your eyes to snap open.

You watch him restrain a struggling Livia. She curses at him, fighting him with all her might. It’s a painful spectacle.

“No, don’t touch me!” Other staff members rush into the room. It takes several people to hold Livia down, colorful expletives pouring from her mouth as she punches and kicks whoever comes close. “You’re killing me! You bastard! Give me my son back! Martius! Martius!”

The child trembles against your skirt, his tear-filled gaze stuck to the floor.

Eventually someone manages to stick a needle into Livia’s neck. She instantly goes limp, arm still reaching for her son in her last conscious second.

“Take her away,” Coriolanus instructs.

The first lady’s flaccid form is dragged out of the room. Still shaken by what you just witnessed, you don’t move a muscle. President Snow approaches you, worry swimming in his blue orbs.

“Are you alright, dove?” He cups your cheeks, his brows crumpling as his gaze settles on your neck. “I’ll have Doctor Gaul look at you. She has an ointment for that.” He caresses your cheeks, smiling. You gape at him. How can he smile at a time like that? “It won’t even scar. I promise.”

You graze your neck. Your fingers come away bloody. Oh. Livia nicked you with the shard but you didn’t even feel it. Perhaps adrenaline numbed you to the pain.

“Dada,” Martius chimes, lifting his chubby arms.

Coriolanus’ face warms as he picks up his son. He tosses him in the air and catches him. Martius giggles through his tears.

“My sweet boy. That was very scary, wasn’t it?” he says, balancing his son on his hip. Martius nods and wipes his nose. Coriolanus flicks his cheek, beaming at him. “Don’t worry, son. The scary lady won’t bother you anymore in a few months.”

A wave of ice blows through your veins. You wonder why the president uttered those words with such certainty. Like a promise. Or a prophecy. Almost as if he knows exactly when the grim reaper will come knock on his wife’s door.

The next day, you hand over your resignation to Pandora. Her expression is skeptical as she gauges the manila folder you give her.

“This is for the president,” you announce.

She unleashes a deep exhale. “You should reconsider, sleep on it.”

You almost laugh. Sleep on it? You can hardly find rest, the picture of a disheveled Livia Cardew crying out for her son haunting your nights. Whatever befell upon the poor woman, you wouldn’t be surprised if her husband somehow had a hand in it. It broke your heart, seeing her like that, her own son unable to recognize her. You also despise the role Coriolanus forced you to play in erasing her memory.

All of it feels wrong.

And most of all, you don’t want President Snow to use you to satisfy his lewd desires anymore. He took all your firsts, all the moments that should have been beautiful, and made them a nightmare you have to relive every time he touches you.

You respected him; you admired him. Now you can’t be in his presence without dread whispering through you. What will he make you do this time? How will he make you small and powerless again?

“I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. He can hire someone else to care for him.”

Pandora purses her lips and shakes her head.

“It’s really not that simple. The president has developed…a fondness for you.”

You bristle. “I have to go back home. Laertes is expecting me.”

“You won’t like what comes next, trust me.” Her gaze narrows. “No one leaves the president.”

Ignoring the shudder elicited by her daunting words, you pivot and make a beeline towards the exit. Pandora’s voice echoes down the hallways.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Depleted, you glumly make your way to the gates. You enter the car that takes you back home everyday. Your thoughts wander as the Snow’s house grows smaller through the car window. You were thrilled when you got this job. It felt like kismet after the year you and your brother had. A rainbow after the rain. A slice of hope.

How it all went to hell so quickly. You’re still reeling from it. You’ve no idea what you’ll do next. The only thing you know for certain is that you will not step foot into the Snows’ estate ever again.

The car suddenly halts. You bump your head into the passenger’s seat. Wincing, you grip the sides of your head. As you retrieve your senses, you look around. You stopped.

You toss a questioning look at the driver.

But before he can respond, the car door opens and you’re yanked outside. Two pairs of strong arms drag you away from the car.

You take in the blue uniforms of the men. Terror pulses through your blood.

Peacekeepers.

Noting the guns at their sides, you stop trying to resist. There’s no fighting against them, ever. They are the Capitol’s fist and carry the President’s will. You don’t stand a chance. In fact, you likely never did. You slump in their grip, despair thrumming inside you.

They escort you to a black car with tinted windows. Your pulse soars. You’ve only ever seen one individual step out of this car.

The peacekeepers toss you inside and slam the door shut.

Your fearful gaze rises to him.

He casually sits in front of you, his eyes narrowed.

“You disappoint me, dove.” He lets out a weary sigh. “After everything I’ve done for you…you try to leave me. I thought you were smarter than that.”

You twine your hands, sputtering, “I-I’m not the right person for this job, sir.”

He slides his fingers under your chin, tilting it upward.

“Oh but you’re perfect. My son loves you. You’re sweet, dutiful and most importantly…” He smirks. “You are mine. Mine to hold, spoil and fuck whenever I please for however long I please.”

The prospect fills you with dread. He wants you to be his toy again, submissive, available whenever he pleases.

“Sir…”

His jaw ticks, his hold on your jaw tightening.

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if your brother could attend the University, free of charge? A bright young mind such as his, I believe he deserves it.” His blue eyes twinkle. “Instead of, let’s say…end up in a District, his name chosen as a tribute in the next Hunger Games.” Your heart sinks to your feet. “That’d be awful, wouldn’t it? So cruel…” he mumbles, stroking your trembling bottom lip.

“No, please,” you beseech, tears swelling in your eyes. Your brother’s all you have left in the world. Nothing can happen to him.

Coriolanus fondles your cheek, the tender gesture a sharp contrast to the wicked words rolling off his tongue.

“It’s all up to you, then, dove. As long as you behave, I’ll give you the world. But if you act like a little brat again…” A threat lurks in his soft tone, a glint of madness swaying in his cobalt orbs. “I really don’t know what I might do.”

Chills dance over your spine.

“I promise to never do it again,” you blurt out.

He pulls out a square from his breast pocket. It’s identical to the one he used the first time.

But a lifetime seems to have passed since that moment, the world now so different from what you imagined, and the man before you…even more so.

“Good girl,” he lauds while swiping away your tears.

He shoves the pocket square back in its place. Coriolanus then beams at you as he starts unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his pants.

“Now, I’ve had a long, exhausting day. So how about you get on your knees for me and make it better with that sweet mouth of yours, dove?”

#dark!coriolanus snow #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

5K notes · View notes

il-miele-che-scrive · 4 months

Text

Lando Norris and [Y/n] Wolff are an on-and-off thing, fans think they're all good after [Y/n] releases a song supposedly about Lando, but they forget he's not the only Brit on the grid.

username1 HE LAUGHS AT ALL MY JOKES

↳username2 AND HE SAYS I'M SO AMERICAN

username3 sorry but in which part is y/n american?

↳username1 her mother, Y/m/n Y/l/n, is American and Y/n spent most of her life in the US after Y/m/n and Toto divorced

username3 oooh good to know, thank you!!

username4 I'm so happy to know Y/n and Lando are still together after all

↳username5 But they were never official

username4 But it's obvious! They were seen on dates many times, hanging out around Monaco, not to mention every time Y/n is in the paddock she spends more time in the McLaren garage than Mercedes'

username6 my fav nepo baby <3

username7 damn Lando must be doing a good job lol

username8 Y/n finally released a love song, everybody thank Lando

username9 Weren't there rumours about them being over forever just during the winter break?

↳username10 Toto would find a way to get Lando kicked out of F1 if he ever broke Y/n's heart lmao

username9 What does Toto gotta do with McLaren?

username10 He's rich? Lol

username9 And? Stroll's daddy is rich as well yet he can't make idk Verstappen disappear lol rich doesn't mean he can do anything he wants

username11 Guys I have a bad feeling, we actually haven't seen them together in a long time , I'm afraid they might be actually broken up for good

↳username6 I wouldn't read too much into it, Y/n studies in Monaco so she isn't able to attend races right now

username11 You sure? Y/n hasn't made a single appearance since the season started

username6 The season started in the middle of her uni year lol you ever thought of that?

↳username7 this is literally a love song, how are we even wondering if they broke up? she wouldn't release this if they were done

username6 THIS!! I feel like this song is a confirmation from Y/n that all is good, maybe she was tired of people talking if they're broken up or not

username5 Then why don't they make it official?

username6 that's not a question i can answer

username12 "I'll go anywhere he goes" then why aren't you attending races miss girl? Education can wait

↳username2 lmao it literally can't wait

username13 "the books you read" ma'am, Lando looks like he hasn't touched a single book his whole life

↳username12 And it's not like he dresses that well either, his style is nothing special

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

y/n's texts with Lando

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

username1 All men are the same I swear

↳username2 nooo I swear there are good ones, but that's just not Lando

username3 excuse me sir, y/n has just written a love song about you

username4 NOOOO THE WAY HE PUT HIS HAND ON THE GIRL'S LOWER BACK

↳username1 Him and Y/n are done frfr 😭

username5 Do we know who the girl is?

↳f1gossip Not yet, but I'm sure we'll know in no time

username6 Wtf is wrong with you, it's not her fault Lando can't focus on one woman

username7 But there's no way she didn't know about him and Y/n ;)

username6 There is/was no "Lando and Y/n", they never confirmed a relationship

username8 He's just won in Miami, I was hoping they'd make it official after that :(

↳username9 Sameeee it would be so cool

↳username10 Literally same, it'd be perfect

username11 Lando Norris, you disappoint me again

↳username12 at this point Y/n must be used to that lmao poor girl I hope she finds someone better

username13 WHAT DOES TOTO SAY ABOUT IT?

↳username3 Whats he supposed to say? Y/n is a grown woman, stop treating her like a baby

username14 I swear if we see Y/n back again with him after THIS I'm gonna break some dishes

↳username15 Yeah I hope she'll find some self respect and finally leave his ass

username16 Y/n I beg you to leave him, the d can't be THAT fire

yn_wolff posted on instastory

landonorris replied to your story:

↳mind if i join?

yn_wolff:

yeah lol don't join

landonorris:

i was gonna sail today anyway, what if we do it together?

hey i think i see u thru my window who are u with?

yn_wolff:

with dad and susie

stalker ass creep don't get anywhere near me today

landonorris:

I see another man

who is he?

*seen*

y/n answer me who is he

is that russell?

fucking russell wtf is he doing there

he better keep his hands away from you

what the fuck why are u hugging him

yn_wolff:

i'm hugging george and I'll do something worse if you don't stop with ur stalker shit

landonorris:

what the fuck do you mean y/n

yn_wolff:

don't worry, I'm sure that blonde girl would love to give you a hug, you should go see her

landonorris:

she's just a friend

y/n you're mine

she doesn't mean shit to me

don't show my texts to russell

yn_wolff:

Hello it's George, stop texting my girlfriend or we'll have to tell Toto

landonorris:

girlfriend?

username1 Right after? The Lando thing was yesterday

↳f1gossip Yeah, and this was this morning

username2 Whats Y/n doin with George? 🤨

↳username3 in case you forgot she's y/n WOLFF, the daughter of Mercedes' boss which GR drives for

username4 After seeing Y/n's story I hoped she's finally spending some time with Lando but...

↳username5 Have u seen what Lando posted? 😂

username4 What did he post?

username5 Oh apparently he deleted it already lol it was a story

username5 Anyway he posted like a lowkey thirst trap pic and the music he added was Tumblr girls by g eazy lmao

username4 Boohoo consequences of his own actions catching up

username5 Yeahh and he especially chose the verse that goes like "fucking off and on, always stop and go, probably got someone, choose not to know"

username6 Guys, I say we take in consideration the possibility of 'so american' being about George

landonorris Monaco weekend 🇲🇨☀

view all comments

username1 Why do I feel like he posted this just so people think Y/n was there with him even though there's not a single pic of her? 😂

↳username2 Bro why he want her when he can't have her anymore?

username3 get over it, it's your fault

username4 I feel like he's tryna say "Hey guys look, Y/n took these pics" but why would we believe it 💀

↳username1 Exactly!! We all KNOW she most likely spent the day with George

username5 Now all i think about when i see Lando is the story he deleted 😭

↳username6 totally hahah he literally called Y/n a bitch but also admitted that he can't help wanting other girls

username7 Wait when did this happen? When did he say that?

username6 he never said that, it's lyrics of a song he posted but quickly deleted

username5 He immediately regretted hahah

username8 @/maxfewtrell Tell Lando to behave, why are you even helping him with this bullshit?

username9 It's too late, you had your chance FOR HALF A YEAR and still chose to lead Y/n on, now she got someone else and you're being petty

↳username10 She let him lead her on for half a year? Damn it he should pay for her therapy

username9 I feel like she really hoped she can change him but realized "if you can't change the man, change the man"

username10 Very accurate lmao

username11 Guys, I believe Y/n and Lando were a thing for much more time than half a year, it was going on for at least a year, they were just very secretive about it

username9 Well, good for her to finally get out of this shit, she deserves so much better and I hope George will give her that

username1 I bet Toto loves his new son in law

↳username2 He has to be very relieved to know Y/n chose George eventually

username3 We still don't know if they're dating, remember George drives for Mercedes

username4 I really hope Lando is crying rn

username5 Now Lando for sure can't trick us into thinking Y/n was with him lmao

username6 I love George for saving Y/n

username7 I love them, they're all so old money, Y/n and George are a great match

username8 MY DELULU IS BECOMING TRULULU

username9 This is our confirmation that so american is about George

username10 I feel like Y/n upgraded at some point but at one point also downgraded

↳username2 Let's not talk about it, we should be happy for her and George, at least he won't treat her like an option

username11 George is literally THE MAN for Y/n, I'm so glad she finally realized that

↳username12 Chill, let's not assume stuff before we have any statement from them, we all know where assuming can get us

username13 This is my old money dream

username14 HEAR ME OUT but I'd actually love to see George and Y/n get married one day

↳username12 THIS is exactly where assuming can get us

yn_wolff Oh you'll like him, he's really kind andhe's funny like you sometimes, and I found someone I really like maybe for the first time

view all comments

username1 I'm so happy for them I'm gonna cry

lewishamilton Invite me next time!

↳georgerussell63 Toto said it was family only, I'm sorry, Lewis!

↳yn_wolff Ask Ferrari to invite you wtf

username1 lmao only Y/n Wolff can talk to a 7 times world champion like that

username2 YESSSS IT'S OFFICIAL

↳username1 Y/n is officially free from Lando!!

username3 I love the vibes, I love the fact that Y/n is dating a driver from her dad's team, I love the fact that Toto accepts it

↳username4 He must've been going CRAZY when Y/n had the situationship with Lando

username3 Absolutely and I think we all know about Toto's anger issues lol

susie_wolff 💝

↳yn_wolff 🩷

ymn_yln I hope George knows he's welcome in America too 😊

↳yn_wolff Of course!! We have a plane on Friday❤️

↳georgerussell63 I wanted to take Y/n to Miami so we can visit after the GP, but she refused ��

yn_wolff Shut up I have uni!!

georgerussell63 It can't be more important than me meeting your mum

lilymhe Beautiful couple 😚

↳yn_wolff @/susie_wolff it's about you and dad💕

lilymhe Might as well be 😂

username3 Susie and Toto literally are Y/n and George in like 20 years lmao

alex_albon Finally, no more secrets

↳username2 ALBONO KNEW?

username4 Phew I can't imagine how much stress it was for him 😂

username5 George just MIGHT be the guy which so american is about...

username6 Something about this relationship makes me feel so at peace and I don't even know them in person

charles_leclerc Someone check on Lando😂

↳yn_wolff Charles 💀

username5 Is he wrong tho

username7 I laughed harder than I should've

↳username8 Betting all my money he's regretting all his actions

username9 As he should tbh imagine leading sb on for about a year, people who do this are evil

username8 Yeah, that was so wrong of him

username10 No but I need to know what books George reads tho

landonorris 👍

↳yn_wolff Stalker ass you don't even follow me

↳username4 THE AUDACITY

landonorris I hope you'll have fun while it lasts

↳yn_wolff YOU'RE the one to speak about lasting

↳georgerussell63 Not your place to worry about it🙂

username5 THE EMOJI MAKES IT SO FUNNY FOR NO REASON

username1 "THE WAY YOU DRESS, THE BOOKS YOU READ" he dresses well✅ he looks like he reads✅

username2 He's the perfect man for Y/n frfr

username3 I'm so happy that it's not about Lando after all, I was like girl he's treating you like shit and you write a love song??

username4 I've been waiting for it for YEARS

username5 So they had a thing for no longer than since the end of winter break and already made it official

↳username2 Something Lando couldn't do for almost a whole ass year lmao

username6 But have y'all noticed how obsessed with Y/n Lando is suddenly?

↳username1 of course he is, that's how it works, he's been rejected so his fragile ego is hurt

username3 He's even liking fans' edits of Y/n😭man is manifesting hard but I doubt anything can help him

username7 Good to know George's hands are warmer than hell, they don't look like it

username8 Girlie deserved a man who doesn't have commitment issues aka is a real man, I'm glad she got him

username9 Y'all think Lando reads Y/n x reader fanfics?👀

↳username1 Totally

↳username2 I can imagine it

↳username3 He'll do it until his delulu becomes trululu (it'll never happen🔥)

username10 I'll laugh so hard if now Lando will now stop fooling around with other girls 😂

username11 Can't wait for a whole album full of love songs about him

↳username12 I don't think we'll have to wait for long

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 social media au #george russel x reader #George Russell imagine #George Russell smau #George Russell social media au #Lando Norris x reader #Lando Norris imagine #Lando norris smau #Lando norris social media au

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goodnightwrite · 3 months

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The Imaginary Perks of Higher Education || Aventurine x Dr. Ratio

“You have better things to do.” “Not according to the Company, I don’t.” Aventurine smiles and takes off his sunglasses. He reaches over and goes in for the kill, lifting the bottom of Ratio’s chin to meet his eyes. No one ever resists the eyes. “You have no idea how special you are—in that I was sent to retrieve you.” Ratio says nothing. He doesn’t really move.

In which the IPC just can’t seem to convince Veritas Ratio to join the Intelligentsia Guild, so they deploy Aventurine to a tiny university city-state, where he must charm the good doctor into their fold.

>> AO3 link >>Ko-fi link

#aventio #aventurine x dr ratio #hsr aventurine #dr. ratio #honkai star rail #hsr #aventurine #star rail aventurine #dr ratio #veritas ratio

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cursedcola · 1 month

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Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul (Here) | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits you steal:

Plan-Books (Inherited) : Riddle habitually carries a planner with all his tasks. A physical one, not an app in his cell phone like most students choose. You find it easier to manage and swap to paper-and-pen alternatives at his recommendation.

Tidiness (Inherited): Riddle is a nit-pickier when it comes to physical presentation. His habits of pressing his uniform, laying his clothes out every night, and dressing conservatively rub off. He has a point - ironed trousers do make a difference. Every morning he will redo your uniform tie. It's never knotted to his 'standard', and is his preferred excuse to greet you before class.

"Now, isn't that better? Surely you are more comfortable in ironed linens than those rags you'd been wearing as pajamas. You seriously found them lying in Ramshackle? Were you not given an allowance to buy basic needs? Ridiculous! The Headmaster's irresponsibility holds no bounds!" <- Utterly appalled that you've been sleeping in century-old robes. He supplies you with seven sets of pajamas, a spare uniform, and an iron + board for Ramshackle. All after reaming the Headmaster for neglect in the last dorm-head meeting - either Crowley coughed up the marks or Riddle will supply from his own bank. Seven have mercy if he chooses to become a lawyer instead of a doctor.

No Heels (Developed): Riddle has a height complex. He won't make a show of it, but you wearing heels does emasculate him. Especially if you're already taller naturally. For his sake, you choose to slay your outfits in flats.

"Are those new loafers? Oh - no, they're lovely. The embroidery is exquisite and I can see why Pomefiore's Housewarden models for their brand. I merely thought you preferred the heeled saddle-shoes we saw during the past weekend trip. I must have been mistaken. Never mind me. You look wonderful."

Playing Brain Teasers (Inherited): Riddle has this thing with memory - you don't know if he's really into preventing old-age Alzheimer's or what. He carries a book of teaser games like Sudoku, etc. for when he has downtime and you eventually get into them too.

"Oh! My Rose, would you care to join me for lunch? Trey's siblings recently mailed in a large collection of cross-words. You'll find they are both educational and entertaining - hm? I do not seem the 'type' for word-games? I assure you, even I can relax on occasion. There is no need to look so surprised." <- Riddle's been making a grand effort to do things he enjoys and become more personable. Trey's siblings did not send the collection. Riddle went into town and picked it out on his own. He also found a book on organizing excursions since he's big on quality time. He is dead-set on not being a neglectful or 'boring' partner.

Swear Jar (Developed): Tired of Riddle collaring Ace for his vulgar tongue, you suggest a Heartslabyul swear jar. When the jar gets filled, the money can be used to fund things like study materials and renovations for the dorm. Riddle liked this idea, but now implements it on anyone who sets foot in the Heartslabyul. Considering you spend most of your time there, you've had to develop a vast vocabulary beyond swearing. Oh - you also unironically use the word 'fiddlesticks' now.

Habits he steals:

Useless Expenses (Inherited): You are an enabler without a doubt. Riddle has always functioned with the bare bones - with function and efficiency being the number one priority. Ever so slowly - you've spoiled him with aesthetically pleasing stationary. At first all the needless purchases felt redundant - why buy the pillowcases with flowers when plain white is cheaper? You can invest in a higher quality this way. Yet you've ruined him with gifts that he had no choice but to use. Now he needs to buy the pens with little hedgehogs on them because studying doesn't feel the same with a plain ballpoint.

Slang Dictionary (Developed): With each passing day, all the students in Heartslabyul get more creative at bending the rules. That includes you. Riddle takes it upon himself to carry a 'little-black-book' full of all the sang words he is unfamiliar with. He does want to be a bit more 'hip' to understand you more, but at the same time he wants to bust any student being a smart-mouth. It's an ongoing battle *sigh*.

"Apologies, could you repeat that term for me? Surely it must be relevant to my lecture if you and Ace are whispering. 'Let him cook'? Do you think we are in a culinary lecture?! Have you not been listening to - ah. So it's in reference to letting me finish before interrupting...One moment. I need to make a note."

Chewing Gum (Developed): This is an ode to psychology. In short, eating is tied to a person's fight-or-flight. Instincts dictate that our bodies need to be in a calm state to eat comfortably. One day when Riddle was at his wits end, you tossed him a pack of sugarless gum and told him to chew. Disregarding Trey's unholy dental screeching, Riddle develops a gum dependence for when he's stressed out. On the bright side, his jaw has never been so sharp.

“Mimicry? You must be mistaken. Even if my influence has affected their person, surely there are only positive developments” == Riddle denies any changes if confronted. In truth, he’s well aware of how much you’ve helped him grow. It’s the opposite accusation that spikes concern. Riddle does not want others thinking you’re a mini-version of him. Rumors are not kind and neither is his current reputation. Making those amends is his burden to bare. He is flattered to see you paying attention to his mannerisms, and secretly proud that your bond is strong enough to affect the psyche.

Habits you steal:

Whistling (Inherited): Trey whistles while working in the kitchen or doing general chores around the dorm. He's not very loud with it, so not may students are bothered. Since you laze about in his shadow the tunes he goes through do become repetitive. Now you do the same when cleaning up Ramshackle. Grim wants to knock you both out because he can't take it anymore.

"Ah -- How'd you know it was me in here? Just because I bake for the un-birthday parties doesn't mean I live in the kitchen, you know. My whistling? Huh. Never thought that would be my calling card but there are worse things, haha"

Head-Scratching (Inherited): Trey's got a habit of scratching the back of his head when he's uncomfortable or nervous. That, or rubbing at the nape of his neck while adverting eye contact. You start doing this too whenever you're being scolded or put in a tough situation.

Dental Hygiene (Inherited): By far the most obvious shared trait. Trey enforces his dental habits onto everyone- you are no exception. You now own four different kinds of floss, two toothbrushes (one being electric), and have a strict hygiene routine. Your pearly whites have never been so clean. Eventually you become somewhat of a secondary enforcer, policing anyone who sleeps over your dorm to take care of themselves before bed. All of Heartslabyul learns that there is no going back when you scold Riddle for not brushing after his teatime tart, and live to tell the tale.

"Hey - uh, weird question? Were you handing out floss to the Spelldrive Team yesterday? Seriously? I though Grim was pulling my leg - oh, no! It's not weird at all! Those guys should have a better routine for all the meat they eat when bulking. I'm just shocked you got through to them." <- Very proud. Mildly cocky. He's been itching to get those negligent jocks to floss after their banquets his entire tenure, but steered away from that conflict like the plague. Thank you for making his dreams come true. Now if you could maybe get them to stop picking their gums with toothpicks?

Habits he steals:

Overbuying Food (Developed): Being a baker's son, Trey's good with finances and money. He's also meticulous with the ingredients he purchases for his bakes. You are not. You go to Sam's shop, buy whatever is on sale, and then bring it back home to improvise. This ends poorly more often than not, and behold! Trey has two Ramshackle sluggers snooping around his kitchen for eats. This is unpredictable and therefore he now never knows what amount to buy. You've ruined him.

Phone Calls (Developed): Texting is easier. Especially since phone calls can be a commitment that Trey dislikes being wrapped up in. Whenever Cater's name pops up as the caller, Trey knows he's getting an ear full. The thing is that you never. answer. your. phone. Either the text gets lumped in with the hundreds of missed messages you have, or Grim stole your cell to play mobile games. So Trey gives up and only ever calls. Either Grim will answer or you'll pick up thinking it's the snooze of your alarm.

"Hello? Prefect, where are you? It's me, Trey. Just calling to see if you're still coming to the Un-Birthday party? Riddle's getting a bit nervous since the schedule's set for the next hour. Grim's already here with Ace and Deuce - uh, want Cater to send a double to pick you up? I have a sinking feeling that you're asleep...Call me? Please?" <- He was correct. You called back not a moment after, half-asleep and hauling ass not to be late.

Speaking in Propositions (Inherited): Trey's normally good at keeping neutrality in a conversation, but getting a clear answer out of Yuu you is like solving a rubix cube. Either it's easy and instant, or a long game. Eventually your habit of indecisiveness rubs off on him and he asks questions more than answers them. Evidently this gets his younger classmen to stop asking for favors unless they really need to.

“Aha - really? I didn’t notice at all. Okay. Okay, I picked up on a few hints. What’s so wrong with them taking after me? It’s cute, right?” == Trey is the observant sort that picks up on his influence quickly. Not just anyone carries floss in their pocket at all times - and the looks from his dorm-mates when you offer some up is enough for the realization to click. Trey’s used to playing the respectable sort, and finds it endearing that you’re taking his good notes to heart. In truth, most of Trey’s mimicry is intentional. He’s a flexible guy who doesn’t mind altering his habits to fit your needs. Easier this way, y’know?

Habits you steal:

Speaking in Acronyms(Inherited): Now this is scary. The first time it happened, you had to take a pause and just re-evaluate your entire life. You don't use them nearly as often as Cater does, but somewhere along the line your brain must have rewired to speak in internet lingo. O-M-G you're TOTALLY twinning with him right now, period :)

Nicknames (Inherited): Again, frightening. You once swore against ever calling him Cay-Cay. It isn't very slay-slay. Yet you can only hear him use nicknames for so long until you're unconsciously calling people by them too. Especially since he's always dishing gossip. It starts in your head, which is fine. It's not like they know. Then you call Lilia 'Lils' and that old fart is just grinning behind his sleeve because ohoho~ young love <3

"Did you just- AHA! OMG DO IT AGAIN?! Wait, gotta get my camera out for this - wha? Oh, that's totes not fair! C'mon. Call me Cay-Cay. Just once! I won't even post it to Magicam, please? Lils won't believe me without proof! Pleasssssseeeee - " <- He actually doesn't want you to call him Cay-Cay all the time. Cater likes you using his given name, since it's more personal. Although the way it obviously slipped out on accident is just too cute to ignore.

Reality TV (Inherited): At first you don't like the gossip. It's cheesy, a bit annoying, and the shaky camera-work for nearly every show is headache inducing. Cater likes his dose of drama in his free-time, and Ramshackle has a tv that no one is using. It starts with him watching while you do other things around the dorm. Yet each time you pass the living area, you take longer to leave. Lingering around like one of the ghosts. Then he pulls you in with snacks and starts giving the low-down of what's going on, pulling out a bottle of tangerine shimmer polish to paint your nails. It's just one episode, watch it for him? Please? Oh no. No. No. Suddenly you're invested in who's the baby-daddy of little Ricky and what Chantel is going to do because her sister just lost the house to foreclosure.

"#KingdomOfDeadbeats - am I right? Ugh. I'm so glad we met if that's the dating scene back home...What?! I know it isn't real! Don't be a dummy, I was just joking! Ah! Stop! Don't hit me!" <- Half-hearted jokes about going on one of those talk-shows one day. You're an alien, after all - imagine the juicy drama and views his account would get from doing an interview? It's all jokes though. Cater likes spilling the tea, but hates being it. Don't ever abandon him and go out for milk though, kay? He doesn't want to pay Grim's child support. Otherwise he might have no choice smh

Habits he steals:

Phone/Web Games (Inherited): Cater's phone is mainly full of social media. He's not too into the gaming scene, it's not his peeps y'know? Alas, you download a few dress-up games and one MMO on his phone. First off - props on getting his phone. That's Cay-Cay's lifeline and not just anyone gets to play with it. Pray tell - what is this Wonderstar Planet (props if you know what is being ref.) and how can he become the most influential digital streamer on it? Congrats. He's addicted.

"Who's this Muscle Red and why's he bombing our raid - AH! He just tea-bagged me! So not cool...Prefect? STOP LAUGHING WE HAVE BETS ON THIS MATCH! There goes my collab opportunity, big fail" <- Muscle Red continues to make an appearance. Eventually he becomes Cater's official rival on stream, and Lils is all to invested in the tea cater drops during club meets. Side note. You're the one who gave 'muscle red' Cater's domain code. The lore thickens.

Internet Caution (Developed): This goes without saying, but Cater's well-known in the Magicam scene. He's very forward and knows his way around using charisma. Since you're not in the scene as much, he becomes more cautious of where and when he does streams. The change is so subtle that only the most observant people will pick up on it - but Cay-Cay doesn't want any creepos popping in if y'know what I'm saying. His sisters were the ones to instigate this change.

“Awe~ SRSLY?! That’s fresh news to my ears but good, right? Ne, are there any clips or pics? I need my evidence, y’see. Especially if my cutie is off taking notes from their one and only. C’mon, spill the tea!” == Cheeky Cater is well aware of what’s happening. He’d humor anyone out for some light teasing - after all, he isn’t by your side at all hours. His walls are probably the second most difficult in all of campus to bypass, so he’s both sweetened and nerved to see you picking up on his mannerisms. That’s proof of a strong attachment, after all.

Habits you steal:

Knuckle Cracking (Inherited): Deuce still does this from his biker days. It could be because joint pain from past fights, or possibly air retention in his knuckles from studying. Regardless, Deuce cracks his knuckles at least once every few hours and you began to mimic him. Some people groan at the popping sounds but it really does feel good to release the tension. Let's just hope neither of you dislocate any fingers on accident.

"Stop that! G-geez, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Thought you broke a finger...your hands are stiff? That just means you're studying a lot! I think...uh, let's break? I think there's some leftovers in the kitchen." <- Deuce 100% gets needing to pop those air bubbles. His hands get stiff from studying all the time, but don't crack them too much or you might dislocate something. Side note - he shows you how to wrap your fingers with a soothing salve. He used to do it after fights, but now it's a great help after class.

Double Notes (Developed): Deuce tries. He really does. Yet the lad just isn't great when it comes to book smarts. Seeing that he is dedicated to turning over a new leaf, you make a habit of copying all your notes. He isn't allowed to share them with Ace or Grim - else all bets are off. Sometimes you leave little 'good job' stickers on the last page for him. Is he a toddler? No. Does he peel the stickers off and save them? Totally. He is a good noodle. Suck it Ace.

Sewing (Developed): He breaks things. Most of the time it's an accident. You've learned to carry a mini-sewing kit for all the rips in Deuce's uniform. Same for mini remedies for stains and other problems. It's not like he's trying to get grass stains all over his under-shirt or to split the seam in his gloves (nearly every week). It just happens, and every time he comes to you with a kicked-puppy look with a promise of it being the last time. It is never the last time.

"Uhm...hun'? It happened again. I'm so sorry for bothering you but Housewarden is going to kill me if he sees the tear in my blazer! Can you fix it?! I can't handle another collar with my exam tomorrow! I need to breathe to focus! - really!? I owe you one! Snacks are on me tonight."

Habits he steals:

Bottomless Stomach (Developed): Have leftovers from dinner? Bring them over. He'll get the tubba-ware back in 1-2 days. Coupon for buy-one-get-one at Sam's? He'll take the extra and polish it off in less than a minute. Deuce becomes a human garbage disposal and is taking the unwanted condiments off your sandwich to eat. Just pick them off and leave 'em on the corner of his lunch plate. Even if he dislikes it, he'll down it so you don't have to.

"Mm. Oh, thanks hun' - its that all you're eatin'? You don't like the steam bun? It is a bit dry, but wasting food is disrespectful to the cooks! I'll finish it for you so have my fruit instead. You still need to eat" <- 10/10 very thoughtful and not picky at all. He is grateful to eat your cooking and will gobble up all leftovers at Ramshackle, but doesn't think twice to sharing meals in the cafeteria. He will notice though if you do not eat enough. Restocks the snack cabinet if he sees it's empty. Is touched if you routinely share things you know he enjoys, like saving half your frittata on purpose.

Early Riser (Inherited): See - even if you hate the mornings, there is no choice at Night Raven College. As Ramshackle Prefect you need to be up to take care of business before class. Deuce becomes your personal alarm clock because he wants some time with you before everyone else joins in. Mind you that he lives with three other dudes who threaten to end him every morning because his alarm wakes them up too. Eventually he can wake up without it, but the time leading is unpleasant.

"W-what? Seriously? I've been trying to be more like them! They're a good person and responsible so I've been trying to follow their example. To think we've been doing the same thing this entire time...." == Why would you ever imitate him? He's been trying his damn best to become an honor student worth respecting, and has a long way to go. To think you're comfortable enough with him to mimic his mannerisms? It's a pipe dream, one he doesn't grasp until it's put right in front of his face. You don't let anyone else pick off your plate other than Grim. The next time his clothes tear, he's already handing off his tie before realizing just what's happening. When you wrap his knuckles after a six-hour lock in at the library? He can't help but feel proud at how neat the bandages are. Suddenly the dark memories of hiding bruised knuckles from his mom are pacified with healing balm. Deuce views this development as a gift, and is grateful. Very, very grateful.

Habits you steal:

‘I owe you’ cards (Inherited): Ace's favorite social invention - the 'solid'. Nothing spells new-low like getting your friends to do stuff in exchange for a favor in the future. Most of the time Ace counts on people forgetting he owes them one, but you're not so gullible. The only difference between you both is that while Ace never fulfills his solid, you have a conscience. Give it a few more years. He'll get ya.

"I know this is the third ticket this week but - Oh! C'mon, cut a guy some slack, would you? I'm sorry for bein' late to our date. Yeah, it was shitty. I'm not trying to fight it, aright? I'm here now so let's have some fun and you can chalk three strikes on my tab. I'll even buy ya some candy - Ah! Okay! Two candies but that's where my charity ends!" <- Evidently, the 'I-owe-you' tabs cancel each other out from how often you both call in favors. It's just an excuse to do acts of service or express apologies without being too mushy. Ace is definitely keeping a track record of them though. Expect an ongoing log that dates back to the week you met, when he showed up homeless, collared, and looking to couch surf.

Profanity (Inherited): Ace swears like a sailor. Maybe not so much in his dorm because *cough* he's being policed. He holds no such reservations when you're both alone at Ramshackle. Unfortunately his potty mouth has a mind of it's own - it taints you, and you are a sham of a prefect. Ace earned a week-long collar for teaching you some Twisted-Wonderland exclusive curses. Riddle is not pleased.

Leaving the Windows Unlocked (Developed): There are only so many times he can sneak in through your window before the adrenaline-induced charm wears off. You have class in the morning, and can't be bothered to deal with him on nights he can't pass out in his dorm. Thank seven you have all of Ramshackle to yourself - because Heartslabyul sounds like a nightmare with the roommate situation. You can't leave the front door open for obvious reasons, but most nights the guest-bedroom window will be left slightly ajar in case he needs a place to crash.

"Pssst! Oi! Prefect! ...ugh, Grim! Wake them up, man! The latch is stuck. Don't go back to bed you furball! HEY! IT'S FREAKIN COLD OUT HERE SO LET ME IN ALREADY" <- Please let him in. If Ace has to spend one more night in that stinky dorm with three dudes, he'll string one of their dirty gym socks over your bed. No mercy.

Sleeping with Earplugs (Developed): Bitch Ace snores.

Habits he steals:

Notes Memo (Developed): Ace is bad with remembering things. Anniversaries? Dates? Allergies? He admits to not putting in a great amount of effort, but you can't say he doesn't try at all. He has a notes block on his phone dedicated to things like your go-to takeout orders and preferences. He even has a few alarms set days before any important events because even if you say no-gifts or plans...yeah, he's not that stupid.

Excessive Yawning (Inherited): You're always tired - it wasn't Ace's problem before but now he does feel a bit guilty. Dragging you into his messes felt different when you were just the prefect, y'know? Regardless, it's human instinct to mimic each other's demeanor so he'll openly yawn all the time - normally in succession of you.

"Hey...you're dozing off again. Am I seriously that boring to hang around? - Nah. Just messin' with you. I'd suggest taking a nap during next period but I doubt a goody-goody like you is gonna take that advice. Let's just ditch juice at lunch and go back to the dorm. Don't get mad if I forget to wake you up though"

Medications (Developed): Ace is the last person to become a human apothecary, but he's always got a pack of pain-reliever meds in his pocket with a few bandages, etc. He also attached one of those tiny capsule bottles to his keyring with some stomach meds inside. You took a spill running laps? Dang man. That sucks. Here's a band-aid for your knee. Curse you for making him the slightly-more responsible one.

"Eh..what, like it's a shock? You saying I'm a bad influence? Cause yeah, that checks. Nothin' I can do if they want to take a card outta my deck though," == Ace is entirely neutral on the topic. He is definitely smug that you're coming over to the dark side, but he doesn't need anyone to point it out. He was your first after all. Maybe the start could have been a bit better - but hey, you came around. It's not like he's hurting anyone by helping build your backbone. Although Ace will instantly deny going soft for you in any way, shape, or form.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst imagines #heartslabyul #twisted wonderland riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst trey clover #trey clover x reader #caterdiamond x reader #twst cater diamond #deuce spade x reader #twst deuce spade x reader #ace trappola x reader #twst ace trappola x reader #heartslabyul x reader #twst x yuu #twst headcanons

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innerfare · 1 month

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Brushing Your Teeth Together

Summary: general fluff and silliness when you two are brushing your teeth together

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp, Robin, Nami, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: silly fluff

———

Luffy: Turns it into a competition. “First one done wins!” “Luffy, no!” Also gets toothpaste absolutely everywhere. If he was in the habit of wearing shirts, all of his would have toothpaste (and food) stains on them.

Zoro: Reaches for whichever toothbrush is closest. If it’s his, it’s his, and if it’s yours, it’s also his. He’ll also talk to you while he’s brushing his teeth and get annoyed when you can’t understand the muffled words.

Sanji: Slings his arm around you, gets a little too distracted by the sight of you brushing your teeth, ends up standing there with his mouth open and his toothbrush hanging out. Ends up speed running his when you’re finished so he can follow you out of the bathroom.

Usopp: “Special attack, toothpaste star!” You two always end up flinging toothpaste at each other and/or sword fighting with your toothbrushes. You make such a mess you’ve been banned from brushing your teeth together.

Robin: Is most definitely equipped with disturbing dental hygiene facts and will educate you as you two brush. She’ll tell you all about tooth decay and gum disease and especially about how you need to remove the teeth from a dead body if you don’t want it to be identified.

Nami: Turns it into a competition, but is the opposite of Luffy. It’s more of a, “who can do a better job?” than it is a, “I can do it faster than you!” She also bumps your hip with hers to try to throw you off.

Law: Refuses to share his toothpaste with you and gets annoyed if you leave the cap off of yours. After you both brush and rinse, will wrap his arm around your waist and pull you in for a fresh, minty kiss.

Kid: Was always too ADHD to stand in front of the mirror for a full minute brushing his teeth, always ended up wandering around the ship while brushing and then forgetting to finish; only started staying put when you began joining him.

Ace: Never washes the sink out after he spits toothpaste in it. Always manages to get toothpaste on the mirror, too. And though he doesn’t consistently steal your toothbrush the way Zoro does, he has no qualms about using yours.

Sabo: He didn’t get his pearly white smile by slacking off. When you’re brushing your teeth together, he’ll pause to inform you he’s better at it than you, that he has the best technique, that his dentist always compliments his teeth. Doesn’t explicitly challenge you like Nami and Luffy, but can’t help but get competitive.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

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hannieehaee · 7 months

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hii!! i hope ure having a great day

i just wanted to request loser!scoups hehe I RLLY LOVED CHANS VERSION AND WAS HOPING TO SEE MORE 🫶🏻 anyways take your time to answer when ure free, thanku!

18+ / mdi

content: loser!seungcheol, afab reader, smut, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 2686

part 1, part 2, part 3

a/n: hii thank u for requesting <33 i never considered loser!cheol before but ngl i loved writing it hehe i hope u enjoy <3

masterlist

despite popular belief, seungcheol was actually a bit of a loser.

okay, maybe his appearance didn't necessarily fit the bill (with his slicked back hair and bulging muscles), but everything else about choi seungcheol truly screamed loser.

even with a large group of fratboy friends, seungcheol was still the loser of the friend group, being the only one who had opted out of joining the frat and who spent every day and night studying rather than ever attending any of his friends' parties.

this was all by choice, he swears! seungcheol was just far too serious about his education to let anything become a distraction. and it had always been like this, even dating back all the way to middle school (jeonghan could vouch for this, having known him basically since diapers). due to this, seungcheol had always been kind of a black sheep in any and every social situation he ever found himself in. as a result, seungcheol ended up becoming shy, awkward, utterly embarrassing in social situations, and as jeonghan liked to put it, a 'virgin loser.'

even if seungcheol wanted to disagree with his friend, he knew he was right. here he was, twenty-one years of age and still a lonely virgin who had never even felt the touch of a woman's hand in his. he'd had opportunities before, set ups orchestrated by his friends, but he always managed to fuck them up. due to jeonghan's outgoing disposition, the girls he usually set him up with were set for a surprise upon meeting a his friend seungcheol, who could not even hold eye contact for more then twelve seconds (he counted).

except this year that would all change.

now in his senior year of college, seungcheol had an epiphany.

on the very first week of senior year, upon being assigned a new dorm-mate due to his previous one transfering, seungcheol finally saw a mirror of himself.

his new roommate was, for lack of a better term, a fucking loser (the term being courtesy of jeonghan once again). seungcheol had barely met the guy, yet he could not stand one more moment of conversation with him. not only was he a know-it-all who could only ever talk about academics, but he was maybe even more of a loser virgin than seungcheol was (at least that's what seungcheol was able to assess from the three separate occasions in which he walked in on his roommate watching porn in the common area of the dorm). his hygiene was terrible and his wide-rimmed glasses made him look like the typical nerd in every high school movie. everything about him was what seungcheol feared to one day become.

this one week of torture had been enough for seungcheol to finally take jeonghan up on his offer to join his frat and subsequently move into the frat house. granted, jeonghan had to break a few rules to allow a new pledge with zero obstacles in the way, but jeonghan was just charming enough to get away with it.

seungcheol had already spent the past 10+ years with perfect grades and pristine extra curriculars, so he figured that even if he completely flunked these last two semesters, he would still be a shoe-in for the masters program he'd been eyeing since arriving to university.

so now seungcheol was immersed in the frat lifestyle, though he still felt a bit out of place, which unfortunately for cheol, was something his good friend jeonghan noticed immediately. but this would only be a problem for a short while.

unbeknownst to seungcheol, jeonghan had orchestrated a plan for seungcheol's first frat party. it all started with giving seungcheol a bit of a new look. jeonghan insisted on throwing out most of cheol's 'nerdy clothes' (admittedly, he did dress like an old man at times), traded in his thick-rimmed glasses for some better fitting specs and lastly, gave cheol a trim to better frame his face. after all these changes, cheol felt more confident but still did not feel ready to attend one of the frat's well-known parties.

the decision was, however, taken for him, as he found himself in attendance to one just a few days later. also unknown to cheol was that jeonghan had been playing cupid once more, scouting to see which one of his closer girl-friends would be a good fit for his friend. and of course, his attention immediately fell on you.

jeonghan had only known you since the last semester of his junior year, in which the two of you had partnered up for a project that took up the entire fifteen weeks of instruction. the two of you hit it off pretty easily, but you hadn't quite caught his attention in a non-platonic way.

but you had caught someone else's.

although it had only been a fleeting moment, jeonghan caught onto every single look and action that had occurred the day in which seungcheol had accidentally interrupted a study session between the two of you.

he had easily noticed the blush in cheol's cheeks upon seeing you for the first time, along with the way he shyly checked you out when you weren't paying attention. what had surprised him the most, though, had been the way you checked out his friend as he went to leave the room. that had been enough for jeonghan to decide to play matchmaker between the two of you if the opportunity ever arose. and that was now.

getting the two of you alone was not difficult, but jeonghan knew better. he knew that sending the two of you into an empty room, completely blind to whatever he was planning was just a bad idea. so jeonghan decided that for the first time in his life, he would not scheme. he would simply set up the scene and leave the rest to you.

when jeonghan first came up to you a few days back and let you know about his friend's crush on you, you had been pleasantly surprised. what had shocked you the most, though, had been the revelation that jeonghan's cute friend was actually an inexperienced virgin. jeonghan told you to please not bring it up to cheol, but that he felt it was best you knew so you didnt feel caught off guard should you ever try to hit him up (which he knew you would). what jeonghan didnt realize was that this fact excited you more than you'd like to admit.

planting that seed was more than enough to get you looking for cheol in the empty room jeonghan had said he'd be in (okay, maybe he did scheme a little), prepared to deflower the pretty nerd you'd been thinking about every time you started to notice him sitting alone in the library every other day.

you had dressed to the nines, donning a red slip dress that gave you breathing room but still accentuated every part of your body you wished to stand out. ready and confident, you quietly opened the door to what you assumed to be jeonghan's room, knowing you'd find his pretty friend inside.

sitting alone on the bed, seemingly trying to psych himself up as he whispered affirmations to himself, the boy jumped back upon your unexpected intrusion, with his hears instantly turning red at realizing who you were.

you were jeonghan's pretty friend. the one seungcheol had had some unbecoming thoughts about immediately after seeing you in jeonghan's room last semester (and subsequently seeing you around campus as his eyes would unknowingly always search for you). and you looked .... fuck. and you were alone in han's room with him .... and you had closed the door right behind you .... and now you had walked all the way over to where he was sitting at the edge of the bed, not shocked at all to see him there ....

"hi," you smiled at him.

"h– hey."

"are you okay? how come you're here all alone?", you sat next to him on the bed, damning all boundaries, apparently.

"oh, i ... just a little nervous, i guess."

"yeah? of what?", despite the unexpectedness of the situation, you seemed genuinely interested, so seungcheol responded.

"it's, uh, my first party as a member of the frat."

"oh, really? i had no idea you were a member of the frat. that's pretty cool, seungcheol."

"you know my name?"

you scoot closer, smile still on your face, "yeah, of course i know your name. do you now mine?"

"oh, i, uh, yeah ..."

"okay, so we know each other. do you maybe want a friend to go out there with? maybe that would ease your nerves," your hand had somehow made its way to his thigh, now invading his personal space a bit. except he couldnt find it in himself to complain.

"t– that's fine, i, uh, i have han and– "

"but arent i better company?"

"y– you're ..."

"can i be honest with you, seungcheol?", you didnt wait for a response, "hannie told me that maybe you needed some help. that i could maybe help you out?"

"help? what type of help do you mean?"

you leaned in even closer, "do you want me to show you?"

"i ..."

"all you have to say is 'yes', cheollie ...", you breathed out now close enough for him to feel your breath on his lips.

he nodded and made an embarrassing noise of affirmation, completely giving up on speaking.

it was embarrassing how easily he let you turn him into a puddle, not even bothering to question how or why jeonghan orchestrated this situation. but that didnt matter as he finally felt the lips of a woman against his own – your lips; the lips of the girl he'd been crushing on from afar, jealous that maybe you'd become more than jeonghan's classmate. this was a clear declaration that his assertions had been incorrect.

seungcheol wasn't sure what to do with his hands (or with his tongue) as he kissed you. he felt you smile against his lips at his whimper, making feel that maybe you were making fun of him. when you pulled away, he feared that maybe he'd been right.

"cheollie, let me show you, yeah? just let me– yeah, like that", you positioned him in a way that would allow you to straddle him as you said this, wrapping his arms around your waist, "okay now let me show you how to kiss me, okay? just open your mouth a bit for me and let me teach you. then you can try it on me."

with that, you leaned into his open mouth, sticking your tongue inside as you played with his own, sucking on it and causing his eyes to roll back, another embarrassing moan leaving his lips.

"do you wanna try it now?", you asked as you pulled away.

he feared his voice would betray him, so he just nodded before leaning in.

seungcheol mimicked your previous actions, though his were a bit sloppier and more desperate. he whined at the way you sighed and pulled at his hair due to the way in which he suckled at your tongue and squeezed his fingers on your hips.

eventually you began to also kiss him back, making it a battle between your tongues all the while seungcheol tried to keep up.

suddenly your hips began to move against his own, making him groan in pleasure. after that, you leaned over him, causing the two of you to lay on the bed as you practically rode him through your clothes.

cheol couldnt help his cries of pleasure at feeling you press against his now swollen member. he didnt want the feeling to end, so he grabbed onto your hips and helped you in your movements, even grinding his own hips upwards to match you.

"cheollie ... do you want more? hmm? wanna feel what its like?", you purred against his ear while pulling off your dress, leaving you in a tiny bralette and thin panties.

"yes! fuck, please. i'll take whatever you wanna give me, just ..."

"shhh, it's okay. i'll give it to you, pretty. you dont have to beg. want you just as bad," you kissed him again before he could reply.

without him noticing, you had thrown off your bra, something which made him completely blank when you pulled away and began talking to him. none of your words made it through his head. he was far too busy looking at the pretty nude girl in front of him. he salivated at every inch of naked skin, wanting nothing more than to lick and kiss at every curve. out of all parts of your body, his eyes were glued to your tits. the fleeting thought of suffocating in them flew through his head, making him shudder.

"cheol?", you grabbed onto his chin and pointed his gaze towards your own, finally breaking him out of his trance.

you giggled at his confused face, causing him to sheepishly apologize for dozing off.

"it's okay, pretty. i'd be distracted too if i could get all these clothes off you ... that's what i was asking actually, can i?" your hands began to teasingly pull at his top, mangling it a bit so it could expose some skin.

his nod was all you needed to rip off his shirt and pull off his pants with urgency that had seungcheol blushing. after getting him fully naked, you threw off your panties and finally sat against him completely bare. the heat of your skin against his was enough to have him burying his face against your neck and begging you once more to please give it to him.

"shhh. i'll give it to you, pretty. i– i'll give you everything," and with that, you sank down on him, throwing your head back at the intrusion.

meanwhile seungcheol was completely gone. the warmth of your body against his had been one thing, but feeling your heat wrap around him was what truly did him in.

it's not like he had stayed a virgin by choice. he had tried to hit it off with many of the girls jeonghan set him up with, but none of them showed any care for him. they'd all expected him to step up and fuck them. even when he would try to shyly explain that he had never done anything sexual before, he'd just be met with scoffs or laughter. but you had walked him through it. you had complimented him and made him feel comfortable. you had made him see pleasure for the first time in his life.

although these thoughts swam through his head as you fucked yourself on his cock, seungcheol's mind was otherwise completely empty. all he could think about was how good you felt and how pretty you sounded as you threw your head back and pulled at his hair. you were just the embodiment of pleasure.

all cares and worries were gone from his brain until the moment in which he felt all his pleasure reach a peak.

he didn't want to be a fucking loser and cum so soon, but you just felt so fucking good, he couldnt help himself. he cried a warning out to you, to which you encouraged him to let go and told him you'd follow him soon.

his orgasm was something he never couldve imagined. but your own orgasm soon trampled that experience. your tightness as you let yourself go while still wrapped around him had him delirious with pleasure. without meaning to, his nails dug into the skin of your pretty hips as he lost consciousness for a few seconds.

unable to fully process it, he felt a sweet peck against his lips before feeling you cuddle against him. he didnt have to think twice before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

"remind me to thank that idiot", he spoke up after some moments.

"who, hannie?", you giggled against his chest.

"yeah. he was onto something when he made me get ready in his room."

"oh? he sent me in here looking for you."

"that fucker", he chuckled, "owe him one."

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