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dilemmaontwolegs · 8 months

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Dead Man Walking || LN4 {2}

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader Summary: Christmas with the Norris’ is a long standing tradition but will that still be the case after this years? Warnings: 18+ only, angst and fluff WC: 3.5k F1 Masterlist || one || two

Flo’s old bedroom in her parent’s house hadn’t changed since she moved out. There were still glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling that you had helped her to stick up when you were fifteen. Lando had made fun of them and called them lame as walked past the doorway, but he had still come and held your chair stable when you were precariously close to tipping over.

“What are you staring at?” Flo asked as she walked in to find you lying on her bed, eyes on the roof.

“Nothing, have you picked a dress yet?” She huffed at your question and opened her closet with a shake of her head. “You do realise the party has already started.”

There was no way to miss it with the christmas music drifting up the staircase and echoing along the hall. Every year was the same, it didn’t matter that all their children had left home - Adam and Cisca still held the annual event and attendance was non-negotiable, even for you.

The bedroom door opposite Flo’s opened and Lando froze from tugging at the black tie as he caught sight of you. A slow smile grew on his face and he started to take a step forward until Flo appeared with a dress in hand. She held the floor length gown up to her body and swayed the metallic-finish material side to side. “What do you think?”

“Didn’t disco balls go out of fashion in the 80’s?” Lando teased, drawing her attention to the doorway.

“Didn’t ask your opinion, noob,” she shot back as she grabbed the door and shut it in his face. “I can’t believe he’s staying all week too. Doesn’t he have anything better to do?”

“You should be thinking about your dress right now,” you reminded her as you got up and searched the rack for another option. “Here, this is perfect.”

You could hardly explain to her that you were the real reason Lando was staying local all week. For six months you had stolen nights together, not only avoiding the paparazzi and fans always trying to snap photos of him, but more importantly, Flo. The guilt was a constant fist squeezing your stomach but every time you thought about telling her the truth, the fear of her response kept your lips sealed. Then months had passed by and you thought it would be even worse to admit how long the secret had been kept.

“Babe! This is why you are my best friend,” Flo exclaimed as she dropped what she held to take the emerald green chiffon dress from your hands. “What would I do without you?”

Your smile was forced as you wondered the very same thing. Your mothers had joined the same playgroup before you could walk but you had crawled to Flo and face planted, accidentally headbutting her and making you both cry, but you had been inseparable ever since. Whenever you made a promise to each other it was sealed with the mantra from cradle to grave - ensuring the promise would be as strong and long lasting as your friendship.

You caught the empty hanger she tossed back and hooked it back onto the rack. “End up looking like a disco ball, apparently.”

“Not even,” she said with a roll of her eyes as she shimmied into the dress. “I refuse to take fashion advice from a man who has a hoodie for every occasion.”

You laughed at the completely true statement and pointed at the door. “Not tonight though.”

“That’s not by choice. Mum said he had to smarten up or he would be on dish duty after dinner.” She scoffed as she turned around for you to tie the lace back together. “I told her, wearing a suit won’t make him any smarter.“

You shook your head with a laugh. “If I could get away with wearing a hoodie tonight, I absolutely would too. It feels weird dressing up one day a year. I spent the whole morning here in sweatpants.”

“It’s tradition, and you look gorgeous.”

“I should for the effort I put in,” you giggled, offering your elbow as you opened the bedroom door. “Shall we?”

She looped her arm in yours with a nod as the music downstairs grew with each step. “Let’s do this.”

If you had to listen to another Christmas song you were going to scream, so you escaped the warmth of the Norris’ home and took a breath of wintery air on the balcony where it was less audible. Though there was a chill in the air the eggnog and brandy kept you from feeling the full brunt of the night and you could hardly believe there was snow forecast to fall.

The only light that reached you was what slipped through the joins of the curtains but it was enough to see the paddocks beyond the grassy lawn. This late in the year the horses that usually grazed the paddocks would be holding up in the stables, away from the morning frosts that occurred daily, but you could still hear their neighs in the distance.

“Still not a fan of Bublé?”

You smiled to the sky as a pair of cold hands settled on your waist and warm lips found the delicate spot behind your ear.

“If he hasn’t grown on me by now, I don’t think he ever will.” You turned to face Lando and linked your arms around his neck. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.” His body started to sway, taking you with him as he hummed the stupid song in your ear, laughing when you narrowed your eyes at him. “What? All I want for Christmas is you.”

Your gaze softened and you smiled again as you tucked your head into his chest and buried your hands in his jacket to try steal some warmth. “Are you cold, love?” he asked, looking back at the warm house where all the log fires were lit.

“No, I’m not ready to go back yet,” you admitted as you cradled his cheek in your hand and guided his attention back to you. “Just a few more minutes together.”

He nodded before giving you a soft kiss and pulling away to shrug his wool suit jacket off and drape it over your shoulders. “Can’t have my girl getting sick for Christmas.”

One Year Earlier “I don’t buy it,” Flo muttered over her flute of champagne as she sat to your left at the dining table, waiting for dinner to be served.

“Buy what?” you asked as your attention was pulled away from Max on your right, and the pictures of the new simulator he had just finished setting up in his room.

“Them.” You followed her nod across the room to find Lando on the couch in front of the roaring log fire, his girlfriend sat on his lap as if there weren’t two other cushions available beside him. “There’s no chemistry.”

“Eh,” you shrugged as you grabbed your glass that Max had refilled for you, “since when do you need chemistry if you’re a model or whatever?”

“You almost sound jealous,” he teased quietly, wary of Flo on the other side.

“Am not,” you bit back a little too harshly, only making him chuckle more and take a sip of his beer before he said anything else.

“Dinner will be a little late, I’m afraid,” Cisca announced with a sigh, muttering about the gravy catastrophe. “Adam, honey, turn the music up for a bit.”

“If you aren’t hung up on him, then come have a dance with me,” Max dared as Oliver and his pregnant wife joined Flo’s aunt and uncle dancing in front of the hearth, beneath the twinkling fairy lights. He wiggled his fingers as he waited for you and with a sigh you placed your hand in his and rose from your place setting.

Flo grinned as you passed by, poking you in the ribs with a laugh and giving you the thumbs up - but Max was only a friend. He could only be a friend because the person you actually pined for was his best friend.

“I know,” he whispered in your ear as one hand rested on your waist and your feet followed his lead.

“Know what?” you asked innocently, but he had caught your eyes drifting to the couch as you circled your way around the room.

“I won’t say anything, I just thought you might want to talk to someone. God knows you can’t talk to Flo about it, she would smother him while he slept,” Max joked. “And I kind of like having my best friend.” His eyes looked at the couple before he sighed. “Most of the time at least.”

You weren’t the only one vying for his attention anymore since he got a girlfriend. “You’ve been drinking too much, Fewtrell. You’re seeing things with your beer goggles on, I have no interest in Lando.”

“Is that why he hasn’t stopped staring at you?” Your head snapped around but Lando’s attention was firmly on Luisa and the very deep kiss they were openly sharing. “Totally not interested in him, huh,” he chuckled as he tightened his hold on you when you tried to pull away. “I’m sorry, it sucks, wanting what you can’t have.”

“There are worse things,” you muttered under your breath but he heard and curled an eyebrow in question. “Wanting what you can’t have right in front of you.”

He had no response but a sad smile as the song changed and Michael Bublé’s Cold December Night crooned over the speakers.

“The twinkling of the lights, The sound of carols fill the household, Old saint Nick has taken flight, With a heart on board so please be careful, Each year I ask for many different things, But now I know what my heart wants you to bring.”

“I fucking hate Bublé,” you sniffed as you pulled away from Max’s arms. “I’m just going to get some fresh air.”

“It’s bloody snowing out there,” he objected as he followed you to the backdoor. “You’re going to be sick for Christmas.”

The dinner bell rang out and you sighed as it shattered the bubble you had found yourself in and knew you would have to release Lando from your arms.

“Come to my room tonight,” you whispered against his lips before they shared one last kiss. ‘Your room’ was actually one of the guest rooms down the hall but you had spent so much time in it over the years that it was only ever referred to as yours now. It was so much yours that Cisca had even asked you for your opinion in the wallpaper when she renovated the house.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, baby,” he said with a smirk as he opened the backdoor for you. You reluctantly removed his jacket and missed the scent more than the warmth as you passed it back. Lando pulled it back on and dipped his head to steal one final kiss before stepping inside with a warning over his shoulder, “No dancing with Max this year.”

“It’s your turn to be jealous this year,” you said as you blew a kiss to him along the narrow corridor.

He paused and cast his arm out, planting his palm on the wall and blocking you from rejoining the party. “What makes you think I wasn’t jealous last year?”

“Maybe it was the tongue down Luisa’s throat, or the hand up her skirt?”

You tried to duck under his arm but he caught you around the waist and used his body to cage you against the wall. “I had to do something to distract myself,” he admitted lowly in your ear, hiding his face from your disbelieving eyes. “You were all I could think about, you and that sexy little dress.” You tilted your head back as you felt his lips on your neck as he continued his confession. “If I didn’t do something I would have gone crazy watching him hold you when I couldn’t.”

His kiss set your body on fire and you combed your fingers through his hair tugging the strands so you could capture his lips.

“What the fuck!”

Both of your heads snapped towards the outburst and your stomach dropped as you saw Flo standing at the end of the hall. Her arms were limp at her side, the blank look of shock bleeding into betrayal as her head started to shake before she turned away.

Your body reacted before your brain could, pushing Lando away as you chased after her despite his call to let her go. You couldn’t let that happen, she had always been a worrier and the longer she stewed on something the worse it got in her mind. You had to talk to her.

You raced up the stairs, apologising to Adam as you passed him in the hurry, the confusion of catching his daughter’s rush to escape clear on his face. Her door was shut and you tested the handle to find it was locked and your head thumped against the wood with defeat.

“Please, Flo, let me in,” you begged her. A quick no resounding from inside. Turning around, you took a seat on the floor and rested your back to the door. “I’m going to stay right here until you open the door.”

“You’re going to be there a very long time.”

You sat there in silence for a few minutes wondering where to begin, how to explain what happened, why, how long. Finally you decided on a simple apology. “I’m sorry, Flo. We didn’t intend to fall in love, didn’t intend on anything happening. I fought the feelings for years, because I knew what it meant to you.”

“Still didn’t stop you though, did it?” She spat, her voice closer than you expected. “I had one rule. One!”

Your make up was certainly ruined as tears spilled forth, eyeliner and mascara stealing down your cheeks. “I know.”

“They say they don’t have favourites but mum and dad have always put him first. They missed my events to go to his races,” she sobbed, a sense of déjà vu filling you as she retold the history you had consoled her through years ago. She had always felt second place to Lando. “I thought you would always be my best friend.”

Your gut wrenched as you realised what she was feeling. She thought you were choosing him over her - like there had to be an ultimatum. “I still am,” you promised, shaking the door handle again. “Please, unlock the door.” She made no move to turn the key.

“Do you remember when you got Summer and I thought you were going to forget all about me?” you asked, remembering the day the pony arrived at the house and Flo had been so excited she had run off to the stables without you. “You told me I was always going to be your best friend, from cradle to grave. She was your horse, and you could love us both, right?”

The door tugged open and you fell back, sprawled on the floor as she stood with her arms crossed. “Are you calling my brother a horse?”

“Depends, would it make you feel better?”

She rolled her eyes and offered a hand to pull you to your feet. “I don’t know yet, I’m too pissed off at you.”

“Fair enough.”

“Hey, you guys okay?” Lando asked as he jogged to the top of the stairs, his tie and jacket missing.

You screwed your eyes shut at the timing and pinched the bridge off your nose as you asked, “Can we just have a few minutes?”

He turned twice first to head back down the stairs before he changed his mind and went to his room. “You said I had changed,” he muttered to Flo as he stood in his doorway and held the door knob. “You said I looked happier than ever.”

“I’m going to vomit if you tell me she’s the reason.”

“Sorry.”

“For what? Stealing my best friend?”

You stepped into her line of vision and waved a hand behind your back hoping Lando would get the hint. “He hasn’t stolen me, Flo. Cradle to grave.” You held up your pinky and held your breath as she stared at the age old promise you had made. “I should have told you how I felt about him, but you can be really scary and I was a coward. It was still a shitty thing to do.”

“Really shitty.”

“I know.”

“I can’t believe it was you,” she said with a shake of her head. “I knew there had to be a girl. This is annoying, more than anything, because he’s not such a muppet anymore, but knowing it’s from you - I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”

“Surely being happy is what matters most, not the who or why.”

She fell silent and her eyes fell to the door that he had quietly shut. “What happens if he breaks your heart?”

You hoped it never came to that but you couldn’t see the future so you shrugged. “Then I will cry on my best friend’s shoulder like I always have.”

Her shoulders bounced once with a laugh before she caught herself and tried to appear nonchalant. “I suppose I would offer to key their car.”

“And I would say it isn’t worth it.” You reached for her hand and she let you hold it as you gave it a squeeze. “But…if he doesn’t then I might not just be your best friend, might be your sister in law too someday.”

“Too soon,” she said with a scrunch of her nose as she pulled her hand away and went to Lando’s door. “Hurt her and I’ll key your new car, noob.”

The door swung open and Lando leaned against the jamb. “You don’t have to worry, sis.”

“I love her more than you.”

Lando snorted, a sound so similar to Flo’s, and he shook his head. “It’s not a competition, you muppet.”

She appeared almost pleased, though also surprised as she nodded and stepped away, “good answer.”

“But,” Lando smirked and you sighed inwardly, “if it was I would win.”

Flo oddly didn’t respond as she started to make her way back to dinner, pausing only as she reached the stairs before looking back. “By the way, I’m dating Max.”

“What? No fucking way, I gonna kill him,” Lando growled as he took a step towards her before her head fell back with laughter.

“Of course I'm not, Lando, but now you know how it feels.”

Her laugh echoed down the hall as she descended the staircase and left the two of you alone. Facing Lando, you stared at him wondering if anything had changed but the moment of uncertainty was gone when he pulled you into his arms and kissed you without fear of being caught.

“I’m taking you to dinner tomorrow, it’s all I’ve wanted to do for so long,” he laughed as he pressed his forehead to yours and recovered from the almost blessing you had received from Flo. “We don’t have to hide anymore.”

“Tomorrow's Christmas,” you said with a smile.

“Shit, okay then, the next day. Hey!” He grinned as he pointed downstairs, his head bobbing along to the song that was playing again on the playlist. “Christmas came early for me,” he said as he dragged you to his bedroom and closed the door, silencing Bublé as he sang, ‘All I want for Christmas is you’.

“We are going to miss dinner,” you warned as he sat on his bed and pulled you onto his lap.

“There’s always plenty of leftovers, plus, what I want isn’t on the menu downstairs,” he teased as his hands brushed beneath your dress.

“Bob, what are you up to-oh!” Max covered his eyes as he busted into the room. “Bro, everyone is waiting for you two. Time and place, people.”

You stood up and pulled the dress back into place, sending Lando a look that said ‘I told you so’ before tapping Max on the shoulder as you passed him. “You can look now.”

“I think the damage is already done, the image is seared on my retina,” he said with a dramatic shake. “So you two finally…”

“Got caught,” Lando said with a chuckle, slipping his hand in yours as the three of you headed to the dining room. “No more hiding.”

Max grinned and clapped Lando on the shoulder. “About time!”

“Wait, you knew?”

“Uh…I have been in the middle of this situation for like five years. Of course I knew. I think I knew before the two of you knew.”

You frowned at the news and came to a stop halfway to the landing. “So last year?”

“Was my trying to get you two to see what was clearly right in front of you the whole bloody time. You’re welcome for that, you know. And I expect to be thanked as the best friend and wingman one can ask for in our next stream. Now can we please go and eat, I’m starving!”

Lando looked at you with a different look of hunger in his eyes as he kissed your hand. “Me too.”

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sleepershell · 4 months

Text

Study Sesh

pairing coriolanus snow x capitol!fem!reader

content coryo is his own warning, ambitious reader, relatively nice coryo, 18+ nsfw minors DNI pls, oral sex (female receiving & male receiving), slight use of force, gentle dom

synopsis you offer your best friend Coryo something he can’t refuse when he’s over at your house

wc 2222

Coriolanus Snow never paid attention the way I wanted him to. Even with the house all to ourselves, my parents away attending to business, he was studying. It’d been weeks since I’d gotten him to come over to hang out and even then he chose to come over and study. I let out a long sigh.

“Coryo, can we please do something else?”

His eyes didn’t even lift from the book his nose was buried in. “Soon. We have a paper due on this in a week.”

“Don’t remind me.” I huffed. “I'm not even as far as you are.”

Still focused on the page, he slid my own copy across the table, closer to me. “Then you should be reading.”

I took the book begrudgingly and opened to where I’d left off. I couldn’t focus on any of the words with him sitting right there, so I hopped up from my seat and began to pace about the room, book held out in front of me. It was a sunny winter day, and our big drawing room windows let in huge swaths of sunlight. They felt pleasantly warm on my arms through my silken shirt sleeves.

Sudden movement made me jump as Coryo set down his book. “Would you please stop that pacing, I can’t concentrate at all!” He was such a grump most of the time. It made him all the more fun to tease.

“Oh, but I can’t concentrate without pacing.”

“Well, do it elsewhere, then.”

“That would defeat the purpose of having you over, wouldn’t it?”

He looked at me, his mouth pursed, before beginning to stand. “You’re right.”

“No, no, no, no.” I rushed over to him, gently grasping his arm. “I just won’t study.”

He sat back down in the sitting chair I’d dragged over to the table for him. He would never be so careless with my parents’ furniture, so I made sure to always do what I could to accommodate him. I was the only one in school who knew how he lived. It was by accident, truly. We’d been very young when I’d followed him home from school. His family had insisted on me coming in once I knocked despite Coriolanus being horribly upset at my being there. But I’d never told a soul. I think in a way it was a relief for him to have one person who knew, one person he could talk to. Not that he often would. He preferred to hold that part of him very close. I was his best friend and, still, I felt I couldn't get him to see me. Occasionally he’d take comfort in me but his focus was always elsewhere.

Satisfied that he wasn’t going anywhere, I left him alone to go sit in the wide outcropping sill of one of the windows. It was even warmer there, and I felt like a cat all perched up with my knees to my chest. He was so solemn as he read, his eyebrows scrunched in focus. A beautiful blonde curl fell in front of his face. He remained still but for his breathing, as if he hadn’t noticed. As he turned the page, I watched his strong fingers. He was able to hold the book open with one hand, the other pressed to his lips. I listened as the grandfather clock ticked on. Wondered for the better part of an hour whether he’d ever look up, whether he’d ever see me.

“Coryo?”

He turned his intense eyes up to me.

I stood and unbuttoned the front of my blouse, letting it fall to my sides and reveal the white lace brassiere beneath.

He blinked but didn’t spare a gaze at my chest. “I’m busy right now.”

I crossed the room to him, slipping off my loafers on the way and leaving my blouse behind. He was practically hunched over the book. I placed my hands on the back of his perfectly tailored red jacket. He was so good at appearing perfect, wasn’t he? Sometimes I hated him for it. In truth, my own parents liked him better than me. But as I felt the hardness of his shoulders and the heat through the fabric, I realized exactly how I could get his attention.

I leaned forward, curling my arms around the front of him. My face nestled into his neck, I took a deep breath of his scent—the faintest whiff of human sweat behind clean linen and flowering roses. He hummed as I whispered into his ear.

“I think it’s time for a break.”

He tensed. “(Y/n), you know I can't. I need to keep my place at the top.”

I grumbled and let him go, pacing back to where I’d left the shirt. I unhooked my skirt there, dropping it in a heap at my ankles. When I turned to look at him, he’d taken out a damned pencil and was underlining something in the book. I stomped toward him and placed my palms firmly on the cool wood of the table.

“Coriolanus, you’ll need more than good grades on your side and you know it.” Finally, I had his attention. He was frowning at me, as usual, but it was a start. “I can get you the rest, but I won’t be so inclined if you can’t even spare a moment to indulge me.”

The book slapped shut as he removed his thumb. “What are you doing?” He looked at me like an adversary. I felt a fire in my core knowing that I could get him riled up. It meant he knew I wasn't like most of those other idiots at the Academy. I didn’t study because I didn't care much about my grades despite having the aptitude. I was assured a comfortable life regardless. I doubted he saw anyone as an equal, so I’d have to settle for being a worthy opponent.

I crouched down, crawling toward him under the table like a stalking cat. As I kneeled before him he looked down at me with a peculiar expression.

“Mr. Snow, I think you’ll find it quite hard to claw your way to the top without some extra cash in your pockets.” The crotch of his pants was beginning to look a bit too tight. I bent forward to place a kiss on it and heard him hiss in response.

“You’re obscene, you know that?”

“What’s obscene, Mr. Snow, is the wealth my parents are drowning in.” I leaned my head on his thigh, peering up at him as innocently as I could manage. “Wealth I can influence in the direction I’d like it to go. And they do so love you. It wouldn’t even be a hard sell.”

I could see the ghost of a smile on his face and knew I’d said the right thing. “Call me President.”

“Yes, President Snow.” I said it prettily, and his smile broadened at the sound.

“You’ve decided to bribe me like I’m a whore.” He said, all the while undoing his trousers. I was getting exactly what I wanted, but the deal was even sweeter for him, I knew.

His hardness sprang from his briefs with power. I ran a fingertip along its length. It was already leaking at the tip, and I brushed over it causing him to shudder. Without breaking eye contact, I licked it off my finger.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered. His hips tipped forward the slightest bit, clearly yearning for me to take him in my mouth. And I did. With one hand gripped around the warm base, I slid my lips over him. He was larger than I’d realized before, so I began slowly, only taking half of it. He groaned, and I had to press my own legs together in response to the twinge between them. I was able to touch my lips to my hand after a few bobs of my head, and as I descended onto him, he seemed to come to life.

I felt his hands both rest gently on the back of my head as I moved, making sure I knew not to back off too far. If I did, I would find the end to that gentleness. His breathing was quickened which made me respond by increasing my own speed. That must have been it for him, because I felt his hands turn to stone as he began bucking his hips, thrusting himself further into my mouth.

As he fucked, I could feel the end of him hitting me in the throat, almost too far but not quite. He was groaning little affirmations to me then, as he used me to get chase the feeling building up inside him. Saliva was beginning to fall from my mouth around his cock, and I could feel some of it running down my chin and throat, sliding onto my chest. He pushed himself to the end and held himself in my throat, giving me no warning before spilling heat inside me. I felt the twitch and his whole body go still as his cum pumped into me. It was so deep it took no effort to swallow. When he relaxed, my head lolled to rest on his thigh. I listened as his breathing evened out. I stood.

“Well,” My voice was hoarse so I cleared my throat. “Would you like to get back to work now?”

He frowned up at me again, stood so fast I could hardly register it. His face leaned in so close to me, thumb brushed my chin and the other hand curled around my waist. I was suddenly very aware of how little fabric covered my body. My skin turned to gooseflesh. He peered into my face with those wide, puppy dog eyes of his. I couldn’t summon any words.

“I’m not through with you.” He growled.

My butt had been pressed into the edge of the table behind me, and he pushed my back onto it as well. The drawing room chandelier was right above me, shining in the sun.

A finger traced over my thigh. He was standing there looking down on me, like an appraisal. I thought about cringing from his gaze but didn’t think I could even feign being that demure. This was exactly what I wanted. His finger moved across the silk of my panties. Our eyes locked, and a smile returned, his nostrils flaring slightly in amusement. I was certainly soaked.

“(Y/n), is this really all you want in exchange for a fortune?”

It wasn’t, but the rest seemed like a hard sell.

“No.”

He raised a brow in question.

“Finish me first, President Snow, then I’ll tell you.”

He shook his head, smile growing even wider. He disappeared from my view as my panties were tugged to the side. Hot breath grazed my exposed sex. An impatient whine slipped from my throat, and then his mouth was there, all there, placing a flurry of kisses all around before licking his tongue gently up my center.

“Fuck, Coryo please, just—“

His tongue circled my clit, finally giving me what I was dying for. My ass clenched, pushing myself into him harder. Hands wrapped around my thighs, roughly grabbing as he began flicking his tongue on my most sensitive part. I let myself go limp. He’d never gone down on me before, and it was like he’d been starving the entire time. He spat on my pussy and licked it into a dripping mess. I felt teeth gently nip at my clit, driving my pulse and breath to quicken.

He was moaning, saying words I couldn’t decipher because his mouth was preoccupied. My name was certainly one of them, though. The vibrations of his moaning mixed with the rhythmic press of his tongue was pushing me closer and closer. The pleasure only increased until I was teetering on the edge, trying to hold onto that feeling. His own noises were so loud I’d have expected he was the one getting serviced. And then his fingers slid into me and I couldn’t hold on. I was a spasming mess, whining as my pussy clenched around his fingers. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, feel it everywhere else.

When I opened my eyes, Coryo was fastening his pants, wiping wetness from his chin.

“Well?” He inquired, without looking my way.

I pushed myself up, didn’t want us to be too different in height. In fact, I think sitting on the table leant me an inch or two. On the floor below me, I saw a dark spot on the carpet. He’d cum a second time while buried in my cunt.

“Coryo, what’s that thing you always say, about Snow? About your family?”

His blue eyes fell on me, bright and intense.

“Snow lands on top.”

I quirked my head to the side. “I want that, too. So I’m not asking for release. I’m asking you to make me a Snow.”

The corners of his lips turned up but his brows creased, wary. He returned to the place between my legs, this time holding my face, searching it.

“You want me to marry you?”

And l knew exactly who he was, so I capitalized on the moment. “I want to belong to you, President Snow.”

The ocean in his eyes caught fire.

#fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #smut #💤🦪#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coryo #pussy drunk #tbosas #friends to lovers #established relationship #angst #🌹

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vibingandsimping · 7 months

Text

More random intimate positions/scenarios! Pt.2

Morally grey/villain characters this time!

Forewarnings: Dark content… including things like ownership, stalking, gore + obsession. Some pure fluff though :)

(I apologize for this being considerably longer compared to the others. I have been playing some more plus researching the lore. I feel more confident in my understanding of the characters and my writing.)

Gortash had his fingers wrapped around your chin as he beckoned you to look at him. You’re sat in his lap with your hands rested atop his shoulders. His expression is content with how closely pressed you are to his body. He could savor your warmth and read you so intimately. His brown eyes meet yours with a certain warmth laced in all the unwavering dominance. His lips quirk into a smirk as he watches your poorly built facade begin to crumble. His spare hand runs along the small of your back slowly… beckoningly. He'd be the hero of Baldurs Gate soon. He'd have all the power he dreamt of as a boy. Don't you wish to share that with him? His chest purrs when you keen into his touch. Good. He knew you could be a pretty thing for him. Such a formidable foe and he’d have you right by his side.

Minthara had her arms wrapped around your frame protectively. No matter how large or small you were in comparison. She was determined to hold you and plant some sort of reassurance into you. The way she regarded you was not that of any other. No, you were special to her and the woman realized it may not be so clear. She may be a cruel and a standard "drow", but beyond that there was an affection for you within her heart. She plants a kiss against the back of your shoulder-blades and it draws a shudder. Her muscles tighten around you as she presses her face into your shoulder, hot breath washing the junction of your neck and the flesh of your shoulder. You resist a second shudder. Unbeknownst to you, she’d follow you even if it was fruitless. Nothing was shaking her now that she was wrapped around you.

Orin's blade travels down your chest. It was gentle yet sharp... she wasn't particularly aiming to harm you but the thin streak of blood was enticing. The wound was so shallow it barely bubbled- just enough to alert her she broke the skin. Everything about the way she gazed at you was unhinged. You knew if she had pupils they'd be dilated. She draws her face downwards and laps at the tender flesh while you draw a shaky inhale. The whispers of praise and wishes for more barely reached your ears beyond the thrum of your heart. The slimy feel of her tongue worming it’s way up to your collarbones hitch your breath and you watch carefully. Each movement breeds more anticipation- she was soaking in your torment. She was wicked, truly, she devoted herself to you. You’d never understand her… but did you have to?

Ketheric’s hand laced with yours as you walked to his side. He was laid on his throne with open thighs as he acknowledged your presence. The man was aged and once a father. Well, technically still but Isobel regarded him with disowning. He long burned that bridge from his desperation and despair. You entered his life and turned things around. Everyone in Moonrise had never seen him so soft since he lost his daughter and wife. You took a seat on one of his thighs as he drew your hand to his face. His lips planted a gentle kiss on the back of your hand and then along your wrist. His beard tickled and caused you laugh, struggling against his hold as he stubbornly refused to let you go. When he finally did his lips were quirked upwards and there was a twinkling in his eye. He never thought he’d take a lover again… so he was glad when you broke down his walls. He’d once curse you for being persistent but now he’d praise you for it.

Raphael tugs on the invisible leash that was wrapped around your neck. You jerk forward on the bed as you kneeled with palms balancing you on the lush fabric. His wings were on grand display as his typically slicked hair tussled ever so slightly. Expression dark and expectant as you slowly crawled toward him. His brows furrowed as he tutted impatiently, a leg swinging out to hook around your thigh and jerk it underneath you. You collapsed as he drew you towards him with little patience. You now sprawled across his lower abdomen and crotch as his chest rumbles in amusement. Your skin burned with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. The hold he had on you, literally and figuratively, elicited a deep part of your brain. One that wished so carnally to be claimed… to be owned. Raphael would see to that, he promised, with one hand stroking your hair. You were such a sweet thing… and if you weren’t so persistent he’d lock you up for himself.

Kar’niss thought of you as a blessing. Truly, a drider like him didn’t deserve such an angel. He was supposed to be punished for all eternity for his shortcomings. He failed once and will never see to being a normal drow again. That’s why it didn’t make sense for him to be rewarded- but who is he to look at a gift with ungratefulness? He always holds you so tenderly… his body shockingly cold. He’s restless today, you note, as his eight legs skitter and his hands curl at you. There’s a flittering look in his face. A hunger he tried to conceal. When you question, he answers truthfully, drider need to feed on blood to survive. Every four days or he’d succumb to weakness and eventually die an empty husk. You offer yourself and he checks you for any hesitancy before diving in. He pierces the flesh with his sharp nails before indulging in the crimson that flowed. Between suckles and licks, he praises you for your generosity. Endless ‘thank you’s’ flow as much as your blood. He’s sure he’d never fallen deeper in love… or was it infatuation?

Haarlep knew their affection for you was essentially forbidden. Raphael handed you as a toy to them. Nothing more and nothing less- they should regard you only for his entertainment. They somehow found themselves wanting to indulge in your mind rather than your flesh after some time. It was your softness that first stunned them and foiled their pure-desire. Raphael never touched themself with such… they could barely find the word. Gentleness? Regard? They’d lay with you after your shared bliss and inch their nails down the side of your hip as you detailed your life. With a hand propping their head; they seemed enchanted. Mesmerized by how simple yet complex of a creature you were to them. Haarlep was a succubus and spent their life serving that purpose. They almost felt jealous of the freedom you held in life. They couldn’t help but find themselves fantasizing a life where you two lived in better circumstances. It was all a fantasy, though, they knew it with a bittersweetness.

Durge had always watched you from afar. Stalking, following and admiring. You caught their gaze amongst the crowd as they deliberately chose their next victim. You would’ve been easy. You didn’t hold yourself with a particular air in the ranks of Baldur’s Gate. Another citizen lost to the crazed killings of a maniac. It wasn’t until you’d noticed you had a secret admirer did your hackles raise. You could feel a pair of eyes on you at the most inopportune times. Then, came the letters at your doorstep detailing how they defied their nature. You could’ve been another hung corpse but instead they wished to wrap their mind around your heart and their lips amongst your neck. A shiver ran through you… a mix of disgust and a strange intrigue? Surely it was the way the letters were so detailed and deranged. You would’ve ignored it all until the stalking emboldened. You saw their figure in the window at night and through the alleyways. It was only a matter of time before they struck and claimed you as theirs. You’d simply have to keep an eye over your shoulder and hold a dagger close. If you could even strike them, that was.

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lonelywitchv2 · 1 year

Text

Shattered (Strawberries pt. 2)

summary: the discovery of your relationship leaves an aftermath that shatters more than just an inkpot.

content: lots of anger, lots of dialogue, lots of angst, lots of anger (again), sirius and james lowkey being assholes, mentions of food, the marauders basically controlling your life, sirius and regulus being on extra-bad terms, the marauders also stalking you (to an extent)

wc: 2350 (literally almost 4x longer than part 1)

join my taglist!

the long-awaited part 2 is here! hope y'all enjoy <3

The walk back to the school was quiet, all attempts at defending you and Regulus had been long abandoned. James’ grip on your forearm remained as he marched you away from the forest while Sirius refused to even look at you, choosing to glare ahead like James.

When you, Sirius, and James entered the common room, Remus, Lily, and Marlene looked up, all three caught off guard by the sight in front of them. None of them had seen James look as angry as he did, not in the seven years of knowing him. You, on the other hand, were stuck in his iron grip, your eyes cast downwards. They watched as James and Sirius made a move to take you up to the boys' dormitories, only stopping when Remus jumped up and blocked them.

“What the hell is going on?” Remus asked, his tall frame standing in front of the staircase, glancing between the two boys and you.

“We caught her out on a little date,” James responded, his upset expression unchanged.

“Why is that such a big deal? She’s sixteen, she’s allowed to go on dates, Prongs,” Remus said, confused.

“Well, she isn’t allowed to go on dates with my little brother!” Sirius exclaimed, his face twisted in anger.

Remus, Marlene, and Lily all paused, shock written across each of their faces.

“She was on a date with Regulus?” Lily asked from the couch.

“Yes!” James responded, his head turning towards the redhead.

“And in the Forbidden Forest too!” Sirius added.

“It was just a picnic,” You uttered.

“I’m pretty sure it was more than ‘just a picnic’ given that I saw Regulus on top of you,” Sirius argued.

“Regulus was on top of her?” Marlene asked, still shocked.

“It wasn’t like that! We were just kissing!” You said, a weak defense against the five seventeen-year-olds beginning to crowd around you.

“Oh, so Regulus pins your wrists down every time you two kiss?” Sirius asked bitterly.

“No-!”

“Well, then it seemed like more than ‘just a kiss’ to me!”

“You guys don’t understand!” You exclaimed.

“Well then help us understand,” Remus responded, trying to remain calm.

“I’m trying! Regulus and I were going on a picnic-” You started before swiftly getting interrupted.

“Why was it in the Forbidden Forest?” Sirius pestered.

“Because we knew you would freak if you saw- which we were right about!” You argued back.

“Anyways….?” Lily said, trying to draw the story out from you.

“And we were talking about books-” You said, trying to continue.

“I didn’t know talking about books involved lying on top of someone,” James muttered, hostility lacing his words

“Oh shush, James,” Marlene groaned.

“We were talking about books and then had a play fight over a strawberry and kissed. That’s it. Nothing more to it,” You finished.

“Still doesn’t explain why it was all with Regulus,” Sirius grumbled.

“Listen, Sirius, I get that you’re pissed off and I’m sorry for keeping it a secret, but I’m not sorry that it was with Regulus. I know he’s your brother but I really like him, Siri,” You said, looking up at the dark-haired boy.

“I just… I don’t get it. How’d this even happen?” Sirius asked, quieter this time.

“Potions- we, uh, we have potions together. And a few prefects rounds now and then,” You answered.

“Prefect rounds… Lily, did you put the two of them together for rounds? Cause I know I sure as hell didn’t,” James accused, turning towards the red-haired girl.

“No- James, you know the pairs are rotated, I didn’t put them together on purpose, it was bound to happen!” Lily exclaimed, stepping away from the group.

“Lily, none of this would’ve happened if they weren’t put on rounds together!”

“The pairs aren’t picked out by hand, I already told you it wasn’t intentional-”

“Dear Godric- will you guys stop fighting? James, listen, Regulus and I had classes together- we would’ve met regardless of if we were paired up for rounds or not, so don’t go blaming Lily for it,” You interrupted.

“Everyone, just stop. I just need to think.” Sirius said, waving you, Lily, Marlene, Remus, and James off as he walked up the stairs and into his dormitory.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Remus muttered, following the path of Sirius. James, who momentarily turned to glare at you, walked behind Remus.

Left in the common room with Lily and Marlene, you let out an exasperated huff as you watched the boys’ heads disappear up the stairs. Turning around, you saw the two older girls staring at you.

“What?” You asked, not oblivious to their curious expressions.

“How long has this been going on?” Lily asked quietly, Marlene leaning in slightly to hear the conversation.

You stayed silent for a moment, your gaze trailing down to the scuffed material of your shoes.

“A few months,” You said quietly, slight shame enveloping you as you felt the burning stares from Lily and Marlene.

“How many months?”

“Four.”

“Four months?!” Marlene exclaimed, a gasp leaving her mouth.

Your head turned to the side, avoiding the gaze of the two as you chewed on your bottom lip.

“Yeah, four months,” You repeated, looking everywhere but at the girls in front of you.

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” Lily asked, brows furrowed.

“You’re really gonna ask that after what just happened? Blimey, Lily, it’s a mess whatever I do. None of them are going to trust me again. They… they’re gonna do everything they can to keep me away from Regulus and there’s about nothing I can do about it,” You muttered, frustrated tears forming in your eyes.

“I need to be alone for a little while. I’ll see you later,” You said after a few moments of silence, raking your hands through your hair as you left for your dorm.

The sight of your bed was a welcoming sight, prompting you to kick off your shoes and flop down onto it. Despite it only being late afternoon, you were already exhausted from the stress of the day. It started off good, with you getting to be with Regulus, but it was quickly ruined by James and Sirius discovering the two of you.

Regulus.

The thought of him normally brought a wave of happiness, butterflies swarming in your stomach when you saw him. Right now, though, you felt everything but the pleasant fluttering in your stomach. It was more like there were moths inhabiting your body, covering whatever light that was once in your heart. It wasn’t because of Regulus himself, dear Godric, of course not, it was over the fact that, just like you told Lily and Marlene, you would have all four boys, or at the very least James and Sirius, working against your relationship and working to keep you apart from him. It made you sick to the stomach.

Some might say to sneak around and meet up in abandoned corridors, broom closets, or empty classrooms, which would (theoretically) work if it wasn’t for the damned Marauder’s Map. At first, the piece of enchanted parchment was a blessing when you needed to check for professors before leaving the common room past curfew but, as you grew older and would meet up with boys, you would have about five minutes, maybe ten if you were lucky, until the marauders would appear. Your resentment for the paper only grew when you realized there was no way you could be with Regulus in an empty room or corridor at night without one of the marauders catching on, so you had to get creative. You and Regulus would make out in empty sections of the library, hold hands in the back of the classroom, talk and kiss during prefect rounds, and exchange love notes passed using either magic or by being left in between the pages of a book.

The rest of the day, you stayed holed up in your room, only leaving when dinner came around, followed by Lily and Marlene, who dragged you out of bed and down to the Great Hall. Dinner was a quiet affair, something incredibly unusual for the group but, with the lingering air of hostility emitting from Sirius, no one was really in the mood for talking. You were sat in between Remus and Lily, placed strategically so you couldn’t look over at the Slytherin table. Sirius, however, was sitting across from you and refused to even glance at you, his eyes either on his plate or glaring at the Slytherin table, most definitely aimed at Regulus.

You could feel the stares, watching as Marlene’s eyes flickered between you, Sirius, and Regulus. Lily, who would repeatedly would glance at you through her peripheral view, also caught your attention with her gaze. You were almost positive you could feel Regulus’ stare on the back of your head, yet you refrained from turning to meet the gaze. Sirius was mad enough as it was, he didn’t need to catch you looking at his little brother.

Not particularly hungry, especially given the day’s events, you spent the majority of dinner pushing around the food on your plate rather than eating it. You felt almost nauseous as you sat on the bench, the idea of eating englufed by the still-present feeling of moths within your body.

When dinner was finally finished, you were ready to bolt out of the Great Hall and into your dorm. Remus, however, had other plans, placing an arm around your shoulders and tugging you into his tall frame. Although it might’ve looked like an act of affection to some, you knew it wasn’t. You were certain Sirius had given Remus some sort of signal to make sure you didn’t leave their sight, something he was keen on avoiding after finding you and Regulus in the forest.

The over-protective behavior continued for days. You were always in the company of at least one of the marauders, whether it was in the library or walking to class, you were never alone. They had even gone so far as to bribe one of your Potions classmates into keeping an eye on you and Regulus. Of course, this was only after the plan of forcing you to switch partners failed and so began your life of constant surveillance. James had even put it upon himself to use his Head Boy status and hand-pick the prefect pairs that would patrol the halls, ensuring that you and Regulus were never together.

The only time you were ever alone was when you were in your dorm. Even then, the three girls, with whom you shared a room, had told you that James interrogated them every time they left the dorm, trying to squeeze information out of them on if you had gotten any letters or anything of the such. The girls, thankfully, had refused to answer any of James’ questions, leaving him to question what happened behind the wooden door of Gryffindor tower’s dormitory thirteen.

Around a week after you and Regulus were discovered, you finally received a letter from him. It had come Saturday morning while you were getting ready for breakfast, delivered by the midnight-colored owl Regulus had named Pluto, after the Roman god of the underworld. After petting Pluto for a moment, you sat down on your bed to read the piece of parchment. Inside the letter, Regulus wrote about how greatly was he missing you and how he wanted nothing more than to be able to hold your hand without receiving a scathing glare from his brother. You folded the letter back up and went rummaging through your bag, pulling out parchment, ink, and a quill as you wrote a response, talking about how you were planning on trying to get Sirius to let up and not keep you on watch every moment. You rolled your letter up, tied it to Plato, and sent him off, storing Regulus’ letter inside your DADA textbook before hurrying down to breakfast.

While you were sitting with your friends, your eyes would briefly glance at the door every time a student entered, looking for a particular curly-headed boy. When you made eye contact with the one you had been searching for, you could feel the redness in your cheeks. You quickly looked down, avoiding the side-eyed glance you received from Sirius, his eyes trailed over to where Regulus was walking towards the Slytherin table.

Catching on, Sirius dropped his fork onto his plate, storming out of the Great Hall in a fit of rage. You, James, Remus, Peter, Marlene, and Lily all watched him disappear before you stood up and began to follow him.

By the time you reached the painting of the Fat Lady, Sirius was already ahead of you and inside Gryffindor tower. Muttering the password, you entered the common room, pausing to look for Sirius. After you realized he wasn’t downstairs, your ears caught the sounds of things being tossed around and falling from the girls' dormitories.

In a matter of seconds, you rushed up the stairs and into your dorm, where Sirius was rummaging through your bag, your nightstand already ransacked and gutted, its contents scattered across the floor.

“What the hell are you doing, Sirius?!” You shouted, attempting to pull the bag out of the boy’s grip. The fight over the bag was essentially tug of war, ending when the contents spilled out, books and quills on the ground.

“I don’t know what else you’re hiding from me, but I’m going to find it so bugger off,” Sirius growled, anger burning in his eyes as he glanced at you.

You watched as Sirius reached for your Defense Against the Dark Arts book, freezing as the letter from Regulus fluttered out from the pages and onto the ground. Sirius picked it up, unfolded it, and turned to you with a look of betrayal and fury on his face after reading it.

“How could you?” Sirius said, leaving your dormitory and taking the letter with him.

Left in the mess surrounding your bed, you looked down to see your inkpot on the ground, shattered.

tysm for reading!

@serialghost @abq654 @scrletletter @readtomeregulus @anny-bah

#regulus black x reader #james potter x reader #regulus black #regulus x reader #marauders x reader #james potter #harry potter #james potter x platonic!reader #marauders #marauders fanfiction #sister!reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x platonic!reader #sirius black #remus lupin x platonic!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin

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slut4starwarssmut · 3 months

Text

MDNI

CW: smut, virginity loss (reader), fauxcest, soft dom, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), drug use, alcohol, fingering, swearing, mostly smut barely plot

AN: i was too lazy to proofread but, i did put in effort to make it look pretty :)

Hanging out with Stepbro!Sam again because your parents thinks it’ll keep him out of trouble. He knows you’ll tell them everything so he has to be on his best behavior or get grounded.

Tonight he’s reluctantly taking you to a party, and he hates the idea of his little sis stopping his fun.

When you get there you immediately decide this isn’t your scene; people making out, the smell of weed and the loud music. It totally isn’t your thing.

You’ve been mindlessly swiping through your socials as to not feel so out of place, when he snatches your phone instead replacing it with a beer.

“Don’t you wanna at least try and have fun” he scoffs, tucking your phone into his back pocket.

You try to refuse, reminding both yourself and him that you’ll be grounded if you get caught drinking, but your protests are silenced when he lifts the cup up to your lips and forces you to take a big gulp.

You screw your face up “God Sam, tastes horrible.” but it only encourages him to make you drink more.

Sam disappears for a moment, before returning with an already lit joint. taking a deep inhale before blowing the smoke into your face. You cough disgusted by the thick smell. “Can’t snitch on me for smoking anymore, not when you smell like it too.” he smirks while studying your curious gaze.

“Wanna try?” You attempt to refuse but he’s already pressing it up to your lips, stroking the back of your head with his other hand.

You take a big deep inhale trying to mimic the way Sam had done it. Unfortunately for you it doesn’t go as well and you splutter up a chesty cough.

“Oh, poor baby” he coos, debating if it was the pet name he used or the weed that has you blushing like an idiot.

“Look at you, misbehaving. Can’t tell on me anymore, can you?” he winks before pressing the joint back to your lips “again.”

As the night goes on you feel increasingly confident with Sam protectively guiding you through the house with his hands steadily placed on your hips.

“I’m really tired Sam, we should go home” you slur while making dizzy eye contact with him.

“m’kay princess, let’s go” he’s says, taking your hand.

The drive home was a blur, sat in the passenger seat giggling as you held your fingers out the slight crack in the window.

“Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart” he states before taking you inside and up the stairs.

He steps inside your bedroom with you and you mumble something about wanting to get undressed and that he should go, but he ignores it, undoing the zip at the back of your dress and slowly pressing chaste kisses onto your pulse point.

“Sammy, what’re you doing?”

“getting you ready for bed princess” he states plainly, before slipping your dress off you leaving you in just your pretty lace set.

He continues to kiss down your neck and shoulder pushing you forwards, till your knees meet the edge of your frilly bed. He spins you round, eyeing the front of your bare body and your slightly timid expression.

“We shouldn’t do this Sam”

“shh, you know i’m just looking after you.” he answers, hands placed on your hips drawing small circles with his thumbs onto your stomach.

You move into his touch, reluctantly giving into what he wants. He dips his head, allowing his lips to be level with yours breathing against them before pressing them onto you. His kisses are wet and sloppy, swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, politely asking for entry.

Too jaded for you to notice. He asks verbally “open” to which this time you comply. His tongue wraps around yours gently massaging.

He pulls away laying you down on top of your pretty floral bedsheets adorned with various stuffed animals and pillows and removing his shirt.

“Are you still a virgin?” he questions and you nod frantically. The idea of it amuses him. His perfect lil sis, that he wants to corrupt so bad.

Sam brings his thumb to the wet spot on your panties, “are you sure darling” he chuckles “you’re soaked.”

He hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you into the bulge in his pants, encouraging you to let out a slight whimper.

He drops to his knees, not breaking eye contact with your panties. Leaning in he presses a sloppy kiss onto your mound. “gonna take these panties off ok?”. you reply with a nod, head too fuzzy to let any real words come out.

He bundles the panties into his pocket before returning his gaze to your slick. He rests the side of his face on your thigh inches away, while bringing his finger up to run up to your slit. “ever been fingered baby?” he groans while kissing the soft skin of your thighs.

You crane your neck to look at him “m’never!” you whine, clenching around nothing begging to be filled. With the admission he plunges his finger into you, and you respond by grabbing his hair and tugging hard. “shhh, you’re ok my love” he coos and your walls flutter around him, needy for more. He obliges working you open with a second finger, this time placing wet sloppy kisses on your pulsing clit.

You muffle your moans with your fist, remembering not to be too loud. You can feel him let out a breathy laugh against you. “you’re taking me so well princess, are you sure you’re a virgin?” He knows you most definitely are, Sam just loves to see you get all flustered and defensive.

“your cunts so sweet, here come taste it” he rises up from his kneeling position, smiling to himself with how already fucked out you look.

He kisses you, this time more deep and aggressive making a point to bite down on your lip opening your mouth wide enough to spit into it.

“You’re so fucking well behaved for me, you know that right?” there’s almost a hint of aggression to his voice now, possessed by his need for you.

You’re too overwhelmed to speak, you have been since he first kissed you. all you can do is whimper at the way his bulge is tucked in between your heat, rutting himself into you.

“You want me too fuck you baby?” he questions, smirking when you nod desperately.

“Ask for it.”

“p-please fuck me Sammy” you whine, barely comprehending what you’re asking him for.

He stands, quickly removing his belt, followed by his jeans and boxers. His thick erection slaps against his lower stomach. It’s big you think, or at least bigger than you thought it would be. Tip blushed and leaky precum, and the base decorated by dark trimmed hair.

He returns to his previous position, arms bracing himself either side of your head. Length pressing against your slick cunt.

“You ready baby?” he questions, almost amused by your wanting expression.

“Just be gentle” you mutter, he smirks at this as if he knows something you don’t.

Almost painfully slow he nudged into you inch by inch, it’s a dull, burning kind of pain. But nothing that isn’t bearable. He stops when he’s halfway inside you- not that you know that, to you, you’re stuffed to the brim.

He holds himself there for a minute, leaning down to press a kiss onto your forehead.

“Doing so so well my love.” he looks almost pained, as if he was the one currently getting impaled.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, want me to move?” he doesn’t wait for your response only groaning when he drops his hips, sliding fully into you.

Tears start to well as sam starts to move, he kisses you hoping it would provide an ample distraction to how you’re puffy cunt is bullied by his thick cock.

“my little good girl takin’ me so so well aren’t you” he looks down at you grinning at the way your little pupils have dilated, and how your swollen lips tremble with every thrust.

The feeling of him inside you is becoming more and more pleasurable, Sam senses it too, speeding up his thrusts. There’s a feeling building up in your lower tummy and he can tell, bring his hand down to tease your little nub, as you tangle your hands into his dyed hair.

“You gonna let go on my cock baby? C‘mon do it, cum for me” his verbal affirmation was enough, your heart raced and your mind went fuzzy as you had your very first orgasm on your stepbrothers cock.

The tight grip of your cunt along with the sensation of you tugging on his hair sent sam into overdrive, his thrusts growing messy and desperate. He let out a final grunt before cumming inside of you, leaving you even more full than you thought possible.

He collapsed onto you, his chin in the crook between your neck and shoulder. Both of you attempting to regulate your breathing.

He rose onto his forearms before pressing a wet kiss onto your lips. “Not so much of a good girl shoes now, huh?”

#hayden christensen #sam monroe #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe x you #sam monroe smut #sam x virgin reader #stepbrother!sam monroe

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candy69gurl · 9 days

Text

POV: You are Sukuna's Vessel 5

Warnings- smut

wc- 2.3k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6

You awaken, free from pain and aches, but find yourself in unfamiliar surroundings. Everything is bathed in a deep red hue, and a sense of unease washes over you. As you sit up, confusion clouds your thoughts. In the distance, you notice something immense—a Tower of Skulls—with Sukuna perched atop it.

Your heart quickens, and adrenaline surges through your veins. With determination, you rise and begin to advance towards the tower, driven by urgency.

"You fucker," you call out, your voice trembling with anger upon seeing him.

As you draw closer to the tower, you see Sukuna seated on a throne, his head propped on his hand. His gaze meets yours, a chilling smile playing on his lips.

"Don't look at me without my permission, brat. I hate it," he growls, his voice filled with menace. "Bow down before me," he orders.

Disobeying him, you inquire, "Where am I?"

"In my domain," Sukuna says, his voice sending chills through your body. "Malevolent Shrine. So you better be obedient and do what I say."

"How did I end up here?" you demand, glaring at him.

"Because you attempted to end your own life, brat," he retorts, a smirk dancing on his lips. "I couldn't allow you to perish, not yet," he continues, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Not until you learn the consequences of your actions."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as you gaze at him. Summoning your courage, you take a deep breath, your voice quivering with anger. "Come down here, asshole," you command firmly. "I refuse to serve you, now or ever," you declare, your eyes flashing with defiance.

Sukuna chuckles, a cruel sound resonating through the shrine."You think you are brave enough to insult me?" he says, his voice laced with amusement. "Moreover, you broke the deal that we made."

In a surge of fury, you snatch up a skull, your rage propelling your actions. With all your might, you hurl it towards Sukuna. Swiftly, he leaps from his perch, landing atop you with a mocking laugh.

"Ouch!" you cry out, the impact stealing your breath.

"You don't get to disobey me, vessel," Sukuna snarls, pinning you to the ground and pressing your face into the bloody puddle.

Within a few seconds, he lets go of your head, letting you breathe again. "Get off me!" you yell, struggling beneath him.

"You will listen to me, vessel," he says, his voice cold. "Or I will make sure you regret it," he adds, his eyes gleaming with malice.

You struggle, but he is too strong; your efforts are futile.

"As I was saying, this is my innate domain. In other words, you are not dead yet. You missed your vital spot, so I was able to take over your unconscious body and heal it," he says, looking down at you.

"You're heavy," you remark, trying to deflect.

Sukuna releases you, grasping your neck to force eye contact. "You broke our deal by not allowing me to take over your body whenever I want," he says, staring daggers at you.

You study him intently, noting his imposing presence: the pink spikes of his hair standing tall, tattoos and markings adorning his forehead, nose, cheeks, and torso. He's wearing a white robe, the cloth flowing around him.

"Do you like what you see?" Sukuna asks, his voice mocking, "I look like a god, don't I?" he adds, a silly smirk playing on his lips.

"You're still an asshole," you retort, your voice shaking with anger.

"And I'm still the owner of your body, and do you know what happens to those who break the rules?"

You roll your eyes, your anger growing again.

Suddenly, Sukuna's hold on your neck tightens, cutting off your air supply. You fight against him, your chest burning for oxygen. Gasping desperately, your vision blurs.

Summoning your last reserves of strength, you manage to land a kick on his jaw, momentarily loosening his grip.

His eyes blaze with rage as he growls, "You insolent wretch," his voice seething with fury.

In a whirlwind of movement, you find yourself seated upon the throne, Sukuna's hands firmly gripping your waist, his eyes narrowed with unbridled anger.

"Remember, this is my domain," he growls.

Your heart races; panic is surging through you. "Release me," you demand, your voice trembling with fear.

Sukuna's smirk widens, malice glinting in his eyes. "Not so easily," he retorts, his tone chillingly indifferent.

You are now stuck with Sukuna, as he keeps you pinned against him, his hand tightly wrapping around your waist.

With a low growl, Sukuna's hands reach down to your pants. His fingers are brushing against your skin, your breath hitches, and your body is tense with anticipation. You try to push him away, your heart racing.

Sukuna smirks, his eyes gleaming with malice. "I've been waiting for this moment, Sama." His voice is low and seductive, sending chills down your spine. He chuckles darkly, his hands tightening their grip on your waist, before he pulls you closer, devouring your lips in a passionate yet rough kiss. His tongue dances with yours, dominating you completely as he takes control of your body, moving it according to his will.

"I know all your sweet spots," he whispers against your lips, letting you catch your breath for a moment before he yanks your pants off you.

You gasp as he slides his finger over your clit. "I am also aware of your virginity and how quickly you get wet," he chuckles, striding his tongue against your neck. Your mind keeps on wondering how he knows all this.

He leans down, yanking off your top and taking one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it, causing you to arch your back in pleasure.

Sukuna grins, pushing a finger inside of you gently, watching as you twitch and moan softly. "Oh, look how you are so wet for me." He coos against your ear, thrusting his finger deeper into you. You squirm in his grip, but he holds you firmly.

"Ah, I am hitting the right spot, am I not?" he asks, intentionally wanting to get a reply from you.

"N-no, not at all. Your nails.. They-," you lie.

"Quit lying, you like the sensation of my sharp nails gazing at your walls; I can read your mind; don't forget that you are in my domain," he thrusts another finger, making you whimper. He chuckles darkly, increasing the pace of his fingers.

"Trust me, I can see through your mind right now." He murmurs, his eyes gleaming with lust. His hands then move to your nipple, twisting and pulling, causing you to whimper into his shoulder. "Hmm. Gotta ruin your tough personality," he whispers as he thrusts his fingers faster, making you writhe in his grip.

You moan loudly, your hips buckling against him, desperate for release. "Nah, uh, you need to beg for it," Sukuna smirks, his finger sliding out of you, his eyes never leaving yours.

You try to think of something else, but your mind keeps on reminding your body about the pleasure it was feeling from his fingers.

He chuckles darkly, his eyes gleaming with lust. "Say it aloud; I want to hear it, though I already know what you want by reading this filthy mind of yours." He says, sliding his fingers back into you, twisting and pulling them, making you moan loudly.

"Please let me, Cum," you gasp, your eyes wide with a mix of pain and pleasure.

"Hmm? Already started begging? You are not as tough as I thought you would be. Guess, I am hitting your right spots," he mocks, bruising your sweet spot again and again.

Suddenly, his fingers leave you abruptly, making you whine in protest. You were so close, but he stopped. He laughs, still holding you firmly against him. "This is a punishment; I can't give you pleasure. Can I?"

He turns you so that he can see your face clearly, and your hands unconsciously wrap around his neck. "If you really want to cum so badly, then do it on cock," he said, his voice low and seductive, causing shivers to run down your spine.

"I don't need it from you," you lie, trying to sound tough but failing miserably as you can feel his laughter resonating in your ears.

"Oh, come on, I know you want it; your body is begging for it," he laughs, his lips trailing down your neck. "Your body is so slutty, you know that?" he asks, his hands roaming your back and your hips.

You shake his hold on you, trying to break free, but he grips you tighter. "Quit lying, I told you I can read your mind," Sukuna chuckles, his lips against your ear. "You really look good with that short hair," he whispers, his fingers tangling around your hair. "I apologise; if you truly care about your hair, it will grow back."

"Shut up, I hate you so much," you try to say.

"Kiss me then; let me fix us," he smirked.

You glare at him, but he doesn't seem to care. Instead, he pulls you closer, your lips brushing against his. His lips are soft against yours, and his tongue darts out to trace the line of your lips. You groan softly, your defenses crumbling. His lips press harder against yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth, claiming it as his own. This time he kisses you thoroughly, his hands roaming your body and touching your every sensitive spot.

"Don't you want to feel the king of curses's cock inside you?" he whispers against your lips, his hands cupping your breasts. You moan softly, feeling his hands on your breasts, causing you to shiver in pleasure.

"I-I don't need that," you stutter, your body betraying you as it moves against him.

"Don't lie; you know you do," Sukuna murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. "You are already imagining me fucking your little pussy, mhm." He chuckles darkly, his hands roaming your back, causing you to feel embarrassed.

"Stop reading my mind." Your hands travel to close his eyes. "I don't want your dirty cock inside me," you resist.

"Then why are you grinding against it? Why do you envision me fucking you?" he gently moves your hands from his face to his cock. "Can you feel it throbbing?"

You jolt at its thickness and say, "I-impossible."

He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest that vibrates against you. "Is it?" His hands slide down your body, pulling your pants off. "Don't worry, you are loose enough," he murmurs, guiding your hands against his hard shaft. "Are you telling me you don't want this?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You bite your lip, your body betraying you as your hips rub against him. He chuckles evilly and says, "I want to hear you. Tell me you want this inside you."

You hesitate for a second, your eyes wide with confusion and desire. "I think, I do," you stutter, your hands gripping his robe tightly. Sukuna chuckles, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Is that so, little slut? Fine, let's see how you react," he says, his hands pulling your legs apart. His cock slides against your clit, causing you to gasp and moan.

"Please…" you whisper, your eyes pleading. "Please, what?" he asks, and he continues teasing your clit. "P-put it inside," your eyes pleading with him.

Sukuna's smirk never leaves, his eyes gleaming with victory as he positions himself at your entrance. He thrusts inside you, making you gasp and arch your back.

"Yes, that's it; take it," he murmurs, his hands gripping your hips. You moan loudly, your hands tugging on his robe. "Good vessel, take it all," he praises you, thrusting in and out of you.

You moan loudly, your hips buckling against him. "Hmm, nice and tight," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with lust. "Tight as I thought you would be." You whimper, your eyes wide with pleasure and pain.

Sukuna chuckles darkly, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. "Where is the fierce girl you used to be?" he mocks, his nails digging into your hips. You moan softly, your body writhing under his touch.

He kisses your neck and, with his fingers, your hair. "I'll make sure you never forget this," he growls, his hips thrusting faster. You moan loudly, your hips buckling against him. His thrusts become faster and harder, and your body shudders under his touch. He bites your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "Do you know, get it, who's the owner of this body?" he growls, his eyes gleaming with lust.

"Yeah," your voice quivering with every demonic thrust.

"You look so good, taking my cock, so submissive," he murmurs, thrusting harder. His words send shivers down your spine, his cock sliding in and out of you, making you whimper. "I can feel your walls trembling around me," he growls, his hands wrapping around your neck.

You whimper, your body shaking terribly, your toes curling.

"Cumming already?" he asks mockingly, his hips thrusting harder.

"A-ah, I-I," you gasp, your body betraying you. You arch your back, your body quivering as you reach your climax. Sukuna groans loudly, his hands gripping your hips tighter.

"This body, these breasts, this pussycat—every inch of your body belongs to me," his low growl echoing through your ears, his cock pulsing inside you. He thrusts deeper, his orgasm coming hard, filling you up. He gives you a peck, and your body is still quivering from the experience.

"Now you know who owns this body," he mocks, his hands running down your body. "Next time, don't dare to deny me." You nod weakly, your body still under the effect of the intense climax. He smirks, slowly pulling himself out of you, his cock sliding out of your body.

You pass out, slumping against him. Sukuna chuckles ominously, his eyes bright with triumph.

TAGLIST: @moonlightazriel @unholiiness @nyxlai @cocoaxbunny @persephone-lilly @iraa567 @rabbidbunwy @sweetchildcloud @lotus-n-l0ve @smashhed @imhellakawai @loveoreos @selfloverrrrrr @matchainthemorning @freckledmuffin @palegardenrebel @hellomeow12 @rowrowrowyourboat13

Dividers from @cafekitsune

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fraugwinska · 26 days

Note

I LOVED IT AAAAAA COULD U DO A PART TWO THATS A LITTLE SMUTTY??? (I’m the anon who asked about the brat reader! :3)

Since not only you, but also the wonderful @sybilsmelodyonthewireless asked for it - who am I to deny you? ;>

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

(Un)Holy Tease

Ah, you loved the feeling of claws in your hair. A good night always started with claws in your hair. True, you had been especially annoying today – It had just been too long since Alastor had pulled you into his bed with this dominating, smug smile you craved, but you knew he denied you on purpose, finding wicked glee in your growing desperation. But two could play that game.

What tipped the scale – you weren't sure. If you had to chose, you'd say it was when you refused to eat his freshly cooked dinner, his mom's prized Jambalaya of all things, because you ''didn't feel like it''. You knew that it would drive him mad, and you would've maybe felt bad if it wasn't the quickest - and safest - way into his sheets.

Alastor caged your mostly undressed self under him, his dress shirt open and with a dark smile on his lips.

„I said: Look at me, darling.“

You rose your chin a bit higher, as much as his firm grip in your hair allowed – the slight pain from it sent shivers down your spine. „I'm good, thank you.“

Your smile quickly turned into a gasp as he tugged hard on your scalp, forcing your face to turn to him.

„A little mouthy today, are we?“, he purred, slowly scraping the inside of your thighs with his free hand. You felt the inhuman urge to tilt your hips, to guide his traveling finger to where you wanted them to be, but you refused to give in that easily. „Do you really think you get what you so clearly want with that little attitude of yours?“

You gripped the sheets beneath you, just to stop yourself from grabbing his shoulders and pull him onto you. Patience, you reminded yourself, work him until he's ready.

„Who says I want anything from you?“, you say decidedly casual, blinking up to him, registering with delight his little snarl and the glimmer of frustration in his eyes. He lowered himself, you could feel his hot breath on your collarbone as his hand traveled up, up, up to your heated core, just halting before actually touching the already wet fabric.

„Your body betrays you, pet.“, he chuckled, tilting his head to inhale your scent. You almost slip, letting your hands free from the grip on the bed sheets to touch him just a bit, but he is quicker than you, catching your wrists and pinning them above your head with the help of his shadow companions. „You were most unruly today, but I'll overlook your little tantrums... if you beg for it.“

Your body bent and tensed like a hunters bow, you forced yourself to not moan at his words. The tightrope you walked on got thinner and thinner. Just a bit more.

„Make me.“

A low growl accompanied the tear of your lace panties, before his arm snaked to your back and around your waist, flipping you on all fours. He pressed your shoulders down into the mattress, keeping your ass up in the air. One of his long digits swiped violently through your soaked slit, flicking your clit in the most cruel, delicious way. You bit your tongue, quieting the whine that wanted to escape. Almost there.

“So defiant. What a naughty girl you are.” Another swipe, another flick, slower this time, agonizingly slow. Thank god you could bury your face in the fabric, because this time a moan was unpreventable. But he heard it, as he always did, and it encouraged him, his sharp tip rounding your pearl, once, twice, three times, with just the right intensity. Then he stopped.

The pressure disappeared, and so did his finger.

Even though you were prepared, it still left you cold and empty, making you draw a heavy sigh of frustration.

“I do hate to repeat myself, dear. But alas, once more: If you want me to continue... beg.”

“Please...” you pressed through your teeth, shaking from the loss of contact, the anticipation setting your skin on fire.

“Hm? What was that? Use your pretty, little mouth, darling, and speak up.”

The cocky, saturated tone of his voice made you almost come on the spot. You took a deep, trembling breath, your lungs burned with impatience.

“Please, Alastor, please with sugar on top. Just fuck me already.”

The touches returned, oh so sweetly and forcefully, it made you choke on your own breath. His thumb swirled around your sensitive bud while two of his fingers pumped, in and out, filling the humming room with unholy, squelching sounds. Your face, still pressed into the covers of his bed, flushed as you started to pant softly, keeping your mewls to a minimum. You still had a little fight in you.

His hand raked from your shoulders down your spine, sharp tips drawing prickling lines on your back. He tuttet at you, but you heard the growing lust when he spoke. “Such filthy words. Since you decided to behave like such a spoiled brat today, I shall treat you just as one.”

Fuck yes. You heard the ruffle of fabric, the clatter of a belt buckle. To seal the deal, you put everything what was left of your smug confidence in your next words, knowing you wouldn't be able to speak coherently in the foreseeable future either way.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

The answer was a single thrust, deep and without mercy. Your breath hitched in your throat, he filled you to the brim, making your eyes water and your mind ecstatic. With no time to adjust, he started to move, quick, assaulting snaps of his hips, pushing deeper and deeper into you. His hands with firm grip on your waist, he pushed you to and away from him, while his shadows, wicked things that they were, pulled your constricted wrists up over your head so far your upper body rose from the bed and hung in mid-air.

“You'll take everything I give you, and you'll thank me for it, darling.” His husky voice was filled with buzzing white noise. You tried to answer, but the new position made him hit all the right spots, the only thing audible were your mindless moans.

A loud clap and the instant burn on your ass made you yelp in pain and pleasure.

“Come on, darling, say it.”

In between the heavy panting, you managed to breathe a strained “t-thank you...”, just before another smack hit your already sore cheek. Combined with his unrelenting thrusts, this was the most delectable torture. “T-thank y-you.”, you sobbed, feeling the familiar tightening, that sweet pressure in your midst rising, ready to pop.

“There's my good girl...” Alastor purred, picking up speed, his claws deep in the flesh of your hips. “Now cum, darling.”

Everything happened at once – stars before your eyes, walls clenching around his still throbbing member, a long, loud, relieved cry that sounded like his name, a kiss on your sweat-covered neck. You felt him thrusting a few times more before warmth coated your insides, and you felt his weight slumping on your back. Together, you fell forward into the messed up sheets as the shadows tenderly let your wrists go, the only sounds your quiet humms of pleasure – like echoes of your moans – and his fizzzing and popping static noises.

He rolled off you onto his back and pulled you up his chest, his fingers raking through your ruffled hair. You felt happy, fulfilled and so deeply in love with this demon, taking a moment to lean into his soft caresses. But the night was still young, and – as you know – a good night always starts with claws in your hair.

“Mhh... is that all you got?”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #fraugwinskawrites #alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut

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yawnderu · 5 months

Text

Doomed — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Idea by @actuallyhiswife from this post!

Alternative happy ending here.

Black. It's all you can see, all senses numbed by the water sneaking into your lungs, burning everything in its wake like a raging fire. You can feel it— her pain is your pain, his distress while he holds the body of his lover is just as yours, even when you don't recognize these people.

''Shh, s'alright love, I'm here.'' Simon's deep voice snaps you back to reality, your lungs greedily taking in the air like a man starved. You suck in a sharp breath at the touch of his bare fingers against your stomach, one of his bloodied hands coming up to cup your cheek while the other one applies pressure to the bullet wound.

"What h—" A groan takes over your sentence, face scrunched up in pain as your brain finally registers that you got shot. Blood pours out of the wound no matter how much pressure his strong hands apply, now using both of them in hopes that'll keep you alive.

"Stay with me." It's not an order, it's a plea, tone laced by pure desperation. You cry out as the bullet digs deeper into your flesh, tears already falling down your cheeks at the pure agony, body growing weaker and weaker as the blood pours out of your body.

"Simon." You call out softly and he ignores it, refusing to let you go. Refusing to let the sun that casts away his shadows go. Simon finally had one good thing in life, and he'll be damned if he ever lets it go.

"Simon." You call out again only to be ignored. Your bloodied hand manages to drag its way onto Simon's forearm, squeezing gently to get his attention.

"I love you. I'm sorry we—" A choked breath escapes his lips as he takes in your image. Roughed up and dirty, yet still the prettiest fucking thing he's seen his whole life.

"I'm sorry we can't go pet the fluffy cows in Scotland together." A small laugh manages to come out of your lips, followed by a cough. He recognizes that look in your tear-covered eyes, the way you're trying your hardest to fight death barehanded... and losing.

"Don't say that." He grunts out, the pressure he's applying on the wound growing weaker by the second as he prepares himself to accept whatever life will throw at him, as usual.

"We'll go pet those bloody cows together— maybe even stay over at Johnny's." He promises, having spent countless nights listening to you ramble on about going to Scotland just to meet Johnny's family and pet the fluffy cows he claimed they have.

"Just gotta stay with me, pretty girl." His hands come up to adjust your body so that you're laying on him, his back against the wall of the abandoned building as he cradles you.

You don't have the energy to speak, still managing to give him a lethargic nod, eyelids growing heavier by the second. You can barely hear his voice, everything sounding muffled all of sudden, but you register the kiss planted to your lips, his balaclava pulled all the way off.

"Marry me." You nod, allowing yourself to entertain him as life slips away from you. His tone is raw, trying and failing to cover up the pure agony that he's feeling.

"Do you—" He chokes up, taking a deep breath to calm himself down, knowing he doesn't have a lot of time left with you.

"Do you take Simon Riley as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?" Another weak nod.

"I do." You manage out, trying your best to ignore the taste of blood in your mouth, eyes finally rolling to the back of your head as your eyelids close, unable to keep them open anymore.

His shaky hand holds your left one, carefully drawing a circle around your ring finger with your own blood. It's all he can do for now— the real engagement ring is back on base, carefully tucked away in his closet.

He holds you close for what feels like forever, ignoring the way your body gets colder and stiffer as the hours go by. He plants gentle kisses onto your hair, refusing to see your face, wanting his last image of you to be when you smiled at him. Simon Riley, the man who always kept everyone at arm's length, had to be ripped off of your body by Johnny and Price once they found you.

The day you left him, the little humanity Simon had died alongside you. He could barely eat, was drinking himself to sleep every single night to numb the pain, and yet his dreams were just as restless. His mind had been plagued with images of lovers seeing each other die, each time just as tragic. He couldn't recognize the people in his dreams up until it was his turn to watch you die over and over— that's when he understood. Simon Riley always thought he was cursed, yet seeing the other piece of his soul die over and over again in his arms? It was pure agony.

He stumbled to his desk, harshly putting down the bottle of bourbon he downed in less than an hour. His shaky hand opened the cabinet, looking at his service pistol with contempt before reaching out for it.

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siriusleee · 10 months

Text

Like Blood on Iron | Part 2

Historical Executioner AU

Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

Warnings: mentions of blood, family dynamics, semi-forced marriage mention, implied age gap, future smut, future blood and gore.

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: I fall off in second chapters. Odd-number chapters are really my strength. Anyway, if you like the story and you'd like to donate to my ridiculous expensive wisdom teeth removal, consider donating a dollar. I only need 2,000.

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, comment below. If I cannot tag you, I will reply to your comment to let you know next chapter has been written.

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part one

part 3

Neither of you moves; the lighting crashes in the distance - electricity crackling in the air. Your anger at your family overcomes your fear of him; you stalk towards the water, hands reaching behind you to try and unlace the stays. The dress pulls uncomfortably at you, and you can't reach the back.

"Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to lecture me like last time?" You yell at him across the sand.

You come to a stop feet from the water, hands still fruitlessly trying to unlace your dress. He doesn't speak, and your anger grows. Your hands turn from trying to unlace your dress to being balled at your side.

"You're bleeding," his voice is low, nearly inaudible over the waves that threaten to crash into the two of you.

"It's nothing. Just a scrape." You feel his eyes on your hand; you move it behind your back so that he can't see it.

The silence grows, and your anger starts to wan - it feels strange to just stand there and say nothing so you turn away from him; you stare out at the dark ocean and rolling storm and wonder if you'll have to stay here all night. You don't know if you can go home and face your mother and father.

"You're unhappy," the execution says - voice flat and firm. As if he knows what's happened at home.

"You're the observant type."

He comes to stand beside you, cloak swishing on the dark sand. His presence is imposing, pushing you out of your comfort zone. You get the feeling that he's waiting on you to speak. It takes a moment of your thought; what repercussions could happen from explaining yourself to him? Who would he tell?

"My parents are forcing me to marry a man I don't want to marry. And I'm stuck in this stupid dress." It comes out of you all in one rush, a confession you didn't know you were making. You feel silly telling him your problems, but there's no one else to speak to.

"Is he a bad prospect?"

You scuff your shoe against the sand, carving a line between the two of you.

"No - that's the difficult part. He's perfectly fine. Perfectly nice. Nothing wrong with him at all - I don't like being forced into things."

Another pregnant pause.

"What would happen if you refused?"

You snort, and it hurts your ribs.

"I'll be sent to the convent to be a sister for the rest of my life."

"So you're unable to refuse." His voice is flat, empty but leading enough to make you want to talk.

You don't want to agree with him so you choose to ignore what he said, turning the conversation around to him.

"What are you doing here? I don't see anyone in need of beheading."

"I can't leave my own home?"

"I didn't say that."

You sink to sit in the sand and pull your shoes off. When your bare feet hit the sand you sigh, digging your toes into the warmth. After a moment, the executioner lowers himself down beside you; out of the corner of your eye you observe his clothes: black tunic and black pants, tucked into black boots. You suppose it comes with the occupation, the need to dress like midnight.

It's uncomfortable to sit there with the dress laced so tight, so you do something risky.

"Can you untie this dress, please? I can't breathe."

His hands twitch against his thigh.

"I can."

You turn slightly so that he can see the stays. His fingers are gentle, you can hardly feel them as he pulls on the string.

"I can't get them undone; whoever tightened them is an expert."

You let out a mirthless laugh at that.

"You can cut them for all I care - the dress is ruined anyway."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him shift, a flash of silver coming from beneath his cloak. He grabs the stays, pulling them back. There's a small snick and the bodice loosens all at once. You take the first decent breath you've taken all evening, your hands coming up to hold the bodice in place across your chest.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He slides the knife - the blade as long as your forearm - back into a sheath at his waist. So many questions clamber to the forefront of your thoughts. Why are you out here? is the one that slips from your lips first.

He answers you with a question of his own.

"Why did you come out here tonight?"

In the distance, you see something flash in the water. You keep your eyes trained on the horizon waiting for it to appear again, but it doesn't.

"I just needed to get somewhere I could breathe," you admit, thinking about the storm brewing at home.

"Likewise."

You trace patterns in the sand with your fingers before you speak again.

"How many times were you out here when I was?"

How many times did you see me through my chemise?

"A handful of times."

"And you never thought to say anything to me?"

He doesn't answer your question. The waves pull in closer, the tide coming in just reaching the two of you. A boldness takes over you - you push yourself to your feet, your bodice falling open. You pull the dress over your head, struggling for a moment before getting it free. You feel almost embarrassed by the thinness of your chemise, but you ignore it as you throw the dress to the side.

You don't look at the executioner as you wade out until the water is at chest level - everything is hidden. On the shore, the executioner looks politely to the side.

"You can look now! I'm assuming you have before."

"I've always looked away."

His tone is almost affronted. You can't help the grin that breaks out on your face.

"What is your name?" you ask, the warm water making you bold again. "I don't want to keep calling you 'the executioner' in my head."

"Why should I tell you my name; I don't know yours."

"You tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine."

You think of the fairy tales Mother used to tell you when you were young: about fae in the woods, merfolk sunning on the beach, ghouls under the bridge. Never tell them your name she'd whisper dramatically, because your name has power in it.

"You can call me Ghost."

"That's not your real name is it?"

"No."

You level a look at him - his brown eyes barely visible in the darkness. It's part of being the executioner, you know, the loss of the name you were given under god as a child. You wonder if you can remember the last time anyone knew his real name.

You tell him your name, calling across the water to him. The power is his now.

You dive under the water until you can touch the bottom, scraping the dark sand with your fingertips. You push yourself towards the shore, skimming the bottom until you have to resurface for air. You keep yourself down in the water so that everything is still covered. Ghost has shifted in the sand, one leg stretched out in front of him.

"Why do you wear the hood? Do you ever take it off?"

"Sometimes."

"And the mask?"

"Don't you think you're asking a lot of questions?" His timber goes down half an octave - a warning for you to stop prying. He speaks again, getting you off of the subject of himself. "Do you plan to stay out here all night?"

"I suppose I have to. If I go home now my mother will probably use the whip on me."

"Has she done it before?"

"Once when I accidentally set my sister's bed on fire."

"Accidentally?"

"I swear."

Lightning crashes, close enough now that you can feel the vibrations; the sound is like a cannon in your ears. Pushing yourself out of the water, you clamber back toward your clothes. Ghost keeps his eyes on the horizon as you lift the dress, too ruined to put back on.

"Damn it," you mutter, "I'm going to have to run home in this."

"I thought you weren't going home?"

"Where else am I going to go in the middle of a storm? I'll just have to brave the whip. Unless you know somewhere I can hide for the night."

There's the sound of Ghost standing behind you; you're too busy trying to plot a way to make it home without anyone seeing you notice how close he is to you until he drips his cloak over your shoulders, heavy and warm. The smell of him envelops you.

"My mother is going to whip me if I come home in this," you mutter to yourself, pulling it around you - it pools at your feet, too long for you to hold up.

"Tell her you stole it," Ghost says, stepping around you, and for the first time, you see him without the cloak. Without the cloak, he seems larger, with a black tunic and pants, tucked into black boots. His mask, smeared with white ash, wraps around and covers everything but his eyes. The smell of him envelops you as you pull the hood of the cloak over your head to protect yourself from the coming rain.

"Yes, because that will make everything better."

You try not to stare at him as rain droplets start to fall, heavy and fat against the hood of the cloak. It feels almost intimate to see him like this, to see the distinct curves of his body, the way his tunic falls open, just slightly at the top.

"Anyway, I need to get home before the storm rolls in. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Like before, he walks up the steep and slippery path before you. You follow, far enough behind that you can stare at him as he walks, committing his shape to memory. At the top, he leaves you and you watch him until he disappears into the darkness. The rain is heavy and fast when you finally turn back home. Your feet squeal in the mud as you walk, the bottom of the cloak becoming caked in it, your shoes held in your hands to save them from the mud.

The house is cold when you walk in - lighting thrashing in the background. You're met with silence; you step on the sturdy spots of the floor, trying to keep anyone from hearing you. It's dark and you have hope that everyone is asleep and you can clean up and slide into bed without anyone noticing. But that hope is dashed when you hear Mother's voice from the sitting room.

"You finally made it back."

Her voice is like swallowing a sliver of ice.

"Get in here."

You don't dare disobey - the half-veiled threat of the whip is barely hidden in her voice. You keep the cloak pulled tight around you as you step lightly into the room. She's still completely dressed - her hair so perfect there's not one flyaway. She doesn't look at you as you walk in, hesitating in the doorway. The light from the oil lamp bounces off of her.

When she finally looks at you, her eyes narrow, eyeing the cloak. Your heart picks up, wondering what she's going to say about it.

"Sit down."

You ease into the seat across from her, trying to keep the fact that you've left Maggie's dress behind. The silence grows pregnant by the second, until Mother leans across to you, a letter in her hand. She holds it out to you, shaking it when you don't take it. It's heavy in your hand, the parchment thicker than a usual letter.

"What is this?"

"Read it."

You unfold the parchment and read with growing horror. Each line is a nail inside a proverbial coffin.

"You can't be - how long have you had this?"

Mother doesn't look at you as she smoothes the invisible wrinkles in her skirt. She chooses each of her words carefully, biting them off in small chunks.

"I obviously can not stop you from sneaking off to wherever it is that you have been going at night, or stop you from seeing whoever you go see," her eyes linger at the opening of the cloak, a sliver of your underdress showing. "But I am tired of having you act like a child. Your sisters have no problem with following the rules around here - I don't know why you can't."

You try to interrupt her, but she holds her hand up to stop you.

"I contacted the covenant last year. They have a spot ready for you. I can send you today if you wish to be rid of here that badly. But I am tired of this. You made an embarrassment of all of us. By some grace, Jonathan is still willing to marry you; although it does make me question his judgment. You will marry him as soon as he gets back."

"Gets back? From where? When?"

"He is going on one of your father's boats on its trip. It leaves tomorrow evening - and should be back in six months. He was going to tell you that last night."

Your stomach rolls, and you feel like throwing up. She stands, and even though she's no taller than you, she seems like a giant at that time.

"I will not stop you from doing whatever it is that you do when you sneak out at night or stop you from seeing whoever it is. But I will send you away if I need to. In six months you will be a wife or you will be gone. And that is the end of this conversation."

She doesn't look at you as she sweeps out of the room. You can hear her walk up the stairs, and then the door of her bedroom slam shut.

You tread up the stairs lightly, listening for sounds of Lily or Maggie, but there are none. Your room is empty, the bed made up and everything swept away. You drop down to the end of the bed - completely frozen by the idea of being sent away to be locked up behind a habit.

Stiffly, you strip your clothes off. The wash basin water is ice cold, but it does good enough to rise the mud and ocean off of your skin - you know tomorrow it'll be hell to get the knots out of your hair, but that's not a problem you want to worry about right now.

The bed is cold without Lily in the bed, and the sound of the storm racks your nerves. You think of Ghost, walking in this storm to the edge of the village, and wonder if he's made it to safety. After a moment, you pull the cloak up, forgetting the mud at the bottom, and drape it over yourself, the smell of Ghost washing over you to lull you to sleep.

You're woken by the sunlight hitting your face and a banging at the door. Maggie bursts in, hair damp with a sour expression.

"Do you need to wash your hair? There's still warm water if you need it." She crosses the room and jerks Ghost's cloak off of you. "Where did you get this? It's disgusting."

"I stole it," your voice is thick with sleep, "and thank you for telling me."

"Well, I figured you would want to wash after being out last night?"

"Why are you saying it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I was out up to no good."

"Seriously? You came home without my dress and with a stranger's cloak. It has to be a man's, no woman in the village is this tall. I'm not stupid."

"I told you I stole it."

Maggie sighs, her wet hair leaving a small damp spot on her shoulder. Her hands wring at her skirt, wrinkling the material - something you know she's going to fret about later. She hesitates in the doorway and then crosses quickly to the end of the bed.

"You know last night-"

"Please don't start Maggie, I am not in the mood to hear you lecture me. In fact, I would appreciate it if you just kept it to yourself."

Maggie stares you down before turning on her heel and storming out. Your head is thick as you push yourself up to stand. A headache threatens the back of your eyes, a pressure that threatens to build throughout the day. There's a stale taste in your mouth that mixes with iron like you've bitten your cheek in your sleep.

You hear the general sounds of people downstairs, the heavy tread of your father's boots on the floor, and the sound of the front door slamming shut. You dress quickly, washing your hair until the ocean salt is gone.

Lily waits for you at the bottom of the stairs, twirling her hair around her fingers - a nervous habit no one has ever been able to break her of. You drop down beside her, pulling her hair from her fingers gently.

"You keep doing that and you're going to go bald."

"Where were you last night?"

You shrug dramatically, leaning back so that your elbows are supporting you.

"I got lost, and then I had to fight off a wild roving band of bears. That tore my dress, so I had to sneak into someone's backyard and steal their cloak from where it was drying. Then I got caught, so I had to run through the mud and rain home."

Lily giggles at you before her hands find her hair to tug on it again.

"You know everyone is mad at you."

"I do. As long as you're not, it doesn't matter."

"Mother is going to make you get a wedding dress this week. I heard her tell Father that we needed to take a trip to the seamstress."

You sigh, fingers tracing the worn wood grain of the steps. Years of your family tracing a passage up and down has written the story of the house: your grandfather, carrying your father downstairs in a wrapped bundle, your Mother so heavily pregnant that she needed a cane to walk, you and Maggie bashing your knees against the wood chasing your father, you carrying Lily up on your back when the sprained her ankle last spring. And in six months you'll be a memory to it.

"I figured she would do that soon. I look horrible in white. Maybe a nice black; I can always wear it again in mourning." You lean forward to look into the empty kitchen. "Where is everyone?"

"Maggie went out - I don't know where she didn't say. Father went to see his ship off, Mother went to the church. It's just me and you."

A plan hatches in your chest, radiating outward in the seconds of silence that come through the house. You stand, pulling Lily up with you.

"Come on. I have an idea."

***

"We shouldn't be here - we're going to get in trouble," Lily whines, one hand on the back of your skirt, the other holding a basket.

"No, we're not. If anyone sees us, what are we doing?"

"Looking for Danesblood and yarrow." She repeats back to you what you coached her to say before the two of you left.

"And why are we doing that?"

"Because you twisted your knee last night and you need to make an ointment for the pain."

"Right."

The two of you crouch in the thick underbrush across from Ghost's cabin - a building off-limits to everyone in the village save for the judge and the council. In the daylight it's small and unassuming, the slight smoke curl wafting from the chimney almost pastoral. You remember once when Father had to visit the old executioner, the day before an emergency execution to sign off on it with the other council members. He'd come back shaken and refused to speak about it.

"What are we even doing out here?" Lily asks, breath hot against your neck as you crouch down, scanning the road to the left and right to see if anyone is near.

"I need to return this cloak," you tell her, holding the neatly wrapped cloak in your hands. You'd quickly scrubbed it free of mud, pressing it to your face to breathe in the smell of Ghost before running downstairs to pull Lily into the street with you. She'd worried the entire time here, nettles snagging at your skirts as the two of you crept through the woods to keep from being seen.

"You stole it from him!" she squeaks, voice rising to a pitch only dogs can hear.

"Hush!" You chide, pressing one finger to your lip before turning back to the street. "And yes. I stole it right off his drying line. It was very brave."

"You're a liar!" Her voice rises a pitch.

"Just hush and stay here. Don't move no matter what."

"What if he kills you?"

"You can go home then."

You take a deep breath, gather your skirts in one hand, and dash across the road. At the door, you drop the cloak, knock on the door once, and turn on your heel to run. You can make out Lily's face, eyes pale as she peers in fear. You make it beside her, turning just in time to see the door shut.

"Do you think he saw me?" You ask Lily, breathless.

"I think he did. Do you think he'll tell anyone?"

You don't answer her, just pull her back towards the village. At the edge, the two of you pause before melding back into the streets. You grab her hand, pulling her towards the bustling market street to seem like you've been there for hours.

"Come on," you say, pulling her, "let's get home."

The walk is tense, the two of you expecting at any moment to get caught by someone who can feel what the two of you were just doing. But no one stops you as you walk - no one stops you as the two of you cross onto your street, no one-

The sound of your name stops you and Lily short. Behind you Maggie walks, a quick shuffle, her hair falling around her face. She strides towards the two of you; grabbing Lily's wrist she pulls her away from you and tries to tuck Lily behind her back.

"What were you up to?"

"Nothing, we-"

"Don't be a liar."

You've never thought about hitting Maggie, but at this moment, you think about shoving her down into the dirt. Maggie breathes hard through her nose, her grip on Lily's wrist bruising.

"Lily doesn't need you dragging her into the messes that you keep getting yourself into."

"Maggie I swear-"

You don't get any words out, your anger blistering as you watch Maggie drag Lily back towards the house. Lily looks over her shoulder at you, her eyes apologizing, her feet causing rivets in the dirt. You watch as the front door of the house swings shut.

****

That evening finds you on the pier, your feet dangling toward the water, a sense of freedom finally overtaking you for the day. Here with no one ignoring you or speaking to you as if you were simple, and no one in the village whispering about your engagement behind your back.

Boots hit the wood behind you, and you recognize the tread pattern. When he's close enough to you, he speaks.

"Not hiding in the cove tonight?"

"No - I figured that my mother is hell-bent on running my days and that I will do what I want with my nights." You turn towards him, expecting his normal cloak, but instead being met without it. He looms over you in his all-black attire, eyes shining around his mask.

"You know I returned your cloak today."

"I saw that, thank you. Does my presence scare you so much that you needed to run?"

You scoff, moving over so that he can come to stand beside you.

"No. But my little sister is terrified of you, and I didn't need to scare her by stopping to have a chat."

You push yourself to your feet, your head coming to Ghost's shoulder. You turn on your heel, heading back towards the shore - you turn to see Ghost still standing at the end of the pier, eyes cast towards the horizon.

"Are you going to stand there all night or would you like to go on a walk?"

It takes a moment, but he turns back towards you.

"A walk?"

"Yes. I'm not sitting on this uncomfortable pier all night long, and I don't feel like swimming tonight. I'm going on a walk - you're welcome to come with me if you wish."

Ghost catches up to you by the time you reach the end of the pier, falling into step beside you, hands clasped behind his back. The two of you stride back towards the main section of the village, window shutters closed tight on each house.

"You're not worried about being seen with me?" Ghosts ask as the two of you round a side street - shadows long and thick across the road.

"Who is there to see us? It's long past midnight. Everyone is asleep but us."

The sound of your feet on the hard ground reverbs off of the houses, the swish of your skirt, and the sound of his boots filling the air. The air is blistering, the moisture from the storm steaming in the night air.

"Do you intend to walk the streets every night?" Ghosts ask, voice deadpanned.

"Well, considering no one in my house is speaking to me and my mother is going to make me go to the seamstress for a wedding dress this week, I think the nighttime is the best time for me to be out."

"Seems like a waste of money since every dress you seem to own ends up covered in seawater and sand." You can't tell if he's teasing or not, but you cut your eyes at him anyway. You give a sarcastic laugh, clasping your hands behind your back in a pantomime of his posture.

"My mother is probably going to tie me up on the wedding day so that I can't leave the house. So you will just have to do without seeing me strip that dress off."

Ghost lets out an annoyed 'humph' that you can't help but smile at. Your feet carry you onto the main street - the execution platform ahead of you two. Your feet falter, Ghost pausing alongside you. Even in the dark of the night, the execution platform has a dark hue around it.

Ghost starts ahead of you, erasing any questions you have from the air. His spine is rigid, and you can sense his discomfort rolling in waves off of him. Neither of you speaks until the platform is behind the two of you.

"Do you ever sleep?" You finally ask as the two of you walk down the market street.

"Why does it matter?"

"Well, most people sleep at night?" You say as if you're explaining something to a small child.

"You're here with me."

"I sleep once I get home. But do you sleep?"

"Occasionally."

The conversation drops until your house looms in the distance. You stop at the front, Ghost pausing with her.

"This is where I stop for the night. I do need sleep after all."

Ghost doesn't speak, just stares down at you with blank eyes.

"I may see you tomorrow night. Goodnight."

You don't wait for him to say goodnight, but as the door shuts behind you, you swear you hear him whisper it.

tag list: @silverianni, @milfs4lifee, @koi-feish, @shirabeastly, @pookie90, @ghostlythots, @hearts4sky, @devcica, @crystalizedtime, @the-worlds-tempest, @myconglomerateromance, @elena-ph, @chaoticgoblindev, @pipocfamily, @canadianmilkbag, @caspertheassholeghost, @2512121morningstar, @glitterypirateduck, @elli0th3r, @clairdelunelove, @captainprice4life, @generaldestinychild

#my fics #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost cod x reader #cod fanfic #ghost cod #cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #call of duty #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #modern warefare 2

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sunnynwanda · 7 months

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How about a villain who fell inlove with a sidekick hero?

Villain & Sidekick

"Well, well, well." Sidekick can feel Villain's voice hitting their back and penetrating their spine. It ricochets off the walls, prickling their skin and stilling them in place in the middle of the dark corridor. "If it isn't my favourite wannabe hero!"

They should be used to the taunting intonations and mocking words by now, but somehow they are not. Hero would laugh in their face for such weakness of emotion. Or maybe they would get an educational beating instead. Sidekick did not understand how that was supposed to harden them.

"Where's your boss, darling?" Villain inquires, slowly strutting towards them. Sidekick refuses to turn around, determined to keep up appearances in case they decide to leave now. Villain would never know why they came in the first place. "You don't actually think you can defy me alone, do you?"

Not that they would fight Sidekick, ever. Mostly for the purpose of maintaining their reputation, but also because they couldn't bring themselves to hurt them. In fact, they were certain to maim anyone who did. Like that time Hero backhand slapped Sidekick amidst the battle for something they had no control over. Villain never forgot the way the poor creature stumbled back and landed on the floor, their hand pressed to their cheek. Needless to say, Villain made sure to wipe said floor with Hero's pathetic face that day, just to make them feel the same pain and humiliation.

Villain shakes their head, trying to focus on the situation at hand. They hum to themselves, noticing the tension in their favourite enemy's shoulders. Something's wrong. They round Sidekick and stop a few steps away, allowing their eyes to roam all over their body. Something's very wrong.

"Sidekick?" When they don't meet their gaze, Villain takes a step closer. "What's wrong?"

"I couldn't go home." The words are barely above a whisper. Villain moves closer, reaching for the switch to turn the lights on. "Hero wouldn't understand."

When the light illuminates their face all of a sudden, Sidekick squints and attempts to look away to hide their face. Villain catches their wrist, drawing them closer and hooking a finger under their chin to get a proper look. That's when their heart drops down to their feet. Or Sidekick's feet. They don't even know anymore.

"Who did this to you?" Villain's voice is now laced with worry that they cannot explain to the person in front of them. Not that it matters when said person is beaten and buttered, with cuts and bruises littering their beautiful face. Villain wants to kiss each and every one of those wounds until nothing hurts anymore. "Hero?"

Sidekick shakes their head, biting into their split lip. They cannot fathom why they even decided to come here. Why was it Villain and not their boss who made them feel safe and comforted? Villain exhales loudly, willing the storm within themselves to calm. It does not, but they manage to lift a shaking hand and wipe a drop of blood off Sidekick's cheekbone before speaking again.

"My henchmen?" When Sidekick looks up at them with watery eyes, Villain can no longer suppress the angered growl rambling in their chest. They have made it blatantly clear that no one was allowed to lay a finger on Sidekick, let alone beat them to such a state.

"I'm gonna rip them to shreds." They say, wrath flaring behind their eyes. Sidekick attempts to say something, but Villain cuts them off with a finger pressed to their lips. "And then I'm gonna destroy your boss."

It's not a threat. Sidekick can see that much. It's a promise. One that they know Villain can keep. They shake their head no, leaning into Villain's embrace and resting their head against their chest.

"I'm going to punish them whether you like it or not," Villain sighs, picking them up and heading towards their bathroom. "But we'll talk about it in the morning."

Thank you for the request, lovely anon! I had a blast writing this :)

Masterlist

#hero and villain #hero #villain #sidekick #sidekick and villain #protective villain #villain x hero #hero is an asshole boss #requested #creative writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #requests open #sunnynwanda

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literaila · 2 years

Text

scrabble

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

"hmm?"

"dinner? a massage? free reign over whatever movie we watch tonight?"

"are you trying to bribe me?"

warnings: peter is a cheat, and fluff.

"i think i might despise you."

peter's face is blank--though, you're staring at him so intensely that you see the little quiver of his lip, a small victory in itself--as he places his final piece.

and then his eyes go up to yours, alight in amusement. "are you flirting with me?"

"i think you're cheating."

"how could i be cheating?"

you sit up a little bit, looking over the board. "stealing titles."

peter smiles, smugly, pushing the board towards you and concealing his tiles with a hand. "would you like to count the remaining pieces?"

you stare at him, willing his arrogance to burst into the air.

you would quite like to watch him lose. at least once.

see, you've been playing scrabble all morning. and he's won four consecutive times.

"yes," you say, so seriously. and then, with the elegance of a ballet dancer, you lean over the table, trying to steal a glance of peter's tiles.

he laughs and pushes your forehead back.

"now who's cheating?" he asks, gesturing a hand for you to go.

probably so he can beat you again.

you refuse to look him in the eyes.

and admit that maybe you're losing so much because you just can't focus. you just can't peel your eyes from him for more than the minute it would take to make your turn.

not that peter knows this. no, you're sure that he doesn't.

and it's not why he's smiling at you so much. and it's not why you can feel his leg pressed up against yours under the table, teasing in its nature.

"are you getting tired?" he asks you, voice a bit softer.

it might be sweet, if it wasn't laced with the victory of an immature little boy. if he didn't look so pleased with himself.

his face is stupid.

you scowl. "i'll be tired when i win."

"we've been playing for three hours."

you cross your arms. lean back. "are you getting tired, peter?"

"no," he says, very simply, drawing some more tiles. "you're very entertaining."

"i do not comprehend."

"you're a sore loser," peter shrugs, and he's still smiling at you, that bastard. "it's fun to watch."

"i'm competitive," you argue. "there's a difference."

"that difference being that a sore loser would try and cheat to win, and you haven't, right?"

you glare at him.

you can see him laughing. you can practically feel the enjoyment he gets out of this.

and, okay. maybe--in the strangest of circumstances--you're trying not to laugh back. maybe you're almost giddy because you've been staring at peter for three hours and he hasn't asked a single thing about it. maybe you're feeling so content because he's close enough to taste.

to touch and mold him into something spectacular.

not that it would take much.

"i don't know what you're talking about," you say, looking away from him, finally, and placing your word down.

peter snorts, looking down at the board. "see? this is why you're losing."

"i'm losing because you're a cheater."

"let me know when you can prove that." peter doesn't even need a moment to think before placing another word down.

neither of you is keeping score anymore. it's fairly obvious that he's the winner between the two of you.

a couple of minutes pass, peter coming up with his own version of the english language, and you just completely fail to even remember how to breathe.

peter shakes his head a little bit, hair falling over his eyes. his smile makes you want to curl up into a hysterical ball. to never return from the fantasy that you've imagined yourself in.

you clear your throat. "what will it take for you to let me win?"

peter glances up, brow raised. "hmm?"

"dinner?" you ask. "a massage? free reign over whatever movie we watch tonight?"

peter blinks. "are you trying to bribe me?"

there's the tiniest and most adoring of smiles appearing on his face. a sunrise all in itself.

"yes. cookies from that place you like?"

peter is silent. staring at you with a tight-lipped smile.

"how about a free cuddle sesh?"

"am i getting billed for those?"

you wave a hand. "should be in the mail any day now. what if i let you teach me how to skateboard again?"

peter almost grins. you watch as he swallows it whole. "i haven't said anything."

"i know. what d'ya want?"

"there's so many choices to choose from..." peter looks away, sighing.

you wait, impatiently.

"can i take a few days to think it over? you know," peter's dimples threaten you. "just to consider my options.'

so promptly, you groan and let yourself fall head-first into the table.

and then you get an actual laugh. a secret reward under the table as his fingertips graze your thigh.

"baby," he coos, a hand going to pat your head.

he wants you to look up, you know. so you don't

just listen and wait for him, thinking about getting so distracted that you haven't actually played the game in five minutes.

"will you look at me?"

you don't, craving his fingertips on your scalp. the warmth of his smile on your face.

"i'll let you look at my tiles," peter tempts, softly.

and so you jump up, similar smile on your face.

peter scoffs. "that's all it took?"

"lemme see," you reach a hand out towards him, leaning up to grab his rack.

but peter places his hand on yours, staring at you. "wait just a sec."

"peter, you said--"

"no, i know," he nods, closer to you than before. "let's just think about this."

"think about me kicking your ass?"

peter snorts, but stares at you anyway, having no other reaction. "think about honor, and integrity, and cheating..."

you can practically taste the words on your lips.

you're still leaning across the table, still trapped by peter's hand, by his proximity and poisonous smiles.

"my pride is already wounded," you say, with a blank face, not really looking at his eyes now.

"that's what i'm saying," peter murmurs, softly.

and you know it--the moment his eyes follow yours down, tipping the scale until they land on something far more intriguing.

and you can feel it just before he kisses you.

before he takes the leap forward, needing to lean only an inch further, and presses his lips to yours, pleading with you in a different form.

it takes only a second for you to respond, and peter smiles into your skin.

his hand goes to cradle your jaw, pulling you as close as you can possibly be while you're still leaning over the table.

his other hand is still on yours, still creeping, teasing.

and peter doesn't stop. he doesn't stop kissing you--pushing and pulling and tearing you apart--and he doesn't stop smiling, because he's got no reason to.

but eventually, you remember the importance of air.

and you pull back, just barely, close enough that you just see skin when you open your eyes.

"that's definitely cheating," you whisper, eyes meeting his.

peter chuckles, pulling back so you can get a better view. and then, with the hand grabbing yours, he pushes your arm back, effectively stealing the rack from your grasp.

your jaw drops.

"i'm not letting you look," peter says, calmly.

"did you just manipulate me into--"

peter snorts, rubbing a finger up and down the skin of your neck, still so close to you that you can barely breathe.

"i think you're losing on purpose," he says.

you scowl at him, refusing to answer.

"i mean, futz? that's the best you've got?"

"you're distracting," you pout at him, still unmoving.

"oh, it's my fault?"

"yes."

"well then, i'm terribly sorry, sweetheart."

your cheek twitches. "you should be."

peter moves a little bit closer, his breath on your skin, infecting every inch of you with its gentle disease. "how can i make it up to you?" he asks.

you never do get the chance to finish the game.

my masterlist here.

tags: @moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf

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eksvaized · 1 month

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Part Five

[ Previous ]

Ghost reached across to fasten your seatbelt. He took a moment to double-check it was secure, his fingers brushing against the cool metal of the buckle. His old, worn leather jacket, a second skin that had seen better days, was removed from his broad shoulders. The material carried the faint scent of motor oil, smoke, and his cologne. He gently draped it over your slender shoulders, the leather slightly rough against your skin.

His brown eyes tried to meet yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze, a silent plea for you to meet his eyes. But you stubbornly refused to look at him, choosing instead to keep your gaze fixed on the speckled night sky, the twinkling stars offering a temporary escape from the tense atmosphere.

Eventually, he conceded defeat, his shoulders sagging as he let out an inaudible sigh. He muttered something under his breath - the words indistinct and laced with an undercurrent of frustration that you chose to ignore.

With one last glance in your direction, he climbed into the driver’s seat. The door closed with a harsh, echoing slam that cut through the silent night, leaving a ringing in your ears. He started the engine, and the truck roared to life.

In the midst of the palpable tension, you felt an undeniable reluctance to be the one to shatter the silence that wrapped around you like a cocoon. The world seemed to whirl and spin dizzyingly around you. Your mind was a tumultuous sea, still reeling, overflowing with a torrent of unanswered questions that incessantly screamed for answers. It was an avalanche of emotions, too much to comprehend, too overwhelming to fully digest.

Amid your inner chaos, Ghost seemed to become aware of your discomfort. His rough, battle-hardened hand found its way to your thigh, the icy chill of your skin seeping into his touch. Without uttering a single word, he stretched his hand, his fingers grazing away from your leg, reaching over to the dashboard, and turned on the heat.

“You are not getting out of this truck until we speak,” he declared, his voice stern but laced with concern, before shifting the vehicle into gear and starting driving, the hum of the engine serving as a steady background noise.

You pressed your lips together tightly—a clear symbol of your stubborn resistance. His words echoed in your mind as you watched him from the corner of your eye. You made a silent vow to yourself to remain mute, to not let a single sentence escape your lips. A vow to keep your thoughts and feelings to yourself, locked away where they couldn’t be scrutinized or judged.

But even as you stubbornly clung to your silence, you found it hard to ignore him entirely. The man sitting next to you, his presence, was too commanding, too overwhelming, too difficult to overlook. His frame seemed to fill the inside of the truck, making it impossible for you to forget that he was there, igniting a sense of awareness you wished you could dismiss. His existence was a force you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you tried.

His hands were firmly clasped around the steering wheel, fingers pressing into the worn leather as he maneuvered the vehicle through the gravel roads. He rolled down the window, the cool breeze of the night slipping in to replace the previously stagnant air. Reaching into his pants’ pocket, he retrieved a pack of cigarettes, drawing out a single, well-rolled stick.

The warm glow of his lighter momentarily illuminated the inside of the truck, casting shadows across his concentrated features. His eyebrows were furrowed, lips parted slightly as he brought the flame to the end of the cigarette, lighting it with a soft sizzle. He inhaled deeply, drawing the smoke into his lungs and flooding his senses with the familiar, comforting taste. The smoke danced and twirled in the small, enclosed space, curling up towards the roof.

Slowly, he turned his head to the side, his gaze drifting towards the open window. He exhaled, releasing the smoke and watching as the wind swept away it. Your hand extended towards him, a silent request hanging in the air between you. Your eyes met, locking onto each other.

He held your gaze, his full attention now directed at you. His eyes were intense, almost captivating, and you found yourself glancing away, towards the front window. Your heart raced within your chest, your anxiety peaking as you ensured the truck was still moving in a straight line.

Only then, with a small, teasing smirk playing on his lips, did he pass the cigarette to you. His fingers brushed against yours, the touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he peeled his eyes away from your gaze and turned his attention back to the road.

“Is what you said at the bar true?” Ghost asked, his eyes piercing you as you avoided his gaze. A moment of intense deliberation followed, your mind engaged in an internal tug-of-war over the correct response. You found yourself torn between wanting to lie and knowing you couldn’t do it convincingly. Persuading him that your words weren’t just the drunken ramblings of someone who’d had too much to drink seemed impossible. You knew no amount of eloquent reasoning or earnest pleading would convince him. So instead, you chose for a nonverbal response, nodding your head in confirmation while still remaining steadfast in your silence.

You had finished smoking your cigarette—the one you stole from him—yet the nicotine hadn’t done enough to quell your jangled nerves. One stick was simply not enough. So, you turned to face him, your hand seeking his leg for stability as you fished the pack of smokes from his pocket. He looked down at you, a look of bafflement etched on his face, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Ghost produced a lighter and lit the cigarette for you once you’d placed it between your lips.

“If you want to get over me, you should first try to get under me,” Ghost suggested, his words catching you off guard. “You are doing things backwards, doll.”

In that moment, you blinked in surprise, your mind racing and scrambling in an attempt to process the words you’d just heard. Could you have possibly heard him correctly? You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat as you inhaled another long drag. The smoke filled your lungs. You could feel his eyes on you, boring into the side of your head with an intensity that was almost too much to bear. His impatience for your response was palpable, hanging in the air between you like a thick fog. Yet, he didn’t care about the potential consequences of his words.

He was well aware that his forwardness may have crossed an unseen line, that he might have ventured into territory that was not his to claim. He knew that there was a very real chance you might lash out at him. But the truth was, he didn’t care. He was prepared to face any backlash, any storm that might come his way. You could have called him any name, accused him of any wrongdoing, and he would have accepted it all. Because in the end, all he wanted was to hear your voice again, to let the sound of it fill the silence that had stretched out for far too long.

“You can’t just say stuff like that,” you finally found the strength to respond, your voice barely audible, breaking the silence that had settled between you. It was a whisper, trembling in the air, carrying more emotion than you ever thought possible.

The hope you had tried so hard to crush, to discard as nothing more than a delusion, rekindled inside you. It was a small flame, barely visible, but it was there - flickering, dancing, warming your insides. It churned your stomach, twisted your thoughts, and caused an unsettling flutter in your heart. It suggested, whispered in the smallest voice, that perhaps you were wrong. Perhaps you had misunderstood his sentiments, misinterpreted his intentions. Maybe, just maybe, his feelings for you were not as indifferent as you had previously thought.

Ghost maneuvered the truck into a desolate and seemingly abandoned parking lot. The deafening sound of the tires crunching against the loose gravel resonated in the silent night as the vehicle came to an abrupt, jarring stop, sending a ripple of unease through your body. A wrinkle formed on your forehead as you furrowed your brows, your eyes darting around the unfamiliar, eerily quiet area.

Your confusion was etched clearly on your face, impossible to hide, as you turned to face him. His inscrutable expression gave nothing away, adding to your rising anxiety. Your mind raced, trying to piece together his puzzling actions and figure out his intentions. You were trapped in a whirlwind of curiosity and apprehension, trying to understand why he had brought you to such a desolate place.

He unlocked the doors with a soft click; the sound echoing in the night. Seizing the moment, you reached down to retrieve your discarded heels from the truck’s floor and put them back on. Without hesitation, you swung open the heavy door, which creaked slightly from the movement. Stepping out onto the cold, gravel-strewn concrete, you felt the full brunt of the biting chill of the wind. It was like a slap to your senses, the icy gusts a stark contrast to the warm interior of the truck you had just left behind.

His jacket, which was draped over your frame, was the only barrier against the relentless, biting chill of the wind. The thick material felt heavy and comforting around your shoulders, a protective layer between you and the harsh elements. You pulled it tighter around yourself, the aroma of his cologne still lingering on the fabric. The leather material, worn and familiar, provided a small but welcome shield from the frigid gusts.

“What are we doing here?” You asked, your voice barely audible over the howling wind. The vow you had made to yourself to maintain silence had already been shattered, and you reasoned that one more question wouldn’t make much of a difference.

He remained silent, his gaze fixed on you as you made your way around the truck. You positioned yourself in front of its blinding headlights, their radiant glow casting long shadows behind you. The question hung in the air once more, ringing in the vast emptiness of the lot. “Why did we stop, Ghost?”

Exhaustion was starting to set in. The events of the day had drained you physically and mentally, and all you longed for was the comfort of your bed and the escape sleep would provide. However, it seemed Ghost had other plans, and your desired rest would have to wait.

Out of nowhere, as if materializing from the shadows, Ghost appeared behind you. His chest collided with your back. His calloused, yet warm hands navigated to the small of your waist, their presence both comforting and alarming. As his leather jacket slid off your shoulders, his body leaned in closer, the smell of his cologne mingling with the crisp night air. His breath, cool against your heated skin, sent shivers down your spine before he placed a soft, tantalizing kiss on your exposed shoulder, the sensation leaving you breathless.

His mouth then began a slow, torturous journey upward, his lips brushing your skin so lightly it was as if he was barely there, each touch igniting your nerves like a match to dry tinder. His fingers dug into the fabric of your dress, their grip firm yet not overly so. You were left speechless, your mind racing to comprehend what had sparked this sudden change in his usually reserved demeanor. Yet, as your heart pounded in your chest, you realized you didn’t want this moment to end. You remained rooted to the spot, frozen by the fear that any sudden movement on your part would cause him to withdraw. You held your breath, not daring to so much as twitch a muscle, captivated by the electrifying tension.

“The overwhelming urge to feel the warmth of your skin against my own made it impossible for me to continue driving,” he confessed in a hushed whisper, his voice husky with desire. One of his hands drifted upward, tucking a stray lock of your hair behind your ear gently. “I know you want to get over me, but we’ve already established that you’re going about it all wrong, doll. So I decided to help and show you the correct way to do it.”

He spun you around. His hands slipped down the curve of your sides, tracing the outline of your figure before settling on your thighs. Your body reacted to his touch, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. In one swift, calculated movement, he lifted you up. The sudden action caused your arms to instinctively wrap around his broad shoulders, clutching at the fabric of his shirt for support. His strength was evident in the ease with which he held you, his muscles rippling beneath your touch.

He took a couple of steps forward. His destination was the parked truck, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moon. He gently placed you on the cool, metallic surface of the truck’s hood, the cold seeping into your flesh, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Despite the change in position, he continued to stand between your legs. His tall figure casting a shadow over you. His eyes, so intense and full of emotion, never left your face, as if he was trying to memorize every feature.

His calloused fingers cupped your chin, tilting your head up so your eyes met his. His gaze was soft yet unwavering, a silent promise of his intentions. It was as if the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you in this moment.

“Before you make any hasty decisions, let me give you a small taste of what you’ll be giving up if you decide to cast me aside.” His gaze lowered, focusing intently on your lips. “I bet I can make you change your mind.”

Caught in a state of stunned silence, you could do nothing more than offer a head nod. His fingers traced a path along your jaw, their trail continuing down to graze lightly against your neck. His other hand remained firmly placed on your thigh, subtly pushing up the fabric of your dress, causing it to gather just slightly higher than before.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you reached up with trembling fingers and carefully pushed his balaclava up over his face. You didn’t dare to remove it fully, choosing instead to expose only his lips and the bridge of his nose. It was a testament to the lingering traces of your apprehension.

Ghost was tempted, desperate to make the first move, to claim your lips with a kiss that was long overdue. However, as much as he yearned to do so, he held back his urge, electing instead to let you dictate the pace. He was resolute in not rushing anything, adamant to let the moment unfold naturally, organically between the two of you, as if time itself had slowed down for this very instance.

As he kept his gaze steady, his eyes locked onto yours. You slowly leaned in, bridging the distance between the two of you. His scent wafted into your nostrils - a peculiar yet intoxicating blend of cigarettes, the familiar smell of worn leather, and a hint of mint. This unique concoction sent your senses spiraling, your head spinning in a delightful swirl of emotions.

As you reached out to touch his face, your fingers gently cupping his cheeks, he responded with a few slow, deliberate blinks. His eyes, once a piercing gaze, darkened noticeably - as if your cool touch had ignited a spark deep within the recesses of his soul, awakening something profound and previously dormant.

Leaning in even closer, your lips brushed against his, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. “Don’t play with me, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice holding a firm yet gentle tone. It took all of his strength not to close the remaining distance between you two.

“Don’t be desperate, Simon,” you retorted, a playful smirk gracing your lips. It was the first time you had addressed him by his name, and the way it effortlessly rolled off your tongue made him ache to hear it again.

In the depths of his mind, his thoughts began to spiral, swirling with vivid imagery and intense anticipation. He found himself lost in a daydream, envisioning the sound of your voice. He imagined how it would echo softly through his room, tangled between the sheets of his bed. The mere thought of you calling out his name, in those quiet hushed whispers and breathy moans, sent shivers down his spine. You’d be there, with him, not caring about the world beyond the four walls of his room, not bothering about who might hear your shared euphoria. His name, spoken by you, would be the only sound that mattered.

You finally yielded and pressed your lips against his. The kiss started softly, like a gentle whisper, with a sweetness that lingered in the air. Time seemed to slow down even more, as you both savored each moment. The hunger within you grew, igniting a desperate longing. As your bodies pressed closer, the intensity heightened. His hands slid beneath your jacket, exploring every curve, searching for the spots that made you tremble beneath his fingertips. The kiss only ended when the need for air became overwhelming, your lungs burning for release. Ghost would have never pulled away if it weren’t for you.

You pressed your forehead against his. Your eyes were shut tight, as if trying to keep the outside world at bay, while you internally battled to regulate your breathing.

The impending conversation was inevitable. You had to confront the elephant in the room and discuss the question that had been lingering in the air - ‘what are we now?’. You knew avoidance was not an option. But this kiss had to mean something, right? It couldn’t have been just a spur-of-the-moment thing. It was too intense, too real.

But after what had just happened, the line had been crossed, and there was no turning back—there was no way either of you could ever go back to being ... just friends.

A/N: thank you for reading this story! it was the first cod fanfic I ever wrote, so it was very fun to edit and rewrite it. :) i'd love to see what you think about it, whether you loved it or hated haha. & thank you for everyone who previously commented--all the feedback kept me motivated to work!! <3

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #writing #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #call of duty #cod #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #cod x reader #cod fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfic

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russosafehaven · 1 year

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The Stars Amongst the Darkness

Pairing: The Darkling x Fem!Reader

Content: Star Summoner!Reader, Jealous!Reader, Established Relationship

POV: Second

They say stars are dead when we see them. That when they shine brightly amongst the velvet background of the night sky they are mere burning corpses. The only star that still lives is the sun. All others burnt out many moons ago. We see their carcasses lighting up the darkness of midnight and we use them to guide us. The dead are always the wisest for they’ve lived before us and we can learn from their mistakes.

When Alina first arrived at Little Palace you noticed how Aleksander looked at her. Like she was the sun and in many ways she was. Through her veins she could call the living star to her finger tips and light up the world. The young girl shined much brighter than you did and you envied her. Envied the way Aleksander looked at her light, the same way he once look at your light.

While training with Zoya you saw Alina watching you. Anger ran through your veins, she never did combat training so why was she here. You let your emotions get the best of you and ended up burning your sparring partner. Luckily there was a healer on standby. She didn’t blame you, Zoya would’ve acted the same way if her lover payed more attention to someone else.

Grabbing your kefta you pulled it over you. It was black with silver and gold embroidery. Tiny specks of blue throughout. Representative of your stars and your etherealki abilities. Alina tried to stop you but you shoved past her, not wanting to give the Sun Summoner any mind.

With tall strides you made your way to your chambers. The ones you stayed in long before your relationship with the General. They were untouched by time, the only difference the layer of dust over your belongings. Many books about the stars and constellations. Ideas you had been toying with months ago. The idea of summoning the saints constellations to see if you could perhaps mimic their powers. It was long forgotten when you left your chambers to move in with the General.

It was only when a knock rung out from your door were you pulled out of your notebook. Pulling away from the dreams you once had. Walking to your door you couldn’t even touch the handle before it swung open. Revealing a rather angry Aleksander.

“You said after your training with Zoya you’d be back in our bedroom”

It was a statement and every word was dripping with venom. Scoffing you walked back over to your desk, looking through the sketches you once enjoyed to do. Being with Aleksander you had become more focused on fighting. Neglecting your passions of experimenting and drawing.

“I wanted to return to my old chambers, remember who I was before your shadows consumed me”

Voice quiet to prevent it from breaking, you couldn’t stand to look at him. Fearing the way he was in this position. Aleksander had always towered over you. As you shrank into yourself he seemed even larger.

“My shadows consumed you?! How ridiculous do you have to be to believe that?”

His words were laced in disgust. How could you, his northern star, believe that about yourself? Aleksander took a step towards you and when you responded by retreating from him you could’ve sworn he looked sad.

“Ever since you found the Sun Summoner it has all been about her. I understand, she shines brighter than me and Alina is far prettier than I. She fits into your plan, she is your equal. I was just a replacement until you got the real thing…”

You were crying, tears decorating your cheeks like sapphires. Lighting up the curve of your skin as the candles danced in the corner.

“Are you so naive that you actually think that? Nothing and no one can compare to you milaya… you are my everything. My stars and my moon…”

He took you in his arms, holding you firmly and refusing to loosen his grip. No matter how much you fought against him Aleksander wouldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t lose anyone again.

“Alina is a means to an end, you are my equal. Much more than she. The girl can barely fight, she doesn’t put effort in. Since the moment you were brought here I’ve heard many words about your diligence. Alina could never match up to you, she’s nothing compared to you malyshka”

Every word he spoke you believed. The cadence of his voice made you feel loved.

“I promise you I will do better to focus on you, to spend more time with you my little one. Just come back to our room”

You smiled, not his room as it was yours too. Our room, you thought happily. Aleksander would be your endgame and you would forever be his. The Starless One and his Starry Night.

#darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #ben barnes #the darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #kirigan x reader

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armythings-love · 3 months

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I’m gonna cry… I had an entire analysis for this typed out but my wifi is shit so it refused to post😭😭 anyways, this is based off of the @ladybugout-au permanent superhero team. I decided against doing Luka’s Cadmeancio suit because I 1. Didn’t want to draw him in orange and 2. I was already pushing it with making a purple/red Neurofoxin. Only reason I made her purple is because natural coloring obviously doesn’t mean shit to the character designers if Juleka gets to be a purple red tiger. Anyways, here’s my take on their suits!

Hecattack: I wanted to diverge from the furry/bdsm influences Chat’s suit got, so I gave him looser fit pants, a hood and combat boots. His suit was lowkey inspired by Red Hood’s design because, dammit, DC may be super dark, but they know how to design characters well (something MLB could stand to learn from ಠ_ಠ) anyways, along with the hood and paneled top+cargo pants+combat boots, I gave him cat-shaped knee pads, similar to Ivan’s turtle shell knee pads. You will also notice a trend with a lot of my hero suit designs, which is fingerless gloves. Yes, this’ll take away from the cat claw thing Chat had going on, but I’m ok with that. To go with his punk/rock band aesthetic, he got combat boots with the signature cat paw steel toes. His tail is pretty much the same along with the ears. His mask is also different, covering the bottom half of his face. This also takes away from the cat sclera thing the original Chat had, but Luka isn’t a furry so… also, the mask covering his mouth alludes to his calm nature and quiet personality, not feeling the need to play around, especially during a battle,which was where the original Chat erred most often. Luka also has very expressive eyes, so I wanted to push that, like, even if he doesn’t talk much, he’s still a good communicator. Plus, when cats are hunting, they’re quiet! Which the original Chat cannot relate to!

Ladybug: ok, so her suit is still pretty basic, since I wanted to stick with he AU’s canon description of her suit. The main bodice/legs are similar to the season 4 suit after she calls on the lucky charm, but the sleeves are slightly different. I also got rid of the “reverse” polka dots cuz they just look ugly imo. Her gloves are also fingerless, since I feel like that would 1. Lend better to doing yo-yo tricks and 2. They just look better (u_u) anyways, her hair is still the same, as well as her mask. It’s pretty basic but eh…

Neurofoxin: her design is also super simple, but I also wanted to veer away from the gaudy orange normally associated with the fox miraculous. If she can make her tiger suit purple and red, I can make her fox costume reddish purple!! She’s goth, she’s not gonna walk around in *o r a n g e*. And I stand by that. Anyways, like I said her suit is relatively simple, the panels of the suit modeled after Volpina’s actually, because despite how I hate Lila and her stupid sausage link hair, her volpina suit was pretty cute. Instead of giving her a jacket w/coattails or a belt/sash to be her tail, I decided to make it her hair, cuz even in civilian form it’s pretty long. I also decided that instead of a dark grey/black to purple, I’d make the tips the same cream as her “underbelly” panel, as I wanted to incorporate the cream in more than just that singular spot. I also pulled her bang back because even if she’s goth, she still needs to be able to see properly as a superhero. Plus, I like Juleka’s eyes, and I feel like Trixx would like her to show off more. Anyways, besides the morph suit and her hair being a bit longer than normal+a different color, she has a cropped leather jacket,same color as her suit. There’s also paneling on the side/back of her thighs/back that’s a darker red/purple color. Again, to go with her rockstar/alt aesthetic, I gave her combat boots as well, though hers are knee high, plus I forgot to draw the laces, but eh. Fun fact: I headcanon the Couffaine twins as being super tall for their age, but Juleka is taller than her twin for now+her boots are heeled.

Fukiya: for Kagami’s suit, I pulled inspo from someone else’s LBO AU fanart, although I can’t remember who’s it was. Originally, I was gonna go for a suit similar to Kagami’s fencing gear, but decided to go w the suit she has now so it’d be more reminiscent of a bee. I gave her a sleeveless, cropped kimono, the bottom of which has a honeycomb pattern and an ombré going from dark yellow to black. Her obi has two layers, the bottom layer being a bright yellow and the outside layer being black. Her sleeves are similar to Queen Bee’s, but with an added black line. Her legs are completely black with the exception of her knee pads, which are a bright yellow and octogon shaped. I wanted her to look more bee-esque than Queen Bee or Vesperia (her character design is 🤢) so I gave her the yellow torso with black limbs, than made the kimono collar thick to look like a neck ruff or smth. I honestly struggled with her design a bit but it looks ok in the end so I’m happy with it :) also, Kagami is the shortest because I said so!

Heavy Matal: oh, Ivan, you absolute teddy bear of a guy. I adore the Iván of this AU, he’s so sweet, a gentle giant, so I wanted to focus on making him look slightly softer than the rest of the heroes, despite being the turtle holder. I gave him his signature cargoes, although they’re pants instead of shorts when he’s transformed, a sleeveless hoodie, and “turtle”-neck compression-esque undershirt, the sleeves long enough to be, you guessed it, fingerless gloves! The only reason Kagami is the only one with full gloves is because I wanted to giver a more serious/conservative look. Mari’s been ladybug so long she deserves to have cute, fingerless gloves! Anyways, back to Ivan! His hoodie is two toned, like a turtle’s shell, with the front being a light green. It’s patterned to look like a turtle shell underbelly, with a nice big pocket to hold whatever. He wears elbow- and knee-pads, which are shaped like little turtle shells. He wears regular Vans-style tennies, and his mask is similar to Carapace’s, except it cover the majority of the front of his face (think Kid Flash), and is colored/patterned similarly to a box turtle, with red accents along his cheekbones and his little tuft of hair is his usual blond with an ombré to that same red. (Ignore the ear I forgot to color in plz, I don’t feel like editing anymore T-T)

Ok, so that’s it for today’s character designs! I’m working on redesigning pretty much everyone’s civilian and hero costumes. I haven’t mentioned on this blog, but on pretty much every Gabe!Salt fic I’ve read, I will tell you, whoever the hell designed most of the characters in MLB, you deserve to be fired and then arrested. I’m so sorry, but there’s no way ur gonna convince me Fashion Designer™️ Marinette Dupain-Cheng walks out of her house every day, wearing ugly ass ballet flats+”denim” jeggings in that shade of pink. No way. And don’t even get me started on Gabriel’s candy-cane, red pants and duck hair headass, because omg… that man is supposed to be a world renowned Fashion Designer™️, one of the best in Paris. IN. PARIS!! No fucking way. No way. I get, you want ur characters to be simple and easily recognizable, but that doesn’t mean they have to be ugly!! And I get it, Adrien’s supposed to have a model-off-duty look, but wth are those shoes? Plus, why does he never change for his photo shoots? He’s a MODEL! I get it, you can’t even spend money to change the transformation animation to whatever the characters are actually wearing but wtf??? If you were gonna have any kid’s show where we get to see a lot of different clothes/outfits, this would be the show!! Two of the main characters are fashion designers, one of the minor antagonists is the daughter of a fashion magazine owner and your other main character is a model. IN PARIS!! A city known for its fashion and “romance”. And ur telling me you can’t add a few more outfits to the show??? That’s called lazy writing/animation.

Ugh, sorry abt that rant, but the character designs genuinely piss me off. It’s bullshit.

I digress.

I’ll be releasing the main 4 kids’ redesigns probably on the 15th!!

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanart #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #juleka couffaine #kagami tsurugi #ivan bruel #kwami swap #ladybugout AU #fanart #lbo Art

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