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dorcasmeadowesirl · 9 months

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our secrets laid bare

Chapter Two of my Dorcas!Survives AU. I wanted to post both because it's short AND it's more fun this way. And I need to be held accountable.

Chapter One here! Tell me your thoughts!

Chapter Two

It had been fifteen years since Dorcas had apparated and still, it was fifteen years too soon. No matter how tightly she clung to Dumbledore, she still felt the squeamish, throw-up feeling that you cannot really prepare yourself for. When she started to make sense of her surroundings, she realized she was in a house she’d never been in before.

“12 Grimmauld Place, the Black family home. Sirius and the Order converted it into our new Headquarters. We should head toward the dining room, I’m sure they’re expecting us to enter at any moment.” Dumbledore said, then noticing the way Dorcas tensed up at the idea, took her hand and squeezed gently. “You go on now, I’ll be just a moment.”

And like that, Dumbledore seemed to just disappear. For as much as Dorcas respected him, she did loathe his inability to navigate difficult conversations.

Anxiously, Dorcas walked forward and stood outside of the door. Behind it, she could hear the hustle and bustle of a meeting. Sirius, a voice Dorcas never thought she’d hear again, was arguing about Harry. Another voice quickly spoke over him, she couldn’t quite identify it – Molly Weasley, perhaps? Sirius had begun to argue again, but was silenced when Dorcas entered the room.

The silence was deafening. The faces that looked back at her, some familiar, some not, all filled with mutual horror. As far as they were concerned, Dorcas was a ghost. A gravestone, left unvisited and forgotten for years.

“Remus, Sirius, Severus.”

The beauty of being one of the first to “die” in a war is that you spare yourself the pain of seeing a funeral. Looking at these men now, she knows from the pain in their eyes that they grieved her, attended her funeral, buried her.

In their school days, Remus was really the first person who saw Dorcas as more than some label – she was not a Slytherin, “half-blood”, or “blood-traitor”, she was his friend who he described as being ‘smart as a whip’. In truth, if Dorcas could have half as much strength as Remus, she wouldn’t be standing in front of them now – rather, she’d be sitting among them at the table. Severus was good to Dorcas, despite their differences in their final years. They were friends, hell – almost family. She wondered how her mother must have felt, then, noticing that Severus did not attend her funeral. As for Sirius, there were no words for what Sirius was to her. Perhaps a nuisance, but a loving one nonetheless. She’d gone years seeing him as some kind of villain, traitor, but now, she saw a child trapped behind the eyes of a man – years of his life stolen by his own best friend. These men made Dorcas who she was, she fought that war because of them, for them, with them.

Yet, standing in front of them, she felt more like a stranger than a friend.

“How? How is it that you’re here?” Remus started, standing from his seat, eyes never leaving Dorcas’. Silence filled the room after, Dorcas was struggling to find her words and all of the eyes on her didn’t help. Foolishly, she didn’t expect them to exactly be welcoming with open arms, but she felt like she was on trial. How could she fit 15 years of hiding into a single explanation? How could she describe that cursed night, when she unknowingly caused the death of the love of her life? How could she begin to untangle the threads of guilt? How could she ask for forgiveness when she felt so undeserving?

Sirius spoke then for the first time, “We buried you. We carried your casket.” It was clear that he was angry. And he had all right to be, but Dorcas deserved the chance to explain.

“Well, the night that Voldemort-” she started, noticing a wince or two around the room, “I’m sorry, He Who Shall not be Named, when he came to-, to kill me, he meant for me to be tortured and murdered by his hand. At that point in the war, I’m sure you all can remember I was adamantly working on identifying his weaknesses so that he could be killed. I suppose I came too close.”

“Before he could, um – before he could succeed, Dumbledore was warned. He came and grabbed me. There was no chance to explain or tell anyone” Dorcas choked out, struggling to control the shaking within.

Suddenly, Sirius broke out in laughter. Maniacal laughter. “What next? Will you tell us that he killed the McKinnons because of you? To find you?” Remus, trying his best to get a handle on Sirius, reached out to touch him but Sirius flinched at his touch. Dorcas could say nothing in response. That alone was all Sirius needed.

“No,” he said, slamming down his glass and rising from his seat, “This is foolish. I won’t hear another word of it.”

As he moved toward the door, Dorcas began to stammer. “No, no, wait-” she began, she wanted to reach out and grab him. She wanted to try and console him, to embrace him in a hug that she long dreamt of. Yet, she felt stuck in place. It wasn’t her place anymore, her place had long been buried under six feet of dirt and fifteen years of regret.

“As far as I am concerned, you died to me the day we put you in the ground. To me, that is where you will stay.” he spat, shoving past Dorcas and slamming the dining room door.

Dorcas, who had previously never allowed anyone to so much as slightly raise their voice at her, could only sob in response. Remus rushed to her side and engulfed her. At that moment, no time had passed between them. They could’ve been their school-aged selves again, hugging after being separated for only a summer. Remus sobbed into her, clinging onto her as tightly as he could.

“I don’t care,” he said, crying softly “I don’t care what prevented you from coming back. You’re here. You’re here now.”

Remus was an angry child. And who could blame him? His anger lived in him, within him, defined him. A part of her knew Sirius would be angry, but a part of her was convinced that Remus would be, too.

Sirius was not wrong, they buried her.

And they buried Marlene.

And they buried James.

And they buried Lily.

How does that kind of loss not make you angry, bitter?

But as she held him now, the anger, the bitterness, the years and years of isolation was expelled from him. She may not have been Lily, or James, but she was Dorcas and she was dear to him. She would not walk out of that door again. Remus had lost so much, he couldn’t bear to be angry anymore.

“I can’t imagine that Mary will be as forthcoming.” Dorcas jokes, her face still buried in his shoulder. She felt as he tensed, turning her stomach within an instant.

“Mary’s gone. Not gone. Just not here. When Lily and James….she tried to stay. She just couldn’t. I-I wasn’t much help. I couldn’t convince her. I’m sorry, Dorcas.” he stammers out, gripping her tighter, as if she’d run for the hills and never return.

Well, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to. Mary MacDonald was the brightest star in any room, a face you’d look for in any crowd. Her laugh was infectious, but she was to be feared in her own right. She could duel against the best of them, fail a few times, but end up triumphantly standing on the chest of her opponent, pulling them up and asking for another round. Mary, gone? Not dead, but gone?

It isn’t a terrible fate. Dorcas spent fifteen years alongside Muggles, drowning herself in their monotony. Some days were doable, others made her feel insane. And Mary, ever loyal to her family, would have had no issue simply assimilating back to “normalcy”, if she could ever experience it again. Dorcas wanted to be mad, but she’d be a hypocrite.

“Pity. I’ll miss her greatly.” she said, but the words felt wrong. Mary was someone you never had to miss. She was supposed to be here. Remus pulled away, turning their attention to the table.

Severus sat still, emotionless. “Meadowes,” he said, “pleasure of you to join us. Take Black’s seat. Our meeting was all but over and I do not believe he will rejoin us tonight.” Dorcas could not read his face. He was the only one who had not reacted to Dorcas and that alone, terrified her.

“Yes!” spoke Molly, breaking free from the spell of awkwardness that held the room, “Sit, please! You must be hungry, I’ll see to it that you eat.” she said, pulling out a chair that was not Sirius’, but next to her. Remus excused himself to “retrieve” Sirius, and Dorcas sank down into her chair. The conversation had reached a dead end with her arrival and though they were all adults, Dorcas had felt as small as ever. Molly excused herself to the kitchen and her husband, Arthur, followed after.

“Dumbledore has informed me that you’ll be taking the Arithmancy post this fall, is that correct?” Severus spoke, finally making eye contact with her. A smile took over Dorcas, “Yes, I’m rather excited. I was always fond of Arithmancy, you know.” she said. Unexpectedly, Dorcas saw a smile fall over Severus’ face in a way that made her feel young again, as if she’d just been fussing with him and Lily in the library. The way his smile lifted to his eyes made Dorcas wonder if they’d shared the same flash of memories, days where it felt like they’d never not know everything about each other.

Dorcas, being a Slytherin of less desirable blood status and filled with every intention to defend herself when she saw fit, made herself a bit of an outcast. She lived by the idea that to be loved, one must first be feared. So, she made sure that no one, absolutely no one, would ever feel comfortable questioning her. It made her enemies. But, it also made her friends. Lily Evans was one of those friends. In her later years, everyone would remember Lily as warm and loving. But Dorcas knew a side of Lily that not many people knew. Lily did not just want to be good, she wanted to be great. For as kind as she was, Lily was smart. Smarter than many would come to give her credit for. She respected Dorcas’ tenacity. Her blood status simply didn’t matter – you’d speak to her as an equal or not at all. Anyone who stepped up against her came to understand why nobody else did it. Dorcas was feared, but more than that, she was respected. And in spite of that, she was good. Lily insisted that Dorcas was the exact kind of friend Severus needed. So no, Severus and Dorcas never immediately got on. But Severus needed Dorcas. He never had a sibling, but he always had Lily looking out for him. Over the years, there were times where Lily couldn’t save him. And there Dorcas was, like the sister he never had – watching over her shoulder, speaking but never really being heard by him. Severus was stubborn, but so willing to be stepped over, disregarded, and ignored as a means of survival. Instead of embracing what was different about him, he admonished it. Dorcas saw through him, pushing him to be better, to hold himself to better. When he fell in line with the “wrong” crowd, Dorcas saw through it. They were bullies. What better way to face your own bullies, than to become one? To tell the world you aren’t scared, when you’re terrified? Fake it.

Severus was a fraud. He said things he didn’t mean. Terrible things, as if they would take away everything that made him less. Even now, people can’t see behind his cold exterior, his desperate grip on survival. Dorcas knew him and he hated it. Sitting across from him now, she still felt an affection for him, a desire to soothe that scared little boy in him. Losing Lily, losing her, it hurt him, and though he won’t admit it, Dorcas knew. And Severus hated that.

Dorcas made little conversation and excused herself to her earliest convenience. There seemed to be ghosts in every face and corner she turned, so she began to miss Jane. Right about now, Jane would be curled up with Misty, tea and book in hand. Suddenly, she found herself deeply concerned with the state of her cat, Misty. She’d never asked Dumbledore where her bags were. She’d never asked Dumbledore anything.

She began to wander the house. Though it was late, voices could be heard in every room. Dorcas called for Misty as quietly as she could and eventually, a flash of orange came crashing out of a room, followed immediately after by Misty, followed by a bushy-haired girl.

“Crookshanks, no!” the girl yelled, storming right past Dorcas and chasing the cats down the stairs.

#dorcas meadowes #the marauders

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supernovaaa333 · 1 year

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monster.

she looks at me like i am a multi limbed monster, with hundred of eyes and sharp teeth waiting to devour. there is horror in her voice when she asks what i am.

but i only have two arms and two legs, filled with marks of my own creation; two eyes with hundred of bags from nights left alone with my thoughts; and less teeth than the average human, because i didn’t brush them well for far too long and the creatures living on my body decided to devour me. i don’t know what to tell her; i don’t know what answer she wants to hear, so i opt for the truth. the one that won’t kill me to tell her.

“tired.”

she frowns at me, fearful yet defiant, and i want to cry. looking at her is like looking at a ghost of a person you killed with your own two hands. im so sorry, i want to say. i don’t know what happened, either.

“are you here to hurt me?” paranoia, distrust. no fear of death but rather of the pain that accompanies it. so young and already broken; doomed from the start.

my heart is cracking in two and it hurts it hurts it hurts but i can’t make it go away no matter how hard i try so instead i speak, “no! god, no; i would never hurt you, i swear.”

she doesn’t believe me and i wouldn’t expect anything else. i don’t know what to do; i never thought i’d see her again.

but the violence i grew up in have taught my hands and heart to be gentle. i don’t know if she’ll remember this, i don’t know if this has already happened and is some sick and twisted replay of it, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter.

they say to never change the past, but it’s already too late for me, i think. and god knows what a kind hand will mean to her.

“can i…hug you?” she looks at me stiffly. she hasn’t been given a reason to fear the touch of a gentle hand yet, and both relief and pain fill me at the thought. still, she nods, and i step forward and bring her into my arms.

she is warm, so warm. some things never change. yet still throughout the warmth she shivers; body heat can only do so much. my arms rub at the sides of her arms. she is so small, i think. too small.

i cannot imagine doing such horrors to a child this young, this gentle, this small. i want to take her away with me; bundle her up and raise her as my own.

but i cannot, and once again my heart hurts hurts hurts. it seems to be a pattern, when it comes to her.

she asks if i’m here to save her. she still had hope back then. i am so sorry, my love. when i deny it she isn’t mad, isn’t tearful. it is expected, to be trapped. it is expected, that she cannot be saved.

i don’t think my heart can hurt like this anymore, not if i want to come back alive.

a kiss pressed to her crown, i tell her i love her. her breath hitches and i remember that no one had ever told her that before.

“my baby. my sweet baby. i’m so sorry.” it won’t get better for a long time, but one day, it will. i tell her i swear by it.

she accepts it with a nod half hopeless and half desperate.

i slip under her bed, the monster that i am. it is time for me to go home. it is time for me to leave her with the true monsters of this house.

i am fading from her room when she asks me her name. her voice is small from above the mattress, and i can’t help but answer.

i hear a sharp gasp as i call her own, and with that, i am gone.

#poetry #poets of tumblr #writeblr #writerblr #writers of tumblr #writing #grief #love #my writing #vent #writing inspiration #writing inspo #writing prompts #story #short story #writing prompt #nova’s words

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asirensrage · 2 years

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Aftermath

Title: Aftermath Fandom: Stranger Things Rating: PG Pairing: slight Hopper/Joyce Word count: 725 Warnings: demons. mention of deals and summoning. smoking. mention of carnage/destruction Summary: There was one real truth to the world. You don't threaten a demon.

Notes: Written for @cryptidcasanova's Hellfire Haunts Challenge. The prompts chosen for this were Jim Hopper, Demon, and "magic comes at a price".

When the fires are steadily burning and the screams have finally died down, he stretches his neck before turning to check on the children. They had tried to take something that was his. His. He wouldn’t allow that. Neither would Joyce. He smirks slightly at the tiny woman, watching as she frets over her children. The only good thing Lonnie had ever given her. The real reason he had been drawn to this town in the first place.

“Is this…you?”

He looks down at the girl he’s claimed as his own. She’s so much smaller now that he’s like this and he doesn’t know how long it will take to fade so that he can fit back into the human skin he’s worn for years.

“Yes,” he says. His voice is low and rumbling, like the threat of a volcano. He wonders if she’ll be scared now. If she’ll run from him. Most do. “This is me.”

He was summoned by Joyce years ago. A bargain and hope to make Lonnie love her. Make him a better man, but even demons cannot change human nature. He was unable to fulfill the terms of her request and she released him, but Hopper had no desire to go back to Hell and the fights for dominance. He integrated himself into this town, adjusting memories to ensure they always knew him as the human he pretended to be. He kept an eye on Joyce and when Lonnie started to show his true colours…well, there was a reason the human refused to be in the same town as him.

The girl stares at him. The one he claimed as his, who has no family name only the ones she’s been given. He waits for her reaction. He can see the way some of the others stare at him in horror. He did not mean to get attached. It would have been simpler to continue his life alone, but demons are possessive creatures. This town is his. This girl is a daughter in all but blood. He was not about to allow humans to steal any of it from him.

She smiles at him, wide as though she’s baring her teeth. “You’re like me.”

He stares at her for a minute. He’s not like anything she knows. “How?”

“Special,” she says before nodding.

“Yeah, kid,” he nods.

She grins at him before holding his hand. It’s tiny in his claws. “Is it safe now?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “No one can take you unless you want to go.”

“I want to stay,” she says.

“Then you stay.”

The rest of the kids fielded questions from him until he runs out of patience. One glower and they all decide they have other things they need to do. El left with them promising to come back after they ate. He doesn’t need human food and right now he can’t even be out in public. He’ll stay in this cabin until he gets control back.

Joyce slides up next to him, offering a cigarette before lighting her own. “Thanks,” she says softly, watching as the kids leave. He can practically feel her desire to follow them. It’s thick, clogging the air around her

He nods. He wishes he could smoke but he can’t even hold a cigarette right now. “I wouldn’t have been able to do anything without your summon,” he tells her.

She gives him a small smile and nudges him slightly. “Good thing I did.”

He smiles back, showing more teeth than humans are usually comfortable with but Joyce isn’t disturbed. She hasn’t been afraid of him since they met. It was a rare thing. “Yeah.”

“So,” she takes a drag of her cigarette. “How long will you look like this?” There’s only curiosity in her voice and despite anything he says, he does owe this woman more than she realizes.

“A while. Magic comes at a price.” The price this time is his illusion. It’s also the weight of the chain that binds him to her. She isn’t aware of it, he knows that. Joyce thinks he could only use his full powers once he was summoned properly. She’s not wrong, but he does not tell her that after being summoned by her twice, he’s bound to her. It’s fine. He has no plans on leaving.

Some bonds are chosen freely.

taglist: @raith-way @chrissymunson @zeleniafic @jvstjewels @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

#hellfire haunts #demon!hopper #jim hopper fic #stranger things fic #stranger things drabble #horror prompts

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monstermaster13 · 1 year

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TftW: Transformative Torture.

Angelique (Hellraiser) TG.

Sometimes fanbases can give you hell and the Changed fanbase is one such fanbase, Mel never understood why some people in the transformation loved that game because she basically just described it as ‘transformation torture porn’ due to how Collin was always getting involuntarily transformed and losing his humanity almost every single time. One afternoon Mel posted a comment about Changed on a Changed related Deviantart picture and got a rather arrogant two-faced reply from someone who made her pissed off enough to complain back about it. ‘Dude, dude let them be what they’re in it, if they jerk off to it and don’t harm anyone, I couldn’t care less.’

‘Are you a moron or something? I’m a woman and also…eeew, the fact the fanbase makes it out to be this cute and doesn’t get that it is NOT a game to be romanticized. I cannot believe you have the gal to say you hate Changed yet you sound like you’re defending it, I cannot believe anyone would defend that torture porn fest of a game.’ ‘I am just saying.’ ‘I think your reason is a bullshit excuse at worst/best and we all know Changed only exists because some people think goo transformations are hot. That game is to transformations what Twilight is to vampires. An insult.’

It was obvious that the person (named Beastman or BM for short) wouldn’t listen to me…’Well maybe.’ ‘Maybe you should keep quiet and listen to me, you should learn the difference between actually hating something and sounding like you are kissing the creator’s ass.’ ‘I wasn’t kissing Dragonsnow’s ass, i’m against his overrated shitty game.’ ‘No you’re not, you kinkshamed me for saying I don’t like the game. I like tfs as much as the next koala but come on, you can’t tell me that some people honestly want to have sexual fantasies about what is essentially transformation torture porn.’ ‘Well..’

“You have no right to speak the things you speak.”

Mel’s eyes gave off a supernatural glow as her voice became deeper and demonic sounding…’What’s going on?’ ‘If you wish to see transformation torture that isn’t sexy and shouldn’t be sexy, then you are going down….’ She hissed as she turned into a demon-like version of herself and a swirling portal materialized on the floor of BM’s room, she dragged hm into the portal and pulled him down.

The portal spun around and around until it stopped and the two of them were dropped into what appeared to be a dark, hellish nightclub setting. BM couldn’t believe what was happening, he saw dancers that looked like possessed Robert Palmer girls, one of them looked like the actress/model on the Ultimate Sin album by Ozzy Osborne. ‘This is the Dismembered Bodies club, where the party doesn’t stop until the bodies hit the floor.’

“Why did you bring me here?”

“To teach you that forced transformations aren’t sexy.”

Mel smirked as she showed BM why she despised Changed so much, explaining that force transformations weren’t sexy in the slightest and that is when she showed him the spot in the nightclub known as the gallery of horrors which showed some really graphic forced transformations. One transformation showed a man who was turning into a grotesque Tim Burtonesque demon, another showed someone who was turning into a were-snake with his skin shedding to reveal scales underneath.

One transformation featured a woman in a swimsuit going for a swim only to turn into a monstrous fish-creature resembling a humanoid anglerfish, then Mel showed him to a special spot that was reserved just for him. ‘This one is just for you, it’s the Clive Barker special.’ ‘What’s the Clive Barker special?’

Before he could ask any further questions, a pair of invisible needles were jabbed into his arm, causing both arms to slowly lose mass and become pale in skintone as his hands shrank and his fingernails lengthened, in addition to this a pair of hooks dug into his chest and stomach, which caused it to slim down in the process. His clothing slowly turning into what was considered a sexy feminine variant of the typical cenobite attire. A pair of what was commonly known as breasts developed on his chest.

‘You see my dear BM, if that is what you call yourself, Changed fetishizes involuntary transformations and that shall not do. Fetishizing something that shouldn’t be fetishized is wrong and is very much just missing the point of what the transformation was for. You don’t see people simping over Brundlefly do you? Of course not.’ ‘This is torture, please stop.’ ‘Maybe you should have stopped bitching to me about my opinion on Changed then, if you truly hated it you wouldn’t act like an adamant defender of it.’

His hips flared out as his legs lengthened and his feet shrank down as well, his privates retracted as he yelped out in shock, his shoulders shrank inward as his back arched, his neckline lengthened while his hair slowly began to fall out, leaving him bald, the top of his scalp was peeled back a bit to show a bit of his cranium as his brows also fell out.

In addition to this eyelashes blossomed around his eyes, dark eyeliner was applied around both eyes as his nose shrank and his features contorted and feminized, he even gained some cenobite-like piercings as he realized he was indeed becoming a cenobite, but not just any…Angelique, the female cenobite from Hellraiser: Bloodline. His voice shot up several octaves and also became feminine, as his transformation completed, he realized what he did wrong and he was sorry.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Mel freed him or rather ‘her’ and told her it was okay and hugged her. Angelique realized that some people have different tastes in transformations and not everyone has the exact same tastes.

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megalony · 2 years

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No nightmares, just pleasure

This is a Morpheus (Sandman) imagine requested by the lovely @dreaming-about-fanfictions I hope you like it and this is what you were looking for hun.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn

Masterlist

Summary: Morpheus would do anything for his beloved (Y/n), so when she asks him to stop giving her so many nightmares, he can do nothing but oblige.

Enjoy.

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A familiar, if blank look washed over Morpheus' face when his ears picked up on the sound of beating wings and gliding feathers entering his realm. He was the Lord of his realm, showing emotion wasn't something he was prone to doing when he had to uphold the rules of the realm and not show favour to anyone or anything he created. But he couldn't deny that he had become warmer to Matthew recently.

He would never be Jessamy and Morpheus would never allow himself to become close or rely too heavily on another raven again, but it was nice to have that familiar companion feeling again.

"Matthew, tell me how is my Queen today?" The way Morpheus' upper lip lifted and curled and his jaw parted down into a delicate smile showed the tingling feeling of love that Morpheus had each time he thought of (Y/n).

"She's coming here sir... and she's upset." Matthew hopped from foot to foot, deciding to stare down at the broken slabs beneath his claws instead of his master whose attitude had now changed for the worse.

All trace of his smile had vanished.

Matthew had never served a master before, this was his first reincarnation and it was something to get used to but he hadn't realised how intimidated he would feel in this realm. When he watched the colours of the dreaming realm fade to bleak wet grey or the black shades that should be in Death's own realm, he felt scared. Watching Morpheus' eyes turn bright gold when his expression darkened, he wanted to fly back to the waking world.

If anything upset, harmed or threatened (Y/n) in any way, Morpheus would turn from the king of Dreams to the King of endless horror and no one wanted to be around him when that happened. (Y/n) was his lover, his Queen, his everything and he would crush the world into sand if it would make her smile.

"Upset?"

He seemed to grow ten inches when he slowly rose from his broken throne, his brows raising beneath his shaggy hair and his fingers curling in distaste at his sides.

"You sent her to a nightmare sir, your Lady doesn't appreciate them."

"Nightmares are essential to growth of the human mind, they inspire and push them and their creativeness. My Queen knows I cannot divert all nightmares from her mind."

"Yes but you give her more nightmares than dreams sir, she doesn't sleep well. I think you should lay off the scares-"

"Do you intend to tell me how to be King of my own realm, how to look after my Queen, raven?"

Matthew knew when his name wasn't used, his opinion wasn't wanted nor valued. Morpheus wouldn't have someone tell him how to do his job or correct him if he happened to be wrong, the only person in the entire universe who was able to get away with that was his Queen and she was on her way to him now.

"Morpheus,"

Scratching her arm, (Y/n) lowered her head to look down at Matthew before the faithful raven disappeared into the sky, presumably not wanting to be around when the lovers had a row which he knew was coming. (Y/n) only ever called her king his true name when something was wrong or she wasn't happy with him. Every other time she referred to him he was called Dream, Love, My Lord or some other term of endearment.

"My Queen." Morpheus held out his arms towards (Y/n), feeling a little more at ease when she came over to him. His voice was a serenade to (Y/n), he reeled her in without having to say much at all. He could speak in a tongue that she didn't understand and she would still feel she understood and would come to him as if in a trance.

"Why would you send me there?"

"What?"

"Why would you send me to drown in the sea? I couldn't breathe, the water was pulling at me and there was nothing there but darkness, Morpheus why would you do that?" Tears spilled from (Y/n)'s eyes that wouldn't dare look up at her lover for fear she would melt in his arms and give in on her argument.

Nightmares were the only constant in (Y/n)'s life when she was younger since before she knew Morpheus, but all her nightmares had been memories. When Morpheus came back from his imprisonment, he could restore dreams to people which also meant giving them new nightmares to be plagued by.

He seemed to favour his lover with the nightmares she couldn't stand.

Ones that would wake her in the dead of night and have her checking all the windows and doors in case the burglar in her dream came for her in the waking world. Other dreams left her waking up in a puddle of sweat, grasping at oxygen with burning lungs. Then some left her scared for hours, fretting going to sleep in case she was sent back to the same cave of dark magic that hurt her in her sleep.

All she wanted was a soft, mythical dream before she woke in the morning. A good nights sleep, that's what she needed. Why couldn't her lover do that for her?

"Love, my nightmares have inspired you. I watch over you in the waking world, you excel at everything you do, you remember the little things you otherwise would forget without extra adrenaline and the hyper senses you mistake for panic."

With a gentle hand, Morpheus reached out until his fingers were able to brush along (Y/n)'s cheek, cutting off the tear that was about to trickle down the side of her nose. He dipped his head down so his eyes could finally meet her own and see those beautiful orbs full of wonder, love and right now, anguish that he hated to see. But he loved the feeling when his lover leaned her cheek into his touch, avid for more that he would gladly give.

"If you hadn't graced my kingdom today you would have done something significant."

"But you promised! You promised me I'd be able to sleep without the nightmares but I can't."

Reaching out (Y/n) half-heartedly bashed her hand into Morpheus' soft chest, wanting to hit him harder and emphasise how he was hurting her by sending her to these horrid places he created, but she didn't have the heart. She couldn't inflict even the slightest feeling of pain onto him because she loved him too much. She was infatuated with the King in front of her and he made her weak at the knees.

A sob left her lips when am arm encased around her middle and his fingers tangled in her hair, stroking the back of her head. He held her to his chest, quietly shushing her with his lips pressed against her forehead and her arms encaged between their bodies.

"I did promise you, my Queen and I... I, maybe I failed at helping you sleep but not anymore. The nightmares are supposed to help but I see they are having a bad effect on you love. What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Help me sleep tonight."

(Y/n)'s words were as soft as butter and as quiet as butterfly wings beating together but it was like music to Dream's ears. He relished in the feeling of having her in his arms and knowing that he could pour his affection on her without her feeling any anger or resentment towards him. She was his Queen, she could have him down on his knees at her feet if she gave the word, he would turn his creations to dust, he would reach into his own chest and pull out his heart and serve it to her on a silver plate if that was what she desired.

He would do anything to make her smile, to keep her love that she reserved for him and gave to him only.

Turning her head, (Y/n) nuzzled her nose against Morpheus' neck that wasn't covered by his dark shirt or the soft overcoat he always wore. He felt so warm, so inviting despite his pale skin and distant demeanour made him seem ice cold. All it took was one little kiss at the spot just under his chin at the top of his throat and the dream lord was putty in her hands. A few more kisses in that spot had his arm tightening around (Y/n)'s waist until she was crushed into his body, feeling every muscle, groove and crevice he had to offer.

A kiss beneath his Adam's apple had him shivering, three kisses just on the top of his collar bone made him tense and a kiss on his chest under his shirt made him moan outloud, clearly unintentionally. Dream could do nothing but tilt his head back in ecstasy and tense his chest, puffing it out like a bird in the breeze, allowing his lover to tug his shirt to one side and continue her exploring of his skin.

"Do you r-realise the power you have, by having me in the p..palm of your hand?"

Morpheus couldn't stop the stutter that came with his words when he felt hands exploring his skin, tracing the letters of his name against his abdomen before he felt fingers creeping at the waistband of his trousers making him gasp between pronouncing letters.

It was unreal to think that she held any power over him when one simple look made (Y/n) weak at the knees and crumble at his feet. She had come here with tears in her eyes and anger pulsing through her veins because her lover had subjected her to visions her mind couldn't handle. But two minutes of his sweet serenading voice had (Y/n) crushed to his chest, unable to stop herself from showing him how much she loved him.

How was she the one who held the control?

"If that's true, my Lord, then why don't you take me to bed?"

(Y/n) froze, watching in a trance as Morpheus' head snapped down to look at her so quickly it must have hurt his neck. His eyes that had been rolled back in bliss were now different, they weren't clouded over with passion, they were golden with the urge- no, the need, to have what was his. His lips were half snarling, half smirking down at his Queen who had just given her command which he was always obliged to follow.

Her hand stayed where it was, tucked deep within the waistband of his trousers, gripping him where he needed her the most. But her legs began to tremble when Morpheus leaned over until their noses were touching and his golden eyes were all she could see.

It hadn't even dawned on her that his arm was no longer around her waist until she felt his hand hovering near her face and his lips parted into an oval shape.

"As you wish, my Queen."

The soft breath Morpheus let out had (Y/n) trembling as she watched him uncurl his hand and blow speckles of golden sand all around them both until their surroundings changed to something more familiar.

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

With a tired sigh, Morpheus dragged his slim fingers through his matted locks of hair that felt like feathers on a birds wing. He brushed the strands from his drowsy eyes that had never had such a good sleep before now. Being the one who created dreams and watched over all the humans who entered his realm, Morpheus didn't sleep at night.

Even during the day he didn't really sleep, humans didn't always just sleep at night. But he caught a few winks of sleep here and there when he wasn't working, he'd had his full share of sleep when he was imprisoned.

And yet, here he was laying in bed as the day drew to a close and the creatures he created started to prepare and arise for their jobs.

A twitch of the lips almost like a reflex action made a small but nevertheless pleasant smile form on his ruby red lips when he darted his eyes down to look at the girl curled up against him. Moments like this had been what Morpheus had missed while in his glass box of captivity. He had no touch, no comfort, no one to even smile at him once.

To be allowed to move around and flex his muscles and walk and grab someone to hug and intertwine with was magic to him that he gave to others in their dreams.

His arm had gone numb a while ago with how he and his Queen were interlocked.

Morpheus was laid on his left side, his left arm stretched out near the pillows that were scattered on the bed. His right leg was crossed over and placed in between (Y/n)'s legs. Her body was facing him, her head nuzzled into his bare chest with one arm draped over his waist and her leg hiked up resting on his hip.

He found his eyes staying upon the vision that was his lover joined to him and he smiled. She was sleeping soundly in his arms, no nightmares to be found. Trying to wake himself up, Morpheus moved his free arm and with a flick of his wrist, he gathered the sand in the room and tried to create a pattern in the air. It was worth trying to come up with some new ideas or something to update some of his older dreams that had been the same for donkeys years now. He found colours of deep ocean blue and crimson red floating around an image that was starting to appear in his mind that was slowly starting to wake up.

While his mind started to run away with the new idea inspired by the overwhelming feeling of love coming from within his arms, his eyes flickered down to (Y/n) when he felt her moving against him.

He kept his head resting on his upper arm while his lower arm was occupied and moving with (Y/n) trying to wriggle to get comfy. But his eyes darted back down to her once again when he felt her jerk against him.

Uncertainty flooded his eyes before they rolled back and he closed his eyes tightly as if squinting behind his eyelids. His mind wandered through his realm and scoured out the dream he had placed (Y/n) in while she slept, only to find it empty. A growl vibrated and rose from deep in his chest before he opened his eyes and slowly pulled his arm from under (Y/n).

"No, my beloved, you're wandering. Wake up for me."

Morpheus moved his hands to gently cup (Y/n)'s face, smoothing his thumbs over her cheeks while he moved to rest his forehead on hers, trying to search where she had fallen.

They were interlinked right now, both mentally and physically, she was following his mind, leaving her dream and falling into dreams and nightmares not created or designed for her. The sand Morpheus had been creating fell to the carpet, sprinkling and scattering around when his focus turned entirely to wake up his lover.

(Y/n) couldn't see.

She couldn't see walls, doors, windows or any sign of a light switch or a bulb hanging from the ceiling. Wherever she was felt never-ending, no matter which way she turned she instinctively knew that it would go on forever with no destination or exit in sight. She could see about three feet in front of her before the black seeped around her.

(Y/n) was a painting on a canvas, the only speckle of white that was about to be engulfed in black paint.

Where was that noise coming from?

It was a deep rumbling, but what was it? It sounded too loud and big to be a dog growling at her, yet it was too deep to be a human growl. Did the Earth make a sound like that?

Whatever was making the noise and wherever it was coming from, it was getting closer to her. She didn't dare move an inch in any direction. Her hands grabbed at her upper arms, her nails digging into her skin as she started to shake. Oh God, what was going to come and get her? Was it going to kill her, hurt her, mess and toy with her?

Her body began to tremble when she could feel the darkness prickling at her skin, small nails scraping away at her trying to pull her in. Each touch felt like white hot flames burning at her skin making her cry harder.

"Come with me, my love, this isn't a place meant for anyone as pure as you."

Morpheus.

Just a few feet in front of her, emerging from the darkness was her lover, her Lord. Standing there with his head tilted at an angle and his hand stretched out towards her, giving her the lifeline she had been praying for.

"Dream, w-where are w-"

"It doesn't matter because I won't let you fall back here again. Take my hand."

A splutter of air left (Y/n)'s gasping lips before her eyes shot open, scouting round for the darkness to try and keep it at bay. But there was no sign of any blackness coming for her, she was back in Dream's room illuminated with golden light and his beautiful features staring into her eyes.

"Breathe darling, just breathe. No more nightmares, remember?" Morpheus gently rubbed his fingers over the back of her neck, nodding when she started to breathe normally instead of hyperventilating. She had been there for a few seconds before he got her out, she hadn't seen or experienced anything of what that nightmare could do to a person. It wasn't somewhere he would ever let her go.

"Thank you... Dream, whose nightmare was that?" (Y/n) dipped her head forward so that Morpheus could press his lips to her forehead longingly and lovingly before he took her by surprise and rolled her onto her back. He hovered over her in such a way that all the light filtered around him like a halo but as much as he looked angelic, he could of passed for a demon all the same.

"That is a punishment, darling, for any truly destined for Hell. They stay there as long as I want them to where the darkness will devour them."

Morpheus would put those who commit horrid crimes into the darkness, it was a place where they would hear horrifying sounds but never see another human or creature. They would feel the darkness pulling at them and it would play with them like a predator playing with its prey before eating it. Sometimes it would engulf them straight away, other times it would make them wait and suffer.

"I... I..." (Y/n) didn't know how to express what she wanted to say. She knew her lover hadn't put her there, she had been in a bookshop before suddenly she felt the nauseating feeling of falling and she slipped into an underground cave, then into a room full of clowns, then fell into that darkness.

But Morpheus had found her and brought her straight out, he promised not to put her in any nightmares and he was keeping that promise.

"No more talk of nightmares, only pleasure."

He leaned his weight onto his forearm that was propping him above (Y/n) so he didn't fully lay on top of her. Another small but prominent smile pulled at his plump lips before they moved to trail down her chest, stomach and further down.

No nightmares, just pleasure.

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman #sandman x reader #dream #dream of the endless #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #imagine

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dadsbongos · 2 years

Text

sun and moon

Warnings: none? i think Summary: Like sunshine and moonlight, Megumi and you. That’s his dream. Word Count: 1.2 K AO3 LINK ~~~

Megumi can pinpoint the exact moment he fully realized that you were far more than a comrade or friend to him. He’s certain the feeling had existed far before then, but it was that movie night in particular that made him sit there and come to terms with it.

A horror movie had been put on by Yuji’s suggestion and Nobara was clinging to you from the opening jumpscare. Megumi couldn’t tell if you were frightened or not because you were smiling for her sake while she dug her nails into the skin of your arm. You grinned through the snag and sting of shallow crescent cuts and held Nobara when she jumped.

It was just such a selfless act. One totally undemanding of reward. Megumi admired that in you. Your resolve in uplifting her spirit through the movie and then pushing her follow-up film suggestion before your own.

That was when Megumi could look at you and realize the burning in his chest was not the affection for a friend. No, this was different - worse.

It appeared that Nobara noticed soon after he did.

In the kitchen, she pointed down at Megumi’s hand, “What’s that?”

“Huh?” Megumi followed her gaze to his skin, “Oh. A heart.”

“I can see that. Why is it there?”

“Didn’t wanna wash it off.”

“Okay, but who- “ she paused, eyes wide, “Oh my God, ew.”

“Ew?”

“You and…?” she shook her head, “They deserve better.”

Megumi’s brows furrowed, “Why are you like this?”

“Okay, fine, I’ll help, but only because you’d be hopeless.”

He raised the hand with the heart you drew, “I think I’m already halfway there.”

Nobara fixed him with an unimpressed, disbelieving stare and crossed her arms, “I’ll help you, you need it.”

“How could you possibly help me?”

...

“Kugisaki, this isn’t funny! Let us out, please?” you’re banging on the door to the closet you’d been shoved into with Megumi.

“‘Please?’”

“Well, I don’t wanna be rude.”

“You’re such a nice person,” he blurts it out suddenly, “Has anyone told you that? You’re a genuinely nice person.”

“Aw, thanks, ‘gumi. I try,” but you just laugh it off and he cannot comprehend that. You’re so worthy of the praise and yet you never cling to it the way he would.

You return to trying to pry the door open.

“You two can’t come out until spikey in there gets it over with!”

“Spikey?” Megumi narrows his eyes at the door, as if his glare could burn Nobara through the wood.

“‘It?’” you turn to the boy, “What’s it?”

He shrugs, “She’s crazy.”

Nobara huffs and stomps her foot, “I am not!”

“You locked us in a closet!” Megumi shouts back through the door.

...

It feels like hours have passed and you’re still stuck inside the closet.

“So, ‘gumi,” if it was anybody else using that name, he wouldn’t dream of responding, but the way it rolls from your tongue is just so sweet to his ears, “what was it that Kugisaki meant? What do you need to get over with?”

Once again, he shrugs, tossing his head back to rest on the wall behind him. His eyes fall to you, staring at the ground and dragging your finger into shapes on the floor.

Like sunshine and moonlight, he imagines. Two jagged pieces of a broken vase. You two fit together in complementary status. You highlight the softened edge inside him and he brings out your calm nature. Like puzzle pieces, you two are meant to fit into one another and remain.

He believes that, wholeheartedly. He hopes you do, too. Even though he can’t say it.

“Why are you so nice?” he murmurs into the darkness.

“That feels backhanded…”

“I mean it, even when we were locked in here you were trying to be pleasant to Kugisaki. Why?”

You shrug, “I guess I just want to be the person I needed growing up. Someone nice.”

He wishes he knew you back then so that he could be the person you needed. Not to make you sentimental for him, but because you’re so innately good that he feels that it’s what you deserve. Kindness and love. And if you couldn’t have gotten it then, he hopes he can be the one to give it to you now. Even if he can’t say it.

“You’re nice too, ‘gumi, you know that?”

“Only to you.”

“No, you’re nice to everyone. In your special way. Like when you give Itadori and Kugisaki your jacket when they're cold and walk Kugisaki around at night when she asks you to. It’s never super outright, but that’s what I love. When you quietly offer Itadori the last bit of your food.”

He couldn’t possibly be as kind as you say. Not nearly as great. Megumi knows this for a fact because you’re so wonderful, and he’s nothing like you - so there’s no chance he’s worthy of the praise you fit him with. But he lets you give it out anyway. If it’ll make you happy to say, then he’ll let you say anything.

“You love that?”

“Sure, I do. Who wouldn’t love you?”

The worst day of his life will be when you leave it. It’s one of those thoughts that just jumps into the mind. And Megumi realizes it to be completely true.

“Don’t say that,” he brings a hand over his face and drags it down, “I can’t handle it.”

He can feel you get closer, your hand going over his on the floor and your head falling to rest on his shoulder, “I think I know what Kugisaki wanted you to do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You turn your head, pressing your face into his shoulder, and he can just barely feel the imprint of your upturned lips through his shirt.

“Can I hear you say it, please?” your voice is muffled and it’s a shame, he’s always found the sound to be more heavenly than church bells.

“I…” he closes his eyes, embarrassed even though neither of you are looking at each other, “Alright.”

“‘Alright’?”

“Here it goes…”

...

When Nobara comes back to the door and opens it for a peek inside, she sees Megumi sitting at the far wall with you resting against his back and between his legs. You’ve fallen asleep with one of the divine dogs in your lap.

“We got bored waiting for you,” is all he can say.

Nobara smiles. It’s small and rare and Megumi barely sees it before it vanishes, “Finally, you two got it done.”

Megumi pats the dog’s head and it rises from your legs to leave the closet, he gently shakes you awake and threads his arm around you so you can still lean on him as you walk, half-asleep, back to his room.

As he passes Nobara, she thinks she can see an even rarer smile on the boy’s lips, “Thanks for meddling, even though your method sucked.”

“My method did not suck,” she narrows her eyes at his back as he walks away.

Megumi lets you settle into his bed with him beside you.

He hopes you never regret this, and he’ll work for that outcome. He swears, he will. To keep himself fitted to you - like the moon orbiting its earth. Jagged puzzle pieces. Meant to be together.

He’ll work for that. For you.

Because you deserve it.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you

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bratdesire · 4 years

Text

Your Dad, My Daddy

Pairing: Ukai Keishin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, age gap, older man/younger woman, barely legal, squirting, rough sex, daddy kink, alcohol mention, questionable ethics, d/s dynamics, overstimulation, degrading language, touch of subspace, unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight dubcon if you squint but it’s all consensual, Ukai’s dick is pierced, exhibitionism(?)

Genre: Smut, just so much smut

Word count: 9.4k

Author’s note: Here is my contribution to the new HQHQ collab!! You can find the masterlist right here! Big big thank you to @sempiternal-amour and @inaflashimagine for beta-ing this monster fic, ilysm <3 This is so incredibly self-indulgent, I even inserted my nickname ~for spice~. Anyways, enjoy my incoherent screaming uwu

Summary: When you go over to your friend’s house for a study session you don’t anticipate meeting her very attractive father, and you surely don’t anticipate the very same man fucking you over their couch.

“Hey, I apologize in advance for anything weird my dad says or does. You know how dads are,” Hitomi explains as she pulls into the driveway of her house.

It’s small but nice and well-manicured, situated in the cul de sac of a middle-class suburb.

“Dad, we’re here,” she shouts up the stairs, setting her keys on the small table next to the front door. Hitomi’s gaze drifts to the tall, dark haired man sitting at the kitchen table and your own gaze soon follows. “Oh, there you are.”

She quickly pecks the man on his cheek before walking over to the shiny silver fridge, pulling out a couple bottles of water. “Dad, this is Bunny, Bunny this is Dad,” she gestures between the two of you.

When her father glances up from his phone to give you a nod of acknowledgement, you’re taken aback by how handsome he is.

You can tell from the slight wrinkles around his lips and the crinkles by his eyes that he’s definitely a much older man, but other than that he’s flawless. The angle of his jaw is sharp but soft, lower face darkened by his five o’clock shadow. His chocolate brown eyes are complemented by plump, pink lips that would look even better swollen and shiny with saliva. Dark, shiny locks are gathered into a low ponytail and you wonder how they would feel fisted in your fingers. He’s gorgeous in a rugged, mature way that boys your age aren’t and could never hope to be.

Hitomi never told you her dad was hot but then again, why would she?

“Mr. Ukai, it’s nice to meet you,” you greet him.

He waves his hand in the air dismissively, “Ah, you can just call me Keishin. No need to be so formal.”

Hitomi mutters a frustrated “shit” under her breath and it takes you a few moments to tear your eyes away from the man in front of you.

“I left my textbook in the car, I have to go grab it,” she sighs then turns to her dad. “You, don’t scare off my friend, please.”

Keishin puts a hand on his heart, a falsely serious expression on his face. “I won’t, scout’s honor.”

She just rolls her eyes, exiting the kitchen the same way you entered. The front door slams shut, leaving you alone with your friend’s very hot dad.

Keishin looks up at you then quickly looks away, unsure how to interact with his daughter’s friends. “So is, uh, Bunny your real name?” he asks, nervously rubbing the back of his head.

Leaning against the table he’s seated at, you fold your arms across your chest, fully aware of how low cut your top is. You don’t miss the way his eyes briefly flicker down to your cleavage then back up to your face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I… I’m just trying to make conversation,” he laughs nervously.

“Hm, well, the short answer is no. You’ll have to get to know me a bit better before I give you the long answer.”

He snorts, pushing his chair back and rising to his full height. “What gave you the confidence to speak like this to your elders?”

Taking a step towards him, you twirl a piece of hair around your finger and shyly peer up at him through your lashes. “I don’t know, but maybe you can teach me how to behave.”

A light blush colors his cheeks and his eyes widen with surprise. “I-I don’t know what you’re implying, but it’s not... appropriate,” he stutters, taking a step backwards to try to put some distance between you.

You sidle up to him, reaching out a hand to caress his well-muscled arm. When he makes no move to stop your petting, you bite your lip and get on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Who said we had to be appropriate?”

His mouth is slightly agape, lips moving every so often, as if he wants to say something but doesn’t. “I—” he starts.

The sound of the front door slamming open makes you both jump apart, trying to appear as casual as possible.

“I got it! We can go study now,” Hitomi proclaims, waving the book around in her hands. She glances at you, then at her father and notices the way you’re completely turned away from each other. “Oh my God, Dad, what did you do?” she groans.

He holds up both hands in surrender, shaking his head emphatically. “I didn’t do anything! Why do you always think I did something?”

Your friend strides over to lightly punch his shoulder, a disapproving but loving expression on her face. “Because you’re weird and lame. Besides, between you and Bunny, I’m always going to assume that you’re the guilty party.”

You find yourself chuckling at their banter, touched by how close they are. It’s evident that Hitomi and Keishin care a lot about each other, regardless of how much they tease each other and guilt twists in your gut when you remind yourself that you were flirting with him. She likely wouldn’t forgive you for trying to sleep with her dad and it would cause a great deal of damage to their relationship, possibly beyond repair if she knew he was into girls her age. To make matters worse, you’re two years her junior. What man would sleep with a girl younger than his daughter?

But your morals are tossed right out the window when you take in the sight of Keishin’s radiant smile—all straight, white teeth and eyes that shine like pools of dark honey. It’s in that moment that you decide you’re going to seduce that man if it’s the last thing you do.

Sorry, Hitomi. Kind of.

---

“Okay, so L-Tyrosine is one of the twenty amino acids used by the body to synthesize proteins. It is also an aromatic amino acid derived from phenylalanine by hydroxylation in the para position—oof!” Hitomi’s droning is cut off by the pillow you send hurtling towards her head.

You sit up on her bed, squealing obnoxiously as you stretch. “Hitomi, I love you, but please shut up. My brain is melting. We’ve been at this for three hours now, can we take a break?”

She closes the textbook in her lap and pushes it to the edge of her desk. “Fine, fine. We can take a twenty minute break, but we have to go right back to studying because finals are this week and I cannot afford to fail,” your friend warns, despite how she whips out her phone at lightning speed.

Picking at a stray thread on the comforter, you gently try to get her attention, “Hey, Tomi?”

“Hm?” she responds, barely glancing up from the video she’s watching.

You’re not sure how to broach the subject, but you’ve never been one to beat around the bush so you just come right out and say it. “Has anyone told you your dad’s kinda hot?”

That makes her stop, her head jerking up from her phone at lightning speed. “What!? That old geezer?” She sounds dumbfounded, incredulous at the prospect that someone would be interested in her father.

“Yeah girl, he’s a total DILF,” you confess, making a little fanning motion with your hand like you’re burning up inside just thinking about him, and it’s not that far from the truth.

Hitomi makes no effort to hide her feelings, disgust clearly evident in her delicate features. “Ew! You have to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not joking! He’s really sexy,” you muse dreamily.

She claps both hands over her ears, yelling at the top of her lungs to drown you out. “I never want to hear you say that my old man is ‘sexy’ ever again!”

You childishly stick your tongue out at her. “Hey! I’m just speaking the truth. You have to have had friends say the same thing.”

Removing her hands from her ears, she brings one up to stroke her chin, seemingly deep in thought. “Now that I think about it, back in high school my friends were a lot more enthusiastic about coming over once they met my father.”

You feel vindicated by her personal testimony, even if she thinks you’re gross. “See? I’m not the only one who finds your dad ridiculously attractive.”

Hitomi gags dramatically as if she’s going to puke and judging by the look on her face, she just might. “Please, no more, I’m begging you.”

“Fine, fine I’ll stop, but don’t act surprised when I become your new stepmom,” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows at her.

“You’re younger than me, don’t even joke about that,” she shudders in horror. “Okay, with that we need to get back to studying amino acids and proteins.”

“Whatever you say, future stepdaughter.” You muster your best motherly voice, sickeningly sweet and a touch passive aggressive.

This time, it’s Hitomi’s turn to throw a pillow at you.

---

Since the day you met Keishin, you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. Even when you’re in class trying to learn about the sodium-potassium pump, you find your thoughts drifting to his hands, his lips, him. He’s simply become too distracting to ignore.

More times than you care to admit, you’ve fucked yourself with your fingers to thoughts of how his fingers would feel pumping inside you. You fantasize about how his hand would feel around your neck, squeezing with just enough pressure to make your vision hazy. His name is always on the tip of your tongue when you orgasm and when you finally let yourself moan out ‘Keishin,’ you know enough is enough. A man his age has to know exactly how to make a woman scream and writhe in pleasure, but you need to experience it for yourself or you’ll die trying.

You’re not oblivious to the way he looks at you with hunger and longing in his eyes, you know he wants you too and you’re not above using dirty tricks to show him just how much you want him.

If he’s too proud, too noble to give in to his urges, you’ll just have to break him. His resolve may be strong, but yours is stronger.

Your efforts begin innocently enough, gently probing him for more information about himself so you can get to know him better.

“I’ve noticed you don’t wear a ring. Is there a Mrs. Ukai in the picture?” you ask innocently.

Keishin clears his throat a bit too loudly, refusing to meet your questioning gaze. “Nah. It’s just me and Tomi, always has been.”

“Any… future Mrs. Ukai in the picture?”

The corners of his lips twitch slightly, the barest of smiles tugging at his handsome features. “Can’t say there is. Between the store and coaching volleyball, I don’t really have the time to date.”

You nod and make a noise of acknowledgement, relieved by the confirmation that he is in fact very, very single. You’re a lot of things, but you’re not a homewrecker.

On another occasion, you’re seated on their plush leather couch and Keishin’s in the well-worn La-Z-Boy recliner to your left. You’re watching some Adam Sandler movie on Netflix, but it’s paused while Hitomi is in the bathroom.

You take your alone time together as an opportunity to question him more, toeing the line of what would be considered proper. “So, Keishin, how old are you? I know Tomi’s twenty-one so you must be…” you trail off, hoping he’ll humor you.

He takes a swig of the beer in his hand and your eyes instinctively flicker down to watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Old.”

You roll your eyes and prop your chin up on your hand, readjusting your position on the couch so you’re leaning closer to him. “Obviously, but just how old?”

“Why do you want to know so badly?” he asks, head tilted and a well-groomed eyebrow lifted questioningly.

“I was just wondering if you’re older than my dad,” you tease.

His shoulders shake slightly as he chuckles, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m forty-four. Do I have him beat?”

“He’s forty-two, so just barely.” Your steady, unwavering eyes lock onto his own, which are glassy and unfocused from the alcohol. When he brings the bottle to his lips once more, you nonchalantly add, “Maybe I should call you Daddy instead.”

Keishin coughs and sputters in surprise, causing him to choke on his beverage and a spray of sticky beer splatters across your face.

Apologies tumble out of his mouth as soon as he realizes that your cheeks and hair are dripping with the craft IPA he was drinking. “I-I’m so sorry! I’ll get you a towel,” he blurts, shooting up from his chair.

In his panic and embarrassment, he rushes toward the linen closet and you can’t help the giggles that escape your mouth at how uncoordinated he is, now several drinks in. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not that big of a deal,” you reassure him, wiping your face with the back of your hand for emphasis.

He returns from the rummaging around the hall closet, a dark blue towel in his hand, which he offers to you with a nod of his head.

No matter your protests and assurances that you’re fine, Keishin is even more insistent in offering you the towel to clean yourself up. When you refuse to take the towel from him, he kneels down next to you and leans in to dab at the foamy liquid that has soaked into your hair.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his fingers on your jaw and you almost squeak at his close proximity. He hasn’t let you near him since your first encounter and now he’s right in front of you, so close that his breath curls around your cheeks, smelling of malted hops and the slightest hint of peppermint. You can map out the slight freckles on the bridge of his nose and each long, curled eyelash that brushes his cheeks each time he blinks.

He’s truly a beautiful man, all sharp angles and rough stubble and you can feel your cheeks warm when you realize that he’s right there. If you leaned forward just a little bit more, your noses would brush against each other.

A deep, rumbling voice interrupts your daydreaming. “Kid, are you even listening to me?”

You blink a couple times, coming to the realization that he’s been trying to talk to you for the last few minutes, but you were too busy admiring his beauty.

Keishin shakes his head as he leans back on his heels, using one hand to rub his face wearily. “As I was saying, you can’t just… say things like that. I know young girls sometimes have fantasies about older men like me, but I’m telling you now that it’ll only end badly,” he sighs. “I’m not a righteous man, I have my vices. God, do I have lots of them, and I don’t need another one.”

He mumbles the last sentence, barely loud enough for you to hear, despite how close you are.

Another one? Is he admitting that the attraction is mutual? You have to know, you just have to. Your body practically aches from how badly you want him.

“Keishin, I—” you start, reaching out to touch his arm, but he stands abruptly and quickly turns to shuffle away from the couch.

“This just isn’t a good idea, kid. Just forget about me, alright?” he says, his back to you. A tinge of regret and hesitation seeps into his words, as if he wants to take back everything he’s said.

After the beer incident, the man is even less receptive than he was before, making every effort to avoid being alone with you.

Even still, you’re not discouraged because he never outright rejected you. If he had, you would’ve stopped your pursuit weeks ago, but he only seems to be trying to maintain his composure as a righteous man.

Righteous men are wolves in sheep’s clothing, always putting on a facade so they can claim plausible deniability when they’re caught with their pants around their ankles. But no matter how honorable or virtuous a man tries to be, none of them can resist a wet, willing pussy laid out in front of them and Keishin is no exception.

That’s why you’ve shown up to their house the last few weeks in skirts far too short to be considered decent, flashing little peeks of your underwear each time you move too much or bend over too far. Each time you bend over to grab a pencil or a piece of paper off the floor, Keishin is always conveniently positioned behind you so he gets an eyeful of your pretty lace panties and the little dark spot where your wetness has soaked through the fabric.

After you retrieve your item from the ground, you look over your shoulder to make direct eye contact with him and say ‘oops,’ without a hint of regret in your voice. You revel in the clenching of his jaw and the way he exhales loud and heavy through his nose, frustration mounting each time you try to provoke him.

When your ass and clothed pussy are on display for him, you make sure to wiggle your hips a bit, an open invitation to fuck you the way you both want to. It never fails to elicit some sort of reaction from the older man, ranging from a few groans and a choked cough, to making a very hasty exit, a book or some other object held over the front of his jeans.

Without fail, Hitomi expresses her concern each time her father storms out of the room, red-faced and breathing heavily. He just waves her off, telling her he’s not feeling well, but you know the truth. He’s painfully hard, painfully hard from you, even if he doesn’t admit it.

Truthfully, if you weren’t trying to get him to fuck you so hard you can’t walk you would applaud his self-control and restraint. Even after weeks of teasing and provocation, the man refuses to give in to his desires.

That’s okay. If he’s not going to come to you, you’ll just have to take matters into your own hands.

----

It all reaches a tipping point when you’re unable to go home for winter break and Hitomi offers you their guest room to stay in for a few weeks.

Apparently she never asked her father for permission, if Keishin’s shocked, slightly panicked face when you walked through the door with your suitcase was any indication. When he tried to question Hitomi about whether or not it’s such a good idea for you to stay, she wasn’t having any of it and told him that you’re a friend in need.

Hitomi’s so sweet and caring that you feel a twinge of guilt for plotting to seduce her father in her house when she’s none the wiser. She just wanted to lend a helping hand by letting you stay with them, oblivious to your true plans, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Now that you’re under the same roof, all you really want to do is ambush Keishin as soon as possible, but you have to plan around Hitomi’s schedule so you have bide your time. What’s the saying? Good things come to those who wait?

And wait you do. You wait for two whole weeks, in fact. But then the stars align so perfectly that some otherworldly force must be looking out for you.

Hitomi is gone to work and won’t be back until the middle of the night when her shift is over, while Keishin is home reviewing footage from his team’s latest game.

He told you he does this right before a big game so he can tell his players what they need to improve on and get in that last bit of refinement before the day of. When he clued you in on his strategy you just nodded and hummed, not really listening, mostly focused on ogling his muscles through his thin t-shirt.

Your nerves have been buzzing since you woke up this morning, sensing the heaviness in the air. You’re wearing your prettiest lace panties and its matching bra and frankly, you’re feeling pretty damn confident. You look good and you know you look good. If you were trying to seduce any guy your age, they’d drop their pants as soon as they got a little glimpse of your underwear, but Keishin’s not any guy your age. He needs a little convincing, a little push in the right direction, and you’ll be the one to help him.

You’ve flitted around the house all day, just trying to find the right moment to pounce.

Currently, Keishin is sitting in the living room watching the recording on the big flat screen in the living room. He looks preoccupied with taking notes on the notepad in his lap, but it’s now or never, you suppose.

Before you try to talk yourself out of it, you stride over to where he’s sitting and put your hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey. Did you need something? I’m kind of busy analyzing my team’s last game.”

Not wanting to lose your nerve, you wordlessly swing one leg over his, then the other, planting yourself firmly in his lap. His entire body goes ramrod stiff, hands jerking away from your body as if you’ve burned him.

“W-what do you think you’re doing?” he stutters, alarm evident in his voice.

When he makes no move to throw you off his lap, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean into him, pressing your chest to his.

“What we both have been wanting to do since the day I met you,” you purr, lips barely brushing against the shell of his ear. He shivers when you gently nibble on his earlobe and your confidence only grows as you discover that he wants this just as much as you do.

“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn't right. I’m your friend’s father and I’m... old enough to be y-yours,” he mutters, running a hand through his already messy hair, conflicted with how to proceed.

You can’t tell whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, so you decide to give him a little encouragement.

Leaning back slightly, you run your hands down his chest and bite your lip. “Are we going to keep playing games or are you gonna fuck me? Because if not, I’ve got several guys back at college who—”

You’re cut off when Keishin’s hand wraps around your throat, the other braced against your back to pull you flush against him.

“You think your little stunts are cute, don’t you?” he growls, his minty breath washing over your face.

“What, you don’t think so, Daddy?” you pout, batting your eyelashes at him innocently.

His eyes flash with something hot and primal and you can feel the gush of wetness between your thighs. “I’m getting a little tired of them,” he growls.

“This,” you palm at the bulge straining against his pants, “Tells me otherwise, you know.”

The hand around your throat tightens, cutting off whatever bratty remark you were about to make. “I’ve had enough of you prancing around my home in tiny skirts and flashing me your panties when my daughter is around. It’s unbecoming.”

“Then t-teach me a lesson,” you gasp, struggling to speak with Keishin’s fingers so firmly wrapped around your throat.

The way he grins is downright sinful and it stokes the fire already raging inside you. “Careful what you wish for, little girl.”

With some manhandling on Keishin’s part, you’re shoved toward the couch then pulled back onto his lap, but this time you’re on your stomach and both your wrists are pinned behind your back.

“Before we go any further,” he starts, trailing his fingers down your spine and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “I have to ask… How old are you?”

You twist around to look him in the eyes, a defiant smirk on your face. “Old enough.” Your mischievous giggle is cut off by a swift, firm slap to your ass.

“Watch the lip, brat. I need a little more reassurance than that.”

“Since you’re just so concerned, I’m nineteen. Perfectly legal and more importantly, legally fuckable,” you say, punctuated by an enticing wiggle of your hips.

“Jesus, you’re two years younger than Tomi. What am I doing?” He seems lost in thought as the honorable side of him fights a losing battle against his baser, carnal instincts. Whatever reservations he has are thrown aside when you start to wiggle in his grasp, maneuvering yourself over his crotch to grind yourself against his hardness.

Keishin gathers your hair around his fist, harshly jerking your head so far backwards that your spine aches from the unnatural angle.

“Stop fucking squirming. You just don’t know how to behave, do you?” It’s phrased like a question, but he shoves two of his fingers in your mouth so you can’t respond.

You knew Keishin would be the perfect dom, but the ease with which he settles into the role makes your head spin and your insides throb. Latching onto his digits, you lick and suck like the good girl you are, coating them in saliva as he hums in appreciation.

“Foo wans tuh behav wen thith is wutt I ge fo bein ba?” you ask, garbled and muffled by the fingers massaging the back of your tongue.

A series of harder, heavier spanks make you squeal and squirm even more in his lap. He gently rubs his hand over your warm, stinging flesh as he speaks. “Such a troublemaker. Just what am I going to do with you, hm?” He tries to sound admonishing, but you can tell he’s smiling behind his words.

His hand leaves your ass, no doubt raised to spank you again, but before he can, you bite down on his fingers. Not too hard, just enough for him to jerk them out of your mouth. “You can do whatever you want to me, Daddy.”

You jolt when his thumb rubs against your pussy through your panties. They’re soaked with your slick, the material clinging to your skin uncomfortably. The barest touch has you gasping and pushing your hips back for more. You’re so sensitive from the teasing and you’re so turned on you just might pass out if you’re not filled up soon.

Keishin just laughs darkly at the pathetic humping of your hips and you can feel the rumbling in his chest. “This is what I love about girls your age. So sensitive…” He pulls your panties aside and gently eases a finger inside you, then another as you moan and shake in his lap. “And so reactive. I bet you’d cum just from me putting my cock inside this tight, wet cunt, wouldn’t you?”

He speaks with a hint of condescension that has you clenching around his digits, coating them in sticky, syrupy strands of your arousal as they pump in and out of you. You’d almost be embarrassed at how worked up you are if you had more self respect, but you don’t. All you can focus on is the way his fingertips curl into the little spongy spot inside you that makes you whine.

“Why don’t you try it and find out?” The challenge in your voice is severely dampened by how breathless and wrecked you are even though you haven’t really even done anything.

His fingers pull out of you with a lewd squelching sound and you can hear him suck them into his mouth. “You taste even better than I imagined, but I want to taste that sweet pussy of yours. Up, little girl.” He coaxes you from his lap and onto the couch so your back is nestled into the cushions.

Sweat is making hair stick to your forehead and you’re breathing so heavily you’d think you just ran a marathon, but Keishin is looking down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world and it nearly steals what little breath you have left in your lungs.

Oxygen is the last thing on your mind when his lips slot themselves between yours, soft yet demanding as they suck and lick. The movement of his lips doesn’t falter when he pulls your shirt over your head to reveal your light pink bra. Keishin pulls back to kiss along your collarbones, neck, and chest, his teeth occasionally nipping your sensitive flesh and leaving goosebumps in their wake. He expertly removes your panties with one hand so you’re left in just your plaid skirt, exposing your heated flesh to the coolness of the living room.

You’re nearly naked but he’s wearing far too many clothes for your liking, so you blindly grab at his shirt, but your fingers are shaking too much for you to get a good grip. Once he realizes what you’re trying to do, he puts his hands over yours and helps you take off his shirt. You nearly start drooling when all of his hard, rippling muscles and smooth, tan skin are finally revealed to your greedy eyes that can’t seem to settle one thing. You don’t know if you’ll get this opportunity again and you want to remember everything in painstaking detail, especially Keishin’s gorgeous body.

He momentarily disentangles himself from you to remove his jeans, leaving him in just his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. The outline of his cock is evident as it strains against the blue material and you reach out to stroke it, but he just takes your hand in his.

He brings it to his lips, then kisses up your arm until he reaches your lips. “All in due time, sweet girl. I want to taste you first.” Your mouth is claimed in another hungry, bruising kiss and you squeal when Keishin takes your lip between his teeth and bites, blood rushing to the surface of your skin.

His head dips down to leave featherlight kisses and teasing licks down your chest and stomach before he’s resting between your thighs. You whimper pitifully as he spreads your legs, awaiting the feeling of a wet tongue or his fingers against your folds. When he doesn’t move for several beats, you come to the realization that he’s just watching the way your cunt twitches and clenches around nothing and the wetness that drips onto the couch each time your muscles contract. You quickly bring your legs together to hide yourself from his scrutinizing gaze, but he simply pries them open with little effort.

Keishin grabs your chin so you’ll look right at him, squirming from the intensity of his gaze. “Don’t you dare hide this pretty pussy from me, do you understand? I am going to devour you until I’ve had my fill and you’re going to just lie back and take it.”

You nod obediently, your impudence quickly dying, giving way to the burning ache between your legs that can only be sated by a long, hard fuck.

With a satisfied hum, he settles at the apex of your thighs and licks a long stripe from your quivering pussy to your swollen clit and your hips jerk from the contact. Strong hands pin your hips to the couch as you writhe in his firm grip. He gives your clit a soft, quick kiss before he takes it into his mouth and sucks. You grab fitfully at his hair, back arching and hips pressing into his mouth as you gasp and groan from the incredible feeling of his tongue on your sensitive flesh.

His tongue teases your entrance and your cunt twitches, anticipating the first thrust of his warm, wet muscle inside you. He occasionally dips into your hole, but never breaches your entrance and you think you might go mad if he doesn’t give you more.

“I-I need more, give me more,” you manage to gasp, grabbing a fistful of the pillow underneath you as the tightening in your belly gets stronger.

Keishin removes his mouth from your cunt just long enough to admonish you for your lack of respect. “You need to have more manners if you’re going to demand things of me,” he says, before latching back onto your swollen, twitching clit.

“Daddy, pleeease I need more. Ah! I want to cum!” Your voice is so high-pitched and whiny you almost don’t recognize yourself, but you’re nearly delirious from pleasure and your impending climax that’s been dangled over your head for what feels like hours.

“Now who am I to deny you when you ask so sweetly?”

He thrusts two of his digits inside you, reaching deep inside you and rubbing against your g-spot as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. You’re almost screaming at this point, clawing at his hair and humping your cunt against his face. The familiar tightening in your belly signals that you’re about to cum and your moans and cries get faster, louder as the promise of white hot pleasure is just within reach—

It’s almost embarrassing how fast you’re teetering on the edge of climax, as if you’re a virgin school girl that’s never touched herself before. But maybe that’s the difference that years of experience can make.

Not that you care. You just want to cum.

“Fuck, Daddy, I—I’m close!”

Sensing your impending orgasm, the man uses his free hand to slap your cheek then grabs your throat. “Uh-uh-uh,” he tuts, “Ask Daddy for permission to cum.” You’re clamping down on his fingers impossibly tighter as he fingers you even deeper, and the way he sucks on your clit renders you incapable of speech. Each time you open your mouth to try to speak, more desperate, wanton noises escape your lips.

You’re about to fucking burst at the seams and you feel like you’re on fire, but you want to be a good girl for your daddy, so you use the last bit of brain power you have left to ask for permission.

“P-pleaaase Daddy may I ahhh! May I cum!” you ask, but you can’t even hear Keishin give his approval from how loud the blood rushing in your ears is as you finally cum.

You try to muffle your cries with the back of your hand, but he grabs your wrist and wrenches it away from your mouth.

“Don’t do that. I want to hear you scream.” His tone is clipped and short, not caring how rough he is with your delicate flesh.

If you weren’t already cumming, you would have from the pleasure that’s so intense, it’s almost painful as your body is wracked with tremors. Your legs snap around Keishin’s head and you grip his hair even tighter as wave upon wave of your orgasm washes over you. You hear someone screaming and wonder what’s happening, when you realize it’s you, you’re the one screaming as you ride out your climax.

He greedily slurps and sucks up every single drop of your release that you can give him, as if he was stranded in the desert for a thousand years and your juices are the first sip of water to hit his dry, parched tongue. Your cunt is already so sensitive, painfully clenching around his fingers, but he just. Doesn’t. Stop.

“Fuck, K-Kei, wait ‘s too much,” you weakly protest, but your body is too spent to resist so you just lie there, twitching and gasping as he keeps sucking on your overstimulated clit.

His lips detach from your poor, abused bud and you almost sigh in relief before the fingers inside your cunt pump faster, stimulating every inch of your gummy walls.

Keishin leans over your sweaty, exhausted form, one hand braced on the couch, the other buried inside you. His fingers are hitting a spot inside you that makes you feel the urge to pee, so you try to push his hand away but it’s futile with how much stronger he is than you.

“Hold onnn, I’m g-gonna—” you slur, panicked, but it’s as if he didn’t hear you.

His digits are relentless, rubbing and stroking and you’re a fucked out mess. You don’t know what he wants until an uncomfortable tightness shoots through your cunt. You cry out as clear liquid gushes out of you, splashing all over you, the couch, and Keishin. If you were more coherent, you might be mortified because you just… pissed on him—

To your surprise, he’s laughing as he removes his hand from inside you, ignoring your halfhearted groans. “I was hoping you’d do that,” he says, holding up his hand, shiny and dripping with your juices.

“D-Do what?” you pant, unsure of what just happened and why Keishin seems so smug.

He uses his discarded t-shirt to wipe his hand off, then dabs at your stomach where a sizable puddle accumulated. “Squirt,” he responds. When he sees your confused expression, he follows up with, “It’s not piss, if you’re worried about that.”

“Ooookay.” You’re too dazed and exhausted to argue with him or question him further, so you just flop into the sofa and close your eyes.

“C’mon, little girl, don't tell me that’s all you’ve got. You were talking so much shit earlier and I have so much more to give you.” Despite how tired you are, his words spark new arousal in your belly and defiance revitalizes you, movement returning to your limbs.

You slide a hand down your stomach and spread the puffy lips of your cunt, sliding a finger through your wetness. “Of course it’s not. I’m ready to take that hard cock of yours, Daddy.”

“Attagirl, that’s what I like to see,” he praises, dropping his underwear and sliding them somewhere you can’t see.

His cock is gorgeous, but that doesn’t come as a surprise, considering the man it belongs to. It’s thick and curved in a way that you know will reach the deepest parts of you.

What you weren’t expecting is the many piercings adorning the shaft and the one that goes through the head. A long curved barbell enters through the tip and exits through the underside of his glans. Three evenly spaced rings are embedded in the skin where his shaft meets his balls. You’ve never seen so many piercings on one man, let alone in such a sensitive place, so you gawk at the smooth metal rings that shine in the overhead lights.

“You’re… You have…”

He grins widely and it’s so devilish you think he might swallow you whole and honestly? You’d let him. You’d let him do whatever he wants to you. “Haha, yeah I get that reaction a lot. Never seen a pierced cock before, huh?”

“No, but there’s a first time for everything. I’m dying to see how those,” you point to his piercings, “Feel inside me.”

Keishin wordlessly climbs on top of you and rubs the head against your wetness, spreading it along his shaft to ease his entry. “They’ll feel fucking incredible, but you’ll have to beg for it.”

You scoff, reaching to grab his hips so he’ll fuck you already, but he scoots backwards so you can’t touch him.

“Naughty girls that misbehave don’t get fucked, so you’d better smarten up quickly,” he warns, making you gasp as he thrusts his cock against your clit.

He lazily nudges the head over your flesh, occasionally letting it catch on the tight ring of muscle around your hole. When he slots between your pussy lips, you try to wiggle and hump your hips in his direction, in hopes that he’ll slide right in.

But he doesn’t, and you’re about to go mad with his cock so close, but so far away.

“Please fuck me Daddy. I need your cock so bad!” You’re on the verge of tears, the buildup of the last few weeks overwhelming your senses.

Making a noise of sympathy, Keishin pets your hair affectionately and kisses your cheek. “All you had to do was ask.”

His hips pull back, then he’s thrusting inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt in your tight heat. You whimper and whine at the sudden intrusion, but any pain you feel is overshadowed by the way that his cock is filling you so full. The burn and stretch hurts so fucking good that your orgasm hits you like a freight train, fast and hard and blinding. Keishin fucks you through it, his cock touching all of the sensitive spots inside you and the pleasure is so strong you have to screw your eyes shut as you cry out and fall apart around him.

When you open them again, the man is staring down at you with the most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. “See? I said you’d cum as soon as I put my cock inside you.”

Using all the strength you can muster, you slap his arm. “Shut up and just fuck me.”

“You still haven’t learned your manners, but I just can’t wait to shoot my cum deep inside this cute cunt of yours,” Keishin groans, pulling almost all the way out before burying himself back inside the hot, welcoming clutch of your pussy.

You can feel each of the metal rings on his cock, foreign and strange, but the odd feeling soon fades to little shocks of ecstasy each time they brush against your insides.

The lewd slapping sounds of skin on skin are all you can hear besides the occasional moan or hiss from the man fucking you within an inch of your life, not that you can focus on anything else right now.

You nudge at Keishin’s shoulder and he stops the rapid pistoning of his hips, an almost annoyed look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, but you just smile and push him backwards onto the couch, just like you were. He grunts in surprise as he falls backward, but he quickly quiets down when you climb on top of him and sink yourself back down on his length.

You both moan in unison as he fills you once more, the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix each time you force your cunt back down on him. His hands wander to your tits, grabbing, squeezing, and pinching the sensitive buds of your nipples.

Ever the troublemaker, you can’t resist making a jab at him now that you’re on top. “I wonder what she’d do if she knew you were with me right now. What would your daughter say about you taking advantage of a young, helpless girl?”

Keishin takes that moment to pull you against him, thrusting hard and rough into your gummy walls that never stop pulsing around him. You’re shaking and gasping, your tongue lolling out of your mouth in your pleasured delirium. “With the way your greedy, sloppy cunt is clenching around me, I wouldn’t say I’m taking advantage of you,” he points out, only slightly out of breath. “But you get off on this, don’t you? Letting an old man like me fuck you. I’m old enough to be your father.”

“Like you’re any b-better,” you bite back.

You cry out when Keishin starts rubbing your swollen clit in tight little circles, your third orgasm fast approaching.

“Fuck! I can—urgh, I can feel your pussy pulsing around me. I’m g-gonna cum,” he grits out, thrusting impossibly deeper inside you. He's pressed so far into you, he’s just thumping the head of his cock against your cervix. You scream and write in his arms, seeking to relieve the sharp burning in your womb just a little bit, but he has you firmly locked in his clutches. “Be a good little girl and cum for Daddy.”

Almost on command, you shake and moan, loud and long, as you cream all over his cock and coat the base in milky white. “Oh fuck, oh god! D-Daddy I’m cu-mming!” you wail with the last of your energy.

You’re so exhausted you go limp against him and let him use your body as a fuck toy until he reaches his climax. Keishin follows soon behind you, his thrusts growing sloppier and less coordinated as he mumbles obscenities under his breath. “Shit shit shit, fuck I’m cumming! I’m gonna—fuck!”

With one last thrust into your fluttering, over stimulated cunt he orgasms, his legs shaking as he shoots rope after rope of cum into your quivering womb.

You both lay there for several minutes to catch your breaths. You’re so sore and boneless you can barely move, but you manage to extricate yourself from Keishin’s long limbs. Leaning into the arm of the couch, you let your eyes flutter closed and allow sleep to take you.

You’re awoken by a warm, wet washcloth rubbing against your sensitive folds and you whine, sleepily wiggling your hips to get away from the discomfort. “Kid, I know it doesn’t feel good but, uh, it’s kind of a mess down there. You can go back to sleep, just let me clean you up.” Keishin’s familiar timbre comforts you so you settle back down, still half asleep.

“Mmm, Keishin?” you mumble, making grabby hands at the man.

He takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” he responds as he wipes the washcloth between your legs with his other hand.

You rub your face against his hand before placing a sloppy kiss on top of it. “Thank youuuu,” you slur.

Keishin just chuckles and rubs his fingers over your knuckles. “Yeah kid, you’re welcome. Just get some rest, alright?”

You’re asleep before he even finishes the sentence.

----

When you awaken it’s dark, most likely the middle of the night. There’s a blanket thrown over your unexpectedly clothed body, which is now covered in a worn, oversized shirt. It smells like fabric softener and musk, so you figure it must be Keishin’s.

Looking around, you bolt upright when you realize you’re not on the living room couch anymore, you’re now in a large, comfortable bed.

The sound of a deep, rumbling voice draws your attention to the bathroom connected to the room you’re currently in. “Oh, you’re finally awake,” Keishin says sheepishly as he emerges from the bathroom, then points to the nightstand next to you. “There’s some water and ibuprofen, you should take it. Even if you’re not sore now, you will be later.”

You chuckle tiredly as you stretch your overworked muscles. “I’m already sore, so I’ll definitely be taking these.”

He sits awkwardly on the side of the bed, unsure how to treat you after your little encounter. His brows are furrowed, a deep frown on he’s seemingly deep in thought.

“Whatever you’re thinking, just spit it out.” His head immediately snaps to you, eyes guarded and unreadable.

“What we did downstairs, it’s… not right. I’m supposed to protect young, impressionable girls like you. I’m a father—I would die if Tomi was after a man more than twice her age.”

You pull the blanket off of you and climb over to where the older man is seated on the mattress. “Keishin, let me ask you something.” He lifts his head, expectant. “Did you enjoy what we did? Because I did.” He nods slowly, still unsure what you’re getting at.

Taking his face in your hands, you tell him what you’ve been thinking for weeks. “At the end of the day, we’re two consenting adults who partook in consensual activities. Even if someone wants to clutch their pearls because you’re older than me, who cares?”

“Yeah, I get that, but… It has to be some sort of ethics violation on my part. You’re younger than my daughter, Bunny.”

“Even if it is, you have to allow yourself to live a little. Life is too short to deny yourself pleasures the world has to offer, and I don’t know about you, but I was very pleased by our… tryst.”

A cute blush spreads across Keishin’s cheeks as he remembers everything he said and did to you. “Aha, I was too. So, um… Would you want to do that again, sometime?” he asks, running a hand through his hair like he always does when he’s nervous.

You giggle and tackle him on the bed, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing. “Of course I do. We can even do it now, if you’d like…”

A couple hours later, just before Hitomi comes back, you limp across the hallway to your room and pass out, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

And that is how your little arrangement begins.

Most of your time is spent with Hitomi, mostly shopping and going out to eat when she has the day off, or just watching Netflix in her room when you’re both too tired to go anywhere.

However, in the wee hours of the morning when you’re sure that she’s asleep, you sneak up to her father’s bedroom and get fucked so hard and so good you can barely make it back to your bedroom before the sun rises.

It’s a good arrangement, you think, you both get what you want and your friend is none the wiser. You figure no harm, no foul. At the end of the winter break, Keishin will likely want to cut things off with you and you’ll go back to your college dorm as if nothing happened.

But the winter break isn’t over yet, and you plan on making the most of it.

Keishin has been fucking you into the mattress for so long, time no longer even makes sense anymore.

You’re sweaty and exhausted, muscles so sore and shaky, but the thrusting between your legs shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. The harsh grip on your hips will likely bruise, but luckily you can hide them, unlike the few close calls you’ve had with poorly-placed marks on your neck.

Despite your exhaustion, you continue to meet Keishin’s thrusts by humping your hips back at him.

He gives your ass a harsh spank and fucks into you harder, making you whine and clench around him. “You’re an insatiable little thing, aren’t you? So fucked out and dripping with my cum, yet you still want more,” he says, but all you can do is gasp in response. You’re too far gone to produce any meaningful response. “What am I going to do with you?” If you had the energy, you’d tell him whatever he wants, but you don’t and the familiar tug of an orgasm is too hard to ignore.

“Fuck Daddy, I-I’m—”

Suddenly, his phone comes to life, Hitomi’s face lighting up the screen as it vibrates. The pistoning of his hips slows, then stops completely as he reaches over and grabs it off the nightstand.

He suddenly pulls out of your sore, abused cunt and you almost whine at the loss before he buries himself back inside you. The way your face is pressed into the mattress makes it difficult, but you manage to turn your head to see what Keishin is doing behind you.

Your eyes widen and you try to wriggle out of his grip when you figure out that he’s going to answer his phone as he keeps fucking you.

A hand wraps around your neck, lifting you up from your position on the bed and you have to follow its movement to prevent your windpipe from getting crushed. You’re pressed against Keishin’s hard chest, and his cock is nestled right against your cervix. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll just stay still and take it like a good little girl.”

The harsh grip on your neck releases and you’re shoved back into the bed, falling onto the comforter.

Keishin sounds completely normal when he answers his phone and it almost pisses you off—how can he be so unaffected when you’re at your wit’s end?

He chirps into the phone, “Hey sweetheart, what’s up?” The only indication that anything is amiss is the slight breathlessness in his voice and the occasional curse under his breath.

He forces himself even deeper inside you so forcefully that you’re afraid he’ll punch straight through to your womb. You know it’s not possible, but with Keishin, it just might be. He’s always full of surprises, especially when it comes to your body.

“Oh yeah, sure I can drop it off to you later. I’m just a little… preoccupied at the moment,” he says with a sharp thrust of his hips and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips. Keishin stiffens above you, waiting to see if Hitomi heard you through the phone.

“No, Hitomi, I’m not watching porn! But hold on a second, I think someone is at the door.” He sets the phone on the bed, muting the call as his cock hits your g-spot and you’re shaking, practically shivering in his arms. A couple of hard, coordinated rubs of your engorged clit and you’re cumming, gushing around him and keening as your muscles clench uncomfortably. You scream silently and fall limp onto the bed, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum, but it’s to the point that each successive orgasm borders on the edge of pleasure and pain.

“Better keep quiet, wouldn’t want my daughter to hear you getting your pretty little cunt stuffed full of my cock,” Keishin snarls into your ear and you feel yourself clench painfully around him. Your body is just so worn out, but you know he won’t stop until he’s satisfied. “Or do you want her to know what a slut you are for her father?”

You shake your head vehemently, but the man inside you just chuckles as he keeps fucking you.

“Oh my god, oh fuck I-I…” You’re babbling nonsense to no one in particular.

“Ahh it was just-fuck, it was just some dude trying to sell me security cameras. Anyways, I’ll see you later honey, I love you.” His last few sentences sound rushed, urgent and you can tell from the twitching of his length that he’s close. The moment the phone is hung up, Keishin cages you between his body and the mattress. “Your cunt feels so fucking good, I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. Would you like that?”

You try to nod and make a noise akin to ‘mhm,’ but you’re not sure what it sounds like. You’re not really sure of anything right now, but what you are sure of is you want him to cum inside you.

“I could never deny you anything, sweet girl,” he groans.

Keishin fucks into you harder, faster, and it feels as if he’s quite literally rearranging your guts, he’s so deep inside you. He reaches down between your legs and pinches your sensitive bud between his fingers. “Think you have one more in you, hm?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for your answer. Of course you do.” He rubs your sore clit the way he knows will have you shaking and coming apart around him.

“Fuck Daddy, fuck I’m cumming!” you squeal, writhing and squirming from the painful, aching tightness of your orgasm as it builds once more.

“Ergh, fuck yeah, cum on Daddy’s cock as he fills you up. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, I love this sweet pussy.”

You shriek as you cum, your climax so strong that your vision blurs at the edges and you convulse, sore muscles twitching with overuse.

“Daddy’s gonna breed his sweet little girl, fuck, feels so fucking good!” Keishin groans, burying himself as deeply as he can inside you and shooting his cum into your quivering hole. You sigh in relief at the feeling of his warm cum flooding your womb, thankful he finally came because you couldn’t have lasted much longer in your state.

He flops next to you on the bed, sweaty and exhausted from your hours-long fuck marathon. Throwing an arm over your waist, he pulls you to his chest and buries his nose in your neck.

Hitomi’s not supposed to come back for several hours, so you both deem it safe to fall asleep as you are. Just when you’re about to drift off, your phone buzzes from the bedside table.

You reach for your phone, expecting it to be some spam email.

Your heart stops, the whole world seems to freeze when you open the text message.

From: Tomie <3

So when were you going to tell me you’re fucking my dad?

#haikyuu smut #ukai x reader #ukai smut #haikyuu x reader #ukai keishin #server collab #bunny scribbles #hq smut #hq fanfic #hq reader insert #haikyuu imagines

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Systems’ Scourge

I am no Jedi.

She says the words every time someone questions the sabers. She says it, day in, day out, and tells herself to believe it. She says it, and word spreads, because this way her actions don’t reflect on the Republic.

She was kicked out of the Order because she was framed for terrorism.

It’s all she does now, technically. She’s a terrorist, by some definition, even if her chosen targets are slavers and drugs lords.

Her actions must not reflect on the Republic.

“General.”

She turns away from the transparisteel, away from the blur of hyperspace, and into the arms of the man she trusts above all others.

“Almost there?” she asks.

“Another hour,” Rex confirms. He waits until she steps to join him, brushing their shoulders together as they walk through the ship, beskar to durasteel.

(Bo-Katan hadn’t necessarily liked her very much, but she’d had her own strange code of honor. She chose her payments, but she ensured compensation when and where she could. And so it went: beskar for the girl without a home who helped Mandalore, even as it almost killed her.)

(The boys... well. They haven’t been able to afford proper durasteel and beskar alloy armor for everyone yet, but they’re working on it.)

We are not Mando’ade.

“Kix got back to me,” he says. “We running low on bacta again.”

“Do we still have the funds from Zygerria?”

“More than.”

“Approved,” she says, and he laughs. She rolls her eyes. “You already handled it, didn’t you?”

“Of course, cyar’e.”

She doesn’t outrank him anymore. They are equals, in this and all things. He can approve anything she can. The only time she has authority is when they’re playing roles for the underworld.

The only time he has authority is when it comes to Kamino.

“What ate it up this time?” she asks instead.

“Had a few new arrivals,” he says. “Nobody you knew, mostly shinies. Fives is helping them adjust to being alive again.”

“Echo isn’t helping?”

“Migraines.”

“I see,” she says, and casts her eyes across the corridors. Strangely empty. “I’m assuming you’re leading me somewhere?”

“Jesse wants to give you a cultural debrief before we land.”

“We’ve been to Serenno,” she says, frowning heavily. “Dooku knows us. Does Jesse think he’s already fallen and we need to readjust? I didn’t think he was anywhere close last time we checked in.”

“He’s got visitors,” Rex says, grimacing. “From the Trade Federation.”

Oh, lovely. “He does realize the galaxy knows my face at this point, right? Isn’t he worried about the Federation getting word to Republic that the Count is hosting the terrorist they’ve spent two years fearing and hunting?”

Rex shrugs. “I think Jesse might be planning a disguise.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Great. Just love the smell of cosmetics.”

"Only a few hours,” he assures her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighs, and decides to switch the topic. “The shinies, all 501st?”

“Affirmative.”

“And still no other GAR ships on the comms?”

“None yet.” He’s as unhappy about it as she is. She doesn’t even after feel out along the bond. He’s still holding out hope for a Marshall Commander that didn’t live long enough to see Order 66 hit. She’s still hoping for almost any Jedi that remembers the war, instead of the pleasant strangers that call her Dark.

I am no Jedi, she tells them, even as their faces shade towards confusion at her white blades. She is not Fallen, and it shows in her kyber. They don’t know what to make of her.

“Republic might start building their own army soon,” she says instead. It’s an old refrain. They both know Kuat is building ships to match their precious Venator. The Survivor, she’d named it, unable to figure out which broken vessel had been given to her in this time she’d never lived. “We need allies, not just Dooku’s bankrolling. Has Fett--”

“No,” Rex says, short and grim. “Denal got close, we think, but he said he’s not going to talk to dar’manda that take orders from a Jedi.”

Lots wrong with that sentence.

“Didn’t get him to look anyone’s face?” she guesses.

“Not enough time,” Rex says. “Denal says it was a firefight. Couldn’t risk taking a helmet off.”

“And without the faces, nobody could get him to listen anything else,” she concludes. “You’d think he would have seen the wanted posters.”

“Think he’s of the opinion that if it walks like a Jedi, talks like a Jedi, carries a saber like a Jedi...”

She rolls her eyes. “So we’re back to square one, looking to hire on new soldiers that someone’s going to have to train, that we’ll have to convince Dooku to help pay for when we can’t appropriate funds from the Hutts, that probably won’t measure up to clone standards or have any sense of how to work with you, and will be security risks.”

“About sums it up, sir.”

She shoots him a look. “You’re making fun of me.”

He grins, easy as anything. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Sir.”

She bumps her fist into the metal on his upper arm. “Remind me why I married you?”

“Well, we were pretty kriffed up,” Rex fake-muses. “Pretty sure the trauma was a big part of it.”

“Of course.”

“And we can’t forget that time you started crying on me while we were making out.”

“No doubt.”

“And we’ve been friends for the better part of a decade now, so that’s going on the list.”

“I wouldn’t dream of not including our many years of shared horrors.”

“Or that Dooku kept asking when we were going to make things official.”

“I never should have told him I was part of his lineage,” she sighs, just as they reach the door to Jesse’s favorite Cultural Debrief room. There’s an old-school projector in there, and far more cosmetics and undercover costumes than the average person would expect. It’s a fun room.

Ahsoka turns and lifts up on her toes, just enough to press her lips to his. Rex tilts his head, presses back just a moment, and then pulls away. They grip each other’s forearms, and Ahsoka doesn’t shy away when he presses his forehead to hers.

“How much longer?” he asks.

It’s the same question, every time. She never has an answer.

She was raised to keep the peace. He was born to fight for it. Neither of them have ever truly known it.

She’s not sure they ever will.

“Jesse’s waiting,” she mutters, and pulls away. He matches her smile, small and tired, but meant only for the other. She turns to the door, takes a deep breath, and steps on through. “Okay, who are we preparing today, because I’m sure as hell not meeting Gunray as General Fulcrum.”

“We’re thinking Princess Ashla this time,” Jesse says, completely unruffled by the loud entrance. “Unless you want to play up the ‘Dooku’s adopted granddaughter’ thing. The Count might appreciate it.”

“Hard pass,” she says, dropping into the makeup chair. “Princess Ashla it is.”

I am no Jedi, and so I do what they cannot.

#Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #Rexsoka #Ahsoka #Rex #star wars #the clone wars #Jesse #Count Dooku #Dooku #Phoenix Posts #time travel #'what the fuck is going on?' you ask #great question!#I don't know either #Well okay I actually know a lot #but to be fair the characters are about as confused as the readers

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Innocent Life

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) & Child!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Grief, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Angst

Summary: As Ethan stands outside the ruins of Luiza’s house, looking the aftermath of the death he barely escaped in the eye, he cannot get the wails and cries of a child out of his head. Takes him a bit to realize they’re not a product of his trauma.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for the wonderful request, I had a blast writing it - what can I say, angst is my specialty hehe. Hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

How the hell is this happening? Why is this happening? Why to me? Why my family? Why were we the ones chosen for this suffering to be thrown upon? What did my daughter do to deserve this, for fuck’s sake?!

Why does everyone around me die? Why do I always loose everyone?

I’m the problem....

His knees are weak, his head’s spinning. His lungs have filled with smoke and ash so much he can barely breathe. His eyes sting, reddened around the edges, his vision blurry. However, what bothers him most is the mess that is currently his mind - swimming with the feeling of betrayal, sorrow and dread.

He lost so much so suddenly and in such a short amount of time. He lost Chris - someone he thought of as a friend but has now been replaced by a coldblooded killer and backstabber. He refuses to believe that’s still the Chris who saved him and Mia from Louisiana, he has to be dead.

Mia....

He lost Mia. He’s lost her before countless times - he lost her when he though she was dead, he kept losing her and getting her back at the Bakers’ residence as she switched between her monstrous form and being herself. He lost her again when they made it back, when her mind was clouded and darkened, when all she needed was solitude and when he wasn’t allowed anywhere near her as doctors upon doctors used her as a research object. And now he’s lost her again, this time for good. It’s just him and Rose now.

Or it would be if she too wasn’t taken from him, leaving him in the pit of grief and loss, both emotions at an intensity he’s never experienced before. Like a drill going through his heart, or a sledgehammer breaking it down to shards. Or as though his heart’s completely vanished, unable to take the anguish Ethan’s existence has become. The anguish that will live on for as long as he will.

Those three years of Mia being gone.

That nightmarish night back in Louisiana.

The horrific sight of dozens of bullets entering his wife’s body in front of his very eyes as he remained helpless.

The sound of Rose’s wailing cries.

God, he can still hear them. And oh so vividly. Like a cursed, haunting loop in his brain. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine her being a few feet from him, near him, giving him the opportunity to soothe her, calm her down, tell her it’s all gonna be ok even if it seems like hell at the moment. Promising he’d make it all alright and make the right people pay for what’s happened.

But then finally, he picks up on it - the oddity in the cries he’s hearing.

They’re too realistic for a mind to be able to produce. They’re too loud and too close and are external. And, most importantly, they sound like the cries of an older child.

Ethan quickly snaps himself back to reality, coming to terms with the knowledge that the sounds he’s hearing are a part of it and not some dark corner of his mind. Despite the horror he feels and creep up, taking over his whole body in the form of cold sweat, he still takes a step towards the source of the ear-splitting and heart-sinking noise. It’s instinctively human to feel a sickening feeling of sympathy combined with the need to shield something so powerless from any harm.

To save an innocent life.

Heading towards the side of what used to be Luiza’s house he spots it - a crib on top of which there’s a pile of rubble and wooden planks. The thing seems to barely be standing and yet it’s harboring the child whose cries have now grown louder. Ethan’s frozen for a few moments, frozen with fear. Frozen with the overwhelming thought that there’s no way he can save that child. Frozen and powerless, just like he was on the floor of his own home as life left Mia’s body.

You didn’t do anything for her....

The sound of a crack in the already weak wood, seemingly coming from the child’s crib, sends all his senses on edge, his adrenaline once again starting to rush through his veins.

But you can do something for that child, Ethan! Do something before it’s too late!

Within the blink of an eye, Ethan finds himself standing above the unsteady wooden structure, putting all his strength into removing the rubble that has thankfully piled atop the wooden planks, preventing anything from landing on the baby and harming it. Hell, it’s a miracle it didn’t suffocate from the smoke in the first place. Its cries are put to a halt when its wide eyes land on Ethan, who’s looking back at the toddler with the same amount of distress.

“Hi there. It’s ok, you’re safe now.“ He finds himself breathing out shakily as his trembling hands reach down, picking up the now silent toddler. “It’s ok, little one. You’re a literal miracle, you know that?“ His gaze travels over the ruin the house has become, the house that was this child’s home. Its family’s home. This toddler knows loss much like Ethan does, or it will when it grows up. But as of now, it’s secured in the bubble of blissful ignorance due to infancy.

And Ethan has come across yet another bump in the road: making his way in the castle was already gonna be a difficult and possibly lethal venture, but doing it with a child in his arms, that’s a death sentence for both him and the kid.

“You and I have a thing for surviving hell, but not even I am willing to take the risk of taking you with me, kid.“ He gently caresses the toddlers head as its big awed eyes blink up at him with curiosity.

One one hand, a castle with horrors he’s yet to be familiar with; on the other, a village which’s horrors he’s already seen and experienced and would rather die right in this very spot than subject this innocent kid to them.

Ethan’s once again stranded.

“What do I do with you, kid? Being with me won’t bring you any good. I’m like a death sentence to everyone around me.“ His heart breaks as he says that because - in his mind and by his logic - it’s the truth. It’s the only thing that makes sense in such a nonsensical situation.

Then suddenly, an idea sparks, fueling what little hope and courage he has left and getting his legs to move from the spot they’ve been stuck in for the past God knows how long. That’s not important right now. What matters is that, for the first time since this nightmare started, Ethan Winters has a clue of what he’s doing. He’s got a plan.

* * *

“I see you have returned!“ The Duke greets him with his signature lazy smile before his gaze lands on the child in Ethan’s arms, his eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, and you’ve got company!“

“Actually...“ Ethan stops in front of the shop, adjusting his grip on the kid, “They’ll be keeping you company from now until....well, until I come back.“

“And where is it you’re planning on going?“ The Duke asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I know how to take care of a child.“

Ethan grows irritated, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I’m gonna take a kid into that castle you called me insane for wanting to go in myself. Trust me, I wouldn’t be leaving them with you if it wasn’t my only choice.” When he doesn’t receive a verbal response from the Duke, more of an expression change that suggested he’s accepting of this, Ethan grow relieved, turning to the toddler that hasn’t taken its eyes off him even for a second. “Hey, you’re gonna be just alright with the big guy, ok? He’s gonna keep you safe until I come back.” His initial intention was to say ‘even if I don’t come back’ but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to the kid at least, “Until then...” He pauses when a name automatically pops up in his head, “Until then, Y/N, you’ll stay here with the Duke.”

After that heavy-hearted goodbye, Ethan reluctantly hands the kid - Y/N - over to the Duke, a shift they are not very happy about seeing as how they start wailing immediately.

“You owe me plenty, Mr. Winters.“ The Duke says with a frown on his face, displeased and already developing a headache from the child’s cries.

“I owe you nothing. What you’re doing is basic human decency.“ Ethan glares at him before turning his attention to Y/N, “Hey, it’s alright. I know you two aren’t big fans of one another, but I promise I won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.“ Planting a quick reassuring kiss on top of the child’s head, he steps away, relieved to find they don’t break out in a crying fit again.

With that peace of mind, he takes off on the path that’ll lead him to the castle. A part of him has found some peace, knowing that one innocent life has been saved. However, there’s still one awaiting rescue. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the rescuer.

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

good little omega

— He was an alpha, you were an omega. Can I make it anymore obvious? He was a crime boss and you were a movie star. What more can I say? Oh, he wanted you, really wanted you, but you swore you would never, ever need an alpha.

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pairing: alpha!shigaraki tomura x omega fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, abo/omegaverse, chad alpha!shiggy, virgin celeb!reader, kidnapping, drugging, sex slave auction, biting/marking, belly bulge, knotting, sex toys, heat, implied murder (lol rip shigsters last omegas), mind break, breeding, degradation, finger fucking, fucking in front of a crowd, modern world!au

word count: 6,174

a/n: this goes out to my shiggy stans. I never understood you until recently and now I blush like a schoolgirl when I see him. mondays are so busy, are they not? ive been home for 6 hours today wtf????

kinktober day 12 main kink: abo/omegaverse | kinktober masterlist

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You sat before the mirror, your eyes intently staring at your reflection. The people around you running around, chaotically bringing brushes and pencils to your face, the smell of chemicals in the air, tickling your overly sensitive nose.

“Are we ready?! Is Y/n ready?! I don’t think she’s ready?! We need to be out of here in five minutes, people, let’s hurry it up!”

Breaking your gaze from your reflection onto your agent in the background, you sighed softly at the growing sour and distressed omega pheromones. Oh, you realized suddenly, your nose unable to keep from scrunching at the mildewy detergent scent, they were really stressed out.

Today was the night of the biggest award show one could attend as a movie star celebrity in Japan. The Motion Picture Awards gave only the most prestigious and prodigious actors and actresses their due. A night of fashion, alcohol, and nervous pheromone pumping alphas and betas in a single room to reveal who was the best this year. Working in an industry such as your own, you had become quite the living legend already at the mere age of twenty-two.

As an omega, you grew up in a society that banned you from enlisting or attempting to join the ranks of the best in just about every field of focus or study. So that even included the area of acting. Casting Directors had always said the same thing each and every time you were forced to present your secondary gender to them all when being called back for auditions.

‘Omegas can’t be movie stars, your heats are too often and too long, they cause rifts in filming schedules this project cannot afford.’

‘We have too many prime alphas on set. Our film's projected main character is an alpha, we wouldn’t want to be caught up in a lawsuit should she find you to be too… fertile.’

‘Omegas can only be good, suitable nurtures and well, mothers. This movie just seems a bit too intense for a little omega like you!’

Omegas can’t do this, omegas can’t do that. Alphas, the pride of society, couldn’t be made to hold themselves back to your alluring scent and occasional heats. Betas, the majority of the population, didn’t feel a challenge when working alongside omegas. Omegas? Well, if there were any that actually existed within the film industry, they were for sure never heard from, or seen of.

At the age of eighteen, you had nearly given up on your long aspiring desire to become the first omega actor or actress to ever grace the scene. But just as you were ready to tell your agent that you were tired of all of the same, repetitive bullshit, a gentle alpha had approached you with an exciting role in mind for you.

Movies and cinematic films had always showcased omegas as sweet, nurturing individuals. For the most part, you agreed that that’s how you omegas were. You enjoyed hugging your close friends, scenting them softly as means of a small pack you had created as none of you were mated this young, yet didn’t ever wish to be bothered by self-righteous alphas or betas. Through many, many biology courses revolving around your secondary gender, you knew that the hormones that made you an omega also affected the brain to accept and view things in a… softer light. But unlike what they taught in school, and unlike what the alphas in society knew about omegas as they could never honestly watch an omega in heat while alone, was that omegas weren’t always the most nurturing or kind.

The week before your heat, the week of, and the week following your heat, you were always irritable, angry, almost cold. You’d flash your small fangs at anyone who dared to approach you with a scent you hated, your heat room never once escaping with everything torn to shreds, and you definitely did not wish to seek any fiber of soft love.

So when the alpha male sat in front of you, a single fang poking out of his lip as he exposed his neck in a motion of vulnerability and conceding to you — the omega — you knew he was serious.

He explained to you his plan on creating a more realistic movie surrounding the brutal truths of what being a single omega was like. Films had, after all, had always depicted omegas as being mated the moment they presented and going as far as saying that there were others means to be coupled to other alphas without actually being marked. It was atrociously wrong of the omega lifestyle, and it always made your stomach curl to see that it was an alpha or a beta actor putting on the role.

But he wanted to focus on the realities. The anger, sadness, and horrors you could face as a single, unmated omega. The director raved that you were the face for that movie and had a soul that made him come seek you out. And without so much as consultation from your agent, you agreed on the spot.

The title of the film had been an ironic one. Good Little Omega was what it was called in the end.

All in all, the movie had done poorly in the eyes of the critics. Many individuals — namely alphas and betas — claimed that the depiction of omegas within the film had been horribly wrong. Omegas were never sad, never homeless, never abandoned by society! That’s what they had all cried the moment the trailer flashed with bright letters:

AND INTRODUCING: Y/L/N Y/N (Ω)

Still, the movie made billions as many went to watch it because they ‘needed to see how horrible the movie was.’ They wanted proof that omegas weren’t cut as movie stars because how could someone who was out of commission for a week every two months be proactive on set. But all they got was a cinematic masterpiece.

You had taken a claim in the industry, one while small, that hadn’t hurt that much because you were much more focused on the fact that you now were a household name. Well, that is until you were nominated for the awards ceremony you were currently about to attend, only that it was the one from four years ago.

You were the first omega actress and now the first omega nominee. You hadn’t won, but that had solidified the step you had in the door. After that, the interests to hire you in omega roles came pouring through the door.

But you were brought back to reality when the setting spray splashed against your face, your eyes fluttering when they covered your scent glands with the flesh-colored band-aids they got for you. Alphas could never complain about you being a distraction if you smelled the same as betas.

Rising to your feet, you smiled graciously to your makeup and styling team, thanking them profusely as your agent placed her hand at the small of your back and began pushing you towards the exit.

“Goodluck!”

“Thank you!”

Shigaraki glared down the table of averted eyes, and his hands brought up under his chin twitched at his annoyance.

“Are you going to say anything, or are we going to remain silent?” he asked, his voice quiet yet heavy in all of their ears as they flinched. “Don’t think you’re going to get away without giving me an answer.”

The sour smell of fearful alphas should have corroded Shigaraki’s nose. It should have done something to unsettle the way that the young head sat on his black leather seat. But as a matter of fact, the young alpha had to resist the way he wanted to bare his teeth in a bloodied smile, his red eyes slit in his cruel lust for fear.

“O-Of course not, a-alpha!” croaked one of the smaller alphas down the table. Shigaraki snapped his eyes towards the yellow-haired croony, his neck exposed for the alpha, eyes refusing to look at his leader. “I-It’s just that, um, I — I mean, we don't know w-what happened to your mate!”

“I thought I gave clear and distinct instructions that you were supposed to have found them by this meeting,” Shigaraki stated, his voice somehow growing colder, meaner yet never once changing as his hands dropped from his chin to rest on the arms of his chair. He tilted his head, watching the pathetic alphas quiver like some scared, stupid omega. “Useless. Get out of here before I change my mind on killing you all where you sit.”

The crowd of alphas left quicker than Shigaraki could blink, leaving behind the reeking smell of scared alpha pheromones.

“Tomura-kun, you killed your mate,” came the singsong giggle from behind him, and Shigaraki didn’t bother turning around, his nose and ears sharp enough to pick up exactly it was behind him.

“They’re all a bunch of pissy lackeys,” Shigaraki simply stated, his eyes rolling as he slowly fell to the back of his chair, red eyes meeting golden ones that shone with mirth and joy. “What do you want, Toga?”

Toga leaned against the leather armrest, uncaring that Shigaraki hated his personal space invaded. The young female was an alpha, much like most of the people within this gang group, but unlike the others, she had a distinct, almost terrifying way to change the way she smelled. She could smell like anyone or any secondary gender. She often preferred to smell like an omega too.

“We have a guest visiting us today!” Toga chirped, her fingers clasping together. “I wanted to introduce him!”

“Bring Giran in,” Shigaraki snapped, his eyes narrowing with no real malice for the alpha next to him who simply pouted at the surprise — not a surprise — being ruined. Giran reeked of cigarettes and cheap body sprays that, when wafted with his distinct omega pheromones, made Shigaraki want to throw up. “Hurry up.”

“UGH!”

Shigaraki’s mouth was set in a firm line, his eyes watching as one of his most trusted allies walked to the table, and taking a seat in the abandoned chairs as Toga purred in happiness, sitting on the armchair of Giran’s chair, arms enveloping him.

“Shigaraki, how are you doing?” Giran smiled, the cigarette that seemed to take a permanent residence in his teeth moving with his words. “I came bearing some great news.”

“What do you have for me?” Shigaraki simply states, his eyes focusing on the letter that is unpocketed from Giran’s pockets and placed onto the table. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to sell me your omega niece again.”

Giran chuckled, looking at Toga, who was smirking softly, “I guess he still hates that joke, huh?”

“Absolutely livid!” Toga laughed.

Shigaraki growled, his mind and his inner alpha snarling at the lack of respect to the command of his question. He outranked them, outpowered them; they needed to respect his orders.

Giran took a deep inhale of his cigarette, sliding the card over to Shigaraki, his eyes averted, but his stance still firm. “I know you go through omegas faster than a teenage boy goes through a pack of tissues, but I think this can answer the pleas you have at night.”

Observing the card in his hand, Shigaraki scowls, unsure of how to feel about the print on the invitation.

“Say the word, and I’ll get you a seat,” Giran whispers, like a sinister god begging a mere mortal to sign over their life for something completely worthless. But Shigaraki knows his worth, and more importantly, he knows in this game he outranks Giran, who would never betray him. In the slightest. He huffs, his back hunched, and his eyes looking with subdued excitement.

“Who else is showing up?”

Giran knows the seat will be wanted that instant.

“No one who could hold a candle to you, alpha.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“Of course not, my liege.”

The award sitting in your hand feels almost fake as if the entire night was nothing more than a heat-driven fever dream. You had won, had actually won the most significant award of the night that an actress could win!

“Oh my gods, okay, okay,” your agent muttered beside you. Her eyes glued to the shiny gold statue between your legs. “Well, I know your heat starts tomorrow, and I’ll leave you alone for a week. But I swear, y/n, as soon as your mind isn’t a full-blown lusty heat brained bimbo, we’ll reconvene, and we will make sure you are nothing but the greatest!”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly state, eyes transfixed on the prize that felt like it could melt away any second right now. “That sounds wonderful.”

The car you were in pulled up to your front door, and you felt meek excited the car in nothing but a silk robe and slippers. The dress you had worn that night had already been put back into a plastic bag to be returned to the stylist who had offered to style you for the night. You waved with an almost transfixed look in your eyes as you closed your front door behind you, your heart hammering as adrenaline still coursed through your veins as if you had just been declared the victor of the category yet again.

Placing the trophy onto the table, you sighed in a wondrous, dreamy way.

You had done it.

You had won.

Fuck all those directors who had ever said anything different.

Still deep in your thoughts, you almost missed the knock on your door, and you figured that you must have left something in the car. Walking back over to the front door, your nose curled at the lack of scent, was it a beta?

Opening the door, you don’t remember seeing faces or even a scent of a pheromone. A single cloth wrapped over your head, and before you could send out your painful, fearful moments-from-heat omega pheromones, you were knocked out.

Cold and lifeless, you sunk against their arms, bile rising up to your throat as you know exactly what was going on. You were being kidnapped.

No… please not… not after all of this had happened.

You wake up to the sound of moving feet, sneering laughter, the feeling of coarse, hot, hands on your ass and wet, simmering tongues on your lubricated cunt. The sense is vivid. You can feel the very littlest touch on your body, the layer of scented pheromones on your glands, and slick from alphas — you know it's alphas imprinting themselves on you as a mark of a claim.

You knew about this from high school; it was an extremely outdated and frowned upon version of mating and claiming as it simply turned away any sort of pursuer who wasn’t the thick pheromone individual. You also knew it was frowned upon because if multiple individuals sought mateship with the typical omega individual, it would result in a massive, unsolvable death match. But these alphas, even with layering their scent on you so thick you thought you were turning crazy, didn’t attack. No, they took languid stripes of your fresh, intoxicating slick and growled to you, maybe, how that was how slick was supposed to be.

You wanted to move, to kick the stupid, demeaning alphas in the snout before running away, but in a twist of horrible realization, you soon figured out that despite your alert mind, you couldn’t move your body. Couldn’t shift it even the smallest of bits.

“I hope all you wonderful clients have been able to taste and smell your potential mates out here!” A loud, commanding introduction voice echoed from somewhere where you couldn’t see, his voice vibrating into the straps of your legs, but you couldn’t make a sound or even open your eyes. “As you know, we have such an arrangement for you all, the best of the best, really! We don’t wish to rush, but as always, all of these events are incredibly time-sensitive, so if you would, please alphas, please come and sit down, and we’ll begin bidding on our first of seven beautiful, fertile omegas tonight!”

The words sounded foreign in your ears yet at the same time, something so familiar because this was something you omegas were always warned about. This had to be some sort of omega mate auction, and by the stench of alphas who smelled like they owned millions and killed millions, you were in no doubt somehow caught up in one of the worst ones imagined.

Two long, completely hardened fingers suddenly entered your cunt, and as if for a single millisecond, your mind and your body were able to work in tangent, your hips bucked at the sweet feelings. Oh, your eyes tried to flutter, enjoying the way the two fingers circled the walls of your long lonely cunt.

“Please, alpha, please refrain from touching the merchandise for now, please join us so that we may begin!”

The two fingers buried within your cunt as if it was their right, slowly withdrew out of your pulsing walls, and you heard the sound of sneakers against the hardwood floor and felt relaxed and sickened at how you sort of liked it.

Heat brain, you reminded yourself. Just your stupid, horny heat brain.

You were a celebrity, you mantra, a dignified star who didn’t need a beta or an alpha unless you saw it fit. Right now, as you had repeated many times to the countless amounts of reporters who had asked, you had no interest in someone to share your heat with.

“Alright, and to start off our night in a rolling go! Please, everyone put your hands together for the fertile and beautiful thirteenth in-line the Princess of Cabodia: Dayanara!”

This auction was insane, all six omegas before you all sold from a price that ranged from 198 hundred million to the one right before you who sold for one billion dollars. You were a prideful omega, and you saw worth to your abilities, smell, and looks, but were you even worth anywhere in that range?

The entire time you had been set up in who knows what, the small, overwhelming pound of your heat sinking into the depths and pores of your body was becoming heavy. You couldn’t move a single muscle still, your body still refusing to respond to the call of your body, but the seep of your slick running down the innards of your thighs, undoubtedly beginning to pool on the ground, must be embarrassing of you.

Suddenly someone spread the skin below your ass out, and you couldn’t react as something sharp and prick stabbed into your flesh. You howled in the surprising pain, and you were fast to find that whatever they had injected you with had allowed systematic movement within your body. Your eyes fluttered open as two, impossibly huge alphas grabbed you by your forearm and hoisted you to your feet.

Your neck was far too weak to carry the weight of your head, so your eyes were transfixed on the white silk of the slutty dress they dressed you in. It showed off your cleavage with no regret, and by the feel and look of it, it barely passed the bottom of your ass. Your vision swam, the alphas all over the room distorted and melting within one another as you stepped onto a stage, the spotlight on you feeling deliriously hot and melting your skin.

Your hormones, already going crazy with your heat, seemed to intensify at the small of so many capable, potent, possessive alpha pheromones that suffocated the room. Handcuffs slapped onto your wrists, and you moaned pathetically at the sting of cold metal on your skin, and you obediently followed the command of one alpha to go on your knees.

A nail slammed between the metal links of the handcuffs, practically stapling you to the wooden floor, and you whimpered at the feeling of a stuffed pillow mount being placed beneath your lower stomach. You were in a forced and easily accessible mating position with your slick and cunt exposed for all the alphas to re-smell and see.

Moaning, you shifted against the mount, your body not able to have the full movement you needed to ward off that building, insufferable heat in your core, but nothing you could do seemed to satisfy it.

“And for our biggest prize of the night, we have the one, the only, the beautiful sensation Y/l/n Y/n!” the auctioneer roared. His voice echoing in your ear as he walked over to you, exposing your dripping cunt to the crowd of alphas who had all gotten a sweet taste of your essence already. His hand came down to slap your ass with a chuckle. “Where do we start the bidding on this one, alphas? She needs no introduction, and none of you better be pussies because we know this bitch of an omega won’t take any tiny cocks as her alpha! She needs to be broken in, fucked to submission. No one likes a trailblazer… someone needs to remind of what fucking trail she’s supposed to be on. Besides, the bitch is in fucking heat, and if you don’t claim her, I just might do it myself!”

“75 million!” someone started the bidding.

You stiffened.

“75 to the man in the back!”

“90 million!” someone challenged.

“We’re up to 90!”

“125 million!”

“Do I hear another offer?”

“250 million!”

The number climbed and climbed, the same voices coming to challenge each other until finally, they rounded out to a quantity that sounded bizarre even to you.

“950 million!”

If it had been possible for your knees to give out, you would have been collapsed onto the floor, the pool of slick that continued to lubricate your cunt without a doubt drowning you as you craved the need to be fucked by someone with undoubted alpha pheromones and cock in this room.

“950 million?” the auctioneer repeated, his voice for sure carrying a shark-like grin. “Going once, going twice—”

“Five billion.”

The gasp in the crowd was undeniable, and the omega in you crooned, knowing that this alpha valued you and your omega to be the price of five billion US dollars.

“Fuck!” screamed the man who had presented the 950 million deal.

“Wowee, five billion dollars, everyone! Anyone think they can beat that?! Going once! Going twice!” The crowd remained in silence, and you shook against your restraint, the heat emitting from your cunt almost demanding to be seen and fucked through this heat week. “SOLD! The virgin celebrity, Y/l/n Y/n sold to our own Shigaraki Tomura!”

The cheers of amaze weren’t nearly as loud as the smell of reeking petty alpha.

“Come and pay up, alpha, and then you can show us… a demonstration of how you’re going to break this omega.”

“Shut up.” Shigaraku growled, his footsteps heavy in your ear as you feel him climb up the stage, and you weakly tilted your head to look at the white-haired alpha boss hand over a simple credit card before walking over to you, his eyes unreadable as he looked you dead in the eye.

He reached out a finger that raised your chin up for him to study your face, moving and tilting your head as he pleased as a small, sinister smile pressed to his lips as he dropped your head. A sharp, uncomfortable pain fell on your chin as it crashed to the floor, and you shivered at the feeling of his calloused and rough fingers running down your exposed back.

“You’re such a small omega, still stupidly tiny. I bet you’ve never thought your first knot would come from someone like me,” Shigaraki laughed, his fingers and voice ice cold. His words were soft, spoken in a way that had your omega stupidly cooing for having secret conversations with your alpha who promised to fuck you till you were carrying a litter of pups. “I hope you realize that this is real life, that I will break you, and no hero in this world will be able to fucking save you.”

“Fuck the omega!” someone from the crowd screamed, and Shigaraki glared upwards. Still, you shivered in the thought of this alpha who spent five billion dollars to make you his claiming you, fucking your stupid heat brain into mush in front of these smaller, irrelevant alphas.

“I’ll do what I fucking please,” Shigaraki snapped, but the fingers you remembered to have been the last ones to enter your slicked crazy walls seemed to be his. They moved deep within you, curling and spreading your tight, sopping wet cavern apart, letting your pathetic, chirping cries echo powerfully in the room as lusting, near rutting alpha pheromones filled the room. “For fucks sake, omega, your pussy’s fucking tight as shit! Don’t you have any real knotted toys?”

You couldn’t respond back, your body on the road to a complete shut down at the feeling of something other than silicone deep within your body, fingering and dragging against your pheromone soaked walls.

“Alpha, y-your fingers feel so good!” you gasp, your hips thrusting backward, enjoying the way his fingernails press onto your warm velvet walls. “So good, you make me feel so good already.”

“I’ve seen you all over the news,” Shigaraki growled low into your ear. “Talking about how you didn’t want an alpha, how you never needed to feel the tightness that a fat knot could bring you, and look at you now. I’ve barely touched you, barely begun to make you mine, and yet you’re already begging for me, omega.”

Your arms tug at the handcuffs, pathetically wanting them off. Exasperatedly seeking more friction from your newly bought alpha. You can’t think straight, can’t come up with a single response except the stupid apologetic, “I’m so sorry alpha, I didn’t know i-it would be y-you!”

“Don’t be shy on her, Shigaraki! Fuck the slutty omega already! Fucking knot and claim her in front of us, I want to hear the omega whore scream. It’s always hotter when it’s the first claim ever!”

“You better learn how to shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you for interrupting my fucking session here,” Shigaraki seethed, his red, smoldering eyes ripping from yours and glaring at some loser alpha behind you. You couldn’t care. You only wanted what looked like the growing cock in Shigaraki’s pants; you wanted to feel the cock fill up your cunt, and his knot to lock you both in place.

You drooled at the thought, your loud, whimpering cries unable to keep from pouring out as the slick from your core seemed to pour endlessly from your pussy, demanding attention and a knot. “Breed me, fill me with your pups,” you begged fingers taking in his dirty fingers in your mouth, tongue wildly and uncontrollably flicking across his fingers in hopes it would be a sinking prayer of your promise to be good. “I want your knot, alpha, I want these stupid alphas to know you’re so much better than them~!”

Shigaraki’s once snarl fell when he looked at you, a slowly growing smirk falling on his face as his lips spread into a cruel smirk, one that had you moaning around his fingers as he pinched the pink muscle in your mouth before disappearing before you.

“I smelled your distress when I put my fingers up your sloppy little cunt right before the auction happened; I could tell even with your growing heat that you hated the feeling of my fingers up your pretty pussy. But look at you now, I haven’t even set you on my goddamn knot, haven’t stretched that tiny cunt to its max. You’re smelling better than a bitch in heat,” Shigaraki growled in your ear. His clothed chest pressing deliriously into your exposed back, the huge cock outline in his pants grinding incessantly into your wet core, undoubtedly leaving a damp patch where his cock ground into you. “You’re an actress, aren’t you, little omega? I bet you just needed this audience cheering your name to break your mind over this. How. Pathetic.”

And the pressure on your tongue is gone, the drool and saliva sticky and cold on your chin as you whimper for your alpha. You promised that it wasn’t right, it was just that you had been scared before, but your alpha was so strong, his pheromones so scary and mean, he could protect you and fill you up with so many pups you couldn’t help but to be excited now.

The smell of Shigaraki seemed to brighten, and you moaned when his hands pressed the white dress up, allowing for your naked ass to be seen by him and everyone who stayed to watch. Shigaraki squeezed your asscheeks away, chuckling at the way your small asshole clenched in your embarrassment and pain at how your hormone-driven heat demanded that he fuck you and knot you now.

“So fucking wet,” Shigaraki observed, his fingertips tracing the slick on your folds before a small pop told you that he licked you clean from his fingers. “Such sweet slick too, you really are a prime omega, little one.”

You whimpered, ass shaking for him to continue to touch you, to continue to fuck you more.

“I don’t think you’re ready for my knot, precious omega,” Shigaraki taunted, and his words were a sealing deal in your lusting mind. Your hips knocking backward in some sort of desperation for more.

“She won’t,” commented the auctioneer.

“I will!” you scream, eyes filled with painful tears that could only be resolved with your alphas knot and claim. “I can take your knot, alpha!”

Shigaraki makes a small noise, and you choke at the feeling of something huge, nearly monstrous, shift into your cunt. You were a virgin, but even you knew that it was merely the head of his alpha thick cock, not enough for you to be satisfied, not far enough in you to breed or fuck you properly. All the moans in your throat were slightly painful, and the tears in your eyes continued to fall as you rocked your hips backward, trying to sink yourself further on his cock, wanting him deep in your womb.

You craved him.

“Ah, good, you can take more,” came the airy, almost insane driven coo of Shigaraki, the lack of humor making your cunt flutter against his thick, long cock. “Cry for your alpha, little omega.”

With that, Shigaraki slammed into you with no mercy, his cock bottoming out into you with a powerful, edging thrust. You screamed in pain, tears leaking from your eyes, and even with the pool of lubricating slick, his cock was far too big, incredibly thick that you felt your inner walls splitting in two as he fucked you as if you weren’t in delirious pain.

Drool and tears covered your arms, your painted fingers digging into the floorboards with crazy strength that you clawed scars on the floor as Shigaraki rutted deep within you.

Shigaraki commanded you with every thrust he gave, and soon the omega in you was cooing, howling for more, the pain of having your virginity ripped from right under you having become bubbling, glowing pleasure. You screamed in pleasure, Shigaraki grabbing onto your rolling hips to slam you back onto his cock, allowing for his thick cock to hit deep within you over and over again. The angle and power he possessed with every thrust were almost inhumane, nothing your lonely heat filled nights could ever dream of recreating ever. Shrill moans and pleas drowned out the annoying commentary of your onlookers, Shigaraki’s chest still flushed against your back, his hips landing heavily on your ass that was at this point raised because of the mount beneath you.

“My alpha,” you babble, eyes unfocused, hazy, and incredibly heavy as you stared at some point on the wall, overwhelmed with the feeling of Shigaraki’s hot cock pounding in you. “My alpha, such a good alpha. His cock is making my tummy feel funny, making my pussy feel so tight. Please fill me with your children, I’ll be a good omega to you and them, I promise! I promise — I — oh myyy goddd — I promise, alpha!!!”

Shigaraki puffs up with the praise, but he continued to fuck into you roughly, mercilessly, as if you were nothing more than the breeding whore omega that he had purchased you for. The wet slaps and satisfying squelches rang in the blazing heat room, the smell of the pleasured and heat insane omega saturating deeply within his nose, and in the other's nose, the prideful smell of a satisfied alpha.

Your spongy walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating, pounding cock, sometimes even forcibly because, by god, it was hot when his cock would twitch within your womb, especially against your cervix.

“Fuck, you’re so damn annoying,” Shigaraki snarled into your ear, his teeth biting and scraping along your neck, and you wailed when his teeth dragged over the sweet scent gland on your neck. The one and only place for mating bites to go. His hand gripped your hair, tugging your head back so that you could feel his rough facial skin rub up against yours. “If you want me to fill you with my pups, you better be the best fucking omega on this goddamn planet.”

“I can be the best! I’ll be the best!” you cried, your ass shifting backward to meet his drilling hips.

The delirious sensation of his cock rocking against your cervix slowly begins to inflate the knot on his cock, restricting his still barbaric thrusting as he made to move faster. He wanted you to cum before he knotted entirely within you.

The pressure in your stomach is scorching and impossibly tight, and he takes another long stripe at your scent gland. You tremble with need, your fingers tearing into the wooden floors. You can feel the knot on his cock swelling up, catching onto the opening of your cunt with every successive cunt, and you begin to cry, shake, and tremble as the knot becomes too big.

Your eyes cross, your tongue falling out of your mouth as you babble his name. Your walls clamp around his knotted cock with the ferocity of a vice, and your body jerks violently as you cum hard around his cock. The slick essence of your orgasm slipping out of the few lasting places open before Shigaraki’s knot fills you out entirely. Despite his cock unable to move, the swollenness of his knot preventing him from moving out of you, Shigaraki still shoves his weight into his hips, the inflated knot stretching your cock out so widely, your vision went white, and you came yet a second time.

A small pop was heard, and suddenly with a rush of thick, hot, and heavy white cum exploded within your womb, his teeth sink around your scent gland, marking you — mating you. He filled you, filled you, and filled you. His cum wouldn’t stop until your belly was swollen with his hot cum, and he eventually fell off of you with a shaky, shallow breath.

You still remained on the mount, your eyes unfocused, breaths mumbling to your alpha, a promise to carry out every single pup he gave you and would give you. You were his omega, his good little omega, and you would never disappoint your alpha. Not now, not ever.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The next week, you opened your door with a broad smile, your usual clothes replaced with a dress Shigaraki had picked for you and a frilly white apron on as your agent was standing outside of your house, eyes wide, mouth gaped at the still bleeding mate wound on your shoulder.

“Ah, how funny!” you laughed, waving your hand as you sighed dreamily, your eyes fluttering at the thought of your alpha who was on a business call right now. “I’m actually going to be quitting! My alpha and I have many plans right now, I gotta produce as many litters as I can, being an actress would never give me this sort of meaning in life!”

“B-But, you’re doing so much?! You have so much to do! You can’t give up?!”

“Oh, my love, we both know that I look much cuter with a pregnant belly! Don’t worry,” you smile, taking your agent's hand, brightly smiling at her one last time. “I’m sure all omegas will eventually find their alpha so they won’t be so depressed and angry like I was!”

Your agent doesn’t get another word in.

You slam the door in her face, your hands already resting on your belly that you knew was already growing the life of your first litter of pups. It had been known the second Shigaraki filled you up anymore.

You were a good little omega, and your alpha needed you!

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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ravennm84 · 4 years

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Damning Evidence

This story was inspired by the idea of a what would happen if a civilian tried to go after Ladybug or Chat Noir’s miraculous and it got caught on video. Origially, I was going to have Alya be the one recording, but I decided someone outside of the Akuma Class needed some love. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

Aurore Borell considered herself a dedicated weather girl and journalist. She paid attention to leads, always checked her sources, listened to witnesses after akuma battles, and always minded her safety when there was an attack. The akuma of the day was a boy from her school, she didn’t know him personally but he was going by the name Stillshot. Aurore had heard on the news that he had the ability to freeze people in place if he took your picture.

The battle had moved close to where she lived and she hadn’t felt safe in her home, seeing as the akuma was a street level type and she lived in a lower apartment with her parents. So, she had moved to the roof of her apartment building with her phone to record everything she could see from her vantage point.

And boy, did she see a lot.

Ladybug and Chat Noir were barely keeping clear of the beams that were shooting from the camera in Stillshot’s hands. They were even more encumbered because they were carrying a civilian around with them. Aurore recognized her as Lila Rossi, another student from her school. She didn’t know her well, but was pretty sure that the girl was a total liar. She’d once heard her say that she used to be a junior weather girl in Italy, which was admittedly impressive. But when Aurore looked her up, she couldn’t find a single news or radio station that ever listed her as an employee, intern, or even a volunteer; so she was pretty sure that it was a total lie.

Looking down, her phone in hand, she could see Stillshot shouting at the two heroes for protecting the girl. To her surprise, Ladybug and Chat Noir didn’t look thrilled by the situation either, but were still doing their best to protect her. When Ladybug called for her Lucky Charm and got a can of hairspray, Aurore was excited to see how the heroes would use it to save the day.

Lila was quickly tossed to the side, Chat Noir used his Cataclysm to destroy the top spray button, and then Ladybug chucked the can at the akuma. Hairspray practically exploded all over him, covering his lens with a thick coat of the sticky substance and making it impossible for the camera to focus enough to take a picture. Then the yo-yo shot at the camera, breaking the lens and freeing the little purple butterfly to be caught and purified.

Seeing the magical ladybugs swarm around the city always made Aurore smile. So much so that she almost missed Ladybug and Chat Noir jumping over her roof and landing on the building next to hers. It was a story lower than her apartment building, which gave her a good vantage point to look over at them. It was a bit surprising to see that they had brought Lila with them… and they appeared anything but happy with the girl.

“Thank you so much for saving me! I was so scared, and I have no idea why he was coming after me-”

“Will you stop lying already? There’s no one here to show off for.” Ladybug snapped at the girl, surprising both Lila and Aurore. “We know that you told that poor boy that you would get him a personal interview with Gabriel Agreste to become one of his photographers, and he believed you because you're a Gabriel model. Then when he went to the mansion, at the time you told him to, he was arrested for trespassing!”

Chat Noir put a hand on his partner’s shoulder in an attempt to calm her down, but he didn’t look any happier. “This has got to stop, Lila. We’ve heard about all the things you’ve been doing; lying about having disabilities, sexually harassing Adrien Agreste, getting Marinette Dupain-Cheng expelled from school because she called you out on your lies! Do you not care that your lies are hurting people?”

The facade that Lila had been wearing at first faded into a cruel scowl that caused a cold shiver to crawl down Aurore’s back.

“Do I look like I care? I only tell people what they want to hear. If they’re stupid enough to believe me, then that’s their own fault.”

“And what about the danger you’ve put your family in?” Ladybug asked, seeming almost desperate. “What if Hawkmoth sees that fake interview on the Ladyblog of you claiming to be my best friend? He’ll target you or your family, just to get leverage to get out miraculous!”

Lila let out a manic laugh before stepping closer to Ladybug. “Like I would care about that? If anything, I would gladly help him if it meant taking you down!”

That’s when the girl lunged at the red and black spotted hero, her hands reaching for her ears as Ladybug was knocked back onto the roof in surprise. But before she could rip the jewels from her earlobes, Chat Noir had grabbed Lila by the back of her jacket and flung the girl away from his partner. The italian landed hard on her shoulder and Aurore could see scrapes on her cheek and knees from the impact as Chat helped Ladybug to her feet and checked her ears to make sure her miraculous were still in place.

Aurore made doubly sure that she was out of sight as she kept recording, barely believing that someone would dare try to take Ladybug’s earrings while knowing what would happen to Paris and its people without Ladybug. Lila’s smile reminded her of a feral animal as she stood up. “Now I’ll make both of you regret ever challenging me! Everyone saw you carrying me away, I’ll tell everyone that you beat me up.”

“And why would we even do that?” Chat snapped at her.

“I’ll think of something,” she continued to grin. “A few tears, tear my clothes a bit more, you’ve already given me a few marks to make it more believable. By the time I’m done with the two of you, you’ll be just as infamous as Hawkmoth.”

Chat and Ladybug were alerted by their miraculous that they were down to their last minute and had no choice but to flee, glaring at the girl before jumping away. Aurore continued to record as Lila grabbed the sleeve of her jacket and ripped it at the shoulder, then slapped herself across the face to leave nail marks on her right cheek, opposite of the scrape on the left . She paced around for a moment, muttering to herself before she began crying.

“I don’t know why they did it. *sob* They carried me to the roof, I thought it was to make sure I was alright, but then they started blaming me for the akuma, said that they should have just let it have me and then they wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore. *hicup-sob-hicup* I tried to get away but Ladybug slapped-” she stopped crying suddenly, giving her head a shake “No, I can do better than that.” Then she started crying again “I tried to get away, but Chat Noir grabbed me and threw me down, it hurt so bad. Then Ladybug slapped me and said that if she ever saw me again, she’d do worse than just scare me. Chat Noir even said he would gladly use his Cataclysm on me. Please, I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do!”

Then Lila’s face went back to that manic look that gave Aurore the creeps before skipping over to the fire escape and began climbing down. She stopped recording as soon as the girl was out of sight and then played the recording back. She’d never been so relieved to have a good quality phone, the camera had caught everything that happened and picked up every word that was spoken.

She was nearly in a state of panic, indignation, and urgency as she raced inside and down the stairs, calling her producer at KIDZ+ news to call an emergency meeting and get some police there as well. The producer sounded skeptical at first, but when Aurore went on to say that she had proof of someone that was not akumatized trying to steal Ladybug’s earrings, that got her moving.

~oOo~

The entire upper level staff of KIDZ+ and TVi News were present when Aurore arrived. Officer Roger Raincompix had come, along with Mayor Bourgeois. They had been in a meeting when Roger received the call and the mayor insisted on coming, saying that if someone was threatening the heroes of Paris, he wanted to be in the know. She began playing her recording from the beginning, attempting to prove how recent it had been made and that she’d of had no time to doctor the footage. When it came to the footage from the roof… the reaction to her recording had been immediate and about what she had expected; shock, horror, fear, and disgust at the girl’s actions.

“Are you sure this recording is accurate?” Officer Roger asked, looking like he was about to be sick.

“I’m sure,” she said before sliding it towards him. “Check it, put it through every test you can think of to see if it’s authentic. I recorded that video from the roof of my building, it was right by where the akuma battle ended. I’ll give you my address so you can make sure it’s right.”

“I can also say, from a preliminary look, that I didn’t see any cuts, skips, or changes in color or texture which would indicate that this recording has been altered.” Nadja Chamack stated as she restarted the video and looked it over with a more critical eye. “At this point, I’d say that this is authentic, but I agree that we’ll want to run some tests to be absolutely sure before putting in on the news.”

Just then, Roger’s phone rang. He mentioned that it was the station and that he had to answer it. Stepping away, Aurore watched his back go stiff and his brows crease into a deep scowl. “I understand. Are her parents present?” Another pause and he nodded. “Put her in a private interrogation room, and don’t let her talk to anyone else. Tell her that we cannot do anything or properly take her statement unless she has a guardian present. Do what you can to keep her at the station and her mother present. I’ll be in touch very soon.”

Hanging up his phone, he turned back to the group. “Apparently, a Mlle. Lila Rossi has just come to the police station claiming that she was assaulted by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Her injuries that Officer Laurent told me, match the ones that were shown in the video.” He then looked to the President of TVi News. “How long will it take your people to inspect the recording?”

“Since it hasn’t been uploaded to any social media sites and we have the date, location, the phone that recorded the video, and the person who recorded it; not long, maybe a few hours.” She glanced at the clock, reading 11:27am before looking back at Officer Roger. “It could be ready and verified in time for the 6 o’clock news tonight.”

“Get started,” Roger nodded, “I’ll be sending a few of my people from our tech division to observe and double check the work. Once it has been verified, I want copies made for evidence.”

“I will also need a copy,” Mayor Bourgeois spoke up, finally finding his voice after the shock of the video. “If I’m not mistaken Mme. Rossi is employed by the Italian Embassy, meaning this could result in an international incident. If this turns out to be true, I will not allow this horrid girl to remain in my city or to ever set foot on French soil again.”

The TVi President nodded, writing down notes while Officer Roger called his best tech people from the station to drop whatever they were doing and come to the TVi station immediately. Then he turned to Aurore, took her statement, her address, and had her send him a copy of the recording before calling another one of his officers to meet him at that address to compare the video to the scene. As well as sending officers to the Dupain-Cheng Bakery and the Agreste Mansion to get corroborating statements.

~oOo~

Lila was beginning to get tired, she had been fake crying for hours and really wanted to go home and take a nap. It had become even more taxing when she was forced to call her mother to the station or else the police wouldn’t be able to take her statement. At least her mother had bought her story hook, line, and sinker and was already talking about filing charges against the city of Paris for allowing a couple of vigilante teenagers to run around and hurt her daughter.

It was just after 5pm when Officer Roger, Sabrina’s dad, entered the interrogation room along with Officer Laurent. The younger officer had taken her statement not long after her mother arrived at the station but had told them that, due to the serious accusations being made, it would be best to take this up the chain of command to make sure that nothing was overlooked. That had made Lila nervous at first, but she was confident that they would believe her. After all, she was the one that had been hurt and Ladybug and Chat Noir were nowhere in sight to contradict her story.

“Hello Mme. and Mlle. Rossi, I’m Officer Roger. I want you to tell me what happened.” He said as he placed his tablet and a notebook on the table and pulled out a pen.

“Do I have to do this again? Just thinking about what they did scares me.” Lila squeezed her eyes shut as she pinched her inner thigh to draw tears. Her mother wrapped an arm around her shoulder in comfort, eating it up.

“I understand that this must be difficult, but I need to hear your statement.”

Giving a shaky nod, Lila went into her story again, making sure that her voice trembled a bit and to keep her shoulders hunched. “I don’t know why they did it. *sob* They carried me to the roof, I thought it was to make sure I was alright, but then they started blaming me for the akuma, said that they should have just let it have me and then they wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore. *hicup-sob-hicup* I tried to get away, but Chat Noir grabbed me and threw me down, he even kicked me. It hurt so bad. Then Ladybug slapped me when I was trying to get up and then grabbed my face, it felt like she was going to crush my chin. She said that if she ever saw me again, she’d do worse than just scare me. Chat Noir even said he would gladly use his Cataclysm on me. Please, I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do!”

Officer Roger nodded as he continued to write everything down. “And you’re willing to testify to this in a court of law?”

Mme. Greta Rossi was already nodding to the affirmative. “Yes, those incompitent vigilantes are going to pay for hurting my daughter. I want to file lawsuits against them for assault and intimidation.”

Roger nodded in understanding but then gave Mme. Rossi a curious look. “I understand that you are upset, but I don’t see how Ladybug and Chat Noir could be labeled as incompitent. They have always defeated the akumas sent by Hawkmoth.”

“That’s not true, my daughter’s school was closed for months, months, because those two couldn’t beat the principal of her school after he was akumatized and damaged the school.”

He blinked at her. “Mme. Rossi, I’m not sure if you are aware of this, but our daughters are enrolled in the same school and attend the same class. There have been days when an akuma will cause the school to open a bit late or close early, but it has never been closed for months. And as for M. Damocles being akumatized, that occurred after school hours, with the majority of the battle taking place off of school grounds, and he was returned to normal before the end of the night. It did not interrupt the school at all.”

Hearing this, Mme. Rossi’s mouth dropped open before turning to look at her daughter, who had gone suspiciously quiet and was ducking down a bit in her chair.

“And as for the lawsuits that you wish to file, you should be made aware that there lawsuits being filed against your daughter by three different parties for assault, slander, intimidation, sexual harassment, and a few other charges.”

“WHAT!?”

“Yes, Madame. Some of those charges are being filed by the city of Paris, itself.”

“How dare you!” Mme. Rossi yelled as she stood so quickly that she knocked her chair backwards onto the floor. “My daughter was assaulted by those two and the city has the nerve to blame Lila? I won’t stand for this!”

Officer Roger stayed calm as he turned on his tablet and played the video he’d queued up. As Mme. Rossi watched the video, her anger ebbed away into surprise at the things the two heroes said and how Lila didn’t deny it; then shock when Lila attacked Ladybug for her earrings only to see that she was injured because Chat Noir had protected his partner; back to anger as she watched her daughter rip her clothes, scratch her own face, and then practice the lines she had told the police, almost word for word. Officer Laurent was forced to come around the table to steady Greta before righting her chair so she could sit down.

“For the record, Mme. Rossi, multiple people have inspected this recording, including TVi News and members of the Paris Police Department, and have come to the conclusion that it is authentic. No tampering whatsoever. Your daughter assaulted Ladybug in an attempt to steal her miraculous, which is designated as a terrorist act as she and Chat Noir are the defenders of Paris, and currently our best defense against the known terrorist, Hawkmoth.”

Lila had been silent since giving her statement again, she hadn’t expected her mother talking about the school being closed or Officer Roger destroying that lie so easily, but that was something she might have been able to recover from if given the chance. But now with that recording, actual hard evidence that proved that she’d been lying, had attacked Ladybug, and had faked her injuries and lied to the police… there was hardly a single thin straw for her to grab at, but she had to try.

Lila turned up the tears as she desperately gripped her mother’s arm. “Mom, you don’t actually believe them, do you? You know I would never do the things they’re saying I did. That video has to be a fake! Please, you have to believe me!”

To her dismay, her mother removed her grip on her arm, stood from her chair, and began pacing the room. “Who are the other parties that are filing lawsuits against her?”

“Mom!”

“Be quiet!” Mme. Rossi snapped at her daughter, glad that her mouth snapped shut before slumping lower in her seat. “Who else has she hurt?”

“M. Agreste is planning on filing lawsuits for sexual harassment and slander. The Dupain-Chengs are filing lawsuits for slander, intimidation, and harassment. I have looked into the school and found that Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was indeed expelled after your daughter accused her of assault and theft, but later recanted her story while claiming that she suffered from a disease that makes her lie uncontrollably. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng also claims that your daughter has been bullying her by spreading lies and rumors about her to isolate her from her friends.”

“She’s lying! Marinette’s the one that’s been bullying me!”

“I SAID BE QUIET!”

Lila jumped in her chair that time before cowering, she’d never seen her mother this angry before. It was actually kind of scary, but even worse… she was sure that her mother wasn’t going to support her or back up her lies. She was on her own.

~oOo~

When the news broke an hour later, Mme. Rossi had never been more humiliated in her life. The Embassy had called her as well, saying that she would be on leave pending an investigation, meaning that she would be lucky to still have her job by the end of the week. After leaving her daughter at the police station to face the charges against her, Greta had made a beeline for the school, demanding to know why they had never contacted her about the truancy, the disabilities, or her daughter’s supposed tumble down the stairs. The teacher and principal had given her less than satisfactory answers like “Lila said you were busy and we didn’t want to disturb you” and “she promised that she would get us those doctors notes”. She was on the phone with the Board of Governors before she was off the property. Since they had also seen the news, she could easily say that they were almost as upset as she was and the two incompitent educators would be lucky if they were still employed at the end of the week.

The visit to the Dupain-Cheng Bakery was even more enlightening. From the stories Lila had told her during the past few months, she expected Marinette to be cold, callous, and rude. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Sabine Cheng had invited her up to the livingroom to speak and Marinette soon joined them. She was a shy but sweet girl that offered to get her a glass of water and whatever she would like from the bakery. To be honest, she had wanted to try the pastries from the shop months ago, but had made the mistake of believing her daughter when she said that they were terrible. So she asked for a berry scone and Marinette gave a kind smile before going down stairs and coming back up with the scone, a few different macaroons, a croissant, and a chocolate chip cookie.

When Mme. Rossi looked at her in surprise, Marinette gave her a kind smile. “You look upset, I thought having a variety of sweets might help cheer you up.”

The sincerity on the girl's face nearly brought tears to her eyes. She couldn’t believe that her daughter had been tormenting this sweet girl just because she had called her out on her lies. She asked the girl honestly, what her daughter had done to her. And although hesitant, Marinette told her everything; from the threats and lies, to acting like she had been pushed down the stairs and planting her necklace in Marinette’s locker; if it could even be called that since it didn’t lock.

After that, Marinette asked to be excused and Greta proceeded to speak with Sabine. She admitted that she’d had no knowledge as to what Lila had been up to, that the school had never contacted her about any of the incidents, she had already filed a complaint with the Board of Governors, and recommended that they do the same. Despite Lila’s terrible treatment of Marinette, Sabine accepted the advice with gratitude but informed her that they would still be filing the lawsuits against Lila. Greta stated that she hadn’t come to change their minds, but to hear Marinette’s side of the story.

Just before she left, Marinette hurried down the stairs with a small white silk square with royal purple flowered embroidery. In one corner, the initials G.R. were stitched in elegant script and looked to be hand sewn. “It’s a handkerchief, my way of saying ‘thank you’ for hearing me out. Other than my parents and the police officers that came by this morning, you were the first person to really listen to what I had to say about Lila. Thank you.”

Not bothering to hold back tears this time, Greta accepted the gift and asked the girl for a hug, which she easily gave. Then turning to Sabine, she told her. “You are wonderful parents, I am so sorry that my daughter has put you through so much. I just hope after this, she’ll learn that actions have consequences.”

After that, Greta jumped in a cab and made her way over to the Agreste Mansion. This was a completely different experience compared to the Dupain-Chengs. She never actually spoke to Gabriel Agreste, only Adrien and Gabriel’s assistant Nathalie. Adrien explained that he discovered that Lila was lying on the first day when she claimed to be best friends with Ladybug and the descendant of the wielder of Fox Miraculous. That was when Ladybug had shown up and chastised her for lying about her. Adrien agreed due to the danger of tempting Hawkmoth.

He went on to say how Lila claimed that she was traveling the world with her mother and was friends with all sorts of celebrities. If Mme. Rossi wanted a more complete list of her lies, to check out the Ladyblog, as she had done several interviews. Adrien also went on to talk about how during their first photoshoot together, Lila wouldn’t keep her hands off of him and it made him uncomfortable. Lila had told him that unless he wanted Marinette to suffer even more, he’d stop complaining.

When Greta mentioned that she was told that the photoshoot was a relationship announcement between the two teens, and that she’d had no idea that she was a Gabriel model, Nathalie pulled up Lila’s contract on her tablet. The one that Greta had supposedly signed to grant her underaged daughter permission to work as a model. Mme. Rossi told the assistant at a glance that it wasn’t her signature and Lila had never shown her any such paperwork. To which Nathalie informed her that Gabriel would also be adding forgery and fraud to the list of charges being filed against her daughter, Greta simply nodded in acceptance. After all, forgery and fraud weren’t nearly as bad as assault, sexual harassment, or terrorism.

~oOo~

When her daughter was brought to trial two weeks later, Greta Rossi sat dutifully behind her daughter but refused to testify on her behalf, not that it would have helped her. Between all the charges that were filed against her by the city of Paris, the Agreste family, the Dupain-Cheng family, and the investigation into the school and Lila’s actions by the Board of Governors; her daughter had no leg to stand on. She also made the mistake of lying to the judge on the first day and committing perjury, which only added to the charges.

The trial lasted for three days due to all the evidence and testimonies brought against her and the fact that Lila was the daughter of a diplomat. However, the evidence was overwhelming and the Italian government had already revoked any immunity that Lila might have had. The jury found her guilty and the judge declared that the sentencing would lie in the domain of the Italian government. Although it was decided that Lila would not be permitted to return to France.

Mme. Rossi made it clear to the court that she was already preparing to send her daughter to a juvenile corrections center in Italy, where she would remain until her 18th birthday and the courts would decide further sentencing.

Lila had screamed at her mother, accusing her of betraying her only daughter and that she was not her mother anymore. She had also hissed and attempted to attack Marinette for “ruining her life because she couldn’t keep her nose out of her business” and “why couldn’t you have just killed yourself”. Greta did her best to ignore the cruel words, but found herself pulling out the handkerchief that Marinette had given her. It was a small comfort, but it was more than what she deserved after Lila had hurt so many people.

Taglist:

@7-sage-7 @fantasiame @seraphichana

@t1dwarrior-of-earth @ghostmaster83 @izang

@ulmban @plushbookworm @corabeth11

@ramos123 @darkened-flame @caffeinetheory

@iamablinkmarvelarmy @abrx2002

@delightfulcookiesrecipespizza

#marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #lila salt #lila karma #lila gets exposed #ladybug #chat noir #aurore boréale #ml fic #mlbjustice

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aelingalathyniusrailme · 3 years

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Gwynriel- when Gwyn confesses to Azriel about being in love with him but he thinks he isn't good enough for her so he runs away, but while he's gone Gwyn gets injured and then he confesses too

It's been a couple weeks since I got this one but I finally got around to it. I hope you enjoy it and please stick around for the ending it's my favorite part. also if anyone likes it and wants to send me more prompts my inbox is always open

‘hold me until we are all but dust’

“Azriel,” she held his hands in her own, gripping them as she looked into his eyes. “Azriel, I think-no I know you are my mate. And I know that you struggle with conveying your feelings so you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t know that,” She felt her eyes begin to water and she huffed out a laugh. “That I love you, and I didn’t think it would ever have been possible for me to feel this way after what had happened to me. And god did I want it, but only in my wildest dreams and fantasies did I think that even a fraction of how I feel now, was possible. But you, my shadowsinger, have exceeded any expectation I could have ever hoped for and I know there will never be anyone else who can make me feel as safe, has been my friend, challenges me, and infuriates me as much as you do.”

“Gwyn,” he breathed.

She delicately cupped his face in her palms, gently wiping a tear away. Gwyn whispered, “you idiot I love you.”

“Gwyn,” he said again. So rarely was he at a loss for words but it seemed he could say nothing more than her name. The words were there, screaming at him to be voiced, pleading, begging, and yet he could do nothing. He didn’t deserve her, in what world was this beautiful, spirited female allowed to love him. Everywhere Azriel went, he hurt and destroyed but he would not hurt her. Gwyn deserved to thrive, to grow, but he was all darkness, shadows, and endless voids. He was where light and warmth went to die. “Gwyn,” he said one last time and opened his mouth to voice every incoherent thought he had, in his mess of a mind. But once again no words came.

“Hey.” she forced him to look at her. “Hey. I am not asking for you to say anything back and when you are ready you will tell me but I just needed you to hear it. Ok?” she turned away from him but not before he caught the slight look of disappointment. She didn’t look back.

Azriel stood there minutes after Gwyn had left, stunned. He had hurt her, he had let her down and the thought of ever doing that again left him hollow and with an urge to break something.

Subconsciously he felt his shadows begin to wrap and weave around him, folding Azriel into his own darkness.

He opened his eyes to find himself at the gates of rosehall. The house was in a corner of the night court where few lived. Outside the limits of velaris, but far from the horrors of the court of nightmares. Azriel’s mother loved it but he knew sometimes she felt suffocated from the simplicities of what life had become. His mother craved adventure and excitement, the domestic life was one she still wasn’t fond of.

Az hadn’t been planning a visit but might as well see his mother since he was here. He knocked on the gates, the magic recognizing his own, and opened.

She was sitting on a rocking chair, knitting and quietly humming to herself. She was only a few centuries older than himself but illness caused her to look much older.

She sighed not looking at him. “What did you do?”

“Can’t I just want to see my beautiful mother every once in a while?”

She rolled her eyes seeing through his bullshit. “You do see me, sometimes I think you’re here too often. So I ask again, what did you do?” Maybe it was magic, some gift, maybe it was just mother’s intuition but somehow she always knew.

He kissed her on the head and began to make way to the room he kept in the house. “The sickness is finally getting to you, you’re making things up.”

She snorted, “Hunny you’ll know the day this thing beats me but it sure as hell won’t win without a fight.”

“Of course mom.”

“It’s alright I’ll get it out of you eventually.” She winked at him as he winnowed to his room. Azriel heard her mumble “won’t even use the damn stairs anymore.” and he chuckled softly.

Within seconds Azriel collapsed on his bed, closing his eyes to ignore the tug he felt within him. He wasn’t running, he was doing what was best for Gwyn. That’s a lie, the subtle hiss sent shivers up his spine. Azriel shut his shadows out too. She didn’t need him and he didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t sleep, when he slept he was drowning in nightmares. For five days he cared for his mother, catching up on the occurrences of each other's lives. Azriel was careful to avoid Gwyn in his recaps. And every day he could tell his mother was growing more and more concerned. He desperately wanted to be with her, he could feel the pull in every inch of his body but Azriel had always been stubborn, so he stayed with the knowledge that what he was doing was the right thing.

He felt his mother watching him, studying him until finally, she spoke. “Az is this extended visit about that girl.” she paused trying to think. “The redhead? For the love of god this stupid illness, I can’t remember her name, Gwyn? Was it?”

Azriel’s eyes flitted away giving her confirmation her guess was right. His mother sighed, grabbed her cane, and began to stand. He got up to help her only to be met by a dagger-eyed glare that said you help me and I cut your arms off. She was several inches shorter than him but as his stubborn mother hobbled over to him, she held out an arm for him to take. He took it without hesitation but the question remained on his lips.

“We are going for a walk.” she beat him to it.

They walked in silence, ever so often her arm clutching his tightly as if she were about to fall. Memories flashed of his mother before she was sick. When she could not stay still for more than a moment, even centuries-old and still she had carried a youthfulness with her that could not be replicated.

As if she could read his thoughts she raised her eyebrows, “I’m fine.”

“I would never suggest you weren’t.” Although they both knew she wasn’t fine, denial was bliss for those with limited days. His mother studied Azriel as he looked around at the plethora of roses covering the entirety of the gate.

“I hate them.” she scrunched her nose in disgust at the bright flowers as Az snorted.

“Then why don’t you do something about them.”

“They were here before me and they will be here long after me, what right do I have to disrupt them from their home?” She paused. “To the displeasure of my eyes and nose, I will not be moving them.”

They continued their leisurely walk until they finally reached a well. It was a considerable distance outside the boundaries of what was her home. She began to fill up the bucket with water from the well. It was a slow process for his mother's stubbornness forbade him from helping her. When she was finished she grabbed the pail and walked away from him leaving Azriel behind.

“Wait-”

She turned to face him. “Close your mouth, my dear, you wouldn’t want to swallow a fly,” and kept walking.

“Are we not-” he fumbled for his words. “Going to talk about her.”

“Well, I came out here for some fresh water.” She looked at him innocently. “Would you like to talk about her?” His damned mother played him. Her gaze softened.

“I may be sick but I know how to get my son to talk to me even when his own stubbornness refuses.”

He sighed. “I will never doubt you again.”

She sat down on a bench a few feet from the well and motioned for him to join her. “Now tell me what happened.”

He was quiet for a second before he spoke. “Gwyn, she, she told me she loved me.”

“And do you love her back?”

Without hesitation, Azriel responded softly. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then why are you here with me and not with her.” Azriel looked away. “Is this female your mate?” He nodded. “And you’re in love with her?” He nodded once again. “The female you have been looking for your entire life wants to be with you and you ran away?”

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair. “It is more complicated than that.” “Why?”

“Because- because I don’t deserve her. Gwyn, she’s full of this light and she has a spirit unlike anyone I have ever met and I know that I cannot give her what she needs.”

His mother appeared speechless for a moment before bursting out into a fit of laughter. He scowled at her. “You men are fools.” It was Azriel’s turn to be speechless. “Listen to me, is she worth it?”

“God yes.”

“Then it is not your place to decide what she needs. I have never been one to sugar coat and I won’t start now, there is a chance that this may crash and burn. But you have to decide if the possibility of pain and rejection is worth letting yourself be happy. Gwyn is telling you that she wants to take the leap with you and that regardless of whatever you may think, she believes you are worth it.”

Azriel stared straight ahead as his mother spoke. But she forced him to look at her. “Azriel, it’s not selfish to want to be happy. And this female makes you happy.”

At that moment Azriel felt a lurch in his chest. A tug stronger than any he’s felt. It was intense, it was dizzying, it took over every one of his senses. “Gwyn. it’s Gwyn she needs me.”

His mother gave him an incredulous look. “Then what the hell are you doing here? Go to her.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. Azriel didn’t think, he just let his shadows wrap around him and instinct took over.

He opened his eyes and looked around. His eyes caught a flash of red, he bolted and found Gwyn laying on the ground limp. She was bleeding. No No No. Too much blood. His heart was a drum in his chest. Azriel, as gently as he could, lifted her into his arms. There was an arrow sticking out of her chest, just barely missing her heart. “gwyn. Gwyn. GWYN.” Finally, her eyes opened slowly. Her lips were purple and her skin was a sickly shade of white. He ripped off his own coat and wrapped it around her.

“Az” she croaked and let out a groan of pain. “It seems the Illyrians don’t like me very much.” She whispered each word a struggle to speak. Her eyes drifting closed.

“Shhh don’t speak don’t speak. Gwyn, my love, I need you to keep your eyes open.”

“Take it out.” she huffed.

“If I do that you’ll bleed out and I need you to live.” In his mind, Azriel screamed for Rhys. Over and over he thought the words. Gwyn’s bleeding out I can’t move her, we’re deep in Illyrian territory please come quick.

Seconds passed and it took every inch of concentration for Gwyn to keep her eyes open. Azriel watched her internal struggle, knew the feeling of being on the edge, how it would be so easy just to close your eyes. To rest.

“Please Gwyn” his voice broke. “I need you to- I need you.”

He just barely heard the words. “Why?”

“Because-” Azriel took a deep breath. “You make every moment better. Because I have lived 500 years and yet you still find ways to surprise me. Because I have never known what it meant to love and be loved as fiercely and absolutely as we love each other. You never gave up on me, not once, because you are stubborn and determined and I could walk this world for millennia more and I know without a doubt in my mind I could never find anyone like you. Even if you weren’t my mate they would never and could never compare to you.” He took another breath. “And I know that I hurt you but I need you to live to be mad at me, live to scream at me for all the things we both know I did wrong, live to hurt me as I hurt you, I don’t care just please Gwyn. I need you to live.”

“Say it.” Azriel laughed a shaky, desperate, nervous laugh.

“You idiot, I love you.” He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers, and held her close to him. Azriel had never been religious but in that moment he begged and pleaded and prayed to the mother, to the cauldron, to whoever was up there watching that this was not the end. This couldn’t be the end.

#gwynriel #gwynriel one shot #gwynriel I love you #gwyn berdara #azriel #gwyn x azriel #I had fun writing this #these two istg #but I love them in all their stupidity #I'm looking at you shadowsinger

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depressedacadamia · 3 years

Text

Lightweight

Summary: Will Solace can’t realy hold his alcohol but Nico doesn’t really mind.

A/N: 2 fics in one week? Oh my gods, who is this writer and what have they done with Persephone? Enjoyy yall- I really enjoyed writing this one!

Read on A03

“Hands off sunshine!” Nico warned as he held the bottle of vodka above his head, his arms outstretched.

“Give meee!” Will cried, his hand sloppily hitting Nico’s arm. The summer air was warm and Nico could feel the thin layer of sweat on his forehead- considering he had to stay in his tiptoes to hold the bottle above Will.

“Will, you didn’t even drink that much! How are you so drunk?”

“You don’t love me! Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you, ya little drunk shithead. You are totally wasted, no matter how many times you will doubt it,” Nico sighed, throwing Will’s arms over his shoulders in a vain attempt to carry him back to Cabin 7.

Will gave one long blink. Then another. “ Where are we going?”

“To your cabin. I’d shadow travel but I've seen a regular person’s reaction to that, I don’t want to see what chaos would come out of shadow travelling a hot drunken mess.”

“Did you just call me a mess?” Will pouted.

“Yes but I called you a hot mess. Focus on that part. It was mostly a compliment.”

“You’re sooo mean to meee. Do you even love me?”

“Yes I love you, stop being so heavy and carry your own legs please.” Nico shifted his back under the weight of his boyfriend's entire body and tried to manage a few steps- they would have been easy if his boyfriend wasn’t so damn fit and if he himself wasn’t slightly inebriated.

“Ni-” Will hiccuped. “-Co!”

“Yes?”

“Do you love me?”

Nico sighed again, slightly frustrated by the constant question. “Yes I love you, ask again and the answer may vary.”

“Phi Phi is so much nicer than you,” Will grumbled, his head leaning into the crook of Nico’s neck. Nico could smell the twinge of alcohol in Will’s breath along with the regular smell of the spearmint gum he would always be chewing.

“Phi Phi?” Nico snorted. “ Who in the name of God is that?”

“Your stepma! Phi Phi! She gave me so many nice flowers last time we visited!” Will paused before giving Nico an innocent look of disapproval. “ Do you not remember Phi Phii?”

Will accidentally dragged out the last ‘ee’ syllable in the word ‘phi phi’ making it sound like he was a 3 year old trying to read for the first time. Nico almost shivered at the mention of his stepmother; the last time he checked, she still had at least 157 variations of dandelions that she could turn him into the second he did anything going against her liking- afterall, she may have been the Goddess of the Spring but she was still the Queen of the Underworld.

“Yes, of course I remember Phi Phi.” He lowered his voice as he muttered the next few words under his breath to prevent them from being heard. “ How could I forget her and her stupid dandelions?”

“Phee Pheeee!”

“What about Phi Phi?”

Will paused for a few seconds. He tilted his head looking at Nico. “ Do you love me?”

Nico, awfully frustrated, decided to not answer the question honestly. “ No, I do not love you right now. Drunk you is a mess whom not only subject hops but also cannot walk coordinately.”

Nico did not think Will would take anything he said seriously but to his horror he was greatly mistaken. Will’s slow and steady breathing quickly became a rapid torrent of quick and unsteady breathing. Nico had thought that he was just mucking about but then he felt warm tears stain his shirt.

Tears streamed down Will’s flushed face, his freckles were almost invisible as the tears continued running down his face like a current. His chest racked with sobs and he pulled away from Nico and collapsed on the ground. He buried his head in his hands and let his heart beat harder with every cry that left his lips.

Nico watched, his mouth dropped. He had no idea what he had done or how to make it better. He reached out, trying to console the drunk and overly emotional Will but instead found himself feeling guilt beyond any he had ever felt before.

“Will?” He whispered. “ Will? You’re drunk. I was just joking, I didn’t mean anything I just said.”

Will's loud sobs started to slowly quieten down but the tears still freely ran across his face. He glanced upwards at Nico, his eyes rimmed red. His bottom lip wobbled and his eyes were wet.

“But.. but you said that you don’t love me…”

“I was joking. I was lying. I do love you. Only you.”

Nico plopped himself beside Will and shuffled himself closer, awkwardly. He tried to wrap one of his arms around Will but he found it to be too short and only barely touched Will’s other shoulder. So instead, he settled for rubbing soothing circles on Will’s back, calming him and forcing him to breathe slower.

“How do I know you are not lying to me now?” Will’s eyes were innocent and once again brimming with tears. “I always worry that you're just lying to me and then one day you’re going to just go poof and stupid me will be all sad.”

Nico thought he could feel his own eyes stinging- was this how Will really felt? Was Nico that bad a boyfriend that Will felt that every word, every kiss, every moment was a lie? Or did Will just consider himself so unloveable that every good thing that ever happened to him was just temporary or fake?

Nico glanced at the blonde eyelashes that were clad together with tears.

What happens inside that gorgeous head of yours, Solace?

“I love you William Andrew Solace. I choose you. You’re my significant other, significant annoyance- whatever you want to call it. And if I ever disappear, you’re sure as hell coming with me.”

Will wrapped his arms tightly and unexpectedly around Nico’s waist- causing Nico to be pushed onto his back while Will snuggled into his abdomen. Nico could feel his t-shirt stick to him due to the tears from Will’s face.

“I love you soooo much,” Will murmured into Nico’s stomach. Nico could feel his breathing hitch at the words. Nico kissed Will- light and innocent. That's what the kiss meant. He could taste the salty tears on Will’s lips and the bitter aftertaste of the vodka on his tongue. The kiss was quick, chaste and it may have not satisfied Will’s desire but it made him feel safe.

And to both of them, that’s all that mattered.

Will awoke the next morning with several life regrets but none as strong as the stupid amount of alcohol he had decided to consume the previous day or night. He could barely remember anything- let alone figure out where in the name of Zeus he was. The cabin seemed dreary but at the same time it was beautiful. It was dark and light and terrifying and beautiful all at the same time.

Wait. What Cabin was this? Whose Cabin was this? He didn’t think there was any Cabin that was so roomy with such a lack of accommodation. He almost felt like he was in a Cabin for a child of the Big Three- He remembered the one time he had taken a glimpse of the Poseidon Cabin and he remembered it to be huge- something he deeply envied Percy for.

It was only until Will noticed the black clad figure kneeling beside him that he realised where exactly he was. Beautifully tousled hair, gorgeous lips and eyes that one could get lost in forever- he only knew one person with features so defining. The question was, what on earth was he doing in Cabin 13?

Cabin 13- His boyfriend's cabin. Immediately, Will scrambled upwards. He looked Nico straight in the eye and tried to recall to what extent he embarrassed himself as a drunken idiot last night.

“How bad was it?”

“Shall I sugar coat it or give it to you straight?”

Will managed to squeak out, “Give it to me straight.”

“You tried to get into my pants and talked about how hot you thought I was.” Nico shrugged nonchalantly.

Will blanched and he immediately wished that had asked for the sugar coated version. He heard Nico laughing and he could feel his nerves both calm down and panic at the same time. Nico’s laugh was calming and beautiful and warm and made him feel all fuzzy like he was under a fluffy blanket. But he worried for what reason Nico was laughing.

“Calm down sunshine. I was joking- you should have known that I wouldn’t have been able to give it to you straight. You just asked dumb questions and cried a bit.”

“I cried?”

“It’s not a big deal.” Nico batted his hand. Will collapsed back onto the bed with an ‘ow’ and groaned something unintelligible about it being ‘too early in the morning for this’.

“It’s actually 1 in the afternoon but to each their own I guess.”

Will wanted to shout WHAT but he did not want to rack his head with an already painful headache so he instead settled for dropping his jaw.

“Close your mouth sunshine unless you plan on using it,” Nico mumbled. Will felt his jaw drop further before he snapped it back and swore internally. He made a mental note to never have a hangover near Nico because he would use it to his advantage.

“So why exactly did I cry yesterday?” Will asked as he sipped from the glass of water that had been placed at the bedside by, he could only assume, Nico. Will noticed that when asked that question, Nico tensed, his hands digging slightly into his jeans.

The corner of Will’s lips tilted upwards. “ What did you say?”

“What makes you think I said anything? Drunk you is a crybaby and you know it,” Nico huffed defensively, refusing to meet Will's eye.

“Yeah but you’re acting guilty.”

“What if I killed some boring skeleton zombie this morning and I’m only now mourning their already dead body?”

“Spare me the dark and frankly dry humour,” Will deadpanned, excited to hear the cause of his outburst yesterday.

Nico mumbled something under his breath, all while looking away from Will.

“What?”

“I said,'' Nico took a deep breath. “That I didn't love you-”

“-What?”

“But it was a joke!”

Will could feel his stomach churning and he couldn't tell if it was from the hangover or the current situation. He managed to resist a gag. “How is that a joke?”

Will’s voice was so hoarse and weak, Nico thought that he was going to break into tears all over again and he knew that if that happened, he would end up with tears flooding his own face.

“It’s because, well, drunk you kept on asking Do you love me and of course I do but drunk you is just so heavy and you kept on asking and so I of course gave a sarcastic quip and you just burst into tears and..”

Will stared at Nico and for a second, Nico was terrified that he had really blown it.He watched as his boyfriend buried his face into his hands and began shaking. His back was shivering and Nico could hear little whimpers.

“Fuck.” Nico had subconsciously let the profanity pass through his lips.

Will, suddenly, threw his head back and his laugh echoed around the empty Cabin 13. Nico felt stuned. Was he laughing in rage? Should he run?

“Will. I am so so sorry. I swear, it was a joke. I love you, I chose you William Andrew Solace. I’ll do it again and again.”

“You,” Will wheezed. “ Idiot! Did you really get so worked up over drunk me being dramatic? I was being hyperbolic!”

Nico tilted his head ever so slightly but his ravenous locks still fell over his eyes however he didn’t seem to mind as he made no effort to move it from his sight.

“So… you aren’t mad?”

“I mean I won’t reject any special treatment if you were thinking of offering as a way of showing your sorrow,” Will teased.

“Shut it.” Nico pouted. “ Do I not get a dramatic love confession? I gave you two.”

Will raised his eyebrow and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. “ If I can count correctly, and I can, I only recall one dramatic love confession.”

“You were too drunk to remember the first one.”

Will let out a groan before softly smiling.”I love you. I choose you, Nicolo Di Angelo.”

“Don’t call me Nicolo!”

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

Text

Make Him Look - Ch 1 / 2

Pairing: Cordell Walker x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: flirting, many many drinks, jealousy, dancing, slow burn Word Count: 3k Created for: @walker-bingo - In Vino Veritas | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Jealousy A/N: Written with the lovely @thinkinghardhardlythinking in mind ❤️and y'all can also blame her for the fact it got so long I split it into two 😂

Cordell swings his leg over a barstool and settles into his usual spot. The bar is busy but not crowded. There’s a few more empty stools awaiting occupants for the night, and Cordell hooks one with his foot and draws it closer, popping his hat down to save the seat for Liam, who’s on his way. But there’s no reason to wait for Liam before he orders – they get the same thing every time.

“Barkeep! Can I get some queso, hot wings, and whatever Pinthouse you’ve got on draft?”

“Sure thing, man,” the kid behind the bar drawls, his accent thick and voice lazy. Cordell would bet anything the guy had had a joint on his break earlier, but he’s off duty – tonight is not about busting people for drugs, tonight is about letting loose. He checks his phone to see if Liam had texted him that he’d left the office yet, but there is nothing there. Taking a sip of the drink that has just been plopped on a coaster in front of him, Cordell scans the room. It’s a bad habit that every law enforcement worker he’s ever met has developed. Even when he’s trying to relax and blow off some steam, he can’t help being a little vigilant.

He takes in the tableaus around him; the groups of kids from the local community college, the gaggle of mid to late aged men in awful polos that Cordell recognises as the inner city bowling league, a couple of less savoury looking guys playing pool, the cluster of women those guys keep eyeing up – he’ll keep an eye on that one.

Checking his phone again and taking another drink, he still hasn’t heard anything from Liam. He opens his brother’s contact and is about to give him a call to tell him to get his ass in gear when someone suddenly reaches down beside him, picks up his hat and drops it back on his head while they slide into the seat he’d been saving - except it’s not Liam.

“Hey you,” the stranger says familiarly, bumping her shoulder against his. “Thanks for saving me a seat.”

You shrug out of your jacket and sling it over your arm as you head up to the worn wood counter of the bar. You don’t see your friend yet, so you decide to go ahead and order a drink while you wait for her to show. She’s always late, you should have just assumed and shown up fifteen minutes from now. You play on your phone as you wait for the bartender to finish serving the gang of people at the other end of the bar. When you feel someone in front of you, you look up, about to order a glass of wine, except one is already being placed on the bar top in front of you.

You stare questioningly at the kid serving you the drink. You’d been here before, sure, but you’re hardly a regular, and even if you were you don’t recognise this server – so why does he know what you were about to order?

“Um, I didn’t–” you start but the kid interrupts you.

“From the gentleman at the end of the bar, milady,” he gave a geeky little bow, “Sorry, he told me to say it like that,” he grimaces at himself. You chance a fleeting look back to the group you’d noticed him serving a few minutes ago and to your horror, you recognise your ex, Dirk, grinning back at you. He tips the brim of his ball cap and gives you a wink, like he’s expecting you to be impressed that he remembers you drink red wine. Shit, this is not how this night is supposed to go. You’re supposed to be here to get drunk with your best friend and have a bit of a dance, not be looking over your shoulder the whole night hoping that jerk leaves you alone.

Panicking a little now, you check your phone but there’s no text from Lea telling you when to expect her. Knowing her like you do, you would bet anything she won’t be here soon, and you don’t want to wait on your own and risk Dirk coming to talk to you. Desperately, you scan your eyes around the bar, cataloguing your options and escape routes. Someone catches your eye a few seats along from where you are. Tall, broad – dark and handsome, your mind supplies unhelpfully – but what really catches your eye is the badge hanging from his belt. He’s a Ranger.

Normally, you’d pick a group of girls who you know would happily pretend to know you so you don’t have to wait alone but you know Dirk, and you know he won’t be shy enough to let any number of girls stop him from coming to ruin your night. But a guy - and a Texas Ranger at that – Dirk wouldn’t dare. He had an outstanding DUI, and he’d always been a bit of a chicken around cops anyways.

Choice made, you grab the wine he’d bought you – hey, you’re not made of money, free booze is free booze – and you march purposefully over to the Ranger, who’s checking his phone and not paying attention until you grab his black cowboy hat off the chair next to him. Clearly he had been saving it for someone, and you want Dirk to think that someone is you.

“Hey you,” you chirp, placing his hat back on his head as you slide into the seat he’d been saving, “Thanks for saving me a seat.” You smile at the Ranger long enough to see him looking at you completely perplexed before you glance back to Dirk and see him watching you with a scowl. You let yourself feel inwardly triumphant and turn back to the man you’d just decided to befriend, if only temporarily.

Swivelling back towards him, you let yourself get a good look at his face for the first time. His bright hazel eyes are staring back at you, confused but not unkind. Tall, dark, and handsome is definitely apt, and now you’re seeing him properly you’re a bit speechless. You hadn’t counted on him being this freakin’ attractive.

“Sorry,” you finally manage to choke out under your breath. “I’ll leave you alone soon, I promise, I’m just hiding from my ex,” you explain, and understanding melts across the man’s face.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks sympathetically.

“Just pretend like you know me until my friend gets here?” you propose hopefully.

“Happy to,” he smiles, grabbing his drink and holding it out to clink against your wine glass. You tap your glass against his, relief flooding your body as you settle onto your stool a little more comfortably.

“Thank you…” you trail off leadingly, hoping he’ll fill in his name.

“Cordell,” he supplies.

“Now there is a Texan name if I ever heard one,” you giggle.

“If you’re gonna laugh at my name do I at least get the chance to laugh at yours too?” he grins jokingly.

“Y/N,” you give him your name, tucking your hair behind your ear and taking a sip of your wine.

“Well that’s no fun, how can I tease you for such a pretty name?” Cordell takes a sip of his own drink, mirroring you. Jeez, this one is a smooth talker.

When you finish your glass of wine, probably a little quicker than normal due to your anxious state, you check your phone again and see a missed call from Lea. “Crap,” you sigh, drawing a concerned look from Cordell, who is happily munching away on some chips and queso next to you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, muffled, mouth still full of food.

“Yeah, s’just my friend bailing on me,” you gripe, listening to the voicemail she’d left on your phone a few minutes ago. “Sorry I gate crashed your night for nothing,” you apologise, popping your phone back in your bag and planning on just going home to turn in early and watch some junky tv show in bed now that your ‘girls night’ wasn’t happening.

“Hey, you aren’t gate crashing.” Cordell shrugs, like he’s hedging his bets with his next statement. “I’ve had a good time so far.” His smile is shy and sincere, and you soften just a little in your annoyance at the world.

“I totally am though, you were clearly waiting for someone,” you gesture to the stool you’d taken up residence on.

“Just my work-a-holic brother, who, as luck would have it–” Cordell pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it up to show the message on the lock screen “–also pulled out on me.”

“Oh,” you blink, not sure what to make of that. It sounds like he’s asking you to stay but… “Well, thank you for being my knight in shining armour for a bit, seriously, but I don’t really want to stick around just to have my ex looking at me all night.”

“Well, if he’s gonna be a creep and keep watching you all night, we could make that fun, give him something to watch,” Cordell offers, his smirk incongruous with the almost hopeful expression in his eyes.

“What?” You’re perplexed.

“I mean, I don’t know what happened between you, but it’s pretty obvious to me that he wants you back, and you seem pretty pissed at him for that. I’m guessing the bastard cheated on you?” You huff in response, a little bitter that he’d read the situation so easily.

“Yeah, he did,” you admit, slumping against the bar, feeling downtrodden at the memory.

“So don’t let him chase you off,” Cordell shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He messed you around – you tellin’ me you wouldn’t like to mess with him right back?” he raises an eyebrow in temptation, a knowing smirk twitching at his lips.

“And you’re proposing that instead of not wanting him to look at me all night–”

“You make him look,” Cordell finishes your sentence for you. “We’ve already pretended to know each other for the past–” he checks his watch “–twenty minutes. May as well just do the whole pretend date.” Cordell looks at you with so much honesty, you believe that he really does just want to help you screw with Dirk. And you cannot say the idea isn’t appealing.

“Alright,” you concede, shaking your head slightly in disbelief that you’re actually agreeing to this, and Cordell’s face splits into a wide smile. Honestly, seeing that expression alone made agreeing to this worth it. “So, if we’re on a pretend date, you gonna pretend to buy me another drink?”

“No,” you insist, shaking your head vehemently.

“C’mon,” Cordell chides, grinning madly.

“I did not agree to this,” you shake your head, finishing off the last bit of wine in your glass.

“Come on,” he urges again, leaning against the bar and tilting his head close to yours pleadingly.

“I am not dancing,” you repeat, wholeheartedly meaning it. You think if you have to come into genuine skin to skin contact with Cordell, you might actually melt into a puddle. Now three glasses of wine into your fake date, you can feel yourself loosening up and really enjoying yourself with this handsome stranger. He’s kind, and funny, and a little weird but in a charming way – exactly your type. And him begging you to dance with him wasn’t helping your self-restraint. This is a fake date, you keep reminding yourself firmly every time he flashes you that little half smile that makes his eyes light up.

“Well, I don’t know what kind of boring fake dates you usually go on, but mine aren’t complete unless I get to show off my two-step and knock back a tequila shot.”

“Oh, we’re doing tequila now, are we?” You laugh – this guy is actually ridiculous, and you kind of love it.

“That wasn’t a no,” he jumps on your ‘non denial’ and waves at the kid behind the bar. “Two tequilas, two limes?” he holds up two fingers and the bartender nods to him, quickly pouring out the shots and dropping two lime wedges onto a plate. Cordell grabs a salt shaker from the condiments rack on the bar and sets everything up between you. You let him work, watching incredulously but enjoying the show nonetheless.

“Give me your hand,” he holds out his own hand expectantly once he’s arranged all the pieces to his liking.

“Why?” your voice is nervous but your hand reaches out instantly of its own accord. Without answering he proceeds to rub the edge of the lime over the inside of your wrist, then puts the lime in your fingers and shakes some salt over the trail of juice he left behind. He does the same thing to himself, then passes you your shot, which you take in your lime-free hand.

“Right, you wanna do this the normal way or the ‘make Dirk jealous way’?” Cordell asks with a smirk once he’s oriented himself.

“I’m gonna regret asking this, but what’s the ‘make Dirk jealous’ way?” you groan exaggeratedly, like he’s put some great burden on you, but the truth is you’re really enjoying yourself.

“Like this,” Cordell steps up to you and links your right arms together. Catching his drift you smile and try to hold back the snort of laughter that bubbles up inside you – a nervous reaction to feeling the warmth of his body against yours, even through the layer of his shirt. “One, two, three,” he counts off and you go to lick the salt off your wrist except that’s what Cordell is doing. You freeze momentarily, heat shooting up your arm from where his tongue and lips are laving over your skin. You don’t think to move until Cordell puts his own wrist against your lips and you lick obediently.

Your linked arms pull you closer together as Cordell lifts the tequila to his lips and you follow suit in a kind of trance, both knocking back your shots. The tequila hits you harder than you remember it ever doing before, and you scrunch up your face, disoriented for a moment until you once again feel Cordell’s lips on your skin. This time they’re wrapping around your finger tips as he sucks the lime into his mouth. You stand frozen, the burn in your mouth and your fingers meeting in your chest and ratcheting up your heart rate as if you’re trying to run away from the oncoming flames. But it’s hopeless, you’re stuck in the blaze now.

“You want your lime, darlin’?” Cordell laughs at your stock still frame and holds his fingers to your lips, gently pressing the fruit inside and urging you to suck. You’re sure you must have physically combusted into fire by now, but Cordell isn’t jumping away like he’s been singed – he’s pressing closer. “Dance with me,” he rasps, voice hoarse from the burn of the alcohol. It’s not a request anymore, it’s an order, and you don’t question it.

Drawing his hand down the arm of yours linked with his until your fingers lace together, he pulls you away from the bar and out onto the dance floor. It’s an upbeat country song, the kind you’d normally jump around to, but he pulls you in and wraps an arm around your waist like a proper partner dance calls for – except he’s ignored the social convention of leaving room for Jesus. He pulls you after him in tiny circles and you let him lead happily. When the song changes to something a little slower he pulls you just a little tighter, and you can’t stop yourself from moving your gaze off his shoulder up to his face.

His eyes dart over your shoulder, then smile down at you wryly, and you feel yourself blush. “He’s watching,” Cordell grins mischievously. You go to look but he puts a hand on your neck and holds you still, keeping your eyes on him. His fingers are strong and warm against your collarbone, ironically causing you to shiver. “No, don’t look at him,” his voice is low as he leans in conspiratorially, “you wanna make him look, remember?”

“Why are you helping me?” The alcohol swimming through your veins is making you comfortable and fuzzy, and you let yourself lean against him familiarly, your head resting against his chest as he continues to move you both around the dance floor. You feel him shrug as his grips on your hand and the nape of your neck tighten a little.

“The truth?” he asks. You can hear the nerves in his voice, even if you can’t see them on his face.

“No, I want you to lie to me, please,” your voice manages to stay serious through the end of the joke before you burst into giggles, and you feel your laughter move into his body and trigger his own, making his chest rise and fall unevenly beneath your cheek.

“You are one hell of a gal, you know that?” You’re glad your face is buried in his chest so he can’t see just how brightly you smile at the compliment. “Truth is, I’ve been trying to get you drunk and have my wicked way with you.” You can tell by how expressionless his voice has gone that he’s winding you up, but you pull back and slap your hand to your chest in mock horror.

“Well Cordell Walker, I have never met such a rogue in my life,” you gasp in your best Scarlet O’Hara accent. It’s not a good one. Neither of you can keep a straight face for more than a few seconds, and you both double over in laughter after your minuscule standoff.

As your laughter dies down, Cordell grabs your hands again and pulls you back to him, swaying entirely out of time to the song that’s playing. He looks like he’s about to say something but the words haven’t quite found their way to his tongue, and when you catch his eyes you suddenly don’t want to hear what he has to say and you pull away from him. He looks at you, puzzled and just the slightest bit hurt as you try to find some cover for your sudden movement.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a bourbon fan, would you?”

Part 2 Here!

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