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#why not draw some familiar faces over them
monster-disaster · 7 months
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[tentacle] The monster under the shower
tentacle!monster x human!Reader Good to know: slightly dub-con
Summary: The resort is full of surprises.
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White puffs of steam follow your way out of the cabin until you close the wooden door with a soft click. Your grip on the white towel around your body tightens as you look around. The pool is calm but busy, not far from where you are standing. Humans and monsters enjoy the pleasant water of the pools while others lay on their towels or chairs, sunbathing. The sun is bright and warm at the top of the clear blue sky, and despite the hot temperature, you feel almost cold after spending a few minutes in the sauna. A thin layer of sweat shines on your heated skin.
Soon, you tear your gaze away from the others to make your way to the small stalls of showers at the back. As you step into one of them, you let the thin curtain separate you from the outside world. The towel gets loose around your body, and you hang it over the white-tiled wall.
Pouring some soap into your hands, you start lathering yourself up, covering your body in small bubbles. You rub the citrus-smelling lotion over your skin, rubbing your muscles and washing away the sweat and sand. Your hair sticks to your back in wet strands. Drops of water run down your face, cooling you down after being under the sun and in the sauna most of the day.
You keep your eyes closed as you slowly relax with a hum in your throat. Your fingers brush through your hair, drawing small circles on your skin to massage your scalp. Small goosebumps run over your body at the feeling.
The quiet melody coming from your closed lips soon gets interrupted by the sudden noise at your feet. A frown tugs your brows together as you look down. You feel the still running water washing away the shampoo from the top of your head. The foam follows the line of your spine. The sound comes from the drain. It gets louder and louder until the metallic noise stops, and you meet silence. "Okay," you hum, unsure. You will inform someone about the noise later.
Just as you look down again, something black emerges from the drain. Your heart jumps up to your throat, and you are ready to grab your towel and leave as fast as you can when the thing shoots out and curls around your ankles. The thick tentacle slams against your skin, keeping you in place. The sudden force is almost enough to make you lose your balance. "Fuck!" You cry out, trying to shake off the thing, but it only tightens around you. "Hey!" You gasp out again, bracing yourself against the wall when your legs part without your consent. It creeps up on your legs, not letting you move even for an inch. The thing is soft and slimy on your wet skin. As it moves, it feels like a gentle caress. "It's enough!" You break the silence again. "Let me go!" To be honest, you are more annoyed than afraid. You know the reputation of the resort. Things can happen here. That's why people come here in the first place.
Despite your attempts to get free from the monster, you feel yourself getting wetter with every centimeter as the tentacles slip closer and closer to your center. You can feel the tips grazing your folds. One of them rubs your clit while the other teases your center. Gasping, you tug on your leg again, but this time, you try to find a more comfortable position. Annoyance still bubbles in your chest, but the desire in your lower stomach is stronger. You feel the familiar cramp of need jerking your muscles with anticipation. Every flick on your clit radiates through your nerve, running up your spine and twisting your world. The tentacle on your other leg is at your entrance, teasing but never pushing into you. "What are you waiting for?" You grunt, groaning. Impatience shimmers in your voice which soon turns into a startled scream. The thing does as you want. It pushes inside you, stretching you out and filling you up. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs, and the rings of the curtain pop under the tug as you try to stay on your feet. The fabric barely hides you anymore, but this is the last thing you worry about. The tentacles wrap tighter around your legs, leaving red marks on your skin. Meanwhile, your pussy is still fucked and filled. Loud grunts and moans escape your lips with every thrust. The forceful motions burn your walls and push you higher and higher. Stars dance behind your eyelids whenever you blink. Your cunt throbs with pleasure. It sears through your veins. Your orgasm is fast and ravishing. The tentacles fucking your pussy and teasing your clit are the only things that keep you from falling. Your walls flutter and pulse as you make a mess on the already slimy limb.
When you win back your senses, the tentacles are already gone, and the water is still running, drumming on your sensitive skin. Your legs shake, and you need a few minutes to wash yourself down again and wrap the towel around your body. Your heart still throbs in your throat, and for a second, you aren't even sure if you only imagined the whole thing or it really happened.
When you pull the curtain out of the way, the young woman who greeted you at the reception when you arrived a few days ago is a few meters away from you with fresh towels in her arms and a knowing smirk on her face.
- Masterlist Mirage Resort Masterlist Patreon
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signedkoko · 2 months
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HEHEHHEE OPEN REQUESTS???
Hello koko! I was summoned by your open requests, and I just had an idea, how about headcanons/one shot for Alastor and Vox (separately) with a reader who has powers a bit like Toge Inumaki in JJK?( I saw that you were watching JJK so I assume you know how his powers works) like what do they think about it? how do they react when reader uses her powers? How they communicate with her?
THANKS FOR READING MY REQUEST DEAR KOKO! HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT
-🐚
Alastor | Vox X Reader [Romantic]
In which your speech causes action, so you can't speak unless you wish to control others. Reader is female.
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When you first came to the hotel, Alastor was not impressed
You were certainly a gorgeous sight, but it was ruined by the device in your hands that you had your nose buried in, screen lighting ruining your face
It took him quite a while when he heard strings of words emanating from the device to realize you were speaking through it, your fingers pressing on keys faster than he could follow
You introduced yourself to everyone that day, as a new hire for the hotel, and how you couldn't speak but hoped it wouldn't get in the way
He was certainly irked by the device in your hands, but it was funny to see someone so weak that they had to rely on a flimsy device made by an even flimsier overlord
Truly a shame
You learn the hard way not to get too close to him while using your device, or else it starts to act up and get damaged
Alastor still spoke to you; of course he did! Because he was amused knowing you couldn't retort
But eventually, without noticing, he would talk more and more, filling every aspect of the silence between you
You were the best listener, both since you had no choice and because you didn't give any shitty advice
The only thing that weirded him out was the weird clicking he started to hear around you
Something about it was so familiar
J-E-R-K-J-E-R-K-J-E-R
When he looked down at your hand and saw a clicker in your hand, he realized what you were doing
Of course he knew morse code by heart! He studied all sorts of things, but he wasn't sure why you'd do things that way when you had a much easier device
Unless you did it just for him?
R-K-J-E-R-K-J
" And who are we calling names, my voiceless companion? "
Y-O-U
Still, it's very touching to see you go from using your phone to putting it away when you come to him to talk
And not much changes since you can't get out too many words with your morse method
One evening, while on a walk together, Alastor was reciting to you how he'd come to work for Charlie and how she sang on the news for so many to see! When a group of assassins surrounded the two of you, angel steel weapons were on full display
Before Alastor handled them—which, let's be fair, would be no issue to him—you pulled quicker on the draw
" COMATOSE. "
You yelled it with your hands clamped over Alastors ears, and the instant the word came out, they all dropped, beyond unconcious
Alastor laughs, because wow, that was quite the display!
But he's already dragging you over them to continue talking, now teasing you for treating him like a helpless damsel
He was certainly glad that he hadn't made an enemy of you when he first saw you, because you may stand a chance against him with an ability like that
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Most sinners had some kind of ability that grew with their power, often souls under contract or training enhancing them
Vox himself had plenty of tricks under his sleeves, and he'd seen the most pathetic of abilities to those worth cowering before
But he'd never heard of something like yours
Overlords loved showing off their resources, which could include people who became very useful in battle
You were a 'friend' of Zestial, though, while most jumped at the opportunity to introduce themselves to other overlords, you only waved
Of course you piqued his interest, because when he ran his servers over you, he found little to nothing beyond pictures
After several days of stalking video feeds, he caught you and Zestial together when—oh fuck! You sign!
While he could have just waited for the next opportunity, Vox was far too invested in your story and opted to pay Zestial a visit, if it meant he could see you
From what he could tell, you were using ASL, so once he bumped into you he began signing his typical introduction
Something about his heart sparked when he saw you smile, the way those curious eyes sparkled
He was immediately embarrassed when you revealed he didn't have to sign because you could hear
But he was all healed when you signed that you were very glad to have met someone else you could talk with
Vox is used to the overstimulation of noises from news, music, footage, all of it always beaming into his head so much that the silence around you is eerie and takes him awhile to get used to
Zestial certainly has an ace; one Vox is jealous of
Since you got along so well, you and Vox schedule meet-ups so you can interact, seeing as he and Zestial are almost exact opposites
The first time he witnesses your powers is when Alastor shows up at one of your meetings, and he was certainly trying to embarrass Vox in front of you
But Vox was your friend, and you had no tolerance for Alastors threats
" Silence. "
From your lips poured a thick fog, which whisped its way over Alastor's mouth, forming a seal that prevented him from speaking
The radio demon wasn't pleased, but he wasn't about to act up a scene right now, so he turned and left
Vox immediately fanboys because, oh my FUCKING GOD, you showed him!!!
Wait, you can talk? You sound like that?
YOUR POWERS DID THAT???
He is about to waste your evening asking all kinds of things, you probably can't sign as fast as he can ask, too
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Author's Note - Conch anon gets only the BEST of the BEST!!! I did like writing these anyways though, because i adore Inumaki...thank you for requesting!
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reiderwriter · 3 months
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♡ Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ♡
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Week 5 of my Playlist Series ♡
Summary: Spencer isn't used to clubs, but when duty calls, he's made to feel a little bit more welcome by a girl who seems to know him better than a stranger should.
Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI!! Hotchner!Reader (Reader is Hotch's sister), semi-public sex (x2 oops), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, dry humping, hand job, cum play, dirty talk, degradation and name calling (slut only), use of daddy/sir even though this is like solidly season 1 Spencer lmao, corruption kink, loss of virginity (surprisingly the readers)
A/N: Every single intrusive thought I've ever had about s1 Reid tied up in a nice little bow masquerading as a song fic. It is finished, and now I feel flushed. Please expect only fluff from me until my next intrusive thought (maybe half an hour, probably no longer).
Masterlist || Spotify Playlist
Flashing lights and the scent of dried up alcohol stains weren't usually signs of Spencer Reid's presence. He'd managed to get through college - two degrees and three PhDs - without stepping foot into a nightclub. But now that he'd joined the BAU, it seemed to be an unavoidable occurrence. 
“The unsub hunts at this nightclub, I get that, I do. But why am I the one going in? He's targeting women,” he panicked as his older team member helped adjust his clothes to conceal the weapon he carried. 
“Because, pretty boy, it's student night, and you're the only one here who can pass for a 21 year old. I guess late puberty has some benefits.” Derek smacked his arm playfully, leaving the younger man wincing slightly. 
“But I'm not a woman.” 
“Yes, but you'll be able to walk around and note any suspicious behaviour, and then we can tail suspects you flag,” Hotch explained to him again. 
“Just act natural, kid, it's not like it's your first time in a club.” 
“It is.” His warnings fell on deaf ears though, as they pushed him out of the van and into the crowd of students queueing to enter. 
It didn't take you long to notice him after you arrived at the club.
The sweater vest was enough to make him stand apart slightly, as much as he was trying his best to blend in. A slight tingle of familiarity raced up your spine as his eyes awkwardly met yours, his scan of the room stopping short as he flushed and turned his eyes down. 
Pushing slightly to the crowd, you leaned over the counter next to him and tried to get the bartenders attention. It was loud and busy, but catching attention and keeping it was a skill you'd mastered early, a skill that you were thankful for as you realised the man's eyes were guiltily flicking between your ass and the crowd once again. 
“Are you going to stare, or are you going to introduce yourself,” you giggled, sliding closer to his perch at the bar, as he panicked, standing straighter. 
“I wasn't, um… your dress, there's a rip at the edge of your skirt, I was trying to figure out if it was part of the design because I know some clothes these days have damage built into the design, or if it was in need of some emergency… sewing.” His hands gesticulating awkwardly throughout his explanation, as if anxious to show you the jumble in his brain was entirely pure and innocent, even as the flush on his face said otherwise. 
“And your name is?” 
“I-.... Spencer. My name is Spencer.” 
You stood a little straighter hearing the name, that familiarity warming you more. Spencer. Spencer. Spencer. You turned the name over in your head but took another step closer as the crowd shifted in a wave, feeling the heat coming off his body. 
“Well, Spencer,” your tongue made the decision to act for your brain, the words coming out before you could stop them. “What conclusion did you draw? Do you think the rip was intentional or not?” 
Gently, you grabbed his hand and led it to the fabric. The skirt wasn't scandalously short, but short enough to suit the dark heated atmosphere of the club at least, but as his fingers grazed the back of your thighs, still hesitant in his actions, you found yourself wishing it were just that bit higher, so his hands would have to reach further up. 
With a gaze over your shoulder at the crowd, Spencer found himself at an impass. He'd already noted a few people of interest, loiterers, men getting a bit rough and aggressive in the club, people on the outskirts (like him, he supposed) that could possibly be their unsub. 
He'd been given the all clear to disengage and leave the club as effortlessly as he could  bit something in your initial gaze had pinned him to place at the bar, and refused still to let him see reason. 
“I think it's a design feature. To draw attention to…” he swallowed hard, but you weren't sure if he was just being delicate about his words or if he was reacting to the hand that was now on him, dragging nails up from his abdomen to his chest. 
“Good observation, Spencer.” 
“Your name. You didn't tell me what your name was.” He said, grabbing your hand to stop its progress and breathing deeply as if to clear his head. 
“Y/N. We should dance.” Without giving him time to react, you abandoned your drink on the counter and pulled his arm around your waist, dragging him out to the crush of people in the middle of the dance floor. 
His protests were lost in the pulse of the music, as you kept your back to him and began grinding and swaying against him. His hands tightened on your hips as he gently started moving with you, and you threw your head back to catch his eye again. 
Spencer didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. He knew that very little actually dancing actually went on at a club, that this was just a more polite socially acceptable form of foreplay, but he didn't know that it would have such an effect on him. 
A mess of sweaty, intoxicated people spilling drinks and other fluids, and he thought he'd stay there forever if it kept your hips torturing his cock like that. 
When you glanced up at him, he was a man lost to his senses, lust clouding his eyes, mouth slightly open in a pant, you reached up to his neck and pulled his lips down to meet yours. 
You were surprised when it was his to guess to reach out first, his hand that trailed under your shirt without tours guiding it. You'd picked up a fairly innocent man at the bar and turned him into a pervert in the space of one dance. It felt like the club was watching you, how his hands grazed the skin under your breasts and caused the shiver up your spine, how your back arched to press deeper against his election. 
You may have tempted him into taking this risk, but he was the one gleefully nosediving into his fall from grace. 
“Spencer,” you whispered as he came up for air, lips resting at your ear. “I think we should get some fresh air.” 
Something in that seemed logical. It was colder outside. Maybe it would cool off whatever had lit him up like a pyre on the dance floor. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head. Or maybe just the open space would help him detangle his hands from you, would lead his thoughts away from burying himself deep in you. 
He would gladly take you outside, bid you farewell, and return to his job and his life. It was a solid exit for his first cover - who was going to question the young lovers leaving together. 
You had a feeling that the idea of outside would have Spencer pulling away from you, but you hadn't had your fill of fun just yet. 
So just as you led him onto the dancefloor, you kept a hand over his, around your waist, and you guided him out of the club, down the street a few paces, and into a darkened alleyway. 
“Y/N, we shouldn't be-” he tried to stutter out as you pulled him in for another kiss. His brain was trying to protest, but his hands were already back on your ass, pulling you up and closer to him. 
“What was that?” You said between kisses, his mouth launching an assault against each inch of your skin. 
He gasped for breath and pulled back, realising that he'd lifted and pinned you to the cold brick wall of the alley in his haste to feel you pressed against him. 
“Y/N… I don't want to take advantage of you, I'm not-” 
“I'm taking advantage of you, Spencer,” you said, nipping at his neck slowly raking your hands into his shoulders. “Am I allowed to do that? Can I take all of you, Spencer?” 
His eyes rolled back in his head as he let put a groan of pleasure, your lips sucking at the tender flesh of his nape. 
“I-I'm not a student, and-” 
“I know, but you are such a pretty boy that I decided I wanted to have some fun with you.” 
His resolve broke in half as you uttered your compliments, and his lips met yours in a moan as his hands pushed your skirt up around your waist. 
His finger trailed between your hips and his, using the wall to balance you as he pushed aside your panties and began slowly stroking your sex. 
Your hips pitched forward to press more of his slender fingers against you,  desperate to feel him stretch your cunt open first with one, then two, then however many he decided was good enough for you. 
Leaving one hand on his shoulder, you let one trail down his pants, stepping one foot down to allow you access to his zipper. 
He pauses Again for a second as you manage to get his pants open, your hand pulling his cock free from the constraint of his clothing. Spitting on your hand, you wrap around it firmly and slowly pump up and down, looking him directly in the eye as you watch the pleasure pour over him. 
His forehead rests against yours as he melts into your touch, so desperate, needing to cum so badly that he's willing to let it happen in this dark dirty alley. 
“Spencer, I want to have a lot of fun with you. Will you let me?” 
“Yes, fuck Y/N.” He nods, his hips rocking into your hand with each slow stroke you give him. 
“Spencer,” you say, rocking your hips forward and pushing your panties further to the side once again. “Spencer, please fuck me. Take my virginity, Spencer, please.” 
His mind whirled at the sentence, the pleas dropping from your lips. Virginity. You were a virgin. 
You'd had him cock stiff after three minutes of conversation  had pulled him into an alleyway and lost him in a fog of pleasure, and you were still innocent. Untouched. 
You wanted to have your fun with him. You'd chosen him. 
He couldn't articulate the lust that coated his tongue, so he simply pushed it into your mouth  grabbed his cock from your hands, lined himself up with your drippy cunt and pushed in with a single thrust. 
You gasped and let out a moan, not quite fully pleasurable. Your hands again found his shouldend, his back, but your nails were sharper this time, digging in further, almost piercing skin. 
“Fuck, Spencer, yes,” you said, breathing shakily as you slowly started moving around his cock. 
“Did it hurt?” 
“It doesn't hurt anymore. Now, please Spencer, fuck me and don't hold back. It's more fun that way.” 
He pulled your hips closer, moaning as you tightened around him. Pressing one hand against the wall and keeping another hand gripped so hard around your hip you knew it'd bruise, he began moving. 
He began slow, trying not to lose himself in the feel of your unused, tight hole. But with each small moan, each scratch against his back, he lost a little bit more of that control he was begging for. 
With his hands engaged, his brows furrowed I'm frustration that he couldn't stroke your bundle of nerves, he couldn't force you to cum on his cock as quickly as he wanted to. 
“Y/N, look at me.” You opened your eyes at the words, unaware that they'd closed tight as you emptied all other senses to just feel him. 
“Touch yourself. Right there, that's it,” he watched your fingers rub delicately against your skin, spoke little words of encouragement, and told you to increase your speed and pleasure. 
“That's it. That's it, now it's time for you to cum, Y/N. Cum on my cock, rub your little clit for me and cum around my big cock, Y/N.” 
“Shit… shit, shit, shit, Spencer, oh my god.” Your hands shook, and your hips twitched, and with a cry, you reached that high you'd been craving since you met his eyes earlier. 
He pulled out of you, slowly pulling you off the wall, as he held you up, letting your legs regain their strength. His cock was still hard, still coated in your arousal as he took care of you. 
You caught your breath fast, regained tour strength quicker as you noticed he didn't plan on getting himself off anymore. He let you have your fun with him and was happy to end it all there. 
You weren't. 
“Spencer,” you sang again, wrapping a hand once again around his erection as he tried to straighten out your now slightly more ripped skirt. “Spencer, it's more fun of we both cum. I want you to make a mess of my hand, can you do that for me?” 
You stroked his cock with a firmer grip than before, your arousal lubricating each stroke, his pre-cum mingling with it to aid you further. You suddenly wondered what he would taste like, but knew your legs would be too weak to do everything your heart desired today. 
There was always tomorrow. 
He leaned his weight back on the wall behind you, forcing you back as well as you pumped him quickly so desperate to hear him moan your name as he spilt his seed. 
“Y/N,” he moaned, and you were triumphant. His hips jerked once, then twice, then a third time, and he stilled, heaving breaths as he buried his head in your shoulder. 
He swallowed and regained his breath, and as he pulled away, you pulled your fingers to your lips and lapped up the final drops of cum that he left there. 
Most of it had his the wall, dripped to the floor, but you enjoyed these few drops and smiled brightly at him, pulling a handkerchief that you knew would be in his pocket out and cleaning the two of you up. 
He flushed again as he came back to his senses, especially as you attempted to put his clothed to rights, stepping back to replace his softening cock in his pants.
“Well,” you said after setting yourself to rights, “Thank you for the fun night, Spencer. See you tomorrow.” 
You skipped off quickly before he had a second to even process your words. 
The next day at the local precinct was a blur for Spencer as he tried to drag himself from the drug induced haze of meeting you. He'd stroked himself to completion two more times in bed after he returned to his motel room, reliving the sound of you begging him to take you, the words ‘pretty boy’ on your lips as you spread your legs. 
It'd taken his entire brain, or what was left of it, to not jump out of his skin every time Morgan had teased him with the words that morning.
“Now how did you like your first club experience, pretty boy? Did any college cuties throw themselves at you?” 
He spat up his coffee, choosing that moment to choke, and begging god for this to just be the end of Spencer Reid entirely. 
Because there was no way Morgan would actually believe that that was exactly what had happened. 
“Morgan, Gideon wants you in the interrogation room, and- wow, Spencer, you should change your shirt. What are you, 5? You can't drink coffee properly?” Elle said, chuckling slightly.
“I choked,” he frowned, but it fell on deaf ears as his teammates walked away quickly to get back to their jobs. 
He wished he could recover so quickly, even now the image of you having your fun with him the night before playing like a movie in his head. 
Looking down, he realised Elle was right, and he really did need to change his shirt. Hotch always had a few spare on hand, even for cases out of the office. He grabbed some tissues, dabbing against the mess of coffee on his shirt, suddenly thankful for lukewarm police precinct coffee, and started making his way towards Hotch. 
“Hey, Hotch-” he made it three steps before your voice cried out. 
“Ronnie!!” You shouted, throwing your hands around your elder brother as he caught you in a hug. 
“Y/N, we're at a police station. If you're going to come see me, you have to at least call me Aaron.” 
“And not take the chance to embarrass you in front of your peers and coworkers? Not a chance, Ronnie. Not a chance.” He chuckled fondly, brushing away his complaints quickly as he turned to introduce you to JJ first, then Elle and then the frozen statue that had replaced Spencer. 
“And, Y/N, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She's a student at the university.” 
You held out your hand with a triumphant grin as Spencer stared in wide-eyed horror at the apparition in front of him. 
“Hello, Spencer. It's very nice to finally meet you. My brother has told me a lot about you, and I'm very excited to pick your brains.” 
The air seemed to explode around Spencer as each breath became deliriously hot, filling his lungs with fire. It was moments before he realised that he wasn't actually breathing at all, and the air was actually quite normal. 
Your hand remained out, ready to greet him, and to the surprise of his coworkers, he took it in his for a short shake. 
“Y/N. Hotch's sister, Y/N. Nice to meet you, Y/N Hotchner, Hotch's sister.” 
He could practically hear the audible sound of Elle and JJ smacking a hand against their faces in horror at his stupidly obvious reaction to the woman in front of him. If he wasn't careful, he'd be spouting confessions of desire soon, and knowing that Aaron Hotchner carried two guns on his person even now did nothing to calm his thoughts. 
“Okay, well, Y/N, I'm busy with some interrogations now, but I can drive you back to your apartment in half an hour if you're okay to wait with JJ?” 
“Are you busy, Spencer?” You asked instead, keeping her eyes locked on the man who still weakly shook her hand, unaware of when the right time to stop would be. 
“I was serious when I said I wanted to pick your brain, my brother said you had a PhD in Engineering and I'm struggling through a class right now that I need some guidance in if you can spare five minutes?” 
Spencer stared between Hotch and you, looking for the right answer to please present itself before he imploded right there. 
“Yes. PhD, I have a PhD. Three actually, but whose counting? Me. I just counted them. One of them is in mathematics, actually, so I guess I'm always counting.” He finally dropped your hand, and you gave him a wider smile that dropped his heart to his stomach. “I am free, unless you needed me for something else, Hotch?” 
His gaze was pleading, though he wasn't sure if he was begging for his life, five more minutes alone with you or the power to extricate himself from this situation entirely, but Hotch nodded his acceptance quickly and let you lead Spencer off to the small, empty visitors room at the opposite side of the precinct. 
You shut the door behind you when you walked in, leaning over to close the blinds as well before you turned back to Spencer. 
“Your shirt is wet. You should probably take it off,” you giggled as you trailed a hand up his arm once again. 
His hand grabbed yours before you could do any more damage to his tender nerves than you'd already managed that morning. 
“You knew the entire time? Who I was?” 
“I walked over because you seemed familiar, but I only figured it out when you said your name. My brother does talk about you a lot.”
“Hotch is going to kill me,” he said, slumping down into the chair behind him. “Y/N, your brother was outside the club. He could've seen us leave.” 
You climbed into his lap, and his eyes finally met yours again, his tongue stopping its hopeless tirade as you relaxed into his chest. 
“I have two older brothers, Spencer. Do you know how often they've been able to tell me what to do?” Your hands started down his shirt, making quick work of the buttons as he stared up, enthralled. 
“Not once have they been able to stop me from doing something I wanted.” 
He scoffed quickly, unable to help himself. Your hands gripped either side of his face and lifted his head to meet your gaze again. 
“And right now, Spencer, I really want you.” A roll of your hips was enough to have him hissing and grabbing your hips. You started steadily rocking into him, eyes still locked with his. 
“Y/N, please let's be sensible.” 
“I don't want to be sensible, I want to have fun. I want to suck your dick right here, and let you cum in my mouth. I want to scream your name and let everyone know who is giving me pleasure. Can't I do that, Spencer?” 
“No,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as you dry humped him, trying to get yourself off on his lap, his.cock rising with each of your quiet moans. 
“Spencer, please. I want your big, hard cock back inside me. Please, please, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.” 
His eyes shot open in incredulity as he watched you use his body as you saw fit. 
“Good girls don't lose their virginities in alleyways, Y/N. Good girls don't throw themselves at their brothers' coworkers. Good girls listen when they're told no, and don't try to suck cock in public, like little sluts.” He spat each word at you, bit you enjoyed each insult he hurled your way, enjoyed the way his body recoiled as he finally called you a slut. 
He seemed slightly shocked by his anger himself, but you didn't seem to care. It took you only seconds after to push your lips against his again and have your hands on his cock once again, pulling him out of his pants as his hands explored you just as eagerly. 
“Yeah, Spencer, your little slut. I'm such a little slut for you, please fuck me.” 
He buried a hand in your hair, tipping your head back so his tongue could probe deeper, his other hand already under your shirt and teasing one nipple. You lifted your hips and sunk down onto his cock, neither of you stopping to think again about your actions as you began to rode him. 
“30 minutes, Y/N, by now we have 24 minutes and 17 seconds. Can you manage that, Y/N?” 
“Yes, sir.” You said, feeling his dick twitch as you rode him. “Oh did you like that? You liked me calling you, sir?” His hips pressed up again, his body answering more honestly than his tongue. 
“What else can I call you? Spencer… sir….daddy?” 
He broke away from his place buried in your neck to push the two of you down to the floor, the new angle had you gasping as a hand covered your mouth stifling any screams you could make before you made them. 
“Be quiet and cum on my cock, Y/N,” he whispered and picked up his pace, one hand gagging you while the other pulled painfully at your nipple, pinching it between two hands and using it to lift your entire chest so your body was arched toward him, letting him go deeper. 
“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered again, against his fingers, tempted to wrap your lips around one and suck it into your mouth. 
“Fuck, just call me Spencer, Y/N.” 
But you couldn't respond, suddenly overcome with the numbness of you orgasm washing over you as you bit back a choked cry. 
“That's it, good job, Y/N. You listen so well, good job.” He rubbed soothing circles into your chest as his hips slowed, working you through your orgasm as he withdrew once again. 
This time though, he didn't try to pull away and leave himself hard, but sat himself up, and lifted you once again too, putting slight pressure at the back of your head until you were on your knees and letting your head fall down, down, down as your lips wrapped around his wet cock. 
You took him in your mouth, and tasted the bitter, salty flavor of your illicit activities, lapping every last bit of your joint pleasure up as he pushed your hair up and down his cock. 
It didn't take long for his hips to press up into your mouth slightly harder than before, his hands holding you steady as he came down your throat. He held your head there for a minute two, as you tried your best to breathe and stay there, taking as much of his cum down your throat as you could. He pulled your head off him and you swallowed the rest, smiling brightly at him as you did so. 
“Thank you for the fun, Spencer,” You said again, grabbing your phone and checking the time. 
Standing up, you pulled your clothes back in place, pulling your skirt down and your panties up, smoothing out the tangles in your hair. 
“Let me go get you that spare shirt, Doctor Reid,” you said, opening the door. “I'm very grateful for your help with my class load, sir.” 
His head fell back into his hands as you closed the door, leaving him to wonder just what the hell he'd got himself in for. 
1K notes · View notes
aweina · 6 months
Text
౨ৎ. CHOCOLATE LIPSTICK ( 17﹢) ; mike schmidt
tags fem reader. enemies to ( ? ). mike is mean + angry. 2-3 year age difference. sexual tension. oral fixation. semi-brat taming + 1k words.
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mike was staring at you funny, it made you feel weird — annoyed, actually.
“what?” your voice was harsh, muffled by the sweet frozen yogurt coating your mouth.
he raised a brow at your tone, a little vexed from your sudden attitude. it reminded him of the bratty kid he happened to escort out of a toy store just an hour ago. he’s in a bad mood already, but there was no reason to get mad right now.
“don’t talk with your mouth full.” mike tiredly mumbled. an honest suggestion, but half of what he really wanted to say.
you rolled your eyes at his critiquing words. he always seemed to lecture you about the littlest things. how you’re not as productive during your usual security checks or even that one time he was finding the mall keys during your shared nightly protocols — making sure to make a sly comment and sprinkle in an unneeded suggestion about how untidy your bag was. exactly how an obnoxious parent would.
it was annoying. being treated like a child and especially by someone like mike. so what if he was a few years older? slightly more mature than you, much more responsible, and definitely not hot. just a little bit tho, but you’ll never admit that.
but ninety-percent of the time he pisses you off, and this is one of those times.
you swallowed down the yogurt that melted from your seething irritation, brows furrowed at the snarky comment he had to make about your dining etiquette. it’s a fucking mall food court, not a fine dining restaurant.
“do you always have to be a dick to me?” your words were laced with venom, all the suppressed anger managed to bubble out your throat.
his calloused fingers suddenly stopped twisting on the volume of the two-way radio, usual soft hazel eyes darken to a muted brown, stubbled jaw clenched. mike swallowed back the urge to say a few fighting words at your childish retort.
your tone wasn’t a big deal. well, until now.
his day has already been ruined. parents weren’t so attentive when it came to their bratty children, that meant he had to parent them himself — awkwardly standing until their tantrums fall silent or escorting dozens of children that happen to run off for some ridiculous toy. he didn’t need anymore whining from you, especially about something he’s done without the intention of malice — you were childish, immature.
“i don’t need to hear this right now.” mike was too tired to argue. a heavy sigh escaping his lips, his rough hands brushing away the tired feeling in his eyes. “you’re acting like a kid right now, you know that?”
you swore your blood pressure just went up.
“see that’s what i’m talking about! you treat me like a kid and you have to be a total asshole about it. why?”
passing families and teens curiously looked towards your table, the sudden blast of your agitated voice drawing unneeded attention. just what mike needed.
he turns away from their prying eyes, flustered that he was a victim of your grownup tantrum. mike continues the silent treatment as he listens to your incoherent babbling, colorful words like “old man” and “asshole” passed through his eardrums like a sour tune. the grip of his arm was deadly tight. yet, your pouting made his heart skip a bit. it was adorable, it always has been. but not when it’s accommodated with your high-pitched whines, your brows knitted with all these negative emotions, cheeks redden from breathless insults. the angry look in your face looked so familiar — it was the same look everybody seemed to give him.
all this over a smudge of frozen yogurt on your mouth. he would laugh if he wasn’t at his breaking point.
“fuck, i hate yo – !“ with sudden force, mike grabs you by your chin, the pouring insults latched shut with a firm grip.
the reddish hue on your face that was once from your vexation became brighter from mike’s unusual forcefulness — he has never been this angry with you before. weirdly enough, you don’t hate it.
the chocolate remnants blotched over your cheeks, dribbling from your unwiped mouth, was he pointing this out the whole time?
“watch your mouth.” you didn’t know if he meant the mess you made or your little tantrum session that set him off.
maybe both, you can’t tell anymore.
you both stare at each other for a second, the tension so thick in the air — the invasive looks felt like a blur in the background, or rather, seemingly drawn away by this peculiar exchange. hazy eyes slowly peered down at your mouth, deliciously glazed with chocolate yogurt. it was tooth aching, he could imagine the taste on his tongue. if only he was a little closer, he never had to daydream about this ungodly sight for weeks.
his thumb slowly drags over your pinkish flesh, gathering the sweet residue that coated your quivering lips. he reached over the corners of your mouth, studying every hitch of your breath and the way you nervously fiddle with the plastic spoon. someone so loud, bratty, could be silenced with a single touch.
pushing past your pursed lips and clenched teeth with ease, his sweetened touch swirled all over your taste buds — the subtle hints of sweat somehow tasted sweeter than the chocolate goodness. mike watches you closely, his slacks suddenly feeling tight. you’re letting him do this to you, without a protest or your usual dirty look.
for another second, his fleeting touch brushed against your wet muscle, mesmerized by its softness. the darkness that loomed in his irises vaporized into a soft green, lured by the sight of an obedient mouth. he finally draws away, a string of saliva connecting his cleaned off thumb and your glossy lips. the rigid grip on your chin loosens as mike huffs in mild irritation, mostly out of astonishment from this predicament.
mike stands from his seat, hiding his hard-on with his bunched up security jacket — hand still soaked from your dribbling saliva. awkwardly, he picks up the trash splayed over the table, making sure his car keys were stuffed deep in his pocket.
“i’ll see you tomorrow.” he steadily spoke, seemingly unbothered.
you nodded, mouth still slightly agape.
mike walks off, leaving you with your own muddled thoughts.
out of complete horror, you hover your nimble fingers over your mouth — the taste of his skin still permeates on your tongue. even with how intimate that whole situation was, mike made sure to clean the remnants of frozen yogurt off your face.
the gall to leave you utterly confused, edged by this new side of your usual grumpy coworker. there was a line between guilty attraction and burning hatred towards mike, you were stuck in the middle of it. but your racing mind seemed to linger towards the shadows casting his tired eyes, the focused look on your compiling mouth, the demand in his voice animating your body like a toy. fuck, yeah okay, he was hot.
the ache between your legs seeped arousal through your pants, you thanked your employers that your uniform was black. gosh, it’s been so long since anybody has touched you like that.
you nearly break your skull when your head falls defeatedly on the table — a heavy groan vibrating in your chest.
you don’t know if you could come to work tomorrow.
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© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.
2K notes · View notes
literaila · 3 months
Text
three things
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: a fun trip to the grocery store (how do you raise children?)
warnings: a bit of anxiety, a bit too much of gojo
last part | next part
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*
year one.
"no, satoru." 
how many times have you said that today? 
how many times has satoru pouted--like he's doing right now--and put back whatever he'd plucked off the shelf, grumbling something about how you hated him or you weren't his mom or how he was the one buying everything? 
oh, too many times to count. you stopped after five. 
megumi rolls his eyes with you, already familiar with this routine, looking at everything in the cart again with the same analytical eye he's had since you all walked into the store. you're pretty sure he's counting the total cost.
it might be cute--the way his frown deepens just a little bit after each new item is added--if it didn't worry you completely. 
because it's the first time you've taken the two of them to the store, and the first time you're trying to recall everything their eyes trail over, the things they want but neither of them will say.
you're trying to remember yourself as a kid--if you begged your parents for anything you could possibly want, or if you stood there and stared longingly. but your childhood has always been a dull memory you keep hidden in the attic of your mind. 
so you're not sure what to expect. 
because neither of them has asked for much, since the first night. tsumiki requested a notebook she could draw in, and megumi asked if you could get gojo to stop talking to him. 
the first which you did immediately, even letting gojo get her some expensive pencils to draw with, the second which you... tried. 
it hasn't been easy, the past few days. settling two kids into a dysfunctional house didn't exactly fit into your schedule for the week. 
"why not?" satoru demands, walking right along slide you, pushing the cart because you'd forced him to. "we need dessert." 
"there are seven different types of dessert already in there. i'm hiding at least three of those, by the way." 
"i'll find them," satoru grins mischievously, but waves a hand. "we've got two extra people in the house now. i'm not just shopping for me. do you want them to starve?" 
you roll your eyes, again. then pull on his hair, which he squeaks at. "you're only shopping for you. i've seen your pantries, you know. and i lived with you for three years. we all saw your grocery lists." 
satoru is about to say something, but tsumiki giggles. maybe at the stupid way his face looks. 
the way he's almost smiling, even in denial. how his eyes show from just behind his glasses, his brows moving like a separate entity on his face. 
you haven't really talked to him, the past couple of days. nothing beyond a question about megumi's technique, or where the two of them went to school. 
how long will it take before you finally ask him--
you look over to tsumiki, shaking your head at satoru and smiling back. 
"megumi doesn't like sweets much," she adds to you, easily.
you add it to the mental list of things you know about them.
you look at the little boy, and he nods, looking straight ahead. his shoes catch on the ground every couple of steps like they don't fit right. 
satoru gasps like this is an outrage. because not drinking straight sugar is offensive to him. 
"what?" he asks, stopping all three of you so he can grab megumi by the shoulders. "were you cursed?" he inspects the boy carefully, peering over the glasses on his face.
megumi seems to sink back with each glance of his eyes, his face turning red. 
"cursed to deal with you, maybe," you tell him, pushing him away from megumi. the boy fixes his hair--which had been pushed over his eyes--and glares at satoru.
"he doesn't like sweets?" the man repeats, mouth open, glancing at all three of you like he's not sure that any of you are sane.
"you say that as if you don't eat enough for all four of us." 
"i need the calories," satoru whines, fluttering his eyelashes at you. you ignore him--and the funny way you feel about the gesture.
you look at both of the kids, observing the two of you closely, and give them a look. a look as in, he's crazy. 
megumi swallows. "i like dango." 
"great!" you nudge satoru to keep walking. "we'll get some." 
"that's it?" satoru prods. "what about--" 
you pinch his hip and shake your head, glaring at him when he pouts at you again. 
you step on his heels as you walk through the aisles, still watching the kids with sharp eyes, trying to figure out anything they might want. 
tsumiki murmurs something to megumi every once and a while, but beyond that, they only walk alongside you and satoru, stepping out of the way of any other adults that pass by. 
honestly, you might as well have taken them to the park. they don't even glance at any of the shelves--except when satoru pushes one of them away to grab something. at least at the park, they'd be getting some fresh air. 
after you sigh in--what? frustration? disappointment?--for the fourth time, satoru gives you a look, raising his brows. you shake your head. 
he nudges you with his shoulder but doesn't say anything. whistling while he sneaks more sugar into the cart. 
after the fifteenth minute of this, megumi falls in stride beside you and you look down at him. his eyes evade yours, focusing on the necklace you're wearing instead.
"um, i have to use the restroom," he says to you, soft and embarrassed. 
"okay," you place a hand on his back, gently turning him around, "i think it's just over here," you say, listening as satoru follows along idly. 
"me too," tsumiki says, trailing on your other side. 
the store is almost completely empty, so you tell the two of them that you'll wait right outside the door, and lean against the wall, watching the both of them disappear. 
satoru is already looking at you. 
"what?" you groan, glaring at the doors. 
"what what?" 
you sigh. his voice is annoying. "why are you looking at me?" 
satoru is too close for comfort, his arm brushing against yours--uncomfortably of course because he is the worst--without a care in the world. "what's up?" 
"what do you mean?" 
"why are you acting weird?" 
"i'm not acting weird," you look at him, frowning. 
he's wiping his glasses on his shirt--like he can actually see out of them--and looking at you quizzically. "oh, so you staring at tsumiki and megumi like they're a science experiment isn't weird?" 
you ignore him and his stupid blue eyes. 
"if i was doing that you'd push me down a flight of stairs, but okay..." 
you sigh again, rolling your eyes. and then again. and then you relent because satoru's silence will inevitably break you. "they haven't asked for anything," you say, almost whining to him. "you told them they could pick out whatever they want." 
satoru shrugs. "so they don't want anything." 
"everyone wants something, satoru. especially kids." 
"everyone?" 
"yes. i'd expect you to know better than anyone," he laughs but you frown. "it's a human trait." 
he smirks, leaning down towards you. "what do you want, then?" 
you scoff, flicking his forehead. "i want them to feel comfortable. and i want you to stop bugging megumi." 
"but he makes it so easy," satoru says, pretending to be innocent.
"you're the adult, here," you say, even though you don't really believe it--nor should you. "act like it." 
"all the kid does is scowl," satoru complains. "i'm just trying to make him comfortable." 
"by invading his space?" 
"you stare from far away, i stare from up close." 
"you antagonize." 
satoru grins, crossing his arms, very pleased with himself. he's silent again. 
the past year has almost made you forget that satoru knows you like this. he's always known how to keep you talking, how to read your face and your hesitant glances. 
it's not like time could make him forget. it's not like you've forgotten anything about him. 
"you aren't worried?" you ask, after a second. 
"about the kids?" 
"yes," you say, obviously, "that we're already messing something up." 
he gives you a dubious look. "it's been four days." 
and he's right. you can't expect to understand either one of them after seventy-two hours of merely knowing about their existence. but you don't know how to treat kids like these, because any mistake you make--anything you say--will inevitably come back to haunt you. 
"it's--" you shake your head. satoru doesn't worry about anything, so you don't even know why you're bringing it up. "it's like when you play with someone else's kid and feel like you're breaking some unspoken rule. except this time we're the ones making the rules. there's no one to tell us if we mess up." 
"i think megumi would tell us," satoru answers, almost sarcastically. 
"he's the kid, idiot," you groan. "he doesn't know." 
"rude," satoru is still grinning. "what could you have messed up, at this point? all you've been doing is asking them questions. that's pretty straightforward." 
"maybe it's too much, too fast." 
satoru snorts, shaking his head at you. "grocery shopping?" 
"everything." 
satoru raises a brow at you, watching as you deflate. you feel like each move you make takes a little more air out of you, and who's to say when you'll finally run out? 
how many mistakes do you have to make to finally get it right? 
and you know--and you know that he knows--that it's not just about them, but about you. is this too fast? is this too much?
satoru rests a hand on your head. "you're too in your head about this." 
"well, i have to do it for the both of us." 
he ignores that. "if they need something, they'll ask," the words are soft, genuine. he's completely sure like he always is. "you made it clear that we're just here to help. it's been four days." 
you sigh, nodding reluctantly. 
"we'll figure it out," he says, simply. "you don't need to worry about anything. i mean, i'm here, so..." 
you push his hand away, glaring. "megumi doesn't even talk to you." 
"hey, yes he does." 
"to call you a freak, maybe. or tell you to shut up." 
"don't be jealous of my relationship with megumi. we're bonding." 
you roll your eyes but find a laugh making its way out of you. 
he's always been good at this, too. making everything seem easy. 
when tsumiki comes out of the bathroom door, she smiles at the sight of the two of you still there--both talking animatedly, with similar glares in your eyes. she settles in beside satoru, copying him as she leans against the wall. 
"you think i'm great, don't you tsumiki?" satoru asks her, goading. 
she nods immediately. 
you snort and look away while tsumiki giggles when satoru leans down to smack a kiss on her cheek. 
something inside of you warms, just briefly. 
and then megumi comes out, rubbing his hands together. unlike tsumiki, he glares at satoru and chooses to stand beside you. 
"okay," satoru clasps his hands together. "are you both ready to go?" 
"um," you turn to him. "satoru we haven't--" 
megumi nods immediately, looking a bit brighter at the prospect, and tsumiki furrows her brows, questioning. 
"great! both of you pick out three things that you want and then we'll leave." 
megumi glowers. 
"three things?" you clear your throat. "they need more--" 
"three things," satoru repeats, looking right at megumi while he says it. some words pass non-verbally between the two of them. you might have to tell satoru not to talk to megumi about anything without you. "we'll get everything else we need." 
tsumiki runs alongside megumi and grabs his arm, which he allows, though you watch his eyes roll. 
"go on," satoru shoos them away, smiling all proudly. when they're gone, he turns to you again. "there. now you don't have to worry about picking something they like." 
and he reaches his hand to grab yours, as a simple habit. 
satoru has never tip-toed around the line of physical contact. even with shoko, even when she would push him off.
something passes between the two of you. holding his hand is familiar; egged on by four years of standing alongside him. 
you try not to flinch away from the contact. 
and, sure, satoru probably just lost both of them in the store, and you don't actually have everything else you need, or know what those things are, but he's smiling at you. 
he's trying to be reassuring. 
so you smile back and let him hold your hand. 
"we'll figure it out," he whispers to you, and you push the cart this time while the two of you try to find the children he just lost.
*
later that night--after forcing satoru to put away the groceries with the rest of you--megumi lets you sneak into his room with a (third) bag of candy that satoru grabbed last second, acting like you wouldn't notice. 
"where's the best hiding spot for this?" you ask him, looking around.
it's pretty doubtful that satoru would risk going into megumi's room just to look for it. and, you're sure, that megumi probably wouldn't let satoru open the door, nonetheless go through his things.
the boy points at his dresser and moves some clothes so you can hide it at the bottom of one of the drawers. he doesn't even question your motivations.
as you back out of the room again, you make him promise not to tell, and, for a single second, megumi smiles back at you, crossing his heart. 
*
next part
997 notes · View notes
hxzbinwrites · 3 months
Note
Hiiii! Could I request a oneshot where Husk reunites with a gn! S/o he had back when he was alive? The reader decides to stay at the Hazbin Hotel as a way of staying protected from the rest of the sinners and overlords in hell. After Charlie introduces them to everyone, they stop at the bar for a shot and they recognize eachothers voices.
(It can be fluff or angst)
Tysm!^^✨️
Husk x Gn! Reader | Quitting |
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Warnings ⚠️: Drinking, Alcohol Abuse, Cussing
(Y/n) is a mess. Just a plain mess. That’s what everyone though at least. Just a drunk weaving in and out of the next bar, blurring the lines between today and tomorrow, reality and fiction.
Groggily they drag their feet along the pavement, tired eyes desperately searching for a cheap enough bar that will still take them in. So far, no luck has been found. Most of the bars are either too expensive for someone who already blew everything they had on alcohol, or already know who they are and refuse to let them into their establishment.
And don’t even think about a place to stay. (Y/n) hasn’t been able to afford rent in years, not even a cheap motel to stay at. It’d be a blessing if somewhere that was a free stay just popped out right infront of them and just offered a place-
“HELLO!!”
“AH! WHAT THE HELL?” (Y/n) said, scowling at the cheerful face infront of them. It was Lucifer’s daughter, Charlie Morningstar. “Listen kid, don’t you know not to sneak up on folks!”
“Ah! I am so sorry!!” Charlie said, tucking her papers with drawings of rainbows made with crayon under her arm as she grabbed (Y/n)‘s hands.
“I’m here to make you an offer!” She said, smiling once more. Her cheerful demeanor was very different from (Y/n)’s deadpan expression.
“Listen kid, I don’t got much money. I find some here and there and then I blow it on booze, if you need investments, why don’t ya go to an Overlord or something, I ain’t got time for all of this.”
“Oh I don’t need any money!” Charlie said,”I need you! I’m working on a project to help rehabilitate sinners!! Help them go to Heaven!! And I’d like you to participate!”
“Why would I do that?” (Y/n) said, raising an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you start off on an easier case or something, I just don’t think that’s a good idea-“
“You can stay there for free!-”
“Alright lets go.” (Y/n) said, taking their hands out of Charlie’s grasp before she started to crush them in a hug.
“YAY!!! ANOTHER GUEST AT THE HOTEL!!!” She squealed, making the drunk’s head throb at the loud noise.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough Princess. Lets go to this ‘hotel’ of yours.”
——————
Charlie kicked open the doors to the Hazbin Hotel, skipping in alongside (practically dragging along) the newest guest, (Y/n).
“EVERYONE!!!!” Charlie shouted,”EMERGENCY MEETING!! WE HAVE A NEW GUEST!!”
(Y/n) covered their ears, their eyes squinting in annoyance at the Princess’s very loud entrance.
Mostly everyone slowly made their way to the lobby, Vaggie being the first to enter.
“Hey. I’m Vaggie. I’m Charlie’s girlfriend. If anyone here gives you trouble, let me know, I’ll handle them.”. For someone so laid back and monotone, you really wouldn’t expect her partner to be the hyper princess who was literally jumping up and down.
(Y/n) and Vaggie conversed for a bit before Sir Pentious, Angel Dust, Alastor, and Nifty entered as well.
They all talked and got to know each other before in the corner of their eye, (Y/n) caught sight of a bar. A BAR!! They quickly excused themselves and hopped behind the counter, quickly mixing a drink.
“Excuse me, who are you and what are you doing behind my counter?” A deep voice said, instantly making (Y/n) freeze in their tracks.
“Husk?” They asked, turning around expecting a familiar face only to be met with a casio themed cat.
“(Y/n)? Is that really you?”
“Husk!!” They said, reaching over the counter to give him a hug, much like the one they were internally complaining about with Charlie earlier.
“It’s good to see you old friend. How’s Hell been treatin’ ya?”
“Shitty” They replied,”since I died, I’ve been a drunk and living off the streets for a few years. Well decades now. Oh well, I’m here now!”
Husk narrowed his eyes at her,”so you’re telling me that my old drinking buddy has been living off of these dangerous streets! Hell (Y/n), I’m glad that Charlie found you. Now, move away from the counter, let me make you a drink to commemorate you quitting drinking.”
“No fair!” (Y/n) said, plopping down on the bar stool,”quitting? We all know that’s impossible. I was a drunk when I was alive, I’m a drunk now that I’m dead-“
“And you’ll become sober when you go to Heaven. I….I really care for you (Y/n), you shouldn’t stay in this shithole. Go up to those pearly gates. For me please?” He said, sliding them their favorite drink.
“Sure Husk, I’ll do it for you. But if I do it, you gotta promise to come with me right after okay? No more gambling.”
Husk sighed, closing his tired eyes,”Fine. I’ll do it for you. You better be glad though (Y/n), I wouldn’t do this for nobody except you.”
They smiled, looking into Husk’s eyes as he smiled back. They both knew that they were gonna keep their promises.
—————
Word Count: 823
(sorry it’s so short 😭)
751 notes · View notes
Text
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Prompt: You are blissfully unaware of how deep exactly Rook and Vil's affections run for you; of the extents they would go for you, and the boundaries they would cross in your name.
Pairing: Yan!Vil x Reader x Yan!Rook
Genre: Yandere
TW: Yandere Vil and Rook, talk of killing someone, Reader is not Yuu/Prefect.
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AN: Rook and Vil ily but why are you both so hard to write for 😭 Like, yall are fun to think for but it was so hard to write down the concept in my mind ysgshskejd. I genuinely don't know if I was able to do them justice, please forgive me if they're a bit ooc in this. This started off as a joke thing because of a friend, but then it turned yandere for some reason that I don't know but we're vibing so it's okay ^^
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You groaned as you flopped face first onto the couch in Vil's room, uncaring of the fact that you were still wearing your shoes. Vil glanced at you from the corner of his eyes as he sat at his vanity, narrowing his gaze at your unmoving form.
"(Name), remove your shoes."
" 'm too tired," you grumbled, and Rook chuckled from his place on Vil's bed. "My, my Chevalier de Beauté, how bold of you to reject Roi du Poison's order," he teased you, getting up from the bed to walk over to where you were.
" 'm tired," you whined once again, drawing out a chuckle from both of your boyfriends.
"Still, as Roi du Poison's devoted hunter, I cannot let you get away with such a grave crime," he hummed, his voice light and sweet to your ears. Kneeling on one leg, Rook carefully untied your shoelaces, gently placing your shoes on the floor by the couch. Each movement was smooth and reverent; one would think he was handling a priceless treasure with the way he made sure to not make a single noise as he rid you of your shoes.
He watched in amusement as your only reaction was to sigh and turn your head slightly to look at him. Ever watchful, he immediately zeroed in on the eyebags that you had tried to conceal under layers of makeup. Rook removed the glove from one of his hands, raising it to smooth back your hair into a somewhat presentable state.
"Pray tell, what has you so stressed?" He asked, and you could see Vil sit straighter (if that was even possible since his posture was always impeccable) at his words, no doubt listening to the two of you.
"Its nothing too bad, really. I'm just stuck with uncooperative assholes in Professor Crewel's class-"
"Language," Vill gently chided, but you could make out the concern in his voice. You continued speaking, eventually fully ranting to Rook and Vil about how absolutely bull-headed and uncooperative your group members were, and how you were practically the only one working on the project.
Both the boys stayed quiet as they heard you vent your frustrations out to them. Once you were done, Rook gave you a smile. His eyes held a dangerous light, sharp gaze befitting the hunter he prided himself in being.
"Would you like me to kill them for you?"
You felt a shiver run down your spine at his tone, the familiar smile on his face somehow turning malicious in front of your very eyes. Very slowly, like prey trying to not agitate the predator in their bid to escape, you silently sat up on the couch. Your eyes were trained on his, caution and hesitancy swirling in them (a very pretty mixture, if you asked Rook; what he wouldn't give to see that look of confusion and fear in your eyes more often-)
"No killing, Rook," Vil spoke from his seat in front of the mirror, turning completely to face the two of you. Immediately, Rook turned back into the playful boy you always knew, as he chuckled, "Ah, I jest, of course." He winked at you, and you wondered if your senses had played a trick on you as the heavy atmosphere that had been in the room mere moments ago dissipated instantly.
"Perhaps I could speak to these classmates of yours, hm?"
"O-oh, there's no need for that," you nervously chuckled. "I already informed Professor Crewel about it, and he said he'll give them a fitting punishment," you hurriedly explained. Your fingers fiddled with the cuffs of your blazer, a clear sign of your discomfort at the thought of Rook potentially talking to the people from your group. As irritating as they were, you didn't really want to get them on his (or for that matter, anyone's) bad side, especially with how... weird and quite frankly terrifying Rook had been earlier.
Your nervousness did not go unnoticed, as Vil chuckled, crossing his arms elegantly as he looked at the two of you. "Rook, you've scared them."
Vil stood up from his seat, making his way over to you. Carefully, he lifted your face to make you meet his eyes and smiled. "Rook was only joking, my dear. Don't worry." The gentle touch sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach, and the soft smile complementing his words made your earlier worries go away.
Rook looked at you, a mix of surprise and amusement in his eyes as he took your hand in his own. "Ah, dear Chevalier de Beauté, you need not worry at all," he said as he placed a light kiss on the back of your hand.
"You are precious to me, so I cannot help but wish to take care of anything that may displease you. But, my apologies if I went too far with my joke."
His voice was sincere as he spoke, and you couldn't help but smile at him despite his... slightly concerning words. Rook was a weirdo most of the time. Maybe it was just a well-intended joke that you just overthought about?
You chuckled, missing the way Vil's shoulders seemed to relax and how Rook's smile became a little less forced.
"It's alright Rook."
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"You nearly gave us away, Rook."
Vil's voice was uncharacteristically cold as he stared down at the hunter kneeling in front of him. You had gone back to your own dorm room some time ago, saying that you needed to finish one of Professor Trein's assignments, giving the two boys some much needed privacy to have this conversation.
"My sincere apologies Roi du Poison. I did not mean to, but to see their beautiful face contorted in such anger, such frustration... it caught me off guard. I was careless in my wish to take away some of their burden, and I shall accept any punishment you deem acceptable, my fair queen," Rook said, his voice repentant as he stared at the hem of Vil's dorm clothes.
Vil sighed after a long and tense silence. How could he remain cross with his beloved hunter any longer, when he was this remorseful? Besides, Vil had been quick enough to salvage the situation in time, and you were still blissfully unaware of how deep exactly their affections ran for you; of the extents they would go for you, and the boundaries they would cross in your name.
"Get up," he ordered, and the hunter rose to his feet, finally daring to look his queen in the eyes. "Go, and find every little thing there is to find about those useless students. Every. Single. Thing. But do not, touch a hair on their heads. That will be your punishment."
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Vil's voice was calm and collected, like a queen delivering a death sentence. Rook bowed reverently.
"As you wish, my dear queen."
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Always room for seconds (dp x dc)
"There they go again," says Aunt Alicia as she looks at the hazmat-clad backs of her sister and her husband jumping into their mish-mash-of-a-van. "And on Thanksgiving too," she finishes to herself as she turns toward her niece and nephew. Neither of them look surprised, though Jazz is clearly more affected if the tick in her jaw is any indication.
"They promised," she practically spits but Danny just sighs and puts a hand on her shoulder. It seems to draw the fight out of Jazz a bit and she sags onto herself.
Alicia loves her sister but she can be so irresponsible sometimes.
"Come on kids, let's go back inside. It's about time to put the turk-" she stops short, then groans. Maddie had insisted on bringing the turkey on account of not wanting Alicia to go to all the trouble, and Alicia had agreed on the condition that her sister wouldn't try to make it. "...And the turkey is still in the van isn't it?"
Danny makes a face. "It's probably for the best. I'm pretty sure I saw it move on the way here."
Alicia doesn't let her head fall into her hands, but only just. Instead, she takes a deep breath to calm herself down to rally her thoughts. "Alright. It'll be too late by the time we drive to town and buy a new raw one, so we can just get some already made from the store. That good for you guys?"
Jazz and Danny make sounds of assent before all three of them pile up in the car. Town isn't too far away, and the trip is mostly silent. Alicia is hesitating over what to say to cheer up her niece and nephew. In the end, they pull up to the grocery store before she manages to come up with anything.
"Dad was also supposed to bring desert," Jazz mentions as she grabs a caddie and wheels it back to them.
"I made apple pie just in case," Alicia answers. Despite her dislike for him, she can admit that Jack Fenton is a generous man. However, as she has learned over the years, that generosity doesn't extend to fudge. Which is why she's got her famous apple pie ready to pop into the oven.
Danny nods relieved, as he files in behind his sister. The three of them are rolling past the frozen section when a familiar voice cuts through the store music.
"Alicia?"
At that, Alicia looks up to see the face of one and only Martha Kent. Her lips stretch into a smile unconsciously at the sight.
"Martha, hi," she answers as the other woman starts walking closer. "How are you?"
"I'm good," the other woman says as she stops in front of them. "Just doing some last-minute shopping." Then Martha looks to Danny and Jazz and gives them a smile. "And who might these two be?"
"This is Jazz and Danny," Alicia introduces them, "my niece and nephew. They're spending Thanksgiving up at the cabin with me."
"Oh, that's wonderful!" Martha says sincerely. "You left your sister and her husband in charge of the turkey, then?" She winks.
Alicia winces. "Ah, not exactly."
"They had a work emergency," Jazz says, unhappy.
Martha lets out a sympathetic oh.
"That's why we're here," Alicia explains. "They left with the turkey without realizing, so we'll have to settle for store-bought this year."
Martha makes a noise of sympathy before her face shifts into something more pensive. "You know," she starts. "I've got a big turkey at home and there's only going to be my son and me to eat it. If you guys would like, we'd love to have you over to help us with it."
"Oh we couldn't possibly-" Alicia starts to protest but Martha takes a step forward and takes her hands.
"You'd be doing us a favour," Martha says, her hands still into Alicia's as she looks up earnestly at the redhead. And damn it all because Alicia can feel a blush spreading on her cheeks at that.
"Alright," Alicia says, too flustered to argue.
Martha squeezes her hands once before letting go and Alicia can't help but miss the warmth of them. "Then it's settled."
"Alright," repeats Alicia. "We'll have to swing back home, though. I made pie."
"That's wonderful!" Martha's smile is radiant and it makes something in Alicia's chest warm.
She disguises it with a cough before speaking up. "Is six thirty too early for you?"
"It's perfect. We'll be waiting for you then," Martha says. "And for your sister and her husband too, if they manage to tear themselves away from work."
"That's not likely," mumbles Danny under his breath. Uncharacteristically, Jazz doesn't say anything about her brother's manners, only putting her own hand on his shoulder. Martha catches Alicia's eye and they exchange a look.
"Well, we'll be glad to have you three, anywho," Martha states firmly which gets her a hesitant smile from Jazz.
Alicia clears her throat. "We'd better get going if we want to be ready in time."
"Oh yes," Martha agrees. "I have to make sure the turkey's not burning." Then she winks, and for some reason, Alicia can feel that pesky blush coming back. It's made worse by the shrewd look Jazz gives her.
"See you soon!" says Martha as she leaves.
"Bye," Alicia answers back a little weakly. Then she looks down to the ground and sighs. When she straightens her head, she's immediately on guard as she catches her niece's smug look.
"What?" Alicia asks warily.
"Is Martha single?" Jazz asks, with a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth face.
"Yeah," the older redhead answers slowly. "Why?"
"Just wanted to know," Jazz says innocently. And even Danny is looking at his sister suspiciously now. "since you've got a crush on her and all."
"I do no-I don't know what you're talking about!" Alicia protests though she feels her cheeks warming for the third time today.
And now Danny is starting to smirk too as he exchanges a look with his sister. "Oh," he starts as he looks towards Martha's disappearing figure. "This is going to be fun."
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steddie-as-they-come · 7 months
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ok listen so i saw this tiktok where this girl was at a concert and the singer gave her his ring to hold for a song and then didn’t take it back and i knew i had to steddie-fy it. enjoy!
Steve didn’t know what he was doing there.
Robin had dragged him along to this bar to chaperone for her date with some metalhead girl, but sometime during the night she had disappeared into the bathroom to go make out with said girl, and Steve had been left alone at the front of the crowd.
Look, he never said he was a good chaperone, alright?
And now the next band was coming out.
Corroded Coffin stepped onto the stage, and Steve felt his mouth go dry.
The guy in front, the lead singer, was the hottest fucking guy he had ever seen.
He had dark, curly hair, was dressed in skinny-as-hell jeans, and his shirt had the sleeves cut off, as well as most of the seams on the side. When he raised his arms, Steve caught a glimpse of ink under the shirt.
The guy wrapped a ringed hand around the neck of his guitar, smiling devilishly at the crowd. “Ready for the most metal concert ever?”
The crowd screamed their approval, and Steve screamed along with them, not knowing what the fuck he was doing. He knew he looked so out of place among them, his soft yellow sweater a spotlight against the sea of black clothing and silver chains.
The singer strummed an experimental note, then frowned down at his hands. “Dammit, wore the wrong ring today.” He slid a ring off his right knuckle, then peered at the crowd. “Here.”
He pointed at Steve, whose heart froze. He tilted his head. “Me?”
“Yeah.” He lobbed the ring at Steve underhanded, who caught it gently. “Hold that for the rest of the show, alright, pretty boy?”
The guy backed up and started the count for his band, but Steve didn’t even hear when they started to play. He was too busy staring at the ring, turning it over and over again in his hand. It was a cool silver, with an amber stone inlaid in it.
He slid the ring onto his pinkie.
“Holy shit, Steve!” came a familiar voice in his ear. It was Robin, hair messed up and makeup smeared. “These guys are good!”
He laughed. “I see you had fun.”
“Steve. Steeeve. She is so fucking hot, dude.” Robin said, splaying over his shoulder. “She went to- where’d you get that?”
She was looking at the ring.
“Uh,” Steve said dumbly. “He gave it to me.” He pointed up at the lead singer, whose hair was flying everywhere as he belted into the mic. His voice was amazing, like a wrecking ball crashing through Steve’s heart.
“No fucking way.” came a voice from Steve’s other side. Robin’s date, Emily or Amelie or something like that, he couldn’t quite remember, said. “Eddie Munson gave you a ring?”
“Yeah?” Steve said. He plucked the cup out of her hands and passed it to Robin, who drained it. “Why?”
“Because he never takes them off. There’s band interviews of them where his band mates are complaining because Eddie won’t share. And he just gave you one?”
A particularly loud stomp broke them out of their trances and made Robin fall off Steve’s shoulder. Eddie must have seen they weren’t paying attention, and decided to make them pay attention, by jumping and landing right by Steve’s head.
Steve jolted back up, staring directly into Eddie’s eyes.
Eddie winked.
Steve felt his face grow hot, and even though he tried to tell himself it was only the stage lights reflecting onto his face, he knew that wasn’t it.
Corroded Coffin may not have been Steve’s taste in music, but he couldn’t deny they were good. Eddie, of course, stole the show, his undeniable stage presence drawing everyone in.
Including Steve, of course.
By the time the set was over, Corroded Coffin packed up their shit and left the stage. Steve was preoccupied with getting home.
As the two of them exited the bar in a stream of other patrons, he looked down at his hand.
The ring Eddie had given him was sitting innocently on his pinkie, twinkling up at him.
“Shit.” he whispered.
“What?” Robin asked. “Steve, what is it?”
“His ring. I think I was supposed to give it back at the end of the show.”
“Aw, really?” Robin said. “And here I was thinking he proposed.”
Steve shoved her, then dragged her out of the way of the doors. “Shut up, I gotta return this before he reports it as stolen.”
“I think the only thing that’s stolen is my heart.” someone said from behind him.
Steve whipped around.
Eddie.
“That was…really, really corny.” Steve said, trying to regain his footing. His entire brain was screaming “HOT BOY” at him, so it wasn’t really working. He thought he made a valiant effort, though. Robin had slunk off to hide somewhere and watch from afar, the traitor.
Eddie shrugged. “Eh, opportunity came up, had to take it.” He held out his hand to shake. “Eddie Munson.”
Steve took it. “Steve Harrington.”
He slid the ring off his finger and made to drop it into Eddie’s hand, but Eddie held up a hand. “Listen, I’ve decided you can keep it, but only if I get your number in return.”
“Really?” Steve crossed his arms, balling the ring into his fist. The cold metal pressed against his palm. “I’ve heard from one of your fans that you don’t even share your rings with your band mates. Why do I get one?”
“Let’s just say I’m curious about why a guy dressed like he just got out of a PTA conference is in my metal audience.” Eddie said.
Steve looked down at his sweater. “Okay, listen, it wasn’t a PTA meeting.” he said. “It was a bake sale.”
Eddie laughed. “Even better, Jesus. You’ve got to tell me more.”
“I’m free for lunch around one?” Steve offered.
“Perfect.” Eddie tapped his phone and offered it to Steve to put in his contact. “Text you soon, pretty boy.”
Steve was so preoccupied with watching him walk away, he didn’t realize he still had the ring.
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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months
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Flirts
Mapi Leon x Reader x Ingrid Engen
Summary: Your cousin's two friends are definitely flirting with you
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You meet them at a party - although calling it a party is a bit of a stretch.
You meet them at a get-together. You let yourself into your house with your key and hang your jacket up on your hook, grabbing Patri's up from where she had thrown it on the floor and placing it on a hook as well.
You toe off your shoes and ignore the chatter from the living room in favour of grabbing a drink. You sigh deeply when you see the dishes in the sink.
"Patricia!" You yell," I mean this in the nicest way possible, I don't care if you're friends are here, but I need these dishes cleaned up tonight."
You can hear your cousin swear at the use of her name as well as quiet giggling from her teammates.
You linger in the doorway, arms crossed over your purple scrubs. "I mean it," You say firmly," They've been in the sink since last night."
"Yeah, Patri," Pina teases, nudging her with a foot," Go and clean up after yourself."
You roll your eyes. "You can help, Pina," You say," Seeing as I know you ate my leftovers last night."
The pair both huff but do as you say. Your eyes rove over the assembled football players. You recognise a few of them personally but some from only when you've seen them on tv.
They watch you in silence, some of them wide-eyed.
"How is Nala?"
Alexia's face lights up. "She is good. Better now that her fur has grown back!"
You let out a laugh. "Well, if she hadn't gotten gallstones then I wouldn't have had to shave her." You glance down at your phone, checking your calendar. "I'm still seeing her next week, right? To get her stitches removed?"
"Si," Alexia says," Gracias, y/n, for having her seen so quickly."
You shrug. "Well, when there's a dog as cute as Nala getting them seen quick is my first priority."
Alexia beams at you before saying to the rest of the group," This is Patri's cousin. She's a vet, the one that saved Nala. y/n, this is Ona, Lucy, Keira, Mapi and Ingrid. They all play for Barca."
"Of course," You roll your eyes," It's nice to meet you all." You move to leave but one of the girls on the sofa catches your wrist - Mapi, you think.
Her eyes shine with something you're not familiar with as she exchanges a look with Ingrid, whose lap she is sitting in. "You cannot stay?"
You glance at the clock, not exactly sure why you're entertaining this girl who's clearly in a relationship. "I have a surgery tomorrow."
Her girlfriend moves her head to look at you. "What kind of surgery?"
It's like they both knew how to draw you in, ready and incredibly willing to listen to you talk about the pulmonary stenosis you were correcting tomorrow.
At some point in the conversation, Mapi and Ingrid had separated, moving to different ends of the sofa until you were sandwiched between them. As you spoke, detailing the work you did as one of the few cardiothoracic veterinary specialists in Spain, Mapi's hand came to rest on your thigh and Ingrid propped her head up on her arm and used her hand to gently brush your hair out of your face.
Madre Mia.
They were flirting with you.
●~●~●~●~
You thought it was a one-night occurrence, the innocent flirting and the affectionate touches. You thought that they would remain Patri's teammates who you would occasionally see at games and far away from your actual life out of your cousin's spotlight.
But they start appearing everywhere.
Sometimes together.
Sometimes alone.
Ingrid at your favourite coffee place.
Mapi hanging around the park near your house.
Both of them 'bumping into you' while shopping.
It gets progressively more and more until your day is ruined by not seeing or hearing from them. It's completely seamless the way that they've inserted themselves into your lives.
You're sitting in the crowd at El Clásico when you start to realise that this might be a bit more serious than you originally thought.
You're introduced to Jana, Bruna and Frido as Alexia approaches, extremely happy to announce that Nala is much better than before.
"Oh, I know who you are," Frido replies," Mapi and Ingrid won't shut up about you. You're the vet."
You're a bit confused that Mapi and Ingrid have been talking about you to Frido, even more embarrassed when she reveals that you're all they ever talk about now - the fact that you've made it rich as a cardiothoracic specialist but still helped Nala with her gallbladder despite it making you little to no money compared to your usual work, the fact that you know all the secret backroads and hole in the wall shops around the city.
Everything and anything you've even mentioned in passing to them has been reported to Frido, who laughs slightly at your shell-shocked face.
"They're obsessed with you," She says," And I know for a fact that Patri's been helping them bump into you. You know, Mapi said that she was worried about asking Patri for your number."
Your cheeks colour. You hadn't realised that you meant so much to the couple, who seamlessly brought you into their orbit without even thinking much about it, seducing you into their lives with sweet words and soft touches.
Your mouth opens and closes for probably the whole of the match and it's not until you're let onto the field to congratulate your cousin and Pina, that you finally manage to gather your thoughts.
Mapi crashes into your back at speed, nearly bowling you over but Ingrid's already there, ready to catch you. You're pushed into her front and, with Mapi at your back, you're held hostage between them as they speak to you.
You don't exactly want to escape them though, content and happy between them.
"Bah!" Mapi complains when she pulls away and spies your Patri shirt. "Do you have to wear that?"
You laugh in disbelief as Ingrid moves to settle her arm around your shoulder while Mapi threads your fingers together. "She's my cousin. I think she would be upset if I didn't. Besides, what was I meant to wear up in the Barca box? White for Madrid?"
Both of them make a face.
"Or mine," Mapi says with a silly grin and a blown-out look in her eyes as if she's imagining it," Or Ingrid's. Actually, definitely Ingrid's. You'd look hot in her shirt."
Your cheeks flush - a regular occurrence when you're with the pair of them.
"I think yours," Ingrid replies," She would look equally as good in it." She winks at you. "But I wouldn't be opposed to you wearing mine either."
Your cheeks grow hotter and you bury your head in Ingrid's chest to try and hide your blush.
Mapi doesn't let you though. Her fingers capture your chin and she pulls you to face her. Ingrid rests her own chin on your shoulder and her hands go around your waist, securing you in place.
"Don't look away, amor," Mapi says and her voice drops to some form of purr that you're too busy overthinking to put a proper name to," We like to see when we make you all pretty and red."
"It's our favourite thing about you," Ingrid whispers in your ear and you have to clench your jaw to stop yourself from crying out in public," How you react when we hold you close and don't let go."
●~●~●~●~
You hide out in your house after that interaction, pacing up and down the halls like you're crazy, which completely freaks Patri out.
All those times, you had thought that it was a harmless game to them, flirting with you, buying you gifts, taking you out on things that we're most definitely dates now that you think about. You thought it was just them spicing up their relationship with each other, spoiling you to make the other jealous so they could go home and have epic sex - you almost shut down completely when you think about how good Mapi and Ingrid would be in bed.
But, clearly, your growing crush had been mutual and that's enough to make you go into a complete tailspin.
You don't see them for a few days anyway - travelling to Valencia to perform an open heart surgery on some philanthropist's poor dog. When you come home, it's with a very welcome stowaway.
"No," Patri gasps as she says you stroll in with Bambi in your arms.
It turns out your new client (who also was so thankful for you saving his eldest dog's life) had gifted you one of the newest from his Shiba Inu's litter.
She was undoubtedly small, practically a runt but you fell in love with her the moment she climbed into your lap as you took a refreshment break after surgery and licked your nose.
"Si," You say to Patri, who is already taking pictures," Her name's Bambi."
Patri's friends all end up coming over, cooing over Bambi who takes it so well that you've got no worries about her socialisation.
That's when you next see Mapi and Ingrid.
Mapi walks up behind you, arm automatically around your waist. "You look good as a mama," She says as you both watch Alexia coo over your puppy," She'll be in great hands."
You grin. "Safest hands in Spain," You joke, lifting them up," If you go by my lack of complications after surgery."
Mapi rests one of her hands against your palm. Hers are bigger than yours, and rougher from days of lifting weights and doing pull-ups in the gym. Yours are softer by comparison, used to precision needlework and lightly holding a scalpel to make the tiniest of incisions.
"You have nice hands," She says after a moment and she watches your face redden. She leans in. "I wonder what else they're good at."
You catch the implication and an embarrassing squeak slips from your lips. Mapi grins like a wolf and pulls away, hand dropping but keeping an arm around your waist, pulling you into her body.
Ingrid appears in the next moment. She shares a tender kiss with Mapi and winks at you as they pull away.
"Motherhood suits you," She says, her accent causes something to stir within you," You're glowing."
You fix your eyes on Bambi, who's running around trying to see who will give her treats next. "It's not like I was pregnant," You try to defend yourself but from the corner of your eye, Ingrid peels away from Mapi to join you at your other side. Her arm closes around your shoulder, fingers drawing patterns on the exposed skin of your arm.
"Hmm," She says dismissively of your statement," How was the surgery? Good? Seeing as you came home with a cutie like Bambi."
"Rich guys are generally annoying but this one was pretty cool. He has a lot of animals but he cares deeply for them all." You frown. "I think he's keeping me on a retainer now. I didn't think you could do that for vets, just lawyers."
"You clearly seduced him, amor," Mapi says," You're good like that, getting people to fall for you."
Ingrid's tongue darts out to wet her lips. "Yes, she's very good at that."
●~●~●~●~
It all comes to a head just two weeks after El Clásico.
You've left Bambi at a friend's house and Patri's dragged you out to a club with some of her friends.
You're completely sober though, Patri's only way home, but you still end up dancing.
Somewhere along the night, Mapi and Ingrid (equally as sober) join you.
You're sandwiched between them again - Ingrid at your back and Mapi at your front.
Ingrid's hands are on your waist so even if you wanted to fall out of their orbit, you can't.
Your dancing gets more and more sensual as time goes on until you catch Mapi's eyes.
She's grinning like she usually is when you're caught in Ingrid's grip - like a wolf. It happens in slow motion for you.
She leans forward, ever so slightly and your heart beats erratically in your chest. Your lips connect and fireworks go off in your brain. You move on instinct, kissing back and the guilt appears only as she pulls away.
Your eyes widen in alarm and you dart them towards Ingrid, an apology already on your tongue.
You had a crush on both of them, that's true, but kissing Mapi in front of her girlfriend was crossing a line that you shouldn't have crossed.
But Ingrid's grinning down at you and steals a kiss as well, flicking her tongue into your mouth with ease. Her hands move up to your face, leaving Mapi to hold onto your hips.
Your knees feel a little weak when she pulls away.
"You were right," Ingrid says to Mapi although her eyes are still on you," She does taste good."
The implications of that makes your heart skip a beat. They've been talking about you together, about how you react to them, about how you taste.
"You're so dense, amor," Mapi says to you as recognition of every interaction you've had with them suddenly starts to make perfect sense," So book smart, the best vet in the country but so dense. We've been flirting with you for months now."
"Since we saw you that night at Patri's," Ingrid continues," We just knew we had to have you." All those dates. All those little gifts." Her hand comes to rest on the junction between your neck and shoulder. "We're gonna treat you so well, elskling. You just have to say yes."
"Gonna make you our girlfriend," Mapi says as open-mouthed kisses are pressed against the other side of your neck," Gonna take you home with us tonight, if you'll let us. Just say yes."
You don't even have to think about it.
"Yes."
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scarafvcker · 8 months
Text
synopsis: scaramouche couldn’t help being distracted during a harbinger meeting (i.e. he has a detachable cock and you found it)
cws: masturbation, creampie, afab!reader uses scara’s detachable puppet cock as a dildo LMFAO
word count: 1000+
carved from the wood of a white tree, scaramouche was made to serve a single purpose only to be cast away by his own creator. during his creation, ei didn’t think about giving him genitals—what use would a puppet have some something like that anyway? for centuries, scaramouche walked teyvat without a care for his lack of genitalia up until he met you. you had managed to worm your way past the tall walls he had built around his nonexistent heart, managed to secure your place in his immortal life, managed to make him feel things he’d never felt before. he loves you and trusts you more than anything, more than himself and for a while he was ashamed of his lack of genitals. after he had reluctantly brought it up with dottore, the fellow harbinger had created a detachable penis for him. although, dottore was not amused in the slightest.
being in a relationship with a fatui harbinger meant your boyfriend would often be out and about completing tasks for the tsaritsa herself, leaving you alone for as long as a month on end. he had just gotten back from liyue before he was immediately pulled into another meeting, planning on being stationed in inazuma for the electro gnosis. laying alone in your shared bed, you stared up at the plain ceiling and let out a long sigh before flipping onto your side and rustling through the bedside table. you were bored and lonely, deciding to pull out a familiar object.
scaramouche jolted in his seat, clearing his throat and forcing his usual unbothered expression onto his face. he had to look down at his lap to make sure he wasn’t going crazy—he could feel what you were doing, he could feel your fingers wrapped around his cock and god, he’s missed it so much. his mind slowly drifts away from the meeting, his unblinking eyes focused onto the table in front of him as he tries to imagine every little moment he can feel. your warm hand wraps around his cock, thumb swirling his pre around his tip as you continue to pump your hand up and down. he wishes he were with you instead so he could see the way his cock fits perfectly into your hand as you pump and stroke it while looking up at him with those pretty little eyes of yours.
his eyes flutter shut and his nails dig into the armrests as he feels a familiar warmth on the base of his cock—he could feel himself sliding between two puffy folds, his tip running over a hardened bud a few times. he wishes he could see the way his cock slides through your fat pussy lips, smearing your slick around himself as he prepares to enter you.
he can feel you poking his tip into your cunt ever so slightly only to pull away and rub it on your clit once again. he’s not sure if you know that he can feel everything you’re doing but the thought of you being clueless turns him on even more. he opens his eyes and looks around the room, making sure that nobody is looking at him suspiciously only to let out a soft groan when he feels the ridged walls of your pussy wrapped around his cock. the sound he lets out draws the attention of his fellow harbingers and he clears his throat, glaring at them and huffing, “what? why are you all looking at me? hurry up and finish the meeting—i’ve got my own things to take care of.”
as pierro nods and continues the meeting, scaramouche digs his nails further into his chair, his mind filled with images of what his cock looks like right now. he needs to see his cock sitting deep inside your pretty pussy, the tip resting right against your sweetspot as you twitch around him, cumming from the insertion alone. he could feel your tight cunt fluttering around him, he could feel the way your slick coated him as you shoved him deeper in, he could feel the way your ridged walls rubbed along him as you slowly pulled him out only to slam him back inside.
he had to act as if everything was fine, as if he wasn’t balls deep inside your warm cunt, as if he wasn’t feeling every quiver of your hole as it sucked him in and pushed him out simultaneously. he felt the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, poking into your womb as his balls throbbed with the need to cum inside and fill up your pussy as much as he can. with each thrust of his cock into you, his nails dug impossibly deeper into the armrest as he bit back moan after moan. he kept trying to come up with ways to punish you after the meeting but his mind kept getting clouded with images of how his cock might look—creamy ring around the base, balls slapping against the wet curve of your ass, and the pretty pink tip peeking out ever so slightly before being urged back deep inside you as you fuck him into you.
he feels the white hot pleasure of his orgasm creeping up on him, the familiar knot tightening in his gut as you use his cock to rearrange your own. his eyes shut tight, jaw clenching, toes curling, and fingernails poking holes into the leather covering on the armrests as he tries to be as quiet as possible—not letting out so much as a jagged breath as the knot finally comes lose. he could feel the way your cunt spasms around him as he spills his cum deep into your womb, cock twitching deliciously as you continue to piston him in and out at a slow pace.
he doesn’t even have to see you to know you’ve already fallen asleep, the way your cunt slowly relaxes while keeping his cock in you tells him everything he needs to know—it’s another familiar feeling, your cunt still wrapped around him as you doze off yet this time his cock remains perfectly hard as he finally thinks of your punishment.
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starglitterz · 9 months
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♡ NIGHT DANCER.
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❝ nothing changed, please don't change… let's blend together, one more time. ❞ / after spending the night with you, how do the genshin men treat you in the morning after?
✧ feat ; albedo, cyno, kaedehara kazuha, scaramouche, shikanoin heizou, xiao x gn!reader ✧ warning(s) ; suggestive (esp scara and heizou) ✧ a/n ; HIII everybody make some noise for quill’s shocking once a year post!!! hope you guys like this and if it doesn’t show up in tags i will delete my account (/nsrs) anyways idk why i’ve been so obsessed w the idea of waking up next to someone (can you tell i’m critically lonely? 💀) and so this piece was born. pretend u don't notice how scara & xiao’s might seem kinda similar it’s bc i view them thru the same lens LOL ok hope you enjoy! (also ignore the scara favouritism im kinda obsessed w this idea for him KJASKJD)
please reblog + leave comments ! it helps a lot w motivation <3
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✦ ALBEDO. [ kreideprinz ]
you’re awoken by the feeling of a cold breeze caressing your skin, and as you grasp for his familiar figure, you realise albedo’s not beside you anymore. but before you can freak out, his soft voice calls to you from behind you, “good morning, dove. don’t move, i’m almost finished.” “finished with what?” you query, deciding to obey him and stay still. he doesn’t answer at first, but you can hear a faint scratching sound which almost sounds like charcoal against parchment. “and… done.” you shift in the bed, turning around to face him. albedo looks almost ethereal in the early morning light, especially when he smiles at you like you hung the stars in the sky. “i do hope you don’t find this peculiar, but i wanted to draw you while you were asleep. you looked so peaceful, and i wanted to immortalise this moment.” he hands you the paper, strands of wheat-coloured hair spilling over his shoulders, let loose from his usual half ponytail. you’re the only one who gets to see him like this, messy and imperfect instead of the flawless scientist he portrays to the rest of mondstadt. you gaze at the drawing, absorbing every detail as you try not to faint from what a sweet gesture this is, “albedo, this is amazing! you made me look so pretty.” he tilts his head quizzically, raising an eyebrow, “what do you mean? i just drew you exactly how i see you – you’re always beautiful to me.”
✦ CYNO. [ judicator of secrets ]
cyno's skin looks almost golden in the sunlight filtering through the translucent curtains. you're lying on your side, gazing at him and just admiring his features when his red eyes flutter open and he murmurs, “i might have to charge you for looking so much.” his voice is rougher than normal, deepened by sleep and it makes heat rush to your cheeks. “morning, babe-ah!” you can barely get out your greeting before he's pulling you back into his embrace, strong arms wrapping around you as he nuzzles into your neck. “cyno!” you laugh, turning around to face him, “stop it, i'm hungry! i wanna go get breakfast-” “hi hungry, i'm cyno,” your boyfriend looks at you with the most deadpan expression, and you're momentarily stunned. then you groan and throw a pillow at his head, “you're so lame!” “i'm not so lame, i just told you i'm cyno- okay, okay, i'll stop!” you collapse into a fit of giggles right as you're about to pummel his chest, “lamest ever.” “mmm,” cyno mumbles, eyes already fluttering shut again as he feels your plush warmth against him, “i'll make you breakfast, i swear, but can we just stay like this for a little longer?”
✦ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA. [ scarlet leaves pursue wild waves ]
the first thing you see when you wake up are kazuha's crimson irises laser-focused on you. the way his eyes scan your features, it’s almost like he’s tracing every detail to commit to memory, as if every morning that he wakes up next to you could be his last. “kazu? what's-” you're interrupted by a yawn, and your boyfriend's gaze softens as he looks at you. as you brush his red-streaked hair out of his face, he leans into your touch, almost cat-like in the motion, “what is it, 'zuha?” “i was just thinking... you make me glad to be a poet,” a gentle smile graces his features. “what? why?” despite the fact that kazuha is always letting praise fall from his lips like jewels, you didn't even remotely expect his answer. “because it means i'm lucky enough to be able to properly convey how you make me feel, and how gorgeous you are,” kazuha presses a sweet kiss on your forehead, then his brow furrows slightly, “but i don't think there's enough words in the world for me to speak about what you mean to me.”
✦ SCARAMOUCHE. [ kunikuzushi ]
when scaramouche wakes up, his first thought is; why does my entire body hurt? eyes still half-lidded and drowsy, he looks down and he's met with the sight of your back pressed against his torso, his arm thrown carelessly over your waist. he scrambles backwards, eyes widening with shock, and his sudden frantic movement wakes you up too. “what are you doing in my bed?!” “what the hell, scara?” you mumble, rubbing away the sleep from your eyes, “it’s too early for you to be this loud.” scaramouche’s heart is beating a million times a minute, and it’s only exacerbated by how cute you look when you’re this sleepy, not that he’d admit it to you for the world. but as you yawn and sit up, he thinks that he’s going to go into cardiac arrest. “you didn’t answer my question!” you give him a weird look, “we slept together. again. duh.” the blanket wrapped around your figure slides off a little as you reply, revealing your bare shoulder and giving him the faintest glimpse of your chest, and scaramouche’s face turns so red you genuinely think he might explode. “c-cover yourself up!” he scolds, clambering closer to drape the fabric over you again as his mind works through the haze of sleep, letting the memories of last night flood back.
realising how flustered he is, you take this as the perfect opportunity to tease him, “it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” “shut up.” he replies curtly, but he hesitates as his fingers skim over the bite mark on your collarbone. his eyes darken slightly as he recalls last night, the messy kisses that were more tongue than anything else, his teeth nipping at your neck and finally sinking into your skin, all to mark you as his. you’ve both never officially decided what the two of you are, but you both know that he’s yours and you’re his, and scaramouche doesn’t like sharing. a playful smirk curves your lips, “remember giving this to me?” “don’t test me,” he mumbles, eyes roving over your exposed skin. his gaze dips to the still slipping blanket, hands ceasing their rapid motion to try and rescue your modesty, “i might give you more.” your arms loop around his neck, pulling him back down to the bed as you smile teasingly, “so do it.” “you’re a bad influence,” scaramouche groans, hands already moving to grip your hips, and you laugh, “that’s why you love me~”
✦ SHIKANOIN HEIZOU. [ analytical harmony ]
“good morning~” heizou's lilting voice is the first thing you hear when you wake up, and his trademark smile is already on his idiotically kissable lips as the two of you lie next to each other in his bed. “you do this with all the criminals you catch?” you drawl, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat as you see the way his green eyes twinkle in the light. “just the ones i think look best in a different type of handcuffs,” he replies smoothly without missing a beat, smirk deepening as he notices he's left you speechless. “plus,” his hand trails across your cheek, thumb stroking your skin for a split second before his smile turns devilish, “it'd be pretty hard for me to get them to the police station if i left them all unable to walk.” “ugh, heizou!” you swat his shoulder, and bury your face in the pillow as he bursts into laughter. “but seriously,” heizou taps your shoulder gently, almost hesitantly, and you peek up from the pillow to look at him. a soft pink blush dusts his cheeks, and his eyes flicker away from yours in a manner that seems almost shy, “you're the only person i'd do this with, criminal or not.”
✦ XIAO. [ vigilant yaksha ]
waking up next to you is like a little slice of heaven for xiao. he can barely believe that he, the corrupted conqueror of demons, is able to share a bed with a mortal who borders on angelic. you shift in xiao's embrace, tucking your head under his chin almost instinctively as your eyes open slowly, “good morning, xiao. did you sleep well?” he still gets embarrassed by your proximity, so his voice is a little curt as he responds with a pink blush darkening his cheeks, “adepti do not require sleep.” “ah…” you roll your eyes, but pounce on the opportunity to fluster him, “guess that's why you always want to go all night, hm?” “i-!” xiao's face turns an almost delightful shade of crimson and he looks away, “no respect for the adepti.” “not true!” you gasp with mock offense. cuddling up against him, you stick your tongue out, “i respect alllll the adepti. but my boyfriend? maybe not so much.” “you'll be the death of me,” xiao sighs, pulling you impossibly closer. “then i hope you'll die a happy man,” you giggle, threading your fingers through his jade hair. xiao's eyes slide shut from the feeling of you playing with his hair, and he murmurs a response that leaves you speechless, “after a life with you? certainly.”
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i love them this is so soft when is it my turn // general masterlist
© starglitterz 2023. do not repost or modify in any way - reblog and leave comments if you enjoyed !
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ludicdoll · 2 months
Text
𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆
farleigh start ☆
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pairing: farleigh start x fem!reader
contents: smoking, farleigh actually being nice, oliver hate train
synopsis: farleigh finds you drunk and alone outside of a party.
a/n: some soft farleigh content cuz i feel like i never write about him like this enoughhh
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you don’t know what happened, but you were sitting outside on the steps of the stairs leading up to the loud party, your coat half way off your shoulders, and one of your heels seemed to have broken off. you had one too many drinks and now you were all alone, shivering and fidgeting with your dress. you came to the party with your friends, but they disappeared on you while you were throwing up in the bathroom. you frown as you frantically ask people leaving the club if you could catch a ride with them to get back to your dorm, but they all declined and quickly sped past you. you groan loudly, the door behind you swinging open and closes with a loud thud, the sound of a lighter igniting making you turn around. you look over your shoulder, sighing in relief when you see a familiar face. “farleigh,” you breathe out. he lights the cigarette in his mouth before looking down at the steps.
his face shifts, eyes widening slightly. “oh, it’s you.” he says. you pout, confused with his sarcastic tone. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask as you make an attempt to get up before quickly tumbling forwards due to your broken heel. you catch yourself on the railing, turning back around and slumping over to farleigh. “god, you’re a fucking mess.” he teases, the smoke from his cigarette filling the deck. he has an amused expression on his face, almost like he was holding back a laugh. he scoots over to make more space for you, pulling out another cigar from his pocket. you smell the faint scent of his signature bold cologne, whiskey on his breathe. you lean against the cold bricks, taking the cigar from his fingers. he lights up your cigarette from your mouth, his eyes glistening from the flame. farleigh looks down at your feet, arching a brow at the heel hanging off from the bottom of the shoe. “i partied too hard.” you slur out. he rolls his eyes, laughing at your joke.
he seemed more assertive and calm right now, not his like usual upbeat, dickhead self. he looked tired, his eyes were low and dark, his curls slightly disheveled—but he still looked posh and perfect. you and farleigh weren’t exactly friends per se, you knew each other through felix but rarely talked outside of that. although, when you did get the chance to talk to farleigh alone, you realized his bold demeanor changed when it came to you. he still had that sassy, asshole-ish pep and tone to him, but he was nice when he wanted to be. “where’s your squad?” you ask, he looks confused. “my squad?” he repeats.
“yea, annabel, alicia, felix, oli—”
“ah, tut, tut.” farleigh quickly cuts you off with a finger, “we don’t talk about him.” he groans as he blows the thin line of smoke out of his mouth.
you scoff, “why…why do you hate him so much?” he looks down at you, a bleak expression on his face. “because.” you cock your head to the side, squinting. “because, what?” you press. he clicks his tongue, ignoring your question. farleigh clenches his jaw. you both go silent, just soaking in the dark sky and the muffled music from inside the building. “farleigh,” you mumble as you draw away from your cigarette. “mhm?” he hums back, his eyelids low and fixated on you. “can you walk me to my dorm?” he raises his brows, a small smirk forming on his lips. “please,” you whine. “you can’t leave a drunk girl unattended on the streets—plus, my heel is broken!” you point back to your feet. farleigh looks at you up and down for a while before clearing his throat. you lean closer to him, your shoulder touching his arm. you look up at him with pleading eyes as he lets out an annoyed moan and turns away.
“fuck, fine.” he says in defeat. farleigh drops his cigarette on the deck, putting it out with his foot. you quirk up from the wall, stumbling back. farleigh launches forward, instantly grabbing your arm to prevent you from falling. he pulls you closer to his body, rolling his eyes. “you’re gonna bust your ass if you keep walking around like that.” he mutters into your ear as he swings his arm over your shoulder. you giggle, raising your cigarette again to your lips. “you’re so nice, far.” you hiccup as he looks down at you, a surprised expression on his face from the nickname. “sure. you’re lucky i’m here to help you instead of that weirdo.” he strides forward as you trip over your own feet trying to catch up with him. “who?” you inquire. “you know who.” he replies. you furrow your brows and look around for a second before realizing he was talking about oliver.
“i thought you came with your friends.” he says. “i did.” you reply, “where are they? why don’t they take you back to the dorms?” you watch your feet as you step on the cracks of the sidewalk. “mm, i don’t know.” you admit shyly. “they ditched me, i think.” you mumble under your breath. farleigh laughs quietly, patting your shoulder in a sympathetic manner. you both walked in silence for a while, his arm wrapped tightly around you. you felt your face heating up and your knees wobbling underneath you everytime his cold fingers grazed your bare skin. his curls fell perfectly in front of his eyes, his confident grin only making you melting into his touch. you pushed the thoughts to the back of your mind, trying to focus on walking without tripping over something.
the club wasn’t that far from oxford, it was just a few minutes away in walking distance—and you were thankful for that since your feet were slowly killing you. you close your eyes and lay your head against his arm as he continues to lead you through the grounds of the school.
when you open your eyes again, you realize you’re already in the dorm hallways. farleigh walks around for a minute until he abruptly stops in front of your door. “you remembered?” you peer up at him, shocked he knew where your dorm was. “of course, how could i forget the day you had a mental break down and called everybody to your room?” he replies sarcastically. his hand travels down your waist to your bag, searching for your keys. you yawn as he finally inserts the key inside the lock, pushing the door open with his foot as you stumble in his arms. you walk over to your bed, instantly falling face first into your mattress. you hear your keys being set on your desk, then the lamp being switched on—the room illuminated in a dim warm light. farleigh mutters a quiet “oh god” under his breath as he unstraps your heels off your feet, tossing them by the pile of clothes in the corner of your room. “this place is a mess, y’know?”
“uh huh,” you reply mindlessly as you dig yourself deeper in the warm sheets of your bed. you watch as farleigh walks over to you, looking down at your slumped figure with his hands on his hips.
“you gonna be okay?” he asks. you look up at him, letting out an inaudible noise, blabbering something. he pinches his nose bridge, softly laughing in response. farleigh slowly backs away from the edge of the bed—turning around to leave the room, but your hand quickly clutches onto his wrist before he can walk away. “farleighhhh…” you moan out. he turns around, his eyes softening as he looks at your hand around his.
“can you stay with me?” you whisper.
the room is silent, only the sound of his breathing and the crickets outside the window filling the room. you blink, the feeling of sleep slowly taking over your body. “please,” you mutter as you shift your head so you’re looking directly up at him. for a second, he doesn’t respond, the moonlight casting a shadow over his features. “okay,” farleigh sighs as he kneels down next to your bed. you still haven’t let go of his hand, your fingers tightly wrapped around his wrist. you smile sheepishly, giggling when he grimaces and rolls his eyes at your bubbly demeanor. you nuzzle your face against your soft pillows, closing your eyes. farleigh slides his hand away from your grip but goes back to move your hair away from your eyes. “thank you for walking with me.” you say.
farleigh nods, his eyes focused on your tired face. “yea, of course.” he replies.
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© do not publish my work on other sites.
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runningfrom2am · 2 months
Text
gem of panem // LTPF
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summary: introducing regulus and regan snow; son and daughter of the most powerful couple the country has ever seen. the real gems of panem.
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
wc: 4.2k
masterlists / nav / requests
tags/warnings: dad!coryo!! finally!!, gamemaker!reader, this time the capitol brats are their kids, also a little bit of violence in this one!! some very minor medical procedure descriptions (trypanophobia havers beware- although that's me so i was VERY vague with descriptions otherwise i would have made myself cry)
a/n: i've had dad!coryo requested for this series a few times so here's a taste of that and an introduction to their kids!! ahh I've been working on this for so long i hope you guys love it :)
series masterlist // playlist
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"I simply do not have time for this. Notify my husband." You wave off your assistant as you stand over the large round table in your laboratory.
"I- uh, your husband, Doctor Snow?" The young girl stammers.
"I don't believe I stuttered, did I?"
"No, Doctor. I just... I am uncertain he will be available right now."
You look up from the scattered pile of papers, and you can see her tense up. "I understand that he's our president, but he is also a father. He is more 'available' than I am a week before the games! Now go, he shall handle it."
"Yes, okay. I will, I'm sorry." She agrees, already pacing away and out of your sight and you get back to work, resisting the urge to attempt at rubbing away your now growing migraine.
"President Snow, sir?" Coryo looks up from his desk as one of his people opens the door for your assistant.
"Serena, my wife sent you?" He asks, standing quickly. It wasn't standard that you would send her instead of showing up yourself, or even just waiting until the end of the day to tell him over dinner.
"Yes, sir." She nods, looking down at her notepad. "Her office got a call from the academy, about an hour ago. They wished to speak with her about your son, sir. In person."
Coryo furrows his brow, already standing and grabbing his red overcoat. "Did something happen?" Why would they call the head gamemaker and demand her presence a week before the games? That seems incredibly careless.
"They wouldn't tell me anything other than the fact he is safe and not injured, sir."
He nods slightly, already brushing past her out the door. "Call the school, tell them I am on my way."
Coryo gets out of the black car, pacing up to the elementary wing of the academy's campus, a building he is far too familiar with. Walking in, he watches the receptionists eyes go wide as they both stare at him. He clears his throat.
"Where is my son?" He asks flatly.
"In the Deans office, President Snow." She replies and he nods, rubbing his jaw.
"Whose decision was it to call on my wife a week before the games are set to begin?"
Her face pales. "Well, um, she is the primary emergency contact for him, it is procedure to make that call first."
"So it was you?"
"Yes, sir."
Coryo leans onto the counter that separated them. "Right, well, maybe we should work on our critical thinking skills next time if we want to keep our jobs, yes?"
"Yes. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." He smiles slightly at her response, tapping his hand on the granite counter before walking off down the private hall.
He enters without knocking, practically slamming the door open and immediately searching the unnecessarily large office for your son. "Regulus, are you alright?" He asks, approaching the boy quickly when he sees him sitting in a chair in the corner of the room.
"Dad, I'm fine..." He mutters, arms crossed over his chest as he pouts.
Coryo crouches down in front of him, examining him closely.
"Coriolanus, I was surprised to get your call." The new Dean says, drawing his attention as he stands back up.
"Why is that?" Coryo asks, turning to his former classmate with a raised eyebrow.
She shrugs, standing behind her desk with her hands in her pockets. "We called for Y/N."
"A week before the games." He nods, approaching the desk slowly. "Are you not happier to see me than her, timing considered?"
"That's a good point." Persephone chuckles.
"Yes, she was not pleased you even called." Coryo replies, knowing he didn't even speak with you directly. "So please, tell me what is so important that you needed to interrupt both of our schedules."
"Right, yes. Please take a seat." She gestured toward the chair across from her own and he sits, only because it's polite. "So," She flips over a page in the notebook in front of her. "Regulus hit another student."
Coryo's eyebrows raise, and he turns to look at his son who's still pouting in the corner. "Come here, please." He pages him, and he saunters over, refusing to make eye contact with either of the adults in the room.
"Why?" Coryo asks him as he takes the empty seat next to him. The boy shrugs, still avoiding their gaze.
Coryo sighs. "Would you mind, Persephone? What happened?"
"Apparently..." She glances at her notes again. "Another student took his pencil without asking first and didn't give it back because, quote, 'they needed it and he had plenty'." She explains, looking up at them again. Regulus was the striking image of his father, his hair in the same longer somewhat disheveled curls that she used to remember on the man sitting next to him when they were that age.
"That's it?" Coryo asks.
"He hit him on the head, he's in the nurses office now being assessed for a concussion."
"Okay..?" He chuckles slightly in response. "Why did you have to call us?"
"Because this is a serious disciplinary issue." She scoffs, gesturing to his son.
Coryo looks between the two of them. "Okay, well, he looks like he feels bad, and I'll have my staff send an apology letter to the boys parents." He says, standing up again and tucking the chair back in. "Come on, kid. Let's go."
"Coriolanus, respectfully, this is more severe than that." Persephone interrupts. "We won't allow students to go around hurting others- especially over something so menial as a pencil. Eight years is too old for that kind of behaviour."
"You know his mother- don't you?" Coryo asks, raising an eyebrow at her. "I promise you, Dean Price, this is not serious." He turns then to his son. "Grab your stuff, I'll take you home." He says, and the little blonde boy rushes back to the corner to grab his bag.
"Coriolanus." She says again, exasperated by his lack of concern.
"Oh, and please tell the other boy that theft is not tolerated in Panem. He's lucky we won't have him executed." Coryo says, feigning a genuine smile at her with a sharp nod. He knows this isn't true, that executing a child over something so petty would never be considered in the Capitol, it would just be wasteful, but maybe next time he would think before stealing from the Presidents son.
She gives up at this, sighing as they walk toward the door.
Coryo shuts the door behind them, reaching forward to ruffle his son's hair.
The boy giggles, pouting and trying to fix it. "Dad.." He laughs, looking back up at him. "You're not upset with me, are you?"
"No, of course not." He grins, leaning down and placing a hand on his shoulder as they walk. "Did you know that your Dean is a cannibal?" He whispers, giving a quick nod to the girls at the reception desk as they pass.
Regulus gasps, looking up at him. "Is she really?"
"Yes." Coryo nods. "Tell your friends."
"Ew..." His son shivers, and Coryo smiles.
"I know right? Gross." He laughs quietly as they step out into the hall. "Now, where's your sister?"
"She's in English." Regulus answers and Coryo nods, leading him up the stairs and toward the classroom.
Once again, Coryo doesn't bother knocking before opening the door to his daughter's classroom.
Everyone looks up at once and the teacher pauses, gasps and whispers filling the room.
"Daddy!" Regan smiles, standing quickly and running down the stairs to the door, throwing her arms around his waist.
"Hi, Gem." He chuckles slightly, rubbing her back as she clings to him.
"President Snow..." The teacher smiles nervously. "We weren't expecting a visit today, but we were just discussing the significance of The Hunger Games and it's depictions in literature, would you care to comment?"
"Oh, interesting!" He grins, glancing back to Regulus waiting just outside. "I would love to, but Regan's mother is really the one to speak to about all that. Unfortunately, I'm busy today but perhaps we can get her in one day to speak in one of your lessons?"
"That would be wonderful." Her teacher smiles. "Then, what brings you in?"
"Oh, yes. Sorry for interrupting, but I'll be pulling Regan for the day." He explains and his daughter gasps, looking up at him with excitement. "Yeah." He whispers to her, patting her head. "Go get your things."
"Oh! Okay, did you sign her out? Typically they would call me beforehand." The teacher replies as Regan goes back to her seat, grabbing her things and being not so sneaky about sticking her tongue out at her classmates.
"No, I just decided to grab her while I was here. Just call the office and let them know I took her." He smiles, opening his arm to his daughter again as she comes back.
Regan practically skips out of the room, super excited to be free of something she already hears about endlessly at home. "What happened, Daddy? Why are we leaving?" She asks, grabbing her father's hand.
"Well, my schedule cleared up and I just thought 'Hm... I sure am missing my favourite girl today,' and then I remembered your last report card and how incredibly well you are doing and decided you deserved a day off."
"Really?!" She squeals, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Of course, Sweetheart." Coryo chuckles, scooping her up to carry her down the stairs.
"Lux, what would you like to do today? Anything you want." He looks down at the boy walking next to them.
"Uh, I'm not sure."
"Daddy, can we go see Mum?" Regan asks, looking up at him with a hopeful sparkle in her eyes. "I want to see her pets!"
Coryo chews the inside of his cheek. It's certainly not a good time, but if he would be with them maybe they could just sneak in to say hello. He found it extremely difficult to say no to her. "Sure, Darling." He nods, opening the front door to the academy.
"Okay, remember, Mum is very busy so we're just going to pop in to say hello, and if she says it's okay we can go see her pets." Coryo explains to the kids as they get out of the car outside the Citadel. "We're going to be quiet, and not touch a single thing unless I say it's okay."
Regan's blonde pigtails bounce as she runs up the stairs in front of the building, having abandoned her bag in the car. Regulus is right on her heels, reaching for her hair as if he's going to pull it.
They were under a year apart in age, 'district twins', as Ma Plinth had dubbed them when Regan was born. When you were expecting your son, the games were difficult to plan and execute. You would never admit it, but Coryo could see that the hormones of pregnancy made you almost sympathetic to the tributes and their families- you could hardly even watch the games you spent a year meticulously planning. You spent most of the time you could watch with a bucket in your lap. So when Coryo suggested you have your second right away, you were skeptical. You didn't want to go through that again right away, but he wasn't sure he could convince you to do it again if you decided to wait.
"Let's just get it over with," He had insisted. "Then we'll have our two beautiful babies and you'll never have to do it again. Everything will go back to normal." You couldn't argue with that logic.
So when Regulus was eleven months old, the Capitol was buzzing with excitement over the announcement that the First Lady of Panem had given birth to another child; a baby girl, and she was perfect.
"Gem of Panem! What do we have here?" Your receptionist grins as the three of them stroll in, eyes locked on the kids as Regan holds her head high. The receptionist is rounding the desk, crouching down and opening her arms for the little girl who happily runs into them. "If it isn't the real gem of Panem, how are you, Miss Regan?"
"I'm good." Regan giggles, arms wrapped around the woman's neck. "Daddy picked me up from school early."
"I see that." She chuckles, standing up and lifting the seven year old onto her hip as she looks at Coryo.
"I decided to let the kids have the rest of the day off today, and they wanted to come say hi to Doctor Snow." He explains. "If she has a moment."
"Oh, that's a good question..." The woman nods, gently lowering Regan back to the ground and circling the desk again, pulling up the paper schedule and scanning over it for a moment. "You know what, let me call her and just ask."
Your phone rings on your desk in the corner and you sigh, heels clicking across the floor as you pace over. "I swear to god if it is the school again..." You mumble to yourself, picking up the line. "What is it?"
"Doctor Snow, sorry to bug you, but your family is here."
"My family..." You ask, mind still set on the technical details of the almost prepared arena.
"Yes, Doctor. President Snow has brought your children by, they wish to see you, but only if you have time."
You blink, realizing what she said. "Okay, yes. That's fine. Send them down."
You can hear your kids before you see them, Regan talking away mostly to herself as they step out of the elevator into the part of your lab that held your office. You sigh, quickly removing your leather gloves and fixing the disheveled state of your hair before stepping out into the hall to greet them.
"Mummy!" Your daughter squeals, running toward you as you crouch down to catch her in your arms.
"Hi, Gem..." You laugh slightly, eyes now focussed on Regulus. He's shifting on his feet, standing so close to his father's side that he's almost standing behind him.
"Lux," You let your daughter go, opening your arms to him. "Come here, darling. What's wrong? What happened?"
He doesn't say anything, eyes locked on the ground as he walks up to you and leans into your shoulder. "Are you hurt?" He slightly shakes his head and you pick him up, allowing him to wrap his legs around your waist and arms around your neck.
You look pointedly at your husband.
'I'll tell you about it later' He mouths to you and you nod, gently rubbing circles into the boys back while Regan pulls on your lab coat impatiently.
"Mummm," She whines, already stomping her foot on the ground since your attention was no longer on her. "Mum, I want to see your pets and Daddy said we could."
"I said maybe, Gem." Coryo laughs slightly.
You chew on your lip, not minding the deteriorating state of your red lipstick. You were really anxious to find out what happened with Regulus, so maybe letting the kids entertain themselves for just a moment would allow you a second to talk to Coryo about it.
"Sure, of course you can. We'll just have to be quick, Mum is very busy today." You smile, gently putting your son down as his head perks up at the idea. "Come on." You take his hand, leading them all down the hall to one particularly safe section of your lab.
There are a series of mutts under testing and development here, but in this room close to your office, it contained only small animals like mice and rats, or bugs that the kids never showed much interest in. "Don't touch a thing, okay?" You tell them as you unlock the door.
The kids rush in, running up to a tank and immediately gawking at its contents. You didn't understand why, fully, since they just looked like regular old house mice. Your kids just wanted to be involved, you supposed. The same way Regan enjoyed sitting on Coryo's lap while he gave speeches or did interviews, but Regulus had always shown more of an interest in what you did behind the scenes, not just in front of the cameras.
"What happened?" You ask Coryo quietly as soon as they are sufficiently occupied.
Coryo chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your cheek as you keep your eyes locked on the kids. "Hello to you too."
You sigh, smiling as you lean into him. "Hi. Sorry. I'm just a little stressed."
"I know, love. Don't worry about it." He squeezes your side. "We'll get out of your hair in a few minutes."
"What happened with him?" You ask again.
"He hit another kid." Coryo states plainly and you gasp, turning to fully look at him for the first time.
"What?" You ask, searching his expression for any clue that he may have been kidding.
He shrugs. "They stole his pencil and refused to give it back."
"Oh, well, then they deserved it." You scoff. "Little brat- did you get the names of the parents?"
He laughs quietly, shaking his head and reaching up to hold your cheek. "I handled it. Don't worry about a thing." You don't have the chance to argue before he's kissing you to hush any of your concerns.
You hum against his lips, pressing a hand to his chest. "But, Coryo-"
"I handled it." He reminds you, just gently biting down on your lower lip. You can feel him smiling against you and you hum, allowing yourself to relax for just a moment.
Coryo takes the opportunity to turn to face you fully, dragging his hands down over your hips and backing you against the wall just behind you.
The kids were there, yes, but they were well used to seeing you kiss. It didn't bother either of you, and they had never known anything else. One day they may complain, but until that day came you would take every opportunity granted to you within your mutually tight schedules. Besides, the kids should know what love looks like. High expectations are good expectations, in your opinion.
The moment is interrupted by your phone ringing in your office down the hall and you quickly take a step back. With the tributes already in the Capitol, you couldn't afford to miss a call. Anything could happen- you know that story well.
"I'm sorry, I need to get that." You say and he nods as you turn to the kids. "Lux, Gem, come on. Time to go."
"Mum!" Regan whines, stomping her foot down as she always tended to do. "We just got here, can't we stay a few more minutes?"
"No, Regan. Out. Come on." You motion for them to come and they do, but your daughter in particular looks extremely unpleased as she stomps past you and out the door while Regulus follows with his hands tucked in his pockets. You turn off the light and lock the door.
"Okay, I'll see you at home tonight. Yes?" You kiss your husbands cheek and he smiles, giving you another quick kiss before you disappear into your office and shut the door behind you.
You take the call, and of course it was nothing of importance. So many things had to be run by you as head gamemaker that they felt it necessary to call and confirm the contents of what would be fed to the tributes. It never ended.
You don't even get the time to process where you had left off with your work before you're overwhelmed by voices. Your name being yelled by your husband accompanied by screaming, horrified pained screaming- which you quickly identify as coming from Regan. Your motherly instincts kick in before you even know it and you're throwing your door back open and are standing in the hall.
Coryo rushes out of the elevator with your daughter in his arms, his eyes wide as he moves quickly toward you. "It bit her! Something bit her- I don't know, I-"
You nod; there's no time for questions. "Okay, get her to the exam room." Moving as quickly as possible down the hall, you're grabbing at her little red blazer and pulling the sleeves up as she keeps screaming bloody murder.
You shove the door open and rush inside, for the first time noticing Regulus following behind you. You grab his shirt and pull him in while Coryo quickly lays her on the table. Even in the panic, you couldn't leave him unsupervised anywhere in the lab. Especially if something had escaped.
"Get her top unbuttoned, I'll need her arm free!" You tell Coryo as you shuffle around through the cupboard quickly trying to find everything you were looking for. A syringe, the antidote for whatever it may be. You don't even know. Glancing over your shoulder, her skin looks flushed with red patches showing up on her neck and face; but it could just be from crying.
Coryo's hands are shaking as his daughter continues to scream and cry in his face, making it harder for him to get her blazer off and unbutton her top. "You're going to be okay, darling. Shh, shh... Mum's gonna help." All he can think about while he pulls off her blazer and frees her arms from the little blue shirt is the time that he saw Clemensia Dovecote get bit by one of Gaul's snakes. He thought she was dead, and she walked out of the hospital wishing that she was. She never recovered- but she was quickly given treatment. Much quicker than his seven-year-old daughter, who is also significantly smaller than his friend was at the time.
"What was it? Did you see what it was?" You ask in a panic, bringing over a box and flinging it open next to her on the table.
"I didn't see it! I just saw-"
"It was a mouse." Regulus says, and Coryo turns to him with wide eyes. Luckily, you're all action and you're already filling the syringe with something that should counteract whatever effects the mouse's bite could have on her while he stares at his son. He looks calm, watching the scene with a tilted head. "It was just a mouse, Daddy."
Coryo looks away, grabbing Regan's hand and squeezing it. He didn't have the chance to tell you that whatever it was, apparently this "mouse", had been dropped down the back of Regan's shirt by her brother as soon as the elevator began to lift them. He had done it on purpose. Though, he couldn't have known what was wrong with the creature.
"This is just gonna be a pinch, Gem. Try and take a deep breath for me..." You tell her as you squeeze her arm. She makes no effort to do so, but knowing that the mice were only being designed to cause pain, it didn't surprise you.
"There you go, good girl..." Coryo coos at her as you just as quickly remove the needle, quickly disposing of it as he brushes her hair back from where it clung to her face. Immediately he can see the blood returning to her face, and she's still crying but whatever it was you gave her must have helped with the pain instantly.
"She'll be okay." You sigh in relief, rejoining his side and lifting Regan up so she's sitting. "Can you hold her? I just need to find the bite."
Coryo sits on the table, lifting her into his lap as you look over her arms and ankles. "It's on her back." He tells you, repositioning her carefully so you could see. She wasn't screaming anymore, just sniffling with eyes drooping shut.
You furrow your brow, stepping to his other side to get a look at it, seeing the small swelling area at the top of her back. You grab some disinfectant to quickly clean it before you dress it properly. "What happened?" You ask. "Did she fall?" It was unclear to you how she could have been bitten in such a place without being on the ground.
Coryo doesn't say anything, shifting his gaze over to Regulus again. He's watching you closely and how you're treating the bite, eyes trained on your gloved hands.
When your husband doesn't answer you immediately you look up at him again, and then follow his eyes to your son. "What did you do?" You ask him, plastering the gauze onto your daughter's back.
"I just wanted to know what would happen, Mummy." He says simply.
"You knew what would happen, Lux. I've told you so many times not to touch anything. That it's not safe, and one of you could get hurt." You frown, packing up your first aid kit before going over to him, and kneeling down in front of the blonde boy. "I know you're interested in what I do, and I love that, but if you have questions you have to ask. Not do experiments yourself."
You grab his arms to get him to look at you again. "Hey, I'm not mad at you." You say softly. "I just need you to be careful. You're smarter than this."
He nods, wrapping his arms around your neck and hugging you. You sigh as you hug him back. "You can't hurt your sister, darling. We're a team. Do you understand?"
"I do. It was just a mouse, I didn't think it would be that bad. I'm sorry." He agrees quietly, eyes still locked on his sister as his dad cradles her gently in his arms. She's passed out against his chest, holding her as close as he possibly can.
He shakes his head at his son, trying to display his clear disappointment. It would quickly be noticed if his daughter, the President's daughter, fell ill, and he knew he would have to jump through hoops to cover up her recovery and that the very reason for it was her own brother.
Regulus Snow was his mother's son, and Coriolanus didn't believe his apology one bit.
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princessbrunette · 3 months
Note
mean brother’s bsf ! rafe who says he has to go to the bathroom while he’s over at your house playing video games w ur brother but instead walks to ur room and starts fucking u :((
𓍢ִ໋🪷˚*ੈ♡⸝⸝🦢
you can always hear the group of them — rowdy and loud, yelling at the tv whilst they play the game, or watch some kind of sport that you yourself had no interest in. you had no idea why your brother refused to ever close his door, especially when he had friends round— they were so damn loud.
you hear rafes voice in the hallway and it makes your heart rate spike, your brothers friend calling something into the room as he leaves it, the boys exploding into laughter. you wondered if he’d stop by today, like he did every time — or if he’d pass you by and act like you don’t exist, something he has also demonstrated he is capable of doing when your brothers around.
it had happened only earlier, coming home from your pilates class in your cute little get up which usually you knew rafe would be all over— the boy stood in the kitchen, chatting to your brother when you arrived home.
“hi!” you chirp politely, happy to see him there, knowing what it meant for you. rafe barely glanced— offering you a “hey.” before continuing on his conversation. you couldn’t help but let your face fall. you knew he couldn’t give you much attention infront of your big brother, not wanting to draw suspicion— but just a hey was rude, impolite even.
you hear your door creak open and you don’t turn to look, playing nonchalant as you lay on your stomach on your bed, flipping through a book. he’s careful to close the door again, taking in the sight of you laying there, more importantly the sight of your ass cheeks spilling from your pyjama shorts.
“did you miss me?” he drawls, taking a step closer and you spare a glance over your shoulder, playing like you didn’t.
“oh, hey.” you repeat his greeting from earlier boredly. it was petty, sure— but unfortunately, you were crazy about rafe. you wanted him to know you were a little peeved.
“that all i get, hey?” he sounds amused, dumb and part-lipped as he steps a little closer, fingers tickling your ankle which makes your leg jerk out, nearly kicking him.
“well that’s all i got earlier.” you flip a page, pretending to be totally disinterested in the conversation. you hear him still, breathing as he tries to recollect the moment.
“i dont — i-i don’t understand. what’s this about?” he asks, already irritated with the way you aren’t turning around to look at him. you sigh, sitting up and spinning around to face him. he didn’t get to be mad, best to nip it in the bud.
“i said hi to you and you acted like you didn’t even know me.” you pout immaturely, running your fingers along the bed to avoid his eyes. his eyes widen, hands spreading at his side in incredulity.
“your brother was there. fuck you expect, me to stick my tongue down your throat and slide a finger in your ass whilst he’s just standing there? i — i don’t —”
“no! just… you didn’t even look at me.” you sigh and he drops his hands, skulking over to stand right over you at the edge of the bed. he places his large hands on your cheeks, lifting your sulky gaze to his.
“‘cus if i did, id probably get all riled up… you don’t want that, right? infront of big bro?” he softens, but there’s something conniving about his tone.
“no.” you sigh and he nods in approval.
“right. i just had to play it cool. yeah?” he clarified slowly, like you’re a little dumb.
you blink up at him, and he gives in, bending down to press his lips to yours, the familiar taste of his tongue integrating into your mouth as you hum, visibly relaxing into the kiss.
“i did miss you.” you whisper, and he prods at your shoulder to encourage you to lie back.
“and i told everyone i had to take a phone call outside, so we haven’t got long… you wanna take these shorts off for me or am i gonna have to rip ‘em off like last time n’have you cryin’ at me again?”
five minutes in, and it’s increasingly harder to stay quiet. he’s mounted you, an obscene and degrading sight for anyone that would accidentally stumble upon it. your legs were up by his shoulders, cock nestled deep inside you as presses his lips together, stifling the little breathy groans from the back of his throat.
“m—my bed, its creaking!” you mewl, cunt tightening when he slides a large hand up the back of your thigh to the crevice of your knee, keeping it raised.
“those suckers aren’t listening. stop— stop thinkin’ bout that, yeah? look at me. focus on me.”
𓍢ִ໋🪷˚*ੈ♡⸝⸝🦢
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ashersanity · 5 months
Text
- @princesstokyomoon, @bobsquatley :)
Sometimes your caretaker can’t help themselves around you.
YANDERE! BAILEY
asher, we’ve been over this.
content warning! very non-con, mentions of violence, murder, somnophilia, voyeurism spanking, gunplay, choking, bailey is a warning on its own, expect the worst.
pc and bailey are gender neutral as always unless explicitly stated otherwise
“Your body was always mine. Just like your first time.”
yandere type : sadistic, possessive, controlling, overprotective
Yan!Bailey who needs you by their side at all times. Doesn’t matter why, the shitty caretaker is somehow coming up with some sort of sick excuse to have you in their office. Starts off with simple things, gruff voice demanding you to come in here already, needing you to dust the floor, it’s dirty, they claim. No speck of dust in sight, but who are you to deny Bailey? You know what happens when you do. Escalates to having you now on their lap, comfortably seated on their thighs. It’s an order of theirs, they say. Right. Of course it is. if they have a cock, then they’re slipping their length into your hole, cock warming them for the entire day.
Yan!Bailey who gets that weird sinking feeling in the pit of their stomach at the sight of you chatting away, lips curling up into that damn smile of yours, softly laughing along to Robin’s jokes. Y’know like some weird school boy/girl who immediately gets jealous, seeing their crush talking to someone else. Familiar steps drawing closer until they’re looming right over you and the poor orphan, dark look on their face, assigning you both different chores to have you two separated for the day. Brushes it off after like it was nothing, doesn’t know why they got so heated up about it either.
Yan!Bailey who can’t possibly help themselves around you, wooden floor creaking under the weight of their heavy footsteps, slipping into your room at night without that pesky orphan being by your side for once. Well, not like it’s going to stop them from doing what they have to do. Disheveled, unkempt, dark hair that’s usually slicked back, breath reeking of booze as they draw closer to your sleeping form, tall frame towering over yours. Look at you. Blissfully ignorant, unaware of what they’re doing right now, how their tongue slicked with sweat and vodka trails over your pristine, perfect lips, untouched by any of the filthy bastards in this town. You don’t even get to know that your first kiss didn’t go to sweet, old Robin.. Bailey’s own lips pressing against yours instead, tongue slipping past between your teeth.
Yan!Bailey who has several cameras installed in your room, lens catching each and every movements that you make, including the much more.. private ones. Needing to know what you’re up to, what you’re doing, who you bring into your room, entangled bodies softly landing against the cushioned mattress. Forbids you from sneaking anyone into the orphanage after that, claiming it’s for whatever bullshit reason they gave you. Stores in the tape right onto their computer, dim light of the screen reflected in their eyes, fixated on the way you blush and pant, hands slowly circling around your sex. Always comes in handy after a long, stressful day, needing to let off some steam, a low groan reverberating in the office.
Yan!Bailey whose punishments only grow increasingly worse and worse by the day, catching you slacking off during your chores or entering their office a few too many times results in you bent over their lap, begging for mercy. Palm raised, unrelenting in their blows, smacking your bum till it turns red, as red at the blush on your face, squeaking voice and hiccuped sobs echoing through the desolate room. The caretaker who doesn’t stop just as that, needing you to fully regret your actions and repent for them. Finger slipping inside your hole, alternating between thrusting their digit in all the while spanking you. Thrust in, thrust out, spank. Thrust in, thrust out, spank. Makes you messily cum all over yourself like the whore that you are, dangling legs trembling over their lap. Ignore the wet patch that formed on their trouser/skirt once you leave, giving Bailey a last fleeting look over your shoulder.
Yan!Bailey who doesn’t hesitate to put a bullet through the eyes of any motherfucker who even dares to lay their dirty hands on you. Who do they think they are? Messing with their own property? The one in charge of this whole town? In their own presence? Don’t question what happened to that one thug that got a little too bold with you, shamelessly groping at your behind as you walked on, blindfolded and gagged, uselessly drooling away. Thought that would slip past the caretaker’s eyes? Idiot, nothing does. Never with Bailey. And they’re also making it your own problem too, grasping at the back of your head, forcing you down onto your knees once more. Time to apologize in the way you know best, whore.
Yan!Bailey who’s a bit too much into this whole gunplay thing. Cold steel of their gun pressed against your temple, finger hovering over the trigger, barrel loaded in. Servicing them on your knees like the slut that you are, knowing they can blow your brains out at any moment. Fat, wet tears rolling down your cheeks, struggling to swallow them all. Hissing lowly under their breath, taking in the image of your tear-stained face, flushed cheeks and parted lips. So goddamn pretty. Raping you with their shotgun right up your ass, taking in delight in the sounds of your choked up sobs as they slide the length in and out of your poor, abused hole. Presses an uncharacteristically soft and gentle kiss to your forehead to soothe your nerves. How cute.
Yan!Bailey who doesn’t feel a shred of guilt or remorse at having you locked up in the orphanage, forever theirs to stay. Didn’t want to pay up your debt? Fine by them. Now you’re paying the caretaker in a different way, gloved hands firmly gripped around your throat and applying pressure, tugging at the wrists tied behind your back, chest pressed up against the hard surface of their desk. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Makes sure Robin is there to see by pure “chance”, by accident, walking in on you in this vulnerable state, legs limps from the other’s treatment, utterly helpless. That’s good. Show that orphan who you really belong to now, huh?
Yan!Bailey who’ll track you down no matter where you go, wherever you run off to, to the ends of the earth, dammit. Thought you could get away from them? From Bailey themselves? The one that practically raised you? Fucking arrogant brat, they’re here to put you back into your place once they find you. Taking advantage of the power, ressources and numerous connections that they have in this town, it’s only a matter of time before they find you. Once they do, it’s over. Utterly. Fucking. Over. You’re here to stay with them, chained up to their side, collar tightly locked around your bruised up neck, lettering of their own name visible over your skin. Bailey fucking owns you. And they’ll make sure you have that simple notion ingrained into your stupid little brain. Make ya learn because that’s what you’re good at. Right, brat?
[END OF POST]
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