#and her being made to feel inferior | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tojirights · 4 months

Note

I absolutely love your Alastor smut! Is there anyway you can make one where your Vox’s ex and Alastor decided to somehow show off to Vox how much reader loves his c*ck more?? A special broadcast maybe?? Please keep up the great work!

a/n: i love vox but if there's one thing i love more, its making him feel inferior to alastor 😍 this is soo good. REQUESTS OPEN! 🩷

tags: 18+ smut nsfw!

vox thought alastor couldn't get any worse, there was nothing that shit-for-brains demon could do to enrage him more. that was until valentino told him that alastor had a new pretty little thing hanging on his arm. "he WHAT?!" vox's voice cracks from the sheer force he puts behind those words. valentino snickers, watching vox run to his security room.

and there you were, locked arms with that fucking deer demon, walking down the street. you looked absolutely enthralled with that fucker! "you've gotta be fucking kidding me..." he growls, static filling his vision. as if alastor can sense that they're being watched, he winks at the camera and pulls you down a more secluded path. vox puts his fist straight through the screen before pacing around the room. it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before his ears pick up that voice, that shitty radio voice.

"good evening viewers!" alastor begins, making vox's head spin around. the tvs were blank, just audio playing through them. he's about to smash the rest of them when something catches his attention. he swears he hears a familiar noise, your noises specifically. then he hears you panting, and blood rushes to his groin first and then his face. "thank you for tuning into a very special late night broadcast." alastor's voice sounds... breathier.

"what the fuck is-" vox mutters to himself before his eyes go wide. "o-oh god." you moan, sounding far too sexy. and enjoying yourself far too much. "yes alastor, fuck. that's so good." your whines play out, filling the room and vox is just about to lose it. "is alastor fucking your ex?" valentino leans against the doorframe, a smug look on his face. "you’re so tight, my dear. your cunt was made for my cock just as i was made for radio." he laughs to himself, his hands finding your hips as he fucks you over his desk.

this little plan of his was working just as intended. he asked, of course, if you'd be interested in ruffling your exes feathers a little bit and you agreed. this special broadcast was only being shown directly to vox through his security. not a single other soul would be able to hear you but vox. it sent a certain chill up your spine, knowing that he was definitely listening. every thrust of alastor's cock presses you harder into the desk, bruises sure to form later in the evening.

"that's kinda hot, yknow-" "SHUT UP VAL." vox feels as though he's about to implode, anger coursing through him in a way he's sure he's never felt. "i am going to finish him. both of them. they won't live this down."

valentino covers his mouth to stop from laughing. "it sounds like they're about to finish each other." and he was right. your breathy little moans are a dead giveaway. "please, please your cock feels so good. g-gonna cum." vox paces the room, plotting your downfall but his cock is hard as a fucking rock in his pants.

"such a good girl, you are. you sing so pretty my dear." alastor grunts, pressing the head of his cock up against your cervix before he feels you clamp down around him. with every pulse of youe orgasm, alastor follows. "cum alastor, p-please fill my pussy." you gasp, riding out wave after wave of deep pleasure. vox should turn this off, he should walk away but he can't make his feet move.

and after alastor finishes deep inside of you, filling you to the point of it leaking down his cock, he lets out an almost sinister chuckle. "thank you my loyal viewers for tuning in for this one of a kind show! we hope you thoroughly enjoyed."

the room is silent after the broadcast ends. that is, until velvette clears her throat. "was that alastor fucking your bitch?" she raises a brow, a slow smirk spreading over her lips when she sees vox's face.

"no one talk to me. i have business to attend to." and with that, vox disappears, leaving valentino and velvette to themselves.

"bold move, i gotta hand it to him."

#hazbin hotel smut #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor smut #alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox

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euphemiaamillais · 4 months

Text

innocent - coriolanus snow

you never would’ve thought you’d end the night with a peacekeeper in your bed…

cw: 18+//loss of virginity//piv sex//handjobs//fingering

an: this gif is him above me 🤭🤭

perhaps it had been a bad idea to wear such a short skirt to the hob that evening. you’d caught the eye of many men as you swayed to the tunes of the covey; cheap moonshine in hand. you noticed one in particular—the one with those piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde buzzcut—was watching you intently.

you couldn’t help but blush, cheeks dancing with the warmth of being seen, chest filling with that sticky feeling. you’d felt it before, but the smiles of those other men had never amounted to anything more than a lingering kiss or two. your heart stirred when he came up to you, and you realised he was a peacekeeper. you knew better than to get entangled with one, or so you thought.

it was hard to resist one so charming and attractive.

'i saw you looking at me,' he remarked, drawing his arms around your waist.

you could barely meet his gaze, embarrassed by the way his cool touch sent a shiver down your spine and made your thighs tingle with want.

'shy are we, bunny?' he asked, removing one hand to cup your chin, drawing it up to meet his icy blue eyes.

you shook your head, but your eyes told the truth; fluttering about the room, trying to look anywhere but him. you wondered if anybody could see you—it would've been shameful to be caught so close with a peacekeeper. but nobody seemed to be paying you any heed, and so your pounding heart ceased its nervous palpitations.

‘how about a dance?’ he laced his fingers in your hand, moving it up so it rested against his shoulder.

you were acutely aware of the other hand which rested at your waist, and you couldn’t exactly say no when he had already moulded you into the perfect stance. the band began to play a slow song, and the blush stained your cheeks once again. he laughed, an almost mirthful laugh—although, coriolanus snow was never somebody to really, truly laugh—not that you knew that.

‘are you going to tell me your name, officer?’ you drawled, deciding that there was no harm in flirting. he was so handsome after all; and it would be rude not to talk to him.

‘it’s private, actually,’ he admitted bashfully, as if he was ashamed of his inferiority. but next to you, he felt powerful. you were just a district girl, and much smaller than his six foot frame. he could do anything he wanted to you.

‘well private, you ought to have a name,’ you began. ‘and it’s awful rude to not introduce yourself to a lady.’

you were teasing him; he wondered how many men you’d used that line on, but when he looked at the way you were bright red, and how your knees buckled a little, even as you attempted to maintain your composure, he reckoned it couldn’t have been many.

‘it’s private snow,’ he told you curtly.

you smiled; a pretty name. much different to the names here in 12, though you reckoned a peacekeeper was probably from one of the other, wealthier districts. not that you knew much about those.

‘well, private snow,’ your voice had a sweet twang to it, and he found himself thinking of another girl he knew, once, with that same appalachian drawl. he had come here to find her, and yet had no luck.

but you weren’t so bad—no, you were even prettier, and probably didn’t have a man like billy taupe clinging onto your skirts. he wondered if you had ever even kissed a man before. you had the sweetest looking lips, so plump, and a little wet with the moonshine you’d been sipping.

‘how are you liking district 12?’ you continued, brows quirking up with interest.

‘it’s alright. commander hoff works us to the bone but i suppose that’s the price you pay for 20 years,’ he huffed. his eyes looked a little distance—sad, perhaps. you wondered if he’d had much choice in the matter. still, even if he hadn’t, you did have to admit he would probably look good in his peacekeeper uniform.

‘20 years?’ your mouth stretched into a circle of surprise. ‘my, that’s terribly brave.’

his own cheeks reddened a little, though he quickly swallowed that feeling. he couldn’t blush, that was pathetic. that was something his fellow peacekeeper sejanus plinth did. no, a woman like you wasn’t to be caught by a blushing man. he needed to show you what it meant to be had by a peacekeeper—not the ambitious schoolboy in academy rouge that he’d left as soon as he’d set foot in 12.

‘i suppose so…’ his voice trailed off.

‘how do you keep yourself entertained, private snow?’ you asked as you swayed a little to one of the songs the covey was playing.

his mind flickered to what he’d been planning on doing to you—he’d not touched a woman in weeks, and at night he often found his body receptive to any and all thoughts. tonight, he had the chance to actually satisfy that ache that had been bottled up for weeks. he wondered if you’d feel better than that girl he did in the alley—at least his mind was clear tonight.

‘oh, dancing with pretty girls like you is one way of staving off boredom, bunny,’ he pressed a kiss to your hand, watching as your lips puckered into a bashful smile.

how innocent. he’d love to ruin you. he wondered what noises you’d make with his cock buried deep inside of you. you were probably tight as anything, just begging to be filled up with his cock.

‘well, if you think i’m pretty then i suppose i’ll have to thank you,’ you gazed up through your thick lashes, fluttering them ever-so-slightly.

his cock stirred in his pants—you were so fucking tempting. the way you were just begging to be fucked. he cocked a brow, curious as to what your intentions were.

‘what kind of thanks, bunny?’ he asked, breath fanning your ear.

‘well…’ feeling daring, you stroked at his chest, feeling the taut muscles underneath his shirt. you noticed the dog tag dangling, and a smirk played at his lips.

‘how about a kiss?’ you offered. oh, you were so innocent.

he nodded, and you felt your heart flutter. you worried he’d think you were being too forward, what, with you offering so quickly. but he was just so handsome. you wondered what his lips would feel like against yours.

perhaps you wouldn’t have to wait so long to find out…

you dragged him to a more secluded place, feeling a little too embarrassed about kissing him in the throng of people. he wondered, as you led him down the corridor of the hob, just how much you’d be thanking him. maybe you’d let him touch you a little, hands straying to cup your breasts, and then perhaps caress your hips. one thing would lead to another… and sweet virgins like you were easily persuaded.

coriolanus was swift with his kiss, leaning into you as you were pressed against the wall. you kissed back, soft at first, but when you felt his tongue pressing against your lips, you opened your mouth and surrendered.

he wrapped his hands around your waist, palming at the skin beneath your shirt. a heat crept upon your cheeks as his lips kissed yours with a hunger. pressed up against you, his cock twitched a little in his pants. he had to have you, you were practically begging for it in a skirt that short.

‘you taste so sweet, bunny,’ he mused as you pulled away from him. he wondered what you’d taste like in other places, whether your cunt had the same sweetness of your mouth.

you wanted more—your cunt ached, an unfamiliar feeling, but nontheless you knew you needed to be satisfied.

coriolanus could see this, the way you clenched your thighs together, and how your heart thumped inside your chest. he’d felt it when he’d been flush against you.

‘you wanna thank me some more?’ he inquired, blonde brow cocked.

you bit your lip, but you knew you couldn’t deny the rush inside your body, the way you were growing increasingly wet between your thighs. the ache that nagged at you, yearning to be satisfied.

‘mhm,’ you nodded dumbly, feeling his hands grab at your thighs.

‘you live alone?’ he asked, desire glinting in his eyes.

you shook your head, and a frown scampered upon his lips.

‘well, my pa’s not home til late, if you wanna come over…’ you drew a heavy breath, nerves making your knees buckle.

his frown turned to a smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. how endearing, the way you called your father pa. you were so beneath him, and he was determined to teach you that you belonged to him, the poor little district girl who’d been snapped up in the peacekeeper’s trap.

—

your house wasn’t far from the hob. coriolanus was glad of this, his cock was straining so hard in his trousers—he worried he wouldn’t be able to control himself, and finishing without even having touched you. well, that would just be a waste; embarrassing even.

you fumbled with the keys, and he felt a smile scamper upon his lips as he watched you, so afraid, his poor little bunny, struggling to open the door. when you finally slotted the key in the lock, coriolanus’ arms were wrapped around your waist, fingers tracing lightly across your skin.

‘you know bunny, you really should be careful around strange men,’ he murmured against your ear. you were acutely aware of what was pressing against your bottom.

‘but you’re not strange… you’re a peacekeeper,’ you hummed, moving your legs over the threshold. he still clung to you, breath heavy, hands roaming.

you had to get inside before anyone saw, and god forbid, alerted your pa. there was something deliciously thrilling about having a man inside of your home—you wondered if it made you a whore, inviting him inside and only having known him an hour. but you knew many girls who did that, and at least you weren’t taking money for it.

‘mhm, but men like me… well, they just can’t resist taking what’s theirs,’ he pinched you, watching you gasp at the stinging feeling of your delicate skin between his fingers. you looked so sweet when you squirmed.

‘well maybe i want you to take what’s yours,’ you looked up at him with wide eyes, fingers lacing against each other as you swung about.

you looked like a little lamb, so sweet and innocent. he wanted to take you between his jaw and make you bleed.

‘is that so, bunny?’ he asked, and you nodded dumbly.

you trailed along to your room, not desperate enough to let him have you against a wall, glancing back at him every so often and watching as his eyes followed you. you shoved the door open, and switched on the little lamp by your bedside table.

your room was bare, for the most part, but coriolanus felt it suited you, the cream bedsheets and the old floral wallpaper. it was so innocent. he wondered if you’d stain those sheets tonight as he stretched you out. he’d want to keep them, as a reminder of what he’d taken from you.

you sat down on the bed, and he followed suit, still reminded of his achingly hard cock. you couldn’t keep your eyes off the bulge in his trousers; it was of a considerable size, and made you gnaw at your lip in anticipation.

‘i want to help you,’ you said, mouth going dry at the sight of him.

‘help me, bunny?’ he inquired. your words were a little cryptic, but he could tell that your eyes were clearly focused on his achingly hard cock.

‘mhm, you’re so hard,’ you murmured. although you were innocent, you’d read enough romance novels to figure out what he needed.

‘you can certainly help me,’ he grabbed your hand and guided it to his clothed hard-on.

you palmed it lightly, gasping as you felt it. he watched as your mouth spread into an exclamation of delight, lips flickering a little. you were so innocent, the way you were gentle in your touches, how you sighed with amazement.

he groaned at the touch, but moved your hand away to free his cock from the restraints of his pants and boxers. your mouth hung agape as he pulled them down to his knees and you were presented with his hard cock. he was big, not that you’d really seen a cock before, but it had to be at least eight inches, and it was throbbing desperately against his stomach.

coriolanus guided your hand back, and wrapped it around the base. you could feel the blood coursing through it, and saw a little bit of precum dribbling from the tip.

‘just move your hand up and down, princess,’ he cooed, and you stroked him, sweaty palms not causing as much friction as he expected.

you moved your hand to the tip, and he urged you to give it a squeeze, groaning as you did so. you felt so good, the way you were thumbing his dripping head, stroking so diligently. but he wanted more, he needed to feel you.

your thighs burned as you continued to stroke him, and you watched as he bucked his hips a little at your touch. you fastened the pace, not too quick, but just enough that his breaths grew haggard. it didn’t seem so intimidating now that you were doing it, and his moans suggested you were doing a good job.

but still, your own body was aching with need, and you found yourself grinding into the bed. coriolanus saw this, the way you were practically squirming, and moved one of his own hands to grip at your thigh.

‘does bunny want me to touch her too?’ he said between breaths.

you nodded lazily, hand still pumping his cock. he was close already, the feeling of your hand too much, and the anticipation of finally burying himself deep inside of you was sending him over the edge.

coriolanus’ fingers traced lightly up your thigh, and when he reached your skirt, he pushed past the hem and slipped between the apex of your thighs. you spread them, and gasped as you felt his fingers brush against the wet patch of your panties.

‘oh bunny, you’re so wet,’ he sighed, his cock throbbing. he was so close…

you mewled as he removed your panties, fingers gently prying them off of you and leaving them to hang at your ankles. you kicked them off, but were left sighing as he ceased his touch for a moment.

his cock twitched in your grip, and he let out a loud, rough groan, spurts of cum coming from the tip of his cock. you blushed, watching as he came onto your hand, and his stomach. he’d have to wash his uniform tonight, because it was stained with the pearly ropes.

sweat beaded at his forehead, but he didn’t let the waves of his own pleasure distract from what he wanted most, which was to feel you. you spread your legs, and he sighed at the sight of your glistening cunt.

he ran one finger over your folds, and you clutched at the bedsheets, attempting to ignore how sensitive you already were. his thumb pressed against your clit, and you couldn’t stifle your moan this time, a feeling of warmth shooting across your body. you wanted more, and ground into the feeling of his thumb running circles against the sensitive spot.

‘so wet for me, aren’t you?’ he muttered, his long fingers edging further down your folds.

‘feels so… good,’ you huffed, eyes fluttering shut with bliss. of course you were already lingering on the edge of your own pleasure—he doubted you’d ever even touched yourself before.

he eased a finger into your hole; feeling your slick walls take it in, but only barely. you were so fucking tight, and he watched as you winced a little at the feeling. it only hurt for a second, but you were so wet that you were longing for more.

‘oh please,’ you gasped, feeling him arch his finger while his thumb began to vary its ministrations against your clit.

‘gonna cum for me, bunny?’ he cooed, moving his thumb up and down, watching as your thighs began to tremble.

the heat was unbearable now, and when he added another finger, stretching you out, you felt your whole body begin to tingle with the beginning of your release.

‘mhm!’ you cried out, exasperated from his touch.

you gushed around his fingers, though he continued to rub his thumb against your clit, and arch his fingers inside of you, mesmerised by the wetness coating them. your breath hitched, and you came completely undone, burning and trembling as he made you cum.

he felt his cock harden again at the sight of you coming around his fingers, and as he removed them from your hole, he decided he couldn’t wait any longer.

coriolanus pushed you back into the bed, cock pressing against your thighs. your head swam with the excess of your desire, but you surrendered yourself to him, longing to feel him buried deep inside of you.

he guided just the tip towards your hole, and ran it teasingly through the soaking folds of your cunt. you mewled, and clutched at his back in an attempt to get him to push into you. deciding he was greedy, he pressed the tip into you, and you let out a shocked groan.

it hurt—he was big, but you hadn’t expected it to make you tingle so much. you bit back a few tears, and let him put the rest of the tip in. you were so tight, he couldn’t believe it. if you’d felt tight around his fingers, this was a whole new sensation. you were clenching around his cock, and he had barely so much as the head of it inside you.

‘too big,’ you gasped, feeling him ease his cock further in. it stung a little, the stretch slightly unpleasant. but you wanted him so bad. ‘it hurts!’

‘poor bunny,’ he mused, stroking your cheek. ‘you gotta learn to take it, like a good girl. i know you want it, bunny.’

you did, you wanted it so bad. even though it hurt, you felt your stomach knot tightly as it did when he’d rubbed your clit. he began to buck his hips, grunting at the tightness of your cunt. your walls stretched around his big cock, taking him in as best they could, slick with want and need.

‘fuck, you’re so fucking tight,’ he groaned as thrust inside of you.

more tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks. he watched as you tried to fight off the feelings of pain, surrendering yourself to the pleasant feeling of fullness and his throbbing cock inside of you. he wanted nothing more than to pound into you, make you scream his name as he filled you up, but you were too delicate. he’d have to wait until you were ready, and you were special, anyways. a pretty doll just for him.

‘oh,’ you gasped as he fucked himself deeper, reaching a new angle inside of you.

the sound of your slick mingling with the slapping of his balls echoed against the walls of your room, and you clutched at his back. your desire began to brim again, edging its way up your thighs and deep into the pit of your stomach. coriolanus could hardly contain himself, you fit around him so perfectly, slick walls coating his cock as he thrust in and out.

‘fuck bunny, i don’t know how much more i can take,’ he admitted haggardly. he attempted to control his urges, but you were just so tight. what was stopping him from coming in you right then and there?

‘need you,’ you mumbled as he rutted against your hips, thrusts growing more desperate.

he moved one hand down to rub at your overstimulated clit, fingers deftly helping to unfurl the ache inside of you. you sputtered at the sensation, head spinning as he fucked you into the mattress.

he was so close, the clenching of your walls sending the blood straight to his head. he let out a final grunt, and slowed his thrusts, and felt himself come undone. he ground his cock into you, letting the thick spurts of his cum coat your walls. he came a lot, more than he’d ever done before, balls draining with what felt like every last drop.

he still continued to fuck up into you, wanting you to finish around him before he pulled out. your legs began to tremble, the feeling of his cum too much to handle, and you let out a sweet cry.

‘so good,’ you pressed your lips together, coming undone around his dock.

coriolanus pulled out, cock coated in a milky ring of your spend, his tip still red and angry from use. your body tingled, and you felt his cum trickling down between your legs. he couldn’t believe how pretty you looked, all fucked out for him, drunk on his cock.

he’d turned such a pretty innocent thing into a stupid whore, who could barely form a sentence without sighing from the excess of her pleasure.

he wondered how long he’d have to wait to go another round, and whether or not you’d let him. but you’d been so good to him that night, doing exactly what he told you and coming for him not once, but twice.

‘such a good girl for me, bunny,’ he mused, stroking your thigh. ‘and so innocent.’

2K notes · View notes

ericityyy · 6 months

Note

Hello dear, i dont know if your tired of young sheldon requests but if you are im so sorry, i promise that for future requests it will be another fandom. But i was just thinking about georgie with a female reader where she is very protective over missy and makes sure she is not forgotten or less than sheldon, which george finds very cute.

Thank you so much

𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘈 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥.

𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚: 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘎𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 600

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

“Y/N, do you think I can join the baseball team?” Missy asked with an insecure look on her face. She’s been meaning to join the baseball team for some time and was about to talk to her father about this, but then she decided to consult Y/N first.

Y/N stopped putting nail polish on the younger girl’s feet to look at her. Missy, although she may always seem fierce, doesn’t change the fact that she’s still a little girl who sometimes doesn't get that much attention from her parents. The attention most of the time is to scold her.

Don’t get Y/N wrong; Mary and George are great parents, but a lot of the time, they don’t have much trust in Missy and Georgie, and for good reasons too since most of the time, the two of them have been troublemakers. However, that doesn't change the fact that they feel inferior to Sheldon due to how their parents treat him. It has always been Sheldon who gets most of the attention.

“I think if that coach won’t let you in the team, I’ll go there myself and give him a piece of my mind.” Y/N finished polishing Missy’s nails, looking proud as ever seeing the girl’s beaming smile. “You are great with the sport, and if he can’t see that, then that old guy must be having some sight problems.”

Missy teared up at her words. She has always treated Y/N like a sister, even before Georgie and she started dating. Y/N always had Missy’s back, when Mary praised Sheldon or when George made comments about Georgie and Missy being less than Sheldon.

Missy doesn’t have a team. Not until Y/N came.

“You always are so kind to me.” Missy sniffled, causing Y/N to coo at her, bringing the crying girl into her arms. “Thank you for being here with me when I need you. You’re my team.”

Y/N pulled away from the hug to wipe the girl’s tears away, giving her a warm smile. She then stood up and grabbed a baseball bat before throwing the ball softly at Missy’s bed. “How about you and I play some ball before you go to your tryouts?”

The two girls didn’t notice that Georgie was at the doorway, leaning, "Well, aren’t you two sweet?”

Missy and Y/N turned at Georgie, the former standing up from her bed and grabbing the ball before running outside her room shouting, “Come on, Y/N!”

Y/N laughed at the girl’s enthusiasm, then turned to her boyfriend, who was smiling at her, and asked, “What is it?”

Georgie shook his head, standing up straight and walking toward the girl, who had a baseball bat on her shoulder and a hand on her waist. Georgie, at this point, decided that he was deeply in love with her. “Nothing.” He put his hands on her waist. “I just love how you’re always there for my sister; you have always protected her, and I love you for it.”

The boy kissed his girl’s cheek, noticing the slight pink hue appearing on her skin as he smirked playfully. He still has that effect on her.

“Well, what can I say? I’m the big sister she never had. I am what you call a sister by heart.” Y/N proudly, albeit teasingly, put a hand over her chest where her heart is, closing her eyes with a smile on her face. Georgie rolled his eyes, despite the chuckle that left his lips.

"Yes, you are, darling. Yes, you are.”

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

hi, i’m sorry this is short but i can’t really think of anything else. but i hope you like this though :>

i’m also fine with the georgie requests!! but yeah i do wish i get to write other fandoms though… it’s okay though!! i enjoy writing georgie cooper imagines!!

#x reader #georgie cooper x reader #young sheldon #georgie cooper #georgie #imagines #imagine #georgie cooper imagine #fluff imagine #fluff #missy cooper #missy #platonic #romantic

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amerasdreams · 2 years

Text

If the closest Tasha can get to Jason is getting close to his torturer, she'll take it.

Yet, still be unsettled by it, while clinging to a previously dormant self-destructive streak in the wake of the secondhand trauma of seeing Jason hurt and the intense longing for him she tries to suppress.... mixed up with maternal feeling to help someone wounded-- Gray-- while also focusing on the eminent professionalism of being his handler... which of necessity has gotten mixed up with personal things-- along with a sort of drive to not just help him but make him better--

It's complex. She doesn't know what to do with all these feelings bombarding her.

Made all the more intense by having to be in a strict closed cell comprised of just her and Gray.... where they must rely on each other in the face of extreme risk.

#writing #generation fanfic #adventures in odyssey #tasha forbes #gray #i. maybe need to write it #to grasp what shes feeling fully #him as well #how close do they get? in what way?#spies #weapons trafficking #sel destructive streak - from her straight laced upbringing in military family #loves being in control yet.#needs to break free sometimes #and a sort of reaction against perfectionism #with some guilt and inferiority #some made worse after Robert #abusive relationship #and more so after Iran #with her denial of what happened manifesting in risky behavior #dangerously close to alcoholism #and always always missing her father #the personal things-- had to tell personal details to draw him out #to get him to do his job #also the messed up situation messes w her mind #while gray.... is in limbo #trying to get back his agent identity #which... how much of it is returning to cold hardness #while.. having to rely on someone else...#is connection always weakness??

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anakirui · 2 months

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i think we need to talk about this unit thematically

i know it's "haha april fool's day, they're stuck in a futuristic city and rui wants to study the silly sekai aliens" but like... hear me out

im pretty sure these 4 were picked because they all have one major thing in common— the fact that they were failed by society.

kaito v1 was a commercial failure on release, to the point where other vocal synth companies looked at his low sales and consequently made less male vocal synths— leading to the large gender gap in vocal synths that we still have today (although its less than what it was ~5 yrs ago imo). i think clpl actually considered this when picking kaito for this unit solely because it's vbs kaito— the kaito that most strongly resembles old fanon kaito in how he can easily be described as a carefree dumbass that loves icecream.

rui was ostracized his whole life for being "dangerous" with his shows by his classmates, as well as being isolated because of how he was "different" from the other kids (implied neurodivergent). this lead to rui struggling with depression as well as a myriad of other issues (such as his abandonment issues) later on.

akito was ALSO ostracized for being too serious about his passions and having a "bad attitude", which lead to him developing an inferiority complex as well as leading to him essentially being overly polite to strangers because of his past trauma where he was publicly humiliated, had his reputation ruined, and brought disgrace to a place he loved just for accidentally spilling water on someone 💀 (find a way out is so real) ((also i choose to see akito as neurodivergent mainly because of how his behavior is framed idk i feel like him being overly polite is him masking, esp. when u compare his behavior between different people.. recent example: how he acts around rui vs how he acts around mafuyu for example)) (((also, he's rui's narrative foil, so it just makes a lot of sense???)))

and then there's haruka, who was so close to being the "perfect" idol but couldn't because of her trauma from hurting mai— she was unable to meet the expectations of being an idol under the pressure of probably not only her managers but also the large fanbase she always wanted to give hope to

#project sekai #colorful stage #prsk #rui kamishiro #akito shinonome #haruka kiritani #kaito #未来都市であっちこっちチーム #mirai toshi de acchi kocchi #april fools units #prsk analysis #project sekai analysis #i mean i guess this is an analysis???#i could say a lot more though i just tried keeping it simple #(ignoring my tangent on akito)#i can also talk about the other units too but i feel like this is the one i have the most solid idea on...

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shanieveh · 11 months

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HAUNTED BY THE GHOST OF YOU *ੈ✩‧₊˚

no matter what he does, he can never deny that you were the greatest love of his life

KAMISATO AYATO who scarcely shows real emotion, who puts on a facade of masks and fake gestures was now charming his new bride to gain her favour. He can describe his new bride with just one word. Perfect. Unlike you, who messily eats the sweets that he stole from the tea house, or laughs crazily when you tease him so. The life he now lives was one from paintings and models, standards and perfection. But it was all fake, a charade, and only in the nights in the place where you said your goodbye, can the cowardly man finally put off his mask and reveal what he truly was. A lie.

SCARAMOUCHE who did everything to have a heart, even if it meant to discard you, to never see you ever again. And now he did, but the feeling of emptiness had never been so obvious. He was now a God, just what he wanted, but he no longer can be with you even if that's what he needed. To be with a person that actually cared, that never abandoned him. Not when he was the one who left, and he always denied that he was the reason why you're gone. That you were the reason his heart now restored, had never felt this empty. But deep down he knew, that a life with you was better than this.

KAEYA who spends all his time in the tavern, doing everything to erase the pain, to escape reality. His once carefree and seemingly sly like nature was now reduced to tatters who hoped that everything that has happened was only a dream. You didn't leave him, but you did. Who wouldn't leave a loser, a coward and inferior to his brother? He couldn't even face his past nor future, he couldn't even be the man you deserve. It was so clear as to why you left, but you never knew how he would risk all for you. His identity, his titles, his very life. You didn't know how he will leave it all behind, just to see your smile again. Just for you to break his heart again.

DILUC was someone that everybody knew, and everybody was scared of.. But when you gave him that look of fear, that look of judgment, he can't help but be jealous of the ordinary townsfolk that just run up to you and be with you. But sometimes he believed it was right to scare you off. To make you think that he didn't love you. At the very least you won't be tied into the danger that comes with being with him. Even if every corner of his mansion was filled with your memories, he will survive this pain. The pain of seeing you so happy with another man, and the consequence of knowing that the both of you can never be together.

KAVEH who made you his muse. His very existence was dedicated for you. His dreams, his passions, his love it was all for you. And now he orders two ice creams, remembering how you weren't there to eat the other once. Making a portrait for the wedding you both will never have. Maybe just like last time, it was all his fault. Maybe his fate lies in always being alone, in being a failure to everyone he loves. To always say the wrong words, and doing the wrong things. And he will act like nothing happened, that nothing bad was there. Because he doesn't deserve to grieve when it is his own undoing.

ALHAITHAM believed that dreams are never real, that they are just a gist of imagination by childish youngsters. But being with you finally made him realize the beauty of it all, and losing you made him see how it can make him crazy. Seeing you there, but never touch nor feel. Loving you from afar, but never up close or near. He stands as a lone man, that had his life all planned out, who knows what he wants to do and don't. But he never planned to love you, but he did, he never planned to lose you. Easy they come, easy they go a wise man said but never added how hard it is to let go.

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flor4de4amor · 27 days

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aviator!abby you say…👀

i did say aviator!abby… screamed it from the rooftops even 🤭 she stays heavvyyy on my mind.

click for palestine!

read before engaging with my works and acc

warnings: slight nsfw/smut at the end.

aviator!abby who has a deep-rooted one-sided rivalry w ellie, who literallyyyyy just wants to be her friend. she comes home and grumbles in your arms about her. "she's just so annoying baby!" she whines for the hundredth time about her coworker.

aviator!abby who's a dog person, but puts up with your evil cat just cause she loves you.

aviator!abby who can do more pushups than anyone on her squad. three fingers. two fingers. one finger even. she’s got them outranked without a doubt.

aviator!abby who always comes home exhausted. heart heavy, hands dirty, boots half unlaced by the time she’s in the door. she's eager to lay in bed with you.

you greet her at the door. she always kisses your temple first, slides to your warm cheeks, and kisses you softly on the lips. you know she’s had a long day.

“cooked your favorite,” you muse softly against the side of her mouth.

“how do you know me so well mrs.anderson?” she grins, dominant hand coming up to the nape of your neck.

you shrug, giggling against her chest, “years of practice maybe.”

“yeah, my baby’s the real mvp.” she smiles into another kiss.

aviator!abby who always has her hair in the most ridiculously tight braids and buns. she’s quite creative with her hair, and is always eager to try a new style on you for practice. but, her craft works against her towards the end of a long shift. deep migraine settling in her skull, and she knows it’s not gonna feel better until she’s sprawled in your lap while you undo her hair. your fingertips scratching at her scalp while she sighs and mewls at your lighthearted touch.

aviator!abby who’s totally obsessed with you. she's has got pictures of you in: her wallet, dashboard, phone case, on her locker mirror, even has her phone wallpaper. she’s got your kiss print on her helmet. made sure it stuck with some clear tape and lots of loving.

aviator!abby who’s somewhat quiet, but incredibly cocky. forget cocky, she’s so competitive. a calm game of monopoly between the two of you turns into to her cackling as she bulldozes you into debt. you roll your eyes at her antics cause it’s literally just monopoly, with her wife, but she treats it like war.

aviator!abby who loves taking care of her little wife. goes absolutely out of her way to make your life easier. problem with the car? actually, the oil hadn’t been changed in like forever and a half. don’t worry though, abby’s fixed it! you want a new dresser built? abby’s done it in half an hour. she made sure you timed her for proof. someone’s giving you a hard time? yeah, don’t let abs find out she’s gonna rip them a fucking new one. you call her an american bully like the dog breed, for how she’s always by your side. going out of her way to be overprotective.

aviator!abby who’s insecure. she’s in a male dominated field, constantly undervalued, and disregarded. she’s built up a thick layer of protection and ego to protect herself. she spends all day being: mean captain abigail anderson who chews out her inferiors and can kill with looks alone. but when she comes home, all the sudden it’s like a flip switch. it’s “pretty abby,” “baby,” “darling don’t trip on the cat toys on the stairs!” “come to bed i’m tired,” abby.

aviator!abby who likes being in control during sex. she likes how each action pulls out a very needy reaction from you. if she pulls on your nipples with her calloused finger pads, you’ll whine and arch your back into her chest, as her bicep curls around your waist. if she presses kisses into your neck, and sucks on the skin leaving bruises, she knows it’ll make you cry her name. your nails finding their way to her shoulder blades while she tortures your neck, littering it with love marks. abby knows, that if she hits that sweet spot deep in you w her strap, you almost always cum. sweet cream coating the silicone right around the base, abby can’t help but lick her lips as she pulls out of you, eliciting a string of cursed complaints. she’d suck the member off to taste you herself. but it’s more exciting to pull you to your knees and tap your eager tongue with her tip, groaning as you swallow yourself. not because it feels good, but god you’re so pretty.

aviator!abby who loves praise so bad. she gets so wet when you call her pretty. she’ll rut against your palm as you whisper in her ear. telling her that she’s your only girl. that you want her. no, you need her. she melts at the way you kiss her biceps, bite her bottom lip gently, and look up at her with big doe eyes when you eat her out. she tries extra hard to be gentle with you. you’re her princess, she doesn’t wanna hurt you. but she can’t help herself when her hips rut into your tongue and her hands come to grip the base of your neck and the roots of your hair roughly. but she can’t help and darkly chuckle as you moan into her mound at the action. “my baby’s a dirty girl huh?” when you don’t reply she tugs your hair again, smirking as you lick feverishly at her clit. she removes her hand from the back of your neck and taps her pointer and middle finger against your cheek, “don’t you remember the rules babe? speak when spoken to. thought you were a good girl?” when you attempt to pull off her, she clicks her tongue snd uses her hold on your hair to keep you in place. “god you’re so bratty today.” she smiles to herself.

sigh, aviator!abby please i need you. need you so so so so bad.

im so stuck on what her callsign would be, what do yall think?

divider by: @ohdearlucifer

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nvirskies · 4 months

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til death do us part, and then some - c. la rue

warnings: reader suicide, angst hurt/no comfort, ruegard, asshole clarisse, descriptions of blood, infidelity, broken promises, not beta read

summary: clarisse never comes back from a quest and you take matters into your own hands to reunite.

unclaimed!fem!demigod!reader x unfaithful!clarisse la rue

word count: 2.1k

taglist: @lvrue @star-girl69 @petitegavotte @b0ok-lover @azrielsdiary

PROCEED WITH CAUTION, READ AT OWN RISK

men, nsfw, non-sapphic, 16-/19+ dni

Lord Dionysus, Chiron, or whomever may be reading this:

In the event that someone has been unfortunate enough to find this note upon my death, do not fret. This has been a decision I had been mulling over for weeks, months, if not years now. I do not know when I will feel compelled to take this step further, so this has been written entirely in advance. Know that I will be content with my life in the Fields of Asphodel, or the Gardens of Elysium should Lord Hades be so generous as to grant me that privilege.

I would like to thank everyone who did their best in making Camp Half-Blood a welcoming and home space. Special thanks to the Hermes cabin, and Lord Hermes for their gracious welcoming arms and making me feel like I belonged somewhere. My belongings should be distributed amongst whomever would like to keep them, and make sure they are put to good use.

Return any and all of Clarisse’s clothing found in my chest back to the Ares cabin, and let them figure out what to do with it on their own time. Lord Ares, I give my final thanks to you for graciously allowing your daughter to have been part of my life.

To my fellow unclaimed demigods who are wondering if they should be mourning the loss of a sibling, I have no definitive answer for you beyond if you felt like you were close enough to call me a sibling, mourn me like you would a biological one. No matter if you are claimed tomorrow or never claimed at all, know you are not unworthy or inferior simply because of your divine parent’s lack of attention.

You may be half-divine, but always remember to keep that human spark within you alive. Keep your compassion, your empathy, your sense of understanding. This world is not made for us, but never give up on creating spaces that are. We live heavy lives, and respite is hard to come by.

When you bury my body, put me to rest with my javelin, suit of armor, and the fragments of Clarisse’s shattered spear. Under my tongue, please place two coins instead of one. My love is waiting for me on the banks of the River Styx with no way across, and I would like to provide her with a way across alongside me.

Underneath the last paragraph was your name, signed in neat print alongside your signature swooping cursive. The letter was found rolled neatly atop your chest of belongings, your lifeless body on the bunk bed you had claimed for yourself for the past four years of your life. Crimson blood seeped through the bed sheets and mattress, a fatal reminder for all of the fragility that even the strongest harbored.

Upon the discovery of your body, ripples of whispers swept through the campers like a stone tossed in the midst of a serene waterfront. Your skin was just barely lukewarm, the blood streaming from the thin cut horizontal across the jugular vein was beginning to brown and oxidize.

In one hand was the knife that had presumably made the cut, the blade pristine and glinting in the dim light save for the thin line of blood that ran across its edge. The other held Clarisse’s favorite shirt, all bundled up and cleaner than anyone had ever seen it before. Anyone who picked up said shirt could immediately tell that it had been doused in the cologne that she once wore on a daily basis, no doubt a purposeful move to make your last moments completely blissful in surrounding yourself with her scent.

She had been your home, after all.

Clarisse had comforted you through nightmares, the breakdowns about being unclaimed for years that happened whenever someone new was claimed and the jealousy and anger of it all.

She had reassured you that even after Silena had died that you weren’t a rebound, and that her feelings for you were genuine, and you had believed her.

You were her girl, after all. The one she let her walls down around, the one who had tried to patch together the spear her father had given her even after the Hephaestus children had given up. The one who she let braid her hair and be soft around. The one where she had promised over and over again that even in the afterlife, you would find each other in Elysium again.

Then, she had been sent out on a quest. One that she had vowed to return from, safe and sound. The rest of her group did, but her face was never again seen on the hills of Camp Half-Blood that the two of you called home.

Gone were the moments wherein she would hold you and soothe all of your worries away. Gone were the times of squealing as she picked you up from behind and spun you around to face her mid-air. Gone were all the possibilities to make the most of your limited years together, because she was dead, off in a faraway land that you couldn’t even visit to see her corpse and offer her one last smile.

That was when the thoughts began to swirl in your mind. Months went by and everything seemed to go back to normal. You had been given three weeks off training to mourn, and after those three weeks you seemingly bounced back like nothing was wrong, like you hadn’t just lost the love of your life.

The only difference was the streak of white that made itself apparent in your hair, its origins unknown, and the smile on your face that never seemed to quite reach your eyes no matter how many times you tried to convince (yourself) and the others that it was genuine.

Months passed and all fell back into its routine. Things were looking up for the camp as a whole, and Chiron had been able to take a few steps back in managing thanks to Percy Jackson’s continued efforts to have gods and goddesses interact with their children more.

But those thoughts still took root in your mind, their tendrils digging into the very essence of your psyche as every lonely moment was spent longing for her touch, for her warmth, for the security that she provided once upon a time. In your mind, there was no doubt that it was time to make good on your promise to each other.

You would meet her in the gardens of Elysium and reunite once more.

After your burial, you made your way down to the banks of the River Styx, anxiously clutching the two coins in one hand and your javelin in the other. Your eyes scanned the crowds of souls, all clamoring to Charon, pleading that he take pity on them and take them across without payment.

The wails of the damned, sobs of the innocent, and screams of the guilty all flooded your senses.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar mess of brown curls and sprinted towards them, your footsteps leaving indents on the ash-sand lining the waterline of the Styx.

She was there. Your assumptions had been correct.

As she had died out in the world and had never been given a proper burial, she had joined the crowd that lingered just at the edge of the Styx, taking every chance she had to try and get across.

But now that you were there, she didn’t have to worry about sneaking aboard Charon’s boat. You had enough payment for the both of you to make it across safely, and finally live out the rest of your afterlives like you had promised each other.

It wasn’t until you were naught but a couple dozen feet away that you noticed she was rather busy with something. Or rather, someone. And she was looking at that person like they were the only one in the world right now. Your gut twisted, knowing that was the look that she had given you.

But it wasn’t you she was looking at. It was Silena Beauregard, the daughter of Aphrodite, that Clarisse had spent countless hours reassuring you that she wasn’t just using you as a rebound to get over her death.

She had lied right through her teeth, all with the kindest smile on her face that you could imagine. It was becoming apparent that you were a fool, strung along for the sole purpose of keeping Clarisse’s arms full and warm while she thought of the Beauregard girl.

Every kiss, every moment, every word shared between you two seemed hollow now. They had lost all meaning, all of the sentiment that once made your stomach fill with butterflies.

You skidded to a stop just behind the pair, watching with a heavy heart and tightening in your chest as their lips collided over and over again in a series of passionate kisses, their hands roaming each others’ bodies. Just like she had done with you, countless times prior. They were too wrapped up in each other to notice your presence.

You had always been hers, but she had never been yours.

There wasn’t much emotion left in you besides melancholic resignation, and your gut twisted every time you gripped the two coins in your hand, a reminder that they would never be used for their intended purpose.

You waited there for a moment before tapping on Clarisse’s shoulder, causing her to break away from the kiss and turn to look at you. Surprise filled her features, then guilt. Overwhelming guilt as she realized the situation you had caught her in. Her lips were interlocked with another girl’s just a moment ago, the very same girl that she had reassured was not a problem or factor in your relationship.

Silena stood behind her, her eyes scrutinizing your appearance, taking note of the way you clutched two coins instead of the customary one.

“Love-? What are you doing here?” Clarisse asked, the term of endearment slipping naturally off her tongue as it had countless times in the past. But it no longer held any meaning to you, not when you had just witnessed everything before your very own eyes. You didn’t respond beyond throwing the two coins down at her feet with a knowing look, a silent callback to the promise that the two of you had made. The coins clinked softly as they fell onto the fine ash that lines the shores of the River Styx, falling on top of each other.

Horror filled her features as she realized just exactly what you were doing down in the Underworld, and her eyes fell upon the thin scar that ran just along the jugular vein on your neck.

The one spot she had taught you to go for on an opponent if anything ever threatened your life, and you had used it on yourself to have a chance at forever with her. A chance that had been wasted.

“You- you didn’t-” she began, choking on her own words as tears filled her eyes at the thought of it, and the sight of you, now in front of her, very obviously dead.

“It was for you, ‘Risse, but it seems I really was just a rebound after all.” You spat out, a dangerously bitter edge to your voice as you looked her up and down.

“These,” you gestured to the coins on the ground, “were supposed to be for us, for the promise you made. But I guess I was the one foolish enough to listen to you, to fall for you in the first place.”

“Enjoy your time in Elysium, La Rue, and know that you were the cause of my death. Don’t forget. On the River Styx.”

That last statement was the final nail in her metaphorical coffin. No one made a promise on the infamous river and broke it, not without terrible consequences. Any and all chances of her getting into the paradisal side of the Underworld were dashed in mere moments as the realization dawned on her about the gravity of her mistake.

You bent down and picked up one of the coins on the ground and left without a word, turning on your heel and disappearing back into the crowd of souls before Clarisse could utter another word.

You had left her with two choices by giving her that one coin: to take the coin for herself and cross with Charon with hopes of trying to win you back and leaving the Aphrodite girl in the dust, or giving it to Silena and letting her go because she was clearly the girl the daughter of Ares loved most. Either way, she lost something.

Her last name was right. You rued the day you ever met Clarisse.

#🖋️ nvir writes #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x fem reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x fem!reader #clarisse la rue pjo #ruegard #silena beauregard #angst #hurt/no comfort #wlw #sapphic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians

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etfrin · 5 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter six | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | mentions of death, Coriolanus, Dr. Gaul, some parts of this chapter are directly taken from the original book!

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Arachnes' funeral, Coriolanus and you bonding on the rooftop <3

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 hello! Chapter six!! This was finished quickly because some of the paragraphs and quotes are directly from the books and we're finally peeling the layers that reader has, how we feeling about that?

Beta read by the SUN @nowitsmissing

series masterlist | navigation

It was time for Arachnes' funeral. Although it was Saturday, the entire student body reported to homeroom before they assembled on the front steps of the Academy, divided neatly and alphabetically by class. By his assignment, Coriolanus and you found themselves in the front row with faculty and distinguished guests, first and foremost President Ravinstill.

The Academy and the surrounding buildings were festooned with funereal banners and sported Capitol flags in every window. Numerous cameras were positioned to record the event, and multiple Capitol TV reporters streamed live commentary. Coriolanus thought it was quite a display for Arachne, disproportionate to both her life and death, the latter of which could have been avoided if she’d refrained from being such an exhibitionist.

Both Coriolanus and you were wearing black suits with a symbol of Panem embroidered on the suit pocket. Coriolanus was made to sing in front of everyone. It was thanks to his grandma’am and her rules that he sailed through all the notes with a breeze. He received applause from the crowd and an approving nod from the president. He sat down again beside you.

Neither of you had spoken to each other other than the greetings. He hated to admit it but it made him jumpy. He wanted to hear you say something, anything, especially with the fact you had the upper hand with Dr. Gaul with the act you have planned for the funeral. It was impressive despite the initial horror he felt reading it. It was a strategy that would work perfectly with the times.

Now it was time for the show.

The president, who now took the podium, began, “Two days ago, Arachne Crane’s young and precious life was ended, and so we mourn another victim of the criminal rebellion that yet besieges us,” the president intoned. “Her death was as valiant as any on the battlefield, her loss more profound as we claim to be at peace. But no peace will exist while this disease eats away at all that is good and noble in our country. Today we honor her sacrifice with a reminder that while evil exists, it does not prevail. And once again, we bear witness as our great Capitol brings justice to Panem.”

The drums began a slow, deep boom, and the crowd turned as the funeral procession rounded a corner onto the street. Although not as wide as the Corso, Scholars Road easily held the honor guard of Peacekeepers, standing shoulder to shoulder, twenty wide and forty deep, that stepped in flawless uniformity to the rhythm of the drums.

Behind the Peacekeepers came a long flatbed truck with a crane affixed to it. High in the air, the bullet-ridden body of the District 10 girl, Brandy, dangled from its hook. Shackled to the truck bed, looking utterly filthy and defeated, were the remaining twenty-three tributes. The length of their restraints made it impossible to stand, so they either crouched or sat on the bare metal floor. This was just another chance to remind the districts that they were inferior and that there would be repercussions for their resistance.

Another battalion of Peacekeepers followed the tributes, paving the way for a quartet of horses. They were decked in garlands and pulled an ornate wagon with a pure white coffin draped in flowers. Behind the coffin came the Cranes, riding in a horse-drawn chariot. At least her family had the decency to look uncomfortable. The procession halted when the coffin drew up in front of the podium.

Dr. Gaul, who’d been sitting next to the president, approached the mic. Coriolanus thought it was a mistake to let her speak at such a moment, but she must have left the crazy lady and her pink snake bracelets at home because she spoke with a stern and intelligent clarity. “Arachne Crane, we, your fellow citizens of Panem, vow that your death will not be in vain. When one of ours is hit, we hit back twice as hard. The Hunger Games will go forward, with more energy and commitment than ever before, as we add your name to the long list of the innocent who died defending a righteous and just land. Your friends, family, and fellow citizens salute you and dedicate the Tenth Hunger Games to your memory.”

He hated how impressed he was about the fact all of this was your idea. How much he felt proud of you that you managed to spin this around for the Capitols' benefit. He turned to you, on the tip of his tongue a congratulations resting but you were looking down on the ground as if trying to keep yourself from getting sick. Coriolanus found himself shockingly concerned.

“Are you okay?” He whispered.

“As good as I can be,” you seem to choke out before getting out of your seat and leaving the funeral early. Coriolanus looks around and realizes he won't be missed if he leaves either so he follows you inside the academy. You move around the hall without knowing he is trailing you. And then both of you soon reach the roof, forbidden but who cares? He doubted Dean Highbottom could give him any sort of punishment during a funeral, it wouldn't look good.

“What's wrong?” He asked, worried. His face was etched in a frown. What was there to be sad about? You made it pretty clear that you weren't mourning Arachne Cranes’ death. Was it something else?

“I didn't think she would do it,” you said, turning around to face him. Your eyes filled with tears. “It was a joke. A cruel joke of turning her into the rotten spectacle she always was. I didn't think- think-”

You were so contradicting. It was confusing to him. “But you said everything you wrote was for Panem,” he said, his confusion sweeping in his voice and his eyes.

You scoffed, “Would you rather have me admit it was because I wanted to be a bitch? Because… that was me being dramatic, I didn't expect it to be reality. It was disgusting. It was cruel. It came from my head.”

A sob escapes your lips and it makes Coriolanus frown harder, feeling irritated by you. He clenched his jaw before calming himself down. He walked towards you, standing right near you.

He said, “Real or not?” Because you were a performer, in a different way from Lucy Gray but a performer nonetheless. He needed to know if this was fake or not.

You furrow your eyebrows before realizing his question. You wiped away the tears that fell, trying to stop yourself from grinning. You failed, an amused snort leaving your lips.

“Not,” you answered, truthfully. “Let's just say I was practicing for the after-party.”

Coriolanus nodded, despite his mind being overwhelmed. Was it bad that he thought it was hot how easily you switched faces? And he loved how he could now see through your sweet persona and the real you, his soulmate. He couldn't blame you for being like a snake as he one himself, but he was stunned at how you had fooled him for the past eight years as well.

“Perhaps I should too,” he replied, now with a smile.

“Was that obvious?” You pouted, “I thought my acting had gotten better.”

Coriolanus chuckled, “Oh no. It was impeccable. But you said you were a performer after all. That's how I figured it out.”

You nod in reply. A comfortable silence falls as both of you look all over the Capitol. The sun was shining brightly over the roof and Coriolanus could feel the heat. He took his suit.

“I am glad,” you begin to speak, taking Coriolanus' attention away from the sky. “That you know when I am acting… it makes me feel better that at least you get a show. That you now know… when I am performing or not.”

Coriolanus Snow doesn't know how to reply to that, especially with how his heart skipped a beat from your words.

You grin at him, your shoulder nudging his shoulder. “I am glad to somewhat call you my first real friend, Coriolanus.”

“Why did you come to the roof?” He asked, instead, changing the topic. Too much was changing for him, too soon. He was your friend now? What a… He liked it. He lets himself admit that he liked being your first friend. You were different from your district blood, and you were better than most Academy students too.

“I needed a time out,” you said, “I can't believe they called Arachne a hero” You rolled your eyes, “If she's a hero, Dr. Gaul is a saint and Dean Highbottom is not high.”

He lets out a laugh at your words. “Maybe her gravestone could read, ‘Casualty of cheap laughs.’”

You laugh out loud too, and he wanted to bottle the sound, hide it from the world. Because who else was deserving of your laughter if not him?

“Come on,” he said, his hand holding your arm before it slid down to hold your hand. He barely hides the pathetic sound that escaped when you interlocked his fingers with yours. Both of you acknowledge something to each other.

“We need to head to the interview soon.”

NEXT PART

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justabrunettewhowrites-stuff · 4 months

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'Angel'

Clarisse La Rue x Blind!Fem!Reader hc's

A/N:Requested by one of my friends and I absolutely LOVE the idea. If anyone made this before,credits to them.But anyways-let's start 💞

I feel like Clarisse would be all protective, guiding you through camp with this intense but sweet determination. "Watch out, coming through!" she'd say,and deff push others out of the way.

AHAHSHDH, she deff calls you 'angel','pretty girl' or some other cheesy name.

Clarisse, being a daughter of Ares, LOVES sparring and training, so she'd be so patient, helping you hone your combat skills. "Come on,pretty girl, show me what you got!" But she'd obviously still let you win because she doesn't want you to feel inferior.

Okay so I feel like she would surprise you with little tactile gifts,like a leather bracelet with engraved coordinates of memorable places in camp. "Feel it, angel,that's where we first met."

When someone underestimates you,Clarisse gets all protective and fierce. "You seriously think she can't handle herself?Just watch."

JSKDJD, imagine Clarisse guiding you through a crowd,subtly intimidating anyone who comes too close."Back off!She's with me."

She's not the most vocal about feelings, but she shows her love through actions, like always making sure you have a comfortable seat at the campfire. "Here, angel, sit next to me."

I feel like she would teach you the camp layout, describing everything vividly so you can navigate confidently-and easily. "Remember, pretty girl,the Armory is to your left, and the Arena is just ahead."

Clarisse LOVES when you ask questions about the camp scenery. "What does the sunset look like?" she'd describe it in vivid detail, making you feel the moment.

She's not one for cheesy romance, but I feel like Clarisse secretly enjoys stargazing with you, describing constellations in her own tough-girl way. "That's the Ares constellation, obviously."

Honestly she probably would surprise you with practical gifts too, like a custom-made dagger with a grip designed for your comfort. "Thought you might need your own weapon,pretty girl."

Clarisse would be fiercely loyal,always making sure you feel included in camp activities. "We're doing Capture the Flag tonight,angel.You're on my team."

I feel like she would have a soft spot for animals, especially guide dogs. "Even the hellhounds know better than to mess with angel's dog."

Clarisse might not say "I love you" outright, but she shows it in the little things, like brushing her girlfriend's hair gently. "You know,pretty girl, you've got the softest hair."

I feel like she would constantly reassure you that you're just as strong and capable as anyone else "Blindness ain't a setback,it's just a different way of navigating through the world."

I know Clarisse would be fiercely protective. No monster would dare mess with you, or they'd have to deal with the wrath of a daughter of Ares.

And during capture the flag,she'd go full on rage mode protecting you.That girl would go one woman army on the other campers.

A/N:That's all! Also good morning because I just woke up 🫶

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lovelytsunoda · 7 months

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954 // logan sargeant

summary: florida man fucks shy college girl. or, back home in fort lauderdale y/n’s welcome home party is sabotaged by her race winner brother, and it gives her a bit of a complex. at least her brothers best friend is there to make her feel better about it.

pairing: logan sargeant x female kirkwood! reader

warnings: straight up smut, kyle kirkwood is a lot to handle in large doses (but we love him anyways), feelings of anxiety, minor sibling rivalry, body image issues. i am going to hell, littered with spelling mistakes because of how fast I was typing and pure laziness to go back and fix it

author's note: 954 is the area code for fort lauderdale. and technically kyle kirkwood lives in jupiter, but for the sake of the story let's pretend he's also from lauderdale.

she sat at the edge of the pier, jeans rolled up past her shins as she started off into the horizon, watching the sun dip below the ocean line.

“it’s your party, what are you doing out here alone?”

she rolled her eyes, pulling her feet out of the water before following the voice. “why do you think? kyle hijacked it. I’m back home for less than a day and he’s already stealing the spotlight again.”

that was the way it always went in the kirkwood household: y/n came home from school, and everything was great, and then kyle waltzes in and suddenly everything is about him again.

logan shook his head, settling onto the pier next to her, a gentle hand resting on her thigh. she shrugged it off, anxiously twisting one of the rings on her hand.

“you know he doesn’t do it on purpose, right?” logan soothed “he loves you, and he hates that you feel like this.”

“i know. the inferiority complex is all me.”

“it’s not a complex, and your feelings are valid.”

she shook her head. “everyone tells me i shouldn’t have quit karting. even when it made me hate myself.”

she sighed, laying down on the pier, worn wood scratching at her skin, but not splintering against her baby pink tank top. “what am I doing with my life, logan?”

“hey, look at me.” logan encouraged, fingertips against her chin to angle her face towards him. “you are doing great things. deans list every semester, you’re a great artist and I’d be shocked if firms weren’t lining up to hire you as a litigator.”

“you’re just saying that.” she refused to meet his eyes. logan was kyles best friend, for god sakes. she’d crumble under his stare, his touch.

“but I’m not.” logan insisted, gripping her face now, making her look at him. she needed to know how wonderful she was, and he was going to be the one to tel her. “you are smart and funny and all kinds of wonderful, kirkwood. any guy would be lucky to have you, and anyone else should consider themselves blessed to have you as a friend.”

“you really mean that?”

“why would I lie to you, y/n?”

she barely had time to respond before logans lips were on hers. she was hesitant at first, unsure if logan really knew what he was doing. unsure if he was really kissing her because he wanted to or because he pitied her.

the intrusive thoughts didn’t stay long, however, as she snapped to attention and moved her lips against his, wrapping her body around his.

“jesus.” logan breathed. “those jeans make your ass look incredible. well, your ass always looks incredible, but these jeans are really doing it for me.”

she laughed at how red logan's face was, a shade that looked more salmon under the sunset. the pier was digging into her skin, and she was starting to get uncomfortable, logan's lips along her neck not quite enough to distract from the discomfort of what she was sure would become a splinter if their activities were not relocated.

somehow they made it to her bedroom without being discovered by the partygoers, much less kyle. the fairy lights tacked to her dusty pink walls were the only light in the room as logan backed her up against her bookshelf, securely caging her body against his.

she felt safe in logan's arms. protected.

"i've been crazy about you for years now." logan growled in between kisses. "every night i came over to watch panthers games with your brother, and you were there in those tight little jean shorts, laughing and giggling with your friends. or when i'd stay the night and you'd walk past his bedroom door to get to the bathroom in the middle of the night, your skimpy silk top falling down your shoulder just enough to give me a taste of your gorgeous body. do you know how many times i've jerked off to the thought of you in kyle's bathroom? you're stunning, y/n. don't let anybody tell you otherwise."

her mind was reeling, and she couldn't find the proper words as she tugged at the collar of logan's button down shirt, pressing her lips back to his. logan sargeant was interested in her.

logan saw her for her, not just as kyle kirkwood's baby sister.

clothes were shed, buttons ripped off shirts. her head was spinning, elated and giddy and she couldn't find the words to tell logan how incredible she felt as his large hands squeezed her breasts over the mesh padding of her bralette.

she gasped, logan taking that chance to slip his tongue into her mouth, his fingers grappling for the clasp on her bra.

all at once, reality came crashing back down on her. she pulled away, hands flying up to cover her exposed breasts as the pale fabric tumbled to the hardwood floor.

she wouldn't meet logan's eyes, scared to know what he thought of her naked body. scared to see him stare at her and not know what he was thinking.

his eyes softened, the lust drawing back as concern seeped in to his irises. "y/n, pretty girl, you don't need to hide yourself around me. who made you think that you weren't sexy as all hell? i never want you feel like you have to be shy around me."

he gently gripped her arms, guiding her towards the wall length mirror hanging on the back of the ensuite door. logan stood behind her, lifting her chin so that she would meet his eyes in the mirror. placing his hands over hers, he gently pulled her palms off her breasts, exposing her bare torso to the soft lighting in the room.

"look at you beautiful you are, y/n. i'm serious."

"you're just saying that so you can get your dick wet." even as she said it, she knew it didn't sound like she meant it.

but even still, staring at herself in the mirror, all she could focus on was the way that she looked: the stretch marks on her breasts, the smattering of freckles up her arms (or were they moles, like the two on her back?).

"what will it take to show you how sexy you are, y/n?" logan rasped, undoing the button on her jeans. "should i make you watch yourself as i touch you?"

"yeah." her voice was shaky. "i think you should show me how sexy i am. clearly, i need reminding." where was this sudden boldness coming from?

"that;s my sexy, shy girl." logan cooed, tugging her jeans down her legs, kissing over her ass and down her leg before coming back up, eyes hungry at the sight of the young woman in front of him, panties hiked high on her hips and fairly see through as he slipped a hand over teh fabric and between her legs, teasing at the dampness beginning to form.

she gasped as logan slicked up his fingers, slipping them inside of her in one swift movement, working around the fabric of her cheeky panties. she was breathing hard, biting her bottom lip as she took in the sight in the mirror: logan's fingers flexing in and out of her, arousal running over his pale skin, his face contorted in concentration as he growled down her ear, telling her how tight she felt, and how good she was for him.

her own skin was rosy and flushed, a sheen of sweat beginning ro form as she felt her body heating up. there was something sinful about watching herself in the mirror, finally allowing herself to let loose a moan.

"that's my girl. don't get shy on me now, i want to know that you feel as good as i do." logan groaned, sucking on her neck. "touch me, baby. i know you want to. feel how fucking hard i am for you."

she loosened her grip on logan's wrist, internally grinning at the nail marks that she left behind in his skin before slipping an arm behind her, cupping his bulge in her hand.

she was floored. she knew logan was big (she could always see the outline in his swim shorts, forcing herself to stop staring before he noticed) but knowing that she had this effect on him?

it was a powerful thing.

"jesus, logan." she whined. "i need it inside of me."

logan's eyes sparkled. "what do you need inside of you, sweetheart? i need you to say it for me." he started pumping his fingers faster, his other hand moving to fondle her left breast, tweaking the rosy bud of her nipple between his fingers.

she sighed heavily, feeling her legs turn mushy as she leaned back against logan. "need your cock." she mumbled, unsure if she could speak any louder.

"what was that, darling? don't be shy now, i can't give you what you need if you don't tell me, love."

fuck you, she thought, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. she was clenching around his fingers now, unsure of hoe much longer she'd be able to last. but she needed him inside of her, felt like she might die if he wasn't.

"your cock!" she shouted. "please, logan, i need your big cock inside me, please, god, i need it."

why did she say that? she should never have said that. it made her sound desperate. but in a way, she was desperate, wasn't she?

logans fingers stopped their ministrations, pulling out of her and taking a trail of her juices with them. she thought her eyes were going to roll back in her head before logan laid her down on her queen bed, her hair fanning out behind her as he started to undo his jeans, resort shirt still hanging off his frame, face flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat as he licked her arousal off his fingers.

"do you have condoms, kirkwood? because i really don't want to have to go digging for them in kyle's room."

"please don't talk about my brother when i want you to fuck my brains out."

logan smirked. "not so shy now, are we, my sexy girl."

"shut up! go the ensuite, top vanity drawer on the left. you literally cannot miss the box."

she could have laughed, lying back on the bed and kicking off her panties as logan ran, half naked and dropping his resort shirt behind him, to the ensuite.

he stumbled back, tripping over discarded clothes and the fluffy carpet, triumphantly holding the box above his head.

"the whole box? how much do you think you're getting tonight, sarge?"

logan raised an eyebrow. "call me that, and i'm going to make you forget how shy you are and have you scream my name all night long."

#logan sargeant x reader #formula one x reader #f1 smut #f1 x reader #logan sargeant #f1 imagine #logan sargeant smut

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