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alavestineneas · 5 months

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Losing dogs

pairing: young!coriolanussnow x fem!reader

summary: His golden prize, his future wife, was now bound to him by the ring on her finger. Of all of his investments, this one had the potential to yield the greatest return. warnings: not really canon-compliant, mentions of minor violence, blood and shitty relationships word count: 4k

Part 2 is here!

author's note: remember kids, manipulators and sick bastards are only hot in fiction - don't do them (and drugs) in real life!

The polished toes of his new shoes reflected everything in the grand hall—they caught glimmers of lamps adorned with gold, colourful drapes on the enormous windows, and the kaleidoscopic dresses of women around. The chatter filled the room, almost too loud to hear the music—not that he would enjoy it either. Some things require focus.

''Mister Fabius, Missis Fabius.''

Corialanus's face melts into a smile-like expression at the sight of the older couple.

They look like lice in the large building—rich lice, that is. The golden and platinum rings on Missis Fabius's fingers shine with every gemstone known to man, mirroring the bright lights. The jewels look ugly on the wrinkly hand, he notes. What a waste.

''Mister Snow, what a surprise! I was just telling Livia of your prodigious success in your new position. Incredible work, Mr. Snow; simply incredible! ''

The man's face radiated with excitement, getting closer in shade to his burgundy tie. The gold threats on it piqued more interest for Mister Snow than the words of the old man—after all, it's not every day you meet such luxury in person.

The man's wife, however, seemed less enthusiastic; her cold, bored gaze circled him up and down, stopping only after getting the satisfaction of an undoubtedly unpleasant conclusion.

Coriolanus mentally went over his outfit, hairstyle, and anything else she might have noticed. Nothing was out of place; the holes in his coat were a thing of the past. Still, it was something—that thought found its place in his brain, drilling a small hole in its way.

''When will we know of your decision, Mister Snow? We gave you time—a lot of time.''

''This evening, Mrs. Fabius. After the play, I promise to give you my answer tonight.''

He has to look first. What fool buys a horse blind? Sure, the horse came with immense fortunes and, most importantly, connections, but still. He couldn't afford to make a hasty decision, especially when the stakes were so high. After all, he was one of the most desirable bachelors; Fabiuses had to thank him for even considering the offer.

''There is no agreement until tomorrow, Mister Snow. We will have you for breakfast at nine o'clock sharp,'' Mr Fabius said, placing a hand on his wife's back and leading her towards the entrance. They could afford not to make one's adieu.

The opera was popular among the richest; all of the seats were taken. He would have lied if he said the golden rails and red velvet didn't make him feel a bit out of place. Nobody paid him any attention, although this time it didn't hurt him as much as usual. He could hide in the shadows of his box seat without being concerned about making an impression.

Not the stage, of course. It was the least of his worries, although he did pay a high price for a ticket. No, he looked at her.

The golden gown on her was a shimmering masterpiece. Layers and layers of the most expensive fabric covered her body like soft waves, crashing down at the round neckline with their gilded ends. She wore diamond earrings, just like her mother did, although they suited her better.

Coriolanus remembered her from the academy; she always sat near the window, gazing out at the world with a longing in her eyes. She wasn't a very bright student but rather a dutiful one. always on time, always prepared with her assignments, and always eager to please her teachers. The heiress to the jewellery empire. The flower of the elite social scene. Her presence attracted attention, yet she seamlessly blended into the background, never stealing the spotlight. YN Fabius was everything he needed her to be—a picture, but never a spectacle.

The manor was grand and opulent, showing the wealth and status of the Fabius family. Its sprawling gardens and delicate architecture were a testament to its esteemed position in society. Collums, paintings, and endless staircases stood as if frozen in time. It was as if there was no war just a decade ago.

''Mister Snow,'' the butler called out, his voice echoing through the grand foyer. ''Breakfast is served in the blue dining hall; if you would please follow me.''

Thousands and thousands of steps and passages lined the walls, leading to various wings and chambers of the mansion. It was warm, even during the cold autumn season. Only keeping the fireplaces always lit must cost a fortune.

When they finally reached the needed room, Coriolanus was slightly out of breath. The blue walls reached the high ceiling, painted with pictures of half-naked gods and goddesses frolicking in fields of flowers. It created the illusion of a smell wafting through the air as if the vibrant colours had come to life.

The table was served for four, not three, suggesting that someone else was expected to join them. The silverware gleamed under the soft rays of sunshine, casting a shimmering glow across the room—pure silver, nothing less.

The door behind him opened with a gentle creak, revealing Mr. Fabiuse's humble figure. His simple, at first glance, shirt was another of the perfectly constructed illusions—Coriolanus knew the fabrics like the back of his hand. The shirt, though seemingly plain, was made from the finest Egyptian cotton, woven with intricate patterns.

''Mister Snow, how good that you came on time. Excuse my ladies, the girls are such girls at every age. Take so long to get ready,'' he laughs. ''Please, take a seat," Mr. Fabius said, gesturing towards a plush chair covered in velvet.

''There is no point in all of those paints once you hit sixty,'' Mrs.Fabius said, appearing right behind her husband. She circled the table before taking a seat herself, her eyes glancing disapprovingly at the young man. "Let's begin before the food grows cold," she added with a sigh, her tone tinged with resignation.

''Of course,'' Mr. Fabius nodded, lifting the lid on the first dish. The aroma of it filled the room, and Coriolanus couldn't help but feel his hunger grow. He didn't have the habit of eating so much in the morning—another thing he needs to adjust about his routine.

When Mr.Fabius finally placed the fork down, Coriolanus knew it was time. ''Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Fabius. I must say, I thought a lot about your proposal, and after careful consideration, I have decided to accept it.''

''Good.'' Mrs. Fabius answered instead, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "I'm glad to hear that, Coriolanus. I believe this union will bring great delights to both of us."

Mr. Fabius seemed not to notice the interruption. ''I think a winter wedding would be absolutely perfect. Everybody seems to be getting married in the spring, but in the winter? Oh, it's definitely going to be a hit. Ah, and here's the lucky bride-to-be!''

She stood beside the just-opened door, her eyes following his expressions. Her hands, adorned just with one small pearl ring, were gently clasped together in front of her. She looked nervous, like a child standing in front of the full class on the first school day. Her dress, a delicate lace creation, clings to her figure like a second skin.

He smiled at her. YN looked like an antique statue, as if she just stepped out of the ruins of the Panem. Coriolanus wasn't even sure she was breathing—her stillness was so deep.

''Let's leave the lover birds to chirp,'' Mrs.Fabius said, standing up. She walked towards the couple, her heels clicking against the floor, and extended her hand towards YN. "Congratulations, my dear," she said with a warm smile before leaving, her husband following after her.

''It's time for a ring, isn't it?'' Coriolanus cleared his throat. Everything is to be done appropriately; there is no reason to avoid traditions. He reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a small box. White, of course—who is he, if not a romantic at heart?

''Mr. Snow,'' YN watched him stand up and come closer with the same expression she always bore—a mixture of melancholy and worship. ''Grant me something.''

He paused. Coriolanus didn't like to make promises. He would have to make it clear to her later, after the wedding—the fact that he took her for a bride was enough of a promise. Still, he needed this engagement to work, and he was not about to lose it to a crude lie. With a sigh, he softly replied, "What is it that you desire, Miss YN?"

''Promise me you will be kind to me. All of our marriage, promise to be kind to my heart.''

Coriolanus almost laughed in her face. Oh, what a lovely, clueless fool. "I will do my best to treat you with kindness, Miss YN."

''Good,'' she smiles. ''I think we will make a great couple then, Mister Snow.''

''Coriolanus, my dear. Please call me Coriolanus."

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. It was sealed. His golden prize, his future wife, was now bound to him by the ring on her finger. Of all of his investments, this one had the potential to yield the greatest return.

Mr.Fabius didn't lie—his daughter was the perfect bride. She never spoke to him unless he did first; she never questioned him. She simply followed his lead, like a well-trained pet. A pretty, lovely YN. She knew what to do, how to dress, and what to say. He searched for one—at least a slight imperfection—and couldn't find one; it was as if she wasn't a human, which, to him, she wasn't.

''What are you going to do today?'' he asks, without bothering to look up from the newspaper. He doesn't wish to hear her answer, but he still asks out of courtesy. Coriolanus knows that her daily routine is made up of attending charity events, dinners with influential figures's wives, and shopping for designer clothes. It's a predictable pattern.

''Well, the trees I ordered came in today; I'll have to chat with the new gardener about them. Are you meeting with anyone important later?"

''As a matter of fact, I do. Larry Tremblay wants to include me in a business deal he's been working on."

It's partly true, but she doesn't need to know more. Just a familiar name was usually enough for his wife to hum in satisfaction and assume that he was still climbing the social ladder. Not this time, evidently.

''You shouldn't accept.''

He looked up from his cup, trying to guess if she had gone out of her mind. YN looked like usual, her eyes meeting his without a care in the world. Why today, of all days, she decided to question his decision was beyond him. He cleared his throat, attempting to maintain his composure. "And why should I decline such a good-looking opportunity?"

''He beats his wife. Just yesterday, I saw her with bruises. ''

Coriolanus fought hard to keep a smile from forming on his lips. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, feigning indifference. He knew his wife wasn't the brightest, but this? "Is that so?"

''Don't you understand what it means? The man only beats his wife for two reasons. If he has always enjoyed those types of things, which Larry did not, or if he loses power and control in other aspects of his life. The business isn't going as well as he wants it to,'' YN lowers her gaze, losing confidence in her voice. ''I thought you would want to know that.''

He would, very much. Her conclusion was the dumbest thing he ever heard, based on some black and blue marks and a twist of her imagination. Still, it was interesting—his wife's head wasn't always empty like he hoped. She thought enough to notice something, and she listened enough to remember his partners.

''I will keep that in mind,'' he replied, his tone tinged with a hint of annoyance. What harm could it do to entertain her thoughts? It was even slightly amusing to see her try to piece together a puzzle that didn't exist.

It wasn't so fun anymore when Larry Tremblay was fired exactly two weeks later. Surely, it could be a consequence, but Coriolanus Snow didn't believe in them. There had to be something, anything, to explain his wife's sudden knowledge—she couldn't have acquired it on her own, about that he was sure.

YN looked unfazed by his questioning gaze as she lay on the dark olive-coloured sofa in his office, continuing to play with a snow-white kitten on her stomach. It was his wedding gift, one of many—the pricy creature with a diamond collar. He thought it was rather symbolic—two caged animals who were once considered sacred.

''How did you understand that Tremblay was about to be fired?'' Coriolanus asked, his voice laced with suspicion. It could be that she overheard the woman talk about it, or even that she had some inside information from her connections. What bothered him more was what she could know from the same source about him.

YN paused, her fingers gently stroking the kitten's fur as she met his gaze. "I didn't know that. I simply knew he had trouble at work. Evidently, they were big enough for him to lose his position."

''Really?'' he chuckled. Maybe she was telling the truth. ''Then, what can you say about my work?''

YN's eyes narrowed slightly. "Your work doesn't matter; how you present yourself does. Can I give you some advice?'

"Sure.'' Coriolanus bit his tongue, fighting the urge to snap back at her. After all, it is what he married her for—to fit in. He took a deep breath.

''Buy a new car, but not the most expensive one; it will give off an impression of stability, like you know the job isn't going anywhere. Your shoes are always too polished; it's like you wore them right out of the box. And throw away that hideous tie you always wear—you look like a student."

''Something else?'' Coriolanus mustered a weak smile, trying to hide his frustration.

''I don't want to offend you, Coriolanus. But I want you to do well. After all, you are my husband now, and your success reflects on both of us. Why not help where I can? You know I love clothes.''

''Good, '' he replied, forcing a more genuine smile. "Now get away from that cat before it scratches you. I'll figure out the rest on my own."

''Of course you will. You are the smartest man I've ever met.''

He was. It was because of his intelligence that YN married him, because of his ambition. Well, that and something else.

From her earliest childhood, YN knew what she was destined to be. She was the child of late parents, the only child, and a girl; she would inherit everything the generations of her family worked so hard to achieve. And YN was no fool; she needed a man. Driven, proud, and cold-blooded. The one who was not afraid to get his hands dirty while she spent her time leisurely in his shadow. Oh, no—YN never minded her place, much like her mother did. She taught her to bet on the finest horses, and Coriolanus Snow was no exception.

From the time she saw him in his ridiculously tight shirt in the academy, she knew what she wanted. Him. The top of every class, the charmer with pretty eyes—a catch, really. Her mother said there was darkness inside her dear Coriolanus, but YN knew. That's why she now sits in the opulent living room, waiting for him to get home. Mr. Snow was a horrific, ruthless man. But he was still, at his core, a man.

And men never listen. That's how she got him and got him good—a silent, fawn-eyed creature that he thought he could control. An obedient wife and a lovely lap dog. It was funny to see his gaze twitch slightly when she said something she wasn't supposed to—how long would it take him to figure it out?

It's time—his tall figure appeared in the corridor leading to the living room. YN watches silently as he takes off his shoes and coat, placing them on the rack by the door. Home at seven p.m. sharp, just like any other day. Just like any other day, dinner is at the table.

He never said thank you. Instead, her closet grew bigger with countless dresses, bags, and shoes—sometimes even brand-new jewellery. YN didn't mind it; she loved it—the jealous whispers of other women at the events about how lucky she was. She didn't have to sleep with a big, fat old man to get the latest fur coat or the most exquisite diamond necklace.

At least a few times a month now, Coriolanus would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming. This night was one of those: YN woke up from the constant turning and tossing in the bed. She doesn't know how he didn't figure out why; it was easy to guess his food contained something to make his sleep far worse—YN made sure of that. Maybe he just didn't have the heart to admit his weaknesses, even to himself.

''Hey,'' she whispered, getting out of the warm covers. YN tiptoed over to Coriolanus' side of the bed, careful not to bump into anything in the dark. ''Hey, wake up. Are you okay?" she asked, gently shaking him awake.

Coriolanus jolted upright, his eyes wide with fear as he gasped for breath. He wasn't; of course, he wasn't. Yn would have lied if she said she didn't find it hot to see him like this—sweat glistening on his forehead, his chest heaving.

''You were having a nightmare again.''

He looked at her with the eyes of a lunatic, still not over his dream. ''What did I say this time?"

''You were mumbling something about birds and songs, I think? It didn't make much sense."

He doesn't recall that she mentored the 10th game too. Without much success, of course, but one thing she did remember was a girl from District 12 who liked to sing. Coriolanus remembered her too; it was evident from the fear that crossed his eyes.

''Excuse me,'' he said, his voice still shaky. ''I need a moment.''

YN watched as he stumbled towards the bathroom, his hands twitching. As much as her husband wanted to hide those parts of himself, he couldn't. Not from her.

There was nothing else to do but wait. YN climbed on the bed, turning her back to the bathroom door. Coriolanus would only come out when he thought she had fallen asleep. She learned to control her breath when she was just a little girl; it saved her life once, when a rebel pointed a gun at her small frame, meaning to shoot. He didn't—what use was it to waste a bullet on a non-breathing child?

Surely, after some time, the blonde man stepped out of the bathroom. For a few minutes, he listened to her steady breathing before sliding under the covers and pressing his body against hers, his large hand covering her shoulders. Coriolanus wasn't gentle; YN wasn't sure he knew what the word meant anyway, but he was careful. His arm around her chest wasn't tight—just enough for him to bring her closer.

As much as YN wanted to turn around and face him, she didn't. There was no point—like any other human, he hated the feeling of vulnerability. Instead, YN focused on the warmth of his body. Coriolanus Snow was a god more than a human, and real gods were never kind. The only currency they recognized was blood.

The annual party for the victor of this year's games. The first year Coriolanus Snow worked as a head gamemaker, his creation was a bloodbath, a spectacle of violence and despair. He did a good job—an excellent one, even—and one of the greatest stars of today's celebration was him.

They needed to dress the part in clothes that exuded power. And so they did. Coriolanus's suit was ample—purple velvet with gold embroidery—the colour of Roman emperors. The colour of the winners. The suit hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, suiting his white hair. Gold cufflinks, gold rings—he looked like a sovereign among men. It was risky to do so right in front of the current president, but who was Coriolanus Snow if he was not confident in his success?

YN wore the gown from the matching collection, a floor-length masterpiece. The deep purple colour was a stark contrast to her skin tone. And jewellery, of course—she came from the Fabius family for a reason. The lavender diamonds on her necklace and earrings. They were rare—the rarest—even. Only a few violet diamonds have been mined in the past seventy years.

It was all anyone talked about behind their backs. Whispers, rumours, and so much venom dripped from the mouths of Panem's elite—that's what they were hoping for, anyway. The Snows were just as shamelessly rich as they were powerful.

That's why they now sat at the President's table, just a few faces away from them. Coriolanus smiled to himself - not even the President's wife could compare to YN. Not in fashion, not in elegance. He had an impeccable taste - even a person far away from politics could see that.

''A toast!'' the President stood up with a glass in his hand, turning to face the Coriolanus. ''I am sure many of you know who was the mastermind behind the games this year - it's my pleasure to introduce Coriolanus Snow to those of you who don't. However, not many know his story of success. From a dirt-poor background, when his greatest possession was his family name, he worked hard to achieve the position he holds today. Let us raise our glasses and celebrate his remarkable journey to success and the country of Panem - the land of opportunity!''

YN cursed under her breath as she listened to the crowd cheer for her husband. He remained stoic - the only thing that gave away his fury was his eyes - they grew as dark as the sky outside. She didn't bother to calm him - this fire was impossible to put out. The President made a fatal mistake with his speech - she knows. But the true fear crept into her heart when she saw the President's wife pass Coriolanus the dish.

Cabbage.

Under a fancy sauce, it could be transformed into a delicacy fit for their circle. But tonight, it was his last straw. The colours changed on the face of Coriolanus, from white to all shades of red. His fists clenched, and veins pulsed on his temples. The room fell silent as they observed.

''Oh, I am so sorry,'' YN chipped in. Quick, something. ''I have a terrible allergy to cabbage.''

The President's wife looked concerned. ''Oh, I didn't know.''

YN made her eyes water, throwing a coughing feat for more dramatic effect. ''I think I need to step outside for some fresh air."

She felt a warm hand on her back. ''Let me accompany you, just to make sure you're alright." her husband announced, carefully leading her towards the exit.

The first thing he did when they reached the women's bathroom was break the mirrors in a fit of anger. Shards of glass scattered across the floor as he paced around the room like a caged animal. YN watched as shouted and hit the walls, sitting on the bathroom floor. Beautiful one - the tile was a lovely shade of pink, contrasting with the chaos unfolding before her.

After a good few minutes, he finally calmed down and sank to the floor beside her, his face buried in his hands. Her husband, her hauntingly beautiful, pathetic husband - oh, what a sight. He looked mad, maniac, even; his blonde hair was far from its usual perfectly styled form, falling on his tear-stained cheeks.

"What do you think of me?"

His voice is hoarse, a few notes down from a honey-like. She likes it better, YN thinks - nothing of the fasçade he was trying so hard to uphold. No, just a raw hunger with a mix of equally raw despair.

"I think you are an animal, Coriolanus."

She smiles, watching his expression change. He suspected it, of course - her husband was a smart man. Still, he can't believe it - his head twitches in her direction, his gorgeous bottomless eyes shining under the weak light of the only surviving floor lamp.

"What?" he asks with such a loss in his voice YN has to fight the urge to bring him close. Not now, she thinks. It's not the time.

"A hungry, desperate, sick, sick animal with nothing to lose."

Coriolanus gets closer abruptly, clearly angered - she can't let him leave now. His arm shouts to find its place on her neck, long, slim fingers forming a circle around her throat. "You think I am after money, don't you?"

"No, no," a yelp escapes her lips, bordering a hysterical laugh. "Only fools are after money, Coriolanus, and you are no fool."

YN watches as he loses his grip a little, calmed by her words. What a pitiful, fascinating creature was her husband - one word of reassurance and he is willing to let thousands of cursings slide.

"What is it, then? What did you fantasize about in your small dull head?"

He still doesn't believe her. YN is surprised at how quickly it becomes boring.

"You want power."

Clap - the grip on her neck is tight again.

"That's why you choose the fear. People forget the hand that feeds them, but the one who beats? Never."

The frown on his face falls a little, and through the gritted teeth escapes something like a curse. "You talk an awful lot about me," he notes. "What are you hungry for?"

"You."

He laughs. That was a deep, chest laugh - YN thinks she never heard him laugh so sincerely. "You want my love? Don't lie to me, YN," he taunts, pressing a little harder on her neck.

"Not love. Love is easily swayed, is it not? No, I want you."

Coriolanus looks at her as if he never done so before. Well, he looked thousands of times, but he didn't see. His eyes study every expression in hers, every part of her face. "A hungry dog is not a loyal dog," he finally masters.

There is a certain silence after his words. YN gulps, desperatly trying to help her dried throat - the blood from his hands ran down her neck onto her exposed chest, leaving sticky, dark trails behind.

"Feed me, then."

He kisses her. He puts a force behind it, watching her hands fall on his chest for some kind of support. Coriolanus kisses her until there is no air in YN's chest anymore, and she has to push him away to take a rushed breath.

They were going to be just fine.

After all, they both never bet on losing dogs.

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moonlightplaylist · 22 days

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MARK GRAYSON CRUSH & DATING HEADCANONS

CRUSH

when he first saw you in the hallway at school, you caught his eye

he was just talking to William and when you passed by him, all his attention on William shifted to you

he couldn’t help it, you were just so mesmerizing

he didn’t fall in love with you immediately since he didn’t really knew what you were like yet

when he did get the chance to though, thats when he was head over heels for you

the more he spends time with you, the more he realizes how his heart beats faster whenever you’re around

whenever you talk to him, he often stutters and mixes up his words

it’s embarrassing for him, but its cute

whenever you tease him, his face just turns red and he tries to tease you back

Mark would mention you a lot to his parents

the first time you came over to help him study, his mom, Debbie asked “Mark, isn’t this the person you often talk about at dinner?”

Mark just stood there, red as a tomato and immediately denied

DATING

eventually he asked you out and you said yes

ever since he got his powers and became Invincible, he would often come late to dates

he would always come up to you, panting while his hand was holding flowers for you or a small gift

he would remember little things about you and try his best to make sure the gift he gives you is something you would like

you heard him apologize a dozen times already about how late he was

of course, you had no idea at the time about his powers and everything so you just assumed he’s being rude on purpose

this led to many fights

you both were able to work it out each time though by communication

when Mark finally told you he’s Invincible after another argument about him being late, you stood there thinking he’s probably making another excuse

“You don’t believe me? Fine.”

Mark then proceeds to float up in the air, his feet were off the ground

that’s when it hit you and made you realize why he was late all of the time

he wasn’t lying, he IS Invincible

ever since that day, your relationship with Mark was stronger than ever

you often had to make excuses for him, but you didn’t really mind (it can get annoying after multiple times)

he would often call you petnames — babe, baby

he would definitely love to cuddle with you and sleep beside you

Mark loves to admire you and think about how lucky he is to have you

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starlightdreaming · 28 days

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100 FOLLOWER SPECIALL :DD (the voices won.)

Lucifer x Slime! Bunny! Reader! NSFW!!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel!

Content Warning: (SUPER LONG ASS SMUT) Heat cycles, Body worship, Biting, Slime(Everywhere), PredatorNPrey kink(?), Breeding kink, Belly bulge, Dacryphillia, Oral (received) (THE MF EATS U OUT), Overstimulation, Lucifer’s Tail (erm-), BDSM (like all of them? I dunno…), Corruption Kink. (I don’t know what all the kinks are spare ya gal.) (Nothing is proofread either.)

READER BASED OFF MY PERSONA

SO ITS SELF INSERT??? Yeah. I’m down bad for this man, no shame.

Synopsis: You were a maid that worked at Lucifer’s mansion, you were his favorite too! so what happens when you are in one of your heat cycles? >:]

this stories delusions is brought to you by:

(optional but not really recommended)

You were humming softly as you made breakfast for your majesty. It was a daily routine for you to bring him breakfast to his bed, his usual being pancakes with a touch of cinnamon and apples.

At first when you were accepted to his abode to work, all you did was clean, he never batted an eye at you as you wandered the halls to sweep off dust on every corner of his walls, you didn’t mind it since you got to mind your business all you wanted, no pressure applied, even when you had traded your soul to the king to even have this job, it was all the much better when he didn’t ask of anything from you.

One day, his butler was sick, leaving you to cooking, anyone could have done it but if it wasn’t to the kings liking, they could have lost their jobs- at least what the maids would say. So they threw the task at you, the newbie.

It wasn’t that worrying of a task since you were always cooking for your siblings when you were alive, you always made exquisite dishes for your brothers and sisters to enjoy, oh how you missed those days of making hearty meals for them. So when you had the chance to make something for someone now? You were going all out.

You were thrown into the kitchen by the other maids, you were more excited than bothered by their force, you began making the pancake batter, adding a bit of cinnamon and apples into the mix, you saw your king always wore an apple on his hat so you assumed he liked apples. You made a stack of four fluffy pancakes, adding syrup on it before exploring the kitchen, trying to find fruits and such to add onto the meal to make it more pleasing to enjoy, to eat and to look at.

When you finished, you made him morning coffee, since you didn’t know what his coffee preferences were, you hoped your favorite blend would better suffice than taking a wild guess. You put the meal and drink onto the tray table, leaving the kitchen to walk to your masters room, careful as to not drop the meal you had put your heart and ‘soul’ into. You were so focused into what you were making

Before you entered his room, you knocked, awaiting his “come in.” to enter his room. You saw he sat at his work desk, uninterested to turn and look at you, you weren’t sure what to do next, you never really ever got to see the king this close, nor enter his rooms for that fact. You were just tasked to clean the halls, thats it.

You nervously walk up to his side, putting down the plate and coffee on to his work desk, “Your meal, your majesty.” You bowed, awaiting for him to dismiss you but when he heard your unfamiliar voice, he turned to you, seeing your uniform was covered in pancake mix that had already dried on your maid dress, you smiled at him nervously as he looked at your semi-transparent slime body, “Where is my butler?” he asked, “he’s the one that’s supposed to make me breakfast.” Your heart seemed to chip away, sensing that he might not like the breakfast you made him, he didn’t even look at it, “He is sick, your highness,” you explained, gripping the tray tightly in more nervousness, “I was tasked to make your meals today.” you say, putting up a facade to hide how much you were internally screaming.

“I see,” He says, looking back to his work, “dismissed.” he says as he waved you off, making your heart chip again, you were hoping to see his reaction to how much effort you had just made into the meal but seeing as you’re just a lowly maid in his home, it made sense he didn’t expect much from you.

You left the room without a second glance, not seeing how he had looked at you before looking at the pancakes.

Through the rest of your day, it was all normal. Nothing was reported to you and you weren’t tasked with the rest of the days cooking which made you confirm in your head that maybe he wasn’t satisfied with your cooking skills. It hurt to accept but all that mattered was you got to keep your job at least.

It wasn’t until the next day that whilst you were wiping down windows in the hall, Lucifers personal butler had walked up to you, tasking you again to make the same breakfast you had done the day before, You smiled as you got up and went to the kitchen again, leaving your main duties behind, all your doubts from yesterday vanished as you replicated the meal, going back to his room with a smile, “Your meal, your majesty.” You bowed to him, before putting the meal on his desk once again.

He looked at you this time, making your heart stop for a moment, “Where did you get your cooking skills?” he asked, his attention completely on you, your ears lie back in shyness, “Oh- well, I was self taught.” You say as you held onto the tray, resting it under your fingers, “How come your skills have gone unnoticed?” He says, pulling the plate toward him, grabbing his silverware to cut through the ‘cake to take a bite, you smiled gently as your heart fluttered from joy, “I applied to just clean, there wasn’t any spot open for cooking.” you explained as you swayed side to side in one spot, you couldn’t contain your excitement and joy as he ate your meal, “How about you become one now? Would you like that?” He offered before taking another bite, making you bring the tray to your chest, “really? you mean that?” You smiled, your ears perking as they held up close together as you leaned toward his desk slightly, “of course, why wouldn’t I? You can start anytime you want.” He smiled at you, you jumping in joy, “thank you so much, your majesty! I can make lunch later today! you won’t be disappointed!” You say as you slightly began to run out of his room, forgetting your formality, “oh, uh-“ you realized, before quickly bowing to him and leaving his room, slightly embarrassed.

Ever since that day, you had always made his meals.

Over time, you had slowly made a bond with him, becoming his favorite maid and his favorite chef, it wasn’t long ‘til he made you his personal butler, you waking him up for the day and being at his side almost 24/7 practically.

You didn’t even need to knock anymore as you busted his door open everyday with passion and enthusiasm, “Rise and shine, Lulu!” You would call him, waking him from his slumber, unbothered from how much energy you radiated, he’d sit up as you placed a tray his bed, making your usual for him, he smiled every time you sat on his bed further from him, talking about how your day went or rambled on about your past life on earth, he had found out you ended up killing your parents from how they neglected and abused you and your siblings, you had told your siblings that they left for good, nothing else. It was a surprise to him but it was understandable from your living conditions, he loved just listening to you, day in and day out though, whatever topic it may have been, he wasn’t listening to what you would tell him but more focused on your voice, after six years of this daily routine, it wasn’t long until he would ponder what you would sound underneath him, how you would writhe and whimper to his touch.

He had shook the thoughts at first but the more he saw you in his day to day life, those thoughts always bubbled and spilled out the more he tried to bottle them up, they only got worse when you would be gone for two weeks or so, knowing you as a bunny hybrid, whenever you were having a heat cycle coming or running, your slime would often secrete more off your body, dripping. One time it had gotten so bad, a blob of your slime just went splat on the floor in Lucifer’s room, right in front of him.

You had cleaned it with a bunch of spewed apologies, your face flustered and gaze full of lust, you left the room in a hurry. Leaving Lucifer dumbfounded. To him, that gaze you gave him with lust and tears in your eyes, riled something in him. When you were gone for two weeks after that, his mind was just thinking about that moment and you and only you, those thoughts he tried so hard to brush off were flooding his mind during your absence, he knows he could just go see you and help you and he wanted to do just that more than anything, but he refused to, he didn’t want to take advantage of you in any sort of way, he’d rather fall from the Heavens a million times than ever force his way onto you, you meant too much to him, his heart couldn’t bare how much he loved you.

When you came back from your cycles, you were back with your usual bright, loud and enthusiastic demeanor, your slime body reduced back to normal to being jelly like than melting-ish, and droopy. Whenever you came back, his mind would never settle down, his eyes would always trail at every curve of your body when you weren’t looking, you were so mesmerizing in his eyes, every flaw was a grace of beauty to him, he loved every moment with you, even when you sat and did your own thing while he focused on his work, you just being there was just enough comfort for him to settle down in place and do his job before finishing for the day and spending it with you.

At that point, he saw you as your own person, not just some maid that wandered his ‘castle’. Sometimes when you look at him with doe eyes, he couldn’t help but look away, you had him under such a trance, you didn’t even know how much he was wrapped around your finger. Whenever you wanted or requested something, you’d get it instantly, no questions asked, whenever you smile at something or him, his heart flutters, craving more of that smile, he loved when you praised him, comforted him or was there for whatever reason at all, his stomach always felt butterflies, it was always bad whenever you accidentally brushed touches without you noticing, he craved your touches so much, he always tried to find ways to have contact with you, even if it meant asking you to groom his wings. Worst and best decision of his life.

This man was such a mess for you, he’d even wake up from dirty dreams about you, flustered and flushed, panting heavily as if he sat up quickly in the late nights or early mornings, the tent in his pants were always visible during these dream incidents, it was happening way more then often that when he woke up this morning, he woke up gripping and clawing the bed sheets, his horns and tail displayed as he growls lowly, he was panting heavily as he just began to cry in frustration, it wasn’t long until you busted the door open, making him jump out of his thoughts, “rise and shine- oh! you’re already awake.” you say before realizing he was out in his demon form, he looked away from you, noticing that your body was secreting slime again, knowing what time it was for you, “are you okay? what happened?” You ask with concern closing his door, expecting him to have another rant about his ‘nightmares’ he claims to have, more and more.

You sat his meal in front of him, you sitting close as he kept his gaze away fron you, hoping you didn’t notice the dry tears he tried to wipe away, “Oh, Lulu, are you crying?” You ask, knowing he only avoids your gaze when he doesn’t want you to something. He ignored you when you asked, making you slightly upset he won’t talk to you, you cupped his face, making him turn to you, “look at me, Lulu,” You said softly to him, “was it another nightmare?” you asked, his eyes widened as he blushed lightly from how close you were to him, he nodded quietly, feeling flustered from his thoughts of you, “Oh, Lulu.” You swooned, bringing his face to your chest, holding him lovingly, he only blushed harder as your body produced more, slime was now on his face, your scent not going unnoticed as you smelled like a mixture of sweets.

When you pulled away, you hands still holding his face, you saw your slime was now on his face and you back your hands away from him in shock, “oh my goodness I’m so sorry-“ you said, trying to sit up, only to somehow drop his tray of food onto the ground making you more embarrassed, “Oh- oh my stars, I’ll get something to clean that! I’ll be right back!” You stuttered, leaving the room quickly as Lucifer frog blinked, processing what just happened in the span of ten seconds.

He licked his face clean, forgetting it was your slime and not his food that was all over his face, he honestly expected to gag in distastes but his thoughts immediately ran wild again when he realized how fucking sweet your secretions were, it was one lick after another before his face was clean and he was craving more. Although you were bringing him more breakfast for him to eat, he didn’t want to eat what you had to offer, no. He wanted you. With a snap of his fingers, the mess you left was gone, the lights were off and he was missing from his bed.

You entered the room, cursing yourself under your breath for forgetting what time it was for you, “Lulu, I’m-“ you tried to apologize again, only to see the room was dark and he was gone, “Lulu?” you called for him again, trying to turn on the lights, only for it to not turn on, you put the new tray of food on his nightstand before looking around his room for him, noticing the mess you made was now gone.

“Lulu? Where’d you go?” You asked worriedly, before you felt something drop on your head, it felt like a droplet of water, you looked up to see Lucifer hanging upside down as he stared at you with eyes full of desperation and lust, “L-Lulu?” you asked, a little worry now in your voice as your legs clanged together from the heat in your core, seeing how hot he was upside down, his full demon form out and his tail swaying down towards you left and right.

“Do you know how sweet you taste, my dear?” Lucifer asked, tilting his head, “Wh-what?” You asked a little confused. “Your slime,” he says, jumping down from the ceiling as his eyes glowed in the dark, his eyes glinting like a wolf stalking its prey, you stepped back as he began to walk closer to you, you didn’t even realize you were walking back towards the bed as both of your eyes stayed locked with one another, “The slime you secrete is so fucking delicious,” he growls as he claws the bed with both hands, you in-between him.

Your legs closed together more as you rubbed them together for friction, your maid dress sticking to your slimy skin, you whimpered softly from desperation as he leaned closer to your face, eyes never adverting, “christ, you have no idea what you do to me, dearest.” he whispers, growling under his breath as he tried his best to resist ravishing you then and there.

“What do you mean, Lulu?” You whispered as well, leaning toward his face, lips brushing from the desire and cravings of one another, “I love you, Y/n, so so much,” he confesses desperately, his eyes gazing to your lips before looking back at you, “Please, let me taste you again, please, please.” he begs, leaning more into your touch, when you cupped his face again, you falling back into his bed, an arm keeping you up, “Luci..” You say softly, “I never thought would ever love me.” You confess as well, “Why is that?” He asks, his heart chipping that you think that, “well, I’m a maid, I thought that was all I was going to be.” you say, looking away from him, sadness pooling your eyes as he leaned more into you, “don’t say that, love,” he whisper shouts as he brings a finger under your chin to make you look back at him, “I love you so much, darling, please let me show you that I do.” He begs, your eyes looked into his, his eyes sparkling from genuine, both your heads leaning into to touch as you closed your eyes, “okay..” you smile before you both leaned in to each other, kissing slowly but passionately, he leaned into the kiss more desperately, you leaning into him as well, making the kiss deeper.

You moaned in the kiss, the feelings you hid away for your king, blossoming out your chest. You pulled away panting, breathing for air as Lucifer looks at you dazed, you smile before grabbing his collar with both your hands, bringing him down with you onto the bed, locking lips again but more desperately than the last. You trailed your hands to his hair, wrapping one arm around his neck as you intertwined your fingers into his locks, brushing them. You pulled away again, opening your mouth a gap to let Lucifer have a taste of you, he didn’t hesitate as he stuck his tongue into your cavern, exploring all of your mouth as he tasted you, a growl rumbled from his chest as he desperately kissed you roughly.

You moaned through the make out session as you felt his body push down between your legs, your layers of clothes not giving you the friction you desperately wanted, making you buck your hips up to his body as well, “ffuck- don’t do that, love.” he warned, pulling his lips away from yours as he whined desperately, a trail of saliva connecting you both.

You cupped his face as you brought him back to your lips again, tongues colliding and fighting for dominance, he tucked his hand behind your waist, grabbing the ribbon that kept your dress tight, yanking it harshly, making its ties go undone, making you breathe easily. You moaned again as he tasted your flavors, it was always changing for whatever reason, grape.. raspberry.. strawberry.. It was making him wild that you had tasted so divine all this time without his knowing.

He was getting desperate as he began to grind against your clothed core, you whimpered in desperation as you tried to close your legs with him between them. He pulled away from the kiss, licking his lips as he looked down at your submissive state with lust and desire, “You are so beautiful darling.” He says as wipes his chin with his thumb, licking slime off his wrist as he watched your reaction, you blushed as you looked away, embarrassed.

“You’re so divine.~” He says as he lays on top of you, locking your hands with his, pinning you down as his arms were keeping him up as he kissed your lips, your cheek, down to your neck, nibbling slime secretions before licking them up, off your chest, his kisses were making you writhe under him, squirming in desperation. He couldn’t help but laugh lightly before sucking softly on your jelly skin, slurping up your secretions like jelly candy.

His teasing while in your cycle was sending your body haywire, you needed friction and he was refusing to give you any, “please, please, Luci.” You begged, not knowing what you were really begging for, “Please what, darling?” He asks, moving away from your chest and tilting his head like he wasn’t depriving you of what you desperately wanted, “Please, please fuck me or something- I can’t- can’t take this any longer.” You cried as your body shivered from his touch, a finger trailing down from you neck to your chest, Lucifer scooping up a bit of your discharged slime like icing from a cake, licking his finger as you whimpered under him.

“Alright, I’ll give you what you deserve, dove.” He coo’d, kissing the side of your chin, before trailing down off the bed, his tail swaying side to side desperately as he lifted up your dress, you looked away embarrassed as he did, he sat on the floor as be shoved his head desperately between your legs, you yelped in surprise before you realized he pulled away, you look back at him, seeing your white panties torn against his bare teeth, you blushed furiously as you stared at him. He spat away your panties, discarding them to the floor before he leaned in in-between your legs again, clawing your jelly legs as he lifted then up for him to have more access to your core, you lifted your dress up with one hand, wanting to see what he was doing.

He snaked out his long forked tongue, looking at you teasingly before pushing himself into your core, tasting all of you now, you moaned in sudden pleasure, your body exuding more secretions, “ohh starss Lulu..” You moaned out, making him rile more as he stuck his tongue more deeply in you, tasting you more and more, shameless slurping noises coming from him.

You gripped the bed sheets, bucking your hips more desperately, “more, more luci..” you begged, as he shoved his face as deeply as he could but it wasn’t enough for you. You tried to grip his hair, making him more deeply but you were still desperate, you were bucking your hips into his face, practically face fucking him at that point but it wasn’t until you felt yourself nearing your limit, you then noticed his horns, if grabbing his hair wasn’t enough for you, his horns were.

You gripped his horns making him shiver and moan in surprise before you stroked them and used them against him, grinding yourself against his face as he growled from the sudden grip of yours. “Oh fuck, yes, that’s it Luci…” you moaned louder, making his tongue reach the furthest parts of you, thrusting his tongue in and out if you, “oh, fuck master~ just like that.” You teased, feeling yourself come undone, he clawed your legs harder, his sharp nails sinking into your skin, you moaned more as you rode your high on his tongue, making him lick and taste all your juices.

You panted as you kept using his horns to help you fuck yourself onto his face, “more, more Luci, taste me more!~” you begged as he obeyed, closing his eyes as his chest grumbled out a growl, he loved how sweet you were, body and voice. He couldn’t get enough of your flavor as you begged, he was so thankful he didn’t have nose as you rode his face, letting him taste more of you, he was so dazed by your juices, he kept eating you out like it was his last meal.

He removed one of his hands from your squishy thighs, he didn’t know he punctured your jelly skin as you oozed out more juices from where his sharp nails were, his hand then went to claw you inner thigh, pushing your leg up as he tried to get more access of your addicting flavors. “fuckfuck…” you whined, trying to lift your other leg up but it was held down by his strong grip, “Lucifer~ gonna come again~” you whimpered, as he growled, going more rougher with his tongue, making you lean your head back at you bucked your hips again, coming onto his face again, “ohhh~” you moaned as your body shook from the waves of ecstasy.

“Lucifer, Luci, fuck me please, please, need you ‘nside me.” you whimpered desperately, letting go of his horns as he licked up your juices before pulling away, “fuck you taste so amazing, love.” he says as he got up, his tail wagging again. You desperately latch onto him, sloppily trying to unbutton his shirt, “Luci, need you so bad..” you begged as he smirks, pushing you gently to the bed again, “wait honey bun,” He says, kissing your nose, “let me get you undressed first, okay?” he asks, seeming as he had an idea in mind.

He leaned in to kiss you desperately as you unbuttoned his vest, you then felt his hands trail behind your back, his claws sharpening as he pushed you up to lean on his chest, you began to hear tears and ripping, realizing he was removing your maid dress by shredding it apart, he dug his claws into the dress, ripping it opposite directions before you were completely free from it, you shuddered from the cold that suddenly touched your body as you tried to close your legs again, your core desperate to be filled again.

Lucifer laughed lightly before kissing your nose again before looking at your fully nude body, your jelly colors of purple blue and pink, “You’re so cute, ma chèrie.” He says lustfully under his breath, leaning close to your lips, kissing you gently before you cupped his face, kissing him harder and deeply, passionately and desperately. You grind your hips against his groin making him moan through the kiss, “Y/n, Y/n, calm down my dear.” he says, pulling away. “Need. please Luci…” you begged, making him give in, “I just want to know if you’re sure,” he says as he strokes your cheek, “is this your first time?” he asks, wanting to know what pace he should or could start at, “yes..” you admit, knowing all your life, you focused on your family than ever finding love before you died, especially in Hell now.

“If I hurt you or want me to stop, our safe word is ‘apple’, okay?” he smiles caring and lovingly as you look into his mesmerizing eyes, “okay..” you say with a nod, allowing him to continue and undo his trousers, you looked curiously at his as you felt your body secrete more slime, your core also spilling its own hormonal juices when you saw his length, now understanding where all his height went.

His tail wagged again as he gently wrapped his hands around your waist, teasing your clit as he rubbed his member against it, using your secretions as lube, you whimpered again from the stimulation, “please just put it in Luci, please!” you whined loudly, tired of waiting, “sorry, dearest.” he smiles apologetically, angling himself before pushing himself into you slowly, your body felt waves of pleasure, your sensitivity heightening, “faster, faster, fuck me, fuck me master, please.” You begged, calling him by one of his titles, making him thrust harshly into you, your body was so slimy and gooey, you didn’t need any adjustment, you only just felt waves of pleasure, “oh, yes!~” you shouted, mouth a gap.

You immediately bucked your hips, wrapping your arms around his neck as he claws into your waist, making you shiver more, he thrusted harshly into you, in and out as your slimy juices helped his thrusts, you mewled and moaned loudly, gasping as he kept using your waist to bring you back into him after thrusting out, creating a rhythm of pleasure for both side. You were so noisy you tried to use a pillow to hide your moans but he grabbed it and threw it across the room, “moan my name, darling, scream who you belong to.” He orders, thrusting hard than before as you gripped the sheets, shuddering as you felt yourself getting close again, “Oh! Lucifer! I’m so close!” you screamed as you obeyed his orders, he smirked as leaned down to your neck, “that’s it, almost there.” he says as he kissed your neck, biting down into your neck as you buck your hips into him again, coming all over him as he continued to thrust into you, “good girl.” he praised, your eyes rolling back as you felt your release cover his member as he kept pounding into you.

He sucked on your neck, drinking in your juices after piercing your jelly skin with his fangs, licking and kissing caringly. He kissed you passionately again as you gripped his hair harshly, feeling overstimulated but just craving more at the same time, he growled when you tugged his hair, making him pull away, “i’m close, dearest.” he says, making you wrap your legs around him, locking him in, “inside! inside! want all of you in me! mmmph!~” you screamed and moaned, making Lucifer kiss you again before biting to your neck harshly, thrusting his hips one last time into you deeply, your waist forced down to him, his claws baring into your skin.

You felt himself pour deeply into you, ropes of cum filling you whole, your eyes rolled back with your mouth wide open, your body trembling before he thrusted into you quickly again, shoving more of his fluids into you.

He pulled away from your neck, licking and kissing it lovingly, your skin oozing out more slime, “Fuck, I love you so much.” He pants heavily, keeping himself still as he kissed your body lovingly, he looked at your fucked out state, he smiled rather proudly as he continued to kiss your body, slowly pulling out of you.

You came back from your high, tears forming as you whimpered, your body feeling sore but your core still craving more, “Luci~” you say as you turn your body, your ass in the air for him now, his cum was dripping out of you as he watched you wiggle your ass, “fuck, Y/n..” He says as he felt himself get hard again, “you’re gonna be the death of me.” He tells you, pushing you further into the bed, climbing up onto it as well. He scooped up some of his cum that was spilling out before thrusting back into you, thrusting harshly again as you moaned loudly, he pinned your wrists down as he kissed your back, your sensitive body was shaking terribly but it was the most heavenly feeling of your entire existence.

“Yes, breed me Luci,” You begged as tears stained your face, making him thrust down into you, “knock me up… carry your children..~” you slurred, mind fucked from overstimulation and pleasure, you lost count of how many times you came but Lucifer was still going at it, your stomach bulged slightly from each deep thrust he did, you laid there limply as he bottomed out into you for the second time.

He pulled out as he flopped and fell to your side, his hair disheveled and your slime was practically all over the bed, He turned to you, “are you okay, honey bun?” He asks, seeing you still lost in your high, he kissed you softly before getting the pillow from the floor he threw earlier and putting it back on his bed, using it to lay back on, he closed his eyes as he sighed, only to open then widely when you jumped on top of him, “Luci, we aren’t done yet.~” you giggle, completely lost in pleasure, craving more, “Oh? still want more?” He smirked at you, trying to reach for your hips again only for them to be pinned above his head by you, “I get to have you my way now.” you smile darkly and lustfully, rubbing against him before sliding him into you, you leaned forward, your animal instincts of desperation made you hips smash down onto his member at an inhuman speed, “oh- fuck- wait! hah- slow down darling please-“ He begged before you kissed him, ignoring his plea.

He tried to struggle out of your grasp as you thrusted harshly into him, only making you push onto his chest, “this is for all the teasing, Luci, take it like you deserve it.” You glared at him as an order, “Please, you’re going to fast, if you keep this up, i’m gonna go insane.” he warned, you rolled your eyes as you ignored him again, “you can take it, Lulu.” you comfort as you kiss his cheek before kissing him passionately, tasting each other once again.

“mmmhhh, fuck, Y/n..” Lucifer moaned under his breath as you forced yourself onto him, seeming as he hasn’t said the safe word: he was enjoying this. You focused your strength on thrusting yourself into him, feeling him slide into your gooey insides quickly, “Fuck, take it, take all my cum, darling!” he says as he bucks his hips into you once more, deeply as he releases into you once again as you moaned softly, your exhaustion now kicking in.

You laid limp on Lucifer as you wiped your tears from sheer pleasure, tired and satisfied, “I’m sorry, Y/n,” Lucifer says as you felt something wrap around your waist, “just one more, okay, one more please, wanna make sure you’re knocked up, okay baby?” He says as his tail moved you up and down on his still hardened member, you whined in exhaustion but still let him to use your body for his pleasure, how could you say no to a desperate face like that?

He kissed you again, making out with you softly as he used his tail to thrust your tired body against his, pleased by how you whimpered in overstimulation, his cum was leaking out of you like crazy but it was all the more for him to give you last of his load before calling it for the day, his tail was slicked with your slime, sometimes when it picked you up, you’d slip from its grasp and fall straight down into him, making you moan and tremble, he only kept repeating this process, enjoying every whimper he could writhe out of you.

He kissed your tears away as he continued to make you ride him, he smiled at you lovingly as you shivered at every touch, noticing your tummy was slightly round from how much he had filled you, “gonna come again, okay?” He says as she whines, “fffu- ffuhhh..” you tried to speak, blissed out completely. He thrusted harshly a few times before his tail kept you in place, taking in his last load, making you feel tremble in pleasure. He kissed your chest, neck and face lovingly, his tail helping you move off him and next to him on his bed, he took the covers and placed them on you, rubbing your back, softly, watching you drift to sleep, his demon form going away.

He was going to give you all the aftercare you needed when you wake up, for now he wanted you to rest, seeing as that looked more important to you currently.

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

Bonus:

“Hey, Y/n, did you know you taste like jolly ranchers?” Lucifer asked.

“I do?” You say, licking your arm for a taste test, “Oh shit, I do.”

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

the voices the fucking voices.

#lucifer morningstar #character x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #character x oc #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader smut #lucifer magne #the voices the fucking voices.#character x y/n #character x you #THERES MORE SMUT THAN PLOT HELL-

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mubabee · 4 months

Text

Genderbent Raiden Shogun with y/n

you leaning on his shoulder sleeping or smth

ngl genshin women genderbent are so 😮‍💨😮‍💨

#y/n #x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fanart #raiden #raiden shogun #raiden shogun x reader #shogunraiden #shogun ei #genshin shogun #genshin impact x reader #y/n x character #character x y/n #character x you

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firstdivisiongirl · 7 days

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Could I request Ace with a s/o who plays with their rings/necklace when their nervous/anxious. As a way to kinda calm them down?? I usually do this whenever I get too overwhelmed. I move my rings from finger to finger or spin them around a finger

Hi friend. This was a super cute idea. I love a good story with Ace. He is one of the most fun characters to write for. Please enjoy!

Ace x Reader: Calm

Everyone has habits. Thatch taps his fingers when he’s nervous. Ace zones out. But, Ace could never figure out what you do. It was one thing that bothered him. He wanted to know, so he could help you out instead of looking like a dumb boyfriend who knew nothing about his significant other. That was until one day.

The Whitebeard pirates were sailing towards a new island that was notorious for having a lot of marines on it. You kept playing with your delicate gold rings on your figures. You spun them around your fingers. You moved them around your hands. Ace noticed this and wanted to test this theory.

The next day you woke up and your rings were nowhere to be found. Ace put a note on your wooden jewelry box saying, “Marco wanted to clean your rings to make sure they look brand new. Sorry, I forgot to tell you.” You let out a sigh of relief. If anyone was not going to lose your rings, it was Marco. When you walked out onto the deck you went straight for Ace. You rested your head on his chest and thanked him for letting you know. You saw he was wearing rings, which was weird but you liked it. Three gold rings. Two on his left and one on his right. Suddenly, you saw a marine ship at the docks you were going to land at. You started to feel anxious and grabbed his hand and started playing with his rings.

“What are you doing,” he asked, looking down at you playing with his new rings.

“Just nervous,” you answered, playing with his rings. He started to notice you were calming down a little.

Seeing you calm down while playing with the rings made him feel happy that you were calming down. He wasn’t a fan of wearing rings, but if they made you calmer, he would wear them forever just for you.

Please do not copy, modify, translate, or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

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shanniees · 4 months

Text

— ?̸ The mistletoe

Synopsis : You are decorating the mansion with Damian until he asks what you have in your hand.

Warning : My English is not my main language, so please forgive me for any spelling mistakes.

The Wayne Manor was filled with festive spirit as you and Damian Wayne, the bold and reserved heir to Bruce Wayne, were busy decorating for the holidays. While you adorned the halls with garlands and ornaments, Damian observed with his typical seriousness, though this time, his eyes seemed curiously interested in your every move.

—"And what is that thing?" —Damian asked, pointing towards the mistletoe you held in your hand.

—"It's mistletoe. According to tradition, if two people stand under it, they have to share a kiss,"—you explained with a mischievous smile, holding the mistletoe above your heads.

Damian frowned disapprovingly. —"That sounds absurd,"—he murmured, but made no attempt to move away.

As the days passed, the mistletoe became a sort of game between the two of you. You strategically placed it in different spots, and every time Damian found himself under it with you, there was a tension of laughter and blushes.

As Christmas drew nearer, the presence of the mistletoe became more frequent in the mansion. Damian, despite his initial reluctance, began to play along with the mistletoe game, sometimes with a smile hidden behind his apparent indifference.

Christmas Eve finally arrived, and the mansion was infused with a festive atmosphere. During dinner, the mistletoe became the topic of the evening, generating laughter and smiles among the guests.

Later, as you both stood admiring the Christmas tree, you found yourself under the mistletoe with Damian. This time, neither of you made a move to step away, and a knowing pause filled the air. With a shy yet determined gesture, Damian leaned in slightly to give you a gentle kiss on the cheek.

—"You see? It wasn't that absurd after all," —you said amidst laughter, looking at Damian with a knowing smile.

A faint smile graced Damian's face, confirming that even though he remained reserved, the mistletoe had been the perfect excuse to break his barriers and share a special moment with you.

#dc comics #dc universe #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #character x y/n #dc robin #robin #wayne manor #bruce wayne

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scenteddreamtraveler · 3 months

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Yandere Godzilla Headcanon

(This is in general, so no specific version of Godzilla)

Godzilla, as a yandere, would be completely different from Mothra. Now I do see every version of Godzilla acting almost the same as a yandere, but with slight differences. I might do that later, at some point.

Godzilla, as a yandere, would be possessive, controlling, manipulative, obsessive, and jealous.

Godzilla being possessive would mean you couldn’t see anyone beside him—well, maybe his kid, depending on the version. You wouldn’t be allowed to be near anyone besides him; the atomic kaiju kind of sees you as his property, but he does truly care for you, even though he doesn’t really show it most of the time. He's controlling; he wouldn’t allow you to do much of anything without him present. Want to go swimming? Alright, give him a minute. Want to go hang out? No, he doesn’t like them. The King would also try manipulating you into thinking you’re all he needs and no one else, and maybe even ruining other kaiju reputations if it meant proving to you they were bad or not trustworthy. He’s obviously obsessed with you; the thought of some kaiju taking you away from him really grinds his gears. Godzilla has to be near you all the time; otherwise, he goes kind of crazy and becomes really aggressive. The King of the Monsters is really jealous, like so jealous you can’t look at another kaiju of the opposite or same gender without him becoming incredibly jealous. You can only look at him and no one else; it’s also the same if another Kaiju starts looking at you. Oh boy, that’s a good way to get Godzilla’s attention. Only he can look at his queen, and no one else can.

But with how he’s with you, he’ll treat you like a precious flower; he’ll hold you close and cuddle you. With the added benefit of him allowing you to call him Gojira. He may sometimes get aggressive, but he truly loves his precise queen.

#fanfic writer #fanfic #x reader #character x y/n #fanfiction #headcanon #reader insert #Godzilla #gojira

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danijaci · 3 months

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uhh,,, umm, ah, uhhh, huhhhh huhuhuhhh

I'm.. dying.....

I can't go on,,,, any ,, longer....

Mr Darcy as *cough* Diluc pls save,,, mwee

#art #fanart #my art #genshin impact #原神 #(y/n)#character x y/n #genshin x reader #diluc genshin impact #genshin diluc #pride and prejudice #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader

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elixrr · 4 months

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ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ! ☆ ʜᴏʏᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ ᴍᴇɴ¡

ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

ꜰᴛ: Xiao, Wriothesley, Lyney, Dan Heng, Argenti, Blade.

ꜱʏɴᴘᴏꜱɪꜱ: Headcanons about their cuddles with you!

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I considered adding Alhaitham into the mix, but I figured that I didn't know his character well enough for his part to be accurate and good. Apologies to all of the Alhaitham fans! Also, new format for my fanfiction posts, inspired by many creators! (Namely iheartganyu)

ᴘꜱ: pretty little spoiler warning if you haven't caught up with anything in either game 😭😭

✰ xiao ✰

— An adeptus of Liyue, the Vigilant Yaksha. It's easy to guess that cuddles with him are rare. Mostly due to his job, but he's too... awkward. Xiao has been touch-starved for the great majority of his life, so it's easy to assume that he's inexperienced, much to his dismay.

Don't get me wrong. He'd love to cuddle more often, but— while inexperience is one part of it, Xiao is ultimately insecure. He strongly believes that he's tainted. He believes that he's a disgusting, vile creature that lives only to slaughter, but he thinks of you as an angel. Xiao thinks that too many cuddles would taint you, alongside the fact that he worries about his Karmic Debt situation.

Nevertheless, when you do convince him to cuddle with you, he'll be awkward at first; hesitant to put his arm here, overthinking how he put his hand there, etc., etc. He doesn't emit much body warmth, but he finds you to be really cozy and warm to the touch, thus finding comfort in the closeness once he moves past the insecurities and hesitation. By the way, unless you like to initiate and contribute to conversations, most of the cuddles will be in comfortable silence, excluding the occasional comment about the scenery or compliments about each other.

Xiao would cuddle on the condition that it's in a secluded area and nobody else is present except for you and him. He'd prefer to book a bedroom at Wangshu Inn, but if not, then he'd prefer to cuddle on the rooftop of the inn, late at night when the stars shine from the heaven-blessed galaxies, the subtle natural light kissing your features to give him a little bit of an extra view. He doesn't think too much about how he looks to you, but he could only hope that he's at least bearable to look at. (Which he very much is.)

☆ wriothesley ☆

— He's so touchy and extra cuddly that sometimes that extra cuddly can be too extra, resulting in a near impossible mission to get out of bed in time for you to even get ready. Wriothesley loves holding you close to him. You're his love, and so he wants to treat you like it, but sometimes cuddles can transform into something a little bit more than just a cozy night, wrapping one's arms around the other.

Speaking of, good luck to you if you prefer being the big spoon, because you can't be the big spoon anymore. Wriothesley will always be the one to hold you, always the one to just wrap his arms around you and cherish you like never before. As previously mentioned, you're his lover, and he wants to treat you like it! Wriothesley wants to make you feel special, like you're the most important person in his life, so he'll do his best to give you that.

Also, I feel as though he'd whisper to you a lot. Even if there's no need to be quiet, he finds it intimate to just lean in and whisper compliments in your ear while holding you close. It doesn't matter what situation you're in; it doesn't matter where you guys are, even if you're talking about your day or the constellations in the skies above, he'll interrupt you, lean in close and just say something about your eyes, maybe your clothes, but preferably your lips.

Wriothesley would also love kissing you at random whenever you cuddle. Not to say he doesn't already do that outside of cuddles, but it's just, to him, you look amazing. You look cute, and why wouldn't he kiss you when you're his gracious lover? He hopes that he doesn't go overboard and accidentally make you uncomfortable, but at the same time, he knows you enjoy it— that smile on your face every time he pecks a kiss on your nose or cheek tells him everything he needs to know.

Before I forget, he doesn't prefer cuddles during any time of the day, but given his job, it's mainly during his afternoon tea breaks, and 100% at night in bed with you. To be honest, if he could, he'd take a full day off just to hold you tight and spend the day with you, wrapped like burritos in a blanket and sipping the day away with refreshments and love.

Some day, he might as well do just that.

☆ lyney ☆

— If it weren't for his job as a magician and as part of the fatui, he wouldn't let go of you. When Lyney can, he clings to you like a lost child who had finally found their parent in a big city. He holds your waist with one hand and performs little magic tricks with the other to impress you. Lyney's a very clingy, touchy lover.

When cuddling, he loves getting super close to the point where there's almost no space between the two of you. But on the occasion, he'll snuggle so close that it's basically just a tight hug—the only difference is that you're both lying down. The only times he isn't super, mega close to you, is when he's making rainbow roses appear randomly around your body. Most of the time, it's all fun and innocent, but other times, Lyney enjoys the look on your face when he does something quite bold.

Also, Lyney's very talkative while cuddling. Even in moments of relaxation, he'll take the time to just stare at you, even if he can't get the full view because of the ungodly lack of space, Lyney will look at you and start complimenting you. He loves you so much, and that's another huge way to show it. He's a romantic kind of guy. If there's a way to show his affection, he will take and use that way to show his affection. He loves your smile; he loves it when you blush, and it slowly grows more evident by the second because he starts to blush, too. Also, Lyney would immediately just hold you more at the sight of your reaction.

Nevertheless, his need to be close can change. Whenever he's out on a mission given by Arlecchino— more specifically, an assassination mission— you won't see him for a good three days. Even when the mission's complete, he'd want to seek out your love, comfort, and affection, but he stops himself. Lyney believes that his hands are still painted with the blood of the murdered, no matter how many times he washes or scrubs them, he'll still see the visible darkening red blood stains. There's no way he's even going near you with those kinds of sins straight on his body. It's sad, and you might have to seek him out yourself if he doesn't show up for the next few days. When you do find him, the moment he sees you is when that wall of guilt shatters, and he nearly breaks down seeing you again. Seeing you every day made him used to you, and just a few days of deprivation made him feel miserable. The simple, mere sight of you had him almost sobbing, running back to you and holding you tight, finally reunited with the one he loves most.

Were he not guilty of association with the fatui, he wouldn't have ever needed or wanted to let go.

☆ dan heng☆

— Blushing little mess. He's never a fan of PDA, so even when he does want to hold you outside of his or your room, he doesn't. Hence why the moment you both enter the private space of a hotel room or a bedroom, Dan Heng takes your hand and leads you to the bed for cuddles. He loves them, really, but he's a flustered mess of a lover because of how embarrassed he felt about being so clingy.

He's a big spoon, too, so he holds you close to him while cuddling. He likes the closeness, but he hates how visibly red his face gets, so he buries his face into your shoulder to hide. Sometimes, he just lays there listening to you or simply calming down in silence, but he does like hearing your voice before bed. It helps him sleep, and it somehow prevents nightmares of Blade. Quick note, your comfort and warmth make him feel safe through the night, and you accompany him when he'd usually be alone, either on his phone or reading a book.

PS: Dan Heng prefers to sleep in your room and/or in a hotel room because your bed and the hotel's provided beds are much more comfortable than a sleeping bag. He loves wrapping a blanket around the two of you and holding you like that. He says it's so you both get an even amount of warmth, and neither of you takes more of the blanket than the other, but he really does it because he feels a bit closer to you.

In his Imbibitor Lunae form, sleeping with him gets a bit harder, simply because he finds it harder to control himself. But when he can control himself, he'll let you run your fingers through his long hair, maybe even letting you touch his horns. Still, he doesn't allow the latter too often for reasons left unsaid. Anyway, he dislikes using this form because of how it reminds him of his former's past. He feels as though he's trapped in the memories and sin that are not his own. Yet, you make him feel comfortable in his own skin. He feels free with you; he feels alive, and he loves you for your ability to make him feel that way. Dan Heng will do everything in his ability to make you feel the same way.

And he likely already has.

☆ argenti ☆

— The most proper and romantic. Compliments littered across your entire figure, his hand in yours kissing your knuckles constantly with the addition of the most rosey and romantic sweet nothings. Argenti is old-fashioned and the most romantic, as he believes that this is the only way to live for his adored Aeon. The most comment compliment you'd hear between kisses is, “you're the most exquisite person in my world,” and Argenti would always wink with his compliments. Sometimes, it's wonderful to be the subject of his rose-colored words, but other times, it gets old; you become slightly lovesick.

The solution to that is conversation while holding each other in bed, or perhaps it's simply ushering Argenti to cuddle with you beneath the stars at night. It's beautiful to see the galaxy in its brightest moments, hovering from the dark skies. Argenti would silently pray to his Aeon, thanking her profusely for letting him see this wonderful view in person.

Still. You are his lover, and sometimes the weight of fear and trauma gets to him. Argenti often looks to you to confide in, and usually, nights like these are rarely cuddle nights, but sometimes, when it gets bad, you'll hold him in the night while he talks about his past— the wars, the music, the old friends, the worries— and how terrifying it can be if he would succumb to the same fate as his once so honorable friend. In exchange for your comfort, he holds you close and vows to protect you in your dreams and from the moment you wake to the moment you sleep again.

Argenti prefers to cuddle in bed, during a picnic, or beneath the stars. He seldom makes exceptions for heavy PDA, but when it comes to cuddling in public, even if there are people around during the day or at night, if it's stargazing or a picnic, he doesn't care as much. He'll smile, his eyes set only on you, not the eyes that may linger on your cuddles.

He doesn't care enough to look at anyone else, not when the embodiment of beauty lays right by him.

☆ blade ☆

— He's cautious. Blade's name takes after his weapon, and though he himself is not a sword, he still worries that he'll hurt you through cuddles. Blade is marastruck, and if it starts to get to him, he's terrified that it'll strike you, too. He admires death and the concept of it, but for you to die and for him to live with that? Impossible.

Anyway, convincing him is still 100% doable. When you do cuddle with him, he holds you with hesitation and care. He doesn't show it, as he masks his emotions with lips pursed to a line, but he feels relief. He feels happy, even, but he can't really tell. The Mara has calmed, and he can catch a break from the trauma. Something worth noting: Blade's trauma might cause him to cling to you, holding you close for comfort and reassurance— but that's only when he finds himself to be desperate for your love and affection. It's the one thing that keeps him together; your smile alone can mend all of his wounds, physical or not.

That can happen at any time of the day, but he'll typically seek you out at night. Blade will— without a spoken word— hug you from behind with a sigh of relief, and he'll take you to the nearest spot with the most privacy, and he'll hold you tight once more without a sign of letting you go. He loves you, and without even saying that he does, you already have all the evidence you need to conclude that he does. Holding you feels like heaven, in Blade's eyes. Once he gets past his fears of hurting you, he'll wrap his arms around your waist, but if he cuddles with you from behind, he'll wrap his arms beneath your chest, all with a sigh of relief and the tiniest hint of a smile.

The two of you cuddling is cute, so cute that Silver Wolf just had to stream it and broadcast one of your cuddle sessions to all of the other Stellaron Hunters.

Of course, you and Blade will never cuddle near any of the Stellaron Hunters ever again after that.

#character x reader #genshin x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #xiao x reader #wriothesley x reader #lyney x reader #dan heng x reader #imbibitor lunae x reader #argenti x reader #blade x reader #genshin fic #hsr fic #honkai star rail fic #character x y/n #character x you #hcs #headcanons

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meowanian · 11 months

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☆彡there is a light that never goes out …

bff!xiao who always makes you his first priority.

bff!xiao who gives you his hoodie when your are cold.

bff!xiao who cooks lunch for both of you. (you can’t tell me otherwise, he can cook.)

bff!xiao who buys you your favorite type of snack so you can eat with him. (he loves sweet things)

bff!xiao who gives you little star shaped notes in a jar, so you can read one when you feel down.

bff!xiao who acts like he doesn’t understand classes and asks you to tutor him. (definitely not because he wants to spend more time with you but don’t know how to ask.)

bff!xiao who once asked you to marry him someday (when you were like 6 years old)

bff!xiao who goes on shopping with you even tho he hates it.

bff!xiao who bought you matching necklaces.

bff!xiao who sends you cute cat videos every second.

bff!xiao protects you no matter what. (i think he loves you but idk)

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alavestineneas · 4 months

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Glass and mirrors

pairing: young!coriolanussnow x fem!reader summary: There is one thing the world needs to know about her: she didn't become a star overnight. She was born to be one. warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of mental illness, narcissism, blonde men who need therapy, unhinged women, people in shitty relationships and toxic industries word count: 4.6k PART TWO IS HERE

author's note: Hello and welcome to our small community of people who have fallen victim to the charming (and evil) blonde man! This fic is heavily inspired by the edits of models that pop up on my ticktock feed every day. Shout out to them and the talented editors who bless my eyes with their creations. As for YN this time, prepare to be on quite a ride because she, surprise-surprise, is evil! In my head, there has to be at least one victor who feels no remorse at all; they can't all be morally good (and relatively sane) people. Also, the obsession with beauty in this fic is, in fact, intentional, so bear with me. Feel free to comment or insult the author in the comments, but only if you are creative with it. Enjoy and see you in part 2!

In all of her short childhood, she always loved mirrors. Her grandma used to joke about it with her old friends while they shared lunch at the factory: ''That empty-headed child wants to do nothing but stare at herself all day.'' The women would laugh, their raspy voices making the glid, already filled with toxic fumes to the brim, hotter. YN didn't mind; she would pretend not to hear them, clinging to the machinery in front of her instead. She would get out of here sooner or later, and she'd see whose laughter would be left echoing all through the narrow streets.

She wasn't born to rot in this place like these people were; YN was sure of that. Not with a face like hers, with manners she taught herself from the bright magic box in their cramped commune apartment, where a few times a year the government played the show. It was supposed to be a punishment, YN reminded herself each time, but it didn't look like one. She watched the children eat more food than she had seen in a month and then cry on the stage in front of millions. She wouldn't cry if she was there, that was for certain. People die every day here, but none of them get to dress up in the jewels provided by the wealthiest people she has ever seen.

It was funny how they had all the money in the world and still chose to dress so horribly. Mismatched fabrics and smudged colours on their faces, like the colours of the lake near her house—the factories polluted it with dyes, turning the water green, purple, and sometimes even pink. That's how she got her old grey dress to be such a pretty lavender colour. It didn't matter that everyone at school laughed at her, even Miss Kyla; she was horrendously ugly anyway, her hair resembling the colour of unwashed underwear. YN wore her dress with pride, mimicking the voice of the funny multicolour-haired man on the screen, chatting with long o's and a's.

That's how she ended up here, on the first floor of the newly renovated training centre, with a drink in her freshly manicured hand. She had two hours before her stylists would need her again—a time designated for sleep, which she apparently so greatly lacks. YN doesn't care; she went without sleep for much longer than two days. Instead, she does what she loves the most—turns on a shiny screen and watches the golden letters appear: the 15th Annual Hunger Games.

It starts with reaping, as always, but YN skips that part—she doesn't like seeing herself in those dirty rags, although, as papers would later state, ''nothing could make this girl ugly, even if a potato sack was put on her body.'' She likes interviews better. Luckily, the wait is not very long; soon enough, her favourite host pops up, his hair shimmering with sea green.

''And now, our dear viewers, I am more than pleased to announce our next tribute from District 1—please let her hear how excited we are to meet her!'' His voice booms through the theatre as the crowd erupts into applause.

YN moves gracefully, a beaming smile on her face matching that of a host. Her gloved hands wave at the supposed people in front of her as if they were guests at her birthday party. But most importantly, dress. The one she chose herself, arguing over it with her stylist for the last few hours, the one that fitted her perfectly. Capitol enough to appeal to the audience, district enough to highlight that she isn't one of them—she is something new, undiscovered, and worth keeping an eye on. It's almost not a dress at all—the sparkling, sheer fabric of beautiful white, with stars gathering at her chest and bottom to finish the ''almost naked'' look. And the crowd goes crazy for it. People shout, and the splashes of the cameras blinding her create a new melody that is so unfamiliar to YN's ears. Admiration. The thing she craved for so long.

''Alright, alright,'' Lucky Flickerman smiles, gesturing for the crowd to settle down. ''We don't want to scare her off now, do we?'' He turns to her, a microphone in hand. ''What's your name, sweetheart?''

''YN Y/L/N. And I am afraid you can't scare me off, no matter how hard you try. The thing is, I am here to stay,'' she jokes, cocking an eyebrow at the man beside her.

''Oh, how I love your confidence! Now tell me—we heard you are a volunteer—the first in the history of District 1! Are there any special ties to the girl who was supposed to stand here tonight, or what's going on?''

''Well, I was dying to see you in person, of course—no pun intended.''

Oh, there weren't any ties to the girl, or the boy, for that matter. No, YN simply wanted to go at her peak chance of winning—countless years of secret preparation in the factory; working a night shift after school and full days of weekends; hours of studying every plant and animal known to mankind—all to ensure that she wouldn't waste her chance like most kids here did.

''That's an honour coming from your lips; we are happy to see you in the Capitol, Miss Y/L/N. Since you came here by choice, what strategy are you planning on using in the arena? Maybe something tied to your district's craft?''

''If you promise to keep this between us, I'll confess—I will use my charms to make everyone fall in love with me and watch them fight by promising the winner a kiss—and then I will take it from there.'' YN turns to face the lights, staring directly into the camera for a few seconds. The crowd laughs once more, some going so far as to cheer and whistle in excitement. ''But in all honesty, I think I have a fair shot—I would win in a day if it meant the unlimited supply of those amazing cupcakes with sprinkles on top.''

''Well, in that case, you should definitely get a good rest this night—you are not the only one who got your eye on them! Ladies and gentlemen, prepare for the Cupcake Games tomorrow, and don't forget to sponsor this lovely girl right here if you want to see her win! And now, a short word from our sponsors.''

Cupcake jokes are still funny to her, even after two years, although she got sick of them a week after her victory and was just as sick of all the titles papers came up with to fit her into the candy girl box. It served her well, for which she is grateful; the sponsors did send her a shitton of things, although mostly useless.

Next is the introduction of everyone else; YN doesn't care to look at it for more than just a few seconds, speeding it up to maximum. It's boring to no end—how do Capitolees watch it every year with such excitement? She stops to look only when her face appears on the screen, covered in crimson blood.

She counted six canons when she finally stopped to take a breath in and look at her surroundings. That was about right, although YN didn't count how many times she pulled a knife out of somebody's still-warm body and lurched into another nearby. The sand soaked up the blood fast, she noticed, stepping over the pile of what used to be her competitors and walking towards the cone-shaped something. Nobody in sight—each one of the ''better'' kids is now dead without a chance to kill each other, to kill her, and ''others'' will die like flies under the hot sun of what looked like a desert. YN noticed that some even left behind the given jackets; she collected them before stepping into the Cornucopia, claiming them as her own. Not everyone grew up in hot factories, she thought to herself, so they have no chance of knowing how cold it gets at night.

YN doesn't like how the uniform looks on her; the T-shirt hangs around her frame too loosely. It's evident that she didn't eat enough back then, but it was tolerable. The dried blood looked worse; with her stoic face and eye colour, the streams looked too grotesque, almost unserious; it didn't fit the look she was going for. Her hands itch to wipe it before YN remembers that it's non-existent now—the girl on the screen is just a recording. She forwards a little more, looking for the commentary of the first night from the hosts—their excitement and praise never get old—but hears knocking at her door just as she is about to press play. YN glances at the clock—it's too early for the prep team, so it must be someone else—and turns off the TV just to be sure she heard it right.

When the knocking continues, she shouts a quick ''Come in,'' after checking her reflection on the now dark screen. ''Ah, Maggie!''

''How many times do I have to repeat that my name is Mags, not Maggie? Not Mags with fangs either, to be clear. Just Mags.''

''But everyone calls you that! And I want to be special,'' YN whines, laying back on the sofa.

It's Mags. YN likes Mags. Mags is the only girl besides her on the victors' list. Mags is the one who is always down to eat lunch together or to watch the new collection in the magazines. She is funny and down to earth, and, most importantly, Mags doesn't take bullshit from anyone.

''Even more special?'' Mags smiles, opening the fridge to look for something edible. There isn't much; they both know that YN would never eat something to ruin her figure. ''I saw your photoshoot on the street today. It's beautiful.''

''Thank you,'' YN smiles. She doesn't remember which one of her campaigns was supposed to air today, but it doesn't matter. ''Are you here for the promo again?''

The curly-haired woman nods, not looking up from the shelves. ''I hate it. I wish they would just leave me alone, so I can go home and forget about all of this.''

YN is always weirded out by such comments from Victor from 4 but never says anything. Not everyone was born to be in front of the camera; if that were the case, her talent wouldn't be so special anymore. ''It's our job, Maggie. They'll never leave us alone.''

''I know.'' Mags sighed, planting her body on the sofa beside her.

They are different, but YN thinks it's better that way. They are the same age, both 20, and that's about the only thing that ties them together. YN watches as her friend's chest rises and falls as she stares at the ceiling, her long, curly hair in some type of twist. YN would never style it like that, but Mags doesn't ask, so she stares at her in silence, trying her hardest not to compare them. She knows what type of conclusion will sparkle in her brain, but she doesn't want to admit it. Mags is her friend, her only good friend, so something inside YN fights hard to leave her alone. It's an unusual feeling, almost foreign, but YN wants to make an exception. She thinks Maggie deserves it.

''Are you okay?'' the woman asks her, finally snapping out of her trance. ''You are less talkative than usual.''

''Oh, yeah—just a little tired from work, that's it.''

Work. It's not the type of work people can really get tired from, and if anybody thinks otherwise, they never worked a day in District 1. Sometimes, YN can still feel the burning cloud of steam hitting her face when she closes her eyes. The work she does in Capitol is child's play—photoshoots, interviews, promotional campaigns, and runways. She is the only one with this kind of hectic schedule, the only one who is interesting enough for the general public to want to see her everywhere they go. Multiple shows a day wasn't uncommon; photoshoots until five a.m. were basically her usual routine; she did so many of them that she never remembered the brand name for more than an hour.

''Well, I hope I don't interrupt your me-time,'' Mags notes. ''Panem knows you need it. ''

''You worry too much about me. Better tell me about how life is in 4—anything new?''

There is probably nothing exciting, but it feels nice to listen to somebody talk with such love for their home as Mags does. It's also a great opportunity. YN catches every subtle expression and every movement of her friend with attentive eyes, making sure to parrot them later. She noticed from the recording today that her speech misses a certain effortlessness.

Curl and twist, curl and twist—YN has learned the pattern by now, sitting in front of the gigantic mirror, surrounded by a team of stylists. Hair, make-up, nails, and toes—five people work hand in hand for her to appear for two minutes on the long podium. The backstage is loud, and a lot is going on—last-minute changes, alterations, and quick touch-ups. YN doesn't bother to look around; she closes today like a face of the collection, and after she is done with this podium, the day is finally coming to an end.

''Oh, YN, darling, here you are!'' The bald man in his forties appears on the horizon of her peripheral vision, clasping his unnaturally white hands together. ''How are you doing, my little star? Anything you need?''

She is irritated to no end; her team booked seven shows for her today; she hadn't had anything to eat in the past six hours; and the loud music makes her head throb. But she doesn't voice any of that—nobody really wants to know how she is feeling.

Just like she guessed, the man doesn't wait for her response. ''There have been some changes in the order today, sweetheart. Jenovia will be closing today, and you will walk in her dress instead,'' the man says, turning to face her styling team. ''Change the hair to fit, and take off the blue in her make-up—it won't match. Good luck!''

''Do what he says,'' YN announces, her mouth twitching just a little. She is furious. To have that blonde bitch Jenovia walk in the best dress of the collection YN inspired? Over her dead body. Or, should she say, over Jenovia's? She will figure it out but do so later. Now there are only four girls before her, so she needs to be ready.

''Three, two, one! Go, go!'' the stage coordinator shouts, opening the curtain for her.

Right and left, hip and hand, followed by the strong clicking of her five-inch heels. The music is even louder here, with the beets vibrating through the runway and pouring into her bloodstream. She doesn't pay any attention to the glass floor underneath her. Surprisingly, her training before games helped her model more than one could guess. YN doesn't see anyone but the blinding lights lining the podium—not that she needs to see the hungry faces of the spectators. It doesn't matter what piece of fabric covers her body; they are looking at who wears it. Final pose at the centre—no smile is her go-to. Hold and turn is the golden rule.

''Here you are!'' One of the seamstresses grabs her hand, pulling her into a small, curtained space with countless clothes on racks. ''Calio wants you to hold a purse for the backstage photo and lose the belt. Where the fuck is the golden belt?'' she shouts, searching for one. ''Wait here; I'll go find it,'' she finally announces, running away before YN has the chance to suggest anything.

YN looks around, carefully moving the laying rags with her foot. She mentally goes over the outfits labelled with names, rating them one by one, until her eyes stop on the white dress. The closing dress, the one she was supposed to model. Underneath it are velvety black high boots.

The idea comes to her mind quickly: she steals a needle from the nearby table and carefully places it inside the shoes, making sure it looks like an accident.

''Finally,'' the woman returns with a belt in her hands, oblivious to YN's half-smile. ''Put it on and go; they are already waiting.''

''Of course, thanks.''

YN isn't sure how much time has passed before she hears a scream, standing up from her place in the corner with a blanket around her exposed shoulders. Surely enough, Jenovia is on the floor, crying crocodile tears—a needle inside her heel deep enough to make a few of the girls around her gag.

''What the fuck happened?'' It's Calio, the boss here; he was ordering her around before.

''I don't know,'' all the blonde girl can manage before bursting into tears one more time.

''Well, can you walk?'' he asks, kneeling to take a look.

''No,'' Jenovia whispers, her hand holding her bloodied foot.

The bald man sighed, more annoyed than concerned. ''We need a replacement. You,'' he points at YN. ''Take it off and change into the dress. Quick!''

YN does what she is told in no time; she doesn't want to wait until Jenovia suddenly gets better or the man finds a better-suited girl to close. After a few minutes, she is almost ready; she only needs the lipstick to finish it off.

''We don't have time!'' the man roars, dragging her to the exit. ''Here!'' He puffs out her hair and adjusts the layers of fake pearls covering her neck. ''Three, two, one! Go, fucking go!''

And go she does. A few steps on the runway, and she discovers that lipstick is still in her hands. YN puts it in the pocket of the enormously large black coat that hides the gorgeous white dress underneath. Step after step, her long black boots draw patterns on the glass. She will have no choice but to buy them; YN doesn't care if it's stupid. They helped her, so she will have them.

It's time for the final pose: YN takes out the lipstick from her pocket and applies it with two swift motions, blowing a kiss to the camera. It will definitely be a hit with the photographers. YN throws one last look before turning around and returning to the curtained exit. On her way back, when the lights lower to follow her back, she can see a little clearer. In the sea of vibrant hair colours and clothes, the platinum-blonde hair and a simple black suit stood out too much not to notice. There is only one person who could afford to look so simple—YN knows it. An opportunity of a lifetime.

She makes another stop in the middle of the podium, right in front of his seat. The coat slides off her shoulders effortlessly, and YN catches it just when the fabric is about to hit the floor. The crowd goes crazy, clapping and whistling at her tricks, but YN has no wish to entertain them any further. YN pauses for a moment, her eyes meeting icy-blue ones, before turning away and finishing the show. There is one thing the world needs to know about her: she didn't become a star overnight. She was born to be one.

Since the last show, she has done fifteen more—day after day, opening and closing. Her little trick got her where she wanted to be, with more money than one person could need in a lifetime and nowhere to spend it. Even now, standing in the long hallway of the training centre, she wears nothing she bought herself; all are gifted, sent, or handed by the adoring fans. Like a rag doll, with no say in how she looks or what she does, YN hears everyone say that it was ''a price of fame''. She doesn't think so; she was told what to do long before she tasted real butter on her toast.

The sliding door to her apartment moves almost without noise. While most victors complain that the lock system reminds them of prison, YN is grateful to have it. The thought of some crazy fanatic waiting for her in the dark isn't the most pleasant one. The designer bag finds its place on the floor, soon joined by the coat—room service will clean it up later. The heels slide off her feet quickly, leaving bloodied marks on her skin, but YN doesn't care enough to do something about them.

''Forgive me for joining you without an invitation.''

YN turns around, her hands grabbing the keys in her hands tighter. She mentally goes over her means of escape or fight—a mirror could easily be broken and used as a weapon; if necessary, she could also grab a nearby ottoman. The man in the chair doesn't look too impressed with her thought process. His lips curve into a smile, blue eyes staring at her with undivided attention. A suit, not very different from the one he wore at her show, was a deep brown colour.

''Mister President,'' YN breathes out, lowering her hand.

Coriolanus Snow. Light, almost white hair frames his face like a halo, with his suit hugging his waist just enough to highlight the broad shoulders. YN saw him on TV a couple of times, but seeing him in person was something entirely different. It's like the air shifts around him and changes with his presence.

''I believe we met before,'' he humours her, his eyes shining with mischief.

The light knocking on the door doesn't leave YN any time to answer. She presses a button near it, fixing her hair before opening it. YN tries to look as composed as possible without betraying her nerves—why was he here? ''Yes?''

''The dinner, Ma'am.'' the room service declares, pushing a cart in front of her.

YN nods, even though she didn't order one. ''Leave it here,'' she says, gesturing to the place nearby. When the door closes and she is alone with the man in her room again, her heart skips a beat.

''I took the liberty of ordering; I hope you don't mind.''

Even if she did, she knew better than to say anything. Instead, YN watched as the man stood up and took the dishes from the cart, placing them on the coffee table, before turning to her once more.

''Please, have a seat.''

She does what she is told, sitting down on her king-sized bed—the chair is already taken by him—and waits for the blonde man to start speaking. He doesn't right away, choosing to pour a glass of wine for her and himself.

YN watches the dark liquor pour into the glass, swirling with each drop. She isn't hungry—she rarely was—and the soup he ordered looks more like vomit than a dish, but she still takes the spoon and carefully places it into her mouth. Her lipstick stains the silverware with colour, leaving a small circle right at the end—that's when the man finally decides to speak.

''Dare I say I am a huge fan of your work ethic? Everyone who I've spoken to is very satisfied with your,'' he pauses, searching for the fitting word, ''dedication .''

''Thank you, Mister President,'' YN replies with a polite smile before returning to her soup. She watches him only from the corner of her eye. The way he cuts his steak with his ringed fingers and the way he places a small bite in his mouth before his lips close. There is a subtle roughness in his movements, a power play of some sort.

He catches her gaze and, for a moment, is silent. ''You probably wonder why I am here in the first place, outside of the amazing steak they cook here, of course. The thing is, Miss Y/L/N, that you are popular not only with the general public but with people higher in power as well. One may even say they fell in love with the way you present yourself.''

''I am pleased to know that, Mr. President, but I am only doing my job as a victor.''

''Then you will understand the weight of my dilemma. Those people who have served Panem all their lives faithfully usually don't ask for much recognition; they work because they want to build a better future for all of us. So, when they do ask for a small favour or two, I am more than happy to satisfy them. But recently, all they ask for is you .''

''I believe I don't quite understand. They want to meet me?''

''You can phrase it like that, yes. For a night or two, of course, with all expenses covered.''

It's heavy, the understanding of what Mister President really implies. The thought of someone's hand roaming her body brings her dinner up YN's throat. ''Why?'' Her voice is shakier than she would like, but she is more focused on composing the rising anger than noticing it.

''I am sorry, Miss Y/L/N, but I am afraid there is nothing I can do; I am greatly outnumbered. Unless,'' he starts but doesn't finish his sentence.

''Unless what?''

''Unless you are seen with me.''

His piercing blue eyes look at her, but there is nothing in them. Her chances are limited, and he knows it. There is something rogue in him beneath the veil of chivalry he offers. YN smiles at him. That's what this whole charade was about—he wants her. Coriolanus Snow, the most powerful man in the whole world, wants her.

''Of course, Mr. President. That's very generous of you.''

''Mister President is too official, don't you think, Miss Y/L/N? Perhaps we could find a more informal way of addressing each other?''

''Informal?'' YN asks, tilting her head to the side. If he wants her, he'll get her. ''What about Mister Snow?'' The buttons on her shirt are easy to manage—a few quick motions, and it slides off her shoulders onto the cream cover. ''Or, Sir Coriolanus?'' The pants are a little trickier, but YN learned that backstage, every second counts, so they soon also pool around her heels, the fabric hitting the floor with a slight thud.

The blonde man watches her intently, his eyes following every move of her hands. His legs are still spread wide on the lime-green chair as he slightly leans back. YN can't tell if he is enjoying her antics or not, but frankly, she doesn't care; she is enjoying it. The way her shadow dances on the wall, the way the air shifts in the huge room, transforming it into a tiny stage. YN looks at him with mischief, with superiority, even. After all, she is the show here. Why not let Mr. Savior think it is for him?

''Come, Mister Snow,'' she says, throwing it in his face like a bone to the dog.

He doesn't have the haste to join her; on the contrary, he stands up painfully slowly. His tall figure almost seems to stretch as he raises, covering the floor lamp behind him fully. When he finally circles the table to stand above her, his presence is overwhelming. YN lets him stand between her legs, his unusually cold hand on her thigh.

''I prefer Coriolanus,'' he whispers in her ear, lowering himself enough to touch her ear with his velvety lips. He pulls away slightly, planting a kiss on her cheek instead. ''Have a most pleasant night, Miss Y/L/N.''

And then he walks away. YN watches as his figure disappears behind the sliding door before she lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Her gaze instinctively finds her reflection in the nearby mirror; there is no reason to shine if no one watches her.

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