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daenysthedreamersblog · 3 months

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ONLY ANGEL

she's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see

when it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets

and there's nothing she can do about it

summary: you've been 'betrothed' to felix ravinstill since before he could remember, and as that official engagement day draws closer coriolanus is tired of pretending you don't belong to him

parings: academy!coriolanus snow x academy!reader

warnings: MDNI! swearing, mild violence, infidelity, smut, thigh riding, fingering, oral sex, p in v sex, lil exhibitionist kink, mild daddy kink, breeding kink, discussion of murder, reader is a huge slut for coryo, coryo is also a slut for reader, idk probs some more that i forgot

notes: this one was fun :) hope u enjoy!!!

Felix Ravinstill was his natural born enemy. He remembers deciding it when he was younger watching your small hand hold Felix's even though neither of you knew what it meant, he remembers it settling into his bones that very first day at the Academy when Felix had his arm around your waist and you had turned to look at Coriolanus, a small smile on your lips, a cherry sucker in your teeth as you spoke with the voice of a candy coated temptress, "Hi Coryo."

He hated Felix Ravinstill for having you, always had, always will. Today, he especially hated him. It was an ordinary day, most of the students crammed in the academy library to work on their most recent assignments. That's why he was there, stack of books next to him, mindlessly staring at a blank sheet of paper. He could hear the rest of his table too loudly to focus, hear as Festus made some crude joke, listen to how Arachne told him off, as Felix's hand was making its way over to you.

You.

Sweet, pretty thing you. He didn't understand what you saw in Felix enough to let him touch you, nor anyone at that table. But that was the only reason he truly hung around that crowd of elite children, so he could slither in closer to you.

You.

With your cherry sucker rolling between your lips, Felix's hand around the back of your chair as you leaned back the top buttons of your uniform shirt undone, sweat glistening slightly along your chest. It was a hotter fall day, the AC not working in the library, but he didn't mind, not with how revealed it made you. He glanced down, his pants uncomfortably tight as he imagined what your sweat would taste like. He sighed readjusting himself glancing up to see you looking at him. Felix was looking down at a book Festus was showing him as Arachne scribbled something down on a sheet of paper.

You pushed it into your cheek, tongue peeking out at the movement, your fingers dancing on the edge of the white stick. His eyes darkened as the wicked smile played on your lips, he knew you did things like this on purpose; sweetest torture one could bear. He palmed his hard cock, eyes quivering with the little bit of relief it gave him and all he wanted was it to be your hand rubbing him. He wanted to drag you by your hair and slam you on this very table in front of everyone and shove his co-!

"Coriolanus." Arachne Crane drawled .

He blinked up at her, the whole table now looking at him. "Yes?"

"Are you coming to the orientation event tonight?"

The event. The first event of the school year where the Academy stuffed all its students in a room to kick off the start of the year. "Of course." He nodded. "I have to give a speech for the underclassmen." And there would be food, and probably you.

His eyes met yours for a moment as your cheeks sucked in to roll the sucker back the other way. "Always the overachiever Coriolanus." Felix joked his fingers toying with the collar of your shirt and he fought the urge to snap his wrist.

He watched as you popped the sucker out of your mouth, lips a shade redder from it, and he knew if he licked into your mouth he would taste the cherry.

Felix Ravinstill's days were limited.

He knew it would go well, his speech, it was never what he was worried about, he was top of the class for a reason, he knew most of the students didn't care for being spoken to, but he knew once he saw you it would be over for him. He knew you were out there somewhere, maybe listening to him, maybe with your stupid boyfriend's hand around your waist.

And you were, staring him down while your lips wrapped around a strawberry.

He hid his throbbing erection behind the podium.

He wanted to wrangle your neck sometimes, wanted to curse the blood pounding in his cock as he watched you drop the fruit carcass onto your plate and lick your lips. He cleared his throat, his skin too hot, trying to avoid looking to see you pick up another one.

The words felt useless and he forced himself through it letting your eyes bore into his, letting himself press his cock against the podium just to ease the pressure.

You picked up another, taking another bite a little bit of juice sliding down your chin and he fought the urge to run off this stage and lick it off, to suck your chewed up fruit into his mouth. You took your hand, wiping it off your jaw, and sucked it off your own fingers.

He wondered how your mouth would feel around his cock, how warm and soft your tongue would be against him. He wanted to fuck his cock deep down your throat until you gagged, drowning in his cum.

He cut his speech short, getting to the point to get off the stage. He busied himself with food to avoid thinking of you even though that was impossible. He would stay for an hour, eat, drink a glass of posca, and then head home before he shoved a plastic knife into Felix's throat.

You all knew each other, grown up together, and it was always set in stone that you would marry Felix. It was something older families had set up before either of you could talk. You two were always together after that, and he kept you on his arm like a pretty accessory. Coriolanus figured you probably felt indifferent about the whole thing, he had never been able to really ask you about it, and you never gave him straightforward answers if you didn't want to.

He turned finally seeing you across the room. It was cruel of you really to wear a skirt that short in front of him and have Felix's greasy fingers pawing you. A skirt he wished he could push up and bend you over in front of your stupid boyfriend. You would let him too, he knew you would, it's what bothered him the most.

Your eyes met his and held them as you took a sip from your glass eyes burning into his over the rim. You turned, whispering something to Felix, motioning to your cup, and peeling off of him walking straight for Coriolanus.

"Hi Coryo." You smiled brushing past him to where all the food was being kept along the table setting your half eaten fruit down. He loved the way you said his name, how it rolled off your tongue like golden honey.

"Hey." He sipped on his drink.

You refilled your cup, "Your speech was nice."

"Not too boring?" He joked as your body turned to face his.

You smirked against the rim. "I don't think your boring." Your lips were still red from the strawberry and Coriolanus wanted to taste that sweetness, you're so close he can smell it off of you. He clenched his fist instead. "You're the most interesting man I know."

Man. You had said man as if your loser boyfriend wasn't 20 feet away no doubt watching this whole encounter. Coryo leaned down a little closer, "I don't think Felix would like to hear you say that."

You fucking shrugged, "Then he won't." You turned your hair brushing his chest at the movement. "Bye Coryo."

This was the game the two of you played, you would make your eyes, say little comments, accident brush into him, and then you were gone leaving him achingly hard.

You were walking away hip swaying as you walked. You were trouble.

You were his trouble.

Sweet, irresistible you who was forced to leave ten minutes later by your boyfriend leaving Coriolanus to steal your plate of half eat fruit simply to taste your leftover spit and take a long walk home alone to go over what needed to be done.

"Trouble in paradise it seems." Clemensia slid down into the seat across from Coriolanus motioning to you and Felix, upset expression's on both of your faces. "Daddy must have picked out the wrong ring."

Coryo furrowed his brow, "Ring?" He knew it was coming soon, but he'd thought he'd have time to climb his own ladder to take you from Felix by right.

“Oh you haven’t head the news?” Clemmie cocked an eyebrow a sly smile on her face. “They’ve been ring shopping, or their parents have been. They'll be engaged by the end of the year.” She chuckled peering over at the two of you. “He’ll head off to University and she’ll be at home getting fat with his child.”

The food on his plate went sour. “What?”

Clemmie rolled her eyes, “Her father is pushing hard to set the marriage in place. He wants his daughter to be First Lady of Panem, and he is President’s Ravenstill’s direct heir.”

Coriolanus Snow, future President of Panem, I salute you.

Well if your father wanted you to marry the president, he was selling you to the wrong son.

He pushed his food around watching you storm away from Felix. And because he didn't like to waste food, nor look that suspicious he finished his lunch. He waited a few minutes, excused himself, and he was on his feet following where you ran off too.

He looked for a while finding you deserted at a lone table in the library.

"Hey." He said softly to not spook you.

He watched you slowly look at him expecting red eyes and tears, but instead your expression was blank another sucker in your mouth. "Hi Coryo." You still said his name so sweetly like the sugar from your candy laced your vocal cords.

"You alright?" He stopped in front of you.

"Yeah." You sighed rolling it along your teeth. He wanted to ask why you were arguing with Felix, if you truly enjoyed his company, or was this one big farce to appease your family. Instead he stared at you waiting for you to fill in the gaps themselves. You wouldn't, you never did, you never liked to reveal your cards, and he could only assume the argument had everything to do with postponing the engagement and nothing about a ring. You only cocked your head to the side hair falling over your shoulder. "Did you need something?"

He did, desperately. And he was tired of denying it to himself.

He walked over, pushed your chair back and settled his hands on either side of the chair's arms, towering over you. "Where do you get all those?" He asked finger bouncing off the stick.

You smirked up at him your knees sliding between his thighs, "My daddy." He was hard. He felt his pants fighting with his cock as he stared into your eyes. "Do you want one?"

He was sick of this game you played, and he was running out of time.

He didn't answer, but his lips parted as he reached forward and pulled the one from your mouth. He thought you were sick of the game too because you let him, let him slide it off your tongue, watching the trail of spit still attached, and into his own mouth. He pushed it past his lips feeling his cock twitch as he finally tasted that sticky sweet sucker you always had on you. "Cherry."

"Hmm." You had a smug smile on your lips as you stared up at him and slowly he felt your legs begin to part between his own. He glanced down, glanced down as your uniform skirt began to ride up bare thighs. He wondered if he reached his hand under there if he would find you naked and drenched. He thinks knows he would.

"Your boyfriend will be upset if he finds you like this." He says leaning down a little closer to you.

You feign innocence. "I'm not doing anything."

You settle into the chair more you shirt collar widening as he views the dainty gold necklace around your neck with the letter 'F' on it. His fingers go to it, tracing the letter, then he's trailing up your neck tilting your face up more by your chin. He wants to strangle you with it. "Do you enjoy teasing me angel?"

"Do you enjoy getting hard by it?" You ask back and he shoves your sucker deep into his cheek to grid his teeth. Your eyes go to the bulge in his pants.

His hand tightens on your jaw, "Let me come over."

"My daddy won't like that." You shake your head.

His cock throbs. "I don't care."

Your hand splayed against his chest as you sit up more, "Why do you want to come over so badly?"

"You know why," His fingers dig into your skin fighting the urge, forcing restraint into his body.

You move forward more your face inches from him, "Do I?"

"Because you want me to." His eyes flicker around your face. "That's why your always making those eyes at me hmm? Rubbing against me like a bitch in heat?"

Your hand goes to his wrist to pull it from your face, and then your dragging it down between your legs. He can't look away from your face, not as you trail his hand up your thighs to brush his fingers against your soaked pussy. He was right, you weren't wearing anything under your skirt and he knew it was just for him, and him alone. "I can't help it." You pout rubbing his knuckles against your folds. "You make me so wet all the time Coryo."

He curses as you shutter when his fingers bump against your throbbing clit and he losing the battle of self control. He wants Felix to find you like this, find you screaming out for Coriolanus as you cum. Instead he runs his hand along your arousal one last time and straightens up, "Let me walk you to class."

You watch with a flush on your face as he sucks your wetness off his fingers, letting it mingle with the tart cherry of your sucker still on his tongue. He's surprised you don't force him to give it back before Felix's sees. "Okay." You say standing up and he sees your own wetness sliding down your thigh. You let him tuck your hand into his arm so he could walk you out and back towards class. "I think I'll sit with you today if you don't mind." You tell him as you cross the classroom's threshold together. He's not surprised after the earlier argument you seemed to be reeling from.

You take the seat on his left when you usually sit a row down with your stupid boyfriend. And when said stupid boyfriend walks in later a glare settles in his gaze watching him look between you and Coriolanus who still sucked on your candy. Felix grumbles, but sits down anyways with no more fuss, Coriolanus chuckled silently to himself. You don't speak much more to Coryo, just mindlessly doodle on some paper with you head resting on your hand.

But then class starts, and your knee knocks into his.

At first he thinks it's an accident, but a couple minutes later you do it again leaving your leg to rest against his. He wants to reach out, rub his hand up you thigh to bury in your cunt. He wants to watch you squirm and fight the noises he was pulling from you. He wants to make you cum a row behind your boyfriend, and you would let him.

He knew why Felix kept such a tight leash around you, if this was how you behaved off of it.

By some form of grace or luck of whatever watched over Coriolanus Snow, the class assignment required partners. He usually would partner with Clemensia, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up as he turned to look at you, an expecting glint in your eye, "I'll come over tomorrow night?"

You only laughed a little, but you didn't say no. And he watched as Felix came stumbling up from his chair to grip his hands against the edge of the table where you sat like the desperate swine he was, struggling for scraps. "Come over, we can work on it together."

You frowned sweetly, almost looking truly apologetic. "Oh I'm sorry. Coryo already asked me to be his partner."

Felix's angry eyes burned into Coriolanus, "We're always partners though." He leaned forward to whisper. "If this is about our argument earlier I can just..."

"No." You patted his shoulder. "Of course not, but really I can't say no to Coryo now that would be awfully rude."

"I'm sure Clemensia needs a partner." Coriolanus added. "Sorry Felix."

Felix only motioned for you to get up so he can take you home. You stood up and smiled down at Coriolanus, "Bye Coryo."

He watched you walk away wetness still glistening on your legs, the taste of it still on his tongue.

He arrived five minutes sooner than he was supposed to. He knew your parents were home, and wanted to impress them, wanted your father to realize how much better than Felix he was, it wouldn't be a hard task. He knocked, his hand lying limp at his side waiting for someone to answer.

It was your father.

He was a wealthy man, not as wealthy as Strabo Plinth, but enough. It was all about where he had put his money during the war, investing in the right places, unlike the Snows. You kept up with the league of elite children in school, you belonged there in the thick of it all. Snow did too, but he had to work harder to keep that image and he hated that that was the only thing keeping him from you.

He reached a hand out to shake your father's hand, “Coriolanus Snow.” He introduced.

“I know.” He offered a tight smile as he shook Coriolanus’s hand. “She told me you were stopping by to help with some…assignment.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

But your father never moved as he took back his hand, never invited him inside leaving Coriolanus to stand awkwardly in the door frame. “Daddy.” Your sweet voice piped in shoving past his tall frame to open the door more. “Stop scaring him.”

Daddy. It sent a cool chill down his spine as you stared up at your father. “I’m not.” He held up his hands, “ Just wondering why you need help in school in the first place.”

“It’s a group assignment.” Coriolanus added as your eyes flitted up to him. “We got paired together.”

“Oh,” You father relaxed stepping away from the door. “You can work a the table then.” He motioned to your dining room table.

You walked away from him leaving him to follow you into your home and close the door. “We were actually goi-!”

“No bedroom.” You father shot at you without even looking as he disappeared into your home.

You sighed finally turning around, you motioned to the table, “You can set your stuff down here.” You instructed. “I’ll be right back.” You left, no doubt going to gather all your school work from your room. “Are you hungry?” You asked once you returned with your piles of books and papers. You were wearing one of you cute little plaid tweed mini skirts that hugged your thighs and he knew you weren't wearing anything under it.

“I ate before I left.” He lied.

“You can stay for dinner if you want.” You sat down next to him your leg sliding against his. He knew you did things like that on purpose just to touch him, just to drive him insane as your perfume wafted into his nose. He began to protest, he wanted to stay, if only to convince your father he was the better man. “Stay, please.” You set your hand on his wrist as you smiled.

He nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you did get to work after that as he educated you through what was needed for the assignment, your shoulder against his as you watched what he wrote down. Sometimes he truly thought you never payed attention, maybe you thought you were too pretty for school and it wasn’t needed. You were too pretty for it. You didn’t need it. He knew your father had set you up with someone wealthy to ensure you have a long profitable life without having to work for it. Yet, here you were working towards it anyways. He admired it for a moment, but your hand fell on his thigh and he knew he would end up having to do the whole assignment by himself.

He didn't mind as he listened to the quietness of your house. You glanced up at him, and he met your eyes realizing how close your face was, and he knew what you wanted as you bit your lip. "Does your daddy know what a little slut you are?" He whispered.

"No." You breathed slinging your leg over his thigh to straddle it.

His hands went your thighs, "Then you better be quiet angel." He glanced down as your skirt rode up your thighs your bare cunt pressed against the meat of his leg, he felt your wetness seeping through. He leaned back, watching as you rocked your hips against his thigh. He took a second, just one second, to enjoy the feeling of your body against his, enjoy the fact you were riding him, getting off to him, then he was sliding his hands up your bare thighs to wrap around your body. You were so soft under his touch like you had bathed in rose petals. His fingers dug into your waist forcing them to roll against him harder and you made a small noise from the back of your throat.

"Felix can't get you off can he?" You whine as your clit rubs against him, the sweet friction of it all making your head fall back slightly, "No he doesn't know how to handle you does he?" He stared up at you, at your open mouth, and he runs his hand down your hair. "That's why you came crawling after me." You grind against him faster chasing your own high as your hand goes to his pants palming his hard cock through his pants.

You're such a whore, he knows that about you, he knows you hide it so fucking well and yet here you were, fucking his thigh, hand halfway down his pants when your father could come find you any second. It makes him want to slam you back on the table and sink his cock into your wet heat just for him to see, just to prove he was the man of this house, of you. "Coryo." You moan out quietly and he thinks its the sweetest way you'll ever say his name. You slid your hand down his cock. He groans out taking in the sight of your hand working him, swirling your hand around the shaft pre-cum leaking out of the tip.

He wants to bury his face into your mouth, your neck, your breast, but he can only watch you, watch you get yourself off on top of him. He flexes his thighs the same time you tilt yourself forward and your grip tightens on him. He stares up at your face, eyes glazed over as you grind your pussy down hard against him, lip tugged between your teeth pumping his cock at the same rhythm as your body. He feels you clench your thighs and soon enough you cum, drenching his pants with your pleasure. He wraps his hand around yours to fuck your hand faster, harder, and then he's planting it against your soaked thigh to cum against you, hot white ropes of it splashing across your skin. You don't move off of him, you both sit there for a while breathing heavily against each other until you straighten up to stare down at him.

"I don't let Felix touch me." You say hands coming up to toy with the ends of his curling hair.

"Why?"

You only smile and he's never thought you looked more beautiful, sweat on your hairline, red cheeks, and his cum on your body. You glance down at the clumps of white covering your skin, and then you run two fingers through it, gathering it on your fingers, and shoving them in your mouth sucking his cum off. He's mesmerized as you groan gently popping your fingers out and licking your lips. You climb off his body to settle back into your own chair glancing down at the wetness staining Coriolanus's pants seeping down onto his skin a satisfied feline grin on your face.

Your mother came through the next second, “I’ll set the table for four?”

You smiled up at her, “Yes ma’am.”

He dined with your family, a deliciously huge meal, one he hadn’t had in a while and he wondered if your parents could smell your actions in the air. “She didn’t give you too much trouble son?”

Your father’s voice made him look up as he asked, “No sir.”

He turned to you, “Why wasn’t Felix your partner?”

“He went with someone else.” You shrugged pushing your food around.

“I’ll speak with him.” Your father said.

“Daddy no.” Coriolanus shifted in his seat at the whine. “Please don’t.”

Coriolanus cleared his throat watching both eyes snap up to him. “I asked to be your daughter's partner for this assignment, and she was too kind to tell me no.”

Your father relaxed as Coriolanus had saved you from some lecture. You gave him a sly smile as your mother chimed in, “I made apple pie.”

After desert, and a minor interrogation from your father about his plans after The Academy, you walked him to the door. He didn’t like that your father felt the need to exert his power over him. In all honestly he didn't trust your father's intelligence if he thought Felix was a good option for you. You stepped outside with him closing the door behind you. You leaned against it staring up at him biting your bottom lip. He planted his hand next to your head towering over you.

"Are you gunna kiss me goodnight Coryo?" You tilted your face up for him.

"I don't think Daddy would like that very much." His hand comes up to your chin.

You smirk, going onto your toes to brush your lips against his. "Oh I think Daddy will."

He attacks your mouth tasting the sticky sweetness that was you, always would be you. The taste of apple is still on your tongue from your mothers pie, apples and cinnamon everything that was nice layered your lips as he licked along it feeling you part your mouth for him to slip inside. His hands were in your hair pulling you closer as you braced your hands on his chest melding your lips against his. He swept his tongue into your mouth meshing it with yours. He yanked your head back to stick his tongue down your throat feeling your back arch so your breast press against him, and the salty remnants of his cum lace your molars. He nips at your bottom lips your moan vibrating through him as he sucks and tugs on it until he knows it will bruise. Then he pulls back, "Are you going to let me fuck you angel?"

You give him a breathy laugh, "See ya, Coryo." Then you disappear back into your home.

By the time next week hit you were back in your normal spot next to your boyfriend. It shouldn't have surprised Coriolanus, he knew you were just rebelling against the mold your family had forced you into, and he just happen to enjoy letting you use him.

But you turned around, that cherry sucker that tasted so good between your lush lips, and you would smile.

"Hi Coryo." You said it like you had a secret only he knew and he was sometimes forced to jack off in the men's bathroom just to take the edge off. Just to avoid wanting to fuck you right then and there in front of the whole class, and he knows you're waiting for the day he finally does it.

As he tucked himself back into his pants exiting the bathroom you were standing there, back against the opposite wall watching him. Your eyes met and he only leans his shoulder against the door frame of the bathroom. "Felix is mad at me."

He looks you up and down, "Why?"

"Because I told him you were coming over tonight." He chuckles to himself, your eyes studying him as he walks over to you.

"I am?" He asked as you trail your fingers up the buttons on his shirt.

You frown, "I'm needy."

He scoffs, "I hope that isn't the reason you gave him."

"Please," You whine your hand running down his arm to guide it to the middle of your skirt and he can't help himself, even your begging is sweet.

He guides his hand up your bare thighs, your soaked cunt greeting him like it had missed him too. "You need me that bad hmm?" He runs a hand up your center watching you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. He leans his head down taking your lip between his own teeth and sucking on it tasting that lingering cherry sugar as he pushes two fingers into you. Your mouth parts in a gasp as you part your legs more for him. "Does your boyfriend know his girlfriend is a dirty whore? Fucking soaked for me all the time?" You tilt yourself forward sucking in his hand deeper as he curls up against a sweet spot your quiet moan echoing around the empty hall. "You want someone to find us don't you, you want them to see what a fucking slut you are for me."

"Coryo." You whimper nails digging into his shoulders and he hopes you mark his skin forever. He presses his forehead to yours feeling you pant against his face as he presses his palm to your clit.

"That's right." He grazes his teeth along your jaw as he fucks you faster with his hand. "Call out my name when you cum angel." He growls out, "My angel." Because you were, his, he knew that long ago, remembering glaring at Felix when you all were children and he had his arm around you when it should have been Coriolanus. His tongue lolls against your damp skin of your neck and your hand twist in his hair as he pulls your leg up more around his waist.

It's a test of restraint to not wrap your legs completely around his waist and sink into you, to take what is so rightfully his. Instead he shifts his hand, thumb pressing into your clit to listen to your mewls, to the sound of his wet fingers dipping in and out of you at a brutal pace. He sinks his teeth into your neck rolling his tongue along the mark he knew he was giving you, and you love that it will be there.

He feels you clenching around his hand as you moaned out his name cumming against him. Your chest hits his with every panting breath as he slowly lifts his head to gaze down at you, hair slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed, blissfully dazed out from the orgasm he gave you. "I'm making cookies."

Of course you were, he groans as he presses his face into yours capturing your lips with his own hand still buried inside of you. "What kind?"

"Chocolate chip." You smirk against his lips. "I'll let you lick the spoon."

You opened the door for him this time and he wanted to yank you from the frame to run away with you forever. You wear wearing a pretty black minidress with a white long sleeve underneath it, an apron covering you, flour splattered across your cheek, and a pink ribbon tied your hair at the base of your ponytail. It's like you worked so hard to persevere girlhood and innocence to hide the adultery lurking under your skin.

"Hi Coryo." You batted your eyelashes at him as you opened the door for him more to come inside.

He did love the sound of you closing and locking the door for him, "Where's you father?" He asked watching you walk in front of him.

"Working late." You replied leading him towards your kitchen waving a hand around. "My mother is off doing something unproductive."

He leaned against your marble island watching you throw a cup of sugar into the large bowl, "They left you in here all alone?"

You chuckled, "I'm not alone, you're here with me." You cracked an egg your eyes glancing over towards his, "Do you think your parents would have liked me?"

Coriolanus looks you up and down. He thinks they would and maybe in a perfect world where he wasn't an orphan your father would have wed you to Coriolanus. "I could never take you home to mother in a dress that short." He smirks as you slowly begin to stir the batter. He sometimes was surprised Felix let you leave the house if this is how you acted, how you dressed.

"Oh yeah?" You pop your hip out a little.

He straightens up stalking over to you until your back was pressed to his chest, nose buried in your floral scented hair. "She would disown me for bringing home such a brazen slut."

"But her son loves when I dress like this." His hands find the hem of your dress as his fingers trace with the curve of your ass.

He plants his mouth against your neck, "Does he now?"

You push your ass back into his hard cock. "Oh I think he adores how I dress for him." His hand splays across your backside as his teeth graze the flesh of your jugular and he wants to sink his teeth in to stake his claim. "How I never wear any panties for him."

His nails dig into you because he fucking knew it. "All for me." He repeats sucking on your skin until you wince away hoping the mark is deep and purple and Felix knows it's from him.

You turn suddenly eyes flickering up to his face, "The trick is a little extra vanilla.” You motioned to the dough sitting on top of two fingers. "Try some." He wraps his hand around your delicate wrist and brings it to his mouth. He sucked in your fingers eyes never leaving yours as your mouth parted slightly the blush forming on your cheeks as his tongue swirled around your flesh. It tasted delicious, but your skin tasted better like sugar had ingrained itself into every pore. He let your fingers glide deeper on his tongue before he popped them out of his mouth.

"Hmm." He ran his tongue up the sides until all that was left on them was his spit.

You breath. "All for you." He's kissing you then, consuming your validation that you knew what he knew, you belonged to him. He taste the scoops of dough you had stolen, the chocolate and brown sugar mingling on your tongue and he adores that extra teaspoon of vanilla you added. He licks it off the roof of your mouth sucking on your tongue, and then your arching into him on your toes as his hands trail down your body cupping your ass as your dress rides up.

He reaches his other hand back pushing aside your large bowl of batter and then he's lifting you onto the counter loving the way he fits in between your legs. You were made for him, he knew that long ago, cut perfectly from that juicy forbidden fruit Eve ate. His hand goes to your chest kneading your breast over fabric as he slowly lowers you to the countertop spreading your legs open for him. He breaks the kiss descending down your body to peer at you decadent wet cunt. He knows you'll taste sweet down here too, his mouth waters taking in the sight.

"Oh she's pretty."

He can't help but moan into you as he licks up the center prodding your clit with the tip of his tongue feeling your hand find his blonde curls. Your feet come up around his shoulders as he passes over it gently at first savoring the taste of your arousal and knowing he would never taste anything better than you. He traces circles around it slowly feeling you squirm under his touch, hearing your pretty whines, nails scraping against his skull. He dares a glance up at you, at your agape mouth, your eyes squeezed shut as he begins to move his tongue faster.

He decides then he won't wash his mouth out tonight. He wants you stuck between his teeth forever and when tomorrow comes he hopes Felix will smell your cunt on his breath.

He tilts your hips up wrapping his lips around your clit pressing down on it with his tongue as you breath heavily beneath him. He's slithering his arm up your body squeezing your breast. "Coryo." You moan out pushing your pussy into his face more, grinding it against him. He's moving his tongue side to side, hard pressed rhythmic motions that have you a mess in his hands. Your thighs clench around him as you whimper one last time before you cum against his face. He drinks you up, everything you have to offer, lapping up what you give him as his tongue pushes into you for a moment feeling your walls spasming from your orgasm.

You yank his head up by his hair and you shoot up encasing his mouth with your own tasting yourself on his tongue as you sweep into his mouth and he groans pressing his groin into your island.

"Tell me how you like it." You pant out into his mouth teeth knocking against each other.

Coriolanus takes your expression in and he realizes, yes you never let Felix touch you, but you never touched him either. You have never touched another man besides him, saving yourself for him, and it makes him want to shove his cock down your throat even harder. He helps you off the counter onto shaky legs and your going down onto your knees in front of him. He lets you unbutton his pants and unsheathe his hard length running your hand along it.

"Put your mouth around it." He tells you as you bring it up to your lips, and you fucking lick the tip like it's one of your cherry suckers.

Then you open your mouth and wrap your lips around him sliding him inside. He always imagined what your mouth would feel like after so many times of seeing you suck on that hard little candy. It's even better than he thought. He hisses as his hips buck forward a little letting him hit the back of your throat. You bob along his cock once, twice, three times before you pop off blinking up at him with that coy little act, "You're so big Coryo."

He shoves himself back in your mouth, "Wrap your hand around it." That was all you needed to know as you worked his cock, taking him deeper, hand swirling around the shaft tongue lolling against the head. You work him faster, grip hardening around him, sucking in your cheeks as you look up at him with big doe eyes. "Fuck." He gritted out hand tangling in your ponytail to move your head against him, force his cock deeper watching the water well in your eyes, but you never stopped. "You like my cock in your mouth don't you angel? Want my cum down your throat yeah?"

You moan against him in response teeth gently grazing his skin. Your mouth too soft, too hot, hands gripping him so tightly, his hand in your hair holds harder as his thighs tighten. Your tongue sweeps out along his shaft and he's cumming, hot ropes of it shooting down your throat shoving his cock deeper to make sure you took it all.

And you did, greedily, your hand still softly gliding along him as he thrust one final time into your mouth. He wraps his finger around the ribbon in your hair and tugs it out slipping it into his pocket. You popped off, wiped your lips with your finger, and sucked it clean keeping your eyes locked with him.

His hands come around your face as you stand up. "Break up with Felix." He whispers out thumb tracing your puffy lips. He's sick of seeing you with him, not being the able to claim you in front of everyone like he wanted to.

"I have to preheat the oven." Is all you say back stepping out of his hold to go over the the oven.

He clenches his jaw, "I want Felix to know."

You shrug, your back still to him, "Then tell him." You turn after turning on your oven. "It won't change anything." You walk towards him a hand coming up to push his curls away from his face, "Unless..." You peered up at him manipulative innocence in your eyes. "You were the President of Panem."

Coriolanus couldn't get enough of you at that point, he had become addicted to your sugar sweet taste and once was never enough for him.

All it took was one little smile while you licked up the red ball of your cherry sucker, and he was pouncing on you, meeting you in the hallway every time.

In between classes he would shove you into random closets to force his cock down your throat. You two would time bathroom breaks unsuspectingly and he would have you up against the stall wall fucking you with his hand.

His favorite moments were when he hunted you down in the library pretending to read a book. You would look up with a little shy smile. "Hi Coryo." You'd purr and soon he'd have you sprawled out on the table like his own personal meal drinking your pleasure like it was nectar from the Gods.

He came over occasionally too, lying about some assignment or help with a test. Your mother always invited him to stay for dinner, and he would, of course, shove his hand inside you under the table until you came while he spoke to your father.

Felix was suspicious. It wasn't hard to be when you showed up with marks on your neck, the same neck still wearing that ugly 'F' necklace, and the pretty ribbon from your hair wrapped around Coriolanus's wrist. He would only glance back at Coriolanus, and Coriolanus would smirk back at him, but he never said anything.

Everything was wonderful.

Then one day things began to change.

"Let me fuck you." Coriolanus told you kissing your open mouth as you came down hard on his hand. He wanted to be inside you, wanted to trap you to him forever. You would let him.

Your head falls back against the wall, "No Coryo."

"Let me fuck you." He kissed you again. "Come on baby girl, I know you want to."

"I'm waiting until marriage Coryo." You unravel yourself from him fixing your skirt. He knows you're lying, "I'm a good girl."

He scoffed, "Yeah a real angel."

You sighed running a hand over your face. “My father is having Felix and his uncle over tonight.”

“President Ravinstill?” You cringed when he said it. "Why?"

"Because Felix thinks you're up to something and wants to speed things along." His jaw clenched, he was going to murder Felix and his stupid uncle. You flash him a smirk, "He thinks you're trying to corrupt me."

Coriolanus chuckled, "I don't play well with others."

You came closer, hand dipping under his shirt to rest against his bare chest. You kissed his jaw, "You play well with me, Coryo."

He waited outside your home watching through your windows as you ate dinner. You sat next to Felix, fake laughing, hand sometimes brushing his wrist with affection. It boiled his blood and he curses his father for dying, for investing in District 13 to make him poor. You were his. He should be sitting at that table with you planning your engagement.

He knew the only way he would take you from Felix was winning the Plinth Prize at the end of the year, going to University, and stealing that Presidency out from under him.

It was the only way.

He watched you kiss Felix on the cheek as him and his uncle left. He watched you arguing with your father, storming off no doubt to your bedroom. And then he was moving, sticking to the shadows until he was around your house staring up at your bedroom window. He scaled the wall ending up on your small balcony staring into your sheer curtains.

You looked so beautiful sitting at your vanity combing through your hair still in your dress from dinner.

He pushed the balcony door open quietly, but your eyes met his through the mirror. "Surprised you didn't storm into dinner earlier." You set the brush down. He took a seat on your bed raising his eyebrow, "I always know where you are Coriolanus Snow, even if its creeping outside my windows."

"Who gave you these?" He motions to the vase of fresh flowers.

"Felix." Your smile drips in sweetness. "My boyfriend."

You turned to him, "How was dinner?"

"Boring." You sighed leaning your elbows against your vanity. "He's going to propose after graduation." Coriolanus's blood heated. "The ring was beautiful though."

His eyes followed you as you stood, "I could buy you a better one."

Your hands rested on his shoulders as you cocked your head to the side. "With what money?" He glared at you. He didn't like that people suspected he was poor, let alone you.

"Would you say no if I asked you?"

"That's not up to me." You chuckled hands toying with the end of his hair. That 'F' necklace around your throat dangling in his face.

Coriolanus narrowed in on it, "I could just...kill your father, Felix, anyone that got in my way." He reaches up and rips the necklace off your neck hearing it clatter to the floor, broken.

You leaned down, nose pressed to his cheek, the words brushing his mouth in a sweet caress, "Then do it."

His hands went around your back pulling down the zipper of your dress feeling it loosen around your body until it fell around your feet. You stood up stepping out of the dress and Coriolanus looked up your body slowly, taking in every naked inch of your body. He landed on your face, "What do you want angel?"

"Even when you were a boy, you were a man." You slid onto his lap naked body pressed against him hands running through his hair. "I want a man. I want you."

He flipped you onto your back crashing his mouth to yours engulfing your lips with his own. You were unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it off his shoulders, running your hands down his bare chest. His tongue meshes with yours mouths gliding along each other as you burst open the button on his pants. He wants his skin against yours, to feel your warm softness against every inch of him. He pushes his pants down his legs until the two of you are nothing but flesh.

You capture his lips once more as his hand travels up your side his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. You blissfully sigh. He cups your breast, hushing your mouth with a harder kiss. His thumb passed over your nipple, rolling the pad along it, feeling it perk up to his touch a low whine in your throat that he swallowed up nails scraping against his skull. He moves his mouth off of yours trailing down your neck, tasting every sweet part of you until his mouth wraps around your perked nipple lavishing it with his tongue as your back arches pushing it further into his mouth. His teeth nip down on it, licking and sucking as your squirm under him.

He feels your wetness against his thigh and he shifts to run his hand along your folds. "Did you think about me fucking you all throughout dinner?" He presses a finger slightly against your clit. "Thought about all the pretty noises your Daddy would hear down the hall."

Yours eyes darken as you gaze into his. "I wanted you to fuck me during dinner; storm through my front door and take me in front of Felix and his stupid uncle."

"You're such a little fucking whore."

You smirked, "Daddy's little fucking whore."

He shoves his fingers inside you, lips parting at the intrusion. He wants to be inside you, wants to claim everything you are as he thrust his hand in and out of you, stretching you open, the room thick with the scent of your arousal and squelching sounds of your pussy. You buck your hips into his hand to meet him as his palm presses down on your clit and he already feels your walls clenching around him.

He presses his face into your chest, your heart thumping rapidly for him. You were breathless, your legs spreading open more for him as your body tightened around him as he brought you closer to your peak. He curls his fingers against that spot he knows you love and you came undone with a soft cry, clamping down around his hand, nails digging into his scalp. He straightens up admiring you. You looked so beautiful sweat forming across your chest, cheeks red, lips parted to catch your breath as you stared up at him. You simply glanced down at his long, hard length and then back up at him. He knows you're a virgin, knows you'll take his cock like a slut.

He lined himself up with your sopping entrance and pushed into you. He can't help but groan as he closed his eyes moving slowly into you, letting your tight walls adjust to him, squeeze around him. He pauses for a moment the only sound coming from either of you were broken breaths. And then he pushes in until he fully inside you. You gasp at the feeling, the fullness, as you gazed up at him.

Your pussy fluttered around him and he rolled his hips against you pulling his dick back and slamming back into. "You take my cock so well." You arched your back as he slammed into you moaning out for him, wrapping your legs around his body to pull him deeper. His mouth was on yours, a mesh of spit and tongue, your hands rooted in his hair as he fucked into you. He was kneading your breast with one hand, pushing the other into your mattress to fuck you harder. He glanced between you, watching his cock disappear into you soaked pussy, watching how well you took each brutal thrust. "Perfect fucking pussy, made just for me." He drags his teeth along your jaw as your breast press against his chest. He pressed his hot mouth to your ear, "You're fucking mine, you understand that angel?" His hips snapped against yours heels curling into his sides as you nod against him. "Not Felix's...not your fathers...mine." He growls in your ear.

You agree tilting your pelvis up allowing him to slid against that sensitive spot.

His curls spill across your face, he wants to hear you say it. "Say it."

Your brows scrunch as he slides his hand to your clit. You moan for him, "I'm yours Coryo." His grunts fill the room as he pounds into you as you cry out for him over and over again. He hears your bed knocking against the wall, the squeaking sound of the spring as it slides against the floor, neither of you care who hears it. You clamp down around him coming all over his cock squeezing him too tight.

"Gunna cum in this tight little pussy." He hisses out his thrust growing sporadic. "Gunna make you have my heirs." Your too fucked out to care as your teeth sink into his shoulder wanton pleas falling from your lips. He's spilling into you, cumming so deep inside you feeling your walls spasming around him, drinking in every drop of his seed. He thrust it further within you as your legs slowly uncurl from around him.

He pulls back to look at you his cock twitching one last time. "You have a lot of work to do." You tell him fingers twisting the curls along his face a devious smile on your lips and he knows you've never been an angel, not a day in your life.

You were the devil in a candied disguise.

"President Coriolanus Snow."

He will win that Plinth Prize. He will take you from Felix, from your stupid father, by right or by force.

He doesn't care what he has to do or who he has to kill along the way as long as he gets to have you at the end of it all.

PART TWO HERE!!

im a whore for those blonde curls

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #fanfic #coryo smut #coryo snow #coryo x you #president coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #daenysthedreamersblog #smut

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 month

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Promise

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Magda takes Pernille to dinner

The restaurant is fancier than the restaurants that Momma and Morsa usually take you to.

Evidently, Momma thinks so too because she holds your hand a little tighter and pulls you in front of her.

"Magda," Momma says," Are you sure this is the right place?" She looks down meaningfully at you.

The usual restaurants you go to aren't fancy like this. They're homey places, much more likely to be family-run for years rather than being awarded Michelin stars.

"Yep," Magda says as the host takes them towards a private booth at the back.

You're big enough now that you don't need to sit in a high chair anymore but Magda and Pernille still box you between them in the booth, sitting so you're in the middle and they're facing each other.

"This is expensive, Magda," Pernille warns.

"We can afford it."

"I know but, still."

"It'll be fine," Magda assures her," I promise."

This whole trip was out of the blue.

They had just come home from training when Magda sent Pernille off to the bedroom to change into something fancier than the usual tracksuit bottoms and old shirt she usually wore post training.

There was already something laid out on the bed and, by the time Pernille was finished, you and Magda had also changed. Tomorrow was a day off so it wasn't out of the ordinary for you all to go out the night before but not in fancy clothes and not to this fancy restaurant that looks like a little girl like you shouldn't be in it.

"Is there a kid's menu?" Pernille asks.

You frown. "I want a big girl meal."

Magda laughs, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. "I've ordered ahead for her."

Pernille raises a brow. "How did you even get a reservation for this place?"

"Millie knows a guy."

"You make it sound like she's in the mob."

"She could be."

"What's the mob?" You ask.

"Nothing, princesse," Magda laughs," Here. The nice host lady brought you some paper and crayons."

You grab the crayons quickly, scrawling over the paper with reckless abandon.

"I'm serious, Magda. What's going on?"

"Can't I take my girls out for a special evening?"

"You can," Pernille says, eyes narrowed in suspicion," But at a place like this? You're up to something."

Despite her suspicions, Pernille does end up having a nice time. The food is good, the wine is great. The company is, obviously, even better.

You seem to be having fun too, going through all of the crayons as you draw a picture of the three of you standing under a rainbow together.

The dress you're wearing, now that Pernille inspects it, is a perfect match to her own, right down to how it's styled on your body. Both of them compliment the ensemble that Magda's wearing, Pernille notices as Magda rises from her seat to take you to the bathroom.

You look like a perfect pair.

Pernille can see a lot of Magda in you, all the way down to the way you walk. You've got Magda in your face and your smile and the way you giggle hysterically when Pernille tickles your tummy.

You return after a few minutes without Magda, reaching out for Pernille's hand with the same secret smile on your face that Magda has when she's about to do something surprising.

"Where's your Morsa?" Pernille teases, allowing you to pull her up.

"She's outside," You say," She paid earlier. Come on, Momma!" You pull at her insistently. Clearly, Pernille isn't moving fast enough.

You pull her out of the restaurant and across the road to the play park.

Magda's waiting by the gate and you stop in front of her. You turn to look at Pernille.

You smile at her, the exact same as Magda's smile, before squeezing her as tight as you can.

Magda picks you up and you cover something with your hands.

"What have you two planned?" Pernille teases, her own smile ghosting her lips.

"Pernille," Magda says," I love you."

"I love you too."

"I understand that this moving in together thing is still new-"

"We've been moved in for a year?"

"I have a speech," Magda laughs," Can you let me get through it?"

Pernille laughs too. "Alright. I suppose so."

Magda clears her throat. "As I was saying...I understand that this moving in together thing is still new and I know that there's going to be a few hiccups along the way but I love you and I love Princesse and I love this little family we've made. I know we want a future together. Honestly...I...This came out of nowhere and I know we're still in the height of our careers but..."

She nudges you.

"Please agree to be engaged to be engaged to Morsa!" You say, holding out the little ring you've been hiding in your hands.

It's a fairly simple ring, clearly not a proper engagement ring but it's still beautiful. Pernille takes it from your hands, slipping it onto her finger.

"Yes," She says," I will be engaged to be engaged to your Morsa."

You cheer, a beautiful round of bubbly giggles spilling from your throat as Momma pulls Morsa into a kiss.

Morsa's cheeks are all pink when she pulls away and she's got one of those silly star struck smiles on her face that she gets when Momma is around her.

"Can we get ice cream now?" You ask and they both laugh.

"Yes, Princesse," Morsa says," Let's get ice cream."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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foreveralbon · 2 months

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fruit cutter hearts - ls2

in which she likes pretty fruit platters and he likes her just as much wc: 816

logan hates the summer. well, hate is a very strong word, but it’s not his favourite season ever.

he may be from florida but he’s convinced his skin wasn’t made for the summer sun, and he hates the way it makes his front of his head hurt when he stands under its burning glare for too long.

he hates the way the fruits taste a little too sweet then, sometimes too overripe, and he hates the way the scent of barbecue clings to his body, closer to him than his own skin.

he hates the way the beach feels like a place to go out of obligation, not for fun, and he hates the way everyone seems to love it but him.

he hates the vacation romcoms that are released during the summer season, and he hates the way couples look at each other on the sidewalk, their hands held tight, their faces sun-kissed and their gazes love struck.

but all that’s changed now - and he has to thank for it, he supposes.

because, sometimes, when you’re walking side by side on the street together, he’ll catch a glimpse of your reflection in a summer sun-lit window. normally, he’d furrow his brows and turn away because of the glare but now he keeps his eyes trained on your reflection and when that goes too far out of sight, he’ll look at you and a lazy love drunk smile inevitably stretches across his face.

when he turns to his right at the beach, where he typically sees an empty stretch of sand, there’s you, tanned and smiling and glowing. he wonders if that clingy feeling is normal, if it’s ordinary to feel like a piece of him is complete because you’re there.

and when he tastes the sweetest fruits, he can’t help but love how your face lights up at its flavour. you always manage to love the best in the littlest, most mediocre things.

he loves the fruit platters you make whenever a friend invites you over to their house, fruit cut out into neat pieces and little shapes, a colourful constellation of stars and crescent moons, hearts and flowers.

like now, as the platter falls to the marble countertop with a clang, and you slide punnets of strawberries, blueberries, raspberries and cherries onto the bench next to it. your face is flushed red from the humidity of the floridian heat, logan��s shirt tied up around your waist.

you haven’t had a day this hot in months and there’s nothing you want more to have the cold weather back.

logan sits on a stool on the other side of the bench, popping a handful of pitted cherries into his mouth.

“hey, don’t do that,” you grumble, but you can’t hold back the laugh as he takes another bite. “stop it, lo! there won’t be enough to fill the plate.”

“one last one,” he insist by offering a strawberry to you, tapping it lightly against your lips to tell you to bite. your teeth sink into the soft flesh of the fruit, and when the sweet juice trickles down your chin, he grasps your jaw to wipe it away with his thumb. the gesture is saccharine and innocent, nothing you wouldn’t expect logan to do but you can’t stop the flush that creeps up your cheeks.

“thank you.” you turn your head out of his grasp, but his grip is strong and he’s pulling you close to press a kiss to your lips. you melt into his touch, his mouth warm against yours, and you can taste the cherries still lingering on his lips.

logan draws back first with a quick peck to your cheek. “come on.”

he hops off the stool and rounds the bench to stand behind you. he reaches around you to start spreading berries on the platter. there’s something so domestic about it, the way that he arranges it so that there’s enough space for other fruits or that there’s not too much of one colour in one area, and you know that he’s doing something that he normally dislikes with you because you like it. so you turn around in his arms, and rest your chin on his shoulder. “i love you,” you whisper.

he furrows his brows in confusion as though to ask what he did to warrant the affection, but he reciprocates the sentiment. he bands his arms around your waist, kissing you slow and deep, all the while careful not to touch your clothes with fruit-stained hands.

it takes a moment, but you still jokingly push him away, grabbing the first thing you grasp - which, lamely enough, was one of your fruit cutters - and wave it in defence. “logan sargeant, get your dirty hands away from me, or i’ll cut you.”

“with heart-shaped fruit cutters?”

but it’s then that he knows if you ever break his heart, he’ll let you do it over and over again, so long as you do it with fruit cutter hearts.

author’s note: that was so much fun, i’ll see you guys again in another three weeks :) this is the angst you said you wanted btw @disneyprincemuke i was gonna make them break up but i decided against it

@namgification @queen-aria-things let me know if you’d like to be added to the general taglist!

#liyah writes #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant fanfiction #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #formula one x you

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ovaryacted · 3 months

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hey love!! i was thinking about number 53 with childhood bestfriend!Leon ??

also i loveeeee your writing omg you are sooo talented !!! <3 xoxo

Hey boo!! Thank you for requesting! I think it's crazy I haven't written anything about childhood best friend! Leon when that's the cutest fucking thing ever omg. For this one, I imagine RE2 Leon for the most part in age and appearance, just some very cute fluff with brief pining so I hope you like this because I really had fun writing this out! For context, there's no Racoon City or trauma, just a normal timeline, and Leon lives in Boston in a house where the reader can climb up to his bedroom window from the backyard. And thank you for saying you like my writing, really made my day. :) [ prompt game ]

#53 - "Who crawls through someone’s window at 4 am to go for ice cream?” PAIRING: Childhood best friend! Leon x reader [cw: Fluff, childhood history, little bit of pining] - 1.1k words

Leon was fast asleep in his bed, tucked nicely into his fluffy navy sheets face down in a pillow with drool slipping out of his mouth. He could hear some rattling coming from his window, the noise beginning to stir him from his slumber as he opened his eyes. Disorientated and groggy, he sat up in bed, hair a complete mess and rubbing at the corners of his eyes as he woke up.

Ears perking up to the sound of consistent tapping on the glass of his window, he looked in the direction he heard it, spotting a silhouette that was all too familiar to him. There you were, right on the roof of his bedroom window, the same way you’ve done so many times it became second nature to you. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he moved towards you, lifting the window to let you inside.

“Do you know what time it is?”, Leon grumbled, running his fingers through his hair to put it back in place but knowing he there was no point.

“It’s like 4 am, why?”, you said it to him as if it were nothing, offering a teasing grin.

“Some of us actually need to sleep. We can’t all be vampires like you”, he said to you, crossing his arms over his chest as he saw you go towards his bed, flopping onto it as if were your own.

“I couldn’t sleep and I was bored. So I came to bother you”, you replied, closing your eyes and exhaling a deep breath.

“At 4 in the damn morning?”, you gave him a playful shrug, finding enjoyment in his slight irritation. Even if Leon sounded like he was angry, you knew he wasn’t. He could never be mad at you even if he tried.

This wasn’t something out of the ordinary for either of you. Both you and Leon had known each other for so long that anything considered strange to others was seemingly defined as standard in the bubble that was your friendship. It all started with a funny instance at the age of 5, finding Leon on the playground during recess in kindergarten. Curiosity drew you to the young blonde that sat by himself, doodling in a coloring book on one of the picnic tables.

You sat on the opposite side of him, simply watching as he colored in the drawing haphazardly. You didn’t say anything to him, and he didn’t say anything to you, but the both of you developed a form of silent communication. Sometimes, you would draw along with him, silently of course, and rarely, you got lucky and Leon would give you one of his crayons. It became a routine where you both sat at the same table, at the same time, simply sharing a space with each other in a way you both understood.

Until one Thursday, you didn’t come to school because you were out sick. Leon was at his usual spot, at the picnic table with his coloring book, looking for you and wondering where you went. When he couldn’t find any sign of you, he moped for the rest of the day, his mother wondering what had her son in such a weird mood.

When you came back to school the next day, you met with Leon again at the same table, sitting in front of him with the toothy smile you usually wore.

“Where did you go?”, he asked you, speaking to you for the first time since you started to sit with him two weeks ago.

“Got a booboo”, you told him, lifting the sleeve of your shirt to show him the Batman bandaid you had stuck to your skin. His eyes widened the slightest bit, somehow fascinated by the intricate pattern of the adhesive material on your shoulder.

“Woah. Cool!”, and for the first time, you saw Leon’s smile, noticing how he was missing one of his front teeth.

He passed you a piece of paper, watching as you unfolded it to see what it was. It was from yesterday, a stick drawing of you and Leon that he had made when you weren’t here. You cherished that piece of paper as if it were the Monalisa, and when you showed it to your dad the minute you got home, you excitedly told him you had made a friend.

You two have been attached to the hip ever since. From elementary school to high school prom and starting college, you’ve done it all together. And now, here you both were, young adults exploring the world with an unbreakable bond. Some people would pay to have a life connection like that, and it was something neither of you took for granted.

“Can you tell me now why you decided to wake me up this early and didn’t just text me?”, Leon caught how you were wearing one of the many hoodies you had stolen from him. He gave it to you once a few years ago when you were cold, and you never gave it back. Not that he complained, he’d buy as many hoodies as he’d like just so you could steal them later.

“I wanted ice cream, thought you might want to tag along”, you were mischievous, always teasing and bubbly no matter the time of day.

“Who crawls through someone’s window at 4 am to go for ice cream?”, he scoffed at you, thinking this was all unbelievable to him when in reality you were very much in character.

“I do smartass. Are you coming or not? We could go get Dairy Queen, I know you like their sundaes”, you suggested, kicking your feet at the edge of Leon’s bed, already knowing he was going to say yes regardless of the time.

“Fine. But you’re buying me lunch tomorrow for waking me up this damn early”, he sighed, admitting his defeat to your schemes.

“Yeah yeah, grumpy pants. Now go clean yourself up, you have some drool on your cheek”, you said back, hearing Leon chuckle under his breath as he went to the bathroom to freshen up before heading out.

You were his best friend, someone he cherished and wanted in his life for as long as he could have you. He’d do anything for you, absolutely anything you asked or wanted he got for you because all he wants is to see you smile. It’s even better if he’s the reason why you smiled, entranced by the way your cheeks perked up ever since he first saw it when you were kids. If only you knew what he was willing to do to make sure you smiled so much your face grew sore.

Whatever you wanted, you got, because he wants you happy. So long as he was the reason why, that's all that mattered to him.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

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mydarlingdahlia · 10 months

Text

“The more the merrier.”—Douma & Akaza x AFAB Uppermoon!reader

Warnings: smut, oral sex (female receiving, aka cunnilingus), threesome, double penetration, vaginal and anal sex, virgin!reader, cream pie, porn with a plot(?), semi-public sex, Muzan can probably hear y’all so have fun with that information

(Also, Douma calls reader “little one” a few times. Don’t get it twisted, all three participants are of age.)

~♡︎~

Ever since the two Uppermoon Six demons had perished at the hand of a Hashira, you had moved up in the Twelve Kizuki in their place. Previously being Lowermoon One, of course. You had never met the two, but you were aware that they had been brother and sister in their human lives. You hadn’t even known if Lord Muzan would have let you socialize with the other Uppermoons until now.

You had always kept to yourself, given orders from Lord Muzan and dutifully fulfilled them. You never really talked to the other Lowermoons, either. You kept quiet, didn’t make much fuss when Lord Muzan gave you all orders. So when you had risen to the Uppermoon tier, you had initially been surprised.

Of course, you didn’t hate the position, you were grateful for it, if you were being honest. But you just found the other Uppermoons…a little…hostile? That’s the best way you could describe it.

Well, they weren’t hostile to you, but more so to each other. Talk about a welcoming party…

You’ve only been an Uppermoon for a few weeks, but you think you’re doing fairly well. Until you went to your first Uppermoon meeting. It was…different, than the Lowermoon meetings. Not because it was the Uppermoons themselves.

It was Uppermoons Two and Three. They both didn’t outwardly introduce themselves, but you found out that their names were Douma and Akaza. Nothing too out of the ordinary stuck out about them, except Akaza seemed to despise Douma with all of his being.

You figured it was at least slightly normal, anyway. After all, they all wouldn’t be happy-go-lucky and get along with each other like they’re best friends. Or maybe at least acquaintances.

But, back to the Uppermoon meeting.

As you were listening to Lord Muzan, you couldn’t help but feel like someone was staring at you. You only snuck a glance once, only to find that both Akaza and Douma were both looking at you.

You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting to draw too much attention from the others. But all throughout the meeting, you couldn’t help but feel their eyes practically burning into your back.

You could hear them muttering, and Akaza getting frustrated at Douma every once in a while (and most likely punching his face or shoulder), but that was mainly it. Nothing too out of the ordinary, at least you thought.

Until after the meeting was over.

You had begun to aimlessly wander around the Infinity Castle, as you usually did, not having a particular destination in mind. This place was so vast, and you had always been the exploring type.

You had paused in one room to take a small break, when you heard the door slide open. You looked up from where you were sitting on the floor, and were surprised to see Douma standing in the doorway. Had he followed you? Or had he found you by chance…?

“L-Lord Douma!” you said, getting up from where you were sitting and bowing to him.

“Ah, y/n! That was your name, wasn’t it?” he said, flashing you a smile.

“Y-Yes, Lord Douma.” you said, nodding slightly.

“Oh, no need for those silly formalities. Just call me Douma, little one.”

You didn’t know why, but you felt butterflies dance around in your stomach when he called you “little one”. Maybe he called more people that, not just you. Right?

Surely.

“Okay then…So, uhm, Douma, why have you come to see me? Or did you just find me by accident?”

Douma laughed, a hearty, full laugh. Like he had been genuinely amused by what you had said.

“Little one, this castle is infinite. It would be highly unlikely that I found you by chance.” he said.

“…Did you follow me?” you asked, a little softer than you had anticipated.

His smile slowly diminished, but never left his face. He laughed, but not like he had before. It was a lower, softer laugh, that darkened the eyes and rumbled in the chest like thunder before a storm. His mood hadn’t changed, but his aura had. Was it…threatening? Oh no, you wouldn’t put it like that.

…Beckoning. Teasing, even.

“Perhaps I did. Perhaps I didn’t, little one.” he said, his eyes locking onto yours.

You couldn’t tell why, but his gaze was so intense that it basically held you in place. Like you were frozen in ice, or in time itself. But something about it made something stir deep inside you. Something primal. Animalistic.

You must have zoned out, because when you were finally brought back down to earth, you felt Douma’s hand on your cheek. Your eyes widened, and you could feel your heart skip a beat. Your mind was racing, and your cheeks had turned cherry blossom pink.

“You’ve caught my eye, y/n.” he said suddenly.

Your eyebrows raised; you hadn’t expected him to say that. Or much at all, really. If you were being honest, you thought that he would’ve left by now. Guessing that he didn’t care. Being Uppermoon Two, you assumed he wouldn’t care about anyone lower than him.

But this showed that this was not necessarily the case.

“Caught your eye…? How?” you asked, a bit nervous of what his answer was going to be.

Douma simply shrugged.

“You’re very interesting, and you’re quite beautiful, too. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.” Douma said.

You paused for a moment, feeling like your throat had closed up. You’d never been called beautiful before. Not even in your human life. So you were automatically surprised.

“Beautiful? I…no one has ever called me something like that before…” you said softly.

“Then let me be the first.”

Before you could utter another phrase, you felt Douma’s lips press against your own. You were surprised, at first, but you soon let your hands drop on his shoulders and the rigidness in your spine cease. His hands were still on your cheeks, his thumbs slowly running over your skin.

You could feel his teeth gently pulling on your bottom lip, which you responded with parting your lips. His tongue slipped into your mouth, making you moan slightly. Your hands then moved into his hair, tugging slightly at his blonde locks.

After another minute or so, you pulled back, looking up at him.

“Did you enjoy that, y/n?” Douma asked.

You nodded, your cheeks flushed. You could barely speak, and your heart was pounding. You’d never done anything like that before, but you had to admit, it felt good.

“Good. But, I want to continue this. If that’s alright with you, little one?” he said, his hands sliding down to your shoulders.

“Y-Yes…” you said softly.

Douma smiled, his hands sliding down lower on your body. His hands pushed up the fabric covering your legs, exposing your inner thighs. You bit your lip as his hands gently squeezed and massaged your soft skin, getting closer to your covered heat.

One of his fingers hooked around the waistline of your panties, and he pulled them off with one swift motion. He tossed them aside, and focused his vision in between your legs.

“Oh my, I think I am going to enjoy this…”

꧁༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄꧂

You could barely think straight at this point. How had you gotten into this situation? That was long forgotten, now.

All you could think about was the feel of Douma’s tongue on your clit, and how you gripped his hair so tightly. You were practically on the verge of screaming, but you didn’t want any of the other Uppermoons to hear you two. Or even Muzan.

It felt better than anything you had ever experienced, even if you hadn’t really experienced anything. You twitched at the slightest touch of his tongue to your sensitive nub, and shivered as he spelled his name across your wet folds.

“D-Douma…” you managed to squeak out, your back starting to arch.

You had tasted better than any human he had ever eaten. He couldn’t help but moan at the way your nectar coated his tongue, and dripped off of his lips and down his chin like a thick honey.

It coated his throat like a sweet elixir, and left a heavenly aroma that filled his every sense. You swore you could see little hearts circling his head.

You were starting to grow closer, a tight knot building up in your lower stomach. It felt hot, but so good at the same time. You’d never experienced anything like this before; your body felt like it was on fire.

Douma somehow must’ve sensed your approaching orgasm, because his mouth began to work even more furiously than it already was.

You grabbed onto his hair tightly, while placing your other hand on the ground behind you to hold yourself up. You were shaking, tears of bliss welling up in the corners of your eyes and threatening to roll down your cheeks.

His tongue and fingers worked overtime, all focused on pleasuring you to the fullest.

Electric shocks shot up your spine each time his tongue even slightly touched your oh-so-sensitive clit, the way his fingers gently probed and massaged your inner walls, oh you were in shambles at this point!

After a few moments, it became too much to bear all at once. You crashed down under the pressure of all of the bliss and euphoria you were feeling, and tried to hang on for dear life. You grabbed the back of Douma’s head, pulling it towards you as your thighs closed around his head.

You rocked your hips against his face, chasing your orgasm as you shook and trembled. You put a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself, but there was no point. Your moans and wails still slipped past your lips, sounding heavenly to Douma’s ears.

You finally released your grip after a minute or so, both of you gasping.

“Mmm~ You taste delightful, little one. Did you enjoy it as much as I did?” Douma asked, sitting up on his knees.

“Y-Yes, Lord- I mean Douma. I did enjoy that.” you responded softly. You blushed even redder than you already were as he licked your sweet nectar off of his lips, and cleaned off his fingers as well.

Just as you were about to say something else, you heard someone clear their throat from behind you. You panicked, and quickly closed your legs as you turned your head around.

Oh shit.

“L-Lord Akaza..!” you said, your voice cracking slightly. You tried to cover yourself up by pulling your kimono over your now exposed chest and thighs, but it was no use. He’d already been standing there long enough to get a good shot of the action.

Akaza’s eyes narrowed as he spotted Douma across from you, still happily licking his lips. He clenched his fists at his side, one of his eyes slightly twitching.

“Ah, Akaza! Fancy seeing you here~ Care to join the two of us? The more the merrier, after all~”

꧁༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄꧂

Now how did you end up in this position? You don’t remember, and it’s not really important at this moment.

You were barely conscious, at this point. Being sandwiched in between Uppermoons Two and Three…with their cocks filling up both of your holes oh-so-deliciously.

You were facing Akaza, one of his hands placed securely on your back, while Douma was behind you, both of his hands firmly on your waist.

They hadn’t even started to move yet, and you had already ascended to what you were sure was heaven. You had a spaced out look on your face, drool leaking out of one of the corners of your mouth. Your cheek rested on Akaza’s collarbone. Your vision was slightly blurry, too.

(A/N: I mean come on. Am I wrong here? This would totally be me if I was sandwiched in between these two.)

“Look, Akaza! Y/n looks so fucked out already~” Douma cooed from behind you. You felt Akaza nod, and…was he trembling slightly? You couldn’t tell by how much you were yourself.

“Hold onto me if you need to, okay?” Akaza whispered softly into your ear. Your heart warmed at his gentle tone. You wrapped your arms around his torso, and a small smile graced your lips.

“Alright, now that you’re settled, y/n, shall we start moving?” Douma asked.

You hesitated for a moment, then slowly nodded, holding Akaza a little tighter. You sucked in a breath as you felt Douma move slightly, your teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

A groan could be heard from both of them as your walls squeezed, barely able to manage having both of them inside at the same time. You whined as Akaza slowly moved as well, his hips moving upwards gingerly.

A minute or so passed by, and they both found a steady rhythm. You began to rock your hips in sync with their thrusts, trying to be as close to them as possible.

“Douma…A-Akaza…” you moaned, your heart beating fast in your chest.

You moved your arms to wrap around Akaza’s neck, one of your hands going up to grip his hair, causing him to grunt softly. His own grip tightened on your waist, and his hips started to move faster.

You were going practically limp, now. A rag doll for the two of them to fuck while you laid in their arms, wrapped tightly around both of their cocks. It felt like you were on cloud nine.

Your vocabulary had devolved to only their names and incoherent moans and whimpers. You could barely think straight at this point, your mind gone fuzzy.

“Mmmph…hmm…a-ah— ah!” you squealed as Akaza hit a particularly sensitive spot. You were getting closer and closer to your orgasm, that same knot building up again, but more intense. Each upward thrust of their hips had you seeings stars, and sent tingles up and down your spine.

Suddenly, you just couldn’t take it anymore. That tight knot snapped, causing you to arch your back sharply as you let out a wail of ecstasy and pure, unadulterated bliss. Both of them held you in place as they kept thrusting, chasing their orgasms as well.

It couldn’t have been more then a few moments after yours, when they both reached their highs.

They both held you still for a minute or two, both shaking as you were. You could feel their warm semen dripping down your inner thighs, and forming a small puddle on the floor.

After a few minutes, Douma spoke up.

“I found that experience quite enjoyable, didn’t you, Akaza? And you, y/n?” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder. You nodded, barely conscious enough to say anything.

Akaza didn’t respond, he just slowly rubbed your back, and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

The three of you stayed like that for a while, until you fell asleep with your head on Akaza’s shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up what you assumed to be a few hours later, wrapped in something warm. You slowly opened your eyes a bit, and noticed you had a blanket around your shoulders.

And you were leaning against something, or more so being held by something. It was Akaza.

He had you sitting comfortably in his lap with his arms around you, and Douma was asleep as well beside you. You smiled softly to yourself, and snuggled deeper into Akaza’s hold.

“I could get used to this…” you thought to yourself as slumber claimed you once more, your eyes closing as Akaza pulled you just a bit closer.

~♡︎~

So how was it? 👉🏼👈🏼

I hope y’all like this because I wrote this while in the car. 😭 Also I just realized this is my first smut post. 🧍‍♀️ Yay me! :)

Don’t fret, my lovelies, there will be more where this came from! Because I have so many unfinished drafts 🥲

Anyways, that’s all! Charlotte out.

-C

(P.S., I might post once or twice today or tomorrow, but don’t be expecting something because I’m not sure. But I’ll miss you guys while I’m away! ^^)

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer smut #douma #Akaza #first smut post whattt #no wayyyyy #i finally got this done after an eternity

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justalonelyslytherin · 1 year

Text

Happy Father's Day - Lloyd Hansen

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x female Reader

Warnings: cursing, violence, gun handling and shooting, death, blood, insinuation/mention of hurting and/or killing a child

Wordcount: 3.9k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don’t allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don’t steal my work.

A/N: Another one of the longer ones in this series. Writing Lloyd was so much fun. And I really enjoyed this scenario and the open end, if Reader and Lloyd will get along or not. Part of the ‘Happy Father’s Day’ series. Dividers by the fantastic @/firefly-graphics

Footsteps echoed through the empty hall, drawing nearer until the door swung open. A figure walked into the office.

“You are late.”

Carmichael, who had been sitting in his chair and watching the arriving car through the dimmed window, turned around.

“Yeah well, I didn’t want to be here.”

“It’ll be worth your expenditure.”

“You better be paying me good for this. Summoning me here, you are becoming flamboyant. I could be otherwise entertained.”

“As always. You should know better of me.” Carmichael pursed his lips, glancing at the other man over his glasses. “This one is a special mission.”

“Are you finally getting rid of Susan, that frigid bitch?”

“No. But similar. I wanted to see your reaction myself.”

“And once you're finished we’ll have a drink together. Like the good old times.”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow as Carmichael opened a drawer. Withdrawing the file in an exaggerated motion, he held it in the air. It was inconspicuous. Like any other file the CIA used on their targets.

With a heavy thud it landed on the dark wooden desk, the noise reverberated through the dim office. Licking his lips and cocking his hip out, Lloyd took a lazy step forward. He swiped the file up in one smooth motion. Opening it, he was greeted with a picture.

Lloyd’s grip tightened around the file, the etches crinkling. His jaw ticked, square, and ready to snap as he eyed the contents.

“Her?” He asked after a tense, long silence.

“Her,” Carmichael confirmed. He leaned forward in his seat, elbows placed on the edge of the desk, “I want her disposed of.”

“Any particular reason?” Lloyd lilted lazily, eyes dragging over the file towards the other man. He didn’t need to read the print, he had committed it to memory a long time ago.

“None that should matter to you. I thought you might like to do it yourself. Since you two have…history.”

Huffing he let the file drop onto the desk, the smack reverberated through the office. A devilish, hungry grin spread over Lloyd’s lips.

“It’ll be my pleasure.”

Today had felt like an ordinary day to her, but if she knew one thing it was that there were no ordinary days.

There were quiet days and then there were hectic days. There were days when everything went according to plan and days when everything went wrong. There were days in which she’d been safe and days in which she’d nearly died.

The latter ones were now few and far between. Once it was her day-to-day, her nine-to-five. It was behind her now for most of it.

But as a seasoned agent, she should have known nothing ever truly stayed gone and that especially as someone in the intelligence industry there was no such simple thing as retirement.

Dying was your retirement.

The house was quiet when she arrived home. Something wasn’t right. It felt deadly quiet, not even the usual noise from the neighbors or cars passing over the street was there. It was too quiet.

Her days in the field might have laid behind her but her instincts were still as sharp. And so was her habit of still carrying a weapon with her at all times. As silently as she could, she put her purse beside the front door, moving slowly and carefully. Squatting, she drew her gun from inside the bag.

The entryway was clear and so was the office she never used. When she walked through the living room, clearing it as well, gaze moving into the adjacent, open kitchen she froze. Halfway hidden behind the kitchen counter lay a body on the floor. Rosa. Her household help. Face down, in a puddle of her own blood, unmoving.

Rushing over, there was nothing she still could have done for the nice lady she’d become friends with. She wasn’t long dead, body and blood felt warm.

Then she heard it. A creek. Snapping her head towards the ceiling she listened. When another creek sounded, she bounded to the stairs. Taking two steps at a time she rushed up.

On the second level, she ignored most of the doors, bypassing clearing each room in favor of getting to the most important of it all. At the far end of the hallway was a cream-colored door, opened just a slit. A soft melody played, faintly echoing through the hallway. She’d closed that door just before she left the house.

The door swung open, barely stopping before it hit the wall as she barged in, gun drawn high. She pointed the barrel at the figure standing on the other side of the room, looming above a baby bed.

“Hands up where I can see them and step the fuck away from the cradle!” Her voice was firm but there was the hint of a shake looming close.

The figure stayed relaxed, slowly raising his hands. There was a big gun in his right hand, making her grit her teeth as her heart dropped. Hopefully, she wasn’t too late already. Please, don’t let her be too late. Her grip around her gun tightened as the person turned around.

Shock coursed through her, almost making her forget what was going on. Almost.

“Lloyd.”

He grinned at her, “Hello Sunshine.”

The pet name rolled off his tongue so smoothly as if not a single day had gone by. It didn’t trick her, it was a farce and so she kept her guard up and the gun centered on his chest. Not that Lloyd could have cared for any of it. That grin, that split his lips and pulled at his mustache mocked her together with the glint in his eyes. The amusement was highly evident on his face.

“You sneaky little thing, aren’t you?” He made a show of trailing his gaze through the room before he continued, “A safe house – that’s not so safe anymore – and a baby?”

His laugh made her skin crawl.

“I didn’t peg you for the chick that would let herself get stuck with a brat,” he taunted and she rolled her eyes. “Although I would have enjoyed being the one to fuck one into you.”

“Step away from her,” she demanded, unreactive to his jabs. He wanted to provoke her but she wouldn’t grant him that pleasure.

Lloyd looked behind him toward the crib in which her baby was peacefully sleeping. “And what if I don’t? You shoot me? Shoot in the direction of your darling?” Her eyes flickered to the crib behind him, just for a moment. Enough to confirm he was right. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

“As I thought,” he hummed, slowly putting his hands down.

She’d just lost her advantage, her threat. The gun in her hands was useless if she couldn’t – wouldn’t – use it to actually shoot him. It was just a show and he could do and please how he wanted without her being able to prevent it.

“I have to give you that: She is cute as a bug.” Her heart nearly gave out as Lloyd turned around again and leaned over the crib. He was reaching down, his fingers running over the baby's smooth dark hair and soft cheek. As his pinky ring graced her cheek, the cold sensation of the metal on her skin made her frown. It caused his lip to quip upward.

With his other hand – the one holding the large gun – he leaned down too. The nose of the gun softly traced along her little tummy.

It made her breath hitch, instinctively she took a step forward. A mistake as Lloyd’s head cocked back at her. There was enjoyment glinting in his eyes. He loved games like this, toying with people’s emotions, but most of all with their fear.

“Oh look at you, all momma-bear. Am I driving you crazy with concern huh?” He was having the time of his life.

“What will you do?” he wanted to know, taunting once more, “I could shoot her right now and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

He was right. She wouldn’t be able to cross the room fast enough to prevent him from pulling the trigger or ripping the gun up and away from her child.

“Step away from her,” she demanded, voice shaking with equal amounts of rage and concern. It was an empty demand. What threat did she have against him? What options to stop him? Her words made him laugh.

“Give me one good reason why I should do that instead of pulling my trigger right now?”

“Because she is yours.”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow, beneath his long lashes his eyes dilated in surprise but also in glee. Once more he started laughing. A full belly laugh this time. So much he had to wipe away tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

“That’s a good one, sunshine.” But she stayed unwaveringly serious. Lloyd eyed that as well. Straightening up he took in the sleeping baby closely.

“Oh, are you serious?” The amusement was still there but now there was a hint of seriousness in his tone as well.

“Her?” He pointed towards the cradle. “Mine?”

Reluctantly she nodded. There was a brief moment in which Lloyd turned solemnly serious, a moment in which he seemed to contemplate it all. Then his face twisted in rage. In a split second, he lunged at her.

She was slammed to the floor, him above her as her gun skidded over the ground, out of her reach. His hands wrapped around her throat, strong hands unrelenting. The air was pushed out of her lungs as he choked her. Wrapping her hands around his forearms, she tried to stop him but there was no point. He was too strong.

“You little bitch.” Lloyd was seething. Spitting as he looked at her like an animal gone wild. “You are enjoying this aren’t you?”

“Greedy little slut, took everything you could get your hands on, didn’t you? Even a baby!” Her mind was reeling, both from the lack of oxygen and his words. They didn’t make sense. She hadn’t taken anything from him. It wasn’t like she had tried to get him to knock her up and then vanish.

Even with the blood rushing in her ears and the black rims growing at the edges of her vision she couldn’t get his hands off her. But maybe getting his hands off her neck wasn’t what she should focus on. With what quickly draining strength she had still left in her, she started squirming under him.

She couldn’t die right now. Not like this. There was no way in hell she would leave her daughter to Lloyd’s mercy.

“You are a twisted, backstabbing–” Mustering enough strength she managed to kick him in the balls, hard enough to sway him for a moment. It was only a short moment but it was enough to kick him off her and send him to the side.

She coughed and wheezed, greedily sucking in as much air as she could. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him sit up, brushing a hand over his mouth. It came away with a streak of blood.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” She wheezed, turning to her side, all the while her eyes roamed through the room, looking for her gun.

“You were the reason the CIA kicked me out! Not that I would have enjoyed being in that constringent shithole with their stupid rules. I’m much freer where I am now but that doesn’t change the fact you betrayed me!”

What?

“I didn’t!” She watched him try to stand up and so she swiped her leg out, ripping his feet out from underneath him. He smacked against the floor as she continued, “I didn’t even know you were kicked out! No one would tell me anything about what happened. You were simply gone!”

“Liar,” he roared, looking at her with rage. Seeing his rage was nothing new, but this was the first time it was focused on her.

“I thought you were dead!”, she roared back, “It took me weeks with no success until I found out– … until I found out I was pregnant. Only when I went to Fitzroy did he tell me you got kicked out.”

“Bullshit! Someone ratted me out! Who was it then?”

“Who? I'll tell you who! Your buddy, fucking, Carmichael!”

There was a fire burning in Lloyds eyes and with newfound vigor, he pushed to his feet. Scrambling, she looked around the room, frantically trying to find her gun. She needed to reach her gun before Lloyd could reach his.

“He never liked me, Lloyd. He always hated that I was by your side. That ass was always jealous of what we – you – had since college! He couldn’t stand that I was taking you away from him, don’t you understand?!”

Lloyd had never seen the clear disdain with which Carmichael had regarded her. The poorly hidden hatred and animosity.

She’d stalled him long enough to locate her gun in the room, just as Lloyd had risen to his feet and centered his attention on his gun – much closer than hers. Their eyes crossed as a mutual realization set in. They had the same plan and they both needed to stop the other. There was a second in which neither one of them moved. Then, jumping around she scrambled for her gun. Nearly there, only millimeters from grasping it in her hand, her fingers brushing the cool plastic, a hand wrapped around her ankle. With a violent jerk, she was yanked back. Not without a fight. Her kicking was fruitless, Lloyd’s hand stayed around her foot like a vice. It was to no avail.

He was pulling her back until she lay under him and Lloyd pinned her to the ground with his knees and hands. His gun was pointed at her. The click of the bullet slipping into the barrel had her deflate.

All the fight rapidly left as she realized: she’d lost.

“Don’t kill her,” she whispered, eyes dimmed in grief. She pleaded with him, “Don’t punish her for what you believe me to have done.” In a violent lurch her face whipped to the side, the sound of his backhanded slap echoing in her ears. The metallic taste of blood spread in her mouth.

It didn’t stop her from continuing, “Look after her.

At least find her a safe place with a new family if you don’t want her.”

This raging fire kept burning in his eyes as Lloyd centered the barrel of his gun to her forehead. Cold metal touched her skin, creating a burning halo. She wouldn’t close her eyes. No, she chose to keep looking into his, waiting for her inevitable end.

When the trigger got pulled, the shot rang out loudly above her but the bullet never hit.

No longer was the gun pointed at her but at the door, she’d burst through not long ago. Ripping her eyes away from the gun, she focused back on Lloyd. He was already looking down at her, his jaw clenched and lips pursed.

Behind them – in the cradle – their baby started to wail.

In his hands, Carmichael held a couple of pictures. A drone shot from a burned-down house. Multiple from the burned-down interior of said house. And one of a corpse burned so badly she was unrecognizable.

The door to his office opened up without premonition.

“Well done.” Putting the pictures down the man with the glasses looked up.

“How did it feel?” “Satisfying,” Lloyd mused, hands loosely clasped behind his back as he whipped on his feet.

“So the bitch got what she deserved.” Carmichael looked pleased, a sly grin formed on his usually composed and unhappy-looking face. “You know I never trusted her. Always knew there was something off with her.”

“She was a rotten apple from the beginning.” “Was she?” Lloyd asked with ease. “Why’d you never say something then?”

“I wanted you to have your fun with her. I thought that’s all she was to you anyway.”

Nodding Lloyd hummed, “She was a pretty good fuck.”

In the end, Carmichael stood up, walking towards a sideboard with glasses and a bottle of expensive alcohol. “Let’s drink to that.” He poured some into the two glasses, the trickle of the liquid sloshing the only sound.

“A toast,” he said, turning around with the two glasses in his hand. One held out towards Lloyd, the other comfortably nestled in his own. “To the two of us. That no woman will ever be worthy to come between us.”

Lloyd was now directly in front of him. Before he could register the thing shoved against his chest, the muffled sound of a shot rang out. The glasses toppled from his hands, their golden liquid soaked the carpet beneath his feet. He could only glance at the gun between them in shock. The gun Lloyd had aimed and fired at his chest.

“The bitch is indeed getting what he deserves.”

Lloyd’s mustache quirked up, revealing the grin on his lips as Carmichael stumbled and slid down the sideboard. Sitting before him, the man's blood mixed with the carpet.

“You should have never come between me and her.” It was the last thing Lloyd whispered, watching as the light left the man's eyes.

Picking up one of the two glasses, Lloyd eyed the remains of the liquid in the crystal clear cup. He downed it in one swift gulp.

“Happy Father’s Day to me.”

Outside the office, Carmichael’s men lay slumped over. Dead too. Lloyd stepped over them, wasting no glance back as he walked on.

Behind the corner at the end of the hallway, a figure awaited. Fitzroy. The older man had his hands shoved into his pockets as he watched him approach. Both men looked at one another, unable to stand their opposite but still working together. An Exception.

“You better treat her right,” Fitzroy was serious, looking down on him with disdain. “Or I’ll come to get her and my granddaughter and you’ll be dead.”

The words didn’t impress Lloyd. It was a real threat. Fitzroy still had his trumps and his ways to win over Lloyd.

Yet he calmly and dryly answered, “She isn’t your granddaughter.”

“No, but she is as good as.

I was the only one there for them, during the pregnancy and when she gave birth to that sweet little angel.”

It was a carefully calculated attack, the words meant to cut deep. Lloyd didn’t say anything to that. He walked past the man without another word. Outside a car waited for him already, driving away the moment he sat inside.

High-pitched coos and unintelligible babbling littered the air as she held her daughter in her arms softly swaying her from side to side. Her heart fluttered as she took in the chubby cheeks and long lashes.

“We still have to get used to our new home, don’t we?” She mumbled against the soft tuft of hair dusted along her daughter’s head. Her little head couldn’t stop turning around, not nearly fast enough to follow her curious eyes.

“It’s so big.” Her little one cooed in agreement, even though she likely couldn’t understand her yet. Taking in the huge room they were in, big still felt like an understatement. The improvised baby room looked anything but suited for a baby. The luxurious theme felt overpowering, just like the rest of the castle did. Adjusting from a comfortable little two-story house to a castle with rooms in the hundreds would take time.

“Who would have thought your dad would show up to join your life.”

There was still a part of her that didn’t want to believe it and a part of her that mistrusted Lloyd. Her lip and back still ached from the fight, the memories of him pointing his gun not only at her but at the baby and threatening to shoot fresh in her mind. Too fresh perhaps.

Lloyd had changed from wanting to kill her to wanting to protect her and their daughter in less than a minute. A split-second decision that otherwise would have found her with a bullet in the head and her daughter orphaned.

A noise from the outside alerted her. It drew her to the big window so they could watch what was happening outside. Together they eyed the black SUV drive over the gravel of the huge driveway, fast approaching the house. When the car stopped just before the entrance and Lloyd stepped out of the car, she sighed.

“Speaking of the devil,” muttering to her daughter, she pressed a kiss against her head. The baby coed once more and babbled happily in her arms. Clumsy little fingers gripped her sleeve.

“Sunshine! I’m back!”

Not a moment later Lloyd’s loud voice boomed through the house. One might think that with its size his voice would get drowned out. It didn’t take him long to reach the room and push the door open. Once his eyes settled on the two of them, still close to the window a grin appeared on his face.

“There they are!” Striding over he stopped shortly in front of them as his eyes settled on the toddler.

“Bug.” She rolled her eyes at his newly proclaimed nickname for his daughter. Her eyes followed his hands, reaching out and demanding to hold the baby. For a moment she hesitated to pass her over. Lloyd’s eyes jumped to her, narrowing slightly but ultimately he dropped his hands to his side.

Not for long. Just as quickly as he had folded his hands found her waist. Rather forcefully she was turned around, gazing back out of the window.

“You’ll start to trust me again.” His voice murmured into her ear as Lloyd settled behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist. Her back was pressed against his front. Resting his chin against her shoulder, he nosed along her neck, whispering more words into her ear.

“And maybe by the next Father’s Day, I’ve fucked another one into you already.”

She scoffed, lips twitching upward in a smile as she glanced back at him, “In your dreams. How about you learn to handle your existing daughter first. She’s already got your temper when she is tired and cranky, by that time next year she’ll likely have reached the terrible twos.”

BONUS:

“If I find out you lied to me,” Lloyd threatened as he stood up, still looking down at her. He nodded towards his gun.

“Why would I?” Scoffing, she too slowly sat up and wiped away the blood from her mouth. “I would have never betrayed you, I loved you.”

Something in the way he laughed so dryly deeply hurt her. Her eyes were turned downwards as she got up. When she stood in front of him, face to face, her expression remained unchanged and just as solemn.

“You are serious?”

“Is it so hard to believe? My future was yours.”

She was about to breeze past him and towards the cradle, towards her crying daughter when he stopped her. His hand wrapped around her biceps.

“Looks like you are getting what you wanted in the end,” he rumbled into her ear. Then he dropped his hand. “Calm her down, take whatever you need for her, and be done with it in five minutes.”

He didn’t leave the room while she did so, hovering beside the door with his arms crossed, holding onto the gun as he watched.

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x fic #lloyd hansen imagine #lloyd hansen fanfiction #sly writes

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 9 months

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A/N = 😐 So, this is my first time writing about Rengoku. And I'm ngl, this shit had me a little hot and bothered. @peachdues You're an angel for reminding me how much I love this song. It just does somethin' to me 🤷‍♀️.

CW = Implied y/n. Iiii mmmeann ... just ... nothing too, too graphic. But to be safe, MDNI NSFW 🔞.

Bedtime is the Best Time

"Babe? Are you coming?"

"Y-yeah. Be right there."

● Kyojuro walks into the room where you lay on your stomach in bed. Scrolling through your phone watching the most recently posted kitten videos.

● "You watching kitten videos again," he asks. Knowing full well you are. But he doesn't blame you. They're so damn cute.

● "Come to bed."

● "Yeah, yeah, for sure. Jus' g'na brush my teeth." He left you to finish the video about the kitten playing with its moms tail. One of his personal favorites.

● You slipped out of his t-shirt that you always wore to sleep in and laid back down.

● "Do you need anything before I come in there?" You landed a good man.

●"Nope, jus' want you."

● Kyojuro came into the bedroom and threw his shirt in the dirty laundry, glancing over at you. He felt like something was maybe up with you. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary. So he went about bedtime as usual.

● "Well, get ready, my little firecracker, for I have arrived!" He spread his arms and jumped to the bed, landing abruptly on you.

● The man is 95.999% muscle. He was heavy but in this utterly delicious way.

● You're both laughing at his dumb sense of humor, swiping away stray hair from each other's face. Thoroughly enjoying the sweet moment.

● But you look at each others' lips for a second too long and then back into each other's eyes.

● Looks of playfulness are quickly being replaced by a serious lust for the other person you just shared such a whimsical moment with.

● Smiles easily give way to a darkness as you stare down your lover.

● Your breathing and heart rates increase as the touching between you becomes more needy. It's no longer fun, funny, carefree.

● Kyojuro stands up resolutely and takes off his clothes. His cock springs to his abdomen. Precum already glistening in his slit.

● His hair is bright and wild around his face as he starts to wrap his hand around the leaky tip. Looking at you in such a way, you find yourself a little scared.

● The noises he's making are animalistic.

● Grunts.

● He wraps his whole hand around himself.

● Growls.

● His head drops as he looks up at you from under his barely dewy brow.

● He takes a step closer to the bed.

● He takes a step closer to you.

● Kyojuro is on you before you can say anything. His lips haphazardly cover every inch of your burning flesh.

● His fingers explore every opening that will succumb to his findings.

● "You're so tight," he says, as he struggles to control himself. "S'tight everywhere. Let me inside of you. Pl-please. I must get inside of you."

● You feel your pussy gush with an oasis that only he could draw from you.

● You nod your head fast, and you nod hard.

● "Kyo ... fuck me. N- now. *God*, please now."

● He falls at your feet. Worshipping you the best way he knows how.

● Kissing the tops of your feet as he holds your calves in his large hands, sliding them further up.

● He kisses your knees. All the while never taking his eyes off of yours. Reducing you to a trembling mess beneath his observance and his touch.

● He slides your legs together and darts his tongue in and out of the thickest part of your thighs. Moaning into them how much he fucking loves you. Your smell. How he wants to eat you alive.

● He nudges your legs apart and tells you "I love you, my wildfire," before he pushes you down and leaves one hand on your sternum while the other spreads you open for him in every sense of the word.

● He lays you out on the bed and tongues your folds apart so he can see how wet you are for him. Under him. Around him.

● His scalding eyes hold your attention as he kisses your clit and his rough fingers ease their way into your sleek core.

● "My god," he whispers as he slides his fingers back out. Admiring the gooey juices from your cunt that are now coating his skin.

● Kyojuro buries his face in your pussy so far you wonder how he'll breathe. "You are my life. I will breathe you. Now stay down, little inferno."

● You give yourself over to him wholly, and you are not now, nor have you ever been, disappointed.

● He knows just what you need and is ever voracious in his delivery.

● You're so close now. He feels this escalation before you're even fully aware. The tightrope he has you walking is about to snap out from underneath this precarious balance.

● His hands come up under your ass and he rests your thighs on either side of his ears. Your legs slam over his temples. Muffled cries are what he's here for.

● Kyo will hold you down tighter until you're sobbing. Promising the God's that next time your prayers involving this man won't be so greedy.

● But the God's and Kyo know those are lies you shout in vein. You overestimated your tolerance for orgasm after orgasm to be dragged from your body.

● The God's won't hear your sobs anymore. Only Kyojuro, as he licks around his mouth and sucks his fingers clean of you. Only Kyojuro will give you what you need now.

● He runs his fingers over your drenched pussy and then starts rubbing his cock slowly. Padding you with his full length.

● Your body jerks up at his arrival. You're still sensitive from him eating you out. But he fills you so perfectly.

● Kyo rolls his hips into you over and over. Tearing the most sinful and downright filthy noises from your body.

● You say his name under your breath like he could be the one to save you from yourself.

● But he just continues to bring your bodies together like he, himself, would cease to exist if he did not share himself with you ... only you.

● Your release is fast approaching. He is not far behind.

● You squeeze and suck his cock into you. He loses focus over who's fucking who here.

● You feel so perfect to him. He likes to think that he's doing you the best he can for you. That he's your best boy.

● But how you look so undone as he loses control of his body and thrusts into you a few more times.

● Leaving you both with a completely fucked out and impassioned expression on your drooling faces.

●The remaining part of him in you blankets you in a small flood of white. And what manages to escape, he will rub on your clit, once again testing his theory about what your body can endure.

● Oh yes. You can be sure that Kyojuro talks to the God's, as well. And every day he wakes up to you next to him, is one more orison actualized.

#rengoku #demon slayer kyojuro #demon slayer rengoku #kny rengoku #kny demon slayer #rengoku x reader #rengoku x you #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku smut #Spotify

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thesweetnessofspring · 9 months

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Today's The Blue Castle research is Valancy's green crepe dress. So first, here are a collection of descriptions of the dress:

She got a pretty green crêpe dress with a girdle of crimson beads...

She felt so miserably undressed in its low neck and short sleeves. And that low, crimson girdle around the hips seemed positively indecent.

Above it her eyes had looked like odd brown jewels and the girdle had given her flat figure an entirely different appearance.

It was nonsense to feel so—so—naked—just because her neck and arms were bare.

There's been a lot of talk about how the timeline of this book is a little all over the place. I found a collection of fashion sketches from 1912-1950 from the Brooklyn Museum that gives a wide range of fashion from the time. Here are some drawings that I think with some adjustments could match Valancy's dress, or at least parts of it. I will say I'm not a seamstress so I'm not sure if these would work with crepe fabric.

First up: 1914 dress goes to show that a lower waist still did occur in the 1910s, even if it was more rare than the empire/natural waist. Imagine it in green with the sash around the hips being replaced with the "girdle of crimson beads"

Here's an evening dress from 1915 that can also with some adjustments could fit the description. The tie at the waist here could very much match the "beads" as it looks more narrow. The skirt is likely more full and embellished, but I do like the top as Valancy notes that her "neck" is showing but nothing more than that.

An afternoon dress from 1916 that will require a bit of imagination with colors as this is all black.

1918 day dress that might be my favorite. The colors would have to be switched, but overall this has the right shape to it to me. Plus there's a hat that works with the hat Valancy has!

1920 day dress. I like that this one is a bit more simple, which makes it feel a bit more likely an ordinary person could have a dress like this, again with a change of colors.

1920 evening dress. This one is fun because it's green just like Valancy's crepe dress. I think the only note is that the girdle would be red and not quite as voluminous at the side. This is another one of my favorites, maybe because the model is giving Valancy vibes.

1921 day dress. This is a bit more of a toned down version of the previous one, again with some imagination about the sash being red and beaded.

1921 day dress. I think with just some shorter sleeves, this one works well with the description given. I know she doesn't have flowers as her belt, but also I wouldn't be mad if this was the design for a movie.

#the blue castle #blue castle book club #l.m. montgomery #valancy's green crepe dress

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ichorblossoms · 28 days

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for the ask meme can i get uhhhh yarrow + face, serena + motion, grimm + favorite

HI HELLO JANE!!!!! sorry this took awhile to get around to answering i wrote all the text and told myself i was gonna draw pictures for these and then i got distracted because i wanted to draw. other pictures instead :,D BUT without further ado !!

face: Describe your OC's face. What's their smile like? Are their orbs cerulean? What would someone notice first when looking at them?

i don't trust my writing skills enough to write a description. their face:

i talked a little bit abt their facial features in this ask, but yeah, the Bee Stuff is definitely what people notice first. yarrow's modification was an experimental one, so while most people are kinda used to seeing humods with fur on their faces or weird ears or maybe horns and whatnot, invertebrate features are rare and jarring. this does cause issues when you're trying to be discreet, so yarrow tries their best to wear bandanas or masks. even pre-modification they actually wear something to the effect of a bandana or surgical mask often; partially because They Are A Doctor and also because they live in a mining town that doesn't give a shit about how much dust is kicked up from the open-pit mining

pre-modification i'm not sure what people would notice first; they have a few small defining features like their dimples, yellow-gold eyes, straight teeth, patchy facial hair, and mole on their right cheek, but overall nothing out of the ordinary. i think it's less features people notice, and a general impression of openess? he's quick to smile, talkative, and expressive, so people usually feel like they can approach him

motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

having trained in martial arts for most of her life, serena's very coordinated and flexible! she also has a muscular stature and she can make herself very difficult to move if she doesn't want to. she's aware of her size and generally has a slouch to her posture and walks with a bit of a trudge and lope if that makes sense? she has enough control though to where she can move almost freakishly quiet and it scares people on occasion

ofc she doesn't wear clothes, but she does have her prosthesis!

she's got both an everyday and a sport prosthesis, so while her movement isn't necessarily affected by that, she's less willing to run or do anything intense if she just has her everyday prosthesis on (that's the one i draw, i need to look more into sport prostheses for humans and adapt a design from there)

bc she's a congenital amputee, the only real adjustment she's had to do irt her leg is adapting to a new prosthesis every few years, so she has a solid sense of moving with or without it on. i've been trying to determine if she has smthin like an adapted wheelchair as well, but since dragons are quadrupeds and she's only missing part of a limb, it may not be necessary when she also has her tail and wings to help counterbalance during movement...? there's also the factor that she doesn't have a lot of money, so regardless of what she has to assist her, it's not always top-quality and she's learned to live with a certain level of discomfort and pain

speaking of wings, flying is something dragons can do, but it's a lot like running where most ppl can't do it for longer periods of time unless they train. it's not as necessary in modern society, so most dragons can fly for short bursts if needed/for fun. with the exception of a few who do things like, idk fly to work, most rely on transit bc it's easier. serena's ability to fly is Okay, she's accumulated some damage to her wings over the years (side effect of martial arts where other people have claws and horns), which makes her less aerodynamic and more easily tired out. she's got a good handle on her body and how it moves, so she's actually pretty graceful in the air and not aware of that fact at all. overall, she prefers not to fly, but still maintains a healthy habit of working out those muscles so they don't atrophy, which is a thing that happens with modern dragons.

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

am i allowed to saw wrench here. i'm gonna say wrench

saying wrench is grimm's favorite accessory is actually a stretch bc it loathes wearing it, but adores wrench as a companion but if we are purely talking abt clothing here, grimm's not the sentimental sort, so it doesn't hold on to things once they're to worn nor does it worry about wearing things out. which is the boring answer

wrench is only worn as armor a handful of times in-story and in dire circumstances (that i. have not quite figured out yet <3). grimm fucking hates wearing it, hates the way it takes them back to their past, hates the way it doesn't quite fit their body anymore and hurts if they wear it too long, hates why they even have to wear it, but it's protection and a weapon in one, and they don't have many options.

i talked abt wrench a little bit when you asked abt it here, but wrench is both an artifact of grimm's past and a dear friend. as an animal companion/robot grimm does maintain wrench to an extent and it's a good dog that doesn't age like normal animals, they have a close pet/owner bond. when it comes to "wearing" it, transforming (so to speak) doesn't cause any wear and tear on wrench itself, since that is one of the purposes it was built for, but the situations in which grimm would don wrench may result in damage and there's also an element of wanting to keep wrench safe. aside from being armor, wrench can also do stuff like jam signals for short periods of time and sense heat signatures, so it does have an interest in preserving wrench for its own work and safety as well, but it's also a pet, yknow?

post-story i'm p sure grimm and yarrow would get something equivalent to married. yarrow's the romantic and the one to suggest it ofc, but grimm's like "hell, if i'm going to symbolically tie their life to someone else's it wouldn't be anyone but yarrow" and whatever sort of wedding band/necklace/wearable symbol they choose would become grimm's favorite, esp since it represents a version of themself they like being

#asks #THANK YOU AGAIN!!!!!!!#LOVE TALKING ABOUT THEM #i was like 'oh i'll get these asks done [two weekends ago]' and then. i didn't. bc my brain is a goo. and also i'm stupid #oops! all 3/4 view facing right. ignore that hgkflhdlg #honeybee #thicker than water #art #yarrow #serena #grimm

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a-gay-little-cat · 4 months

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(This drawing got way out of hand but. I'm attaching it to the OC interview anyways!!!! Thank you for tagging me @mail-me-a-snail!!!!) OC interview thingy under the read more :]

Name?

“Vito.” Nothing special or out of the ordinary here really. Though he doesn’t like giving people his surname. Scan him for it if you are so nosy.

Nickname?

“The Red Scorpion.” "...." “That’s a joke, it’s V.” His name is short enough to not warrant a nickname really but V is what he likes to use for business related stuff, keep it formal, keep it anonymous. Though I do think Red Scorpion is the name for his bike. And also the symbol he wears on his vest. He just really likes scorpions and any other desert critter.

Gender?

“Male.”

Vito is trans, has been for a good chunk of his life and he couldn’t be happier with it.

Star sign?

“Scorpio, much to my delight. No idea what it means though. Don’t really care for that kind of stuff.” Fun fact I was so close to making the joke of having Vito be born on the day the Arasaka Towers got blown up but then his age wouldn’t have aligned quite right. He’d have to be 53 during the main story but… still a joke in the back of my mind, might adjust it JUST to be funny, maybe not.

Height?

“Last I checked it was 5’8.”

It’s a pretty good height all things considered. He might appear a bit taller though thanks to the bit of heel on his boots as well as his hat he wears most of the time. He has no complaints about his height though.

Orientation?

“Whoever strikes my fancy.”

Vito is bi and doesn’t really have a preference. Just kinda lets himself be taken wherever his heart desires. (Sometimes that can be horrible ex-corpo men who have something really wrong with them. Shoutout to Lucian. What is wrong with him.) Though he usually doesn’t look for more than a fling. Not actively looking to date or find anything long term. (Lucian was kind of an unexpected case.)

Nationality/ethnicity?

“Born and raised in Mexico. Lived there a good while too.”

His parents likely still live there, he wouldn’t really know. Cut ties a long time ago and has kinda moved from city to city looking to follow his ambitions.

Favorite fruit?

“Hm… don’t have fruit a lot these days but peaches have always been my favorite.”

I can only imagine fruit is just kind of rare to come by, if not expensive. Vito’s never had a lot of money to his name all things considered.

Favorite season?

“Fall. It’s just right.”

Listen he may be used to hot climates but all that leather is probably a nightmare during the summer. And no he will not sacrifice his looks.

Favorite flower?

“Flowers? In this year and age?” He doesn’t know shit about flowers. He might like ones that bloom on cacti but… it’s not really his scene.

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?

“You can’t go wrong with a nice tea.” He’ll always pick tea over anything else. Coffee is… okay. But he doesn’t get the appeal. Vito especially likes any sort of red/fruity tea but he’ll give anything a try at least once.

Average hours of sleep?

“4…. 5… depends.”

And that’s on a good day. Especially in the height of everything with the relic he is lucky to get one or two hours of sleep. Pain is one hell of a bitch keeping him up. Very hard to get comfortable at all. But once that’s all over and he’s settled down it’ll probably end up closer to an average of 8 hours, at least.

Dog or cat person?

“Reptiles.” “...” “But if I have to pick? Cats.”

Vito isn’t one to really care for pets. He doesn’t hate them and will pet a dog or a cat if someone he knows owns one but that's about it. Doesn’t really need a pet of his own.

Dream trip?

“Not really looking to travel.”

As a guy who has moved from place to place, Vito doesn’t really… plan for trips. Most of his traveling was out of necessity and not because he was looking for a vacation spot. Somewhere outside of NC could be nice but he just doesn’t really think about it. Busy with other stuff. Also he would want to travel with Lucian and well……. who knows how that would go down.

Favorite fictional character?

“Pardon?”

Vito reads a lot but he’s not like… crazy about the characters or even really involved, it's just to pass time and relax.

Number of blankets you sleep with?

“.....2.”

He gets cold in his sleep and it's a nice weight. One hell of a fight to get out of bed in the morning though.

Random fact?

Vito loves putting together little models of things if possible. Doesn’t always have the time for it but… it’s fun and relaxing :)

Don't really know who to tag but hey whoever wants to do this with their guys feel free to go ahead!

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #male v #putting it in the tags bc look at him #vito really isnt the most talkative guy all things considered #künstlerischer kuchen #vito #my ocs #i do wanna do this with tiger also but grr grrr i must draw smth first #and then get lost in drawing #i'd probably have an easier time writing these down for tiger since hes been established longer but. i wanted to talk abt vito.#BTW lucian is kings guy. just so we are clear #king being gr-74 on ye ol tumblr

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yaraaflor · 18 days

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is there a reason you like dickhelena? what's your ideal idea of a relationship between them - a shorter thing or do you see them working out

omg tell me how this ask has been in my inbox a whole ass month and i never saw it... my bad anon i wasn't ignoring you lol i just never get asks ig. anyways! answer got long so it's under the cut.

dickhelena my beloved... well first of all i do NOT see them ever working out as a like. super long-term married couple type thing. i think their relationship could be functionally good in a lot of ways but they will always have a fundamentally different view of killing and the ethics of it. and i don't think dick would ever be able to fully get past that. like... how do i put this... i think he would be able to get over it TO A POINT out of love, but it would always be a source of tension between them, and at some point the issue would be forced, either by helena killing someone or them disagreeing about somebody else killing someone. i don't think dick's no-killing morality is quite as strong as bruce's, but it's not nothing to him. and i also think he would take issue with the why of it all - like helena killing people bc she believes they cannot be reformed, as opposed to like. idk kory who comes from a different culture and has had to kill her own oppressors.

and also i think bruce would be a permanent issue for them. like helena has a super complex relationship with bruce (and ofc dick does too but he's always going to be loyal to bruce, as his father figure), and bruce sure as hell would not approve of their relationship. which, dick wouldn't let bruce just trample all over his love life, but. at a certain point, having your SO and your family at odds with each other can become exhausting.

BUT just because i don't think they would last forever doesn't mean i don't think the relationship would be meaningful. i think they could have a lot of fun together, if they let themselves, and i think they could make each other happy for a time.

i think a key part of dickhelena is, even when they disagree, they're not incapable of understanding each other. they're both children of gotham who have lost a lot to violence and are trying to help others avoid that. and unlike a lot of the other bats, they both try to maintain an ordinary life and job alongside their vigilante work. they both have soft hearts and hard heads. the way they show it is pretty different, but it's there.

and i mean part of the draw of the relationship to me is the complexity of it. of being at odds about one or two major issues, but compatible in so many other ways. of having a kind of love-hate, flirting-fighting dynamic, and a bit of a messy history. but despite that, seeing the good in each other, and still seeing it even when things are over.

there's something to be said, imo, for relationships that don't work out, but don't end with bad blood either. like it's those relationships that often help people learn and grow, and i think they get overlooked in fandom a lot. for understandable reasons! we all have an otp we want to be in love forever. but for dick and helena, i think of them more as like a 'we didn't work out but it's not because the love wasn't there' type thing. love isn't always enough to make things last and that's important to realize.

....looking back i feel like to a certain extent my answer might not be satisfactory here bc a part of my reason for liking dickhelena is like... i just do? lol. like i love both their characters and i like them together and i think they have a certain chemistry that i can't really put into words. and i understand that not everyone feels that way about them which is fine.

but yah. sorry for making you wait for this anon lol

#ask #anon #my post #dickhelena #dick grayson #helena bertinelli

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cherryblossomlion · 3 months

Text

Katsugi

Oh hai, it's a Mizukemi Yakuza AU! Many thanks to @todaywefvight for collaborating with me on this project, it's been so fun!

You can read it after the cut or also here:

🌸

Katsugi (noun): shouldering, carrying, raising, bearing.

<i>Katsugi is a noun form of katsugu, which means “to carry on your shoulder”. So in katsugi waza, you life your shinai towards your left or right shoulder instead of above your head</i>.

🌸

Akemi's outfit would be completely unacceptable back in Kyoto. Short, tight, blood red, her cleavage on full display-- Akemi looks nothing like either the dutiful Yakuza daughter or the med student overachiever that are the warring counterparts of her identity...

But it’s summer break, the first summer of Akemi's life that hasn't been filled with "family" functions or cram schools or internships. Next year, she'll begin her residency in Florida under a new name and a social security number she’d bought for a hefty price.

Even though she's spent the last eight years in New York, she's only been out maybe a dozen times, always at the behest of Ringo. It's not any different this time.

"You finally have some time to enjoy yourself. Live this life you worked so hard for," he'd said.

Ringo knows her better than anyone. Is the only person who's ever been able to change her mind– and Akemi has always been stubborn. Like her father.

The same stubbornness that had elevated the Tokunobu clan to the one of the four great Yakuza families in Japan is what allowed Akemi to escape it. She’d crossed an ocean so she could become the opposite of her father. Someone who helped people. A doctor.

Or, if she wanted, for just one night, an ordinary girl on her way to a club in a dress that was way too small and unsuitable for the weather. Ringo will let her borrow his leather jacket, and besides, he’s picking her up in his car. She can hear him honking the horn for her, so she steps out into the not quite warm spring air.

🌸

The phone rings in the dim apartment, interrupting its owner as she sits at the table, a katana laid out beside a bottle of polishing oil. Sharpening stone in hand, she finishes the remaining strokes with a satisfying vibration, before wiping it down with a lambskin cloth.

She shakes her head and lets the answering machine pick up.

[ We are calling to inform you about your car’s extended warranty- ]

She growls and rolls her eyes. Try as she might to keep her status updated on Do Not Call lists, there’s always some scam or gaudy advert that weasels its way in.

She stands, tall and slender, then strides into the bedroom, where she picks up a pair of slacks, a button-down and suspenders, and heads into the bathroom. The club, O, would be opening up soon.

12AM

Lace-up boots splash in the shallow puddles of a recent rainfall, as footsteps carry her to the famed nightclub, O. Music spills out onto the streets from inside the three-story building, along with colorful and strobing lights. The orange lenses of her glasses filter everything.

Easily dodging a few drunken and unsteady passersby, she wears her sword inconspicuously at her hip. Any other night, such a weapon would draw much attention- but this event gives her a perfect alibi.

Walking past the entrance and into the back of the long line of patrons, she takes a deep breath and waits.

🌸

“What’s the matter?” Akemi worriedly checks her makeup in Ringo’s sideview mirror. It nearly falls off when she tries to adjust it.

“I told you. It’s a masquerade.”

She notices that Ringo is wearing a mask, not what she’d presumed to be a hat, on his head. Probably so he can focus on driving.

Akemi shrugs.

“So what? They’ll have masks there, won’t they?”

Ringo sighs heavily, then gives her a once over. “Take off your stocking.”

“What? No!”

Ringo folds his arms, his prosthetic hooks resting on each bicep. “Trust me. I’m the fashion student.”

Akemi sighs and reluctantly hikes up her skirt in order to unhook her garter belt.

Ringo’s voice startles her. “Are you wearing a fucking knife?”

Akemi looks up and blinks. Right. Ringo doesn’t really see this side of her that often. “Just in case,” she says, then slides her fishnet stocking down her leg.

Ringo shakes his head. “What about security?”

“What about security? O just has four bouncers at the door. They're not going to pat me down. They don't have cameras. There's not even typically anyone at the back.”

“Who checks that kind of thing?!”

Akemi shoots him a warning look. He knows about her family, but he doesn’t. He’s from Kyuushu. “Let me have my little ways, Ringo. We’ve talked about this.” A bit too much, for Akemi's taste. It’s a subject she lacks patience in. She peels her stocking off and and hands it over to Ringo, then moves to take the other one off– but Ringo stops her.

“I only need one.”

“What? I’m not going to wear one stocking–”

“Rip it up in a couple places, it’ll look good.” Ringo reaches into the compartment between him and exchanges his hook prosthetic for a knife prosthetic– a shearing knife, to be exact. Akemi watches him work, but the mess of material in his hands makes no sense to her. She looks down at her remaining stocking, on her right leg, and takes Ringo’s advice. Worst case scenario, she’ll just get rid of the garment.

But it ends up looking good. And Ringo has fashioned a long rectangle of fabric out of the fishnet. He hands it to Akemi. She uses the mirror– which is now definitely tilted– as a guide. She wraps the cloth around her eyes. The strings of thread in front of her eyes are unexpectedly non-occlusive. It looks surprisingly appropriate– modern– but it also clearly fulfills the dress code.

It takes three tries for Ringo to get the car started, but his car always starts on the third try. The day it doesn’t it when Ringo says he’ll finally give up the jalopy he’s had since he came to the States. He parks it far away from the blazing pink O that towers above the club.

Outside of his. car, Ringo looks chic, his suit avant garde and deconstructed, his prosthetics a complement. His mask is similarly deconstructed. With Akemi by his side, a promoter scouts them and takes them to the front of the line.

It’s been a really long time since Akemi’s been on display. Ever since she got to university, she’s been in either sweats or suits, depending on the occasion. It was a deliberate choice, a rejection of everything her father had raised her to be—a beautiful thing, a possession to be leveraged or sold.

The old posture comes back like muscle memory, spine straight, head inclined just so, a graceful step. She attracts attention, especially in a crowd of Americans, especially next to Ringo, who looks like her fancy bodyguard. Especially since they’ve been chosen by the promoter to bypass the line.

Akemi’s eyes flicker over—everyone is wearing masks, half the crowd is in costume. You’d never see this sort of thing in Japan, except for maybe Harajuku. It’s too extra. Maybe that’s why the wolf in black catches her eye. As soon as she really looks, she realizes she’s caught their eye, too.

Everything stops, and turns blue—ice blue. The eyes are so bright she can see them even from here, even in the silver lines of a lupine mask. The eyes are the only part Akemi can see. The snarling muzzle of the mask makes the eyes look animal, predatory.

The figure is long, and slim, suited in sharp black lines. Perhaps it’s the posture that stops Akemi—no, it’s more like a stance. It makes sense, because the man is wearing a sword.

And staring right at her, like he knows her, like he knows more about her than she knows about herself. Akemi turns as she walks by, unable to let go of those eyes—until Ringo calls her name, and she realizes they’ve gotten too far ahead of him and the promoter—she rushes after them, towards the entrance of the club.

🌸

The looming neon O bathes the street in a pink glow.

The line moves surprisingly fast for how many patrons are ahead of her, yet Mizu’s patience is quietly waning. Club-goers begin putting on their masks, if they aren’t already eagerly donning them, complimenting each other on their outfits. Mizu is particular about her appearance and is almost always dressed to the nines in any public appearance. She doesn’t have anyone to dress for but herself, and takes a quiet pride in it.

Deft fingers detach the wolf mask from her hip, while her other hand removes the glasses from her eyes as she slips it on. She was lucky enough to find it at a specialty costume shop- it looked much more elegant than most of the novelty items there, and stylish enough not to feel too ridiculous. What’s more, it complimented her dark silhouette as much as any costume could. The shape settled comfortably against her face, a matte black visage dusted with traces of silvery blue. Mizu hadn’t grown up in very social settings, despite dealing with large swathes of people in her line of work. She takes a private delight in the opportunity to remain anonymous.

Even more so, given the task at hand. She’s waited years for this opportunity. Years of gaining information here and there, years of dead ends and trickles of clues, and then… everything is finally coming together, so beautifully orchestrated that it almost feels too easy. Especially to someone like Mizu, ever the skeptic.

Weeks ago– after mercenary jobs were cleared from her schedule and she was able to revisit a long-held personal vendetta– Mizu had tracked down a stateside associate of the Tokunobu clan. Through careful investigation, Mizu unearthed a trail of information on the only daughter of the bastard Lord Daichi.

The temptation to capture and torture the associate was strong, and Mizu could have probably pulled it off. But she wanted to strike closer to Daichi’s heart, and pride.

Akemi. The little princess was privileged enough to travel stateside and pursue an education, the records showed. With clean hands and a clear mind. Perhaps Daichi let her leash out so that she could be sated on her thirst for knowledge, fattening herself in self satisfaction. It was impressive, really.

And the demon in Mizu was that much more eager to strip her of that opportunity.

She’s going to make make his daughter’s life hell, and when she’s finished with her, she ‘s going to draw out her father.

Mizu and Daichi are both sinners, but she intends to make the oyabun of the Tokunobu clan pay for his in full. Mizu is fairly insensitive to greed and corruption in the world, but that bastard was responsible for the collapse of her personal corner of the universe.

She slips her glasses into her pocket, straightens, and stares ahead, letting out a light sigh as she observes everything around her. She cultivates an air of vague disinterest.

She feels, before seeing, the woman who would walk past in just a moment, a fire beginning to smolder in her breast. The loud call of a promoter signals everyone to make way, leading a chosen few past the velvet ropes and weaving through those loitering outside of the line.

Mizu turns without thinking, eyes drawn like a magnet. Locked onto a gaze darker than hers, yet bright with recognition and… just as tethered to Mizu herself as she is to those eyes.

A young woman whose face had stared back at her from low-res photographs on the four walls of her apartment a thousand times before… now it was here, in the flesh, not even five feet away.

In that moment, it feels like she knows. Mizu is not often unnerved, and she tells herself she isn't now, knowing it is a half truth at best as her posture goes rigid, her breath catching in her chest.

She sees in those eyes, opportunity… and, something she cannot yet put a name to. Yet.

And just like that, the spell is broken. She’s staring at the back of her head til it disappears into the crowd.

Mizu blinks, and stills the urge to bolt somewhere to find a back entrance. That would be guarded as well, especially on a night like this.

No matter.

Her prey is in the four walls of the club, and that is more than enough for her purposes.

🌸

Akemi wishes she’d brought earplugs. It's way too loud in this club. It's impossible to hear anything Ringo is saying– she keeps shaking her head at him when he talks. Finally, he makes a drinking motion with his hands, and Akemi nods.

She looks around her as she waits for Ringo. American girls don't dance like Japanese girls– they sweat under the lights, let their makeup run down their faces. Mizu stares at them, a little transfixed. It's raw, muscle under skin… beautiful.

She remembers those eyes, the dark figure in line, wonders if she'll see him in here. Wonders if he’ll hunt her down.

But then, Akemi’s never been into men. So she shakes off that too-long look, accepts a drink from Ringo, and studies the crowd, trying to figure out how to move so she at least didn't stand out like a sore thumb.

It’s so loud, she can feel, not just hear the music. That helps a little– hard not to keep the rhythm when it’s in your bones. The second she and Ringo enter the crowd, it’s not an option not to dance. So she does her best. At first, she imitates the people around her– then she starts to get it, the way the shoulders go, the hip rolls, the beat– she and Ringo are ensconsed by dancers, and have both done very well not losing their drinks.

Ringo toasts Akemi, and she toasts him back. They dance, mostly with each other, but they open themselves to everyone around them… Akemi has a low-key goal of going home with someone, but being a femme Asian woman makes it hard to go home with who she wants to– white guys in particular tend to get in Akemi’s way.

Not even fifteen minutes in and some guy in a tiger mask is dominating her attention. It doesn't really matter. If she ends up dancing the night away with Ringo, it’ll be the most fun she's had since she remembers.

Besides, the guy’s a pretty decent dancer– she's pretty sure he's foreign, maybe Asian like her, from his movements. He doesn't get into her space, like the Americans. When she copies his movements, he smiles.

Ringo’s been distracted by some girl. Akemi shrugs, follows tiger mask into the crowd– when he goes to place a hand on her waist, she stops it with a hand on his wrist– the dancer takes the hint, thankfully. Seemed to only be pulling her to guide her–

Tiger mask bends closer to Akemi’s ear– she hears: “too loud” and nods in agreement, and follows him off the dance floor. When he guides her down a corner and gestures towards a door, she shrugs. She’s not about to follow a stranger into an unoccupied room at the club. So she just looks at what the door reveals, curious.

The thing is, it's a billiards room. And pool is s Akemi’s weakness. Pool halls were the center of the best and most peaceful times of her childhood.

And she’s damn good at it.

“Wanna play?” Akemi asks the stranger in the tiger’s mask. She realizes she hasn't heard him speak yet.

She heads over to me the row of pool cues anyways. Picks her stick, heavy and short. “Come on,” says Akemi. “Bet you a hundred bucks I'll win.”

“No need to bet,” says the man in the tiger mask. Akemi freezes. She knows that voice– but he’s taking his tiger mask off. “I know you'll win.”

“Taigen,” gasps Akemi.

He’s so different than he was the last time she'd seen him, a high school senior, with a school appropriate haircut, a slimmer physique, and clear skin.

A tattoo of a dragon pokes out of his t-shirt, a nod to the family business–her family business. He’s thick with long-hewn muscle. His hair is long– he wears it in a top knot. He's wearing exactly the kind of shiny suit they used to make fun of when they were young.

It makes sense. He’s her father’s wakagashira now, his second-in-command. The day he told Akemi he was going to work for her father was the last day they spoke.

“Taigen,” Akemi repeats. “What are you doing here?”

🌸

It’s as chaotic inside as expected. Knowing her target is so close, while she’s held up by the crowd, feels like drowning. Mizu keeps her stoic facade as the crowd draws nearer to the bouncers, but she feels something start to stoke the anxious spark inside of her into a fire.

She makes it past the entryway before it ignites. Past the first bar the club opens up to a vast dance floor, nearly every inch of it covered with people. The music pulses in her ears and in her ribcage. Partygoers bump her shoulders as they skirt past.

If she desired, Mizu could cut them all down. It would make her mission easier. But that wouldn’t be the thing to do. Especially knowing that Yakuza from the Tokunobu clan could be nearby. Mizu was more than efficient at tracking, but it would be foolish not to assume that others could be tracking her.

Stopping at the corner of the second, bigger bar, she backed into a small pocket of space to gather herself. Her heart was racing. Every time she blinked she saw those imploring eyes. Mizu’s eyes squeezed shut as if to wrench it from her vision, and she took a deep breath. Held it for a few seconds. She imagined the anxiety within her (a rare element for the swordswoman) as flecks of golden dust in her lungs, swirling around. And with a slow and thorough exhale, she breathed out, through the snarling maw of the wolf. She opened her eyes, and steadily scanned the crowd, patrons moving together like some giant beast.

A hand traced her shoulder. Gripping her sword, she declined to sheathe it as she turned, meeting the masked face of a woman dressed as an exotic bird.

“Hello handsome, can I buy this wolf a drink?” She was forward, only looking to flatter. Mizu’s eyes stared dully back and she calmly brushed the woman’s wrist away. Words weren’t needed; it was too damn loud in here anyway.

She would start on the outside, scanning outlines, silhouettes framed by the strobing lights and swirling colors. This may take a while, and patience was needed now more than ever. Mizu was never sloppy, but she felt the potential, the eagerness as a beast breaking its containment. If anything could make her trip, it was Akemi.

Standing with her back against the wall, she caught sight of the taller companion that was with her when they headed to the front. Gaze sharpened, and she saw her. Talking to a man wearing a gaudy suit and a tiger mask. The body language read that she did not know him, but she was apparently interested enough to follow him. Mizu held her breath as she watched, where they soon disappeared into a hallway, no doubt to another room within. Mizu straightened, grip tightening on her sword. Her eyes narrowed, and she followed. There was no need to rush now. She would tread carefully, with the surety that each step would carry her further to her task.

🌸

Akemi can’t help it—she’s glad to see Taigen. After all, he was her oldest friend, her childhood sweetheart who didn’t hold it against her when she figured out she was gay, kept her secret for her—even after he joined her father, even now. He gives her one of his old bear hugs, lifting her off the floor—even with five inch heels on, Taigen still towers over Akemi.

“I thought you were supposed to be in med school,” teases Taigen, gesturing at Akemi’s club wear.

“I thought you were supposed to be committing crime with my father,” says Akemi, folding her arms. She’ll always love Taigen, but the old betrayal still rankles. Half their friendship had been dreaming their way out of the world they were born into. She’s even had a plane ticket ready for him. It would have been that easy, not to become a scumbag like her father.

The smile has long since faded from Taigen’s face. There’s something new in the set of his features. Akemi has a good guess about some of the things he must have done by now. He sighs, and blinks, and all of the sudden, his eyes are completely cold. “He wants you back.”

All of the sudden, Akemi knows it’s very important to pay attention. “We have a deal,” she says. Not one she intends on keeping. And, apparently, not one her father intends on keeping, either.

She looks around. Only the one door, and the windows are too high for her to access before Taigen can get to her.

Taigen shakes his head. “Not anymore. Your father’s brokered a merger with the Ito clan. You’re a doctor, like you wanted. He did his duty to you. Now it’s time for you to do your duty.”

Akemi has been dodging her “duty” since she was 13 years old, when it was obvious that she was going to be beautiful. The only thing that kept Tokunobu from selling her off was the idea that a virginal, well-educated wife was more valuable than a whore he could use to placate his contacts with, like his friends did with their daughters.

Akemi had insisted that her education be overseas. She had a whole new identity waiting for her in Florida. She wonders if there was a leak, if this is why her father’s making his move now.

Akemi backs away from Taigen. There’s a door set in between the empty bookshelves that line one wall of the billiards room. “If I say no?” she says, eyes flickering towards the door they’d come in through.

“I’ve got two guys waiting on the other side of that door. Twenty three more in the club.”

Akemi nods. “So you were expecting a fight, huh?”

“There’s more going on than you know. You have eyes on you. Your father wants you back under his protection.”

Akemi laughs bitterly. “You actually believe this bullshit now, don’t you?”

Taigen shakes his head, has the audacity to give her a pitying look. “You know how this game is played, Akemi.”

At that moment, they’re both interrupted by a shout and a crash coming from the other side of the door. After a beat, the door crashes open.

The man from outside—the wolf, the one who’d been standing in line, the one who’d been staring at her— steps into the room, utterly calm despite the fact that there are bodies behind him—Taigen’s men. He steps into the room, and brandishes a blood-covered sword, pointing it at Taigen.

The swordsman speaks in Japanese, in an oddly musical voice. “She’s coming with me.”

🌸

The second she turns into the hall, she spots the two men in well-fitted suits, the blades at their sides similar to hers. Mizu’s hackles raise, and she draws her blade. Unmistakable Yakuza. She wonders how many may have infiltrated the club.

The question is, are they for Akemi’s protection, or to kill her, or something else? Something in Mizu’s chest leaps as the thought crosses her mind– what a terrible irony it would be if her chance at revenge was lost like that– an image flashes in her mind, the woman’s body splayed on the floor, red dress stained with a darker red.

Focus.

The guards step in front of the door, hands reaching for their weapons. One manages to shout a warning into the inconspicuous earpiece that he wears, his eyes wide. She cuts in high wide arc, slicing through their tracheas and external carotid arteries before they can attack– before they can say anything further.

The door is locked. She severs the handle and thrusts to crush the mechanism inside, then delivers a strong kick to take care of the rest.

Mizu finds Akemi inside. Shocked, of course. She’s still alive.The man is leaning toward her, but he straightens defensively as Mizu walks inside. A trickle of blood that is not her own runs down the ridge of her mask. Her sword–its blade a brilliant blue, covered in red– raises and points to him. A drop falls onto the pool table that sits between them.

“She’s coming with me.”

The man steps forward with his weapon, his proud chest out, waist coiled. He’s tense. A juxtaposition with Mizu’s controlled but open stance. Mizu notices the shape of his tattoo, peeking out from between the open buttons of his shirt and recognizes it immediately.

Tokunobu.

Her eyes narrow and her head lowers like a predator.

He opens his mouth to retort, but Mizu disregards it as unimportant. Futile.

Mizu watches carefully. It’s often predictable that her opponents make the first strike, and she is waiting for just that.

But the next to move is neither Mizu’s, nor the man’s.

A knife flashes behind him in the flourescent light, Akemi’s pale fingers curled tightly around the handle. It happens quickly, her features twisted into something vicious as she sinks it into his body.

“I do know how this game is played, Taigen.”

Mizu’s eyes widen in surprise. Daichi’s prized daughter is dangerous. Heavy footfalls crowd the doorway, and she feels Akemi turn with her in unison as more Yakuza rush in, weapons ready.

#blue eye samurai #mizukemi #mizu x akemi #akemizu #akemi x mizu #ao3 writer #fanfic #mizu blue eye samurai #akemi blue eye samurai #80s aesthetic

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diluclover300 · 2 months

Text

Just One Week (2)

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Also posted on my ao3 account: diluclover300

CHAPTER INDEX:

I H8 U

My Kinda Fun

Balance

{S] Awake

Eggs and Rice

Wait, but I'm broke

Couple's Discount

CHAPTER 2: My Kinda Fun

Damn it. When you said you wanted to fight him, you didn't think he'd actually say yes. You didn't think he'd take you seriously!

Now you're shaking like a cat who's just been thrown into a very unnecessary, cold bathtub, shoving your reading glasses into your now discarded backpack on the floor. Except that bathtub was a random rooftop he's managed to transport you to. So you shiver as the breeze hits your bare legs, crossing your arms so tight that your blood circulation has gone out the window.

"So? What now?" You say through clattering teeth, squeezing yourself together as your hair blows in the direction of your face. Every now and then you see Gojo in front of you, like a game of hide and seek but with your own hair.

Your audacity has only gotten worse with time, Satoru thinks. You're the one who asked to fight in the first place, why were you trembling like a little mouse? It's laughable.

He shrugs. "Dunno. Hurry up and land a punch before I do it first."

He moves, rotating his arm in a steady circle, as if he's winding up the air against his muscles. In reality, he's combining his fingers together into a fist, one that aims at you.

"W-wait!" You clear you throat, sounding like a shrill little girl with a small, little voice.

"What?"

He pulls off his sunglasses, white hair blowing along the wind as his eyes glint against the night sky. A threat is what that stern look is, the drop of those glasses following.

It's not an romantic reaction when your heart skips a beat. That twinge in your heart is one of utter fear.

God. You're dead if he uses those eyes of his.

A losing battle is what it is. You sure as hell don't want to fight if there's nothing in it to win other than your already-bruised ego. Which you don't need to resurrect by any means, but what you do need is for Gojo Satoru to be gone, for peace to re-enter your miserable life.

"If I win, then, will you–"

"Fine."

"I didn't even–"

"You're losing anyways."

"Why you–"

"If I win, you'll grant me three wishes. Sounds like a deal, doesn't it?"

"I never said yes." You brace for impact, bent at the knees as you ground your rather wobbly feet against the cold rooftop. Geez, you can see the entirety of Japan from this building.

"It's called a mutual agreement."

"Whatever."

The breeze almost sways you, almost. You try to squeeze your focus into your arms. Knowing that you've been on your feet all day was your biggest disadvantage against Gojo Satoru, who had the strength of the Gods. Figuratively, of course.

He doesn't do anything, he just folds his legs until he's sitting on the floor, feet crossed together.

"What're you–"

"Come and get me."

Fine. You will. You're no pussy.

A long sigh draws out of you before you charge at him, coursing cursed energy through your left arm.

"Predictable." Gojo clicks his tongue, unimpressed as you swing with all your might. "You need more practice."

Of course, it doesn't land. He has that stupid limitless thing, a barrier which you can't predict. He's gotten stronger, just as Gojo Satoru does.

"I fucking hate you." You heave, so badly out of shape. Fuck, you need to hit the gym someday. "It's not fair, you have that stupid... that stupid limitless thing!"

Satoru looks up at you. It's admirable to see how weak someone so strong has gotten over the years. How the cold air puffs in and out through your lips.

It's what a office job does to a person, huh? He thinks.

"You whine too much for a jujutsu sorcerer." He groans as he gets up from the ground. "Is this how you intend to win? Against me?"

Ha. Even he knows he's not some ordinary Joe. It makes your blood curdle as you wipe off your sweaty palms against your knees.

"Cocky bastard."

You begin to back up as he walks towards you, each stride slower than the last.

"Am I? You know, I could beat you without that limitless thing." His eyebrows furrow, frustrated at your puny little attempts of putting up a fight.

"As if." You stumble over your steps and you swear that he's trying to kill you. That looks in his eyes is nothing but sinister.

"Don't believe me?" He laughs, sending a slight chill down your spine. "Try it."

Humiliating, you believe this to be. He's baby-proofing this fight for you, making things easy for you. Though you've sworn off your pride, it swells up in your heart.

You won't have any of this.

"Fine then. I'm not using my technique either." You step back until you're finally cornered, back straightening up against the cold, gray walls.

"Okay." He looms over you, hands stuffed in his pocket. "I'd win either way."

Your back compresses even further against the small entrance to the rooftop, breath caught up in your chest.

Okay, you think. There's no technique involved whatsoever. You can either land punches or kicks with cursed energy. Nothing more than that.

"I'm waiting." He looks down at you, with such intensity that you're turning into goo, a bag of nerves.

"Okay. I get it. Give me a second to think."

You blink, looking up at him.

You're going to lose, you're well aware he has a better sense for... well, everything. He's better than you, which was one reason why you quit, but you didn't want to do a deep dive into that right now. Not when you've got a once in a lifetime reward on the line.

Whatever. You were going to give it your all.

SMACK.

You slap him. Once. The satisfaction, the hopeless toss of his head as you do this feels great. You feel alive as the cells of your palm lightly tingle against each other. Nice.

SMACK.

Twice. You don't even let him recover. He's silent, that pale skin of his cheek reddening.

SMACK!

Three times a charm. His eyes go wide like a fish as he winces, rubbing his cheek.

"Ow." You frown, looking at your brightening skin. It burns. "That hurt."

It's quiet for a good moment as you contemplate your next move, the metallic taste of adrenaline staining the roof of your mouth and tongue. You haven't felt this in five years. It's so familiar, yet so foreign that it becomes difficult to deal with, to process as millions of thoughts and strategies run in circles around your mind. Gojo's small pants and breaths are the last thing on your mind as your eyes dart around the rooftop.

Now what? You ask yourself, watching as he slowly re-composes himself, stretching back up. There are so many possibilities, however, they're all quick to flee the confinement of your mind when your eyes meet with his trembling ones.

"You're done having fun?" He breathes, looking back at you with a wide smile and a bruised cheek. "Already?"

Oh. If you weren't in trouble before, then you were really in trouble now. He's got you right where he wants you, cornered, trapped against a wall, saving up his energy for something more. That smile of his stretches throughout his face, teeth almost grinding together, akin to a predator eyeing it's prey. Eventually, that disturbing stretch reaches his eyes as your legs practically turn into jelly, slightly jittering as he laughs to himself, the sound echoing and dissipating into the cold, frigid air.

Run. You must run.

"Uh.. uh.." You sputter, eyes darting from him to the rest of the rooftop. "I..."

You slap him again, wincing as you run for your life. Your hand burns. It burns so bad that you're dreaming of the damn ice pack the school nurse would give you for your weekly tummy aches. You try to push further, the muscles of your legs straining and squeezing every bit of energy left in you.

Unfortunately, a forty hour work week exhausts you, wrings you dry of any sort of life. Your feet begin to drag against the concrete floors of the rooftop, as if the Gods already decided on your eventual demise days ago. Your steps and strides fight with the air instead of working with it, the ice-cold air entering and exiting the burn of your throat at an unusual pace.

"Hey. Where are you going?" His voice is low, predatory, awfully close. Your lungs clench for any source of oxygen, and your physical incompetence – if it wasn't before – finally catches up to you now.

Your hair sticks to the sweaty mess that is your forehead, strands slapping against your stinging face, chest crying as it rises and falls. Knees cracking as they bend, every inch of you pulsating along with your feverous heartbeat.

You have no clue where Gojo is, and a string of spit escapes your lips as you pant like a dog, weakly wiping off the filth.

"Come on now. We were just getting started on the fun."

"You sick freak, none of this is fucking fun, you–"

You hiss, teeth clenching together.

You feel a tug at your lower half, and then it only grows harsher from there on out.

"Hey, you–" You huff, voice cracking when you lose your balance.

He's underneath you, twisting and turning your ankles. It's impossible to stand still, each twist and turn more violent than the last.

You shriek.

Maybe, maybe that was the most blood curdling scream of your life as his fingers clasp around your bones, twisting and turning them like some sort of bop-it toy. Relentless as he lets out a psychotic laugh.

"What's wrong, huh? You were so confident earlier, weren't you?" Another yank, one that throws you off your feet and knocks the air out of you. If you ever had any to begin with.

Then you fall back, keeling over on the rooftop, curling in on yourself as the pain continues. The adrenaline wears off as your shoulders thud against the floor.

"P-please.." You gasp, feeling a force tighten around your skin. He crouches before you, lightly turning your jaw as he examines the sheer agony he's caused.

You're weaker than he's remembered.

"Don't worry, they'll work just fine– your feet and legs, I mean."

"That's not what I–"

You let out another airy gasp, tears welling in your eye sockets. It hurts. You cry like a baby waiting on it's mother.

"Ah, ah!" You roll around on the ground, bringing your knees up to your chest. "S-satoru, I'm sorry. I lost, I– Fuck!"

He slides his glasses back on with a tut, frowning at the sight. He almost feels sorry for you. Then he remembers that you've brought this upon yourself. Poor you. Boo hoo. Cry him a river.

"That's right." He hums along to your cries, poking a finger into the heart of your forehead with each word. "You lost, which means..."

You feel the inside of your brain crack, it's so terrifying that you cry out, you wail out the answer.

"Fuck, fuck, the wishes!" You roll around, rock around the ground as if you're being sung a lullaby. "I'll do anything, so just– shit, just..."

He wastes no time, straightening his back as he gets up. You look more pathetic from a broader point of view, he decides.

"Alright." He sighs, as if winning was some sort of chore for him.

He'll try his best to be gentle with you from now on.

You're so weak.

"Number one, you'll show me around here. I gave up my vacation days to be here for one week, work free. Don't waste my precious time, got it?"

"Wait, but I don't have the money for that. No! I can't, I–"

He presses the toe of his shoe against your forehead and you sputter into another gasp, breath hitching as your eyes roll back.

"I'll wire you the reimbursement."

You brain, if you even had one to begin with because what idiot would willingly lose to Gojo Satoru, has completely shattered into a million pieces.

"O-okay.." Your voice breaks as you hold your knees tighter. "Satoru!"

Hm. You only want to say his name when you're crumbling beneath his feet. How funny.

"Two, you'll provide me with housing."

"No. I refuse–"

You gasp like a fish out of water.

"O-okay! Fuck, shit, fine! Fine! I will! Live with me, please!" You can't believe the sheer amount of nonsense that just pours out of you.

"Good."

He doesn't mention the third wish. However, you don't have the brain capacity for it to hold any significance as you rock and roll against the ground, choking on your own spit as you holler like the cat from Tom and Jerry.

"Satoru," You whine, a pitiful one that rings and disperses into the air. "S-satoru."

"What?"

"It hurts."

You turn over, and he's almost jilted. The sight of your tears is something he doesn't expect as they stain your cheeks, hot and thick as they land.

For a moment, the word "sorry" ghosts over his lips. He refrains, the words "I hate you," tickling the rims of his eardrums.

Instead, he goes down to you, raising up a finger as you scramble across the ground in fear. You scoot back with your legs, kicking against the ground like a helpless puppy.

"N-no, Satoru, I said, I said... I.. sorry–"

He flicks his nails against the heart of your forehead.

"Calm down. You'll be fine."

The last thing you see as your eyes slowly blink is the image of Gojo Satoru towering over you, removing his jacket. You think about tripping him, but your body fails you. As it always has.

"I hate you." You croak as possibly your last words escape your lips.

Then you knock out, cold as you lie against the ground.

...

#fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #ao3 tags #archive of our own #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #eventual smut #eventual romance #romance

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 2 years

Text

Whumptober Day 1 (Aaron Hotchner and male reader)

No. 1 A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY

Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints | "This wasn't supposed to happen"

Word Count: 2443

WARNINGS: Bear traps as restraints, barbed wire as restraints, blood, description of injury, gore (not too bad but just in case), injured reader, injured hotch, creepy unsub, creepy whumper, a lot of hurt

I’m lowkey amazed I managed to write this all in one day?

@whumptober-archive

You groaned as you woke, head pounding painfully. What on Earth happened? You remember walking with Hotch back to the hotel - it was only a block away - talking over details of the case and then a yell and then nothing. Hotch, where was Hotch? Despite the sharp pain behind your eyes, you forced them open, you couldn't see much. It was dark, annoyingly dark. You weren’t quite sure where you were, there was nothing that you could see that you immediately recognised.

Your eyes drifted to a figure laid on the floor. Hotch! You moved to stand up, to help him, pain flooded through your foot. Curiosity getting the best of you, you looked down. Your heart dropped to your stomach. A bear trap, your foot was trapped in a bear trap.

“Oh god,” You whimpered, “Oh god, Hotch? Hotch! You need to wake up! Hotch?! God, Hotch, wake up! Please!” You gave a loud sob, not caring that you were supposed to be a hard-ass FBI agent. No, right now you were twenty three year old (Y/N) who was scared out of his mind because he was trapped in a fucking bear trap.

“God, will you just shut up?” You froze at the voice. Someone else was there too? “Thank you, about time too. Now, make another sound and I’ll give you something to cry about, okay?” You nodded quickly. “Good. And, stop worrying about Mr Boss over there, he’s fine - well, all things considered.”

“Is- Is he-” You paused, not sure how to continue.

“Stuck in a bear trap?” When you nodded the unsub laughed, shaking his head, “No, that’s just for you. I was only expecting one of you, so I had to improvise with him,”

"What did you do to him? When's he going to wake up?"

"You know, I'd be more worried about myself, if I were you. Hotch isn't the one stuck in a bear trap," You gulped at the reminder before mentally shaking yourself out of it. You needed to focus on something else (Hotch) to take your mind off it.

"When is he going to wake up?"

The unsub scoffed, "Do I look like a doctor to you?"

"I can't actually see you," You snapped back, causing him to chuckle.

"You're funny," He replied dryly. "We'll see how long that lasts,"

A moment of silence passed, you focusing on a way to get you and Hotch out of this situation as quickly as humanly possible.

“I’ll be back later, when he’s awake and the fun can really begin,” You strained your eyes, trying to track the Unsub’s movements despite the darkness. You heard footsteps and the door open (which annoyingly didn’t let any light in), more footsteps, the door close, and then nothing. You breathed a sigh of release. He was gone. Good, now you could figure out how the fuck to get out of this situation. Okay, bear trap first, then wake Hotch up, Hotch could take over from there.

Your hands hovered over the trap, trying to gain the courage to pull your foot out. You drew in a deep breath, settling your hands on the cold metal of the frame. Drawing in another deep breath, you shut your eyes, preparing to pull when your hands were yanked away from you.

You gave an expected cry as your hands were forced behind your back, you pulled against the hands as hard as you could, not knowing what was going to happen. The unsub growled, backhanding you across the face, taking the time it took you to recover as an opportunity to grip both of your wrists in his hand, you didn’t have much time to ponder why the unsub was wearing gloves before you heard fumbling behind you.

You wiggled feebly in his grip, which simply tightened as a warning and you stopped. Even if you did get out of his grasp, then what? Hotch was still unconscious and your leg was injured, you wouldn’t be able to leave him and you couldn’t carry him in your condition.

You shut your eyes, hoping to pretend that instead you were simply having a nightmare and would wake up any moment. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. You shivered, feeling cold metal being wrapped around your wrists. Metal? The confusion was short lived, when the unsub wrapped the wire around your wrist a second time, you felt multiple spikes prick into your skin and you gave a yelp. Barbed wire? This prick was using barbed wire!

“Make another sound,” The voice growled into your ears, you shut your eyes tightly, “And I’ll shove it down your throat,”

Before you knew it, your wrists were tightly tied together with a long piece of barbed wire. You felt sick. Apparently the bear trap on your foot wasn't enough. Oh god, what if that's what he used with Hotch? You flicked your eyes over the body, trying to see if you could make anything out, huffing when you couldn't. How the fuck were you going to get out of this?

“Perfect!” The unsub chimed, crouching down in front of you, he gently wiped away a tear from your cheek, “Don’t cry, (Y/N), we’re going to have so much fun,” He gently kissed your forehead before standing. “Now, no trying to run away while I’m gone,” He chuckled, “I’ll see you soon,”

You shut your eyes until you knew for sure he had left, breathing deeply, trying your best to think of anything else but the pain. Hotch, think about Hotch. You strained your ears, managing to pick up on the older man’s breathing, your eyes snapped open when you heard a quiet groan. “Hotch?” You whispered, scared that the unsub was still in the room.

There was another groan, this one louder than the last, “(Y/N)?”

Relief flooded your veins, “Hotch?” You asked timidly, “You awake?”

You heard him huff a small laugh, “Yes, I’m awake,”

“Okay, good, that’s good,” You said with a nod. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Hotch said, “He used barbed wire to restrain me though. What about you?”

Hotch had become a surrogate father to you since you joined the team six months ago. You were the youngest member of the team, Reid included (who was twenty eight), and so everyone had quickly become protective of you - which you secretly loved (not that you’d tell them that). Pretty much all of them had all become like your siblings. But Hotch, Hotch had mentored you, checked up on you, protected you, he had become everything a father is.

“(Y/N)?” He asked, “Are you injured?”

“Um…” Your voice was higher than you cared to admit - a telltale sign you were lying. You heard Hotch shift, probably turning towards you.

“(Y/N)? Are you hurt?”

“Er, sort of,”

“‘Sort of’? What do you mean ‘sort of’?” Just as he had asked the question, the lights flickered on, causing the pair of you to squint your eyes shut. You forced your eyes open, trying your best to fight against them trying to flutter closed. No. You needed to see where you were.

Hotch pried his eyes open, stomach sinking when he saw the small puddle of blood that had been collecting under foot. Then his eyes focused on the bear trap and he felt nausea flood through him. Oh God. This was not good. He flicked his eyes to yours, trying his best to seem unworried. You were staring at your leg, face pale, chin quivering from the adrenaline, “(Y/N)?” When you turned to him, your eyes watered further, something about seeing the man who had become your source of comfort (not that you were going to say that out loud either), a few spilling down your cheek. “Hey, listen to me, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to get out of this and we are going to be okay,”

“Now, now, Aaron,” A voice from the corner of the room made you jump, it was the man from before. You couldn’t see his face, just a white mask, he was leaning against the wall, looking bored. “Don’t lie to the kid,” He turned to you, “You’re both going to die here,”

You shook your head. No, no you weren’t. You weren’t going to believe some idiot over Hotch. Not after the month you had known each other - he had never lied to you and you trusted him completely, and that wasn’t going to stop now. “No, Hotch doesn’t lie,” You insisted, Hotch found the corner of his mouth turning upwards, glad that you still trusted him after he led you into this situation.

The man in the mask laughed, “It’s sweet that you think that, really it is,” He snorted, “But you’ll see the truth soon enough,”

You didn’t answer, focusing all your rage into a glare aimed at that stupid mask. He kicked himself off the wall as he walked closer, “It’s alright, soon you’ll realise that I’m the only one you can trust,”

You huffed a laugh, despite your pain. “You’re funny, really, you’re funny,” The eyes behind the mask flashed with fury, storming up to you, he grabbed you by the collar, lifting you up, and slamming you against the wall, causing you to cry out in pain - both from the barbed wire, and the jolt on your foot it caused. Aaron gave an enraged yell as he struggled against his restraints, not caring as they dug further into his skin, as his blood slowly cascaded down his hands.

“Well? What do you say after you hurt someone’s feelings?” When you don’t answer, the unsub rolls his eyes, slamming you into the wall again. “Well?!”

“S-sorry!”

“Good, just don’t let it happen again,” He said, letting you drop to the floor in a heap, “I wouldn’t want to hurt you. Understood?” You nod. He bent down, leaning close to you, “Just to make sure you do…” He stood, walking over to Hotch, he kicked him to the ground, you watched with wide eyes as the steel toe of the unsub’s shoe repeatedly landed itself into Hotch’s side.

“Stop!” The word was so rushed it felt like you weren’t the one saying it, “Stop! Get off him! Stop! Leave him alone!” You fought against the wire sat on your wrists, ignore the warm blood that dripped down your wrists to your hands, you pulled against the trap on instinct, not caring for the pain it caused. You needed to stop him. You needed to help Hotch.

The unsub turned on his heels and left, shutting the door behind him. He took most of the light with him too, dialling down the setting to it’s lowest possible whilst still producing light.

"Well," You mumbled, face pale and clammy, "I think it’s safe to say that this wasn't supposed to happen," Hotch huffed a laugh, wincing at the pain it caused in his chest. You frowned, eyes focused on the floor in front of you, "I'm sorry,"

"This isn't your fault, (Y/N)." His voice was stern, you looked down at the floor. "I promise you, this isn't your fault."

“I should have been more aware of my surroundings,” You slurred, “‘ll be more aware n’xt time sir,”

“(Y/N),” Aaron responded sternly, “This isn’t your fault, neither of us knew this was going to happen. The team will find us, and we will both be okay,”

Unsure of what to say, you gave a short nod. It must have been hours. Your leg throbbed dully to the rhythm of your heartbeat and it was slowly driving you crazy. You just wanted to sleep, but Hotch wouldn’t let you. Everytime he noticed your eyes beginning to droop, he’d ask you a question about a previous case, or your opinion on a technique, or your favourite thing. Just anything to keep you awake.

“(Y/N)?” Hotch said, “What’s the best interview technique to use?”

“Depends,” You hummed.

“Yeah? What’s it depend on?”

“Factors based on the witness,”

“What’s Morgan’s favourite type of interview?”

“Cognitive,” You said with a small chuckle.

The door swung open, your head snapped towards it. The blood loss might be getting to you, you blinked slowly, hoping that your double vision would go (although, it was more like triple vision).

One of the figures went to Hotch, you followed the figure, you had to make sure Hotch was okay. Two of the figures approached you. God, you hoped this was just a bad dream. One crouched by your leg and you instinctively tried to pull it closer to you, whimpering when it caused a wave of pain to ripple through your body. The other figure crouched in front of you.

“Hey, kid, you’re okay,” His voice was soft. You knew that voice from somewhere. Where did you know that voice? You blinked sluggishly before it clicked.

“Morgan?” You asked, blinking up at the figure in front of you, trying your best to stop it from blurring. You had to see who it was. You had to make sure Hotch was okay. He was the team leader, he was needed. You blinked again, the face of Derek Morgan coming into view. “You here?”

“Yeah, I’m here kid,” He answered, “We got the bastard, we’re just going to get you and Hotch to the hospital, okay?” You hummed, fighting back sleep. “Hey, hey, I need you to stay awake, okay?”

You nodded. Stay awake. You could do that. “Okay,” You replied.

“Good, that’s good, kid,” He answered, “I’m just getting this wire off you’re wrists, okay? Then we’re getting your leg out of that trap okay?”

“‘T’s still there?”

“Yeah, kid, it’s still there,”

“Huh,” Morgan’s eyes flicked up, sharing a concerned look with Rossi, who was currently cutting the wire that bound Hotch. Hotch was oddly quiet, eyes trained on (Y/N) with worry, watching his every move. “This whole day’s been wild man,”

Clipping the wires, he managed to pry them from your wrists as gently as possible before he sat behind you to ensure you wouldn’t fall back. He nodded at Spencer, who inched closer to the contraption on your leg. You gave another whimper, trying to edge away. “I know, kid, I know, it’s going to be okay, you’re gonna be fine,”

“We’re here now, (Y/N), you’re going to be okay,” You turned your head, meeting eyes with Hotch, who gave a soft nod and a small, comforting smile. You relaxed in Morgan’s arms, finally allowing your body to rest. You were safe, your team was here. You were going to be okay.

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bamby0304 · 2 years

Text

Her Saviours- Ch.34

Series Masterlist

Summary: During an odd case, the Winchesters came across Y/N, a scared young Omega girl who had been used as a lure for a nest of vampires. After rescuing her from the monsters, John and his sons took her in knowing she was in no state to live among ordinary people. But three Alphas and one Omega is a mixture bound for disaster.

Warnings: Explicit language. ABO dynamics. Angst. Violence.

Bamby

Coming to, you found yourself tied up to one of the foundation pillars. Sam was to your right, with Dean on his right. Meg was crouching in front of the three of you, watching, waiting with a smirk placed firmly on her face.

Sam grunted and gasped, waking up moments after you.

“Hey, Sam?” Dean started. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your girlfriend...is a bitch.”

You snarled at Meg which just made her smirk grow.

Sam ignored you all, though, as he focused on Meg, his mind ticking as the pieces fell into place. “This, the whole thing, was a trap. Running into you at the bar, following you here, hearin’ what you had to say. It was all a set-up, wasn’t it? And that the victims were from Lawrence?”

She chuckled. “It doesn’t mean anything. It was just to draw you in, that’s all.”

“You killed those two people for nothin’,” Sam spat.

“Baby, I’ve killed a lot more for a lot less.”

“You trapped us. Good for you. It’s Miller time.” Dean shrugged. “But why don’t you kill us already?”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Not very quick on the uptake, are we? This trap isn’t for you.”

The second the words left her lips you knew the truth.

“John.”

Her head snapped in your direction. “Clever girl.” She smiled.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re dumber than you look,” Dean scoffed. “'Cause even if Dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn’t walk into something like this. He’s too good.”

“He is pretty good. I’ll give you that.” She stood and walked over to him. You had to struggle against your binds to watch as she straddled him. “But you see, he has one weakness.”

“What’s that?” he asked, voice tense with repulsion.

“You,” she answered simply. “He lets his guard down around his boys, lets his emotions cloud his judgement.” She leaned in closer to him. “I happen to know he is in town. And he’ll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody… nice and slow and messy.”

Dean had all the faith in John, though. Nothing she said would scare him. “Well, I’ve got news for ya. It’s gonna take a lot more than some….shadow to kill him.”

“Oh, the Daevas are in the room here,” she countered. “They’re invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see.”

“Why you doin’ this, Meg? What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with who?”

Meg turned to Sam to answer his question, her tone going from cocky to defensive quickly. “I’m doing this for the same reasons you do what you do… loyalty. Love.” She paused before her grin returned. “Like the love you had for Mummy… and Jess.”

“Go to hell,” he spat.

“Baby, I’m already there.” Crawling away from Dean, she moved over to Sam before sitting herself in his lap. “Come on, Sam. There’s no need to be nasty.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I think we both know how you really feel about me.” Her body was pressed against his. “You know, I saw you watching me. Changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn’t it?”

The rope that had you tied to the spot was cutting into your wrists as you struggled against them. You wanted to dig your teeth into her throat and rip it out. You wanted to tear her to shreds and wear her blood like war paint. You wanted to kill her with your bare hands and teeth, and not stop until she was turned to nothing.

“I didn’t mind,” she went on. “I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I can still have a little dirty fun.”

You felt something primal snap in you as she began to grind against him. But what really got your blood pumping was when she started the nibble on his neck.

“You wanna have fun? Go ahead then. I’m a little tied up right now.” Sam’s voice was tight as he just sat there stiffly.

Slowly, he turned his head to catch your gaze. You held it as you continued to struggle against your binds. The stench of your rage was thick in the room. There was no doubt everyone could smell it.

The sound of something metallic clinking against the ground had everyone freeze.

Meg waited barely a second before she scurried over to Dean and snatched away the knife he’d been using to cut away at his ties. Then she slid back over to Sam, right back onto his lap.

“Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free?”

Sam shook his head. “No. No.” She pulled back to watch him as he went on, “That’s because I have a knife of my own.”

Breaking free from his bins, Sam grabbed Meg and smashed his head into hers. She fell back with a heavy weight as he grunted and groaned in pain, clutching at his head.

“Sam!” Dean called out. “Get the altar.”

Fighting the pain and dizziness, Sam pulled himself to his feet and fumbled over to the altar as quickly as he could. Grabbing the table, he flipped it, sending the contents of the altar flying and falling.

The sound of screeches filled the room as shadows began to suddenly rush Meg. The three of you watched as she was dragged to the large windows before she was thrown through them.

Sam hurried over to Dean, handing him a spare knife before he moved to cut you free. The second you were able to move you ran over to the edge of the window and looked down. Lying there, on the ground in a mangled heap, was a now very dead Meg.

Dean and Sam came over to stand on either side of you, the youngest breaking the silence, “So, I guess the Daevas didn’t like being bossed-”

Before Sam could finish his sentence you grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to you. Crashing his lips onto yours, you devoured any words he’d been about to speak as you reclaimed him as your own.

When you finally let up and gave him the chance to pull away, Sam looked down at you with wide eyes.

“Mine,” was all you could say.

Dean shifted behind you, which had you spinning on your heels to grab his shirt to hold him in place.

“Mine,” you repeated.

With both brothers in your grasp, the Alphas nodded. “Yours,” they said at the same time.

Their confirmation allowed you to relax. Your grip on their shirts slipped as you felt the tension, stress and anxiety fade away.

“You okay?” Sam asked as he stepped closer to you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

Nodding, you found yourself lost for words.

Seeming to sense that, Dean placed a gentle hand on the small of your back. “Let’s get you back to the motel room.”

All you could do was nod again as you let the brothers lead you away, feeling security and comfort replace the negativity you’d been filled with moments ago.

…

One of Sam’s hands was in yours, while his other held the duffle bag of supplies. Dean was a couple steps ahead, pulling out the key to the hotel room out of his pocket.

You were more than eager for rest after the job’s events. The whole thing had been taxing on so many levels. More than just physical. So the idea of being able to rest up for the rest of the night before moving on sounded amazing.

“Why didn’t you just leave that stuff in the car?” Dean asked Sam as he started unlocking the room’s door.

Sam shrugged. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again. Better safe than sorry.”

As Dean opened the door, the three of you shuffled into the room, only to come to a sudden stop at the sight of a man standing by the window.

“Hey!” Dean yelled in an instant, out of instinct.

Your instincts were different, though. Using your free hand, you held it out in front of the older brother as your other hand held Sam back. “Guys… wait…”

The scent had hit you before you’d fully comprehended the thought of someone breaking into your hotel room. You knew he was there before you could even think of a whisper of there being a threat.

Sam dropped the duffle bag and reached for the light, turning it on to erase the darkness in the room and reveal who was standing in front of you.

John smiled at the three of you, proud and relieved.

“Dad?” Dean was clearly shocked.

John simply nodded. “Hey, boys. Y/N.”

Reacting with emotion, Dean stepped forward, meeting his father halfway before the two of them embarrassed in a long and tight hug. The emotion filled the room, reaching even you and Sam as the two of you hesitated to move from the room’s door.

As they pulled away, John looked to his other son. “Hi Sam.”

All Sam could do was nod as he responded softly, “Hey, Dad.

John’s eyes turned to you, then. The breath he let out released so much tension and emotion. There was so much longing and need. He needed the reassuring touch of his Omega. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you weren’t his.

Finger’s slipping out of Sam’s grasp, you felt your heart ache a little as you did what you were taught to do and stepped up to the Alpha of your pack.

John pulled you to him as soon as you were within reach. Grasping the back of your head, he buried his face in your neck as he breathed in your scent. At the same time you could sense him scenting you, making sure to leave a reminder of himself as he held you against him.

Pulling back ever so slightly, he searched your eyes without really reading them, before he pulled you in and pressed his lips against yours in a desperate kiss.

It was muscle memory. With the muscle memory came other memories which flooded your mind and heart. Tears pricked at your eyes as you lifted your hand to grasp his jacket and hold him closer. Melting into his touch and the kiss, you revelled in the memories of comfort and security this man had created with you over the years you’d been together.

Cupping your face, he wiped away a stray tear from your cheek as he pulled you away. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, sir.”

He chuckled lowly at the title. “You being a good girl for my boys?”

“Always.”

Humming his approval, he leaned back in to press his lips against yours in a tender but shorter kiss. Pulling back, he slipped his hand into yours, keeping you by his side as he turned to his sons.

“So… what happened?”

Dean was the one to jump in line and start answering his questions. “It was a trap. I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” John assured him. “I thought it might’ve been.”

“Were you there?”

John nodded, answering Dean’s question. “Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive. She was the bad guy, right?”

“Yes, sir,” both of his sons answered.

“Good.” John gave a short nod. “Well, it doesn’t surprise me. It’s tried to stop me before.”

It was Sam’s turn to ask questions, “The demon has?”

“It knows I’m close,” John explained. “It knows I’m gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell. Actually kill it.”

The look of confusion but intrigued in Dean’s eyes barely covered the hope lingering there. “How?”

John just smiled. “I’m workin’ on that.”

“Let us come with you. We’ll help,” Sam offered.

Shaking his head, John declined the offer, “No, Sam. Not yet. Just try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don’t want you caught in a crossfire. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Dad, you don’t have to worry about us.”

“Of course I do. I’m your father. Your Alpha.” He gave your hand a squeeze before he went on, “Listen, Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time.”

“Too long.”

Hand slipping from yours, John stepped up to his youngest and pulled him into a hug. The two held each other with a different kind of emotion than what he’d shared with Dean moment’s ago.

It happened so fast.

As John and Sam pulled away something came out of nowhere and grabbed them, throwing them across the room. You felt a force grab you, like invisible hands clutching at your arms before you were tossed like a ragdoll against the wall.

Your head collided with the drywall with enough impact that you felt yourself growing dizzy in an instant. You were so caught off guard you could only barely focus on the others as Dean cried out for his family before he too was thrown around.

Claws slashed at your arms, cutting through your jacket as blood began to seep through the wounds. You cried out, screaming as whatever had you did just barely enough damage to make sure you weren’t able to fight back.

“Shut your eyes!” Sam ordered over the chaos. “These things are shadow demons, so let’s light ‘em up!”

Barely having enough time to react, you squeezed your eyes shut just like he’d told you all to do. Behind your eyelids you saw the brightest of lights fill the room as Sam did something to banish the shadow demons. They screeched and screamed as the light erased them from existence momentarily.

Hands were grabbing you again in a matter of seconds, only they were gentler. You could sense they belonged to Sam without needing to open your eyes. Letting him grab you, you let him guide you out of the room as Dean hurried to help John before the four of you rushed out of the hotel as quickly as you could.

Leaning on Sam, your eyes now open, you let him rush you over to Baby. He’d grabbed the duffle bag of supplies before leaving the room at some point. Once he was certain you were steady enough, he let you go and threw the bag into the back of the car before turning his attention back to you.

His hands and eyes searched everywhere, taking in your injuries. “How bad are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, grabbing his hands to stop him.

Letting his hands stop, he watched as yours slipped into his grasp before he gave them a gentle squeeze. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against yours as he let his breathing calm down, along with his rapidly beating heart.

As Dean and John caught up, Sam then pulled away to turn to them. “We don’t have much time. As soon as the flare’s out, they’ll be back.”

Dean shook his head as they came to a stop by the two of you. “Wait, wait, wait! Sam, wait. Dad, you can’t come with us.”

Sam was clearly shocked. “What? What are you talkin’ about?”

“You… you’re beat to hell,” John started to argue.

But Dean was adamant, “We’ll be alright.”

“Dean, we should stick together. We’ll go after those demons-”

He cut Sam off, “Sam! Listen to me! We almost got Dad killed in there. Don’t you understand? They’re not gonna stop. They’re gonna try again. They’re gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad’s vulnerable when he’s with us. He- he’s stronger without us around.”

Leaning against Baby, you watched the three Alphas, sensing them trying to out scent each other to win the argument. As they stood there it was becoming more and more clear that John was beginning to agree with Dean.

Sam shook his head. “Dad, no.” He reached out to rest his hand on his father’s shoulder. “After everything… after all the time we spent lookin’ for you- Please. I gotta be a part of this fight.”

“Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play,” John explained. “For now, you’ve got to trust me, son. Okay, you’ve gotta let me go.”

There was a brief moment of hesitation before Sam nodded, letting his hand fall from his father’s shoulder in a sign of defeat.

Knowing he could go without either of his sons fighting him on it, John stepped away from them, getting ready to leave. Only before he could walk off to his truck, which was parked at the other end of the ally, he turned to you.

“You should come with me.”

Your mouth gaped open and closed out of shock. “Wha… what?”

“I know you’re hunting with them,” he started. “I know you’re putting yourself in danger, and I know they’re encouraging it. You’ll be safer with me,” he explained as he reached his hand out expectantly, waiting for you to take it and go with him.

The thing is… you would be miserable with him. You knew it, deep down. He would have you locked away in your hotel room, tucked away from anyone who might harm you. Anything that might harm you. But that was harmful in its own way. In a depression, anxiety, bad thoughts and bad mental place kind of way.

But how could you say no to the man who saved your life? Didn’t you owe him everything? Until challenged, he was your Alpha, right? So how were you supposed to deny his request?

No answer came to mind, so you did the one thing your body was screaming at you to do.

Slinking back, you found yourself sliding into Sam’s side as you shook your head. “No.”

John looked at you dumbfounded. He was completely shocked and confused, and you even spotted a hint of betrayal in his eyes. But he didn’t fight you on your decision, and you realised in that moment the two of you were experiencing your first disobedience against him.

Lowering his hand, he turned his back on the three of you and started towards his truck. When he reached it he paused and turned to look at your little group one last time before he got into the truck and drove off.

Sam’s arm wrapped around you as he led you to Baby and guided you into the backseat. Neither of the brothers commented on the decision you’d made as they got into the front. Not even Dean questioned why you’d denied their father as he started the car.

In fact, if you didn’t know any better… you swore you could sense relief in both of them as Dean began to drive off in the opposite direction of their pack Alpha.

Bamby

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