#my wife drew my wings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

washeduphazbin · 3 months

Note

Hi, I would like to ask for a smut from Adam x fem Reader, his dear wife is going to pay him a visit at his work and in the end they almost get paid for lute

New Eve (Adam x Fem! Wife! Reader)

-SMUT AHEAD MINORS DNI-

Other warnings: Adam Being Adam

I hope I wrote this ask and understood it correctly! Adam is my guilty pleasure. I love men who are dumb as rocks and who are going to be absolutely leashed by even stronger women.

REQUESTS OPEN

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

There's a saying that all good things come in threes, Lilith, Eve, and you. Adam's final wife, who physically couldn't be swayed by Lucifer because Adam had met you in Heaven. When you passed through the pearly gates, you were greeted by none other than the first human himself. You were in awe for about two seconds until you quickly gathered the first man was a complete and utter dickhead. He seemed to falter when you walked past him to greet an angel named Lute, Adam's second in command. She tensed a little as you introduced yourself, ignoring Adam's protests that dubbed you a Queen Mega Bitch.

All this to say, it took about three months before Lute caught Adam sticking his tongue down your throat with you latched onto him like a koala. You made a distressed sound at being caught while listening to Adam laugh above you. You distinctly heard him call your mouth as good as a vagina while pressing a kiss to your hairline. "Adam!" You hissed, pulling on the horns of his mask as he let out a defiant sound, "Inappropriate."

"Ugh yeah, that's kind of my thing, sugar tits."

"You need to not make it your thing, or this thing doesn't happen." You drew your line in the metaphorical sand before marching out of the room, faintly hearing Lute argue about Adam's behavior behind you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Two years later, you were Adam's new 'Eve' in heaven with two golden rings to prove the love that formed between the two of you...somehow. Did the both of you fight constantly? Yes. Did you want to wring his neck every time he opened the gaping hole he called a mouth? Also Yes. But did you love him...unfortunately. Even though he had a laundry list of bad habits, a vulgar mouth, and gross hobbies, he had his moments. He was protective, fiercely so, and despite his fuck boy personality, he only had his sights set on you. Lute often asked you what you saw in Adam, and you'd reluctantly sigh and give a tired grin, "He makes me laugh. Plus, with proper motivation, he's putty in my hand." Lute made a sound of understanding, nodding her head,

"Ah, yes. Use your feminine wiles to control those weaker than you, even if they may be physically stronger. We must use what we are given as women. Well, you must. I'm very strong without using that to my advantage."

"Yes, exactly," You snickered as Lute stopped outside Adam's office. "Which is exactly why Sera put me in charge of convincing Adam to meet with The Morningstar's daughter." You groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "I'll see you back here later, then?"

"Yes, ma'am." Lute bowed, "I wish you luck...you'll need it. He's in one of his moods." before taking off into the sky and down the hall. You reached up with a stretch of your arms, fluffing up your wings to look extra pretty before knocking on Adam's door,

"Adam." You hummed, knocking on the grand marble door once before opening it. You leaned against the entranceway, wings brushing against the floor, as his head shot up.

"Sugartits!"

"Not my name!" You dodged Adam's hug with a flurry of your wings; he grinned, shoving the door closed with his hip. "Adam," you said in warning as he used his angelic magic to fly towards you and trap you within his arms.

"and what would you prefer I call you? My Bitch? Wifey?" He mused, peppering sloppy kisses against your cheek and down your neck. "We could go with Queen or Goddess, preferably." You shot back, dragging Adam down to sit in his chair; you hummed gently, removing his mask from his face. He leaned back, kicking his legs up on the desk as you slid down into his chest, straddling his hips. You hummed, running your fingers through his brown hair, and he melted into your touch, "My name works, too."

"I guess we can settle on Queen. Does that make me your King?" Adam preened as you scratched under his chin,

"Without a doubt...but we must talk about the Young Morningstar."

"Who?" He made a faux confused face which you raised an eyebrow back at in response, "Ugh, Lucifer's cunt daughter. What about her?"

"She's been begging for a meeting. I suggest you meet with her." Your lips began to trail down his neck, nipping at his skin as his body flushed.

"But that's so much work, sugar." He groaned, running his clawed hands through your hair, "Can't I just say fuck off back to hell we're gonna exterminate all of you regardless."

"Sera wants you to at least meet with her one time; she's giving you a lot of trust to handle this on your own."

"And if I do what you ask, what'll you give me?" He mused, eyes sparkling. You huffed, hitting him with the back of your wing, and he laughed, "Come on, you gotta sweeten the deal for me, mama."

"You're such a bastard." You huffed, moving to pull your hair out of your face. He moved his legs to the ground, and you could slide between his knees. "Robe off unless you want dirty," you commanded as Adam fumbled out of it quickly.

"I love you~" He leaned back with a sly grin, hand reaching up to move your head closer to his lip. Your fingers spread across his thighs, and you huffed softly, looking up at him.

"I love you more. If I do this for you, you promise to meet with young Lady Morningstar?"

"You can't just fuck me because you love me?"

"Bite me." You sneered, but there wasn't any malice in your voice as he stood up, picking you up off the ground and pressing your back against his desk.

"Oh, it would be my pleasure. I can't say your robes will survive, though I might need to get you some new ones." Adam popped the buttons on your robe, allowing your body to be laid bare for his eyes. He watched your breathing hitch as his long claw trailed down your neck to your chest. "Fuck I love these puppies, you know that?" Adam grinned, grabbing fistfuls of your breasts, squeezing and kneading to his heart's content. Your husband was like an oversized golden retriever. When he sees something he likes, he obsesses over it like a man deranged. His favorite playthings of yours were your tits and ass. "Any meetings?"

"None. I'm yours for the rest of the day. You can mark me how you'd like; I'm yours, my husband. Well, until you meet with the Princess."

"Fuckkkkk yeah, baby, come 'ere." Adam dove between your breasts, and he felt you suck in air through your teeth. He began to bite and suck on the supple flesh of your chest; you keened, arching into his mouth, hands tangling in his brown hair. You could tell from the way his teeth would graze against your nipples and your flesh he was doing everything in his power to leave marks on the skin.

"Adam...ngh." You panted, feeling his hand move down from your breast to slide down your stomach and between your legs. "Shit," You squeaked, feeling him tease your clit with his thumb and forefinger with a dopey grin on his face.

"There's my favorite girl," He flicked your nub skillfully; for being a massive asshole, this prick sure knew where to find your clit. One finger slid between your folds, and you tossed your head against the cold marble desk. "Damn, only one finger has you acting up? I must not be treating you good enough," He purred as another finger entered you, stretching you out to be big enough for, 'the first ever man god created.' Adam watched with delight as your wings spread out and trembled, glowing with a soft golden glow. "That's it, you're being such a good girl for me. Are you ready?"

"Yes." You panted, "Adam, please."

"God, you beg so nicely, you little slut," His hand reached up to grip your throat, causing you to let out a desperate whine, hips bucking into his fingers. "Beg Harder," He demanded, moving your hand to palm him through his trousers, stiff and aching. "Look at how hard you make me. How desperate. I need you to worship your god."

"Yes, sir." You purred, "You're my God, Adam. I need you, I'd worship for your love, your touch, your dick." You dragged your hand up your chest, playing with the swell of your own breast, "Don't you want to make me happy, baby?"

"More than anything." Adam's eyes lit up in elation, "Stay with me. Don't go to Lucifer. You're mine." He snarled, hands around your throat, "Say it."

"I'm with you. Only you. Forever Adam." His entire body seemed to relax when you said that, pressing gentle kisses to your cheek and lips. "I love you, you annoying Dickweed."

"Love you more, Sugartits." He grinned cheekily before lowering himself to you with a hiss-like laugh. "Tight as ever, and that's why I love you,"

"If you keep talking nonsense while you're literally inside me, I'll cut off your dick,"

"Sounds kinky."

"Adam."

"Fine, Fine, you're so vanilla." He mused, albeit his tone was much softer, fonder than his earlier teasing. His hands grabbed under your knees and pressed you close with a snap of his hips. You both let out a moan, yours higher pitched and needier, bucking your hips, searching for more friction than he was currently providing. You always savored the way he was able to fill you up, he wasn't the longest but god was he thick filling you in all the right ways. Every time his hips snapped into you, you could feel just how deep he kissed your cervix. "Yeah, you like that?" He panted, "Like how deep I'm getting? From the way you're dripping, you're practically soaking through my table. Your vag is like a vice, babe, so tight for this big cock."

"Hm. Your words always know how to turn me o-ng-ff." You moaned out this end at a particularly sharp thrust of his hips. "Fuck you," You panted as he grinned down at you,

"Good news, wifey, that's exactly what we're doing-"

"Sir!" You let out a scream as Lute slammed the door of his office open, you climbed against Adam's body like an embarrassed Nun. He groaned, still inside you but having the decency to cover you with his wings.

"What do you need, Lute? I'm a little busy getting it on with my sexy ass wife." Adam complained, motioning to the top of your head, to which you made an embarrassed sound of mortification. "Can this be rescheduled or-"

"The Princess of Hell is here, Sir. She just showed up-"

"Are you for real telling me that the bitch Princess of Hell is seriously cucking me right now?!"

"...Yes."

"(Y/n) If I killed her for interrupting us, would you be pissed?"

"Beyond Adam."

"Fuck."

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #x reader #fem reader #adam x reader #adam x you #hazbin hotel adam x reader #smut #requests open #reader insert #hazbin hotel smut

5K notes · View notes

azure-cherie · 5 months

Text

☀︎︎𝑃𝐴𝐶 : 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 ☀︎︎

Pile 1. Pile 2. Pile 3.

Hey there guys , I hope y'all are having a lovely time so for this PAC

THE CONCEPT is in this pile i call upon one of your ancestors to narrate a story from their life so that you can learn something from it or just get the Ancestral tea ☕ .

Reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated !!!!

Want a personal reading: Paid readings , Paid readings 2

Masterlist

Choose using your intuition, you can choose multiple and take what resonates and leave the rest . Since this is a general reading take what resonates and leave the rest .

Pile 1 :

My dear pile 1 , i hope you're doing well

Some charms for confirmations and messages: Maple leaf , moon , bicycle , trumpet , tortoise, panther , yantra symbol , peacock , camel , flower wings , infinity symbol, clown , lantern. Some numbers : might be age , year or era ; 5,1,6,5,7 ; some initials : K , L , I , Q .

Who will I be channeling : The Empress card they could be a very nourishing female who was well regarded in their family , they were a queen , princess , authority , they married rich . They were really a successful and kind women

They want to tell you a story about : Strength , how they were courageous

Once upon a time in your ancestry , born in either Mongolian , Chinese , French or Italian roots , your ancestors were regarded as inventors of something creative , they liked romance a lot , they wanted to keep the fire in themselves alive , they could be cavemen and drew various types of architectural plans , for some buildings , could be of Moroccan descent , you had a very big family , the head of the family was a very nice man , your ancestor was the head of the family as well , as the wife of your male ancestor , she also was a very creative person , made antiques and stored them , was regarded as one of the bad bitches of that era, and everyone wanted to marry her , though she broke many hearts she married your male ancestor , they lived really happily until there was some , war in your place and some things were burned down in your place or in your home , the fire could be symbolic as well , they were left with no choice then to sacrifice themselves . Either they sacrificed themselves or something that belongs to them . I think some of your family history also burned along with the fire , could be representative of also fury of old powerful people lurking into your family wellbeing .

Through the course of wheel of fortune ,there was a change because of a smart person in your bloodline who really finally crafted a way to rise again , this could be your ancestor herself or some other person from your family I get the vibe of the sister in law , or an aunt . Because of that you were capable , your ancestors could be into herbal medicine or Ayurveda . Your ancestors helped the poor a lot and conducted lots of charity . They either had a rabbit or a furry animal by their side , the pet was one of the legacies and the pet really protected , could be a dog as well , if cat they protected from spiritual attacks .

Your ancestors later became the leader of some organization , and they were some sort of vigilante and served everyone with justice , were one of the most powerful . One of the next generation male member sore really high and was regarded , they gave everyone a head start at creative potential , they rose again from what hurt them , they later settled in some colder place probably .

There could be some curse due to which your family went into hiding , because the son of the empress was a vigilante they rose again and built up after moving places , they brought lands and could be the family was travelling , that could mean some hippie ancestors for some of you , and it could also be someone wanted to move places , lastly your ancestor went on a spiritual journey , the empress went on a quest to find herself and was looking into a peaceful life

She wanted to tell you about this lesson of strength , that no matter what happens you should go on , also they wanted to tell you that if you want something good in life you must also leave something , to understand the value of sacrifice , despite the hardships she went on a quest , her main aim to wait was to see her family well and after she was done she was ready to leave , this story might also be about detachment .she wants to tell you that though everything is nice , if you feel you're missing something , you must go after it , and that’s how your soul will feel happy

Pile 2 :

My dear pile 2 , hope you're doing well

Some charms for confirmations and messages: Fox , mermaid tail , shell, angel, coconut tree , crescent moon , sun , kangaroo, wine bottle . Some numbers : might be age , year or era ; 7,2,9,2 ; some initials : R,U,O.

Who will I be channeling : Ace of swords ,could be a warrior , they were really courageous , free thinker .

They want to tell you a story about : Page of coins , of abundance of a bright future

Once upon a time there was a break in your family because of lot of disagreements , everyone fought each other or just left their own ways , this could be about middle eastern , desert areas , ancient India , Mediterranean , there was lot of conquest , here comes about your grandmother or just a women in your family who was a psychic , she wanted everyone to be together , that lead to the family coming back together because she made everyone thinking she was sick , they later came to know she wasn’t ,

She realized there was someone was casting a spell for your family to break apart , your ancestor already had the vibe , and they worked hard to let it into their heads , might have conducted an uncrossing spell to get rid of the damage , the spell came from a family member who was obsessed with money and wanted to keep everything to themselves , your ancestor wanted to keep everyone safe and happy , and because of their good deeds things were right , there were minor issues but because your grandmother was so observant and a psychic , the family didn’t break and was happy . They kept lot of optimism.

They wanted to tell you this because you are having self-doubts about your abilities or judging people without knowing the whole story , listen more to your intuition , you're reaching conclusions without thinking and analyzing things properly and they wanted to let you know that . I picked another card , so they tell you to take rest and not think too much .

This is actually really cool because I was about to start pile 3 but I couldn't remember the image , haha they want to tell you one more story woah , this could either be for the same group or this story might not be for you , use your intuition

This is about a situation where they had both of their hands tied , they were people putting allegations onto them and they wanted to about sometimes to get forward you'll have to lose something , you have to work hard and put all in , you shouldn’t run , things may become severe but know that youre stronger , don’t run away , you must hope for the best because only then it comes to you , being emotionally connected is a blessing , never take your own emotions for granted

They served a king or a higher authority could've worked as warriors or oracles of their place , they were considered very courageous , this could also be someone from Salem witch trials , there's lot of fire as well as witch symbolism , so I feel this could be it , they revolted a lot against the men who were capturing them . There was someone who was so in love with your ancestors and tried to save her , she tried and got away though it was painful , they came together and lived happily ever after , this story could also go about some Brazilian , Hawaiian , ancestry .

They wanted to tell you this as a sign that hope can be found even after most gut wrenching times .

Pile 3 :

My dear pile 3 hope you're doing well

Some charms for confirmations and messages: fish , elephant, gun , cap , shell , infinity symbol, witch , cat . Some numbers : might be age , year or era ; 9,8,2 ; some initials : M, A . Please check pile 2 if you were drawn

Who will I be channeling: Knight of wands adventurous, enigmatic person

They want to tell you a story about : The Sun , of fame and dignity

Once upon a time there was someone who was a miser and wanted your ancestor to be wed off , just so they could get rid of your ancestor , they thought your ancestor was a crooked person , who wanted to be reckless all the time , they didn’t appreciate your ancestors free spirit at all , the guardian showed they were happy but they wanted to destroy the life of your ancestor , your ancestors might have been kept hostage or had an evil step parent for some of you .

Someone could have died or poisoned , the husband of your ancestor was very supportive , the guardian didn’t like it , someone might have told that to your guardian , or higher authority , only to cut the wings of your ancestor , she yet lived with happiness because she was actively practicing freedom and was loved and supported by her husband , I think she wanted to be in a higher position , in education or in the swordsmanship sector , this could go back to Europe , in the renaissance period , haha your reading is reminding me of the anime called " Arte " .

She was shown love because fate turned her life around This reminds me of " My happy marriage " (anime).

There could be a lot of jealousy shown to her by the men around, the neighbor's , but your ancestor was always rising higher , there could be someone who sabotaged her telling her that she's a bad person , she payed no mind to them , she became one of the greatest of her times , swordsman , merchant . This could also be in the education sector , they became highly educated , just saw 333 might be significant to you .

They were abundant and happy , they later became a teacher in their sector , kids loved them a lot , probably rose to nobility , were honored as a survivor and a riser .

They want to tell you this story to make you believe in the power of love , though its mostly about bravery her husband helped her get through a lot of it , she wants to show how if you take a chance in love , love can be good for you . Though her arranged marriage was scary things turned out for the better so will it turn out for you , keep the belief , I got one more card , they also wanted you to let go of your mentality that everything will go bad trust that good things will happen to you , if you hit the rock bottom you can only go higher do what you need to do

The back of the deck is Empress , how sweet is it that the pile 1 started with empress and you're finishing at it , you come from line of very powerful women who worked so much for their dreams they're always here for you just call upon them . I see 555 as I conclude can be significant for you.

Thank you so much for reading have a great day/night 🧡

#pick a card tarot #pick a photo #pick a picture #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot pac #pac reading #pac readings #pac tarot #pac #tarot card reading #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #intuitive tarot reading

621 notes · View notes

vibingandsimping · 8 months

Text

More random intimate positions/scenarios! Pt.2

Morally grey/villain characters this time!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

975 notes · View notes

fanaticsnail · 4 months

Text

Sapsorrow - Chapter 2

Masterlist here, Moodboard here.

Word count: 6,229

A massive "thank you" to @since-im-already-here for beta-reading for me (considering we're in the same bloody house). Couldn't have done it without you or your tunes.

Song accompaniment: Leta's Theme

Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope.

Slow-slow-slow burn.

“Is this necessary?” the moss-haired sword trainee growled through clenched teeth at you. Clicking your tongue in your reprimand, you tapped the top of his left knuckles with a corrective stroke; your small conducting baton meeting with a gentle rap to kiss the back of his knuckles.

“Not only is it completely necessary, trainee,” you chastised him, dragging the baton over the back of his wrist and down his forearm as you circled behind him, “it is essential to your mastery of the art of gentlemanly correspondences.” Perona giggled, continuing to have her left hand firmly affixed to Zoro’s right shoulder, her right clasped within Zoro’s now correctively postured left hand.

“I’m no gentleman,” Zoro grunted in a harsh tone, his shoulders slouching away from the posture you just placed him in.

“A statement to which I agree with to its complete absolution,” you quipped, your tongue finding residence on the roof of your mouth. Pursing your lips, you tapped the baton in a sensitive spot beneath his armpits, prompting him again to rise to a perfect waltz position. Your pink-haired debutant was a natural when it came to attuning to your instruction, relishing in the fact she had another woman in Castle Kuraigana to converse with. However, her teasing of the green-haired trainee was becoming quite the issue to befall to you.

After the events that transpired within the ornate halls of the treasury, not a word was spoken by the three of you regarding the happenstances of your unwilling betrothal to the World’s Greatest Swordsman; nor was any utterance mentioned by the members of staff within the household. It had been two weeks from the day you entered the gloomy castle, finding awe within each of the rooms you ventured to. Perona had finished your tour of the many array of fine rooms, concluding your tour with a wing lord Dracule Mihawk had kindly provided to you.

Your wing of Castle Kuraigana was, for lack of a better word, beautiful. There was no other word you could find to describe such lavish and decorative elements throughout the room. From the curtains handing from the tall archways leading outwards to the pillars of an open balcony, the perimeter decorated with vines of green thorns and clusters of blooming white roses; to the variety of sitting areas and lounging spaces for you to move furniture to better suit your liking.

The one element you had appreciated the most was the change of the fresh floral centrepiece atop your personal dining table. In the fourteen days you had been under the lordship of Dracule Mihawk, each day had a rotation of bouquets so magnificent in ornamentation and fragrant you were rendered speechless under each presentation.

At first, you deduced the rotation of flowers was customary in each of the rooms with guests occupying their space. As you continued to meet with Perona in her wing to adjust fabrics atop her bodice or train her in language and music, you noticed the absence of magnificent bouquets showcased atop her table. In their stead, you found smaller clusters of pink roses rotating to maintain their freshness.

“Perona,” you sharply broke through the room with your reprimand, prompting her to stifle another giggle within her throat as Zoro again let out an agitated breath through his teeth, “Refrain from taunting Zoro further.” Perona nodded furiously, prompting you to roll your eyes and rotate your shoulders back to relieve yourself from a small amount of frustration.

“What did we talk about?” you drew out in a low and sharp tone, Perona rising in her posture as she continued to remain held in Zoro’s rigid arms.

“Yes, my lady,” she squeaked from behind her lips, her back arching up to bring her shoulders square with Zoro’s.

“Well done, debutant. And trainee?” you turned to Zoro, halting your stalking around their clutched perimeter. He rolled his head to lull at his side, glaring at you through his lowered eyelashes.

“Yes, my lady?” he spat in a sarcastic tone at you. Rather than to chastise him for his lack of manner, you instead reached your right hand up and offered him a gentle squeeze of his left shoulder.

“Your stance is perfect. Well done,” you complimented him with a wide smile, relinquishing your hold on his shoulder and turning towards the gramophone. Zoro’s face held a moment of perplexed silence, his eyes widening as he snapped his head back up from it’s lulled position and following your trail with his eyes.

“Th-Thank you, my lady,” he stuttered, Perona halting another giggle from exiting her lips and instead choosing to beam in pride up at her fellow pupil. Allowing your fingertips to graze along the small spindle to place the needle atop a record, you wound the box and the gramophone sprung to life; painting the room with music.

“Now, the counts,” you spoke, turning to face your two pupils once more, “hear the music. Feel the rhythm. One-two-three, one-two-three.” You waved the baton within the air, gesturing along to the beat of the music. Perona immediately began stepping in time to the melody, dragging Zoro within her arms. He stumbled in his stance, brows lowered in confusion and a gasp relinquishing in a hiss through his lips.

“No, no, Perona,” you shut your eyes, folding your arms back over your chest and clicked your tongue at her, “you let him lead you.”

“But he doesn’t know how-,” she began, halting as her eyes met with your stern gaze.

“-That’s precisely why we’re practicing, Perona,” you slowly spoke your command to her, chastising her as if she were one of your younger debutants; your tone almost singing with its melodical augmentation.

She huffed a frustrated sigh, again reaching her arms up and gesturing to Zoro to, again, reclaim her body with his waltzing stance. He lets out a small huff of his own, drawing up his arms to assume the positions he held her in prior. You smiled at him, noticing he managed to replicate his stance perfectly. Stepping closer to him, you placed your left hand over the back of his left knuckles as he clutched Perona’s right hand within his broad palm. Placing your right hand against his waist, you felt the young swordsman tense beneath your hands.

“Okay, Zoro,” you uttered into his pierced ear, shooting another tingle up his spine with your proximity to him. Opting to ignore his tense, you uttered further instruction onto him, “step forward with your right foot.”

As he stepped forward, you stepped your own foot to where his right foot was formerly placed; his action prompting Perona to step backwards onto her left foot.

“Wonderful, trainee,” you praised him, an action that almost rose a blush to his cheeks. You shook your head, mentally noting to yourself that praise and words of affirmation seem to have a hold over the green-haired swordsman. You squeezed his wrist, urging him to move with another verbal command.

“Small step to the side with your left foot,” he followed your command immediately, you placing your own left foot behind his. Perona managed to follow the small step completely. Although you were dancing a lot slower than the music was directing you, you took the small victory as you gave a final command to the tall trainee.

“Now meet your left foot by drawing your right beside it,” you squeezed the side of his waist, Zoro’s breath hitching in his throat at the small corrective gesture. He followed your command, prompting both you and Perona to glide with him.

“Perfect, Zoro. You’re doing splendidly,” you praised him again, this time Zoro unable to halt the steady red-tint from littering his cheeks with its hue. Perona looked up at Zoro’s cheeks and immediately smirked at his expression, Zoro clenching his teeth shut with a tight, clamped position.

“Now,” you addressed your pupils with a low, firm command, “let’s do it again, this time a little faster.” Zoro immediately began gliding the room with his steps, counting out to the music in his head while bowing his head. Focussing on his feet, stepping large strides with his right foot and joining his left to meet it while tapping the right foot against it on the third beat; he began slowly learning how to balance leading Perona throughout the wide room.

The three of you remained ignorant to the pair of yellow-hued eyes following your interaction as he lay hidden within the cascading shadow against the wall. As much as you were all unaware of his form’s current location, you were even more so ignorant of a small smile threatening to break through onto his cheeks as he watched you all dance together.

You smiled, still holding yourself firmly clasped against Zoro’s waist and wrist, gliding with him as he lead both you and Perona in a waltz.

“Look up,” you corrected him, relinquishing your hold on Zoro’s waist and finding Perona’s left hand. You corrected her hold on his shoulder, moving her position from a clawed shape to relax against his shoulder instead, “keep your hand like this. You’re not clinging onto him for dear life, you are dancing with him.”

“Yes, my lady,” they both affirmed your instruction. Relinquishing your hold all together on them, you stepped away and watched Zoro lead Perona throughout the beautiful, yet gloomy, room. The melody began to swell, the young swordsman continuing to swirl Perona throughout the room with his three-counted rhythm.

“As much as I would desire to instruct you to twirl,” you spoke up, your voice elevating over the music as their bodied moved further from you, “I only get to have the both of you for a short amount of time together per week.” They continued stepping throughout the perimeter, Zoro becoming more confident by the second while Perona relaxed into his guidance.

“We may make a gentleman out of you yet, Zoro,” you smiled in your tone, the music slowly crescendoing downwards in its tempo, indicating the piece was drawing to a close. Zoro grunted in response, both falling stagnant in their movements as the piece ended while still remaining held within the arms of one another.

As the wheel of the record began to scratch against the needle of the gramophone, the tap of calculated footsteps echoed throughout the room to indicate the stalking approach of the former warlord of the seas. You fell your own steps away from the approaching footsteps to remove the spindle from its scratching contact with the record, clicking the small button to halt the rotation in the process.

“Perona,” the smooth voice you assumed the footsteps would carry addressed his ward, followed by another call, “Zoro.”

“Yes, lord Mihawk?” Perona’s small voice squeaked up, prompting you to slightly look over your shoulder at them while holding firm to your back turned to the instructions they were receiving from their lord.

“Both attend to your personal tasks for the day. You’re excused,” he ordered, a sigh of relief falling from Zoro’s lips as he relinquished his rigid hold against Perona’s body.

“They are not done with their joint instruction,” you sharply called over your shoulder at the lord you served under. Continuing to pack up the disc of melody within its container, you heard the halted steps of the two young wards as they attempted to flee from your command.

“They have done enough for today,” Mihawk firmly stood his ground, his voice unwavering in his intimidation. Breathing a low and steady breath through your nose, you nodded your head in response before turning around to view the three high members of Castle Kuraigana.

“Apologies, my lord,” you bowed in a low curtsey at Mihawk, nodding your head down in submission to him, “you know what is best for your wards.” You rose from your deep curtsey, watching Perona shoot you a winced expression with her teeth clamped in a straight smile before turning and skipping out of the ballroom with haste. Zoro halted his dismissal from the ornate ballroom, turning to face both you and Mihawk again while folding his arms across his chest.

“Off you pop, Eyas,” Mihawk commanded the tall, green-haired swordsman beside him. He grunted at the nickname bestowed onto him, lips curling in a small snarl.

“And leave the two betrothed unchaperoned?” Zoro taunted in return, stepping closer to Mihawk with his unchallenging posture, “that would not be very gentlemanly, would it, Governess?” Sensing a small rise of tension between the two men beginning to become tangibly thick within the air, you turned to Zoro first and held out your palm to halt his challenge further.

“Thank you for taking your traineeship so seriously, young gentleman Zoro,” you complimented him, prompting him again to find himself off-guard by your compliments, “but this is not a courtship visit. This is simply a subordinate meeting with their lord for an exchange of relatively boring information.” You turned to lord Mihawk and removed your palm from its halting position and gestured over to him with a small, dance-like flourish.

“Unfortunately, governess,” Mihawk clicked his neck under the tension, relieving a small amount of pressure with its rotation, “this is a courtship call.”

“O-Oh,” you stuttered out a little, prompting a cocky smirk to raise against the lips of the moss-haired trainee beside him. Before Zoro could get a word out in challenging the lord of Kuraigana, you immediately swept your way towards the former warlord.

“If we are to discuss courtship,” you uttered through your clenched teeth with a small air of annoyance, “perhaps we could promenade the grounds. I am yet to explore the garden, and I am sure your staff are tending to the flowers at this time of day.”

Zoro again parted his lips and began to attempt a hasty remark, halting as Mihawk spoke up to your challenge.

“I have had tea drawn and prepared on the east-wing balcony,” Mihawk quipped, turning to the young green-haired trainee, “and if you should desire to escort your governess to the balcony, do so in silence, Nestling.”

Another grunt fell from Zoro’s lips at the challenge, prompting you to immediately draw yourself closer to the three-sword wielder and apprehensively lace your right arm within the crook of his left elbow. Both gentleman’s eyes snapped to you at this action, Zoro’s eyes widening in shock while Mihawk’s narrowed with an unreadable emotion.

“Thank you for volunteering your services, Zoro,” you uttered, tugging in a firm but discrete manner against his toned forearm to prompt him to escort you from the ballroom, “I will meet with you in the east-wing, my lord.” You curtseyed low to him, tugging Zoro down to bow at his master in tow.

“Governess,” he nodded in acknowledgement at you before turning to the man laced within your arm, “hatchling.”

“My lord,” you again spoke in your rise, turning Zoro away from the intimidating form of your apprehensively procured fiancé. Zoro immediately fell in time to your hasted pace in exiting the ballroom.

“We need to work on your tact, trainee,” you hissed at him in reprimand, prompting his frown to plaster itself against his brow, “and here I thought you were making some progress in our fortnight together.”

“Me? Progress?” Zoro quirked back, stooping down to bring his smirking face closer to you, “never.”

You hummed in response, allowing a small laugh to fall from your lips at his words. Internally, you were absolutely praising Zoro’s ability to shepherd you away from the intimidating aura of your betrothed. This was the first time he had called on you in that manner, never breaking away from professionalism in addressing you. He had barely spoken a word to you in the fourteen days you had been under his instruction.

Zoro continued to silently lead you throughout the halls, the section of the castle remaining partially foreign to you. You had chosen not to venture too far into the mysterious rooms within the beautifully crafted building, learning from your prior mistake with placing the golden circlet of moss-agate ring against your wedding finger.

At the thought, you looked to your hand at its position atop your laced right arm within Zoro’s left. You allowed a small sigh to depart from your parted lips, your brows pinching triangularly above your eyes.

“Something the matter, my lady?” Zoro’s voice apprehensively addressed you, a foreign softness indicated in his tone. Breathing out a small withheld breath you didn’t know you were carrying, you allowed a dance of vulnerability to eclipse your face.

“I never wanted this for myself, Zoro,” you uttered softly. You took the corners of your bottom lip between your teeth to halt any further emotion from pouring from your lips as you spoke to him, “Marriage, courtship: it was never a desire I held. Especially not so to someone as elevated in social status as a former warlord with the current title of world’s greatest swordsman.”

He hummed softly as he listened to you speak. Both of your footsteps halted in front of the east-wing balcony, a few members of staff continued to prepare several plates of afternoon high-tea in towered platters atop the external tables with floral centrepieces littering the room with their majestic arrangements. You breathed slowly in through your nose and held the breath tightly within your chest as you made visual contact with the staff.

Zoro unlaced his left arm from your right and chose to elevate both of his hands to grasp yours within his palms, prompting you to turn your gaze to look into his hazelnut-coloured eyes.

“And what did you want, my lady?” he whispered, keeping his eyes fixed to yours as he searched for your answer before you spoke it. Withdrawing your breath from your chest slowly, you danced your gaze between his and allowed for one more moment of vulnerability to display itself upon your face.

“I wanted a life that was mine,” you uttered slowly, watching puzzlement to draw upwards against the brow of the young swordsman. You squeezed his hands gently, rephrasing your sentence to him, “I wanted freedom to come and go as I desired. Nothing binding me to one place nor another, besides a timeline of a contract to train the next generation. I wanted-…,” you halted your words as you watched the shadowy silhouette of your betrothed grace the room with his aura of superiority and intimidation.

“You wanted…?” Zoro asked you, still holding your hands clutched firmly in his own. Breathing out a final sigh and firming up your posture to its former professional stance, you gently pulled your hands away from Zoro’s and dragged your right foot behind your left and bent lowly in a short bow.

“Thank you for your chaperone, young swordsman,” you spoke, rising from your stoop to once again meet his eyes with your expressionless face, “I have exposed enough vulnerability to you for today. Off you go.” The smile you offered him was forced onto your mouth, shielding your nerves from presenting them plainly on your face.

“You don’t have to hide vulnerability from me, my lady,” he whispered, leaning in towards you, “I find your honesty heroic, in some ways. I would never exploit them.” You shook your head at him, leaning yourself away from his descent and raising your palm to halt him.

“Such fine words you’ve crafted, Zoro,” you praised him, “perhaps you are making more progress as a gentleman than both of us had anticipated.” He smiled in response, nodding his head in a small bow. His golden piercings jangled at his bobbed movement, the light reflecting off all three of the droplets of gold as he rose back upwards. Straightening his shoulders, he offered a half-smile and brushed his shoulders past you as he made his exit from the balcony entrance; leaving you partially alone with your reluctant betrothed in his stead.

“My lord,” you began to lower again in a curtsey, halting your movement as Mihawk shook his head to you with his right palm raised to stop you stooping low to him.

“No,” he uttered in a low voice, his registry both firm and apprehensive to command you, “not while we’re here.” You quirked your head to the side, confused at his words but rotated your shoulders to fix your posture.

“How may I address you then, sir?” you cautiously spoke, stepping slowly towards the table. You felt the eyes of several members of staff holding their gaze upon your form as you approached the former warlord. Mihawk danced his body around and behind yours slowly, as if cautiously stalking a prey. He reached one of the chairs and slowly raked its frame away from the ornate table, gesturing for you to approach it.

“You may call me,” he took a moment to pause, watching your approach to the chair and effortlessly rotating your body to sit atop it, “my name, preferably. Unless you have another title you would bestow onto me, given the circumstances.” You nodded, allowing him to shepherd your body against the table with a gentle shove of the back of your chair.

“Very well,” you sighed out a frustrated breath you attempted to mask with your teeth. Rolling over several titles silently over your tongue, you settled on a term for you to give to him.

“’Mihawk’ seems awfully personal, don’t you think?” you asked him, turning your head with a smile to greet one of the members of staff as they poured the scorching marmalade-coloured liquid into the porcelain teacup in front of you.

“It is my name,” he confirmed with you, holding his hawk-like gaze fixed to your form. He watched intently as you whispered a gentle expression of gratitude to his staff as they completed their presentation of tea and accompaniments towards you. He almost allowed a small click of his tongue to exit his mouth in disgust at the way your perfect smile pulled at the corners of your lips, but refrained from doing so regardless.

From his rough presentation, all those present could view his intensity as a perpetual state of complete loathing. From his frown littering his brow, to his lips almost curling in its straightened position beneath his meticulously maintained moustache; he hated you. Hatred could be the only thoughts that littered his highly educated mind, loathing and malice pulling at every fibre of his being at being swindled against his will to marry someone of lesser status than him.

That is exactly what you pinned his intensity to, as you continued to balance both your examination and aloofness effortlessly in your orchestrated air of ‘blissful ignorance’ under his unwavering gaze.

But to Mihawk, it was quite the opposite. No, to Lord Dracule Mihawk: he was baring his piercing gaze against your form to draw out a small fault to your character. His laced fingers in front of his face, his elbows pressed firmly against the tablecloth and his back began to hunch over to bare a further intense examination of you. Although he was still seething in rage at the happenstances of his engagement, he could not have hoped for a more perfect match to be made for him.

He had been watching, waiting, studying. He had been accumulating information from his staff regarding your routine. He had even found himself discretely asking after you when he met with his ward for their usual instruction. He had even begun bringing you up in conversation after a sparring match with his young eyas – a chick in comparison to his mighty hawk. He had even found his thoughts floating to you while he worked hard and laborious within his vineyard; often finding himself plucking and arranging his vineyard guarding flowers to don the table on your wing daily.

Initially, he wanted you to find your welcome within his castle as an underling; a staff of hire of the highest regard; hence the first arrangement. The second arrangement came out of duty, him wanting to present a small arrangement of flowers to demonstrate his ability to grow. The third, he found himself thinking hard about your character: what he knew, what he wanted to express in gratitude at your abilities to balance Perona’s intensity in her mannerisms and needs, while managing Zoro’s abrasiveness and – for lack of a better word – “shit” and unrefined attitude.

As the four of you took the afternoon meal together, he would often catch you showering praises to the groundskeeper regarding the demonstration of the florals: informing him of your affection for the pairing of the Tokaji vine leaves amongst the pale guardian roses. The groundskeeper was silenced as he glanced over at his lord, opting to take the compliment for himself rather than to inform her it was not he that was arranging her daily gifts.

“If not my name,” he uttered, breaking himself away from his thoughts as he unlaced his fingertips and reclined slightly in his own chair, “what would you call me?” You parted your lips and breathed slowly to halt the tempo arising of your heartbeat within your chest, again opting to roll another title over your tongue.

“Would you be opposed to the title of simply: ‘betrothed’?” you recalled Zoro calling the two of you that title within the ballroom moments prior, “I would not be offended should you bestow the same title onto me, my lor-.”

“-Betrothed,” he interrupted your train of thought with his own utterance. He hissed out an angered breath, but after taking a moment to collect himself, offered a simple, “will suffice.”

Both allowing an uncomfortable pause to befall you, you both silently reached for the porcelain teacups set in front of you. You curled your right fingertips beneath the handle and drew up the liquid to your lips. Testing the temperature of the brew with your bottom lip collected at the rim, you deemed the liquid at an appropriate measure to sip at it. You closed your eyes, savouring the lemon-scented and aromatically imbued floral tea over your palate.

Although the habit was drilled out of you in your youth, if a beverage or liquid had harboured a particular fondness within your heart, you could not halt yourself from flicking your tongue in a small darted movement to collect any liquid you had spilt over the brim at your collection. Even if there was no spill to be found, this small quirk was carried with you regardless.

Mihawk’s eyes widened at this small exposure of your pink tongue exiting from your lips and darting to dampen the porcelain rim of the teacup with your eyes closed. He was transfixed by this small maneuver of your tongue; something so simple and innocent holding him hostage to the pounding of his heart.

“Well then, betrothed,” you sighed, feeling the sting of apprehension attached to your tongue as you uttered his new title to him, “why would you call on me for a courtship dalliance this day? You interrupted my lessons with your wards.” You placed the teacup back into its holding place within the saucer, lacing your fingertips within one another and placing the edge of your pinkie fingers against the tabletop.

“That I did, belove-,” he halted the title within his parted lips, wincing at his mistake before uttering his correction, “-betrothed.” You took a moment to hold your aloof and surly attitude upon your face, your gaze hyper-focussed on his face with an emotionless expression. Internally, however, you were caught completely off-guard by how easily his bestow of affectionate title fell from his lips; but chose not to tease nor address it at this moment.

“By all means, continue,” you quirked up the corner of your right lips to usher him to produce such an explanation to his interruption of your instruction of your mutual wards. You hooked your right knee over your left and fixed your shoulders upright to affirm your secured and confident posture.

“I have called you here for,” he hissed out a sigh through his nose, his shoulders almost slouching in his defeated posture, “measurements.”

“Measurements?” you quirked your brows upwards in question, watching as three women and a highly stung gentleman entered the east-wing foyer: their intensity and professionalism following them with their entrance. Mihawk nodded, raising his porcelain teacup to his lips and taking a small sip from the object.

Immediately without addressing you, two of the women bullied you into a standing position and began wrapping you with silks and satin ribbons to tighten around your waist and forearms; the other dropping to her knees to take the circumference of your knees, calves and thighs.

“Excuse me,” you hissed out in response, frowning as they continued to shove your body to suit their relative needs. You felt overwhelmed, overburdened by their instruction and having your body stumble against its will under their ministrations. As the gentleman began to hold his thumb and four-fingers perpendicular to your hips and most intimate areas, you slapped the top of his wrists with your hands in defence of your body.

“That’s quite enough, sir,” you uttered through clenched teeth at the man you just hit, watching as his eyes met yours. You had not met with such a widened intensity of the globes of two irises before, noticing the other three members circling your form had a similar air of urgency littering their faces. Your scowl deepened against your brow, watching as the women continued to tie your arms, ankles and shoulders with their bands. Your heartrate quickened, your apprehension growing in your uncertainty.

“That’s enough,” the lord of Kuraigana addressed the staff circling your body.

“My lord, we are yet to get a-,” the gentleman’s words lay stifled within his breath as Mihawk hastily strode over to collect the measuring ribbon from within his firm grasp.

Mihawk sought out your gaze with an iron-like intensity, darting his eyes between focus on each of yours to wordlessly seek your permission. Your breath again found itself caught in your throat as the read on his face was almost revealed to you. He was a man desperate, you thought to yourself. Finding yourself to have any reason or air of apprehension, you slowly elevated your arms out to the side, welcoming the former-warlord to circle the material over your waist to collect itself atop your pelvis.

“You required intricate garments, yes?” Mihawk uttered in a low tone, collecting the ribbon within a pinch of his index finger and thumb on his left hand while notating the read with his right hand collecting a quill from the gentleman below you. You were rendered speechless, not at all anticipating this be the first courtship call you experienced with the former warlord of the seas.

Opting to remain silent and holding a scowl permanently attached to your face, you almost had your air escape you as he slipped his hands upwards to your chest, relinquishing the pool of material to gather the appropriate measurement of your breasts.

“And lingerie,” he confirmed, a small smirk arising to his lips; hidden beneath his bearded chin and moustached upper lip. You relinquished your hitched breath, quirking your chin to the side and slowly clamping your eyelids shut.

“That I did, betrothed,” you spat at him, watching carefully as his amber-hued eyes once again met with your own. If your breath had not already held stifled within your chest moments prior, you felt at risk of choking entirely under the intensity of his gaze. His irises bore the intensity of a dehydrated man searching for the quench of iced water; the intensity of a man desperate for his first hot meal amongst weeks of miliary rations.

“What is wrong-,” you began your probing question towards the man tied by destiny to you.

“You have cursed my soul,” he growled in a snarled frown, “and I am now slave to your request.”

You sucked in a breath, unwilling to bare the brunt of his rage; you reached forward and claimed his wrists within your circled grasp.

“Oh, please,” you spat at him, challenging him with the angle of your chin; “I beg your pardon, my lor-.”

“Don’t,” he spat, his rage holding firm to his brow. Your eyes widened under his intense crystalline graze. Unaccustomed to receiving this form of formal reprimand, you refused to succumb beneath its foreignness.

“I meant no-,” you began again, your words this time halting as you felt the firm press of a forehead against your own. Mihawk’s eyes were closed in a harsh snap, the wrinkles of his crow’s feet laying prominent against the apples of his cheeks as he rose his right hand up to collect your jaw. All manner of professionalism left your body, your arms relinquishing their presence laying outstretched beside you and instinctively falling to the nape of the neck laid before you.

You felt his darkened locks graze against your fingertips, your eyes closing in response to this unrestrained caress. As you allowed a moment of silence to fall beneath you, the only aspect of the embrace falling between you were the elongated, shared inhale and exhale of air between your breath.

“I am trying my best, my lady,” you heard his voice utter in a tone only meant for your ears, a whimper caught within his mouth at the title, “but your demands are-,” he paused pressing further into your embrace, his body almost becoming flush with your own, “seemingly impossible.”

This was not at all what you were expecting on a Wednesday afternoon, your timetable mostly occupied with training Perona in the art of conversation and musicality scheduled for the remainder of the day. As you felt Mihawk almost give into the touch, you raked your right palm over his chest and held him away from falling further into your body. As you began to speak, you were once again hushed by his voice.

“The moon,” he winced, “the starlit sky,” his body almost seemed to cave in its stoop against your own, “the-,” you felt your own breath hitch again alongside his own, “-the sun.” His body, although holding you close and flush with his own, felt an arms-length away.

“You’re withholding something from me,” you whispered against him, noses brushing as you felt your lips unconsciously drawing towards his own.

“My business is my own, my lady-,” you chose this moment to interrupt his speech.

“-your betrothed,” you corrected him, your right arm holding firm its place against his chest. Allowing another moment of vulnerability to break through the surface of your iron-clad armament; you elaborated further.

“As your wife,” you almost winced through your expression, “I am to become privy to all that ails you.” Mihawk sucked in a shaken breath, grasping at your jaw with his firm grip, his fingertips raking at the skin of your neck.

“That may be true,” he chose to utilise one more moment joining his forehead against your own before completely pulling away from your embrace, “but you are not. Not yet, anyway.” He turned his body away from yours, leaving you almost gasping for breath at the intensity of your absence. He effortlessly relayed your measurements to the tailors and waved them off to excuse them from their servitude.

“You could take as long as you desired,” you uttered quietly, in a voice above a whisper, ”why would you desire to pursue such an undertaking with haste? I gave-,” you halted your next words, prompting a pause to rise from the former warlord. You sucked in a small breath, “-I gave you an out. Why would you pursue it, my lo-,” you shook your head, “-my betrothed?”

“Because you challenged me,” he offered, his body turning to face you once more with a small smirk rising to his cheeks, “and I am not once to shy away from a challenge.” You stepped your body further toward him, your own aura of professionalism again rising to your body in reaction to his own.

“Is that all I be to you, Mihawk?” you hushed your tone, screaming at him with your intense gaze, “an object to simply be conquered?” Mihawk backed his step behind himself, his posture almost seeming to stumble; but recover quickly under its retreat.

After taking a moment to collect himself, he allowed a small smile to rise to his face as he recited a small poetic and melodic saying to you.

“The ten rings of the Sapsorrow queen, all riddled with charm,” he breathed out to you, his voice humming to the air, “none can break from its challenger’s gleam, or cause the commissioner harm.”

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head slightly at the poetry he uttered.

“I don’t understand,” you spoke in a completely clear utterance.

“You will,” Mihawk informed you with a similar lilt in his vocals.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-BONUS -.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Perona,” the green-haired swordsman addressed in passing to the pink-haired ward.

“Zoro,” she nodded her greeting back to him as they began their ascension and descension towards one another. As if in complete synchrony, their footsteps halted mere metres away from one another. Zoro sucked in a breath through his nose, while Perona hissed an inhale against her pearled teeth.

“Do you think he-,” Perona began, halting her words as Zoro spoke atop her.

“-He’s fucking infatuated,” Zoro completed their mutual thought.

Chapter 3

Tag List:

@writingmysanity @gingernut131414 @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @be-good-please @little-bunnybabe @sukilovesyou @buggyenjoyer @thesnailus @under-kitty @acehyacinth @andriannag

#one piece #opla #opla fic #x reader #one piece live action #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk

441 notes · View notes

shownusgfayoooo · 10 months

Text

the mafia boss’s wife

Pairing: Seonghwa x Y/N

Tropes: mafia husband au, arranged marriage (briefly mentioned), hurt/ comfort, danger, protective seonghwa

T/W: descriptions of a physical assault + subsequent injuries, cursing

Words: 2k

my masterlist

“Are you sure you’re done, Y/N?”

Startled from pushing the peas around on your plate, you looked up into Mingi’s eyes. Of course, everyone had noticed that you had only managed to take a few bites of your dinner, but only he would be bold enough to call you out on it.

You scrunched your nose. “Yea. I just feel kinda beat actually.” Work had been a lot lately, and you just wanted to snuggle under your covers and put an end to such a long week.

Seonghwa squeezed your thigh under the table in comfort. You turned to look at your mafia husband, a soft smile on your lips. He looked at you with worry in his eyes. Your heart softened at such an expression of concern from him; he was usually so stoic (with everyone else but you, that is). It had intimidated you so much at the beginning of your arranged marriage before you saw his deeply caring nature and kind heart.

You shook your head gently at his unspoken question before addressing the rest of the boys. “I’m just gonna head to bed. I’ll see ya when I see ya. Be safe.”

Jongho waved, Yeosang and San nodded at you emphatically, Wooyoung rolled his eyes “You worry too much, Y/N,” and Hongjoong and Yunho wished you a good night’s sleep.

Seonghwa kept a hold of your hand as you got up and walked you to the double doors of the massive dining room. “Do you want me to walk you up, my love?”

You pushed his shoulder lightly. “No, you haven’t even finished dinner. Besides, I know you guys are hitting the South Bay tonight. Don’t think you can get anything past me, and I want you to go in as prepared as you can. I alsoo know you won’t discuss the details in front of me.”

He pressed his lips to your wrist, his eyes alight with mischief and danger. “My beautiful wife. You really do worry too much. We will be fine.”

You just looked at him and bit your lip, as your mind drew up all kinds of scenarios in which you lost him. He knew you well enough after 2 years of marriage though and pulled you out of your spiral before it could get too drastic.

“Hey, don’t do that.” He lifted your chin up for you to meet his eyes. “The job tonight is child’s play; we could do it blindfolded. And, you know that I will always always do everything in my power to come back home to you.”

At the absolute certainty in his voice, the knot in your chest released a little. You put your head against his chest. “Wake me up when you’re back.”

“Y/N..” His pout really was too adorable.

You looked up at him seriously. “I’m serious. I need to know you’re safe, as soon as possible.”

He sighed. “Alright, alright. You know I can never say no to you. Torture me, sure. Make me disturb your rest when you look like an angel, I’d love to.”

You chuckled at his antics and pushed him back to the table.

“Be safe. I love you.”

“Goodnight, baby!”

You smiled to yourself as you walked up the three flights of stairs and across the landing to your wing of the house.

As you entered your room, something felt off. You looked around, trying to convince your overactive mind that you were imagining the negative energy. You made to take a step towards your bathroom, when your eyes strayed back to the curtain fluttering in the wind. You never left the window open. Before you could scream, you felt a hand wrap around your mouth.

“Let’s keep this simple. You come with us quietly. And we let you live. You make a sound. You die a slow death when we get to where we need to go. Got it?”

You froze, and fear coursed through your body. Keep your head. Stay calm. Before you were a mafia boss’s wife, you were a mafia boss’s daughter. You were trained for situations like these.

You struggled to the right. As expected, the assailant’s grip tightened. He clearly had not expected a fight and was trying to adjust his footing to manage. But you had managed your goal. You grabbed the nail file from the dresser you had stumbled into and jammed it backwards, hoping it would hit his eye. From his sudden release, it had. Falling forward, you rushed toward where the panic button was on the other side of the room. You were almost there when a hand grabbed you around the ankle and pulled you down. Your head slammed down on the floor. Your lip felt warm where you had bit it on impact. As you began to be dragged backwards, you used the momentum to twist around and kick your other foot in his face. You noticed a scar across his eye. The one second it took to break the hold was all you needed. You crawled forward that last inch and pressed the button.

The immediacy left you. Help was on the way. Seonghwa would be here soon. In the meantime, there was nothing around you to use as a weapon, and this guy had a foot and a half on you. He was already up before you could form a game plan. He grabbed you around the throat and slammed you back into the wall.

“You’re gonna pay for that, you little bitch.” At least he wasn’t going to kidnap you immediately. That gave the guys a chance to get to your room in time. You tried to hold on as black spots danced around your vision.

No sooner had the thought crossed your mind when you distantly heard the door slam open and a cacophony of voices.

The pressure around your throat released. You sank down to the ground, trying to recover and remain alert enough to help in the fight. Hands immediately grabbed you and started to carry you across your room back to the door. The heat of a body in front of you and behind you. You gulped the air down.

“Y/N, Y/N, can you breathe? Are you ok?”

Yunho set you down at the threshold of the door but kept his arms around you until Wooyoung stepped back to keep a hold of you. Yeosang rushed past the both of you, yelling back that he was getting the first aid kit.

As your vision cleared, you finally took in the state of the fight. San and Jongho were checking all the entrances and exits, presumably for other attackers. Hongjoong was simultaneously piling up all the attacker’s weapons and yelling at someone on the phone. Mingi and Yunho, being the tallest, were trying their best to hold Seonghwa back. He was moving so fast, he looked like a blur. The intruder wasn’t even moving anymore, and his face was already just a smear of red.

A shaky breath left you. The danger was over. You needed Seonghwa now.

Jongho joined you and Wooyoung. Your knees gave out beneath you. They shared a look of alarm, but they understood immediately. You were strong enough for the fight, but now that the fight was done, you needed just one thing. San saw you collapse and rushed over to you.

“Ya, hyung!” You don’t know who called to him, but he didn’t listen.

You had never seen Seonghwa in such a rage. On the few occasions where the guys had let you witness some of the action, he took on the role of taunting the target, toying with them until he got what he needed or beating up the victims almost lazily. Now he was focused and lethal. He moved with such precision; it was almost beautiful. You didn’t think he would ever stop.

At this point, Hongjoong was also trying to restrain Seonghwa . “Y/N needs you!”

He slowed down at the mention of your name but didn’t stop.

Your voice was just a broken whisper. “Seonghwa.”

He stilled. It took one second. And then he was rushing towards you. His hands cradled your face. The look on his face was one you would never forget.

He said nothing; his eyes anguished.

“We need to treat her injuries, hyung.”

He closed his eyes briefly before they opened again, and he nodded. His hands slipped down to hold you up, and Yeosang led the way to the next room. You sat down on the couch, but Seonghwa’s hold never loosened. All you could do was look at each other while Yeosang prepared some gauze.

You watched him with gratitude. You were alive. You had not laid your eyes on him for the last time. He was here. You were here. You had time, hopefully a whole lifetime together- it had not been cut short tonight. The aches and pains suddenly left you, and you almost let loose as hysterical giggle at how happy you were.

As joyful as you were, it quickly gave way to concern as you took in the look in his eyes. Eyes that swirled with pain and guilt. Sighing, you recognized immediately what was eating at him.

“Seonghwa, I’m fine.”

Anger blazed in them now. “You are not fine.”

“It’s just a few bruises. I’m okay.”

He turned to Yeosang, who quickly jumped into a status report. “From what I could see so far, she has superficial bruises on her throat, ankle, and wrists. The bleeding on her face is just from her lip but has already stopped bleeding. If I’m right, then he probably grabbed you, you fell, and that’s how you busted your lip. If that’s true, I wanna make sure you don’t have a concussion from hitting your head when that happened. Otherwise, some painkillers, a lot of rest, and she will be fine, hyung.”

The thunderous expression on his face did not waver, however.

You sighed and looked back at Yeosang and lifted your eyebrows. He took the hint and left. You could hear whispers commence outside and were touched at the guys’ concern for you, but it would have to wait. Seonghwa had opened his mouth angrily to protest, but you turned in his arms before he could.

“Thank you for saving me.” A few tears slipped out as you recalled how close it had been. His fury morphed into worry, and he wiped your tears as he held you gently.

“I know you’re concerned about me-”

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it.” His voice was full of angst.

Your hands came up to either side of his face.

“I promise you- I am okay. This is nothing compared to how bad it could have been- what he promised to do. I know it hurts you when I’m hurt. I’m sorry.” You pressed your forehead against his.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Y/N. It’s me who should be apologizing. I promised you the day I married you that I would never ever let anything hurt you. I.. I can’t even begin to start apologizing for that- I can’t live with myself. I couldn’t if something happened to you-”

“Sh, sh. Nothing happened to me. You got to me in time. You protected me. You can’t control everything. You did your best. I feel safest with you. Now, please stop this and just hold me.” Something in his eyes gave a little. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had kind of a tiring night.”

He chuckled weakly at your attempt at levity. “I’m all yours. Anything you need. Forever.”

You smiled enthusiastically.

“After you get patched up and take some pain meds.”

You huffed at him but stuck your pinky out. “Deal.”

Everyone outside was probably eavesdropping, because no sooner had he said that the guys started filing in, crying out in concern and settling around you and Seonghwa.

You smiled at everyone, rolled your eyes against Seonghwa’s indignation and hovering behavior when WooSan barely jostled you, and nestled against him anyways. Your ear to his heart.

“I figured out a way for you to live with yourself by the way.”

His hands stroked through your hair. “Oh? What’s that?”

A mean little smile to copy his. “Revenge.”

His laugh was hearty. You were lulled to sleep.

936 notes · View notes

shadowandlightt · 3 months

Text

Of Nightmares and Memories /four/ Azriel x reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

A/N: We're getting closer to her returning to the IC and I'm so happy about that. I also had a lot of fun writing this part, so I hope you enjoy!

Part One Part Two Part Three

The following days were much the same, watching from a distance as Tamlin worked hard to woo the young Feyre. Your eyes rolled every time he tried to complement her. She didn’t belong here. Just like you didn’t belong here. She was too much of a dreamer to become a High Lord’s wife, or little play thing. Too much of a dreamer to be held down by his endless rules and customs.

She deserved so much more. You deserved more.

Imagines of wings and starlight fill your head every time you close your eyes. You could see all of them, laughing at The House of Wind over dinner, having a grand time without you. They moved on, you know they had. But you couldn’t move on from them, no matter how hard you tried. You yearned for them.

You yearned for Cassian and his brutish humor, the kind that always got him in trouble with your mother, but always made you laugh harder than you should. You yearned for Morrigan and her never ending support when your father was being particularly dastardly. And Azriel….oh how you longed for him. The gentle touches of his shadows, the shy smiles, and rare bouts of laughter. Besides your brother, you missed Azriel most of all.

He was your Az, and yet you had no claim to him. But he seemed to understand that you belonged to one another. Maybe that’s why you made the promises you did.

Where you go I go, but whatever we do we do it together.

You made that promise before you flew for the first time. You were too afraid to fly as a child, but when Azriel came along and had to learn so late in life….well you got over your fear for him. You grasped his scarred hand in your tiny one and led him to the edge of the House of Wind. Why they decided that was the best place to learn to fly, you’ll never quite understand.

But it was then that you looked up at him, tears in your eyes due to fear, that you spoke, “Where you go I go.”

He nodded slowly, hair blowing in the wind, “But we do it together.”

“Together,” You agreed, holding his hand tighter.

And together you leapt from the ledge and let the wind take hold of your wings. Together you wobbled, but still stayed afloat. Together you figured it out, never once letting go of the other. And when you landed back on the roof, you held him so tightly as he laughed. And it was then that you decided that was the most beautiful sound you ever heard. It was then that you decided you would do anything to hear that laugh and see that smile as much as possible.

And it was then that he decided he would always protect you, because you were his just as much as he was yours.

“He’s sending her back,” Lucien’s voice drew you from your thoughts.

“He’s what?”

“Your brother came,” Lucien says, face pale, “Took her mind, threatened to crush it. It isn’t safe for her here anymore, time is almost up. So Tam is sending her back.”

“He’s a damned fool,” you hiss, “She’s in love with him, it’s plain as day to see! All he has to do is get her to admit it, but he can’t do that, can he? He’s giving up, all because my brother decided to come and scare him?”

“You weren’t there.”

“No, I wasn’t, but when does the brutality of the Night Court surprise Tamlin?” You question, “He’s seen it first hand, he knows what we’ll do to him. Why do you think he keeps me full of Faebane? Huh?”

“Y/N-”

“He knows I could shred all of your minds so easily,” You nearly laugh, “I could make Rhys look like child’s play if I really wanted to. You think he is vile and violent? See what happens when I have all of my powers, Lucien. There’ll be nothing left to bury. I could raze the Spring Court to the ground and not feel a thing about it.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m a prisoner here, don’t think that I wouldn’t take the first chance to escape,” You shake your head, “No matter who I have to kill. I might still be a child compared to the rest of you but I’m a child of the Night. Brutality is in my blood.”

“You aren’t like them-”

“Oh? Am I not? Just because I’ve been docile so far doesn’t mean it isn’t inside of me. I am a wolf in sheep's clothing. I always have been, dear Lucien. I am the most dangerous person in this manor, and he’s a fool to forget it.”

His face contorts into something that you aren’t quite able to read. Pride wells in your chest knowing you’re doing your job. You want to feel sick about it, want to feel sick about the role you’re playing. But if it brings you one step closer to your brother then you can’t bring yourself to feel bad about it. All you want is to go home again. You just want Rhys to hold you and tell you everything is going to be alright again.

“Tamlin deserves what's coming to him,” you hiss, “You all do.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Oh but I do. I hope Rhys enjoys breaking every single one of you. And if he doesn’t, I will,” You take a step closer to Lucien, “By the cauldron I promise you, I will break this court apart piece by piece and I will laugh as I do it. And I won’t stop until he’s the only one left standing, and all he has to claim is rubble.”

It rises up in your chest, and you feel it escaping through your fingertips, the darkness you used to run from long ago. You smile at it, feeling it wrap up your arms and cascade down towards the floor. It took a lot of energy to conjure it. You would be exhausted afterwards. But it would be worth it.

Lucien took a step back, and then another. Head shaking. You knew what you looked like. A vile smile on your face, darkness twirling all around you. You looked like your big brother. You felt the power flowing through your veins, what little you had left of it anyway.

“Don’t underestimate me, Lucien.”

Tamlin sent Feyre back to the human lands the following day. You watched from your window with a scowl on your face as the carriage took her away. Tamlin was giving up and damning all of you in the process. Amerantha would come for him soon enough, and then there would be nothing left for you but to run.

Maybe you could make it to the Night Court, maybe you would be lucky.

“Once she comes, you’re free,” Tamlin spoke over dinner that night.

“Perhaps,” You do your best to sound bored.

You had to control your heart, so you didn’t give away how scared you truly were. If she found you, you would be dead in an instant. Or maybe she’d use you as a toy to get Rhys to do her bidding some more. He was already her whore, but perhaps she wanted more. She wanted him on his knees for her. And even you knew that he bowed before no one but his court.

“Maybe I’ll stay here, I’ve grown quite fond of this place.”

“Liar.” Lucien bites out.

One look from you though and he stands down. What he doesn’t know is you slept for almost twelve hours after your little display earlier. It took everything you had, all of your energy and what power you had. But it was worth every second to see the look on Lucien’s face. To know that you were still able to scare him enough.

“Something you add, Lucien?” You question, venom dripping from your words.

His head shakes, swallowing deeply. It only makes you smirk. You were so close to going home, to any semblance of home. Maybe your brother wouldn’t be there, but you’d be free. The Court of Nightmares had to be better than living here.

“You should hide,” Tamlin says slowly, “They’re coming.”

“Now?”

He only nods, and reaches for more wine. He seems too calm. But then again he’s already given up. He gave up the second he sent Feyre back across the wall to her family. You can’t help but scoff as you rise to your feet. You expected him to fight back, maybe even for Lucien to fight. But you didn’t expect them to just lay down and roll over and let Amerantha march her cronies in here and take everyone.

“You’re a coward, Tamlin.”

“So you’ve been saying for hundreds of years.”

“You should have just killed me.”

“Heard that too.”

Your eyes roll, “I hope you have fun as her dog.”

“Enjoy your freedom, Y/N.”

You scoff again, “You best hope I never get the chance to kill you, Tamlin. I won’t make it as quick as my brother made your family's death.”

Tag List

@historygeekqueen @wallacewillow0773638 @sstrohma @saltedcoffeescotch @hnyclover @thelov3lybookworm @queerqueenlynn @minnieoo @maddybraps @mariahoedt @witchymomfrien

#acomaf #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger

302 notes · View notes

inkskinned · 1 year

Text

for months i had this obsession with wing shape.

the majority of feathered wings have an underlying musculature almost akin to a thumb. the primary feathers - sometimes called "flight feathers" - are those long feathers that seem to "hang off" of the wing. they're actually connected to the "hand" (literally the manus) of the bird and can be individually rotated. they are responsible for the majority of thrust during the downstroke, and while the number of them depends on speciation; the majority of birds will have between 9 and 11 of these feathers (as opposed to secondary flight feathers; their shorter partners, which vary from 6 to 40).

i started attaching them to the silhouettes of people, drawing angels tumbling out of buildings and running late to work and skipping class to smoke outside of a 7-11. i drew angels eating apples and doing their homework and pushing their hair back from their eyes and holding a pencil. the margins of all of my poems had feathers raining down the side of the page.

i was in the worst depression of my life and had decided i was giving up on the idea of freedom. i would be a happy wife to a mediocre husband and the angels would come and pass their wings over my eyes and let me feel nothing but numbness. i would have a life like an echo. i would never enter my body without knocking first - it would carry all this weight, and i would be sleeping peacefully, my soul somewhere out there, flying with wings.

she laughed and came over and sat next to me, and smelled of lavender. whenever she talked, a strange harmony stole into my heart; something that was only memory and no words. not an echo - an answer.

inside of her sketchbook were hundreds of pictures of birds.

#this is true and also #almost was a completely different post #about recovery #but no #wlw instead bitch #writeblr #game of thrones was popular at the time.#i was mad about the wing shape of the dragons; at their lack of connective tissue. i kept talking about the hands we have #a wing is not a hand #it is an ecologically significant adaptation #also #bat dragons would have been very cool.#yes i repeated the word echo it was intentional it is answering that above paragraph.

1K notes · View notes

daisies-daydreams · 1 year

Note

Hi! I hope you're having a good day. I wanted to ask if you could please write a fluffy/angsty scenario where Alejandro Vargas comforts his wife whose having anxiety about being a first-time mom? Thank you!!

Pairing: Alejandro Vargas x Pregnant!Wife!Reader Category: Fluff/Angst Warnings: Mentions of Morning Sickness, Pregnancy

Word Count: 987

A/N: Hello! Thank you for your lovely request! I’m a sucker for domestic scenarios. 🥰 I apologize, my Spanish is pretty rusty but I tried to be as accurate as possible. I hope you enjoy!

Warm sunlight poured over your face and cascaded down the soft fabric of your maternity dress. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath. You swayed back and forth in your rocking chair while rubbing your swollen belly. The deck creaked below you with each sway of the chair. Your eyes snapped open when you felt a small kick below your palm.

“Hello, little one,” you whispered with a smile. Another kick reverberated against your hand as if they were answering. You grinned as you continued to rub your abdomen, taking in the sound of the summer breeze rustling the nearby trees. Heavy footsteps thudded behind you. You turned your head to see Alejandro smiling warmly. He carried two glasses of horchata in his large hands. You returned his gentle expression as you took the beverage in your hands. He kissed your lips softly before sliding into the chair next to yours.

“¿Cómo te sientes hoy, cariño?” he asked sweetly. You sighed, taking a small sip of your drink. Notes of cinnamon and vanilla coated your tongue, blending pleasantly before you swallowed.

“Estoy muy cansada,” you replied with a weak laugh. “It felt like I didn’t get any sleep at all last night,” you continued, eyes watching the hummingbirds flick back and forth around the nectar-filled feeder that hung nearby. Alejandro nodded, recalling how he helped you wash your hair after you threw up several times throughout the night. He set his drink down on the side table and took your hand in his, stroking your knuckles with his thumb.

“Lo siento, mi amor,” he apologized. You smiled at him as he massaged the back of your hand.

“Thank you, Ale,” you sighed. He nodded. Your heart melted when he brought your hand up to his lips.

“I’m sorry it’s been so hard, mi corazón,” he whispered. You smiled, bringing his hand down to your tummy. He gasped when your baby kicked again, this time much harder. You winced at the harsh, internal impact. “Ay, te comportas,” Alejandro clicked his tongue playfully. You quietly laughed, shoulders bouncing before you took another slow sip of horchata. You smacked your lips, drawing out a heavy sigh as a hummingbird drew closer to you. You held your breath as its wings buzzed quietly, its small, emerald head tilting as it observed you. The bird’s ruby throat puffed out before it quickly zipped away into a nearby tree.

“Magnífico,” Alejandro murmured, his lips cracked into a wonder-struck grin. You nodded, watching as more of the tiny birds dipped and swerved around. He squeezed your hand, drawing your eyes to him. “(Y/N)…I want you to know that I’m so amazed by you,” he breathed. You tilted your head. He clasped his other hand above yours, his thumb still stroking your soft palm. “You’ve been so strong through all of this, mi vida. I know this is our very first child, and-” his words halted when he saw tears well in your eyes.

“¿Cariño?¿Qué te pasa?” he asked, his brows knitting together as he wiped a tear that rolled down your cheek. You released a shaky sigh as you sobbed, the waterfalls ceaselessly pouring from your eyes. Alejandro frowned, patiently waiting for your response.

“What if…What if I’m not ready, Ale?” you cried. Your husband reached over, taking your cup from you and placing it next to his.

“Not ready for what, (Y/N)? To be a mother?” he asked. You nodded and sniffed. He hummed, his hands coming up again to wipe the wet stains on your face. “Ven aquí, bebé,” he murmured softly while patting his thigh. You wiped your eyes before he helped you onto his lap. You sat on his sturdy thighs, his hand bracing the outside of your leg. Your face crashed into his shoulder. He stroked your back and whispered sweet words as you soaked his shirt with your tears.

“I’m so scared,” you confessed with a shaky breath. Alejandro pulled back to look at you, his eyes studying your worn features. “Th-There’s just so many unknowns. What if the baby doesn’t latch right away? What if something happens in the middle of the night? When I’m not around?” you rambled. You swallowed a lump in your throat, your husband’s eyes steady on you. “What if I…I just can’t do it,” you shook. Alejandro was silent, his hand pressing on the small of your back. Your bottom lip trembled, pain and exhaustion ricocheting through every bone in your body.

“Hey, look at me,” he commanded gently. You slowly tilted your head up, his hand on your thigh coming up to cup your chin. You blushed as he captured your lips in a deep kiss. You melted into the tender embrace, your hands coming up to stroke up his chest. Alejandro’s thumb caressed your chin before he pulled away. “Cariño, this will be a first for both of us. Will we make mistakes? Sí, all parents do,” he said firmly. You sighed, your body sinking into his hold. “I believe in you, (Y/N)-I believe in us. And we’re going to raise this baby the best we can,” Alejandro said with a sturdy resolution. Your frown slowly shifted into a small grin. You nodded.

“Te amo, mi corazón,” Alejandro whispered gently, his words falling over you like the calming breeze. You laughed quietly, his hand coming up to swipe at the small waterfalls cascading down your weary face.

“Te amo, Ale,” you said, nuzzling your cheek against his. You felt him smile at his nickname, his arms coming to squeeze you tightly as he planted small kisses over your face. Both of you remained seated on your porch, holding each other tenderly. You soon nodded off in his arms, head rolling into his chest. Alejandro smiled, brushing hair out of your face before he too slipped into an afternoon nap.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Translations:

¿Cómo te sientes hoy, cariño? - How are you doing today, honey?

Estoy muy cansada - I’m very tired.

Lo siento, mi amor - I’m sorry, my love.

Mi corazón - My heart

Ay, te comportas - Hey, behave yourself.

Mi vida - My life.

Magnífico - Magnificent

¿Cariño?¿Qué te pasa? - Honey? What’s wrong?

Ven aquí, bebé - Come here, baby.

Sí - Yes

Te amo - I love you.

#alejandro x y/n #alejandro x you #alejandro vargas #alejandro cod #alejandro mw2 #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x you #cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #reader insert #fluff #cod fluff #alejandro vargas fluff

436 notes · View notes

blueraineshadows · 1 year

Text

Wedding Night

Sebastian Sallow x MC - wedding night, their first time, mature content, nsfw sexual content 🌶🔥💚

MC sat at the little dressing table, brushing out the curls from her long hair, and gazing into the tarnished mirror. The face that stared back at her didnt look any different and yet today had marked a huge change. She placed the wooden brush down and held out her left hand, fingers a little splayed, to admire the simple silver band on her ring finger. Her heart swelled, tiny flaps of butterfly wings kissing the edges of her tummy. They had done it. They had taken their vows. She was now Mrs Sallow.

MC stood, smoothing down the front of her new nightgown, the white cotton soft against her palm. It had been a gift from Anne, the neckline a delicate lace and the front tied closed with soft ribbon. The hem reached just below her knees and she looked down at her bare feet, wiggling her toes. She took a shaky breath, nerves making her chest feel tight. Sebastian would see her exposed flesh tonight, the thought of it sent fire sparking through her veins, but also, that hesitant part of her feared she would not live up to his expectations.

She pressed a hand to her chest thinking about the whispers she had heard from girls about being with a man, remembered the passionate prose in the few romantic books she had read. She was worried about disappointing him despite the heat of their kisses, kisses stolen in precious moments alone. She closed her eyes thinking of the feel of his hand on her waist through her clothing and how desperately she had wanted to feel it against her skin. Tonight she would finally know and she was breathless at the very thought.

The bedroom door opened and Sebastian came through, drying his hands on a towel. He had removed his jacket and waistcoat, gone was his cravat, and his white dress shirt was open at the throat. Her heart began to pound and her fingers clutched at the fabric of her nightgown beside her thighs. She needed to hold on to something because the slow, admiring look that travelled up her body made his eyes burn with a hunger and his smile brought a tremble to her legs.

"Beautiful," he murmured softly. He tossed the towel to one side and approached her, taking up her left hand and sliding a finger over her new ring. "And, officially, all mine."

"Would you like anything, a drink perhaps?" She asked. Her voice was a little breathless, her nerves catching at it. He cupped her jaw, a thumb sliding over her bottom lip. "I want to kiss my wife," he said.

Her eyes closed at the expectation of soft lips and his familiar taste. His mouth pressed gently, first the bottom lip, then the top. Then his hot breath came out in a rush and he kissed her more firmly, his hand sliding into her flowing hair to hold her head. She gasped, lips parting in surprise at his passion and his tongue swept into her mouth. Fire bloomed outwards from the very centre of her, a moan, deep and sensuous escaping her throat as her own tongue eagerly met his. She clung to him, her bare toes curling into the rug.

When they came up for air, he pressed his forehead to hers, their panting breaths mingling between them. "Sebastian," she breathed.

"To finally hold you like this..." He gripped her waist, fingers twisting into the fine cotton as he panted. "...I feel like my heart is about to burst out of my chest."

She pressed a hand right over his heart and felt the thud of it against his ribs. Her finger tips grazed at warm flesh where his shirt was open and she bit her lip, her eyes flying shyly to his as she dared to slide her hand beneath the fabric. Her palm delighted in the sensation of her skin against his, her finger tips gliding upwards to dance across his collar bone. A sigh escaped his lips and he took her hand in his, his gaze burning into hers as he kissed the inside of her wrist. "Come," he said. He drew her towards him, walking them backwards to the waiting bed. Their marriage bed.

MC lay down, her hair pooling on the blanket, her eyes never leaving his as he settled beside her, propped up on one elbow. He trailed a fingertip from her jaw, down the column of her neck and across her collarbone, her skin flaring hotly under his touch. He traced the lacy edge of the neckline against her chest, desperate to feel more of her. "You're trembling," he whispered.

She smiled. "I call that the Sebastian Effect."

His eyes lit up with delighted surprise. "Is that so?"

She put a hand to his face, laughter dancing on her lips. "But don't let that go to your head now, my love."

He grinned. "Too late. Now, let me see what else the Sebastian Effect will make you do."

He pressed his mouth just below her ear, lips brushing skin, teasing her with the tip of his tongue as he moved lower. Her lips parted, her head tilting to allow him more access to her neck. Kiss after kiss burned her flesh as he moved his mouth lower to the softness where her neck met her shoulder. Here, he bit softly, teeth grazing gently before he sucked at the tenderness. Her eyes fluttered closed and she moaned, heat gathering between her thighs.

When his mouth arrived at the lace of her gown, he gently tugged at the ribbon holding it closed. She looked down, watching as the ribbon slid free with an aching slowness. She heard his sigh of appreciation as the gown opened a little, his lips pressing hotly against her skin. His fingers tugged at the fabric, urging it to slide over her shoulders as his mouth explored every inch of skin as it was exposed. She arched her back, hungry for his kiss as it moved ever lower. The gown slid faster, exposing her tender peaks to the heat of his breaths. She closed her eyes, breath held and then came the soft slide of tongue over an aching nipple. The flesh tightened immediately and she cried out, her fingers sinking into his brown locks to hold on tightly.

His mouth continue to explore, moving to the other breast to swirl his tongue hotly, his fingers moving to tease where his mouth had just vacated. MC was drifting, a haze of desire embracing her at his every touch, heat pooling deliciously between her thighs so that she had to squeeze them together. When his tongue teased around her navel she whimpered, and then it was hot kisses across to her hip bones. Her nightgown was now a twisted thing about her hips and she wriggled, desperate to be rid of it.

He chuckled and looked up at her. "Getting impatient, are we?"

MC propped herself up on her elbows to look at him, breathing quickly. Her cheeks were flushed and there were little red marks on her neck and breasts from his kisses. She stared down her naked body, his head so close to her searing heat and a flash of fire, hotter than any Confringo spell, shot through her. "Yes," she breathed. "I want you."

His smirk was dangerous, the desire in his gaze made her heart pound and her pulse flicker wildly. He got up to his knees and threw off his shirt, her eyes devouring his freckled skin. And then, he was sliding the nightgown off her hips, tugging it free of her before tossing it to the floor. Her legs trembled as his palms slid up the backs of her calf muscles, hooking behind her knees to part her thighs, exposing her to him.

Her eyes were wide, fascinated at the way his chest rose and fell with his hard breathing, her fingers aching to trace the flat plane of his stomach. He was beautiful. Was she enough? Her nerves fluttered in her chest as she lay there before him, more exposed than she had ever been in her life. Her fingers nervously toyed with the blanket as he gazed down at her. He licked his lips at the sight of the wetness there and as much as he wanted to take this slow, he couldn't help himself.

He bent his head, his mouth seeking her out, his tongue sliding over the slick heat of her. It was worth it, a sound came from her mouth that made him moan against her. MC's head fell back, her fingers now clutching the blanket till her knuckles went white. She opened her mouth but didn't think she could draw breath, the air had been stolen from her lungs as he licked exquisite fire into her.

She could feel a pressure building within, his tongue swept across a sensitive nub and her hips flexed, her moan almost feral. He did it again and she reached to grip his hair. Again, and again and the pressure went up another level. "Merlin," she gasped. He sucked against it, tongue flicking to tease before sucking again and then she felt the press of a finger sliding into her. The building inferno was overwhelming now, her breaths coming in mad pants as her hand fisted in his hair. She never knew it could be like this, she felt as though she was losing her grip, slipping over an edge and she had no idea where it was going to take her. He gripped her hips, working her harder and she found the edge, wave after wave of heat washed over her, a pulsing, delicious sensation that had inexplicable sounds pouring from her lips.

MC sank back into the mattress, floating, panting, stunned. Sebastian was at her side immediately, smoothing her hair back from her damp face. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, reaching for him, pulling him tight against her. She revelled in the feel of his chest pressed against her flesh, sensitive breasts tingling against the brush of his chest hair. She pressed her mouth to his neck, desperate to repay the earth shattering glow that seemed to radiate from her. "I love you," she breathed. "I love you."

"I love you, too." His mouth found hers, eager, probing. She could taste herself on his lips, her core contracting with the memory of how it had felt to have him kiss her there. Her hands were hungry to feel him, sliding along his arms, his back, her fingers sliding under the waistband of his trousers, a frustrating barrier against his flesh. She wanted more, so much more.

He watched as she unfastened his trousers, delicate fingers trembling as she tugged them down. He wriggled out of them, underwear going with them and his erection sprang free. She stared, awe struck, her hand hesitant as she reached for him. He gently took her wrist, guiding her to it. "Like this," he whispered. He wrapped her hand around it, small sounds coming from his throat as he showed her how to stroke the smooth skin.

A bead of moisture was at the tip and she swiped it with her thumb, he gasped and ducked his head, his breath hot against her neck. "Fuck."

The expletive sent a tingle through her and she swiped again. His hips flexed and she felt emboldened to move her hand a little faster, fascinated to watch the power she had over him. She slid her fisted hand down and back up and he thrust his hips towards her. "MC, I need...fuck."

She paused. "What do you need?"

He met her gaze, the fire blazing in his eyes for her making her lips part. He gripped her hip, sliding her into position, his knee parting her thighs. "This," he said. He stroked two fingers against her slit, she whimpered, the flesh still sensitive. He spread the wetness, using his fingers to open her a little. She widened her legs to accommodate him. "Take it, take me," she said.

He took hold of her hand, interlocking their fingers. "Tell me if it hurts."

She nodded. He angled himself, his hardness pressing against her. She gasped at the feel of him, her hips lifting on instinct. "Try to relax," he said. "I'll go slowly."

He gently pushed inwards and she gasped at the feeling of pressure, the stretch. It felt so tight, like there was resistance, but she didn't want it to stop. She held his hip, her fingers digging into his skin as he slowly inched inwards. There was a sharp sting and then the feel of flesh giving way and he slid so deep, her back arching, her mouth falling open at the full feeling. He paused, gripping her jaw to press a kiss to her mouth.

They were joined as one. It was as it should be. She kissed him back, fiercely. He was hers and she was his. And now, she wanted more. She rolled her hips eagerly and he smiled against her mouth. He began to move, slowly, rolling his hips, his eyes closed as he savoured her tightness. She held his hips, looking down to watch as he slid out all the way, the shine of slick on his cock making her bite her lip before he thrust back in. She moaned, her hands urging him to do it again. The sting was gone, now it was just pleasure, delicious, slick heat and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He groaned, his thrusts picking up speed. "Fuck...so fucking good."

Yes. She wanted him to feel like she had. She wanted him to fall off that edge into oblivion because of her. Her hands fluttered to touch him, stomach, chest, shoulders, she reached round to grab hold of his rather fetching behind, squeezing the flesh as he moved. His thrusts became harder, he gripped her hip, lifting her slightly and he sank in deeper, his tip hitting parts of her she didn't know existed. The noises that fell from his lips fascinated her, she stared at his face, the furrow in his brow, the way his lips were parted in desire. She reached for him, pulling him down so she could kiss that lip, tugging it with her teeth. His thrusts faltered, slammed into her a little out of rhythm and then he groaned deeply, burying his face into her neck as he pulsed deep inside her.

His breath fanned against her throat and she stroked her fingers through his hair, soothing him as he calmed. He lay beside her, pulling her in close. She felt him slide from within her and hot fluid spilled onto her thigh. She didn't care. She pressed herself against him, revelling in the warmth of their flushed bodies. He kissed her forehead.

She smiled up at him. "We are definitely doing that again."

He huffed a little laugh. "Would this be the Sebastian Effect again?"

She playfully hit him on the shoulder. He only held her tighter, laughter on his lips. "I didnt think I could love you more, but it turns out I can."

She blushed and trailed fingers across his chest. "So, I was alright? I mean, it was good for you?"

He took her face in his hands, his eyes full of love and just for her. "You are everything I have ever wanted. I'm the luckiest man alive."

MC felt the burn of tears, so full of the day and her love for him. She touched noses with him. "I love you, Sebastian Sallow. Forever."

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #mc x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut

469 notes · View notes

yichuuonvenus · 3 months

Text

Successes, Loyalties, and Laurel Leaves

Coriolanus Snow x Reader

~Description~

“Unfortunately the girl never responded to his love. It was not usual or possible for a nymph or a mortal woman in Greek mythology to resist the love of a god, but Daphne did so and in fact, she lost her life trying to escape this love.” - The Myth of Apollo and Daphne.

~Warnings~

Rape/non-consent, loss of virginity, obsessive behavior, murder

Part 1: The Search

Coriolanus Snow.

Owner of the Plinth fortune.

Future Head Gamemaker.

And most importantly future President of Panem.

Coriolanus was finally home, studying under the wing of his professor Dr. Gaul. He had his ancestral home back in his custody. He had his family and power back.

Snow lands on top as always…

…But he needed one more thing. He didn’t desire it but he knew he would need one.

A wife.

One with good political standing. One that was dumb but not too insipid. He needed one that was interesting enough if he wanted to continue his career.

He first thought of Livia Cardew.

She and her pointed little face would make for a good First Lady. Even if she was a gloating little girl just like now. He watched as she smiled proudly probably at another “accomplishment” she made. He continued to stare at her with a blank expression. Then he saw you and his expression, in the slightest, shifted.

He has never seen you before. He tried to pry his mind but never came up. That’s when he figured out you were new. He would’ve known you because he kept tabs on anyone. He was for sure you’ve never appeared in the capital before.

He made his way towards you, towards Livia who was already brushing you off like a toy she was done playing with.

“Coriolanus Snow,” Livia sighed as he drew close to her.

“Livia Cardew,” he said with a small bow and the most non-threatening smile he could come up with. It was quiet for a few seconds before Livia looked at you and finally remembered you were there.

“Coriolanus, this is my cousin.”

You did a small bow with a shy smile. You obviously weren’t comfortable with the amount of people that were here which made Coriolanus think that you probably weren’t around many people from whatever dwelling you came from.

He looked down at your dress. You wore a modest dress that could’ve been viewed as a hammy down if it was on anyone else. It was still pretty on you and hugged your figure in a good enough way he supposed.

“Did you just come to the Capitol?” Coriolanus asked.

You shook your head and then started talking, more mumbling and stuttering than talking.

“My family has been here we have just been in hiding.”

“You make yourself sound so ominous,” Livia laughed crudely. “Her father thought it would be safer if she stayed home. Away from the troubles of Panem.”

“You must find yourself lucky then,” Coriolanus said with a stiff smile.

“No, not quite. Mother thinks I needed to start meeting kids my own age. It’s been a lot harder than I expected.” You were staring down at your shoes. Barely holding eye contact.

Coriolanus smiled. It was endearing the way you held yourself. Shy and quiet it was refreshing in a way. You were a quiet little bird waiting for something to make you sing. He would make you sing.

“Well, I hoped to see more of you. You’ll have to meet my cousin Tigris. She would honestly love you,” he said.

Finally, did you hold his stare. A smile bloomed on your lips. You were almost excited that someone invited you to something as simple as meeting a cousin.

A woman with a wrinkled face called your name. She looked elegant as she walked towards you. She smiled as she saw Coriolanus.

“Mother,” you said as you kissed both of her cheeks.

“Coriolanus Snow,” the older woman bowed. “I see you’ve met my daughter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He saw the resemblance now. The same sweet smile and the same twinkle in your eyes.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

“I fear we have to go now but please send us a letter. We would love to have you over,” Your mother chirped.

“Of course, have a good night to you both.”

He watched you as you walked off. He bid Livia farewell as well but he couldn’t care to hold her stare. His eyes were on you.

Only you.

. . .

Coriolanus stared at you as you picked up a small budding rose. It was pink with shades of magenta near the top of the petals. He walked closer.

“That’s a nice one,” he said. You jumped at the suddenness of his voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No… it’s fine. I do that a lot. What brings you here?” You asked as, what seemed like, a coy smile etched onto your face.

“I like to walk around the gardens here. The roses are always so beautiful this time around…” Coriolanus leaned over a bush and grabbed a white one. No imperfections. It was simple, pure, and perfect. “Here, this one is a nicer one.”

“I couldn’t… pa- my father doesn’t like roses much and you picked it it’s too pretty for me,” you spoke in such a soft tone Coriolanus couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s as pretty as you.” He said quietly but you heard all the same.

You shook your head.

“I-“

Coriolanus was close now. You could feel his hand take yours and then lay the rose on it.

“A beauty deserves to be shared.”

“Of course,” you whispered.

Then he left without saying another word to you.

Part 2: The Hunt

It’s been a couple of weeks since that encounter. Coriolanus couldn’t help but think about how flustered you got when he called you pretty.

It was just too easy. You were going to be wrapped around his slender little finger.

Coriolanus could imagine it now. You on his arm. No, there was no need for Livia Cardew when you were right there. Pristine and perfect.

And Innocent.

He would have to fix that. You were unknowing of what this cruel world has to offer. He would show you slowly. Made sure not to scare you at first. Then he would show you everything you needed to know.

He was abruptly forced out of his little daydream of you when Dr. Gaul asked her question again.

“If we can’t control the districts what would need to be done?”

Coriolanus pondered on that question.

Control.

His mind drifted towards you. If he couldn’t control the districts then he would need to keep them in line. In check. Show them that no disobedience would be tolerated.

“Punishment,” it was all Coriolanus said.

Dr. Gaul smiled before shaking her head.

“A distraction. A moment of confusion. They need a sense of safety. When they feel safe. We pull it away. So they believe that they will need to earn it,” she said as she walked away from him. Her hands were politely behind her back, making her appear taller than she was.

“If we punished them every time they acted out of line. We would have no choice back to exterminate their whole line. They need to be reliant on us for this to work.”

Coriolanus thought about you again and then about what Dr. Gaul said. For this to work for him to own you. He would have to make you believe you were safe and then rip the safety out from under you.

It was a perfect plan.

. . .

You were pretty enough.

Too pretty for any boy around the capitol that’s for sure. He thought as he stared at you. You all were in the garden. You were practicing how to braid on one of your little dolls. While Coriolanus was helping out with your mother tending to the new flowers she was putting in.

Sunflowers.

Your favorite apparently. Coriolanus wasn’t really fond of sunflowers but it would have to do for the time being.

He knew that it was only a matter of time before you were going to be poked and prodded like a toy. You made your societal debut at the little party he first saw you at. He knew that he wasn’t the only one that could’ve had his eyes on you.

Luckily for him, it wasn’t hard for him to work his way into your family. They were grateful that a Snow was even graced in their presence.

He figured out his plan for marriage which wasn’t a difficult one. Your mother practically saw him as a son and your father was adamant about him being at the house. He was already playing house with your family. All he needed to do was add you to the game as well.

He knew that step would involve your father.

Coriolanus stepped into the shade sweat was glistening on his back and his shirt was sticking to him. He could feel your eyes staring at him. You probably haven’t seen any men other than your father. He would be the one to change that.

Because you were his.

No one else’s just his.

He needed you to know that. To understand that. You were going to be his First Lady. The mother to his kids. The perfect, pristine Snow family.

The house of Snow would flourish with you as one of its heads.

He didn’t need to know your personality, your dreams, or whatever aspirations you had because you were already destined to become his.

Yes, he barely knew you now but he will with time of course.

Coriolanus would bring you out. He would show you off to the world and then you wouldn’t have to be learning how to braid on silly little dolls.

He drew closer to you and you shuffled a bit in your chair before huffing. It was quiet but he still heard the little noise come out of your mouth.

“What kind of braid are you practicing?”

You peered up at him.

“I’m practicing a fishtail braid. Livy wanted me to so I could do her hair for one of her parties,” you said as you put your focus back on your braid.

“How sweet. I’m sure she will like it. You’re already quite skilled from what I can tell.”

“Thank you, Mr. Snow.”

He chuckled at your formality. He was at your house often and you were still so formal with him. He smiled down at you before taking a seat in the chair next to you.

“Mr. Snow-“

“Please call me Coriolanus.”

“Coriolanus… what do you want from my family? You’ve been truly helpful but I just… I don’t quite understand what we could even provide you for you want to help,” you said.

You stopped braiding altogether and stared at him. You met his eyes and for the first time, he saw the light in your eyes. You had fire. He smiled at you.

“What can I say? When I see people in need I feel inclined to help them,” that’s all he said and then he left.

. . .

It wasn’t that hard to make your parents love him. He was the best thing that ever happened to your family. He made their lives better while slowly making yours miserable. It seemed like they poured most of their time into him. You were being slowly shoved into the background.

All he needed now was you. To make you think you’re safe as well in his presence but for some reason. He could never find you alone.

Anytime you were out. You would only be there for a few minutes before you went back into the seclusion that was your room.

You kept yourself hidden. It made sense you were never in the presence of people your age, so you making yourself scarce was reasonable. What wasn’t reasonable was not talking to him ever. After your small conversation that day you never spoke to him again.

He didn’t really know why it was that way. He was mad at first. Angry even that you kept yourself hidden away. He was in your home 24/7. He had his own room and his own seat at your dinner table. Practically part of your family because of your trusting parents.

So he made an effort to find you. It was like a game of sorts. The hunt to find you throughout your own home.

Most of the time you were in your room but on the days he was lucky he would find you in the library. In a secluded area. You never figured out how he always seemed to find you. The answer was he was a watcher and you were his favorite thing to watch.

Anytime he did find you he would never speak just mimicked whatever you did until you left. He liked to see your reaction to it. How your face would drop at the sight of him. How your breathing would pick up when you were in the same room as him.

You were like a little bunny, hopping around the forest hoping the big wolf wouldn’t find you. However, he always did because he never stopped the hunt.

He spotted you swiftly going up to the attic. It was perfect because no one would ever think to look up there for you.

He made his ascent to the attic. The place was old and dusty. It smelled of old books.

You were sitting looking out of the window. A small sniffle caught his ears. He smiled before turning it to a frown.

“What’s wrong?”

You suddenly flinched and swiftly turned your head.

“What- why… what do you need?” You got up swiftly. “I’ll leave.”

“Don’t go on my account. Please. I heard sniffling. I just wanted to see if you’re alright.”

You turned your head in a moment of thought.

You shook your head.

“No. I’m not.” You sat back down, pulling your shawl over yourself. You faced the window. It was colder now. The blistering heat was finally over. Snow made its way through the windy streets of Panem.

“What’s bothering you?” He whispered stepping a bit closer in your direction but not too close to scare you away.

“It’s just… I’ve been alone my entire life and then finally the world is opened up to me. I have family outside of this home. A cousin my age. Other people who are my age are now known to me. But I still can’t make friends. I’m still so lonely.”

He was about to speak up but then you opened your mouth again.

“Then you showed up and kept showing up. You live here now. You’re practically a family member, a brother I can’t help but be… jealous, and angry even at the sight of you. My parents, they love me but not in the way they love you.”

He was quiet. You turned your head towards him. Tears were brimming in your eyes. You never notice how close he was now. He held his hand on your cheek causing you to flinch away. Still, he wiped your tears.

“You don’t have to feel like you’re alone now.”

“What…”

A kiss was planted on your lips. He was kneeling and holding your face. Your lips were soft against his. Your cheeks were even softer as he held it.

It was like that for a couple of seconds minutes maybe before he felt a sharp pain on his lower lip that caused him to hiss out.

You were still as he stared at you. There was nothing on your face. No emotion.

You stood up and walked away. Coriolanus was quick to grab your hand but you were even quicker at pulling it out of his grasp.

He smiled as he touched his lips and stared at the blood that coated his fingers. You had a fire.

A fire he would like to restrain.

. . .

If Coriolanus were surprised that your father called him into the office the next day he was proud to say he wasn’t. He expected it but what he didn’t expect was that your father ask him to marry you.

“My daughter… she’s a sweet girl,” he mustered. “And she has such an interesting view of life.”

Coriolanus remained silent as your father took a deep breath. Like he was about to ask something from him that was impossible.

“You’ve shown so many acts of kindness to our family but my wife and I were wondering if you would marry our girl. You wouldn’t have to worry about her dowry.”

And there it was. The groveling. He was going to marry you. You were going to be his. He was going to own you. Coriolanus didn’t smile. He made sure not to. He gave thought to what his next words were going to be.

“Sir, are you sure? I mean it would be an honor but-“

“Please this is the only thing I can give you for being so generous to our family.”

“Then, I graciously accept to wed your daughter she will know nothing but happiness,” Coriolanus smirked as your father brought him into a hug. It was as if the old fool was going to cry.

. . .

You stared at the floor or the attic. You came back for no reason other than to scream. Even then you couldn’t do it.

You were angry that your parents foolishly believed this man who infiltrated your family. Your own home. Now he was coming for you.

You had a small inkling but you didn’t want to believe it. It was a foolish thought, a dumb idea that you thought was self-absorbed. It wasn’t. You were right. Someone out there did want you but in a sense of owning you.

You knew the kind of person Coriolanus Snow was. You didn’t know the world well enough to make sense of why people do the things they do. But even you could read Coriolanus Snow.

You balled your hands into fists. You were leaving tonight.

And no one was stopping you.

You walked down to your room. You made sure to pack some the night before. The night they told you about your marriage to the man who snaked his way into your family.

You started to cry and you got even more upset. You needed to pull yourself together but this was too much. Running away from home. You could possibly go to Livy’s. Hide in her bedroom for a few days then try to get onto a train that left for one of the districts maybe. It was a good plan in your mind. You still had a lot to learn about this new darker world you lived in.

“What are you doing, wife?”

You flinched at the sound of his voice. You wanted to laugh at the word wife but you couldn’t. You couldn’t even move. You turned around and saw the way his eyes stared down at you like you were a spoiled brat not getting her way.

“I… I am leaving. We are not married yet.”

“I mean we practically are married. I played house with your family and they see me as a son.”

“You’re the stranger.”

“But it’s almost like you’re more the stranger than me… barely coming out of your room. Hiding yourself away from your own family. Your own future husband. It’s sad.”

You stared at the ground clutching your sweater to your chest. Tears made their way down your cheeks. Coriolanus was nose to nose to you.

“I thought you said you didn’t like being alone. Now you’re not alone. You have me.”

“No,” you said as you shook your head. “No!”

You pushed him off only for you to shove you down onto your bed. You gasped as he smacked your face when you tried to get up again. You blinked once twice several times before you gained your sight back.

“I’ll scream.”

“Scream then but you may find that no one is home. Lucky for me. Unlucky for you, little bird.”

You started sobbing outright. You couldn’t stop. Coriolanus shoved you back down onto your back every time you made your way up.

“I always wanted to tear you out of one of your dresses. They never quite find your style. We can fix that when we are wedded.” He smiled at you. The toothy grin spooked you. You had never seen this smile before and it terrified you.

He did what he said he wanted to you and tore off your dress. You fought him the hardest you could. But it proved to be in vain. He was strong. Much stronger than you thought.

Buttons flew off your dress as he tore the rest of it off. Your stockings along with your underwear were next. You screamed as he shoved his fingers into you without care.

His fingers felt like sandpaper as they thrust into you. It was excruciating till finally, your entrance was slick enough for his fingers to smoothly slip in and out.

When you saw his fingers you gasped at the small bits of blood that coated them. Fresh tears made their way down your cheeks.

You called out for your mother and Coriolanus laughed. He brought his fingers that coated you to his mouth. He moaned at the taste and smiled.

“Want a taste?”

You shook your head and he chuckled before shoving them into your mouth. His spit and your blood were what you tasted. When you started to choke on his fingers he finally pulled them out.

“So sweet are you not?”

You felt him pull away from you and your body felt light. It didn’t register that he was off of you until you heard his clothes being thrown on the floor and the agonizing zip of his pants. You turned on your stomach and crawled to the other side of the room. He was quick to grab your ankle tightly.

“Where did you think you’re going, little bird?”

“Please. Please I don’t want this,” you cried into your sheets.

“You’ll be okay. You need to get used to this anyway if you’re to be my wife,” he quietly said into your ear.

“Then spare me until the wedding night. I can’t do this now.”

He was quiet like he was considering it.

“No.”

The fight was back on you kicked at him and tried your best to push him off but to no avail.

He was on you now. Legs were placed on either side of your naked thighs. You looked up at him as he held your wrists down.

He smiled softly at you it looked as if it was genuine. You sobbed even harder at it.

Coriolanus opened your thighs wide with his. He placed them on his waist. His eyes demanded that you looked into this as he licked his hand and rubbed the tip of his painful thick cock.

The first thing you felt was a sharpness. It was like someone was stabbing you but it was only him shoving himself into you.

He moaned loudly as he bottomed out in you. He licked the tears that made their way down your face. It made you feel weird. You felt the intrusion become smoother, and easier as he brought himself in and out of you.

His moans were the only thing you could hear and your whimpering. Both of them combined made you want to stay silent. As if you weren’t here.

“You’re being so perfect, little bird,” he said with a grin that you could never forget.

You were in a daze but you found that both of your hands were free you immediately started to slap and scratch at him. He screamed out to you as you tried your hardest to get free. He slapped you hard this time and held his hands around your throat.

You held his hands and tried to pull them off of you. You got too lightheaded and too weak. And as if whatever above was punishing you. You felt the coil turning throughout your stomach. It was setting you on fire. Your whole body got hot. You were overheating. Then in a flash, as he thrusted into you harshly you screamed so loudly you thought your voice cords would burst out of your throat.

You fainted from the loss of air and from whatever you just experienced.

You woke up to find yourself on the bed you looked down to see the mess in between your legs. Blood and sticky white coated your thighs.

You could feel the bile rise in your throat. The next thing you knew was throwing up in the trash next to your bed bits of blood were in your spit. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. You got up you didn’t even know how your legs were holding you up but you were firmly on the ground.

You stared around the room. He wasn’t in there but you felt as if he was still inside you. You rushed over to your closet throwing on whatever you could find and then to your dresser. You grabbed the cash that you hid there long ago.

Shoes were the next thing you put on. You carefully opened the door. You could hear the shower next door. That was your sign to run as fast as you could out of the house and you did just that. Running as fast as you could. As fast as your legs could carry you. When you finally got away from the vicinity of the house you counted the money that was on you. Nearly a thousand dollars was in your possession. You could get onto the next train to anywhere. You didn’t know how the trains worked but you were going to get out of there one way or another.

You didn’t know where you were going you didn’t even know where you were. The place was confusing to you. It all looked the same and yet different.

You felt a shove and you were on the road.

Then a car came and you forgot the rest.

Part 3: The Tree

Coriolanus didn’t mean to kill you. He just wanted to hurt you enough that you wouldn’t try this stupid attempt at escape again. He was angry and wanted you to hurt as much as he was. He was fond of you. Sure he could’ve been more gentle but he was as gentle as he could be.

He stared at you as people made their way to help you.

In a darker light… you look so much more beautiful like this. Dead and silent just as you were basically before. Your eyes had paled some. There was no longer that sad shine in your eyes anymore.

You looked like you were sleeping with your eyes open. Still and unmoving. A part of him hoped you were still there. Still breathing but to be completely honest. It was better this way. Untouched by the harsh reality of Panem. They would’ve eaten you out there.

And if he couldn’t have you then no one could’ve. It’s a wasteful thought yes. But You were just too perfect...

This way only he would be the one to remember you as you were. The girl who refused to be loved. He stared down taking note of what you were wearing.

You were in your mother’s white dress. The color reminded him of the white rose you gave you months ago. The dirt made it so brown and ugly. He wishes to give you a better dress as people pull you from the road. Maybe your parents would let him choose your dress.

He walked back to your home. Getting rid of any evidence that was there. He gave it all to Pluribus. He told him that he would have it done with.

When your parents figured out the news your mother sobbed like there was no tomorrow. Of course, Coriolanus needed to be the one who was the most grief-stricken. He was the one to marry you of course. He knew you for a good several months. Many people believe he loved you. He gained so much sympathy from the citizens of Panem.

Livia Cardew was upset as well. She got closer to Coriolanus. She would be a fit for his wife after all.

He laughed bitterly as he stared at the tree your parents decided to bury you under. A laurel tree. Your father decided on it because it was your supposed favorite tree.

At least you didn’t die like Lucy Gray. Unknown and unloved.

You were loved, just not by Coriolanus Snow…

He smiled as he touched the branches of your tree with Livia on his arm. Livia hugged him close and he could only grin as he stared at your laurel tree. It was snowing, a beautiful flurry, just like the night you ran away.

Snow lands on top. Coriolanus thought.

It most certainly does.

Epilogue.

Coriolanus Snow.

President of Panem.

He stared down at the flag that he wanted to upgrade. The old one was too bland for his new regime. He needed one that showed power and called for obedience.

The designer did well with the new version of the flag but it felt as though it was missing something important.

Snow thought of the Laurel tree your father buried you under.

The laurel leaves, your laurel leaves would be the symbol of Panem and a reminder of what you decided you didn’t want.

He smiled as he thought of you and your leaves.

You were going to look so beautiful on his new flag.

#dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow

94 notes · View notes

redbleedingrose · 8 months

Text

Girl Dad!Rhysand x Reader Headcanons

This male could pound me to town and I would say thank you.

A/N: Anyway, this Highkey sucks so I am so sorry. I feel like I have to ease back into writing, it has been so long since I have sat down and actually written something. It is all over the place and just not the best writing so I apologize for that. I just… my surgery rotation literally killed me. You can ask @augustinerose I was not in a good headspace. I feel like I am still recovering from that and idk… it just… I feel like it stole some part of me. I dunno, its hard to explain but it took out all the motivation I had towards writing. So easing back into things is gonna have to be the way to go. Again, I am so sorry, this is literally awful. I am gonna try to do some NSFW headcanons for girl dad!Rhys tomorrow if y’all would like. As always, a comment or reblog is much much appreciated. It always gives me the motivation and hope to continue writing.

Girl dad Rhysand is too good y’all I cannot.

Rhysand is one of the best girl dads out there.

He makes sure his baby girl and wife are taken care of to the fullest extent.

I am talking he wakes up in the middle of the night to take care of the babe, swaying her and humming Illyrian rhymes to her to calm her. He takes her out for flying, making sure to wrap her sensitive tiny wings in wool so that they can remain warm against the night court breeze whenever she is inconsolable, usually returning with her fast asleep, sucking on her tiny thumb with little grunts every so often.

The first month of the babe being home, he would sneak out of your bed just to lay down next to the crib so he could make sure that your darling babe was settled and comfortable.

He is a mother hen, glaring at Cassian for making too much noise when the babe is resting in his arms.

He likes to show her the constellations in the sky, pointing out each of the different stars and even using his powers to create mini galaxies above the crib. For her 5th birthday, he gifts her an actual star out of the sky, following the nickname, “my shining star.”

He adores her so much, there is nothing he wouldn’t do for her. She has him wrapped around her tiny fingers since the moment she grabbed onto his finger with her tiny fist. He loves reading stories to her, making sure that the nursery is filled with old children tales that are centuries old, first edition novels really, along with all of the new writings from the authors around each court. One sure fire way of calming down your babe whenever she is fussy is Rhys pulling out a book and resting back in the rocking chair with her in his arms, and reading to her the stories. He does all the different voices for different characters and even makes funny faces for your little girl to keep her entertained, and is the reason why your babe grows up to be an avid reader.

Rhysand always has the best clothes made for her. She is the best dressed babe in all of the courts, and grows up to be a fashion icon. Most of the clothes she wears are from Rhys’ mother who sewed them centuries before, just like she had for you.

He is the one to teach her how to fly, spending hours and hours, weeks and weeks away from his duties to spend some time with his favorite girl (besides you ofc) to teach her different skills. He teaches her self defense and different battle strategies, preparing her to become High Lady one day. He is patient and calm throughout the entire process, even when she throws tantrums or feels like giving up. He always knows exactly what to say, he knows exactly how to handle the situation by either giving her space or pushing her to keep going.

Your daughter loves to draw, and will often end up drawing on Rhysand’s arms and legs with a pink marker. He thinks it is the best artwork he has ever seen, and has gone as far as getting a drawing of a family of stars that she drew tattooed into left wrist.

At parties, he always makes sure to dance with her first. At first, he has her in his arms, twirling them both around while her little giggles and squeals resound against the music. Eventually, he has her standing on his shoes so he can guide the both of them, letting her grow with independence. Eventually, she learns the dance moves herself, and still to this day, they will be each others first dance.

Don’t even get me started on how girl dad Rhys takes care of you!!!!!

Literally the best husband and mate I am WEAK

This male screams self care. He wants to make sure that you are rested 24/7. No mate of his is going to be feeling exhausted. He has days where he schedules full body massages, facials, hair care treatments, manicures and pedicures. He has Morr meet you after so you can go browsing for new dresses, shoes, purses, jewelry. Whatever you wish for, it is already yours. You only need to stare for a second, and Morr is going inside to buy it, “Rhys told me to honey, you can talk to him, but honestly you deserve it” anytime you complain that she is spending too much on you.

When you come home, he has Az and Cass watching the babe for the night so he can take you out to dinner, or even just for an evening in. You cuddle up with the babe for a little while before he whisks you away into whatever extravagant things he has planned for you.

He loves having you in his lap during these free nights, one arm wrapped around your waist or hips while the other feeds you or plays with your hair, muttering to himself about how stunning you are, how lucky he is to have you, how much he adores you really.

I like to think you face each other in bed while he intertwines your legs and pulls you close into his chest, and you just get to talk about anything and everything. Any of his worries about the relations between other courts, any of his concerns regarding the night court, his desires to wanting to better the world for your daughter, he always feels like he can spill whatever he has on his mind to you in a way that he has never been able to before.

After your daughter is born, he often spends time telling her all of the things he thinks about while she lays on her belly and allows for her wings to flutter to build muscle strength.

Remember how I talked about your daughter being Rhys’ first dance? Well, you are his partner for every other dance, and always the last dance. Your poor babe is passed out in one of the chairs with Amren watching over her like a hawk, her hand patting the babes back (she has a soft spot for her, what can I say?) and you both dance and dance. Sometimes, he flys you up into the sky and dances with you among the stars, “they lie in witness to our love darling”

Again, this was terrible so thank you for sticking around if you actually read through this!

Edit: part 2

#rose rambles #acotar #acotar headcanons #Rhysand acotar #Rhysand x reader #girl dad #girl dad!Rhysand #Rhysand headcanons #Girl dad!Rhys x reader #Girl dad!Rhys

272 notes · View notes

slafkovskys · 5 months

Note

what happens after the game and luke walks out of the locker room and angel & twins are out there with quinn and jack looking like a cute little family.

he walks by them but they don’t notice him because they’re being too cute as a family that he missed out on

he pretends that he doesn’t notice jack rushing to get dressed or rushing through media. he pretends like he doesn’t hear his voice go more high pitched to say, “where’s my wren?” and the sound of squeals that trickle into the dressing room. he pretends like he doesn’t hear nico calling out, “don’t forget about my guy, hughes!” as he leaves out of the room to go join his own wife and child. he pretends a pool of dread doesn’t form in his stomach at the thought of having to pass the group as he leaves.

suddenly, he’s slower pulling on his suit. his phone was lighting up, yasmin wondering where he was because she wanted to take the pictures that he wouldn’t smile for before he left his apartment. he hated that place.

it was small. it was quiet. it was bland. it wasn’t home.

he sucks it up when he’s one of the only ones left and takes a step towards the door. he seems them, their backs are two them but he would know that angel wing tattoo at the top of her spine anywhere. jack’s got a hold of both of the twins while she’s leaning into his side, quinn holding onto a phone for what he can assume is a picture.

“i can’t believe they’re still awake,” he hears jack say as he passes by with his head low.

“lucky you’re on bedtime duty tonight then, huh? should be easy,” she teases, before making a quick noise, “oh, he wants his thing. can you get it out of my bag, quinny?”

in a sudden act of boldness, he lifts his head. he wishes that he hadn’t. quinn’s eyes lock with his and his older brother’s eyes narrow almost daring him to say something, to do something. jack and angel were distracted by drew who had started to whine, the late hour finally catching up to him it seemed. luke looks away when quinn’s name is called and he fishes out a pacifier that had some animal dangling from the end of it, “there you go, angel.”

“here you go, my love. all better,” he hears her soft voice mumble and his chest aches as he makes his way further down the hall, further away from the group.

he pretends that he doesn’t slip into an empty room and let a few tears fall from his eyes. for the first time in a year, he finally admits to himself that he shouldn’t have walked out of that lake house that night.

#hughes bros x angel #jess writes

97 notes · View notes

heisenwhore · 2 months

Text

The weird little deer man haunts my every waking moment, so I’m posting this tiny part of what I’ve been writing just to get it out of my brain (and my notes app).

Yes, it’s an OC; crucify me.

For context; Takes place a few days after Alastor’s fight with Vox. Serena (OC in question) is Alastor’s wife. She’s got bird attributes and siren-like powers. She and Vox have a… complicated relationship.

Usage of powers are notated in purple. Also with fancy text, if it doesn't mess with the format too much (lmk I'll remove it).

Tags: brief violence, Vox getting his ass kicked, Language (duh), Obligatory OC, Alastor x OC, Established Relationship, Angst, Wife is missing her husband, Southern Woman getting mad, Being married to Alastor should be a warning in and of itself

A zip of electricity notified her to his presence before he spoke. “What are you doing here, Serena?” Vox’s voice came from a dark corner to her left, notably lacking the annoyingly bright grandiosity that it usually possessed. He sounded tired, defeated, and the rage boiling in Serena’s gut quelled for just a moment, confusion taking its place. She turned in the direction she’d heard him, searching him out. He was easy to find, despite the darkness of the room, the light emanating from the screen that served as his head making him unable to hide for very long. She gasped at the sight of him, broken and beaten before her, his screen covered in scratches and cracks, a sizable portion of it completely black. A pang of sadness ran through her, sympathy for the demon that she and her husband had once called ‘friend,’ who, despite being a fucking asshole, had never been anything but kind and considerate to her.

Serena shook her head to wave off the feeling, recollecting her anger, reminding her why she had come here in the first place. She glared up at him, hissing through gritted teeth, “Where is he?”

Vox blinked. “Who are we talking about?”

Serena growled, her fury reigniting in full force. “Where is my husband, Vox?” She stepped closer to him, her wings beginning to unfurl from where they wrapped around her shoulders, her fingers itching as she resisted the urge to claw the rest of his screen apart.

Vox huffed, crossing his arms, one hand moving to press against the center of his face, where his nose would be, if he’d only had one. “Oh, yeah, that asshole,” he grumbled, “I don’t know; haven’t seen him since our little spat.” Vox’s calm demeanor dropped as Serena abruptly closed the distance between them, backing him against the wall, one hand holding him in place by his tie, the other’s claws digging into the stone only inches from his screen.

She was angrier than he’d ever seen her, looming above him, her wings fully inflated, keeping her in the air, their hulking size blocking out any path of escape, staring down at him with the most lethal expression he had ever seen. "D̳̻̽̒O̪̟͔ͧͥ ̼̙͓̝̂̈́N̰͎͚̭̭̳̻̊̐͆O̪̟͔̝̦ͧͥȚͬ ̹͖̈́͑̋͑͑L͎͕̦̀ͫ̊̊ͨ͑I̗E̺̭͆̈͋̈́ͅ ̝̦Ț̳̻ͬO̪̟͔ͧͥ ͫͮͭ̃M̰̖ͤ̚E̺̭͆̈͋̈́ͅ!”

Her scream echoed in his bones, the words vibrating, burning into his skin, taking his body and bending him to her command. Her gaze was so intense, the neon of her irises was painful to look at, but he couldn’t look anywhere else, their glow lulling him back each time his eyes attempted to venture too far. Even once they were shut, her light called to him, but Vox resisted. “Alastor was here! He came HERE to meet with YOU, and now he is GONE! Where the F̣̙̣̟̺̳̭̖̦͒̐̒̀͑̾U̱̬̙̠̗͓̩ͩ̃͑̏C͕͓̝̝͉͉͖͔͑̈̉̋̒̉K̮͈̤̭͎̽̈́̌̋ IS MY HUSBAND?!”

The answer was pulled from Vox before its thought could even form, ripped from his tongue by some unseen force, “I DON'T KNOW!” Serena stiffened above him, but the hold on his tie faltered. The sensation of her loosening grip drew Vox’s attention, and he willed himself to face her glare once more. She was still angry, so furious that his knees wobbled in response, but there was something else written across her face, nearly outshined by the glow her eyes emitted; sadness, grief, a dam of tears that threatened to burst at a moments notice.

Her breaths were rapid, shallow puffs of air, blowing past his face, the scent floral and bloody. “What,” her voice hitched, breaking under the weight of the question that followed, “w-what did you do to him?”

#alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor altruist #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #radio demon #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin oc #oc #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader

59 notes · View notes

thevoidscreams · 2 months

Note

Hello, can I request some wild sanguinius? I am attracted to his bloodlust being a predator and he asked me how it would be if he does it in that state with his beloved or even with leman in Mating Press March

Day eleven I got a case of brain rot on this one and had to do something. So yall get post battle Sangy. Also sorry for another short one I was running around all day and still feeling like shit.

Pairing: Sanguinius x reader

Warnings: Blood, Animalistic sex, sex in a thunderhawk, descriptions of violence (not towards you)

Three weeks, three agonizing weeks.

Sanguinius's nerves were shot as he landed, his mind a mire of dark and sinister things. Blood, flesh, death, consumption, lust.

Three weeks since he'd last seen you, the battling was too dangerous on the ground for you to be there. But not that the fighting was at a lull he was confident that you would be safe.

In his arms, you'd always be safe.

"Bring her to me." Sanguinius rumbled. His son nodded, not needing to ask who. It was his mother, of course. The Mother of angels. The wife of Sanguinius.

The order was sent up the line till it was in the right hands to have you ferried down to your husband's side.

It didn't take long. The adrenaline of battle had waned slightly, replaced by a new sensation. The need to claim. The need to have and to sow, not only destroy.

Three weeks, he kept thinking of blood and smoke and too little rest, too little comfort.

But soon he would have you. He would have you to hold and to kiss and to bed again and again.

He stood there, his eyes fixed on the sky from where he knew the thunderhawk would return. He ran his tongue over his canines and daydreamed about you. "Father? Are you alright?" A younger blood angel asked and Sanguinius nodded. "Quite, I am just.. eager to see your mother again." "You must love her very much." "I do." He nodded and smiled down at his son, shifting his weight from one foot to another. The sound of roaring engines drew his gaze back to the sky. His wings fluffed in anticipation and he nearly took to the sky to intercept the ship to get to you faster, but he did not for fear of damaging the vessel and causing you harm. It landed and Sanguinius approached, his hearts hammering as he knew what awaited him within. Hauling open the door he entered, your personal escort of astartes turning and giving their father his due respect. "All of you out. I need some time to speak with your mother privately."

They didn't argue, stepping from the hawk without a question asked. They knew better than to impede on their gene sires alone time with his wife. The door hissed shut behind him leaving you both alone. "Sanguinius, I've missed you so much." You went to him, careful not to put your hand in a patch of blood. Which wasn't easy. "As I have you my dove." His body was trembling with need. The fighting was done for now. Now it was time for something else. "Gosh, Sangy, your armor is almost as red as our sons." You chuckled. Yes, your sons. Both of yours, Sanguinius adored how much his sons seemed to care for you.

Sanguinius fell to his knees taking you in his arms as he listened to the sound of your laugh. He hadn't heard anything so sweet in weeks. "Please, my dove, I know we've just reunited. But I need you." You nodded, needing him as well. There was a wild sort of desperation in his eyes that you recognized immediately. It was the same one you often saw after he returned from battle. "Of course my love. Let me just undress and then-"

He pounced without a moment's warning. Your back was on the floor and he was pulling his codpiece away with reckless abandon. shredding the body glove underneath with it. His fangs sank into the rich cloth of your dress, and with a jerk of his head was reduced to scraps of ragged fabric.

"Sangunius!" You gasped in shock. His tongue ran up your body, growling in frustration when he was impeded by the bra baring your chest from him. Sanguinius tore it away, the fabric and padding sundered as if they were nothing more than tissue paper. His tongue began again, his teeth snagging your underwear as he pulled it to lacey pieces.

Your fingers grasped at his golden locks. Your voice cried out wordlessly as he dug in, lapping at your entrance like a starving animal. The coppery scent of the dried blood on his armor made your head spin, and it certainly wasn't helped by the pleasure your husband was pressing upon you from between your legs. His name spilled from your lips in a whine as he let his tongue drift up farther, lapping over your body, tasting your skin. His cock throbbed, painfully hard as he locked his lips with yours, You could taste your own juices, and blood. Whose it had been you would never know. He would never tell, you would never ask. His cock pressed against your wet heat and he growled pushing into the tight clinging walls of his love after three weeks of being apart. He took your legs and easily pressed them up against your chest, holding them there with his body. Your hands went to his cheeks, your thumbs running over them in a quiet form of affection. "Oh my dove." He purred, eyes fluttering shut. "How I've missed you." Your reply ended abruptly as he pulled out and thrust back in. Your head fell back unto the cold metal floor as he fucked you. It was not gentle as it so often was, but animalistic and needy. His voice raised as he raked his finger over the floor, searching for some sort of purchase to stabilize himself. His wings shivered behind him, brushing the walls as he let out the pent up need that had been building.

All the blood he'd spilled, all the lives ended by his hands had been done for you. Outwardly they'd been for the imperium, for his father's dream. But that wasn't the reason in his hearts. Every time he'd closed his eyes he'd see you. Smiling up at him with a bundle of joy in your arms. Safe on yet another world brought to compliance by the efforts of himself and your sons. He loved how you took to them so immediately and how naturally the title of mother had come to you. Soon he would see you taking to the title in a whole new light.

You were panting and moaning under his armored body, practically squished against the floor as he pressed you down. Your walls clenched around him and he felt you cum at the same time you screamed his name. Your mind lost to the pleasure of taking your husband's cock after being apart for so damn long. "Yes, Dove, come for me." He growled, his voice rumbling through you. The utter bliss on your face drove him to the edge and he slipped over it, his wings flaring and beating against the walls of the thunderhawk. He poured his love into you, physically, emotionally and verbally. Petting your hairs as he cooed how much he loved you, adored you, needed you.

It wasn't how you had expected your time with him to go. At least not right away. Sanguinius rolled onto his back carrying you with him. You raised your head and laughed a little. "And here i was thinking i had missed you the most." Sanguinius kissed up your throat lovingly. "I have been needing you every day for three weeks." "So I see." You looked around and laughed some more. It looked like someone had taken a chain blade to a giant goose. "We made quite the mess." Bloodstained feathers littered the floor and Sanguinius looked around, joining you in your laughter. It felt good to laugh with such happiness. "That we did my dove. That we did."

He picked you up after a time and wrapped you in the fur that had hung from his armor. You didn't want to go, but there was clean up left to do. He promised to have you sent for again as soon as he possibly could.

Leaving the ship, his armor back in order his sons didn't quite look at him. Their cheeks red with embarrassment. But then again they hadn't been expecting their parents to rock a thunderhawk."Well my sons. shall we get back to it?" They all nodded eagerly and Sanguinius suppressed an amused smile knowing they'd likely never forget this. And the primarch wondered, just how those who had been close by would react when he and their mother inevitably announce the arrival of a new sibling. With a sigh he put the amusing thought aside and returned to his duties.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #primarch x reader #40k #my writing #primarchs #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch #sanguinius x reader #Mating Press March

99 notes · View notes