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dollfacefantasy · 1 year ago

Text

Just Like the Movies

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend dons the ghostface mask to let you live out a fantasy

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, cnc, praise/degradation, knife play, predator/prey dynamic (he chases her idk what to call it), dacryphilia, voyeurism mentions

word count: 3.4k

a/n: i wanted to write at least one spooky thing for halloween and i love scream so here you go. i'm working on requests i promise, i just wanted to get this out before october ends. as always, thank you for the comments and reblogs <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz ghostface photo used in the header is from @/oikizumi on pinterest!

An old scary movie plays on the television as you relax on the couch after a hard week. You had a soft blanket draped over you and a bowl of popcorn in your lap. The missing piece was your boyfriend. You were just waiting for him to come home and join you for your little makeshift marathon.

You casually watch the movie while lifting handfuls of popcorn to your mouth. You had seen this one before so it wasn’t scaring you, but it was entertaining enough to pass the time with until Leon returned to you.

It was getting to be that time of evening when he usually came marching through the door, tired from work but still with open arms for you to slide into. He hadn’t come home yet though. As you’re wondering where your lover could be, your phone begins to ring.

You sit up and grab it from the table in front of you.

No caller ID.

You raise your eyebrows at the strange nature of that. Assuming it’s a scam call though, you leave it be. However, the phone rings again. You actively decline the call this time. You place your phone down again, hoping that would be the end.

It wasn’t though because not even a minute later, your phone vibrates again.

You reach for the device and see a text message pop up on your lock screen.

‘Don’t ignore me, pretty girl.’

That piques your curiosity. When the phone rings again, you click the answer button and bring it to your ear.

“Hello?” you say.

“Finally, she answers the phone,” a smooth, predatory voice teases.

“Who is this?” you ask.

“Oh c’mon, you don’t wanna ruin the fun already, do you babydoll?” he purrs.

“Well, what do you want?” you ask. The cadence of the voice was familiar, but the actual sound of it, you couldn’t place. It didn’t sound like anyone you knew in real life.

“To talk to you. I guess you could say I’m kind of lonely,” he says with mock sadness.

“Aw, well I’m not, so bye,” you say and hang up the phone. As you begin to place that voice and the cadence behind it, Leon’s late arrival makes sense. You had disclosed this little fantasy to him recently. And it seemed like he had got the modulator to sound just like the movie for you.

Not even ten seconds go by before the phone rings again. An excited chill comes over you as you lift it and accept the call.

“Hello?”

“Why’d you hang up on me, angel? That’s not very nice of you,” he taunts, “You doing something better right now?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“Yeah? What’s so important that you can’t spare a few moments of your precious time?”

“I’m about to watch some scary movies,” you say, a smile spreading on your face. You sit up on the couch more as you feel where this conversation is going.

“Scary movies? I like scary movies,” he says, “Tell me, do you have a favorite?”

“I like Scream. You ever seen that one?” you say teasingly.

“I’m familiar,” he says, “That one’s not really scary though. I bet I could give you more of a thrill.”

“Mm, maybe. But sadly for you, my boyfriend will be home soon.”

“Boyfriend? That’s a shame,” he says, his voice becoming a hint darker.

“I’m sure it is. Anyways, I should be going…” you trail off knowingly.

“C’mon, blondie can wait a few more minutes.”

“Blonde,” you repeat slowly, feigning fear, “How do you know he’s blonde?”

“I’ve been watching you for a while, baby. Had to make sure everything would be perfect tonight,” he says with a low laugh, “Let’s just say that we have plenty of time now.”

“Why are you doing this? Who are you?” you say, cranking up the fear in your voice. You stand up from the couch and walk to a window to see if you can spot him outside.

“That doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Plus, I thought girls liked the whole man of mystery thing,” he chuckles, “You’re honestly telling me this doesn’t turn you on?”

“It doesn’t!” you say defensively.

“Are you sure about that?” he breathes, “When I cut those slutty little shorts off you, I’m not gonna find a messy cunt crying for me to fill her?”

“No…” you say, your cheeks heating up while arousal pools in your belly.

“You don’t sound so sure,” he teases, “Y’know, I think I can see your nipples getting hard under that thin shirt all the way from here.”

You quickly step away from the window, a shiver shooting up your spine. You bite your lip. “Please don’t hurt me,” you whimper.

His cruel laugh crackles through the phone. “I wanna hear you cry like that when you’re cumming all over my cock.”

Every word tumbling from his lips stoked the flames of desire within you. Your veins were coursing with a primal need at this point.

“I’m gonna call the police,” you say. Your voice was breathy in what could be interpreted as terror, but in reality, it was pure lust.

“Do you think that would stop me?” he rasps into the phone, “Because, we both know I would get to you before the operator could even take your address. But let’s say you did get through. I can be quick, doll. Take what’s mine and have that tight pussy full of my cum with time to spare.”

You shift your thighs and look for the smallest semblance of friction as he lays this out to you.

“By the time any cop did get here, all they would find is a pathetic little mess, lying on the ground all fucked out and bred, a dumb smile on that pretty face.”

The tiniest whine escapes your throat from that mental image. You wonder if he heard it, but the throaty chuckle on the other end answers your question.

“You dirty fucking whore. You love this. You wanna be pinned down and used until your sweet mind is broken and completely cock drunk.”

“No, I don’t,” you say, trying to keep up the act of defiance even though your desire was palpable in your voice.

“Well, too bad. But I’ll be generous, little one. I’m telling you that I’m coming in now. A little head start if you’re smart,” he says, “You better not waste my fucking time. Give me a good chase, or I’m not gonna be nice when I catch you. Find out if your insides are as pretty as the outside.”

You hang up the phone. Your body was on fire with a mix of adrenaline and arousal. You scamper through the house into another room, wondering what to even start with. Your thoughts are cut off when you hear the back door slide open.

Your pulse thunders in your ears. You move quietly across the room you’re in, peering through the doorway back into the living room. You see him. That tall and fit body donned in a tight black t-shirt and pants. He wears black leather boots on his feet. A large hunting knife is strapped to his belt. His head is covered, and when he turns, your heart seizes at the sight of the ghostface mask.

He catches a glimpse of you through the cracked door and starts toward you. You zoom through the other door in the room, maneuvering quickly around furniture and stray clutter. Then, you loop back to the open back door. You can hear him clambering through the hall behind you. Primal fear courses through you, instinctually telling every cell in your body to run.

“Where do you think you’re going, sugar?” you hear the voice modulator crackle.

Moving through the sliding door, you dart across the backyard. The grass was wet against your feet since you didn’t have the time to grab a pair of shoes. You fumble with the gate, your hands shaking from the adrenaline coursing through you. You try to shut it behind you to delay him, but he’s already so close.

You continue sprinting into the woods behind your home. The area surrounding you was dark. It was cold out too. Your skin had broken out into goosebumps, your thin shirt and shorts not providing much warmth, and your bare feet only exacerbating the feeling.

There were trees everywhere, and it felt like there were things hiding within the dense woodland. The whole time you focused on not running into a tree, you could hear him behind you. His breathing was heavier, but it was clear he was exerting minimal effort.

You jump over overgrown roots and duck under stray branches. Despite running for a bit, you still weren’t too deep in the woods. You shoot a look behind you, trying to see if you were any closer to losing him than before. He’s just as close, and in the midst of your attempted glance, your foot catches on a rock. You cry out and tumble to the ground. Skin scrapes against the dirt and rocks beneath you.

He slows his pace to a simple walk, pulling the hunting knife from the sheath. The wide blade shimmers in the pale moonlight. He holds it up and drags a gloved fist over the silver, just like in the movies. Another, low laugh breaks through the speaker of the modulator.

“Too easy, princess,” he taunts, “Get up and keep running.”

Your eyes widen and blood rushes to the lower region of your body at the command. You stumble to your feet and stagger away. Your foot aches a little from the rock and the fall, but you continue in earnest.

He lets you go on for a while longer. Occasionally, he would intentionally fall behind, giving you the illusion that you could outrun him. But also filling you with the dread that you would be out in those woods alone.

Soon enough, he’s had enough of the chase. He speeds up and hooks his arms around your waist. He pulls you to the ground in a swift motion, whipping around your body so quickly that you could barely see it. He’s got one of his knees holding your dominant arm down while a hand holds the knife to your throat. You squirm and whimper under him, causing him to shake his head and make a noise of mock disappointment.

“Poor baby. You did all you could, didn’t you?” he coos menacingly, leaning down closer to your face, “Look at you. Out of breath, heart beating out of your chest. You tried so hard.”

He brings the knife up to your cheek and drags the tip across, not cutting you but letting you feel the cool metal on your soft skin. You whine and scrunch your face in discomfort, eliciting a cruel laugh from him. He drops the knife nearby and shakes his head.

“Not a fan of knives, sweet thing? Too scary?”

Next, you try recoiling from his touch, but he’s caging your body on the ground. The damp dirt presses against your back and smears on his clothing as he wrestles with you to keep you in place. Again, you can see how little effort it takes for him to keep you down. The display of strength has your heart beating harder with lust.

“Keep fighting me, little one. It’s my favorite part,” he breathes before shifting on top of you and roughly flipping you over.

Now, squirming only rubs your face into the soil beneath you. In this position, you can feel his hard cock against your ass. He reaches over for the knife again and brings it to the base of your spine. He uses his knee to hold down your arm again, so he can pull your skimpy top taut and slice through it with ease.

He handles you like a ragdoll and yanks it off. The knife falls to the ground again as he reaches around your body with both gloved hands to knead your breasts. You whimper at the harsh squeezes and rolls of his fingers. His face is right next to your head, and you can hear his ragged breathing under the mask.

He pinches and teases your nipples, your noises now becoming obviously pleasurable. A hand slides into your hair and grips the roots as he shoves your face to the ground. Your cheek is smooshed on the cool surface, and your lips part as your own breathing picks up. Your hips are still squirming, but now only to try and feel some friction with his dick.

“There we go. Such a little slut. Didn’t take much for you to give in. You know this is where you belong. Beneath me, stuffed full of my cock,” he groans.

His hands glide down your body, pulling your hips into place. He tugs your shorts and panties down to your knees, humming in satisfaction when he sees your dripping cunt. Two leather-covered fingers slide through your slick. They circle your puffy clit, drawing mewls from your throat. The fingers then dip inside you and pump in and out a few times. Your body shudders at the sensation.

“So fucking wet. You like this even more than I thought. So sick baby. My twisted little doll,” he teases.

He plants his free hand on the back of your neck and digs his fingers into the side of your throat. His other hand continues working your aching pussy, adding in another finger to your needy hole. You choke out a few moans as your breathing becomes more like panting.

“All this for just my fingers? Can’t imagine how you’re gonna cry on my cock. Maybe scream for me a few times,” he purrs.

After a bit more, he pulls his fingers out of your pussy, shushing you when you whine in protest. You hear the sound of a zipper and the rustle of fabric being adjusted. It isn’t long before you feel the heat of his cock prodding your entrance. You shift your hips back, taking the tip in.

He grunts and his breath hitches as you clamp down on the sensitive head. Once he regains his composure, he slams his hips forward, sheathing himself fully inside you with one thrust. You cry out and claw the dirt beneath you.

“You wanna be an impatient little bitch, I’m not gonna be gentle with you. If you’re so fucking needy that you can’t wait two seconds for my dick, I’ll treat you like the cockslut you are, sweetheart,” he says before beginning to rock his hips back and forth.

He finds a rhythm with ease. One of his hands gives your ass a few firm smacks while his other hand returns to your head to pull on your hair. The noise of your skin connecting sounds through the woods along with your whining. His grip on your hair is like a vise. The mild sting of the pull mixed with the rush of pleasure from him drilling into you brings some tears to your eyes.

“That’s right, fucking take it. This is what you were made for, sweet girl. Your body knows it,” he grunts as your walls flutter around him.

He smacks your ass again while getting more erratic with his thrusts. The hand in your hair returns to your hip to give him more leverage. His digits dig into your skin to the point of potential bruises. You whimper and moan, your head becoming cloudy while he stretches you out.

His quiet moans hit your ears and make your stomach erupt with butterflies. You tighten around his shaft. You were starting to work up a sweat despite the cool temperature of the air around you. You shudder and twitch, only causing him to hold you tighter.

Your back arches as more sinful noises pour from your lips. A particular thrust snaps something in you and breaks the dam that was holding in your tears. It felt like he was stroking deeper than ever before, and you just couldn’t hold it in. Warm drops stream from your eyes while your whimpering grows louder and less controlled.

“Are you crying, little love?” he coos, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. He starts rubbing your back with even, soothing strokes without stopping his thrusts, “Cry it out, sweetheart. It just feels too good, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yeah,” you whimper with a weak nod.

“Yes it does. I know, baby,” he says condescendingly. His gloved hand continues caressing your back while he snaps in and out. You grow louder still, whining and moaning through tears.

“Someone’s gonna hear you, doll,” he teases. Your cheeks warm with embarrassment, but you’re past the point of being able to control your volume. “You’d probably get off on that though, you little freak.”

“N-no,” you stutter out in an attempt to defend yourself, but you’re cut off by your own gasps of pleasure.

“No? You wouldn’t cum on the spot if someone saw you like this? Taking my cock like the good little whore you are. Crying cause it’s just too much for you.”

You shake your head as best you can while being pressed against the ground. Your pussy clenches around him though from the description alone.

“Sure,” he chuckles before grunting, “Someone could be watching right now. It’s so fucking dark out here you wouldn’t even know.”

You can’t hide the thrill that gives you. A loud cry tears through you and your hips squirm within his grasp, trying to get you to that peak.

“Yeah, I know you like that,” he growls, leaning down and encasing you with his arms. The new angle lets him piston himself even deeper within you.

He keeps grinding himself into you as you both feel the coils of release getting closer to snapping. One of his arms snakes around your head, his bicep curling around your neck. The plastic front of the ghostface mask presses into the side of your head. He’s grunting and moaning into your ear, bringing you right to the edge.

“I feel it coming, honey. Let it go. Cream on my cock, baby girl. Give it all to me,” he mumbles.

With no reason to hold back, you let your release explode. You writhe in his hold, gasping and crying as euphoria floods your being. You bite your lip and tilt your head back to nuzzle and sloppily kiss at the mask.

He’s not far behind you. A few thrusts later, he’s draining himself in you, filling your insides with hot and sticky cum. His hips sputter and the mask becomes misaligned on his head as the two of you press against each other.

You’re both panting in the end. Leon pulls out and rolls off of you, landing on the ground next to you. You don’t move from your place in the dirt and just look over at him. He tugs off the mask and drops it near the knife. For the first time tonight, you see his charming smile and sweet eyes, a sharp contrast to the performance he just put on. He leans over and gives you a soft kiss as he adjusts the rest of his clothing.

You still don’t move from your position. He sits up and rubs your back again. His hands massage the muscles there for a moment before trailing down your leg. He gently lifts your foot and kisses your ankle.

“Your foot ok, baby?” he asks while rubbing your thigh. Even after all that, he hadn’t forgotten your fall earlier.

“Mhm,” you hum with a nod.

“Ok, good,” he says.

He starts to help you roll over so you can get up. He smiles at you, brushing some dirt off your cheek.

“Let’s get you home so we can shower,” he says and helps you pull your shorts back on as you sit up. He kisses your temple a few times and strokes your hair, “Then we can cuddle and watch some scary movies.”

That makes you crack a smile, and you kiss his lips.

“Let’s get home quick. It’s cold out here, and I don’t have a shirt anymore thanks to you,” you tease.

You rise to your feet and lean on him for support. He picks up the knife and mask as well as the scrap of cloth that was once your top. He offers it to you with a sheepish smile. You roll your eyes and shake your head.

“Guess, you’ll just have to stay close then,” he says and tucks you under his arm. He kisses the crown of your head before you two start walking back through the woods to your home together.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut #smut

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folkloresthings · 4 months ago

Text

❛ HEAVEN KNOWS ❜ ❨ lando norris x singer!reader ❩

📻 track three: you’re just a boy (and i’m kinda the man)

in which the they were the perfect couple, until they weren’t. or in which we take a look back into what made heaven itself fall apart.

… OCTOBER 2023

INSTAGRAM. october second.

liked by irisapatow, rachelzegler and 810,673 more

yourusername time for another track! 🤡 i first started writing you're just a boy (and i'm kinda the man) after listening non-stop to taylor swift and shania twain and i decided what i really needed was to take those feelings and make a female power song of my own. so i wrote one! it helped me to remember that losing the love of a man does not make you any less of a person, and i hope it can do the same for others. oh, and it's also a bop.

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user QUEEN

taylorswift you're kinda making me feel like... i'm the man 💪👸

user i fear this will tear lando's ego to shreds

⤷ user it doesn't feel fair on him, like he doesn't get to tell his side of the story

⤷ user girl there's definitely a reason he's kept quiet 😭

lissiemackintosh soooo excited for this one!!!! my new karaoke song?

⤷ yourusername come at do it at the concerts

⤷ lissiemackintosh i like your fans too much to do that to them

user CLOWN LANDO ERA

REWIND... OCTOBER 2022

"guess what, guess what!"

lando was mid-game when you rushed into the living room, glancing up from the television when you bound into view. he slips back one side of his headphones, eyes following suit a few moments later once the screen is paused.

“what?”

“guess!”

lando sighs, but a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “lewis finally retired?”

“no, silly.” scoffing, you slap at his arm and plonk down next to him on the couch. “management just called — i’ve been asked if i want to do a world stadium tour. the bowl, wembley, madison square garden!”

lando’s mouth fell open in slight shock, your excitement obviously contagious as his eyes light up. in a split second he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly.

“holy shit, babe,” he murmurs, squeezing your waist.

“i know,” you squeal quietly, muffled against his shoulder. “they just need to set up the next album release and then announce the dates.”

behind your embrace, the cogs of lando’s head start to turn and calculate the information. sitting back, he looks at you with confusion set in his brow.

“when would that be?” he asks, head tilted.

you shrug, not noticing his growing resentment of the news. “depends. they want the album done for late summer, so that means an autumn release. so probably in the new year.”

“the second half of the season?”

lando’s cold tone makes you smile, almost uncomfortably, waiting for his former excitement to return. uneasily, you nod.

“well, yeah, but—”

“i thought you said you were going to come to all the races, since you’ve only been to monaco and silverstone this season?” he cuts you off. you catch the frustration in his eyes like a hawk, shifting off of his lap before it bubbles over. “you’re not going to be able to do that if you’re on tour.”

“that’s not true,” you try and reason, hopeful that your calm tone might balance his. “there’s texas and vegas. besides, i don’t even know what dates i’ll have shows yet, i could fly in for race days.”

lando shakes his head, pushing himself from the couch cushions and onto his feet. “that’s not the point. you promised you’d be there for me this season. i actually have a chance for once, and you don’t even care.”

the dismissive tone that spits off his tongue makes you flinch, a heavy frown falling around your cheeks. “what am i supposed to do? turn down my biggest tour yet to come watch you race every single week?”

“yes!” lando exclaims, turning sharply. “that’s what good girlfriends do — look at kika and lily!”

anger pricks at your eyes and throat, swallowing hard to keep it at bay. “you haven’t been to one of my shows in months. you don’t even have time to listen to demos when i ask you to. there are two of us in this relationship, lando. it isn’t always about you.”

you see his defence ready behind his lips but you’re quicker, ready before he can speak.

“i went to every single race last season,” you tell him. your tone is calm, steady — making the words even more intense. “every one. i have been your biggest fan since day one. so don’t ever, ever, say i’m being selfish.”

lost for words, lando stares at you. only because he knows it’s true does he halt his argument there, turning and storming into the bedroom to preserve some dignity. you stare at the slamming door and wonder how he can watch on so easily as you slip through his fingers, and not want to do anything at all?

INSTAGRAM. november twenty—fourth.

liked by danielricciardo, maxfewtrell and 928,244 others

yourusername always your #1 fan (even when you dnf) 🫶

view all 630,737 comments

carlossainz55 did he get a lollipop for being a good patient?

⤷ yourusername and a sticker 😄😄

user poor lando

landonorris my favourite nurse ❤️

user they’re sooooo cute

user that crash looked bad

yourusername dw guys i’m giving him lots of kisses and rubs better !!!!!

⤷ landonorris not as many as i’d like 😏

⤷ yourusername you’ve got a hello kitty plaster on your head you cannot be seductive right now

"oh, shit."

the fight that dreaded evening had hung over both you and lando for weeks, both of you much too stubborn to admit to any wrongdoing or, god forbid, apologise. but you carried on. if anything it was worse than not speaking. it was like nothing had happened, as if the conversation never even happened, as long as neither one of you mentioned it. still, there was a tension holding you at arms length from each other.

so to not bring up the same argument again, you followed lando to the next few races. come vegas, you had given yourself so much time to think about things and the way lando had handled it all that your mind was screaming at you to leave. to book a flight home, pack up your stuff and go. because how much more of this could you take? you weren't the trophy girlfriend, the wag whose only job was to look pretty beside her accomplished boyfriend.

you would do it after vegas, you decided. there was a few days off; time for you to talk to lando and explain your feelings, before walking out with your head held high just in time for the next race. then, the worst happened.

chatting idly to lily, the race only just beginning, you almost missed it. for a moment, you thought it was oscar spinning out. the bright orange sparks masked which number was painted onto the car, spinning drastically until the nose of the vehicle slammed into the barriers. lily grasped your arm, her sympathetic eyes making you look twice. number four, lando.

in a daze, you followed the one of the marshalls through the busy paddock until you reached the ambulance area. he had already been loaded in, paramedics and mclaren employees surrounding him. there wasn't enough room, they needed to go now.

"hop in, i'll drive you," charlotte's gentle voice appeared beside you, guiding you into the car as the ambulance hurried off. "they said he's probably fine, they just want to do the usual checks."

you nod, trusting her. you could always trust charlotte, right?

after what felt like hours, you arrived to the hospital and didn't think twice about elbowing every single person out of your way until you reached lando's room. he was laid still on the bed, eyes watching the small television in the corner. his leg was strapped up, an iv stuck into his arm, various bruises littering his skin and face. he looked up when he heard you, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

"it looks worse than it is," he assured you, noticing the panic in your eyes straight away. you breathe out some of the relief, the rest coming in a sudden pool of tears. "hey - hey, c'mere."

lando outstretches the arm that doesn't hurt like a bitch, ushering you to his side. you don't hesitate, lip wobbling as you hurry over and perch yourself on the side of the bed. tucked into his shoulder, you nuzzle as closely as you can without hurting him.

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry," you mumble, and you both know just what you're apologising for. what was a stupid fight worth when chalked up to all of this?

"me too," lando replies quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

sitting back, you look over his face. a small scratch from the helmet, just above his cheekbone. his eyes are drooping, tired from the impact and the drugs. you sniffle and smile sadly, thumb brushing over the wound.

"i'm going to move the tour," you tell him, and note that he doesn't protest. "if i'm on the other side of the world and something happens, i—”

lando shakes his head, cutting you off with a kiss. "nothing's going to happen. i'm still in one piece, aren't i?"

you hesitate, then nod, letting him shift over so you can lay next to him. resting your head on his chest, both of you quietly watching the rest of the race, you feel your head spin. maybe he had been losing you, but could you survive losing him?

writers note: we're back baby. lando count yr days my man

taglist: @openthenyoor01 @racingheartsworld @celestialend @cha-hot @gr1mes-cc @bingussthirdtoe @destinyg237 @theonottsbxtch @allywthsr @imsorare @youdontknowmeshh @bellewintersroe @orangetreekid

#💋 HEAVEN KNOWS.#lando norris fic #lando norris instagram edit #lando norris smau #lando norris drabble #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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healmyhrt · 9 months ago

Note

I have an idea. So there is a cowboy hat rule. And it basically works like this : when the cowboy gives a girl his hat he like "chooses her" and when she gives him his hat back (she have to return the hat to his HOME) they usually fuck or smth. So my idea is that the y/n gives Chris the hat on tik tok, live or yt vid and chris is confused and doesn't know what that means but fans freaks out and he finally learn what that means and return the hat. Or something like this idk

⌗ like the cowgirl you are, c. sturniolo

chris x fem!reader

summary: chris had given you his hat back in the summertime, now it was finally time for you to return it at your university’s halloween party. except for the fact that you and chris had broken up since the school year started. but cowboy hats do have rules, don’t they?

disclaimers!: smut, kissing, angst, oral sex (fem!receiving), good girl/boy kink, cursing, use of y/n

a/n: i changed up the request a little bit bc it kinda confused me idk 😭 hope the submitter enjoys this though! | also i had to make up her friends name but “eden” is not a special character to the story guys

it was october 31st, and it was my university’s annual halloween costume party. and also the day that the cowboy hat rule comes to an end.

there’s this tradition to get the freshman at my college to fuck their first year. the boy gives a girl their cowboy hat anytime after summer starts, and they have until the halloween party to have sex. after the halloween party, you’ve lost your free fuck.

chris and i had been dating since sophomore year, and we attended the same school this year too. he had given me his cowboy hat during summertime, but we broke up right after school started.

and i guess today is the last day that the cowboy hat rule is valid. i didn’t want chris to be the person id have to do it with but… we’ll see how tonight goes.

“y/n, lets go!” a voice calls through my door.

“one second! i can’t find my bandana!” the costume was last minute, and i was matching with one of my new friends, eden, who was a sophomore. she wanted to do a matching costume, but the only sexyish ones left at the costume store were cowgirls. ironic, isn’t it?

i see a bright red piece of fabric hanging on the corner of my bed frame. “coming!” i smile, tying the bandana around my neck.

i grab chris’s hat, holding it in my hands, and staring at it. i slowly put it on in the mirror, and sigh. “here we go.”

“i need a drink.” eden sighs. we enter the sorority house that was throwing the party, and she tightly grips my hand, guiding me to the drinks table.

she hands me a red solo cup, and i push her hand back to her. “designated driver? hello?” i raise an eyebrow. she rolls her eyes. “it’s halloween, lets just get an uber or sleep here or something. live a little.” i sigh.

“pleaseeeeeeee.” she dramatically frowns. i cross my arms, and she gives me a look. “fine.” i chuckle.

“im the best fucking drink mixer there is, you wait and see.” she smirks. i shimmy in place next to her. “gotta pee. where’s the bathroom?” i question. eden points to the line of girls waiting next to a wooden door.

“fuck.”

“use the master bathroom. that’s the one for the people in sorority only, but im friends with half the group. tell ‘em i said you could go.” she smiles, licking spilled alcohol off of her finger.

“you sure?” i give a scared look to her. “go, y/n.”

“which door is it?” i bite my bottom lip. “last door on the left. be aware for socks on door handles.” she chuckles. i roll my eyes.

i nod. “i’ll be here when you get back!” i give her a thumbs up before disappearing upstairs. there weren’t really a lot of people upstairs. some people talking in the hallway, some couples sneaking off into bedrooms, or hogging bathrooms.

i arrive at the last door on the left, and i look around to make sure i was at the correct one before entering.

it was so much quieter in here. despite the now muffled music from outside, i’d stay in here for the rest of the party if i could.

drying my hands, i hear muffled sound from the other side of the bathroom door. i slowly open it, hoping i don’t walk out on a couple.

i see a fitted cap sitting on the carpet, and i walk over to it. picking up the hat, i realize exactly whose it is.

“long time no see.” a familiar voice says from behind me.

fuck.

i slowly turn around, preparing to see him. “y/n.” chris smiles that familiar smile.

“christopher.” i stare at him. he smirks, walking closer to me. “y’know, i always loved when you called me that.”

i scoff. “yeah?” he clears his throat. “yeah.”

chris leans against the sofa in the middle of the room, not taking his eyes off of me. i sit on the ottoman a few feet away.

“you look good.” he smiles, bringing his cup to his lips.

“you look… like you.” i fidget with his hat in my hands. chris places his cup on the floor next to his feet, and leans forward. “is that my hat?” he questions.

“yeah, here.” i stand up, and immediately walk over to him. i hold out his cap, and his eyes stay on mine.

“thanks… but not this one.”

i freeze in place. chris stands, towering over me, and takes his cowboy hat off of my head. “you still have this?” he says through a chuckle. “yep.” i sigh.

“we broke up.” chris says, still looking at the hat. i nod, and scoff. “yep.” i say again. he looks at me, and stares.

i sigh. “well, you returned it.” he smirks. i scoff, moving past him, and sitting on the couch. i can feel his eyes burning into the back of my head. “im gonna go.”

i hear his steps get further and further, and then stop at the door. before he gets his hand on the handle, i stand.

“why?”

chris turns around, a confused expression across his face. he shrugs. “why what?” i swallow before speaking.

“why did you kiss her back?” i ask, my voice breaking slowly. chris’s face drops, and he looks at the ground.

“i don’t know.”

i scoff. “you don’t know?” chris slowly steps toward me. i stand, arms crossed, as he arrives in front of me.

“i was wasted. i wasn’t thinking straight. i don’t know why i did it, and ive never forgiven myself, y/n.” he says.

chris slumps down on the sofa next to us, holding his head in his palms. i bite my bottom lip, debating whether or not i should sit.

chris sounded genuine. i truly do believe he didn’t mean to kiss her back. but knowing it happened still hurts.

i sit next to him, my outer thigh rubbing against his the denim that covered his legs. chris rubs his eyes, and drags his fingers down his face. “i really am so sorry.”

i shift in my position, and he looks at me. i try not to hold eye contact because he never looks away. ever.

“please believe me when i say this, i never would do what i did ever again. im so sorry.” he keeps staring.

i sigh, and lean my head against his shoulder. he leans his head on top of mine, and exhales heavily. i smile.

“i still love you.”

my eyes widen, and i slowly lift my head up, his as well. i look chris in the eyes, and he nods. “i mean it.”

i pull on my bottom lip with my teeth, and stand. i take the cowboy hat from his hands, and begin walking to the door. “i love you too.” i say, my hand on the door handle.

chris doesn’t turn around, he continues to face the wall before him, sinking into the couch. and i hesitate. i do still love chris, i never stopped.

but could we really just go back to normal after that? i’m not sure. but right about now, some sex with him would definitely clear the air. although, i’m not sure i’m entirely drunk enough to do that. eden and i pregamed before we left, but that’s about it… fuck it.

“wanna show me how much you still love me?”

chris’s head snaps toward me. he raises an eyebrow. i smile, and raise the cowboy hat above my head.

“i mean cowboy hats do have rules, don’t they?” chris stands, slowly walking toward me with a smirk across his face. “they sure do.”

he lifts me off the ground like i weigh nothing, and i wrap my legs around his waist. chris holds both hands under my ass, and i stare into his eyes. “you sure about this?”

i smile, and place the hat over his long hair.

“yes ma’am.” he replies, instantly laying me down on the master bed beside us, kissing me uncontrollably.

“i missed you,”

kiss.

“so,”

kiss.

“so,”

kiss.

“much,”

and he places one more kiss on my lips, and pulls away, staring down at me. i exhale, breaking the eye contact.

“well, if you missed me so much, prove it.” i smile.

chris’s expression turns into a smug smirk, and he leans forward, kissing me again, and gripping my waist with his pale hands.

he kisses down my neck, leaving notably visibly hickeys as he moves. i breathe heavily, trying to contain myself as he kisses and bites at my skin. “chris, please…”

“so needy. have you been waiting for me to fuck you?”

there was no point in denying. i nod, as he begins to unbuckle his belt. “use your words.” i exhale heavily.

“yeah.”

“yeah?” he pulls his belt out of the loops on his jeans, and tosses it onto the marble floor that surrounded us.

he leans back down, and begins removing pieces of my costume. chris slowly unties the red bandana from around my neck. he looks at it, then at me. “useful.”

chris takes his time removing his t-shirt. he holds eye contact with me, moving as slow as possible. “chris..”

he brings his finger to my lips. “shhh… patience.”

i throw my head back in irritation, and before i know it, two hands grip my thighs and pull me to the edge of the bed. chris spreads my legs, kissing and biting my inner thigh. “don’t need these.” he says, stroking a finger across my underwear before removing them.

he grips my hips, and moves his face closer to me. softly planting a kiss on my clit, i feel him smirk against me.

he moves his head up and down, licking from my entrance and back up to my clit. "fuck—" I moan out as he starts to lap at my clit, sending pleasure everywhere throughout my body.

cheis places his hands on the top of my thighs, making me grind against his mouth, guiding him.

his grip gets tighter, and my breathing heavier.

he continues to lick up my arousal, and i place my hands in his hair, moving it out of his face.

chris stands up, and catches his breath. i do the same, and we finally look at eachother again and he smiles.

“what if i kissed you right now?” “gross.”

he laughs, and begins to unbuckle his belt. chris holds eye contact with me the whole time. “you ready, baby?”

i nod, and chris pulls a wrapped condom out of his sock.“what the hell?” i say, through a chuckle. chris returns a laugh, and rips the top of the wrapper off with his teeth.

“gotta stay prepared.”

he pulls down his boxers, revealing his cock, which oozed with precum. i stare, my eyes getting dry, and chris smirks, placing the condom over himself.

he aligns himself with my entrance, and gives me another look for consent. “ready?” i nod. “positive.”

we both gasp as chris begins to slide in, and an immediate moan leaves my mouth. “shhhhhhhh.”

“we can’t have the whole party hearing you.”

chris glances at my red bandana, and grabs it quickly. he folds it over and over until it’s long, and looks at me.

“head.” he says, i lift my head up as best i can with him thrusting into me, and he ties it around my mouth to the back of my head.

“good girl.”

chris places both hands on my waist again, gripping it tightly. he plunges into me, making a murmured moan leave my lips every time.

chris bites his bottom lip to hold back the moans that threatened to escape him. he throws his head back, and squeezes his eyes shut.

the bed creaks consistently, and it’s pretty loud too, so it’s very obvious to everyone outside what we’re doing.

chris’s thrusts start to slow, and he begins to catch his breath. “so close… gonna—” i feel him turn warm inside me as the condom fills up.

chris leans down, untying the bandana, and placing his head next to mine. i finally breathe, and shut my eyes.

“you’re so good, baby. always so good.”

he lays down next to me, breathing heavily. i just stare at him. and he stares back.

i couldn’t help but think that this was maybe a mistake?

but whether i liked it or not, we had sex, and that’s a pretty difficult thing for two ex’s to get away from.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #chris x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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headcaasefiction · 1 month ago

Text

Kinktober 2024

Day 4: Humiliation/Praise

(Dracule Mihawk/AFAB!Reader)

Minors Do Not Interact

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 12,350

Summary: Y/N is a student at Dracule Mihawk’s academy for swordsmen, and harbors a massive crush on him. She is a teacher’s pet, his star pupil, and she would do anything for him. Things become heated when Mihawk begins to push and test her limits, both publicly and privately.

Warnings: Non-negotiated Kink, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, DubCon, Student/Teacher relationship, Drinking, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Mentions of Anal, Spanking, Sir Kink, Dominant/Submissive, Biting/Marking, Pet Names.

Author’s Note: Well…October has been kicking my ass. I had so many fics planned for Kinktober (I still do, they will get written eventually, just not all in October) and then I got sick. Then this one completely got away from me, it’s twice as long as I ever intended it to be. I also know that it’s not the 4th, but this was the 4th prompt on my Kinktober list, so I’m not going to worry about the dates lining up. Anyway, I hope this 12,000+ word fic makes up for my absence lately. I love you all and hope you enjoy!

You have been a pupil of Mihawk’s Academy for just over a year now. There is yourself, and fourteen other students who live with him in his castle on the grounds of Gloom island, all learning the art of Swordsmanship together.

Mihawk is a brutal master, who expects nothing less than complete and utter devotion, discipline, and concentration from every single one of his students. At the beginning of the year there had been twenty in the group, now only fifteen remain. The others either left on their own accord, or at the very worst, were personally cast out by Mihawk himself.

You swore you would see your training to the very end, no matter how many years or even decades it took, swore you would stop at nothing in order to be his most dedicated student.

Every day you wake before the crack of dawn; you clean and nourish yourself, perform your warm up exercises, clean your sword, and then wait patiently at the training grounds with a copy of a book you have previously seen him read. Every day, you are the very first to arrive, and the last to leave every training session.

All of your fellow swordsmen tend to poke fun at you for your rigid regime, especially because you know you are not the strongest pupil at the academy. You rely more on defense, your offense lacking brute strength, but making up for it with how physically fast and quick-witted you can be during sparring matches.

Above all else, they call you a teacher’s pet. Though that’s very easy to tell, seeing as you hang onto Mihawk’s every word, are the first to volunteer for any new exercises or demonstrations, and meticulously practice the routines and techniques until you can’t physically hold your sword any longer.

A few, who you do consider to be your friends, have even figured you out.

“You like him, don’t you?” Maryelle had asked you one night, with a playful gleam in her eye, causing your cheeks to burn a deep shade of crimson red, “Look, I get it. He’s sexy in a scary kind of way.”

Your other friend, Hari piped in as well, “I guess that’s why I don’t get it,” he shrugged, “He’s such a stoic hardass. Yeah, he’s the world’s greatest swordsman, and a good teacher, but he freaks me out.”

You had laughed, still a bit embarrassed, but you admitted, “A little, but I also think he’s brilliant, and beautiful…”

It is the highlight of your entire week if he even casts a spare glance your way, those piercing golden eyes sending shivers up your spine… but during one session, just a week ago, he did something that you’re pretty sure made your entire year:

While he was wandering the training grounds, watching each student practice the new blade technique he had just taught, he paused to observe you. You held your gaze straight forward, trying to pretend like he wasn’t there, just focusing on controlling your legs, arms, and sword down to the smallest detail. After you completed the movements several times, he approached you, getting so close you could feel his warm breath tickle the shell of your ear, as he lowly whispered, “Good girl.”

He walked away as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The interaction left you stunned, breathless, with an ocean of heat roaring in your blood.

That night you touched yourself; rubbing your clit and stuffing as many of your fingers in your wet, greedy cunt as you could manage. You imagined he was at the foot of your bed, lounging in a chair, arms and legs crossed, glowing eyes gazing at you as he told you, “Good girl…now cum for me.”

The next day, you were noticeably distracted. Instead of listening intently to the lecture Mihawk was giving, you were paying far much more attention to the color and fullness of his lips, the sharp, devilishly handsome angle of his jaw and cheek bones, the firm tautness of his bare chest and abdomen, and how his tall, broad figure would look leaning over you as he thrust into your –

“Y/N.”

His booming voice had violently snatched you out of your daydream, leaving you dazed and horrified as you noticed that every single one of your classmates’ eyes were focused on you. Your entire body flushed, and you could’ve sworn that the tips of your ears were burning off.

“Y-yes, Sir?”

“Would you be so kind as to demonstrate the shikake-waza and oji-waza I described at the beginning of the lesson?”

You had no idea what he was talking about, not a single clue. His eyes were burning holes into you with unblinking, direct contact. The courtyard was completely silent, except for the faint sounds of birds chirping in the trees. You felt as though you would be crushed under the unbearable weight of the shocked expressions of your peers as you sheepishly stuttered your answer, “I-I can’t, Sir. I do not know them…”

“Were you or were you not standing there as I myself, demonstrated them this morning?”

You were so embarrassed you thought you might faint, you bit your lip before responding, “Yes, I was standing right here.”

He stalked towards you, leaning down just inches from your face, “No point in coming so early if you can’t even bother to pay attention. No one likes a performer, Y/N.”

With that he turned on his heel and walked back to the center of the courtyard, leaving you trembling, and nearly in tears. The hushed whispers of your fellow pupils ringing in your ears as the lesson continued on, Mihawk calling on another student to perform what you could not.

The following days after, you were determined to get back in his good graces. He had been impressed with you before, had called you a good girl, and you refused to let one slip up ruin everything you had worked so hard for. But that was proving to be more of a challenge than you previously thought.

Throughout the rest of the week you seemed to have a target on your back, and Mihawk’s hawk-eyes were completely locked in on it. No matter how hard you tried, nothing you did was good enough for him. Your stance was lousy, your posture was poor, your movements too slow, your techniques not accurate, your sword not sharp enough. The list continued, with every single criticism said loudly, and within earshot for the entirety of your peer group to hear.

“Y/N, what did you do to piss him off so badly?” Maryelle had asked, brow furrowed with concern, “I’ve never seen him be this hard on someone before… do you think he’s going to throw you out of the academy?”

You shook your head, feeling defeated. You were exhausted, both physically and emotionally, “I really don’t know… I didn’t mean to zone out at the beginning of the week, I’ve just had a lot on my mind I guess.”

Hari patted you on the shoulder, and with a surprisingly sympathetic tone, he said, “I doubt he’s going to kick you out, he probably would’ve already done that by now. Maybe he’s just pushing you super hard so you unleash your true potential or something.”

“You’re probably right. I can’t afford to slack for even a moment, I know I can do better.”

“Soo…do you still have a crush on him then?” Maryelle teased, poking you in the side.

“Shut up,” you grinned, your cheeks glowing a light pink as you gently shoved her by the shoulder.

That had made you feel a little better, kept your spirits up and reignited your will power. You were going to impress him and show your worth even if it fucking killed you.

Training was still extraordinarily tough though, and it was well established at this point that Mihawk was picking on you in front of everyone when he forced you to spar with five of your classmates in a row one morning.

You panted hard as your chest heaved with exertion; heart beating in your throat, hair wild and dripping with sweat, and more than a few cuts and bruises littered your skin.

“Again.” He demanded, motioning at another student to come forward.

Your fellow pupil looked more than a little concerned, hesitantly glancing between you and Mihawk before taking her stance, sword in hand. Even out of concern for your safety, no one was willing to challenge the teachings of their master.

Without another word you lunged forward, swords clashing as you tried to dive in between her waist and arm to twist the blade from her grasp. It was an attempt to end the fight as quickly as possible, as you were not sure how much longer you could last. But you failed the disarm, her hand hooking under your armpit and flinging you over her shoulder before throwing you to the ground, knocking the wind out of you.

You groaned in pain, struggling to get air into your constricted lungs, while little black spots dipped in and out of your vision, one hand blindly groping the ground for your sword that you could not find.

Suddenly Mihawk was looming over you, tall, broad, and terrifying, almost how he looked in your nighttime fantasies and daydreams. Your sword was gripped in his hand, and he had a stern and disappointed look that shadowed over his face. He tsked at you, bringing the tip of your blade to your chin to slightly lift your head up towards him.

“Is that all you have left in you?”

You bit your lip, chest still heaving to catch your breath, fingers gripped tight in the grass beneath you as a single tear slid down the side of your face. You had no words, you just gently shook your head, and squeezed your eyes shut in defeat.

“Pity… go clean yourself up. Meet me in the ball room after lunch. Bring your sword.” He then drove your sword into the ground close by your shoulder, turned his back, and began to walk towards the castle, “Class dismissed.”

The rest of the students cleared out of the courtyard almost immediately, some gave you looks of pity, others completely ignored your pathetic, sprawled out body and rushed inside, grateful that they were not the object of Mihawk’s wrath.

Hari and Maryelle were the only ones that stayed behind with you, grabbing your sword and helping you to sit up as you began to sob. This was more than embarrassment, this had gone so much farther beyond that point now. You had never felt so utterly humiliated in your entire life, and now you had to face him alone later that afternoon.

Maryelle held you as you cried, arm wrapped tight around you as you limped and leaned against her back to your room, Hari carrying your sword for you with a hand softly placed on your back.

“He’s a prick, Y/N.”

“I know, I know,” you cried, sitting on the edge of your bed with your head in your hands, “I just want him to like me!”

Later that afternoon, after you cleaned yourself up, soaked your aching limbs in the tub, and bandaged your minor wounds, you joined Maryelle and Hari in the dining hall for lunch. When you entered, an uncomfortable silence hung in the room, followed by a surge of hushed tones and whispers as you walked to your seat.

Both Hari and Maryelle rolled their eyes as you sat down next to them, “Ignore them, they’re assholes.”

You began to pick at your food, trying your best to calm your frazzled nerves, “I know, they’re honestly the least of my worries right now.”

“…what do you think is going to happen?” Maryelle asked softly.

“I have no idea. He could throw me out, he could scream at me, he could fight me, he could kill me…”

Hari’s eyes went wide, and he grabbed your hand, “Y/N, he’s not going to kill you… everything is going to be okay.”

“I sure hope so.”

Once the clock in the dining room chimed 1:00, signaling the end of the lunch hour, you nervously made your way across the castle, and finally ended up outside the large and lavish doors of the ballroom. You had only ever been inside the room once, and it was back when it was your first day on the island. He had lined the entire class up and gave a speech about what he expected out of each and every one of you, how his word was law, and that you all would only be allowed to stay as long as he personally wanted you to.

Before grabbing the large brass handle, you hesitated, anxiety flooding your nervous-system, your pulse thumping in your ears. What if he was going to ask you to leave? And then tell you what a disappointment and waste of time you were all of these months?

Instead you shoved down the racing thoughts, gripped your sword tight, put on a brave face, and opened the door.

He was waiting for you on the far side of the room, seated in a plush red velvet and wood chair reading an old leather bound book.

“Come in.” He ordered, with a subtle flick of his hand, not even looking up from the page.

You closed the door behind you and walked toward him, posture straight, shoulders back as you held your head high, trying to act like you weren’t scared out of your wits. You stopped in front of him, crossing your arms behind your back to wait for further instructions.

After he finished reading his page he placed a bookmark to save his spot, and then he finally looked up at you, eyes as piercing and frightening as ever.

“Do you know why I asked you here today, Y/N?”

You tried to swallow a lump that suddenly formed in your throat, your mouth dry. You cleared your throat and spoke up, “B-because I was unable to finish my sparring match today?”

Mihawk closed his book and set it aside, rising from his seat to his full height to tower over you, and look you straight in the eyes, “No, not because of that.”

He stepped even closer, forcing you to crane your neck to hold his gaze, refusing to back down from the slight advance.

Your brows furrowed, your hands clenching and unclenching with a touch of nerves and confusion, “Do you… do you want me to fight you, Sir?”

It was nearly impossible to read the expression on his face most of the time, always so stoic, stern, and serious, so this time you were taken aback by the slight smirk that graced his face for a moment. He turned around, placing his hat on the same side table where he put his book, before walking over to a rack that held several variations of swords. He pondered them for a moment, then picked up a long, slender rapier, one that was quite similar to your own.

“You’re a good fighter, Y/N, but a sword fight would be very one-sided, I’m afraid.”

The way he put that was odd, you thought, while you watched him gracefully swish the sword in a sharp arch over his head, testing the balance of it.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I’m a little bit confused…”

Suddenly, without warning, he lunged at you; the tip of his blade piercing through the air at lightning speed, and it was like you were seeing it happen in slow motion. Without even thinking, you ducked out of the way, rolling back and to the side to create some distance between the two of you.

You leaped up onto your feet, extending your sword just above your head in time to parry his next attack, the clash of metal ringing throughout the room. He swung at you again, narrowly missing your shoulder as you spun around, twisting low to the ground to aim for his knee. He blocked that too, exerting his weight and tremendous strength through the blade, sending you sliding back on the marble floor onto your knees.

“Good, very good,” he drawled, standing up straight once more from his attack position, “Even quicker than this morning, I see.”

You breathed slowly, in through your nose and out of your mouth, trying your best to steady your heart-rate. He had truly taken you by surprise, and you were almost sure you would’ve been dealing with a rather painful puncture wound had you not stepped out of the way in time.

From your new position on the floor, you realized he had barely moved, but somehow had managed to get you to three separate points in the room, all within 10 to 15 feet of each other. Yet he just stood there, looking at the blade he held in his hands, as if he were bored.

That image of him lit a fire under your ass. He was just toying with you, toying with you like he had been doing all damn week, and he looked good while doing it. This stupid man, who was the object of your desire, who you gave up your entire life for to follow his teachings. This stupid man whose approval you craved more than anything else on earth, whose hypnotic voice had crippled your year long streak of concentration, and resolve with only two words. This man, who was so stupid, and tall, and handsome, and perfect and it made you want to scream.

In a sudden fit of rage, a pure lapse in judgement, you rose to your feet and ran at him full force. You darted your blade out forward, first to his right, then left, and up towards his neck while simultaneously crouching down to kick out your leg, a vain attempt to push him off balance. None of it worked; he blocked and out-maneuvered every single slash, blow, and limb that you swiped at him, while not even breaking a sweat.

With an angry shout, you rose your blade above your head to slash down at him one more time, a stupid, childish move that left you extremely open and vulnerable.

Before you even knew it, he parried you, knocking your sword straight from your grasp, causing it to scatter across the room. Then with another sudden movement, he snatched both of your wrists up in one of his large hands, shoved you against the nearest wall, and pinned them above your head.

You expected him to point his blade at your throat, demand that you beg to stay, or possibly tell you to pack your things and get the hell out before he decided to kill you. But he said no such thing, instead he just ended up surprising you again.

“I think that��s quite enough of that,” he said calmly, setting the sword aside to lean on a nearby bookshelf while one of his knees slid between your legs, making your eyes go wide.

Heat shot through you, sparks of pleasure licking up your insides as he gazed down at you. He was close, so close you knew he could see the deep blush that covered your face and neck; so close that he could see your dilated pupils, blown wide with desperate need.

You panicked, attempting to free your arms and squirm away from him before he could figure out how your body was reacting. But it was no use, his grip was too strong, and his other free hand rested on the wall by your waist. He had caged you in, leaving you completely open to him with nowhere to run to or hide.

“Sir p-please, I’m sorry… I – please don’t make me leave…”

And just when you thought nothing else could shock you anymore, once again you were wrong. Dracule Mihawk smiled at you; a teasing, condescending smile, but a smile none the less, as he inched his knee even further between your legs, “Why would I make you leave when I have you exactly where I want you?”

You were at a loss for words, only an involuntary whimper fell from your lips as you went slack, surrendering all will to his control, ready for whatever he was going to do to you.

“You’re one of my star pupils, Y/N,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over your collarbone, leaving goosebumps in their wake, “Your devotion and dedication have not gone unnoticed this past year.”

It felt like your entire body was vibrating on a molecular level, little bursts of heat rolling through your stomach, making your clit throb, aching to be touched. Your eyes fluttered shut, burning every single detail of this moment into your memory.

He pressed himself fully against you, making you gasp as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, “But you can’t scrape by on book smarts and quick reflexes alone. I expect great things of my favorite student.”

You looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, feeling punch drunk and dizzy from his close proximity, “I’m your…favorite?”

In response he smirked at you, his hand finding your waist, thumb grazing over your hipbone, “I know I’ve been cruel this week, but I cannot let the others suspect my favoritism. Let’s keep this between us, yes?”

You nodded dreamily at him as soft shivers tingled under your skin where he touched you, your fingers twitching slightly in his grip, “Y-yes, Sir. I promise I won’t tell anybody.”

“Good girl…” He breathed, and that almost made you cum right then and there. Instead, you bit your lip, trying to stifle the small whimper that poured from your lips.

Finally, he released your hands, causing them to drop weakly to your sides; your knees almost buckling beneath you as he backed away.

“Your training will only get more difficult from here on out, expect to be on your guard at all times now. I don’t want you getting too comfortable.”

He left you dazed as you leaned against the wall, trying to get your bearings while he sat back down in his chair to continue reading his book.

“That is all, Y/N. You are excused.” He said with another wave of his hand, as if your interaction had never even occurred.

With a weak nod you pushed yourself from the wall, your knees still quivering with excitement as you walked past him, picked up your sword, and gently closed the doors behind you.

“Sooo, what happened?” Maryelle had asked as soon as she saw you wandering the corridors hours later, “Are you okay?”

All you could do was shrug, with a gentle shake to your head, attempting to be as nonchalant as possible, “Nothing, we just talked.”

“You just-…you just talked?”

“Yup… we just talked.”

You avoided anyone else for the rest of the day, opting to hike up the hills and train by yourself to relieve your confusion and pent-up frustrations. Later that night, as you got ready for bed, you touched yourself in the shower, biting your wrist while you whimpered and moaned his name, pretending your fingers were his fucking into you while he had you trapped against the wall, fingertips torturing your clit.

The memory of his warm breath tickling your neck, and firm body pressed against yours lulled you to sleep, with those two words echoing in your mind, “Good girl…”

It was finally the end of the long, tortuous week you had endured. As usual, you got up and performed your morning rituals, reading in the courtyard of the training grounds as your peers began trickling in to join you. But much to your and your classmates’ surprise, instead of the normal training session with Mihawk, he announced that he would be going on an excursion for the next week. It had been months since any of you had gotten a break, and he made it a point to tell everyone to actually enjoy the time off.

“My presence is requested by orders of the World Government, which means I will take leave for a week. I suggest you all continue your training on an individual level, but also request that you relax your bodies and minds. One cannot remain sharp without easing one’s troubles every now and then. I only ask that you do not burn the castle to the ground. Anything out of place upon my return, and well…let’s not find out what I would have in store for you all. Class excused.”

As soon as Mihawk left the courtyard, with a swoop of his long coat, and the shadow of his tall figure disappearing down one of the corridors, the entire class bursts out in celebration. Some jumping up and down, cheering and yelling, others immediately beginning to plan for a party and dinner.

Hari and Maryelle come up to you, beaming with excitement.

“A whole week, Y/N can you believe it?!” Maryelle gushes, grabbing your hand to walk along with them, “At least you’ll get a break from his royal jerkiness, yeah?”

“And there’s already a big dinner party being planned for tonight, you’re coming right?” Hari asks.

You were excited to spend more time with your friends, and after the hellish week you had just gone through, you were grateful for some time off, some relief. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that you wouldn’t be seeing Mihawk for an entire week, especially after the tantalizing moment you shared with each other in the ballroom yesterday.

With a forced smile you squeeze Maryelle’s hand and wrap your arm around Hari’s shoulders, trying to cover up your disappointment, “Of course I’ll be there! How about we hit the wine cellar as well? I doubt he’ll miss a few of the not-so-vintage bottles.”

They both grin deviously, clapping you on the back, “Now that’s what I’m talking about, you deserve to let loose a little. Maybe we can even find someone to take your mind off that lousy Hawk-eye.”

You roll your eyes, the three of you following the stream of people back into the castle, a glint of knowing in your eye, “You can try, but I doubt it.”

It was now several hours into the evening festivities, Mihawk has only been gone half the day and already the entire class has taken over the dining hall and common room. A few people have even found a set of instruments and are busy keeping a small group dancing. Some are scattered in small circles drunkenly chatting away, others off in pairs, shamelessly making out in the darkened corners of the room, or sneaking away to the dorms for a quickie.

At the beginning of the night you had been glued to Hari and Maryelle’s side, but as the three of you continued to down glass after glass of the rich red wine Mihawk kept the castle stocked with, you could tell that your presence was getting in the way of their drunken flirting. So you left them sitting together on a couch, Maryelle halfway in Hari’s lap.

You pick up your wine glass and make your way back to the kitchen, searching for an unopened bottle to nurse for the rest of the night.

“May I tempt you?” You hear a low voice ask you from behind.

You turn around, and are met with one of your classmates named Raegan, a tall, blond, decently handsome, and talented swordsman you have sparred with on a few occasions. He’s uncorking a bottle, and smiling down at you as he gestures toward your empty glass.

“Oh please! Thank you.” You smile at him, a slight blush on your cheeks as you give him a once over while he pours you a hefty glass.

“Are you enjoying the night, Y/N?” Raegan questions, tone calming and polite, and thankfully not overly intoxicated like almost everyone else.

“I am!” You nod, taking a sip of your wine, “It’s been one hell of a week, so I’m glad we can all relax for a while. Plus it’s so nice to casually socialize, it seems like the only thing we ever talk about is training.”

“I agree with you there,” he laughs softly, leaning closer to you, “Well, you deserve a break after the hard time he’s been giving you recently. I’m assuming everything went okay when you saw him after lunch? A lot of us we pretty worried about you.”

Your heart-rate elevates slightly at the mention of yesterday’s meeting with Mihawk, your cheeks turning an even darker shade of red as you try to push the memories to the back of your mind.

“Y-yes, it went fine. We just had a talk is all, about-… about me making sure I’m living up to my potential,” you stammer, a little flustered.

Raegan leans down, looking closely at your face while he presses the back of his hand to your forehead, “Are you feeling alright? You’re looking a little red, and you feel warm.”

The gentle gesture catches you off guard, causing a small swarm of butterflies to flutter in your stomach for a moment. You’re flattered by his concern, and it has been such a long time since you’ve allowed yourself to freely flirt with anybody, that you forget about your unrequited crush on your teacher for just a moment. So much of your attention has been focused on Mihawk that you forgot to look that way at anyone else.

“Yeah, I’m fine…it’s just the-…it’s just the wine is all.” You giggle as his hand leaves your forehead, fingertips ghosting down the side of your face as he pulls away.

He smiles at you again, picking up the bottle while he nods toward the common room, “Good. Care to sit and finish this off with me then? I’d love your company.”

“Absolutely.”

He leads you out of the kitchen, and you find an unoccupied couch in a back corner, where you can actually hear each other talk.

As the night continues on, and the warm intoxication from the wine begins to settle in, you notice that you have been inching closer and closer to Raegan for the last half hour. Your thighs pressed flush against one another as you flirt shamelessly, touching his leg when you laugh at one of his jokes.

The wine continues to feed your courage, and you find yourself almost half in his lap, his large hand finally settling on your thigh, giving it a warm squeeze.

“I’m glad this happened tonight,” he says, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your inner thigh, “I’ve always wanted to talk to you more, but you’re always so concentrated on training… I never thought someone like you would ever give me the time of day.”

You blush, softly tracing the back of his hand with your fingertips, “I get a little lost in it sometimes… what do you mean someone like me?”

“Someone so dedicated, so humble, and talented…” he leans over and murmurs in your ear, causing a shiver of excitement to run down your spine, and a stirring of butterflies in your tummy, “Someone so absolutely gorgeous.”

You sigh, heart fluttering, Fuck it’s been so long, I need this… His face is so close to yours, shadowed with an intense longing, his gaze looking down from your eyes to your lips. He cradles your jaw in his hand, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip before his eyes flutter shut and he guides his lips to yours.

You sink into the kiss for a moment, your hands gripping at his shirt as your body screams at you for more. But after a few moments you break away, a sudden odd feeling washing over you as Mihawk’s face flashes in your mind.

“I-I’m so-so sorry, Raegan I -,” You stammer, feeling confused and flustered while you gently push at his chest to create some distance.

He looks a little hurt, but mostly concerned as he immediately stops touching you, “It’s okay, really Y/N, I came on a little too strong – …”

“I just need to get some air real quick, okay?” You pick yourself up off the couch and begin to retreat to the hallway, “I’m just going to use the restroom, I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting to hear his reply you stumble out of the common room, away from his sincere eyes and warm touches, feeling a little queasy as you head toward the restroom. There’s a weird pit in the center of your stomach now where pleasure used to be, and you can’t help but feel as if you’ve somehow done something wrong.

Get a grip… you mutter to yourself while you enter the washroom, looking at your reflection for a moment; lips plump from kissing, hair a little wild from where he ran his fingers through it, and cheeks tinged a rosy-pink, both from your excitement and the amount of wine you have consumed.

You relieve yourself and wash up, trying your best to empty your mind. Mihawk wasn’t here, and there was nothing between the two of you anyway. On the other hand, there was a hot, sweet, guy your age in the other room who seemed more than interested in fucking you tonight, and you have every right to indulge in that.

I expect great things of my favorite student… his voice lingers in your memory, and you shake it away as you splash cool water on your face to calm your nerves, before drying your hands and heading back through the corridor.

It’s well into the night, and only a faint trace of light illuminates the dark hallways; a hint of moonlight shining through the windows, and a very distant orange glow from the candles lit in the dining room.

You don’t realize how drunk you are until you’ve left the bathroom, the buzz dulling your vision and coordination as your hand slides against the wall for support. Carefully, you put one foot in front of the other, trying to concentrate on not stubbing your toe or knocking something over.

All of a sudden you feel a shiver go up your spine as a shadow moves out of the corner of your eye, startling you. You spin around, scanning the darkened space in a panic, expecting to have stumbled upon one of your classmates, but no one is there.

With your brow furrowed in confusion, deciding that it was just a trick of the light along with your inebriation, you turn back around to continue forward.

That’s when you feel an arm circle around your waist, pinning your arms to your sides, and a hand grip tightly over your mouth.

Your eyes go wide and you try to scream, but the air is squeezed out of you when you are pulled further back into the hallway; the faint noise you squeak out muffled behind their palm, the heels of your boots dragging silently across the carpet.

Whoever has a hold of you is significantly taller and stronger than you, your struggles doing absolutely nothing against their sheer size and brute strength. Your mind goes into panic mode, the weight of drunkenness slowing your reflexes and sapping away your energy, all ounce of your training gone as you squirm in their arms helplessly.

“My, my, what do we have here? Has a little rabbit lost it’s way?” A deep voice teases, tightening their grip around you more to get you to stop wiggling, “I’d be careful with how you move, little one, I might not be able to control myself,” he purrs into your ear, pressing his pelvis into your ass.

You can feel the bulge in his pants harden as he grinds into you. Heat rushes into your cheeks, flooding through your veins as you whimper into his hand, terrified and turned on at the same time.

“Lucky me, it seems like my little rabbit has had too much to drink,” he drawls in your ear, making your heart thump wildly in your chest, “Makes you nice and pliant for me, doesn’t it? So easy to take advantage.”

He finally removes his hand from your mouth to thread through your hair, forcing your head to the side so he can kiss and bite, sucking dark marks into the tender flesh of your neck.

You go slack in his arms, your strength depleted as you surrender to his will, “P-please, don’t… I-I have someone waiting for me, I won’t tell anyone…”

He licks the shell of your ear, pressing you firm between him and the wall, your back slightly arched, one of his feet kicking your legs a part, “Hmmm, and who would you even tell that would actually believe you?”

Nervously you swallow the lump in your throat in an attempt to sound normal, and not the mixture of scared, horny, and disoriented that you actually feel, “I would tell Sir Mihawk, he-he cares for me, he would believe me. So just let me go, and I promise not to tell him.”

“Is that so?”

To your surprise you are flipped around, your back hitting the wall with a dampened thud as your hands are pinned to either side of your head. In the darkness you see two golden orbs peering down at you, your vision adjusting to the faintly shadowed face of Mihawk.

“Sir?!” You exclaim, completely shocked, “But-but you said you were leaving-…”

“What did I tell you the other day, Y/N, hm?” His grip is tight against your wrists, and his sharp features look even more intimidating and angry in the shadows of the moonlight, “What did I make abundantly clear?”

You wrack your hazy mind for what he could be speaking of, but you can’t seem to think of it. All you can remember is how he felt against you, warm and firm and tantalizing, just as he does now, your body aching to be touched as he whispers to you Good girl, Good Girl, Good Girl…

You bite your lip and press your legs together in desperation, your fingers twitching while you whine, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember…”

“Forgotten already?” He sneers, with a sharp suck to his teeth, “How very disappointed I am in you, Y/N. I’m not gone for even a day and your discipline has completely slipped away. I told you, be on your guard at all times.”

Mentally you slap yourself and squeeze your eyes shut to avoid looking at him, shame sinking into your stomach.

“I warned you not to get too comfortable, that I expect better of you. But what do you do once my back is turned? Get drunk and prowl around looking to get fucked? You think I don’t know what is going on inside my own castle? I know Raegan is waiting for you, waiting to take you to his bed.”

Your eyes snap open wide as you shake your head, “No, no! He-he was nice to me, but nothing hap-…”

But he cuts you off again, and you could swear that he sounds jealous, “Is he the reason why I catch you daydreaming in the middle of training?”

He’s flush against you now, his knee pressed up in between your legs, making you gasp as it nudges your clit through your pants, soaking your panties. His eyes are piercing down at you through the dark, his warm breath ghosting over your lips, his mouth just inches from yours.

“No, Sir, not him. He’s not the one I’m thinking of…”

A moment passes and you see a light flash in his eyes, sudden and intrusive before his lips collide with yours, hungry, possessive, and raw. He nips your bottom lip, causing you to cry out at the sharp pain, silencing you with his tongue as it greedily licks into your mouth.

Pleasure sings through your body, his wicked lips leaving trails of electric ecstasy in their wake while he swallows every gasp and whimper you breathe into him, before finally pulling away.

One of his hands snatches both of your wrists, pinning them above your head while he trails kisses down your neck to your collar bone. His free hand reaches under your shirt to caress up your belly, before cupping one of your breasts in his hands, his thumb and forefinger tugging on the sensitive bud of your nipple.

A moan tears itself from your throat, and you bury your heated face into the side of your arm, embarrassed at how eagerly you are reacting to him, like melted putty in his hands.

He groans softly in response, nipping at your earlobe as his hand wanders further down, fingertips dipping below your waistband.

“Tell me no,” he murmurs, unbuttoning the fly of your pants, and inching down your lower stomach, “Tell me no and I’ll stop.”

The pad of his middle finger caresses you, glides along your slit and up to your aching clit, rubbing little circles through your soft, wet panties. Warmth pools in your tummy, throbbing down to your needy cunt as more slick dribbles out to trail down your quivering thighs.

You’re both staring at each other, half-lidded and slack-jawed, desperate for more as your breath mingles together while he teases you mercilessly.

Tell me no and I’ll stop…

But you don’t want him to stop, only want him to take it further; want him to rip your clothes off, dip his fingers inside, then fuck you so hard against the wall that the entire castle hears you cum on his cock.

The thought makes you ache as you whimper, “Mihawk.”

He smirks down at you, pleased with your reaction while he suddenly withdraws his hand from your pants, making you moan in frustration, “No wait, please don’t stop…”

Your hands are released when he kisses you once more, before backing away to give you space, leaving you wanting.

“I’m afraid our time is up for the night, little rabbit. Meet me in my quarters upstairs after sundown tomorrow, tell no one I am here. Do not be late.”

And just like that he melted into the shadows once more, gone just as fast as he had appeared to you. You have no idea how long you have been gone, the interaction feeling both lightning fast, but also like it had transpired over the course of hours, suspended in time.

Your fingertips brush over your tingling, kiss-swollen lips, the remnants of his touch lingering all along your body; yet being all alone in the dark made it almost feel like it was just a dream.

Slowly you pull yourself together, buttoning back up the front of your trousers and smoothing down your hair and blouse. You glide your hand along the wall again, faster this time since your eyes have adjusted to the darkness.

You walk back into the common room, surprised to see that the celebration has not died down yet, and that Raegan is still waiting for you on the same couch, nursing the same bottle of wine.

His eyes brighten a little when you sit down by him again, though this time you put a little distance between the two of you.

His expression is soft and full of concern as he says, “Hey, Y/N are you okay? I was just about to come looking for you.”

You smile and nod, raking your fingers through your hair a little nervously, “Yeah, I’m so sorry, I had way too much wine…look Raegan, I didn’t mean to - …”

He holds his hand up, cutting you off, “Y/N, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I came on too strong. I just…I really like you.”

You’re flattered, truly you are, but after what just occurred you know there’s no possibility that anything could ever happen between the two of you now. Dracule Mihawk had laid a claim, and there was no way you could go back.

“Raegan, I like you too. You are gorgeous, seriously, and so sweet…but there is someone else, and that’s not going away any time soon.”

“I understand. They’re lucky whoever they are.”

You smile in response, picking yourself up from the couch once more, your buzz now fading into the realm of exhaustion, “I had a great time with you tonight, but I need to go to bed before I end up on the floor.”

He chuckles, holding his glass up in a toast while you begin to walk towards the doorway, “That’s where I plan on being at the end of the night. Goodnight, Y/N.”

The next day you wake up hung over, two hours past when you normally rise, regretting how much you drank the previous night. You make your way to bathroom, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you turn on the faucet and splash your face.

You look in the mirror, your eyes growing wide when you notice the dark red and purple marks littering up the side of your neck and spread down to the hollow of your collarbone. You groan in frustration, realizing you will have to wear turtle-neck shirts and scarves for the next week to avoid anyone seeing them.

The events of last night rush back through your memory, leaving you reeling. It had all seemed like one big magnificent dream, a perfect fantasy that your mind created. But the evidence is littered all over your skin, and in a moment of panic you remember that you promised to meet him later tonight.

What could he possibly want? Had last night been some sort of trick, some sort of test that you had possibly failed?

For the rest of the day you try your best to not agonize over what awaits you in Mihawk’s study tonight. You take an extra long bath, scrubbing away your hangover, and then sneak down to the dining hall for a late breakfast, with the hopes that you won’t run into anyone there. You’re in luck, as it seems all of your classmates are still sleeping off their night of debauchery.

You pack a small bag and head up to the hills behind the castle to be alone, where you read, eat toast and jam, and practice a little bit with your sword. Eventually the day has gotten away from you, and you are shocked when you realize that the sun will set in less than an hour.

Anxiety quickens your heart beat while you gather your things and make your way down to the castle again, admiring the sky bathing the island in reds, oranges, pinks and purples. You wish it wouldn’t end, because for all you know it could be the last time you see the sunset on Gloom island. For all you know you made a terrible mistake last night and he would be throwing you out.

You walk quickly through the hallways, avoiding every single person you pass until you get to your bedroom. You put your sword away in your closet, and give yourself a once over in the mirror. With a sigh you gather your courage, pushing down the mixture of fear and excitement that rolls in your stomach as you make your way up the stairs.

The last bit of light has faded beyond the horizon of the island, shadowing the castle in a dark, eerie blue that creeps in from the hallway windows of the upper floor. You had never been in any of the rooms up here before, everyone knew the top floor was out of bounds to the students, that it was all private to Mihawk.

At first you were not sure which door to knock on, seeing as he hadn’t been very specific. But that’s when you saw a faint strip of light glowing from under a massive set of ornately carved wooden doors.

Slowly you walk up to the doorway, your heart beating in your throat, palms sweaty from nerves. After a moment of hesitation, you squeeze your eyes shut and knock twice.

The light between the cracks of the doors flickers slightly before they open, revealing Mihawk’s piercing eyes staring down at you. He opens the door all the way once he sees that it’s you, and steps to the side to allow you in.

“Please, come in Y/N.”

You bow your head a little, ducking past him in an attempt to hide the blush that’s deepening across your cheeks, his eyes never leaving you. He closes the door behind you, making goosebumps erupt across your skin with a flash of excitement as he brushes behind your back momentarily, before walking over to a chair by his fireplace.

You look around the room, taking in how gorgeous it is. It’s just his style, all black and red velvet, lavish four post bed, intricate rugs and a large fireplace that lights the entire room a glow. It looks overwhelmingly romantic.

“Uhm, Sir?” You say, lacing and twiddling your fingers together nervously, “Did I…was last night some kind of test?”

There is a pause in the air while Mihawk pours himself a glass of wine, swirling and savoring it with a gentle sip, before his eyes lock onto yours, predatory and serious.

“A test? What kind of test would that be, hm?”

He moves toward you, slowly, his tall form casting a long shadow over you. You bite your lip, and inch back subconsciously, unable to look him in the eyes as he continues his advance.

“I-I’m not sure…” You mutter, glancing up to see him circle around you, “This past week has been so-so… confusing.”

He smirks down at you after taking another sip of his wine, nonchalantly swirling it, eyeing the red liquid as if bored; as if he had no clue how questionable and different your relationship had been lately.

“Whatever do you mean, Y/N? I think I’ve made my intentions abundantly clear.”

Your brows furrow together, and you wipe your perspiring hands against your shirt as he continues to circle you like a hawk, “You’ve been testing me, I’m sure of it…testing my will-power, my patience.”

Mihawk stops in his tracks behind you, and you feel an electric shock pulse up your spine when he caresses the back of your shoulders, making you gasp softly in surprise when he murmurs in your ear, “Is that so? Well then, how do you think you’re doing so far?”

You shiver, eyes fluttering while his fingertips continue their gentle exploration of your neck, hair, and shoulders, “You haven’t thrown me out yet… do you test all of your students this way?”

Your body goes lax when you feel his arms snake around your waist, pressing the front of his body to your back, his lips brushing along the shell of your ear, “No, just you… I knew you were special the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

You shut your eyes and bite your lip, your heart thumping so loud you can feel it in your ears. With a slight moment of hesitation you slowly bring your hand up behind you, and dare to run your fingers through his thick, dark hair. You hear him sigh, and his head relaxes on your shoulder as the two of you hold one another; but it doesn’t last long as he withdraws from you, wandering back over near the fireplace to sit in his black velvet chair.

His eyes are back on you with that predatory look once more, gazing at you over the lip of his wine glass while he takes another sip, un-blinking.

You’re speechless, your skin tingling where he touched you, your core fluttering as you press your legs together, wetness flooding your panties. His eyes look you up and down, his pupils blown wide, making you blush when it looks like he’s enjoying watching you squirm.

Suddenly he puts his wine down, and sits on the edge of his seat, elbows on his knees, looking you in the eye and firmly saying, “Take off your clothes.”

Your eyes go wide and your mouth opens in shock, thinking he can’t possibly be serious, “Wh-what?”

“You heard me, Y/N. Take off your clothes.”

You fold your arms tight to your body, and bite your lip, shaking your head, “Is this… this is another test isn’t it?”

“I wonder, or do you think we’re possibly past that now?” He drawls, one of his eyebrows quirked up in a faux-puzzled expression, “Now I don’t like to be kept waiting, Y/N. I said take off your clothes.”

Heat floods you head to toe, head reeling, his authoritative words ringing in your ears. His eyes are fixed on you, stern and swimming with impatience.

Your body slightly trembles as you play with the hem of your shirt, debating on whether or not you are going to obey him. You’ve never disobeyed an order from him before, and your body aches for him, is screaming at you to strip and offer yourself. But there is still a seed of doubt in your mind, a fear that if you blindly debase yourself for him that he will be disgusted by you.

In the end, your carnal desires win when you lift your shirt over your head and drop it to your feet, your boots and pants coming off next until you are left in your bra and panties, skin tinged pink with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment as he stares at you.

“Come here,” he beckons, twitching his fingers in a come-hither motion, his yellow eyes almost black while his blown-out pupils rake over your body.

You obey, stumbling forward slightly, your knees knocking together while you look at the floor to avert his searing gaze. You stop about a foot away from him, the heat from the fireplace warming you, the light from the flames dancing along your exposed skin.

Finally you look up at him once more, the fire flickering back in his eyes, making him look even more dangerous than he normally does. He takes a deep breath, his teeth raking his bottom lip before he says, “Take off all of your clothes.”

You shiver at his tone, deep and serious, a wave of arousal rolling through your tummy. You expected that he would ask this, but in the back of your mind you didn’t think he would go this far.

Every limit you ever thought you had is surpassed the moment you unhook your bra and abandon it on the floor, your breasts perking up as they are exposed to the open air; your panties soon after being tugged down your legs and kicked away.

Mihawk is on the edge of his seat, staring you down with a possessive and heated look when he finally speaks again, “Now, get down on your knees.”

You blush furiously, but comply, sinking down to your knees on the plush carpet in front of him, covering your breasts with your arms and pressing your thighs together to maintain some level of modesty.

That makes him smirk, a light laugh exhaling from his lips, “Don’t be shy, be a good girl and spread your legs for me, then put your hands behind your back.”

You whimper, your limbs shaking a little when you sit up on your knees and spread your legs, revealing your glistening pussy while you cross your arms behind your back. There’s no going back now, no where to hide yourself as you kneel completely bare before him.

Mihawk licks his lips in response, giving you a once over, looking like a hawk about to devour his prey, but only after playing with it just a little.

“You like this, don’t you, Y/N?” He asks with a devious smile while he eye-fucks you, paying special attention to your chest and cunt, reveling in how delirious with arousal you’ve become.

You bite your lip, your body trembling as heat licks up your insides. In response to his question you nod, no use lying about it now that the want is fully on display, leaking out of you.

He grins and gets up from his chair, circling around you once more before he leans down on one knee to get eye-level with you, gently grazing his hand along your collarbone, before tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“If I feel between your legs, how wet are you going to be for me? Or should we just wait to see if you make a mess of my carpet?”

You bite back a moan, your nails digging into your forearms behind your back, your heart pounding wildly in your chest, your clit throbbing at his words. The fear of him being right shoots heat right through your veins, and at this rate you would start dripping. The thought visibly flushes your face and the tips of your ears a dark crimson color.

His hand is now on your thigh, creeping further and further towards your slick center, his lips ghosting along the underside of your jaw as he does so, making you shiver with need, “Would you like me to check?”

You let out a shaky breath when he pulls back to look into your eyes, pondering and searching for any hesitation while his fingers continue their journey, “Tell me no…” He says, just like he said in the dark hallway the night before, “Tell me no, and I’ll stop.”

His face is even closer to yours now, the ghost of a kiss just an inch from your lips. You shake your head, pressing your forehead to his, pleading, “Please… Please don’t stop.”

He caresses one of your breasts, thumb stroking over a hardened nipple, causing you to pant, your breath tickling over his face, his other hand gripping your hip, “Tell me, little rabbit… why have you continued to humiliate yourself for me this entire week? Why have you let me treat you this way in front of the others, and in private?”

“I-I…” You try to find the words, your mind numb with pleasure, your nerves alight as his touch electrifies you, and then the realization even surprises you, “I like it. I like the way it makes me feel. You’re my teacher, my master, my Sir… I like it when you control me.”

His smile is wicked, pleased with your answer, and that’s when he finally touches you, just barely, and your pussy is dripping slick. You whine as ecstasy rolls through your body, his fingertip exploring your drenched folds.

“What a naughty rabbit you are… I knew what a good, little pet you would be the first time I ever saw you,” He purrs in your ear, spreading your wetness around your stiff clit, “Perhaps I should have the other students come in, since you like this so much. Have them watch and learn what it’s like to be truly obedient.”

Your eyes widen in horror, your body uncontrollably trembling in his hands, but still you hold your position, “N-no, Sir, p-please don’t!”

It’s then that he kisses you, never once stopping his exploration; the movements on your clit increasing while he ravages your lips, his slick tongue invading your mouth to slide over your own wet muscle. You keen into his mouth, opening even wider as you drink each other in with wild abandon.

He finally breaks away, chuckling lowly, “Just teasing you, pet, I wouldn’t dream of it. From here on out you are mine. All mine. Is that understood?”

You nod, dazed as you press your face into the side of his neck, “Yes, Sir… that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Your fate is sealed with another kiss when his fingers finally enter you, curling up to fuck into that sensitive spot inside that makes you see stars. You cry out into his mouth as he alternates between scissoring his thick fingers into your cunt, and rubbing them over your clit, rocketing you hard and fast towards your orgasm.

“I’m sure those poor knees of yours are getting awfully sore, darling. I’ll reward you and make all of the aches and pains go away if you can cum just like this.” He says, lips brushing over your ear, his goatee tickling your jaw.

You moan, your head thrown back while he begins to nip and suck at your neck, leaving marks of pleasurable pain in his wake as he keeps continuous pressure on your clit, rubbing small circles into the wet bundle of nerves. Heat and pressure is slowly building in your tummy, a tight knot threatening to snap as pure rapture bleeds through your body, pumping hot in your veins.

“Mihawk, Sir… plleeeeaase.”

“Mmm, such a good girl. So soft, and pliant and wet.”

His praise fuels the fire in your belly, your thighs shaking with desperation as his fingers never cease their relentless pace; a little puddle of your arousal coats his hand and dampens the carpet below. The pressure continues to build, your skin flushed pink, your warm, drenched cunt clenching around nothing when his fingers overstimulate your clit.

“You’ve been such a good girl, my little rabbit. You deserve to feel good after all I’ve put you through. Now cum for me.”

You pant into his neck, chest heaving as you whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as the pressure inside you overflows, tension snapping. You twitch in his embrace while your orgasm overwhelms you, feeling yourself flutter and gush on his hand, your entire body pulsing in time with your rapidly beating heart.

“Messy little thing,” he teases, extending the fingers he used to pleasure you to your lips, “Looks like I was right about you making a mess. But don’t worry about that now, be a good girl and clean me up.”

You suck on his slick digits obediently, trembling from your orgasm while pressed flush against him. He pulls apart your arms that have been folded behind your back, nudging them to wrap around his neck. After cleaning your wetness from his fingers he cradles your face, pressing tender kisses to your mouth and cheeks.

“So perfect, you did so good for me, Y/N,” he coos while he gathers you up in his arms, getting you off the position on your knees to his lap, “Always so perfectly obedient, doing exactly what I say.”

His praise puts you on cloud nine, adoration and devotion radiating through you; still aglow from your orgasm as you snuggle to his chest. He picks you up and swiftly begins to make his way over to his bed, reigniting your excitement and arousal for the reward he promised you.

“And good girls who listen…” He says, before throwing you onto the bed on your back, and immediately gripping your thighs to pull them a part, “…get rewarded for their impeccable behavior.”

He towers over you on the edge of the bed, almost folding you in half, your ankles close to your ears. His hands have you spread open wide, leaking cunt on full display, thumb toying with the hood of your clit before he licks up your slit.

You gasp out a whine, your hands flying to tangle in his hair. His eyes are fixed on yours, half-lidded, pupils still blown with insatiable desire while he eats you out, alternating between lapping at your clit and tonguing your drenched opening.

Your second orgasm hits you by surprise, his expert ministrations flooding you with euphoria as you bite your lip to keep from screaming; your nails digging firm against his scalp while you rut against his face.

“Mm, exquisite,” he hums once you’ve gone slack again, twitching in the afterglow while he crawls up your body, “I think your delicious cunt was made for my tongue.”

His black facial hair glistens in the firelight on his jaw when he licks his lips, leaning over you till you are face to face once more, breath mingling, “I’m sure it was made for my cock as well.”

“Sir please!” You sob, keeping yourself wide open for him, “Please, I need it so bad! Please fuck me…”

He grins down at you, face darkened by the flickering shadows of the room, caressing your cheek, and wiping away a stray tear that falls from the corner of your eye. Then he kisses you, all tongue and teeth, wet with your spit and slick on his lips.

Once he pulls away he sits back up, thumb hooked into the waistband of his pants, the outline of his cock bulging against his leg. You whine once more, squirming with need, and when he takes off all of his clothes it makes you throb. He’s the biggest you’ve ever seen: long, thick, and heavy, red at the tip and leaking precum.

“I know, little rabbit, I know,” He says lowly, stroking himself while he positions between your legs, “I’ll give it to you. Are you going to be a good girl and take it all?”

Your eyes are wide, your body shaking. It’s been a long time since you’ve had anyone inside you, and never someone his size before, but you nod, “Yes, Sir, I-I can take it...”

“Good girl.”

And then he’s pushing into you, stuffing the tip of his dick into your dripping cunt, and even with the amount of lubrication your body has created for you, the feeling of being split open sucks the air right out of your lungs. He grabs your legs and hoists your ankles over his shoulders, driving his hips down with a quick thrust to fully sheath himself inside of you. The motion makes you cry out and claw at the bedding, your body completely encased by his as he folds you, then begins an utterly ruthless pace.

Never have you been so full before, stretched to capacity while he fucks into you, staring down at you with fierce concentration, as if he were dueling you in a swordfight. He watches you fall apart entirely, tears streaming down your face while you cry and whimper his name, and every other little sound of pleasure and pain in between.

His cock touches every inch inside of you, pounding your G-spot with a fierceness that makes you feel like you are going to black out. Every cell in your body seems to scream and sing in unison when he finally reaches down and flicks at your clit, sending you into an immersion of pain and ecstasy that you didn’t know could possibly exist as you cum hard around his cock.

The two of you pant in unison, him stilling inside of you to give you a moment to come back to reality once more. Your body is thrumming with overstimulation, blood rushing wildly through your veins as his face swims in your vision. He’s biting his lip, concentrating on not cumming inside of you as he begins to pull out of your slick heat.

“Such a good girl for me, taking my cock so well,” His praise washes over you again, easing the ache of his dick withdrawing from you, “But I’m not through with you yet, little rabbit.”

Suddenly your legs are removed from their perch on his shoulders, and you cry out when you are flipped over onto your stomach. He manhandles you onto your hands and knees, soothing his hand along your spine so you arch your back.

“I think I’ve been more than generous with my reward, don’t you?”

He grabs you by the hair, forcing your head back so he can look into your eyes, making your back arch even more. You whimper at the rough treatment, exhausted from the amount of pleasure ripped from your body, but obediently you look into his glowing eyes and nod.

“Y-yes Sir, thank you, thank you so much.”

He grins his devious smile once more, kissing you hard on the mouth before releasing your hair and withdrawing behind you, “I think that means I deserve my own reward then.”

Without warning he slaps you on the ass, making you gasp in surprise and shrink a little onto the bed.

“Tsk, tsk,” he vocalizes with a suck to his teeth, gripping your hip so you return back to your position, “None of that, you want to make your Sir feel good, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m sorry!” You cry, burying your face into the sheets, “I’ll be good.”

He caresses your hips and massages the small of your back, before you feel him spread the cheeks of your ass and rub his cock over your puckered hole. The sensation makes you stiffen, but you resist the urge to shy away.

“Such a gorgeous ass, I’m sure it would feel like heaven to have it sucking around my cock.”

The thought simultaneously turns you on and makes you want to cry. Taking someone back there was something you had never done before, and thinking about him impaling you on his huge cock tonight after already being so tired and used, terrified you.

He continues to rub his dick through the cleft of your ass, as if waiting for you to respond. Not wanting to disappoint your Sir, you gather your courage, and turn around a bit shyly to look at him, tears glistening in your eyes.

“You can do whatever you want to me, Sir… I just want to make you feel good. You can…y-you can fuck my ass, if that’s what you want.”

Mihawk’s jaw tightens and he groans, his eyes seeming to flash before he licks his lips, “You truly are the sweetest pet a man could ask for. While that offer is tempting, rabbit, I will not do it tonight. I do not wish to hurt you, that is going to require some training, and believe me I will be training you. But for now…”

He maneuvers himself swiftly, dragging his tip through your pussy folds, coating his cock in your slick before thrusting into you once more, bottoming out. You moan into the bedsheets, spreading your legs further as he begins to fuck you from behind, his hips snapping fast and hard, loud sounds of skin slapping each other filling the room and ringing in your ears.

“From now on you’re mine,” he pants, his fingertips bruising into your hips and thighs, “If anyone else touches you again, I’ll fucking kill them.”

You whine in agreement, unable to use your words while your body is pounded into the bed, rattling the entire structure, slick dripping down your thighs as his balls slap against your clit.

“My perfect little student, so good for me,” He growls, grabbing your hair again and slapping your ass, his hips beginning to stutter, his speech becoming more frenzied, “Say you’re mine, say who punishes, fucks, and lets you cum.”

“I’m all yours! I belong to you!” You cry out, your neck straining back, eyes fluttering as he continuously fills you from head to base, “Mihawk, Mihawk!”

“Little rabbit, all mine. Mine to use, pleasure, and humiliate. Because. She. Likes. It.” He enunciates the words with four sharp, drawn out thrusts of his cock, “And if you don’t cum on my cock right now, you won’t for another week. That’s a promise.”

He reaches down and slaps your clit, once, twice, then three times, each one harder than the last while he pumps into you. Your eyes roll back into your head, your body buzzing as it takes control for you and obeys him, your pussy pulsing and gushing around his cock while you cum for the last time.

The feeling of your pussy clenching and releasing does him in; with a bite to your shoulder and a deep moan he empties himself inside of you, splashing his hot cum inside your velvety womb.

Bliss overtakes you when you collapse onto the plush bed, cheek pressed firm into the silk sheets while Mihawk pants against your neck, riding the aftermath waves of his orgasm.

After a few moments of composing himself, he comes back to reality; with gentle words and soft kisses he unsheathes himself from your body, and wraps you in his arms.

“Y/N, dear Y/N, are you alright?” He asks softly, brows furrowed with concern.

You’re an absolute wreck: cheeks flushed, skin damp with sweat, eyes shut. But your heart-rate has begun to return to normal, your breathing evening out while you press your face to his chest.

“Yes, Sir, yes… so good, so very good…” You smile, happy, giddy, and exhausted all at once. Sticky between the thighs, but relaxed and satisfied.

He kisses you on the forehead, smoothing back your wild sex hair for you, tucking the stray hairs out of your face.

“It seems like we have a lot to talk about, Y/N… I meant when I said that I intend for you to be mine.”

The confession makes your heart flutter, warmth and adoration surging through your veins as you turn over to face him, “I would very much like to talk about that, Sir…”

Another one of his devious smirks lights up his eyes, his hands groping over your thigh and ass, “Good, we’ll have all week to discuss the details, all by ourselves, my little rabbit.”

You give him a puzzled look, “What do you mean all week, Sir?”

He looks so smug, so pleased with himself while he stares you in the eyes and gazes over your face; his thumb tracing over your bottom lip, causing your mouth to slightly part.

“Did you tell anyone that I have not left the castle?”

“No, of course not,” You answer earnestly, wanting him to know you would never disobey his orders.

“By chance did you tell anyone where you were going?”

“N-no…”

The realization hits and you feel embers of arousal ignite in your core, your mind reeling with the promise of untold pleasures.

“Then for 6 more days, pet, you’re all mine. All mine, to play with, and more.”

Main Masterlist

#mihawk x reader #x reader #dracule mihawk #mihawk #fanfiction #one piece #one piece fanfiction #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #mihawk smut #one piece x reader #one piece live action fanfiction

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tothosewholisten · 6 months ago

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Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 00

next chapter>>

Masterlist

…

On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989. 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began.

Sir Reginald Hargeeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He got seven of them, yes seven.

MARCH 21, 2019

I have to be at least somewhat proud of myself for lasting this long. I thought as I sat on the bus, not everyday you are born with magical powers and are destined to save the world from evil. Yes, hearing myself think that sounds crazy. But that's normal in my life.

I had reached my stop after a half an hour of sitting with my earbuds in, listening to nothing at all. I just wanted to seem unapproachable on the sketchy city bus.

My destination was a terribly designed office building, the space was so crammed and ugly it made me want to turn right back around and get on that bus again. But I didn't because I was trying to convince myself that this would be good for me, but I didn't believe my words.

I was about to have a therapy session with some middle-aged white lady who has glasses and tell her all of my life issues, starting every week at 5pm..

It's not like I had anything else going on, I haven't had work for days now. So I thought I'd give it a shot.

The waiting process made me anxious as hell, I finally got the courage to walk up to the front desk and gave the man who sat there my name. And now I have to wait for this lady to get done with some other patient.

I sat on a chair and frowned, like she is really going to be focused on "my" problems and not the 30 other people she sees today.

I swear it was only a second into me zoning out when I heard my name yelled. "Y/n L/n? It's so nice to meet you!" A woman said, when i looked up at her i saw the exact lady i was describing earlier to the closest details.

I let her lead me to a smaller room that looked way better than the lobby. It had two chairs, a water machine, some fidget items and a large window view of the city. Gloria, I learn to be the name of my therapist, asks me to sit with her.

She clears her throat, "I know this is our first session so you may not be the most comfortable sharing details. But I'd like to know a little bit about you if you're okay sharing."

“Well, I’m 29 years old and a home care nurse.” I say slowly. Hearing the words leave my mouth I knew I haven’t amounted to a lot in my years.

"Oh wow, 29? I would've never guessed that Y/n, you don't look a day over 21" Gloria complimented me i give her a tiny smile in return.

I'm not sure why that is, I get that a lot in my working field. Older women saying that they wished they looked as young as me.

"That's a great start for today's session." She smiles, "A little bit me is, you know my name already but I'm 56 years old since Monday. I have 3 children and a cat named Mr. Furball."

I regret what i said earlier because I think I already like Gloria and not just because of Mr. Furball. But the fact that she has a calming sense about her. I find myself listening to what she's saying, and I rarely do that with people nowadays.

"But I would like to hear more about your upbringing, how’d you become the fine young lady you are today?" She says.

Oh, she wants to hear about my childhood. I mean I knew she would ask but so soon, I'm worried about saying anything. So I told her that.

"I'm worried about opening up to someone about my past cause well I've never done it before." I said.

She hands me a cup of water. "That's okay Y/n, we can take it at your pace."

“I grew up in a small house with my mom and dad until I was twelve. When I was scouted by Reginald Hargreeves because of my unique abilities. And I've been there ever since I was 18 when I moved out to live on my own.” I waited for the burst of confusion I was about to get from Gloria. Not everyday one of the Umbrella Academy walks into your office.

“Oh wow…” she says, eyes wide. “You're one of those superheroes? That’s amazing wow.” She nervously chuckles “I’m sorry I’m normally not this shocked about things, and I hear a lot on the daily.”

“It’s okay” I say, staring at my hands.

She clears her throat. “I'm sure being apart of the Umbrella Academy was big but could you tell me about your life before that?”

I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, pictured my childhood in my brain and opened my mouth.

"Well, I'm sure to this day my father still thinks that my mother cheated on him, due to his "daughter's" virgin Mary-like creation since they were just newlyweds. He held it against my mother all of her life." I took a sip of water and continued.

"I'm not sure why he turned to alcohol. But that turned out as you could expect. He turned on everyone around him and acted like a beast. He regularly attacked my mom for anything she did wrong. But what made him more angry was that his freak of a daughter could heal her mother, after every beating."

"My mom told me before I left I had made her so much happier and in her words. She didn't even question these strange occurrences; she knew her baby was special." I smiled a bit.

I could tell that Gloria was painting a picture in her head of what I was describing too.

"And by the age of 8, I was standing up to my father, even if it didn't end so well. I'd get the beating instead but by the next day, my bloody body would be as good as new. On the surface at least, I had lots of internal issues from that time. But none of that stopped my father from trying to get equal with me.." I stopped talking after that.

My eyes could only focus on my right hand as it was picking at my left hand's skin. It was a habit I picked up as soon as I started to use my powers because I knew my skin would be right back to normal in the next few minutes.

"That's awful y/n I'm so sorry." She frowned. "Would you be okay with continuing?"

I blink up at her. “Yes, that would be okay,” I said. “Then there was this one day..”

17 YEARS AGO

“In five, four, three, two. This is Jim Hellerman, reporting live for channel 2 News outside of the Capital West Bank at Main and Sixth. A group of heavily armed men stormed the bank not three hours ago and took an unknown number of hostages.”

That was the big news update of September 2002, I remember. Well I don’t really have to think about it much because I was there with my mom at the bank. She planned on making some deposit when we were screamed at, not to leave by a man who had his gun pointed at us along with so many other civilians. He taped us up and told us to stand in a corner.

That was the first and only time I feared for my life. Police didn’t want them to start shooting, so they didn’t come into the building. Meaning that we were on our own and could die at anytime

One of the armed men walks into the scene unfolding. Sirens blaring, people getting shoved around and threats being made to the innocent.

“Now you’ve put me in a position where I gotta do something I don't want to do. Hmm?” He said talking to another person on his walkie talkie.

My mom brought me closer to her trying to use her body as a shield if things went south. And to us we thought they were about to be.

But strangely, a girl walked up to the man. She’d looked to be around my age in a school uniform and cartoon mask. Her loose curls bounced in the wind as she skipped up to him.

“Shit!” He screams putting his device down. Not noticing the girl until a few seconds after his outburst. “Hey, get back with the others.” He told her, trying to sound intimidating but she didn’t seem to fear him at all.

“I heard a rumor.” She spoke out.

He bent a little to reach her height and get in her face. “What? What did you say?”

She leaned in and cupped her hand to mimic whispering in his ear but loud enough for all of us to hear. “I heard a rumor that you shot your friend in the foot.”

Without any hesitation he did what she commanded and shot the nearest armed man who happened to be trying to rough up my mom. We screamed as he kept shooting.

“We just heard shots from inside the bank. It’s uncertain if any hostages have been harmed in that.”

“There’s some movement on the roof. Possibly law enforcement.”

A loud crash and a boy landed down from the roof. It was crazy he wasn’t harmed at all from that high distance. He was also wearing the same mask and uniform as the girl but he had blond hair. From where he landed he jumped on one of the robbers and started beating him to a pulp, and then throwing him out a glass window.

“Looks like one of the armed robbers had been thrown from the bank.”

Another boy with brown hair runs in from the opposite doors as the girl and yells. “Guns are for sissies. Real men throw knives.” He then threw one of his knives and it curved in the air hitting a robber no where close to where the knife had originally been heading. It was incredible.

“I've been in many hostage situations like this, and it can escalate very quickly.”

The original man hops on a table pointing his gun out at the two of the before seen children plus another one. “Get back you freaks” he says walking back and forth in fear.

“Hey, be careful up there, buddy.” The knife boy calls out.

“Get back now!” The man screams.

“Yeah, I wouldn't want you to get hurt.” The girls mocking voice says.

Right before my eyes another boy teleports behind the man, sitting criss-cross on the table. “Or what?” He said calmly.

The man turns around and shoots at him but before the bullets could hit he teleports again. This time standing up with his arms crossed, clearly not impressed. But the man tries to shoot again.

“Ooh! That’s one badass stapler!” The boy laughs. The man no longer had a gun anymore but a stapler placed in his hand by the kid instead. The boy shoves the stapler into his face and the big man falls back, head hitting the floor before his body does.

“Although there’s been no activity for a few minutes, we’re gonna stay live on location to make sure we don’t miss a thing. In this hostage situation at the Capital West bank.”

The five already counted for children make way for the last and shortest one to make his move. “Do we really need to do this?” He talks quietly.

The blonde one replies to him. “Come on, Ben. There’s more guys in the vault.” So his name was Ben huh?

Ben sighs, “I didn't sign up for this.” Before walking into the room with more people. Large black tendrils illuminated the room as men screaming could be heard behind the door. And a beast roars but then the sound stops and Ben walks out again, this time covered in blood and guts.

He breathes heavily. “Can we go home now?” I felt bad for him.

The kids untied our hands and told us to run. And once it was clear to go my mom started to run out of the doors thinking I was right behind her.

“Now we see the hostages. They— They’re free. They’re scared clearly but they do seem to be unharmed.”

But I was behind her trying to help this older woman who’d slipped on the floor. As I was helping her, the kids walked out too.

“People are coming out now. It’s not the armed robbers. These are schoolchildren in uniforms with masks on. Jim Hellerman, Channel 2 News.”

But there was one not accounted for robber, the one from earlier who had been shot in the foot. I started to run out and call out to my mom who was outside. When the man got up from the floor, cocked his gun and shot at the kids.

Fortunately, he missed them but the bullet hit me.

Questions being asked to the children stopped when they saw my body flail onto the floor outside of the bank doors. I was shot right in the chest. There was blood everywhere and it started to leak over to where the kids were standing. They turned around to see where it was coming from..

Everyone looked horrified and there was a bunch of screaming. Mainly from my mother who was wailing as she ran over to hold me to her chest screaming for me to wake up. And that will be engraved in my memory forever after this day, I never wanted to hear her like this ever again.

Police started to rush over but in a matter of minutes, a miracle seemed to happen. At least to the city that is. There was a yellowish glow around my chest and the blood seemed to have reversed back into my body. Even the stains on my blue dress were gone. The bullet even spit out of my chest; it was truly witchcraft.

My eyes then shot open as I started to breathe in and out.

I don't exactly remember what I felt during those moments but I'm sure I left those people around me stunned. After all this was their first look at powers.

I couldn't care what the paramedics were talking about above my body. I was focused on the 6 children looking at me bewildered as well as the old-looking man with them and whatever my mom was saying at the time.

I was put on a stretcher and rushed to a hospital for evaluations after the pandemics came but they never found anything. It was like everything was perfectly reattached.

But as I was leaving I could see the news reporters zeroing in on the kids trying to get the details on how these children saved the bank from thievery.

“Our world is changing.” The man spoke to the crowd. “Has changed. There are some among us gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary.” He said looking back at the children. But they weren’t paying attention, some were staring at my ambulance and some eyes were on the ground.

“I have adopted seven such children. I give you the inaugural class of the Umbrella Academy.”

I now realize thinking back, the seventh person he was talking about was me..

PRESENT DAY

My mouth felt like it was moving faster than my brain so I took a pause and chugged the rest of my water cup.

Once again Glorias eyes were wide open. As she took some notes down in a notebook I never noticed beyond this point.

"Uh once I got home I remember the house phone noise filled my house with its nonstop ring, the other person on the phone would change my life forever when he came in.”

“And who was that person?" Gloria asked.

"Reginald Hargeeves, eccentric billionaire and caring father from what the public knew.." I rolled my eyes.

"So I'm guessing it wasn't really like that" she asked carefully.

"He was never a father really, more like a hard state-national basketball coach." She wrote that down.

"I guess it was a hard decision for my parents to make well, my mother. My father was ready to give me up as soon as Reginald stepped foot in my small house."

"And I'm sure they thought there was nothing bad about the offer they were given, he promised I'd be raised in a steady environment with the best schooling and my powers would be used for the greater good. And in exchange, my parents would get a large sum of money for my absence."

"What were you doing during this?" Gloria worried.

"I think I was just sitting right there next to my mom actually. I definitely didn't understand at that point what was happening to me. Still thinking about the events of that day.”

"And then I was being taken out of my only home in the blink of an eye. I resisted the people taking me, starting with screaming and then kicking and then running. Back to my mom's arms, Reginald himself had to pull me away from her. The deal had already been struck and there was no taking me back."

Now looking back at my hands I could only see small teardrops on my palms. Gloria reached for a tissue from the other side of the room. "Thank you," I said as I wiped my eyes.

"I like to think that my mom was upset that day but the memory has already started to fade as I reached adulthood.

You know after that day I was no longer 'Y/n L/n' no, I was known by my new name.. Zero Hargeeves."

I decided that was the end of my story, at least for now because I couldn't place the pieces together anymore. I was full-on sobbing at that point.

Gloria decided to bring up something more light to talk about next but I don't remember what it was because I'd zoned out and thought about the cat she'd told me about earlier.

The two hours seemed to fly by because the last thing I heard her say was if I didn't have anything else to talk about then that would be the end of the session. My legs seemed to move on their own as I walked out of that building. I would come back at the same time next week and honestly, I think therapy was for the best. I forgot about how I felt about all these things for the longest time.

I started the journey back to the bus stop, stopping to look in the windows of shops.

Shops like bakeries and bookstores and other things like that. Until I came to a stop in front of a store with a TV sticking out in the window.

My eyes scanned the screen and they went wide. The lady on the news had a somber expression as someone died. I was feeling sad for the person's family, but then I read the red-blaring headline.

The person who died was Reginald Hargeeves...

...

Aug 14 update:

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for rest of the series (starts at chapter 10) say taglist in the comments!

#ben hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves #viktor hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #vanya hargreeves x reader #vanya hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #ben hargreeves #x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves

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embrosegraves · 1 year ago

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ℕ𝕖𝕩𝕥 𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕃𝕖𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕤

Charles Leclerc x Reader (implied she/her) Charles and Reader name their daughters the same order as the Leclerc brothers.

Mr Charles “Girl Dad” Leclerc

Warnings: Extreme use of the red heart emoji, IT'S SO LONG I'M SO SORRY, also watch out for Google translate lmao don't trust them to be exact

Still not the best at smaus but I'm working on it (between every 'post' will be a timeskip of an unspecified amount of time. my brain can't handle doing maths more than it needs to.)

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youruser Baby Leclerc Loading...

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yourBff I'm so ready to be an Aunty → youruser One of the best ❤️

user omgomgomgomgomgomg user Is it a girl or a boy? → youruser We're waiting until the birth to find out user GUYS CHARLES MIGHT BE A GIRL DAD

carlossainz55 Charles is gonna be out of a seat soon → charles_leclerc they're going to take your seat actually → youruser please don't encourage this, they aren't even born yet

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youruser As of Nov 8 2026, please welcome Lorelei Manon Haydée Pascale Leclerc ❤️❤️ Charles and I are so incredibly excited to share this chapter of our lives with everyone however we plan on keeping Little Lori's face completely hidden until she can tell us otherwise. We ask that you respect our decision and that you do not go out of your way to find out what she looks like ❤️

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landonorris Hey there Little Lori Leclerc → youruser ❤️

carlossainz55 Bienvenida Pequeña Belleza translated Welcome Little Beauty → charles_leclerc Uncle Chilli reporting for duty? → carlossainz55 Of Course!

leclerc_pascale When can I see my precious grandbaby❤️ → charles_leclerc I will facetime you Maman ❤️

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youruser Round Two LETS GO

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pierregasly Another gossip buddy!!! → youruser Our gossip sessions are about to be so much cooler!

user ANOTHER ONE!! → user ok dj khalid user are you waiting to find out the gender again? → youruser ✨oui✨ user please be another girl, i need charles to be purely a girl dad

maxverstappen1 this one will be in a redbull i can feel it → youruser oh god not you too

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charles_leclerc Papa and Manon Spa Night (so Mama can try to relax before baby is born)

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youruser you have mastered the towel turban my love → youruser Lori looks so cute 😭❤️

user Charles "Girl Dad" Leclerc coming in clutch → user he's in his element user be honest /youruser did you teach him the towel turban? → youruser i mean, not on purpose? he's watched me do it so often i guess he just, learnt??? user I love how squishy she looks MY HEART--

lilymhe this qualifies as Charles' official invite to Girls Night™ → youruser i'll add him to the groupchat lmao → charles_leclerc yeah babyyyyyy

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youruser And on October 17 2027, the world said let there be Charlène Madeleine Héloïse Pascale Leclerc ❤️❤️ Once again, we are so so so excited to share our growing family with the world. As we did for little Lori, we will not be sharing baby ChiChi's face until she can tell us otherwise. We are so grateful that everyone respected our wishes with Lori and we ask that you respect them once more. Love Always ❤️

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LeclercLorenzo Might be early but I'm sensing a trend... → youruser 👀/charles_leclerc → charles_leclerc a trend you say?? 👀

carlossainz55 Un'altra splendida bambina ❤️ proud of you guys translated Another gorgeous baby girl → charles_leclerc Grazie Fratello ❤️ translated Thankyou Brother → youruser Grazie Chilli ❤️

leclerc_pascale Another granddaughter to spoil ❤️❤️ → youruser I fear you'll put Char out of a job Maman 😂 → charles_leclerc you cannot spoil her as much as me! 😠❤️

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charles_leclerc My Precious Girls, how your Papa loves you

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youruser My Loves 😭❤️

user Another classic Charles "Girl Dad" Leclerc moment → user omg I saw them the other day and the way Charles looks at Lori and ChiChi 😍🥰 user Charles is so in love with his girls it make me feel warm and fuzzy inside → youruser makes me wanna have another lmao → user SO REAL FOR THIS → charles_leclerc oh? 😏😏

lilymhe Why can't we have this? /alex_albon → alex_albon our sons are literally your personal bodyguards... I can't even kiss you without their permission → charles_leclerc he misses you 😂😂

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youruser 3 is a magic number

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pierregasly Do you guys ever stop? → youruser who? → pierregasly you and charles → youruser no i mean who asked?

user has anybody noticed that the age gap between each leclerc baby is basically the EXACT same as the leclerc brothers? → user OMG I WAS GONNA SAY youruser before you ask lovey /user once again we're waiting for the birth ❤️ → user honestly at this point i think everyone knows it's gonna be a girl liked by youruser user Okay, they definitely have a theme going on here with Lorenzo and Lorelei, and then literally Charles and Charlène. this one is gonna be named after Arthur i know it

charles_leclerc One more after this? → youruser no <3

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youruser Say hello to our newest arrival, Artemis Marinette Helena Pascale Leclerc ❤️❤️ born on October 15 2030 For the third time, Charles and I invite you to meet our (now complete) family! Just as we did with little Lori and Baby ChiChi, Mini Artie's face will be hidden until she can tell us otherwise. Forever grateful that everyone is so understanding of all our daughters' privacy, thank you all so much! get ready to see a whole bunch of the Leclerc Sisters on your feed from now on❤️

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carlossainz55 I can't keep commenting in another language now, you used all three that I know → charles_leclerc sounds like a you problem mate → youruser be grateful we're only having three kids Carlos

sebastianvettel One more for the collection → youruser my daughters are not like your cars and their bond girl names → charles_leclerc i'll be honest, i did laugh a little

LeclercLorenzo Some might say I... called it. → youruser don't even, you knew when we told you about naming Little Lori → LeclercLorenzo let me live in my delusion

kimimatiasraikkonen 👍 → youruser never change Kimi ❤️

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charles_leclerc At least Mini Artie likes to kart 🫠❤️

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georgerussell63 I think it's hilarious that not even your mini me likes karting → youruser it is the funniest thing to watch as Char sulks because of it → pierregasly I can only imagine 😂😂 → charles_leclerc what is this, bully Charles day?

user Mini Artie is gonna carry on the family legacy → user can you imagine omg youruser come back home the kids miss you → user i had to double check that this was ACTUALLY the mother of his children liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, youruser and others user I see no one else has realised that all three of the girls birthdays are THE DAY AFTER the person they're named after. → youruser believe me, that wasn't planned ((it was harder to plan than it should've been))

youruser I love you so much Char. Best father, best husband ❤️ → charles_leclerc Je t'aime encore plus, Ma Chère. Best mother, Best wife ❤️ translated I love you more, My Dear

holy shit that was long jesus christ.

uhhhhhh hope you enjoyed? reblogs and likes would be much appreciated because this took me SO MUCH LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO

#formula 1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #reblog with tags i missed please and thank you

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ladybirdswritings · 11 months ago

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Pride & Prejudice - Coriolanus {Young} Snow x Reader

Summary: Spending more time with the miserable Mr. Snow, against your will, only proves to you exactly why he is a man you have sworn to loathe for all eternity. Steamy Pride & Prejudice retelling with young snow and you! Alternate universe, au!snow <3

Notes: so happy you all loved the first part — so i guess i’m continuing ahaha. as always, thank u for leaving comments and loves as it keeps me motivated! also, feel free to lmk if you’d like to be added to the tag list <3

two

The mist of September’s end and October’s greeting is a thick, heavy blanket in the air. You only scowl at it as you pick up your tiered skirt from where it drags against emerald moss and dirt. A storm is nearby.

You would melt into this very soil if you could. Become one with the lilacs and peonies if it meant you’d never be prevailed upon to marry again by the force of your mother.

Mama is unwell. As always but, with more fervor now. The dance was most successful for Jane. She and Sejanus have been exchanging kind letters with pomegranate stained kisses garnishing the print. Even so, mama is viciously unhappy.

The cherrywood cabinets slam louder when you pass, and her eyes narrow at any mention of the gathering. Perhaps your behavior was a great embarrassment for her. If only you were as divine as Jane.

The house is lively, far too lively for your liking at this settling hour. Sisters here and sisters there. They busy themselves with the grand piano and awful singing. It isn’t long until one of the twins rushes forward with a sealed envelope clasped tightly in hand.

“Mama! It is for Jane!”

You snatch the paper from her palm, worrisome that she will ruin it with how tightly she squeezes. Beyond this, you are most eager to see the development in your own personal romance novel starring your dearest sister. Mama slaps your hand away in turn, tugging it back into a monstrous grasp that nearly shreds it to minuscule little pieces.

You see the breath halt and dwell comfortably in her throat, unwilling to part or falter. This is most important to her, trivial matter as it is.

So long as Jane is happy…

You gaze on at the girl with petal-pink cheeks and bright eyes — her smile is a thing of beauty and joy at the mere idea that Sejanus Plinth could admire her.

“Mama! What does it say!”

Her hands tremble like hummingbirds now, and your frown stitches itself promptly upon your pretty face. Oh no, he is certain to have changed his mind.

At least he was kind and gentleman enough to inform dear Jane by letter.

That joy, excitement and eagerness once swimming within your mother’s eyes has dissipated to sheer horror.

“When did we receive this?” She whispers, a ghastly and terror laced sound.

“This morning!” One of the twins happily offers, twirling her chocolate ringlet tight enough to knot.

Mama cries out a sound of agony, shoving the paper hard against Jane’s chest — enough so that she stumbles. She is a frantic thing, running round your quaint living space like that of a farm animal who has lost its head.

You are fueled by your own confusion, constricting your mind to only wait upon Jane. She shakily reads the crumbled thing — hesitance becoming her. Her eyes shift then; a look of joy, excitement, fear — then dread.

“What is it?” You whisper, watching as mama mutters nonsense and brushes the collection of scattered breadcrumbs from the countertop — eyes wide as the moon aglow at midnight.

“Mr. Plinth and his sister, alongside Mr. Snow and sir Plinth’s dear — rich uncle, have all planned to meet with us this evening. They’ve taken a carriage, and have made arrangements to arrive by sundown.”

Four pairs of eyes, in perfected unison, glance into the grassy plains where the sun has begun to set.

You do not intend to giggle at the irony, perhaps it is a thing fueled by nerves just as your mother. Yet it floats from your sweet lips like a prayer, slender fingers rushing to suffocate it.

It is undeniably numerous, however. How could it be anything but?

The way your dearest blood all melts at the brim for the gaze of three men whom are only important by cold silver is a thing of great mystery to you, something you do not understand. It is not just mama and Jane and the entirety of your own family however. No, it is all of society. You only wonder what it would be like for a woman to reach beyond the horizon line — to be great. To not be forced upon a man of all creatures to be of true importance.

Mama rushes past, so quickly your hair becomes unruly. She presses her palms firmly against your cheeks — your face piecing together like a swift minnow from the nearby fish pond.

“Oh heavens — if you do even the littlest act so to embarrass me, I am certain to die of great illness. My nerves are far too weak, you must behave for me! Be as sweet Jane is. Sir Plinth’s uncle is of the richest gentleman in Newbury, 5,000 a year! You must converse with him, do it for your dearest mother. Oh! And brush that wild hair from your face, girl. He will think you to be a witch — keep guard at the window.”

Her words are a tangled, knotted mess of all the things you despise. Even whilst tucked away into a place where you do not truly listen, you know well she is asking you to be social for gain of a husband.

You frown, grateful when the headless chicken runs off from you again. Your hand fussses with the wisps rested amongst your forehead — and you obey mama’s orders by sauntering to the creaky old chair that faces the fogged front window.

The fog is a veil, a curtain hiding from you only dread. You are grateful for it now, though it does no good for your locks and tresses. Your eyes dart to the torn book beside you — and you consider disobedience as an alternative to this state. You know well what will happen if you stray, so you do not dare it.

It is an awfully timely and punctual arrival — perhaps ten ticks of the grand, tower clock before the stallion’s snouts peek through the fog. Just as the golden halo sets beyond them.

“Mama!”

You call, but she only waves you away with a busy hand as she continues fussing with the knit table mat. You will not bother it again. You shrink, hiding all but curious eyes behind the lace curtain.

Sejanus is grinning, nervously you think. Then the scowling sister, a small, old creature with a sunken gaze — and the miserable one. They approach, you sink further.

��God Sejanus, smile any more for the poor thing and your pockets will start betraying you.” Grace sneers, voice sewn tightly with disgust at the less fortunate situation your family finds themselves in, glancing around at the quaint, pathetic home. It is as if she believes one breath of hers will cause it to collapse to the soil — to her polished feet.

“Please Grace, she is the prettiest girl I have ever seen. Oh, uncle, her eldest sister is very agreeable as well. Don’t you agree, Snow?”

Oh, he’s asked the cold thing who’s far too proud and rich for a humble party. You’re curious.

“Perfectly tolerable, I suppose. But not pretty enough to tempt me.”

Oh…

Your mischievous, sneaky grin melts into that of a hard line — ample with annoyance. How arrogant of him to say. As if his blonde locks and blue eyes make him any different than the handsome officers that pass by now and then. As if he is some prize. You scowl, Grace’s laugh an unpleasant sound.

Four hard knocks and you are quickly up to your feet.

Mama rushes to you immediately, slapping your hand enough so that it stings greatly and fades the color crimson.

“You were meant to watch! Places, take your stance girls!”

It takes beyond the greatest force to drag your feet to stand beside Jane. Mama checks each forced position anxiously before she tugs the door open wide — with a horrible, eager grin.

“Welcome!”

They trail the moss and dirt onto your oak floors, not bothering to wipe it away on the torn cloth you call a carpet. No need, they believe. The house is pathetic already as it stands. No dirt shall make it any less worthy than it already is.

In unison, a curtsy of greeting becomes all of you. Prim and proper and perfect just as mother groomed you all to be. For preparation of husbands.

Good god, the blonde looks even more dreadful now. Cold eyes darting to the old, harmless hound that chews on a racket ball. He winces at the sight of dust and chipped oak wood furniture surrounding. He looks down upon this place as if it is beneath him.

He far from belongs here.

“Sit, please sit! I’ve already prepared us supper!” Mama practically pushes Sejanus with most nervous palms, and his shadows follow suite.

Though you dream of running through the open door and fading into the mist to never be found again — you obey; sauntering into the archway with tired eyes and reluctant feet.

“My lady…”

Oh.

The short man with bushy brows and coal colored, untamed locks pulls your seat back enough so that you may sit upon it. To your dismay, the miserable one takes place in front of you. His eyes are cast downward to the far from fine silverware laid before him.

“Thank you sir.” You whisper, the chair feeling as though it is determined to suffocate you the longer you sit upon it.

“Oh, Jane — everybody, please meet my uncle, Mr. Casca Highbottom of Bristol.”

You only nod at the grinning old man, and mama rushes back like a midnight breeze through the archway — setting plates filled to the brim with but all of the food left for the entire month. Even so, it remains poor to a gazing eye. Though it matters not how little garnishes the porcelain, for when you catch gaze of miserable Snow pushing his few peas around in disgust, you cannot help but narrow your sight.

How can he be so proud? Certainly, if a humble gathering invited you in for a warm meal in this awful mist — you’d be most grateful for even a singular pea on your plate. Let alone twelve.

Grace laughs at the sight of Snow displeased — placing a soft palm against his knee beneath the cherrywood table. He spares her laugh a glance, and his lip twitches in what appears to be an amused smile. They talk lowly to each other, you notice it from where you peer behind your glass. She must be fond of him what with the way she touches him and leans closer with each word he speaks. You cannot possibly imagine why. Perhaps they are just alike. Rich, rude things.

“So — I dare ask if any suitors captured your heart at the party then?” Grace, she speaks to you now. You snort, ready to offer words of disdain and disgust toward the lot of men and their sweaty palms. Your mother’s cold glare silences you.

“No… they did not.” You mutter in quick defeat.

“Hmm, how dreadful…” it is mock sympathy, noticeable to both you and Jane.

Tension thins to a mere string lacing the table together. Silence blanketing even more so than the mist as worn silverware and mama’s embarsssing tangents erupt in painful harmony. You are grateful for Jane who manages to pry her eyes from Sejanus for a single moment so to save you from mama’s disapproving glare at your silence. She is selling you to the short man, it seems. She has been for the entirety of this meal.

“It is not as though gentlemen do not flock to my dear sister…” Jane starts. “It is simply that she is far too preoccupied with her books to notice them. She is an avid reader, adores her novels you see. She possesses great talents because of it!”

You hoped Jane would be so kind as to avert the attention. Yet it remains stable upon you, the available wife — as cattle with clipped ears. You feel as though you are livestock being powdered and pressed for the market. If the short man is buying, you’d rather be butchered.

He is awkward and stout and his jokes are uncomfortable as they are just rude. He is far from a gentleman and all the reason you deny each hand bestowed to you in the first place. For reason of men like him.

“You write?” Snow inquires.

Those cold, devoid eyes are locked upon you — and despite wishing to send him away to never return so you may be free of his arrogance, you only peer up at his gaze through fanned lashes to see them commanding an answer of you. Awaiting one.

“Occasionally, sir.”

His gaze doesn’t falter, nor does the gaze of Mr. Highbottom, even as he presses a boiled potato to his tongue.

“What of?”

What a silly question, you think. What else would a woman of your age and lack quill about?

It baffles you to find him curious. Perhaps he does not wish to seem obviously rude any more so than he simply is — perhaps he is only creating small talk.

“What else, sir? My thoughts and desires, my ideas. Romance — dramatics…”

“Oh but she just despises poetry!” Mama interjects, as if to end the conversation and refocus it upon your eligibility. Even when she speaks, Snow does not spare her a single glance. His eyes, they still rest upon you.

“You do? I thought poetry to be the food of love.”

You dare a snort then, suffocating a fit of laughter with a spoonful of food. You take your time chewing it, only offering more words when you realize that the conversation does not seem to be at its end. No. It cannot be. Not when he looks at you in a such an expectant manner.

“A poet writes of women in the gaze of all men, which I do not believe to be a true show of adoration. Perhaps it is the food of love — if you want to suffocate it. Stone it till it remains no longer.”

His next words come quick, immediately almost. As if he is grasping at the first chance to reply, much to Highbottom’s dismay whom snaps his mouth shut after losing the opportunity. Every eye in attendance is on the both of you.

Do they think you to be an enigma? You wonder…

“What do you recommend then? To encourage affection between two people…”

You do not know why he asks you this, but you can only assume it is because he wishes to embarrass you. Grace’s sharp gaze morphs into that of an amused smirk. Why would he ask the only woman seated what encourages affection when she cannot obtain it on her own?

You are certain then of his intentions. To mock you in front of Plinth’s sister, his uncle. In front of your blood. He does it so subtlety that if you were not bright as you are — you would most certainly miss it. He is a fool, a great fool because miraculously — you can reciprocate.

“Dancing… even if one’s partner is only tolerable.” You almost sneer with a tilt of your head and raise of your sharp brow.

If something truly clicks within him, it is most quickly dissipated. Most tricky to see. Sejanus clears his throat, and Highbottom — rude creature, erupts into a fit of laughter with a mouthful of food. Your mother is nervous, she joins him.

Grace only gasps, and Jane’s soft features are laced with confusion at the thing only you five are lucky enough to understand.

You remain stoic, challenging his eyes and his tense, twitching jaw with proudness.

“Shall I fetch dessert mama?”

Your mother nods through fits of forced laughter, and you take the opportunity to lift upon your feet. The chair scrapes against the creaky panels and nearly topples as you rush into the quaint kitchen and away from him.

It brings you joy knowing that he has nothing further to say.

You are smiling, terribly overflowed with pride as you place canned, sugared peaches upon ten porcelain plates. How proud he must have felt to speak lowly of you, a girl he spared little words to at a party he refrained from dancing at for it was too poor for his liking.

You disliked him then — but a chat with miss Lucy-Gray Baird while passing by in town confirmed all of your prejudice. She claims to have been treated most coldly by him whilst he was courting her. He offered his hand, then fled into midnight when he grew bored of her. Only the next morning.

He is as any other man is. A heartless hound. His behavior in your small home only further proves your prejudice is with more than enough reason.

You take longer than you should selfishly, and when you return — your gaze locks upon Sejanus who is entirely enamored by the sapphire gaze of Jane.

Mama aids you in placing down the plates you juggle. It is a poor dessert, but one that is most delectable.

“Oh well, your daughter is most precious. Funny, too! How uncommon for women.”

“Oh please uncle, we all have our wit. She is just peculiar, I daresay.”

Mama laughs at Grace’s words, and you only offer a polite, tense smile before being seated once again. It is you now that pushes your food around your plate, fading into the mist truly as you remain silent.

They speak of things you care the least bit for — all irrelevant matters to your mind. You are grateful when wine is poured, you nearly inhale it and garner a slap on your hand once again from mama.

You need it to get thought this.

Highbottom and mama speak of you, she tells him lies. How much you wish to be wed, how eager you are to find a lover. All contradictions of Jane’s earlier lick of truth. The rich fool believes her, his eyes cast upon you like poisonous darts. Slowly suffocating you.

Sejanus is preoccupied entirely by Jane — and the miserable one chats lowly with the scowling sister.

“Well, how about some music and dance? Lizzie, off to the piano!”

Your youngest sister lifts — eager to press her hands against the keys. It will be a mediocre melody but one that offers enough sound so to dance. You wish to stay glued to the table as they leave you to the living space — but mama tugs at your braid harshly, you have no choice other than obedience.

Sejanus kindly offers Jane a hand — and you feel as though you will just sink entirely into the floor as Highbottom approaches. Your heel turns you swift as you try and find even a small bit of space in this little home.

A navy vest with a crimson rose tucked into its pocket cages your escape. You never thought to see the day you’d be grateful for the cold blonde who cuts in front. You nearly collide with him.

“Dance with me.” He commands.

How baffling…

You do not notice the tension settled within your features until your brows ease in confusion. Your chin is pointed upwards — enough so that he can be equal to your gaze.

“Are you asking this of me — or ordering sir?”

His jaw ticks once more, but he does not follow up with any more words. The cleared throat of the short man behind you is enough reason to pick the far less uncomfortable poison. You’d rather be fueled by annoyance as opposed to discomfort and dread. One dance is all.

“Fine.” You mutter, sealing your fate and betraying your swear to be far away from the man whom you loathe entirely.

He is a pale thing up close. Birth marks kissing silken skin, soft as the moss kissing your shoes. You are grateful that this dance does not require touch — only the occasional closeness.

You follow him to where Sejanus and Jane stand — his head nearly reaches your ceiling. His palm hovers over yours, eyes downcast on your pretty features. Grace is scowling, again.

Your fingers twitch as Lizzie begins the sonnet, and you follow his lead.

It surprises you greatly, how well he dances. Though his mouth is a hard line, and his eyes are like round lumps of charred coal. He is noiseless.

“Are we to dance in dread and silence, Mr. Snow? I dare comment on this awful weather, now you may follow with a remark about the food. How much you despised it.”

You catch a glimpse of him, a suppressed twitch of his lips. As if the words offended him. Maybe amused him. You step forward and then back, frayed skirt floating against the movement. He follows suite.

“I could comment on how you dance. I am happy to inform you it is more tasteful than how you cook. Please do advise me on what more you want me to say to you.”

You stumble by his words — and his eyes dart to your clumsy feet. They are stable soon enough, circling him like a shark in vicious waters. His words upset you.

“Mama and Jane prepared the meal. I only prepared the peaches; but I do believe that if a family was kind enough to welcome an abrupt attendance with a warm meal — I would not be so complacent about its contents. You see — we are not all so fortunate to have garnered inheritance, Mr. Snow.” A cold melody, but one he would be a fool to ignore. It is all true.

Now it is him that halts. He steps forward, dipping his head low. Your eyes wander to his gloved palm — it clenches then flexes outward; all evidence of his annoyance with your words.

There you both stand, Sejanus and Jane alongside the twins, mama and Highbottom swirling around you. You do not know where Grace lurks.

You both are still, he stands a tower above you. His eyes pour heat into your own, admonishing you — offended with your words. It is as if the room is only filled with the two of you, the lace of connection between you just your anger. Even in your short time being familiar, it is strong.

“Do you imply that my inheritance is all the reason for my success?” He forces through clenched — perfect teeth.

“Perhaps I do sir, miss Baird of Newbury certainly agree—”

The hand that lays against your side is snatched into his own. He squeezes it tight now, eyes wide and swimming with disapproval and frustration. It has been resting at the surface, but bound to crack.

“Oh I’m certain she does. I am sure she told you the many tales of her troubles and woes brought upon by her time spent with me. You won’t speak to her again.”

It is you that steps forward now, so laced with upset that you do not notice your poor and worn shoes are stepping upon his tip toes. Up upon the rich and shined leather. Your chin is pointed upward, your stance tense.

“You command me as if I am wed to you sir, but I am not. You have come here, unannounced and unhappy with your humble plate as if we are all but a quaint inn with poor maids. Just because we gather little and obscure and we do not have pockets as generous and full as yours does not make us beneath you, Mr. Snow.”

The music halts, and your eyes shift quickly to find a concerned Jane gazing on — alongside your horrified mother. How crazed you both must look now. Stepping upon his toes with palms clasped — anger and upset becoming you both.

You release his gloved hand and part your soft lips to dismiss yourself — yet a strike of lightning cracking from above the grayed sky is a gift given, a distraction from beyond. Yet alongside it? A curse.

The horses startle, lifting to their hind legs before running far and fast with the carriage. Grace cries out from where she sulked in the shadows, and Sejanus alongside his uncle run after the wild beasts. Your sisters and mama follow.

“What are we to do!?”

“Grace, please be calm. We will fetch them.”

“We cannot travel in these conditions, boy.”

“You may rest here!”

Dread is a serpent that wraps tight round your throat — making the pounding of your heart halt entirely.

It is all a blur, but by the end of the lively conversation it is decided. They will stay. They will all stay. You bow your head, crossing your arms round the beating at your chest so to protect it.

“Excuse me.” You whisper, so low it is taken with the breeze from the open door before rushing up your dilapidated steps; knowing full well that the hospitality offered by mama, selfish reasoning or not, is the last thing a man like Mr. Snow deserves…

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qwimblenorrisstan · 2 months ago

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Perspective | Ghost x Reader

Day 1: Body Worship w/ Simon “Ghost” Riley

Summary: Simon Riley has always thought of himself as broken and undeserving of you, but you’re always there to quiet his intrusive thoughts.

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: A little bit of angst, scars, mentions of death and fighting, smut, oral (m receiving), fluffy smut??, sub!simon, not too bad

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: im so impatient like I can’t wait for october to start, so merry christmas and a happy new year you’re getting this one early lol. anyways, I’m a sucker for ghost fluff and it shows, not too sure about how this one turned out, but hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Masterlist

Simon Riley had thick skin.

It was obvious, really. You’d noticed it before in the little things while living in your home together. How the doors remained locked, everything stayed organized in the way he liked it, even how he was still getting used to being able to relax and let down his guard during the night.

But the wounds that lay deeper, engraved into the flesh beneath his skin, into his very heart, were ones he hadn’t let you see yet. Not until tonight, when you fumbled with the key to open the front door, knowing the loud knocking you would’ve usually done would probably disturb him.

The key decided to relent, letting you turn it and open the door as you walked into your home, the living room greeting you as the coat you were wearing was slipped off and placed onto the jacket rack to your left.

Simon wasn’t at the door to greet you like usual.

Strange.

Lips pressing into a thin line of mild worry, you mentally debated about it for a moment before calling out, trying to keep a bit of softness to your voice to not alarm him.

“Si?”

You began walking towards your shared bedroom’s bathroom when you heard a little clatter, the sound of something plastic hitting the floor, and low grumbling as you approached the door.

Your hand closed around the doorknob, the metal cold against your hand as you opened the door, peeking in, only to find Simon shirtless, sitting on the edge of the tub, with a tub of what looked to be some sort of lotion fallen over onto the floor.

You saw his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed, glancing from the lotion to you, eyes slightly wide and vulnerable like a child who’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t have.

“Hey,”

You said, trying to figure out what was going on as you crouched down, picking up the tub of lotion and reading the label on the front.

‘Scar Therapy’

“Hey.”

He said, voice thick with something you couldn’t figure out as he stared down at you, watched as your eyes softened, soft hand coming to cup his cheek, your thumb rubbing against his scar-covered skin.

Your head tilted to the side a bit, and Simon knew that look. You had probably already guessed what was happening here, but you wanted his version of it.

It was almost funny how nervous he suddenly felt. He was a Lieutenant, he’d killed men with nothing more than shrapnel, taken out entire military bases, and taken down powerful people, but it didn’t compare to this. Because he had to let his walls crumble even more than they already had with you, and it was terrifying, to let anyone in.

“I was just—my scars, they were…”

He mumbled, the old habit creeping back in. A momentary pause as his eyes met yours for a moment, and he forgot to breathe for a few seconds before getting the rest of his sentence out.

“Hurting. They were hurtin’.”

You moved subtly closer to him, your right hand dipping into the tub of lotion, the same hand approaching a nasty mark across his chest. You looked up at him, waiting for his approval, and he gave a small nod, watching with bated breath as your fingers began pressing the lotion onto the scar, gently massaging it in with small circles.

It was almost like you’d pressed a button in him, with how he seemed to almost deflate at that, heaving a deep breath out as he went pliant in your arms, only barely holding himself up.

Your fingers moved from his chest and torso to his biceps, and finally to his back, where one of the thicker scars near his spine was.

You could’ve sworn he almost whimpered, eyes squeezing shut and lips parting.

“Gentle,”

He breathed, and you let up a bit with your fingers, only giving featherlight strokes now, his breathing growing almost ragged as the both of you remained there for a long moment, that was until the lotion had been fully rubbed into his skin, and you reached to put the lid back on the container.

The silence seemed nearly impenetrable as he cracked his eyes open, following your every move, from the quiet screwing sound of the lid being put back on, to you placing it into the small cabinet area under the sink and closing it with a dull thud.

“Let’s go to bed.”

You spoke softly as if talking to a wounded animal, while slipping your hand into his significantly larger one, giving a small tug. He rose obediently, following behind you, deathly silent, feet rolling to not make any noise as he slipped into the bed beside you.

Both of you simply lay there for a while, him staring at the ceiling before he turned on his side to face you.

”Why do ya put up with me?”

He asked, a heartbreakingly vulnerable softness to his tone as if he was whispering something secret, something he didn’t want anyone else to know. Your brows furrowed as you turned on your side to face him, opening your mouth to speak, but he cut you off before you could get it out.

”I’m not..easy to deal with, ‘m fucked up, broken, so why do you keep lettin’ me come back—come home—to you?”

You didn’t have to look at his big, brown eyes to know that tears were welling in them, though you did anyway. You could only hope that he could see the sincerity in your gaze, that for once, he could finally believe you when you told him what he was.

”You’re not broken, Si.”

Your tone was soft, a gentle caress, but also carried a bit of firmness to it. That was that. No negotiation. Or at least, that’s how it should’ve been, but Simon Riley was more stubborn than you gave him credit for.

He huffed, though it mildly resembled a sniffle.

”You’ve seen my scars, I’m fuckin’ ruined, I don’ know what you see in me.”

He was trying to sound firm and stubborn, but you could still hear that vulnerability from earlier that was now hidden behind walls he’d built up. Walls he always put up when he was afraid.

”You want to know what I see in you?”

You asked, the idea already weaving together in your mind. It might not work, he might just reject your thoughts and praise, but it was worth a try. It was worth it for him.

Your right hand slowly began trailing onto his waist, and you saw his gaze snap down to it as he watched you rub little circles onto his hips. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, the calculating in his eyes, trying to figure out what you were doing, but this wasn’t a battlefield, and he was out of his element.

”Well, what I see,”

You began, voice a low murmur as your hand slowly trailed upwards onto his chest. His body became almost wholly still, stiff and tense, but he didn’t push you off, didn’t tell you to stop. Your hand slowly slid his shirt up, leaving his torso and chest bare to your view. You leaned in closer, your left hand going to slide his shirt further up, then right over his head, disheveling his short blond hair, before the shirt was tossed onto the floor.

”I see a man who’s gone through hell and back, and lived to tell the tale.”

You murmured, hot breath fanning against his skin as you began slow, light kisses against the scar on his breath, your hand now moving to gently caress the skin you weren’t peppering with kisses. His breath hitched in his throat.

You moved up, now at his collarbone as you began the trail of kisses again, from the sharp angles of his collarbone to the broadness of his shoulders, down to his biceps and forearms with the thick muscle adorning them, all the way down to his hands, where you kissed each calloused, rough fingerpad, stopping to look him in the eyes as you did it.

”I see a man who’s been treated so harshly his entire life, he doesn’t know how to handle love.”

He stared back at you, eyes wide, lips slightly trembling. His hands began shaking.

You moved down, hands fumbling with the metal of his belt for a moment, until his large, warm palm enveloped your hand, moving it away momentarily, only to unbuckle it himself, muscle memory kicking in as he unzipped his fly, slowly kicking his pants off, eyes meeting yours as the kisses began from his naval to his muscular thighs, and his ankles, before pulling away momentarily.

“I see a man who’s always been selfless and brave for other people, and never taken a thing for himself.”

You almost whispered, one finger slipping under his boxers, pausing, then continuing when he didn’t object, sliding the cloth down, down, down, till it was at his ankles, and it, too, got to join the pile of clothes on the floor. His hands were shaking worse now. You gingerly let your hand approach his cock, half-hard, and slowly wrapped your fingers around it, thumb rubbing against the tip as he gasped lowly, breath shuddering as his hips tried to jolt.

You didn’t stop him. That was a rule between you two, one that had been discussed before, no holding down or forcing, consent, and safe-words. He had a history, one he hadn’t shared yet, but you’d be patient and let him open up when he wanted to.

”Please,”

He breathed, head thrown back as you began gently rubbing, leaning down to slide the tip in between your lips, giving small licks as his body bucked up. You weren’t one to deny him, not when he was so relaxed now, taut muscles turning to putty beneath your fingers and mouth as you took him deeper, licking under his shaft, before sliding more in as he let out a low groan that sounded like a whimper, almost.

He was mumbling something under his breath, mouth agape as his hand snuck into your hair, trying not to be rough when he buried his fingers into it. He might’ve been begging, you couldn’t make much out of it, though.

Willing your throat to relax, you slid your throat down on him, further and further until your nose met the happy trail between his legs, and you saw the muscles of his thighs tense, flickering and jolting slightly, a sign of his impending climax as you lowly bobbed your head up and down. His hips jolted to life, though you could see the conscious effort he made to not harm you at all. With the shallow thrusts he made, it wasn’t long before he was moaning something incoherent, words slurring with a thick British accent he could usually keep under wraps.

Gingerly pulling off of him, you took a deep breath, softly panting as you grabbed the water bottle on the nightstand and took a swig, the liquid washing down whatever was left behind in your throat. You moved up on the bed, hand slipping under Simon’s head and carefully lifting, placing a pillow behind it, and bringing the bottle to his lips.

He would need the fluid after that, probably.

His throat bobbed as he drank it, nearly emptying the entire bottle, before you drew it back and screwed the lid back on, placing it onto the nightstand. Slipping out of bed momentarily, you opened Simon’s underwear drawer, grabbing the softest pair of boxers you could find, before returning to him and carefully maneuvering his legs through the holes, pulling up, and managing to get them decently onto his large frame as he grunted, one large hand tugging at your arm to pull you down to him.

You hummed in acknowledgment of his little tug, laying down beside him and grabbing the blanket, pulling it over the both of you and settling into the arms he wrapped around you, face settling in the nook of your neck.

”Thank you.”

He whispered, eyes wet against the warmth of your skin. You weren’t sure which thing he was thanking you for, exactly, but you replied anyway, to the man who’d given and given and given and never asked for anything.

”Anytime, Simon.”

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