#but i do like to think in every universe they find each other

[mysterystarz]

black tie losers

geto suguru x f!reader

in which you’re at a charity gala and come to the realization that maybe being best friends with suguru is no longer an option

a/n: when i thought of this i ran to write bc geto in a suit

feedback is so appreciated <3

“stay still. if you keep moving, you’re going to look like a clown.”

geto sits in front of you on a stool, tie messily done up as he holds a lipliner pencil in his hands. he’s grinning at his work — because true to his words, you looked like a clown.

“suguru, you can’t line lips for shit.” you sigh, rummaging through your things to find some makeup remover. “remind me why i let you do this again?”

geto laughs, grinning at you in a way that was oddly wholesome. “because i wanted to help you get ready for tonight. there’s nothing better than taking credit for the date on my arm.”

date indeed—a platonic one.

you and geto were attending your university’s biggest charity gala tonight. as one of the most successful black tie events on campus, each attendee was required to look straight out of vogue magazine to ensure they raised enough money to make a difference.

geto—ever the gentleman—asked you to be his date. he wouldn’t get hounded by the customary droves of girls, and you’d have someone to match with.

of course, being your best friend, he decided to help you get ready.

he watched patiently as you dabbed the streak of lipliner away, smiling gently when you turned back to meet his eyes. he wordlessly moved forward to cup your cheeks, finishing up lining your cupids bow.

“there,” he said softly, “now some lipstick.” you gestured to the various tubes on your desk as you moved to dust some highlighter on your cheeks.

geto picked a particularly lovely shade and smoothly glided it across your lips. he seemed proud at his handiwork, beaming at you happily as soon as he finished.

“take a look,” he smirked, and you did just that. the mirror showed you someone beautiful.

somehow, stupid suguru had actually done a good job.

“nice job,” you mumbled, feeling oddly shy beneath his gaze. he cleaned up nice tonight—a bit too nice. so nice that you weren’t sure how to act around him when he attempted to tie his tie.

“you mean sensational job,” he laughed, flinging his tie around. “also please help. i can’t do this.”

you sighed as you moved closer to fix his tie. you could catch a whiff of his cologne — something fresh and oddly mouthwatering and it nearly made you screw up the final flip of the fabric.

suguru was acting a bit different, and it was driving you crazy. his presence was much closer than usual, and with every passing day, it seemed impossible to ignore the glaringly obvious fact that’d been looming over you for weeks.

geto suguru, your best friend, was an extremely attractive man.

you still weren’t sure how to handle this information. so far, it’d been unwarranted blushes and a whole lot of random butterflies where there shouldn’t be.

you supposed the gala would give you time to think—but you were wrong.

geto walked in through the ornately decorated doors with a smile, an arm threaded through his hair and the other wrapped around your waist. from this point, you could see all your fellow students interacting with the heads of various charities, and donations racking up by the second.

suguru stayed close, his touch firm and steady and searing and confusing in ways you couldn’t understand.

“would you like to explore a bit?” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear.

too flustered to speak, you wordlessly nodded as he dragged you to the photo booth at the edge of the venue.

“these are awesome,” he laughed, holding up a particularly unclassy mustache prop. you cringed, distancing yourself as much as you good within the tiny space to show your disapproval.

suguru pulled you closer again, his hands caressing your waist in a way that was more reverent than anything you’d ever felt. he was too close…it was too much.

he leaned close to you, gently pressing his forehead against yours.

“maybe i did too good of a job tonight,” he said lowly, tracing your lips with his finger.

“suguru,” you breathed out, “what is going on?”

he pulled away grinning. “you had a dusting of highlighter a bit too close to this one spot of your nose. i had to distract you so you wouldn’t stop me from touching your face.”

you groaned in frustration while suguru posed jubilantly for the camera.

the gala was beautiful. the pictures with suguru were super candid. neither of those were your major takeaways.

as you returned to your room for the night, you knew one thing for certain. suguru geto had become someone more than a best friend to you and there was nothing you could do about it.

unknown to you, suguru fell asleep that night dreaming of you, and all the ways he’d kiss you if he had the chance.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

May 29th

~*~

1. Hi, I’m looking for a fic in which lan zhan and wei ying are in a relationship. They argue a lot but every argument ends with wei ying jumping in bed with lan zhan and hugging him from behind to resolve it until one day they have a really serious argument and Wei ying doesn’t come to resolve it first. They might have broken up as well, and lan zhan realized wei ying constantly made effort to resolve the arguments first and lan zhan never did.

~*~

2. Hello hello!! I have two requests this time

A) In this fic Wei Ying is the God of the Underworld. Infact everybody is a God here. And Wei Ying has a town or city built in his domain for the souls of the dead and I think the Wens lived there. Also the other Gods considered him a pariah. I remember this one scene where he comes up or goes down the stairs from heaven which leads to the Underworld after a conference with the Gods.

B) I remember only one scene from this fic. It was during the Wen Indoctrination where after Wei Ying was sent to the cell with the Dog he acts dead and Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin are heartbroken. But actually Wen Qing just helped Wei Ying's heart rate to slow down to convince Wen Chao of his death. I think Wei Ying wakes up right there after a few minutes or so. @yilinglaobunny

2A)

FOUND! there will come soft rains by infinite (recursion) (Not Rated, 14k, WangXian, Gods & Goddesses, Hades/Persephone AU)

2B)

FOUND! 🔒💖 the universe would turn to a mighty stranger by RavenclawLoki (T, 11k, wangxian, Angst, Eventual Fluff, Some mentions of blood, it looks like someone is dead but!!, it is okay, everything is going to be okay i promise, First Kiss, Canon Divergence, Wwx and lwj know they’re in love, They just don’t know the other loves them back, Everyone Lives AU, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ)

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3. Hi I'm trying to find a fic where lan zhan and jiang cheng are repeatingly kidnapping it wei ying from each other

FOUND? Wei Wuxian’s Kidnapping Back and Forth Farce (Starring Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji) by misscam (M, 5k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Humor, Switching)

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4. Hello, I’m looking for a specific fic that takes place post canon. Basically it’s a short fic where Lan Zhan goes out to travel for something and while he’s gone someone upsets Wei Ying, so to get back at him Wei Ying pretends to have sex super loudly every night. Lan Zhan hears about it and rushes back and hides in the room to find out what’s going on. I think they slept together after but I don’t remember well. I read it a few years ago and all can’t find it since.

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5. Hi! There was this Wangxian fic where Lan Zhan got cursed and pushed Wei Ying away because he didn't recognize him and Wei Ying got badly hurt. Wen Qing was alive she made some sort of a healing bubble around Wei Ying for him to heal. I clearly remember she identified Wei Ying as her brother and asked Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen to keep Lan Zhan away from him. Lan Zhan was distraught after the curse wore off. Along with Sizhui and the others. Thank you!

FOUND? Brothers, Brothers-in-Law and Husbands by xxxMiaHikarixxx (G, 7k, WangXian, XiCheng, Lan Zhan accidentally hurts Wei Ying, Injured wei ying, Wen Qing is alive, protective Lans, protective Cheng, for once both Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng are good, Wedding, Protective Wen siblings, Jingyi and Yuan are best boys)

~*~

6. Hi, I remember there being a fic but can't seem to find it : where the juniors end up in the past or a different universe where they see JGY and other cultivators in a meeting and one of JL or LY throw a weapon most probably a dagger killing JGY which makes LXC unhappy, hostile and maybe a little shocked but when he makes a move towards the juniors WangXian appear and WY tells/warns him from doing so. I remember I read it on ao3 but don't recall the chapter count apologises for the vague details but this is all that I remember so something with a similar premise or any help would be appreciated.

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7. Need help in finding a fic where a modern day girl gets transmigrated into the MDZS universe and she uses her phone to make maps and helps with the war from the shadows but she gets caught by Lan Xichen. I think Lan Xichen fell in love with her but not sure as the fic was in progress. Please help

FOUND? i told you when i came i was a stranger by Caramelized (M, 50k, OFC/LXC, minor WangXian, Isekai, Transmigration, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Amateur cartography, Butterfly Effect, Sunshot Campaign, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, No Golden Core Transfer, Dimension Travel, Politics, LXC the politician, Self-Insert, Foreknowledge, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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8. hi there I'm looking for a fic where's wei Ying deleted himself from existing I think and there was some kind of flower that represent that and Jiang Cheng and lan wangji are trying to save him, I'm sorry I'm not so got at writing in English I hope you understand ❤❤❤❤❤

FOUND? Remember by Amona (T, 59k, JC & WWX, WangXian, WIP, Canon Divergence, Mentions of Suicide, Self-Sacrifice, Erasing oneself from history, by WWX, forget WWX, colored souls, because it's pretty, Sword Spirits, JC has to take crash courses, But he'll do it for his brother, Major Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con)

FOUND? missed by ilip13 (T, 5k, WangXian, JC & WWX, JYL & WWX, Canon Divergence, But also, Modern with Magic, Reincarnation, Temporary Character Death, Sort Of, Angst with a Happy Ending, Love, Mention of canon-typical violence, Not time travel but timeline manipulation, Not nonlinear storytelling but the opposite of linear storytelling)

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9. Hiya,

Looking for a modern fic where LWJ is constantly being mean to WWX, whose constantly trying to befriend him. Eventually wwx has a whole breakdown about it, and he mentions how LWJ is an asshole to him for no reason. There’s a scene mentioning wwx baking cookies for him and he thought Lwj threw it out but in reality it is revealed in the end by Lwj himself that he ate it (although he was allergic to it) and WWX says something along the lines of that’s why you missed class that Monday. Turns out LWJ just struggles with communication. I think they are neighbors or roommates I can’t remember. Hopefully someone can help.

Thank you!!

FOUND? A Marriage Story by DeviyudeThoolika (E, 38k, wangxian, NMJ/LXC, married wangxian, but there are some complications, because it’s marriage, Sex is complicated, Angst and Pining, Pining while fucking, Mature elements, Mutual Pining, HEA, Arranged Marriage, Sort Of, Misunderstandings, of epic proportions, One True Pairing, Good Sibling JC, Good Parent YZY, Fluff and Angst, in that order, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone Loves WWX, Angst and Hurt/Comfort) or if not this one, by this author

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10. I am looking for a canon era (not modern) fic where Lan Wangji was kidnapped as a child and I think he was raised in a brothel. He grows up and curses himself to be hideous so that the men who frequent the brothel don’t try to touch him. Eventually true love breaks the curse (like, WWX loves him regardless of his appearance) and I think Wangji happily reconciles with Xichen.

FOUND! Turn Left by kianspo (M, 204k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, eventually, references to child sexual abuse, not main characters, Neurodivergent LWJ, Slow Build, Lán Family Feels, specifically, Twin Jades of Lán Feels, lwj-centric, Twin Jades of Lán Dynamics, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Angst with Happy Ending)

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11. It's been some time since the last FF I've asked but here we go again :'D I'd like to find a fic that had WangXian traveling together and LWJ's back/scars were bothering him and it worsened because of cold weather? Most likely the fic was post canon. There might have been a bath house or a hot spring involved there somewhere

Yes, LWJ knew he was traveling with WWX. No, he didn't get more scars.

did lan zhan not know it was wei ying travelling with him, and did he get more scars as time went on?

~*~

12. Hi, I would love some help locating a fic. I can't really remember a lot of the main plot since it has been a while since I read it. I believe it is a post-canon fic, but Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian had to go back to the Burial Mounds, and Wei Wuxian had to unbury his original body that was buried in the blood pool. I think. I also think that for Wei Wuxian's original body to survive, he had to wear a bracelet of some sort. I don't remember, or maybe I am confused by two different fics.

~*~

13. For the fic finder!! TIA!!

This may be a scene from a long fic but I’m not sure. Wwx is possessed by something more than resentful energy- it’s an ancient demon who wants to destroy the world. Wwx seals himself inside the cold pond cave and puts up a barrier- I guess prepared to stay there forever? Lwj somehow gets in there to stay with him, and has conversations with the demon. The demon is extremely strong, throws him around and hurts him a little. His brother and uncle are pacing outside the barrier demanding he come out. The elders want to execute wwx which is why lwj is in the cave in the first place.

It’s canon setting but I can’t remember the time line- war? No war? Wwx and lwj aren’t together yet though. I remember this fic being pretty good- I’d love to reread it!

FOUND? 🔒 Breathing Firestorm by ladyshadowdrake (M, 110k, wangxian, angst, fluff, captivity, creepy WRH, no non-con, dreamsharing, politics, people making the best decisions they can, epic length, mythical creature WWX, canon-typical violence, dark, happy ending)

~*~

14. hello!! thank you for all the work you do. i've been trying to find a fic in my bookmarks/ searching for it but i just can't seem to find it unfortunately. i remember it to be an arranged marriage au? where lwj and wwx loved each other very much but upon learning that wei wuxian's tail colour (or species) meant he would not settle, miscommunication happens and just angst. it is a happy ending though, because i think that another person tells lwj that wei changze's tail colour/species meant that wwx would be loyal to him? sorry if this is too broad, thank you!

FOUND? what you have tamed by lianhua_lianzi, Senforza (E, 94k, WangXian, Animal Traits, misunderstandings (not the romcom kind that can be resolved in a 5min convo), Courting Rituals, Pining, Lan family dynamics, Drama, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Arranged Marriage, Wangxian break up but get back together, Eventual Happy Ending, vague biological essentialism (animal species have different mating preferences), Canon Typical Alcohol Usage, Implied Mpreg, Unresolved Sexual Tension, unintentional and eventually resolved "gaslighting", Dragon LWJ, Fox WWWX)

~*~

15. Hello! I am searching for a fic I read that I think was multiple short installments in a series on ao3. It was a war au where Wangji had presented as some kind of dragon and he was in charge of the Lan clan. Wuxian was a thief or mercenary. They had met as children and Wangji imprinted on Wuxian, but they parted ways then. They meet again on the battlefield and Wangji pulls Wuxian into his tent and is like “bathe him!” I think Wangji put a silver collar on Wuxian that Wuxian couldn’t remove on his own. There were dom/sub undertones. Any clue?

FOUND!🔒 Have him stripped, bathed, and brought to my tent by KizuKatana (E, 30k, WangXian, Dark LWJ, A/B/O, Huli-Jing WWX, powerplay/powerdynamic, dubcon (due to power dynamics), Overstimulation, Edging, Biting, Scenting, Possessiveness, LWJ Has a Big Dick, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, warlord, Emperor LWJ, civilian (sort of) captive (also sort of) WWX, dragon sex magic, Not traditional Chinese emperor history fully alternate reality of immortal creatures)

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16. HI, thanks for all your amazing work!! You rock!! Sorry to bother, but I hope I can get an answer!! I'm looking for a story were in the future, in space, Wei Wuxian is kidnapped everyone believes him dead and is used by Jin Guangshan and I think Xue Yang to try to destroy others. I think he has an implant that has prevented him from escaping but he manages to plant bombs and asks Lan Zhan to kill him when he finds him!! Please help!! be well!! @monicaop21

FOUND! Stars bring us apart (Stars pull us together) by Sixlayerhouse (sixlayerhouse) (E, 124k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, (Vaguely) Star Trek AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Psychological Trauma, PTSD, Body modifications, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Recovery, married!wangxian)

~*~

17. Hi, I need some help looking for a fic on ao3 I was SO SURE I had bookmarked, but apparently not. The fic is Jingyi-centric and features a drunk jingyi trying to hit on Jin Ling's uncles at a bar, I'm fairly certain Jingyi is college age and the fic mentions sizhui and wangxian near the end. It was marked as complete, and I think it was a one-shot. Sorry if it's a bit vague, but it's been a while and I'm starting to think I just made it up if it hasn't been deleted. Thank you in advance! @angrymarconi

FOUND? 🔒 UILF by bosgood (T, 3k, JC/NHS, LSZ & NHS, JC & JL, NHS & the juniors, ONE-SIDED LJY/NHS and LJY/NHS/JC, and mention of ONE-SIDED LJY/WWX/LWJ, LJY has the UNREQUITED hots for JL's various uncles OK, unrequited, nothing happens!, featuring reactions ranging from laughing one's ass off to fully dying inside, Humor, I love the fics where LJY and/or OYZZ is like damn JL's uncle is fine, so this is my contribution to the genre, Modern, College, Established Relationship, WWX & LWJ are LSZ's parents, JL Has a Lot of Uncles, canon-typical junior shenanigans)

~*~

18. Hey! There’s this thread fic I read a while ago, I believe it’s a “Bikini Armor” au? It’s where Knight!Lwj is meets another fellow knight (Wwx) on the road, but Wwx’s armor is magical? Basically it only visibly covers his privates and part of his chest, the rest is magic. I remember it was a punishment by Madam Yu, and that Lwj finds out when the armor breaks.

Ty!

FOUND? His Knight in Shining Armour by celerydragon (E, 23k, WangXian, dead dove do not eat, Curses, Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Slut Shaming, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, yu furen sucks, protective lwj, Hurt/Comfort, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, mild dirty talk, Biting, Outdoor Sex)

~*~

19. Hello!

I’m looking for a fix where Wei Ying is gorgeous and coveted by everyone. The junior quartet often have to run interference because he doesn’t realize it. I think an innkeeper’s brother lusts after him too. One of his admirers decides to capture and assault him. Thankfully, Wei Ying is able to use ghosts to overpower him. Eventually, Lan Zhan comes and rescues him. Please help me find this fic! Thank you very much!

FOUND? Cotton Wool by incendir (M, 34k, wangxian, LJY/OMC, JL/LSZ, JC & WWX)

~*~

20. So I've lost a fic again, and I need your help once more!

So the premise of the fic was that lwj did enact that fantasy of taking wwx in the library when they were young, only after lwj internally freaks out and runs off to his brother for punishment because "xiongzhang I took someone by force 😢 I'm horrible"

I don't remember how exactly they got there but lxc gets lwj and wwx to talk, intending for wwx to decide how lwj should be punished as the wronged party. Except wwx somehow comes to the conclusion of "Let me f*ck (fuck) Lan zhan! 😠 he took me, so now I should take him!"

Things end happily but that's all I remember. Please help me! (And before anyone asks, no I'm not mixing it up with the Teapot Plot)

FOUND! My Boyfriend Is So Talented by Xiao_Zhang (E, WangXIan, Underage, Rape/Non-Con, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Sex, LWJ gives in to his lust, Teenage Wangxian, Fluff and Smut, Rape/Non-con Elements, Humor, Romantic Comedy, Misunderstandings)

~*~

[perfectlyoongi]

PRE-BOYFRIEND!YOONGI who gave you the code to his studio and lets you sleep on his couch at the end of a long day of school/work. Every day, Yoongi looks forward to your arrival at the studio, wanting to spend a portion of his day in your company, listening to your stories and making you laugh. “don’t be afraid to come in whenever you want. if i gave you the code, it's because i want you here at any time.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!YOONGI who buys you postcards from every place he travels, no matter how many times he goes to the same place — for, even though Yoongi was there doing what he loved most, he couldn't stop thinking about the one he loved most. “i know you already have a postcard from here, but i wanted to remind you that it’s impossible not to think about you.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!YOONGI who doesn't like seeing you talking to other men, always looking with disgust at those who tried to capture your attention. he still didn't know why he felt uncomfortable when he saw you with others, he just knew that you could do better than them. “it’s not my business, i know, but you deserve better. they probably don’t even know the difference between shampoo and body wash.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!YOONGI who sends you good morning and good night texts every day, even if the time zone between you was different. it started when Yoongi saw you knocked down by life and when he realized that his words brightened your day, he couldn't stop. “good morning, you. remember that your soul is perfumed with the stardust that created the universe. never forget your worth.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!YOONGI who always looks for you in the audience when he knows you went to see him in concert. even in the midst of thousands of faces screaming his name, Yoongi just looked for yours, feeling his heart warming a little when your face lit up for him. “among billions of people, our souls decided to find each other. your presence at my concert is nothing compared to that.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!YOONGI who finds small moments to hold your hands and feel your warmth next to him. in the turmoil that assaulted his mind, your touch seemed to calm Yoongi and he didn't mind holding your hands whenever you provoked him. “now you can’t use your hands. they will be mine forever. i’m not letting go of them anytime soon.”

PRE-BOYFRIEND!YOONGI who knows perfectly well how he feels about you, he's just afraid to say it. because of all the relationships in his life, your friendship was the most important to him, and Yoongi didn't want to lose you by confessing his love for you. “promise that nothing between us will change. promise that you will always stay in my life. promise that even though i love you, you won’t leave me.”

[babsvibes]

Boblin Fic Recs

Fics centered around Bob and Linda from Bob’s Burgers. This is by no means a comprehensive list, so please feel free to add your faves in the replies!

Canon Compliant

I'm in love with every song you've ever heard by @jimmypesto When Linda has one too many Pesto Coladas, Jimmy calls Bob to come collect her

I like the way you sound in the morning by @jimmypesto Six "morning afters" over the course of Bob and Linda's relationship

What's That Song? It Goes Pike... by @babsvibes Linda has a song stuck in her head, and now it's everyone's problem

gonna make love last forever by @neopetting soft otp prompts with boblin

After Date Night With the Belchers by @thestarstho A look into Bob and Linda's alone time after a date

Mixed Collections

you're in the kitchen humming, all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing by @jimmyjrsmusoems A few important moments in Bob and Linda's relationship, as seen through the eyes of others

Boblin Week 2023, Day Extras: Unused Prompts by @sailoreuterpe Collection of ficlets using the prompts not selected for Boblin Week 2023

Bob's Burgers Drabbles by @aimmyarrowshigh Collection of Bob's Burgers drabbles

Sips From Your Lips by Gaynin Linda and Bob have always enjoyed wine and spirits, almost as much as they've enjoyed each other (mature)

Things You Said... by @daddygrandpaandthebeaver A collection of Bob's Burgers ficlets based on "things you said..." prompts

Pre-Canon

I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace by @jimmypesto Bob and Linda break up for approximately twelve hours; wallowing ensues

not while I'm around by @jimmypesto Bob picks Linda up after a girls’ night just in time to find her being bothered by a creep

i think we do this love thing right by @br1ghtestlight Bob and Linda try to cuddle without waking up Louise

Through a Child’s Eyes by YAJJ There was romance and love in the world, and Teeny Tina knew it for a fact. All she had to do was look at her parents, after all.

just lay entwined here, undiscovered by @tully-blue Tonight, it goes: shelf, doorknob, nightstand, undressing with three stumbles and several muffled curses, vanity, and finally, Linda climbs over him and into bed. Well, if he wasn’t awake already, that would’ve done it

Canon Divergent

still my patron saint by @jimmypesto A Boblin Ghost AU (explicit)

I belong with you, you belong with me (you're my sweetheart) by @daddygrandpaandthebeaver Five universes where Bob and Linda Belcher are soulmates, plus one where they chose to be together anyway

clair de lune by @weatheredlaw Five things that didn't happen, couldn't happen, wouldn't happen

Of Pregnancies and Bumped Heads by @burgerspeople Linda's second pregnancy puts her on her ass.

Had Me at Hello by @golden--doodler Bob and Linda's big day has finally arrived after what feels like forever.

Explicit

brought purpose to your hips by @jimmypesto Linda wakes up in the middle of the night

falling for you is easy (like sunday morning) by @thisaliennerd Maybe there’s no such thing as fate, but one chance meeting is about to change the course of two people’s lives forever. Bob and Linda are falling in love fast, but can they balance their feelings with the practical realities of dating? (explicit)

Cheesus the Meatsiah by @babsvibes The night Bob almost gets the Meatsiah right

know that body like it's mine by @jimmypesto Bob and Linda always use hotel rooms as opportunities to experiment

our love's the only thing that could matter (must be signed in to view) 31 days of my favorite married couple doing sexy things. Sometimes kinky and sometimes vanilla, but they’re always very in love

[isa-ghost]

Yea, undying duo if phil and foolish! Because phil is mr hardcore survival minecraft and foolish is a totem of undying :D

basically, both cubitos have a wack relationship with death (and, I think, aversion to using totems? I know phil for sure but I'm a bit unsure about foolish)

I've done some qFoolish ones before!

qPhil headcanons masterlist

Phil would take another "vacation" with Foolish any time. Especially since the second time around, he actually got to know him really well. He'd like to see him again the next time they're in the same realm. :')

If he wasn't so Fuck The Feds he would consider doing some kind of huge cool build like the kids wanted them to so badly. Maybe in the next realm they'll do it because they won't have some kind of government hovering around. It's just too bad the kids won't see it.

He wishes he could've actually had time to actually enjoy having the titan by the wall but the Feds relocated them all like right after. After the way Foolish and his builds were disrespected last time they shared a realm, Phil is PISSED the Feds had the audacity to basically do the same. Especially when Foolish (kind of) worked for them!!!

Of everyone he got close to on the island, Foolish is one of the ones he wishes he had more time with. He feels like they were weirdly in different worlds despite them both being present so often. That's,, probably kind of Ender King's fault, honestly. He feels like he fell away from multiple people when things got bad.

Tbh he kinda wanted to ask Foolish about wtf he was up to in the last realm they were both in (aside from building) but decided against it bc a majority of his memories from that one are awful. So either Foolish was suffering too, or Phil wouldn't trust himself not to envy him for not having a horrid time.

Insert "MCC is some kinda canon interdimensional death games" hc here. Phil has SEEN Foolish kick ASS in a way that wasn't hysteria-driven Bolas rabies.

I'd like to think there's been at least one event or something where they just sat together and gave each other building tips.

The historian part of Phil's brain wants to talk to Foolish about what his Literally Undying ass has seen and lived through. How long has he been alive?? As long as Phil? Longer? He needs to know.

He's not sure where the eternal banana came from and at this point he's too afraid to ask.

Phil thrives on being a bystander of Foolish and Bad's find each other in every universe curse. He's not sure if the last realm before QI started it or if they've crossed paths even More before QI, but boy does he love getting to watch their beef.

See, Foolhalo might find each other in every universe (derogatory), but Phil knows the REAL one is Foolish and Tina finding each other in every universe (affectionate).

Something something Foolish totem something something Phil refusing to use totems when he's home in Hardcore. Is this anything. Someone cook for me I'm too stupid.

Phil is never gonna understand when or how Foolish became "King of the Capys" or why they chose him specifically. He assumes Foolish just hung out with them the most or something.

He barely got to know Vegetta but he just KNOWS he was Foolish's type. Which is wild bc prior to getting government assigned spouses, Phil didn't even think Foolish was fruity. Somehow. Looking back, it actually kinda makes sense to him. From what little he knew of Foolish before QI.

Inversely, Foolish was absolutely STUNNED to know Phil is some flavor of poly let alone fruity at all. Which is hilarious bc Phil is too tunnel-visioned on other things to try hiding that fact. But no, shark man beyond baffled that Phil lowkey adjusted to having a government assigned husband almost instantly. AND became possessive of said husband over time.

[enjoythesilentworld]

Wille's Month - Birthday

the big day! 28th! happy bday wille! @youngroyals-events

Wille gets a real kid’s birthday.

read below the cut or on ao3. (T, 1.9k)

It isn’t until his 20th birthday that Wille really gets to acknowledge it’s his birthday and not hate the thought of it. 

His 18th birthday was a little overshadowed by the chaos of, you know, stepping down from the line of succession and sending the country into a media frenzy. Thank goodness Simon had been by his side, though; to ward off the unwanted attention from the tabloids, the irate criticism from the monarchists, and the ever-enclosing walls of Wille’s anxiety which was so tightly bound to the whole thing. Just like the year before, he’d woken Wille up with a song and a dry sandwich, except that year Wille didn’t have a breakdown, and they fell asleep happily wrapped in each other's arms.

The next year wasn’t bad by any means. In fact, it was really great. He, Simon, Felice and Sara went on a big trip to Amsterdam to celebrate their graduation. Wille didn’t mind that all the attention wasn’t on him. In fact, after the previous two years, he was more than happy to pretend it wasn’t his birthday. That it wasn’t actually meant to be the second official Wilhelmdagen; wasn’t another year his brother had missed. As was becoming tradition, Simon snuck downstairs to the kitchen of the hostel at which they’d been staying to put together a makeshift sandwich, and then whispered him a happy birthday song in the privacy of their tiny bunk. They’d all spent the day exploring the city and getting high in the park, giggling and joking about the terrifying yet glorious affair that was post-graduation. 

So, when the first year of university is coming to a close and Simon asks him what he wants to do for his 20th birthday, he shrugs.

“We don’t need to do anything,” he says, looking up from his book where he’d been lounging and reading in a spot of sun. It’s a warm, breezy day in late April, and the sounds of the city that drift in the window of their shared apartment is a nice background noise.

Though it had been a scary decision to make, both he and Simon thought it might be nice to study abroad for a while, to escape the scrutinizing eyes of Sweden after all the drama. And so, after many teary goodbyes, they’d swept off to New York. Wille enjoyed the anonymity and Simon enjoyed the music scene. They wouldn’t stay in the States forever, but it felt real and adult to make this big move and go through so many huge life events together. That being said, after that first year at Hillerska, Wille is sure he and Simon could weather any storm, as long as they had each other.

“Are you sure?” Simon runs a hand through Wille’s hair, cut short ahead of the hot summer. He folds his book and grabs Simon’s hips, guiding him to sit in his lap. “Not even a small party? We could invite some friends over for a game night like normal, just this time we all wear silly party hats.”

Wille smiles at the care Simon was showing, both of them still aware of the awful memories of his 17th, which still sting to think about. He shakes his head and shrugs again.

“Whatever.” He presses an innocent kiss to Simon’s neck, then lingers there, inhaling his scent. “I just want my sandwich and my song. And you in my bed.”

Giggles vibrate through Simon’s throat. “You have me in our bed every day.”

“It’s never enough!” he exclaims, standing them up and throwing a squealing Simon over his shoulder to carry off to bed.

It isn’t until a few days later that Simon returns to the topic, bounding into their bedroom and looking at Wille with wide, excited eyes. It’s the kind of look he has before Wille finds himself dressed in a onesie and cowboy hat, dancing on a small stage at some random club in Brooklyn at 4am. The things Simon is able to convince him to do – and sober, no less – are boundless. He sits up a little straighter in anticipation of whatever nonsense idea Simon has concocted this time.

“I have the best idea,” Simon grins maniacally, bouncing from foot to foot. Wille raises an eyebrow. “For your birthday.”

“Does it have to do with the extra bed time I requested?” he asks, smirking.

“No,” Simon drawls. “Don’t worry about it. Just clear that whole day. I will take care of everything.”

He moves forward again and grabs Wille’s face, squishing his cheeks, then says, very seriously, “It’s going to be perfect.”

“Okay,” Wille agrees, the sound muffled by his smushed face.

It seems his original prediction hadn’t been entirely off base. On the morning of his birthday, Simon wakes him with a song, a sandwich, and a kiss, then disappears. A few minutes later he returns with a big paper bag and empties the contents onto their bed. The sheer number of bright colors hurts Wille’s eyes this early in the morning.

“Is this my present?” he asks hesitantly, eyeing the goods. He spots a bright pink graphic t-shirt, a few party hats, a tiara, and some deflated balloons.

“Yes!” Simon exclaims. “Well, kind of. Today, my love, you are having the birthday you never got because you were too busy being a stuffy prince. No offense.”

“Okay.” Wille tilts his head in confusion, though he can’t help but smile softly at Simon’s excitement. “What does that mean?”

“First, put this on.” He holds up the pink graphic tee, which Wille gapes at, now that he can see the whole front. There’s some kind of mouse mascot dressed in a shirt and hat, and the text reads ‘Birthday Boy! 10! Wille!’ in big, block letters.

“I’m not turning 10,” Wille grumbles, slowly taking the shirt. He thinks Simon might have lost it.

“Look,” Simon grins, taking off his sweatshirt. “I even have a matching one!”

Wille bursts into laughter. Simon has definitely lost it.

The shirt does in fact match Wille’s, with the same oversaturated colors and slightly off-putting mouse character, except the text instead says ‘Daddy of the Birthday Boy!’. Not only that, but the shirt is one size too small, tight across Simon’s chest and the bottom only reaching an inch above his belly button. Despite how ridiculous it is, Wille is not too opposed to the sight of Simon in a crop top.

Once he’s got his laughter under control, Wille pulls on his own shirt. It’s a crop top on him as well. Simon sheepishly tells him that they were cheap and he’d shrunk them a bit in the dryer on accident. Wille could not care less. He finds the whole thing incredibly endearing, and they lose a bit of time when Wille pulls Simon back into the bed with him.

“Okay!” Simon shouts, finally pulling away. “We have things to accomplish today. I have big plans for you, Mr. Birthday Boy.”

“Do you now?” Wille asks teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

Simon rolls his eyes and presses a finger into Wille’s chest, pushing him away.

“I am going to show you the wonders of the world today, baby. In the form of sticky floors and questionable pizza. The American Dream!”

After donning their full outfits for the day – Simon with a party hat and Wille with his princess tiara – they head out for the day.

Their first stop is laser tag. The people at the front desk give them very odd looks, because they are grown men joining up with a bunch of preteens, but Wille can’t bring himself to care. Simon looks so excited, and he’s just so touched that his dear boyfriend went to all this effort. Plus, he loves laser tag.

They end up on opposite teams. Simon is ruthless, appearing around every corner to take Wille down no matter how far he runs or how well he hides. They shriek and yell at each other, louder than any of the kids, and sprint across the obstacles courses, trying to get the jump on the other. Three games later, Wille is winded and his face hurts from smiling so hard. After eating some, indeed, very questionable pizza, they stop in the bathroom to clean up. Standing next to each other in the mirror, they make googly eyes and silly faces. Turning to face one another, Simon reaches up to straighten his tiara and Wille fixes the string on his party hat.

Heart bursting with love, Wille whispers, “Thank you for this.”

Simon smiles and Wille swears the colors around them grow brighter. “Don’t thank me yet! We’re not done.”

The next stop is a trampoline park, which Wille has never even heard of before. A whole warehouse, a ridiculous size that could only be an American concept, filled with trampolines, foam pits, and screaming children. It’s perfect.

They swap out their shoes for grippy socks and chase each other out onto the floor. They play each other in basketball on a trampoline court, Wille jumping over Simon’s head to dunk the ball, then tackling each other to the ground to fight for it. Next, they get roped into a game of dodgeball with a group of nine-year-olds. Everyone gangs up on Wille and he ends up curled up in a corner, being pelted by an army of children and his boyfriend, who looks way too pleased by the situation. Finally, they have a jumping competition into the foam pit. Simon wins with his double backflip – which, who even knew he could do a backflip, much less two – but Wille is still quite proud of his toe-touch jump. Afterwards, they share a slushie in the parking lot, sitting on a curb and smiling at each other like idiots.

Late that afternoon, feeling sticky and sweaty but so fulfilled, they stumble back home to shower off. Wille thanks Simon thoroughly but is again told they’re not quite finished. They can’t change back into their matching shirts for the last activity of the night, too covered in mysterious liquids from their events of the day, so they opt for more adult-clothing. Wille keeps the tiara, though.

Simon leads them to a bowling alley, which they’ve been to a few times already, but this time Simon has rented out the party room and invited the few friends they’d made here in the city.

The employees at the bowling alley have really gone all out with the decorations. Purple and pink streamers span the entire ceiling, interspersed with dozens of balloons. A big sign on the wall says ‘Happy Birthday Willie!’ and he can’t even find it in him to be angry at the misspelling.

They bowl for hours, talking and laughing and overall causing a major ruckus. His friends have all gotten him stupid gag gifts, which is perfect and so much better than any stuffy tie or fancy cufflinks like he was used to as a prince. Wille keeps catching Simon staring at him with a big, happy grin. He looks radiant, so much better than that awful day a few years ago.

“I’m so glad you’ve had fun today,” he says later, arms wrapped around Wille, looking up at him with tired eyes.

“Today was perfect, Simon.” He presses a kiss to Simon’s forehead. “Thank you so much. Best 10th birthday ever.”

Simon giggles. “You deserve it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you. Happy Birthday, Wille.”  

[quietwingsinthesky]

the amount of time i spend thinking about Even carrying the metacrisis doctor’s fob watch is really quite disproportionate to how much ive fleshed out that part of the story in my head

[kitsch-s]

i love you

the winds have brought you

to my doorstep

to hold in my hands

and adore

and i will love you

until our bones become dust

and when the dust we’ve become

is breathed into flesh and blood anew

and i will love you

in the next life too

even if it’s just the memory of loving you

etched into my skin

woven into my soul

ingrained in my being

i will always love you

-in every life

[kyouka-supremacy]

I know with Gaiden or High School/Modern AU's it's normal to make SSKK rivals and enemies still but I'm personally a big fan of Gaiden sskk being best friends (since childhood) to lovers. Any world without Dazai interfering with their relationship is a world where sskk can be close, I think. Something something outcast children at school that bond with each other over not getting along with other kids, and are not anxious or angry or scared of each other all the time, and they go to the same elementary and middle school, so they just become insperable like that. I just want them to be happy

I mean, the fact that, if the circumstances under which they met had been different, sskk would have gotten along very well is canon. The real question is whether a universe exists where sskk can escape Dazai's interfering.

[babygirlbdubs]

i hate!!! labels!!!!! i hate society's need to put every bit of the human experience into arbitrary, meaningless little boxes!!! i hate taking beautifully unique experiences and shoving them into categories that will never truly fit them!!! i hate taking people's identities and comforts and using them to invalidate their personhood and experiences!!! every single human being is impossibly unique and there will never be a single other person exactly like them and that's beautiful!!! why!!! do we have to break everything down and put it into boxes that are never perfectly the right shape!!!! we are all unique and that makes us all the same!!! let people express their personhood and define their experiences in ways that are unique to them!!!

[arolesbianism]

Beginners guide to my Jackie and Olivia universe thoughts except the handwriting might be kinda unreadable so idk figure it out

[jesskasb]

finally watched everything everywhere all at once cause like everyone with taste has recommended it AND now it wins all those oscars and since i was gonna be in a car for 3 hours i figured this was the perfect time to watch it. anyway,

i will never be the same

[floorpancakes]

say what you want about various things but clamp were kinda cooking when they were like 'if ur not around your gay love interest for like three hours you may just simply eat shit and fall out of a window and die' 😭

[perlelune]

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?”

[visionsofmagic]

day 6: roronoa zoro [cock warming]

࿓ synopsis • you ask to zoro whether he needs any help or not, and in return, he makes you sit on his cock so that it can get warm while he’s sleeping.

―❦ nsfw, opla!zoro, f!reader, reader is being needy & brat, pussy slapping, pet names, teasing, swearing, ‘is all! • 1.2k • a man that takes all my attention to himself in an instant in every type of universe; live action, manga, and anime. I chose to write for la!zoro version ‘cause why not? enjoy, hope I did everything right! [kinktober m.]

“stop moving, you're distracin' me.”

his deep voice cuts your actions of trying to stay still on his lap, adjusting your position so that your numb legs will fix, but, the struggle causes your pussy to clench around his length because of sudden movement which ends up by earning an unsteady thrust. looking at his face, hands gripping the collar of his sleeve, you see his closed eyes, trying to continue the nap he’s taking in the middle of the day.

 “sorry –“ you say, smiling innocently knowing he cannot see, “I didn’t mean to, it’s just –“ you try to find a solid word to describe the situation you’re in now but the weight of lust running through your pussy takes your brain away, wanting to break free, letting yourself go and wasting the last thirty-four minutes waste, waking zoro up, being a greedy brat – only to make him not sleep, instead, fuck you. “so much.”

you can’t bring yourself to say what you’re thinking aloud – just fuck me already! Just move this thick cock and fill me up! – pathetic.

you’re here, sitting down on his cock, warming it, being useful.

the moment of the morning came into your mind; the crew went to bring food and new clothes to the ship, and when they left, only you and zoro were on the ship, you said ‘I wanna be useful for you’ because he’s still healing and you wanted to help – anything, you added, which was a bad idea – maybe, it wasn’t that bad though.

zoro, being a greedy boyfriend even if he tries to hide it, decided to make you a useful one – for his damn cock – to warm it up!

“so much?” he teases you, taking you back to reality, making the sensation on your pussy grow bigger each passing time, moving his hips, acting as if he just adjusts his position like you did minutes ago – only this time, it’s an act – to try you, seeing how much you can handle this. folding his arms, he opens his eyes slowly, an eyebrow is raised, questioning, “what’s so much? I even didn’t begin to fuck you, did I, doll?”

opening your legs wider, challenging him, a whimper leaves your mouth yet zoro doesn’t show any sign of being greedy to fuck you – oh, what self-control!

but you’re not done yet. “it seems you will never do,” you say, shrugging, hands on his shoulder building up to his neck, playing with the hair on his neck – the most breathtaking man you have ever seen – he’s so beautiful that you would beg anytime now but you should try first – to break him into the point in which he will let himself go and move his hips. “I know I am here for the help – to warm your cock,” you point to the sight in front of him – your pussy beautifully covering his thick cock, wetness that comes out of you soaking his veined length. “am I helping?”

opening his arms, he puts them behind his head’s back instead as he leans to the wall of the chair you’re sitting on – eyes travel from your tight pussy to your face, meeting with your innocent smile and sparkling eyes.

“u-huh,” he says, trying to understand where you’re heading with this question, because he knows you well enough to realize you want him to move, yet stubborn and prideful to beg, not until the right moment which zoro waits to arrive. “warming my cock so well that I can feel you dripping into it – hot.”

nodding to him, heat rushes to your face at the sudden compliment, making you gain a confident manner, and continue on with your act; being a fucking brat, using his jealousy to achieve your goal – you would feel bad under other circumstances but not today, not when you want him to devour you – he’s hard to resist, and you’re so greedy to be a good girl.

“anything for my crewmate,” not boyfriend – a crewmate. it takes his attention, eyes on your face, daring you to go on with piercing gazes, jaw getting tight, straight face expression that screams danger. it only turns you on further. “I will make sure to provide my service to the captain as well than because he can need – agggh – zoro –!”

your words are cut by him; raising your body up a little until his tip releases you, and then, without missing a heartbeat, putting it down on his length, thrusting into your dozy pussy, earning a scream out of your mouth.

holding his shoulder tightly, you try to stay in balance while he keeps doing that without any particular rhythm and steadiness so that you get cockdumbed mind right away – all dizzy, just moaning, feeling him shoving his dick into you, balls hitting the ass – finally!

“is this what you wanted, brat?” he asks, hands open your skirt by damaging its buttons, nearly tearing it apart, cupping the breasts through the fabric of your bra before letting them watch how they bounce in sync with your body, raising up and down on his cock with more rapid pace now – devouring you – the things you wanted for a long time. “want me to break that pussy, pretty doll – ohhh – uhmm – y/n – you – you will fuckin’ get it!”

his hands are positioned on your waist, looking down, seeing your clit getting wider with each of his hard and strong thrusts, warming it with all the juices you make – you literally soak now, close to the edge, and zoro smirks at you the moment he hears the crew entering the ship.

his possessive and rough side takes control of his mind – his soul as he picks you up, you already begin to beg for him to put his cock inside, pleases coming out of your parted pink lips that you bite so hard. you let him turning your body, abdomen touching the surface of the bed, cock’s tip resting on the entrance of your pussy, then, he slaps it with his dick, a hand finds your neck, putting your face down onto the pillow – his body hovering behind you as your ass gets higher and higher.

it feels so vulnerable to be in this position as if you’re his own fucktoy to play with, and you can’t deny the fact that even the thought of it can make you cum in an instant.

“zoro – aggh – I –“ you try to say when his dick slaps your clit once again, your body jumps – feeling both shy and shameless at the same time but he cuts you out, cock enters you in one go, jolting your body forward.

“cut it. you don’t want to waste your breath now, you will need it when I make you scream my name enough to make all the crew hear it,” he chuckles – the rings of danger echo inside your head, making you look behind and see him; standing on his knees, eyes on your face, a smirk is visible that gives chill down to your spine at the sight – his glory has one meaning – is that he will not leave this room until others – and your brat brain understands only he can have you like this.

“will make sure everyone knows who’s fuckin’ you day and night, including you, you dumb doll. should’ve learned it sooner, but, I’m always open to teaching you how to be a good fuckin' girl for me.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear *cuties*

[kichoukotori]

Several years ago I briefly worked in the warehouse of a nondescript extremely large e-commerce company. I had no other options for employment but desperately needed money. Turnover was like 150%. I worked from something like 7pm to 5am, my commute was 50 minutes each way and before I got paid I didn't even have the cash for enough gas to get home one night and had to bum $10 off of my kid sibling (this is all to give you an idea of my abysmal mental state while employed here.) You're not allowed to do anything besides your job, no music or anything and they track your movement on cameras so you can't even take a breather. The job is real monotonous, you get sent boxes of items of random sizes and you have to put the items into shelves of varying sizes and the shelves come to you, you don't walk to them. Because the company tracks the rate at which you put items on these shelves, many small items are desirable because you can put a lot of them in quickly. Everything about the place seems almost designed intentionally to break you mentally and turn you into a robot. So I'm about 6 or 7 hours into my shift, feeling on the verge of a mental collapse, and up comes a container with a bunch of small white boxes, bout half the size of a deck of cards. No labels. Great, I'm already happy about whatever these things are. So I go to scan them in, and it gives you the name of the item and a little picture. Sasuke Penis Costume. What? Sasuke Penis Costume. A picture of that red cloud robe from Naruto and one of the headbands with the metal plate on it. I'm thinking, there's no way. What is a penis costume? Am I hallucinating this? And there's so many of them, literally about a hundred, and I know I'm going to be spending at least an hour with Sasuke Penis Costume, there's so many and they're so small, I'm already excited about the potential efficiency of these, and then I see it's Sasuke Penis Costume? So the entire shift I'm like, trying to not put these things away too quick, because honestly I'm starting to build a kind of kinship with them. This is quite literally the most exciting thing to happen to me during my whole 2 week employment at the warehouse. I started to see Sasuke Penis Costume as a friend, some reminder of the outside world, a reminder of the humanity I was becoming so unfamiliar with, a reminder the world contained comedy, art, anime, and penis. I really couldn't tell you if I ended up putting all of them away, the last thing I remember is my desperate need to look these items up when I got home. I needed a link to send to my friends for when I told them this riveting story. I learned that the costume is called the Akatsuki cloak in my fervent search for the item, and wouldn't you know it, absolutely zero trace of these things exists online. Not on the e-commerce website, not on any specialized penis-costume websites (whose existence I was not privvy to prior to this incident) and no third-party retailer has these. Not even Google images will show me the hypothetical existence of Sasuke Penis Costume. Every few months I look it up, trying to find evidence that it can be bought, that any of this was ever real. My bond, my friendship, and dare I say even love for Sasuke Penis Costume feels as tangible as the boxes they came in, and yet the universe will give me no closure of their fate. Less and less frequently I search for them, each time becoming more and more discouraged that I will ever find them, but unlike their substance on this earth, one thing is inarguably certain. Sasuke Penis Costume exists to me, and it will live on firmly and resolutely within my memory and within my heart.