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casspurrjoybell-17 · 5 months

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Heart’s Choice - Chapter 27 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Later that morning, after the sun is full and safely up and the night of the ritual has passed, Ian Foley drives me home to the garage.

Gravel crunches beneath his truck's tires as he pulls into the work yard and parks.

"You don't have to come with me," I say, pulling my backpack from the back seat of the cab.

"I'll be fine."

"I'm sure you will. But two sets of eyes are better than one and you've only got one good arm. I'll just have a sniff around. Make sure nobody's been here while you were gone."

"Thanks, Ian," I say, suddenly realizing how grateful I am for the gesture.

"You're a good friend."

He takes my backpack from me and slings it over his own shoulder, ruffling my hair.

"Yeah, yeah. And you're a pain in the ass but we love ya anyway."

Thankfully, everything is as I left it and Ian detects nothing unusual.

His senses are less keen in his human form than they are as a bear but his human form is less apt to draw attention.

Bears aren't unusual in Spring Lakes but Ian's resembles a grizzly, a species which has been extinct in this state for nearly a century.

I don't want to have to explain why one might be wandering around outside my shop.

"Place seems secure," he says, inspection complete.

"You sure you wanna stay here, though? I mean, you're still renting from a lady who might want to kill you, remember?"

"I haven't forgotten. But the less Lucille suspects I know, the better. Besides, she's like eighty years old. What's she gonna do? Beat me with her cane?"

Ian sighs.

"Carlos, be real. You're from a family of demon hunters, you're friends with an encyclopedia's worth of supernaturals and there's a vampire after your ass, if not your heart. You should know things aren't always what they seem. Besides, from what you described, what happened to Kyle took some effort. If the old lady has anything to do with it, she's either stronger than she looks or she had help."

"I'll be fine," I say. "The next ritual's not for another two weeks, assuming the Feast of Blood was even performed. I'm safe until then, at least."

"If you say so."

He casts a last look around the garage and scuffs his boot over a crack in the concrete floor.

"Oughta get that fixed 'fore it spreads," he says, clearly reluctant to leave me on my own.

"Yeah," I agree.

"Unfortunately, one condition of the lease is that I can't make any changes to the place without Lucille's permission, including repairs."

"Have you asked about this? A crack like this means you got a weak foundation. Could be a pocket of soft soil, could be erosion. Either way, if it spreads, it could compromise the whole structure. Then you're in big shit. County could condemn the whole thing, 'specially since it's zoned as commercial. It's worth having someone come an' take a look, anyway."

Being in the construction business, Ian should know what he's talking about and I eye the crack with renewed suspicion.

"You know, it does look bigger than it did before. I guess I could..."

A whole rack of socket wrenches drops from the wall, landing with a clatter that has me jumping out of my skin and practically into Ian's arms, like a character in an old cartoon.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Yeah."

I catch my breath and step away from him.

"Guess you're right, though. Kyle seems to agree with you, anyway."

"Kyle? Is he here now?" Ian asks, glancing around nervously.

I look askance at the corner where, as long as I don't look directly at him, I can see Kyle watching us.

"Yeah. I'm not alone after all, see?"

To my surprise, Ian seems a little creeped out by the idea and leaves pretty quickly after that.

I follow him out and wave as he drives off, feeling a stab of loneliness as his truck vanishes from sight.

For a while I just stand there, feeling the mid morning sun on my face and the breeze in my hair and letting thought swirl around my brain like a flock of restless birds.

My cell-phone buzzes and I pull it out to check.

I've got two notifications.

One is from a random app, offering me a special bonus deal because... Fuck.

What a depressing way to remember a birthday.

Especially my own.

The second is a text from John.

My heart leaps a little, despite myself but the message is unsentimental, short and to-the-point.

John: No deaths reported last night. All public areas in town are clear. Need your expertise. Please advise if ritual must take place outdoors.

I hesitate, both a little happy that he asked,and a little unsure what to make of the businesslike tone.

I decide to match it, colleague to colleague and ignore everything else for now as I type my reply.

Carlos: Yes. The same place as the first would be best. Otherwise, nearby in a significant location.

I hit send and wait.

After a moment, the three dots appear, telling me John is typing.

Then they stop.

Then they start again, then disappear.

Finally, I accept he's not going to reply, pocket my cell-phone and blow out a breath as I run a hand through my hair.

I did ask him for space.

On the one hand, it looks like the Feasts might be a dead end and between Kyle's ex-girlfriend and Lucille, we've got plenty of leads.

On the other hand, my aunt is missing and my love life is on the rocks.

I shake my head at myself.

"Tonto. (Fool.) You're so desperate for someone to love you, to have what Ian and Sam have and when it comes along, you freak out and push it away."

I sigh and watch as a trio of crows fly overhead and disappear among the trees on the other side of the road.

Then I head back inside to clean out the ten-day-old trash and the rotten food in the fridge, which Ian was too polite to mention smelled like absolute fucking shit.

Happy birthday to me.

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demonslayedher · 2 years

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How you doing Buri Senpai !!

Personal question…. How do you manage to get out of your art/writing block/ burnout ? You are an incredible artist and writer and i wish to be like you someday❤️

(///￣￣///) Thank you, Anon. Like most other people who do any sort of creative work, I am constantly seeking validation. I don’t think that ever goes away. That is why I’ll give you the truth, I get a lot of happy chemicals from making KnY fanwork, at the expense of any other creative work I could be doing.

There’s lots and lots of discussion out there on what leads to creative burnout and how perfectionism kills success by preventing someone from even starting a project, and anyone who has ever worked hard on something only to feel it met with a disappointing response can tell you about the heartbreak of feeling like none of your efforts are worth anything. It’s very easy to say “write for you, draw what you want, fandom should be fun” but we all know that sometimes it’s not. That’s the best advice I think is out there, though, so I’m just going to expand a bit.

…I tried, but my answers all kept getting rambly. ლ(¯ロ¯"ლ)

The truth is that KnY is escapism for me and that is why I create so much of it!! For as long as I’m busy with this, and getting dopamine from making fanwork, my projects I’m willing to tell people about in real life are going to continue to get ignored! O ho ho! I fear failure!! I know they won’t be perfect and that is why I do not wish to create them in the first place! I do not wish to be judged as imperfect!!! Ohhh, ho ho ho ho! O-o-o-o-hhhhhh ho ho ho ho!

Ah. But that’s probably a big reason why I create so much KnY content: the stakes are lower than other things I might wish to accomplish. Since I don’t have any high expectations of my art anymore I can allow myself to relax with it and accept its wonkiness as part of it, if anything, that’s in the spirit of the original manga, right? Also, I’m practiced enough with my drawing that even though I don’t know proper drawing technique, I can intuitively go about bringing a lot of things from my head to paper, so that makes it something I do to relax.

While I have given myself permission to be lazy with art for the sake of enjoying it, I do still harbor the same childhood dream of getting published, even though my understanding of that now comes with vague knowledge of all the burn-outable activities that come with (self-promotion, blaaaaargh, please just let me live under a rock). Sometimes, when I realize just how high my KnY-related word count is, I get aggravated with myself for not having poured that power into my own original projects. But failure would feel so much higher with those, so I stick to what I know I can accomplish, as I lo-o-o-ve the feeling of accomplishing things.

But…

Well…

One of the best times I got that feeling was was when I sat down and actually wrote a few manga short stories, beginning to end, with no idea what I was doing. All it really took was a kick in the pants from someone holding me accountable. I had 55 books printed to basically give away to people. I had them all stacked up when they arrived and was stunned at how slim the spines were. All those hours, poured into that small a result, something that could be consumed and forgotten so easily?

But then again, I had something. Something complete, so that if the topic of OCs ever came up, I hand something to hand to someone, to say, “this.”

It was sometime after that when I crushed my first NaNoWriMo attempt by a long-shot (50,000 words? Pfffhaahahaha, when I’m prepared and have my schedule cleared for it, that’s nothing!), and even though that first novel objectively was terrible, it broke me in and made me realize that I could do it. I’ve written three more full drafts of other stories since then, though I was so frustrated with the overhaul second draft of one of them that I quit on it and then, uh, started watching KnY. Teh heh…

But I guess that really is the drive. To have something I can give to someone to say, “This. I have put my thoughts and feelings to form. It’s a form I can share now.” Sure, it’s really nice to imagine having a fandom following or striking it big with a hit or something, but it would never be enough validation, and that sounds like a sure way to get burnt out.

So even in fandom, even when I get other ideas of what might be fun (or just popular?) blog content, at some level I just want to say “I got this idea, I gave it form, please appreciate it.” And, as is the key to most forms of happiness, I’m really, really grateful for the people who bother to read my wordy work, who leave their thoughts, and who take my ideas and run with them and make new ideas from them. My fandom content isn’t made specifically for my own pleasure, I really, really do get joy out of other people finding joy in it, and satisfaction in knowing I put it into a form that can be enjoyed instead of just having it in my own head. It's like my relaxed attitude toward my drawing, though. In order to keep my fandom fun, I keep my expectations in check so that I can still relax and have fun with it. I don't get involved with things that require effort I don't feel like putting in, I don't hold myself responsible for giving anyone else fandom validation either, it's not a give and take economy of praise. When I want to praise you I will dump it on you and you will know it's from the heart. Keeping things relaxed requires boundaries and embracing one's own laziness, so that you can focus on what you really care about.

But the not-as-fun projects that come with high stakes, the ones that keep calling me… they’re out there, and I need to polish my rough areas to answer the call, someday.

I just fear what becoming my best self will entail.

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motownfiction · 1 year

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frosted windows

In the wintertime, Will leaves a message on Lucy’s frosted windows every morning, just before he gets in the car for school.

At first, when she catches him doing it, she acts like it’s annoying. She’s six years old and doesn’t understand the concept of love notes outside the books that she’s surely too young to be reading. But one day, when he doesn’t do it, she tells him she missed it, and he’d better not forget again. So everyday since then, he’s tried to outdo himself. And every year since then, he’s tried to outdo himself even more.

The messages are usually simple. Good morning or Hello or Good luck on your math test if Will knew Lucy was particularly dreading an exam later that day. But now that they’re in tenth grade, Will thinks he needs to step it up. After all, he’s just turned sixteen, and the Welcome, Spring! dance is in a week. Either he’s going to keep pining for a girl who refuses to admit how she feels about him, or he’s going to move on.

And he just doesn’t want to move on.

In the end, he knows he won’t have to. But for now – now, the only thing he can even try to control – he has to act fast. He has to do something.

So, like every winter morning, Will walks over to Lucy’s frosted window. He takes a deep breath as he thinks about what he wants to say (as if he didn’t spend all night practicing it in his geometry notebook when he should have been taking notes for class). Slowly, he takes his hand out of his glove and begins to write with his index finger.

You are a red, red rose.

He begins to draw a rosebud in the frost, too, but a laugh from the front door interrupts him. He jumps. Lucy. She’s walking toward him. She’s walking toward him, and even though she’s wearing her plain old school uniform, she is the most beautiful girl Will has ever seen.

“Are you invoking Robert Burns?” she asks as she reads Will’s daily message. “Or are you planning to kill me and paint my corpse with my own blood?”

Will grimaces.

“The first one,” he says. “Why would I ever kill you?”

Lucy shrugs.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Lots of guys do crazy things when they love the same girl for almost ten years in a row without reciprocation.”

“Yeah, well … I don’t know. Maybe I’m not convinced you don’t reciprocate.”

Lucy almost blushes. A red, red rose.

“Well,” she begins to sputter, “that’s a double negative.”

“Come on. I know you. Even you’re not focused on the grammar right now.”

Lucy rolls her eyes, and Will can barely hide how gleeful he is on the inside. He’s got her. He’s got her, and he doesn’t even know what to do with her.

“If you think you’re going to floor me by telling me you’re into me, that’s never going to work,” Lucy says, still fighting with her embarrassment. “I’ve always known.”

“Yeah, but that’s just it,” Will says. “I didn’t tell you I was into you. I told you that you were into me. There’s a difference. But you’re way smarter than I am. You already know that.”

Lucy bites her lip. Will thinks he might be able to fly, if only for a moment. Maybe he could just hover.

“You can’t make me say anything,” she says. “You can’t make me do anything.”

“Oh, I know,” Will says. “And I don’t want to. That’s what I like about you. You do everything in your own time. On your own terms. And I’ll wait for that. You know I will.”

Lucy fights off another smile. She mumbles something inaudible before she climbs into her mother’s car to go to school. Will watches as they drive away, grinning like a fool.

He’s got her.

And soon, she’ll care to know.

#drabble #ch: will o'connor #ch: lucy callaghan #ship: c'est la vie say the old folks #year: 1983

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lord-explosion-baku · 3 years

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Tease

Yuuji Itadori x reader x Ryomen Sukuna

Warnings: noncon, dark themes, teasing, slight daddy kink, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, Sukuna’s big stomach tongue doing nasty things, very slight anal play

You’ll never admit that you love this game.

The “tease Yuuji until he’s grumpy, needy, and pouting—all because you refuse to fuck him” game.

There’s something about having your boyfriend nuzzle up in the crook of your neck, wrap his strong arms around you, and pull your ass against his hard, neglected cock, only for you to turn him down, and have him whine for it some more. You laugh and act abashed, but you’re really thinking, ‘Poor Yuuji. When will he ever learn?’

What you should’ve been asking yourself is ‘when will he ever crack?’

Because maybe you arch your back a little too slowly, and maybe you rub up against him a little too much, and when he kisses the back of your neck, maybe you sigh a little too longingly—a little too convincingly—and maybe you drive Yuuji a little too crazy.

“Baby,” he rasps, before ghosting his lips down your neck. His hand runs circles around your stomach, before slowly trailing down to the hem of your skirt. He toys with the waistline, shifting his fingers in and out, barely grazing your skin, then reaches for your button. “Please.”

Grabbing his hand and pulling it up to your lips, you laugh and say, “that’s far enough.”

A deep, permeating groan builds up in the back of Yuuji’s throat. It tumbles out when he shifts his hips forward, and his clothed cock slides between your cheeks.

“Sweetheart,” you chide, and turn in his embrace. Lust-heavy, brown eyes bore into yours. His face is rosy with frustration, and by just a quick glance downwards, you can see that the front of his shorts have a small, wet mark, right where his erection pops out. You try not to grin, and instead say, “it’s not the right time.”

Though your actions betray your words, because you scoot closer to Yuuji in your shared space on the couch. His dick presses against your pubic bone and slides up to your stomach. There’s a sharp inhale, and Yuuji’s cheeks inflate, as if he’s trying not to explode.

“You’re killing me,” he blows out. “Sending your boyfriend straight to his grave.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic.” You laugh while turning his chin to the side to expose the column of his neck. Smirking, you rake your teeth up his throat, relishing the shudder he gives off, his fingers curling into your shirt.

“I want you,” he hisses. “I want you so bad, baby. It’s not fair. Can't you just—just touch it. Just a little bit. It’s aching, baby. Aching for you.”

“Yuuji,” you croon, using his broad chest to level yourself up. You dig your claws into his pecs, causing him to release a low groan. “You love me, right?”

“Of course.” His voice is hoarse with need, just how you like it.

“And you’d do anything for me, right?”

His cheeks are pinker than his hair when he whispers, “yeah-huh.”

Dipping your head down so that your lips are a razor’s edge away from his, you ask, “then you can wait for me, right Yuuji? You can wait, and when it’s the right time, I’ll be sure to make every second worth it to you.”

A croaking noise cracks out of Yuuji’s throat. Goosebumps appear on your legs when he slides his fingers up your thighs, then tightens his hold on your hips, and pulls you down to grind against his dick. It presses against your opening, putting pressure on your clit. Your stomach does a little flip when he asks, “feel how hard it is, baby? Fuck, all I want is to feel you sink onto my cock, y’know. Stretch your tight lil walls. I'd be so careful with you too. Never hurt you.”

Cute, but you already know that.

“Tell me what you really want,” you whisper as your hips begin to roll, your center bobbing up and down his shaft. Yuuji pulses underneath you, his mouth falling open on a shaky exhale.

“Dick you down, hard and good-“ his mutter is practically a groan, his fingers digging into your sides-“hear you cry. Make you regret taking so long.”

Your excitement grows more palpable, your cunt throbbing. “More, Yuuji.”

Blushing, Yuuji gives you more.

“I wanna play with you too. Eat your little pussy until you're trembling, begging to cum. You probably taste so good. So slick and warm. I’ll see you fall apart—break even, and before you get to cum, I’d have you choke on my cock. Your lips are so perfect, I know they’d feel so fucking hot wrapped around me. I think about it all the time.”

“Do you, now?” It’s news to you, but you like it. Yuuji has a bit of a dark side—something you’d like to explore. Leaning down to flick your tongue across his earlobe, slow and sensuously, until you suck him in, relishing how his body tenses up, your body vibrates when his voice breaks on a shuddered gasp. Lowly you ask, “want me to be your slut? Make me take your cock like a good girl? Swallow all of your hot, tasty cum?”

“Fuck. Yes.” Yuuji greedily palms your ass, his thumbs creeping towards your core. When he reaches it, he teases you through your panties, sliding up and down your vulva. “God, you’re wet. I knew you’d be, but—shit.”

Moving an arm around your waist, he presses his knuckle against your clit, soothing it up and down. You twitch, following his touch, sighing softly as he exerts a little more pressure. His other hand trails up your back, until he twists his fingers through your hair, and pulls you into a deep, consuming kiss. His lips are hot, and wet, and needy. His tongue, desperate to taste you, teases your lips open and laps up your moans.

“You want it, too.” Yuuji breathes huskily, petting your hair back. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

Your body flushes, liquid heat shooting down your belly to pool at your center. Yuuji sort of half-laughs, then proceeds to pull your damp panties to the side. However, the moment he reaches for the hem of his shorts, you grab onto his wrist and tut at him. His brows narrow in outrage, but he doesn’t say anything.

The difference between his strength and yours is monumental. Everyone knows how capable he is—his sheer power. He could easily throw you back against the couch and pounce on you, rutting into you to show you your place. It makes you curious. Being thrown around a bit seems like it could be fun. Yuuji asserting his dominance could be even more fun.

But he doesn’t throw you. What he does is far worse.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and it’s not what you want to hear, but there’s a glint in his eye. It’s hard to tell if it really is guilt, or something else.

It’s something else.

Something like black carvings or tattoos appear on his face, arms, and chest. His body shakes, and soon, two powerful arms grow out from under his natural pair, and the slits under his eyes open to reveal scathing, red irises.

No.

Not him.

“Yuuji,” you whisper warily. Your fingers tremble as they reach for your boyfriend’s cheek. “Yuuji, please come back.”

But before your hand can make contact with his face, the monster wraps his fingers around your wrist, yanking your arm back as one of his other three hands snatches your other wrist. He’s quick to lean up and pull you closer so that your breasts push up against his hard, bare chest, your legs wrapped around his torso, and his cock pushing against your ass.

Lips wobbling, you make another pitiful attempt to call Yuuji back to you, but the words don’t come out right. They’re strangled and choked and-

“Pathetic,” the monster in front of you drawls. Keeping your wrists clasped together, he uses a free hand to wipe a renegade tear away from your hot cheeks. “Already crying and I haven’t yet done anything to you. Oh, there’s no need to pout, little one. Daddy’s here.”

Finally, you have enough sense in you to fight back, but it’s all for naught. Even though you try to kick, and you try to bite, and you try to wriggle yourself free, it’s all hopeless. His hold on you is vice, and if anything, he looks amused at your sorry struggle.

Your defiant gaze meets his, and despite the tears streaming down your cheeks, you muster the willpower to bare your teeth at him, and snarl. As if he could ever be intimidated by the likes of you.

He snarls right back, taunting you, making light of your hapless effort to try to threaten him. You jerk back in response, not realizing that you’d be pressed against his hard length. It throbs between your thighs. Your eyes go wide, and in response, the curse snickers.

“Keep wigglin’, girl,” he jeers, free arms moving around your back to lock you in place. “Feels good on my cock.”

Rebelliously, you still, hoping to make it so he gets the least amount of pleasure out of this as possible. If he’s going to kill you, you’d like to go out with some dignity.

As if reading your mind, he tuts at you, just like you did with Yuuji, then moves his cheek to nuzzle against your neck—a mockery of a lover’s touch. The soft charade ends before you can pretend it’s nice, though, because soon his tongue laves out, drawing a wet streak up your throat, before he briskly bites down, sucking harshly on your fragile flesh.

A scream burbles out of your esophagus, but it does nothing to ease the pain the curse is inflicting on you. One of his hands moves up your chest. It gropes your left breast, thumb and forefinger twisting your nipple. He sucks and licks until you’re sure he’s left a giant mark on your skin, and when he’s happy enough with his work, he begins kissing you down your neck, to your collarbone, then to your jaw.

A unique languor disperses throughout your body, sucking your desire to fight. You don’t know if it’s because you’ve tired yourself out, or if you’re just…relieved he’s not hurting you—not in a way that you never wanted Yuuji to, anyways. That doesn’t mean you’re giving up.

There’s one thing you haven’t tried yet, and though it seems your throat to do it, you have no other choice but to try.

“Please,” you begin, feeling lower than dirt at having to beg for your release. “Let me go. I can’t do this…”

“And why should I?” He whispers, cool breath blowing against your cheek.

“Yuuji, he—“

“—offered me a deal,” the monster admits, all teeth. “So long as I don’t inflict any permanent damage on you, and he can feel everything we feel, I can do with you as I wish.”

No. Yuuji would never.

“You’re lying,” you murmur, although when you think about it, you’re not sure. Yuuji had…an odd expression right before the other appeared.

“Whether you believe me or not doesn’t matter to me. I’m in control now, and, little girl, it’s been so long since I’ve had my way with a woman. I plan to cease every second of this. Whether you’re willing or not, I will take you, and oh-“ his voice drops an octave when he says, “I promised him that you’ll like it too. Not that that will be any trouble.”

Unceremoniously, his tongue sweeps your lips, and even though you try your hardest to keep your mouth, when sharp teeth bite down on your bottom lip, you grant his access with a yip.

The kiss is leisurely, like he has all the time to waste on molding his lips to yours. His tongue stroke against yours. Beside yourself, you melt into him, picturing it’s Yuuji you’re touching. He hums, seemingly content with your compliance. When he pulls away, his smirk makes your heart jump. His eyes, Yuuji’s eyes, are still so soft. Deceiving.

He lifts you so he can get a better look at your body. Hands roaming your body, he gazes at you appraisingly, and says, “I’ll admit that the brat has good taste. You’d be the perfect woman if you weren’t such a prude.”

With that, Sukuna tears your shirt off your chest—the flimsy and annoying obstruction—to reveal the sheer bralette underneath. Your nipples press against Sukuna’s hands, hardening when he palms you covetously. His smirk widens.

“Not a prude,” he muses darkly, “a tease.” He pinches your nipples hard, making you half-cry, half-moan. “That was cute. You’re gonna be fun.”

“I don’t want this,” you pant, hating the sound of desire coating each word. “I don’t…”

“No?” The curse—the monster—looks amused, a dark gleam in his eyes. A sharp fingernail trails down your bare stomach, and you shudder as heat rushes towards your center, and down between your thighs. Sensing your inner response, he sneers up at you, and in one horrifying second, your boyfriend’s body splits open, revealing a dark, cavernous hole in his stomach. It contorts in an odd way until sharpened teeth, and a long, pink tongue appears. The stomach grins, right before its tongue slowly licks up your center.

The shrieking begins when the licking doesn’t stop. The slow, rhythmic laps soak through your panties. It moves in an undulating motion, thick and wet, forcing you to ride it like a mechanical bull. It’s so strong that even when you close your thighs around it in hopes of maybe squeezing it enough to hurt, it doesn’t do anything except make the monster below you chuckle. It’s completely violating you, not only licking your pussy, but your ass too. Everything is so wet, and sensitive, and hot, that soon your crying evolves into moans, and you can’t help but clench on top of this intrusion.

“Such a responsive little slut for someone who doesn’t want this.” One of the curse’s four hands pets you down your bare back, until it lands on your ass. He gives it an appreciative squeeze, first to feel you, to claim you, then to hold you in place as his stomach tongue begins vibrating at a high intensity.

“No,” you whimper when you begin to feel something coiling up on the inside. The pleasure is so startling, so intense, that you begin to mewl. You’re begging, but you’re unsure if it’s for him to stop, or if it’s for him to let you cum.

With two hands still holding your wrists together, and the others now sitting behind his head to cushion him, he watches with moderate interest as you come undone.

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs, “you want to cum for me, little one? Let me taste your pleasure?”

“No,” you say again, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to picture you’re anywhere else. “Yuuji.”

The curse tightens his eyes and groans.

Suddenly, the stomach-mouth closes, and you’re lifted up, your panties pulled to the side, and placed back down, his palm pressing into your cunt. Without registering what is happening, you blink at him, a question building in your foggy mind, but you never get to ask it.

Something warm slides up your slit, flirting with your opening. It twirls around your clit, and you begin to shake, realizing that it’s another tongue. He’s eating you out from the palm of his hand, and it only intensifies your tension. You’re burning from the inside out, your pussy pounding as the tongue slides in and out…in and out.

“Say my name,” he hisses, jaggedly, like he’s barely keeping it together. “Say my name, and I’ll take pity on you.”

“Ah…fuck…” Resolve crumbling, you fall forward and onto his chest. His fingers rake up your back, only intensifying your pleasure. Your hips wheel around, chasing his palm…his tongue…your ecstasy.

“Say it,” he commands. The palm’s mouth closes around your clit and starts to suck. Holding back your moans becomes unbearable. It’s all you can do to stop from screaming again, and even then, it’s not much.

“Sukuna!” You plead, tears dotting your eyes. “Please—ah! Please let me cum! Sukuna please, god!”

“So good, little one,” Sukuna coos, “so sweet.” He sucks and nibbles and licks amplify, and you squirm and gyrate against his tongue, barreling towards what was before a very elusive edge. You go over with a trilled moan, trembling, crying, euphoric.

Absolutely devastated.

And it’s not over. He’s not done with you.

Before you can stop vibrating, Sukuna pulls you up against him, lining you up with him. His cock head pries at your center, breaching your surface when he kisses you roughly. It's a vicious and animal, all encompassing kiss, like he’s been starving for it.

“Sit on it,” he instructs. His hands move up and down your sides, either to comfort you, or to remind you that he could force you down if he was so inclined. “Slide down on my cock like a good girl. I want to be buried inside of you.”

When you begin to descend, Sukuna sharply snaps his hips upwards, forcing himself in urgently. The sudden intrusion is enough to make you yip, your body set aflame. Sukuna’s—Yuuji’s pupils expand, his eyes growing darker as he watches you struggle to take him in. There’s no time to get used to his size. He’s moving, and you have no choice but to react. Reluctantly, you stretch for him, and he slowly moves out, only to harshly push back in.

“Beautiful,” he rasps. The praise sends shivers up your spine, and makes you pulse around his cock. You’re sure the evil bastard can feel it, too, because he cups your jaw, and exalts you. “Pretty girl, you feel so good. So tight. A natural submissive, too. Isn’t that right?”

You’re about to object, and when he senses it, he pulls you off of him, and throws you to the floor. You have no time to run, because he climbs on top of you, shoves your head down to the floor, and pulls your ass up.

“When I ask you a question, you answer me,” he rumbles against your neck. It’s violent, but one hand is still on your ass, caressing you soothingly. “You say, ‘yes, daddy’ like my sweet little girl. Unless you want me to treat you as a cum-dumpster—some whore to spill my seed in.” His thumb begins stroking your ass hole, and your body shivers in anticipation. “In any hole that I want. Do you understand me?”

“…yes, daddy,” you weep into the carpet and pray for this to end soon.

Sukuna guides his shaft back inside of you, and it presses against a spot that makes vision darken for a second. He’s relentless when he drives into you, over and over again. His heat surrounds you, weight pressing you into the floor. His large hands rub your skin, petting you all over, and the caresses almost make this intimate, until his touch, again, travels to your other hole.

Trepidation pumps through your blood, making you squeeze his cock. The fear is something electric and addictive, and it has you warbling. He groans, picking up his pace, but his thumb doesn’t leave its place.

“Are you afraid, little one?” Sukuna’s timbre takes on a darker edge. “Scared I’m gonna do the same thing to your ass that I’m doing to your beautiful, fucking pussy?”

The right answer eludes you. You’re not thinking. Your walls close around Sukuna every time he speaks. Every time he pushes himself to his hilt, fills you up, and claims you. By the tears staining the carpet, you can assume that yes. You’re very afraid.

“Yes, daddy,” you mewl, right before Sukuna twists his fingers into your hair, and pulls you back. Two arms wrap around your stomach, squeezing you to him, and his last hand reaches around you to rub circles around your too-sensitive clit. “Ohhh, god. Yes.”

“You should be.” He latches onto your neck and sucks violently. You scream as your second orgasm rips through you, forcefully shaking your entire body as Sukuna hammers into you, his pace kiltering off. He’s about to chase you.

“Daddy, please, no…” not inside. Not inside.

Sukuna scoffs, gives you several more cruel pumps, then pulls out, straining you to fall on your back so he can stroke himself off, spraying hot, white ropes of cum across your hot stomach.

“Mine,” Sukuna declares. He smoothes his hand over your sweaty belly, spreading his cum across your skin. “The next time you tease the brat, I’ll take more than your pretty pussy, little girl. That’s a promise.” He dips down low to glide his tongue up your cheek. “So don’t you hesitate to call on me again.”

Then, the marks and the arms disappear, the second pair of eyes closing. The brown eyes that blink at you, shining with something like shame or pleasure, are Yuuji’s.

“Baby…” He says, and you don’t have it in you to cringe away from him when he crowds you into a hug. He pulls you against him, kissing your temple, whispering apologies. He asks if you’re okay, and you don’t know.

But you can’t stop thinking…about when the next time you’ll play the “Tease Yuuji” game.

#yuuji itadori x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #Itadori x reader #Yuuji x reader #jjk x reader #jjk reader insert #jjk lemon #reader insert #suggestive themes #jjk smut #sukuna smut

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mae-gi-writes · 3 years

Text

Once Again (PT.I) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN : PART ONE

Summary: Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother.

Genre: fluff, slight angst, f!reader x dad! Iwaizumi

A/N: There will be 2 or 3 parts of this oneshot! Depending on how long I feel like writing. Thanks for checking it out and stopping by! Let’s dive into some Iwa moments :,)

NEXT PART -->

---

“What’s your return policy on rings?”

The saleswoman smiles sympathetically behind the counter. That stupid sympathetic smile he’s been getting for weeks on end now. And it never stops; with his co-workers, with his family, his friends...

Iwaizumi’s sick of it. He’s sick of having to prove that he’s doing just fine, thank you very much. When in truth, his heart is constantly being torn apart and stomped upon as is people have nothing better to do than torture him in their free time.

“I’m sorry, but these rings have been brought more than three years ago, and our warrant only lasts for three years,” the saleswoman keeps on talking but it doesn’t matter, for Iwaizumi can already feel the anger slowly creep up through the back of his neck, can already feel the vibrating emotions clogging up his sense of judgement.

His fists clench at his sides upon impulse, the physical pain of his nails driving into his palms enough to remind him to stay cordial. It’s not the woman’s fault, the better part of him chants, it’s not her fault at all.

“Fine,” he manages to grovel out, barely, “thanks anyway.”

He all but storms out of the shop while shoving the rectangular box back in his pant pocket, and though it’s been more than four months since his ugly divorce with the woman he’d hoped to share the rest of his life with, the weight of their promise hangs heavy and hot upon his thigh.

The thing is, Iwaizumi is mad. He is seething. If one were to give him a bat, he’d probably destroy the entire town by himself. Not because she was the one that cheated, not because she was the one going behind his back numerous times a week to seek out her lover when he’d been basically driven mad between Hoisuke’s cries and the stress of call meetings scheduled back to back.

No, he’s angry. Because how the fuck could she do this to Hoisuke? How can she break the child’s heart like that, so ruthlessly, without even thinking twice about the consequences?

Because if there is a victim in all this, then it’s definitely Hoisuke. And not only that, Hoisuke understands that his mother has been acting strange, that she doesn’t return at regular times and that her hugs now smell of cigarette smoke with a bittertaste of alcohol.

Iwaizumi is so caught up in anger that he almost blunders past his battered Hyundai, red and chipping away at the corners. Still, this car holds so many memories, the good and the bad ones.

“Can’t you get a newer car? I thought your company could sponsor you,” the ghost of his wife’s voice echoes through his head, a blatant reminder of all the things she’d found wrong in his life.

“Why?” he’d tilted his head around to fix his gaze on her figure bending over the sink. The TV was playing in the background and he thanked the gods that the morning comics were taking up Hoisuke’s attention, enough to distract him from his parents’ quibbles.

“It’s just--so old and tacky.”

“It still works well, doesn’t it? Why change it now?”

She’d paused, hesitated slightly before blundering on, “It’s embarrassing. My colleagues keep asking if we're poor or something."

"Who cares what your colleagues think?"

Fuck her, Iwaizumi mentally swears as he turns on the ignition. Fuck her and all her needs for a better life. As if the life they had wasn't more than enough. Pulling out into the street to join the incoming traffic, he blinks away the sudden tears accumulating at the corner of his eyes and swears once more, this time aloud, glad that Hoisuke isn't in his presence when he gets in such a foul mood.

Iwaixumi may be angry. He may be filled with pent-up rage from the memory still attached to the day he'd discovered a used condom in their bathroom trash. But that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

That doesn't mean he does not still cry into his pillow over it every night.

----

"Please don't forget to do your homework for tomorrow! We'll correct them before moving on to the next chapter," you call out to your students as excited chatter fills the air. Students rise from their seats, some calling you bye and waving as they all file out of the classroom and you can't help the small smile lingering over your lips even though your feet are killing you.

Outside, parents have already lined up to collect their kids, the chatter and bustle of people ebbing away down the corridor as you let out a soft sigh.

"Miss?"

You jolt, not realizing that one of your students stands by the table wringing his hands, "what's wrong Hoisuke? Dad's not here yet?"

He shakes his head, watery eyes blinking up at you as he raises his thumb to his lips. You stand quickly and motion him to come close until he's within reach before your hand smoothes over the back of his head, "it's okay. He's probably stuck in traffic. I'll wait with you."

It's not surprising that parents get tardy once in a while and you're all too accustomed to those slight change in plans. Thankfully, you manage to distract the young boy with some coloured crayons and a piece of paper while you dial for his father's number.

It keeps ringing. No one picks up.

You try once more, one more time after that. But still, nothing. It shifts to voicemail. You decide it's better than nothing, "hi Iwaizumi-san. This is Y/N, Hoisuke's teacher. I was just wondering what time you would be picking up Hoisuke? Please call me as soon as possible. Thank you."

You end the call only to spot Hoisuke's eyes on you, intent and impatient for you to explain, "it's okay," you tell him with a smile, "he'll be here soon. Don't worry. Do you want to keep colouring some more?"

Hoisuke nods, to which your smile widens. It's those special moments, where your shyest students express themselves, that your chest warms with sympathy and affection. You've been there, you know how it feels like not to be heard, and you appreciate every interaction they offer you.

Being a primary school teacher is tough, especially since it wasn't in your original plans. But the satisfaction of bringing up some of the world's future leaders cancelled out all the late nights correcting tests and scrambled weekends trying to finish off as many worksheets as you possibly could for the coming week. You can’t complain, not when you have a decent salary that keeps bread on the table and a roof over your head.

A tug on your sleeve brings you back to Hoisuke looking up at you, a scribbled drawing of what seems to be of him and his dad. You feel yourself chuckling at how he's drawn both their hair in brown spikes, erratically extravagant and yet so close to reality.

"That's really good, Hoisuke!" You beam down at him, "what do you and your dad do on weekends?"

He shrugs shyly, head averted to the side so that there's no need for eye contact. And in the shyest voice he can muster up, he says:

"Daddy brings me...to see Mama," Hoisuke's words are barely above a mumble, "they live in different houses. They can't live together anymore."

Uneasiness squeeses in your stomach, followed by sympathy for this soft-hearted boy. You had overheard some of your colleagues giggling about Hoisuke's dad being attractive and single -- a combo that teachers adore -- but that doesn't mean that the weight of his words don't lay heavy on your own conscience.

"Do you miss your Mama a lot?" You ask him softly. Unconsciously, your hand finds a way to smooth over his head.

The boy doesn't pull away. Instead, he nods, "sometimes. But it is better this way. Daddy smiles more now. And there's no one to shout and make noise."

"Are you happy, Hoisuke? With your dad?"

He nods and to your amazement grins, "daddy is funny. He tells me not to swear but when he burns the food he always swears. And then he says to shush and tells me to close my ears. He also makes me pancakes every Saturday morning before I go see Mama."

Right on cue, a figure bursts through the open classroom door and both your heads snap to see a drenched, older version of Hoisuke who looks like he just finished running a marathon.

"I'm--" he wheezes, causing you to stand in alarm and concern, "I'm sorry I'm--so late--"

"Daddy, you forgot me again!" Comes Hoisuke's statement as you ask Iwaizumi if he's okay. He shakes off your worry with a flick of his hand and a shake of his head, "I'm fine. Sorry-- there's a nasty rain outside--"

"It's okay," you reassure him as Hoisuke practically barrels into his father and almosy knocks him off his feet.

"Sorry Hoisuke," you watch Iwaizumi's hardened features soften ever so slightly as he ruffles his son's hair. Then, looking back up at you as you bring over Hoisuke's backpack, he says, "thank you. For looking after him."

"It's no problem, honestly. We had fun didn't we?" You grin down at your student and are delighted to find Hoisuke grinning back up at you, albeit shyly, "I put his homework in his diary. He'll need to complete it for tomorrow so that he doesn't fall behind in class."

His father nods, "alright. Thanks."

"Daddy, your hair looks atrocious," Hoisuke says, tugging onto his shirt.

"Atrocious huh?" Iwazumi's eyebrow rise, "someone was listening in their English class today."

"Atrocious means that it looks bad. Daddy, your hair looks bad."

"Thanks buddy, I knew that. Now say bye to Miss Y/N."

"Bye bye, miss Y/N," Hoisuke says, wriggling his short arm through the air as you wave back with a giggle. His father nods at you in silent thanks, makes a move to walk out of the class, only to swivel back to you just as you're collecting your bag.

"Uhm," he clears his throat, causing you to jump slightly, "yes?" You blink back at him and try hard not to stare at the way his white shirt clings to his toned chest, translucent from the rain.

"Do you need a ride?"

-----

You've known Iwaizumi since high school. Having graduated just two years later than he did, his reputation had preceded him throughout the school halls even though you'd never actually had any face to face interaction with the said man. Iwaizumi doesn't know this of course and you are adamant about keeping it a secret. But that plan seems to be unraveling before your very eyes the moment your small talk turns towards your academic history.

"You're from Aoba Johsai?" His surprised glance doesn't escape your notice, especially since that's the most reaction you've gotten out of him.

"Yeah," your eyes stay glued to the row of cars crawling through the motorway, "I remember you went there too, right?"

"How'd you know?"

"You were Aoba's ace volleyball player. Everyone knew who you were."

His silence answers you and for a moment, you fear that you might have offended him. Not that it's something to be offended about.

Before you try to scratch your brain for some kind of response -- any response -- Hoisuke pipes up from the back seat, "Daddy was famous back when he was in high school. He hit the ball like kapow! And jumped so high he can touch the sky."

"Oh? Have you seen him on camera?" You turn slightly, a small smile dangling off your lips at how adorably amazed and excited Hoisuke seems to be.

"Yeah! His spikes are so awesome! It goes pow! And it zooms! Like a cannon ball!"

You burst out laughing, "yes, your father was amazing whenever he was on the court. Every girl in our class had a crush on him."

"What's a crush?"

"Hmm, you know when you really like someone. You like like them, you want to be together with them. Like, girlfriend and boyfriend."

"Oh," Hoisuke draws out, "did you really like daddy too?"

"Yeah I did."

"What?" Iwaizumi almost chokes on his own spit at the same time traffic eases and you're glad for the distraction, for you're certain there's a scattering of colour upon your cheeks.

"Do you really like him now?" Hoisuke persists, undoubtly untouched by the embarrassment taking over his father's features and you swear that more than ever, you want to laugh at how flustered Iwaizumi looks.

You decide to play nice though and instead turn to wink at your student, "that's a secret for me to keep."

You don't have to look twice to know that the man beside you is bursting into hot flames.

-----

"Did you really like Mama before you started living separately?"

Iwaizumi swears that he's never felt so uncomfortable in his life. Not when he's had to state that he was divorced, not when he had to sign divorce papers half drunk off his ass. Not even when he'd raged after his said ex-wife after finding a tie that wasn't his own in his laundry pile.

Now is probably a good definition of what uncomfortable means.

"You're not gonna let me off the hook are you?" He steals a glance at Hoisuke from over his shoulder while stirring the vegetable curry, "yes, I really liked your mother."

"Did she?"

The word 'yes' almost slips past his mouth. Except, he isn't sure whether that's the truth and decides to shoot back with, "have you finished your homework, Hoisuke? You know it's due tomorrow. Miss Y/N said so."

"Do you really like miss Y/N?"

"What?" Iwaizumi frowns, "well--no. Not like that."

"Why?" His son whines, "I really really like Miss Y/N. She's nice to me and she never shouts. And she bakes good cookies!"

"How'd you know that?" Iwaizumi leans over to taste a bit of the sauce. Not bad, he thinks and mentally pats himself on the back. A few weeks ago, he would've probably burnt the entire house down.

"Because she bakes them every month. Every time we finish a test."

"That's nice of her."

"Yes," there's a pause as the man fishes out a bowl in which to serve the curry, "daddy, what do you do when you really like someone? Do you marry them like you and Mama did?"

"Uh--yeah. Sure."

"Then does that mean I need to marry Miss Y/N if I really like her?"

"Yup."

"Daddy!"

Iwaizumi bursts out laughing. Turning off the stovetop and bringing the bowl over to the dining table, he reaches out to ruffle his son's hair with a grin, "you're the one who has a crush on miss Y/N."

"She's too old for me Daddy," grumbles Hoisuke while scooping out two rice bowls as the pair sit down for dinner, "but she'll be good for you."

"Not that simple, buddy," Iwaizumi says as he dumps two spoonfuls of curry into his son's bowl, before doing the same with his own, "there's a difference between like and love."

A frown falls over his son's face, so like his own that Iwaizumi can't help but chuckle, "what is the difference?"

"Well, when you really like someone, you might want to get to know them better. Or play with them andd shit--stuff like that. When you love someone, it's..." he hesitates, "it's different."

"Why?"

There goes that innocent question that punctures his chesy a little too deeply. The brown-haired man steadies his gaze upon the calendar fixed on the wall opposite him as he answers with:

"When you love someone, you want to live with them. You want to start a family with them. Their happiness," his brown orbs switch back to his son's focused attention, "their happiness is all that matters."

Maybe it's the fact that he's not used to speaking so truthfully about such things. Maybe it's just Hoisuke who suddenly realizes the layers hidden beneath his father's poker-faced exterior. But for a moment, neither of them speak, as if bewitched by a silencing spell if broken by the scraping of cutlery against porcelain.

"Did you love mama?"

Hoisuke's voice is small, fragile. So fragile that Iwaizumi pauses just as his spoon reaches his mouth, glancing over at his boy. His beautiful boy.

"Yeah."

Another short pause. "Did she love me?"

"Of course she did," Iwaizumi's face softens. To be honest, Hoisuke hadn't showed any kind of restraint during the entire divorce procedure, had merely accepted things as they had unfolded before his very eyes. But sometimes, Iwaizumi fears his son might be keeping more from him than he lets on.

He ressembles his mother a lot in that sense.

"Then," wet coffee-coloured eyes blink up at him, lips trembling with a hoarse whisper, "why'd she leave?"

Before his father can say anything, the young boy bursts into tears.

Iwaizumi rushes over, clasping Hoisuke in his embrace as the child buries his face into his neck and cries and cries and cries. His little heart beats like wild horses and with every sob echoing through hid body, Iwaizumi feels his own heart break over and over again. One of his hands rub comforting circles of Hoisuke's back, while the other smoothes over the back of his head as he murmurs soft nothings in hopes that it will calm down the young child.

"I want--" Hoisuke's voice is thick with tears, "I want Mama--"

"Shh, hey it's okay," Iwaizumi murmurs out, "s'alright kiddo. I got you."

Hoisuke falls asleep eventually, the soft sniffles dying out into even breaths as he slumps against his father’s shoulder, probably tired out from his earlier emotions. Iwaizumi takes this as his chance to tuck the boy into bed, glad that he’d listened to the small subconscious in his head telling him that Hoisuke would be falling asleep sooner rather than latter.

As he smoothes over his son’s hair, a part of him wonders how much Hoisuke is still silently hurting from his mother’s departure. He can’t imagine it; suddenly changing lives like you’ve merely changed your bed sheets and Iwaizumi had been so caught up in his own heartbreak, in his own bout of silent rage, that he’d forgotten that along the way, Hoisuke was also a victim to their endless fighting, the cold war that had broken his family apart.

He wishes he can take the pain away, ease it somehow. But it’s not that simple. The truth is, no one can actually predict how a heart gets broken, nor when it does. The only evidence are the repurcussions. And it’s only now that Iwaizumi gets to see it truly take its form.

Leaning over to press a soft kiss to Hoisuke’s forehead, Iwaizumi murmurs his silent goodnight before walking out and gently closing the bedroom door behind him.

He leans onto the hard wooden surface and rubs his eyes. It is only upon pulling them away that he takes notice of the family photograph hanging on the opposite wall, frozen smiles wrapped up in lies.

He really needs to take that down.

-----

748 notes · View notes

sylverstorms · 3 years

Text

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity

Three months, two days and seven hours.

That is how long you’ve been in Dimitrescu castle for. If rumor is to be believed, you are well on your way to setting the year’s record for longest living maid. Well. ‘Maid’, according to their perception. Your mind always automatically corrects it to something more fitting:

Prisoner.

You did not choose to work for them. You did not choose to be in this godforsaken place, cleaning crimson stains off the floors, trying to convince yourself the wailing that sometimes reaches your ears is simply the wind. You never would have imagined your life’s end like this, serving wine –no, who are you kidding, it’s too crimson for that— to the Dimitrescus at dinner until one of them snaps and drives the nearest blade into your throat.

Probably Daniela.

It’s not unheard of. And stories of other maids’ murders are plenty.

Daniela has bitten one’s throat off for the crime of addressing her wrongly. Cassandra has left increasingly deep gashes, some of which resulted in deaths, for random offenses, like staring at her for too long. Bela, arguably the more merciful of the three, has snapped necks only when the staff disrespected her sisters’ names, or her mother’s.

You aren’t sure if you want to thank the older maids for this information or yell at them for the nightmares it has caused you. You are lucky to not be in the village, they say –everyone there must already be dead. You are even luckier to have been taken from the dungeon by the Lady herself. It means the daughters don’t know you and the castle is big enough that they may never spare you a glance.

You hadn’t believed it, at first.

Yet in the three months of your stay, you have never come across anyone other than Bela in the sections you were assigned to clean and polish. She passed you by the hallway like she did the decorations and the furniture –and you couldn’t be happier about it. You have caught scarce glimpses of Alcina Dimitrescu, too. Never the other two residents.

Not until the fateful day another maid disappears and the staff’s assigned posts change. You have no say in it and no power to object.

May as well keep my head down and continue to work as carefully as I have. That is the idea. Not to look too much, or think too much, or feel too much. Avoid mistakes because those in the castle are fatal.

It is a little difficult to remain utterly calm when the sound of swarming insects comes from far behind you, though.

Your blood starts to kick in your veins. Your heart wants to jump out of your chest and make a run for it. You lock your muscles down and summon all the willpower you possess to stay focused on your task.

Please be Bela, please, please, be Bela—

The buzzing dies down. Steps approach you in the otherwise silent hallway. They are too light to be Bela’s. You’re probably screwed, you think, but you keep cleaning the surface in front of you until it’s practically a mirror with how it shines.

The steps halt too close to you for comfort. Out of the corner of your eye, you realize they’ve left bloody imprints on the floor you’ve been polishing for hours now. Dainty, pale fingers are wrapped loosely, almost lazily, around a sickle dripping crimson.

“Never seen you around, before.” the sound of her voice makes you freeze.

You stop and turn— to face none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her hood is down, brunette waves on point, the dried blood at her chin a terrible contrast to her otherwise attractive face. You… didn’t know she was that pretty, up close.

“I… I have been here for three months. On the opposite wing.” you say. Was I even supposed to reply? You’ll find out soon enough, if your tongue is still attached to your body.

Her eyes give you a quick once-over. “Bela’s been keeping you a secret, huh.” she tsks. Her free hand goes to the handle of the door next to you… and only then do you realize it must be her bedroom. You’re literally assigned to clean the wolf’s den. “Come wake me up when the sun has set, completely.” she emphasizes.

What.

“Uh—”

The crimson-dyed sickle moves until its blade rests underneath your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet hers. From this angle, under the pale lighting of dawn, they look more –stunning— blue than inhuman gold. “No loud sounds. No lights. Got it?”

How can you not, when your life depends on it?

“Yes, my lady.” you reply. You don’t even dare draw breath.

“Good.” In one swift movement, the sickle is gone, the handle turned and she’s already shedding her robe.

You catch a glimpse of a black corset and a narrow waist before you avert your eyes.

The door shuts.

...

Waking Cassandra up can be… tricky, the other maids tell you.

She detests light when she opens her eyes but she also doesn’t want it to be pitch black. You’re not supposed to talk but you can’t shake her, either. Which brings you to the very logical question:

“What the hell am I supposed to do, then?”

To which they have no answer.

They have no answer, you realize with a start… because there’s nobody alive to tell the tale of how to actually wake the brunette sleeping beauty up without simultaneously signing their own death sentence.

The hours pass both too slow and too fast. The sun sets over the horizon.

And you stand, riddled with nerves, outside Cassandra’s room.

A deep inhale later, you turn the handle. The door is left half-open so a bit of light comes in from the hallway. Her bedroom smells like shampoo, bath salts and spices. She must have taken a shower before she went to sleep. You approach the figure tucked under the silken sheets of the queen-sized bed…

Cassandra is lying on her side, one hand underneath her pillow, the other extended loosely towards the edge of the mattress. She probably sleeps naked, at least from the waist up, but thankfully the covers are wrapped around her chest. Their royal red color makes a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin.

Her face is so… serene.

She is a monster and a sadistic killer, yet right there you can’t deny she looks more like a renaissance painting.

Now onto the hard part.

“My lady… the sun has set.” you whisper, kneeled on the floor beside her. No movement comes. “Hey… I’m here to wake you up?” you try again. Still nothing. Shakily, you bring your hand up to the bed. Not daring to touch her, you leave it beside hers, over the covers. “Cassandra?”

She turns her face deeper into her pillow –no, no, you don’t think it’s cute, what’s wrong with you— but at least she’s finally reacting. You call her name one more time.

Her nose scrunches up a little. Long fingers flex –and they touch yours. She’s cold. A pair of blueish ambers blink open to regard you. Not with malice, or with annoyance.

“Good evening.” you speak, unsure of what else to say.

A smirk slowly curves her lips. She looks like a lazy cat pondering whether or not it’s worth it to pounce and that’s not good. It’s not good, not ‘hot’ like your mind suggests. God, you’ve been in this castle so long you are starting to get messed up.

“Mm, breakfast in bed.” she grins and licks her lower lip sexily. Your eyes fly wide open, but her hand is already gripping the front of your black shirt, trapping you there.

How could you ever find this psycho attractive?! you get mad at yourself. Is she hot now that she’s going to kill you?

But Cassandra only lets out an airy laugh and releases you. You fall backwards on your behind. “Breathe, darling, I’m joking.” She rolls onto her back and seems to wince from it. Her smile vanishes.

“…does… your back hurt?” you ask when you finally find your voice again.

“Ugh, a Lycan landed a hit on me. He’s pieces now, of course, but my muscles still pull.” she says it casually, like it’s a thing that happens.

Silence falls over the room. You take it as your cue to leave. You stand and bow while she’s looking blankly at the ceiling—

But she stops you.

“Wait. Come here.” you don’t like it when she gets that tone, like she came up with something she cannot wait to try. You’re already close to the bed, you’re not sure what she means. Until she pats the spot right next to her. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You won’t. You know what’s good for you.

Hesitantly, you take a seat on the –admittedly very comfortable— mattress. “Yes, lady?”

“Give me a massage.” she says like it’s your job, like she’s the rich woman in a spa and it’s what’s expected. She turns onto her front, bearing her naked back to you and you have less than five seconds to come to terms with the thought of straddling her.

Carefully, you bring your knees on either side of her thighs and pull the sheets so they rest low at her waist. You feel warmer than you should given the temperature of the castle. If she knows the fine teasing line she’s walking, she is loving every inch of it.

Cassandra loves being the center of attention and she loves being pampered, you realize.

It’s probably amusing to her to make you fluster, but this is also an opportunity for you to get on her good graces. She is a dangerous one and it’ll be a great asset for your survival if she’s leaning favorably towards you. Win-win situation. You just have to be good at your job. Like always.

By some miracle of God, you do know how to work the tension out of muscles.

The first time you touch her, you simply rest your hands on her back to warm it. She doesn’t seem to object, from the way lean muscle stretches out under your fingers. Cassandra feels cool, but not hard like marble. Her skin yields under your touch, soft and smooth.

As you apply more pressure to your stokes, she starts to let out little sighs that you have to mute in your mind before they start to affect you. You’ve been high-strung and without sex for too long. Your body all too eagerly intercepts this death-trap as foreplay.

Minutes roll by.

You alternate between all the methods you know. The one that really seems to get her is when you drive your thumb into the knots and end with a little circle.

Cassandra is –God help you— openly moaning every time you press more. It is a bit too much pressure you’re applying though and you don’t know if you’re hurting her and she’s just into it.

“Is this too much…?” you ask. Fuck, why do you sound so breathless?

“No, it’s good.” she husks back.

“Harder?” You don’t know what innocent means, anymore.

Cassandra sends that little smirk again over her shoulder. “Harder.” she replies and the extra flair she puts into it is enough to nearly fry your brain. And other parts of you.

You’re pretty sure you need a cold shower by the time you leave her room.

...

At diner, you hang back in the shadows, gaze downcast.

You do not need to know what the Dimitrescu family is eating, nor what they’re drinking. You do not need to see Cassandra or risk catching Daniela’s gaze. You love your anonymity in the castle. It has kept you alive.

But it is shattered like frail glass when you bring another bottle of Sanguis Virginis to the table. You’ve almost retreated back to your place, when Daniela’s eyes zero in on you.

“She’s the human!” she exclaims like she’s made the world’s most startling discovery. Bela seems to understand, but the Lady and Cassandra frown over their glasses.

“I am almost afraid to ask, love.” Lady Alcina says…

And she’s right.

“The one who made Cassandra go ‘harder’ and ‘yes, yes!’ earlier this evening.” she impersonates in her sluttiest voice and then breaks into a fit of cackles. Bela’s lip twists into a withheld chuckle.

Lady Dimitrescu nearly chokes on her wine.

Cassandra slaps the back of Daniela’s head. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Girls.” Alcina warns and glares until the table calms again.

Then, her eyes curiously fall upon you.

So much for your anonymity.

Ko-Fi

#Cassandra Dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu's daughters #cassandra x oc #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #fanfiction #cass kills with her hair and nails on point she's the murder-princess type #you can't change my mind #I love her

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doctorstethoscope · 3 years

Text

The Right Chapter 5 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem! Reader

This is a big one babes!! Hold on tight!!

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

Contains: canon-typical discussion of violence, soft aaron hotchner supremacy

wordcount: 1.8k

You barely saw Aaron on Sunday, despite being in his house the whole day-- Jack was practically buzzing with excitement the moment you came through the door, pulling you down to his height and wrapping his arms around your neck to squeeze you in a hug.

“Hey, little man, I’ve missed you!” You said enthusiastically, returning his hug.

“I missed you too. And so did Daddy. He said you were sick so I drew you a feel better card,” he told you, dragging you over to the coffee table and brandishing the piece of computer paper he’d folded in two to form a card.

“I love it so much Jack! I feel better already. Let’s put this on the fridge, yeah?” You said, standing up and shooting Aaron a smile as you crossed the kitchen.

“Can we play legos now?”

“Buddy, give her a second. She just got here.” Aaron tried to calm Jack down, but you waved him off.

“Just let me put my stuff away, and I’ll meet you in your room, okay?’ You told Jack, who scurried off towards his bedroom.

Aaron must have found some other way to entertain himself, because you and Jack spent the whole morning together, only taking a break after lunch when it was time for Jack’s nap. He insisted that you put him down, and after three readings of Curious George, he was finally asleep. When you turned to leave, you saw Aaron sitting in the door jam watching you.

“He was so excited this morning you would have thought it was Christmas,” He remarks as you meet him in the doorway.

“He’s a good kid.” You whisper, slipping out into the hallway and pulling the door shut behind the two of you.

“I’m lucky.” He agrees with you.

“Come on, Hotchner, it’s not all luck.” You tease him good naturedly as the two of you move back to the kitchen. He saw you headed for the sink, full of dishes from lunch, and sped up to get in front of you.

“Ah, ah ah. It’s naptime.” He told you, placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you around.

Before you could stop yourself, you stomped your foot, not entirely unlike a child who needed a nap. “Hotch, come on!”

“We’re probably getting called on something tomorrow, and sleep will be hard to come by, and you’ll wish you’d listened to me.” He tells you.

“You’re acting like you aren’t going to bench me, regardless of whether or not we get called on a case.” You accused of him, and he at least had the good grace to try and look sheepish. “I’m not tired. Can we just watch a movie or something?” You offered a compromise, and he nodded, leading you to the couch.

You plopped onto the couch and picked up the remote as Aaron crossed the room to grab a throw blanket for the two of you to share. He spread the blanket across the couch and sat down, and you tucked your feet underneath you, unintentionally leaning in closer to him as you flicked the TV to a movie channel. Aaron stretched his legs out in front of him, extending one arm across the end of the sofa and the other arm around the back of it, conveniently making more space for you. As Hotch had suspected, it wasn’t long before your eyelids started to get heavy.

“The dishes…” you mumbled sleepily.

“I’ll take care of them.” He whispered, leaning in closer so you could hear him.

“Later. It’s naptime,” you reminded him, your head resting against his chest in sleep. His arm came to rest across your shoulders and down your side, drawing you into him. He inhaled deeply, trying not to overthink.

You’re her superior. His brain screamed. She loves Jack, not you. She loves Jack, but that doesn’t mean she wants to raise him. You’re too old, too cranky, too much baggage. This isn’t what you think it is. As much as he wanted to make himself believe all of that, as much as he wanted to accept that even if he knew he would go through hell and back for you, he could never have you, all he could focus on in that moment was the steady puffs of breath coming from your nose and landing on his chest. He realized, with a start, that it felt like walking into the wrong classroom your senior year of high school and locking eyes with the woman you knew you were going to marry.

Aaron’s prediction had been correct-- Monday morning had found you jetting off to Kentucky, for the murder of three county paramedics-- by the time your plane had landed, another body had dropped. A firefighter. You all climbed into SUVs from the airstrip-- Hotch and Rossi off to examine the bodies, Morgan, JJ and Prentiss to the most recent crime scene, and you and Reid to the police station to the police station to work on the geographic profile. Normally you’d be off with Hotch and Rossi, and examining a body wasn’t technically field work, but you went with Reid with minimal pouting, knowing you were lucky that Hotch had let you leave Quantico at all.

You decided to let Reid drive, and you were fiddling with the radio when he spoke for the first time.

“I keep… thinking about what there is to say to you, to communicate how much we’re all here for you, how much we all love you and we all want what’s best for you, and it feels like everything just falls short. I have an IQ of 187 and I still can’t find the words, but I can’t say nothing. I was scared for you. I’m proud of you, and if you need anything I just want you to know I’m here. I might not have the right words but I promise to listen, and to make sure you feel heard.” The words stumble out of Spencer awkwardly, but still strike you with their sincerity. You sniffle a little before responding.

“I know, Reid. I know how much you all care for me. I’ve never doubted that for a second. Thank you.” You tell him, your voice thick with emotion.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am.” You tell him with a confident nod. “Or, at least, I’m getting there. I did the hard part. I got out.”

A few hours later, you were at the police station with Reid, narrowing the geographic profile and spitballing with victimology, when one of the local officers poked his head into your makeshift office-space.

“Another body dropped. The town librarian.”

“Two in one day?” You asked.

“He’s spree killing now. He’s devolving.” Reid supplemented.

“Do you think it was random? He was killing first responders. The librarian doesn’t fit.”

“Could be,” Reid agreed.

“Have you called the rest of our team?” You asked the officer.

“Not yet.”

“We’ll call.” You told him, and he nodded. You pulled out your phone and dialed Hotch as Reid crossed the room to call JJ.

“Hotchner,” he said into the phone.

“Hey, it’s me. Another body just dropped.”

“He’s devolving.” Aaron sighed

“It was the local librarian.”

“But he was killing--” He started, but you could hear the words he was going to say before he even thought them.

“First responders, I know.”

Aaron let out a deep sigh. “If I take Reid off of babysitting duty, are you going to behave?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, but I reserve the right to bitch about it when this is over.”

“Noted. Tell him to meet us at the next scene, please?” He asks of you.

“Will do. Stay safe out there.”

“You too.” Hotch said before hanging up.

You sent Reid off to meet up with Hotch, and sat back down in front of your case files and notes, determined to find something written between the lines. After a tortuously slow thirty minutes, a thought occurs to you. You step into the police bullpen and get the attention of one of the officers.

“Hey. Does this town contract out its EMS services?”

“No,” the officer tells you. “They’re all employed by the town. They’re paid with a mix of taxpayer and grant dollars.”

“So they’re government employees?”

“Yeah.” The officer confirms, and you pull your cell phone out of your pocket, heading out a side door to get a little bit of air and some better reception to call Garcia.

“What’s new bugaboo?” Garcia asks as she picks up the phone, and you can’t help but smile. The sunshine felt warm on your face as you paced the empty back lot of the police station.

“Hey, Garcia. Is there any way to track if anyone in town has some sort of anti-government bias?”

“I can look for fringe political groups-- if the unsub is a member, that might help, but it would take me days to just search through every resident’s social media.”

“That’s okay, start there. Look for white men between 23 and 45. If I think of anything else that might weed it out I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, kitten. Are we talking strict anarchists here, or should I be looking at groups like--”

Garcia continued, but you couldn’t hear her over the sound of a gun cocking and the sensation of cold metal at the back of your head. You gasped.

“Sweetie? Did you think of something?”

“It’s time to put the phone down.” A voice said from behind you. You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

“Who was that? Are you okay?” Garcia asked.

“Go on,” the voice said. “Hang up the phone. Don’t be dumb.”

You hung up the phone without saying another word to Garcia. The man dragged his gun down your spine, resting it against the middle of your back. “To think, I came here thinking I might kill a couple of cops, and I ended up with an FBI agent. Talk about an upgrade.” You tried to subtly reach for your gun, but it was useless. He strikes you in the head with the barrel of his gun before you can react. “Come on, sweet thing. I told you not to play dumb with me.”

“You really think you can kill an FBI agent outside of a fully staffed police station without getting caught? And you’re going to call me dumb?” You asked, hoping that he couldn’t hear the fear laced in your voice.

“Who said anything about not getting caught?” He chuckled. “We all die eventually. Might as well make it worth my while.”

tagging: @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee @hotforhotchner11 @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner @zheezs14

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you

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broiderie · 3 years

Text

Lost Princessa 6

Part 6

Some information comes to light about Megan's past.

Please do not translate or steal any of my writings. I just got this back - don't piss me off and make me stop now. My demented mind doesn't need anyone's help. 18+ please. Be responsible for your own media consumption.

Thank you @drabbles-mc for letting me talk this out. Here's the start of the Tranq-bait

Warnings: Curse words (obviously), talk of past crimes and criminal records, talk of bodily injury... let me know if I missed anything.

Taza x Daughter!OC

Behind the temple doors, discussion was held as to the status of the search for Galindo’s infant son as well as all normal Mayan business. After everything else had been discussed, Bishop brought the final point to the table.

“We all know that Taza found his daughter on our most recent run to the casino. Megan Morales IS Taza’s daughter. She grew up in Tennessee with no knowledge of who she was. Now she knows and she’s come back to Santo Padre to meet her family.” He met ever man’s eyes at the table. “And she IS family. Treat her with the respect due a Mayan Princessa because that is what she is.”

Taza spoke up. “Megan has no idea how a family is supposed to work. She’s fiercely self-reliant and painfully shy right now. She says that she wants a fresh start, and I intend for her to have that.”

Marcus nodded. “She’s a tough chica, but she’s got a past. Her left wrist has very deep bruising around it. She claims they aren’t a big deal, but they’re very clearly a man’s handprint.”

It was Hank’s turn to speak up. “Her wrist isn’t all of it. She’s got bruises on her collarbone too. I’d bet there are more we haven’t seen yet, and she hides them well. She also panics if you do anything for here that she isn’t used to... especially anything to take care of her.”

Marcus and Taza nodded, but it was Coco who spoke next. He ashed his cigarette and lit a fresh one. “She’s used to doing without, so she won’t ask for anything. She started paying her own way as a teen when they were charging her rent at her foster home. She won’t ask for help – we'll need to keep an eye on her. Also – she doesn’t speak Spanish, so be careful how you speak to her.” He took a deep draw of his smoke. “She’s a good kid. Scared. She deserves a chance.”

Bishop nodded thoughtfully. “Anyone else?”

Creeper threw the folder down on the table. “Taza asked me to see what I could find about her online. I found more than I expected. She was a noted up and coming rodeo star.”

“What did you find, hermano? Anything to explain the bruises?” Marcus asked.

Creep took a deep breath and tried to sum it up. “Megan Elizabeth Morales. 26. Moved all over Tennessee from the age of 3 in foster care. High school rodeo star from the age of 14. Graduated high school at 16 with honors and was emancipated,” Creeper recited. “She rode the rodeo circuit until she was 19 when she dropped off the map nearly completely for a few years. At 22, she married Jimmy Melton, a career felon with a record for drug dealing, domestic assault, and suspected for attempted murder. Melton recently made parole – just in time for Megan to file for divorce. Divorce was finalized twenty-five days ago.” He pointed at the folder. “It’s all there. She’s clean. No record that I could find, but if she had a juvie, it would be sealed.”

Taza reached for the folder and flipped through the print outs of newspaper articles and public records that Creeper had made for him. “Divorced, huh? Maybe he’s the reason for the bruises and fresh start.”

“Is there a picture of your douchbag ex?” Coco asked practically vibrating in his seat. “And who’s he suspected of trying to kill?”

Creep shook his head. “Not part of public record. He’s not been charged yet.”

Taza flipped the wedding picture that he found in the folder to Coco, who passed it to Hank after studying it for a minute. Megan wasn’t even in a wedding dress – just a tee shirt and jeans. She wasn’t smiling either.

Creeper passed Taza the thumb drive he had made him. “That’s hours upon hours of footage of her from rodeos and competitions. The girl was good.”

“Gracias, hermano. I appreciated it.” Taza put the drive in the inside pocket of his kutte.

“Alright. There we have it. We have a new family member. Get to know her. Be gentle with her. Protect her. Keep an eye out for anything unusual and bring suspicions to myself, Taza, or Hank.” He looked around the table again. “Anything else?”

Riz raised his hand. “Vicki asked me to relay and invitation to the club. She’s got some new girls and is throwing a little meet and greet at her place tonight for frequent flyers. We’re all invited.”

Bishop nodded. “Noted. Anything else?” At the head shakes, he struck the gavel. “See you tonight then.”

As the table cleared, Taza stayed seated. Hank was the last one out and shut the door to give Taza and Bishop some privacy to talk.

“What can I do for you brother?” Bishop asked taking a swig from his beer.

Taza took a deep breath. “I took Megan shopping this morning for some clothes and we were talking. There’s so much that we missed out on because we didn’t know about each other. I mentioned wanting to make up for some of it and she agreed as long as I pace myself and let her breathe.”

Bishop nodded. “Make sense. What does that have to do with me?”

“If Megan had grown up here, she’d have been christened and had godparents to guide her when I couldn’t. Someone for her to go to when she needed something that I couldn’t provide. I’d like her to have that still. Would you be willing to act as Megan’s godfather? I plan to ask Marcus as well, so it wouldn’t be totally on you. It’s not traditional – but what about this is?” Taza spun his beer bottle slowly on the table.

Bishop sat back. “Did she agree to getting godparents at her age?”

“Yeah. We talked about it this morning in detail as I was attempting to get her to let me buy her new boots.”

“Then... yes. I’d be honored to be one of Megan’s godfathers.” He smiled and both men stood to hug. “When are you talking to Alvarez?”

“Whenever I can get him alone. This isn’t a discussion for public knowledge before things are settled.”

Bishop chuckled. “True. Alright. I’ll ask Marcus to step in here so that you can talk to him. Once he says yes – cause he will- we can start planning her ‘christening’ party Mayans style.” The two men hugged again and Bishop stepped out to give Taza the chance to speak to El Padrino.

When Taza didn’t come directly out of Templo, Megan wasn’t shocked. After the discussion of godparents this morning she expected him to take the first chance he had to discuss it with his chosen brothers.

Hank made his way over to the table she was sitting at while she waited for their meeting to be over. There was a newspaper in front of her open to the help wanted page and a pen and pad of paper for notes too. “Hey Princessa. Looking for a job already?”

She looked up at him and smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. I gotta earn my keep somehow. Can’t live off of Taza.”

Hank put his hands on the back of her chair and leaned down to read her notes. “Bartending?”

“Mmmhmm. Been doing it for years. Pays the bills.”

“Princessa- the places on your list are all hiring for a reason. They’re horrible places to drink, let alone work. Let me talk to Riz. See if he’s hired a new bartender here yet. We’ve been without one for a while and I know he’s been looking for a trustworthy girl to take it over.”

“Here?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Yeah. Prospect can’t always be behind the bar. Occasionally we need him elsewhere. It’s honest work. We’re a legit bar. Plus, you’d still be close to family.”

She nodded slowly. “If Riz will interview me for the position and not hire me just because Taza’s my dad – yes. I will work here.”

Hank squeezed her shoulders gently in thanks and breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to think about the trouble it would cause if she worked elsewhere and someone laid a hand on their princessa. “Thank you. Be right back.” He went to talk to Riz.

A few minutes later, Riz came over to the table and sat down across from her. “Hank says you’re a bartender by trade and you’re looking for a job.”

“Yeah, but I want to make it on my own merit, not my paternity.”

Riz folded his hands on the table and nodded. “I can respect that. How long have you been bartending?”

She settled into the familiar feeling of the ‘interview’ and straightened her back. “Started bartending school at 20. By the time I turned 21 and could actually tend a public bar I’d passed both my bartending course and a mixologist program.”

“Nice. Certified and everything. You willing to work when things get rough? None of our girls have ever gotten hurt on the job, but shit happens around here.”

Megan nodded. “I’ve worked in some pretty rough joints. I think I can handle it. Think you can handle Taza when someone gets handsy?”

Riz chuckled. “We don’t let guys get handsy without consent here. That goes for every girl in the place – not just bartenders – not just family.” Privately he thought that it wouldn’t be Taza they’d have to sit on if someone did manage to get handsy with Megan.

“Fair enough.” She nodded satisfied.

Riz sat forward to ask the hard – and slightly delicate – questions. “So... sometimes our bartenders are asked to work parties off premises. Sometimes it’s to help when we visit another charter for a big party, but sometimes they’re private parties at other businesses that we partner with. Sometimes that’s a porn studio. Sometimes it’s a brothel. You got any problem with that?”

She snorted indelicately. “My last bar was a strip club. As long as you don’t ask me to take MY clothes off or tend to a john – I don’t give a shit. I’m just there to sling drinks and smile for the customers.”

That startled a real laugh out of Riz. “Fair enough, Princessa.” He nodded. “Sounds like you’ll fit right in. Can you start tonight?”

“Sure. I don’t think Taza has made any plans for us.”

“Great. Pay’s $15 an hour plus tips. You don’t wait tables – that's the prospect’s job and we’ve got one other girl who waits and busses. Got an off-premises party tonight at Vicki’s brothel. She’ll love you. No dress code either.”

“Sounds like a plan. Will I need to get there early to set up a bar or will there already be one there?”

“Nah. Prep work falls to the prospect. You just sling the drinks. Welcome to the club, Megan.” Riz smiled charmingly and shook her hand.

Megan grinned and sank back down into her chair as Riz walked away. She practically melted from released tension.

About then, Bishop exited Templo and spoke quietly to Alvarez – who then went inside and shut the door. Riz caught Bishop and spoke to him causing Bishop to break into a grin. He headed to Megan’s table without dropping the self-satisfied smirk. “So, I hear you’re our new bartender! That’s great. Our last girl left a few months ago when she graduated college. You any good?”

She smiled up at the man she assumed had just agreed to be her godfather. “Decent. Got certifications in bartending and mixology. This way I can start work tonight and help y’all out with that party.”

‘Nice.” Bishop kept an eye on the door to Templo.

“Taza talking to Marcus?” Megan asked quietly.

Bishop grinned and sat down next to her. “Yeah. He said you talked it through this morning?”

“Yeah. I’m guessing you said yes?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He signaled EZ for another beer and another coke for her. “You get on alright with the prospect? You bartending means you’ll be working with him a lot.

EZ brought them both fresh drinks and took their empties to the recycling bin

“I mean... he’s quiet and I think Hank threatened him, but I can work with just about anyone.” She shrugged. “The main issue I have with male co-workers shouldn’t be a problem with him.”

“What’s that?” Bishop asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I break their nose when they don’t realize that no means no.”

Bishop burst out laughing. “Yeah. You’ll be fine.”

Just then Marcus and Taza came out of Templo laughing a talking. They looked around and then moved to join Megan and Bishop at the back table.

EZ immediately appeared with more drinks.

Megan looked back and forth between all three men. “All good?”

“Si, Poquito. All good. We’ve got a major party to plan though,” Marcus laughed.

“Well at least you’ve got a bartender for it now. Riz just hired me. I start tonight at Vicki’s.” Megan sipped her soda smiling.

“That’s great, Chica! But you won’t be bartending at your own party.” Taza chuckled at her face.

“I don’t need a party. I’m here and I have a family to get to know. Parties aren’t necessary for that.” She spun her coke bottle slowly on the table as her cheeks warmed.

“You don’t understand, Chica. Girls in our culture are so valued. Their christenings, birthday parties, quinceañeras... all are huge parties meant to show a girl her worth. You didn’t get any of those and now we get to make up for lost time.”

“You may not need a party, but you just gained dos padrinos who want to throw you the party of the century to announce your arrival, Poquito.” Marcus lit a cigarillo and smiled.

Bishop laughed. “Besides, Marcus needs all the practice he can get. He’s got a young daughter to spoil. And I just want to. Get used to it. You just went from only dodging your new father’s spoiling to now having to dodge Taza and two new tíos. Let us have our fun.” He lit his own cigarette as Megan shook her head exasperatedly.

Not like I could stop any one you anyway.” She stood and laughed at the self-satisfied looks on all three men’s faces. “I’m going to go familiarize myself with my new bar. Even if tonight’s party is off premises, it can’t hurt to know where shit is.” She squeezed Taza’s shoulder as she walked by and headed to the bar where EZ was putting away glasses.

Hank came to join the elder’s table with his own beer. “That looked like an intense discussion. Why do the three of you look like cats that got into the cream?”

Taza chuckled. “Just who we need. We’ve got a major party to plan and we’re going to need your mama’s help, Tranq...”

#mayans fanfic #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc #lost princessa #che taza romero #taza x daughter!oc

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amphxtrite · 3 years

Text

cedric diggory x slytherin fem!reader

warnings: smut, swearing, oral (female receiving), hand job, fingering, riding, kind of dom x dom, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

do not read if you are not comfortable.

summary: Badgers and snakes are born into their rivalry, even in the wild they are practically bred to fight and show their dominance. Cedric and the reader have hated each other from the moment they met. It’s not until Cedric puts his name into the goblet of fire and nearly gets killed that feelings become clear. fluff at the end.

a/n: thank you to @cedricsyellowscarf and nonnie for requesting!

word count: 4.6k

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

When you think of slytherins, what’s the first thing you think of?

Cunning, resourceful, and badass?

Y/n L/n was all the above when you thought of a stereotypical member of the house of black and green, someone who knew what they wanted and would fight with a smirk on her face.

Hufflepuffs on the other hand are thought to be loyal, compassionate, and sweet.

Cedric Diggory fit the description perfectly. The school golden boy with a pretty face and a kind personality.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But just like in nature, the badger and the snake were born to fight.

When Cedric first met you, a chill went up his spine, everything about you screamed ‘no’ at him and had a scowl resting on his face seconds after just seeing you. Similarly, the hufflepuff gave off a goody-two-shoes aura, someone who couldn’t relax and caved into every demand thrown at them. You didn’t know why, but you had the overwhelming urge to push all this boy’s buttons and drive him insane. Maybe it was the whole ‘strict prefect, and perfect person’ thing going on, but you just wanted to have some fun with him.

You started small. Flirtatious winks, smirks and checking him out when you knew he was looking. The reactions ranged from annoyed to bashful and if you were lucky he grew absolutely seething.

“What the hell are you doing l/n?” He sighs as you brush your arm past him in the hall.

“What Diggory? Am I not good enough to be in your presence?” You scoff, turning to face him. “Listen, I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work.” The badger snarled.

“Oh Diggory, it already has.” Your smirk, brushing your wand down his jawline and licking the outside of your teeth.

Cedric couldn’t explain what got him so ticked off about you, maybe it was your care-free demeanour; someone who could get whatever she wanted with a snap of her fingers. He’d seen you in between classes, people fawning over you or begging for your forgiveness, only to be met by your stoic face. Your whole being betrayed every instinct and belief Cedric held, and the voice in his head begged to attack.

And so the battle between the badger and the snake continued, you pushed the badger’s buttons, challenging him and egging him on to snap.

“I’m not going to ask again l/n.” The brunette seethed, taking hold of your arm and pulling you back towards him after your fingers brush his back. “Ask what?” You cock your eyebrow with a grin.

“Did the pretty boy finally lose his composure?” Your grin turns malicious and Cedric pushes you against the wall. “In your dreams l/n.”

“Oh indeed you do.”

The two of you were natural born rivals, coexisting to keep the other on their toes and keep natural instincts alive. Both sides are stubborn, unwilling to let the other win. It was destined that one of you would though, these things don’t just end in draws.

As you ‘flirted’ relentlessly, Cedric’s only offence was his retaliation. He had a feeling you’d stop if he never reacted, but a piece of Cedric enjoyed the challenge and almost craved the game.

When the badger put his name into the goblet of fire you almost scoffed. Maybe you had done it, driven him off the edge and caused him to go insane. But as the boy clad in black and yellow turned to reveal a smile, you nearly choked on your pumpkin juice. How on Earth was this fool smiling at the fact he could’ve just signed himself up for a public, gruesome death.

It may be hard to believe, but even snakes can become ‘compassionate’ when it comes to things they are close too, and while you couldn’t call what you and Cedric had, a compassionate situation, a sense of worry and dread overtook your senses.

“Hey is your head in the right space?” You fall into step with the badger and place your hand onto his forehead to check if the boy was sick.

“What is your problem?” Cedric flinches back, confusion flashing onto his face as soon as your hand comes into contact with him.

“Oh I’m just checking you haven’t lost your mind Diggory.” You roll your eyes and flash a sickly sweet smile.

“It’s none of your business what I choose to do l/n, now leave me alone.” The brunette’s face remains firm.

“As you wish, your majesty.” You smirk and fall back to head to your friends.

Despite the internal fight the hufflepuff couldn’t help but almost feel sorry for the way he reacted to your gesture. It was the first time you’d shown any type of kindness towards him. And while rather strange, he knew he shouldn’t have let his aggressiveness win over his true personality.

The badger never found his voice to apologize though, and the rivalry proceeded. You wiped any trace of worry from your face and continued your mission of driving the golden boy crazy. Only thing that was different was the way Cedric reacted. When you first began your flirtatious mission, Cedric grew angry and annoyed at your attempt to gain his attention. He knew you were trying to distract him and he let it get to him.

The silver-eyed hufflepuff started to look forward to your pestering, your flirting was the only fun he got after his name was pulled from the goblet. His schedule became jam packed with training, classes and pity parties from every student who made eye-contact with him. He was happy to see that something hadn’t changed.

The first task came and had you holding your breath at each champion’s battle with their dragon. Your mouth dropped open in awe at each unique way of conquering the task, and by the time Cedric stepped up to face the Short-Snout, you were already on the edge of your seat.

Snakes are in no means known for their love, but it is known they can show compassion in subtle ways. Worry blossomed in your stomach as you watched Cedric transfigure the boulder into a dog, he was taking a huge risk using it as a distraction, when the dragon could turn at any moment. Cedric managed to grab the egg moments before the dragon lost interest in the labrador, and a weight seemed to lift from your shoulders and a small smile shone through as you joined in on the applause.

The second task arrived and the four champions dive into the water in search of their treasure. Cedric surfaced first with the girl who attended the ball with him, ensuring his spot in first. Krum was next with Hermione, Harry coming in last, but with Fleur’s person along with his.

Cedric was rather confused to see Cho at the bottom of the lake. The egg stated the treasure was the thing they missed the most, so the professors must have gotten the wrong idea when Cedric showed up at the dance with the ravenclaw, she’d simply been kind enough to be there as support because Cedric had no one else to attend with.

By the third task, the entire wizarding world was biting their nails at the anticipation of the triwizard tournament. Sitting in the bleachers in front of the massive maze, it made you uneasy you may have to sit through one of these champion’s screams, injuries or even death.

“Tied In first place we have Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter. They will enter first, shortly followed by Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour.”

At the sound of the flare, the hufflepuff and gryffindor cautiously make their way into the green maze, choosing each step with caution and wands clutched tightly in their hands, until all that was seen was the walls of the hedge.

Cedric had endured a lot through the triwizard tournament and he was not going to give that up for anything. When he spotted Harry close by the cup, his aggressive side took over and he tried to beat the boy who lived. When Harry actually ended up saving his life, he knew there was no way he could take this victory.

The two of them touched the cup and suddenly the world morphed and they were transported to a graveyard. “A… Portkey.”

A short man enters their vision as Cedric’s weakened frame points his wand towards the intruder. “Petrificus Totalus!” The unknown man shouts as Cedric’s body seizes and he falls flat on his face, his body ignoring his constant attempts at moving to help Harry, he can only listen to everything happening as he lays uselessly against the ground.

“Cedric! Get up, we need to go now!” Harry’s frantic voice calls as He pushes Voldemort and his death eaters back. The binding pressure is suddenly released and the hufflepuff immediately jumps to his feet. He runs to the portkey, throwing back any death eaters getting too close to Harry before grabbing his hand and taking hold of the triwizard cup.

The two boys are transported back into the maze, but they waste no time rushing out and grabbing hold of the first people they see. “V-Voldemort’s back!” Harry screams, followed by Cedric’s own voice. Looks of confusion flash on everyone in the audience's face, but as the champions break down they have no way to deny it, something terrible was coming to Hogwarts.

Amos Diggory makes a beeline for his son while Harry is dragged away by professor Moody. Cedric is gasping for breath and searching around for something, someone, to keep him sane. When your eyes meet Cedric’s eyes flash in hope and he begins to limp in your direction, stumbling and falling often, but not leaving his path despite his father’s grasp. You stand to question the hufflepuff, but he simply collapses into your arms.

“I-I’m so sorry for how I t-treated you. I shouldn’t have let m-my feelings define you, a-and I hate that I despised you for n-no reason.” Cedric begins to cry in fear he could’ve died without finally getting his apology off his chest. He wraps you tightly in his arms and his breathing grows rapid. “P-Please forgive me.” He manages in between breaths and your emotionless barrier falls. “Deep breaths Diggory, you’re going to pass out if you keep this up.” You caress the boy’s back in a soothing manner, but Cedric’s murmuring only rapidly increases, and you were beginning to feel a headache. “Hey, it's alright! I forgive you.”

His muttering continues.

“Ced, please you’re bleeding, let’s go get help.”

No use.

As a final resort you gently lift Cedric’s face from the crook of your neck; tears are streaming down his face and apologies continue to flood your ears.

“Save your breath Diggory.” You smirk, pressing your lips to Cedric’s scabbed pink ones.

Your lips are still as Cedric registers your movement, his eyes widen, but slowly close as your smooth lips pull him into a daze. The slight taste of blood is forgotten as Cedric stands and cups his hands around your face, tilting his face to deepen the kiss and slip his tongue into your mouth. As he familiarizes himself with your taste a low groan emits from the back of the champion’s throat and he pulls away to look at you.

In nature, badgers and snakes are natural born enemies, but when Cedric looked into your eyes, the badger lost its temper and the snake became calm. In the Hogwarts walls the snake and the badger felt something new bubble inside them, and the statement ‘opposites attract’ finally began to make sense. Two people, so different, yet so drawn to each other. Finally giving in to their feelings, with primal instincts still flooding their senses.

“You shouldn’t have done that, once I start, I might not be able to stop.” Cedric’s voice grows low in arousal and he leans his face closer to yours.

“Then don’t stop Diggory, take me.”

Cedric immediately takes your hand in a firm grip and walks you down the bleachers, promising his father to go to the hospital wing, but entering the quidditch pitch’s change room instead.“I-I need you y/n. Fuck, you’ve made me want you for so damn long.” He moans desperately, pushing you against the stone wall and placing his hands wherever he could. You trail your fingers down the hufflepuff’s torso and nibble on his lower lip. Cedric’s hips jolt and you’re met with a sudden pressure on your lower abdomen.

“Someone’s excited.” You smirk, reaching your hand down the brunette’s trousers to take his length into your hand.

Your eyebrows raise at the champion’s size, but you don’t let it shine through as your tease your hand against him, brushing past his tip before using his precum as lubricant to move against him.

When Cedric’s face contorted into a look of pure pleasure and lust, you were sure that this was the reaction you’d wanted from Cedric from the start. Lip in between his teeth and eyes shut tight as he bites back moans and lightly tugs on your hair.

You move your hand faster, smirking in pride as loud whimpers begin to exit beautifully from Cedric’s lips and he begins rocking himself against your palm.

“You like it when I use my hand Diggory?” You tease, applying even more pressure to his aching cock as he began to twitch in your grasp.

“Oh fuck yes y/n, just like that.” The hufflepuff’s rough hands move down from your hair to grasp your face and connect your lips again, drowning out the sound of pure ecstasy leaving his mouth with each thrust of your hand.

“You better be quiet Diggory, or people will know how much of a naughty boy you are.” You whisper in a low voice.

“I’d watch your mouth if I was you.”

Cedric removes your hand from his pants and pushes you on to a wide bench, holding you down so you can’t move.

“Now it’s my turn to make you writhe.” He growls with a devilish grin, pressing open mouth kisses against your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin as he works off your skirt.

Your head falls to the side as Cedric finds your weak spot, a mewl signaling him to go harder. His hands pull down the zipper on your back and he carefully pulls it down as your intoxicating whimpers egg him further on.

“Well princess, I guess you got what you wanted.” Cedric smirks, dropping to his knees in front of you and throwing your skirt to the side.

“You’re driving me absolutely insane.”

Euphoria flows through every single nerve in your body when Cedric presses his rough fingers against your clit, the only thing separating you and pure bliss being a thin piece of fabric. Cedric uses the cloth of your panties as extra friction, slowly circling his fingers around as your back arches and your breath grows irregular. Leaning forwards, he takes the lace of your undergarment between his teeth and pulls it down your thighs, swiftly prying your legs apart as soon as your panties drop to your feet and pass your ankles. “Now be a good girl and keep these open, alright?” Cedric mutters, in a dark voice as he descends.

The hufflepuff tests the waters by licking a stripe up your core, hiding a cheeky grin at the sound of your choked moan and continuing to lap at your slick folds.

Your vision fills with dots and your mind is deprived of any thought, your only feeling was Cedric’s strong tongue flicking around and dipping in and out of your slit.

“So wet for me love?” He groans deeply, the taste of your heat, causing his arousal to grow exponentially. Your only response is the incoherent moans and curses stringing past your lips as your back arches and your body pulses in bliss.

As your hips start to buck and your legs close against his face, Cedric uses one hand to press your abdomen down and using his arm and other hand he pushes your legs apart again, your moans fueling his strength. When the brunette adds his fingers into the array, your hands move from your clothed breasts to Cedric’s soft brown hair. A sudden rush of pleasure has your grip tightening in the champions curls, and a loud curse echoes through the empty room.

“You like it when I pull your hair like that Diggory?” You tease through the pulsing in your body. “Fuck, do that again y/n.” His deep growl responds as his fingers quicken and hit deeper inside your tight walls.

With each tight grip in Cedric’s curls, a loud moan was heard in response as he thrusts his fingers deeper and sucks harder, letting his moans vibrate through to your clit to fill your lower stomach with butterflies.

“I-I’m gonna cum!” You whimper loudly.

“You can cum if you beg.” The hufflepuff purrs with one last roll of his tongue, pausing his fingers, still deep inside of you. Every ounce of your dignity is shredded as the pleasure of Cedric’s mouth and fingers stop.

“Please Diggory, let me cum.” You mewl in desperation, but he doesn’t move.

“Try again love.” He smirks in amusement.

“Please Cedric, you make me feel so good! I’m so fucking close, I need to cum.” You moan in frustration, grinding your hips frantically for any friction. Cedric chuckles darkly, pulling his fingers out almost fully before slamming right back into you.

“Merlin, you say my name so perfectly darling.” The brunette grins, pulling his finger out and slamming back again.

“Say it again.” Cedric commands, attaching his lips to your clit, his fingers now ramming in and out of you.

“Cedric! Oh fuck!” your choked voice almost comes out as a sob, and your incoherent moans mix deliciously with your lover’s name.

With the combined stimulation of Cedric’s rough fingers and strong tongue, a coil snaps as your body seems to lose control. Writhing, pulsing, and gripping Cedric’s hair as you pant for breath.

Cedric pauses the assault with his tongue, but continues using his fingers to help ride out your high.

When the shockwaves finally stop and you’re able to open your eyes again, Cedric is leaning directly above you, a grin plastered on his face. “You’re so beautiful when you cum.” The hufflepuff begins kissing down your neck as his hands move down his torso and pulls his shirt up his chest. Cedric pauses to wince as cuts reopen and the fabric irritates his bruises, but when you sit up to help him, he pushes you down again. “I’m fine, It’s just a couple scratches.” He smirks looking back down at you, but you’ve regained your senses and have pushed the toned champion back onto the bench and climbed onto his lap.

“Are you sure? You looked pretty banged up.” your voice comes out as a soft whisper as you begin to press butterfly kisses to his bruises.

“Yes, f-fuck y/n.” He groans as you suddenly bite down on his shoulder, sucking on it for a couple seconds until you’re sure a hickey will form.

“Good, because it’s my turn now.”

You lift your hips from his lap to tug his shorts down and he lifts his bottom up to help you. As soon as they’re off you begin to unbutton your blouse, shrugging it off before leaning forwards and running a finger down Cedric’s abdomen. “Help me?” You smirk, standing and brushing your hair aside to reveal your bra strap. Cedric obliges with shaky fingers as his cock grows harder and begins twitching. Once it comes loose, you turn and connect lips with Cedric’s again, moving your hand to the back of the brunette’s head to run your hands through his hair and cup his jaw. Cedric takes your hips into his hands and slowly brings you towards him again. You shuffle onto Cedric’s lap again, hovering just above his cock as he rubs the sides of your body.

Without warning you sink onto him, relaxing your walls to take all of Cedric’s length. His grip on your waist tightens as you wrap around him. Strings of curses leave his mouth as his head falls onto your shoulder and he nips at the sensitive skin. When you’re halfway down, he moves his hands from your hips to your breasts, massaging them roughly and peppering kisses all over. With the Help of Cedric’s wandering hands and caring mouth, you bottom out and adjust to the feeling of being full. Your hands dig into Cedric’s shoulder blades and you begin moving up and down. It’s slow at first, you aren’t quite sure how to do it, but the hufflepuff uses his hands on your hips to guide you and soon you’re bouncing up and down, the grip on your side and the waves of euphoria from Cedric’s cock pushing you further than you could have ever thought possible.

“You feel so good darling.” Cedric sighs, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide open as your walls wrap tighter against him with each bounce. You don’t respond, your thoughts occupied with keeping the euphoric feeling coming. Using Cedric’s broad shoulders you begin to pick up the pace, sucking dark marks into existence on his chest, panting breathy moans into his ear and tightening your grip around his shaft to earn you that desperate moan that made you dizzy.

With the overstimulation from your voice and love bites Cedric could feel his release coming, but he wasn’t ready to end this just yet, with the last couple bounces he summoned as much strength as he could to lift you from his lap and release onto your abdomen. It took everything in him not to drop you or collapse right there, but he managed, setting you back down on the wide bench to push you back and tilt your chin up to meet eye to eye.

“Don’t t-think I’m done with you yet princess.” He growls.

The lustful look in your eyes as your pupils dilated and your mouth hung open had him hard all over again and before you could reply with something witty, he pounded right back into you.

Your head is thrown back at the new angle Cedric is fucking you in, your back arches so he can move deeper and your legs swing up to wrap around his torso, bringing him impossibly close to you. Cedric responds with vigorous thrusts, desperate for you to submit to him and end this with him on top. While he desperately rolls his hips into yours, you pull his head down and reconnect your lips, using your tongue to explore his mouth as you swallow the breathy moans of the grey eyed hufflepuff. Your teeth clash, lips mold and tongues dance as Cedric fucks you senseless.

“Oh fuck Cedric right there!” You cry, rolling your hips up to meet the champion’s needy thrusts and allowing your moans to fill the empty air. Skin hitting skin is the only sound other than your moans and cries mixing together, intimately connecting and reconnecting over and over as wave after wave of pleasure and euphoria floods your veins and every corner of your body. Your eyes roll back and your toes curl with each movement of Cedric’s hips and with his arms pinned above your head and his low groans right in front of your face you could not contain the knot that was forming in your abdomen. Your nails rake down Cedric’s back and bury themselves into his hair as you grin victoriously at the loud profanities spilling through his gritted teeth. With each pump of his length the knot grows tighter and tighter, Pleasure is swapped with pure bliss and Cedric can feel it too as his thrusts grow sloppy and your core tightens against him. He lets himself go, and you follow right behind him. The proof of your pleasures stream between the two of you, down your legs and in between where you are still connected.

Cedric helps you ride out your high as you run your shaky finger up and down his chest, a smile growing on your face as Cedric finally opens his eyes and looks back down at your tired form, panting and grinning back down at you.

“I win.” He smirks, lazily pulling out of you and resting himself on his elbows.

“In your dreams Diggory.” You roll your eyes and move some hair out of the boy’s face.

“Oh are we back on the last name basis?” Cedric chuckles, cupping your cheek and using his thumb to circle your cheek.

“Only if you want Ced.” You sigh, tilting your head closer to Cedric’s warm palm.

“Well in that case, you better get used to calling me Cedric, y/n.” The hufflepuff beams, sitting up and pulling you onto his lap.

Your eyes widen and you begin to laugh joyously as you connect your lips to Cedric’s again, mumbling sweet nothings in between each peck. You stay like that for a second, in each other’s arms, relishing the feeling of finally being complete and content, but as you press your hand to Cedric’s chest he winces and you know the moment has to end.

“Alright lover boy, it’s time to get you to the hospital wing.” You sigh, pecking Cedric’s lips once more before grabbing your wand and quickly cleaning off the mess in between you and Cedric’s legs. “Do I have too?” Cedric groans, pulling you back to him, as you clasp your bra on. “I’m sure I’ll be fine just sitting here in your arms.” He states staring lovingly into your eyes. “Sorry Ced, but even I don’t know a lot of healing spells and by the look of it you’re gonna need them.” You giggle, standing on shaky legs as you pick up your blouse and skirts again.

“Get changed Ced, I’ll meet you outside.” You smirk, slowly making your way out of the room with a slight swing in your hips.

Taking a deep breath of the night air, you take a moment to really take in what just happened. You thought you hated that boy, but maybe that was just for show. Maybe you’d always had feelings for the boy with the yellow scarf and you had been too naive to realize it. It felt strange how the part of your brain that convinced you to fight was now telling you this was right, but you were fine with it, your whole perspective had changed of this boy from the moment he came limping to you in the stadium.

Cedric had similar thoughts as he tugged on his shirt and pants. He finally realized the feeling he got when you looked at him wasn’t annoyance, it was a crush. A fancy that he wanted so badly to deny, but embrace at the same time, and now he could.

As he finally walked out to you and wrapped you in his arms, you knew it was right and you were where you are meant to be. As you interlocked hands with the grey eyed hufflepuff, making your way towards the castle and your new life. Something was made crystal clear.

Badgers and snakes are natural born enemies, made to fight and hate each other. But you and Cedric aren’t the animals you are associated with,

you’re humans and you had the choice to decide how you would treat your opposite.

And although the two of you were clear descriptions of the houses you were assigned, your personalities molded perfectly.

As Cedric lay in the hospital bed, Madam Pomfrey healing his wounds, you stuck by his side and held his hand, knowing the snake would never define you. The badger would never define Cedric. You were your own people, and you were in love.

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Would you write some steamy make out session between fem!reader x a daughter of your choice? Maybe the daughter would sneak out of the castle or sneak reader in the castle into her bedroom. They can go all the way, I'd love a dominant top reader in this, but if you're not comfortable writing about that someone can interrupt them when reader is just about have their hand in the daughter's pants. Thank you in advance!

I picked Bela, cuz I've already got some nsfw with the other two planned. Not gonna lie, this had me, like, screaming in the middle of the night because I'm incredibly easily flustered, and whooooo boy this is what the folks would call "horny". Anyway, I tried, hopefully it's good. If not, please forgive me, I haven't written nsfw in ages (can you believe I used to write this stuff with a straight face?). PS: the reader probably isn't as dominant as you were going for? I just, idk, personally exude bottom energy (even as an ace) and struggle a lil with that sort of thing. If I understand terms correctly (and I do not), the reader might count as a 'service top'. What does that even mean. I'm probably not correct. Just. Just read the thing and see if it's any good, leave me to my awkward flailing.

Under read-more for horny, obvs. Also because this is, like, 1.5k words, which belongs under a read-more. Oh, also not beta read? I could not willingly make someone read this and edit it.

Sweet Talkin' (Alt: the fic that killed j)

“Are you sure we won’t get caught?” You asked, butterflies in your stomach, equal parts nervous and excited. This date had taken weeks of planning. Every last detail was covered, from location to timing to where a certain noble would be, backed up by maidens and begrudging sisters alike. At the end of the day, you really shouldn’t be nervous. But considering just how special this was supposed to be… well, you couldn’t help your anxiety. Evidently your girlfriend feels much the same, as her reassuring smile was hardly as confident as it normally was.

“We’ve gone over this a thousand times, darling, we know it’s going to work out fine,” Bela Dimitrescu replied, before pulling you in for a quick kiss. The two of you stay in each other’s arms for a moment, gently resting your foreheads together. “It will be fine, it has to be. If my mother found out-”

“She won’t,” you interjected, quickly, trying to do for her what she had done for you. “You said it yourself, we’ve double and triple checked. As long as we finish up before dinner, as planned, your sisters will keep her distracted. Admittedly I’m still not sure how you managed to convince them to help.”

“The threat of mutually assured destruction,” Bela replied, as if it was obvious. Something about the way she was always so fast to respond, usually with something clever, made your heart skip a beat. Ooh, and the confidence she radiated? Even better. “Besides, I’ve covered for the two of them a dozen times or more, I think they owe me one. Now, let’s just enjoy this time we have together, alright?” Then she takes both of your hands in her own, giving them a soft squeeze, while looking at you lovingly.

“Is it getting a little warm in here, or is it just me?” You asked, blushing, almost overwhelmed by the heat shared between the two of you. There’s a slight lump in your throat, but you push it down as fast as you can. After all, this was exactly what the two of you had wanted, and you happened to have a little ‘surprise’ in mind. Now seemed like the perfect chance to act. “Maybe we should do something about it, hmm? Don’t want me overheating during our date, now do we?” Well, it wasn’t your smoothest moment, for sure. But you were used to Bela taking the lead in these sorts of situations. This was simply your turn to have some fun, finally show that you didn’t always need to be told what to do (not that you minded, at least not when it was Bela giving you commands).

“Oh? Do elaborate, darling, I’d love to hear what you’re suggesting,” she replied, soft smile betraying her mirth. For a second you see her gaze drift from your eyes to your lips, and you have a feeling you know exactly what she’s thinking about. Seizing the moment, you wrap an arm around her waist, then pull her in for a kiss. Soon enough you two are pressed against each other, eager in your movements, hearts racing in sync. Slowly but surely you move your hand, edging it down her back, then a little further… Bela gasps as you gently grab her ass, not having expected you to be the first to make such a move. A few moments later you have to break for air, chests heaving, but you don’t let go of her entirely.

“Less clothes, for starters. And since your skin isn’t, hmm, quite as warm as mine… I was thinking I could use that to my advantage. If your thighs need a little warming, we could kill two birds with one stone,” you said, practically purring, voice lower than usual. A blush soon rises up Bela’s cheeks as she considers your offer. It doesn’t take her long to smirk, satisfied, one hand going to cup your cheek.

“Right now, there is nothing I would love more,” she murmured. It’s all the encouragement you need to act. Without hesitation you tuck an arm behind her legs, sweeping her up and onto the desk in one smooth motion. It’s a good thing she cleaned up for our date, you think, as you position your body between her thighs. For now you focus your lips on her neck, leaving a trail of kisses along it. Meanwhile your hands find themselves on the fabric of her dress, slowly sliding it upwards, revealing more of her soft skin, ready and waiting for your touch. She lets out a quiet moan as you work, using one hand to hold your head close to her. “You’re rather eager today, dear. Worried we won’t have time for you to get a turn?” Bela asked, in between sharp breaths, teasing as ever.

Instead of replying, you just run your tongue over a particularly sensitive spot on her neck (one you’ve taken advantage of many, many times), unable to stop yourself from smiling when it draws another, louder, moan from her lips. Savoring the feeling, you give her the softest lovebite you can manage. Then you finally get the hem of her dress up to her thighs, allowing you all the access you need, and you pull back to look her in the eyes.

“The only thing I’m worried about is how loud you’re about to be. I wouldn’t want to scar the other maidens,” you said, grinning. Part of you remembers that Daniela and her girlfriend had already handed out plenty of mental scars. The rest of you, however, is content to focus on your girlfriend. So you give her one last quick peck on the lips. Seconds later you’re on your knees, looking up to admire the view. You can’t help but release a low breath at the sight. It takes you a moment to recover, blushing heavily, before you get back to work. Reaching up you take the edge of her underwear in your hands, tugging it away. Bela shifts as you do, trying to make it easier for you, and before long you’ve removed it entirely and tossed the garment over your shoulder. Normally you’d be neater, but when the two of you had all the time in the world… why bother?

Even with one hell of a prize right there, you don’t go straight for her cunt. You place a kiss against her inner thigh, then another one, taking your sweet time. It’s driving Bela crazy, and she’s squirming in place. Picking up the pace just a bit, you add in a couple nibbles, slowly climbing up her thighs, hands ensuring they stayed parted. Right as you move in for more, her fingers tangle in your hair, urging you closer, closer. On one hand you want to tease her, payback for a dozen times she’s done this exact thing to you. On the other hand… your lips can’t help themselves. You’re kissing her clit, loving the way she gasps in response, switching to using your tongue, quick licks one after another. Now her fingers are curling in your hair, pulling ever so slightly.

“Babe,” Bela gasped, struggling to keep herself from bucking too hard, free hand clenching the desk as hard as she could. Eager to please her further, you work faster, tongue rolling over her wet folds, then focusing on her clit, cycling the motions, even as she moves herself against you. You swear you can almost hear her heart racing- but it’s just your own beating in your ears, nearly drowned out by the sound of her pleasure. Every sound urges you onward, rewarding every lick or kiss with a surge of pride. You were the reason she was gasping, calling your name, shaking ever the slightest. Soon, well, soon you’ll be the reason why she was cumming. “Oh fuck,” she said, tensing up for a split second, one last lick sending her over the edge. The way she tugs on your hair hurts, but you know it’s more out of reflex than anything else.

“Mmm,” you hummed, pressing a couple soft kisses to Bela’s inner thighs, letting her come down from her high without having to worry about overstimulation (at least not yet). Then you’re rising back to your feet, glad to stretch out a little. “Ready for round two?” You asked, teasing, though a hundred percent ready if she did agree. To your surprise… she nods, eagerly, sending you a familiar smirk. “Well, I’d better get to work, then.” With that said you move closer, grinning just as wide as your girlfriend, beyond glad that you had plenty of time to do whatever you wanted with each other… because the two of you were going to need every minute.

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theparliamentofrooks · 3 years

Text

HELLO FELLOW P2 CORE ENJOYERS

I bring to you: Our Guys :) and their headcanons I have for them. Did you know they're all Honduran I know because I'm Honduran too

ANYWAYS this is a sort of spoof AU where Everything Is Fine Actually and the cores are androids but also humans working at Aperture. Because I know that we need an excuse for Rick to justifiably fight a raccoon in the middle of a park on saturday calling this bad boy the Guy Quartet

General Headcanons

All of them work in completely separate departments. It's dubious if anyone actually likes Wheatley (/J). Rick got put in the fucking basement. BUT they all kept getting sifted into the same assignments that now they just talk to each other frequently. But that was preceded by SO MANY awkward overlapping lunch breaks

Once they all start hanging out they drop into each other's jobs spontaneously. They keep getting BORED and Tomas (Fact) all you do is WATCH PEOPLE TEST can I Please skateboard in your office. Thomas keeps a little tally (Milo (Space) visits the most and Rick gets visited the most GO AWAY THIS IS TOP SECRET)

Aperture constantly wants to fire them So Bad because none of them do much work. But Milo also says they are simply Having Fun :) and Tomas keeps either A) vouching for everyone or B) getting someone else fired

The only ones genuinely happy to be at Aperture are Milo and Rick. Milo has gone to college AND university to pursue a higher degree in astrology-related fields and Rick Just Fuckin Loves Danger

Rick keeps bringing in rabid animals he finds in the parking lot and it scares the living hell out of Wheatley. Coincidentally, Milo and Tomas are unaware of this habit Rick has

The individual headcanons will be under the cut :)

I THINK SPACE SHOULD STOP BEING DEPICTED AS A CHILD FOR ONCE SO HE'S GOING FIRST

Out of the four of them he's the smartest by a longshot. Started taking college classes in Highschool, and hasn't broken a sweat since third grade multiplication tables. He's the head of Aperture's Space Department (but usually doesn't stick around for busywork...)

Even if he's incredibly intelligent, he actually loves having fun! He's the one who coaxed the CEO into having various 'Bring your ____ to Work' days. Mostly because he needed an excuse to let random animals lounge around without getting in trouble.

He also does tours of Aperture for students! Because he likes teaching :)

But also has a very bad habit of giving kids his I.D so they can go look at cooler stuff off the tour under the pretense "Milo let us do it" and they can't just Fire Him

Milo is known as more of an enigma than a higher up by most. While he gladly reminds people of just exactly where he stands in the company by showing his I.D, he also likes to give into the rumors often

YOU KNOW THAT ONE MEME THAT'S LIKE "They'll never believe you" THAT'S MILO FUCKING WITH APERTURE EMPLOYEES

The reason he went for any other company is because his father used to work here, but as an astronaut. One trip up to the moon, he never came back down. Milo plans to find out just what happened to him, no matter what.

Rick Cambeiro - 37 - He/Him

Rick is one of the few people in Aperture that would Kill for this job. Even when it starts going to shit.

And that job is being a security guard: he can fuck around and join lots of experiments unprompted! LET HIM TOUCH THE UNUSUALLY COLORED JELLY

He's loud and constantly bugs any woman within a ten feet radius, but actually reads frequently! His favorite is fiction and poetry, and usually takes his breaks quietly with a book.

He wants to fist fight three tigers at once to impress women BUT APPARENTLY THEY ALSO LIKE INTELLIGENT MEN SO.

Rick considers a bro bond stronger than anything else. Everyone calls it pretty gay but he SWEARS it's brotherly. He's like 90% sure. Wheatley frequently reaches the brink of death in hugs and Milo leaps onto Rick as a "challenge"

He's got a bit of practice with makeup, but SPECIFICALLY so he could draw on some fake scars. He had five different stories for each, all depending on who asked.

But after something happened, it seems like he's cut out that habit...

Rick loves wandering around for various odd jobs for a security guard, but it nets him a lot of moments where he's seeing what he shouldn't. While Rick has the most information that could easily be used for the legal downfall of Aperture, it's a double-edged sword. It's only a matter of time until he's called in to be a proper test subject.

Fact / Tomas Decastros - 26 - He/Him

I'd rather die than use Craig for Fact. Also don't look at the art actually I misspelt his name ANYWAYS

Tomas works as one of the head supervisors for testing, generally watching over tests with the Aperture Handheld Portal Device. Lots of people flip between calling it the most boring job ("Glorified people-watching" - Wheatley) or the most fun one ("I told a guy a turret was supposed to be helpful one time" - Rick, moments before getting mauled)

Compared to the other people in the department, Tomas is easily the best at the job. Specifically because he actually remembers things! There's countless rules overlooked, and even then, did none of you try to read up on what we're testing!?

He's surprised he hasn't grown grey hairs.

While Milo has a lot of leeway in what he does because he's so high up, Tomas gets away with things like breaking dress code and taking triple the lunch breaks he's legally allowed to have by letting all the mishaps in testing slide.

Generally Tomas just tells people he took this job because it was all that was available, but in reality, he just can't stand how many deaths have been totaled up due to testing. He's only here because he wants to prevent as many as he can.

A habit he's well known for is spontaneously stating facts related to tests in the middle of them. Nobody ever seems to realize why he's doing it, or calls him out for being a hypocrite since he doesn't let anyone else talk to the test subjects. Outright stating a solution is against the rules, but merely mentioning a fact isn't, right?

Wheatley [REDACTED] - 34 - He/Him

Yeah that's right Wheatley's last. I know he's my no. 1 but also you WILL read about the other cores. Unless you skipped in which case </3

Anyways, my favorite fact about him: Wheatley is his first name. Nobody knows his last name. It's dubious if he even has one. Everyone just calls him Wheatley.

He's well known around the entirety of Aperture because he used to work at the front desk. It was the """"perfect job for him""" (- Wheatley) but it also started making employees use different entrances because he talked so much. And loudly too.

The pay was pretty good since his ACTUAL job was making sure various health and safety workers didn't get past the front (It seems the constant talking and making people go away DID work out!)

Eventually he gets promoted out of nowhere to be a scientist, even though he has no education awards/diplomas/certificates/literally anything to back himself up. It also happened to be about three hours after he typed in this pretty big number for something... Had to do something with the moon. Maybe a percentage of how much he liked it?

Well, he LOVES the moon. Which is why he put about 95%. Not sure what that did.

He's completely clueless, but all of his scientist coworkers actually hate him. He's got no reason to be here, and he keeps messing experiments up! It drives them up the wall! So their best course of action...

Signing Wheatley up for a week's work on the GLaDOS project.

He seemed a bit antsy, but with reassurance from his coworkers, it seemed fine. He came out of there three days earlier than planned because he had to be hospitalized for severe wounds.

Wheatley still works in the same department, and unfortunately didn't get a paid leave... But at least these scars look cool, eh?

#portal 2 #wheatley #fact core #adventure core #or is it like #adventure sphere #rick #<3 #Four Cores No Health Insurance #made that au name on a whim but i think it really fits actually #b'art art

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tsunderecookies · 3 years

Note

omg omg omg can u do horny hcs for dabi and shigaraki 😳😳

Horny Hc - 2

Pairing: Dabi x Reader, Shigaraki x Reader

Warnings: choking, being railed into the next dimension, spitting

A/N: Awwwww thank you for being my first requester nony <3 Here ya go, I hope you enjoy it bb! i’m so sorry that it took so fucking long but i just started working and it’s very hectic so I’m always either too unmotivated or too tired to write. But ig what matters is that I got it out lol. Dabi’s is a lot shorter than I’d like it to be but ima add on as time passes i think.

Imma be honest here this man has a bomb ass sex playlist fr fr.

Like jesus christ.

And I feel like even arranged the songs in a way so that as sex escalates so do the vibes the music gives off.

I don’t know why but i feel like Dabi has a tell tale sign when he wants to fuck. Like he walks into a room and he gives you that little smirk and kinda rests his head on his hand and lightly touching his thumb over his lower lip while looking you directly in your eyes and you just know.

He has dick piercings. Done. You can’t convince me otherwise.

Can also see him as the type to start kissing your neck randomly as you’re telling him about something and just giving little responses like mhm while you’re talking. He loves doing it because he loves seeing how flustered it makes you and he loves the sound of you struggling to speak even though he’s barely touching you.

With a sigh you close your eyes and lean your head back against the sofa as you tell Dabi about your day, hands tangled in his hair while his lips move against your neck.

“ And work was a fucking drag as always. I just can’t wait for us to get out of here and - “ Within seconds your whole train of thought was lost as you felt dabi kiss against an especially sensitive spot. “ Mhm? “ You can feel the vibration from his chest as he hummed out his response, lips parting before he gently grazed his teeth against it. You let out a shallow breath and desperately try to swallow back the moan threatening to slip out from between your lips. He softly starts sucking while nipping in between as he moves lower towards your chest. His lips part from your skin while his hand slips underneath your shirt inching upwards slowly.

“ And what baby?” The amusement is clear in his voice as he speaks, his eyes slipping down to your lips and back up again as his hand stills right below your chest.

A small groan escapes your throat as your hand slips up his neck to the back of his head and grabbing a fist full of hair.

“Oh fuck you.“ You push his head forward towards yours and your lips smash together, hungry and needy. You can practically feel the smirk on his face as he softly pushes you back so you can lay down before shifting so he was in between your legs, your complaints about work already long forgotten.

Dabi is also very open minded when it comes to sex. Like if you were to ask him if you could do some things to him through the backdoor he’d definitely try it at least once before deciding whether he properly likes it or not. You might have to buy him a few drinks beforehand though lmao.

I also feel like he is quite experienced in bed. I can definitely say with confidence that he most likely has had his fair share of one night stands in the past and he isn’t afraid to putt what he learned to good use.

Definitely both a masochist and a sadist.

Like he loves inflicting pain on you by like biting down on your lip to the point where it starts bleeding or maybe even knifeplay. But he also really loves the feeling of your nails raking down his back hard enough to draw blood. To him it hurts so fucking good.

“ Oh my god yes Dabi. Fuck. “ You shamelessly moan out, clenched hands fisting the sheets as your boyfriend pounds into you. An especially hard thrust has your hands flying upwards towards his back, fingernails digging into his skin and dragging downwards with no restraint.

A sharp hiss leave his lips only to be followed by a low growl before his hips start pounding into you at an even harder and faster pace.

“ That’s right, you better fucking hold on princess.“

I feel like he’s the teasing type during aftercare. Like he’ll comment on how loud you were being with a giant smirk on his face or he’d imitate your moans now and then.

Omg also I can definitely see Dabi knowing exactly what each type of noise from you means. How your ,moans sound when you’re close or when you want it harder etc.

I mean when he pounds his baby so hard they can’t speak he needs other forms of communication lol.

I'm gonna be honest here, I don't think that he's really experienced in the bedroom department.

Of course he's no stranger to the world of sex but most of the things he knows he definitely picked up either from overheard conversations at the bar or from the internet.

He never really minded not being sexually active, hell he barely even jerked off and probably wouldn't have if it weren't necessary. I feel like he most probably saw it as a chore.

But now that you're around his sex drive has doubled tenfold. Like in the beginning you had to beg to get him to do anything but now barely a day goes by where he doesn't indulge in your body.

That being said, don't underestimate his abilities in bed because this man is a fast learner.

He explores every inch of your body like unknown land, claiming you for himself.

He develops this need to make you cum every single time you're intimate. It's like a mission to him, and we all know how much he hates when things don't work out his way.

Speaking of things going his way, Tomura loves dominating you in bed. He loves being in charge and controlling where the night goes.

This being said, he loves taking you in missionary. He loves the way it gives him full access to your chest and neck and how he gets to stare into your pretty little eyes while he uses you as his cocksleeve.

Now and then when he's too tired he'll switch things up by letting you ride him. He loves gripping onto your hips while he thrusts up into them basically topping from the bottom, your chest on open display for him.

Even though he loves domming you he's too scared to try out any hard kinks in the beginning. The idea of choking you terrified him. What if something went wrong and he accidentally hurts you with his quirk? What if he kills you?

As your relationship progresses though, he becomes more confident with things like this. He finds comfort in the fact that you trust him enough to allow him to touch you like this, even thought you very well know what his quirk could do to your body and this becomes a very intimate thing for you.

Tomura is also possessive as fuck. If he sees a guy staring at you for even a second too long he's ready to throw hands. He will literately not hesitate to murder for you. And he has.

His friends have of course picked up on this and love to annoy him. Especially Dabi. He openly flirts and hits on you in front of Tomura to get a reaction out of him and no does he get one. It's as if he has a death wish.

It always results in him roughly fragile you away from the scarred man straight to your bedroom to remind you and everyone else what you belong to.

A choked cry leaves your throat as your boyfriend roughly bottoms out inside of you. He hardly even gives you time to adjust before starting his back breaking pace.

"A-ahh Tomura. Too much." Your voice comes out as a whine while you claw at your boyfriends back. He lifts his head from where he'd previously been sucking a hickey into your skin to give you a sickly grin.

"Oh yeah? But that scorched son of a bitch flirting with you wasn't?"

Shigaraki is a big fan of quickies. He especially loves them right before he has a big mission or meeting to attend. It gives him the opportunity to fuck out all the nerves and frustration beforehand.

Speaking of frustration. He definitely takes it out on you. When a mission goes wrong or fails? He fucks you. His team doesn't take him seriously? He fucks you.

Captain of head during videogames club.

I'm sorry to say this but I doubt that this man will give you lovey dovey aftercare.

Let's be honest, you take care of him on a daily basis, reminding him to eat and drink water and take a break when needed. And to moisturize. He barely knows how to care for himself, whats to say about you.

After sex you'd have to convince him to take a shower to get cleaned up and even more so to come to bed with you afterwards rather than play videogames or just passing out immediately afterwards.

The most love you can expect from him afterwards is some cuddles if he does agree to come to bed or he'd have you straddling him while gaming so you can still get your sought after attention. He'd press a kiss to your forehead now and then.

It may not be a lot to anyone else but you know that this is his own special way to let you know he cares for you and loves you.

#bnha #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi smut #shigaraki smut #mha #mha headcanons #boku no hero academia shigaraki #bnha fanfiction #headcanon #bnha smut #mha smut #dabi headcanons #shigaraki headcanons

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 3 years

Text

Disaster.

JAVIER PEÑA. ┃ NARCOS.

❝ words: about 1.8k

❝ warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, mention of bodily fluids, language, soft Javi.

❝ summary: Never let Javier do the laundry.

❝ a / n: This is a writing for Javier that has four years or more, but I translated it to English. Dialogues are in spanish, but this work also contains the translations. As always, I hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated ❤.

Gif credits to the author.

MASTERLIST. ⎢ MULTIFANDOM TAG LIST.

The sunbeams through the curtains disturb your peaceful sleep, rolling tangled in the soft sheets to toss an arm over Javier's chest. But it falls over the cold mattress. Growling still not awake at all, you palm his empty side of the bed. Sitting up on your left arm, you glance through the door to the living room. No noise outside his dorm that makes you know he's still at his house. Lying on your back and tilting your head with a puff escaping your lips, your eyes land on a hand-written note on his nightstand waiting for you to be read. Kissing your lips, you stretch an arm to grab it. “Te quiero hablar sobre algo más tarde, me esperas, ¿sí? Te amo, pendeja”.

The first time he called you like that was the day you met him —or more precisely, the day you almost ran over him. You remember him with both hands on the hood of your car, screaming at you “¿qué pasó, pendeja? A caso, ¿no me vió?” You were focused on texting your boss, but when you raised your eyes and made eye contact both you and him fell for each other, a fact that surprised you when his partner told you he was a perro; every night with a different woman.

A goofy smile curves your lips, feeling yet the kisses Javier spread last night all over your skin, just hoping he has left some coffee for you when you decide to get up. Directing your steps to his wardrobe, fully naked, you pick one of his t-shirts impregnated with his heavenly smell to wear it. You don't have anything planned for today other than enjoying your free day and wait for him to come back, so when you see the mess his house is in your opinion, you settle on cleaning it.

After having breakfast como Dios manda, you start for the living room. Except for the documents and the archives from his job, you pick up all the trash around, before sweeping the floor and dust the furniture. Once it is done, you continue with the laundry. God, this man has clothes thrown throughout the house. Putting them inside the basket, you bring them to the kitchen, but you have to leave aside your task when you find the washing machine already occupied. You're starting to tremble. Javier is a disaster, and you don't need to be a genius to realize it. So, when you see a red shirt inside, mixed with your white clothes, you pray for everything you know.

Opening the small door, you confirm your suspicion.

“¡PUTA MADRE! ¡NO JODAS! ¡HUEVÓN MALPARIO'!”

(Shit! Son of a bitch!)

Music in Spanish sounds all around the house, with the kitchen as the epicenter. You're cooking something for dinner, wearing a short chiffon dress —that makes your legs stand out and that used to be white, now is some kind of pink—, stalling till Javier comes back. Oh, he's going to pay for what happened.

“¿Mi amor?” The front door gets closed while hearing his voice calling you. “¡Ya regresé! ¿Dónde te metis— whoa, whoa, whoa…”

(¿My dear? I'm back! Where are you?)

Your boyfriend stops in his tracks as his mouth drops to the floor. Taking off his aviator sunglasses, you find him ogling you with eyes widened. He gulps to wet his sore throat while licking his bottom lip.

“A ver, a ver… voltéate”. He whispers waving his index finger doing circle moves.

(Let's see, turn around).

In silence, you obey his petition in slow motion so he can delight with the views, drawing a gunny grimace on your face. When you face him again, he is crossing himself thanking God. Raising both eyebrows, you take some steps closer swinging your hips to provoke him a little more, having so much fun.

“¿Sí te gusta mi vestido, hm?”

(Do you like my dress, hm?)

He just nods his chin fascinated, not being able to speak.

“Está bonito, ¿verdad? Pero… pues más bonito estaba cuando era blanco”. You reply, lifting both arms at the sides of your body.

(It's beautiful, isn't it? But... It was perfect when it was white).

“¿Cómo así, mi amor?”

(What do you mean, my love?)

Javier doesn't understand what's going on when you practically drag him through the kitchen to the clothesline outside, pointing at your white clothes, now of a strange pink discolored, he has to swallow a giggle. Pressing his lips together, he scratches the bridge of his nose doing his best to not laugh.

“A ver, cuéntame el chiste. Así me río yo también”.

(Tell me the joke. So I can laugh too).

“¡No me estoy riendo!” He feigns to be offended raising his hands to his chest.

(I'm not laughing!)

“Seguro… ¿No es esa tu camisa favorita?” You ask making a soft and brief move with your chin.

(Sure... Isn't that your favorite shirt?)

Putting his brown eyes on the piece of clothing he's wearing, he doesn't have a chance to reply when you ruin it and all its buttons by a strong pull, making them fall to the floor. A proud grin curves your lips up, while Javier tries to babble something. But the response to your action is better than you could think.

Crashing his lips on yours, his fingers move faster than you can assimilate to undoing his belt and the zip of his jeans, as he devours your mouth hungry like a stray dog. His tongue fights yours in a battle for dominance, pulling down his clothes before forcing you to turn and face the counter. Javier ruins your thong as easily as you have ruined his shirt, causing you to moan when he obligates you to spread your legs for him.

Bending over the counter and sticking out your ass, hearing him jerking off his delicious cock, your boyfriend digs his hardness as deep as he can into your soaked cunt. You cry out his name inevitably. Javier spits an animalistic groaning onto your ear. It doesn't matter how many times you two have fuck, you always need a second to adjust to his length, but this time he doesn't give you the opportunity. Not losing time, he grabs your throat with his right hand whilst the other presses your body to the counter from behind. Javier rocks his hips furiously, back and forth, running out of air. Soon, your moans and your whinings fill the kitchen, as the dry noise his pelvis produces when it crashes your limits.

“Si querías coger… solo tenías que decirlo”. He hisses lost in the pleasure, thrusting you harder with every move.

(If you wanted to fuck, you just had to ask for it).

It's not like he's mad at you, it's more like he is trying to compensate you for what he has done. He knows to perfection how to worship your body, how to make you feel loved and desired; but he also knows to perfection that you prefer him to be rougher than gentle —pulling your hair, choking you, biting your neck, making you beg.

“Ah, Javi…”

“Sí te gusta que te… coja, ¿no?”

(Do you like how I fuck you, right?)

“Sí, sí… Más rápido, por favor… por favor”.

(Yes, yes... Faster, please... please).

Your right-hand wraps his wrist, securing a little more the grip on your throat before guiding his other to your legs, straight to your throbbing clit.

“Tan ansiosa, tan necesitada mi gatita”.

(So anxious, so needy my kitten).

His forefinger caresses your finger so softly that he could kill you, quite the opposite of his waist.

“Qué rico…” You gasp enraptured, arching your back and tilting your head to reach his lips.

The fight of your tongues continues, drinking each other's pleasing growls, while the pace of his finger increases too close to the orgasm.

“No pares… no pares, por favor”. You beg onto his mouth, trailing his lips after over your jawline down to your neck.

(Don't stop... don't stop, please).

Nailing his teeth causing you to whimper loudly, your legs start to tremble as Javier digs his twitching hardness into you once and once, not letting you breathe for a second and pushing you to the edge. You can't help but scream his name, just like he loves, feeling the tickles exploding within your belly and letting yourself go. Your boyfriend only needs some more pushes straight to your g-spot to come inside you with a delighted howl drown against your neck. His warm seed mixed with your wetness makes him sigh breathless, collapsing over your back as you need to rest your arms over the counter till recovering.

“Me vuelves loco, mujer”. Javier mumbles, placing gentle kisses on your shoulder before caressing it with the tip of his nose.

(You drive me crazy).

Slowly pulling himself out of your overstimulated cunt, stealing you a disappointed whining for the sudden emptiness, he puts on his clothes as you turn around to face him.

“Te ves bien bonita, así toda hecha un desastre”. His perfect and charming smile gives you goosebumps, leaning forward to you to pepper your lips with so much tenderness.

(You look beautiful just like that, messy).

“Qué chistoso”. You chuckle placing both hands on his neck.

(Very funny).

“¿Arrunche en la tina?”

(Cuddles in the bathtub?)

“Por favor”. You just reply before he lifts you on his arms in the most purest bridal style, making you laugh lively and satisfied.

(Please).

In barely a couple of minutes, your bodies are covered by warm water, relaxing every inch of them and making the tension disappear. Javier is lying back on your chest, smoking with both eyes closed as your fingertips gently roam his chest. You have missed him too much today, being something rare for you to not spend your days off together, but he has been through so much work lately.

“¿De qué me querías hablar?”

(What you wanted to tell me?)

“¿Hm…?” Expelling the smoke through his nostrils, Javier raises his chocolate eyes towards yours.

“La nota”. You add referring to the piece of paper you found this morning on his nightstand.

(The note).

“Pensé en que vinieras a vivir conmigo”.

(I was thinking that you could come to live with me).

That's it. No doubts. No questions.

“¿Vivir juntos? ¿Acá?”

(Live together? Here?)

“Sí, acá”. Javier says puckering his lips, moving his mustache funnily. “¿Qué tiene de malo, pues?”

(Yeah, here. What's wrong?)

“Nada, nada… Está bien, me parece chévere”.

(Nothing, it's okay, I like it).

“¿Te parece chévere?” He scoffs sitting up, turning his head towards yours.

(Do you —just— like it?)

“Sí, ¿qué pasó?”

(Yeah, what's up?)

“Pensé que… no sé… que estarías feliz”.

(I thought... I don't know... You'd be happy).

Raising your eyebrows not believing what he's saying, you roll your eyes moving your arms around his neck to push him back again.

“No seas pendejo, Javi… Estoy más que feliz”.

(Don't be an idiot, Javi... I'm more than happy).

Embracing him tightly to your chest, you sink your nose into his neck taking a deep breath from his scent, almost dizzying you.

“Mírate… de perro callejero a perro casero”. You chuckle close to his ear, biting softly his earlobe.

(Look at you... from stray dog to domesticated dog).

“Pendeja…”

#narcos #narcos imagine #javier peña #javier pena #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña imagine #javier pena imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal #javier pena x you #javier peña x you #pedro pascal x you

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