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ohproserpine · 3 months

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iv. dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago

˚୨୧₊♱

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.

With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"

"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"

Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"

A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.

"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"

Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.

"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."

"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"

Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"

"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.

As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"

Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"

Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."

˚୨୧₊♱

The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.

Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.

Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.

Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.

"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."

"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."

"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"

Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."

A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"

“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"

With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.

Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."

"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"

"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.

"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.

Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.

As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.

"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"

With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"

As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.

On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.

Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.

Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.

"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.

The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.

"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."

"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.

It was a look he knew all too well.

"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"

Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.

Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.

The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.

"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.

"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."

"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"

Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.

The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.

"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.

"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"

"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.

"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"

Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"

"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."

"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"

Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."

Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"

"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."

Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"

The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.

"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.

"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."

"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.

"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.

Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.

˚୨୧₊♱

You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.

You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.

"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."

Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.

A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.

You missed your husband.

With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸

A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.

Alastor.

Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.

With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.

"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.

Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.

"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."

Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.

From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.

Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.

The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.

You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.

In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.

Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.

The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"

"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"

"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."

Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.

To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract

"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"

"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.

"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.

"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.

"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.

"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."

"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.

"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."

A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."

Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.

"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.

"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.

Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.

“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”

"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."

“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”

Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.

"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"

Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.

A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "

Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.

"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"

"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."

Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.

The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.

The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.

Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.

"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.

"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."

˚୨୧₊♱

#calm before the #before the :))#sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel vox

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moineauz · 2 months

Text

જ⁀ 𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐒 , various !

synopsis: when you bring your friend to ikea to help you pick furniture for your new apartment. Pinning ensues amongst other flustering events.

including: zhongli, childe, diluc, kaeya, thoma,

side comments: pure fluff! also, please buy your furniture second-hand and support small businesses! avoid fast furniture when you can (ikea) and make mindful purchases. let's briefly imagine a perfect world where ikea is ethical and sustainable.

extra: mentions and implications of marriage, gn reader, favourites: zhongli & kaeya word count: 1,784

𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈

Being the friend he is, Zhongli would happily accompany you.

He is the type to have his hands behind his back as he follows you around. Lingering close yet respectfully enough.

If you ask him for consolation, he will be honest in the most tender way possible:

"Ah... perhaps this colour will be more suitable considering the lighting."

"You did need a new couch, right? I believe you will like this one."

You blink and then your cart is full.

Zhongli's advice is acutely precise, however, expect to exceed your original budget by another ghastly $500.

Not that he suggests buying unnecessary items, rather, he suggests quality, material and construction.

Begins speaking a tad excessively about colour coordination and lightning.

He will help you lift any furniture parts if need be!

Gradually, the trip would become a joint effort by the two of you. As if you've been shopping and living together for years.

"Look at the dining table ( Name )," Zhongli commented. The lighting of the room glittered above, illuminating your face slightly as your hands glide over the wood varnish. "It's wonderful, isn't it? You'd be able to hold all the dinner parties you wanted."

You smile gingerly, and soon you are standing next to him by the kitchen sink. "Definitely, Childe would no longer have to sit on the floor."

Zhongli chuckles and you share a teasing grin. "At least we picked out a table already- much cheaper."

Zhongli raises an eyebrow, "Oh? Perhaps we can consider this one instead?"

"Personally, I think you should agree with him," spoke an employee- a soft-spoken elderly woman- "I remember when I first bought my fiancee's dining table- fun times!"

"Oh ma'am we're not-"

"Yes, my fiancee and I do agree," Zhongli gazes towards you're slightly flushed figure and smiles gently, "Yes dear?"

You blink for a few moments; gaining your footing before replying smoothly, "Why of course, how could I not love?"

You don't notice it, however, Zhongli shares a faint blush as he later pretends to cough in his fist.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

Childe has zero taste in furniture.

His mom would choose the furniture while he used his card.

Browsing through the showrooms and picking furniture is not how he would choose to spend his afternoon, however, he'll try for you!

In this case- it's the thought that counts.

If you need help reaching or lifting anything he'll do it readily.

Don't have a cart or bag? (There were lots) Childe will hold it all for you!

It becomes an inner competition to some extent to cover up for his obvious lack of skill in furniture and home design in hopes of impressing you.

“Excuse me young man, can you please reach the duvet covers for me up top?” asks a elderly man, an embarrassed smile gently plastered on his lips.

Childe turns his head towards the man and flashes a hearty grin, “Of course.”

With ease, Childe grabs the duvet set and hands it to him, “Ah, thank you,” the man pauses before speaking, his eyes in thought, “might I ask something?”

Childe blinks and replies, subtle curiosity beneath his lighthearted tone, “Go on.”

“Have you asked your partner out yet?

Childe fumbles a bit and the elderly man heaves a near boisterous laugh. "I'm taking that as a no, ay? Ah, young couples! I might not have the sharpest eyes anymore, but you've been lookin' at them since the kitchen showroom!"

Before Childe could express a response, the man pats his back and smiles. "Best of luck! I'm sure they'll say yes."

The man then ambles away and from a distance, Childe can see his small figure fade into the throng.

"Hey Childe! Are you alright?"

"Oh... um yeah!" prompted Childe, "Is there anything else you need?"

You shake your head, your fingers scrolling through the list you made, "That should be it. Are you sure you're okay? If you'd like I could hold the vase?"

Childe smiles while his bright blue eyes pool into yours, "No I'm good, let's head to check out."

The two of you saunter to the check-out counter side by side; bantering with each other. Childe's gaze never leaving yours.

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐕𝐈��𝐃𝐑

Diluc is not well-versed in design and colour. However, he has a keen eye for both style, price and functionality, unbeknownst to him.

You were hesitant to ask him if he could accompany you as it is without a doubt that Diluc Ragnvindr is a busy man.

Diluc himself shared hesitancy for opposing reasons.

Diluc has lived with himself and has found his dwelling to be dull in comparison to the liveliness and hospitality your former apartment held. Thus, Diluc wondered if he could be of any help.

Nevertheless, you reassured him that you wanted company regardless of his skills.

Contrary to his words, Diluc was quite valuable, especially when navigating the place.

"I found the blanket you were interested in earlier, do you still want it?"

"The colour is rather flattering... but it is your choice! Um... please don't mind me."

"Do you need help?"

Diluc doubted his opinion, however, you found yourself agreeing with him several times.

You and Diluc were currently sitting by the opposite edge of a bed, your hands inches apart.

"A comfortable bed isn't it?" you bounce on the bed a little, a smile reaching your lips, "And the mattress is only $200, a king too! I can't believe you found this deal-"

Diluc does not hear your voice, it faded just as the lights mellowed and the sensations of the blanket against his calloused hands grew fuzzy.

"... Hey Diluc?"

"Ah, yes," Diluc coughs before asking, "I'm sorry what were you saying?

You smile, "It's all good! I was just explaining how I wouldn't need such a large bed for myself."

Diluc conveys a slightly puzzled expression, "How so? If you're worried about how to carry it into the apartment then you do know that I'll assist you-"

You shake your head fervently before replying, "Well thank you Diluc! But really you don't have to-"

"Oh no, I insist."

You smile winsomely before carefully replying, "It's just... me in the apartment. I'd understand if I was living with someone- but it's not worth it in my opinion."

Diluc pauses, contemplating before replying steadily, "I believe you deserve the mattress..." There is a tentative gap between his words before he follows up, "Perhaps I... ah never mind, let's get going. You wanted to eat at Chef Xianling's restaurant for dinner right? My treat."

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇

So you invited Kaeya?

Expect relentless teasing and a carefree-complacent attitude.

However, as much as Kaeya is there for fun, he will readily assist you- not without a tease, however.

"Oh ho? Need my help?"

In regards to style and class... Kaeya can pull himself together.

However, similar to Diluc, there is a dullness to his home.

In fact, Kaeya rarely spends time in his own home: he bounces from place to place. Never lingering longer than is needed or comfortable. It is like an ever-present itch.

Yet, your home has become Kaeya's home too. Unbeknownst to you however.

It is natural for both of you.

Your home has become the longest place he has spent in. He has his space in your home, he even has a toothbrush holder and resident blanket; removing Kaeya from your home would cause an ineffable void.

Regardless of the previous facts, you genuinely invited Kaeya to come for help and company.

Kaeya makes the process entertaining! Instead of contemplating the price tags incessantly, Kaeya will smoothly subdue your worries by toying with the utensils and playing hide-and-seek in the mirror section all while slipping the item you wanted in the bag.

The two of you let loose; unwinding like children who innocently play in the kid's bedroom showhome despite being strangers to each other.

"Kaeya... do we really need this mirror?" you question dubiously.

Kaeya shares a winsome grin. "Why of course," he then gingerly places his hands on your shoulders and leans in slightly, "It holds a rather charming reflection, does it not?"

You gaze at him and sigh, "Charming? You always find ways to flatter yourself."

Kaeya merely smiles. The two of you peer into the mirror: the reflection of two souls gazing back all while Kaeya surmises.

It wasn't himself that he was referring to.

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀

You're in for a treat!

You will (quite literally) get ice cream afterwards.

Thoma possesses all the skills in the "art of making a home."

Need deals or a lower price? Thoma already has a list. What about colour and style? He has a magazine and Pinterest board ready. What about functionality and material? Don't fret! He knows all the washing labels and what goes best with your lifestyle.

Tell him the night before and he is packed and loaded.

Thoma is absolutely thrilled that you invited him.

Shopping for any household items is delightful for Thoma, even more so when the two of you are browsing through all the showrooms and inspecting each countertop.

His favourite section is the kitchen.

If you have a specific budget in mind, Thoma will ensure that not a dollar goes beyond it and he will keep you accountable as well!

However, staying within the budget while scouring the store takes a significant amount of time.

Hence, instead of another $100 added to the receipt, expect another three hours.

The two of you will heave a big sigh when you finally sit down in the car.

Nevertheless, it is all lighthearted and relaxing as the two of you reenacting imagining a space together.

"We'd set the tables over there-" remarked Thoma as he pointed his finger towards the dining table, "And we can house our pans here- it would be so since to have them hanging instead of in the cabinet."

"Browsing through the kitchens is always fun," added a mother, her arms cradling her baby, "Are the two of you living together?"

You chuckle and Thoma's cheeks grow rosy. You then reply amused, "Oh no, he's a friend of mine who I asked to come along."

The mother then shares an embarrassed smile, "Oh I'm so sorry! That was so wrong of me... if the two of you are looking for a hanging pan rack then I remember seeing an installation piece down in the marketplace."

"Thank you," replied Thoma, a smile pressed on his lips, "We'll be sure to check it out!"

As the mother saunters ambles away, Thoma mutters under his breath, "Maybe we should live together..."

"What was that?"

"Oh ah! Nothing," Thoma scratches the back of his neck before responding brightly, "Do you want me to write the rack on the list now?"

masterlist

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sunaluv · 11 months

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Hi idk if ur request is open but if so can i request bonten who likes to spoil reader with so many expensive shit but reader don't want that,,, when the members treat her to go shopping—she'll go directly at the appliances store or market part not caring about the designer clothes she passed by, basically she's really not fond of expensive shit—rather spending their money they spoiled her with on a good cause?? (really love to see kokonoi go crazy coz bonten's doll don't want designer shit)

forget abt this if your ask is close

thank youu xoxo

sorry for the extremely late response lols. I'm now clearing out my asks.

Feat: your fav bonten man, ive left this open.

Bontens moneymaker was well known for spoiling whichever girl he had on his arm. Girls at the club would practically throw themselves at him in hopes that he'll get interested and throw money their way just because.

to him, it was second nature. it got to a point where he didn't think anymore, handing his current plaything his card to get them out of his hair when he was busy.

but when he met you it felt weirdly different. he wanted to know your tastes. were you a Chanel girl? Vivienne Westwood? did you even want designer clothes? maybe a car instead?

he watched you so slowly as you looked around the shopping mall seemingly overwhelmed with choices when he said you could pick anything and everything you wanted from the store.

he was prepared to buy out the latest line in all the designer stores so you can imagine his surprise when your eyes finally light up and you take his hand to drag him into a tech store.

'???' the question marks raised in his head as you picked up the pace, dragging him left right and centre through the maze of the store, finally stopping in front of a washing machine?

"out of everything you want, you chose a washing machine?" he didn't mean for his tone to come out so judgemental, his eyes widening seeing the frown on your face.

"my old one is broken, and my landlord refuses to let me call someone to fix it :("

he wanted to hide you from the world and keep you all for himself. he couldn't believe how...weird? tactical? smart? you were.

he chuckled

"...anything else you want?"

he let you lead, basically listing a whole bunch of appliances and gadgets to refurbish your shabby little apartment.

he paid for everything, as he does, though you were confused when he asked them to ship it to an unfamiliar address.

"well all these fancy new toys of yours will look out of place in your little apartment babe, don't want someone thinking you robbed someone," he kissed the top of your head. "I'll buy you a new one."

you knew how much joy he got from spending money on people. it seemed to enhance when it was people he actually cared about so you kept your protests to a minimum. knowing him, he had probably bought you your new place the minute he left yours.

you found more confidence shopping with his card, deciding to buy new electronics for when you start your last semester of uni(which he insisted on paying the debt and expenses for).

shopping trips with you were different, but it was a good type of different. he could get used to this domestic-style shopping with you and pretend he was your doting husband instead of a notorious criminal.

#tokyo revengers x reader #bonten x reader #tr x reader #tokyo rev x reader #kokonoi x reader #kokonoi hajime x reader #ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani x reader #rindou x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tr fluff #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revenger scenarios

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art · 7 months

Text

Creator Spotlight: @66sharkteeth

66 is a comic artist and the creator of City of Blank, a WEBTOON original series. They worked in the game industry at companies such as 2K Games before entering the field of comics. They began their career in comics at Tapas, where they worked as an editor and lead typesetter, before being signed to create their own original series on WEBTOON.

Check out our interview with 66 below!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

The short answer is yeah, I’ve definitely had one. Overall, I feel like doing a lot of style studies during that time and trying to use new brushes helps a lot. In addition, because I’m a comic artist, I feel like writer’s block is in the same field, and with that, I’m really fortunate that I have an editor that I can work with, who helps me a lot there. Whenever I am stuck at a plot point in my comic, I can always go to my editor, who helps me hammer things out.

What medium have you always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

Animation. Of course, everyone loves animation. I went to school for game art and design and even did some animation courses, and I am just not cut out for it. I don’t enjoy the process, and I am not good at it. Animation is beautiful, and I admire people who can do it. I’d love for my work to be animated some day, I’m just not capable of being the one to do it haha.

Warm tones or cool tones?

It really depends on the scene! Especially in my comic, I really go with both of them, just depending on the moment in the comic. There was a major character death, and that scene was almost black and white. But normally, the comic is very vibrant, and people really like it, so when I switch it to a more cold tone, it makes the scene that much more impactful.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

Honestly, my current comic, City of Blank, takes up 100% of my time. But recently, I did a plushie campaign where I worked with Makeship through Webtoon to design the plushies and do a little bit of marketing for them. So that’s fun and different from what I normally do!

When planning a comic or a story, what do you do first, character design or character outline?

Normally, I have a design, and I fall in love with the character design, and then I find a role for them. That’s how a lot of my characters have started. Also, that’s how I’ve been tackling new projects that I want to work on after City of Blank. I just came up with a character, and I’m trying to make a story around them.

What is a convention experience that has stuck with you?

Meeting readers and realizing how much my work means to some of them. Some of them have started their own comics, having been inspired by mine. Learning that I’m part of the reason they started their own comic journey, the same way I looked to other inspiring comic artists to start mine—it means the world that I’m in that position now.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Let’s see…bright, sparkly colors! I think just trying to make sure that the booth is eye-catching. I ended up making a big shiny banner for New York Comic Con, and I know many people stopped by because it caught their eye and they’re curious about what it is. I know a lot of people are selling merchandise of popular media. Even just a banner of your brand to get them curious about who you are and maybe interested in seeing what you make and taking a business card so they can look you up later. It’s better than someone just buying a pin and forgetting you exist. Lastly, put out a tip jar. You never know just how generous your fans are feeling.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

I’m mostly involved in the webtoon sphere! I am definitely inspired by my fellow Webtoon creators, @lark-wren, who created the series Woven. I love their work and seeing them interact with their readers on Tumblr. Same with fellow Webtoon creators, @miranda-mundt-art and @astrobleme-enterprises, who created Lovebot.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, 66! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @66sharkteeth and follow their webcomic, City of Blank, over at WEBTOON.

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #webtoon #webcomic #comic artist #66 shark teeth #city of blank

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jazeswhbhaven · 3 months

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That's What You Get When You Eat a Mandrake~ (Beel Butt L-Card Story: Ch.1) *React I*

-the bby

WE ARE LIVING IN AVISOS LATELY HUH?? Sure we got a healthy dose of our Hades bois, but there's been a lot of content with Avisos popping up lately and I'm like huh...it seems the fave locations are Gehenna and Avisos as opposed to Tartaros and Hades. Anyway this is the first node of the Beel booty story (hooray everyone that got it!) I would technically say this isn't spoilers unless you were unable to get the card then it's technically spoilers but everyone's seen it I assume but just in casseeee

LETS GO another two-parter...this time because there's a new boo I get to ramble about. Get yourself a snackkyyy snack and let's go ( ˘▽˘)っ♨

First we enter Dong-gyun that is at this gift store having his home-made butt shaped chocolates get wrapped professionally

Let me just say that Dong-gyun is a d o r a b l e. And I love him so much. For some reason he reminds me of Yoosung from MYMES and idk why when they clearly aren't the similar just the blonde hair lmao

Maybe it's the soft boi casual hoodie-wearing vibes I'm loving? Anyways

Poor bby was kicked out of the store for being a bit overbearing lol that and it's busy with everyone celebrating their first valentines day in Avisos because MC is also there (they truly do party for any reason it's great) Because they're out here making out, doing shit in the streets like this is wild lol

But DonBear (my nickname for him) made the chocolates for MC :)))) he has like a huge one-sided crush on them and I think that's just the cutest thing.

I also want to add that he's not one of the 72 either, he's just a regular day-to-day lower-level devil and I love that we get to see that. I wanna know how life is for devils who just are "there" ya know?? Like Nina for instance (RIP ;.;)

So he finds out where MC is at and he notices everyone and their mom (except for the 7 grandmothers, i wanna know more about that actually :o) are there with chocolates they have given MC. But he doesn't mind waiting in line.

I only wanted to add this screenshot because I'm crying, Minhyeok forever in the friendzone trenches because "friendship chocolates?????" free this man please.

Ahhh so our DonBear was able to to make it and he prepares to give his chocolates until....

First. Why

HOT???

I can imagine how his jaw had to unhinge unhumanly to eat that pile of chocolate and I'd just be like o__o oh

Second...girl...he gonna give you back that chocolate alright if you want (yes this is a poop joke. no i am not into that i just find it funny mc really sat there and asked for it back like you're either gonna get vomit or poop which one?)

The funny part tho is Beel is casually like "I already ate it tho"

Yes bby we know that. I'd like for you to replace it because you prefer to be childish and eat things that don't belong to you to show your dominance or whatever okay <3

See? See the fucking snark this one has?

>:P he's getting bitten

Leave DonBear alone D: at least let us eat our butt shaped chocolates he spent time making from scratch (also look at his face I'll protect you omg)

Beel.

Beel. Beel. You're going in time-out I swear. The naughty corner.

Sigh....maybe you'll be forgiven if you let DonBear make another batch of chocolates for me

AND this part? Where Beel fainted and is having some kind of episode???? I was like omfg it's whatever was in the chocolates isn't it? It's the damn mandrake stuff isn't it?

And our Avisos bois came to the rescue immediately because they thought it was some kind of attack. (it's really cool how they can sense stuff like this immediately)

So while everyone's trying to help Beel and figure out what's wrong with him and take him to the hospital and such (and dragging DonBear along because they suspect it's him that did it) we go into a flash back!!!

So Dong-hyung was hanging out and being the designated driver kinda friend (the one that stays sober and watches the others) but he doesn't really drink like that anyway so he doesn't mind babysitting.

LMAO so these two characters waltz into the bar and DonBear is kinda side-eyeing them because I mean I'm crying why is MC a clown? xD it makes me think of those memes again dammit

MC showing their ID at the bar 💀💀💀💀💀💀

anyways

So what's funny is that MC is me because they're drunk asf slurring and saying some shit and Beel is just thinking this is cute and just letting it happen such a bad influence... xD

ME coded.

Silly drunk clown bitch hours.

My ass would be laughing at everything and saying the floor is lavvvaaa Beel...the floor is lavvvaaaaaa carry meeeeee

So iirc MC ends up bumping into DonBear and he just knows how to handle the situation perfectly and this was after he realized that it was Beel and MC in disguise and not just two randos in the bar.

Beel gestured for him to come outside with them and he's fanboying about the situation and I find that entirely cute. He's a sweetie and I want good things for him.

DREAM ON DONG-HYUNG I BELIEVE IN YOUUUU????

even though we all pretty much know how this works though for the most part when it comes to who is the designated 72. Someone should draw him in the uniform though (throwing this idea out there)

LOL so he flopped MC on DonBear and is just like so this kind of night arouses angels...so hold MC for me in case I have to fight or something. And I'm just like oh dear...the poor bby is kinda struggling to carry MC are they that heavy? Lol

He's so determined. I love it

So here, DonBear is asking a lot of questions and one of them is if Bael and Beel are twins, and Beel is like yeah Bael would not like it if I said yes so I'll say no even if we are.

Beel your roundabout answer is killing me lmao

He....he....he almost came from being petted on the nape of his neck?????? *screams*

He's perfect for dry humping, and anything of the sort that doesn't involve penetration because he's so sensitive I love him. I could hug him and rub his back and he'd love it. (granted this means tho that this is only for his favorite person or the person he's crushing on this sounds like he wouldn't react this way to a stranger)

So Bael was getting onto Beel for MC being in this state and just going on and on and Beel is like "Well it's not like I could have just left MC there no way they're drunk :D" so gentlemanly like and Bael agrees that the devils in Avisos are gentleman (are they...? I would assume some aren't)

ANNDDD I've hit the limit my lovelies. (on screenshots allowed in said post) So we're gonna stop here until we get to the other post ^^ see you thereeeee

->Part Two<-

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb beelzebub #whb dong hyun #whb screencaps #whb spoilers #card spoilers #whb reacts

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darkdemeter · 4 months

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OLD DRAFT CONCEPT : " GUARD DOG "

—- not my gif, credit to original poster! -—

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader (x slight Natasha Romanoff)

A/N — Here's a little bedtime story for ya'll. Old draft concept for an upcoming and looong oneshot for Wanda in a mafia au setting. Bits and pieces may be recognised in the published column plot wise but overall, we're taking an alternate route, my babbies.

WORD COUNT — 2.2k

READER DISCRETION — Alcohol consumption — mafia business and semi dark themes — profanity — mention of death and murder — mention of black market and auction — reader and Nat have some history — player reader Tony is so proud — Alexander Pierce is of course an arsehole, what else is new? — Rumlow is a bad guy (duh) — I think that's it?

An expensive investment. A broad term to use for a werewolf broken in by the system at a young age. But it’s true.

Alexander Pierce, the finance manager and ringleader as a whole, did all he could to break you in, and to say he did is an understatement. He exceeded the limits you once believed you had and once you were ready, he put you out in the field to garner your reputation.

You had no limits. Ruthless in your endeavour to complete whatever task was required of you, prepared to do whatever it took, your peers could only look at you with both fear and admiration.

When all was said and done, you were given your collar, then sold through the underground hub for criminals: the black market.

That’s when you learnt in the span of the few minutes that the auction lasted for, that you were either a trophy to those of the higher class of crime, or a very wanted source of security and war. From black funding operators that had their hand in the military’s pit on the hunt for a war hound, to the gangster overlords who controlled territories in the differing states and countries, requiring some form of high end security, there was a very rapid increase in the price they were each willing to pay.

At a total of twenty-five million, your collar and services were sold to Mr. Tony Stark. From the sleek fit of a light grey, three piece suit and bright pink tie, Stark had a brighter outlook on the window of his underhand activities. He was the type that lounged back in the severity of his criminal dealings.

Unlike his fellow company who each wore darker palette suits of either navy blue or jet black. He stood out for sure as his auburn tinted glasses did little to hide the one question on his mind: Was his money well spent?

Well, to say at the very least, you wouldn’t be here tonight if you weren’t every single cent he spent on you three years ago.

Thinking about the memory now, this is a different tone entirely. Dark and neon is how you remember the black market scene, stalls and cube stores with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the smaller businesses which belonged to small cluster gangs.

The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs.

Here, the scene is warm, lavish and made for those who seek the comfort in living in marble halls and pristine white pillars, short cut grass and elaborate parties such as this one.

“Shit, this party is awfully chipper for someone who died last week,” you huff, eyes scanning the crowd from the smooth, darkly polished bar, which you incidentally found very comfortable to lean back on when told for the hundredth time, “Just sit tight, just a little bit longer.”

You didn’t have the time nor patience to sit around getting older by the damn minute. Thankfully, Tony put his card behind the bar so that meant an endless river of drinks. Because you needed the alcohol. A lot.

Not a moment too late is your glass refilled with your refreshment.

“Please, Y/N,” sighs Steve from your right side, arms folded over his chest, navy blue suit straining just a bit too tightly against his body, “have some respect for the Maximoff family. They lost their only male heir to a deal gone wrong. They need our support.”

Your shoulders rise with a particular deep inhale before falling lax, you swirl the sliver of whiskey left in your glass and with a jerk of your wrist you finish it. Ice rattles in your glass as you shimmy it, indicating you need a refill and pronto.

“People live, people die. You cross someone and you get shot in the back. It happens.”

“He was gunned down in the streets with a fucking machine gun, Y/N. You consider that a mere oopsie?”

You shrug in response to Sam’s question with a pout of your bottom lip. “Pietro thought he was the shit. That’s what got him killed by Rumlow.”

Sam runs a hand over his face, now distressed by the lack of sincerity you show for the grieving family. “For fuck sake…”

In the three years of your loyal work to the Stark family and those of his brotherhood - his allies - your colours shone through immensely to reveal a shining personality. Excluding the fact you’d become something of a playful rogue with the women.

You simply chalk it up to your animal magnetism. Something that leaves them wanting more whenever in the presence of your company.

In fact, that was how Tony came to own unclaimed establishments and clubs in the boroughs, ones he wasn’t able to get his hands on before, but after he had you as a playable card in his fold, you provided club goers the relief of being harassed and drinks being spiked. Territorial take over schemes from rival gangs were second guessed when they saw you watching over the joint.

The after hour visits for your libido were just the perks. But you left a lot of lustful and broken little hearts in the wake of your work.

For a werewolf, you were always assumed to be a means of security, and that much was true. Didn’t mean it excluded you from taking on other odd jobs for the families from time to time. Debt collection, assassinations, tailing and blackmail ops, the list is endless.

When Steve casts a hardened stare your way and you mockingly raise your hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll offer my condolences to the heiress, but I ain’t weeping at her feet for her brother who got himself into that mess because he thought he was too big for his own shoes.”

“Just behave yourself, alright? The last thing we need is the entirety of Europe at war with us.” You roll your eyes and salute the captain. “Yessir.”

You bring the glass rim to your lips and draw a small gulpful of your refurbished liquor, the fiery taste rolls over your tongue, you savour it to keep your sanity intact lest you go insane from the waiting. Where was the heiress?

“Well, well, I thought I wouldn’t see any of you again. Especially you.” Your head, as well as those of your group, direct their gaze to the new voice. The corners of your lips twitch up and you flash her a wolfish grin, chin tilting up slightly in your relaxed position against the bar. You looked like a cat happily laying in the sun.

“Miss Romanoff,” each of the men greeted with a nod of their heads. You, however, pat your thigh as an invitation for her to sit. “I had work to do the next morning.”

“Mm, that’s what you tell the other girls, I’m sure.” You clap a hand to your chest with a wince. “You wound me, Sweetheart. If I had the chance, I would have stayed.”

She hums but it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you by the rise in her brow.

Natasha Romamoff is a hard fish to catch. One of the more established families that control practically the entirety of Europe, alongside the Maximoff family, the two were partners and crafting an empire strong enough to stand on their own without any dire need for support.

Yes, her family had prior dealings with the brotherhood. The Starks, Wilsons, Barnes and Rogers and more, whether to collaborate on a bigger criminal project to the smaller portioned deals. Smuggled goods and weapons, blackmail intel deliverance, international bribery to keep the feds off your backs. But she never committed to joining forces.

You suppose it’s a good power move on her part. She doesn’t have to abide by any of the family creeds, in the end, you’re all loose ends that may potentially be severed if need be. She had the ball in her court and the mysterious Maximoff heiress.

Even your animal magnetism wasn’t enough to charm her into joining forces with Stark and his powerhouse of families, but they were surely enough to charm her into a wild one night stand.

But as you told her. You had work to do. And now she appears to spurn you with her eyes and cruel words, but still entertains your flirtatious advances and indulges the empty space of your thigh.

For a well respected mob boss such as herself, she definitely liked to play it risky; dressing included.

Last you saw her, she was dressed in a more professional manner. But here at this funeral party, whatever the fuck it was, she chose to wear a black, spaghetti strap cocktail dress that’s short enough to be skimming the mid of her thigh. The slit riding the dress up higher is just plain dangerous.

She’s facing you, back arched and ass resting on the cliff of your knee. Your clawed hand supports her at the small of her back. Her perfume is strong and complimenting, the sweet bouquet of lavender rolls over the exposed tops of her breasts from her even more exposed neck. Her plump, red lips move in a way that’s hypnotic. “So I hear you’re going to be a bargaining chip for Wanda Maximoff.”

“Where’d you hear that?” you scoff with a flick of your chin.

“I have spies who whisper to me,” she answers with a swift quirk of her brow.

Of course she overheard the news. She then chuckles softly, and all eyes watch her with a level of suspicion. “She won’t take any deal you offer her. She’s determined to steer clear of your little gang wars over in the states.”

“Rumlow killed her brother and he has bases around our territories. Wouldn’t she appreciate the extra hands in catching the rat?” Bucky poses the question with a dark brow angled high and clenched jaw, the muscles in his cheeks flex harder when Natasha offers no affirmative response; a mark to hopefully land you in the door and good graces with the heiress.

“You really think she wants a guard dog?”

“Hey,” you growl with a wrinkle of your nose, fangs on the precipice of baring at her. How she used the term in a condescending manner made the fur beneath your skin bristle. Sam claps a hand to your shoulder, somehow able to sense the seething anger within you.

“We just want to help. Offer support for her loss and bring Rumlow down.”

“No. You want a foothold in Europe. And I’m sorry but…” She looks you up and down, drinking in the sight of you and you know she can see you without your clothes on. “You’re not going to cut it, babe.”

She turns her body to make her getaway but you don’t let her slip away just like that. She gasps and looks to you with a furrowed glare when your arm circles her waist and tugs her back until she’s flush against you, the men in your company watch with trepidation of your next course of action.

“I will cut it because whether she wants to admit it or not, she needs us.”

Natasha’s eyes, true to her fashion, darken with a challenge. “You’re wasting your time. She’ll get Rumlow herself.”

“And if Rumlow plans to get her first?” For a moment you see the doubt cross her face. “That’s where she needs me.”

“Tony Stark.” Each of the men turn to the voice behind them and their once cool and collected selves turn rigid, nervous under the power one woman can hold so absolute, her green eyes scan each of their faces before they land on you.

You finally look and meet her stare, still holding Natasha against you even as she tries to push away from you.

“Unhand her,” the woman commands with an accented tongue.

At first, you wanted nothing more than to play this out a little, see what makes this woman tick. But both Tony and Steve look at you, silent in their order, you sigh heavily and release Natasha. Once you do, she wastes no time in joining Wanda’s side with a bow of her head.

“I hear that you wished to have an audience with me.”

Wanda is the sole survivor of this ordeal. Her parents were assassinated two years ago and now her brother was killed. This is the stressed matter at hand, her empire could crumble to the ground, all that hard work put into the grave, because she’s being so fucking stubborn with this deal.

“I will not sign my family, nor any of my shares, to Stark Industries. Enough have I done to keep you out of the hands of law enforcement. I will handle Rumlow myself.”

This isn’t how any of you hoped this would go. The grief has made her stronger than before. It wasn’t exactly you were waiting for the chance for her to have a weak spot and try your luck, but you all had thought she might even be at least a little desperate for extra help.

Natasha’s face says it all: I told you so. You can only roll your eyes and resume with what you’re doing.

“Miss Maximoff, we only wish to help you. All we ask in return is that you grant us some territory to work with for our trade deals as payment for support lent to you to catch Rumlow.”

Thank you for Reading! (◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST — (Even though I doubt this is worth putting the taglist on, here it is anyway)

@alexawynters

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lovelettersbyj · 5 months

Text

Hunger For Power

Warnings: None.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem Reader (?).

Summary: Pearl Whitegrove is a fashion intern, who, after a few meetings with Coriolanus Snow, realizes that if she wants to be Panem's next top Fashion Designer, she has to make sure she's at Coriolanus' side when he inevitably gets into power. It helps that he's devastatingly attractive.

Word Count: 1,814.

A/N: After having watched the new Hunger Games movie, this idea popped into my head and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I wanted to create a character that was sort of the opposite of Tigris? A negative influence for Coriolanus that ultimately turns into a toxic love interest for him. I quickly wrote up this sort of intro to her character, so I hope you all enjoy! Also I should say, I've never read the books and I'm only going off of the movies/making up information. So I apologize if anything is slightly wrong/doesn't match.

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

“How’s that cousin of yours, Tigris?” Continuing to sew, I glanced up at the blonde haired woman who sat across from me. She was busy stitching some dark turquoise buttons to a white long-sleeved shirt, trying her best to hide from our mentor and boss Fabricia Whatnot.

She looked up at me with a stoic expression, then back down to her secret project. “He’s fine.”

I chuckled, returning my attention to my dress. In a few days, the 10th annual reaping ceremony would take place. I knew Coriolanus because of Tigris, and in the few conversations I’d had with him, I knew how powerful he could be. He was intelligent; speaking always with such an elegant charm that could convince anyone to listen and obey him. He’d choose his words carefully and completely analyze the situation in front of him before speaking. If he played his cards right, I could very well see Coriolanus Snow becoming the new President of Panem. That is, if Dean Casca Highbottom didn’t despise him as much as he did.

The door to Fabricia’s office swung open, her long magenta hair peeking out as she yelled out to us, “I want those designs done before the sun goes down today. Otherwise, neither of you are getting paid. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Madam Whatnot,” Tigris and I both nodded, never once making eye contact with her, and rather, continuing to sew at a faster pace.

Of course someone as incredibly stylish and knowledgeable in the fashion industry as Fabricia Whatnot was also something of a wicked demon. She was incredibly rude to her employees, particularly Tigris & I. Hired under the impression of an apprenticeship, we quickly met a much more grim fate in the form of slave labor. She took advantage of young capitol people with a hunger for fashion, tempting us with the idea of being able to one day create our own designs for the capitol students, citizens, and even Hunger Games tributes to dawn our clothing. So in the meantime, we worked long hours, had little rest, and even more little pay.

Hours had passed, and Tigris and I miraculously finished the designs Whatnot had asked for. With a wave of her bony hand, she dismissed us, and sliding on our coats we exited her office and made our way out of the office. Upon opening the large glass door to the front of the building, a somewhat scrawny, curly haired blonde man stood waiting with his back turned to us.

“Coryo,” Tigris spoke, and he turned, his eyes lighting up and a smile decorating his face, “What are you doing here?”

He walked over, taking her hand to help her down the last step, “Grandma’am told me you hadn’t come home yet, so I figured I’d come down to wait for you to finish work. I don’t want you walking home alone so late.”

I slipped my hands into my olive green coat, tilting my head slightly towards him. He had a slightly boyish look, with an air of innocence about him. But all the whispers about him were true, he was much more handsome up close.

“Coriolanus,” I smiled, “I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

His attention now switched over to me, a gleam in his eyes highlighting the striking pale blue color, “Pearl Whitegrove. It’s certainly been too long.” With a hand extended, I reached my palm out, placing my fingers carefully over his. Lifting his hand, his lips brushed over my knuckles ever so softly in a formal greeting. How warm his lips were, I thought.

“I hear you’re first in line for the Plinth Prize. You must be ecstatic. Finally, the Snow name is making a comeback.”

His lip curled up in a curt smirk, “Well, yes, I’ve studied hard and hope to be congratulated for my efforts. But all I want is to provide for my family.”

“Right,” I chuckled, glancing over to Tigris whose face slowly became more worried as she tucked herself behind Coriolanus’ back, “The fame and fast track into University would just be a bonus, huh?”

Silence. Just as I thought.

“Well, Coriolanus, I wish you the best of luck. If there’s one thing I know, is that you’ll find a way to succeed one way or another. You’ve got this… hunger in you. It drives you. I think ultimately it’ll guide you to what you want—” Tigris’ hand wrapped around Coriolanus’ arm in attempts to pull him away, “—If you allow it to take over.”

He looked down at her, placing a hand over hers before looking back to me, “Thank you, Pearl. Let’s hope you’re right.”

They turned away, walking towards the main road. Shortly after crossing, a familiar black car pulled up, with a man dressed in a charcoal colored tailcoat stepped out, extending a hand towards the open door for me.

“Yes, Coryo. Let’s.”

————————

10th Annual Reaping Ceremony

It seems as if a few days went by in a matter of seconds, and before I knew it, the Reaping Ceremony had arrived. In a strange change of heart, Fabricia Whatnot had excused everyone from coming into work that day and instead encouraged us to attend the ceremony.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about my last conversation with Coriolanus Snow. The way his blue eyes shimmered under the dim lights of the street lamps. How thin his frame was, hiding underneath his slightly oversized Academy uniform. His hair was so blonde and curly, a single strand hanging delicately just across his forehead. Every bit of my brain was obsessed with him, and I made it my mission to get him to feel the same.

Taking in a deep breath, I dusted off my golden yellow dress, grabbed my black coat and made my way out the door.

Entering the Academy building I was greeted with a sea of red and blue, students shuffling about the main floor as they met up with friends; greeted teachers. I glanced around in search of a familiar face, when I suddenly felt a hand land cautiously on my shoulder. Turning around, I was greeted with the same pair of eyes that hadn’t left my mind for days.

“Pearl,” His deep voice spoke, “What a surprise.”

Any sort of control I had to stop the smile from forming on my face completely failed me, “Coriolanus, hi.” Be cool. “I see Tigris’ secret project turned out well.”

Coryo furrowed his eyebrows, and I pointed to his shirt. He let out a small laugh, running a hand across his chest, “Oh yes. It came out quite well. I had her make a few modifications—”

“I know, she would always work on it when Whatnot wasn’t around. I figured it was for today.”

His cheeks flushed slightly, embarrassed at the fact that his cousin was scrambling to help him look his best. “So why are you here and not at work?”

We both turned, slowly walking up the staircase towards the ballroom, “Fabricia told us all not to come in and to attend today’s ceremony. She wouldn’t tell us why— I figured Tigris would be here?”

Coriolanus just shook his head, his face blank with confusion. Before he could respond, a short girl with long black hair seemingly appeared out of nowhere, slipping her arm to loop with Snow’s. “Coriolanus! It’s about time the prodigy student showed up.”

Her eyes met with mine, slightly narrowing as she analyzed everything about me. I cocked my eyebrow at her, unwaveringly unbothered by her. Except for the fact that she was about to steal Coriolanus away from me.

“I’m sorry— I’ll find you afterwards?” Snow looked directly at me, an apologetic tone in his voice. Glancing over to the strange girl, I nodded, looking back up at him with a soft smile.

I found my way to an open seat just across from the 24 chairs that had been placed for the graduating honors Academy students. I watched as Snow sat down in the first row, looking around the room before eventually finding me. He smiled as I gave him a small wave, which he returned gladly. A faint sensation of butterflies began to arouse deep in my stomach at the acknowledgement. Damn it. The ceremony began shortly after, with Dr. Volumina Gaul seemingly having crawled her way out of her laboratory and in front of the podium to give an opening speech, before introducing Dean Highbottom. He stood amongst the sea of red dressed Academy students, speaking cryptically about the Plinth Prize and the Reaping Ceremony. Upon reaching the front of the podium he revealed the sudden change; the 24 honor students were to compete as mentors for the tributes as a last attempt to prove their worthiness of the Plinth Prize money.

Gasps echoed throughout the room; mutters of protest and shock as everyone began to look around in desperation. My eyes were glued to Coriolanus’ face, whose jaw gaped ever so slightly in disbelief before looking up at me. I remained still; I didn’t know how to react.

Suddenly two large screens on the wall in front of the students clicked on, playing live footage of the Reaping ceremony. Boys and girls from each District appeared on screen as Highbottom read aloud the names of the tributes, and the student assigned to them. One by one, the tributes were handed out like livestock. I held my breath, terrified to hear Snow’s name, but it almost never came. Not until Highbottom arrived at District 12, assigning him to a girl by the name of Lucy Gray Baird.

My eyes narrowed at the screen as I watched her, analyzing the messily sewn, colorful dress that dawned her tiny figure. She had a natural beauty, but was covered in dirt and poorly applied makeup. She got into an altercation with the man who had just read out her name, which landed her a blow to the face, making her collapse to the floor of the stage she was on.

I whipped my head as the sound of a chair scraping against the floor alerted my senses, seeing now how captivated Coriolanus Snow was to the scene unfolding on the screen before him. Why was he so worried about her?

Anger was now the only emotion raging through me, or perhaps jealousy? Whatever it was, it was interrupted when a soft voice began to sing, echoing throughout the entire room. Everyone’s attention was back onto the screen, watching in a stark silence how Lucy Gray slowly stood back up as she sang some song. Additional voices from various District 12 members rang through before she screamed at the camera, extending her arms and taking a bow.

She is nothing but trouble. I looked back over at Coriolanus, but he didn’t return the glance. She can ruin everything.

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year

Text

In the ancient past, folks used to think that “progress” meant automating everything. You’d go to an automatic diner – an automat, in their futuristic speak – order some food from a little locker, and eat it without ever having to interact with another human being. And now, their dream has come (almost) true. Due to budget constraints, the cool shiny chrome and Art Deco styling has not happened. Instead, your local grocery store now has an automated checkout system which accuses you of shoplifting if the wind blows over your shopping bag while you’re trying to load it.

I’ve complained previously about the gall of this industrial-grade insult machine, and I won’t belabour the point further. The real point is: why didn’t restaurants turn into this, too? To answer this question, I posed as an independent news reporter by not showering for a week, and headed to the local sushi restaurant. Here, a robot “wait staff member” (no gendered language for robots, please: it produces ambiguity in their parse system) was ready to deliver my food to me, on demand, however much I wanted.

Like all computer-based things, I knew that the robot was designed by humans, and so was the fancy iPad they chained to the table that I could use to order food. And humans never think of things like “ordering a negative amount of food.” All I had to do was sit and drink my complimentary water, and plug in a keyboard to the iPad. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the “order quantity” indicator went up.. and up.. and up.. and up.. and after a couple hours of the robot not kicking me out, it went to 2,147,483,647, and overflowed the counter. Now, the iPad proudly displayed that I was ready to order negative two billion items of tuna sashimi. I decided to add a few other items to the order, and then pressed a button which I assumed to say “wench, fetch me my food.”

Friends, and I use that term loosely because I know at least some of you are undercover law enforcement, I did not expect for the restaurant’s robot to literally catch fire, its lithium-ion batteries rupturing in an unquenchable fire as I waited patiently for my meal. On the plus side, when the bill did come, ushered to me by the replacement wait-staff-bot, I swiped my credit card and made enough money to purchase a small tropical island. Maybe there really is something to this future business.

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honeysunai · 1 year

Text

Hostess| Kyoya Ootori x reader

Part eight - Operation : Make her happy

Pairing : Kyoya Ootori x reader

General rating : Fluff, enemies to love vibes

Word count : 5k

Summary: As only heir to your family you are bound to an arranged marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three.

This weekend, Haruhi and her father invited you to spend some time over their house because Haruhi needs more girl friends and experience sleep overs and such. You laughed at how bold and funny the two of them are and agreed, besides it’s not like you were busy. After quitting the Host Club a day ago and being in your feelings, you finished your homework and were too drained to want to practice any instruments or read anything. A friend would be better than anything else, right now that’s what you need.

“And so, they kind of kidnapped me to be in the Zuka Club.” Haruhi finishes her story and you laugh. You were both sitting at the table drinking coffee while still in pajamas.

“They do that often, don’t worry about it, they won’t press you if you say no.” You drink another sip of instant coffee and remind yourself to keep it together, because to this day, you still laugh that the boys at the club had no clue that this liquid gold existed before Haruhi arrived.

“I have to do some shopping today, I’ve grown out of a few shirts and I wanted to go get some new ones?”

“I’d love to come shopping with you! We can even bring your dad!” Your eyes were sparkling with joy, it’s the first time since you’ve made new friends you were going to shop with them. “If you’re interested, I can take both of your sizes and ask my mom for designer clothes.”

“That’s very kind of you, but we don’t do designer clothes.” She politely declines your offer. Shoot! Of course you went a bit too far, after all, Haruhi is a commoner and doesn’t care to have the fanciest of shirts.

“Speak for yourself!” Her father barges in the room and proceeds in deep details both of their sizes and and favorite colors. You took some notes before discreetly sending this info to your mom’s secretary even if you had promised Haruhi she won’t get anything.

“Hey, did you really quit the club?”

You didn’t even hesitate to lie, you just blurred out the truth to her. “Yeah… I just made a fool of myself and I don’t think it would be appropriate to come back after what happened.”

“I liked having you around, it was refreshing. Kyoya was on someone else’s back.” She jokes and you nudge her with your elbow. “Mori told Kyoya that he was a jerk and Tamaki had a meltdown after you left.”

“I bet they did.” You chuckle.

“None of us are angry with you, I promise, but I won’t force you to come back if you don’t want to.” How you wanted her to force you into going back. “Anyways. I don’t know if you need anything, it’s not as fancy as your mother’s couture, but feel free to shop around too.”

“I was planning to.” You smile. “Unlike Tamaki, I’m not awkward around “commoners”.” You try your best to imitate your friend and she laughs.

She scrunches her nose and smiles. “He does that often doesn’t he?”

“It’s part of his charm.” You add.

After an eternity in a local shop, Haruhi finally chose the three shirts she wanted. You, on the other hand, only picked out three bracelets, one for you, for Haruhi and Renge… Your two best friends. The one for Renge has large pink quartz beads, Haruhi’s are small red beads and yours has small lavender beads.

Haruhi was pulling a few dollars out of her wallet, but you stopped her giving the cashier your card instead.

“If that’s alright with you, I’d like to pay for the expenses of today. You’ve only been kind and patient with me since we met. As a friend I would like to return the favor by paying for your purchases.” Your voice was noble and full of good intentions.

She scoffs in shock. “I can’t accept it.”

“It would be a pleasure, plus you’ve fed me and sheltered me this weekend as your own sister.” She clearly wasn’t taking your bluff anymore.

“You’re really not going to let it go, huh?” Haruhi asks, a bit annoyed, and you shake your head.

“I’ll even make you feel guilty if I talk long enough.” You joke and she giggles. She finally agreed and soon, you were on your way to her home.

As you approached the building, you saw a black Mercedes parked in front of Haruhi’s home… It had to be the Host Club, who else would bother Haruhi on a weekend like this? You didn’t really want to see them today, especially after you made up your mind on giving back the uniform tomorrow after club activities. You were too much of a coward to face them now, you wouldn’t be able to do so the day after.

“I have to go home, I forgot my French homework is due tomorrow.” You tried to lie hoping Haruhi wouldn’t see right through it.

“Aren’t you fluent in french?” She asked.

“Fluent or not, I still have to do it!” Right now she reminded you of Mauri with her cold stare.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She smiled and you were thankful she believed in your lie.

“Haru! Y/n!” Honey’s voice rang like thunder in your ears as he called the both of you. You clenched your jaw tightly before spinning around and met him with a bright smile. “We came to see you.” The rest of the group finally noticed their fellow member had left and joined you three.

“Well, it’ll have to just be me, y/n has a French homework due tomorrow.” Haruhi smiles at Honey.

“The homework is for next week, silly.” Tamaki snorted and you wanted to disappear. A soft chuckle echoes to the back of the group and you glared at Kyoya’s shit eating grin.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you glared at Kyoya. “What are you laughing at, clownfish?”

“Your poor attempt to flee us is just hilarious to me.” He adds and you swear you saw red.

Tamaki cuts in before you get the chance to speak. “What he meant was that we are here to spend the most fun day together as a family.”

“No we are not.” You snort.

“Yes we are and we are starting with some bookstore fun!” He says proudly as he grabs both you and Haruhi and yanks you inside the Mercedes.

“Tamaki! That’s kidnapping what you just did there!” You yelled as he put your seatbelt on for you.

“We are on a mission today and it’s to make you happy so stop yelling and enjoy your day with us!” He yells back and you shut your mouth. They wanted to make you happy. Were you unhappy? “We are going to the Nakajima Library.”

You stayed silent the entire ride, you did not want to speak to any of them. They kidnapped you!

But they did it so you could be happy… It’s still kidnapping!

You’ve arrived at your destination and you can’t believe your eyes… It’s grandiose. You can’t believe you never went there yet. Obviously it’s attached to a university and obviously you don’t go there yet. You are meant to go to the US for your higher studies, but you’re really considering going to this one instead. All of your friend's eyes are on you. You felt Kyoya’s burning holes behind your head, but never looked back at him as you took the first step towards the library.

A smile was pinned on your face as you entered the colosseum shaped library. The dim lights warmed the place with a beautiful orange like light. You felt like you were back in Rome.

You’ve been to Rome once in your life and you fell in love with the place. It was one of the only family vacations you’ve been on with both your parents. A month in the warm weather of Italy with your loving parents, without their work coming in the way. You strut confidently between bookshelves making sure to browse the titles as you go, it’s mostly books for the students that are part of this university. Tamaki’s bubbly self, followed you like a puppy and offered you books to read. You settled on a science book he offered you that you never knew about and brought it to an empty table so you could read it in peace.

Peace didn’t last too long, as all of the Host Club brought their own books to your table. To “read”, but other than Haruhi actually reading, the rest of them stared at you. Minutes have passed and they still haven’t stopped watching you.

“How long should we stay here for?” Hikaru whispers under his breath.

“Until y/n is satisfied.” Tamaki whispers back aggressively.

Haruhi snorts. “Bold of you to assume she will ever get satisfied after one book.”

You smile quickly at Haruhi’s words without ever looking up from your book. Soft fingers brushes hair behind your ear. You looked at the person beside you and was surprised Kyoya sat there, his whole body facing you. “Your hair was in the way.” He only whispers before getting back to his book. What was that all about? You feel your cheeks heating up, but shook off that feeling.

After a few hours of reading and hearing Hikaru and Kaoru groaning, you’ve had enough and Tamaki, once again, dragged you outside like he was kidnapping you, yanking you in the car and you were on your way somewhere else.

The car ride, this time, seemed more lively and chatty. It was warm and familiar. It was as if everything was normal and you liked that, hell even loved it.

After a few minutes, the car parked on the side of the road and exited the vehicle. You were left in front of a rather beautiful industrial building that seemed modern and new.

“Where are we?” You ask as you all walked up to the gates and were allowed inside without question.

Mori speaks. “Your mother told us that you like that very fancy coffee.” This is the new factory of the French coffee brand you always drink at home. “Tamaki’s French heritage helped us get inside.”

“The owner knows my father, so we were able to get a free tour of the factory and some samples!” The blond man says excited as you meet a beautiful tall woman waiting for you at the door.

“Welcome! We are really excited to have you visit our factory Miss y/n.” The woman shook your hand. “I’m Elise Hanako.” The combination of the French and Japanese names made you uneasy, but for politeness sake you ignored that funny feeling and smiled properly. “Danuja Hanako, the owner and also my father, gave me his property in Japan so that we can localize our french coffee.”

“It’s an honor to be in your presence, Miss Hanako.” You were eager to visit the factory.

“I’ve been informed that you are a huge fan of our brand.” You blushed. “That’s great! I do hope our factory will live up to your expectations.” She adds and the automatic doors behind her open letting all of you enter the building.

This place did not look like a coffee factory, it looked like a high tech law firm or some sort. The interior was in this mix of black and dark wood with plants here and there. Everyone was dressed in a proper way, just like at your father’s workplace. Miss Hanako explains that the magic happens behind the scenes and proceeds to show you where the coffee beans were sorted out and how they were packaged. People dressed like scientists were inspecting every bean before sending it in the “good bin”... Maybe that’s why your coffee was so expensive.

The factory was huge and you appreciated every second Hanako spoke up to explain how things were made and was kind and patient over your millions of questions you asked over the tour.

“This concludes our tour and I do hope you enjoyed yourselves.” You all answered with a polite “yes, thank you” and Miss Hanako was pleased with that. “I almost forgot! I have two bags of our new batch that’s coming up next month, Cherry Flower and Chocolate Pecan Caramel.” She snapped her fingers and one of the workers carefully placed two bags in your arms. “My assistant sent you my personal email, so please do give me feedback.” You were in awe. “Get home safe kids.” She smiled before you exited the building to the car.

You were shocked that they would go beyond anything to make you happy, they were true friends. “Thank you–”

“Don’t thank us yet!” Tamaki shouts over you. “One last stop, the orchestra.” The Orchestra!?

“You don’t mean–”

“The best musicians around Japan? Yes, I mean that Orchestra.” He smirks. You were there at the presale, but never got the chance to get tickets. You wondered how they got eight of them. “But we can’t go dressed as commoners.” He adds and Haruhi slaps him behind his head.

You didn’t look awful at all, you thought you all were a bit underdressed for the occasion, but no one would notice. Right?

“Pick whatever outfit you want, it’s on Kyoya.” Tamaki bumps his friend with glasses and he smiles as if he was forced to do so. You gave him a look that almost said : “You just learned that as well?” You all stopped at The Thread Maker, the town's finest clothing store.

“All of you, pick an outfit I’ll pay for it.” He adds and you smile at him, a bold and bright smile.

You all scattered around the store and looked around. You kind of wanted to take advantage of Kyoya and decided to go to the more expensive part of the already expensive store. You didn’t even have to think twice, the dress in front of the mannequin was the one you would buy. No price tag = pricey. It’s a scarlet red Queen-Anne shape with a leg slit dress. It’s a fully flared gown, floor length with a corset built in with embroidered floral details all over it. It was from your second favorite designer (after your mother) Teuta Matoshi. Honey’s voice was heard behind you, ordering a worker to let you try it on. You were dragged by another worker inside a cabin… After this day, you won’t let anyone drag you anywhere ever again!

You look at yourself in the mirror and surprisingly it’s a perfect fit all the way around, not too long, not too short, not too big or tight. It was perfect and you looked absolutely beautiful.

When you came out of the dressing room, you only found Haruhi in another beautiful pink dress that made her look more feminine. The dress was tight on her and she is probably making Tamaki drool, because you sure would’ve. The guys were sitting on the couch in complete silence, their eyes all over you both.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Haruhi asked and none of them were answering. You couldn’t help but glance at Kyoya that had his eyes on your body already. You put on a show and twirled.

“My idea of a perfect day would be if you all were dressed too and not undressing us with your eyes.” You chuckle and they all cough and grunt, suddenly bashful of their actions. They rushed to get a suit and you stood there with Haruhi enjoying each other’s company.

They all come out at the same time from the dressing room and they all are dressed the same, black and white suit with black ties. They look amazing! The last one to come out was Kyoya and when he appeared out the curtain he was playing with a red bow tie around his neck. The other’s were holding their laughter at the sight of him being the only one with a bow tie.

You chuckled under your breath as you approached Kyoya to fix his matching bow. He froze under your touch and you just couldn’t hold your giggles any longer. “Tamaki said we would all wear bow ties because that would’ve made you laugh, but it seems I’ve fallen right into his trap.” He grunts. “I look ridiculous.”

“You do.” You smile. “In a good way.” You add. “We are going to be late if we keep mocking our dear Kyoya!” Mori gave you his arm that you gladly took and walked back to the car where you’d wait for Kyoya to pay.

The conversation between all of you was even more lively and joyful, you were really excited to go see The Orchestra. Once you arrived at the place, you weren’t confident that this was the auditorium they usually play at, but you let it go once you entered and saw the beauty of the place you were in. Red walls and gold decors, with crystal chandeliers made you feel like you were in a movie. Mori took your arm and led you to golden doors that two workers opened grand and wide for you to realize this was an empty ballroom.

You were confused and asked: “Are we early?”

“We are right on time.” Kaoru answer.

The empty room made you a bit uneasy, but once you stepped inside the large red curtain lifted to reveal The Orchestra on stage. It’s a private concert… You spin around to meet Tamaki’s gaze and he smiled proudly at the utter shock on your face.

“May I have this dance?” Mori asked you and you nodded, not entirely sure of what to do. He leads you to the center of the ballroom and once you do, the musicians start to play. Melodious sounds of violin echoes in the room, followed by loud cellos. Tears were filling your eyes, but you blinked them away. They organized this whole day for you, and only you.

Mori spins you around, letting go of your hand so you were now partnered with Kyoya who held you tightly against him as you swayed with him. The other’s picked each other as partners and danced to the same rhythm as you were with Kyoya. You both stayed silent as he twirled you around slowly and brought your back against his chest, swaying you gently this way.

“I did not know you danced this well.” You whispered with a hint of humor.

He brought his lips close to your ear and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “I’m glad my efforts are being appreciated, these last four years of dance lessons are being used well.” At that you laughed.

You danced for hours with your friends to the most beautiful songs who, on multiple occasions, brought tears.

At the very end of the concert, you all applaud the musicians and the conductor for their performance. You were ready to leave, but an unfamiliar voice called your name, and it was none other than Ayaka Saito, the cello player you looked up to since forever, walking towards you. You felt your knees go weak, she was the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, she looked like she was royalty.

“Y/n, this is for you.” She smiles as she hands you the bow that she used tonight to play with her autograph on it. “I heard you’re a great musician, with lots of potential.” You couldn’t seem to stop smiling without ever saying words. “Our manager would be interested to hear you play, especially if what your friends said is true. There would be a spot for you once you graduate if you impress Sara Nakamura.” Your jaw was on the floor. The Sara Nakamura! She is the face of the classical music industry in the modern era and she wants to hear you play? You were on the verge of fainting.

You finally spoke to her in the calmest way possible. “It’s an honor to hear this coming from you, you are the one who made me start to play cello.” She smiles even more. “I would be even more honored to play for you and Miss Nakamura.”

“Her assistant will send you information concerning this invitation.” She adds. “I bid you all good night.” She says before giving you a friendly hug. You were going to faint.

Once again you had to be dragged inside the car because you were frozen in place. You talked like a maniac the whole way back to your house. You were so happy to have finally met your musical idol tonight and that you’ve been given an extra rare opportunity.

As the vehicle parks in front of your front gate you finally take a few deep breaths, the adrenaline wearing off. You hugged all of your friends inside the car and exited the car.

“We will see you for an early meeting tomorrow morning!” Tamaki smiles and yours drops.

“Look guys…” You sigh. “I really appreciate what you did for me all day, but I’m okay I promise, I’m not sad.” It was a plain lie. “I just don’t have the heart to be the Host you want me to be anymore.” You tried to give your friends the coffee beans from France and returned the bow to them, but none of them tried to take it.

“Keep it, please.” Tamaki’s soft smile broke your heart. “It’s a gift for you.”

You nod and thank them again without ever glancing at Kyoya, you turned your back to them and headed inside your home. They did succeed to make you happy today, but when the door closed behind you, tears were falling down your cheeks as you held the objects tightly to your chest.

You drop your neatly folded uniform on the tea table and sigh. You really loved your club, but it was better this way. You linger a while staring at the blue fabric that you were giving up. You were never one to give up, but recently you have. You gave up on Kyoya, your family duties, your plan to get another financé, you also gave up on your club, your friends… You were tired and disappointed in yourself. You wanted to get better and be better.

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” A deep voice makes you gasp out loud by surprise. Kyoya.

Your hand was on your heart. “Good God! You scared me.”

He did not care for your reaction. “You don’t have to leave the club.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Did they ask you to tell me this?”

“They have told me multiple times, but I chose to.” He starts. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t change my mind.” You scoff.

“I know, you are stubborn as a mule.” He lightly chuckles.

“If that’s all, I’ll go. I have somewhere else to be.” You lied and started to walk towards the exit, but he put himself in front of you.

“Why did you do all of this?” You were confused. “Why did you want Koichi over me?”

You scoff, absolutely baffled by what he was asking. “Because you don’t love me, Kyoya.” It was as simple as that. “Because liking on only one side is just too hard to do. You refuse to fall in love with me no matter how much I try to be perfect for you.” He was silent. You took that time to walk past him in a rush but stopped as you heard his voice once again.

“I can’t fall in love with you. I– I can’t because if I do I am afraid I’ll end up doing the same mistake my parents did. They fell in love and then… They didn’t. It ruined the relationships between the family.” The look in his eyes… It was painful and sad, Kyoya was hurt. It probably took a lot of his courage to finally admit you spent months trying to figure out. Seeing him lose his composure in front of you saddened you. “It became a competition between me and my brothers, my mother being sad all– all of the time… My father… He doesn’t give any of us breaks, he’s relentless and he just cares about success. He doesn’t care about us, my brothers and I… My mother, his own wife who he is supposed to love and to cherish…” He was out of breath, all these feelings were finally out. “That’s why I can’t fall in love with you, because I don’t ever want you to end up like my mother if I end up like my father.”

It took you a good ten seconds to analyze what he had just confessed to you. All of it. Your heart broke for him and his family. No matter how much you wanted to console him, that was not what you needed to say. “That’s not good enough.” Was what came out of your mouth. He was perplexed. “That’s not good enough.” You repeated. “It’s not good enough for all of the times you put yourself in the way of a guy I talked to. For all the times you were kind and flirty and then you weren’t. It’s just not good enough.” He was hurt by your words, you knew it. His eyes couldn’t lie. “Is this hypothesis worth more than hurting me?” He doesn’t answer, but never breaks your gaze. You wanted to break and cry, but you stood your ground proud and strong just like your father taught you. “I can’t marry someone who’s afraid to take a leap and fall in love with me. I guess trying to make you feel what I felt was too demanding.”

“You loved me?”

“Does it matter? You don’t care, Kyoya. You don’t care about what my favorite songs are, you don’t care about my favorite books… Even Koichi was interested in what book was next on my list and he didn’t even love me one bit.” You scoff.

“It’s Lucy by the sea.”

“What?”

“Your next read. It’s Lucy by the sea.” You were confused as to how he knows. “I got a hold of your list from your maid to know what book I should buy you next, in every stupid edition possible because that would make you happy. But no… I don’t care, right?” You were taken back from this confession. “I wore that stupid tie to make you laugh, I organized the whole day with Tamaki so that you would be able to understand that I am sorry.” He adds and something in your heart pinches. He made it all happen so that you would forgive him, but that’s not what you needed nor wanted from him.

“It’s still not enough.” You whisper with tears in your eyes. You blink them away before turning your back ready to leave the music room, you had enough.

“Fuck.” He whispered before running after you, yanking you to the side to trap you between the wall and him. You wanted to push him away, but couldn’t as he lowered his head to crash his lips against yours. It was sudden and gentle. His lips tasted like mint and were so soft against yours. He was so careful with his next movements, his warm hands cradled your face opening your mouth just enough so his tongue could cross the borders of your lips to devour you entirely. Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck asking, begging for more. More touch, more passion, more of anything, you only wanted him. You raked your hands in his hair and fuck did it do something to him, his hand gripped your hips with such strength moving you against his thigh between your legs. It was so erotic you moaned against his lips which made him smirked. He pulled away enough to look at you in the eyes, truly look at you. “Don’t cry because of me.” He whispers stroking your cheeks so, so slowly, you want to melt in his touch. You pull him by his tie so his lips are on yours again. Your hands roamed his chest and shoulders and my god he was muscular, the uniforms didn’t do him a favor. His hands were snacking around your waist underneath your dress shirt, memorizing the curves of your body. His touch was warm and soft, you were hypnotized by him. He slowly pulled away to kiss your cheek, then all the way up your jaw to leave one soft kiss under your ear.

“Do you know how long I've wanted this?” He whispers in your ear. You were so warm, you thought perhaps you were running a fever, but one of Kyoya's hands carefully unbuttoned two of the buttons of your dress shirt, you knew you weren’t having any fever dreams. You looked up at him and you could see his gaze linger on your chest slightly exposed before facing you again. Hunger and lust was the only thing you could see in him. Without ever looking away, his fingers pushed the collar of your shirt to the side so your shoulder was bare for him. His featherlike kisses tickled your skin as he left a trail of them to the side of your neck all the way to your shoulder. He gently nibbled the sensible skin with his lips and tongue teasing you in a way that had you softly moaning, reprimanding for more. He smirked against your bare shoulder before biting the skin that had you rolling your eyes.

The bell snapped the both of you out of our interaction making him pull away from you. You sigh in disapproval, you didn’t want him to leave now that you truly kissed him. He went to open the door, but stopped without looking at you. “Keep the uniform,” He spoke slowly : “and don’t replace me.” That’s what it was about… He wanted to prove you needed him, that he was better. He was jealous. Two can play that game especially if you are better at it.

You were back in your uniform and ready to conquer the day as you walked into the Music Room number 3 the day after, slamming your hand on the tea table in front of Tamaki. “I want in.”

“Excuse you?” He asked before sipping his tea.

“I want my role back in the Host Club, I am so sorry for how mean I was that day. But this club means a lot to me and I made a promise to you that I want to keep.” You were practically begging for him to take you back.

“What changed?” Hikaru asks.

“I guess your operation worked a little too well.” You smirk.

“You’re still in the Host Club, you don’t need permission to come back.” Tamaki smiles and you nod. You turn back to Kyoya and he smirks at you before deviating his gaze back to his laptop.

Maybe it's not about finding someone else, maybe you just need another approach towards Kyoya and if it’s through challenges and working each other up that you’ll get through him, so be it.

AN: Hi everyone! So sorry it took so long for this update, this chapter was written, deleted, written, deleted... like a thousand times. I hope this chapter filled your heart with some Kyoya love. I hope you all had wonderful holidays and since today, for me, is still Dec 31. I hope you all have a great 2023 filled with love and happiness! I promise y/n and Kyoya will get some happiness and love in 2023 as well.

#Kyoya #Kyoya Ootori #ohshc kyoya #kyoya smut #kyoya x reader #kyoya fluff #ohshc anime #OHSHC #ohshc fanfic #ohshc smut #ouran host club #ouran high school host club #ouran academy #ouran au #ouran x reader #enemies to lovers #arranged marriage #anime

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ghouljams · 9 months

Note

AHHHHH Ghoul please soap and moon are everything. God i love them so much, please let us see a soap POV of him realizing the moment he was in love with moon, i need to see a tired moon and a lovesick soap pinning over them in their PJ’s

(Side note i think it would be hilarious if moon had like the most random pajamas- I’m talking little duck design onesie type stuff that they got as a gag gift but it’s too comfortable to get rid off. Soap seems like the typa guy to see that and fall hard.)

-Lurk 👁️

More 1870s Soap and Moon. When Soap falls he falls hard.

Soap raps his knuckles against the back door of the saloon, loud enough to wake even the most devoted of sleepers. He's not usually a runner but telegrams are an exception for everyone. He's about to knock again when the door is pulled open. His gaze is forced down to look at you. You look like you're steamin' for being woken up.

"What?" You snap, and he has to readjust his brain a little. When he'd heard someone new had taken over business he'd expected someone else. Not pretty little you.

"Telegram," He says, holding up the paper. Christ, usually he's got more to say. You swipe the card from his hand and lean against the door frame to read it. Soap wonders if you're used to seeing people in your bed clothes. The soft white cotton drapes so prettily over you he really hopes it's just him that gets to see you like this.

"You better come in," You sigh, and he wants to hear you say it again. Wants to hear you sigh his name with the same tired sweetness. You wave him into the back room of the building and he's careful to close the door tight behind him. Eager to keep you away from any other prying eyes. "Sorry to have you do this, I figure you don't work for the post," You tell him over your shoulder.

"I don't mind," Soap responds. He really doesn't, anything to spend another minute with you. Anyone else and he might kick up a fuss. You open another door and wander into the empty saloon.

"Can give you a drink for the trouble if you like." He wants to ask what you'd give him if he didn't, but that seems ungentlemanly and you've already made your way behind the bar.

"Bad news?"

"No just," You press the heel of your hand against your eye to wipe at the sleep still clinging to it with a yawn as you pick coins out of your cash register, "annoying news," you hum, counting out pennies.

You grab a pencil and flip over the telegram, scribbling out a reply on the back. He sneaks a peak down your nightclothes as you're bent over, then curses himself for it. Soap is used to those thoughts, and they absolutely swirl around his head: what do you feel like under his hands, under him, around him? It's the softer ones that are new: what would it feel like to eat supper with you, to catch your eye while he's shaving? What it would be like to wake up next to you? Would your reluctance to wake up make you cuddle closer? How does your kiss taste first thing in the morning? You look so soft, he'd be a fool not to wanna scoop you up.

"That should do it," You say, yanking him out of his thoughts. You're holding the telegram card out to him, your hand outstretched with the required funds stacked neatly on top. He takes it carefully. He likes the neat tight loops of your handwriting. "You want that drink now or later Mister..."

"Soap- John- Johnny," He can't decide which he wants to hear you say more, your brows raise a little higher with each name.

"Soap," You settle, must not be the familiar type. That's alright, plenty of time for you to call him by his name when you're married. Unless you're already married. His eyes dart to your left hand. Bare. Thank the lord.

"I'd take that drink later," He decides, "gives me time to plan my proposal, Miss..."

"Moon." You fill in without missing a beat.

"That's the saloon's name."

"And it's my name too, what about it?" You ask, clearly annoyed by this line of questions. You must be waking up, some of the softness in your expression is gone, replaced by sharp intelligent eyes and a slight frown.

"Nothing, I'm just workin' it into my vows. Rich or poor, sickness and health, strange nicknames and better baby names." Soap grins, leaning against the bar. You glare at him.

"Says the man named after a cleaner," You point towards the saloon doors, "Out before I throw you out, it's too early for me to deal with flirts."

"Well when can you deal with them?"

"Out," You stress, walking around the bar to physically push him towards the door. Oh, you are so cute. He wonders if the lingering touch of your fingers against his back is appreciative or wanting. He's got a whole lifetime to find out, and a door slammed behind him certainly isn't going to stop him. No, he's made up his mind. One way or another, he's marrying you.

#cowboy!Soap #oc: moon #johnny soap mactavish x oc #johnny soap mactavish #soap x oc #johnny soap mactavish x reader #x oc #cod x oc #1870s!cowboy #God I love writing them and I know I say that every time but only because it's true #Soap and Moon's banter is everything to me #he always knows she wants him and she never believes he wants her #match made in heaven #lurk #👁️ anon

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btnclmrttn · 2 years

Text

OPM NSFW HEADCANONS (PT.1)

Guys I swear I am not trying to drag ass my remaining requests are just long and I want best effort take this in mean time I love u

Ppl think it's just not something he thinks about that often, but he's a very low key pervert

He can be perceived as dominant, but he just slightly leans to it. He's blunt and assertive about these things. It's nice to not be the one always in control but he absolutely can take control if he felt like it. Just depends on how he's doing in life

Always checking you out and hardly anyone could notice. It's because he takes just one good look and starts spacing out with some thoughts of his

The more excited he is the more creative he is. Sometimes it's just some classic position but he's put you against a wall a couple times, holding you up with your knees to your chest

Even if he's being slow and gentle, you can tell when he's starting to lose it cause it gets just a little rougher and progresses from there. Take it if you can or just let him know

Decently vocal and very whiny when you're in control

Likes watching you put on a little show. Don't let him do anything to himself as he watches you and it gets him going

With his strength, you aren't going to have much room to squirm. If ykwim

Has great stamina, but he's just fine with one, maybe two rounds. If he really wants more but you really can't he'll just give you kisses all over your body and praise you. It don't bother him at all that you likely won't ever have equivalent stamina

By some chance you do? And strength? News reports in several cities for "earthquakes"

Always takes a bath with you after to get you cleaned and cuddles with you

I REFUSE to argue. Switch

Honestly more perverted than you would think and is pretty shameless about it

Like he isn't gonna lie, he's upfront. Sometimes during situations probably best to not to say anything but oh well

He's always on his hero business so it's often he isn't around, so sexting came to be a thing with you two. Send him some pictures while he's out you'll be in for it when he gets back

Always at ur place so he doesn't disturb his teacher's peace

Anything squishy on you is an absolute. Tummy, thighs, chest, he wants it. He'll stare if he sees it. Rly likes body worshipping you. Guide his hands where you want he'll be steaming

As much as he's studied you, he knows by now what you want and has some things to try he thinks you'll like based on his studies. Like your horny algorithm

Excellent at keeping consistent motions. Great with his hands, although he'd likely have to put on a glove designed for finger activities to avoid injuring you

Tries his best with dirty talk but that's if he can even talk. It's easy to fuck him stupid. Isn't very vocal, his machinery sort of gets in the way of that.

He does not cum, and you can only overstimulate him so much before his body forcefully shuts down to avoid overheating his shit. Basically you could knock his ass out if you played your cards right

Aftercare KING over here. He got you best blankets, best snacks, he's a personal heater, best praise. Can't go wrong with it

Menace to this society if given the opportunity to be horny

He likes to tease. Downright a shithead with how much he uses it, but it's so very worth it

It's sort of to cover up his inexperience. Quick learner and is down to try anything. Consistently spicing up the bedroom. Loves using toys and vibrators

Gets a bit nuts if you're in a bit of a helpless position, like bound up or pinned under him. You can just tell he's resisting just ruining you

He's fucking YOU stupid, whether it's intentional or not. Could make you see every god with each backshot.

If its more passionate and intimate he's more submissive and doesn't like it being pointed out. It will transition into straight fucking quickly if you do

Actually really big about petting and foreplay. He likes you on his thigh, or pinned with it, kissing you slowly and sloppily all over your neck and your lips.

I think it's obvious he's into biting. He bites to make his whining less noticable. He can get VERY loud and it embarrasses him how much you can make him loose it

He wants EVERYONE to know how good you get it, and leaves hickeys and bites in the most noticable spots

Dude loves some good ol' twist twist sloppy toppy, and gives it back just as good. He can hold his breath for a long ass time, and you taste like the best thing he's ever had

Let's be fr, aftercare took him a minute to get the hang of. He wasn't horrible but again, inexperience. Very clingy cuddler in all.

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wandafiction · 3 months

Text

How Much?! - Just Us Chapter 3

Warnings: Suggestive themes

Word Count: 1644

Series List | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

================================

The elevator ride was calm compared to the car ride, Wanda was lent against me with one arm wrapped around mine and the other holding my bicep of the same arm. Her head was leaning against my arm just below my shoulder, now I could take in how tall I was compared to her, a relaxed smile on her face as we both looked at one another through the reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator.

I also don't feel like slamming her up against the wall and making her cum once again. I think she feels the same, as she seems more relaxed than when we were in the club and the car. Maybe I should offer her a drink and chat before anything else. No, I will offer her a drink, and we will do this at her pace. She has never been with a woman before...well now she has...but I want to make sure she is comfortable this whole night. So her pace.

"Penthouse suite?" Wanda's gaze moved from looking at me to the sign in the elevator letting us know we had arrived.

"Uh, yeah this is my floor. Well two floors." I shuffled on my feet a little, I always hated showing off my wealth too much. Nothing screams rich fucker like a 2 story penthouse at the top of an already expensive apartment building practically made for the richer people of New York.

"Do you mind me asking what job you have to be able to have a two floor penthouse?" Wanda's voice wavered a bit trying to gauge what I would do.

The elevator bell dinged, the doors opening straight into the entrance hall. And before you think 'oh surely anyone can access the penthouse then'. No. The building has an interface system where you have to have a key card, or if you're like me and sometimes forget your key card, a password as well to be able to access past a certain floor. However, even then the cards and passwords are linked to a particular floor number so you can't access anything but yours. The only way someone could possibly get into my pent house without any of that is with a guest password, and each one of those is different so you know who accessed your place and when.

Pretty neat if you ask me. My friend Tony Stark came up with the idea when building this place, making sure I specifically got the top floor and allowed me to design my penthouse myself. He is a good friend.

Anyway, back to Wanda's question.

"No, it's fine. I am a business woman, CEO of a tech company that works in the medical field and also a partner in my friend's tech business."

"Wow, so earning the big bucks." I stifle a laugh.

"Yes, something like that. Drink?" I pull her to the kitchen area where I have a large wine fridge and then another fridge with beers and other alcoholic beverages in it.

"Red wine please." Wanda makes herself home on one of the stools at the kitchen's island.

"Any preferences?" I turn with the best two bottles of wine I have holding them up to her. "Château Ausone 2003 or Château Lafite 2010?"

"I don't know. I've never had either before. Whatever you think is best for tonight." She looks like she wants to ask another question as I open the Ausone.

"You can ask me Wanda." I turn around with a wine glass in hand passing it off to her, as she looks slightly confused about how I knew.

"How much does a bottle of Ausone cost? Because you opened it like it wasn't that much. I mean it sounds posh and expensive. Sorry it doesn't matter." She takes a sip of her drink to stop her rambling.

"It's okay Wanda I promise. You're allowed to ask these questions, you're just curious I get that."

"Okay well how much does it cost?" She asks with a cheeky grin on her face.

"That one is the St Emilion Grand Cru. So roughly $1200 a bottle." I hear Wanda choke slightly at my answer, but she quickly covers her mouth recovering from her momentary choke.

"Sorry, but that's more than my monthly rent. Wow. It definitely tastes like a $1200 bottle of liquid courage." She then takes another sip, now obviously savouring the drink.

"Well you can't blame me for that one. It was a gift, it's been sitting there a while. So why not treat you to it." I raise my glass to my mouth watching her reaction.

"Oh so this is your saving for a rainy day wine?" She jokes.

"Exactly. I had no one to share it with till now, so I thought fuck it, otherwise it will never get drunk otherwise." She hums in response. "Any other questions for me princess?"

"Why the name princess? Also is it rude if I ask how much you earn a year? I mean I'm just curious, you know, expensive wine in a two story penthouse. You have to be bringing home the bacon right?" Wanda places her empty glass on the counter, and I move to top it up again as I think of an answer.

"I don't really know. It was the first thing to pop into my head when trying to fluster you, which worked by the way." She blushes slightly as I continue. "I mean I don't call anyone princess, never have. It just seemed fitting. And as for how much I earn, are you sure you really want to know?"

"Hmm, I mean I don't have a name for you. You're just y/n. Why? Is it a lot?" Wanda tilts her head in question.

"Y/n is just fine. I don't need to go by anything else. Define a lot. What is a lot of money for you Wanda?"

"Well I have a 2 bedroom apartment that costs me around $1000 a month. I'm not poor in that sense of the word, I always have spare money and savings and my salary is decent. But a lot would be...I don't know...let's set the benchmark at $500'000." I finished off my glass of wine, liking my lips cleaning them of wine not missing Wanda's eyes darting down to watch the movement.

"Then I earn waaaay more than alot. Like I asked before, are you really sure you want to know?" This time I tilt my head in question.

"Can I guess? And then you say higher or lower?" She shuffles on the stool excitedly at the prospect of the small guessing game.

"Of course go ahead."

"Uhmm a lot more than $500'000 so 1.2 mil?" I point my finger upwards to indicate it's higher. "2 million?" Again I point upwards. "5 million?"

"Much higher."

"12 million?"

"Multiply that by five." It takes no longer than a second to do the Maths.

"60 million! A year? Holy shit!"

"I make anywhere between 60 to 85 million. However, I put a lot of it back into the company and help start up small businesses and of course give to charity."

"So what do you indulge in? Because every millionaire has something they spend lots of money on. So spend money on houses, cars or even islands? So what is y/ns favourite thing to spend money on?"

"I am a car person myself, but I tend to buy rust buckets and fix them up myself. Of course I have luxury cars and that but they are more for formal events just for publicity and all that, my PR team seems to think it helps the company and so on and so forth. But in all honesty I like treating my friends most if all. What would you spend the money on if you had that sort of income?"

"I would love to say the same as you. You know, help others in need, give to smaller businesses and friends and family. However, if I jump from my salary to your salary I am spoiling myself first. Car, house, the whole nine yards." We both laugh at her honesty. "Now though I think I'm done with the small talk." Her voice is low, her pupils dilate as she speaks.

"Yeah and what have you got in mind princess?" I lean closer to her whispering in her ear, a shiver going down her spine.

"I think we should take this to the bedroom." Wanda sighs when I start nibbling at her ear.

"Oh yeah? And what do you want to do once we are there princess?" I move my hands to her thighs slowly moving them up and down.

"You tell me?"

"Well princess. I am going to make this the best night of your life. You're going to be screaming my name so loud you forget your own, your legs squeezing around my head as I bring you so much pleasure you won't be able to feel them in the morning. I'm going to find every little spot that sets you off and leave a beautiful purple bruise on them to remind you of how I made you feel." A small fuck leave her mouth, her legs closing slightly to gain some form of friction as I speak. "So princess, are you ready for me to take full control of you tonight?"

"Fuck. Yes. Please. Just fuck me already."

"I have your complete consent?" Just got to double check to make sure it is truly what she wants.

"Yes, now please fuck me y/n."

"What's the safe word?"

"Red."

"Good girl." A low groan leaves her lips as I pull her off the stool, her legs wrap around my waist as I start to carry her out of the kitchen.

Tonight is going to be fun.

================================

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #just us series

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manjiroscum · 2 years

Text

COTTONTAIL

Character/s: Bonten!Manjiro Sano

Warnings: f!reader, explicit sex, mature language, hybrid au, established relationship, reader is a bunny hybrid, mentions of past kidnapping, reader is an airhead, tiny angst, cunnilingus, rough sex, creampie, breeding kink, heat cycles, unprotected sex, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

Note: commissioned by bby grey @meganemoon 💖🥺 thank you so much and hope u like it luv!

Synopsis: Mikey would do anything for his wife—even hightail out of an important meeting.

WC: 2.7k

Ginza Six, everyone's favorite mall—or so your old friends used to say for the heck of it whenever you guys passed the area after class just to seem relevant. Their snobbishness always irked you, but in a place where friendships were hard to come by, especially for hybrids, you never complained. Pretty little head too wrapped up in the thought that despite how mean they can be, they were still your friends. The building’s postmodern architecture gave off an aura of exclusivity that people will never miss, especially during the sunniest of days when the light hits the glass windows. The difference back then was you didn’t like how it was too lavish and expensive to shop there, the design reminding you of a sleek rubix cube. Finding the prices of the shops’ items to be ridiculous and quite hilarious at that time as a student. A bit envious of those who can afford it. You had no money to buy beautiful dresses that cost more than a month’s worth of groceries. Now? All you had to do was swipe on the trusty old credit card your beloved husband gifted you the first three months into the relationship two years ago. No more snobbish friends or bills to worry about. Time certainly flies fast, especially with Sano Manjiro as your lover.

To spoil his pretty baby was almost second to breathing for him. There’s nothing he can’t do.

Seemed like it was only yesterday when he freed you from a mountain of debts, whisking you away from those icky men who were illegally selling bunny hybrids in the underground city of Tokyo. It was a pity on their part when they decided to mess with the leader of Bonten in the matters of trade and scamming them, but certainly a win for you. Yet, marrying Sano Manjiro wasn’t part of your plans after being set free that involved a quiet life in the countryside after escaping such a stressful situation. Nor did you ever stop and think that maybe this was indeed fate working to reward you for going through tough times.

At the end of it all, you’re more than content with your husband and how he takes care of you.

Other than just a place to spend your free time whenever Manjiro was busy with Bonten, Ginza was the perfect place to just hang out. But unlike any other day, the number of people has significantly increased due to the new shop that opened days ago. Making a mental note not to go through the crowded areas, you almost skipped your way to the first store you wanted to check out. Perked up bunny ears slightly swaying as you went with the shopping bags on your arms that you’ve accumulated from thirty minutes spent going around. Sashaying your way into the Dior store, you politely smiled at the woman. Instantly recognizing you from the countless times you’ve visited, she was quick to assist you with a warm smile.

“Good day. What would it be today, Mrs. Sano?”

“I’ve seen pictures of a new set of leather collars that came in just this week.” Fishing out your phone from your purse, you then started to search for the screenshot you took before holding it up to the woman to see. Specifically pointing at the pink one that had a golden heart as a centerpiece. “Wanna surprise my husband since he likes these. I think it suits me, too. Don’tcha think so? Do you have it in stock?”

“Alright. Let me go and check, okay? In the meantime, feel free to sit down or have a look around.”

Left all by yourself again, you exhaled lightly and began to walk around the shop after setting down your shopping bags on one of the black cushioned seats. Eyes searching for something that might catch your attention as you waited for the sales associate to return. Eyeing a clutch, your gaze traveled from it to the streets outside where a mother and child were passing by. Huge cotton candy in the shape of a familiar cartoon character in the child’s hand, a smile on his face brighter than any of the ladies inside the same establishment as you. Contagious it was, as a smile of your own graced your features at them having a good time. Line of sight falling to the golden band on your ring finger, it slightly faltered then morphed into a pout.

Oh, Manjiro…

Quite dangerous it was for your husband to walk around in broad daylight and accompany you out. Not only were the police after his head, but numerous rivaling gangs wanted to jump on the leader of the most notorious criminal organization in Japan to make a name for themselves. Plus, he strongly implements that you and he should never be seen together in the public eye. And while there were times he brought you to restaurants, it was usually those who had connections with Bonten or you both went so close to midnight where regular citizens have gone home. Manjiro was always careful, calculating in every move in order to keep you safe. Trips to Ginza or other places wouldn’t be possible at all if he wasn’t. But as much as you were thankful, the forlorn feeling never stops seeping into your heart whenever you see couples out doing romantic stuff without care.

Would it be so selfish if you wished for the same thing even after being handed almost everything?

Whether it was the AC blowing directly on you or how the store was cold, you shivered and hugged yourself. Why the fuck is it so cold all of a sudden? You cursed at yourself for forgetting to bring one of your coats in case these things happen. Nevertheless, you quickly beamed at the sales associate now walking up to you with a grin on her face. Finally, once this is over, you could go out and seek the warmth of the sun.

“Mrs. Sano, the collar you wanted is available. Would you like to try it on first?”

Before you could even respond, another chill ran down your spine, prompting you to rub your hands together. What was even more frustrating was how your body temperature was slowly rising, a thick warm sensation blooming from your abdomen. This didn’t go unnoticed by the woman, who quickly tried to reach out and ask about your well-being. Your reaction was instant, stepping back to evade her touch in fear of aggravating the condition that has dawned upon you. Warm flesh, the pounding beat of your heart that is bound to get worse, and the slick dampening your aching pussy folds that would soon be embarrassingly obvious to anyone every time your thighs rubbed against each other. Not to mention, your ears flopping down at the realization, the skin gradually heating up.

Fuck! How could you forget about your heat?! How could you let such an important thing slip past your mind?

“M-Mrs. Sano? Are you okay?”

“Huh? U-uh, yeah!” A weak smile on your face, you then gestured at her to wrap the item. “I’ll take it, d-dear. That and another—what other color do you have? Red? Black? Well, w-whatever, just give me that and another one—doesn’t matter what, just please hurry up?” Seeing her nod and rush away after handing your credit card to her, you sighed. This wasn’t how you pictured your little shopping spree to go… How could you even forget about your upcoming heat?

Well, the telltale signs were already there… From the mood swings and the cravings.

A men’s cologne being tested was happening nearby, notes of what seemed to be spicy bergamot wafting towards you. Your hand shot up to cover your nose immediately at the enticing scent. Averting your gaze from where the sales associate disappeared, you weakly turned to the other way only to catch a familiar shade of hair paired with a different face. Heart banging on your ribcage at the images of your husband sprouting like daisies through concrete, you wished the traitorous mind filling your sight of him would halt in its silliness and leave you be. Wishful thinking never does anything and everywhere you turn, all you see are mimicking faces of Sano Manjiro that merely fueled your desire to have his cock inside your aching heat—now.

“Here you go, Mrs. S—”

“Thank you, bye!” Snatching the paper bag and the card, you mentally took note to apologize to her next time before taking off. Every step you took was like stepping in shards of glass. You did your best to avoid bumping into people as you left looking like you stole something from the looks you are receiving. Eyes darting to the cars parked, you squinted while trying to calm your hammering heart and the heat that gradually enveloped your body to a point everything was a big blur. Colors swirling into a heap almost diluted. To kiss the pavement would have been possible until your chauffeur took a hold of you, scanning your sweaty face and dazed expression. It’s even a miracle you managed to reach the car without passing out or jumping someone. Although the latter would’ve been far-fetched. Clinging to the man, you groaned.

“M-Mikey, c-call him please!”

“Mikey?”

Bored. Tired. His feet screamed to go down the path headed straight to his motorcycle to take him home and see you. Mikey hated leaving the penthouse early, knowing you tend to be needy in the morning while he kisses you goodbye. But matters in the organization wouldn’t disappear overnight, especially when he’s needed. And today was no different, sitting at the head of the table, listening to Takeomi present the sales of the latest drug Bonten was selling. At the man’s call for his attention, the platinum-haired man was about to move his slightly chapped lips from staying utterly silent the whole time found his onyx irises falling to his vibrating cellphone on top of his desk. Brows furrowed as to why your chauffeur could be calling, he quickly picked it up and stood from his seat. The rest of Bonten instantly went quiet, prompting Takeomi to stand still and be ready to resume once Mikey was finished with his call.

Except he didn’t know it was connected to you.

“Speak.”

“It’s your wife, Sir. She needs to speak to you—”

“G-give me that,” your shaky voice cut through the chauffeur’s voice, worry spiking up Manjiro’s spine at how disgruntled you sounded. Keeping his wits together, he waited for you to voice out your thoughts when you practically moaned into the receiver, causing your husband’s eyes to widen a fracture. What were you up to now? “Manjiro…” You drawling his name so seductively had his pants tightening. Manjiro could only mentally curse at the effect you have on him. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you, baby—know how much you hate me callin’ if you’re busy but, fuck…”

“What’s wrong?”

“‘Jiro, my heat… it’s here. Please come home to me.”

Thirty to twenty minutes. That is the usual traveling time Mikey had gotten used to from the penthouse to Bonten’s headquarters every time his presence was needed. Yet, it merely took him five to reach the towering building and ride up the elevator to your shared home. Seconds to discard his shoes and pad to the master bedroom, trailing the clothes you wore now serving like breadcrumbs on the floor. And even before he could swing the door open to ask where you are, you flung it back and jumped him. Hot kisses stamped all over his face, lowering down to his sensitive neck where goosebumps littered while he held you in his arms to steady you. The tight squeeze of your legs around his waist almost bruising, the aching damp cunt of yours rubbing against his clothed bulge. In all his years of living a dangerous life, Mikey would’ve normally prevented anyone from surprising him after being numerously betrayed by those who seek to ruin him. How easily those principles he lived by crumble at the face of you whining for his cock to stuff you full of his cum, naked as the day you were born with your bunny ears twitching.

“‘Jiro… fuck, I need you.”

“Baby, calm down—”

His words were akin to white noise, lips still aching to kiss every inch of his skin and bury yourself underneath it until Manjiro’s scent would stay with you for days, for weeks—forever. Taking matters into your own hands, you unlatched yourself from him and pushed him down until his back hits the mattress. You looked at him from above despite lust clouding your thoughts. And all your husband could do was stare back at your hazed-up mind, swallowing a moan once you straddled him and started grinding down his leaking clothed cock.

“W-wanna ride you.” Groaning at the overwhelming scent of your lover, you figured your hands had a mind of their own and started stripping him down to match you. Your leaking cunt in full display to his dark eyes that never strayed from you. You were definitely out of it—sheathing his throbbing and oozing dick inside of your gummy walls at once, whining at the stretch and how warm it was. But Mikey begged to differ, hissing at the contact and the wet muscles clenching him tightly as you started to bounce fervently. His wife has lost all inhibition and mewled, fingers playing with your perked nipples that he wished to suck on while you rode his cock.

But he couldn’t. Not when you would furrow your brows whenever he made a move to dominate you or to pin you down on the mattress to fuck you himself. No, you wanted to take lead for once and just take. Slowing down to just feel his cock snug in your hot slick cunt, you moaned into the air.

“Missed you so much, baby… Miss this cock in me—mhm, fuck. Need you…” Biting on your lower lip that it almost broke through the skin and bled, your gaze befell onto your husband who could only stare at you in muted awe. He then nodded at your statement, sharing the same sentiments. His pale chest rose and fell at the sight of raw carnal desire unfolding in front of him. Because fuck, if he had to choose between you and Bonten, anyone can mess around with the latter and still lose. But when it comes to you, those fuckers better be prepared to pry his cold dead hands from you before he’ll ever let anything awful happen to his pretty bunny. “‘Jiro…”

“Take me, baby,” he breathed, hands holding onto your hips and waist, giving them a squeeze. “Take it all. I’m all yours.”

No one had to tell you twice, resuming on bouncing on the cock you oh so loved. Unashamed to take what was yours and screaming obscene words, knowing only Manjiro is the sole witness to it all. Holding your tits, you keened. Mouth whining at how you couldn’t go on anymore. He knew this was gonna happen, you giving up in the middle of it because you hated tiring yourself—hate doing all the work. His spoiled bunny. The encouragement of your husband came in grunts, goading you to keep going. To fuck his cock and cream around it until you could no longer keep your eyes open.

“Isn’t this what—shit, what you wanted? Take this fuckin’ cock of yours, baby. Let it breed this bunny cunt. Don’t stop now.”

Sobbing softly, you came undone at the implication. Your eyes rolled back and body quivered at how he spilled his creamy cum into you. Cunt squeezing him dry for the first time today, despite knowing full well your husband would rather shoot blanks by the end of it than stop until your heat was over. Your searing gummy walls painted exactly like his silver hair. You were close to collapsing on top of him when Manjiro held you steady. Your husband caught his breath, a tiny curl at the end of his lips was a telltale sign that this was far from over. He suddenly flipped you to have your back on the mattress. Your husband then immediately went down face to face with your pussy folds still oozing with his semen. Warm tongue darting out to lick on your clit, earning a whine from your parted mouth.

“My turn.”

#❣️pat.coms #tokyo revengers smut #tr smut #mikey smut #bonten mikey smut #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro sano smut #sano manjiro smut #tokrev smut #tw.breeding kink #tw.unprotected sex #tw.hybrid au

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