#I tried to keep this as not agonizingly long as possible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pin-k-ink · 6 months ago

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Yandere kurapika with a heavy heavy breeding kink. He’s absolutely obsessed with the idea of you being pregnant 👀👀👀

progeny // kurapika kurta

tw ⇢ dub-con, obsessive behavior, imprisonment/isolation, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mention of lactation, implied murder, drugging, handjob, grinding

wc ⇢ 7.3k

It had been six excruciatingly long years since the Kurta massacre. Six years of chasing empty leads, of doors slamming shut in Kurapika's face whenever he got close to the Phantom Troupe. His crimson eyes, once a source of pride amongst his people, now mocked him daily - glaring reminders of his failure to attain vengeance.

So when the encrypted message arrived with a potential location on a Kurta survivor, Kurapika could scarcely allow himself to feel hope. Too many times it had been cruelly dangled in front of him, only to dissolve into agonizing disappointment. He pored over the intelligence again and again, his hands shaking. This had to be legitimate. It simply had to.

Four sleepless nights later, Kurapika found himself on the first available airship to Yorknew City. His leg jittered anxiously the entire way, his mind cycling through every possible scenario. A trap from the Troupe? A sick game? Or could the near-impossible be real? When the ship finally touched down, Kurapika moved like a man possessed, following the coded coordinates to a dilapidated apartment complex.

His trembling hand barely registered the flimsy doorbell as he rang. Seconds ticked by like torturous eternities. Then, after what felt like a small age, the door creaked open to reveal...you. Kurapika's knees very nearly buckled at the sight of those telltale scarlet irises. Tears stung his eyes as he choked out a wavering, "You're one of my people."

That first night, he simply sat in reverent silence, studying the sacred eyes of his kinsman that he'd been deprived of for far too long. You seemed equally transfixed, if not deeply uncertain of this severe stranger's intentions. When you attempted to ask him to leave, Kurapika answered with a resolute headshake.

"I cannot do that. It's too dangerous to leave you here." His voice was thick with the weight of trauma, but carried a steely undercurrent of determination. "I'm getting you somewhere safe, where no harm can befall you."

True to his word, Kurapika immediately went about securing a transport ship to whisk you away from potential threats. You didn't have a choice. He had failed his clan once before through negligence - he would not repeat that grave mistake. This time, he would smother any flicker of danger towards the Kurta with extreme prejudice before it could even spark.

The following weeks were a fortified blur as Kurapika installed you in a veritable military bunker tucked high in the treacherous mountain ranges. He pulled every resource at his disposal to ensure your isolation and safety was absolute. Each day, he would rise before dawn to pursue his hunt for the Phantom Troupe, searching for that agonizingly elusive trail of vengeance. But like clockwork, he returned to the safehouse every evening, his frayed nerves only calmed by the sight of your scarlet eyes.

At first, Kurapika tried to keep things professional, nodding stoically whenever you greeted him. But the more time passed, the more you became his sole remaining attachment to a people he had lost. He drank in your every word, no matter how innocuous, wanting to ingrain the cadence of his kin on his psyche again. Your existence, your pure perseverance despite all odds, stoked something primal within him.

Eventually, Kurapika began staying later and later into the night, reluctant to abandon your presence, irrationally fearful something terrible may occur the moment he left your side. He started simpling...hovering. Watching you for long, unblinking stretches despite your visible discomfort. His fixation had been ignited, and it burned brighter with each passing day.

It was on one particularly humid summer evening when the stifling mountain air had you gasping for respite. You moved to crack open one of the safehouse's windows, hoping to coax in even the faintest whispers of a cool breeze.

The moment your fingers pulled against the latch, the electronic lock released a sad, mechanical whir of protest. You froze, realizing in that instant that the safety restrictions were not mere automated security protocols. They were under the total control of your increasingly overbearing guardian.

Slowly, you turned to find Kurapika shooting you a pointed look from the wingback chair across the room. His sharp jawline was locked, lips pressed into a severe line as he clutched the access fob in a white-knuckled grip.

"I wouldn't advise that," he said at last, his tone carrying curt reproach. "It's for your own safety to keep the windows secured at all times."

You opened your mouth to protest the blatant removal of your autonomy, but Kurapika silenced you with a mere arch of his brow. Heat prickled in your cheeks, flustered by his sheer audacity, his utter dismissal of your objections before you could even voice them. Who was he to declare what you could and couldn't do?

But as quickly as that spark of defiance flickered, it extinguished under the knowing weight of Kurapika's stare. He knew better than you, had spilled more blood and peered deeper into the abyss of human monstrosity. If he deemed something a risk, no matter how small, you didn't dare challenge it. Your very life rested on his prudence and protection.

So you bit back the fleeting urge to assert your independence. Instead, you gave a meek nod of surrender and retreated from the window with one last, regretful glance at the impenetrable night sky beyond the sealed glass panes. Your world had become startlingly small under Kurapika's wing.

He watched you like a lion scrutinizing its cornered prey until you sank back into the shelter of your designated space. Only once you had compliantly resumed your spot did that intense scrutiny finally ease, his body unsettlingly loose and calm again.

"There's fresh fruit in the kitchen if you need refreshment," Kurapika offered, as if making peace after the unspoken admonishment. "Let me know if you require anything else for your comfort."

You murmured a soft thanks, careful to not meet his pewter gaze for too long. The complex bundles of emotion they sparked - shame, defiance, loneliness, begrudging gratitude - were still too tumultuous to comfortably untangle.

With a slight dip of his chin, Kurapika turned his attentions back towards the scattered intelligence reports sprawled before him. But you could have sworn you caught the faintest wisp of a self-satisfied smirk playing across his lips as he resumed his nightly obsessive planning.

The message was clear: no matter how insular and temporary you hoped this arrangement was, he had no intentions of loosening his ruthlessly overprotective stranglehold. Not now, not ever. For in Kurapika's mind, he had already failed his clan once before.

He would not fail their legacy again, even if it meant eclipsing your every last freedom under his total, unwavering control. Your life belonged to him now.

What had begun as a flicker of protectiveness had been steadily stoked into an all-consuming obsession. And there would be no putting out that raging fire.

The next few days passed in their now familiar routine of forced complacency. Kurapika would depart each morning on his futile hunt for the Phantom Troupe's latest trail, leaving you confined to pacing the reinforced walls like a caged animal. You attempted to resist the itch of restlessness, but it clawed at your insides, making you increasingly reckless.

It was on one particularly moonless night when Kurapika was delayed by an anonymous tip that you decided to seize your fleeting window. You waited until the security monitors confirmed him still blocks away before punching in the override codes and disabling the safehouse's locks. You didn't have a plan or destination in mind - you simply needed to feel the sweet embrace of open air again, to remind yourself of the unfettered freedom you had lost.

The sleepy mountain town seemed almost haunted in the inky blackness as you strode its deserted streets. The crisp night wind caressed your face, and you reveled in the simple pleasure of being anything other than a prisoner in your own refuge. Eventually, your aimless wandering drew you towards the soft amber glow and faint music wafting from the local tavern.

A hand came to rest on the rickety oak door, then stopped as you wavered. Kurapika could return any moment now. But the fleeting indulgence of a cold pint and casual conversation with strangers was too tantalizing to resist any longer. Steeling your nerves, you pulled the door open and strode inside.

The raucous sound of drunken laughter and the thick fog of smoke immediately assaulted your senses. You wound through the crowd to the dingy bar, squeezing between bodies until you could flag down the bleary-eyed bartender. He poured you a tall glass of the darkest stout on tap without a second glance at your rumpled, out-of-place appearance.

As you nursed the first few sips, savoring the bitter familiarity, a rough voice lilted from behind you.

"Well aren't you a little ways from home?"

You turned to find a smarmy looking stranger waggling his brows lecherously. His breath reeked of stale beer and desperation.

"Just looking to unwind is all," you replied curtly, turning back towards your drink.

His calloused hand suddenly snaked out, gripping your forearm with surprising strength as he leaned in too close. "Well then how 'bout I buy the next round and we can 'unwind' together, sweetheart?"

You wrenched your arm away with a disgusted glare, preparing to hurl a blistering retort. But even as the first word formed on your lips, an eerie wave of dizziness crashed over you, blurring your vision. The tavern seemed to tilt precariously as you swayed on the barstool.

No...it couldn't be. That first drink. You made the mistake of leaving it unattended. As the horrible realization dawned on you, your faculties began to rapidly abandon ship.

"There's a good girl," the leering stranger's voice slurred as if underwater. "Just relax and enjoy the party favors."

You tried desperately to cry out, to raise even a tremor of alarm, but your voice failed you. The room pitched and spun until merciful darkness finally swallowed you whole.

The crisp slap of cool night air was like a bucket of ice water shocking you back to semiconsciousness. Your eyelids fluttered open to find yourself being half-carried, half-dragged down a dank alleyway by that stranger. The cloudy haze in your brain screamed at you to fight, to thrash and flee, but your body responded with only feeble murmurs.

Suddenly, a dark silhouette stepped out from the shadows up ahead, swiftly blocking your captor's path. The figure prowled closer, the dim streetlight glinting off a shock of brilliant blond hair.

Even in your drugged stupor, you immediately recognized the menacing aura radiating off of Kurapika. He had found you. Your heart should have leapt with relief, but your addled mind could only focus on the pure, unadulterated fury etched across his features.

"Let her go." His tone was low, practically subterranean with its seething intensity. "Now."

The stranger paused, seemingly taken aback by Kurapika's threatening presence despite outnumbering him. His grip on your arm only tightened stubbornly.

"This doesn't involve you, kid. I'd beat it while you still—"

He never got to finish that thought. Kurapika's knuckles connected with the man's nose with a wet crunch before anyone could blink. As he collapsed in a heap, clutching his bleeding face, Kurapika moved with terrifying fluidity.

A haze of fists and chains and guttural screams engulfed the cramped alley. You flinched with each tormented wail, hunched against the damp brick wall as your assailant's bones shattered piece by piece. The copper stench of blood flooded the air in thick, viscous clouds.

When it was finally over, the sickening sound of the stranger's gurgling breaths were barely audible above the drumming of your pulse thundering in your ears. Kurapika stood over him, chest heaving from exertion as he slowly retracted his bloody knuckles and Nen chains back into waiting.

Only then did his gaze fall upon your fragile, crumpled form. The molten rage simmering behind his eyes extinguished instantly, transposing into something akin to lucid fear. In a single deft motion, he scooped you up and cradled you against his chest.

"It's alright...you're safe now," Kurapika murmured, his voice dripping with the type of tender worry one reserves for a gravely injured child.

You opened your mouth to respond but only a pathetic whimper escaped your dry lips. Horror at your near miss quickly gave way to the warm comfort of Kurapika's secure embrace. Your eyelids grew impossibly heavy as you nuzzled against the soft linen of his blazer. Even as the world faded to black again, you felt utterly, inviolably safe within the confines of his sinewy arms...his obsessive protectiveness.

When you finally came to again, it was in the dimly lit familiarity of the safehouse's living quarters. Kurapika sat vigilantly on the edge of the mattress, his eyes two orbs of hollow, sleepless torment.

As you stirred, he immediately went into a flurry of doting. Cool rags were pressed to your clammy forehead. Chilled teas and electrolyte waters hovered against your lips, Kurapika tipping them carefully to soothe your sandpaper throat. His touch was insistently gentle, but you could sense the roiling tempest churning beneath that zen exterior.

In your addled state, you kept up a litany of small whining sounds and petulant fidgets. Kurapika bore each one with inexhaustible patience and care, stroking your hairline languidly as you grumbled childish complaints about your headache or an itch that needed scratching.

Even as the last vestiges of the toxin worked its way out of your system over the next several hours, you never felt fear or vulnerability - only the profound relief of being tended to so meticulously under Kurapika's hawkish devotion.

Several times, his gaze seemed to unconsciously drift down to your parted, pouting lips as you whined insistently. You thought you caught his throat bobbing ever so subtly, as if waging an internal war with some primal desire. But the moment never transversed, and he remained ever the devoted, if tightly-wound caretaker through the hazy night.

It wasn't until the first rays of dawn filtered in through the slitted windows that you drifted into a deep, restorative slumber. And in those last, fleeting moments of consciousness, you realized with dawning horror how completely and utterly co-dependent on Kurapika's obsessive protection you had allowed yourself to become.

In the aftermath of the nearly tragic incident, there would be no venturing outside again...not without him. Not ever. The fire of his obsession had been stoked into a conflagration - one he wholeheartedly welcomed if it meant never going through such terror again.

You had been rescued from the depths of pitiful frailty, only to become irrevocably entangled in the dark, singular orbit of Kurapika's unhinging fixation on you. And from that point on, fleeing its gravitational pull would be inconceivable.

In the days following your terrifying brush with tragedy, Kurapika became an utterly inescapable presence in every waking moment. Where there was once at least a semblance of periodic solitude as he attended to his Phantom Troupe hunt, now there was only the soft footfalls of his eternal proximity.

He lingered in the periphery like a silent, hollow-eyed sentinel as you tentatively went about your daily routines. If you retreated to the bathroom to bathe, Kurapika wordlessly trailed just beyond the cracked door - near enough to instantly intervene at any prospective threat, far enough to preserve a facade of privacy. You found yourself instinctively avoiding the mirror, unable to meet the shame of your own reflection exposed under his vigilant leer.

At night when you crawled between the sheets, Kurapika took up an immovable post in the wingback chair at your bedside. You lost track of how many dawns you awoke to find him stock-still in that exact position, eyes open but untainted by even the slightest hint of slumber. His piercing stare studied your sleeping form with the rapt diligence of a memorial statue guarding a crypt.

You stopped attempting to dissuade him from these nightly vigils. The few feeble protests you voiced only caused his jaw to hinge tighter, a muscle throbbing with mute ferocity. He would not be deterred or negotiated with - this was the price to pay for the grave lapse that nearly severed you from his obsessive care.

If you shuffled into the kitchen to prepare meals, Kurapika's shadow would materialize just behind your periphery. You quickly learned to suppress any instinctual startles at his sudden appearances, lest you mistakenly provoke his haunted man's nerves. He never spoke or impeded your chores, but the mere imposition of his intense presence transformed even the most banal acts into ordeals of hyper self-consciousness.

Some evenings as dusk cloaked the mountain safehouse, you would chance hopeful glances out across the perimeter's reinforced windows. Vast forests of pine and spruce swayed in hypnotic tandem with the coastal breezes sweeping up from the sapphire horizon. Your gaze traced every contour of the landscape beyond that glass barrier - drunkenly drinking in the beauty and vast freedoms you had once taken for granted.

Without fail, Kurapika would seem to materialize at your side during these morose ritualistic dances. Not an inch separated your arms as you stood wordlessly, noting how his chest would slowly rise and fall in mirror-sync to your own. His quicksilver irises carefully studied the longing etched across your features, probing for any fragile cracks that may signal another reckless bid for escapism simmering beneath the surface.

You soon discovered it was easier to not meet his needful, imploring stare on those evenings. To instead lose yourself in the melancholy meditation of what lay on the other side of that glass partition - the lush, unfolding world of oxygen and wilderness and infinite possibilities now forever sealed away from your grasp by this compound's fortifications. The reckless abandon that landed you in such peril in the first place.

Even during the sporadic moments you managed to steal for idle time - curling up with a borrowed novel or simply staring vacantly at the safehouse's sterile walls - Kurapika's presence would pervade your space like a congealing, inescapable vapor. You became aware of every infinitesimal motion in your peripheral field, each aborted gesture from him laden with fierce meaning and scrutiny.

He would simply materialize in your blind spots, folding that lithe frame into the nearest chair or loveseat until his entire posture radiated a single, silent statement: I'm here. I will always be here to watch over you from this point onward.

And you lacked the will to protest this gradual dissolution of personal boundaries. Not when the memory of that squalid alleyway still haunted your subconscious with visions of shadowy hands groping, of Kurapika's knuckles shattering bone in retribution. You were in his custody now, for better or for worse.

Even as the weeks blurred indistinguishably together, Kurapika seemed to only swell with more unquenchable determination. Daily you witnessed his demeanor oscillate from the gruff stoicism of a jaded warrior, to the endearingly focused worry of an overly-fretful parent, then finally the predatory ruthlessness of a beast safeguarding its sickly litter from any prospective encroachment.

There was a possessive ferocity igniting behind those slate irises anew each time his gaze passed over you. As if merely looking upon your face, your chest inhaling each breath, was an involuntary ritual - the only reassurance that could momentarily dull the roaring anxiety in his psyche.

So Kurapika kept vigil, and you stopped attempting to politely deflect his obsession. Better to accept this isolated existence under his ever-watchful protectionism than risk another lapse that may invite that same violence and horror down upon you both. At least here, within these confining walls, remained the unshakable constant of his presence...his dominion over your absolute safety.

The weeks crystallized into cold months, Kurapika's fixation only intensifying like a caged flame feasting on its own limited oxygen supply. Until eventually, you struggled to remember what life could have possibly looked like before this arrangement - before his utterly uncompromising ownership of your personal inviolability became the sole, inescapable pillar of reality itself.

You mustered up what little courage remained and approached Kurapika one evening as he pored over the dwindling stack of intelligence reports.

"Kurapika...I need to get out of here, even if just for a little while," you said, trying to keep your tone measured. "Taking a walk through the village, feeling the sun on my face. Please, I'm going stir-crazy cooped up."

His pewter gaze slowly lifted, boring into you with an inscrutable intensity. You braced yourself for the immediate dismissal, the curt rebuff that your pleas for a shred of freedom were selfish folly in the face of your security.

Instead, Kurapika simply gave a slow, deliberate nod.

"Very well. But I will accompany you. My presence is non-negotiable for your safety."

Your heart leapt at his acquiescence, yet you knew better than to voice any objections to his stipulations. That, too, was non-negotiable when it came to Kurapika's obsession.

The next morning, you ventured out with Kurapika at your side, his eyes sharply scanning every alleyway and passerby like a starving falcon scrutinizing the underbrush. You tried not to let his overdone protectiveness dampen your elation at breathing fresh mountain air and ambling aimlessly without the barriers of steel and concrete constraining you.

At one point, you stopped to admire a young mother cradling her newborn along the village square's central fountain. The infant was swaddled snugly in a pale yellow blanket, their tiny face completely ensconced in peaceful slumber. You couldn't help the wistful pang that tugged at your heart watching the scene.

"Would you like to hold them?" the mother offered warmly after catching your enamored glances.

You looked to Kurapika, almost reflexively seeking his permitting nod as if he were your warden. To your surprise, he simply watched in pensive silence as you gingerly supported the bundle's head and brought the sleeping babe into your embrace.

A serene calm washed over you as the newborn's warmth and weight settled against your chest. Your body seemed to instinctively know all the coddling motions - the gentle swaying, the soft shushes, the protective tuck of the blanket over their tiny frame. For a fleeting moment, everything from the outside world evaporated - the threats, the walls imprisoning you, even Kurapika's hawkish presence. There was only the simple perfection of cradling new life, so pure and unblemished by the world's cruelties.

All too soon, the spell was broken as the mother reached to take her child back. You surrendered them with one last, regretful look into their peaceful slumbering features. As you turned back towards the path, you caught an indecipherable look swimming behind Kurapika's silvery irises. Was that...yearning?

The walk continued in loaded silence until you reached the safehouse again. Ever vigilant, Kurapika checked and triple-checked all security parameters were active before allowing you both back inside. He then insisted on giving you a full body inspection, tutting over any prospective scratches or bruises you may have sustained.

Night fell, and you began your usual bedtime routine of winding down with a book on the living room's plush sofa. Right on cue, Kurapika appeared to take up his self-appointed post in the chair alongside you.

Rather than lapsing into his typical reserved observation, he seemed...restless this evening. You caught his gaze flicking over your face and abdomen several times, his stare carrying an uncharacteristic intensity more akin to hunger than mere study. Finally, just as you were about to question his odd distraction, Kurapika leaned forward in his seat.

"You looked quite natural with that baby earlier," he stated in a low, ruminative tone. "I could envision you as a tender, nurturing mother. The image....suited you."

You felt your cheeks flush hotly despite yourself, ears straining to detect even the faintest undercurrents of impropriety in his demeanor. Just what was he implying?

When you finally found your voice to respond, Kurapika cut you off by rising abruptly to his feet.

"Get some rest. That's enough activity for one day."

With that, he swept towards the bedroom, leaving you to simply blink owlishly in his wake. You worried your lower lip, unable to voice the nagging feeling that his comments carried some suggestive subtext your mind simply couldn't piece together.

For now, it seemed Kurapika's ever-watchful protectionism had evolved to encompass...other considerations. Ones that, given his increasingly mercurial obsession over you, prompted entirely new uncertainties to send your heart murmuring apprehensively against your ribcage.

In the days following Kurapika's unsettling comments about motherhood, an inscrutable new energy seemed to permeate his already intense obsession over you.

His customary silent vigils persisted as always - the motionless sentrylike presence shadowing your every action, the sleepless nights spent unblinkingly patrolling your bedside like a fanatical bodyguard. But there was also something... else underlying those mercurial silver irises whenever they washed over your form.

Kurapika's gaze had shifted from the typical hyper-focused studying for dangers into outright lingering. You began noticing his line of sight would unapologetically rake up and down the curves and lines of your body whenever you moved about the safehouse. As if he were committing to memory every last dip and swell, documenting it alongside the myriad threat assessments constantly churning through his mind.

His comments, once clipped and strictly pertaining to your security, started carrying strange insistences that left you disquieted.

"You have such a patient, calming presence," he remarked one afternoon while you lounged with a book. "The kids would love you."

You shot him a bewildered look over the rattling chains of innuendo in his tone, but Kurapika simply arched an expectant brow as if awaiting your acquiescence.

Another evening, you bent to retrieve a dropped utensil from the kitchen floor only to straighten and find his towering presence hunched mere inches away, studying you with unrestrained focus.

"Carrying a child would suit your figure," he stated in a detached, clinical murmur. Before you could even formulate a flustered response, Kurapika simply turned and strode off to catalogue more intelligence reports.

The most overt advancement came one evening as you diligently prepared dinner, muscles burning from chopping and stirring the hearty stew. You were so engrossed in your motions that you failed to notice Kurapika materializing behind you until his sinewy arms snaked insistingly around your midsection.

A startled gasp seized your lungs as his palms came to rest possessively over your abdomen, his firm chest pressing flush against your arched back. For a dizzying moment, you were overwhelmed by the masculine heat and musk of him surrounding you so utterly and inescapably.

"Don't linger over the preparations," Kurapika's lilting voice reverberated against the nape of your neck. You shivered despite yourself as his warm breath danced across your skin. "I'm...starving this evening."

His hips unconsciously canted forward ever so subtly, enough to insinuate himself deeper into the negative space behind you. The unmistakable prominence of his semi erect cock nestled with shameless insistence against the supple curves of your ass through the thin linen of his trousers.

Just as your befuddled mind scrambled for any coherent reply, Kurapika abruptly extricated himself and strode off with the same unruffled collectedness as always. As if he hadn't just allowed the most salacious depths of his obsession over your body to rupture, however briefly, to the surface.

You stood rooted in place, blood pounding deafeningly in your ears as a dozen frantic impulses warred within you. Outrage, indignation, fear, reluctant curiosity... and horrifyingly, something darker and more primal still that responded with undeniable want to the memories of Kurapika's powerful, unapologetic dominion over your personal space.

When you finally managed to recompose yourself and carry the pot of stew to the dining table, Kurapika was waiting with his customary inscrutable expression. No hint of the previous violation lingered in his pewter irises - only that same boundless, soul-deep need to protect and provide that had morphed into such zealous, all-consuming obsession.

As you picked warily at your bowl, hyper-aware of his eyes drinking in your every move, you knew there would be no acknowledgement or discussion of the incident. He had simply exercised another disquieting assertion of ownership over your body and intimate personal freedoms. Just as he had with everything else in the vise of his self-appointed guardianship.

With a smoldering pit of unease taking root in your core, you realized this new dimension to Kurapika's fixation was only beginning. What fresh transgressions would his possessive appetites attempt to justify through the warped lenses of security and obsession?

Only time would tell what depraved lines he may be willing to cross... all in the name of protecting the last remaining embers of his beloved Kurta legacy.

Over the following days, Kurapika's comments about you having children took a disturbingly frank turn. Gone were the veiled observations about motherhood - replaced by straightforward statements that left no room for interpretation.

"Feels like you'd make a good mom," he mentioned offhandedly one evening as you cleaned up after dinner. His eyes shamelessly raked over your body. "Got the hips for it, that's for sure."

You froze, heat prickling your cheeks at his brazen appraisal. Before you could formulate a flustered response, Kurapika simply continued.

"We should think about making that happen sometime. You know, for the clan's sake." He gave a nonchalant shrug, as if discussing something as mundane as laundry plans.

Your mouth opened and closed, utterly stunned by his audacious suggestion. But Kurapika didn't linger or acknowledge your discomfort. With a final weighted look, he turned and strode from the kitchen, leaving you rattled to your core.

The inappropriate remarks only escalated from there. Kurapika seemed to grab any available opportunity to leisurely speculate about you bearing his child in graphic detail.

"Pregnancy's gonna do amazing things for those breasts," he mused one morning while you brushed your hair. You could feel the heated trail of his stare lingering on your chest in the mirror's reflection.

You very nearly dropped the hairbrush, whipping around to gape at him in disbelief. Kurapika simply held your flustered glare, his expression infuriatingly impassive.

"What? Just being honest here," he stated with a casual shrug of his broad shoulders. "Don't act so scandalized. This is a big damn deal for preserving our people."

His dismissive indifference towards your obvious mortification only fanned the flames of your humiliation. You wanted to shriek at him, to demand he stop vocalizing such disturbingly personal thoughts. But Kurapika's piercing stare maintained its unwavering intensity, extinguishing any momentary flicker of outrage before it could take root.

You knew better than to protest his obsession. Raising objections now would only make his intentions that much more overt...and quite possibly hostile. The thought chilled you to your core.

So you suffered in whip-tailed silence as Kurapika's indelicate comments plagued nearly every interaction. No activity, no matter how innocuous, seemed off-limits for him to unsubtly speculate about you becoming his breeding mate in graphic vernacular. And with each new remark, you saw the feral glint smoldering brighter and brighter behind his slate irises.

It was only a matter of time before he outright admitted the depraved depths of his fixation upon you. You dreaded that inevitability, but decided playing meek and obedient remained the wisest strategy for self-preservation. At least until you could formulate an escape plan from under his obsessive watch.

You did your best to hide any discomfort at Kurapika's increasingly frank comments about you having his children. Outward protests only seemed to egg him on with even more graphic remarks. So you kept up a facade of calm obedience, hoping it might discourage him from acting on his unhealthy fixation.

But Kurapika wasn't so easily deterred. His obsession had morphed into an all-consuming hunger that chipped away at his restraint day by day. You saw the signs - his jaw clenching, fists balling up as he inwardly battled those urges. Sometimes you'd catch him staring at you with undisguised longing, his gaze hungrily tracing your curves.

It all came to a head one autumn night as you pretended to read, keenly aware of Kurapika's presence lingering nearby. The tension was suffocating, his pent-up intensity rolling off him in waves. Several times you felt him move closer, only to sense him forcibly checking himself. Finally, you decided to try excusing yourself to the bedroom.

The moment you stood up, Kurapika pounced with startling speed. In one fluid motion, he gripped your shoulders and shoved you back into the armchair, caging you in as he straddled your hips. His lithe body was coiled like a panther pinning its prey.

"Enough games," he growled, his voice low and gritty with want. "No more pretending."

You gazed up at him wide-eyed, taken aback by the naked hunger etched across his chiseled features. This wasn't the restrained Kurapika - this side of him was feral, unrestrained. Arousal and obsession burned in his dilated pupils.

He leaned in close, the hard planes of his body hovering over yours as his hot breath fanned your flushed cheeks. You could feel the thrum of his hammering heart against your own chest.

"You know how obsessed I am with continuing our legacy," Kurapika rasped with grit-toothed intensity. "I'll do whatever it takes."

One calloused hand fisted in your hair, wrenching your head back as he asserted his dominance. You instinctively froze, trembling at his overwhelming presence and display of power. Kurapika drank in your fear and captivation with a ruthless gleam.

"Don't fight it," he warned in a husky timbre. "By morning, you'll be pregnant with my kid whether you like it or not."

A shudder rippled through you at the grim finality of his words. Yet some primal part of your psyche still couldn't help responding to the masterful undercurrents of his seduction, your body warming despite your trepidation.

Kurapika's eyes narrowed, sensing that fractional flicker of reluctant arousal. With taunting slowness, he closed the gap until his lips hovered a hairsbreadth from yours. His tone took on a dangerous, velveteen purr.

"That's it...just accept what's going to happen," he murmured, the barest brush of his mouth against yours. "Don't fight my obsession growing inside you."

Then with a predator's swift strike, Kurapika's mouth crashed into yours with smothering, impatient desire. He hungrily devoured your gasp of surprise, his fervent onslaught of lush dominance overwhelming your senses.

His mouth moved hungrily against yours, hands roaming over your body as if mapping every curve. Kurapika broke the heated kiss for air, eyes glazed with undisguised longing.

"Do you have any idea how gorgeous you'd look pregnant?" he murmured with awestruck reverence.

One of his hands drifted down to splay possessively across your lower abdomen. Kurapika's gaze followed, drinking in the feminine plane as if he could somehow envision it swelling with new life.

"Carrying my child..." he continued in a hushed, wondrous tone. "Your body nurturing the next generation of our people."

He leaned in to trail feverish kisses along the slender column of your neck, causing you to shiver.

"It's all I've been able to think about," Kurapika rasped against your skin. "Just imagining how radiantly fertile you'd look, swollen with my baby..."

His hand stroked tantalizingly over your abdomen again as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling your natural scent like an intoxicating elixir.

"I want that so damn badly," he admitted in a throaty rasp thick with yearning. "To see you heavy and glowing with our future growing inside."

Kurapika's kisses wandered across your jawline until his smoldering gaze locked onto yours again, pupils blown wide with naked obsession.

"Say you want it too," Kurapika pleaded, thumb tracing maddening circles low on your belly. "Tell me you'll let me put a baby in this luscious body..."

He drank in every microexpression flickering across your features with rapt focus, hanging on your every reaction. Kurapika leaned in closer until you were sharing the same heated breaths.

"Can't you just picture how incredible you'd look?" he murmured, voice strained with longing. "Tits getting heavy and full, that stomach finally swelling outward with our child growing inside..."

One of his hands cupped your breast almost reverently, like weighing the promise of its future maternal fullness. Kurapika's thumb brushed over your peaked nipple, drawing a soft gasp from you.

"Fuck...you'd be so unbelievably sexy carrying my baby," he groaned, utterly transfixed. "A goddess - all ripe, fertile curves and that beautiful glow mothers-to-be get."

He nuzzled his scruffy cheek against yours, peppering your jaw with open-mouthed kisses until you squirmed beneath him. Kurapika's palm stroked insistently over your abdomen again, as if willing his fantasies into reality through sheer habit.

"I can see it so clearly, feel how soft you'd be..." His voice dipped into a gravelly timbre. "Just imagine me waking you up with a nice, hard fuck every morning. How many times would I have to breed you before it finally took?"

A jolt of arousal coursed through you, your cunt clenching at his crude, possessive words. You bit back a whimper as Kurapika's hand snaked down between your thighs. His fingers expertly sought the sensitive nub of your clit, coaxing it with languid strokes.

"Maybe I'd just stay buried inside you all night," he growled, grinding his stiffening cock into your hip. "Keep that pussy nice and filled up with my cum, see if that does the trick..."

Your eyelids fluttered shut as Kurapika continued stroking your sensitive folds, his other hand kneading your breast. You felt utterly lost in the haze of his carnal need, swept away by his possessive lust.

"Fuck, that's the sexiest thought," he rasped, grinding his bulge against you. "Imagining you all stuffed and swollen with my kid, knowing I'd bred you..."

Kurapika's lips sought yours, tongue slipping inside to explore and claim. You whimpered into his kiss, helpless to the overwhelming desire coursing through your veins. He finally broke the kiss, his eyes smoldering with naked want.

He didn’t say anything, just studied your features intently as he slowly unzipped his fly. Kurapika's hand disappeared beneath his trousers, pulling his rock-hard length free. He gave himself a few languid pumps, hissing softly at the contact.

You stared, transfixed. His cock was just as you imagined - thick and veiny, pulsing with a hungry need to plant his seed.

"Go on...feel it," he ordered gruffly.

Your hand reached out on instinct, fingertips ghosting tentatively over the engorged flesh. Kurapika let out a hiss, his hips bucking into your touch. You felt a thrill at his response, a surge of feminine satisfaction.

He pressed his cock firmly into your palm, forcing you to curl your fingers around the warm girth. You stroked him experimentally, relishing the velvety-smooth skin stretched tight over his pulsating hardness. Kurapika let out a guttural moan, eyes fluttering shut as his head lolled back in pleasure.

"Get a good look, honey ," he purred. "This is what's gonna put a baby inside you."

His hands reached out to grasp your hips, yanking you down on the armchair until you were splayed before him. Your dress rode up to your waist, exposing your slick-drenched cunt to his ravenous gaze.

Kurapika's cock bobbed excitedly at the sight, already drooling an obscene amount of pre-cum. He gripped your hips, dragging you flush against him. The swollen head nudged your soaked slit, smearing its sticky promise against your heat.

"Gonna make you a mommy tonight," he breathed, eyes glazed with lust. "My sexy little wife, full and round with my kid."

With that, he plunged inside your cunt in one rough, impatient thrust. You cried out as his thick cock stretched you impossibly full. It was a delicious, overwhelming ache, like your body was being molded and shaped to his whims.

Kurapika set a punishing pace, fucking you with relentless intensity. He was like a man possessed, driven by a singular purpose. His hands dug into your hips, nails scoring your skin.

You clutched desperately at his broad shoulders, fingers raking his skin. You were completely overwhelmed by the sensation of him dominating your body, filling you up over and over again with his need.

Kurapika's face was contorted with lust, eyes screwed shut as he pounded into you. His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat-slick chest heaving with exertion. You could feel the raw urgency in his movements, the desperate need to spill his seed deep inside.

Your fingers threaded through his silken hair, gripping the roots as you held his fevered gaze. Kurapika's eyes widened, pupils blown wide with arousal at the display of submission. He gave a guttural groan, his pace faltering as he struggled to stave off his imminent release.

"So fucking sexy," he growled, teeth gritted as he fought to hold himself back. He pistoned into you harder, deeper. His thumb reached down to furiously circle your swollen clit. "Come on, honey. Let me hear you scream..."

You arched into him, the friction of his thumb on your sensitive nub and cock pistoning into your cunt pushing you towards the edge. Kurapika's hips slammed into yours with bruising force, his thrusts becoming more erratic as his orgasm neared.

You felt yourself teetering on the edge, body tensing with anticipation. His hand gripped your thigh, hiking it higher for deeper penetration. That last bit of delicious pressure was all you needed to send you careening over the edge.

Your walls clenched around him, milking his throbbing cock. You came with a strangled cry, body spasming as you squirted onto his cock. Kurapika gave a ragged gasp, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release.

With one final, primal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt. You felt the warmth of his seed flooding your womb, painting your inner walls with his virility. Thick, creamy spurts of cum filled you to the brim, his cock pulsing and twitching as he emptied every last drop.

Kurapika's hips rolled languidly into yours, prolonging the aftershocks of his climax. You clung to him, legs trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. Your bodies were entwined, sweat-slick skin pressed flush against each other.

As the haze of lust ebbed away, Kurapika's gaze softened, taking on an adoring warmth. He caressed your cheek, his voice thick with emotion.

"I hope I got you pregnant," Kurapika murmured, voice hushed with naked longing. He leaned down to trail openmouthed kisses along the column of your neck.

"Can you imagine?" he rasped against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Your belly swelling with our child, my obsession made flesh and blood?"

He nuzzled the crook of your neck, inhaling your mingled scents with an almost spiritual reverence. When Kurapika pulled back to meet your gaze again, his eyes were alight with feverish yearning.

"I'm going to dote on you relentlessly," he vowed in a low rasp. "Worship every curve, every new glow you get from carrying my baby."

His palm stroked over your lower abdomen, fingertips committing every plane and whisper of definition to memory.

"You'll let me, won't you?" Kurapika's tone edged towards pleading. "Let me obsess over you morning, noon, and night while you nurture our offspring?"

He dipped down to trail reverent, openmouthed kisses along the valley between your breasts.

"These are going to swell up so full and ripe..." he muttered thickly, voice muffled against your fevered skin. "I can't wait to taste how sweet your milk will be."

Kurapika's smoldering gaze met yours again, pupils blown wide with naked obsession. His hand splayed possessively over your abdomen once more, relishing the possibility of it bearing new life.

"Just stay right here with me and make my fantasy a reality," he rasped, the barest hint of a plea entering his gravelly timbre. "Let me put a baby in you and finally satisfy this all-consuming obsession."

His thumb stroked over the hint of your hipbone, gaze following the motion with rapturous focus.

"I'll take care of you both..." Kurapika vowed, voice dropping to a rugged murmur. "Mind, body, and spirit - you'll want for nothing beyond my total devotion."

With that, he sealed his promise with a searing, breathtaking kiss that made his singular obsession for impregnating you resoundingly clear.

#hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader smut #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter smut #hxh #hxh x reader smut #hxh smut #hxh x reader #hxh kurapika #kurapika #kurapika kurta #kurapika x reader #kurapika smut #kurapika x reader smut

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mitskicain · 4 months ago

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navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ the doghouse — ken sato x reader

synopsis: any guy could let a girl fuck him, but it takes a real man to be somebody’s bitch

content warning: graphic details of sex, p in v, unprotected sex, possible spit play, slight breeding kink, cowgirl, teasing, denial, marking, use of collar and leash, elements of BDSM

word count: 1.5k

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004: collared and leashed

Ken—whimpering, gasping, moaning under your grasp—flushed and hot all over. God, what a sight.

“That’s good, you’re so good for me,” you coo in his ear, eyeing the reflection of the both of you.

You were positioned behind him, arms stretched around him, stroking the base of his cock—agonizingly slow. You kept your grip light, barely allowing for any sort of hard friction between him and the skin of your palms, which kept him just about on the edge, but not being able to push himself through it.

He’s been on the edge for 45 minutes.

“You’re torturing me,” he says in between pants, trying to compose himself—still trying to compose yourself. You found his efforts adorable, trying to remain modest and shy despite him being completely undressed in front of your fully clothed self. He clung desperately to whatever little control he had, and you intended to strip himself of every single bit of it. It didn’t matter that he was likely some billionaire rich kid, successful athlete superstar whatever—tonight he was yours to do with as you pleased. He swore on it, begging for you to take him when he was kissing all up on our neck, the two of you writhing on the floor.

Now look at him: pathetic, begging; not even to cum. Just for you to tighten your grip, to go faster, anything to drag him out of the limbo you had kept him in for nearly an hour. Because you can edge and tease someone only for so long before the pleasure mixes in frustration, mixes into pain—the dull ache that reverberated throughout him, aching for release.

“Please,” he whines, “please, god.”

He tries, without fruition, to buck his hips up into your grip. You counter this by quickly wrapping your legs around his waist, forcefully parting his legs and keeping him from being able to thrust up. He whines again, frustration building—trying, again, but find it useless as you’re holding him down.

You smirk, entertained by his distress, and lick the side of his face. In this position, with his entire back pressed up against you, you could feel every breath he took, every twitch, every shiver. You relished in the feeling, being able to understand the complex mechanism of his body. Really, you wanted to be the best fuck of his life. You wanted to be unforgettable, burn yourself into his memory—because he had the audacity of reinserting himself into your life again, couldn't stand just being a one-night-stand, thought himself above it. So now you were going to fuck him, break him—such that he would never even dream of reaching this height of pleasure with anyone else but you. You felt a growing sense of possession, an ugly jealousy that began to bubble in the bit of your stomach. You retaliated silently by biting into the skin of his flesh.

Ken jolts at the feeling—a sudden, sharp pain that caused him to wince and once again buck up into your grasp. You let out a deep, throaty laugh into his skin, sending vibrations down his spine, feeling the goosebumps that rose on the back of his neck. He exhales in relief when you release your mouth off him, a few breathy moans escaping his lips as you lick at the tender flesh.

“You,” he mumbles, “you bit me.”

You chuckle.

“I did,” you say, leaning forward to look at his flustered expression, “you like it?”

He turns away, covering his face with his hands, and you laugh. He was adorable. That made you want to ruin him even more.

“Hey,” you beckon, turning his head to look at you, hand on his jaw. “Don’t hide from me, come here.”

You press your lips onto his—the first time you’ve done this—and regret for having held out on him for so long. He tasted like heaven. Like every single indulgence you’ve ever denied yourself. You hum into the kiss, sucking on his bottom lip, your tongue swiping against the entrance of his mouth before pulling away—a string of saliva connecting the two of you. You smile at his expression: eyes half lidded and glazed over with desire. How could you possibly not let him have what he wanted?

He lunges forward, capturing you in another kiss, this time all teeth and tongue. Hungry. Feral, even. He’s climbing on top of you, cock bobbing, precum beading on the tip. Your hands find them in his hair again, pulling his head back—another trail of spit.

“Stop,” you command, and you can almost hear him whine; see the frown that curls at the edges of his lips. You slip out from underneath him, his expression confused. He tries to stop you but just tumbles off the couch, crawling on the floor to reach for your ankle as you walk away from him.

“No! Please, I’m sorry,” he cries out, his cheek against the skin of your calves. “I’m sorry, don’t go, please. I’ll behave. I promise.”

You hum at the sight, enjoying the way he begged—writhed for you, the desperate look in his eyes—like he’d combust if you took your gaze off him. You promptly grabbed one of the new collars you had bought after Lassie chewed out her last one—black and sleek—and clipped it around his neck, much to his bewilderment at the accessory. You held the leash in your hand, waiting to see if he’d protest, and when he didn’t, you dragged him off to the bedroom with you, him trailing closely behind. You didn’t even ask him to crawl, he could’ve walked if he wanted, but he stayed on the floor, in fear that acting remotely human would provoke you even further.

His mouth was heaven. J as good for kissing as it was for burying into your cunt. As you laid there, thighs on his shoulders, spread for him as he licked you up with such fervor, an urgency, like he was trying to catch every drop of you before you melted away. You grind your hips against him, the crook of his nose practically perfect. Built for you, you’d say. When you tugged on the leash, pulling him towards you to kiss him again—you saw how the entire lower half of his face was practically soaked with your slickness. You could taste yourself on his lips when you pushed him back on the bed, climbing on top of him again.

He winced when you pushed him inside of you, completely bottoming out in the first thrust. When you lift your hips up, tightening your core so there’s a bit of resistance, and you hear him suck in another breath. You feel his hands grab roughly at your thighs, white knuckled and all, as he makes that pained expression again.

“What’s wrong, baby? You can tell me,” you whisper sweetly, watching him closely. “Too much?”

He nods his head, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched, trying to keep himself from moaning.

“Aw,” you coo, “too bad.”

You slam down into him, feeling the tip of him kiss your cervix. He gasps, and as you begin to rock your hips, riding him at a feverishly quick pace, he can’t control himself. He’s a flushed, writhing mess underneath you—holding on for dear life, whimpering to himself, whining. For a moment, you think you’re going too hard, so you slow your pace, but you find his hands on your waist and him buck up into you, chasing after his own pleasure. You could feel the way his slick covered cock thrusted in and out of you, lewd wet sounds and all, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. You throw your head back, drowning in ecstasy. God, how could you ever go back to other people after this?

When you sink your teeth into his neck again, you have devious intentions. One, yes, to hear his oh-so delicious moans, but two, because you wanted to mark him. You wanted to leave him a reminder of you when he looks at himself in the mirror tomorrow, something for the paparazzi and tabloids to pick up on during his games or interviews—a sign of your existence on his body, a memory of tonight, what you did to him, that he was yours.

“You feel so good baby,” you say, on the edge, “so good.”

Kenji just whines underneath you, bucking up into you faster. Your climax hits you like a home run, pulsing and fluttering around him, making a mess of his lap and your sheets. He follows closely after, hips stuttering as he spills into you, still thrusting, riding out his orgasm. Almost immediately, you feel his lips trail up the entirety of your arm, your neck, before finally crashing onto your lips. He kisses you like he’s grateful, all gentle and loving, and for a moment, you melt into his touch, arms locking around him. But being the good boy he was, he couldn't just leave you be—his cum and your arousal dripping out of your pussy. So he flips you over and laps at you again, cleaning you up, drawing another orgasm out of you, or two, or three—you wouldn’t know, you’ve lost count.

All you know is that Kenji’s the best fuck of your life. That nothing could ever possibly beat this. He traces letters on your clit, spelling out T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U-T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U.

He was spectacular—the greatest—and he deserved it. Every last bit of it.

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author’s note: god 🙏 I see what you’ve done for others (the MC) I am once again asking for you to do the same for me (for me to be able to rail the fuck out of someone like this, or for someone to rail the fuck out of me like this) GOD PLEASEEE🛐🛐😫😫💥💥💥💥💥 the way that I was in disbelief when proofreading this 😭😭😭 I can’t believe I wrote all this like holy fuck the demons really possessed me 👹👹EITHERWAY I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY 💥💥 THIS IS FOR ALL THE FREAKS OUT THERE 🫵🫵‼️‼️‼️YOU GUYS SEEMED TO LOVE MY FIRST SMUT SCENE SO IM PRESENTING YOU GUYS WITH ANOTHER RAAAHHHH🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

taglist: @luneariaa @moonjellyfishie @sweetcheeksbby-deactivated20240 @shittingonyourgrave @shauu @witcwitchy @fcklxnaa @despacito-uwu16 @mqshido @miffysoo @ybbayk @hore4ken @mochminnie @femmefqtqle @miratastic @lovingyeet @mythicalmo @yourfellowmarzipan @softdumplingposts @strayy-kidz

#Spotify #ultraman #ultraman: rising #kenji sato #ken sato #ken sato x reader #ken sato x y/n #kenji sato x reader #ken sato x you #kenji sato x y/n #kenji sato x you #ken sato smut #kenji sato smut #sub!character #dom!reader #mitskicain’s works #mitskicain

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yeonmuse · 9 days ago

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One More Rep | Eric Sohn

PAIRING Gym Eric x Fem Trainer

WORD COUNT | 1.7k

GENRE SMUT WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ‼️ riding, bottom eric , top reader, teasing , tongue kissing , vaginal sex, vulgar language

SUMMARY In which Eric has trouble focusing during his workout, it seems he’s got a thing for his trainer.

MORE | a req for my beloved

“Come on i'm sure you can do better than that Youngjae.’’ There you go again calling him by his given name, something you had done time and time again when you realized he was slowing down or slacking. In all honesty not only did he find it hot how you never let up with him, but hearing his name spill from your lips was the sweetest sound that had ever fallen upon his ears. You had been Eric's trainer for a year now, though it didn't take that long for him to form some sort of attraction to you. It went without saying that he found you attractive, and as much as he wanted to abide by your rules and keep things professional he couldn’t help but imagine you riding him every single time the two of you got in the gym together.

“Are you even listening?”

“What?” Eric hadn't even realized but he had been doing it in that very moment, imagining it, his hands on your waist as he watched his entire cock disappear inside of you. How your moans would sound once he finally got inside.

“Where does your mind go when you space out like that? I swear you do this every session lately.” He watched as you shook your head and pushed yourself up off of the floor to go grab a water.

“Go ahead and take a five we’re doing one more rep since you chose to space out the entire first set.” He couldn't help but take in your frame as you brought the water bottle to your lips. The way your outfit hugged your curves, the way your lips pressed against your water bottle, he even liked the way sweat beaded on your neck from having worked out too hard with him. It caused a stir in him, the more he looked at you the harder he got and it would do nothing more than make this last rep agonizingly painful to him. His gaze trailed you as you put your water bottle down and made your way over to him and he was thrown into a panic, the last set of workouts you had him do were always sit ups, you wouldn’t notice right?

“Alright Sohn on the floor.” His head was spinning it that moment, there was an internal panic that you would notice and realize that he had been checking you and you wolf come to realize the reason he was so spaced out.

“Do I need to add another full set to our next session to make you get your ass up quicker?” Your words easily got him up from the bench and onto the floor.

“Oh so you do know how to listen.” You teased as you watched him finally get in position for his last rep.

“I can do more than just listen.” The words fell from his lips before he could even realize he said them. You raise your eyebrows at him and he immediately changes the subject.

“Let’s just start, how many this time? Ten? Twenty?” He rambled on and on before starting without a queue. You had been opening your mouth to speak in what he had said until your eyes landed on something that you found rather distracting. As if finally realizing you had not been counting, Eric stops his workout only for him to gaze at you and find that your attention has been completely elsewhere. His gaze followed yours until he realized where your gaze had been directed and he scrambled to get up from the floor.

“Uh can we finish up for the day? Maybe just add an extra full set to our next session.” He clears his throat and sheepishly scratches the ball off his neck as he turns to go grab his towel.

“Do I make you nervous, Youngjae?” He froze, he had been trying to get out as quickly as possible but heading your name spill from his lips immediately stopped him.

“What are you talking about?” He tries to diverge your attention away from what had just happened, deciding to play confused. For a moment you were silent until he heard shuffling and he felt your presence behind him. You were a little too close for comfort, so close that he could feel your breath tickle his neck and your chest press against his back.

“I said..do I make you nervous? Better yet, it looks like I make you a lot more than just nervous.”

“I can explain..”

“Explain what? That working out with me turns you on? That you get all hard simply from training with me?” He remained silent, he had nothing to say since you were entirely correct, was that pathetic of him? Getting hard from just glancing at you.

“Tell me then, for how many sessions have you had for me? How many sessions have you walked away covering up the fact that you get turned on just looking at me? Have you ever thought of me?” As your fingertips grazed his neck it sent a shiver up his spine, he had never been this quiet in his life.

“I bet every session when you hit the showers you imagined it, fucking me, being buried so deep in me that once you’re no longer inside you’lll feel the ghost of me.”

“I haven’t…I.”

“Tell me the truth, how many times…for how long maybe I’ll give you what you want if you ask me nicely..like a good boy.” Eric couldn’t even hide it, not only did you make him nervous but every word you spoke made him dizzy, you were intoxicating and it turned him on to the highest power.

“The last 7 months..”

“Oh? You poor thing you’ve been holding it in that long?” As you make your way around him and step in front of him his breath caught in his throat, there you were standing before him all pretty, eyes gazing directly into his as if you were ready to completely devour him.

“Since you can’t seem to do your workouts properly I guess I’ll have to help you until you learn. Sit.” Eric wasted no time taking a seat on the training bench, his pretty eyes glued to you.

“You usually listen well when you aren’t fantasizing about me, do I distract you that much? So much that you can’t focus? In that case I’ll ride you until every fantasy of yours disappears from your thoughts, let you feel the real thing so you’ll no longer be distracted during our sessions.” His gaze had been locked on you, his eyes glistening like a puppy waiting to receive a treat from its owner. His heart beating so hard in his chest as he watched you strip from the waist down before shoving down his sweats and boxers in one go.

“Already ready to go.”

As you placed your hand on his chest and forced him to lay back you could feel his heart thumping in his chest, you could tell that he was nervous, you liked that he was nervous. The way he devoted all his attention to you in that moment, his pretty puppylike eyes focused on you and only you, oh how you wanted to just devour them but for now this would do.

“Fuck.” His head fell back almost instantaneously as you swung your leg over him and straddled him before wrapping a hand around his cock. Of course your hand wasn’t enough to fully take it but it still felt good to him nonetheless, though it was nothing compared to the heavenly feeling of you guiding him directly into your cunt. The whine followed by a moan that spilled from his lips was enough to bring a smirk to your face, you had barely done anything and he was already a whiny mess.

“Hands here. And I want you to look at me, you want to feel me so desperately, look in the mirror and watch, watch the way you continuously push in and out of me.” You force him to turn his head and watch through the mirror as you sit up before forcing yourself back down onto him watching a loud moan, his hands meeting your waist and his nails digging into your soft skin as you begin to rotate your hips forcing him to reach new angles.

He was losing his mind, watching the way his cock slid in and out of you, the feeling of you riding him, fuck it was better than he could have ever imagined it.

The force of you bouncing against his lap became too good, so good that he made the mistake of closing his eyes. He was forced out of his temporary dissociation as you tugged at his hair and forced him to look once more.

“Eyes open, can't you miss any second of this.”

You had him completely wrapped around your finger but he didnt care, he didn’t mind at all. He would do anything if it meant having you on top of him like this time and time again, whatever you asked of him whatever you made him do he would do it. A hiss spilled from his lips as your tongue slithered from his neck, to his collarbone all the way down to his nipples. He hadn’t expected it from you but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining about it. You loved how reactive he was, his whines, his moans, the way you could feel his nails digging further into your skin with every hop movement, he was completely under your spell.

Eric was completely dazed by the entire situation, the only thing saving his brain from its temporary fog was you slipping your tongue past his lips and luring him into a heated kiss that completely took his breath away, each of his moans and whines being swallowed up into the kiss. His breathing grew faster and you could feel the twitching against your walls and sense his desperation as he himself began to guide your hips. As you feel his stomach tense beneath you immediately pull away from the kiss and force him out of you seconds before he paints your back and his chest in his cum.

“Holy shit…” his breathing was heavy and sweat dripped down his neck and forehead as he fell back onto the bench.

“Next session i'll have this so a couple mouth workouts and put those pretty lips to use.”

#tbz x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz smut #the boyz eric #the boyz fanfic #tbz eric #tbz fic #tbz fanfic #tbz smut #tbz scenarios #tbz smau #tbzeric #eric sohn x reader #eric sohn #eric sohn smut

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moonpascal · 2 months ago

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IN THE SHADOW OF MEMORY

CHAPTER FOUR I series masterlist I wc: 3.4k

WARNINGS:

hurt/angst, lonelines, lots of dialogue

AUTHORS NOTE:

thank you to @amiableness my love as always gave me the encouragement i need for these things!

sorry for the long wait! i played hogwarts legacy for the first time and got sucked in. but it did help me with visioning locations and everything. hopefully chapter four was worth the wait (idk feels like a filler lol)

The past few days had been agonizingly unproductive since you realized the extent of your memory loss—entire chunks of the last year and a half simply gone.

Hermione, stubborn as ever, refused to tell you what you were missing, no matter how much you begged. You knew she was hiding something, and it frustrated you to no end. These were your memories, after all—you had every right to know what had been erased.

The memory that played in the great hall never left you. You couldn’t be sure if it was a fragment of what was lost or just your mind playing tricks on you. Either way, it felt personal, too personal to share with her without knowing for certain if it was real.

But every time you tried to push through and remember more, it was as if a wall slammed down in your mind, sending a jarring, almost painful shock that stopped you cold. Why had this happened to you? Was it an accident, or had someone targeted you? The questions were maddening.

Caught in a loop of pacing and rubbing your temples in frustration, you accidentally kicked your trunk, sending the pile of jumpers and a tie sprawling across the floor. Huffing in annoyance, you bent down to fold them again, ignoring the nagging sense of familiarity they stirred. You were too irritated, too overwhelmed to connect it.

Just as you finished folding the last item, Grace walked in, looking thoroughly exhausted.

“Tough class?” you asked, trying to shift your focus.

She let out a small, tired laugh as she dropped her bag at the foot of her bed. “I wish. Just boys not taking no for an answer,” she sighed.

You shot her a sympathetic look, knowing the feeling all too well. “Wouldn’t happen to be a certain Slytherin whose clothes I keep tripping over, would it?” you teased, holding up the pile.

Grace gave you a sharp, confused look for a moment, and you worried you’d said the wrong thing. But then she forced a smile. “Right! That’s… um, exactly why he’s upset, but he really shouldn’t have left his closet in our dorm,” she said, a nervous edge to her voice.

“Serves him right,” you laughed, before glancing at the clothes again. “But on a serious note, could you possibly return these to him? Or maybe I should just throw them out? They’re taking up space, and I keep knocking them over.”

“Oh,” Grace said, eyes widening like she’d just been reminded of something important. She grabbed the pile from you a bit too quickly. “Of course! I’ll do that right now.”

Before you could protest or tell her she didn’t need to rush, she was already out the door, leaving you standing there, even more confused than before.

In her hurried state, she might have noticed the pesky tie that slipped off again.

You knew you needed to study and catch up on your missing assignments, but any excuse to procrastinate sounded more appealing. Weighing your options for a brief moment, you grabbed the tie and left the room, hoping to catch up with her.

Exiting your out of the common room and bounding down the stairs, you guessed Grace was heading toward the Slytherin area.

Hopefully, you could catch her but luck wasn’t on your side—she was on a mission, and you didn’t spot her once as you made your way through the castle.

The dungeons weren’t a place you frequented, so you were surprised when you managed to navigate there on your first try.

Upon arriving, you saw Theo trudging down the steps, the pile of clothes in his arms. You faltered, a strange pang coursing through you for reasons you couldn’t explain.

You considered a quick escape, but Theo called your name before you had a chance to move.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, a touch of surprise in his voice. You didn’t have any classes together today, so it was unexpected to see you. He shifted the clothes under his arm, stepping closer.

“I tried to catch Grace—she dropped this,” you awkwardly gestured to the tie in your hand, “but I guess I found the culprit.”

Theo’s eyes widened at the implication, his heart sinking a bit. “No, these aren’t mine,” he quickly corrected.

You shot him a skeptical look. “So, you and Grace aren’t... involved?” you asked, waving your hand in a vague motion.

Theo scrunched his face in disgust, shaking his head. “No, never. She’s just a friend. She gave these to me to return to one of the guys.”

“Right,” you said, though still not entirely convinced. “Well, make sure he gets his tie back, too.” You draped it over the pile in his arms.

“Right, of course. Thank you for bringing it,” Theo smiled, and any doubt you had about him lying slowly drifted away. You found yourself staring at him, that smile triggering a flash of a memory—the same one from before.

Could it have been real? Theo seemed different now, kinder than you remembered. And how had you never noticed how... easy on the eyes he was?

“Woah, Tesoro, are you okay?” Theo’s voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you realized he had a hand on your shoulder and another gently cupping your cheek. The clothes he’d been holding were forgotten on the ground.

His face was so close to yours that you instinctively took a step back, but the absence of his touch left you yearning.

“I’m sorry, what?” you said, dazed and confused, not fully processing why he was asking.

“Your nose—it’s bleeding. Let’s get you to sit down,” he said urgently, grabbing the tie and guiding you to a nearby bench. You almost tripped from how sudden it was.

“I’m fine, really, Theodore,” you insisted, brushing it off. “This is probably the fourth one today.” The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted it.

“Fourth?” His tone grew tense, his eyes full of concern. “Are they accompanied by anything else? Headaches? Nausea? Fainting spells?” He inspected you, wiping the blood from your upper lip with the now-ruined tie.

You shrugged, trying to seem unbothered. “Not all the time. I don’t think it’s that serious.”

Theo, however, looked far from reassured. “That’s not normal,” he muttered your name, his worry etched deeply into his face.

“Theo, really, I’m fine. Just a little tired,” you tried to comfort him, but his expression barely softened. Hearing you use his name, though, seemed to snap him back. He pulled back slightly, still visibly rattled.

“Right, sorry,” he stammered, dropping his hands from you as if your touch burned him.

“I appreciate the concern, though,” you said, genuinely touched by how much he seemed to care. A stark contrast from the Theo you were used to. “Could we talk later? I have this thing that I can’t seem to figure out.”

He blinked, seemingly taken aback by your suggestion. In truth, you were a bit surprised by it yourself.

“I have Quidditch practice tonight, but how about tomorrow?” he offered, a bit nervously.

“Perfect,” you grinned. “See you tomorrow then, Theodore.”

He smiled in return, and for a moment, you found yourself wanting to stay and just stare at him. Another part of you still hesitated, wary of his past actions and the memories you couldn’t access. But maybe he had the answers.

You watched him walk away, a slight spring in his step as he bent to pick up the discarded clothes. He disappeared into the Slytherin common room, the snake door sliding shut. The sight surprisingly comforted you.

You sat for a moment before finally rising from the bench and starting the walk back to your common room. Your mind was a tangled mix of questions, emotions, and fleeting familiarities that refused to come into focus. It felt like your brain was in overdrive, struggling to fill in blanks without knowing where to start.

The walk back to your dorm felt like a blur, your mind racing with thoughts of how to piece together the gaps in your memory. You needed answers, but the trio seemed determined to keep you out of the loop, offering vague reassurances that only deepened your frustration.

You hated the way they looked at you—like you were fragile, something to be handled with care. It made you feel small, like you weren’t capable of understanding your own situation. The growing silence around what was happening to you was suffocating, and your dorm had become the only place where you didn’t feel on edge.

As you spotted Harry ahead in the corridor, you sped up, determined to find a distraction from the overwhelming pressure of your missing memories. You bumped him lightly with your shoulder, forcing a smile. “Hey, stranger. Haven’t seen you in a while. Want to sneak off to Hogsmeade?”

Harry hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Trouble, I would, really, but I’ve got Quidditch practice tonight.”

Your smile faltered, a flicker of confusion crossing your face. If Slytherin had practice, there was no way Gryffindor did too. The rivalry between the two houses was so intense they could barely play fair in an actual game, let alone share the pitch for practice. You opened your mouth to question him, but Harry quickly cut you off.

“Tomorrow, yeah? We can go then. It’s Saturday, so no sneaking required.” Giving you an awkward smile.

“Right. Tomorrow.” You nodded, but the unease gnawed at you. First Theo, now Harry. The feeling of being lied to—it stung more than you wanted to admit. Harry never hid things from you before, and Theo—well, you didn’t know him well enough to judge, but it still hurt.

You turned away before Harry could say more, heading in the opposite of his direction- mind you was not towards the pitch.

When you finally reached your dorm and shut the door behind you, the quiet hit you hard. Alone again, the weight of the past few days crashed down. You dropped onto your bed, letting out a shaky breath. The frustration, confusion, and hurt welled up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to cry. You just lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling more isolated than ever.

No one was being honest with you. They were keeping you at arm’s length, treating you like you couldn’t handle the truth. You were left to fend for yourself, with only half the pieces to a puzzle that seemed impossible to solve. You felt pushed aside, only to be dealt with when it was convenient.

It hurt more than you wanted to admit, and the pity party you were throwing yourself was, for the moment, the only thing that felt comforting.

“Fridays, we’ll go to the Astronomy Tower at midnight. It’ll be our thing.”

The words jolted you awake. You blinked, disoriented, scanning the dark room. The moonlight filtered in softly, casting long shadows. You rubbed your eyes and looked around, hoping to find the source of the voice, but the room was silent. Your roommates’ curtains were drawn, and their steady breathing filled the space.

You lay back, trying to make sense of what you’d heard. Maybe it was a dream. Or maybe, another memory trying to break through the haze?

After tossing and turning for what felt like an eternity, it became clear you weren’t going to be able to fall back asleep. Frustrated, you sighed and threw off the covers, slipping on your shoes. Before you knew it, you were out the door, your curiosity leading you through the corridors.

You tiptoed through the common room, careful not to wake anyone. Without Harry’s cloak, you had to rely on the disillusionment spell to stay hidden, but you knew it wasn’t foolproof.

You navigated the quiet halls, turning corners and climbing staircases with no real sense of direction, yet somehow you felt like you were being pulled somewhere—guided by the echo of those words.

Soon enough, you found yourself at the base of the Astronomy Tower. You hesitated for a moment, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu before your feet carried you up the winding staircase. The ascent felt both familiar and foreign, like a path you had walked countless times. It felt like your body was moving on its own, like it knew something your mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

When you finally reached the top, you paused. The silence of the tower wrapped around you, and with a quiet exhale, you removed the disillusionment spell, standing under the vast, starry sky.

The silence was broken by a cough, jolting you from your thoughts. You nearly screamed, spinning around to see Theo sitting against the railing, watching you with curious eyes.

“Merlin! Theodore, you scared me!” you hissed, clutching your chest as your heart pounded.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, clearly finding your reaction amusing. You glared at him, but he just smiled.

“What are you doing up here?” you asked, exasperated as you stepped closer to where he was sitting.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he smirked. The teasing tone was so typical of him, and despite everything, it brought you some comfort.

You rolled your eyes. “Needed some air. And you?”

“Something like that,” he shrugged, taking a drag from the cigarette between his fingers.

“You know those things will kill you, right?” you said, deciding to sit down next to him. You tucked your legs beneath you, resting your back against the railing.

“I’ve heard,” he replied, exhaling the smoke away from you before flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his foot.

You bit your tongue, resisting the urge to lecture him about the littering. “Maybe you should take their advice.”

He chuckled softly humming in response, leaning his head back against the railing, eyes closed. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Strangely, you felt more at ease up here with him than you had in days.

With his eyes closed, you stole a glance at his face—the messy hair, the moles dotting his skin, and those lips… You quickly looked away, mentally scolding yourself.

“So,” he said, grabbing your attention. His gaze so focused it made you avert your eyes again, “what really brought you up here?”

“I’m… not sure,” you admitted, fidgeting with the fraying edge of your skirt. “I thought I heard a voice, but it could’ve been a dream. It said something about Astronomy Tower at midnight, and I got curious.”

You noticed Theo’s jaw clench briefly before relaxing again, making you frown slightly. “And you?” you asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

“Just needed some quiet,” he said, hesitating for a moment. “But… what was it you wanted to talk about earlier?”

You had nearly forgotten about that. Now that he asked, the words seemed to stick in your throat. You wanted to say you could wait, let him have his moment of peace, but you needed answers.

“Oh, right,” you sighed, unsure of where to start. “I’m not sure how to explain it.”

“Take your time,” Theo reassured, his voice soft, and you were grateful to see no judgment in his eyes.

You took a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. It was hard to know where to even begin.

“Long story short, I lost a chunk of my memories,” you started, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “And the other day, I think I had a flashback of one… with you?”

Theo immediately straightened himself, his attention fully locked on you.

“I was—um, what was your memory about?” he asked, his voice a little shaky as if he was trying to stay calm, but you could sense a bit of hope behind his eyes.

“Don’t laugh,” you warned, giving him a serious look, though a faint smile tugged at your lips. “We were in the Forbidden Forest, I think. I was upset about a letter, and you came along, and we… burned it. Does that sound familiar at all?” You searched his face, praying that this wasn’t just your imagination playing tricks on you.

Theo’s expression tightened, his brow furrowing as if he was choosing his next words very carefully. He looked torn, like saying the wrong thing might somehow hurt you more.

“It’s just… we only had our first conversation a few days ago, right?” you added, trying to lighten the mood despite the tension.

He grimaced slightly, rubbing his eyes. “No,” he sighed, his voice heavy. “That was a memory. That night in the Forbidden Forest—that was the first time we really talked. I was out there trying to clear my head, had a lot going on, and then I heard you. You were crying. I didn’t expect to find you out there.”

“Have we… had more conversations since that night?” you asked cautiously, feeling a strange mix of relief and confusion.

Theo hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, we did.”

“Could you tell me more? Did we hang out after that? Were we friends or just acquaintances? I just feel so lost and confused. You confirming this is the first bit of clarity I’ve had in days,” your voice cracked, the weight of everything you’d been carrying finally slipping through.

Theo’s face shifted, a mixture of pain and hesitation crossing his features. He looked away briefly, his hands gripping the railing beside him. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, careful. “I wish I could tell you everything… I really do.”

He paused, glancing at you before continuing. “But… it’s not that simple.”

Your heart sank at his words, a mix of frustration and sadness settling in your chest. “Why? What’s stopping you?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t want to, believe me. We just don’t know what could happen if we sprung all this information onto you, how the spell or you would react if we try to fill in all the gaps. I mean you’re already having nosebleeds and intense migraines from no one even saying anything. If we push too hard, it could make things worse.”

Theo’s voice softened as he continued. “I just don’t want to hurt you more than you’re already hurting.” His eyes searched yours, hoping you’d understand.

You looked away, the sting of disappointment dulling the relief you’d felt just moments ago. “But I need to know, Theo. I can’t keep living like this, with these blanks and half-truths. Everyone’s treating me like I’m fragile, like I’ll shatter if they say the wrong thing.” Your voice trembled, a mix of anger and helplessness rising to the surface.

Theo shifted closer, his hand hovering just above yours before he hesitated and withdrew. “I get it,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But trust me when I say this—it’s not that we’re all in on some secret without you. We’re just… trying to keep you safe.”

The vulnerability in his eyes made your heart ache. You could see the struggle there, the pull between wanting to protect you and the desire to be honest. He wasn’t just holding back for the sake of secrecy—it was out of concern for you.

“Safe from what?” you asked, your voice thick with emotion. “I feel more trapped than safe. Like I’m stuck behind this wall, and everyone’s watching me struggle without actually helping.”

Theo exhaled, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but we’re doing the best we can. It’s not that we don’t want to tell you—it’s that we don’t know what’ll happen if we do.”

You bit your lip, feeling that familiar swell of frustration rise again. “So I’m just supposed to wait? Until what? Until my memories come back on their own? What if they never do?”

Theo breath stutters and he hesitates. He’s tried his best not to think of that possibility, that you’ll come back to him and this in time would be a funny memory. “I don’t have all the answers. But you’re not alone in this, okay? Even if it feels like it.”

You wanted to believe him. Despite everything, you could sense that Theo genuinely cared, even if he couldn’t give you the answers you desperately sought. You looked at him, your chest tightening with the mix of anger and sadness swirling inside you. “I just wish I knew what I was missing.”

Theo nodded slowly, his eyes heavy with the weight of things left unsaid. “When the time comes, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between you. The cool night air seemed to press down, the weight of your shared secrets hanging in the space between you.

Finally, you nodded, feeling a small sense of comfort in Theo’s promise, even if it couldn’t give you what you needed right now.

If you enjoyed, please please reblog or comment! Your words keep me motivated to write and make me so happy <3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott #slytherin boys #theodore nott series #theo nott series #theodore nott imagine #theo nott imagine #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #moons writing ☾#itsom

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darby-rowe · 11 months ago

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18+ | nsfw | mdni academy!coriolanus snow x fem!academy!reader word count 1,375 cw piss(!!), closet sex, clothed sex, degradation, humiliation, dirty talk, dom!coryo, dubcon, fingering (female receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink, descriptions of saliva, not proofread notes i've been having horrible writer's block trying to work on my snowjanus x reader fic, so naturally i decided to write a piss kink fic to hopefully resolve that [two thumbs up]

you felt as if you had no time whatsoever to take a breather. the entire day was just your nose buried deep within your books to prepare for finals, and you didn't dare to tear your eyes away in fear of forgetting crucial information. you were stressed, and worst of all, you can't remember the last time you went to use the restroom as you felt your engorged bladder causing an uncomfortable ache in your pelvis.

your massive need to relieve yourself was only made worse as your boyfriend coriolanus pulled you aside, shoving the two of you inside a vacant janitor's closet. you gasped as coriolanus began grabbing at your tits and ass, shoving his tongue into your mouth in a sloppy, hungry kiss. you heard yourself whimper pathetically into his mouth as your sexual arousal mingled with your aching bladder. a slight dread crawled its way into your chest. if coriolanus continued with what he was doing, you were sure you would never recover from the sheer embarrassment of you pissing yourself during sex

"coryo—" you tried mumbling into his lips. but he was having none of it as he turned you around and shoved your chest into the wall of the closet, raising up your long red pleated skirt above your waist so he could get a good look at your pretty panties.

"don't object," coriolanus commanded, keeping his voice reasonably low so no one passing by the closet would hear them. he carelessly shoved his two middle fingers inside your mouth and ordered you to suck on them. gargling and gagging noises emitted from your throat as he pumped his fingers deep within your mouth to get them as wet as possible. as he withdrew his fingers, you coughed and gasped for air, only for your air to seemingly get caught off as coriolanus's hand tightly clasped onto your mouth. "and don't make a sound,"

you had to admit it — this show of dominance from your boyfriend was insanely hot to you, which made your overflowing bladder ache that much more. a muffled yelp escaped your mouth as coriolanus's two middle fingers, coated in your saliva, found their way under the waistband of your panties then inside your pussy. and you then found yourself in an entrancing in-between of pleasure and pure agony.

coriolanus's fingers were fast — punishingly fast — as they fucked your tight cunt, emitting squelching sounds as they pumped in and out, in and out, in and out. you couldn't help yourself as you whimpered into the palm of coriolanus's hand, desperately grasping at the wall of the closet to find anything to hold on to. "i barely saw you all day," he panted into your ear. "too busy stressing out over final exams. could barely focus because all i could think about was your pussy. but now i finally have you, so don't ruin this for me,"

you tried to crane your neck to give coriolanus an understanding look, but the vice grip he had over your mouth kept your head locked in place looking forward. you arched your back further into his fingers, earning an approving groan from your boyfriend. for a blissful moment, you forgot about your need to piss, but your guard was soon let down as you felt him withdraw his fingers and heard the familiar sound of him pulling his pants down, feeling him pulling your panties to the side.

with a few slaps to your pussy, and an agonizingly slow intrusion of his dick, your knees gravitated towards each other as you started to feel the beginning of the end. soon, you were going to be unable to hold it in, and you were going to have no choice but to relieve yourself all over your legs and his cock. you wanted to tell him, to make him stop before you embarrassed yourself forever, but before any words were spoken, his hand was back on your mouth, silencing you once more.

"ahh, fuck yeah..." coriolanus whispered as his dick entered inside. you rolled your head back as you felt yourself become full, letting out a low groan into coriolanus's hand. "such a nice, tight pussy. so perfect for my cock,"

"oh, oh god," you whimpered as coriolanus pounded his dick deep inside you, your voice muffled. the closet was soon filled with the sounds of his pelvis smacking against your ass, gasps, pants, and muffled moans as the two of you fucked in the risky privacy of the vacant janitor's closet.

you weren't sure if it was because of how good coriolanus's cock felt inside you, your limited amount of air, or the nauseating smell of the different cleaners, but you felt yourself becoming lightheaded and dumb. you were starting to emit low groans as he fucked you nice and hard, even though the danger of pissing yourself was still prevalent. every thrust of his cock felt as if he was intentionally trying to bump into your bladder, like someone gently tapping a water balloon with a needle.

"you're being such a good girl taking my cock," he mumbled into your ear. "and you're gonna let me come inside you, right? yeah? you're gonna let me breed this pussy so you can walk around with my cum inside you, you dirty girl?"

"coryo," you tried to say, hoping he'll understand. "i'm gonna pee,"

"what was that, bunny?" coriolanus mocked, not knowing a single word you were saying due to your voice being muffled. "can't hear you when i'm trying to get you to shut the fuck up,"

your orgasm was drawing dangerously close, and the process was only expedited as coriolanus reached around and began rubbing at your clit. the anticipation was rapidly killing you. moans and mewls escaped your mouth and into the possessive hand of coriolanus.

the walls of your pussy began to contract, signaling the arrival of your climax. coriolanus kept up with his ministrations, whispering dirty words of encouragement.

"that's right, come all over this fuckin' cock," he panted, placing open-mouthed kisses all over the side of your neck. "c'mon, my naughty girl,"

your cries for mercy fell on deaf ears as the continuous pumping of his cock brought you towards your explosive orgasm, in which your pulsating pussy further agitated your bladder. and along with all of your nerves igniting on fire, a steady stream of warm liquid came gushing out of you and onto your legs, pooling onto the floor of the closet. you would be sobbing out of embarrassment if it weren't for the fact that the immediate relief of your aching bladder only added to your orgasm. you groaned heavily as your piss came flooding out of you.

your walls squeezed around coriolanus's dick, causing him to also reach his peak as you continued to piss all over yourself and his throbbing shaft. he released his hand from your mouth, and out came a string of desperate apologies.

"sorry," you whimpered. "i'm so sorry, coryo. i tried to tell you—"

"looks like you made a mess now, didn't you?" coriolanus interjected. "what? i fucked you so good that you had no choice but to piss all over yourself?" he slowly took out his cock and looked down at your messy panties, covered in piss and cum. "so dirty, and so fuckin' hot,"

you took a moment and looked down at the floor beneath you, lifting up your foot to watch your pee drip from your shoes. you closely inspected your white socks to see if any traces of yellow could be seen, but the lighting of the janitor's closet made it nearly impossible to tell.

"i made a mess," you muttered, your voice tinted with frustration. however a delay in your mind made you finally register coriolanus's words. "wait, you thought me peeing myself... was hot? why?"

coriolanus shrugged his shoulders. "why not? did it at least feel good?"

a small shiver coursed down your spine as you remembered the orgasmic relief of your bladder, and you found yourself desperately needing to feel that feeling again. "it felt really fucking good, coryo,"

"then that's all that matters, really," he gave you a gentle smile and kissed your temple. "we should really clean up, though,"

don’t be shy, let’s talk. ♡

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #asks open #ask me anything #darbyrowe.doc

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arealphrooblem · 1 year ago

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A Good Roommate Is Hard To Find

Synopsis: Civilian has harbored a secret crush on his roommate for a long time, only to find out that said roommate is the newest villain on the scene during a robbery at his job.

CW: death threats, knives

There was only one thing worse than having a crush on your straight roommate: having a crush on your straight villain roommate.

Actually worse than that were rent prices, which kept Civilian from running as far in the opposite direction as he could get after he gave his statement to the police.

A statement that contained a big, gaping hole.

Because it couldn’t be true, right? It had to be a coincidence. Lots of people had weird, star shaped birthmarks on their ribs. It was a huge leap of logic to assume that the villain who had just tried to rob the bank that morning had the exact same birthmark as Civilian’s roommate for the past two years.

Or maybe he just imagined it. It had been a very traumatic day. Civilian went home after the police released him and had a massive panic attack in the shower for about forty five minutes and then pressed two weighted blankets on him in bed like a panini grill.

Having a group of villains stride into your workplace, guns blazing, would do that to you. As would getting stuck in the crossfire between said villains and the Hero from behind a desk, praying a stray bullet or laser beam wouldn’t hit and kill you.

It was only a coincidence that Civilian had seen the birthmark. Near the end of the fight, one of the villains had been thrown over the very desk Civilian cowered behind, hitting the wall hard enough that even Civilian winced in sympathy.

He laid there for a moment, dazed, half his torso exposed from a rip in his clothes, that stupid, undeniable birthmark on full display. Civilian could only stare at it, head dizzy as if he also took blunt force trauma to it. The villain groaned and sat up.

For one agonizingly long second their eyes met. Civilian felt like a kitten spotted by a hawk. This was it. His time was up. He’d be just another statistic on the news --

But the villain just put a finger on his lips -- a silent command for silence -- that Civilian could only nod helplessly at. Then the villain slipped away in the chaos and disappeared.

And besides, it couldn’t be his roommate because his roommate was in Colorado, visiting some online friend of his and going mountain biking or whatever.

Two days after the attack, Roommate burst through the front door, dumping his duffel bag onto the floor and stepping towards Civilian with a scary single minded determination.

It took every ounce of control not to flinch when Roommate cupped his face, gaze roving over his features as if looking for injuries.

Roommate himself looked untouched from the fight. It almost made Civilian second guess himself. But he hadn’t spent the last two days analyzing every detail his love-sick brain had filed away for the last two years to doubt himself now.

That villain and his roommate were the same person.

“I saw the news,” Roommate said. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt? I tried to change my flight but this was the soonest I could get in.”

The lie hurt. Obviously Roommate hadn’t been mountain biking in Colorado for the past few days so it begged the question: what else did he lie about? Was this concern just an elaborate play at innocence? But if his roommate was taking the time to craft this act of concern, then he must not think Civilian knew.

And if Civilian valued his life, he’d have to keep it that way and force normalcy.

“I’m fine,” he said, trying for a smile and coming up with a grimace. “I mean, I’m not fine. It was fucking scary, but I didn’t get hurt. So there’s that. Work’s given me a week off and then. . .”

Roommate scowled. “And then what? They can’t possibly think you’d be okay working there again after only a few days off? You should quit.”

“Quit?” Civilian’s eyebrows raised. “And we both get thrown out on our asses? We’re lucky enough to have this apartment as it is.”

“I have enough savings to get us through for a few weeks while you find another job,” Roommate insisted.

“I thought you blew it all on Colorado,” Civilian joked weakly.

And where the fuck did those savings come from? he wanted to ask. But he didn’t dare.

“Not all of it. Seriously. You should think about it.”

Something gleamed in the roommate’s eyes, like a warning. Civilian swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Okay. I’ll think about it. I just . . .I think I’m going to go lay down for a bit. It’s good to have you back. You’ll have to tell me all about it when I wake up again.”

Roommate’s face lit up with a smile and Civilian’s heart twisted in his chest. “I have so many good photos. It’s beautiful out there.You should come with me next time.”

“Yeah sure,” said Civilian thoughtlessly, thinking only of the dark safety of his room.

“Get some rest.” Roommate nudged Civilian towards the hallway. “I’ll order us pizza.”

Civilian nodded and forced his steps to slow as he made his way to the bedroom. Once the door shut and the fan turned on, he buried his head under his pillows and tried to get his breathing under control.

Faking normalcy was going to be harder than he thought.

"Oh you're starting dinner already?"

Civilian jumped at the sound of his roommate's voice, the knife slipping and nearly cutting into his fingertip. A quick glance over his shoulder showed his roommate leaning against the opposite counter, arms folded loosely over his chest.

Just a casual chat. And yet it felt like a fist suddenly gripped Civilian's heart. Even after three days, it still felt like walking the knife’s edge every time they were in the same room together.

"I, um, got bored," he said, thankful to be facing away so his terror wouldn't show as he fought it back down. "I didn't know you'd be home so soon."

"I took a half day at lunch. Did some shopping. I got you more of that tea. It seemed to help you sleep."

A hint of guilt colored his roommate's nonchalance. Or maybe Civilian just imagined it.

"Thanks," Civilian said.

Focus. Focus on the potato. Cube the potato. Be the potato.

Heart thudding in his ears, his concentration on chopping vegetables, Civilian didn't hear the movement until his roommate's head appeared over his shoulder.

"What are you making?" he asked.

Civilian swallowed down a lick of sudden hysteria.

Get a fucking hold of yourself he thought. There is no reason why he'd be suspicious unless you're acting like a lunatic!

"Soup," he managed to croak. "The, uh, kind at the Italian restaurant you like."

A bribe. A hope. A way to remind himself that he knew his roommate, right? They've lived together for two years.

And true to form, his roommate's eyes brightened. "Oh excellent! We haven't had that in ages."

"That's because chopping all these vegetables is a pain in the ass."

A thick tension rose and tightened between them. Civilian concentrated on chopping, trying to ignore the heat at his back as his roommate didn't step away, didn't leave. Just watched him.

"You're using the wrong knife, you know," the roommate said softly.

" . . .what?"

The roommate reached over Civilian's shoulder to the knife block on the counter and pulled one out. It was small and two fingers wide, short and wickedly sharp. Fear clenched Civilian's throat with icy hands.

"You're using a butcher knife," his roommate murmured against Civilian's ear. A shiver fluttered down his neck. "That's for cutting meat. You need a paring knife for vegetables."

" . . .Oh." Was it just him or did the kitchen suddenly feel low on air? "I'll . . . remember that . . .for next time. . ."

"Why don't I take over? At least for the chopping."

Civilian tightened his grip on the knife, an instinctive gesture he had no control over. But even though Roommate had offered help in the kitchen many times, that same instinct screamed not to let him. Something felt different this time.

"I got it," he said, forcing lightness in his tone. "You know you're hopeless in the kitchen."

"I'm good with knives, though." Civilian swallowed down another spike of cold terror. "It's the least I can do if you're making me my favorite."

The paring knife rested just inside Civilian's peripheral, deceptively harmless.

"Why don't you put the gnocchi on to boil," he said. "I'm almost done here."

His roommate sighed, a rush of air against Civilian’s cheek. "You're always so stubborn," he said with sad fondness.

The paring knife moved like a flash and suddenly it's cold steel pressed light as a kiss just under Civilian's jaw.

His breath froze in his lungs.

"Drop the knife, Civilian."

" . . .Roommate?" It wasn't difficult to pitch his voice high in uncertain fear. To pretend shock. "What are you doing?"

"I know that you know."

"Know what?" Civilian breathed and then cringed at how unbelievable it sounded even to his own ears.

He only had room in his head for one secret, it was hard to sound convincingly ignorant when every cell screamed at him to run away.

"You've tried so valiantly to hide it, but I know you too well." Roommate's murmured against his ear. "You're afraid."

Civilian dragged a shaky breath into his lungs. "You have a knife to my throat."

"And you are nowhere near as shocked about that as you should be." Roommate twisted the knife until the flat of the blade lay against Civilian's skin -- and then he dragged it, achingly slow, over Civilian's jawline to rest against raw bitten lips.

A wave of dizziness gripped him, driven by fear mixed with the heady, dangerous edge of want, the desire Civilian struggled with for so many months wrapping its claws around his chest.

"Be a good boy and drop the knife."

Breath came fast and heavy as he willed himself to relax his fingers, to release the knife. Not that he would have even thought of it as a weapon and not a kitchen tool until his roommate demonstrated it. But with one having danced so close to his pulse, letting go of his own felt like a death sentence.

The second he dropped the knife, his roommate twisted a hand into the fabric of his shirt and hauled him across the kitchen to pin him against the fridge. The smiling tomato magnet they grabbed as a joke at a yard sale clattered to the floor and broke into pieces. The roommate doesn't so much as flinch, their gaze like stone, the knife never wavering from Civilian's neck.

He swallows thickly against the panic, never more afraid in his life than in this moment. He never thought death would look like his favorite person in the world ready to slit his throat with a paring knife.

And yet the desire still thrummed beneath it all, a twisted hunger being fed from such close contact, like his body forgot to stop yearning in light of what his mind knew. But the stone-cold glint in his roommate’s eyes twisted his face from comfortingly familiar into dangerously unrecognizable.

Seeing it shattered something in Civilian just like that stupid magnet. His eyes prickled and stung; the roommate's face turned blurry. Humiliated, he darted his gaze to the window, focusing on the speck of green of the neighbor’s tree swaying in the breeze.

And waited for death.

Time stretched long and excruciating between each heartbeat. Then the coolness of the knife disappeared, replaced by warm fingers that nudged his gaze back to his roommate’s.

“Hey,” the roommate said softly.

That granite hardness of his gaze had melted into soft concern. The exact kind of look he gave Civilian each time a migraine flared up. The reminder of that felt as dangerous as the knife. It couldn’t be real.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

The words hit him like a slap to the face.

“Don’t say that!” Civilian hissed. “I didn’t do anything and you’re going to kill me.”

He flinched from the hand that raised up, knocking his head painfully against the fridge. But Roommate only brushed a stray tear away with his calloused thumb.

“You’re right,” he said pensively. “You didn’t do anything. And I’m not going to kill you.”

He turned and tossed the knife into the sink. Civilian did not feel any safer, however. He felt like a bug under the shadow of a boot, even as Roommate smoothed his hands over Civilian’s chest in a display of casual affection he would have died for a week earlier.

“Here is what I am going to do,” he continued. “I’m going to finish dinner. You’re going to compose yourself in a long hot shower and when you get out we are going to eat and have a discussion about the way things are going to be from now on. Is that alright?”

Civilian nodded, not trusting his voice. What other answer could he possibly give?

Part two here

#hero x villain #villain x civilian #m x m #enemies to lovers #writeblr #original fiction #my writing #not a prompt #a good roommate is hard to find

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thewintercorner · 2 months ago

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can't remember if i've spread the grasshopper propaganda on tumblr yet but izzy and i talked about them again today and i must share them with the world (and also it is soooo frustrating to me that amidst the lifesteal yuri craze no one has mentioned the doomed yuri that's Right There)

so. squiddo and jumper. squishing them in my hands

the end of s5 means sooo much to me because like. they literally fight to the very end with basically just each other (ash isn't there for enough of it so he doesn't count to me. also the yuri demons ate him) and you want to tell me they're just normal about it?? squiddo obtained god powers and used them (despite being morally fairly neutral about the end of the server!!) to keep jumper alive as long as they possibly could, despite understanding that it probably wouldn't matter. jumper literally put her life in squiddo's hands. can anyone hear me

and from a wider view, they are such a match made in tragedy like. jumper has such strong morals, doesn't forgive particularly easily, doesn't shy away from condemning people and actions just because they're not what she wants/would have done -- and then there's squiddo. moral foggy at best, follows her own whims without any particular moral bent, but agonizingly loyal once she's pledged alliance to someone. jumper takes squiddo's loyalty to pb+j to mean that they're on the same page, that squiddo's doing this for the same reasons she is, and she's not exactly wrong but the full picture doesn't reveal itself until the end. jumper tried to save the server, did everything she did, because she felt it was her moral obligation to, because it would have been an act of monumental apathy to sit back and watch her world die. squiddo did it because they thought the server needed a hero, and they were equipped enough to fill that role. whenever squiddo's squishy morals showed through, it sucked all the air out of the room. there was never an ending where both of them were happy.

it's also such a clash of understanding and naivety. they lived through the same server and yet they see it so differently. jumper has really only ever been on the side of good, but squiddo's been the evil, the apathetic, the hero. squiddo sees the end of the world coming from a mile away and she knows her harbinger's name is wemmbu; she's seen destruction, seen his commitment to it. jumper understands none of it. her only true clash with "evil" was the abyss, and she was able to stop it! her efforts were so much of the reason why the foundation succeeded! so why should this be any different? that was an end of the world, same as this. what makes this so unstoppable? squiddo sees the headlights coming down the road, jumper walks in front of them believing they are not for her, and there is nothing either of them can do to stop death approaching.

yeah. ramble over i think. they were doomed from the start and fought to the end and i think about them every day

#i need someone else to get it. tragic yuri enjoyers where are you #i also can't tell if this is even coherent. might be ramblings of a madman #but the sentiment is there #long post #ish #lifesteal shipping #jumperwho #squiddo #winter.txt

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lov3m3darling · 2 years ago

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Apple of my Eye (Obsessed!Wally Darling x Short!Reader) Pt. 3

Oh boy, here I go writing again >:3

Anyways, to everyone who has supported this or left a nice comment, just know I would die for you 💙

After this, I'm thinking of writing something for Howdy. There isn't nearly enough fics on here about our favorite bug boi 💚🐛 it might just be some HCs but I gotta do something for him cause now I ALSO have a lil crush on him ;-; he's so tall and he's got all those arms for huggin! I kinda also wanna make an OC to ship with him. I was thinking maybe a snail who works at the Bugdega with him. I just really like snails, I have 2 of them as pets 🐌❤️

Anyway, on with this fic. Enjoyyy!

!!!(TW: obsessive behaviors, jealousy, eye imagery)!!!

💙🍎��🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙

The next day, you got up with more enthusiasm than usual. You decided on a nice light breakfast of (fav fruit) so you could save your appetite for lunch with Wally.

Oh boy, there you went thinking about him again...

After last night, you couldn't seem to get him out of your mind. Even when you finally managed to fall asleep, you dreamt of him.

Dreams of more dates, of gentle kisses as you watched the sunset, of cuddles and movies and snacks under a cozy blanket...

What was happening to you? You were positive you'd never been so lovesick before...

It was even hard for you wait until lunchtime that day. Instead of your usual hobbies to pass the time, you found yourself staring at the clock and fidgeting. You tried to keep yourself busy, but couldn't seem to focus on any of the books or tv shows you tried to watch. It all just came back to the agonizingly slow ticking of the clock on the wall.

But finally...FINALLY it was time to start getting ready, and you practically jumped off the couch to get started.

Eventually you stood in your kitchen, waiting for Wally to arrive. Not a hair out of place, not a single wrinkle in your clothing, and not a clue what you would do when he actually showed up. Wally always seemed to fluster you, and you didn't want to be fumbling over yourself on a date with him, of all things! What would he think?!

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Taking a deep breath, you made your way as gracefully as possible to the door to answer it.

And there he was. Wearing a red suit and holding a very colorful bouquet of flowers in his hands, he smiled at you with that calm expression he always seemed to have.

"(Y/n), you look..."

Oh heavens...there it was again, that warmth within him. You looked absolutely, positively, wonderfully....

"Perfect..." he breathed, his eyes taking in your full form. He realized after a few beats that he was staring, and shifted his eyes up to your blushing face instead.

You shyly looked down at your shoes and squirmed under his gaze.

"Ah, golly...stop it or I'll melt. You look breathtaking in a suit too, Wally..."

You could absolutely cut the romantic tension with a knife at this point, it hung so heavily in the air. Suddenly, Wally remembered the flowers.

"Oh, I got you these! I can't lie, they were Barnaby's suggestion...I don't know much about dates. I've never been on one before"

He held them out to you, and you took them catefully, your fingers brushing his for a moment. You glanced at each other and then bashfully looked away again.

"They're gorgeous! I-I better get them in a vase so they last a long time! I'll only be a moment.."

Wally came in to wait while you rummaged in the kitchen cabinet for a nice vase to put your flowers in.

Looking around your living room, he noticed a few pictures hung up of you with some people he didn't recognize...including a man you seemed particularly close with.

His eye twitched.

"Say, (y/n), who are these fine folks in these pictures with you?"

"Hm? Oh! Those are some of my friends back home!"

thisisyourhome

"Yeah, shame I can't see them as much anymore. But we still call often!"

don'ttalktothem

You came back to the living room, having found a suitable vase for the flowers and displayed them on your kitchen table. You noticed Wally looking at one picture in particular and smiled.

"Ah, that's me and my cousin! That was a fun summer..."

Suddenly, the anger clouding Wally's mind evaporated. He realized his stare was about to break the glass of the picture frame, and he looked away, straightening his tie and smiling at you.

"Well, I'm sure living here will give you plenty new memories to hang on the wall"

You nodded.

"I'm sure it will, too. Hey, I'll grab my camera and maybe you and I can take one!"

A picture with him? To hang on your wall?

Though Wally had no heart, he was almost positive he felt one skip a beat in his chest as he thought about you displaying him among your closest friends and family. Was he really that important to you?

He watched you pack your camera away in the basket, and picked it up before you could. You looked up at him questioningly, but he just smiled and offered you his arm.

"I'll carry it. Come on, there's a lot to see!"

Wally brought you all around town, pointing out spots of interest and naming off which neighbors lived in which houses. Several of them were outside as you went by, and you got to meet them finally.

Julie was absolutely ecstatic to meet you! She gave you a lovely yellow flower from her garden and offered to come over and do your hair one day.

Frank was cold at first, but when you complimented his bowtie and expressed interest in the book he was reading, he warmed up and said you could come by for book discussion and tea anytime.

Alternatively, Barnaby was warm immediately! He was proud to see his best buddy on a date with such a pretty and polite new neighbor, and he told you some of his best jokes. And it was nice to meet the guy who gave Wally all that date advice!

Howdy was outside sweeping when you came by, and shook your hand with 2 of his. When he learned of your plans to have a picnic, he gave you a couple of the cookies he had just gotten in stock. On the house! And told you to come by the shop anytime you needed anything.

Eddie wasn't at the post office, but you did cross paths later on your walk. He tipped his hat and introduced himself, but seemed to get distracted when he spotted Frank catching butterflies across the street, and quickly excused himself, stumbling over his own feet on the way. You asked Wally what was up with him, and he chuckled.

"Eddie and Frank are...well...fond of each other"

"Ohh!" you said as it finally clicked in your mind.

"They are cute together, aren't they?"

You looked at Wally shyly.

"Cuter than us?"

His face flushed bright red.

"Nothing is cuter than you, dearest~ Why, you're the loveliest thing I've ever laid eyes on~"

You giggled teasingly, but felt his arm wrap around your waist as you continued on your walk. Your face grew warm for the millionth time since you met him, but you managed to at least lean your head against his shoulder in return.

Eventually, you arrived at the picnic spot. It was shady and private and the grass was soft.

"This is where I like to paint sometimes. I love Home and the neighbors and all...but sometimes quiet and solitude is nice as well"

You nodded as you grabbed the blanket from the basket and spread it out.

"That makes sense. I like my alone time too, but...for some reason I never need a break from you, Wally" you admitted, looking away shyly.

He was silent for a beat, then chuckled and plopped down onto the blanket. You moved to sit across from him, but he unexpectedly took your hands and guided you to sit in his lap. He kissed your hands and gazed up at you like you were the most divine thing he had ever seen.

Because you were.

"I could never get tired of you either. You've given my life meaning again"

Your eyes widened and sparkled at his words. You were speechless until one of his hands came up to caress your cheek. You leaned into his hand, and he smiled.

"Could I..?"

"Oh, please do.."

And he did.

Warmth spread through your body, right to your very soul. Everything around the two of you seemed to fade away until even the chirping of the birds was fuzzy and distant. You weren't sure how long the kiss lasted, but when Wally did pull away, he sighed.

"If you aren't mine after this, I'll surely die.."

You smiled, leaning your forehead against his.

"Looks like the show must go on, Mr. Darling"

A giddy grin spread across his face and he attacked your face and neck with joyful kisses.

When you two were finished kissing and flirting, you decided to finally have your lunch. There were a few apple-based dishes, but to Wally's surprise, he liked everything! He had always been a picky eater; rarely trying new things and only eating when he absolutely had to, but soon he found a whole new world of foods he liked. Sandwiches, cookies, watermelon...they were all delightful! Who knew!

Of course, he only took bites when you weren't looking. He wasn't ready to tell you how he ate yet, and he didn't want to scare you off. So instead, he would lift the food to his mouth before blinking, just to seem more realistic.

But you were too dazed from all the kisses and your new boyfriend to notice or care.

Boyfriend...oh, the thought made you shudder with excitement! And he was so sweet and marvelous, you never wanted your time with him to end. You'd never met anyone you didn't eventually need space from, but you were positive you would be quite content to sit on this blanket under this tree with him forever, holding hands and making jokes and eating yummy food...

But eventually, the sun started to go down and it was time to pack up. Wally helped you put everything away, and suddenly you spotted your camera at the bottom of the basket.

"Oh, hey! Let's take that picture before we go"

Wally seemed excited for it, and pulled you back into his lap. You took several pictures; your faces together smiling, your lips to his cheek, making bunny ears over the top of his pompadour, and a few kissing ones. You made sure to snap two of each so he could have one, then tucked your camera away in the basket again. You spread out the photos on the blanket at smiled at him.

While you waited for them to develop, you both laid down to watch the clouds.

"Ooh! That one looks like a flower!" you exclaimed, pointing to it. Wally hummed in agreement.

"I think that one is a car"

"What? No way, it looks like a banana! And so do you!" You said, sitting up and poking his face where his nose would be.

"How's that?"

"I don't know! ...you're yellow?"

"Ha ha ha...(y/n) you're very imaginative. One of the things I love about you"

You blushed.

"Well...I love your laugh"

"I love your smile"

"I love your hair"

"I love your cooking"

"I love you"

Silence. You slapped your hand over your mouth and sat straight up, refusing to look at him. Where did that come from?! Nervously, you waited for him to say something. Anything.

"...please say it again"

Slowly, you turned to look at him. He was sitting up now, too, and his eyes were wide.

"I..I love..you...and maybe that's weird or wrong! I just met you yesterday! So it's crazy, but I...I love you, Wally"

"(Y/n) you are just...the absolute most.."

There were hearts in his eyes as he grabbed your shoulders and kissed you yet again, smiling against your lips.

"I love you too"

...

"Oh hey, the photos are done"

💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙

Welp. What a date, huh? ☺️ little less yandere in this part, but part 4 will have plenty. I wanted to establish that it's not just some random obsession, he's genuinely in love with you and you feel the same.

Should make yandere dynamic...interesting.

As always, more to come ❤️🍎

#wally darling #welcome home #welcome home fanfic #yandere wally darling #yandere welcome home #obsessive wally darling #wally darling fanfic #wally x reader #wally darling x reader #wally darling x you

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yanderes-galore · 1 year ago

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hello hello, may i request a springtrap romantic concept (fnaf 3)? :3

Sure! Honestly, I'm surprised I've written him this much but haven't done a general concept yet.

Yandere! Springtrap Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Sadism, Stalking, Manipulation, Violence/Murder, Kidnapping, Possessive behavior, Blood, Emotional manipulation, Threats, Slight gore, Forced "relationship".

It's already been established in all of my Springtrap and William fics that Springtrap is sadistic and ruthless.

During FNAF 3, Springtrap would see tormenting you as a game in his obsession.

By the time he meets you on Night 2 to Night 5, Springtrap sees you as his personal toy.

I'd say his obsession is a moderate speed.

He's technically obsessed once he meets you but his motives change.

Throughout your job he goes from trying to toy and maybe kill you... to wanting to keep you around as a twisted form of company.

Most of his obsession is him playing along with your audio cues.

He always gets so close before leaving you alone.

It's like he's playing/teasing, peeking through your window or from behind the door.

He loves to stare at you, silver eyes staring into your soul.

He craves your fear more than your blood being shed, as heard in one of his AR lines.

Don't get him wrong, he loves the sight of blood from his victims.

It's just farming their fear lasts longer.

Which is essentially what Springtrap is doing until the climax of his obsession.

He's just out of sight, climbing into vents and sitting by your window.

He likes it when you see him so he can watch the fear settle into your face.

When he's bold he'll warm up his raspy voice to speak to you.

Your initial shock at him speaking makes him thrive.

It's him setting down hints that he isn't what he seems.

He's no malfunctioning robot, he's something else.

Based on the smell you can guess.

Plus when you get a close up look at him through the window or doorway, you can see some sort of gunk clings around his metal.

It all makes you very nauseous.

Your little game is simple.

He tries to get in to "claim his prize", while you try to keep him out.

For the first few nights it's easy.

Then by Night 4 Springtrap gets more aggressive, his obsession creeping ever closer to a climax.

By Night 5 or 6, it's almost game over.

Springtrap thinks he's played nice long enough.

As he's watched you these past few nights... he's wanted to get his hands on you.

The idea of making you scream, to feel you in his metal claws, well...

He hasn't had such excitement in 30 years!

Just when you think you'll complete your week, that you'll walk out and leave, Springtrap surprises you.

Before you can do anything all your systems display an error.

You try your best to fend off hallucinations, to reboot your systems to put out and audio lure or seal off a vent.

Only for Springtrap to appear in front of you in the darkness.

He moves the monitors out of the way, a permanent grin on his face.

"Hello there, doll~!"

They way you scream makes him laugh.

Oh you're so cute when you're vulnerable!

He watches as you fall out of your chair, staring at him with big scared eyes.

"I loved our game... hope you wouldn't mind having it every night, dear?... or did you have something else in mind?"

Your game on your last night switches things up.

Instead of him coming to you in your office, it's you running through the attraction away from him.

It's agonizingly long... you're constantly darting in and out of vents and hiding behind walls.

Yet Springtrap knows your attempts at escape are futile.

Eventually you'll grow tired, eventually you may even injure yourself... then he'll strike.

He knows this place better than you.

You aren't the one roaming it every day and night in a bored stroll.

Which means only he knows about the secret backroom.

One he expertly corners you beside, just to push you inside and close the door.

The game is now over... he's won.

You're trapped in the roam, the smell of the rotting animatronic stunning you.

You look around, no other escape....

Where is this? A storage room?

"I've been waiting for this." The greenish rabbit hums, keeping you trapped in a corner.

"You see... you're just about the only company I've had in years. Decades, even."

You fear to ask, yet you try;

"Decades?"

"I've been dead for thirty years in complete agonizing silence. Dead yet living in this robotic shell. But honestly? I've never felt more alive!"

The rabbit laughs, standing over you.

"Now... I have long awaited company, doll. You'll be fun to play with. I think I'll have a lot of fun with you."

This becomes your fate.

You're forever meant to entertain the remains of the sick serial killer.

If he feels he has to, he'll make you immortal with him.

It'll be painful... but to him he thinks it'll be worth it.

That way... he can keep you with him forever as his doll, pet, and toy...

Even when the building burns down... you'll be stuck with him... forever his.

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf 3 #yandere springtrap #yandere william afton

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singstaircase · 3 months ago

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Do I Dare Disturb The Universe?

Summary: Kylian's day (and life) takes a sudden turn when he accidentally boards the wrong bus on the morning of his Olympic gold medal match

This isn't how today was supposed to go.

Kylian's plan was simple– wake up, eat breakfast, catch a bus and reach the stadium a good two hours before the match starts.

Everything was laid out perfectly but one fleeting moment of inattention and everything went wrong.

He was supposed to get on the bus with the athletics team but instead, he somehow ended up in the aquatics bus.

Kylian's first reaction after getting off from the bus is confusion.

The first thing he notices is the crowd– almost everyone is in some sort of swimwear– and the smell of chlorine in the air. It doesn't make sense.

His next reaction, after turning around, is blinking rapidly at the entrance. He rubs his eyes, as if to bring back senses to his eyes but no.

The sign still says ‘Aquatics Arena' in big, bold letters in English.

“This isn't happening,” Kylian mutters to himself, running a hand through his hair.

His mind races, but every thought seems to run into a dead end. He doesn't even have his wallet—just his phone, which is now showing a rapidly draining battery.

Desperation sets in as he tries to calm himself but nothing looks familiar. Panic starts to claw at his chest. The match starts in less than two hours and he is miles away.

He spots a volunteer in blue and white uniform, standing near one of the entrances. Maybe she can help.

He approaches her, trying to string together a coherent sentence but the words come out as tangled mess. “I—I need to...the stadium...football...I’m lost,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

The volunteer looks at him with concern. “Hey, it's okay,” she says softly and places a hand on his arm to reassure. “Take a deep breath.”

Kylian does as she said, inhaling deeply to try and steady his racing heart. Her calm presence is strangely soothing and after a moment, he is able to find his voice again.

“I’m supposed to be at the stadium,” he explains, his words coming out in a rush.

“For the football final. But I got on the wrong bus and now I’m here and I don’t know how to get back.”

The volunteer’s eyes widen slightly as realization hits her. “For the gold medal match?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

There is a spark of recognition in her eyes but she doesn't let it distract her from the task at hand.

“Okay,” she says with a determined nod. “You need to get to the stadium as quickly as possible. Do you have any money with you?”

Kylian shakes his head. “No, I left my wallet at the hotel. I didn’t think I’d need it.”

The volunteer nods again. “No worries. Here, take this,” she pulls out a few note and hands them to him. “It should be enough for a taxi ride. The stadium isn't that far.”

Kylian hesitates, staring at the money in her hand. “I can’t take this. You don’t even know me.”

She smiles warmly. “I know enough. You’ve got a match to win, right? Consider it a loan. You can pay me back later.”

At that moment, Kylian felt gratitude overwhelming him. “Thank you...thank you so much.”

He takes the money, tucking it into his pocket. “What’s your name?”

“(Name),” she says with another warm smile. “I will be rooting for you. Now go!”

With one last grateful look, Kylian turns and sprints towards the nearest exit, his heart pounding for a different reason now.

The minutes tick by agonizingly slow but finally, he arrives at the stadium with just enough time to join his team for a quick warm-up.

The match itself is a blur.

Kylian plays with a fire he hasn't felt in a long time, driven a lot by desire to repay (Name)'s kindness with a win. And after the final whistle, he feels a surge of triumph unlike anything he’s ever experienced.

But even as he celebrates with his teammates, his thoughts keep drifting back to the volunteer who made it all possible.

The next day, Kylian finds himself back at the aquatics venue. He isn't entirely sure why he came here, but he knew he had to see (Name) again.

He spots her near the same entrance where they first met and a smile spreads across his face as he approaches her.

“Hey,” he calls out and she turns around, her eyes widening in surprise and delight.

“Kylian! You won!” she exclaims, rushing over to him. “I heard about it on TV. You were incredible!”

“Thanks,” he says, feeling a little shy under her praise. “I wanted to thank you properly. I wouldn’t have made it to the stadium without your help.”

(Name) waves off his thanks with a smile. “I’m just glad you made it in time. That’s what matters.”

“No, really,” Kylian insists. “I mean it. And I have something for you.”

He reaches into his bag and pulls out an extra trophies. “I got this for you. It’s not much but I want you to have something to remember that day by.”

(Name)’s eyes widen in disbelief as she takes the trophy from him with slightly trembling hands.

“Kylian, this is too much. I can’t accept this.”

“Yes, you can,” he says firmly, his smile softening. “You saved me from missing one of the most important matches of my life. This is the least I can do.”

She looks back at with something he can't quite decipher. “Thank you. This means the world to me.”

They stand there for a moment, just the two of them and the unspoken words in the air.

Finally, Kylian clears his throat, feeling a sudden surge of nerves. “Um, listen...I was wondering...are you free in a few days?”

(Name) blinks, caught off guard by the question. “I think so. Why?”

“There’s a tennis final coming up soon. I managed to get an extra ticket and I’d love for you to join me.”

A bright smile breaks out on (Name)’s face. “I’d love to! I’ve always wanted to see a tennis final.”

Kylian grins, relieved by her enthusiasm. “Great. It’s a date, then.”

They exchange numbers before parting ways and Kylian can't help but feel a warm flutter in his chest as he walks away.

He can't wait to see (Name) again.

A few days later, Kylian is standing in front of the Aquatic centre again, somehow more nervous than last time.

When (Name) finally appears, his breath catches in his throat. She looks different, more relaxed, and there is a sparkle in her eyes that makes his heart skip a beat.

“Ready?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Ready,” she replies with a grin, taking the ticket from him.

When they finally reach the stadium and find their seats, Kylian can't help but steal glances at (Name) throughout the match.

She is so engrossed in the game, her eyes shining with every point scored, that he can't help but smile. He hasn't felt this way in a long time—this light, this happy.

After the match, Kylian offers to show (Name) around and she eagerly agrees.

They wandered through the village, taking in the sights and sounds, laughing at the antics of the other athletes and volunteers.

At one point, they pass by a group of Kylian’s international teammates, who immediately start teasing him about being on a “date.”

Kylian tries to stop them but (Name) just laughs it off, seemingly unfazed by their teasing.

As more time passes, Kylian realizes he doesn't want the night to end.

He has never felt so comfortable with someone so quickly and the thought of not seeing (Name) again after the Olympics fills him with a sense of dread.

When they finally reach the edge of the village Kylian hesitates, not wanting to let her go.

“(Name), I...I’ve had a great time with you today,” he says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Me too,” she replies with a smile. “It’s been amazing.”

Kylian takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I was wondering if maybe...we can keep in touch after the Olympics? I’d really like to talk to you again.”

Her smile widens and reaches out to take his hand. “I'd love it too, Kylian.”

Relief washes over him. Before he can say anything else, (Name) leans in and kisses him on the cheek.

“Goodnight, Kylian,” she whispers before turning and walking away, leaving him standing there, stunned but grinning from ear to ear.

He watches her disappear with the sun as he voices of his teammates reaches his ears.

Being late and almost missing a gold medal match isn't too bad after all.

#kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe x you #football fanfic #football fic #football imagine #football x reader #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #real madrid x reader

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arroganceisherfavoritecolor · 10 months ago

Text

Enjoy the silence

Carl and reader have a moment while on the job...

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*Reader uses fem pronouns, mentions of past bullying, reader is insecure✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It had been a long day for you and your friends in Alexandria. You had been on a run since early in the morning, having to leave at sunrise due to the long drive out to a city to look for some supplies. You had all gotten back by the time the sun was almost completely out of sight, thankfully. You were all hoping to get home, shower and knock out as soon as possible. But of course, you and your best friend, Carl, were the two people Deanna had ordered to keep watch.

Now usually, you despised having to be on watch duty. You found it boring and agonizingly long, and what made it worse was the fact that there was no chance of sleeping till the next day. But when you did it with Carl, it was a whole different story. Carl always found a way to make the night more interesting, whether it be his funny dad-jokes or the gossip he would hear around Alexandria. In other words, Carl made everything so, so much better. Although it had only been about a year since you first met him, he felt like home. He surrounded you with a warm feeling, you knew that no matter what, you could go to him and you'd feel okay. As you were deep into your thoughts, you heard footsteps coming from the ladder. You looked to the right and saw Carl making his way up. Your heart lit up and you felt that feeling of warmth wash over you. You smiled at Carl involuntarily, just looking at him made you feel happy. "Hey [Name]." His voice sounded like music to your ears, better than any tune or beat you've heard in your life. "Hi Carl." He stood next to you. You and Carl were almost touching shoulders, since the towers small box-like frame didn't provide the most space. You began to converse with him, talking about how the day went. Every few minutes, either you or Carl would see a walker and shoot it down and then go back to your conversation.

It had been 3 hours of you and him talking. The time flew by like seconds. This was another thing you liked about Carl, it was the way you could talk to him for hours and never get bored. At some point, you had brought up how at one of the recent parties, some older women in Alexandria began to make snarky comments towards you. They said things about how your hair looked ragged and your skin was dull. You'd think that when in the middle of a zombie outbreak, they'd have much better things to worry about. "The old-heads gave me shit about my skin and hair again" you said with a slight chuckle, you didn't want Carl to think you were a sensitive crybaby. "tch, dont even pay attention to them [Name], they're just jealous because theyre all old and wrinkly." You laughed at Carls remark. "Its okay, I dont really mind. I remember in school, before the outbreak, kids would pick on me for the same shit." Carls once relaxed aura turned curious. "What would they say exactly?" He asked politely, not wanting to intrude.

"Well, it was usually about my face or my weight. It used to make me really upset, to the point where i'd beg my mom to not take me to school. But after a little while, I learned not to care . Besides, growing up with mostly skinny and pretty friends kind of toughens you up." You tried smiling at Carl and looking him in the eyes to show you werent sad. "What do you mean?" He asked. "A lot of my friends would have all the boys chasing after them, even in Kindergarten. Think of it like how Enid gets treated by every other teen here. Since I wasnt ever really the cute type, i'd just watch from the side." You smiled again, but this time avoided eye contact. "Wait, so youre saying that NO boys had crushes on YOU?" He emphasized on the "you" part. "I mean... I guess?" You shrugged while grinning. Carls face was twisted in a confused expression. "Why are you looking at me like that Grimes?" You laughed out. "I just find it hard to believe that no one ever 'like-liked' you." You tilted your head to the side, brows furrowed in confusion as to what he was gonna say. "Youre just so... perfect. Youre smart, funny, beautiful... and you can beat some zombie ass." You giggled, feeling a blush creep up on your face. "You think i'm beautiful, Carl?" You asked him shyly, afraid of sounding conceited or selfish. "Of course I do [Name]." He said.

He turned his head all the way in your direction, wanting a perfect view of you. He looked so handsome in this moment. His sheriffs hat was on top of his soft brown hair. His flannel was unbuttoned half way, his white t-shirt peeking through. The sleeves of the flannel were rolled up to his forearm. His hands were behind his back, slender and tall frame leaning against the wooden post of the watch tower. His face was illuminated by the soft glowing oil lamp that sat on the chair in front of you two. His diamond-like eye and ghostly pale skin looked so pretty in the mixture of the warm light of the lamp and the cold light of the moon. You felt your heart rate spike, your pupils dilated. He looked so kissable, all you wanted to do was grab him by the shoulders and kiss his lips til you were both breathless. Carl could say the same for you, as your (eye color) eyes and (skin color) skin looked gorgeous in the light of the lamp and moon. Your slightly tattered tank top hugged your curves and your low-waisted ripped black jeans did as well, exposing a small portion of your mid drift. Carl noticed your cheeks were rosy and your eyes were glossy. Your lips were slightly parted due to the impact of Carl calling you beautiful.

He fixed his posture, standing all the way up and walked towards you. It only took about 1 or 2 steps for him to be face to face with you. He tilted his head downwards, making eye contact. (eye color) eyes gazing into his, you felt the warm feelings 10x. He touched your (hair color) hair, twirling it in his fingers. His hands went from your hair to your cheek, cupping it. He stroked his thumb against your soft skin, feeling the heat. 'So much for dull skin and hair' Carl thought to himself, cursing those old hags for making his love feel bad. "Carl.." You finally spoke out, your voice nothing but a low whisper. From this angle, Carls face was no longer in view of the lamp. The only lighting you got was from the moon, directly shining down on you and him. You took each other's features in, not once breaking contact from eachother. Carl closed his eye, slowly began to lean in, and kissed you. His pink lips were soft, the feeling of the kiss was like satin bed sheets and velvety pillows. He put his other hand on your other cheek, guiding you to be impossibly closer to him. You felt fireworks go off in your brain and stomach. The moment you had waited so long for had finally happened. You deepened the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. You could feel Carls tongue slip inside of your mouth, the feeling so foreign and yet so good. You slowly broke away from the kiss face hotter than ever. You and Carl stood there, trying to process what had just happened. After a few 30 seconds, you both began laughing from the overwhelming feeling of happiness. For the rest of the night, you held each other, enjoying the silence.

"All I ever wanted

All I ever needed

Is here in my arms" - Enjoy the Silence, Depeche Mode

A/N: I have wanted to write for Carl for the longesttt time !! I hope u guys liked it pls request more stufffff ;3

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader

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enjoy-the-butterf1ies · 1 year ago

Text

Everywhere, Everything-

CL16 (Chapter 3/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc × female!reader

Series Summary: In which a rising singer gets her biggest break yet; opening at the Austin Grand Prix. All record companies would have their eyes on her- along with a certain monegasque driver.

Trope: Slow burn with a mix of other tropes in there (He fell first, one bed, roommates, all the good ones!)

Chapter Summary: An early morning with Charles almost makes you forget you had to go back home later that day. Or did you?

Warnings: Cussing, Y/N is oblivious, probably typos 🫣

The sun peaking through the hotel window agonizingly awoke you from your slumber. How cruel of the sun it is to rise so early every morning, you thought. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you attempted to sit up with blurry vision, but failed.

You were never a morning person.

You could recall all the times your friends would wake you up at sleepovers- at lunchtime. They knew better than to speak to you before noon, at the very least. Groaning, you turned to check the time on your phone. Yep. 10 am. Just as you thought, way too early. At least for a night owl such as yourself.

Flashbacks from the night before quickly flooded your head. “Holy shit,” You mumbled to yourself. Yesterday felt like a dream, one you never wanted to awake from. Everything from playing in front of thousands of people to sleeping in a strangers hotel room seemed like a cruel drug induced vision. Luckily for you (and probably your health) it was a very real experience. The nearby couch with discarded blankets and pillows confirmed that for you.

Only thing missing was Charles; where could he be at a time like this?

You wiped your eyes once again, still groggy and longing for a nap. Surely you could sleep for another 30 minutes… or 2 hours…

That pleasant thought was soon interrupted by Charles unpleasantly walking into the hotel room. You could tell he tried to be quiet by opening the door slowly, but your blood still boiled at the sound of his footsteps. You turned to glare at him. You couldn’t help it.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t wake you up did I?” He said, frantically setting down all of his bags. His eyebrows furrowed together in guilt.

“Mm-mm.” You muttered, shaking your head. Well, barely. You were too lazy to shake completely.

Charles sighed. “Good, I got breakfast,” He offered, holding up a white bag with a delicious aroma radiating from it. The scent surrounded you, even from your position on the bed. Your stomach growled in protest. “I had interviews all morning, barely made it to the bakery before they closed for breakfast. Damn, I really rushed.”

You pushed yourself to sit up. You knew looked a mess but you couldn’t possibly care about that when you were so hungry. “Mm food,” Was all you mumbled. You weakly held out your hand, squinting your blurry eyes. Charles exploded into laugher. He tried to stop it, but the sight of you with bed head and exhausted expression was too much. You pouted. “What’s your issue frenchie?” Your morning voice cracked. Charles cackled harder at that.

“Not a morning person, huh?” He chuckled out, setting the food on the bed next to you. You dived directly into it, not even answering his question. Charles watched in admiration as you hungrily found a buttery pastry and smiled at the sight. Just what you needed. You tapped the spot on the bed next to you, motioning for him to sit down. He hesitantly sat down on the bed making sure to keep a respectable distance; he didn’t want to risk making you even slightly uncomfortable. You handed him a croissant in silence. “Thank you,” He said. You nodded, taking a bite of your pastry. You gave a thumbs up to him, a signal that it was very good.

Charles was sure he had died and went to heaven. To the normal eye this would seem like a very strange scenario- Sitting in silence with a grumpy girl who would rather focus on shoving a croissant in her mouth than have a conversation with him. But to Charles, it was the most perfect scenario. You looked so cute in your sleepy state and he would rather spend years in silence with you than to have never met you at all.

Or maybe he was going insane.

“Not a morning person,” You finally mumbled, popping the last bite of food into your mouth. You took a swig of coffee Charles had picked up as well. “I get very grumpy when the sun comes up… Thank you for breakfast.” You felt a little sheepish at the way you acted when he first arrived this morning.

Charles smiled softly. “No worries,” He said. “Reminds me of your song ‘Sunrise’ and the line about hating mornings- didn’t know how honest that was.”

Your eyes widened, taken aback. “You listened to that song??” You stuttered. And he remembered that line too? What is with this guy? He nodded happily to your question. “Wow- I- That’s so awesome.”

“I really think you’re meant to be a star, Y/N.” He stated confidently.

“Thank you Charles, it’s been a really long road. I still remember making songs in my moms closet as a 7 year old, hopefully one day I can make songs in my own record studio.” You laughed at the memory. You were a big dreamer. Always had been.

“You’re gonna get there one day, mark my words.” He said. You smiled at him, hands tightening around the cup. You were a little nervous under his gaze but didn’t know why. You pushed the feeling down.

“I’m not sure about that, after today I don’t have much going for me,” You said regretfully. He lifted a brow in confusion. “I’m just returning home to play the same old gigs in the same old bars. I would love nothing more than to continue playing in front of thousands of people- but that’s not realistic.”

Charles was in shock. “What??” He stood up from the bed. He honestly hadn’t even thought about you leaving soon. He hated it. “No, that’s not the kickass ‘follow your dreams’ Y/N I talked to last night. You’re gonna go far. You set your sights on your dreams and complete them, remember?”

You blinked at him. “Charles-“

He cut you off. “I have an idea,” He said, a wide smile spreading across his face. “It’s a long shot, but promise me you won’t leave until I get it sorted out.”

You were so confused. You checked your phone. “Charles, my plane leaves in 5 hours.” You protested. He nodded.

“That’s all I need,”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You had one hour to get to your plane in time. And in normal Y/N fashion, you were running late. You pressed your phone in between your ear and shoulder as you hurriedly packed your suitcase.

“There’s a ton of chatter about you on F1 media, but other than that… I’m sorry Y/N.” Diana said through the line. “I know you were hoping to get discovered.”

“Yeah, I set my expectations really high didn’t I?” You chuckled sadly. The thought of returning home empty handed tore at your heart. “And it wasn’t all bad, gained a few more fans, some confidence, and an experience I’ll never forget. Oh, and a new friend.”

“New friend?” Diana smirked. “It wouldn’t happen to be that hunk Leclerc you stayed with last night, would it?”

You rolled your eyes, even though she couldn’t see you. “It’s not like that Di,” You said, very matter of fact. You knew what she was getting at. “Nothing happened, and after today, he’s probably never gonna talk to me again. It was just a really nice thing he did, and very much a one time thing.”

Diana hummed. “Tell that to all of the streaming platforms he followed you on,” She pointed out.

“So, he likes my music? You like my music, doesn’t mean you wanna get in my pants.”

“Yeah well I’m also not a hot ass F1 driver either so-“

“GOODBYE Diana,” You hung up on her, but you knew that wouldn’t be the last time she talked about him. You checked your watch. You definitely had to leave soon if you wanted to get your flight. But the thought of leaving without saying goodbye to Charles felt wrong, especially after how kind he’s been.

He disappeared a few hours ago and hasn’t returned since. You were running out of time to wait. Sighing, you packed up the last of your items and picked up your guitar. Maybe you could DM him over insta to say goodbye, or ask around for his number-

Just then, the door slammed wide open. It almost hit you in the face. “WHOA!” You jumped back in shock. Charles came rushing in, heart beating in his chest but a huge grin on his face. “That’s the second time you almost knocked me out frenchie!!” You yelped. Hidden below your annoyance, you were glad he came back in time.

“Drop your bags,” He said, nearly shaking from excitement. “You don’t have to go home today.”

You were so confused. A million questions went through your mind at once. “What do you mean??” Is the one you decided on. “Charles, I have a plane in 45 minutes!”

He shook his head in a frenzy. “I talked around, got with some big guys and long story short, they said you can continue at playing at Grand Prix for us for the rest of the season,” His smile was miles wide. “I’m talking Mexico, Brazil, Las Vegas, and Abu Dhabi, Y/N. This is your chance to be discovered. A chance to live your dreams.”

Your mouth hung agape. He had to have been joking. There was no way this was happening. You silently swore to kill him if he was pulling your leg. “Charles-“

“I promise you this is very real,” He nodded, almost as if reading your thoughts. You felt emotions you had no idea existed. It was as if a tornado was swirling inside your brain.

“I- I don’t have the money-“

“Not an issue, I will provide you with everything you need,” He said.

You shook your head no. “I can’t ask you to do that, that’s- that’s crazy-“

“Y/N, listen to me. I want to do this. I want you to do this.” He met your gaze with the most honest eyes. Your heart caught in your throat. “You don’t have to take the offer, but if you leave today and get on that plane home-“

“I wouldn’t be following my dreams,” You whispered, looking down. It was all hitting you. Holy shit. This means everything. This could be everything for you. Your entire future, and Charles was holding it in the palm of his hand.

“Please, Y/N,” He nearly begged. It was almost a selfish act, part of him did this so he wouldn’t have to depart from you so soon. But if he could see you achieve your dream, he would die a happy man.

“Charles, are you sure?” You fidgeted, meeting his eyes once again. You gave him a soft smile.

At the sight of the smile, he had never been more sure of anything in his life. “I’m positive,” He nodded.

You covered your mouth with your hands and let out a muffled squeal. You couldn’t help but jump up and down in excitement. “Mexico, here we come!!” You shouted, unable to stop the laughter. Charles joined in chuckling, clapping and grinning wider than you had ever seen. “Can I give you a hug??” You asked, caught up in the moment. For a second your mouth went dry, regretting it. But Charles quickly muttered a small “Of course” and pulled you in for a tight hug. Your heartbeat sped up. “Thank you so much, Charles,” You whispered into his shoulder.

“No, thank you Y/N,” He said with the widest smile you thankfully couldn’t see.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc x reader series #formula 1 x reader #everywhere everything

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stillxnunpxidintern · 6 months ago

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Part Two - Marco x Reader - I've Got You

Part one

It had been over a week since the incident at the cliff and the Whitebeard pirates had been working none stop to find the person that was reasonable for you & Ace being put in that position.

At the same time some of the crew had to stop Ace from trying to finding and kill them himself. It got to point that Pops had to order him to stay on the Moby and was given chores and other things to so he would be kept busy, Ace tried to plead with Pops that he wanted to help but Pops denied him each time.

As you remained unconscious, quite a few crew members had stopped by to see how you doing when they had a few spare moments and some left flowers, soon it was starting to look like a little florist with all the flowers around you.

Some had mentioned that they were starting to miss your laughter and random singing you did while working, as well as you scowling your many siblings when they did something stupid. Some of the newer ones to the crew were starting to see just how much your penance was always around now that you weren't around.

Marco spent most of his time in the infirmary, preferring to do his paperwork there than his office so that he could keep an eye on your vitals and be close by when you decide wake.

He finally admit to himself that he was in love with you and every time he looks at you on the bed, all he could see was you plummeting and hitting the water knowing he wouldn't be able to reach before hitting the water.

If only he had reacted only a few seconds faster so you wouldn't be in your current condition. Marco knew you would scolding him for blaming himself and probably smack him on the back of the head as well for good measure.

A few of the commander had to drag him out of the infirmary to make sure that he ate and get some sunshine & fresh air, from how much he was staying inside.

For the first time since the fall you show a sign of waking, as Marco was checking your vitals in the morning, when he felt the first twitch of the hand followed by a second one not soon after. He then asked for one of the nurses to come in and got her monitor you for the next half half.

After that half hour of the nurse monitoring you and she relayed that your hand had twitch, so Marco knew that you were on the way to waking up but unfortunately there was no way to say how long it would take. He knew it could be from a couple of hours to possible another week or so before you woke up, so all he could do was wait as it was up you as to when you wake up.

So the next 12 hours following your first twitch felt agonizingly slow to Marco, even as you showed a more of small movements but it was that night when the biggest change came, with Marco sitting by your bedside filling out some paperwork when a noise caught his attention as he put his papers down and lent over giving your hair a stoke.

“Time to wake up and show me them pretty eyes chickadee” Marco spoke, watching your face closely and seeing your eyes begin to move rapidly behind your eyelids.

It took half hour before you slowly wake up and spoke for the first time in over a week and that felt what felt like music to his ears, even the phoenix chirped away happily at this.

“..co” you slurred, as you slowly begin to open your eyes, looking around the room trying to work out where you were.

“Finally decided to grace us all again yoi” He smiled, picking up the glass from the side table and pressed it against your lips, allowing you take a couple of slips before pushing the glass away, then looked up Marco as he placed the glass the table.

“What happened?” you asked him.

Marco looked down at you as he felt something bubble up inside him, like he wanted to yell at you for being stupid and letting your hand slip free of Ace, as he remembered you falling and seeing you hit the water but he lost his anger knowing that he couldn’t yell at you, at least not while recovering.

“You fell from the cliff top and hit the water before I could reach you in time. You’ve been spending too much time with Ace, it seem his recklessness is rubbing off on you” he said, knowing that you two were all always around each, so it was bound to happen at some point.

He asked one of the nurse to come in and help him, as they both began doing checks to make sure you hadn't anything to your back and also made sure you could move your toes.

When they were both happy with the results that they were getting from the tests, Marco decided to leave rest to the following morning, when you've had a proper sleep and not unconscious as well as some actual food.

Once the nurse had left and it was just the two of you, Marco sat back down next to you, taking your hand in his as he gave it a good squeeze.

“Please don’t anything stupid like that again, I'm not sure my sanity will handle it and if you want go flying all you need to do is ask yoi” Marco said to you.

He then brought your hand up and gave a little, which made your cheeks go a little red at the affection before he gave a look of tenderness.

"I m mean it, please don’t do anything like that again, I don’t know what I’ll do if I actually lost you yoi” Marco pleaded softly.

Noticing that your eyes were beginning to droop, Marco stood and lent over the bed, pressing a kiss in to crown of your head as a wave tiredness swept over you and the last words you heard before sleep took you were.

“I love you ”

#One piece #Marco the phoenix #Reader #Marco x Reader #Marco #whitebeard pirates #Marco the phoenix x reader #Marco x you #one piece fic

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amazingmsme · 2 months ago

Text

Playing Possum

AN: day 9, here we go! This is an unofficial sequel to this fic. You don’t have to read it to get this one, but it does help add context. This one was really fun & sweet! Hope y’all enjoy!

Eiffel was getting used to their routine. What started out as paranoid sleepovers became a quiet comfort- for him at least. He doubted it meant as much to Minkowski.

For once, he woke up before her. Or rather, he woke up because of her. God, why did she have to twitch in her sleep?

He tried to keep his breath slow and even, squeezing his eyes shut tight. What the hell was she even doing in her dream, playing piano? The gentle tapping was just enough to set his nerves on edge and keep him on the verge of a giggle for.

Her fingers pressed into his sides, long nails leaving ticklish pinpricks in their wake. He couldn't help but violently twitch away, biting back a yelp. Then the nails began tracing his ribs and he gasped, trying to muffle the sound behind his hand. He tried to stay still so that he didn't wake her, but it proved to be an impossible task when he felt his hip on his other side being traced with agonizingly soft circles. He shook his head, arching his back and biting his hand when laughter began to spill free.

He had just wanted to sleep in a little, was that too much to ask? He couldn't fall back asleep even if he tried. And trust me, he'd rather be unconscious right now.

He turned over onto his stomach as gently and slowly as he could so he wouldn't wake the sleeping beast next to him. He was laying on his side when Minkowski shifted in her sleep and threw an arm around him, hugging him close.

He went completely still, afraid to move a muscle. She groans in her sleep and nuzzles into the back of his neck, and he quickly grabbed the pillow to muffle a snort. Her breath is slow and even, coming out in hot puffs of air against the back of his neck.

He was giggling now, scrunching his neck and burying his face into the thin cushion. He was trying to be as quiet as possible, but it was proving to be more difficult than he thought.

And then he was screaming.

Minkowski blew a raspberry right at the nape of his neck, sending him into hysterical laughter. His legs kicked out uselessly as he held the pillow tighter. He couldn't escape her grasp, and he decided to drill into his hips while she blew another raspberry. Eiffel cackled and scrunched his shoulders.

"Nohoho! Minkowski s-stohop!" he pleaded as he blindly reached down to pry her hands away. It was a pathetic attempt.

"Y'know, it's actually pretty thoughtful how hard you tried to stay still. I bet it was driving you nuts," she taunted, nuzzling closer to growl in his earl. The deep, gravely sound sent goosebumps down his arms, and he frantically tried to rub the feeling away from his ear.

"You knew?" he asked incredulously, forcing himself to choke down a shriek. Her thumbs her circling the hipbone, digging in just enough to send him up the wall. He bucked and writhed as he fought against her grasp. "You were ahahawake the whole dahamn tihihime!" he accused, only making her grin more smug.

"I didn't know you were ticklish Eiffel! Why didn't you tell me? This is perfect for morale, and now I won't have any problems making you do your work," she rambled, and he could feel his face flushing with embarrassment.

"What? Nohoho! You cahan't!"

"Actually, I can do whatever I deem necessary for the crew."

"Ohoho come ohon! You're just beheing mehehean!" he whined. "Have mercy!"

"Sorry Eiffel, that's not really up to code. Rule 633 of Pryce and Carter strictly states: "Mercy is such a 20th century value." I'm just trying to comply with the manual."

"Ohoho yeah? Well rule 634 says: it's still best to beheheg!"

"Oh? Is this you begging?" she taunted before the realization hit her. "Wait a second. Did you just quote the survival manual?" she asked, masking how much it impressed her by teasing him.

"NO! I refuse to memorize it!" he insisted.

Minkowski sported a downright malicious grin, "Mhm," she hummed, tracing the shell of his ear. He snorted and scrunched his neck helplessly as a flood of giggles escaped his lips.

"Ohokay! Ohohokahay, lehet me goooo! Ihit's too damn early for thihihis!"

She only continued for a few seconds longer before finally releasing him from her evil, ticklish clutches.

"Asshole. I'll totally get you back for that, just fyi," he warned.

"Yeah, I'm really quaking in my boots."

"Eiffel scoffed, "I'm serious! You'll regret it!"

"Oh I'm sure I will," she played along. But when the time came, she knew she'd be just as giddy and nervous as Eiffel.

#tickletober #tickletober 2024 #doug eiffel #renee minkowski #wolf 359 #wolf 359 fic #wolf 359 tickle fic #ticklish!eiffel

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fottitimioamore · 2 years ago

Text

Okay, I saw a similar scenario on ao3, and after reading it I was like, "ok but what if it was with this instead". So I wrote it. I'm not super sure on the 2nd and 3rd part, but the 1st and 4th are alright. Personally, why only let him watch??

I'm tempted to write a fic where we get to absolutely destroy Ghost, soo 🤷‍♀️

..................................................................................

♡ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

♡ Warnings: Smut (minors just don't get me in trouble plz)

♡ Relationship: Romantic

♡ Summary: Three times taskforce 141 nearly caught you and Ghost in the act, and the one time they did.

♧ Reader's callsign is Wish ♧

..................................................................................

Relationships in the military could be difficult. With your partner constantly away from home, it could get lonely being apart for so long. But you couldn't say being with your partner was much easier. Especially when no one knew about your relationship.

You and Ghost had both agreed that keeping the two of you a secret from the rest of 141 was the easiest path to take. You loved the boys, really, but the less who knew about you, the better. Intimate ties were a dangerous thing to have in your line of work. Neither of you were willing to take the risk of targets on your back in order to get to the other.

Though, at the moment, you were hesitant to say that working on the taskforce together was such a great idea. Now, trapped between Ghost and a wall, with someone fiddling with the lock of the closet door beside you.

You had been paired up in rooms on the base, Ghost stuck with Soap and you, Gaz. You were going on three weeks now, barely able to get away long enough to take care of yourself in the shower.

So, when Ghost had pulled you into the closet stocked with cleaning supplies for a quicky, something he rarely did, you didn't complain. Maybe you should have, though; seen through the fog that clouded your mind and been aware of the risk that came with it. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Neither of you had anything you were assigned to.

You had, however, promised Gaz you would help him clean, something that didn't register when you were crowded into this specific room.

So now you were facing the consequences of your actions. Well, you were about to. That old lock barely held, and though it was keeping the door shut now, it wouldn't for much longer. As was Ghost, mask pushed up just past his nose, one hand pulling your hips against his own while his other forearm braced against the wall next to your head. He was panting heavily, beads of sweat running down his jaw and neck. The room was hot and stuffy, with little space for him to maneuver. He had halted for a moment, barely able to restrain himself from bucking into you like he'd been doing earlier.

You weren't fairing much better. Wrapped around his neck and waist, head against the wall as you tried to breathe as quietly as possible. It wasn't possible at all, really. You felt full; him buried to the hilt inside of you so your bodies met. But full wasn't enough. You needed friction. You needed him to move again. Your walls fluttered around him, to which he choked on a groan, head falling forward to rest on your shoulder.

You felt him shift, arm on the wall coming down to grasp your waist. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pulled out of your wet heat. You could feel every vein along his length drag against your walls. Ghost quickly silenced you with a hand over your mouth after the stimulation had you gasping. The door handle stopped jiggling for a moment, as did your heart. The person behind it growled, fiddling with what sounded like a key ring.

"Why the bloody hell won't it open?" Gaz huffed, trying another key. You sobered up quickly, pushing on Ghost's shoulders gently. Some random rookie was one thing, but your partner and current roommate was another. Ghost ignored your protest, pulling your attention away by dropping his hand only to loop under your knee and replace it again before pushing his hips back into yours.

His palm muffled what you couldn't of your moan, your own pelvis bucking forward to take more of him. His hand still on your waist pressed it down, allowing you nothing but what he gave you. He pressed in until his tip kissed your limit, making you squirm.

He continued this torturous pace through another key, apparently unbothered by the attempts to enter. His mouth traced marks along your collarbone and up the hollow of your throat. At this point, you would rather be discovered than suffer through this pace any longer. Your prayers were answered, however, when you heard another voice call out from down the hall.

"Gaz, come here and help me with this." Price would never know how he saved you just then.

"You sure? You asked me to clean-"

"Don't worry, I'll make Wish help you out when they show up." Did he know? No, there was no way. There was no one around when you'd snuck off. You had little time to think it over, though. Gaz yanked the key from the lock, and after a moment, you heard his footsteps retreating away from the door.

Once he was far enough, you heard Ghost chuckle, low and deep. His hand over your face slid around to your jaw, pulling his head up from your shoulder to meet your gaze. His eyes burned into yours as he bent down and kissed you with enough passion to make up for the teasing he put you through. Without breaking the kiss, he dropped both hands to your thighs and pushed your legs up against your chest. You really had to thank Price for that interruption. It gave you a few more minutes for Ghost to pound out and into you.

..................................................................................

Perhaps you learned from your little closet escapade. For next time, you were a little more careful. You'd just gotten back from a long night at the bar, celebrating a long, stressful, yet successful mission. Everyone was at least tipsy by the end of the night. At most, someone (*cough*soap*cough*), had gotten so wasted they passed out, woke up, drank some more, and passed out again. Even Ghost let loose and downed a few glasses. You'd tried to lead him around to the alleyway halfway through the night, but the other men kept you guys close.

Luckily, Price and Gaz hauling that someone back to their room gave you and Ghost a window to slip away to yours unseen. Gaz had volunteered to stay with Soap in case he woke up sick (again), giving way to a long and restless night. Though not in a bad way.

If you had the time, you would've stayed asleep beside him until far into the morning, recuperating from your late night activities. But you didn't. Hungover as they were, the rest of the team would be up early as usual. So you two were up even earlier, savoring the last scraps of time you had together.

You were still half asleep, Ghost's calloused hands guiding your hips along his own in slow, languid movements. Your hands rested limply on his stomach, muscles rippling whenever he rolled up into you. His head propped up by a folded pillow, he watched your expression twist in pleasure when you moved just right.

Your hands moved behind you, supporting your upper half on his thighs. He lifted you up off him, angling your hips as you sank back down to drag a drawn-out moan from your throat. Your eyes rolled back into your head as it fell between your shoulders.

"Fuuuck, just like that, love. Keep makin' those pretty sounds for me, yeah?" he drawled. His voice alone made you clench around him, feeling the dull stretch the position provided. The sensation pulled a groan of his own from below you, pushing his hips up into yours. You were enraptured by the feeling of him. His body between your thighs, hands on your waist, cock stuffed in your hole.

So enraptured that you could very well have missed the soft jingle of the doorknob. Did you lose track of time? You swore you were up early enough to stay for a few hours. When the door didn't open, thank god you were coherent enough to lock it last night, there was a knock.

You lifted your head just enough to meet Ghost's eyes, which were half-lidded and fixed on you. His gaze flicked to the door for a moment, though otherwise he didn't look to be anything but slightly irked at the situation. After a second of no response, another knock, this one louder.

"Wish? You up yet?" It was Soap, sounding exceptionally miserable at the moment. People on this base really had a tendency to interrupt things. This time, though, you were at less of a risk of being caught. "Captain says we gotta meeting before we leave. I'd be out before he comes around himself." Ghost let up this time, settling you as far down as you could be. You cast him a half-hearted glare, which the corner of his mouth pulled up at.

"Y-yeah, getting changed now. I'll be right out." You're astonished at how smooth your voice sounded, trying to focus on anything but the burn in your abdomen. Ghost was having fun. You knew when he had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. He enjoyed watching you struggle to remain in control of yourself.

Soap took your excuse, not wanting to be intrusive, and you heard him groan before he continued down the hall. Ghost sat up, grunting at the new position. You cupped his face, pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. You lifted yourself off his lap, whining at the emptiness. He hummed in displeasure, but didn't resist when you moved away. You both knew not to fuck around with Price. You threw on enough clothes to be presentable, tossing Ghost his own scattered around the room.

You were still uncomfortably slick, feeling none of the impending orgasm you had before. When you turned back to Ghost, he had his mask on again, along with his other clothes, but his eyes alone shone with hunger. He hadn't been very satisfied himself. You started an apology, but he shushed you, taking your hand and pressing a kiss, as well as a small object into it.

"I'm sorry, doll. I promise I'll make you feel good, alright?" By the time you'd processed what he'd given you, he was already off down the hall.

..................................................................................

The vibrator, which you did not know why Ghost had on him, came in a velvety bag that was still tied shut. It was new. The little shit had something planned. But you trusted him. He wouldn't do anything too risky.

That's why you were sitting in the conference room with that vibrator laying still deep inside you.

You sat on the far end of the table, next to Soap, who had his head down on the table since he sat down. You figured his hangover was hitting the hardest. There were a few others you didn't recognize that took up spots at the other end. Gaz sat across from you, taking notice of your flushed features. You'd not had much time to freshen up before being called down. When he pointed it out, you just shook your head.

"Just warm, haven't been feeling great since last night." Gaz laughed.

"Neither has Soap," he reached over to smack the table next to the fellow Sargeant, who hardly reacted. You fell silent as Ghost joined you at the table, looking slightly more put together than he had earlier. You glanced over at him, locking eyes for just a moment. Intense as ever, they burned into you like a predator's to their prey.

Before you could melt from the heat of his stare, Price walked in with Laswell tagging along behind. He greeted you all with a brief nod, which many returned, before going on with the meeting. It was mostly review, the outcome of the successful mission, and what would come next. The only thing you really heard was that no action would be taken for a few weeks.

About halfway through, the vibrator sparked to life. It startled you, you'd nearly forgotten about it. You flinched, leaning forward on the table with a squeak and catching the attention of the man beside you.

"You alright?" Soap whispered, having straightened up to seem like he was paying attention to Laswell as she spoke. You nodded, almost too quickly. He was hesitant to turn away, but eventually gave up in trying to search your face and shifted to face the screen.

You snuck a glance at Ghost, pressing your thighs together to gain some release from the sensations. He was still looking ahead, resting one arm on the table with the other under it; in his pocket, no doubt. A casual position, earning no one's suspicion but your own. You knew better.

The vibrations ended for the time being, thank god. You worked yourself down from the impending orgasm you'd felt, risking another peak at the culprit. Ghost didn't look like he was paying attention, but you knew he was watching you in his peripheral. As soon as you started to adjust to the feeling again, he lost interest in the captain and ultimately turned the vibrator on again. This time, the intensity increased tenfold.

You bit down on your lip, nearly to the point of breaking the plush skin. The bullet was strong for its size, and you had to press your hands to your legs to ground yourself and resist bucking into air. One elbow braced on the table, covering your mouth with your hand.

You had no idea how no one else couldn't hear the toy at this point. It brutally stimulated every sensitive area, leaving your brain foggy and eyes unfocused. It felt so good, and knowing that Ghost was observing you made the heat in your belly flare. But it wasn't enough. The bullet was so small you could barely feel the toy itself. It couldn't satisfy you as Ghost's cock did. With each passing second, your release crept closer, until you could barely resist moving your hips to gain more friction.

When your orgasm hit, your mind went blank. Your head tipped forward, barely supported by your hand and your spine arched just enough to create some friction on the seat of your chair. But the vibrations didn't stop there. They continued at the same pace, pushing you into overstimulation. You didn't know how much longer you could hold out like this.

When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you nearly jumped out of your skin. So focused on acting like everything was normal, you didn't notice Price leaving Laswell to her part and coming up behind you.

"Why don't you go take a minute? Wrapping this up anyway." He murmured, and you had never been more thankful for him in your entire life. You nodded, slowly, and as he stepped back, you got up and made your way out the door.

The rest of 141 cast questioning looks in your direction, but you paid them no mind. The audacity Ghost had to act so innocent was unbelievable. Once you were in the clear in the empty bathroom, you allowed yourself to double over the sink, mouth gaping in a silent scream. You glimpsed your reflection in the mirror, flushed and disheveled. Hopefully, the team chalked it up to your claimed sickness.

You didn't know what you were more mad about, forcing you through an orgasm in the middle of a meeting, or turning the vibrator off just before you reached your second one. You'd been so close, the coil in your belly wound tight, ready to snap at any moment. But with how intense your first climax was, your hand just wasn't enough. So you were left annoyed and unsatisfied.

You rinsed your face in cool water and wiped away as much slick as you could before leaving. You'd taken the vibrator out, just in case Ghost got any ideas, but he was gone from the room when you passed. So much for trusting him with that privilege.

..................................................................................

The one time they did.

You couldn't have been more relieved when you got back to your base. There wasn't anything to be done except rest and recuperate. So when the sun set, tugging everyone one by one into their rooms, you naturally went straight to where you knew Ghost was working in the locker room. He was the only one there, finishing up with his gear before retiring for the night. When you came in, he had just been ready to leave. Of course, he wouldn't pass up the opportunity you hadn't had for quite a while.

So the next thing you knew, you were kneeling on one of the small tables beside the lockers with Ghost hovering over your bare shoulder. He held you to his chest with an arm around your waist, supporting you both with his other on the table as he thrust forward into you. You pressed your lips together, trying to keep quiet as to not draw any wandering soldiers to you.

Ghost was never really very loud during sex (except for when he let you take the reins and ruin him, but those times were few and far between). The most you got now were low groans and grunts. Still, his gruff voice in your ear pushed you closer to the edge with every sound. He growled whenever you let a particularly loud noise slip.

"Quiet, sweetheart. You don't want anyone hearin' your pretty sounds and come looking, do you?" You whimpered, clenching around him at the thought. He chuckled. "Oh-ho, you like that, huh? You want them to see you like this, to see me fuckin' your tight little cunt." He emphasized his words with harsh thrusts, making you lean heavy on his hand with a gasp. Without his support, you would surely fall forward onto the table. You tugged on the fabric of his sleeve, shaking your head.

"No? Is that so?" He asked in mocking disbelief, shifting his weight and using his right hand to grab your jaw, forcing your wavering gaze up to him. He was still fully clothed, only his eyes, fervid and piercing, bore into yours.

Your clothes, on the other hand, had been torn off in a haste, leaving you completely bare in the empty storage room. Not even Ghost could shield you from anyone who entered, facing towards the only door. "Then I suggest you keep it down."

You could hardly stand the eye contact, your lids falling shut with a whine. He made a sound of disapproval, but didn't ask anything of you. He kept your head in his hand, letting it rest lower, still watching your expression closely. The feeling of his gaze on you made your knees weak, but luckily, it didn't last long.

Or, maybe it wasn't so lucky.

"Hey L.T. do y-" Soap stopped as soon as he realized what he walked in on. You hadn't even heard him coming until he was standing in the doorway, looking on in dismay. Ghost didn't halt his movements, locking eyes with the Sargeant. He pulled your head up from where you were looking as far away as possible, compelling you to look directly at your fellow teammate.

Said teammate was frozen in place, hesitant to move from Ghost's imposing glare. You saw his attention flick down to you, and you tugged on Ghost again, trying to tear your face away. Of course, he refused to allow you that mercy.

"Now, look what you've done. If you didn't want Johnny to see you here, you would've stayed quiet." You shook your head again. His level voice shot straight to your core, unable to resist as he dropped his hand to your chest, lowering your top to the table with care that rivaled the way he pounded into you.

You were grateful that you no longer had to look at Soap, but the new position didn't make things much better. It allowed Ghost to rub against new areas inside of you, making you squeak against the cool surface below you.

Ghost held you down at the base of your skull, hardly slowing his pace as he stared your teammate down again. Soap finally had the decency to act embarrassed, turning his head away and stuttering out an excuse. He gave up quickly, opting to just shut the door and leave you two to your sexcapades.

Ghost huffed out a laugh, and you knew he was smiling under his mask when he leaned over you, free hand sliding up and down your back before settling on your hip.

Soap better had better keep his mouth shut, else you get the lecture of a lifetime from Price.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader

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