#they need to learn how to be quiet for once

[heartless-tate]

Hi! If I may be so self indulgent and request something... 👉🏻👈🏻

Reader being a (for lack of better words) boring person. They're good at blending in within social circles but never standing out or having a circle or friend of their own. Good laughing at jokes but can't come up with good ones or even if they did, they don't have the courage to tell them outright. They're very much a chicken when it comes to expressing themselves as an individual because they're never comfortable enough around anyone. They are a chicken in general, to be honest. This essentially (and sadly) leaves them as an NPC in their own life. And they've accepted it, trying to come to terms with a life of extreme mediocrity. They're actively trying to push down any need of wanting more from life 99% of days.

However, when you're good at listening, you observe things much better and you learn things faster. And subconsciously, reader has been observing a lot of things about Velaris (including the IC). I'm not sure where this would lead but this is probably the only real skill they have; being a good observer and learner.

I leave the rest to you. I was thinking pairing them with Azriel (since he would probably understand her better) but I'm open to any modifications.

Also, just an afterthought, I've always wondered what job I would love to have in a fantasy world (and I don't know if this counts as an actual job) but something like observing the sky/stars to look for any forthcoming events sounds really cool. So I guess reader could do that since major events happen don't happen once in a hundred years or something which ultimately makes their job very boring. However, they love it because who wouldn't love spending their whole night star-gazing (potential date idea?? YESS).

Sorry this became way longer than I intended. I wouldn't judge if you chose not to write on it. Thanks & have a great day :)

Am I boring? | Azriel X boring F reader

A/N: Hiii! Tysm for your ask. I hope I captured what you were imagining right. 💖

summary: You’re a star mapper. And you’re boring with no hope of love. Or at least you believed that until Azriel came along.

1.2k words

warnings: no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, cussing??, romance?? That’s it?? I think?

The stars shined brighter tonight. Since you were a little girl, you had always been fascinated by them. How they sparkled. They were interesting, and beautiful- unlike you. Maybe that’s why you clung onto them.

You pulled a piece of parchment from your bag, and started mapping the stars. Rhysand, the highlord of the night court, had invited you to his court to observe and map stars from this  part of the world. You accepted, wanting some change. Even if you knew it wouldn’t be much of a difference to you. The inner circle was more than nice to you, and you appreciated it.

Laughter bubbled from behind you. You currently sat with your telescope on the balcony of the House of Wind. This was your third week here. Rhysand had offered you a permanent place here in the night court, but you were yet to accept. You didn’t fit in. You were a background character. A random star mapper, a job would probably never be much of use to anyone. Except weird star fanatics. Aka you. You were sure he only offered you a place here because of pity.

The inner circle seemed to really like you, and whether that was because of your quiet and shy nature, or the fact you always listened and gave great advice, or the fact you always laughed to try and fit in even if you didn’t quite understand the joke, you didn’t know. The only one who seemed to see past your mask of people pleasing was the Shadowsinger.

Anytime you ‘laughed’ at Cassian’s jokes, he was always there, smirking with a known look at you. As if he knew you. As if he had known you your whole life. Azriel had seemed curious about you. It was uncomfortable. Nobody had ever been curious about you. Everyone always enjoyed someone that they could talk to about themselves for hours. But he was the one always interrupting the other members of the inner circle to question you, on you. And your own life. And sadly you didn’t have many answers other than, “oh I don’t know.”

It made you feel weird at how interested he seemed in you. It made you feel awkward. But you knew he would lose interest once he really discovered there wasn’t actually much to you. You were a bore.

“Those stars are named Arktos, Carynth, and Oristes. They shine above that mountain for a week once a year during the blood rite.” A voice said beside you. You flinched as you noticed Azriel sitting directly by you, his shadows swirling around you both. He was always appearing out of nowhere. He handed you a plate of cake.

“Courtesy of Elain. She baked dessert tonight.” Azriel said, lifting a bite of his cake to his mouth and chewing on it.

“Oh.” You responded, setting the plate down beside you. You quickly labeled the stars on your parchment. They were beautiful.

“Do you like cake?” He questioned.

You paused and stared blank at him.

“I’m not sure?” You responded, fiddling with your hands. “It’s okay, I guess.”

Azriel smiled at you knowingly. Loud laughter boomed from the room behind you two. He looked right at you with piercing amber eyes that seemed annoyed. As if he had noticed you flinching from the loud sounds.

“Come with me? Just trust me.” He whispered, grasping your hand gently with caution. It was sudden. And you weren’t sure. You didn’t know him much. How could you trust him? But something in your body and soul screamed yes. Why not? It was risky- but life was boring.

“Okay.” You responded, gasping as he pulled you close, his wings wrapping you close to him, and his shadows swarming around you both before all of a sudden you were now standing on a cliff. Oh gods. His hands were on your hips gently, his wings spread wide, letting you see the view.

You both stood on a cliff that overlooked a waterfall and river. The moon reflected in the water and the stars did too, creating a mirror effect. It was probably the most gorgeous sight you had ever seen.

“Its- it’s…” Your words fumbled, mouth open in shock. “Beautiful..” you whispered. His breath was hot against your ear.

“Very.” He whispered back. When you looked at him he wasn’t even looking at the view. His eyes were glued on you. And he was looking at you as if you were a goddess. Azriel’s eyes softened, with adoration. It scared you. Nobody had ever looked at you like that. With a blush you realized he was holding you like a lover. He smirked at you as if knowing you just realized it.

Azriel slowly let go and used his wing to guide you to turn around. Blankets and pillows were on the ground. Like a picnic but a nest. His shadows swirled excitedly around the set up. He guided you gently to the set up, helping you sit down before sitting beside you.

“Do you want your mapping materials? My shadows can retrieve them for you. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to just relax and enjoy this night or continue star mapping.” He murmured.

You thought for a second. This was odd. Was this a date? Or did he do this with all of his friends? Did you want to map or did you want to enjoy this night with him?

“No it’s okay.” You replied, eyes glued to the stars above. They were much clearer from this view then from the House of Wind. You guess the city lights blurred them out. But here? They were in their full glory.

“Why did you bring me here?” He seemed to pause before responding. 

“My shadows told me you might be leaving soon. This is my attempt at convincing you to stay here. In the night court. With your mate.” Azriel confessed.

He watched your eyebrows furrow.

“Mate? I don’t have a mate-“ you panicked.

His wings cocooned you and his arm enveloped you. It was like he could sense your panic. He rocked you back and forth like a child. And it was comforting.

“I’m your mate. I’ve known since I’ve met you. I thought I would have more time to get to know you and the bond would snap for you, but then my shadows informed me of your soon departure.”

You swallowed, throat bobbing. You blinked a few times. “There isn’t anything about me to get to know.” You replied harshly. Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. Shadows swirled around you both, some tendrils caressing you.

“Don’t say that. I know it isn’t true. Everyday I learn something new about you. I don’t care what you say, you are the most interesting person I’ve ever met.” He said, words much louder and firmer now. He thinks you’re interesting?

“Stay. Stay with me. Let me get to know you. I don’t expect you to accept the bond anytime soon. But give me- give us a chance.” Azriel said, wings tightening around you both. His eyes bore into you, with a fierce and loving look in them. You couldn’t help but soften in his hold.

You realized then, you deserved love. And for once a belonging feeling overwhelmed your senses.

“I’ll stay.”

Hope you guys enjoyed 💗

#azriel #acosf #acotar #imagine #x reader #acotar 5 #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #acotar series #Azriel imagine #reader insert #azriel x reader fluff #fluff

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Do you have any Kane headcanons?

I sure do! <3

Rating: T  Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?•ko-fi•

EDIT: shout out to @reallyrallyauthor who has just posted some amazing headcanons too!

Smells floraly. It’s not an extreme/off putting smell, but it hits you every now and then. At first, you think it’s just his body wash or something, but pretty soon you work out it’s just him. (My brain is telling me especially like a Hawthorn scent for some reason.) 

Animals love him. It’s almost like they are hypnotised/drawn to him. Wild animals will act domesticated/docile around him. Pets will instantly bond with him. He doesn’t seem to bat an eye at this and just acts as if it’s completely normal. 

Once a grizzly bear came out of nowhere when you were both on a hike, despite the noise you had made sure you’d been making. You’d frozen, grabbing at Kane’s arm. But Kane had just cocked his head to the side and the bear had sat down peacefully. 

“It’s fine.” Kane had told you, voice even and quiet.

But when he saw your panic, he’d nodded his head to the side and the bear had walked off that way. 

He didn’t understand why you’d dragged him back to the car. “It was fine.” 

“Grizzly’s kill people Kane.” 

“We were safe.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

He’d looked at you carefully, as if you were a toddler trying to convince him you’d see a flying pig. 

He doesn’t like to shake hands when meeting new people. It’s unsettling for him, makes his skin crawl. But he’ll do it anyway once he learns about social niceties to try to fit in. However, he’ll grab your hand afterwards and squeeze it rhythmically to calm down and get rid of the stranger’s touch. 

He gets overstimulated easily in new situations around new people and will just shut down, not speaking and avoiding eye contact completely. His warning signs are subtle and easy to miss unless you’re paying attention. 

However, if you’re near he’ll find you and just say, “leave.” quietly. 

He also comes to you when he’s overstimulated, most of the time he’ll just bury his face in your neck to shut out whatever is causing him distress. 

Despite not liking touching strangers he is more than happy to touch plants, animals and inanimate objects. And you. 

In fact he rarely does anything without some kind of physical contact with you. Holding your hand or touching your arm or leg, putting his head on your shoulder, practically laying in your lap. He’s like a cat. 

Doesn’t like it when you’re upset. It’s one of the rare times you see an immediate reaction from him, even if he doesn’t understand what’s upset you or made you angry he’s doing whatever he needs to to fix it. To stop you from feeling pain. 

Someone once pushed you rudely in the supermarket and you frowned. Kane was one second away from throwing a punch. You had to drag him out of the shop and explain that that wasn’t an ‘appropriate response’. 

He has settled on being very vocal if someone is impolite towards you, just saying “Rude.” very loudly and pointedly while staring the offender down. 

People don’t like his stare. The one he only seems to use when something’s gone wrong. When someone’s trying to square up to him. It seems to stop them in their tracks and make them reconsider. Causes a little spike of terror in their hearts. 

He’s never used the look on you, only gazing at you quizzically or softly. 

He follows you around, a little lost at times. Needing to be in the same room as you. 

At first it was a little disconcerting. The way he’d climb into your bed in the middle of the night. How he once got in the bath with you (fully clothed and not understanding your shock). You never feel scared around him though, you know he’ll never hurt you. 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#kane #annihilation #kane x reader #x reader #kane x you #x you #kane x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #kane x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

[tickles-tea]

Glass

Happy birthday to my number one, the light of my life, and the cause of the low numbers currently in my bank account ❤️ This fic is a little different from my usual writing but I really wanted to put something out for Izaya’s birthday so I hope you all enjoy ;u;

Shizuo used to hate Izaya’s laugh.

It was like glass shattering into a shower of sharp edges and unapologetic cruelty, every broken piece expertly aimed to hurt. It dripped in a poison so potent Shizuo could taste it- that vicious cocktail of cyanide and deception. That deception was what made it so bitter, Shizuo was sure.

Because at its core, Izaya’s laugh was completely and undeniably fake.

For all of Izaya’s smirks and snickers, not once did that glee ever reach his eyes. Every smile perfectly fixed in place, every laugh rehearsed and performed, all coming together to form the mask of Izaya Orihara.

As the years passed, Shizuo began to believe that perhaps there was no face behind that mask at all. 

It wasn’t until they’d begun their…situationship…that this belief was brought into question. 

In the darkness of night, hidden between tangled sheets and heated flesh, he found ghosts of sincerity in that mask.

He saw longing in those clever eyes, pupils blown wide with desire and desperation. He tasted restraint on Izaya’s lips where the other would try his damnedest to stay quiet, where he would bite into his own skin to conceal any noise that wasn’t artificial. 

Izaya’s mask cracked during those nights and, with it, Shizuo did too.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the thing that finally shattered him was that same glass-crackle laugh.

Shizuo’s touches had grown softer. Bites were replaced by kisses, black and blue flesh making way for goosebumps over pale skin. He had started to explore instead of devouring.

All it took was one wandering hand brushing a little too lightly over Izaya’s thigh to reveal something Shizuo hadn’t known he was looking for. 

A giggle- sweet and bright and genuine and everything Shizuo had thought Izaya to be incapable of. 

Another crack in the mask had formed and Shizuo desperately needed to see what was behind it. 

His hands were his pickaxe as he chipped at its jagged edges. Spidering fingers climbing up a slender rib cage caused Izaya’s face to scrunch up in a wide toothy grin. Thumbs drilling into the hollows under his arms broke the dam and released a flood of helpless laughter. Despite coming from the same vocal cords, this laugh was so different from the one Shizuo was used to.

If Izaya’s usual mirth was a splintered mirror, this was a stained glass window. Bright, colorful, and refracting beauty like true laughter should. This frantic cackling, irregular and imperfect, was the truest reflection he’d seen of who Izaya could be if he allowed himself to. 

Shizuo knew of crystal clear lakes that played tricks on your eyes, with water so pure that you could see the very bottom without realizing how deep it truly was. He knew, and yet he still drowned in Izaya’s laugh. He let it fill his lungs with each breath and huff of amusement, drinking it all in. It was intoxicating.

It was surprising for Shizuo Heiwajima to willingly dive into the depths of Izaya Orihara. If anyone were to even fathom the idea, they'd be silenced by others for their own safety. Retribution would surely come for them at the hands of either man. However, the thought that Izaya would welcome him in- keeping his hands gripped around Shizuo’s wrists instead of the handle of a blade -was almost unimaginable.

Shizuo had learned that things aren't always as they seemed with Izaya, though. He’d learned that behind those fierce eyes and acidic grins hid a smile so honest that it made Shizuo’s heart clench. If he could believe this impossible reality, was it really so far fetched to think that one day that mask would shatter like glass? Was it foolish to think that Izaya might one day raise one elegant hand and remove it entirely? 

One couldn’t know for sure, but sitting here surrounded by the sugar and sincerity of Izaya’s laughter…Shizuo couldn’t wait to find out. 

#durarara #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #shizaya #tickling #ticklish!izaya #my writing #can you tell I’ve been listening to too much sleep token recently lmaoo #All these fuckin metaphors #Anyway viva la flea #Happy birthday Izaya!

[allyeardepression]

@jegulus-microfic | may 6 strawberry | words: 1k

part 1

tw: anxiety, self hatred, intrusive thoughts, mental breakdown, implied underage smoking

Regulus couldn’t believe what he just heard. He was aware that people hide their pain behind a smile—he was Barty’s friend after all—but to learn that James Potter was doing the exact same thing? He couldn’t quite comprehend it.

He kept staring at him for the next Merlin knows how long before doing something that surprised even him.

Regulus outstretched his hand for James to grab it, then pulled them both up. For a second, they just looked at each other, their fingers intertwined. Then, taking one big step closer, Reg was holding the other boy in a warm hug. He could feel James tensing in his arms before exhaling and relaxing a little. After a moment, his hands hesitantly moved up Regulus’ back, grabbing at his jumper and holding tight. Simultaneously, the younger boy was caressing his shoulders and neck in a soothing gesture. Regulus could feel a wet stain forming on his shoulder where James hid his face.

They stood there on the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night, embracing and crying quietly together.

After what felt like forever, Regulus pulled the other boy closer, hiding his own face in his chest, and whispered, “If you ever need to talk, or—or anything, really, just find me, okay?” He could feel James nodding against his hair, mumbling a quiet ’okay’, then falling silent again. Not for long, though.

“You smell like strawberries and cigarettes,” he muttered, not sounding exactly happy but not sad either, so Regulus allowed himself to huff out a small laugh.

***

A few weeks have passed since that night. They kept meeting at the tower, sometimes talking, sometimes sitting in complete silence. James hasn’t come looking for him aside from those meetings, still pretending he’s never been better.

Until one afternoon in late April, when Regulus sat with Evan and Pandora at the library, revising before OWLs,.

The Gryffindor approached them then, a bright smile on his face yet so much pain and sadness in his eyes. Regulus wondered how he had never noticed before.

“Hi, um,” James started awkwardly, looking straight into his eyes, “McGonagall sent me to tell you she wanted to talk with you about—about your brother.”

Regulus straightened, trying to read the other’s eyes—there was something in them that looked like a plea of some sort. “Right now?” He asked after a moment. James just nodded once in response.

So Regulus gathered all his things, told his friends he'd see them at dinner, and left the library with the older boy.

As soon as they reached the corridor, James took his hand, pulling him into the nearest room. It looked like any other classroom at school, with aisles of double desks, a blackboard next to the teacher’s pulpit, and some old books put neatly on the shelves by the window—the only difference was that it was covered in a thick layer of dust.

The moment the door closed behind them, Regulus heard James collapse against it, a loud sob escaping him. Within seconds he was kneeling before the crying boy, cradling his face. Regulus quickly casted Muffliato wandlessly, just before James started talking.

“I’m so fed up with this,” he managed between breathless sobs. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore; I don’t want to feel at all.”

“James, breathe,” he whispered, looking into his eyes. They took the first deep inhale together, letting it out together as well. Even though James was shaking all over his body, he kept taking the air into his lungs to calm down a bit. After a few minutes, when the older boy wasn’t hyperventilating anymore, Regulus asked gently, “What happened?”

Letting out a humourless laugh, James started. “Nothing really—Moony and Pads went out on a date, Pete was doing homework with Mary and Lily, and Marlene went somewhere. And I was alone in the dormitory, cleaning a little, a-and then I started thinking,” Another dry chuckle. "I convinced myself they all found something to do so they wouldn’t have to spend time with me and that they were probably shit-talking me when I wasn’t around, and then I-I just kept coming up with this kind of shit, and I felt worse and worse. And I know it’s just my head; I’m fully aware of it; it’s just—I can’t tell the difference between the nonsense it creates and what is actually true.” At the end, his voice was barely above whisper, the sobs trying to make their way back out of him.

And Regulus never stopped looking at him, still holding his cheeks and whipping away the tears that kept spilling.

“Did they ever tell you that they don’t like you?” he asked softly. James shook his head as an answer. “So why do you think so?”

“I don’t even know; I doubt I’ve ever given them a reason to hate me. But I’m just—I'm always all over the place, trying to make everyone smile, and when I’m not doing it, I overthink it. And every time I end up being angry with myself, because what if it makes all of them feel uncomfortable? What if I make them feel uncomfortable? And after the anger come the thoughts that I’m too much and I exhaust everyone and—“ a deep, shaky inhale, “I wish I could just switch it all off somehow.”

James sounded exhausted, defeated even, and Regulus has never felt so sorry for anyone besides Sirius. He felt defeated himself because he wanted to help that boy so badly; he wanted to make him feel better, but he didn’t know how. He was no specialist; he couldn’t give him some potions to muffle those thoughts—he could just sit there with him and listen, trying to take some of this pain away by simply being there for him.

“Do you want me to hug you?” Regulus asked, not taking his eyes off of James’, waiting for the approving nod that comes almost immediately.

So just like at the Astronomy Tower, he pulls James up and takes him into his arms, holding him tight.

#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #starchaser #sunseeker #dead gay wizards #the marauders #jegulus microfic #james potter needs a hug #angst ig #hogwarts au #1k words or more #by: allyeardepression

[midnightcrw]

Hey there ! I'm Uz✨

I saw your post about Nanami and Geto recommendations

I really wanted to read angst stories with both of them and i hardly find any🥲

So here are some detailed ideas🤭

Suguru x reader :

where he's a playboy and the reader is new to dating and it's all going well where they learn different things from each other

(until the reader misunderstood him to be flirting with other girls bcz it's just the way he talks that attracts attention😝)....then you can build up to whatever you like

Suguru x reader : [This one is more like an entire scenario planned out in my head ]🤦🏻‍♀️😂

where the reader is a new student who is quiet but liked by all and she has a crush on first sight with suguru😝 whereas he on the other hand has a preconception about her from the very first time he met her as being boring and that she acts sweet to impress everyone

One day she overhears this when he shares his unliking towards the reader with satoru and then she starts keeping her distance (which he notices)

(Cut 2 - there are certain events where he finds out she's really helpful and sweet and in fact under confident but very talented then he starts to fall for her and starts trying to talk to her slowly but steadily)

Nanami x reader :

Where the reader (works at the bakery)met Nanami during her lunch break near a park and they meet everyday talking about random things and complaining about work.

The reader is a chirpy person (a non sorcerer)who's excited to go on a trip from work and she asks Nanami to tag along bcz they can bring a person (she thinks he needs a break) to which he replies rudely and tells her not to think of them as friends (bcz he's afraid of hurting her one day if this bonding continues further)

Later he realises what she means to him and this is not only friendship but more than that and tries to apologise and express what he feels

Sorry for being too specific but you can change things to your liking I literally had DREAMS about these scenarios so I'm desperate to READ them because people here write so beautifully with added flares😭🤌🏻

I hope you could write any one of these OR else Please do more of Geto x reader where he's such a sweetheart and caring person I would love to read that🥰🤝🏻

P.S: I love Sugu😩❤️

Hello Uz!

Even though I have never written anything about Geto or Nanami, I think I might start writing something about them since there are hardly any slow burn fanfics about them (at least from what I have seen).

I really like your ideas, especially the Nanami one, so maybe I'll do something with that once I finish my exams.

Though if you or anyone else has any fanfic recommendations for me to read, that would be awesome because I want to get a little more familiar with jjk fanfics so I know how the characters are perceived by most people.

#geto x you #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento x gender neutral reader #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader

[dark-elf-writes]

Ok so Hojo half sibling au what happens when cloud tells mama Strife about his new brother?

Cloud didn’t call often.

It was a sad truth that Claudia had learned to live with. Long distance calls were expensive, and a trooper’s salary only went so far. She certainly couldn’t afford to call as often as she liked even as the closest thing to a medical professional in Nibelheim (the others in the village only came to her as a last resort, like she was something tainted. A witch of old waiting to swoop down and steal their souls. It didn’t matter she had been seventeen when she got pregnant with her son. Didn’t matter that she had been an intern and scared of losing her job. Didn’t matter that she had lost her job anyway and become the village pariah all at once.) Still they wrote often enough that it dulled the worst of the ache in her chest when she looked to her son’s empty bed, still waiting for him should he come home.

So it was a surprise when her rarely used landline rang with no mention in Cloud’s most recent letter that he was calling.

First came the dread. The terror that those monsters she had let her son go to wouldn’t even grace her with a face to face discussion to tell her the worst had happened. But Claudia Strife had always been stubborn.

“Mama?” Cloud’s voice was strained when she picked up the phone, like it always sounded when he was trying to pretend everything was okay. “How are you?”

“I’ll be better when my son tells me what is going on. You never call out of the blue, Stormcloud. Are you okay? Were you hurt? Did those basta—“

“Ma. Mama! I’m fine!” Cloud huffed a quiet laugh. “It’s good news, really it’s just. A lot, ma. I don’t know where to start.”

“If you got some girl pregnant, Cloud.”

There was a laugh on the other end of the line, too deep to be her son’s. Oh. Oh.

(Suddenly Cloud’s childhood fixation on the shining stars of Shinra’s SOLDIER program made a lot of sense… and why her sweet boy wouldn’t act on those feelings until he had left their home far behind. Nibelheim was anything but open minded.)

“Cloud, are you—“

“I have a brother!”

A paragon of tact, her son was not.

Claudia pulled the towel from her shoulder and dropped it to the counter as she leaned back on it for support. How many other bright eyed girls had been ruined like she had? How many experiments ran on the most vulnerable? How many—

“Ma? Ma are you there?! Ma!”

“Here, baby. I’m here. In that who’s with you? Your brother?”

Cloud sighed. “Yeah and he promised to be quiet.” The last word was hissed in a tone so familiar that Claudia couldn’t help but laugh. She could almost see the narrow eyed look of annoyance her baby was shooting his half-brother.

“It’s a bit hard for us to meet if he’s quiet, Stormcloud.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not all.”

“Oh?”

“We… allegedly and completely unable to be proven... might have committed some slight arson.”

“Cloud Strife.”

“It was allegedly against our… fuck, I don’t know what to call him. No way it’s going to be ‘father.’”

“Donor perhaps?” That voice offered again. Familiar in a way she couldn’t place.

“… Good boys.”

That deeper voice from before choked. Claudia could hear the smug satisfaction in Cloud’s voice when he spoke again. “There’s more still.”

Claudia laughed almost hysterically. “If you’ve allegedly committed mur—“

“Sephiroth is my brother!”

Everything in Claudia froze.

Sephiroth.

Shinra’s Silver General.

The boy who had been dropped into the middle of a war and come out a blooded hero. A child made into a killer too young.

The perfect experiment.

She wanted to throw up. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry.

Instead she forced a smile with no kindness. No gentleness. A mother wolf baring her teeth. “I’m coming to Midgar.”

“Ma!”

“I have enough saved up for this, Stormcloud. I need to see my sons.”

“Sons?” Sephiroth’s voice was carefully neutral. A brilliant mask that would have fooled the world. A mask that did nothing against a mother’s intuition. (Under that careful calm Claudia could hear the tremble of a child, alone and scared even now that he had grown larger than life. A little boy who desperately wanted to be loved. It only made her more certain of her choice.)

“Sons,” She confirmed. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Cloud sputtered. “At least let me buy your ticket ma! I’m a SOLDIER now! They gave me a sign on bonus.”

“I know Shinra bonuses as well as you do, young man. Save it for yourself.”

“Then let me pay,” Sephiroth offered. “Firsts make far more than new recruits and I can hardly allow my… allow you to be put in a difficult position, Ms. Strife.”

“Claudia or mom, or ‘ma’ I suppose if you’re impatient like our little stormcloud.” Claudia was rewarded with a flustered squawk of ‘Ma’ from her son… her youngest son. She smiled even through the ache in her chest. “And no, Sephiroth dear, you don’t need to spend money on me. It’s your money to use for yourself, sweetheart. Now I need to pack, boys! I’ll call when I have a set date of arrival!”

“Ma!”

“M— Claudia, I must insist—“

Claudia hung up the phone before they could try to push further about paying. This had to be her choice. Had to be her money. Had to be her doing. After all, they had confirmed it. Hojo was in Midgar, and Claudia was allegedly going to greet him as she should have all those years ago. With her boot knife to his throat and the assurance of exactly what she would do to him if he touched her boys.

Maybe she should take a look at some of those old files in the Manor before she left. Hojo was always a squirrelly bastard. It would be just like him to stash away some of his previous findings in the labs deep underground and she would bet her life that the information on Sephiroth’s past would be down there too along with gods only knew what other demons lurked in Hojo’s past.

#the elf talks #ff7 #half brothers au #well this grew legs

[dedtoot]

I was sent this today and holy fuck this is misleading?? So I'll talk about it for a bit.

Not showing the poster, but the tweet shows an interview from a people who worked on English version of Skies of Arcadia and yeah it looks very bad.

Poster clarifies later which game it's from, but still if you didn't know any better you'd assumed that it's for something recent. Because you know, what is the point of ranting about something that isn't even relevant?

And some people clarified that it's not how all localisation process went, but for one character to make them sound more natural. You know, like a localiser should do because that's their job.

I didn't play the game myself, so i can absolutely be wrong, but holy fucking shit the poster is stupid and blatantly cherry picking to make their point look good.

And they are most likely a weeb(since they also uploaded an anime screenshot for no real reason) and weebs are the last people I'd ask about translation and localisation topics.

These kinds of people have this weird obsession with "accurately" translated text, it's bizarre AND DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE.

Bad localisation is a problem and it should be addressed, but every fucking time it does, these weirdos appear and just go SEE THIS IS WHY LOCALISATION BAD AND I HATE THEM NO ONE SHOULD DO IT!!

Like bruh shut your bitch ass up you don't know anything about how translation process goes.

If not for localisations you'd hear jokes like "на словах Іван Багряний, а на ділі лох їбаний." translated literally and no one will get what it means and how it was supposed to be.

Localisers job is to keep the meaning of the the translated text the same, because, as all people should know, expressions and ways to portray things are different between every language (the ways of how localisation is done will differ from person to person but that's a different topic). There is no true accurate way to translate it. Only to get it as close as possible to the original. And if you want to do it, sometimes you have to change things. There is a reason why if you make several people to translate the same line, you can get different results that convey the same thing!

These mfs have some weird fear of 4kids resurrecting and liberals censoring their fave animus or something and it's something alright.

This demonisation of localisers is so dumb I can't even express it in words. It's straight up wild.

If ya wanna your accurately translated anime, then translate it in google translate, or better yet, LEARN THE LANGUAGE YOURSELF!

Genuinely, if you are so bothered by this "censorship problem", then learn the language. It will only benefit you, there are no downsides.

#my stuff #i really dislike weebs like damn #they need to learn how to be quiet for once #decided to talk about it a bit because translations and localisations are something I'm kinda passionate about #also I'm not explaining that joke it's stupid

[klingonrealitytelevision]

Episode 9

Rei is doing the positive version of "Living through your children." Which I believe is normally called "Being supportive of their interests?"

Essentially, making up for things or experiences you didn't or couldn't have as a child, and making sure your kids are treated better.

Rei was clearly raised to be as quiet as possible and to take up the least amount of space as possible. It's clear that he himself doesn't mind noisy or bright people, even to his own surprise as demonstrated with both Kazuki and Miri.

The thing is Miri is loud. She's 4, that's actually very normal. But, not only does he passively accept their loudness, he tries to match it here. It's such a big step for him, it can't be easy for him, but he wants to help so so badly. It can't have been easy for him to raise his voice like that, but he did it.

He loves Miri so much it's amazing. Even his advice on running and the science behind it shows that he supports her and is trying to help even though it make look like he's doesn't care.

#buddy daddies #kazuki kurusu #rei suwa #miri unasaka #i love that the moms genuinely believe Kazuki is a comedian #they probably assumed the barbed wire thing was a bit and just went oh he's making a joke lmao what a guy #if Miri brings a partner to visit Rei's vibes are gonna be rancid mf better be an actual oil baron to be good enough for Miri #also once again lmao at Rei's childish tastes man is re doing his childhood one terrible diet decision after another #i wonder how the moms rationalize an oil baron wearing shirts with such sloppy collars #like i can only assume they think Rei is supporting Kazukis career and since Kazuki does the domestic work #maybe they think he's just bad at laundry #I'm speaking from experience to some degree I'm talkative but i hate it #I learned that people in authority like me better quiet and i have RSD so I hate embarrassing myself and others #so it's hard for me to cheer because it feels like I'm attracting too much attention to myself #i can't help it i hate standing out so much #but when my brother got into eSports and i was the one taking him i tried my best to cheer him on #i got loud just for him #it hurt and it was embarrassing but i did it because i needed to show my brother that i was there for him

[imminent-danger-came]

Anon chilling on the precipice of madness again, and I’m so glad you liked that last ask! Truly, there is much joy to be found in discussing how much we enjoy (*cough* are dealt immense emotional damage on a daily basis by *cough*) the monkey show. Also, since I apparently can’t stop bugging you, for clarity’s sake I’m going to call myself Unhinged Anon if I submit any future asks lol. 

As always you make excellent points, and I am very normal about you bringing up the ‘MK smiling at his reflection’ thing because the motif of reflections in this show (see also: S2E5, S3E4, some others I’m probably missing, and especially S4E1) doesn’t make me even the tiniest bit insane. Nope! Not at all. But this time, it’s actually something you said in the tags that launched my marbles into the stratosphere for me to never find, because now I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want, like… a Sandy spinoff series or something. 

And I don’t mean a lore-heavy, epic adventure rich in heavy themes and conflicts like we have in the main series, just with Sandy at the center instead of MK. I want Sandy's series to be almost exclusively season one-style laid back episodes. But the good kind of laid back episodes, you know? Stuff like S1E6&7, that a lot of people dismiss, especially on a first watch, as nothing more than filler but actually serve as a subtle expansion/exploration of characters (“I also summoned monster trees with my stress, so. Should I see a doctor? We’ll worry about that later” still haunts me) and dynamics hidden under the guise of a silly little adventure with funny jokes, great animation, and fairly low stakes. 

I want to see what an appointment with Sandy’s therapist looks like, or even just the shenanigans he gets up to during those episodes where he’s mysteriously absent and only Tang seems to notice. 

I want to see Sandy teach Tang how to make tea, and maybe nerd out about those theories Sandy mentioned having about the gang's whole deal with the OG Companions.

I want to see Sandy’s endless teddy bear energy clash with Red-wants to seem intimidating but will also grab his new friends warm milk if they ask-Son. 

I want to see Wukong forced to have an extended conversation with Sandy, or really anyone from the team that isn’t MK or actively yelling at him, and getting to really see how they work off of each other. 

I want to see the secret ‘how do we help our clearly not okay friend?’ talks Mei and Sandy have behind MK’s back whenever he starts acting weird, and all the gossip that goes on during the yoga sessions they start doing together after Mei gets the Samadhi fire. 

I want to see Sandy talking with the little girl that LBD possessed, especially since something kind of similar happened to him during season 4, and accidentally becoming her new (and favorite) giant blue uncle. 

I want an episode of MK and Sandy hanging out. Just chilling on the boat, playing with Mo, going for a little walk around town until BOOM! Sandy brings MK to his unsuspecting therapist, who’s about to get the most interesting case of their career. And maybe, if we’re allowed a little angst, a discussion about how scary it is to be born with a lot of power that not only can, but will, hurt a lot of people if it isn't carefully controlled. About how they’ve tried, and failed, to avoid causing pain. About wanting to never cause pain, and how the futility of that sentiment almost outweighs the importance of trying anyways. 

And above all, I DEMAND a Pigsy-Sandy origin story! 

Anyways, this is basically just me edging ever closer to the brink of madness after you accidently inflicted No Thoughts, Only Sandy syndrome upon me with your last response. But, it's also an invitation to gush about Sandy some more, if you want, and also share anything you would want to see in a hypothetical Sandy show!

Unhinged Anon I got you, here's a motif post where I have every MK reflection in the whole show.

AND “I also summoned monster trees with my stress, so. Should I see a doctor? We’ll worry about that later” HAUNTS ME TOO. There's something about the way those shots are set up, cracking from blue to gold:

MK also becoming a "master of focus" in this ep, with focus becoming important later in episodes like 1x09 and 3x11/12 with Mei.

BUT ANON.

Imma use this ask as a spring board for one of my fav personal theories, which is this: OG Sandy, from the original jttw pilgrimage, is also our current day Sandy!

I'll probably throw this into an official theory post later, but for now I'll go into this theory underneath the cut:

First, let's start with 2x08 To Catch a Leaf, during which Sandy has several PTSD flashbacks:

So, the first one is some sort of battlefield, and the second one...

Is of Zhu Bajie?

Now, we know Pigsy has never worn an outfit like this based off of this comment in 4x05:

Pigsy: "Blue ain't really my color, but it beats looking like that monster, Zhu Ganglie."

-

The Pig Demon in that flashback from 2x08 HAS to be Zhu Bajie of the original jttw pilgrimage. But why would Sandy have a memory like that?

Next is the fact that while everyone else in 4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids is compared to their past life, Sandy notably isn't.

Tang knows friendship, but unlike Tang Sanzang isn't studious.

Mei is bold and brave, but lacks Ao Lie's caution.

Pigsy like Zhu Bajie is stubborn, but he has the heart his predecessor originally lacked.

Yet this is all Subodhi has to say to Sandy:

Subdohi: "You have nothing more to learn my hilariously blue student! Another star for you!" Sandy: "Dooww thank you wise master!" Subodhi: "But! You're far too nice for your own good." Sandy: "Uh huh, you noticed!"

(4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids)

-

It's exceedingly strange that in an episode where Subodhi breaks down everyone's character arcs, Sandy is told he's all good. He has nothing more to learn, and no more character development to go through.

Unless of course...Subodhi quite simply couldn't compare Sandy to his past life because there was no past life to compare him to.

Another detail in s4 that's always intrigued me is how Sandy is brought back to himself from Sha Wujing in 4x06.

Pigsy's heartfelt speech on the legacy of their past lives not defining their current one, or how they're not monsters, doesn't work. It's instead Mo offering Sandy wholehearted love that brings Sandy back:

Which, of course Sandy has a close bond with Mo, but Pigsy's speech wasn't anything to scoff at either:

Pigsy: "No. No! Just cause we look a certain way, cause our monster ancestors were, well, monsters, none of that matters! I won't let his legacy define mine, and neither should you! Your the strongest, the biggest, the bluest guy I know! But all you've ever used those muscles for is to help people in need—your friends. That don't sound like a monster to me." (4x06 Show Me the Monster)

As far as we know, that should have been the exact thing Sandy needed to be freed from his past life, and yet it wasn't.

That would be because, at least under the confines of this theory, the guy Pigsy is saying Sandy wasn't like was indeed who Sandy used to be. Yes, Sandy has far outgrown the person who fought to establish his own place in the world, learning that "hurting others isn't a measure of one's strength". But here's the thing, who you used to be matters. Unlike Pigsy's relationship with Zhu Bajie, Sandy's relationship with who he was in the past can't as easily be written off. It's still a part of him.

There are also certain other details. like the fact that Sandy knows his way to Flower Fruit Mountain in "A Hero is Born", or how he's so knowledgeable on ancient powerful remedies like the crimson jimson weed. Of course these details could be chalked up to plot convenience—which is by no means a flaw or complaint—but I've always wondered if there was anything more to it.

But, Sandy's more laid back reaction to most things has always intrigued me, and it would re-contextualize certain scenes like this one from 2x10 in a fun way:

Pigsy: "No! What could have been so important that you'd leave MK alone to face that- that thing! You're supposed to be his mentor-"

Sandy: "ENOUGH!" "I think we should give Mr. Monkey King, a chance to explain."

(2x10 This is the End!)

Of course with this theory comes a few questions, like why Sandy didn't meet the same fate as the other pilgrims, or why he wouldn't let Sun Wukong know he was alive, or why he would bother to pretend he wasn't the OG Sha Wujing at all. And honestly? I don't have an answer to these questions!

But what I do know is that Sandy's friends are greatly important to him-

Sandy: "Hurting others isn't a measure of one's strength—took me a really long time to realize that. As long as I'm doing something to help out a friend, I don't mind what it is! I just want to be there for 'em when they need me. Cause at the end of the day, helping my friends is more important than anything else in the world!" (2x08 To Catch a Leaf)

-and losing them would affect him greatly.

Whatever happened to the og jttw crew, that could very easily be the reason Sandy was "the most dangerous, deadly, rage filled warrior [Pigsy] ever [knew]". Based off of that 2x08 Zhu Bajie flashback, Sandy could very well have watched his friend die.

But, now that Sandy has his friends back in his life? Of course he's going to do whatever he can for them!

Which would include anything from making tea to breaking his vow to never fight again.

And please for the love of god give us a Pigsy - Sandy origin story. I'm begging. WHAT IS THEIR HISTORY MAN. WHY DID PIGSY KNOW HOW TO COMMIT A JAILBREAK.

#that slice of life sandy show sounds so comfy #I would love to learn about the sanctity of quiet moments and daily life with my favorite blue thing! #Also MK get's therapy pog #anyways *plays Sandy's ''anything for pigsy'' in my mind over and over again* #So if the stars aligned and BOTH og Sandy is current Sandy and eamk were true #Which is unlikely. BUT PRETENDING FOR A MOMENT IT COULD HAPPEN #The dream would be for Sandy to share what he learned with MK. #Like. How he got from ''I am a monster! That's what the world wants me to be—so that's what I'm gonna give 'em!'' to #''Hurting others isn't a measure of one's strength'' and just wanting to have some tea with his friends #Either way clearly Sandy has some expertise on the subject of being a chaotic destructive force. HE CAN HELP MK OKAY #HE HAS GUIDANCE AND WISDOM TO SHARE #SANDY MK TRAINING ARC WHEN #I need Sandy to meditate with MK at least once alright #Which may never happen and that's okay. But I can dream! #asks #lmk theory #lmk #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #lmk sandy #Still chasing the high of 2x03 where Sandy and MK made tea together #unhinged anon

[miabrown007]

eugh, words

#who knew that at age 26 I'd be buying a dictionary notebook(?) again to learn English words of all things #that I'd sit over fanfiction and look up the words I don't quiet understand #watch my writing suddenly become half britpicked because I learn words from dhr fic that uses the british alternative for everything #and I will not even know it because it doesn't sound british or american to me just english #we shan't be using 'snogging' though by the by. even my dialect-blindness has its limits #but also it isn't even just british expressions and words. I've betad an ml fic and collected like a page worth of words of it #and they were just the ones that looked promising and exciting #I really need more verbs though because I know what they say about using strong verbs but strong verbs are rare words #and so I often don't even know them or know a word exists for something I'm looking for #ugh I just want to be a native with exquisite vocabulary so bad 😭 #so anyways does anyone else overthink writing stories about cat and bug kissing like this or is it just me? #how do you learn new words without sitting over a notebook and memorizing?? #I feel like they say reading should do the trick but I won't remember a word if I read it once #though I did learn the word snogging in the past month so maybe I just need to read them enough times #and we've reached the mandatory ducks for your troubles 🦆🦆 #miaing

[pepprs]

i don’t know how to explain that since march 2020 with each new horrible thing happening in the world i shrink further and further into myself and away from connection and hope

#i told that friend i would call them today but then i woke up 6 minutes after roe v wade got overturned. and i can’t call that friend. i #can’t even tell them why. i can’t even talk to my family or even look at them. i can’t even stand on my feet for too long or get anything #done. i can’t reply to any texts or act on any urgent emails. i can’t draw or play piano or do anything to destract myself. all i can do is #scroll and read and be very very still and very very quiet. i don’t even have the energy to cry #in December and February and may i had spells lasting days at a time of being unable to function because such horrible things were happening #all at once and i just couldn’t process it anymore. and it’s gonna happen over and over again more and more frequently and there truly is #nothing i can do to stop it without getting the energy back but every time i think im almost there something happens and i crash back down #all over again. really and truly preparing to leave for brighton was the beginning of the end for me and i don’t know if i will ever get #back to how hopeful and connected and whatever i felt. and living in lockdown all over again doesn’t help but i don’t have the strength to c #change that either. im just tired and everyone is walking all around me right now as i type this and im bristling and want to scream #purrs #delete later #not that i was at all like entirely hopeful or whatever and certainly not that things were good pre covid. but something happened when covid #happened and ever since it’s been like. relentless misery. strings of sad days. no end in sight #i think the best and most helpful things i could do wrt this specific issue are a) open my home to people #seeking abortions who can’t get them in their state / provide travel / resources for them to come here (i can contribute to travel funds #financially but need to learn to drive and find a place to live before i can offer space and transportation resources) and b) keep talking a #about reproductive rights / trying to educate ppl who are skeptical etc etc as someone who would not exist without them. and also c) keep #trying to build collective power and learn to become a better community organizer and open people up to the possibilities that arise when we #recognize ourselves as co-creators of our future and understand that the future is not fixed (which i think aoc said or something and i watc #watched smth on that last night that i think she was part of and it was encouraging to me). so i will try to focus on those things. but this #just has my head spinning so badly. i feel so unmoored. and it’s my job to be a beacon of hope but i feel utterly hopeless

[silverislander]

idk if it's genuine excitement or the energy drink i had earlier that's actually letting me focus and work but dude. i am CRUSHING this essay. this is Fun To Write. i think i'm actually doing a really good job here. wtf. i love my major man

#i am a LITTLE bit sad i cant do grad school bc like. im going to miss writing essays and researching and all once i graduate #i do genuinely like doing it. call me a nerd or whatever but i love it esp when its on smth fun and interesting like this #now im not sad enough to actually DO grad school lmao #unless i got offered a scholarship or smth idk. wont happen but. hm. if it did. #seriously tho. i would think more seriously abt it if it werent for my adhd. i just dont think its realistic for me #as much as i like my field i dont think i have the ability to focus well enough to complete the work id need to complete #i went to the meeting abt grad school i learned abt what it requires/why people do it and all. i just dont think i can do that #and bc i ultimately cant get diagnosed -> cannot get help/medication thats not going to improve any time soon #after years of learning how to adapt and work with my brain this is probably the best i can do without medical/institutional intervention #its not worth paying a shitload of money and possibly setting my career back by years only to fail out yk? #im not too torn up abt it. ill give it more thought if it becomes relevant but rn its not really on my radar #ive done an excellent job in school! im getting an honours degree (hopefully)! most people dont even get that far #a lot of people with my condition dont even get into university let alone graduate. im incredibly lucky to be able to do what i can #levi.txt #this is all over the place but takeaway is im having a good time! things are coming together i feel confident in my work #im gathering theorists and sources for the section on night of the living dead and having a blast #ive got my examples all lined up my arguments make sense in my head i know where to look for applicable theories etc etc #i just need supporting quotes and im working on that rn!! it hasnt even been that hard #ok. back to work. i need to harness the power of caffeine once more (made my brain quiet) (no longer full of bees) (im in charge)

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Wife!Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: Lucifer gets a little too brazen with Alastor's darling wife. Guess the Ruler of Hell would just have to learn a lesson about who you belong to.

☒ Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns used, jealous!alastor, soft comforting shower sex, knotting, alastor has a tail, consent, making out, soft kisses, biting, marking kink, alstor laps up the readers blood because he bites a liiiitle too hard, creampie, banter between alastor and lucifer, as well as banter between the reader and angel

☒ Word Count: 1,972

Alastor was quite the jealous type. 

You were his wife in life and death. To say he was protective of you was an understatement. So, it only made sense that Alastor would lose his composure when the ruler of hell himself arrived at the Hazbin Hotel. 

Lucifer was a rather charming man, but you were spoken for. So when he grasped your hand and placed a chaste kiss on the back of your palm, your hand yanked away in the blink of an eye. You could have sworn you heard a crackling growl escape your husband's lips as he watched Lucifer offer you a lustful gaze- and that was simply unacceptable. 

"I see you've met my wife!" Alastor let out a forced chuckle as he looped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. You let out a sigh of relief. All thanks to your husband's rescue. Lucifer gave Alastor a pointed look before he blurted out, "You're joking... right?" He scoffed. 

Your face scrunched up in anger at Lucifer's rude remark. "Oh, he's as serious as a heart attack." You spat, snaking your own arm around Alastor's back. You squeezed his waist, a habit of yours that let your dear husband know when you were livid. 

"But- look at you! You're gorgeous, sweetheart, and he's just... freaky." You were about to snap back before your husband's maniacal laughter tore through the room. "Ha Ha! That's rich coming from the short stack!" Alastor quipped, grip tensing around your waist. Lucifer's chest puffed up in defense before he let out an airy laugh. 

"Aha! The height I lack up here, I surely make up for below the belt! Maybe I can show your wife sometime." Lucifer shot you a playful wink, causing your face to scrunch up in disgust. Alastor tensed beside you before he let out another forced laugh, ducking low to get in Lucifer's face. "Ha Ha! Fuck you." Your husband spat, voice missing its usual radio static tone. 

Before the situation could escalate further, Charlie intervened. Pushing her father away from the tense atmosphere while mouthing a sympathetic "Sorry!" your way. The aura in the room was stiff. You could certainly cut the tension with a butter knife. "Damn, smiles! Looks like lil' Luci himself has got eyes for your girl!" Angel stated before taking a swig of his cocktail. 

You turned your head in Angel's direction. Shooting him a warning glare. The last thing you wanted was for Angel to get caught in the crossfire of your husband's anger. Alastor remained quiet before he slowly began walking toward the staircase. You could tell he was seething with how his ears twitched atop his head. Your husband flickered up the steps without a word, making you worry. 

"Damn it, Angel! You knew he was pissed enough as is, no need to poke the bear!" You sighed, rubbing your temples as you made your way over to the bar. Husk poured you a drink, shaking his head in agreement. "Dont'cha mean poke the deer?" Angel chuckled, patting your back in a lighthearted manner. Husk cursed under his breath at Angel's remark. 

"Cut that shit out, or he'll put you on his next fuckin' broadcast," Husk grumbled, cleaning a glass with a worn-down rag. You sipped your drink before rubbing your temples once more, shaking your head in annoyance. "I should probably go check in on him..." You spoke to yourself before turning on your heel, waving a small goodbye to your two good buddies. 

"She's in for a loooong night!" Angel giggled, causing Husk to flick his forehead as a warning to "Shut the fuck up."

You took a breath before carefully opening your shared bedroom door. "Darling?" You called out, descending further into the space as you scanned the room for your husband. You peacefully made steps toward your private bathroom, having heard the shower running from beyond the door. To your luck, the door was left unlocked, making it easy for you to slip inside. 

The bathroom was full of steam as your eyes trailed to the red tufts of hair reflecting through the clear glass shower door. Alastor heard you come in, but he still remained silent. Trying his best to cool off. He hated losing his composure more than anything. Carefully, you began ridding yourself of your garments, leaving your clothes in a pile beside Alastor's. You slid the glass door open, stepping into the shower with your husband. 

Alastor's ears were pinned against his head as he stood underneath the shower head, allowing the water to cascade down his face. His back was toward you. Your husband's hands were placed in front of him on the cold tiles. Keeping him stabilized. "Al, my love? Is it alright if I touch you?" You whispered softly from where you stood behind him. A moment passed before he nodded in agreement, still remaining silent. 

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around him. Allowing your hands to caress his midsection all the way up his chest. You rested your head in between his shoulder blades, pressing your chest flush against his back. Alastor let out a deep sigh, your touch bringing him much-needed comfort. "That impudent man.." Your husband muttered, ears twitching in annoyance as he did so. You rubbed circles into his chest, placing gentle kisses against his back. 

"He's a jerk, Al. I'm all yours, forever and always," Your lips curled into a smile toward the end of your sentence as you felt his tail wagging, brushing against your lower tummy. Your husband's shoulders eased up from your words. He let out a breath before turning on his heel. Alastor's hands immediately cupped your face, doubling over to capture your lips with his. Your eyes fluttered shut, hands rubbing your husband's sides lovingly as your mouths molded perfectly against one another. 

Your shared embrace lasted a few beats longer before your husband pulled back, half-lidded crimson eyes gazing down at you. "Indeedy, my doe. You're all mine! I suppose I'll have to make it evident to the short stack... and anyone else who dares to court you." His voice dipped low; as did his wandering hands. Alastor's pointed nails dug into the back of your thighs as he hoisted you up. On instinct, your legs wrapped around his slender waist. 

A pleasant gasp escaped you as you felt your husband's hard length brush against your core. Alastor let out a deep growl against the nape of your neck as he nipped at the sensitive flesh there. "Alastor..." You whined. Tipping your head back so your husband could have better access. A shiver ran down your spine when your back collided with the cool tile walls. Alastor bit a little too harshly between the juncture of your throat and shoulder. 

A bit of blood trickled down your collarbone, but your husband was quick to lap it up. A deep groan from him sent a rush of heat down to your core. "Divine, my little doe. Absolutely delectable," Alastor mumbled against your sternum before one of his hands slipped between your bodies. He rubbed the flushed tip of his cock between your folds, groaning at the feeling of your slick. "May I, my darling?" Alastor whispered, lips ghosting over yours as he waited patiently for your approval.

"Yes, please..." You sighed, burying your hands into his soaked two-toned locks. Your husband slowly pushed himself past the tight ring of your pussy. Capturing your lips at the same time, drinking up all of your moans as he stretched you open. Your eyes rolled back into your head when Alastor bottomed out inside you. Slowly, you caressed his sensitive ears. Pride pooled in your chest when your husband twitched wildly inside you from the gesture. 

Your lips pulled back from his when Alastor began thrusting into you. His movements were sharp but shallow, not wanting to pull back more than he had to from the warmth of your pussy. Your husband's head fell forward, forehead resting flush against your shoulder. Alastor groaned against your damp skin as your walls clenched tightly around his throbbing cock. All you could do was moan in pleasure as your husband fucked into you perfectly. 

"Mine, all mine..." Alastor huffed out before suckling at the base of your neck. You could feel your husband's knot begin to swell inside you as your own release approached rapidly. Apsentmindly, Alastor's thumb dipped between your bodies. He rubbed at your clit expertly as he jackhammered up into you. Your legs tightened around his waist as the coil within your tummy was only moments from snapping. "I'm yours, all yours..." 

Your words sent Alastor over the edge. He moaned loudly into your neck as his hips stilled, emptying his load deep inside you. The feeling of your husband cumming inside you was enough to trigger your own orgasm. Alastor hissed as he felt your pussy gush around his cock, squeezing him like a vise. After a few moments, you felt Alastor's knot begin to deflate. Allowing his now softening cock to slip out of your inviting heat. "You truly are just darling. How did I get so lucky?" Alastor chuckled as he lifted his head to gaze into your eyes. 

A bashful smile crossed your features as Alastor slowly lowered your thighs from off his waist. Being sure to hold your hips, stabilizing your trembling legs. "Oh, hush! I'm the lucky one." You giggled, untangling your hands from his hair. Allowing your palms to cup his face, pulling him down for a chaste kiss. Alastor kept his eyes open as you kissed, admiring your lovely visage. After a moment, you pulled back, nuzzling your nose into his. "Now, let's get washed up before heading back out there, yeah?" 

Alastor and you emerged from the room a little while later. Meeting up with the group from where they gathered in the foyer. Charlie cheerfully waved you and your husband over, and you didn't miss the way Lucifer scowled at Alastor. "We were wondering where you lovebirds wandered off to," Vaggie stated, scooting over on the couch to allow you both to sit. Swiftly, Alastor sat on the sofa before pulling you into his lap. A smile etched into your face as your husband's arms looped around your frame, large palms caressing the tops of your thighs. 

You heard Lucifer grumble under his breath from the public display of affection. Your friends, on the other hand, had their jaws on the floor. Alastor rarely showed his physical admiration toward you in front of them. So, to say they were shocked was an understatement. "Told ya they snuck away to fuck! Look at her neck, haha- Husk! You owe me that hundred bucks," Angel blurted out. Laughing his ass off. Heat rushed to your face from your friend's crass words. Alastor, on the other hand, glared at Lucifer. His smile stretched from ear to ear as the ruler of hell fumed. 

"Angel-! Husk-?! You made a bet on whether or not Alastor and I would... ah, you fuckers!" Embarrassment flooded your entire being, hands darting up to cover your face. Alastor let out a loud chuckle from your adorable reaction. "No, toots. We're not the fuckers! You're the one who got fucked, aha!" You quickly got up from your spot atop Alastor's lap, storming over to Angel. "Husk, you're next!" You shouted, chasing Angel around the lobby. "Leave me out of this! That dumbass wouldn't shut up until I accepted the bet." Husk grumbled, not entertaining the bullshit. 

All the while, Alastor was giving Lucifer a sharp look with that shit-eating grin still illuminating his features. "As you can see, there's no need for you to show my wife your little chum below the belt. My darling is more than satisfied in my care!"

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #alastor smut #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #alastor hazbin hotel

[bi-writes]

thinking about being the new addition to tf141. you are an asset given to laswell by the CIA, a timid little thing but your aim is always on target, and you are quiet, tech savvy, and you do as you're told. (18+, dark)

just how lieutenant riley prefers. he dwarfs you. the first time you meet, your eyes nearly come out of your head from how wide they go. he's so large, and you feel so tiny compared to him, and even though he does nothing but a disinterested once over, it is obvious to the rest of the team that you might just be his favorite.

it's most obvious in the subtle touches. when you're getting ready to jump, ghost comes up from behind and tugs on your parachute, nearly topping you over making sure it's secure. when you're getting ready in the back of the humvee, he reaches over and buckles your thigh holster for you when he notices the strap is coming loose. you nearly choke when you feel his big hand between your thighs, and you stare up at him with wide eyes when his pinkie moves up the seam of your zipper when he tugs his hand away.

and then the way he's on your six is unlike anything else. like glue, chest pressed to your back, his gloved hand squeezing your waist as he moves you every which way he pleases because you're so small to him, so easy, and he growls under his breath when he touches the curve of your hips or the fat of your ass.

maybe you might enjoy it if he wasn't so fucking awkward about it. if he didn't stare at you without blinking. if he didn't adjust his cock in his jeans right in front of you. if he didn't grip you by the back of your head, tugging you any way he wanted as if scolding a kitten using the scruff of their neck.

you think the team would notice by now--that they would step in, tell ghost to back off, but they turn a blind eye. they tolerate this behavior, and you don't know if it's because ghost is so good at his job, they don't want to, or that they are so afraid of him, they refuse to say anything.

or maybe they approve. maybe it keeps ghost at bay. maybe it keeps a lion in his den. a spider in its nest. maybe indulging ghost in his fucked form of flirting and socialization is what keeps the foundations of this team right where it needs to be--and you realize, slowly, that maybe that is why you're here.

because ghost likes them soft, and they need to put a muzzle on their dog.

so when you feel him in the dark, slipping a gloved hand under the blanket that keeps you warm at night, he is pleasantly surprised to find you awake. and even more surprised to feel your hand slipping the soft lace of your panties right into his fucking pocket.

"they teach y'that 'n basic training? how ta give y'r knickers to y'r lieutenant, eh?"

"no," you whisper, and when you meet his eyes in the dark, he looks so hungry. he's untamed, no training, he's used to getting what he wants with no resistance. you turn over in bed, and you don't get to see the way he sucks on his teeth when you let your knees fall, revealing the pretty place between your thighs, soft and puffy and wet, just waiting for a good mutt to eat her up. "but i learned other things."

"tha' right?"

"yeah," you say softly, and you turn over onto your stomach, pushing back onto your knees right in front of him. he bends, leaning over until he's pushing his masked face right into the seam of your cunt, and you grip the sheets tight when he inhales deeply, a rumble following as both of his hands grip either side of your ass and spread you open for him. you're drooling, wetting the nylon fabric, and you gasp when you feel the wet, warm muscle of his tongue suck on your folds through the mask. it's lewd, and you're wetting the material so much it sticks to the strong lines of his face, but he continues, tilting his head to the side as he laps at the pretty slick that dampens your thighs.

"what'd y'learn then, swee'eart?"

not how to fuck your lieutenant. but...you did learn to keep them happy.

"h-how to be a good girl."

and you think you feel him smile.

#mmmmm #i like them big and awkward and mean #and i like controlling big dogs with pussy 😃 #makes me feel powerful ok #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon thoughts #dark!simon

[perlelune]

NDA | Coriolanus Snow

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

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

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

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

She catches you trying to peek. Your heart jumps.

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

She puts her quill down and twines her fingers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re dismissed,” she says.

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

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

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

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

The sudden collision threatens your balance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A gentle smirk unfurls on his lips.

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

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

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

“Are you here for the nursemaid position?”

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

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

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

Flabbergasted, you blink up at President Snow. 

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

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

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

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

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

Words anxiously leave your lips in a tremulous string.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You close the cabinet and beam at him.

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

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

You brother shrugs, exuding nonchalance.

“It’s fine.”

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

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

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

“Stop it.”

You head back to the kitchen and fire the stove.

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

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

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

“Laertes…”

He shakes his head, his expression firm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did it go?”

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

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

Pursing his mouth, he looks down at his stew.

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

“Finish your plate before going to your room.”

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

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

“Yes. Very,” you cheerfully respond.

He gathers his books and strides towards his room. 

Your voice rises.

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

“I…love you too,” he mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You take a deep slow breath before reading it again. 

This time, a squeal escapes from your lips. 

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps there is light at the end of the tunnel.

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

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

A weary sigh ripples behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You approach the boy and crouch in front of him.

“Hi. You’re Martius, right?”

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

You turn to Pandora.

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

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

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

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

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

You rise on shaky feet. You forgot yourself.

“I-I understand. I’m sorry I asked.”

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

“What’s that?”

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

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

A frustrated exhale peals from her lips.

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

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

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

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

She was a fairytale princess come to life.

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

Until one day, Livia Cardew simply…vanished.

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

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

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

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

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

Pandora lets out a wry chuckle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And why is that?”

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

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

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

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

“You’re leaving again?”

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

You hunker down to his level.

“My little brother’s expecting me.”

His forehead puckers. “Stay…”

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

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

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

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

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

Laertes’ well-being matters more than your curiosity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart slams against your ribcage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

“Really, why?”

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

Befuddlement wrinkles your forehead. “Congratulate me?”

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

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

“I’m sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you settling in well?” he asks.

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

“I hear my son is very fond of you.”

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

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

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

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

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

Your head rises. “What’s strange?”

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

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

“No fiancé?”

“No, sir.”

“A lover then?”

Warmth rushes to your face.

“No…”

He laughs, mirth dancing in his cobalt orbs.

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

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

“But…”

Your mouth dries.

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

His eyes twinkle. “Or financial stability?”

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

“I know, I’m an idiot.”

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

He chuckles but it’s bereft of amusement. 

“Really? What happened then?”

His gaze locks with yours. 

“I grew up.”

Confused, you frown. 

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

Another laugh bursts from his chest.

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

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

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

“I…yes.”

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

He cocks his head, lips slanting crookedly.

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

“Y-Yes you are, sir.”

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

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

His warm breath ghosts over your earshell.

“Liar,” he mumbles.

Your pulse quickens.

He leans back and nudges your chin upward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, President Snow, s-stop…” 

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

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

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

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

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

“P-President…” 

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

Electricity ripples through your spine as you cry out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His teeth nip the skin of your neck.

“...But I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fall silent, your eyes rounding in shock.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not my mom.”

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

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

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

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

“Martius-”

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

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

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

“First Lady, I never meant-”

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

Your eyes shut as you wait for the inevitable strike.

You shiver, waiting still.

But it doesn’t come.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take her away,” Coriolanus instructs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is for the president,” you announce.

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

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

All of it feels wrong. 

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

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

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

Pandora purses her lips and shakes her head.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

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

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

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

You toss a questioning look at the driver.

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

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

Peacekeepers.

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

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

The peacekeepers toss you inside and slam the door shut.

Your fearful gaze rises to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir…”

His jaw ticks, his hold on your jaw tightening.

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

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

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

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

Chills dance over your spine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[empresskylo]

call of duty ೃ⁀➷ NSFW headcanons

↳ includes: ghost, price, soap, and alejandro.

⋆｡°✩ CONTENT WARNINGS | afab!reader, rough sex

cod masterlist | main masterlist

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓

Ghost

♡ ghost has a size kink for sure. loves being bigger/taller than you. loves towering over you. loves covering your whole body when he fucks you.

♡ he’s a growler (-: i mean, his voice is just really deep and that in combo with his accent causes him to make growling-esque noises in bed.

♡ but he was really quite quiet when you first fucked. he was used to having to be silent when he jerked off because teammates were always around somewhere. and so he didn’t even realize how quiet he was being until you said something. he was even a bit shy at first but once you showed him how much his sounds got you off, he was glad to oblige and let loose.

♡ he doesn’t like to “choke” you, but he likes to rest his hand around your neck in a firm hold allowing him to hold you steady so he can fuck you deeper.

♡ he’s rather simple. he likes a few basic positions. it gets the job done. he doesn't see the need for any wild or crazy positions when fucking you missionary, doggy style, or against a wall gets both of you off. he will do new stuff with you if you ask tho.

♡ really likes to praise you. he’s got a praise kink but only for being the praiser lol. he loves to tell you how good you feel, how pretty you look, how well you’re taking him. especially when you react to his words, fuck, he loves knowing he can do that to you.

♡ however, when you praise HIM, he gets all flustered and legit fucking blushes! my guy isn’t used to soft compliments, only ones about his combat skills. so when you say sweet things to him like how good he feels, how hot he looks, how turned on he makes you, how perfect he feels inside you, how badly you want him… he blushes. every. time.

♡ professional pussy eater. he very much enjoys going down on you, usually touching himself simultaneously. he’ll yank you to the end of the bed and wrap his arms around your thighs to hold you down. he likes when you ride his face too. he’s been known to get you off like that and make the two of you late. he moans a lot too when you ride his face. loves when you use him to get off and he can't help but moan at that.

♡ he has fucked you with the handle of his knife before and then made you lick it clean.

♡ gets a perverted sense of gratification when he sees you limping after fucking you senseless.

♡ has a breeding kink. he accidentally let it slip one day when he was fucking you, just about to come, when he moaned out in strained breaths “i need. to fucking. breed you.” (my brain: *414 error*) it doesn’t necessarily mean he wants kids, but he just loves the idea of getting you pregnant/coming inside you/breeding you.

♡ definitely a dom. but can be a sub when need be. he wasn’t sure about being submissive at first, but he’s learned to love it. he likes when you boss him around and tell him what you want. even likes it when you edge him and don’t let him finish, dragging it out painfully. but that’s only occasionally, he usually likes to be the one in control.

♡ comes the hardest when you tell him you love him as you're orgasming. he's a romantic at heart.

Price

♡ daddy kink.. i mean… com’on! he gets flustered as fuck when you call him that in public. usually, you’ll say it quietly or whisper it to him. it’s a rare sight to see Price so flustered. and he definitely punishes you when you get home. (that’s if you even make it home. as long as no one can see, he’ll fuck you anywhere)

♡ wants a video of you for when he’s away. you were shy at first so he just recorded your lower half while he was fucking you, the only thing visible was where your bodies were connecting. but he could hear all your moans in the video and that was plenty for him. he’s watched the video countless times.

♡ keeps a naughty polaroid of you in his wallet

♡ reallyyy likes to go down on you. he would spend the rest of his life between your thighs if he could.

♡ loves to tease you and make you beg. he’ll have you on your knees, begging him to fuck you. and of course that gives the cheeky bastard an aura of arrogance, but it’s hot on him so its ok.

♡ he specifically likes to tease you while you’re training together. watching the way you get flustered and try to ignore his innuendos and subtle hand movements on the more intimate parts of your body. then, when he has you alone, he’ll make it seem like you were the one causing all the distractions. he’ll stay fully clothed and strip you down, fingering you while you stifle your moans. “this why you were distracted today, love? thinkin’ bout my fingers inside of you?” (when, in fact, you were trying to train and he was the one being all cheeky)

♡ over the clothes... he is fond of letting you ride his thigh, both of you fully clothed (that, or you're in underwear and he's fully clothed). sometimes he'll fuck you with everything on, dry humping you so aggressively that you come harder than you ever have. my guy is good at what he does.

♡ quite intense and intimidating when having sex. he's demanding in a way that makes you nervous and embarrassed. always making you say things that make your face heat. "is this want you want, pretty girl? gonna have to say it. unless you want me to stop?" "tell me what you want, love. use your words." "you want me? where? gotta spell it out for me."

Soap

♡ doesn’t love the fact that you might get off to porn when he's not around, so he sends you audios of him jerking off, whining and moaning loudly for you. he gets so turned on when you tell him you got off to his video.

♡ likes to switch between being dominant and submissive. he’ll fuck you hard and fast, make you beg, tell you what to do, and edge you until you’re a crying mess. but he also likes it when you take control, riding him and stopping just as he’s about to finish, making him whine and whimper as you suck his dick, not letting him touch you as you tease him mercilessly, likes when you wrap your hand around his neck as you ride him.

♡ likes when you scratch him up. he wears all the marks you give him proudly and secretly likes being teased by the guys about it. he'll even tell you to be rougher on him. "bite down, love, I can take it."

♡ loves blowjobs. and loves finishing on your face with your tongue out. he finds it so hot when you lick your lips, his cum dripping down your chin.

♡ likes to be slow and gentle with you, dragging it out. he wants to take his time with you. and he'll do whatever you say or want. he's constantly making sure you're doing good or you like what he's doing. Sometimes you end up getting a bit frustrated, "yes, johnny, that feels fucking fantastic, now shut up and fuck me!" "yes, ma'am!"

♡ aftercare involves cleaning you up. taking a shower together. lame jokes. braiding your hair. giving you his sweatshirt to wear. and spooning you.

♡ almost came in his pants the first time he saw you in sexy lingerie that you bought just for his viewing pleasure.

♡ has a slight oral fixation and likes to keep his mouth busy the entire time. he's always kissing or nipping somewhere on you. he loves kissing your neck, jaw, chest, just anywhere really. he often groans into the kisses, making you swallow them.

Alejandro

♡ "if you're a good girl and don't come until i tell you, i'll make you come over and over again"

♡ for some reason, he likes to leave hickeys on your inner thighs, teasing you mercilessly as he kisses you everywhere below your hips except where you need him most.

♡ he lives for teasing. he wants you a withering mess before he even considers giving you what you need. will have you crying because of how bad you want him. those are his favorite tears from you.

♡ he will overstimulate the fuck outta you too. you come at least 3 times every time you fuck. and he'll threaten to keep going, your core throbbing in painful overstimulation, unless you do exactly as he says.

♡ leaves bruises and scratch marks all over you. but he also expects the same in return. both of you look like you got into a gnarly brawl every time you fuck. "jesus christ, were you two fucking in there or wrestling a wild bear?"

♡ he is amazing at aftercare, a big switch up from the dominant, rough sex. he'll clean you up while muttering little praises. he'll carry you to the bathroom, sometimes taking a warm bath with you and washing your hair. he'll get you situated into clean comfy clothes and curl you up into him in bed. whatever you need, he'll do.

♡ likes the thrill of getting caught. he doesn't actually want to get caught, but it's the rush of it all. he's down to fuck anywhere. he's sneaky too and can be really subtle about touching you under the table, or in a dark corner of the bar, or on the roof while you're on watch duty. but he definitely prefers when you can both let loose and be loud.

#ghost #simon riley #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod #cod headcanons #simon riley smut #ghost headcanon #ghost cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #fluff #angst #ghost angst #cod mw2 #smut #alejandro vargas #johnny mactavish #soap #soap cod #captain price #john price #alejandro varggas headcanon #captain price headcanons #soap headcanons