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izzabela · 1 month ago

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white noise - audio 1

a/n: I just wanted to drop in and say....THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR SUPPORTING THE ORIGINAL IDEA SO HARD GUYS!!! special thanks to @junovae , @red5tars , @devil-in-hiding , and @beloveds-embrace for boosting and hyping my idea up. i've been letting this marinate in my head for a long time, and I'm so glad that it's well-received :)

please please PLEASE enjoy guys, i worked really hard to make sure this was a perfect first chapter :>

"What on God's green Earth do you think you're doing with this schedule!?" your boss's words flying to you as fast as the papers he threw off the side his desk.

As the assortment of schedules, checks, files, and folders rain down like snow, you simply look at your boss with a cool smile and dead eyes. You've dealt with things like this before, the same tantrums over and over again with a man who's still growing up at forty-five.

The sun was setting over the New York City skyline, and you've just about had it for the day. It's been thirty minutes since your allotted time to clock out, and this man-child is still holding you up like a baby with his pacifier.

"Sir, you have a meeting with XYZ's CEO stand-in Friday morning," you calmly explain to the toddler as you pick up his mess. "That same day, you have a lunch on Wall Street with Mr. Allen in regard to the upcoming acquisition to one of your sub-companies."

Without breaking a sweat (but most definitely popping a blood vessel), you continue to give reasonable excuses for your choice in scheduling.

"And on that same day, sir, your presence is requested at your brother's residence, to celebrate his third engagement," you finish, giving him a good once-over to see how he's doing. "Speaking of, did you purchase that Rolex I linked you? I had sent you a message via work-phone with the exact link."

He's matting his poorly-worn toupee wig down and coughing profusely.

100-0, you tally your mental game you've been keeping track of.

As you grab the last piece of paper, ironically the one with his Friday schedule, you place the stack back on the center of his desk. There's enough force pressed down that his name plaque jumps (maybe in fear for your wrath too).

"Do you have any other questions sir? Or am I free to go home?" you smile tightly, hands neatly over themselves on your belly.

"Y-you're free to leave," he pulls his necktie nervously, beads of sweat on his forehead and palms as his butter-fingers attempt to fix his tie.

You nod, keeping the tight smile all the way past the threshold of his office, past the snarky bitch of a front-desk woman, and all the way to the elevator.

"Good afternoon, Pumps," the elevator-doorman greets you. "Long day in the office?"

"An understatement, George..." you sigh, rubbing your temples in circles to soothe an incoming headache.

George was probably your only peace in this hellscape of an office: kind demeanor, soft voice, manners, it seems the bar is below the ground with how poorly people behave here in your office.

It's silent on the way down, the light jazz of the elevator music filling the conversation-less space.

Ding

George's gloved hand presses the open door button, and you mosey on out with a little falter in your step.

"Take a rest, Pumps. Lord knows what will happen if you leave that man to his devices," he humors, earning your chuckle as you give him one more wave before walking past the front desk of the main entrance and into the revolving doors.

You spin in the revolving doors for a mere moment before getting spat out back on the street. You'd think that the sunset would help soothe your growing pain, but the streets come to life with blaring neon lights and flickering street lamps.

This is New York City after all.

Slapping your shades on and plugging your earphones in, you begin the trek home. Your houlders slumped and legs dragging like an army man coming home from deployment, you mindlessly listen to your de-stress playlist to try and relax before heading home. You don't think the pain of your head will leave until Siri reads a notification.

A NEW POST FROM GHOST PLUS A LONG MESSAGE, WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO READ IT?

Suddenly all your pain felt nonexistent, and you've regained bounce in your step once again. Your favorite voice actor posted, and a long notification means scripted content.

You discovered him, a VA named "Ghost" after scrolling through Reddit for a bit. The nation of subgroups and communities, you found your forever home with him after a ramble fap of his after a stressful day of work a couple of years ago.

Enamored by his husky voice, low timbre of his throat, and his British accent, you learned he had more than just Reddit. You didn't think you'd be addicted, but after exhausting his master-list on Reddit, you decide to follow his links to other places.

Other than his fifty-thousand on Reddit, he has one-hundred thousand on Youtube for his SFWs and one million on TFCo (the audio company he belongs to)- and when you saw his exclusive content? Well, you just had to get your hands on it all. Not to mention he's a successful voice acting career in audio books (you've bought those solely because he voices some of the characters).

And if one thinks this is degenerate, try working for a man who can't think for himself- you'd do anything to decompress and relax.

Which is where you are in the present, picking up your pace to head back to your house so you can relax with the voice that makes you delusional.

The walk felt like a marathon, but you finally made it to the lobby of your apartment. You don't even need to push the door open when they swing inwards for you, accompanied by another familiar voice.

"'Notha long day, Pumps?" a thick Yankee accent rings in your ears. You offer a bright smile, trying to hide the fact your leg muscles have been screaming at you all day.

You take your earphones out. "Nothin' I can't handle, Tony," you describe your day in a mere two words. He only sighs and shakes his head, offering to walk you all the way to the elevator.

Tony looks at you funny, "Can't fool me, lil' miss," he scolds. "Your calves are twitchin', 'ich means you need a good 'n long bath."

You chuckle, "You got it Thomas. Warm bath and sleep."

You hear a faint "atta girl" as you step into the elevator, and his figure disappears behind the silver walls as you go up to another battle.

Ding

The doors part, and you hear the echo of your shoes bounce off the walls as you near your flat door. Lost in the sea of your stuff, your keys probably lost in the void called "your purse," you hear a shuffle and a click of another door opening.

Out walks the guy that moved in right next door. You watch with a glare, eyeing him like someone eyes a stain on their clothes. He wears the same black trousers, black t-shirt topped with a black jacket with his head hooded, and that stupid black face mask with the lower part of a skull.

"Evenin' Simon," you begrudgingly greet. He turns towards you, also eyes you head to toe, and nods.

You do everything in your power to hold yourself back from strangling him.

Simon always struck you as odd: didn't talk to anyone, wore black (and black only), and dressed poorly. Everyone who lived in this side of NYC came from daddy's money, mommy's trust fund, or a mix of both. You took his apprehension in talking as introversion, so you tried to make your presence (and support) known from afar.

In the first month he moved in, you tried to strike up conversation whenever you'd see him leave or enter his room. Just like he did now, he'd offer nothing but a simple glance-over and a sizing, eyeing up and down like a child.

Over the next couple of months, you tried peace offerings of food and snacks. From homemade meals, to little snacks and munchies, you left them at his doorstep for him to grab by himself. You're pretty sure he hated them, usually finding nothing left on your door.

(Unbeknownst to you, Simon ate everything of yours to the bone- no crumbs left).

Since his initial move-in, you've counted that it'll be almost a year since he moved next door to you. God found you his strongest soldier with the way you remained so patient with him and his disdain for others.

One thing you haven't let go, though, was the noise he made late in the night. Whatever he missed in the day (which is usually 100% of noise he never made in the day), he'd make it up tenfold deep into the night. Sometimes you hear him curse loudly, or the annoying creak of his bed slamming into his wall. There were even moments where you've heard him laugh like a villain, before he'd goes back to letting curses wring out like water from a wash rag.

You've really tried to be patient with him, but juggling between a fool of a boss and an ignorant man, you felt it chip away at you like weathered stone.

You make your frustration clear, shuffling the stuff in your bag a bit louder, hoping that he'd get the memo, but he walks past you like a speck of dirt- unnoticed and left behind. Finding your flat key, you groan as you twist, unlock, and make it inside your apartment. You drop everything in the hallway, kick your heels off, and crash on your couch.

Usually you'd take this time to scroll through Instagram, catch up with messages you missed, or simply flip through Netflix to find the perfect show, but all you craved right now is sleep, a shower, and food (maybe a bit of wine too).

"Get to it, Pumps," you scold yourself, pushing yourself off the plush cushions. "For George and Tony..."

Seems your doorman and elevator-man were right, a hot shower does wonders. Though you came out of the shower a bit dazed, at least you were relaxed now. Your stomach wasn't, though, as it grumbled angrily.

"Yeah yeah, I heard ya," you mumbled, opening up your fridge to find it empty and sad (was that a fly leaving?). You curse and make a mental note for groceries tomorrow after work.

"Ramen will do just fine," you answer yourself, walking to the pantry to grab an instant pack to cook.

It's nice and quiet as you cook your noodles, the faint sounds of the city traffic sounding more like a lullaby than record scratch. You look over to your side as you stir your pot, the floor-to-ceiling windows allowing full view of the Empire State building, park, and the other buildings in the area.

Taking the pot off the stove, you carefully place it over a pot holder and grab a bowl. Pouring the soup and noodles in, you multitask and check anymore notifications you missed through the day, and the one from a couple of hours ago is first in line. The TFCo notification banner is calling your name, and you press it immediately to see what's new with your man, "Ghost."

The notification read an announcement for a new exclusive drop, a werewolf!shifter! in rut taking his pretty bunny!shifter in heat, and the tags filled your belly with butterflies: primal play, chase, CNC, shifters, and a mean!ghost tag- the list is filled with dirty tropes that make your core tighten and panties damp.

You're tempted to drop everything and fall victim to your desires, but ignoring your stomach felt like a bad omen in the making (and another earful from Tony would not be good). Besides, it was on your phone- you can wait.

Enjoying the loaded sodium soup of your ramen, you do some more doom scrolling on some other accounts and socials of VAs you follow. You occasionally listen to Soap Dish, a Scot with a fiery temper and even hotter audios, you listen to him when you want something goofy or silly. Occasionally though, he'll drop a great CNC, mean audio that really gets you heated.

Then there's Gazzandgoo (Gaz for short), another British VA with great all-around content. Ranging from mean BDSM audios to him whimpering and subbing, you enjoy Gaz's flexibility and range with his voice. A guilty pleasure of yours is his whimpering and sub audios (high powered job needs equal amounts of destress right?).

Slurping the last of your soup down, you didn't realize the time left you as your phone's clock read "eleven thirty" (was the doom-scroll that bad this time around?). Doesn't matter since it's officially "you time"- where only you, your search history, and the government knows what you're doing tonight.

After a quick rinse and toss of your bowl and utensils in your dishwasher, you dig for your headphones from your bag so you can indulge. Scooping it out, along with some papers, hair pins, and business cards, you leave the mess for tomorrow as you enter your room. Pictures of your friends, the few family you had in contact, diploma, and posters judge you as you get into bed and in a comfortable position.

Leaning back, headphones in, you press the notification of the TFCo app and watch your phone light up with the direct audio link of Ghost and his latest content.

There's lots of sound effects as the audio plays, the script being very in depth. You hear the rustling of leaves and grass, the billowing breeze, and the faintest noise of pebbles rolling over each other. The image of a forest is painted in your mind, and the painting gains a new addition with the sound of ragged breathing.

"Ah.... fuck..." the recording of Ghost's voice is in the background as you hear his groans and moans grow closer.

You close your eyes and let yourself go in the audio, imagining Ghost's werewolf character pouncing on top of you.

"'N what's this pretty bunny doin' here?" he muses in your ears. "Wandered on the wrong side of the forest, huh? Stupid fucking bun..."

Your legs twist and close, the friction of your panty fabric and your legs pressing together getting you worked up. Imagining what Ghost looks like, what he feels like, is sending you into overdrive as he continues to speak in your headphones.

"You look fucking delicious," he groans, and you shiver as you hear the sound effects of his hands running across a toy he uses for a body. "So soft, so fucking perfect. Gonna be a meal for me?"

You dumbly reply to the emptiness of your room, and your cheeks blush as Ghost groans again.

"You sound so cute begging for your life. How 'bout a deal?" he eggs you on, and you nod once again.

"If you can outrun me and make it out the forest, you get your life," he offers the first half of his wager.

He chuckles, "The other part? That's easy, isn't it bun?" you hear him brush over his mic to get real close. "If you can't, you'll be my meal."

"On the count of three. One, two," your chest is rising and falling quickly, the anticipation of what he'll do pushing you to the edge. "Go."

The sound effects of your character running through the grass, hopping and sprinting in order to stay alive. You cave and shove your hands down under the waistband of your panties, fingers flicking over your sensitive bud as you can hear Ghost grow closer and closer.

You hear the sounds of Ghost wrestling, noises of foliage and nature bending and breaking under you. The audio paints the picture of you pinned under Ghost, and his maniacal laughter rolls through your ears thanks to binaural headphone settings.

"Pathetic," he spits out at your futile escape. "Were you even trying?"

It sounds like Ghost was sniffing you, his inhalations close to the mic as he comments on your scent. You can also hear the sfx of him reaching down and to your aching pussy.

"Oh... maybe you weren't trying bunny," he teases, the audio effects of pussy squelching invading your ears. "Maybe you wanted this- wanted to get lost, caught, and eaten alive by the big bad wolf..."

You whimper, circles over your little clit growing faster and needier as his voice rings through your mind. "Beg me for your life- 'please don't eat me, Mr. Wolf'- beg me nice 'n proper..."

The squelching grows more obscene, and you can't tell if that's your own cunt or the toy he's using in the audio. It doesn't matter though, as the sounds of wet pussy stop, and you hear a shift in weight and position.

"I take it back- no need to beg when your cunt is drenched, bun," he teases, and you're so sure his cock in tapping the entrance of the toy that represents you.

"What? Scared? 'Fraid my cock's gonna hurt?" he asks, and you respond with a sad keen (ironic, since your fingers are working overtime for you to reach your peak).

Suddenly, a deep grumble and "oh fuck" is heard, and you realize Ghost is stuffing you full in the audio. You moan a little louder, slipping a single finger in, curling it to make sure it hits your spot just right.

Perverted sounds of Ghost's cock bullying the toy he uses to represent his listeners fill your ears, and the sounds of said toy smashing into his hips add sprinkles of erotica as you imagine yourself getting stuffed full of him. Lost in your own pleasure, you squeeze your eyes tight as you focus on reaching your finish.

You must've wandered a little too far in your imagination as you didn't feel your earbuds fall of your ears. The audio is no longer heard for you, but you can't tell when you're riding off of your imagination (and maybe the faint audio that's coming from the earbuds, since they're on full blast).

You're drawn out of your lust as the earbuds fall like marbles on your hardwood floors. Immediately, your hand flies away from your aching sex, and you see the buds lay pitifully on the floor. You groan, borderline sulking over the fact something so simple drew you away from your peak.

As you reach for your tech, your ears catch on to another noise. It's coming past your bedroom walls, and it sounds a lot like the audio you're listening to right now.

"Such a good girl f'r me..." the voice groans, a strangled moan escaping the lips of your neighbor and entering your ears.

"He sounds so familiar...." you whisper to yourself, and the next line he grunts out pieces all of the issues you've had with him together.

"You wanted this, didn'tcha? Takin' all 'f me like a dumb slag, but'cha wanted this didn'tcha?"

"You like this, don't ya?" he annunciates, semi-muffled noises of a pocket-pussy getting stretched out like actual cunt floating into your ears.

Every ounce of arousal has left your body as your braincells fire and connect the dots, and you swear you can hear the sounds of bells echoing in your brain.

"Ghost" is Simon, and Simon is "Ghost."

And "Ghost" is your neighbor.

ding ding ding

#pumps x simon #pumps x ghost #audio porn-artist!ghost x pumps #can be read as 'x reader'#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod au

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corrupte3d-mindz · 7 months ago

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In Your Shadow

Stalker! Jonathan Crane x F! Reader

Summary: He's a bit deranged, but he loves you in his own sick and twisted way.

Wordcount: 7.8k

Warnings:

extremely perverted! Jonathan, extremely possessive! Jonathan, sexual harassment, sexual assault, harassment, heavy stalking, stealing personal belongings, threatening, manipulating, gaslighting, belittling, degrading, kidnapping for a second, cumming in panties, jerking off, forced kissing, whining, whimpering, begging, all around subby things from Jonathan.

Jonathan’s apartment is a study in organized chaos. Papers and books are strewn across every available surface, creating a labyrinthine maze that only he understands.

The flickering light from the computer screen casts a ghostly pallor over the room, accentuating the shadows that dance along the walls. Jonathan sits at his desk, a place of both work and obsession. His hair is a disheveled mess, beads of sweat dotting his forehead and trickling down the nape of his neck. His suit, once pristinely pressed, is now rumpled; the top button of his shirt undone, and his tie hanging loosely, as if discarded mid-thought.

His fingers glide over the mouse, the soft clicks echoing in the otherwise silent room. Each photo that appears on the screen brings a new wave of emotion, a blend of longing and possessiveness that tightens his chest and quickens his breath. He leans forward, eyes narrowing as he studies each image with meticulous care. These aren't just pictures to him—they are glimpses into her life where he has painstakingly inserted himself into, moments he has captured either through his own lens or extracted from the depths of the internet. Jonathan exhales softly, his lips curving into a faint, almost predatory smile as he reaches the more revealing photos; not really. These are the ones he treasures most, the ones that reveal her in states of vulnerability and intimacy. Whether he found them online or took them himself, each image is a testament to his unyielding obsession.

He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, pushing it back from his face, only for it to fall back into disarray moments later. His eyes, a piercing blueish green, scan over the images with a clinical yet possessive gaze. He imagines her in those moments, unaware of his presence, blissfully ignorant of the shadow that watches over her. His breathing grows heavier, more labored, as his mind conjures scenes of their intertwined fates. Jonathan’s glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, the silver frames glinting under the dim lamp light; He clicked his mouse one more time, the sound echoing in the silence. He knew what came next. He had been through these photos countless times, scrutinizing each one with the devotion of a scholar studying sacred texts. They were his Bible, each image a verse he had memorized.

There it was, his favorite photo of her. It was a candid shot taken at a coffee shop where she worked. The image was slightly blurred, capturing the movement of her hands as she passed a cup to a customer, her smile bright and genuine. Jonathan stared at the photo, his heart aching with a twisted blend of love and possessiveness. He remembered the day he took it, how he had positioned himself discreetly at the back, pretending to read a newspaper while his camera did the real work. God, her smile, he thought, his breath hitching slightly. That smile was the beacon that guided him through the darkness of his existence. He would do anything and everything for her, just to see her smile. His mind wandered back to the first time he saw her. She was a new barista at the small coffee shop he frequented near the Arkham Asylum. He had noticed her immediately—her grace, her kindness, the way she interacted with customers. It was as if a light had entered his life, one that he desperately needed.

His fingers traced the outline of her face on the screen, a reverent, almost worshipful gesture. The apartment around him was forgotten; the only reality that mattered was her image on the screen. He could almost hear her laughter, the way it would ring out softly over the hum of conversation and the clinking of coffee cups. He imagined what it would be like to be the cause of that laughter, to be the one who brought joy to her life. His obsession had started innocently enough—small, frequent visits to the coffee shop, watching her from a distance. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned to months; his fascination grew. He began to take photos, each click of the camera shutter a way to capture a piece of her to keep with him always. He knew it was wrong, knew it crossed boundaries, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was as if she had cast a spell on him, one he had no desire to break.

He leaned back in his leather chair, a sigh escaping his lips as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. It had been another grueling day at Arkham Asylum dealing with the disturbed minds that mirrored his own in many ways. The monotony of his daily routine was a necessary facade, a mask that concealed the darkness within. But now, as the evening crept in, he was on the verge of something far more exhilarating. His piercing blueish eyes flickered with anticipation as he glanced at his work bag under his desk. Thinking about how he had been waiting for that moment, meticulously planning, and now he finally had a tangible piece of her. Jonathan Crane, master of fear, had been reduced to a lovesick stalker, but he didn't care. His obsession with her was all-consuming, a fire that burned brighter with each passing day. He remembered the moment like it was yesterday, but it actually was just a couple of hours before; it went a little like this.

Once he had discovered her routine, learning that she did her laundry at the same laundromat every week. She trusted the place enough to leave her clothes unattended while she went to work. It was a small window of opportunity, but Jonathan was nothing if not patient. He had bided his time, waiting for the perfect moment to act. Today was the day. Her clothes had finished drying just before she had taken her lunch to come retrieve them. Jonathan had slipped into the laundromat, on his way to his apartment, blending in with the other patrons. His heart pounded in his chest as he approached the dryer, his hands trembling slightly. He was always calm in the face of fear, but this was different. This was personal. He reached into the dryer, sifting through the warm, freshly cleaned clothes until his fingers brushed against something delicate. He pulled out a pair of black panties, adorned with lace trim. They were hers, a piece of her most intimate apparel. The thrill of possession surged through him, a dark, twisted satisfaction that made his pulse quicken. Jonathan slipped the panties into his coat pocket, acting nonchalant as he left the laundromat. Once he was out he moved them to his work bag. The walk back to his apartment was a blur, his mind racing with thoughts of her. She was so close, yet so unattainable. But now he had a piece of her, something tangible to hold onto. Fuck, he couldn’t even believe it; he couldn’t believe that he managed to do that.

He leaned over while in his chair, his slender fingers curling around the strap of his work bag, pulling it into his lap with a sense of purpose. However, in a fleeting moment, his mind wandered, envisioning her, the object of his relentless fixation, as the weight on his lap, a subconscious desire momentarily surfacing before he regained control. With a sharp exhale, he unzipped one of the pockets of his bag, his movements precise and deliberate. His fingers emerged, clutching a pair of black panties with delicate lace trim, a stark contrast to the cold, calculated demeanor he often exuded. He held them up, the fabric soft against his skin, his mind drifting into a realm of thoughts, some gentle and longing, others tinged with a more primal desire.

Jonathan's thoughts were a whirlwind, a mix of conflicting emotions and desires. He imagined her scent lingering on the fabric, the softness of her skin, the curve of her body. His breath hitched, the image vivid in his mind, yet unattainable in reality. As he sat there, lost in his thoughts, his gaze lingered on the panties, a symbol of his unspoken obsession. He felt a pang of guilt, a twinge of shame at the intensity of his desires. Yet, he couldn't deny the exhilaration, the rush that came with the forbidden. His fingers traced the lace trim, a ghost of a touch, his mind filled with fantasies that bordered on obsession

He carefully placed the black panties with lace trim on the desk, his fingers tracing the delicate fabric as if it were a precious treasure. Setting his bag back down on the floor, his eyes lingered on them for a moment, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. Turning his attention to the computer, closing the folder he had opened and moving his mouse to a different folder; he opened it, it was filled with photos of her in more intimate settings. They were snapshots of her daily routine, mundane yet intimate moments captured without her knowledge. He clicked through them slowly, savoring each image of her getting undressed, her naked form, and even pictures from her shower.

As he gazed at her photos, a soft sigh escaped his lips. "My beautiful baby," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. To him, she was perfection, a vision of purity and innocence that he felt compelled to protect and possess.

His piercing blueish eyes fixated on the object before him, the black panties with a delicate lace trim, a relic of his relentless obsession. As he reached out to touch them, his fingers trembled with a mixture of desire and restraint, a testament to the tumultuous emotions raging within him.

"Fuck... if only you knew what you do to me..." His voice, a low whisper, barely audible in the quietude of the room, carried the weight of his longing. Each syllable dripped with fervor, a confession uttered to the silent darkness, a futile attempt to convey the depth of his obsession.

His hand hovered over the panties, trembling with anticipation, as if drawn by an invisible force. With a hesitant touch, he traced the delicate lace, his fingertips grazing the fabric with a reverence reserved for sacred relics. The mere sight of them ignited a fire within him, stroking the flames of desire that threatened to consume him whole. The room seemed to close in around him as he struggled to contain the rising tide of arousal coursing through his veins. His breaths came in shallow gasps, each inhalation laden with the heady scent of lust and longing. With a shaky exhale, he leaned closer, his senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating allure of the panties before him.

His hand moved instinctively to his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle as he sought to free himself from the constraints of reality. The leather yielded under his touch, releasing him from its grasp with a soft click that echoed in the silence of the room. With trembling hands, he unbuttoned his pants, the fabric yielding to his touch with a reluctant sigh. As he slid the zipper down, the cool rush of air against his skin sent shivers down his spine, a stark reminder of the vulnerability that lay beneath his stoic facade. With each movement, he felt himself unraveling, the barriers he had erected against his desires crumbling in the face of overwhelming temptation. A sharp intake of breath escaped his lips as he freed himself from his pants, the weight of his arousal pressing against the fabric of his boxers.

Slipping his hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, Jonathan closed his eyes, lost in a world of pleasure. The intimate touch of his hand against his skin sent waves of ecstasy coursing through his body, mingling with the sharp sting of desire that burned within him. He couldn't help but let out a soft whimper, a sound that was both desperate and exhilarating in its intensity.

"H-ha..." His voice was barely a whisper, choked with emotion as he struggled to contain the overwhelming sensations that threatened to overwhelm him. In that moment, he felt more alive than he ever had before, his senses heightened to a fever pitch as he surrendered himself completely to the ecstasy of the moment. He hadn’t even started yet…

With a sense of urgency bordering on desperation, he freed himself from the confines of his clothing, exposing himself to the cool air of the room. His cock throbbed with anticipation, aching for the touch that would bring him release. With trembling hands, Jonathan wrapped his hands around his length, relishing in the sensation of his own touch. His thumb traced the length of his shaft, then the oh so sensitive slit of his that was dripping with pre-cum; this eliciting a low moan of pleasure that escaped his lips unbidden. Removing his glasses with practiced ease, Jonathan set them aside on his desk, allowing his vision to blur as he surrendered himself to the darkness that surrounded him, He closed his eyes, and occasionally opening them, but mainly he liked surrendering himself to the exquisite torment of his own desires. The only light being from his computer screen with her nude photos.

With a sense of urgency bordering on desperation, Jonathan brought his hand to his face, covering his mouth in a feeble attempt to stifle the sounds that threatened to escape. He knew he was loud when it came to this, his pleasure echoing off the walls of his apartment like a symphony of depravity. But when it came to her, the noise was deafening. With practiced ease, Jonathan's hand moved up and down his twitching shaft, each stroke driving him closer to the brink of ecstasy. He knew what he liked when he was in this position, his movements precise and calculated, fueled by a hunger that knew no bounds. And as he lost himself in the rhythm of his own pleasure, he felt a sense of liberation wash over him, freeing him from the constraints of his own guilt and shame.

"F-fuck... I love you so fuckin’ much, baby..." Jonathan murmured, it seemed quieter since he was covering his mouth, but nevertheless his voice was hoarse with desire. The words tumbled from his lips like a prayer, a desperate plea for the woman who haunted his every dream. In that moment, she was all he could think of, her image seared into his mind's eye with a clarity that bordered on obsession.

With a mixture of desire and apprehension, Jonathan reached out, his hand no longer covering his mouth; fuck he sounded so pathetic when he jerked off to her, his hand trembling slightly as it made contact with the fabric. He brought the panties to his face, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent that lingered upon them. His breath caught in his throat as he closed his eyes, lost in the intoxicating aroma. He moaned softly, the sound muffled by the fabric pressed against his mouth, a crude testament to the depths of his depravity. And in that moment, Jonathan knew only one thing: he would do whatever it took to make her his, forever and always.

His eyes, dark and intense, were fixed on the black panties with delicate lace trim pressed against his mouth. The fabric muffled his moans, but the intensity of his desire was palpable. Each breath he took was filled with the intoxicating scent of the woman who occupied his every thought, driving him to the brink of madness. His hand moved with a practiced rhythm, stroking his throbbing cock with increasing fervor. The sensation of the lace against his lips sent shivers down his spine, heightening his arousal to an almost unbearable level. His movements, once slow and controlled, began to grow erratic and desperate. He could never last long when he thought of her, but his stamina was the last thing on his mind.

“A-ah~..ngh..fuckin’ hell,” Jonathan gasped, his voice a strained whisper against the fabric. His eyes fluttered shut, rolling back into his head as he felt the familiar build-up of release. His body trembled with anticipation, every muscle tense as he edged closer and closer to the brink.

With a sudden, fevered motion, Jonathan tore the panties from his face, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The cool air hit his flushed skin, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through his veins. He wrapped the delicate fabric around his twitching cock, his hips bucking wildly as he surrendered to the overwhelming waves of pleasure. His grip tightened, the lace digging into his flesh as he pumped faster, each stroke bringing him closer to the inevitable. His mind was a whirlwind of desire and obsession, each thought consumed by her image. He could see her in his mind’s eye, the way she moved, the way she looked at him with a mixture of fear and something unspoken. It drove him wild, pushing him further into the depths of his dark cravings.

As his movements became more frantic, Jonathan's breath hitched, his body tensing as he reached the precipice. “Fuck... I’m so close,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice rough and strained. His hips bucked erratically, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure through his entire being.

The sensation of the lace against his skin was almost too much to bear, the friction heightening his arousal to a fever pitch. His hand moved with a desperate urgency, each stroke pushing him closer to the edge. He could feel the pressure building, a tight coil of heat in his core ready to snap. With a final, forceful thrust, Jonathan cried out, his voice a mix of pleasure and anguish. His body convulsed, the release hitting him like a tidal wave, washing over him with a blinding intensity. Ropes upon ropes of hot, sticky cum spilled out from his twitching cock, coating the pretty fabric of the black panties with an almost obscene abundance. The once pristine lace was now sullied, a stark contrast to its delicate beauty. His free hand's nails dug into the wood of his desk, leaving deep, angry marks as he rode out the waves of his climax. Enough of his release filled the fabric that it began to seep through, dripping slowly onto the floor below his desk in thick, viscous droplets.

"F-fuck... f-fuck..." Jonathan muttered, his voice barely more than a strained whisper. The words were laced with a raw, guttural intensity, each syllable a reflection of his spent state. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, he was lost in the afterglow, his mind adrift in a sea of hazy satisfaction. He clutched the panties tightly, the fabric now damp with his release, a tangible symbol of his unrelenting desire.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Jonathan slumped back in his chair, his body spent and trembling. His breath came in shallow gasps, his mind slowly returning to reality. The room seemed to close in around him, the shadows deepening as he lay in the aftermath of his desire. He glanced down at the panties still wrapped around his softening cock, a pang of guilt cutting through the haze of his satisfaction. The reality of his actions hit him with a cold clarity, the weight of his obsession pressing down on him like a heavy shroud. But even in the depths of his guilt, he knew he could not stop. The allure of her presence, the thought of making her his, was too powerful to resist. Jonathan’s fingers trembled as he carefully unwound the panties from his semi-soft cock, his touch almost reverent. His eyes closed, a mixture of longing and despair etched across his features.

“Why do you haunt me so?” he whispered into the silence, his voice barely audible. The question hung in the air, unanswered, a testament to his torment. He knew that his desire for her was twisted, his actions unforgivable, yet he could not bring himself to stop. The darkness within him was too deep, too consuming.

In the months that had passed since the incident with her panties, Jonathan’s obsession had only deepened, festering like an untreated wound. His thoughts, once rational and calculated, had become a chaotic jumble of desire and fixation, driven by a love so twisted that it consumed every waking moment. He was a man possessed, his mind a labyrinth of dark fantasies and delusions, each one more depraved than the last. He would sit for hours at his desk after he had just spent hours at his office; the glow of his computer screen casting eerie shadows across his gaunt features as he pored over new and old images and now videos of her, all collected from the hidden cameras he had so meticulously placed. The sight of her, even in the most mundane of moments, was enough to send a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He would watch her laugh, cry, sleep, and live her life, all while he remained an invisible presence, a ghost haunting her every move.

Jonathan's apartment had become a shrine to her, every surface covered with photographs, notes, and mementos that he had painstakingly gathered. He had memorized every detail of her face, the curve of her smile, the sound of her voice. It was an obsession that knew no bounds, a hunger that could never be sated. And as his infatuation grew, so too did his desperation.

He knew she was aware of him, she’d most definitely had found the cameras he somehow put in her apartment so many months ago. It was the way she had suddenly moved apartments, but only to unknowingly end up in the same complex as him, she didn’t know where he lived but he had his proof that she knew enough to just up and move. The discovery of the cameras had been a setback, because he wouldn’t get those back but, it all uploaded to his computer at the end of every day, so he didn’t lose anything really, but it had only fueled his determination. He had to become more careful, more cunning in his efforts to watch her, to protect her from the dangers that she might encounter from being so perfect. However it was her fault, really, for not being thorough enough in her search for his eyes, she deserved it in his eyes.

"You're mine," Jonathan would whisper to himself, his voice a low, dangerous murmur as he watched her on his screen. "You just don't know it yet."

His need for attention, for acknowledgment of his existence, had driven him to new lengths. He had begun buying her gifts, leaving them at her door or in her mailbox with meticulously crafted notes. The thrill of seeing her take them inside, even if she never opened them, was intoxicating. It was a game, a dance of shadows and secrets, and he was determined to win. Each gift was chosen with care, a testament to his knowledge of her likes and desires. Clothes, jewelry, food, and even more intimate items like sex toys found their way to her doorstep. He knew her better than anyone, better than she knew herself. It was a twisted form of courtship, a display of his devotion, his love. And yet, there was always the risk of discovery. He had to be careful, precise in his placement of new cameras. He couldn't afford another mistake. The thought of her finding out, of her rejecting him outright, was too much to bear. He needed her, craved her in a way that defied logic and reason.

He would spend hours planning his next move, his next gift, each one a symbol of his undying love. He imagined her finding the packages, her expression unreadable as she carried them inside. Did she ever wonder who they were from? Did she ever think of him, even for a moment? The thought was enough to send a thrill of excitement through him, his heart pounding in his chest.

"One day, you'll understand," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "One day, you'll see how much I love you."

But for now, he remained in the shadows, his presence a constant, unseen force in her life. He would protect her, watch over her, even if she didn't realize it. He would do anything, everything, to make her his. And as he sat at his desk, surrounded by the trappings of his obsession, Jonathan knew that he would never stop. He couldn't. She was his, in every way that mattered. And so, the little game continued, a dance of shadows and secrets, a twisted love story that only he could understand. With each passing day, his obsession grew, feeding on the darkness within him, driving him to new heights of desperation and desire. He was a man on the edge, teetering on the brink of madness, but he didn't care. As long as she was his, nothing else mattered. In the end, it was her fault. She should have been more careful. She should have seen the signs, noticed the cameras, understood the depth of his love. But she hadn't, and now she was his, whether she knew it or not. And Jonathan Crane, the man who loved her more than life itself, would do whatever it took to keep it that way. Forever.

Tonight, as she closed up the café where she worked, Jonathan knew it was the perfect time to finally confront her. Him knowing her work schedule was so helpful. He had waited long enough, his patience fraying at the edges. He watched from the shadows as she bid farewell to her coworker, her smile a beacon of light in his otherwise dark world. She locked the door behind them, turning her attention to the kitchen, methodically checking inventory and ensuring everything was in its place. Making sure that everything that needs to be locked, is locked. Jonathan's breath quickened as he moved silently into the café, lock picking is easier than most people would imagine; with his heart pounding in his chest. He felt a rush of adrenaline, a heady mix of fear and excitement. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment he would finally see her face in real time and not just through the lens of his hidden cameras. He sat down in the dimly lit corner of the cafe, his eyes fixed on the doorway through which she would soon emerge. It was the doorway that was open with no door and you could enter by being behind the counter.

She appeared, her expression serene as she finished her tasks, unaware of the danger lurking nearby. Jonathan's eyes drank in the sight of her, his breath hitching in his throat. She was even more beautiful in person, her presence intoxicating. He took a step forward, the floorboards creaking under his weight. Her head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise and fear.

"Who... who are you?" she stammered, her voice trembling.

Jonathan took another step closer, his gaze intense. "I think you know who I am," he said, his voice low and menacing. "I've watched you for so long, admired you from afar. You were always so close, yet so far away."

So that’s what he looked like, she thought he would look worse, but back to the task at hand there is a deranged stalker in her presence. Her eyes darted around the café, searching for an escape. He’s practically in the way of it; "Stay away from me," she warned, her voice gaining strength. "I don't want anything to do with you."

Jonathan's expression hardened, his jaw clenching. "You don't understand," he said, his tone desperate. "I love you. I've always loved you. You belong to me."

"No, I don't," she shot back, her fear turning to anger. "You don't know anything about me. You're sick and twisted."

He flinched at her words, but his resolve remained unshaken. "I know everything about you," he insisted. "I've seen you at your most vulnerable, your most intimate. I know you better than anyone else. I love you…”

"That's not love," she said, shaking her head. "That's obsession. It's not the same thing." She gritted her teeth; “You look pretty smart so it’s depressing that you don’t know the difference” Attitude, he would not like that.

Jonathan's eyes darkened, his hands curling into fists. "You don't get to decide what this is," he growled. "You don't get to push me away. I've done everything for you, watched over you, protected you. And this is how you repay me?"

She stared him down, her breath slowly starting to come in shallow gasps. "No," she whispered. "I won't be a prisoner to your fuckin’ delusions."

Jonathan started walking over in her direction, his presence imposing. "You already are," he murmured, his eyes locked onto hers. "And there's no escaping it."

Her eyes flashed with defiance, her body tense with resolve. "Watch me," she said, her voice steady. What was she gonna do, scream; The fuck was that supposed to do?

For a moment, neither spoke, the silence between them a palpable force. Jonathan's mind raced, torn between his overwhelming desire to possess her and the dawning realization that his actions were driving her further away. His hands trembled at his sides, the barely contained energy threatening to spill over. He watched her every move, the subtle shift of her weight, the way her eyes darted towards the small doorway. She was looking for an escape, and he knew it was now or never. In a fluid motion that belied the severity of his intentions, Jonathan sprang into action. Despite the constraining suit, his movements were swift and precise, a testament to his unyielding determination. He darted behind the counter, his heart pounding in his chest as he made it just in time to cut off her path. With a practiced ease, he hopped over the small swinging saloon door that separated them, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Baby, I can do this all night,” he said, his voice a low, seductive drawl, tinged with a hint of madness. His breath came in ragged gasps, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he closed the distance between them. The endearment rolled off his tongue with a twisted sense of affection, a stark contrast to the cold, calculating glint in his eyes.

She stood frozen, her body tensed with the urge to flee, but he was already too close. Jonathan's presence was overwhelming, a dark, looming shadow that seemed to consume the very air around them. He could see the conflict in her eyes, the struggle between fear and defiance. She wanted to leave, to escape the web he had so meticulously woven around her, but he was in her way, a living, breathing barrier that she could not overcome.

"Don't be afraid," Jonathan murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I only want what's best for you. Can't you see that?" He reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm, a touch that was both tender and possessive. His gaze softened, but the underlying intensity remained, a stark reminder of the darkness that lay beneath his calm exterior.

She flinched at his touch, but there was nowhere to go, no escape from the prison he had created. Jonathan's heart ached at her reaction, the realization that his love – was the very thing that repelled her. But he couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. His obsession had taken root, a dark, twisted seed that had grown beyond his control.

"You don't have to fight me," he continued, his tone soothing yet insistent. "We can be together, just like I've always dreamed. You and me, forever." His words hung in the air, a chilling promise of a future she wanted no part of.

As he stepped closer, Jonathan's eyes roamed over her face, drinking in every detail. The way her lips parted in silent protest, the flicker of fear in her eyes, the defiant set of her jaw. She was beautiful, even in her defiance, and it only fueled his desire to possess her completely.

"Don't you see?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You belong with me. I've waited so long for this moment, planned every detail. You can't leave me now." His words were a plea, a desperate attempt to make her understand the depth of his feelings, the lengths he was willing to go to keep her by his side.

She took a step back, her back pressing against the counter, trapped between him and the unyielding surface. Jonathan's heart raced, the thrill of the chase mingling with the dread of losing her. He reached out again, his hand cupping her cheek with a gentleness that belied the madness in his eyes.

"I promise, I'll take care of you," he said, his voice filled with a twisted sincerity. "No one will ever hurt you, you'll be safe with me, always." The words were meant to comfort, but they only served to deepen the chasm between them.

Her eyes filled with tears, a silent testament to the hopelessness of her situation. Jonathan's heart clenched at the sight, a painful reminder of the cost of his obsession. But he couldn't let her go, not now, not ever.

"You don't have to cry," he murmured, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I'll make it all better, I promise. Just give me a chance." His voice cracked with emotion, the façade of control slipping as he confronted the reality of his actions.

She shook her head, a silent refusal that cut through him like a knife. Jonathan's jaw tightened, the anger simmering beneath the surface threatening to boil over. He had done everything for her, sacrificed so much, and yet she still resisted. It was maddening, infuriating, and it only fueled his determination to make her see the truth.

"Why can't you understand?" he demanded, his voice rising in frustration. "Everything I've done, I've done for you. To protect you, to keep you safe. And I’ve provided gifts for you..Why can't you see that?" His words echoed through the empty room, a desperate plea for understanding that would never come.

She stood her ground, her eyes locked onto his with a mixture of defiance and fear. Jonathan's heart ached at the sight, torn between his love for her and the realization that his actions were driving her further away. But he couldn't stop, couldn't let her go. She was his, and he would do whatever it took to keep her by his side.

With a final, desperate plea, Jonathan stepped closer, his hand reaching out to take hers. "Please," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Just give me a chance. I can make you happy, I promise. Just stay with me." His words hung in the air, a fragile hope that threatened to shatter with her next breath.

But as she looked into his eyes, Jonathan saw the truth. She would never be his, not in the way he wanted. And yet, he couldn't let her go, couldn't relinquish the hold she had on his heart. With a sense of resignation, he realized that he would do whatever it took to keep her, even if it meant losing himself in the process. In that moment, as the weight of his obsession threatened to crush him, Jonathan made a silent vow. He would protect her, keep her safe, no matter the cost. And if that meant holding her against her will, then so be it. She was his, and he would never let her go. His hand reached out, cupping her cheek with a gentleness that seemed almost out of place given the madness flickering in his eyes. He leaned in slightly and gave her a kiss on the lips, practically forcing her to kiss back with how rough it actually was compared to how he thought he was doing it; soft and calm. Yeah my ass.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to let you leave me,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing. The words were both an apology and a vow, laced with an unspoken promise of what was to come. He let go of her face and sighed;

Before she could react, Jonathan's grip tightened, his fingers wrapping around her delicate wrists with surprising strength. He raised her arms above her head, pinning them against the cold, unforgiving wall. His body pressed against hers, trapping her in place as his knee insinuated itself between her legs, applying just enough pressure to elicit a gasp. His heart pounded with a mix of arousal and anticipation, each beat echoing the inevitable conclusion of his carefully laid plans. With his free hand, Jonathan reached into the inner pocket of his suit, extracting a small syringe. His lips curled into a smile as he brought it to his mouth, removing the cap with his teeth before spitting it onto the ground. The sound was almost insignificant, but it marked the point of no return.

“Shhh... it’s okay... just don’t move around too much,” he murmured, his voice a soothing caress. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin as he searched for a suitable vein in her neck. The syringe hovered for a moment, a silent promise of what was to come.

As the needle punctured her skin, Jonathan’s eyes never left her face. He watched the mixture of fear toxin and a sedative flow into her bloodstream, his expression one of clinical detachment and twisted satisfaction. He withdrew the syringe slowly, almost reverently, before slipping it back into his pocket.

“Hey, it’s okay... just go to sleep,” he cooed, his voice softening as he cupped her face once more. He gazed into her eyes, watching as they began to glaze over, her resistance waning. She looked like a ghost, her complexion pale and her movements sluggish as the concoction took hold.

Jonathan supported her weight as she slumped against him, his arms encircling her in a twisted embrace. He could feel her body relax, the tension draining away as the drugs did their work. A part of him felt a pang of regret for having to subdue her in such a manner, but his obsession with her outweighed any moral qualms.

In the dim light of his apartment, Jonathan meticulously straightened the cluttered space, each object a testament to his dark obsession. His heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and dread as he glanced over at the woman lying unconscious on his bed. The fear toxin and a sedative mixture he had administered ensured she would remain in a deep, dreamless slumber for hours yet. This gave him time to prepare, to transform his chaotic haven into something that might, at first glance, seem less threatening. His hands moved swiftly, arranging and rearranging, removing any overt signs of his fixation. He knew he had to be careful—he couldn’t afford to frighten her any more than his actions already had. The apartment was filled with photos, trinkets, and personal effects of hers that he had collected over time, but he placed them in less conspicuous places, out of her immediate line of sight.

Jonathan took a deep breath, feeling the familiar tension knotting in his chest. His thoughts were a whirl of conflicting emotions. He needed her to understand, to see beyond the fear and recognize his love. He wasn’t a monster, not in his own eyes. He was a man driven by a consuming passion, a need to protect and possess her. He turned his attention back to her, lying so peacefully despite the circumstances. Her wrist was cuffed to the headboard, a necessary precaution. The chain allowed her some movement, but escape was impossible. He had made sure of that. His gaze softened as he watched her breathe, each rise and fall of her chest drawing him in deeper.

“Knew it’d come to this, didn’t you, Jonathan?” he murmured to himself, his voice a low rasp. The accent that clung to his words was faint, a vestige of his past. “You always knew.”

He moved closer, seating himself beside her on the bed. The urge to touch her was overwhelming, but he restrained himself. Not like this. It had to be right. She had to be awake, aware, and, in time, willing. His fingers itched to trace the lines of her face, to feel the warmth of her skin, but he resisted. He wouldn’t get anything out of it if she wasn’t there with him, truly there. Turning away from the bed, Jonathan walked quietly to the bathroom. The light flickered on with a soft click, casting a warm glow across the tiled floor. He leaned against the sink, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. His sharp features softened in the gentle light, the lines of stress easing from his brow. His mind wandered briefly, contemplating the events of the day and the challenges that lay ahead. The day had been long and arduous, filled with the tension of his illicit activities and the meticulous cleaning up afterward. But now, as he moved through the familiar ritual of preparing for bed, a strange tranquility settled over him.

After shedding his clothes, Jonathan stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over his tense muscles. The steam rose around him, enveloping him in a cocoon of warmth and silence. He closed his eyes, allowing his mind to wander. Thoughts of her flitted through his consciousness, a mix of longing and satisfaction. She was here, in his apartment, subdued by the fear toxin and sedative mixture. The thrill of having her so close, so vulnerable, sent a shiver of excitement through him. Finishing his shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and moved to the sink to brush his teeth. The minty freshness of the toothpaste was a sharp contrast to the dark thoughts swirling in his mind. He looked at his reflection, his piercing blue eyes staring back at him with a mix of determination and desire. Jonathan was a man driven by his obsessions, and tonight, those obsessions were within arm’s reach.

He made his way back to his room, the soft sound of his footsteps the only noise in the otherwise silent apartment. She lay on his bed, her breathing steady and deep, still under the influence of the sedative. The sight of her, so peaceful and unguarded, stirred something deep within him. He turned off the lights, plunging the room into darkness, save for the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Jonathan took off his glasses and set them on the table next to the bed, a small gesture that felt strangely intimate. He climbed into bed beside her, the sheets cool against his skin. He pulled the covers over both of them and gently maneuvered her so that she was straddling him, her body fitting perfectly against his. His arms wrapped around her back, the chain of the handcuffs clinking softly as he did so.

He buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent deeply. It was intoxicating, a heady mix of her natural fragrance and the faint remnants of her perfume. The sensation overwhelmed him, filling him with a deep sense of satisfaction. This was what he had dreamed of, the culmination of his darkest desires.

“Fuck, this is everything I dreamed of,” he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly murmur against her skin. He could feel the steady beat of her heart against his chest, a rhythmic reminder of her presence.

As he lay there, holding her close, his mind raced with thoughts and emotions. He reveled in the feeling of her weight on top of him, the warmth of her body against his. There was a possessiveness to his touch, a silent declaration that she was his and his alone. Despite the restraints of the handcuffs, he felt a sense of closeness that he had never experienced before. He wondered what she would think when she woke up, how she would react to finding herself in his bed, in his embrace. There was a part of him that relished the thought of her fear, the way her eyes would widen with realization. But there was also a part of him that yearned for her acceptance, for her to understand the depth of his feelings.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered softly, as if she could hear him in her unconscious state. “I’ll take care of you.”

Jonathan’s mind wandered back to the moment he had first seen her, the instant attraction that had sparked his obsession. He had watched her from afar, studying her movements, learning her habits. It had started innocently enough, a mere curiosity. But it had quickly grown into something much more intense, a need that consumed him. Now, as he lay with her in his arms, he felt a sense of fulfillment that he had never known before. It was as if all the pieces of his life had fallen into place, and he was exactly where he was meant to be. The darkness that had always lingered at the edges of his mind seemed to recede, replaced by a profound sense of contentment.

He tightened his hold on her slightly, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. He could feel her breath against his neck, a gentle reminder of her presence. The connection between them was palpable, a tangible thread that bound them together. Jonathan knew that this moment was fleeting, that the reality of their situation would come crashing down eventually. But for now, he allowed himself to bask in the illusion of intimacy, to indulge in the fantasy that she was his in every sense of the word.

“I’ll protect you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “No one will ever hurt you while you’re with me.”

As the night wore on, Jonathan remained awake, content to simply hold her and listen to the sound of her breathing. There was a peace in the silence, a solace in the stillness. He had spent so much of his life in turmoil, driven by his fears and anxieties. But here, with her in his arms, he felt a sense of calm that he had never known before. The darkness outside began to give way to the soft light of dawn, casting a gentle glow over the room. Jonathan could see the faint outlines of her features in the early morning light, the curve of her cheek, the softness of her lips. She looked so serene, so untouched by the horrors of the world. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, a silent promise that he would keep her safe. No matter what happened, he would always be there for her, a constant presence in her life. And as he closed his eyes, finally succumbing to the pull of sleep, he knew that he would never let her go.

Author’s Notes:

I genuinely believe he would cum in his pants if she even breathed, spoke, smiled, pointed, or barely touching him; touching him like rubbing shoulders with a stranger in an elevator type of touch.

Also he would definitely paint one of his hands in the nail polish she used. Helps submerge himself in the reality he so desperately wants to be real.

Also also, this was delayed a bit because I have this opened on my computer as well as on my phone and I saved it on one end and then it didn’t transpire on the other so I closed it out and…it just put me back pretty far.

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lexithwrites · 5 months ago

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can you write professors remus and sirius fucking when they’re older and being scared of being caught pls <3

nsfw aheadddddd (once again a muggle au because i cant write hogwarts lmao) also i didnt proof read this so sorry if its got mistakes lmaooo

Remus just managed to stop himself from knocking his mug of tea off the desk when Sirius thrust again, and instead gripped his boyfriends shoulder in attempt to ground himself; or at the very least get stabilised. He was already close, he had been since Sirius had sauntered into his office and locked the door, that cocky grin on his face that always had Remus blushing. He just had that kind of affect on him, he had since they first started dating as teenagers. Maybe it was embarrassing, but Remus couldn't care less with Sirius so deep inside him he felt it in his stomach.

"You gonna cum already, Moons?" Sirius purred into his ear, fingers grabbing at his hips to keep him place. Remus' legs had been wrapped around Sirius a minute ago, but the asshole insisted he keep them nice and wide for easy access, and who was Remus to say no to that hypnotic voice? His trousers, that he had ironed that morning for fuck sake, were now hanging off his left ankle, and his tie was undone and bouncing around his chest and shoulders as he was fucked into the oak wood of his desk, every thrust causing Remus to gasp and whimper into Sirius' neck.

"C-Can't help it." He mumbled, nails dragging across Sirius' shoulders at a particularly slow roll of his hips. "Oh god—"

"Sshh, someone might hear you." Sirius teased him in a sing-song voice, briefly glancing over to the door and seeing shadows walk past it. He felt a little on edge at the idea of getting caught, but he locked the door for a reason. "You don't want our coworkers to hear you getting fucked, do you?"

"N-No."

"You don't want them to hear how much of a slut you are? On the job? God, maybe they'd be jealous of you." He smirked and nipped Remus' ear when he felt Remus clench around him. "Jealous?"

"Shut up and keep going." Remus grunted, pulling Sirius' closer as he started moaning a little more desperately in his ear. "Please, Sirius, I need to cum please—"

"I know, love." Sirius was close too, sweating a little at how hard he had been going earlier. Bending Remus Lupin over his desk and holding him down as he pounded him had been fun, but being close to him like this was what really got him riled up. He liked hearing Remus' breathing against his skin, feeling him dig his nails into his back and rock his hips against his own. He liked feeling Remus fuck him back, god he loved it. "Let me cum in you?"

"Since when do you ask nicely?" Remus scoffed a little, leaning back to look into Sirius' eyes and push his matted, sweaty hair away from his forehead. Sirius could devour him right now, he was so gorgeous it hurt him. He bucked his hips and Remus gasped, feeling Sirius cover his mouth to quickly catch the cry of pleasure.

"Since you've got a meeting later, and I don't want to assume you want my cum dripping out of you during it." Remus' eyes almost rolled back into his head, lashes fluttering at the thought. "God, you're hot." Sirius moaned and kissed him hard, licking into his mouth and starting that brutal pace up again. "Cum for me, Moons. It'll make me cum, it always does."

Remus didn't last long after that, and later in his meeting he was asked if he needed anything since he was wincing a little in his seat. He blushed, saying his back was aching, and tried not to look anyone in the eye. Dammit.

#the marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #wolfstar smut #mail

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fatuismooches · 1 year ago

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Hello! If your requests are open, may I request Akademiya Dottore and Reader where the reader helped design his hair? Like, cut his hair and get him to have the curtain bangs and mullet he has now? I apologize if this is confusing.

Being Zandik’s lover in the Akademiya also meant being a dutiful roommate and his part-time caretaker, because if it weren’t for you, there would be many more occurrences where he skipped meals and lost dozens of hours of sleep. Let’s just say, you were a very persistent person when it came to your boyfriend’s health.

At the very least, he did keep himself presentable. But once he came to terms that you were genuinely trying to help, he left the buying of products like lotion, soap, and shampoo to you, so he wouldn’t have to leave the dorm to purchase such items. This was actually a good thing because you could make him smell however you wanted! Though you don’t want to think about the time you found out he used a 9 in 1 shampoo. (It was banned from the dorm immediately.)

One of the other things you did for Zandik was cutting his hair. Many of his haircuts were done by you, he found it convenient since he could continue to read while you snipped-snipped his locks away. You normally kept it short, so it wouldn’t get in the way of whatever illegal or legal things he wanted to do. But this time, you wondered how long his hair could grow if you didn’t intervene.

And oh, did it grow.

His blue hair was now a little bit past his shoulders, fluffy and curly thanks to your brushing. (The first few times, he had chased you away, but gave in when he found out he liked the feeling of his hair being combed.) Zandik didn’t bother questioning why you let his hair reach this length, he didn’t care much about his appearance unless it was bothering him personally. Until now.

“[Name], give me a haircut,” Zandik’s annoyed voice broke the silence of the room, his notes lying abandoned on the desk as he gave you a vexed look, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. You giggled, pushing away your homework that was definitely due the next day in favor of your lover.

“Oh? You’re not enjoying the long hair anymore?”

“It’s grown to be inconvenient,” he muttered. “It’s so long, sometimes blood gets matted in it.” You had to hold back a snicker at that complaint. As to why Zandik simply didn’t tie it up, well, for some reason, he doesn’t like doing that. Oh, but you do wonder how he managed to get blood in his hair. Usually, he’s more careful than that with his subjects. Guess it was indeed time for a haircut. “And these bangs, they get in the way of my eyes. It’s hindering my research,” he huffed.

“Alright, alright, I’ll cut it,” you chuckled. You just wished you had some sort of device that could capture his current look forever. It was just so adorable to see Zandik with a mop of fluffy long hair.

After you had set up the area with a towel and a mirror, you got your scissors and comb ready (unfortunately Tevyat didn’t have any better tools.) Zandik already had his attention placed on a hefty ancient book, and you began to move the scissors to a tuff of hair.

Snip. The fluff ball flew down to the floor. And that was when you paused. All of this hair was really going to be gone soon. Which was a shame, considering it was really growing on you. But then an idea popped into your head.

“Hey Zandik,” you said, propping your arms on his shoulders, “What if I gave you a different haircut?” A few seconds of silence passed and you couldn’t contain a grin as Zandik’s red eyes flicked up from his book to stare at you through the mirror you had placed in front of you two.

“Is this why you didn’t bother cutting my hair for so long? I don’t recall being asked to be part of your little experiment.”

“Well, it’s not like you were that much of an unwilling participant. If you truly hated it, you would have made me cut it a long time ago, no?” Zandik scoffed and you took it as a sign it wasn’t a flat-out no.

“Come on! You’ve had that same haircut for years, it’s time to spice things up a bit,” you insisted. “It’ll look so good, promise,” you pouted, going as far as to press your cheek against his scowling face. He let out a sigh but you already knew he was going to agree. It’s the intuition you got from years of dealing with him.

“Fine. Do as you like,” he grumbled, giving you authority over the direction his hair would be now, as he returned his attention to the book. “As long as it is something decent.” You silently cheered.

You had a faint vision of what you wanted, but you had to be cautious of the snip-snipping. Maybe you should start with the bangs first. Instead of the hair falling on his forehead, you wanted to clear that area and make two long bangs to the side of his face instead. Convenient, Zandik’s favorite, and pretty too, your favorite! And so you got to work, clipping and cutting around. But it seemed like your human experiment was more interested than you gave him credit for.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” Zandik let out a discontented noise but allowed you to proceed. You found it amusing how his eyes were flickering up to you every now and then to assess your progress. And soon enough, you had done it! Two long, blue locks of hair now bordered your boyfriend’s face, parted from the middle of his forehead. Even Zandik seemed to be satisfied with your work.

But still… it felt like there was something missing. It needed a little something else, to make it a bit unique. Perhaps if you just changed the length of one… you brought the scissors closer to snip off a piece of hair before a hand suddenly grabbed yours.

“Is it not fine this way?” Of course now he has to intervene.

“Well, it is, but… I just think it’ll look better if I just cut one a little bit.”

“I’ve never seen anyone with two differing lengths of bangs,” he frowned. “I remember asking you to present to me a decent haircut, not an outlandish one.”

“That’s because you barely go anywhere besides the dorm, Akademiya, or deep in the forest and desert,” you refuted. “It’s very stylish nowadays!” He didn’t seem much persuaded. “I’ve been cutting your hair for this long, I know what I’m doing, Zandik!”

“You’ve been doing the same haircut for years, I don’t see how that equates to knowledge or experience with other haircuts, [Name],” he rolled his eyes at you. Harmless bickering like this was normal during your Akademiya days.

“Alright, if it looks bad, I will give myself the same uneven cut. Then we’ll be even,” you whined, practically begging for him to give in. “This is very important to your long-time partner, Zandik!” You had a vision and it must be realized!

Before Zandik could let another insult roll off his tongue you made sure to throw your arms around him dramatically and bury your face in his neck, whining out another ‘please’. He stiffened at the sudden contact and you could feel the heat slowly emitting from his body, before he quickly announced his permission.

“Fine then, get on with it idiot.” He could not meet your eyes, but through the mirror, you could see his very slightly flustered face. He still had a hard time accepting physical affection without giving you a few choice words.

“I will!” With no hesitation, you snipped one of his bangs, and now, one curl of hair hovered over his shoulder while the other rested comfortably on his upper chest. And it looked… really good.

“I told you, Zandik. You need to listen to your assistant more often,” you puffed your chest out proudly. Indeed, you didn’t know much about hair, but he didn’t need to know that, and you turned out to be right anyway!

“It’s passable at best,” he remarked, but you had already translated his sour words to that of regular language: it meant that he liked it. Hopefully, now that he’d seen your expertise, the rest of the haircut would go smoothly.

Only that it was the opposite.

“I don’t like how that looks.”

“I’m just parting your hair…”

“Part it the other way.”

“I thought you didn’t care about this,” you heartily laughed and complied with his demands. “You seem more interested in this than me.” Seeing the mad scholar so into what hairstyle he was getting was rather amusing.

“I’m only doing this because I cannot afford for you to mess up, since you want to be so complicated with mere hair. And I don’t need the other scholars talking about me more than they already do.” Zandik wasn’t even trying to fake his keen attention now, the book long discarded on the table. Ah, you did love doing such domestic things with your murderous boyfriend.

It was hard to shave the side of his head, but with your boyfriend’s guidance (who was honestly better with scissors than you for… obvious reasons) you managed to get that part done. And at last, came the hair to the back of his head, which you shaped up easily. The locks of hair rested at the back of his neck and tickled his shoulders. It was long, just as you liked it, but not too long that it would be annoying. And so the haircut was done, with lots of blue locks now lying on the floor surrounding you. Zandik looked like a very different person now, more mature, you think.

“Well, how do you like it? I did quite well, I know,” you hummed running your fingers through his newly formatted locks.

“It’s adequate,” he replied dryly. But it seems like your content smile and gentle hands on him brought out something a bit nicer. “Not bad, indeed.”

“I’m glad you like it, love,” you pecked his forehead before you pulled away, stretching out your body. You didn’t realize how sore you were from all of that until after it was done. And now your body was crying to just collapse in the soft bed and go to sleep. Oh, your homework? Eh… your homework could wait for the morning. You’d just let Zandik do it for you. Speaking of Zandik… it looks like he was already preparing to start getting back into his research and notes again.

“Zandik, I know you’re not thinking of going back to work now,” you sighed. “You’ve been sitting down for hours.” He simply shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“It doesn’t bother me. And I’m busy. During our last expedition, I discovered that…” Out of nowhere, he began to go off into a tangent about something he learned, which you still listened to, because you did enjoy his mini-lectures, but the new haircut especially made him look extra alluring. It was really a good look on him… and now his voice was making you want to fall asleep even more.

“Mhm, that seems quite interesting… but you’ve been pulling all-nighters this whole week. I didn’t forget how you fell asleep in the middle of dismantling a Ruin Drake during that same expedition,” you smiled, a little bit threateningly.

“It was only for a few minutes-”

“And also,” you interrupted. “I do not want to be woken up in the middle of the night during one of your loud eureka moments again, Zandik,” you stated firmly, “Especially not after I just broke my back standing up for so long. Bed. Now. And I will hold your arm hostage if you don’t come.” Normally there would be a long back and forth between the two of you, but it seemed that even Zandik lacked the normal energy to keep up the banter.

And so with enough pulling and tugging, the two of you landed in the bed with utter darkness around. Should you have cleaned up the tufts of hair lying on the towel you placed? Yes, but cuddles and sleep came first. And for someone who moaned and whined about getting into bed with you, after years of being together, Zandik was awfully touchy when it came down to it (in a discreet way, which wasn’t very discreet though.)

Speaking of indiscreetness, your mind was brought to a certain someone who seemed to gain some interest in Zandik a while ago. “Say, Zandik, you should let me know if Sohreh has something nice to say about your new hairstyle,” you teased. “I’m sure she’ll love it.” Zandik let out an immediate groan of annoyance.

“Don’t get me started on that girl,” he clicked his tongue in irritation. “I don’t know how much longer I can handle her.” You thought the whole situation was funny, Zandik thought it was horribly annoying.

“Aww, don’t say that… I’m sure she’ll leave you be eventually,” you giggled, tightening your arms around him while your lover just hmph-ed in response.

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to sleep? Cease this nonsense and rest already.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m doing that now, Mr. Popular,” you rolled your eyes mockingly. “Good night, Zandik,” your tone turned softer at that last statement, as you pressed a kiss to his chest before fluttering your eyes shut.

“Yes, good night, [Name],” the scientist returned the farewell in an unusually soft tone as well, only after you were fast asleep though.

The two lovers had a rather restful sleep that night.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #dottore fluff #genshin impact il dottore #il dottore #genshin il dottore #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui x reader #zandik x reader #genshin impact dottore #genshin impact zandik

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randomestdweller · 6 months ago

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A/N: I love Hatori guys, he truly doesn’t get enough love. If you hate Hatori though this fic isnt gonna help that. Hatori is pretty bad here. I wanna say he’s ooc cuz he would never do what he did in this fic BUT if he did, he would do it like this. Sorry this fic took longer than expected but it’s long so I hope it’s worth the wait. Love yall

The Good Doctor

Warnings: Power imbalances, dub con, oral sex (Hatori receiving), this is pleasurable for reader but your fear is super prevalent, reader is scared of hospitals, implied memory erasing, implied past non con, unhinged Hatori if u squint.

You always felt uneasy around Doctors.

Doctors mean hospitals; hospitals mean sick people; sick people mean diseases. A truly vicious cycle you didn’t want to be a part of.

But Hatori’s office wasn’t like that, his desk was neat, his room was sterile, and he was always so gentle but firm nonetheless.

Or so you heard. You hadn’t been privy to his services being that he resided in the main part of the estate and you outside, even more so than that his primary patient was the family head Akito, who had a penchant for getting sick. You finally got an opening to visit Hatori after you refused to go to a regular Doctor and fell behind on necessary vaccines.

So on the awaited day of your appointment, you trekked on tatami mats through the main estate to the Hatori’s office. It wasn’t a particularly long walk to his workplace from your home, but your hands were trembling regardless.

This was your first time meeting your new Physician, who wouldn’t be nervous?

The Door to Hatori’s place was now within grabbing distance on your left hand side. Nerves built up like a dam in your chest as you grappled at the door knob. With a surge of adrenaline you swung the door open with so much force it clattered against the frame.

Hatori startled a little from where he sat behind his wooden desk.

“Please knock next time,” he said as he rose from his chair to greet you. His lab coat hung on his seat, as he only wore his usual white button down, tie, and vest combo. His dark hair was a bit tousled from hours spent writing at his work space.

“I’m so sorry,” you bowed sharply before turning and closing the door with just as much force. Your adrenaline fueled confidence had long since abandoned you, making you face the Doctor alone.

Strong hands grabbed your shoulders, “it’s fine.”

Hatori’s warmth seeped into you from behind, as he guided you to a separate room, decorated with a hospital bed, counter with a sink, and a wall of cabinets, that you assumed held stuff such as ointments, medicines, and since Hatori was a doctor, presumably needles—.

Your body tensed up as you thought about it. If there was one thing you hated most about Doctors offices, it was getting a shot.

“Are you okay?” Hatori asked, from your right side as he kneeled down to grab something out of a lower cabinet.

You let out a weak groan in response, whether it was a yes or no was a mystery of which you weren’t even privy to the answer to.

Hatori stood up to his full height again as he moved to hand you something, a hospital gown? You hesitated to take it, but obliged under his watchful eye.

You didn’t intend to stay overnight, or eve long for that matter, so the gown seemed a bit over the top to you.

“Change into this and when you are down please wait for me on the bed,” Hatori passed the dress to you and took his leave, also instructing you to take everything off so the gown fit comfortably.

You quietly watched him leave, and when the door was once again between you and Hatori, you removed your shirt without a thought and carelessly tossed it onto the counter space next to you.

However you paused as your fingers began to fiddle with the button of your jeans, surely he didn’t mean for you to remove your underwear too, right?

Comfort first, I’ll keep those on. You decided as you slid the pants off and threw them next to your shirt.

Now that you were stripped to your bra and panties, the chilliness of the room reminded you to put on the gown and wait for Hatori on the bed.

The gown fit better than you’d anticipated, as you sat down it didn’t strain against you. The fabric was also of good quality, but the Sohma’s were a rich family, so it was no real surprise that they’d have expensive hospital wear.

But what was surprising was how long you had to wait for Hatori to return. There was no clock in the room, so with no sense of time, you attempted to listen for movement outside the door but there was nothing.

No shuffling, thumping, or even talking, just silence. Had Hatori left the area?

Your foot anxiously tapped on the porcelain floors. Your breathing may have stopped to match the room's stillness too, as you took in a greedy gasp of air when the door finally slid open.

Hatori had came back, now sporting his lab jacket and a metallic clip board. He’d even gone with the whole doctor look and had a stethoscope wrapped around his neck.

He took in your disorganized clothes with his eyes narrowed in disdain, before his gaze shifted to you. You stifled a shiver in discomfort as he scrutinized you.

Hatori’s stare traveled up your body, taking note of your bobbing leg, as they continued to unabashedly study you, his eyes took turns looking at papers in his hand before inspecting you again.

“Do you have any clothing left on?” Hatori’s question startled you, not because of how his voice rumbled, or how it was the first thing he had said to you, but because it was an odd question. He could see you didn’t have pants or shirt on, so why was he curious about anything else?

Ever the observant Doctor, Hatori spoke once more, “you’re due for a check up.” He glanced at the clipboard again.

“So I need to examine everything.” You didn’t move, he could examine you with your underlings on, no? Just what kind of Doctor is he?

And more importantly, what had you signed yourself up for?

“Everything?” It was now your turn to cut through the silence. Your voice wasn’t as strong as Hatori’s but you tried anyway.

“Yes, (Y/N), everything.” He still hadn’t elaborated on that but he did add an emphasis on the word everything.

“What’s everything mean?” Hatori’s index finger and thumb came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. That scared you a bit, you hadn’t meant to irritate him, you were only curious.

“You’re due for a pelvic exam.”

Oh.

That’s why you needed to remove your underwear. So this Doctor, who’d you never met before, could investigate your vagina

You definitely weren’t comfortable with this development, not in the slightest, but the room grew colder as Hatori became more and more exasperated with your resistance.

“Could you turn around?” Your words were mumbled together, as your embarrassment became palpable. Hatori released his nostrils and looked at you briefly, before turning away to face the door.

“Of course.”

Hesitating for one more second, you brought your hands to the waistband of your panties before sliding them down your legs. These you folded, and placed neatly next to your feet, near the edge of bed but on the side of the wall, so they couldn’t slip down and onto the floor.

If he intended to examine you down there, you could at least keep your bra on.

“You can turn around now.” You sat back again but crossed your legs at the ankle as Hatori faced you again.

He silently walked over to the end of the bed by your feet before placing his clipboard down, right beside your panties. Hatori paid the red cloth no mind though, as he sat on a rolling stool, and began to ask you questions.

“How long has it been since your last visit to the Doctors office?”

“A decent amount of time,” your breath hitched as Hatori placed his hands just above your feet and untangled them.

“You’ve had a pelvic exam before, I assume.”

“Yes, not recently though,” your legs unconsciously formed a triangle shape with the bed, as Hatori pushed them towards your head. The conversation was light while Hatori gently lowered your gown down your thighs, until it cupped on your lower chest.

It didn’t register that he had even spread your knees open and gave himself access to your cunt, until his breath fanned over your inner thighs.

Your legs instinctively tried to kick out, but Hatori held them in place, and even squeezed them in reassurance.

“Calm down, I’m preparing for your exam.”

Your eyes locked with Hatori’s, “right now?” You weren’t ready for that, not by a longshot. It didn’t seem that he cared though, as his head didn’t move from in front of your vagina.

“Is there a problem, the sooner we finish here, the sooner you get to go on your way.” His words brought little comfort, but it also didn’t seem like he wanted to comfort you anyway. Hatori was just being courteous.

Your intimate area was on display for him, and he couldn’t care less.

He’s doing his job. The thought that this was a normal thing for him, was somehow even worse for you. Still waiting on your approval, Hatori drummed his fingers on your thighs lazily.

“Okay,” you relented once again. You gasped as Hatori sat up and pulled your legs down so that they hung off the bed.

That was new. No Doctor had done that during a pelvic exam, but looking around to distract yourself from Hatori’s intense gaze on your vagina, you were reminded Hatori wasn’t a regular Doctor and that was why you chose him.

But, you were still sure Doctors usually tied your legs to the bed in some capacity.

Your uncomfort must have shown on your face as Hatori’s breath tickled your clit when he leaned back into you and spoke.

“Is this position uncomfortable?” Your face must have also been bright red because you had to suppress a shudder.

“Nope,” you quipped quickly, “please continue.”

Hatori released a deep sigh from his nose that lightly fanned over your clit.

“Do you know your anatomy, (Y/N)?” Hatori asked lowly, his eyes never looking up from between your thighs, the Doctor's focus was so intense that it made you want to snap your legs shut to break his trance.

“Not really,” it was embarrassing to admit that you knew little to nothing about yourself, but who really takes the time to know that? Not you, that’s for sure.

One of his hands brushed down your leg and began to spread your second lips to give him access to your clit, “these folds are called your labia.”

The vibrations of Hatori’s voice caused a deep well to form in your stomach. You hoped that you weren’t growing wet under his examination turned lesson.

You followed along intently to his lecture.

“This beautiful button here is called your clit.” Hatori’s thumb lightly pressed the bud, “it has about 8000 nerve endings compared to a Man’s head of a penis having 4000.”

That’s odd, why was he bringing that up?

After a nod from you, Hatori continued. His thumb left your clit and slid down your slit. His eyes and thumb lifted, in tandem, to show you the wetness he collected, “this is a self produced lubricant. It occurs when a Woman is sexually aroused to allow for painless intercourse.”

Hatori lowered his eyes again before carrying on, “it’s safe to assume you know what intercourse is, correct?”

Tears beaded in your eyes in embarrassment, this man was making you feel an unbelievable mix of uncomfortable and horny, while you barren for him.

He even had the nerve to ask if you knew what sex was!

“Yes,” you dragged the s sound out, as Hatori inserted the tip of his index finger into you.

“This is standard practice, so relax,” Hatori tried to coax you into loosening around him.

After a while of stillness, Hatori slowly pushed the rest of his finger into you. You let out a gasp as he sunk deeper into your cunt.

“How does this feel, does the stretch hurt?”

You ignored his question, in favor of asking your own, “is this okay?”

You felt breathlessly as Hatori’s finger finally entered you all the way.

“Of course, why are you hesitating?” Hatori drew his finger back.

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh,” Hatori paused, still halfway in you, “well then you’re in good hands.”

Hatori withdrew from you all the way and stood up, “anyhow, it seems like you’re enjoying yourself.”

He must have been teasing you about how much your cunt was dripping now, a single finger had almost broken down the floodgates building in your lower stomach, not that it mattered now, that knot was unfolding itself from the lack of stimulation.

“You’re a good student, perhaps we can kick this lesson up a few notches.”

Hatori feverishly began unbuckling his belt and once that was finished he moved to his zipper. He dug into his pants and fished out his semi-hard cock.

Seems like you weren’t the only one who was enjoying your time together.

“This,” Hatori collected his own fluids that accumulated on the tip of his penis before, stepping over to your head and sticking his finger in your face, “this is called pre-ejaculation, also known as precum, it’s also a lubricant for sex. However it’s second job is to help semen, or cum, survive.”

Hatori’s finger moved to prod at your lips, “try mine.”

Your lips unconsciously shut as your teeth clenched.

“Come now”, Hatori stepped closer to you, bringing his erection to your face. It was so close you were able to see even more precum building up, and dripping down his head.

Hatori’s eyes noticeably darkened when you looked at him again.

“Don’t be stubborn, (Y/N),” his voice also had a chiller edge to it. Hatori chided you like you were an insolent child, that made you want to deny him again, of course out of spite but more so out of real fear.

This was not normal, that you were sure of.

Not wanting to offend the Doctor anymore, you reluctantly brought your tongue out to lick his finger clean.

“Open wider,” he demanded as his left hand lifted your head slightly off the mattress when it buried itself in your hair.

Opening wider was exactly what you did too. You unclenched your jaw and began to bring your tongue back to his finger but he yanked on the roots of your hair, making you cry out.

“I think you can take something else now,” you had barely processed his words before he brought his penis to rest on the walls of your slack mouth, “have you ever given fellatio before?”

Why ask if you were going to do it anyway?

Hatori was patient while he waited for you to collect yourself before speaking, “I guess not?”

Hatori hesitated no further as his hips came forward, when he came close enough that you were sure you could count the number of pubes he had, you gagged hard.

Your eyes clenched shut in pain and shock.

“Ah, that’s your limit I see,” Hatori didn’t seem worried for you, as he pressed a bit more before withdrawing to the tip, “it’s still the same.”

He mumbled the last sentence but it traveled down to your ears, what did he mean?

You meant to ask him but his snapped towards your face, you also tried to recoil but his hand kept you firmly in place as he fucked your mouth.

You remained still for him, wanting the experience to be over soon, his pubes occasionally scratching your nose, his balls hitting your chin, and the gagging was too much. The sensations had completely undone the knot in your stomach.

Just when you felt Hatori throb in your mouth, he pulled out for the last time. He threw a hand through his hair as he panted.

“I hope you don’t think I’ve abandoned your pleasure,” he whispered, as he walked to stand in between your legs. His index finger and thumb moved to pinch your clit.

The pain was short lived as pleasure washed over you in a tidal wave.

“I wonder if this will make you remember, you’re much more willing this time.” Hatori continued to mumble to himself.

“I hate erasing our passion but I fear it was necessary, you weren’t too compliant before, now your body responds readily for me.”

Hatori lined himself up with your entrance as you began to plead with him.

“No, no, not here, not now,” tears built up in your eyes as Hatori began to slide inside you. You weren’t as wet as before so the pleasure didn’t make the pain or stretching, that felt much more like tearing, forgettable.

As you realized Hatori had no intention of stopping you said one final plea, “be gentle, please.”

He had never stopped talking to himself but you could tell his final sentence was directed towards you.

“I always am.”

#hatori sohma x reader smut #hatori sohma x reader #hatori x reader #hatori sohma smut #hatori sohma #fruits basket x reader #fruits basket #fruits basket Hatori sohma x reader #fruits basket Hatori sohma x reader smut #fruits basket Hatori sohma smut

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hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf · 4 months ago

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Kinktober Day 9: Masturbation with Hongjoong

Trigger warnings:

Content warnings: toys and bad attitudes - kinda (read: mc’s a little bratty and hongjoong doesn’t like that)

Summary: Your fuck buddy wants you to put on a show for him.

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: hi all 🥰 after much consideration, i’ve decided to repost my kinktober 2022 stories. i had a great time writing these a couple years ago and want to share them again now that it’s been a while and i’ve had time to fall in love with them again. i hope you all enjoy! and by all means, feel free to send a message or comment here if you’d like to be part of the new tag list!

Tags: @bahng-chrizz

Smut below the cut

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s a little unfair.” You pouted. “If I’m calling up a fuck buddy it’s cause I need to get railed, not cause I want an audience while I masturbate.”

He listened to you in silence for a few seconds until you started to crumble and finally gave a blasé response. “If you wanna get fucked into the mattress tonight, this is the prerequisite.”

You wanted to be mad, you really did, but it was impossible. So you let out a sigh and crossed your arms as you stared at your phone. “You better wreck my shit afterwards…” You grumbled, listening to his smug hum.

“I’ll see you in five.” Before you could give a response, the line went dead and you sighed.

Hongjoong lived on the sixth floor of your apartment building. You’d run into each other a few times and were instantly attracted to each other, had even gone on dates, but neither of you were willing to cut off your other flings - though you’d eventually stopped meeting them and both of you were currently each others’ only partners. So you’d decided after hooking up after seeing each other at a bar downtown that you’d keep fucking and just make up rules along the way. You shook yourself from your thoughts as you got up from your cozy spot in the corner of your L-shaped sofa and left for your bathroom to freshen up.

He arrived sooner than he said he would so you opened the door while holding your hair up, not having had a chance to pull your hair tie from your wrist yet. He pushed the door shut and gently grabbed your wrist to stop you. “I like when you leave it down.”

“Well are you gonna help brush it out after it gets matted?” You scowled up at him as you dropped your hands to your sides and he chuckled.

“I can if you’d like me to.” He shrugged and snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. “But making you a mess is the first step.” He whispered as he nudged your head back so he could kiss your neck. You shivered when he pressed his lips to your pulse point and took a deep breath, inhaling your scent. It always got to him how nice you smelled; never failed to get him hard.

“Let’s go to my room.” You murmured, knowing he’d fuck you right there on the spot if you didn’t urge him towards your bedroom. He’d done it before.

He pulled back and stared at you for a moment before nodding. He looked like he wanted to speak - he did - but he waited until you closed your bedroom door behind him. “Open your drawer.” You wrinkled your nose at him but went to your bedside table and opened the bottom drawer as he made his way over. He knelt down and grabbed a condom, tossing it on the bed before picking up your wand vibrator. It wasn’t your favorite but he seemed to love it. “I want you to use this too.” You nodded slowly and he dropped it on the duvet before striding across the room to your desk and taking a seat. “Strip.”

“You want me to make a show out of this too?” You asked, making sure to sound irritated, though you were anything but when he nodded. You slid your hands under your ripped Bon Jovi Runaway tank and up your stomach, reaching higher until you were cupping your breasts. You let out a small sigh as you gave a gentle squeeze before pulling the top over your head. You dropped it on the floor and took note of the way his expression changed when he saw your bare chest, smug at the effect you had on him.

You popped the button on your denim shorts and shimmied out of them, letting them drop to the floor and pool around your feet. You did a quick turn after stepping out of them and showed off your ass, half covered by a pair of lace cheeky panties. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw him shift in your office chair, putting the slight tent in his sweats on display for you. You bit back a teasing comment about him already being half hard at almost nothing and hooked your fingers in the elastic waist of your panties.

You pushed them down and smirked at the sharp inhale you heard from behind you before getting on the bed. You propped against the headboard and frowned at him, legs drawn towards your chest and crossed at the ankle to obscure his view. “Why do you have to be all the way over there? Come closer.”

“What, are you worried I won’t hold up my end of the bargain?”

“Not at all. But isn’t it only fair if I also get to watch you?” You tilted your head to the side as he stood. “Besides, we both know how much you love my pussy. You’ll be dying to touch me at some point.” You teased and he rolled his eyes at you.

“Unlike you, I have self control.” He sniped as he crawled onto the foot of the bed, towering over you despite only being on his knees. He reached for your legs and you shrank away from him, sticking your tongue out. He froze with his hand out and cut his eyes at you, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek in annoyance. “Oh, you wanna be like that tonight, huh?”

“So what if I do?” You challenged, your tone full of innocence despite the defiance you spewed.

“You should know by now,” he started, reaching for you again and gripping your knees. “That acting up will only get you edged until you’re crying out of desperation and that when I do finally let you cum - if I let you cum - I won't stop until you’re an incoherent babbling mess, crying from the overstimulation as you try to writhe away from me.” His voice was low and dangerous and you felt a thrill run through your body. “So unless you wanna be on bedrest for the next week, I suggest you drop the attitude.” Your mouth went dry at his threat and you allowed him to part your legs. “That’s what I thought. Now show me how you get off when I’m not here.”

You nodded slowly and he sat back, gaze trailing down your body and locking on your cunt. You closed your eyes to avoid any chance of making eye contact with him and licked your fingers before teasing your nipples. To be honest, it was embarrassing. You felt strange at the thought of someone seeing you at your most vulnerable, holding the knowledge of what you did when you were alone. It was something you usually reserved for a boyfriend, yet you were allowing Hongjoong to see. The trepidation only made you wetter though and you found yourself rushing to dip a single finger into your heat and drag your wetness up to your clit.

You started out small, isolating your middle finger and circling your clit while you brought your other hand to your mouth to stifle your sounds. You moaned for the benefit of your partners, it didn’t change how things felt to you, and he wanted to know how you took care of yourself when he wasn’t around to fuck your stress away. So you kept quiet save for an occasional whine whenever you pressed your fingers back inside.

You heard a soft sigh one such time and peeked out to find him with his dick in his hand, working himself slowly. You wanted to get on your knees and suck the life out of him, or maybe turn your ass up in the air and let him fuck you stupid. You did neither and instead reached for the wand he’d tossed on the bed earlier.

“Put it on the highest setting.” Your eyes flew open and you stared at him in surprise, parting your lips to stutter out a ‘b-but-’ only to be cut off. “Not a word. If you question me, I’ll leave.” Your mouth snapped shut and you did as he demanded, letting out a surprised cry despite knowing what would happen. “That’s a much nicer sound than all the backchat you seem to enjoy.” He said smugly, watching as you tried to relax yourself.

You couldn’t have responded if you’d wanted to, you were too high strung to form a coherent sentence. You simply tried to combat the borderline-overwhelming pleasure and forced your eyes open to watch him. He was on his knees again and he looked like he wanted to reach out and touch you with his free hand. You let your head fall back against the headboard, eyes slipping shut as you bit back a moan.

You reached blindly for him with your free hand and he took it in his, lacing your fingers together. “You’re doing so good for me.” He cooed, noticing the brattiness had entirely left your system and was replaced with desperation and the overwhelming need to be good. “You’re so close, aren’t you?” He sounded like he was talking to a child with the way he coached you. He was right though. He knew all your tells and it was obvious to him that you were on the verge of combusting. “Let go. It’s okay.”

His thumb swiped over the side of your hand in a comforting motion and the tingles that spread from there were the final straw. You couldn’t possibly hold back even if you’d been ordered to. You let out a cry of ecstasy that vaguely sounded like his name as your back arched from the bed and his grip on your hand tightened. You tried to ride out your orgasm with the wand pressed firmly to your clit but it grew to be too much and you threw it to the side, trying to catch your breath as your body spasmed.

After a few minutes of calming yourself, during which Hongjoong had leaned over you to fuss over and take care of you, you opened your eyes and were greeted with his fond expression less than two inches away from your face. “You back?” You nodded and offered a dazed smile.

“I’m back.” You assured him and he leaned closer to press a kiss to your forehead. He was always extremely gentle with you after an orgasm - unless you were being a brat, then he would put you back in your place before finally offering a gentle touch when you couldn’t take anymore.

“You did so good.” He praised and you averted your eyes to contain the pride that swelled in your chest. It was then that you realized he didn’t finish.

“Does that mean you’ll fuck me stupid now?” You asked with a playful grin as you looked back up at him. His expression darkened, his want for you on full display, and his gaze shifted to your lips.

“Hands and knees.”

<-d-8 | d-10->

#kpop smut #ateez #ateez smut #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong #hongjoong smut #ateez kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong smut #kinktober #alura’s works

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whatavery · 5 months ago

Text

Sweet Mayfly Fly Away

An art trade I did for @miles-crow a while ago featuring Atlas and Asa. We love us some old man yaoi around here, don't we?

---

As the door slid open, Asa glanced up in time to see the familiar, leaner figure of his friend stepping into the dimly lit office. Cigar smoke swirled around Asa as he exhaled, his face breaking into a smile.

“Ah, Atlas… I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” Atlas may was dressed as sharply as ever in a nice, sleek, almost form-fitting black three-piece suit. Asa grinned and drew another deep hit of his cigar, exhaling slowly after the smoke had filled his lungs. Asa himself was also dressed up in a similar getup. He knew it was almost time.

“I wouldn't miss a party of yours for the world,” the gray tabby simply said as he took a seat on the other side of Asa's desk. Atlas wasn't a man who smiled very often, but just then, Asa noticed the unmistakable way the corners of the gray cat’s mouth tugged themselves upwards. “Look at you, working on the night of your own party…”

“Not working, just… making sure everything is as it should be,” Asa chuckled, before he resumed looking over the paperwork. Granted, he had a hard time keeping his eyes on it now that Atlas occupied the chair opposite him.

They occasionally stole glances at each other and Atlas didn’t seem to mind just waiting.

“Oh, but where are my manners…” Asa gestured towards the jars on his desk, one holding cigars, the others holding candy. “See something you like?”

“I certainly do.” Atlas’ eyes weren't even on the candy. Instead, the tabby’s golden eyes were staring straight into Asa's green ones. Asa smirked at him and chuckled.

“Well, afraid I can’t let you do that, old friend,” he said with a wink. Asa put out his cigar on a nearby ashtray beside his desk mat, and pulled the lid off a jar. He popped a hard rock candy into his mouth. “We’ll need something else to occupy your mouth tonight.”

“I’ll have one of those then…” Atlas leaned in closer, eyes still staring into Asa's. When Atlas opened his mouth, Asa knew what he wanted, making him snicker. And without a second thought, he picked out a piece of candy for his oldest friend and gently placed it into his mouth. When he briefly felt the other man licking his finger, Asa found himself grinning some.

“We really need to find you a lady friend – get those queer tendencies under control,” he teased him. He showed one of those small smiles Asa knew so well. Since the day they'd met, Atlas hadn't been much for smiling. Although many people found it intimidating, it hadn't ever bothered Asa. Besides, he knew fully well how to make Atlas crack smiles on a semiregular basis.

Asa finally rose to his feet and adjusted his red tie, before he checked his jacket and his vest, the left side of his chest adorned with the signature orange Marigold flower. “Mayhaps tonight is the night.”

“Mayhaps…” Atlas said, though he didn’t seem like the prospect was one that interested him very much. Asa had barely stepped around his desk before Atlas stopped him in his tracks. “You already know who I want, though.”

Feeling his friend invading his personal space, Asa gave him an almost guilty smile. He shook his head. “You’re a strange man, Atlas May. Pining for your oldest friend who’s taken.”

Atlas’ small smile faded quite noticeably when Asa reminded him. They both knew, it wasn't as though it were some shocking revelation that Asa was seeing someone. Atlas leaned in towards him till their lips almost met. “Can you blame me?”

“Well, I just want to remind you that no matter how bad you want it – no matter how bad we want it – we can’t, Atlas…” It was a rare, serious moment between them that didn’t involve business. For decades, they'd been together, generally in secret. Not many people would understand what they had.

“I know…” Atlas replied in that calm, almost cold voice of his. “I’m merely wondering what changed… This new lady of yours really must be something special…”

It was true, things had changed. They didn’t use to let something like this stop them. They'd always sneak around, kiss in secret, spends passionate nights together. Asa inwardly swore and closed his eyes.

Their lips met and Asa already regretted it. He couldn’t help it, he knew he shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t encourage this. Tonight was the night they were meant to end things, they had been doing this for far too long.

“She’s�� Yeah, she’s something, alright, Atlas…” But she’s not you, Asa almost said. However, based on the look on Atlas’ face, he doubted he needed to say anything. Atlas’ lips were so sweet, and not just from the candy in his mouth. Perhaps his old friend just tasted all the sweeter because they shouldn’t be kissing.

Feeling Atlas’ hands on his cheeks was about enough to make Asa melt. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Stop…”

“Stop?”

Asa opened his eyes again and looked into Atlas’ piercing, golden ones that always took Asa's breath away. “Please, Atlas… You know how I feel.”

“I do know… But we’ve done this before. Tell me why it’s different,” Atlas demanded. Asa sighed inwardly as Atlas stroked his cheeks with his hands, being so very gentle. “That’s all you need to do, and I’ll drop it.”

Despite himself, Asa put his arms around Atlas and held him close. “Because I love you, Atlas. You know as well as I that we can’t have a normal life. You've been with me longer than anyone, you know I would marry you if I could.”

Atlas fell silent and said nothing for a moment. When Asa pulled back to look at him, the other cat had a somber expression on his face. Atlas was the first to avert his gaze, looking down. Asa took a hold of both his hands, holding them against his own cheeks. He removed Atlas’ hands after a moment of enjoying the feeling.

“Atlas… please, I want you to be properly happy… We can’t keep doing this for the rest of our lives. As much as I want to. I want you to be happy,” Asa said, repeating the main point of what he was trying to say. “You understand, don’t you?”

Even after that, Atlas said nothing, he didn’t even meet Asa's eyes. He closed his eyes again and sighed. “I know. And you know how much I love you. There's no one I've ever wanted like I want you, Ace.”

Asa couldn’t help but smile sadly upon hearing Atlas using that nickname that no one else used for him – not even the women he had seen in his life. “And I feel the same about you, Lassie.”

Upon hearing his own nickname, Atlas likewise gave a sad smile of his own. He kissed Asa's lips gently, briefly. Though they both knew it was wrong, it didn’t end at a kiss. Asa knew for a fact that while it could be seen as a finality, the ending of what they had had for decades, it might also make it harder to leave it behind. There wasn't a thing in the world Asa wouldn't do for Atlas, and he felt he owed the most important person in his life something good.

Feeling slightly lightheaded by the time they prepared to leave for the party downstairs, Asa stopped Atlas in his tracks. From a desk-drawer, Asa produced a small, black box and handed it to Atlas. He gave his dearest friend a sad kind of smile as he peered into the box. Atlas’ eyes darted back up to Asa's, fleeting hope showing itself on his face for just the briefest of moments.

Smiling sadly, Asa shook his head. “Give that to a woman you think is good enough for a man like you one day, Lassie. Give it to her and know it’s the ring I would’ve given you.”

Atlas closed his eyes and nodded. He seemed to steel himself before he eventually pocketed the ring. Nevertheless, he walked from the office with Asa. Asa kept stealing glances at Atlas, searching his handsome face for some, any kind of reaction – some way of knowing what he was thinking. Had it been a mistake to end things? Had giving Atlas that ring he'd held onto for almost a full year been the real mistake? Asa had no way of knowing, seeing as Atlas gave him nothing to really go off of.

But they made it down to the Marigold Room no problem. Asa had wanted to make tonight special. Perhaps it was knowing that he wanted to end things with Atlas, perhaps he wanted to see it as a new beginning. It would be quite a party with many people invited, it would have a band playing live music, a different band than the usual one. These people were from out of town and Asa didn’t know who they were. He just hoped they could deliver.

Perhaps this new band could bring about something new. A symbolic or literal new start for the both of them.

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy fanfiction #atlas may #asa sweet #Asa/Atlas #doomed yaoi #old man yaoi #sweet mayfly

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catnipaddictt · 10 months ago

Text

Work song

wc: 2.7k

series masterlist ⭑ co-creator @memoiich

Entering the office took years off your life. Not only were you tired you were now sweaty and flustered. Moving past the old lady at the front desk you made your way to the elevator. If your day couldn’t get any worse it just did. The elevator wouldn’t open when you pushed the button so you asked the lady at the front desk and she said in a monotone voice “the elevator doesn't work, miss”. You were ready to cry but held it together, went back to the hall and looked around until you saw a big mat green door with a sign “stairs'' so you ran up at 120 km an hour just to get to the office still 2 hours overdue ,swinging the door open completely.

Out of breath you were greeted with the secretary desk and the angry man standing in front of it. Mr Rex, your brain told you quickly. You recognised him from the flyer, he was wearing a blue suit with a matching tie and three gold clips, and well, his face was livid. Pure anger radiated from him “Do you know what this is?” he questioned gesturing to the desk behind it “this is the desk you should have been sitting at by 9 this morning“, “I'm so sorry sir I-“ “I don't need your excuses I need a explanation“ at this point more and more gazes fell on you, “My car broke down mid way, I had to walk the rest of the way here, it took me 30 min, i'm so sorry sir” he let a sign escape past his hardened facade and he spoke way calmer now “well why don't you get to work then, and if you have any questions ask someone other than me, do you understand?“, “yes sir.” The army would have been proud of you. “Just call me Rex” but Rex clearly wasn’t. He walked away from you back to his office and you settled behind your new desk.

You had come from a branch in your hometown so the work wasn’t hard to adjust to. Reading emails, forwarding emails, getting the planning in check. Rex was a busy guy and it was clear that he hadn’t had a secretary in a few weeks, So it took some time to get it all in check, at least an hour…or 3. It also was taking an extra long to finish because you were very very very tired. Your eyes were closing as if they were shutters, then open, then closed, until a hand waved in front of your face. The hand snapped you out of it pretty quickly and you finally heard a voice.

“Hello there, didn’t mean to intrude but you look …sleepy” you looked at the man. He had to be in his late 20’s dressed with a kind smile and matching gentle blue-greenish eyes. Your gaze must have stayed pretty long because he chuckled and handed you a cup. Taking the cup you looked back at him “don’t worry it's just coffee, my name's Obi wan Kenobi, I work over there” he pointed over his shoulder at the now empty desk in front of you. You must have been really tired because you would have noticed the handsome man not 3 metres in front of you. "I'm y/n, I work here now” you pointed at the desk below you “I noticed, you made quite an entrance” he said holding back a snort. “Well yeah, my car broke down and this arrogant mechanic left me at the side of the street and then I had to walk and it's like 50 min at least and then yesterday my neighbour just…” he cuts you off. “Do you have a ride home?” Obi wan asked you partly to stop the word flow. Not having thought that you answered “No, I don't”, “Well Qui Gon and I carpool” he pointed at an older friendly looking gentleman with well kept hair that reached his mid back at the left end of the office, who waved at the two of you. You waved back smiling “ If you wanted to we could give you a lift” he followed up. “I would love that”.

Rex's office door flung open. ”That's my sign to go!” Obi wan said while turning on his heel. Rex walked over to you “Do you have my plans for next week?”, “Yeah it's right here, I planned the meeting with HQ on Wednesday instead of Monday because bail organa is visiting Monday”. “Bail visits quite often so you don't have to worry about his meetings, just make sure to tell Obi wan ”, “Do you want me to move HQ back to Monday?”, “No, I don't need to see fives just yet”. “Okay then this is the final planning”, you say as you hand him the sheet of paper. “That’s perfect, you've been working for a few hours now, why don't you take a break” he said and walked straight back to his office.

Then it dawned on you that you definitely didn’t know the layout of this office at all. After the morning you kind of just sat down and did your job. You looked around confused when Obi wan raised his hand and pointed to a brown door with a little window. While walking to it you looked only to be greeted by the second shit-eating smirk of the day. It also looked strangely familiar. Weird...

You opened the small door and were greeted with the sight of 2 vending machines, a little kitchen and 4 tables that seated four. At one of those tables sat Mr. Jinn eating a fruit bowl and sipping a glass of jawa juice. He waved you over, though it was more of a swipe of the hand than a wave. Sitting in front of him you could now see that he must have been closer to his 40s than his 30s. ”You’re y/n aren't you?” he said, more of a statement rather than a question “Yeah that’s me”. Before you could question why he was so confident in his guess, He answered, “Obi wan told me you would carpool with us” he finished it off with a smile that made the crows feet beneath his eyes appear. “only if it's not a bother of course”, “It’s definitely not a bother, you look like a decent person plus even a indecent person wouldn’t be a bother if they need the help”. You weren’t used to your coworkers being ...well nice . At your last job there was an intern named Axel who couldn’t catch a hint if it gave him a head start. ”Thank you Mr Jinn''. “Just Qui Gon is fine”. Qui Gon had gone back to munching on his fruit bowl, so you had followed his example and started eating your late lunch. It was quite peaceful. Qui Gon was one of those rare people who understood and respected universal silence, without fidgeting under its pressure. But that beloved silence was broken when 3 men stumbled through the door.

One of them was Mr Kenobi but the other 2 you only noticed in the office. The first one sat across from Mr Kenobi. He was a Kiffar and had a golden line across his nose right under his eyes. He was doubled over laughing while holding on to the second man. And a green Nautolan who was laughing even louder than the last. The only one that wasn’t laughing was Mr.Kenobi. He was wearing a sour expression and a noticeable blush covering his face. “Wanna carpool” the Kiffar yelled and bumped his hip with Mr.Kenobi's.

You looked over to Qui Gon who had a ‘disappointed father’ look. He let out a fake cough “uh hum“ at the pure sound of it, the 3 of them looked your way. Fear was the only way to describe the look upon their faces. The Kiffar was the first to snap out of it, “Hey i’m Quinlan Vos and this is Kit Fisto” he pointed to the green Nautolan on his left. ”And this one you already know” he finishes while grabbing Mr.Kenobi by the shoulder. “It's nice to meet the both of you” they both shook your hand.” Mr kenobi i had to tell you that Monday Mr. Organa is visiting” you remembered “Yeah Mr. Kenobi you have a meeting Monday” Quinlan responded with a odd tone to his voice. Mr Kenobi was clearly flustered “I could possibly change the meeting if your nervous “ you said “oh no there is no need I just I'm not used to being called by my last name” he retorted “I thought it was company policy” you said. At your last job they were rather strict on this rule mainly because ‘you're obviously a secretary, you should have some respect’, so it became the norm. ”We generally are a bit more lax when it comes to the rules,” Qui Gon stated. Then Rex walked in looking stressed “Y/n I need you to help me with the meeting for tomorrow now” he said more agitated than angry. You packed up your stuff quite quickly and followed Rex out to his office.

”So what seems to be the problem” you asked as nicely as you could, “I got an email from headquarters and they want to move the meeting from Wednesday to as soon as possible”, “That shouldn’t be a problem, I could probably move it to Monday, as I said before, and move Mr. Organa to Wednesday”. You didn’t know if you should call Mr. Organa Bail. “Can we have the meeting tomorrow?” He retorted “I will have to check with Obi wan since he is currently still working on the deal”. Rex turned around and pushed some numbers into the hologram behind him. “Hello Obi wan , how far away are you with the lettering company deal?” he questioned. “About as far as I could be in 2 days” Obi wan responded. “Well I need it done by tomorrow morning, goodbye”, “wait rex i-” Rex hung up. “That went great ,didn't it?” He said to you while wearing a stressed smile. All you could do was stare at him befuddled.

There was a knock on the office door so you moved to open it. “There's no need to open that” Rex whispered. Another knock came from the door “Rex, I know you’re in there!” Obi wan 's voice came from the other side. “Y/n i'm going to hide behind the door, while you open it” Rex whispered to you in the seriousness of a war commander leading his troops. So you did as you were told. “Obi wan , how can I help you?” you opened the door. “Where is he?” He asked, looking at you. You pointed at the door while saying “Oh Rex isn't here “Obi wan was holding himself back from laughing “Then why don't you go to your desk?” he said while stepping to the side. "I will, good luck finding Rex” you said with a wink.

The rest of the day went quite smoothly. When the end of the day came around people started to leave the building. You were seated near the door so you said a polite goodbye to the people that left. Most people seemed to like it except this one zabrak who made a grunting noise while rolling his yellow eyes. Rude. In the end only Obi wan and Qui Gon were left. You approached Obi wan even though he looked to be focusing on his work. You didn't need to guess why. “Can I help you?”

“I don’t think so, I just need to plan this deal out with Ryloth lettering” he said looking rather desperate at his computer. “I'm a secretary, planning is my job” you answered with a self assured smile. Obi wan looked up from his computer and scooted over a nearby chair. You took the seat “so how may I help you?” You asked him in your secretary's voice. Obi wan gave you a look of panic as he answered, “I need to contact their office but my emails don't go through”. “Is the office still open?”, “I think so”, “okay wait”. You walk over to your desk and get the office holo out. “What's the number?” Obi wan gave you the number and you called it as quickly as you could. A man answered.

”Ryloth lettering, how can I help you this evening?” A monotone voice answered from the other side. “Hey i’m calling from Paper Force, we sadly have to move a meeting from wednesday to tomorrow morning” you told him. "May I ask with whom this supposed meeting is going to be?” Then it dawned on you that you hadn’t asked Obi wan about it so you did the good-old talking a bit away from the phone. “Who is the person for the meeting?” “Orn Free Taa” he whispered back. You told the man on the line his name and the hour for the meeting. “Okay Ms. L/n, the meeting has been moved forward, have a nice evening.” “You too and thanks again”

You closed the holo and Obi wan looked at you hopefully. ”So did it work?” he asked, tired and nervous. “Yes it worked, your meeting is tomorrow morning”. Obi Wan's face lit up immediately. “You’re a lifesaver Y/n” He almost yelled as he pulled you into a hug. “Are you two finally ready to go?” Qui Gon spoke, having walked in mere minutes ago.

Obi wan let go off you and you shifted a bit awkwardly around him to gather your stuff to go home. Obi wan did the same at his desk. You followed Qui Gon to the parking lot. “There she is,” he announced. As you looked past him you saw a half sage green half white Volkswagen minivan. Obi wan opened the door for you and you entered the velvet orange hippy dream that was Qui Gon 's car. “Do you like Radiohead Y/n.” Obi wan asked “I do, why?” “That's all you’re going to hear in this car" he said almost laughingly.

And right he was. 50 min and 1 entire album later you were finally back at the front door of the Alderaan apartments.

The door of ‘Shaggy’ closes with a slam. Shaggy was what Qui Gon called his wagon because “he has character” he stated. Obi wan agreed, the velvet seats had gone through quite a lot. Ever since Obi wan and Qui Gon had met back in college, Shaggy had been by their side. Qui Gon was only 2 years older but took Obi Wan under his wing pretty quickly. Because of this, Qui Gon was fine tuned to Obi Wan’s behaviour and so it began.

“So..” he let the o hang in the air as the music swirled around, “Y/n huh, quite an interesting person.” It might sound like a statement but he wanted an answer. “Yeah she's nice” he was going to talk himself out of this. It definitely wasn’t his fault that Qui Gon had walked in on that moment. He hadn’t even thought of it at the moment but yet here he was. “Do I need to just say it?” Qui Gon asked with a lilt to his voice. “I don’t know what you could be talking about my friend” Obi wan might have been known as ‘the negotiator’ of the office but whatever he was selling Qui Gon wasn't buying it. “Look, i'm not saying you did anything wrong but you know the rules, if you’re willing to break those, so be it” he stated rather gleefully as if he had just sipped the best jawa juice the world had to offer.

Obi wan knew the rules and their consequences. The office headquarters had installed them to make sure the workers would, well, work. The one Qui Gon was referring to was the ‘no work attachments' which was basically a ban on office relationships. “Oh come on Qui Gon , we both know a hug can’t be classified as a relationship” he huffed and mumbled “otherwise you may have had one” he pointed out Qui Gon ’s non-existent love life. Qui Gon burst out laughing “For your information, it's by choice” he said. He parked the car in front of the ‘for sale’ sign in Obi wan ’s front yard. “Now get out of my car, squirt.” “A nice evening to you too” Obi wan yelled back slamming the door. He watched Qui Gon leave with a wave.

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 4 months ago

Note

Can I get something about "Baba Jaga's Books" pwease?

indeed!!!! ❤️☺️

The sales room is nothing like you expect based on the gothic, decrepit looks of the rest of the brownstone; it’s domed in a high-reaching skylight of wintery sun, with shiny dark hardwood flooring instead of matted, once-red-now-brown carpet. A wispy spider descends through a beam of dust and sunlight, and reminds you of the woman’s delicate bony fingers tumbling from her skull. There is a large oak desk still smelling of fresh, spicy wood in the very center of the room with an updated, computerized filing system and cash register. In the middle of a far wall, next to a gaping dark corridor, is a large painting of what you assume to be a father and son.

He is tall, looming, with jet black hair that curls under his ears and satiny dark eyes that you think could mesmerize a corpse. His bones are strong and sharp under golden hues of flawless skin and neatly trimmed facial hair, and the red tie looped expertly around his collar would be the only color he sports if not for the plump, soft rose of his lips. Without thinking, you reach out to touch the intricate piece of art and jump back when you feel that familiar gritty texture under your fingertips.

Just a moment ago, you were behind the desk, with a good view of the entire room, and now you are inches away from this handsome man framed in rose gold.

You pull your fingers back and itch the lingering texture off on your blue jeans.

“He painted that.”

The voice from behind makes you jump again, now in the opposite direction, where you slam into the cold frame with the bony blade of your shoulders. You’re much too worried about the beautiful piece of sentimental decor, rather than your own sharp pain, and you turn to make sure you didn’t disturb it, horrified to find that you absolutely did, and scrambling to lift it up and hook the dangling corner back onto its wall fixture from whence it came.

A deep chuckle rumbles behind you, like warning thunder over the crest of rolling hills, and a pair of hands the size of your head gently lift the painting back onto the wall.

You turn to look up at him, and he is close, and his features are sharp and pronounced and familiar. You look back at the painting, just to make sure his likeness is still captured there, too, and did not somehow escape and form into solid matter before you.

“Hello, I’m John. Winston’s son.” He holds out his hand, and you don’t really take and shake it, but rather become enveloped it its warm, calloused sanctuary.

If his voice is thunder, his eyes are the lightning that precedes it, striking and shining despite deep pools of black. You have to look away from him, because his real time stare is far more intimidating than the painted one.

#WIPS

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whatiwishfanfiction · 5 months ago

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Chapter 14 is up!

Super late post today, but here it is! THIS PART IS THE MOST SAD. The movie didn't make enough consequences for his actions.

Excerpt:

"How've you been, sir? Are you doing well, Mr. Once-ler?" a forlorn voice asked.

Once-ler spun around. "You?!”

The Lorax didn't say anything for a while. The sound of rain over the balcony grew heavier as the storm rumbled behind him.

"Just came to look at the view. You've accomplished a lot, haven’t you?"

Once-ler backed away at the sound of thunder as the Lorax entered the office. The mossy old creature hopped onto his desk to stare at the model city. His torso was matted and streaked with grease. Wiry hairs stuck out from his mustache and eyebrows like bent broom bristles. The fur that had once had an attractive orange sheen was all brown now, caked with dirt, and had a damp, washed-out look. The Lorax might have been a chewed up jelly bean that had been spat back out.

"The Virtue of Selfishness," the Lorax read the title of one of Once-ler's books, stroking his mustache. "Lessons we could all learn from, I'd guess."

"You know what? I don't want to hear from you right now!" Once-ler yelled. "All you do is say everything is bad, and I'm really sick of it." He seized the Lorax and hoisted him under his arm, ignoring the creature's protests.

"It's not just the trees I'm trying to save,” the Lorax’s voice cracked, “but you, from digging your own grave."

Once again, the door wouldn't open when Once-ler tried it, and the alarm wouldn't go off when he pulled it. But he wasn’t going to be defeated. He carried the Lorax to the balcony and held him at arm's length. The Lorax hovered over dark hills that had been uniformly sheared—bristly white stumps where once had been trees dotted the shaved hills of dead grass. Advanced axe-hackers rolled by like monsters, searching for more wood that they couldn't find, before wheeling away to look deeper into the mist.

"Are you going to kill me?" asked the Lorax.

"I know you're causing the storms," growled Once-ler, shaking him. "The thunder that never stops, the lightning that strikes my tower. And all the clouds that have that same purple hue as when…" He trailed off, remembering the first tree he'd cut down, when he'd first seen the Lorax come out of the sky.

If it wasn't for that day, he'd have believed the Lorax was no more than a funny animal like the Barbaloots or humming-fish, with a higher cognitive level and more annoying voice box. But it had been the sight of him that day, coming out of the sky with a terrible look in his eyes, that, as much as he tried to forget, made Once-ler secretly terrified he really was a deity.

His hands trembled as the Lorax's beetle black eyes bored into his, suddenly looking very old and very powerful. Once-ler wondered if it was even possible for the Lorax to die. “Whatever you're doing, I want you to stop it. Right now," he growled, not recognizing his own voice. With each word, he leaned closer over the edge of the balcony.

"Why?" asked the Lorax. "You don’t seem to care how your own actions are fouling the air."

"Yer rusting up my factory. We got work to do. I’m the one in the legal right here. So make it stop." His face was close enough to feel the Lorax’s mustache.

The Lorax chuckled at this, legs dangling over the parapet. "Laws and codes, written by man. What have they to do with nature's plan? What have they to do with morals or your soul? Are laws the things that define all your goals?" His long, spindly hand slowly reached out and grabbed his tie.

Before Once-ler knew it, they were both falling. Through wind and rain they plummeted as the storm thickened. Soon a churning mist concealed everything around them as they tumbled through a funnel of purple clouds, a passage that went on much longer than Once-ler knew it should have.

As they spun round and round, reality evaporated. It was as if Once-ler was melting into the Lorax and the Lorax was melting into him, until nothing but a haze of orange and green remained. Then they unconnected, plunging their separate ways.

Once-ler's spine cracked against a pipe, and he bounced onto the black, dry riverbed where water no longer ran. His head spun; reality had not gone quite back to normal. Somehow they had survived the fall as if it had been merely from a playground, rather than half a mile from the tallest building in the city. His back, however, would never be quite the same. Sharp pains when he attempted to straighten himself told him it had been fractured.

The Lorax was standing on a rock, eyes aglow, fixed on his enemy. An army was growing around him of bloodied, skeletal birds missing patches of feathers, a few crinkled fish that had been too weak to leave, and the ghostly Barbaloots that hadn't died yet.

Once-ler choked, and limped behind a rock. "I don't want any trouble," he pleaded.

The Lorax gave a slight nod to the army behind him, and they marched somberly back into the gray expanse. As they trailed away, single file, Once-ler knew in his heart they were marching to their deaths. At the end of the line he spotted an animal he hadn't thought of in a long time. His old friend, Melvin.

"Hey…!" He crawled up to the trembling old animal that fell to the ground. Melvin put his head in Once-ler's lap. His coat was thin and sooty, breaths slow and tired. The eyes that met his master's were filled with sadness that slowly dimmed into an empty stare as his head slumped to the ground.

READ THE FULL CHAPTER ON AO3~!

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mechasegagenesis-blog · 4 months ago

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Freelance Somethings

Hello, here is my first Tumbler post. I tried my hand at a Sam and Max fanfiction. It cuts off mid-sentence at the end not because of a typo, but I thought perhaps that was the funniest place to end it. Perhaps I could be convinced to continue this if there proves to be interest (I doubt it, somehow).

#SamandMax #FreelancePolice #freelancepolice #fanfic #fanfiction #firstpost #itsbeenyearssinceivetriedwritinganything #freelancehusbands

The air was dry and hot, making it stuffy in the cramped office.

"Can't we open a window or something? The last time that we were cooking this badly was when we visited the literal center of the earth!" Max said, fanning himself with a large brochure for Stinky's Diner, that had been haphazardly folded into a makeshift fan. Sam, the six foot tall Irish Wolfhound anamorphic dog, panted, "We should consider ourselves lucky they let us back into the building at all, little pal." The pair had been stuck living inside their iconic 1960 De Soto Adventurer since their last adventure three months ago, and even their nightly ritual of tongue baths had lost its appeal. The minute they got the notice that the work on the building had finished, or at least enough so they could access their shower, Sam had wept for joy. Out of the pair of them, he was the one who had looked more grungy at that point, with his normally neat noir-style suit wrinkled and stained until it was a whimpering mockery of its former self. Sam himself had not been much better. His fur was matted in several places, and he had a constant itch that he associated with bedbugs. His partner Max had somehow not looked so worn down, even though he had gone through the same experience. Perhaps always going without clothes meant that roughing it was always part of the equation. His white fur still looked just like it always had, and he didn't have large bags under his eyes. That first bath back from what felt like the brink of madness was nothing less than heavenly, for the two of them.

Max groaned in response to Sam's observation, letting himself fall comically backwards onto the uneven wooden surface of the office floor. His lagamorphic, rabbity like body had many utilities, but cooling off was sadly not part of the repertoire. He and Sam were miserably roasting in their fur as the merciless summer sun beat down on them from the windows of their workspace, which was currently doubling as their sleeping quarters. Outside, they could hear the car horns of exasperated drivers who were stuck in the slog of the traffic below, half suffocated between the smoke exhausts and the interior of their coffins on wheels.

"No use trying to take the De Soto out today," Sam said, tugging at the collar of his gray suit. He had already given up on wearing his customary oversized striped tie, and it was thrown haphazardly over the desk lamp where it lay limply, as if having given up.

"But I'm starving, Sam! How's a guy supposed to survive on just frozen pizza and leftover stale Mcguffins?!" Max wailed, tossing an unfortunate Mcguffin into the air, where it made a beautiful arch across the room and landed with a hearty splat somewhere left of the trash can.

"Take courage, Max. Nothing like braving the storms of wartime derelict to make steely the nerves of vengeance," Sam said, giving up on his skinny detective hat and tossing it aside as well.

"That was beautiful, Sam. If only our rations were as filling as your poetic lexicon," Max said, sadly. "I can't stand it! I'm cooking in my own skin! Lapin à la crème just standing here!"

"I prefer a nice hasenpfeffer myself," Sam said, smirking.

"Very funny," Max said dryly. "As if you wouldn't make a nice taco filling yourself, big boy. With a little marinating, and spices, I bet we could barbeque ourselves a nice berrio enchilada a la perro."

Sam shrugged, casually indifferent to his friend's concerningly specific plan for consuming him as a meal.

Max hopped up, excited. "Let's order us up some dinner. I hear Jimmy Two Teeth is a FoodFast delivery driver now. We can work his tiny paws to the bone for our amusement!"

Sam shook his head sadly. His snout came just shy of hitting the corner lamp. He pulled his wallet out and opened it, to reveal...mothballs. Max shrugged his thin shoulders.

"So we're a little short on cash. That's never stopped us before!" Max said confidently. "Let's break into our emergency savings and have a real feast tonight!"

Sam pulled out their piggy bank, which was shaped like little froggies playing as a Mariachi band. (They had only just discovered last week that it could hold coins. For years, they had just thought it was a cool decoration for the top of their file cabinet.) He uncorked the big sombrero of the first frog, and upturned the item. Nothing came out. He repeated the action with the frog on the other side. The same result.

Max's shark-like grin faltered a tad, before he waved it off. "No biggie," he said. "I still got winnings from this last Poker Night at the Inventory we attended," he said, and dashed away to go get the pillow case that he hid them in. Sam waited nervously at the door for his return. He had used the last of the pillow fund on the latest repairs of the De Soto, and hadn't gotten around to telling Max yet.

"Uh, little buddy..." he started, awkwardly, only to be interrupted by Max launching himself into his arms. "Sam! We've been robbed! Oh, this is horrible! They've taken everything! There's nothing left! Oh woe is us! Oh woe is me!"

He flopped dramatically over the side of Sam's arms like a weird ragdoll that Sam had to strain to hold onto. "Max. Max, I don't know how to tell you this." Sam said carefully. "We haven't been robbed."

Max lifted his head so suddenly that Sam almost dropped him. "What do you mean?!"

"I mean I didn't have the heart to tell you that the pillow fund is also gone," Sam said in almost a whisper, as if he was ashamed of the words coming out of his mouth. "I used it all up, Max. I'm so-"

"No, you walnut! I mean our bedding! Our blankets! Our pillow fort! Mr. Cuddles, my bear! All GONE!" Max wailed.

"What?!" Sam cried, and tossed Max behind him so that he could take a look inside their shared bedroom. Now it was Max flying in a beautiful arc across the room landing next to the Mcguffin. It's true, everything they owned had been whisked away, the imprint of them still fresh in Sam's mind. They left a physical imprint too, like a wierd cartoon shadow of "here is where the bed was, here is where the dresser was," etc. In fact, if this was a comic, that's exactly how the panel would depict the event.

"Holy heaping helpings of leftover Yorkshire pudding handwrapped lovingly in Grandma's tupperware to take home-it's true! Now who on earth...I mean, why on earth...I mean, what on earth...?"

"When you've finished forming a thought," Max said smirking, "I found something. Is this useful?" He was holding up a sealed envelope.

Sam grabbed it out of his outstretched little white paw and tore it open.

"If you can read this, it's already too late. Get out. Now."

Max looked as confused as Sam felt.

"Whaddya suppose that-"

A horrible smell hit his sensitive dog nostrils like a blast of hot air. At first he thought it was Max, but realized almost immediatly after that it was a thick green gas, that was quickly filling the office with a scent similar to rotten eggs mixed with gutter runoff. Sam coughed and covered his nose with a sweaty sleeve, just in time to see Max pass out next to him. "Max!" he tried to say, reaching towards him in alarm. Before he could take hold of his little buddy, the black spots forming in his eyes overwhelmed him as well and everything turned to darkness.

Chapter Two-The Sub Basement of Solitude

"So you guys failed that test spectacularly," Sam heard a sarcastic, familiar voice proclaim before he even opened his eyes. 'Geek!" he grinned and sat up, blinking in the semi darkness.

Darla, also known as "the Geek" stood above the prone pair, her childish hands on flat hips. She shook her orange bangs to see the pair. She looked like she was trying hard not to smile at the two.

Max sat up with a dramatic gasp. "Where? Who? What? Tell me which way to swing, Sam!"

"Physically, or sexually?"

"I'm a wild CANNON!" Max shouted, leaping into the air.

"Watch out!" Sam said, plucking Darla up by the back of her shirt just in time to dodge a rampaging lagamorphic missile.

Max hit the wall with an astounding speed and force, bouncing off like a spring board only to land rump-first on the cobbled basement floor. Undeterred, he gave a wide sideways grin at the pair and said, "so why the sudden death lightning round anyway? Not that I'm complaining, by the way. The last time I got smoked so hard was-"

"There's no way to end that sentence without getting demonetized," Sam said. "Let's move on." (A/N: I'm not getting paid.)

"You guys are getting rusty," the Geek said with her half closed eyes squinting at them in disapproval. "The last time I timed you at this emergency drill you had me by the throat in 10 seconds, not 10 minutes."

"Must be the sardonic embrace of old age, our technically proficient friend," Sam said, brushing off his lapels.

"We age like a fine wine, Sam. Or in my case, like a fine musty Italian cheese," Max said, producing a round of cheese previously unseen on this realm of existence. He took a comically large bite, rind and all, as Sam's sensitive dog nose wrinkled in both disapproval and disappointment at not being offered any.

"Any-way, I need you two lugheads help with something," the Geek said, leading them towards her overly large computer monitor. On screen was an image of an island, with beautiful valleys and scenic waterfalls. She zoomed out to show that a literal ring of fire surrounded it, growing by the minute.

"Now I'm not one to make assumptions, but that ain't a pile of whipped cream we're looking at here," Max said. His voice had followed camera perspective towards the screen, but then-

"No. It's a Fudgsicle Sundae," Sam said, mouth thick with rich decandant ice cream. He put down the dessert and refocused on the plot that was being introduced since the sundae had only been used as a visual gag to divert audience expectation.

"I'll pay each of you ten dollars not to make a Ring of Fire joke," the Geek pleaded.

"Too late," the two idiots said in unison. The song was already playing.

"God I hate that song," the Geek said. "I always have. But anyway. I have a friend of mine on this island. An old professor buddy of mine who used to have some interesting thoughts on nuclear physics and so on, until he got hit with a Dracon beam and went crazy. Now he lives on this island claiming the island clams are infested with sea slugs, or something like that. I need you guys to bring me his briefcase. The one with a sticker of a rubber duck on it. Got it?"

"Rubber duck. Crazy man. Comprendo." Max listed off as if the audience already needed a recap. "Why?"

The Geek looked a little guilty, like she had been caught in a little white lie. "I might have. Um. Snuck a uranium capsule into his carry on when we were traveling together? It was a while ago, for that Scientists for Humanity convention. I didn't want to pay for shipping."

Max wagged a furry white finger in her direction and tut-tutted like disciplining a child. "What have we always told you about thieving?"

The Geek crossed her arms and looked away, her ears reddening. "To never leave any evidence," she grumbled.

"No-o. Never leave your stolen possessions in the hands of a crazy mad scientist. Sheesh! Pay attention for once!" Max said.

So with that last thought, they pulled a lever and down a trap door, leaving the Geek wondering how she ever got involved with these two.

Chapter Three-Our Boys Search For the Island, the Plot, and Who Gives A Hoot

"Well that sure was a hootenanny of a good time, I'd say." Sam said, twirling a toothpick made of a wheat stalk.

"I was especially impressed by our laxidaisical and entirely unorthodox method of resolving the conflict nicely," Max said. "I'm sure that will satiate the audience, with a dramatic climactic battle drawn in such magnificence and glorious detail that-"

"Sorry to cut you off there, little pal,' Sam said. "Methinks I just remembered that we're not being drawn at all at this particular juncture."

"By golly you're right, Sam! My inability to pretend the fourth wall means anything is acting up!" Max cried dramatically, clutching his throat in mock horror and alarm.

The truth was, as soon as they zoomed away from the Geek's place, they had already forgotten what their goal might have been. They were standing on an island, sure. Ring of fire. Right. There. Nice, neat conclusion to the story probably waiting with a nice bow and a cocktail in hand, ready to be delivered to hungry online audiences everywhere, at least for the duration that they could keep their attention span focused. But their back was to the island, in fact, to the entire potential storyline. Deliberately. Back to the camera. No consideration for

#sam and max freelance husbands #sam and max #freelance police #freelance husbands #sam and max freelance police #fanfic #shouldiposttoao3?#no beta we die like men #newtumbleruser

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mi-lady-kiiira · 1 year ago

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💍Selfship with my handsome prince, Izuru Kira💍

dividers by the lovely @/hitobaby

💎Headcanons:

His Nicknames for Me:

"Bluebell" - Because I have the same name as his captain and he would die if anyone ever thought that he was referring to Otoribashi when he's speaking about me

"Sweetheart, Love, Angel, Darling" - his usual terms of endearment for me

"My Muse" - Zu says that I give him inspiration for a lot of his poems; it's so sweet when he keeps shooting me little glances from his writing desk while I lounge on the futon. I MUST get up and give him kisses.

"Princess" - He is my prince and I am his princess, it shall be no other way

"Stop, damnit" - This is not a term of endearment, but he says it so often and casually that you'd think that it was

My Nicknames for Him:

"Zu, Zuzu, Zuru"- Basically just shortened versions of his name

"Handsome" - Because he is very much so💙

"FAT DICK ZU" - He acts like he doesn't like it, but I can see through his lies with my Kidō. He also blushes everytime I say it but has explicitly told me not to call him that in front of other people :(

"Prince Zu, King of My Heart" - I know it is a contradiction, leave me alone

Daily Life Headcanons (SFW):

I pack his lunch every morning and slip in little notes with love affirmations and words of encouragement to help him navigate throughout his day

He puts short poems and haiku that he's written for me in my lunches. Also leaves poems in random places around the house for me to find.

On many occasions, he has snuck into my office while I'm in meetings or on errands and left cute little notes on my computer (along with some snack - I need snack)

He started making our evening tea solely by himself because I was fucking it up everytime. (I do not know how to brew tea) I also can't reach the tea set on the top shelf, but that's probably a good thing because I have butterfingers

Since Rose started tying his hair with ribbons, I brush his hair and tie his ribbons in for him in the mornings. He has to have one in every color, because I need color coordination (inspired by this fanart from Pinterest - not mine!)

If my bonnet slips off while I'm sleeping, he'll fix it quietly while trying not to wake me up (I ain't waking up, I sleep like a rock)

Sometimes we both forget where we put our glasses and just walk around like two blind bats, running into stuff (and each other) until we find them. Zu wears contacts as well (that somehow make his eyes look even brighter 🥹💙)

He loves listening to music together (he has one of those old school iPod nanos in blue and refuses to upgrade to anything newer - inspired by this post (that I can't find atm, rip)

He knows when I'm starting to get anxious/have a panic attack because I will start pacing and wringing my hands. To calm me down, he will come up and hug me from behind, gently take my hands into his, and help me do breathing exercises.

When he gets into a downtrodden mood, I can tell immediately because he's 10X quieter and his eyes lose a little of their sheen. I will cancel all of my meetings for the day, get us food, and hole us up in our bedroom in our secret blanket fort. No leaving the fort unless for bathroom. Endless cuddles and affirmations.

🔥NSFW Headcanons:

His kinks: shibari, thigh-fucking, edging, overstimulation, head-crushing (receiving), hair-pulling (both), oral (giving)

Favorite positions: missionary, cowgirl, against the wall, spooning/side

Does he prefer giving or receiving: giving

He is a switch/soft!dom

Is he a tease? ABSOLUTELY FUCKING YES.

Does he like being teased? Yes, but not too much and for too long. He likes to get things started fairly quickly when 'he's' on the receiving end of the teasing.

Praise or degradation?: A mixture of both, with more praise

When he's fed up with my shenanigans or I've been teasing him too much, he makes me kneel before him on the tatami mat in our room. His hand is on the back of my neck, holding my face away from him while he strokes his hard cock.

"You've been acting like a naughty girl all day today, bluebell. Do you think that I should give you my cock? Hmm, I don't think so." (he's soooooo mean💙🫶🏽)

We both have quietly discussed our interest of having a threesome with Shuuhei but are both too INCREDIBLY shy to bring it up to him.

It is imperative that I start my day out with a cumshot in my coffee. Can't make it throughout my day in the Seireitei without Izuru's protein shake. Yum.

He actually indulges me, surprisingly. Not without his entire body turning red as he strokes himself into my specimen jar. He's such a peach.

I've asked him to wrap Wabisuke around my neck a couple of times (The answer was 'no' each and every time, btw :(

Has a HUGE freaky side. He tries to act all prim and proper, but he loves fucking in the office just as much as I do (all screen caps from 'Kira's Captain' by @shadowsnlace - AMAZING READ, and requested by ME 😌Highly recommended, especially if you're an Izuru girlie🩵💙*permission to post granted*)

💍Authority kink??🤭⇣

📸:

💍"A full head taller than you", good gracious 😮‍💨

💍He loves the visual of me sucking him off with my glasses on ⇣

📸:

💍More authority kink⇣

📸:

----

That's it for now! I have a playlist planned out that will be listed under '💍ballroom' on my pinned post.

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments!🫶

@enchantedforest-network

#bleach x reader #bleach selfship #izuru kira #kira izuru #𐀔🏰.prince Izuru₊ ⊹🩵🫅🏼#𐀔🏰.princess Rose₊ ⊹👸🏽👗

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seedsofagony · 3 months ago

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Out With a Bang (KnY ♡ Tengen)

Cherrytober Day 25: Black Tie Affair // Food Play

Series: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Characters: Uzui Tengen

Word Count: 1,818

Summary: modern au, x reader (f wearing feminine party clothes), alcohol use, canon injuries (Tengen), light angst, public sex, oral sex (reader, Tengen receiving), unprotected sex, no pregnancy, clothes stay on, cum play (Tengen), almost interrupted, Tanjiro cameo (nonsexual)

Notes: Full disclosure, this was a WIP for another fandom that wasn't going to see the light of day. I reworked it and now we all get to go to the party ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Disclaimer: Underage, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked. For everyone 18+, FUB free or filter my unique tag for this event: #sweets🍒24

A stage has been erected inside the cavernous foyer of Kisatsutai headquarters. Festooned with bunting, it stands beneath a drooping banner flanked by clusters of black and gold balloons: GOOD LUCK, UZUI-SAN!

It's flashy, but you know he must hate it.

You accept another glass of champagne from a waiter and bring it to your lips, smiling and nodding with what you hope passes for enthusiasm. You've been cornered by some woman—what was her name again?—and she hasn't let you get a word in yet. So you sip, smile, and nod, hoping she'll lose interest in you soon.

“So, as I was saying–” she drawls.

You drain your glass and deposit it onto the tray of a passing waiter. A few more of those and you won’t be able to feign interest much longer. Your eyes drift over the crowd—the glitter of jewelry and black tuxedos that seem to swallow up the light, the flash of grinning teeth, the peal of laughter, the soft shoe of a high top and piano dancing together.

As your eyes wander over the room, you notice a tall figure. He's watching you from across the foyer, looking down at you from a shadowy stairwell. He nods slightly before turning away, slowly, expectantly.

"Sorry," you say, interrupting. "I, ah, need to visit the little girl's room."

You make your escape before she can reply, weaving yourself into the crowd. Crisscrossing the dance floor, side-stepping couples swaying to the music, you make your way to the stairs. He's there, waiting on the landing, hand in his pocket. Hitching the hem of your dress, you make your way up, heels loud in the cool stone alcove.

“Shouldn’t you be at the party?” you ask as you join him on the landing. “It's all for you.”

Tengen scoffs. The empty left sleeve of his tuxedo is pinned to his jacket, and a black eyepatch covers his left eye. "It's ridiculous," he says, a bitter edge to his voice.

"I'm sure they thought they were doing something nice," you murmur.

"There's nothing to celebrate," he says. "Just a career cut short." He sighs and gives his head a little shake as if to clear his mood. "Anyway, I thought you might need a break from your new best friend."

A wry smile tugs at your lips. "I appreciate it."

“Come on,” Tegen says suddenly, “I’ll show you my office.” He corrects himself, "My old office."

He guides you down the hall, hand light on the small of your back. It’s dark, the only light coming from the streetlamps outside. He stops toward the end and unlocks a door with pebbled glass.

“Am I allowed to go in there?” you ask.

His lips purse in amusement. “What are they going to do? Fire me?" He pushes the door open, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture. "Ladies first."

You grin and cross the threshold, Tengen closing the door behind you, the lock clicking into place. Like the hallway, it’s dark, but you can make out several rows of heavy wooden desks. Files line one entire wall, floor to ceiling. A copier and a fax machine are shoved into one corner, almost like an afterthought to the surprisingly analog surroundings.

You wander between the desks, trailing your fingers over the polished wood. Outdated telephones, computers hunched over scratched and coffee-stained desk mats, cracked leather swivel chairs. The smell of beeswax and tobacco hangs in the air, your perfume bright against the heavy scents.

"So," you lean on one of the desks, "which is you?"

"You're sitting on it." Reaching around you, Tengen picks up a little brass nameplate from the desktop—UZUI—the metal gleaming dull in the dim light. He looks at it for a moment, then chucks it in a wire wastebasket next to the desk.

"Won't be needing that anymore," he mutters.

"Tengen…" You reach for his hand and give it a squeeze.

He looks at you for a long moment, his expression nearly lost to the shadows. You can feel his gaze as it roves over your face, your sparkling jewelry, the plunging neckline of your dress.

"You know," he says, "I've been thinking…"

"Oh?"

Tengen nods, leaning toward you, bringing his face close. His lips brush over your ear. “I’ve been thinking of a better use for those pretty painted lips than all those fake smiles tonight.”

He slips his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, hips pressed against yours, the curve of an erection bulging against your belly. The change in his mood takes you by surprise, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you realize what he's suggesting.

"What, now?"

"It's my party isn't it?" he purrs, nibbling your earlobe. "Might as well go out with a bang."

Warmth blooms in your core, a delicate ache clenching between your legs. "Alright," you murmur. "Have a seat."

Tengen grins. Releasing you, he sinks into the leather upholstery of his chair. You follow him down, sinking to your knees in front of him. The chair creaks as he leans back, legs planted on either side of you.

You pluck open the buttons on his jacket, pushing the fabric aside to unfasten his belt and slacks. Biting your lip, you ease down his zipper and pull out his shirttails. Pausing at the elastic waistband of his boxers, you lean forward and run the edge of your teeth over his bulge. Tengen groans and slides his hand around the nape of your neck, lifting his hips toward your mouth.

Slipping your fingers into the elastic, you pull him free, the head of his cock glistening in the low light, precum leaking from the tip. You wrap your fingers around his base and lean forward.

"Is this what you were thinking…?" you ask, voice dark.

“Almost." Hand still on the back of your neck, he pulls you to him, crushing your lips against his cock.

You oblige, sliding your tongue around his tip, lapping at him before taking him into your mouth. At the same time, you work his shaft, pumping him slowly. He tangles his hand in your hair, cool fingertips pressing lightly against your scalp. Taking a little more of him into your mouth, you rub your tongue firmly against the underside of his cock.

Tengen groans, arching his back. "Come on," he half-laughs, half-sighs in frustration. "Suck me already."

Humming in amusement, you finally take him into your mouth, dragging your lips down toward his base. You glance up at him, meeting his smoky gaze as you bob your head, sucking him off. Tengen holds your gaze a little longer, then lets his head fall back, savoring your eager mouth.

Cupping one hand against him through his boxers, you slide your thumb back and forth over his balls, encouraging his release as you work his shaft. His cock twitches, throbs. The heat builds between your thighs as you get wetter and wetter with every bob of your head.

“Wait,” Tengen pants. He sits forward, catches your chin, “Wait a minute.”

Without explanation, he pulls you off your knees only to deposit you on the desk, pens and paper scattering. He pushes himself between your knees and rucks up the hem of your dress, kissing you roughly, topping your tongue and sucking at your bottom lip. He hooks his fingers into the crotch of your panties and pulls them aside, exposing you to the cool air.

Sliding his thumb down your slit, Tengen teases at your opening. "God, you're wet," he murmurs. "He kisses you again, sloppy, and lines up, coating his tip with you before plunging in.

You groan as drives in, ball-deep. Grabbing his shoulders, you wrap your legs around his waist, the fabric of your panties biting into your thigh. His thrusts come quick, bucking into your core. More pens, odds and ends, skitter to the floor. You tilt your hips, angling his cock against your front wall. Tengen grunts at the change in angle, but does not slow. He thrusts quick and shallow, riding your wall, your clit rubbing against his belly. You lean into it, core drawing taut, pulling him in even as he pulls out.

"Fuck," Tengen pants.

He doubles over, laying you out across the top of the desk. Letting go of your panties, he grips the edge of the desk behind you, slamming his hips into you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and nips at you hard, complementing your jewelry with jagged half moons. His pace begins to lose its frantic rhythm, and he groans through gritted teeth, cock throbbing and shooting thick, white ropes into your core.

Tengen pauses only for a moment, breathing hard, gazing down at you through the curtain of his hair. Then he drops to his knees, burying his face between your legs. "Can't have you walking around the party like this," he says, voice rough.

You groan as his tongue swipes along your slit and laps as the mess before it can drip down your thighs. Gripping the edge of the desk beneath you, you push your hips toward him, legs trembling, high heels almost rattling on the floorboards.

He moves up to your clit, just brushing your puffy flesh with the edge of his teeth—a tit for tat for your own teasing. You gasp, mind blank as he sucks, softly nips, and flicks you, chasing your high. Your muscles draw taut as the ecstatic ache in your belly swells. One more suck on your clit is all it takes—you cum hard, back arched, crying out in the dark.

Tengen laps at you a few more times, making you squirm before getting to his feet. He throws himself into his chair and leans back, grinning at you as you sit up and shimmy your dress back down over your hips.

"Definitely went out with a bang," you say, still trying to catch your breath.

Tengen opens his mouth to speak when a soft knock raps at the office door. "Ah, Uzui-san…?"

You instantly recognize the voice—Kamado. "Uzui-san, they're looking for you downstairs. To give the speech? If you're done, I mean, if you're there? Could you please come down?"

There's a pause, then the shuffling of shoes and the sound of footsteps retreating down the hall.

You pretend to grimace, then laugh. "I guess we got caught."

Tengen rolls his shoulders, shrugging. "Kamado's not going to talk." He gets to his feet, wipes his mouth. "We'd better go down."

You slide off the desk and set about helping him tuck in his shirt. "Do you want me to wait? So it's not obvious…?"

"No," Tengen catches your chin as you refasten his belt. "I want you on my arm tonight." A wicked smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. "I want them to see how I'm going to be spending my early retirement."

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