#i think it's the mystery of a face hidden behind a mask | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zebuie · 2 months

Text

✰𝐁𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒✰

༢ུ·⠀READ THIS. # DAILY CLICK ☾ MASTERLIST

⋆𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒⋆; ༊࿔ nerdyloser!ellie x cheerleader!reader.

ıllı⋆𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒⋆; ellie had a reputation as the school's perpetual loser. However, you saw her differently, choosing not to believe the gossip and stereotypes surrounding her.

⌖ ⋆𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒⋆; WC/ 7.1k , smutttt!!! , the glasses stay ONNNN!! , friends to lovers trope? , swearing , ellie touches herself to thought of reader , making out / kissing , fingering (e & r receiving) , strap on usage (r receiving) , strap on sucking (e receiving) , eating out (e & receiving) , nipple sucking (e & r receiving) , Ellie calls the strap her cock like once? (I think.) , lmk if there’s more ! 🧡

💌 ⋆𝐀/𝐍⋆; Heyeyyey guysss ive actually done nothing but rot in my bed this summer❤️ also promise I’ll reply to all of ur sent requests once I feel like it bc I’m sick😓anyways hope u enjoy this bery shitty fic mwahhh <3

Ellie was often regarded as the school's perpetual loser, her status whispered about in hushed hallway conversations and painted with gossip on the bathroom walls.

You, however, saw her through a different lens, one that didn't confine her to the stereotypes and ridicule that surrounded her.

To you, she wasn't just a loser. She was cute, intriguing, and someone who held a silent charm that was lost on the rest of the school.

From the first time you laid eyes on her, you couldn't help but notice the way she moved through the crowded halls with a reserved confidence.

Her short, tousled hair framed a face that held a hint of mystery, her sharp jawline and piercing eyes exuding a quiet strength.

Between classes, you would often find her sitting alone in a secluded corner, engrossed in a book or sketching in a worn notebook.

Her solitary moments, instead of appearing lonely, hinted at a depth and independence that captivated you.

There was something about the way she carried herself, a quiet resilience that made her stand out amidst the cacophony of teen insecurities and conformity.

As you walked through the bustling corridors, your eyes landed on Ellie standing alone by her locker, engrossed in the world of her own mind.

Taking a deep breath, you approached her, the familiar uniform of a cheerleader a stark contrast to her rebellious aura.

The hallway filled with its usual chatter, but in that moment, it faded into the background as you gathered your courage.

"Hey Ellie," you called out, hoping to grab her attention, your heart beating a little faster than usual.

Ellie looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing her features as she registered your presence. She closed her locker and turned to face you, her gaze studying you with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

The hallway seemed to shrink around the two of you, the world outside becoming a blur as your conversation began to unfold.

"What do you want?" her words carried a hint of defensiveness, a shield she had likely erected after years of ridicule. Yet, her eyes held a flicker of interest, intrigued by the unusual turn of events – a popular cheerleader like you speaking to her, the school's "loser".

"I just wanted to say hi," you responded, a nervous smile playing on your lips. Your cheerleader uniform with a oversized buttoned up varsity jacket, a symbol of the very social group that often looked down upon Ellie, seemed to create a wall of judgment in the air between you both.

You pushed past it, your curiosity about her overshadowing any preconceived notions about her social status.

"Hi." Ellie said softly, clearly not used to people approaching her, especially not popular cheerleaders like you.

She shifted her weight slightly, resting her hand on the locker behind her. There was a brief moment of silence as she studied you, trying to figure out what you wanted.

Her piercing eyes, usually hidden behind a mask of apathy, were intense and searching. You could tell she was hesitant, bracing herself for whatever snide comment or put-down was about to come her way.

But you surprised her, and yourself, by simply smiling and saying you wanted to say hi. Ellie's reserved demeanor softened slightly, a tiny glimmer of surprise and pleasure flashing in her eyes.

She looked...flattered. "That's, um, that's really nice of you," she mumbled, her sharp jawline clenched slightly.

It was clear she wasn't used to such kindness from her peers. You stood there for a moment, the noise of the hallway fading into the background.

Ellie was even more captivating up close - those mysterious eyes, that delicate yet strong face. You found yourself drawn to her quiet strength and hidden depths.

Finally breaking the silence, you asked her how she was doing, really doing. Ellie sighed, looking down at her feet. "I don't know. Same old, same old, I guess. Trying to fly under the radar." Her shrug was small, her shoulders barely rising. "People can be pretty cruel sometimes."

Ellie shrugged again, her eyes darting away uncomfortably. "I mean, I'm used to it by now. People have been talking shit about me since middle school. It never really bothers me anymore." Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but the tightness around her eyes betrayed the lie.

Being the subject of constant ridicule and mockery can't be easy, even if you build up a protective shell. You sensed a deep sadness behind Ellie's apathetic facade.

Reaching out tentatively, you placed your hand on her arm. The gesture startled her, her eyes snapping back to yours in surprise. It was a small, friendly touch, but it felt like a big statement - a rejection of the societal norms that put Ellie down and a personal challenge to get to know the real her. "I'm sorry people are so rude, Ellie. You don't deserve that." Your tone was gentle, sympathetic.

"I know I'm not exactly known for being kind to those on the outskirts. But I want you to know I think you're interesting. And cool. And I'd like to get to know you better, if you're up for it."

Ellie looked at you with a mix of surprise and... was that a glimmer of hope? She seemed to be searching your face, trying to gauge your sincerity.

After a moment, she shrugged again, but there was a hint of vulnerability behind it. "I don't know... I'm not really sure how to... hang out, I guess." Her cheeks flushed slightly, her gaze drifting down to her scuffed shoes.

The admission felt awkward for her, like she was revealing a weakness. But it was also kind of adorable, seeing this tough exterior cracking just a bit. You had the sudden urge to reach out and hug her, to show her that not everyone judged her— but you didn't. "We can start simple," you suggested, your voice warm and encouraging. "We could study together sometime. Or grab coffee after school."

Anything to help Ellie see that there are good people out there, if she just opens herself up to the possibility.

Ellie considered your offer, her brow furrowed in concentration. You could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she weighed the risks and rewards. Finally, she nodded, just a tiny jerk of her head but enough to see as a yes. "Okay... yeah. That could be cool, I guess." She smiled slightly, a real, genuine smile that transformed her entire face.

You exchanged numbers, making plans to meet up the following week. As you parted ways, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation.

Fast forward a few days, and Ellie and you have become inseparable. You sit together at lunch, partner for projects, and study together almost every night.

She's opened up to you in ways she never has with anyone else, sharing her dreams of becoming a writer and her passion for art. In turn, you've shared your own hopes and fears with her.

She listens intently, her piercing eyes studying your face, her sharp jawline clenched in empathy.

You've never felt so understood. The world seems to have slowed down since you've gotten closer, like you're moving to a different beat than everyone else.

People still talk about Ellie behind her back, but you tune it out. You know the truth - that beneath that tough exterior is a kind, clever, beautiful soul.

One that you're falling for more and more each day. But you're scared to ruin your friendship by confessing your feelings.

So you keep it inside, buried beneath your skin like a constant ache. Hoping against hope that someday, somehow, Ellie will realize that you're the one who sees her, who truly gets her. And that maybe, just maybe, she might feel the same way.

You've been trying to get Ellie to come to one of your cheerleading practices for weeks, but she's been stubbornly refusing. She's always got some excuse - she's busy, she doesn't feel like it, she'd rather stay home and draw.

But you're determined. Finally, you corner her after school one day. "Ellie, come on! It'll be fun, I promise. And I want you to meet the girls, they're really great once you get to know them." You plead, your voice high-pitched with desperation.

Ellie sighs, her sharp jawline clenched in exasperation. But after a moment, she relents. "Fine, alright. But just for a little while, okay?" She agrees, clearly unenthused.

You grin triumphantly and immediately start walking towards the gym. Ellie hurries to catch up, her eyes fixed on the ground. When you arrive at the practice, you head straight to the bleachers to change.

Ellie follows at a distance, until she sees you pull off your uniform top and shake out your hair, dressed now in just a sports bra and mini skirt. Her eyes go wide, her cheeks flushing bright red as she takes in the sight of you in your cheer gear. "Fuck..." she mutters under her breath, her gaze darting away, suddenly very interested in her sneakers. The other girls greet you warmly, and you introduce Ellie to the team.

You and the girls start practicing a routine, dancing and cheering in unison. Ellie watches from the bleachers, her eyes glued to you, unable to look away.

Your short skirt flutters as you move, giving glimpses of your thighs and ass. The sweat glistens on your skin, making your sports bra cling to your chest.

Every flex of your muscles, every spin and leap, sends Ellie's heart racing. She's never seen you like this before - all energy and enthusiasm, your beauty and femininity on full display. It's intoxicating.

She has to tear her eyes away, squeezing them shut as she tries to regain control of herself. Because seeing you like this, it's making her feel things.

Things she shouldn't, not to her friend. Not to anyone, really. Her cheeks are burning, and she can't seem to catch her breath.

The fact that her pussy is throbbing with need and her boxers are drenched doesn't help matters. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Ellie prays the practice will be over soon, before she does something stupid.

The practice goes by in a blur for Ellie, her mind foggy with desire. She keeps her gaze fixed on the floor, scared to look up and risk seeing more of your tempting body.

But her imagination fills in the blanks, painting vivid pictures of your lithe form dancing just for her. By the time you wrap up, Ellie is a hot mess - flushed, breathless, and seriously bothered.

She mumbles something about needing to go and dashes out of the gym, not caring if she just bails on you. She needs to get home, alone, and deal with the ache between her legs. It's going to be a long night.

Ellie rushes home, her heart pounding and her mind reeling. She storms up the stairs to her room, slamming the door behind her. Falling face-first on her bed, she lets out a frustrated groan, her boxers soaked through.

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block out the image of you dancing in that tiny skirt, but it's no use. Behind her closed lids, you're still there, bouncing around in your cheer gear, just for her.

A low moan escapes her lips as she palms her pussy, stroking her cunt slowly. Her mind fills with filthy thoughts of you - of pinning you down and tasting your pussy, of wrapping her long fingers around your lithe throat and making you cum on command.

She imagines herself fucking you senseless, pounding your tight cunt into submission. The fantasies are wild, rough, and exactly what she needs to relieve the ache between her legs.

Ellie loses herself in the pleasure, her pussy wet and throbbing as she jerks herself off to thoughts of you. Her pussy clenches and drips, her thighs trembling as the orgasm builds.

"Fuck," she hisses through gritted teeth, her hips bucking wildly into her touch. The moment she comes, she collapses back on the bed, gasping for air.

Her mind is hazy, her chest heaving. But even as the bliss fades, a nagging sense of shame creeps in. What is wrong with her? You're her best friend! She can't possibly actually want to fuck you, can she?

The thought sends a pang of guilt through her, but it's too late - the damage is done. She can't unsee you dancing in that skirt, can't unfeel the way her body responds to your presence. And as she lays there, her heart racing and her skin slick with sweat, Ellie knows one thing for sure - she's falling for you, hard. And it's only a matter of time before you find out.

Over the next two days, Ellie tries to push her feelings down, to pretend like nothing changed. But it did. Every time you're near, she feels that old ache returning, her body reacting like it did when she saw you in that skirt.

She's miserable, torn between her growing feelings for you and the guilt of keeping them a secret. One evening, you stop by her house after school. You knock on her door, and she opens it, looking frazzled and stressed. "Can you come back later?" She asks, her voice strained.

Something is definitely going on with her. You nod, confused, and leave. But as you walk away, you see Ellie slump against the doorframe, looking like she's about to collapse. You turn back, concerned, and ask if she's okay. For a moment, she just stares at you. "yeah yeah, all good." She replies, and you just walk away.

You notice a change in Ellie's behavior - she's suddenly really busy all the time. When you invite her to hang out, she always has an excuse. "Sorry, I have a project due soon and I really need to focus," she says, avoiding eye contact. Or "I have family stuff I need to take care of, maybe we can hang out another time?" She's gone from eager best friend to distant acquaintance almost overnight.

It's like she's avoiding you on purpose. You're confused, but you try to give her space, hoping she'll come around. But you can't shake the feeling that you did something wrong.

You've had enough. A few days without Ellie in your life is more than enough time to realize just how much you need her. You need your best friend back.

So you show up at her doorstep, determined to get some answers. When she opens the door, you're ready. "What's going on, Ellie?" You demand, your voice shaking slightly. She looks taken aback, like she wasn't expecting this confrontation. "Wh-what are you talking about?" She stammers, her sharp jawline clenched anxiously.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "Don't lie, Ellie. I know you've been avoiding me for weeks. Something's wrong, and I want to know what it is." There's a long, tense moment of silence.

Then, finally, Ellie sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine," she says, stepping aside to let you in. "Come in."

You sit down with Ellie, genuinely concerned. "You can tell me anything, you know that right?" You say softly. Ellie looks down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers. "It's just... school has been really hard lately. And homework. I just haven't had the time or

energy to focus on anything else."

She shrugs, her eyes still fixed on her lap. You process her words, trying to understand. But you can't help but notice the way she's avoiding eye contact, the way her voice lacks its usual conviction.

You get the sense that there's more to the story, that Ellie is hiding something from you. But you're not sure what. Frustrated but willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Over the next few weeks, you keep a close eye on Ellie, making sure she doesn't slip back into her old avoidance habits. Slowly but surely, she starts to come back around, agreeing to hang out occasionally.

It's not the same as before - there's a new tension between you two, a nervous energy. You can't quite put your finger on it, but something has definitely changed.

One night, you're studying together at your place. Ellie is across from you, focused intently on her book. You can't help but steal glances at her, drinking in the sight of her intelligent face, her delicate features. Suddenly, she looks up and catches you staring. Her cheeks flush, and she quickly looks away. Awkward.

Ellie shifts uncomfortably, Her eyes dart around the room, anywhere but at you. "Wh-what are you looking at?" She asks, her voice tight. You're taken aback - why is she getting defensive? You weren't looking at her like she was stupid or anything. "Nothing! I wasn't looking at anything." You stammer, feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

The silence that follows is thick and heavy. Finally, Ellie speaks up again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can we just... focus on our homework?"

You nod, trying to brush off the weirdness. But as you both continue studying, the atmosphere between you two is strained. Every time you glance over at Ellie, she's looking away, her face flushed.

You start to wonder if she's really okay. As the night winds down, you realize you haven't heard a peep out of her in a while.

You look over to find her sound asleep at your desk, her head resting on her folded arms. You can't help but smile - the girl may be tough as nails, but she's still got a soft side. Gently, you reach out and brush a stray lock of hair from her face.

You freeze, hand hovering inches from Ellie's cheek. In that moment, everything clicks into place. Your feelings for her, the way your body reacts whenever she's near, the guilt you've been carrying around - it all makes sense.

You're in love with your best friend, and she's been trying to tell you without saying the words. The realization is overwhelming, and you're not sure what to do with it. You look down at Ellie, taking in her peaceful slumbering face.

For a long moment, you just stare. Then, with a deep breath, you lean in and press your lips to her forehead in a gentle, chaste kiss.

The next day at school, you're on edge. What if Ellie was awake when you kissed her on her forehead. You can't help but worry as you wait for her to make a move.

But to your surprise, Ellie seems completely unfazed. She walks up to you in the hallway, grinning as usual. "Hey, what's up?" She asks, like nothing out of the ordinary happened. You blink, unsure how to respond.

Do you confront her about your feelings, or do you play it cool? Before you can decide, Ellie leans in and brushes her lips against your cheek in a quick, friendly kiss. "See you later," she murmurs, before turning and walking away. Your heart is racing, your mind reeling. Did she just... kiss you like that? And if so, what does it mean?

Over the next few weeks, you and Ellie settle into a new normal. Your friendship is still there, but it's different now - there's a romantic undercurrent running beneath the surface. Every now and then, one of you will lean in to kiss the other's cheek or forehead. It's sweet, but also confusing.

Are you guys just staying friends, or is something more brewing? One evening, you're hanging out again, this time watching a movie at the cinema. About halfway through, you get bored so you turn and ask her "I'm bored...can we do something?"

Ellie glances over at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I know just the thing," she whispers with a sly smile.

Before you can respond, she reaches over and takes your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours. You feel a jolt of electricity at her touch, your heart beginning to race.

The cinema falls away as you gaze into her eyes, the rest of the world fading to black. "Come on," she says, tugging gently on your hand. You let her lead you out of the theater and down the dark, empty hallway. No one's around to notice the way your pulse quickens or how hard it is to breathe.

Ellie raises an eyebrow as you drag her into the bathroom, but she doesn't resist. "What's up?" She asks, looking around the small room in confusion.

You fidget with your shirt, suddenly self-conscious. "Can't go out there looking like a mess," you mutter. Without thinking, you turn to Ellie and grab a handful of her hair, pulling her in close.

Your lips meet in a searing kiss, all the pent-up tension between you exploding in that moment. Ellie melts into your embrace, her hands coming up to grip your shoulders.

The kiss breaks after what feels like an eternity, leaving you both breathless. For a moment, you just stare at each other, hearts racing. Then, with a shy smile, Ellie reaches up and fixes your crooked necklace. "You look fine," she whispers.

Ellie's glasses slide down her nose as she leans in for the kiss, the frames tilting rakishly. After you break the kiss, she pushes them back up, blinking rapidly. "We should probably get back," she says softly, glancing towards the bathroom door.

You nod, not wanting to face the crowded cinema again just yet. With Ellie's hand in yours, you leave the bathroom and make your way back to your seats.

As you sit down, Ellie adjusts her glasses once more, her fingers brushing the lenses. The light catches on the silver frames, making them sparkle. You can't help but stare at her, your heart full to bursting.

The rest of the movie is a blur. You can't focus on anything except for the girl beside you. Every now and then, your knees will bump, sending electric jolts through your body.

When the credits start rolling, you both sit there in stunned silence. Then, without a word, Ellie takes your hand and leads you out of the cinema.

The cool night air is a welcome relief, but it does nothing to calm your racing heart. You walk in silence for a few blocks, not knowing what to say. Finally, you look over at Ellie, who's walking with her eyes downcast. "Thank you," you say softly, not meeting her gaze. "For tonight." She nods and smiles, walking you home. When you get home she plants a soft kiss to your cheek and says goodbye.

The next day at school, you and Ellie are back to your old selves, or so it seems. You're sitting together at lunch, leaning in close as you talk. Every now and then, one of you will brush a strand of hair from the other's face.

It's subtle, but charged with a new meaning. In class, you catch Ellie glancing at you from under her lashes, her cheeks flushed. You feel like you're walking on eggshells, unsure of where you stand with her.

Then, in the middle of a lesson, disaster strikes. Your textbook slips from your grasp, landing with a thud at your feet. You bend down to pick it up, unaware of the brief but tantalizing view you're giving Ellie.

Her eyes go wide as you're bent over in your short skirt, the fabric riding up to give a peek of stocking and skin. You stand up quickly, face burning. Ellie looks away, trying to hide her smirk.

That night, you're scrolling through social media when an invitation for a party catches your eye. It's being held at a friend's house, and they're encouraging everyone to come.

You hesitate for a moment before texting Ellie. "Hey, wanna go to this party tonight? I know it's last minute, but it could be fun." You send the message, hoping she'll say yes. A few minutes later, her response pops up. "Sure why not" You grin, feeling a rush of excitement.

You're not sure what the night will bring, but you're ready for whatever happens. When you arrive at the party, it's already in full swing. Ellie takes your hand as you make your way through the crowd, the two of you laughing and joking. But every now and then, your eyes meet and hold, the connection between you sparking like a live wire.

The party is in full swing, with pulsing music and bodies moving to the beat. You grab Ellie's hand, pulling her onto the makeshift dance floor. "Dance with me," you demand, your voice urgent. Ellie can't help but laugh at your insistent tone. "Okay, okay," she relents, letting you pull her close.

As the song builds, you spin Ellie around until she's facing away from you. Without a word, you grab her hips and start grinding your ass against her crotch.

Ellie lets out a surprised yelp before melting into your touch, her own hips starting to move in time with yours.

The sensation is electric, your bodies moving together like they were made to. You're oblivious to everything around you, lost in the feeling of Ellie pressed against you.

As you continue to grind against each other, Ellie places her hands on your hips, guiding you in a slow, sensual circle.

The motion is hypnotic, drawing you both into a trance-like state. The music swirls around you, blending with the sound of your heavy breathing.

Every now and then, one of you will let out a soft moan, the sound swallowed up by the thumping bass. The crowd around you fades away until it's just the two of you, lost in your own little world.

Ellie pulls you back, her chest pressing against your spine. You can feel the rapid beat of her heart, matching your own. Without looking, you reach back and lace your fingers with hers, the gesture intimate and possessive.

You spin around suddenly, your lips crashing against Ellie's in a rough, needy kiss. Your tongues tangle as you devour each other, the sweet taste of saliva and lust mixing in your mouth.

Ellie kisses you back just as fiercely, her hands coming up to grip your shirt. You rip yourself away after what feels like an eternity, both of you breathing heavily.

Ellie's lips are swollen, glasses askew and slightly reddened from the force of your kisses. You stare at each other, chests heaving, hearts pounding. Without a word, you take Ellie's hand and drag her out of the party, into the cool night air.

The music and laughter fade behind you, replaced by the sound of your own racing pulses.

As you step outside, Ellie suddenly tightens her grip on your hand, her fingers digging into your skin. You look down to see her eyes flashing with an intense emotion.

Without a word, she starts pulling you along the sidewalk, your feet moving quickly to keep up with her long strides.

You don't resist, your curiosity piqued. Soon you're at Ellie's front door, her hand fumbling in her pocket for keys.

She unlocks the door and pulls you inside, slamming it shut behind you. In the dim lighting of the foyer, Ellie turns to face you, her expression fierce. "Mine," she hisses, before crashing her lips against yours in a dominant, claiming kiss.

Ellie kisses you with a possession and hunger that takes your breath away. Her tongue plunges into your mouth, exploring every inch. One of her hands fists in your hair, holding you in place as she devours you.

The other hand roams your body, slipping under your shirt to brand you with her touch. You feel like prey being consumed by a starved animal.

Ellie breaks the kiss, panting heavily. Without a word, she grabs your hand and drags you up the stairs to her bedroom. She slams the door shut behind you, locking it with a resounding click. In the dim light, you can see the intensity in her eyes as she advances on you. "I've been waiting for this," she whispers, her voice husky. "I'm going to make you feel so good."

The other hand roams your body, slipping under your shirt to brand you with her touch. You feel like prey being consumed by a starved animal.

Ellie breaks the kiss, panting heavily. Without a word, she grabs your hand and drags you up the stairs to her bedroom.

She slams the door shut behind you, locking it with a resounding click. In the dim light, you can see the intensity in her eyes as she advances on you. "I've been waiting for this," she whispers, her voice husky. "I'm going to make you feel so good."

As Ellie advances on you, her glasses slip down her nose, the frames tilting rakishly. In the dim light, you can see the glint of the silver hinges and temple pieces.

She reaches up to push them back into place, her fingers trembling slightly with urgency. "I've been wanting to do this for so long," she breathes, her pupils blown wide with desire. Her hands come up to grip your shoulders, pulling you close until her body is pressed hard against yours.

You can feel every curve and angle of her, the softness of her breasts, the hardness of her stomach. Ellie's lips brush against your ear, her hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Gonna take my time with you," she whispers, her voice sending sparks of anticipation through your veins.

You're acutely aware of what you're wearing as Ellie presses her body against yours - the thin fabric of your shirt doing little to conceal your heated skin, the mini skirt riding up your thighs with every brush of her hips.

You can feel Ellie's eyes on you, her gaze igniting with desire at the sight of your barely covered curves.

She runs her hands down your sides, fingertips grazing the underside of your breasts, teasing the swell of your hips. "You look so hot right now," Ellie purrs, her hot breath tickling your ear. She nibbles on your lobe, her teeth sharp and excitingly painful.

You let out a soft gasp, your own hunger rising to match hers. Without a word, Ellie starts tugging your shirt over your head, revealing your bra-clad breasts to her hungry gaze. She latches onto one nipple, suckling hard as her fingers hook into your skirt and start to pull.

Ellie's mouth is a hot, slick wonder as she suckles your nipples, her tongue swirling around the hardened buds. You arch your back, pressing yourself more fully into her eager mouth. Every suck sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

Meanwhile, her fingers continue their exploration of your body, dipping beneath your skirt to find the slick heat between your thighs. Two fingers push inside, curling against your sensitive walls as she strokes and teases. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction.

Ellie hums against your skin, the vibration adding another layer of sensation as her fingers pump steadily. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, the dual stimuli threatening to overwhelm you with pleasure.

You can feel your orgasm building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter. With Ellie's mouth on your nipples and her fingers inside you, you're teetering on the brink of a powerful climax.

The orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your entire body convulsing with the intensity of it. You cry out, the sound muffled by Ellie's mouth still attached to your breast.

She rides out your climax with you, sucking gently as you tremble and gasp. Finally, you go limp in her arms, boneless and thoroughly satisfied. Ellie pulls back, her lips glistening with your milk.

Without a word, she drops to her knees in front of you, her glasses sliding down her nose once more. She looks up at you through the frames, her eyes dark with desire. "I need to taste you," she whispers, her voice husky with need. Before you can respond, her tongue is on you, licking and probing. The sudden change has you quivering again, your nerves freshly frayed.

As Ellie's tongue works its magic, her glasses start to fog up from the steam of your wetness. The condensation clouds the lenses, blurring her vision.

But she doesn't stop, too focused on worshipping you with her mouth to care. "fuck baby, you taste so good," she moans, the words muffled and indistinct through the fogged glass.

She laps at you eagerly, her breath hot on your sensitive flesh. Occasionally, she'll lift her head to glare down at you through the milky white lenses, as if daring you to tell her to stop. But you won't. You'll let her eat you out until you're ready to explode again.

As the aftershocks of your second orgasm subside, Ellie sits back on her heels, her glasses still fogged up. She looks at you with a serious expression, even as her fingers start rummaging through her dresser drawer.

"do u trust me?," she says softly, pulling out a sleek strap-on. Her eyes meet yours, searching. "promise I'll make it feel good." She holds out the wand, offering it to you with a vulnerable smile.

You nod eagerly, your eyes squeezing shut as if in reverence. Strap on in Ellie's hand, her fingers wrapping around the slick shaft. She stands up, as she steps out of her pants. Underneath, she's wearing only a pair of boxers, the fabric stretched tightly across her mound now the strap-on hanging low on her hips. Her shirt remains on, the hem riding high on her stomach.

Ellie looks at you over her shoulder, her glasses still fogged from her earlier efforts. She gives you a sultry smile, her eyes dark with promise. Then she's turning around, the strap-on swaying between her legs as she walks back towards you. "ready?" she whispers, her voice husky with anticipation.

Without another word, she presses the slick head of the toy against your entrance, lining it up carefully. Then she's pushing forward, the broad tip parting your folds.

You gasp at the sudden intrusion, your eyes flying open. Ellie doesn't stop until the hilt is buried inside you, the toy nestled deep. She gives your hip a gentle stroke, as if checking you're ready. she asks you to get on your hands and knees then, she starts to thrust.

Ellie starts to thrust the toy in and out of you, the slick shaft gliding easily inside your slick heat. She sets a slow, steady rhythm, her hips undulating sensually.

As she picks up pace, she leans over you, her chest pressing against your back. You can feel her hard nipples poking into your skin, even through her shirt. "Fuck, you're so tight," she hisses in your ear. "Gonna make me cum just feeling you clench around this." Her fingers tighten on your hip, her breathing growing more erratic.

"Gonna fill this pussy up," she continues, her voice low and filthy. "Mine, you're so fucking mine ."

Ellie's words send a shiver down your spine, her dark promises only adding to the intense pleasure coursing through you. You can feel your body responding, your walls rippling around the toy buried inside.

Ellie must feel it too, because she lets out a triumphant moan. "That's it, baby. Cmon," She starts thrusting harder, the broad shaft stirring up your insides.

The wet sounds of your coupling fill the room, mingling with your heavy breathing and Ellie's filthy encouragements. "Fuck yeah, you like that," she growls, her fingers biting into your flesh. "Take my cock, fuckin-" her words spur you on, the forbidden heat of them only adding to the intensity.

Your orgasm starts to build, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter. Ellie must sense it too, because she's panting heavily now, her hips slapping against your ass as she chases her own climax.

As you start to come down from your intense orgasm, you realize with a start that Ellie hasn't let you finish yet.

Your sensitive walls are still fluttering, your body tingling with oversensitization. Ellie keeps thrusting, the toy rubbing over your most tender spots.

But she seems to be holding back, her hips moving in a slow, shallow grind. Your eyes fly open, meeting Ellie's gaze over your shoulder. She gives you a wicked smile, her eyes dark with desire. "Not yet," she mouths, the word silent but clear.

She continues to tease you, the toy gliding over your aching flesh. You're trapped in a state of suspended pleasure, desperate to come again but unable to until Ellie says so.

A few minutes pass, the air thick with tension. Ellie's thrusts continue, the toy bumping against her own clit with every stroke.

The stimulation seems to be getting to her, her breaths coming in sharper gasps. You can feel her heart racing against your back, her excitement palpable. Suddenly, Ellie stills, holding the toy deep inside you.

For a long moment, she's absolutely still, her body rigid. Then, with a sharp cry, she pulls out of you and comes hard, her orgasm pulsing through her veins. "Fuck yes" she screams, her fingers finding your clit.

With a final, powerful stroke, she sends you hurtling into a second climax. This time, you come undone, your body shaking and convulsing as Ellie milks you with firm, deliberate strokes. You collapse back against her, utterly spent, as she continues to bring you down from your highs.

After a few seconds of gentle aftershocks, you're able to crawl up to Ellie, your eyes locking onto the toy still glistening with your combined juices. Without hesitation, you lean down and suck the slick shaft into your mouth, licking and cleaning Ellie's toy with eager, filthy enthusiasm. Ellie throws her head back, her eyes rolling as she enjoys the sight. "Oh fuck yes, just like that," she moans, her voice dripping with lust. "Holy fucking shit..."

You continue sucking the toy, licking every inch of Ellie's deliciously dirty shaft. But then, without warning, you suddenly pull away.

Confused, Ellie looks down to see you picking up the toy and pulling it away. Before she can react, you pull down her boxers to expose her pale, sensitive flesh.

You dive in, your tongue lapping eagerly at her intimate skin. Ellie's eyes go wide, her body arching in shock. "Wha- what are you...?" Her question trails off into a needy moan as you start to eat her out.

You continue eating Ellie out, your tongue dancing across her sensitive skin. She tosses her head back, her eyes rolling to the back of her skull as she loses herself to the sensations. "Hhhnnn..." is all she can manage, her body going limp in abandonment.

You don't stop at just eating Ellie out - you bring your fingers into the act as well. One hand dives between her thighs, the fingers of your index and middle finger finding her sensitive entrance.

You tease the edges, your tongue probing deeply as your fingers start to pump inside her. Ellie is lost, her eyes rolling back as she surrenders to your dual ministrations. "Shiiit..." is all she can manage, her body shaking with the force of her climax.

While Ellie is still recovering from her intense orgasm, you crawl up the bed, your movements unhurried. When you reach her, you gently grab the hem of her shirt and sports bra.

With slow, reverent fingers, you start to pull them up her body. Ellie assists by lifting her arms, letting you strip away her last bits of clothing.

You reveal her bare skin to the cool air, her pale flesh dotted with the rosy aftermath of her climax. You take a moment to simply look at her, drinking in the sight of her naked body. Then, with a hungry glance, you start to kiss and lick your way across her chest.

You continue licking and kissing Ellie's bare skin, your tongue darting across her collarbone. She tastes so sweet, like honey and salt. You move lower, your lips finding her nipple. You suck the bud into your mouth, teasing it with your tongue.

Ellie arches into your touch, her fingers tangles in your hair. "Mmmph..." is her only response, the sound muffled by your mouth on her breast.

You nip and tease the tender flesh, earning breathy little gasps from Ellie. Her back arches, pushing her chest further into your hungry mouth.

You continue teasing Ellie's nipple, your teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. Her back arches, pushing her breast further into your mouth. You suck harder, your lips pulling tightly around the bud.

Ellie gasps, her fingers tightening in your hair. You let go with a pop, looking up to see stars in Ellie's eyes. Her chest heaves with exertion, her pink nipples stiff with arousal.

You start to trail kisses down her stomach, your fingers dipping into her navel. "Please," Ellie whimpers, her voice hitching with need. "Don't stop."

You continue trailing kisses down Ellie's stomach, your fingers dancing across her skin. Eventually, you reach the hem of the bed, and you plant a soft kiss on her skin before pulling away.

You collapse on top of her, your naked bodies pressing together. You look up at her, your lips curving into a wicked smirk. Then you capture her mouth in a searing kiss, your tongues entwining.

The kiss goes on for a long moment, your bodies tangled together in a mess of limbs and lips and heated skin. Eventually, you break apart for air, your chests heaving. Ellie looks at you with hazy, lust-filled eyes, her cheeks flushed. "Holy shit," she breathes.

You continue making out with Ellie, your lips moving hungrily over hers. Your hands roam her body, touching and teasing wherever they land. The kiss grows more heated, more desperate.

Ellie's fingers tangle in your hair, her tongue dueling with yours. The world narrows down to the two of you, lost in a haze of lust and desire. Time seems to slow, each second stretching out into an eternity.

There's only the two of you, tangled together in a messy tangle of arms and legs, your lips locked in a passionate embrace.

2K notes · View notes

machveil · 12 days

Text

Neighbor!König pt 2

Neighbor!König pt 1

König was a nervous mess the first few days of passing sticky notes back and forth. He didn’t understand why you were answering his little messages - leaving your own messages in turn. Although, it eased his mind knowing that you weren’t spooked by this little game that developed. He was careful, unintentionally memorizing when you came and went from your apartment so he could leave you a note or two.

He was sure the other neighbors noticed - oh, he was positive. It’s hard to ignore bright, little yellow pieces of paper stuck to a door when the hallway is drab. ‘Don’t forget your umbrella, it’s going to rain today.’, ‘There’s a sale at the coffee shop around the corner.’, or, ‘I read that book you recommended. It was good.’, cute little sentences shared between two neighbors, an unintentional show for the others on their floor. König would be embarrassed, but leaving his notes anonymously made him feel better. While the notes were very public, he had managed to keep his identity hidden - a masked man, hidden behind sticky notes and sweet words.

Maybe that’s why he got a little cocky, a little more confident - a confidence reminiscent of how he felt on the battlefield. He had managed to keep this little exchange going for a month now, well, ignoring when he was deployed - he’d always leave a note excusing his sudden departures. A few words vaguely saying he’d be back; a giddy feeling bubbling in his chest, he had something to look forward to when he came back. And, just maybe, that’s why he found himself leaving a note while you were still home. Footsteps quiet as he made the small walk to your door, just as he was about to stick the piece of paper to your door, he startled when the handle turned.

When you first saw the little pieces of paper on your front door you were amused. Attention caught with that first little note, ‘Hallo.’. Whoever had written it wrote it so small, the note underneath written a little larger. Glancing around the hall, maybe hoping someone would step out and claim “I left those”, a smile graced your lips. Taking the sticky notes off your door, you quickly made your way to a little stationary pile - you’d leave a message of your own, ‘I’m good! hope you’re doing well :)’.

And just like, after putting it on your door, you had started a routine with this mysterious messenger. You’d started to collect the little notes your pen pal left, tucked away in a drawer. Whoever left the notes got more comfortable writing them, at least, you think so. Their short, concise notes became a little longer. It went from short ‘good morning’s to sentences about the latest book they had read. It was silly, but their messages always left your heart fluttering. All things considered, whoever this was had a charm to them. You were sure it was a neighbor, the only problem was you had quite a few. There wasn’t a smooth way to bring it up in conversation either, “Hey, have we been talking to each other? I mean– you know, through sticky notes?”. So, instead, you settled for waiting. Waiting for a day when you could catch whoever this was.

It was comforting to know you had at least met all your neighbors, interacting with some more than others. Maybe it was the guy down the hall? No, he didn’t seem like the type to leave sticky notes, he’d probably just knock on your door and talk to you. It could have been the neighbor across the hall, but they weren’t home often enough to do this. Either way, you figured you’d meet them eventually. Roughly a month into this little exchange that day came. A day off of work, the sun beaming outside, it was the perfect time to treat yourself to a treat. Wallet in your back pocket, when you opened the front door you didn’t expect to be faced with a chest. Looking up with wide eyes, your shoulders relax, a soft smile tugging at your lips. König. You’d only talked to him a few times, he only gave you his name because he was stuck in an elevator with you one time - darting off to his apartment quickly when the doors opened. He didn’t talk much, could hardly maintain eye contact with you, but he was so nice. He helped you carry your groceries up to your apartment one time, of course, he fled when you turned your back to him, but it was the thought that counted.

So when you look up at him, a greeting on the tip of your tongue, the yellow sticky note in his hand makes you pause. Lips parting, words caught in your throat, a dopey little grin settles on your lips, “König? You’re–”, but before you can speak further, he cuts you off. Hands shaky, he looks away, “Ah– nein– no, I’m–”, accent thick with stress, he takes a step back, “Scheiße– I’m sorry.”. Before you can get another word out, König turns on his heel, sticky note fluttering to the floor as he makes a break for his door. “Wait– König, come back!”, calling out, you’re met with the sound of his door slamming shut.

Brain still playing catch, your eyes dart from his door to the fallen sticky note. Heart twisting a little, you bend down to pick up the note - a little crinkled from König unknowingly clenching his hand. Sighing, you glance back at his door, lips quirked up.

‘I really like you.’ - König

#sweet man #he’s just anxious #konig #könig #könig cod #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig x you #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #cod #call of duty #neighbor!könig #hit post

501 notes · View notes

nihilityuniverse · 2 months

Text

𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ 𝗦𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿 ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇʏᴠᴀᴛ 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗕𝗼𝘀𝘀.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Story inspired by Acheron's Lore, Power, and Personality...

ENG is not my First language

I do not own Genshin Impact or any of the pictures used.

Do NOT Repost

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 0 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

𝐀 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐨

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Eight members of the Harbingers had gathered in the palace-like church. Inside, the air was so frigid that the nation's flags began to freeze, crackling under the intense cold. No candles lit the space; only the ethereal glow of the polar lights streaming through the stained-glass windows provided illumination.

A petite woman with long hair, her eyes concealed behind a delicate white lace mask, hums a familiar lullaby from her deceased friend as she leans against a casket. Her voice echoes softly in the frozen stillness.

The eight other Harbingers watched her from a distance, each wearing a similar coat of identical design. By order of Her Royal Highness Tsaritsa, all Harbingers were required to attend the funeral, even the elusive 0th Harbinger.

The 0th Harbinger, code name: Innamorati — The Lovers;

A figure shrouded in mystery and danger, Innamorati remained an enigma even to her fellow Harbingers.

Known only by whispers and rumors, she was a being crafted by the Cryo Archon herself, a weapon designed to challenge the Celestial Gods. Hidden away for years, her existence was the subject of much speculation.

Some Harbingers were indifferent, focusing solely on the success of their plans, while others were intensely curious. Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, claimed to know nothing about her, adding to her mystique.

Rumors abounded: some said Innamorati would annihilate anyone who crossed her path; others believed she had perished decades ago, her legend merely a shadow from the past.

What they all knew for certain was that Innamorati had a notorious reputation for forgetting critical missions assigned by Tsaritsa herself. This unreliability made her both feared and ridiculed within their ranks.

"We are gathered here today to remember our dear comrade," an old dwarf with a long nose and mustache solemnly broke the deafening silence. "In honor of her sacrifice, all work shall halt for half a day as the nation mourns her passing."

"Hehe, merely half a day...?" Pantalone laughed coldly, crossing his hands in front of his chest with a mocking smile. "People say the Northland Bank's true currencies are blood and tears... But mayor, even speaking as a banker, that sounds a little unconscionable."

"Rosalyne died in a foreign land," Arlecchino stepped forward, her crimson red X-cross pupils glowing dangerously bright with annoyance. "But you heartless businessmen and dignitaries always find a convenient excuse to remain in the comfort of your homeland..." She frowned. "You couldn't hope to understand, so why don't you keep your mouth shut?! We don't want to make the children cry."

"Hey, c'mon now, even I don't think this is the right time or place for a fight," Childe chipped in, lazily sitting on one of the wooden benches.

"Utterly risible!" Sandrone mocked, and the machine behind her emitted an audible angry sound.

"Though her methods tarnished her honor, Lohefalter's sacrifice is a great pity. Her loss shall not hinder our progress," Capitano's deep voice resonated through the entire palace, catching everyone's attention.

He turned towards the Doctor, his face hidden behind a dark veil. "But Dottore... What of Scaramouche and the Gnosis from Inazuma?"

Dottore smiled, twirling a tube filled with blue liquid between his fingers. "Conventional wisdom holds that Divine Knowledge cannot be rationally comprehended. After conquering the Divine Gaze, he will make his next move."

The heavy, frozen church door creaked open, allowing the bitter winter air to sweep inside. Everyone turned their gaze towards it, even Columbina, who had paused her humming.

A woman, clad in a coat of the same design as theirs, stepped into the church, holding a red paper umbrella. The door closed behind her with a resounding bang. The click of her heels on the marble floor echoed through the hall, a stark contrast to the silence that had filled the room.

Her face remained obscured by shadows, yet every person in the room knew instinctively that she was not someone to be trifled with.

The sense of her power and presence was palpable, a mutual understanding among them all. To cross her would be to invite disaster.

This was Innamorati, the 0th Harbinger, a figure shrouded in mystery and danger, whose very presence commanded respect and fear.

As she advanced, the air seemed to grow even colder, the weight of her presence adding to the already frigid atmosphere. Each step she took resonated with authority, and the silence in the room deepened, a silent acknowledgment of her status among them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Finally, you found your way to the place where the funeral was to be held. You hadn't thought you would make it in time, given the ferocity of the snowstorm that had nearly obscured your path and made the journey treacherous.

Your heels clicked sharply with each step as you approached the group of people gathered at the center, where the casket lay. You set your red paper umbrella on one of the wooden benches, the action deliberate and unhurried.

As the shadow over your face disappeared, the polar light from the stained-glass windows illuminated your features.

With the shadow gone, the collective breath of the eight Harbingers halted involuntarily.

Your beauty was striking: peach-colored, plump lips; long, dark eyelashes framing eyes that seemed to hold the very essence of winter. Your skin was pale and flawless, with a cold radiance that mirrored the icy surroundings. Your presence was both ethereal and commanding, a juxtaposition of delicate grace and chilling power.

You stopped a few steps before the group of Harbingers—your comrades—and looked up at them.

"0th Harbinger, Innamorati... That is what they call me. You may call me whatever you wish," you introduced yourself, your voice ethereal and soft, yet so cold and lifeless it sent shivers down their spines. "This must be the first time we meet."

"You are quite late, Lord Innamorati," Pulcinella, the old dwarf, addressed you with a mix of respect and caution.

After all, The top-ranked Harbingers, from rank 1 to No. 3, possess powers that can rival the gods. So what about No. 0? Could she surpass the powers of the gods? Or even be greater?

You let out an annoyed sigh. "All the snow-covered streets look the same, and the blizzard did not make navigating to this gathering any easier."

Pantalone chuckled, turning towards you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"If I had known, I would have taken you with me in my carriage, Lady Innamorati. Alas, I am left to wonder why there were no escorts ready for you. I thought I had ordered the highest-ranked Skirmishers for your protection." His voice was dangerously smooth, laden with speculation, hinting at the rumors of you annihilating anyone who crossed your path.

Before you could respond, Childe interjected from the side. "Huh? The oh-so-feared Innamorati getting lost in a mere snowstorm? This is truly a sight to behold." His tone dripped with mockery.

"Were you also getting lost on the way to your missions?" His voice carried an angry undertone, bitterness seeping through his words.

He had often been the one to hurriedly take on your missions at the last minute, running from one nation to another like a lackey. The mission to obtain the Geo Archon's Gnosis had been assigned to you, not him, nor the now-deceased Signora. In the end, he had faced severe repercussions after the Northland Bank had to pay heavy reparations.

If gazes could kill, Childe would have been long dead under Pantalone's icy stare. Though his slight smile remained, his eyes closed behind his glasses, he radiated a murderous aura. He longed to hear your voice again and to capture your attention. Such a rare opportunity shouldn't be wasted.

"Insolent child! How dare you—!" Sandrone hissed at Childe, her anger palpable. She, too, feared inciting your wrath. If Childe weren't a fellow Harbinger, Sandrone would have killed him long ago for destroying her ruin guard factory.

"It's time to end tonight's foolish theatrics."

A deep, husky voice resonated through the church, cutting through the cold silence like a blade.

The man stepped forward from the shadows, his right side concealed by a dark mask. It was Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, and his presence commanded instant respect.

His voice, cold and demanding, echoed with authority as he advanced towards the casket.

"Right now, you have no captive audience," he said, his gaze sweeping over the assembled Harbingers and guests, silently commanding them to gather and pay heed.

You stood on the opposite side of Pierro, your own presence a stark contrast to his imposing figure.

"Let every worthy sacrifice be carved in ice, and let this nation endure for all time," Pierro intoned, his voice carrying the weight of solemn duty.

The assembly lowered their heads in reverence, eyes closing as he delivered the farewell speech. Your hand drifted absently towards your Divine Key, a subconscious gesture.

"In the name of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa," Pierro continued, his voice imbued with a steely resolve, "we will seize authority from the gods."

After several minutes of mournful meditation, Pierro broke the silence and left the building, his movements purposeful and commanding.

The others followed in silent procession, a testament to their respect and shared grief. You took your red paper umbrella, closing your eyes briefly before stepping into the freezing, snow-covered landscape.

"Absolute peace."

As you all departed, the church behind you began to freeze over, layers of crystal ice encasing it under the unyielding winter sky, which shimmered with the ethereal glow of the aurora.

"Such is the gift from the Tsaritsa, such is Her Majesty's benevolence," Pierro declared, his voice carrying a chilling reverence as he halted and gazed up at the celestial lights.

"Now you rest in this coffin, encased in layer upon layer of ice. But, Rosalyne, I promise you..."

"Your final resting place will be the entirety of the Old World," Pierro's voice echoed through the night sky, his farewell imbued with a cold resolve that matched the frozen land around you.

As you watched the polar light dancing across the vast darkness of the sky, a thought surfaced in your mind. You had never known this person, but you had made a promise to someone...

You halted in your steps and glanced back at the frozen church.

Some tasks have to be done, even if they seem pointless.

Amidst the snow, you caught a glimpse of shadowy hands emerging from the icy landscape, reaching out towards the sky one by one, as if seeking transcendence. As you blinked, everything returned to normal.

"Another Memory..."

"Lady Innamorati, is something the matter?" Pierro's voice broke through your reverie as he noticed you staring back at the frozen church.

"...meaningless," you whispered to yourself, yet the faint wind carried your words to Pierro.

"Pardon?" Pierro asked again, this time capturing the attention of some of the other Harbingers, especially Dottore. The Doctor, ever curious, considered whether you might make an intriguing subject for his experiments.

"It's nothing. Continue without me. I wish to be alone," you ordered, your voice light as silk yet cold as ice. Pierro nodded, casting one last glance at you before leaving.

Dottore lingered a moment longer, watching you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. As he did, the falling snow seemed to halt and move backward, defying the natural order.

"Existence is fleeting as the dawn's dew," your voice echoed in a dimension separate from the real world, where time had ceased.

Dottore's breath caught as he watched you, disbelief etched across his features. His analytical mind struggled to comprehend the anomaly unfolding before him.

"Yet, I guide the wandering souls on the still waters of oblivion..."

The dimension around you cracked like glass, shattering as you began to walk towards the church.

"...and weep for the departed."

A powerful gust of wind struck Dottore, and in that moment, he perceived everything yet nothing. The world seemed meaningless and empty. He felt his body ascending, his soul slipping away...

"Don't look back..." Your ethereal voice called to him, a beacon of light in the encroaching darkness.

He felt a pull from behind, "Move forward," you whispered. In the next instant, he stood where Pierro had asked if you were alright moments before.

Dottore's breath hitched, his cold heart pounding faster than ever. This was neither a dream nor an illusion. He knew this with certainty. What had just happened? The question echoed in his mind, a mystery as deep as the winter night itself.

One thing was certain: he had unmistakably felt the presence of the Almighty One—the Divine Creator.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Reblog if you like this story

440 notes · View notes

ethereal-blossom · 5 months

Text

Giving BSD boys a blowjob for the first time

ft. dazai, kunikida

warnings: blowjobs (surprise!) MDNI

a/n: kinda wrote these in mind thinking it was also giving them a handjob for the first time so I guess that's double the fun!

Dazai Osamu ♡

Your eyes looked up to find Dazai's face, searching for a sign of approval. In response, Dazai let out a validating, soft moan and closed his eyes as he nodded. "You're doing excellent, belladonna."

It wasn't unexpected. Dazai, sharp and observant as a hawk, had seen the way your eyes lingered over every small change in his facial expressions. While you were dating, both of you had agreed to take things slow. Even small milestones like holding hands was a huge thing for the man that was wrapped in bandages. The slow burn of deepening your relationship into each other's hearts until it left a permanent mark that even time couldn't erase, was wonderful.

But with time grows desire. Dazai teased you to the point of dilated pupils, hitching breaths, and a blush that cups your cheeks. Exactly like planned, the detective thought, smirking behind the mask of crafted innocence. Except, the plan had been for you to beg him to touch you; not that you would beg to make him feel good as your fingers pushed his hips onto the couch. Dazai is highly aware of his intelligence that makes him read people as if they are a children's book, but sometimes, he thinks he doesn't always grab your nature. The type of nature that has you on your knees in front of him, getting high off of his pleasure.

When you wanted to focus your attention back on the twitching cock in your hand, the sight of Dazai's fingers grabbed your attention. You knew Dazai better than any living soul. Although still a mystery novel that hides behind words of deceive and avoidance to keep parts of itself hidden until the time of reveal is there, this mystery novel was slowly showing you its pages that brought you closer to the truth.

One of the mysteries revealed was Dazai's massive self-control over his external reactions. Emotions were another vulnerable aspect of what it meant to be human, and Dazai hid them masterfully. A part of that was because it functioned as a tactic to reach his goals and stay in control, but a part of you wondered if it was because Dazai feared vulnerability more than a bullet. Emotional suffering is torture for the ones with a sensitive heart.

While Dazai's face was decorated in controlled bliss and his moans playing like a soft lullaby, the slender fingers around the sheets were clinging for dear life. You see... could you make another crack in that composed facade?

Your thumb starts drawing circles over Dazai's tip and with that, you witnessed the twitching of both his cock and fingers. A soft groan escaped Dazai's clenched jaw. "Ah, that's my belladonna. You're soo good to me, hm? Working hard for that reward." That controlled tone...

... It wasn't enough.

Dazai could tell something changed. Even though he had his eyes closed in concentration, clinging to the tiny bit of control he had, he noticed how your stroking became irregular. "What's filling your mind that isn't my- argh, shit." Dazai's eyes shot open as he bolted his hips deeper into your mouth, leaving you gagged for a good second.

That face of pure shock and arousal, the one you rarely got to see on your lover, revealed itself to you as you had taken Dazai's tip into your mouth. "Y/N, that's-"

Another lick and Dazai's original sentence was replaced by a moan, and the detective felt like all control slipped between his fingers when you placed your hands around the rest of his cock.

Dazai grabbed your hair, hissing you to go slower because oh God, he was about to cum faster than he ever did in his twenty-two years of living, and God knows he did not want this euphoria to end this soon. Oh, he really wasn't used to feeling this good-

"Belladonna, y/n, please-" Dazai didn't know what he was begging you for. For you to go slower? Faster? What it was, you hummed in approval. That little vibration was all it needed for Dazai to throw his head in his neck. His toes curled as high-pitched whines fell over lips that had become swollen in a miserable attempt to hide his moans.

When you looked up after swallowing, you were met with Dazai's bangs hanging over his eyes. "Osamu, are you okay?" Worried, you push the chocolate colored bangs aside and... oh.

He was so pretty with scarlet painted cheeks. Dazai couldn't even look you in the eyes, giving up after one second of eye-contact before shyly facing another side with his head. "That was... good. For a first attempt."

You chuckled as your hand caresses the cheek that faced your way and with a slightly hoarse voice you respond: "Good. I'll make you even feel better next time."

Dazai's hands twitch one last time before he closes his eyes and mentally picks up every string that he lost along the way. As the detective opens his eyes, you can see the control and seduction in those dark eyes that you love so much.

Dazai leans closer until you feel his breath on your ear. His lips tickle and a shiver runs down your spine as he whispers: "Someone has earned that reward, hasn't she? Let's see how long I can make you last."

Kunikida Doppo ♡

Rubies could not compete with the radiant red glow of Kunikida's face as he realized what you were about to do. The detective should have known you were up to something when he was preparing today's schedule and you had popped up behind him, placing your arms around his waist as you kissed his neck and whispered: "Keep a spot open at 8 PM, love."

Even when the blond had asked for details, your lips stayed sealed. The only hint Kunikida got out of you was "Dazai has made you work over-hours; I want to treat you."

Naively, innocently, Kunikida thought you might have a dinner or massage in mind. Not that he was wrong! It was just a... different type of massage. With your tender fingers wrapped around his cock, Kunikida clenched his jaw to not make a sound, but the moan slipped away as he sighed your name: "Y/n... I, we-"

"Does it feel good, Doppo?" You made sure to rub his tip with your thumb right then, making the detective's cock drop with pre-cum.

"It- yes... yes, it feels good."

Looking up blessed you with the sight of an orderly man turned into a mess under the tip of your fingers. A wave of arousal rushed through your body, seeing the man unravel in front of you. You figured he would be vocal, but oh-

Kunikida was sensitive. The smallest movement had him throwing his head back and trusting his hip as tiny moans calling your name filled the room. Not only were his cheeks the color of fire due to the heat of your touch, but the intimacy of it all left him flustered as well.

You felt a hand rest on your head, lightly gripping a bit of hair. "Y/n... we, you- I have to make you feel good, too."

Oh. "That has to wait."

"But- ah!" The hand around your hair tightened in response to your mouth taking his cock.

Kunikida's thoughts were twirled up in the storm that was you. Your name rolled off his tongue like worshipping prayers as you brought Heaven to earth for him.

The bliss of touching Heaven became too much, and with one closing word, Kunikida fell apart. He arched his back, forgetting to bite his lip to soften the groans that might slip through the walls where his colleagues live. His grip around you tightens, never wanting to let you go, never wanting to let this feeling go. But then Kunikida realizes he's still on earth and lessens his grip on the fear he's hurting you.

The detective looked into your eyes, but they were filled with lust directed at him and God, it felt so sinful that he had to deflect his gaze. Yet, you grabbed his chin and made your boyfriend face you.

"Do you feel better?"

Kunikida stammered, trying to get out a word. "Yes, that was," an embarrassed cough, "excellent."

Your thumb caressed his lip. "Good."

And then, the world flipped around as Kunikida lay your back on the bed. "I have done a deep-dive research on how to please you when the time was there. Now, let me return the favor."

#dazai x reader #kunikida x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd smut #dazai x you #kunikida x you #bsd scenario #bsd dazai #bsd kunikida #dazai x y/n #kunikida x y/n #dazai smut #kunikida smut

833 notes · View notes

alwaysshallow · 1 year

Text

— gorgeous, part 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

You're a vet - and you wouldn't ever think that a big guy with a skull face, kitten on his hands, would be in your clinic. (2,1k)

AO3 version

A/N: I have no self-respect; Poland won in volleyball, SO. your insane man and vet lady is here <3

next part

The first time you see him? It is a wild one.

You didn't really know how to react when your assistant, Bernie, stormed into your office, telling you that some "big guy with a skull mask" had a kitten that needed an examination. I mean, you were a vet, of course, and you ran your clinic to the 11 P.M. sometimes, but... the skull mask part?

First, you thought she was joking or trying to prank you, like in the past, when she told you that a guy came here with a head of a fish tank came to your clinic. When you thought about this later, it was really dumb that you believed that, but the emotions were too high before; you almost slipped on the floor when you were storming out of your office, to see if:

a) he actually had a fish tank,

b) if he had some fish in it.

The skull mask wasn't a joke, though; Bernie also looked like she saw a ghost or something, and was basically hidden after your figure when you went to the corridor, where patients should wait until it's their turn. Usually there weren't many people, only emergency ones, which happened rarely enough. You usually closed after 7, but today you decided to say a bit... longer. 4 hours longer, but who count that, right? There was no one except indeed a big, huge guy in a skull mask and military uniform; at least you thought it looked like a military uniform, your friend's best friend, Johnny, had one like that. You probably wouldn't even speak to him if he hadn't had in his arms a cat that was meowing sadly, like something hurt him – or, her. You didn't know what it was yet. Guy was scary as hell, and if he wanted to, he probably would've knock you out in just one move, but you walked closer to him – what he was gonna do, hit you with his cat in his hands?

"What happened?" that's the first thing you asked, as you approached the man; and for the first time, your gazes crossed.

His, unreadable, brown, piercing even. You couldn't even get a single thought from them, like it was behind some kind of shield, and it confused you, but interested you in the same time enough to know that this interaction will be seated in your mind for some time right now.

You always liked the mysteries, and he seemed like one.

"I don't know." he simply said, standing; and you could see how much bigger he was; not only in height, but in body, muscles. It was like a doll standing to a WWE fighter, as you watched those silly shows after your work at night. "Found that kitten near a dumpster. Seems like it's hurting, so..." he shrugged.

"Aren't you a talker" you murmured, your head up high, to look at him. "Come on in."

He said nothing; simply followed you, with that kitty on his big hands.

You didn't know his name even, and you were more than willing to help him, or more – to help this cat live without any pain because your heart was aching how pained and scared it was.

As well as your assistant, if you were talking about "being scared" part; she kept glancing at that big man, who put the animal on the special table (as you asked him to). It probably would be you in the past, the scared and with some kind of reserve but now, you were more than amazed with his gentleness to care about things like skull mask or the fact that he would crush you with his finger.

Trying to be as gentle as possible, you started examination; it was a certain routine if it was about strays, and this particular one seemed to be abandoned not so long ago.

Probably nothing was breaking your heart more than this; throwing animals to street instead of trying to get them a new home. You saw too much.

"I'll have to fill a report for animal shelter" you started after a few minutes, as you were trying to localize the cause of pain; it was probably a broken bone, but cat was pretty beaten up too. "And I have to know where it was exactly, if you know the streets around here. Maybe there's more kittens like this."

"Animal shelter?" he asked, and you could just feel how his brown eyes are piercing through your green scrubs.

Intimidating, to say the least, because in addition with his low, gravelly voice, it was something alluring, like you couldn't be indifferent about it. Hell, you didn't even knew the guy, he could be potential axe murderer that stopped in your clinic because he was sad about the cat.

"Yes, I can't take him. Someone has to." you explained.

"Who said I won't?"

As you raised your eyebrow, you looked back at him, in a little shock – positive one, though. Most of the people that were bringing strays weren't eager about giving them home, for multiple reasons, and you didn't judge. It was a good thing that they were bringing them here, but this man...

"So, you will?"

"Mhm."

You smiled under your nose, stroking the little kitten, as you waited for her to calm down, before taking her to an x-ray. Her new owner wasn't really talkative, but the most important thing was that he cared enough to not only bring her here, but to take her home.

It was easy to gain your trust, considering that the skull mask that he had right now wasn't so scary anymore.

"I'm gonna take her to an x-ray. Wait up here, okay?"

Again, no response, just a simple nod.

Was it thing about you two being strangers? He could act reversed only because of this, or he was maybe tired and didn't wanted to talk. Yet, you rolled your eyes to yourself while you were taking an x-ray in a special room.

Weird. Weird, because as the bubbly and talkative person you were here, always talking with owners of animals that were coming to you (or in some cases you were out in a farm or something), you couldn't do that here. I mean, right, he answered your questions, but it was... automatic.

Not leaving a small pole to discussion, and it was irritating at some point, because you wanted to tell him at least half of stories about strays and how it was heartbreaking to find them a proper, loving home. And how you were actually curious if he liked animals before, if he had any.

And yet you were, not able to talk to him in any way that would untie his tongue. If you weren't such a curious woman, you wouldn't give a single fuck, and you would only do your job, but... now, you were more than eager to have a proper conversation with that man.

At least a few words more.

"She broke her leg." you explained after an x-ray, to show him under the special light what were you talking about, when the results came in.

Usually, it wasn't so quick, but it was an emergency.

"It's not as bad as it seems to be, your cat will need a splint and a bandage."

He didn't say anything; just nodded, fucking again, still staring at orange cat that was lying on the table, with your assistant cooing to the animal.

You expected some questions, though. Anything. "Questions?" "Not really" he said, glancing at you.

"It will take a while. You can sit if you want" you pointed at the chair in the corner. "I can stand."

So if he wanted to stand, he will stand, end of story for you – so, naturally, you just started to do your job with the kitty. It was a stray, obviously, so it wasn't an easy job with her writhing under your hands, but you managed, somehow.

"Do you want to register me as her vet?" you looked at him again.

Maybe it could finally be a proper subject of your conversation – not many people thought about that when they were taking under their wings a stray, so you had to offer. Especially when that kitty was just too cute not to ask.

"Will it be different than visiting you from time to time?" he asked, his arms crossing on his chest.

"I mean, yeah. I'm under the phone, basically 24/7, if you have questions, you call me. Vaccines, medicines, everything is under your hand. And since the little one knows me..." you trailed off, focusing more on that construction you worked on.

It seemed almost done.

"Right, we can do that, then" he muttered, coming a little closer to the table, to look at his cat. "I assume you need something? Contacts, I mean."

You chuckled, amused. "Yeah, pretty much. Your phone number, your name, adress."

He frowned at that last mention and sighed, glancing over you again, like he was judging something before he actually will answer you.

Hell, what was that in him?

"Is adress necessary?"

"Not really, no."

You both went silent after this; as you finished, you sat to your computer to add another patient to your folder, where you kept everything in check. Meanwhile, Bernie was still occupied with the cat that was too sleepy to even respond, but the meds were kicking in, so it wasn't a surprise.

Rather, it was good. She needed some kind of rest.

"Name?" you looked at him.

"Simon Harris."

It felt like a lie, what he was telling you – especially his last name, but you didn't say anything about it.

"You have an idea for your cat's name? Or not yet?" you smiled softly.

"Not yet, no. And as for phone number..." he started searching for his phone in his cargo pants.

Took him a while, to go through the pockets, but when he finally managed to give it to you, you could finally save everything – the cat's name was just missing, but he needed to think about it.

You could think of multiple stories of people that came back to your clinic or called you to change the name in your documents, because they wanted something different. Mostly it was because the previous one wasn't a "good fit", but some were... funny ones, or weird enough that you didn't even bother to ask why.

Sometimes your curiosity got the best of you, especially when you asked why does he want his cat to be named "Pussy"; you regretted asking almost immediately, when he sat in the chair right in front of you. He talked for almost twenty minutes of his girlfriend and how he wanted to "give" her the cat with a name like that because it was funny enough.

And because of other things that you'd like to forget.

"Addison Frost. I run this clinic" you said, when he was saving your number in his phone. You could swear that he rolled his eyes, but it wasn't so clear as he wore that damn mask. What it was for anyway?

You wanted to see his face, badly.

"That much I figured" he muttered, his phone going to pocket of his cargo pants right now; he looked back at his cat, and at you again. "Can I buy something for her here? Or... I should go to the store?"

Hell, it was his probably longest sentence to you that day; and that made you smile a bit, when you reached out to the place you kept starter kits for kittens that needed to be taken care of more than the regular ones; you made a couple of them, and that was one of the last ones.

"No need to pay me for this" you said quickly, as he reached for his wallet. "It's... something that I give, just that" you muttered. "You can borrow that transporter too, until you won't buy your own. She needs to rest for the most of the time, and as she's a stray, she'll probably want to wander around your place."

He nodded, deep in thought, as you helped him with putting his cat into this; he was ready to leave, but before that, he dropped 90$ at your desk, leaving without any further explanation. "Hey! That's way too much, I can't take something like that" you left after him, approaching him as he was already putting the transporter into his Jeep. "It's just a simple help, not an operation, or..."

"You helped her" he cut you off, looking straight into your eyes "and that's enough. If that's too much, don't charge me for another visit or so. I won't take it back." he said, getting into his car; still looking at you, he nodded slightly. "Thank you. And, goodnight."

And with that, Simon Harris left you with many thoughts about that evening.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #cod mwii #cod fanfic #simon riley x you #call of duty #imagine #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #ghost call of duty

1K notes · View notes

multific · 4 days

Text

Two Pieces of a Puzzle

Simon "Ghost Riley x Reader

Summary: You are sent on a mission with the infamous LT, but you might have just as many talents as he does, if not more.

When you found yourself on a mission with a military man, Lieutenant Ghost, you knew you were in for a treat.

He was a tall, rugged man with an attitude and a sharp wit that kept you on your toes.

As you set out on your mission, you were quick to realize that you were in for an adventure unlike any other.

The Lieutenant was a seasoned soldier, and his experience showed in every move he made.

He led you with precision and confidence, never hesitating to make tough decisions or take risks when necessary.

You found yourself in awe of his leadership skills and his ability to think quickly on his feet.

He was impressive, you weren't going to lie about that.

As you navigated through the treacherous terrain of the dense forest and faced unexpected challenges, Ghost remained calm and collected, always finding a way to overcome whatever obstacles stood in your way.

A rescue mission.

The children and wife of an important politician were kidnapped and you received intel that they were in a hidden house in the middle of a dense forest up in the mountains.

Of course, your way to the forest was an entire mission on it's own, but you heard the tales of the infamous Ghost.

His determination was infectious, and you found yourself pushing harder and digging deeper than you ever thought possible.

Every second you spent with him, you felt your movements sharpen.

It was inspirational.

But it wasn't just Ghost's military prowess that impressed you.

On no.

The mystery.

The secrets he held inside himself.

The mask.

That damned mask.

He also had a wicked sense of humour that kept your spirits high even in the darkest of moments. His jokes and witty remarks never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when the situation seemed dire.

His jokes, even if they were tired and mostly military-related, did help your mood a lot.

Despite the dangers you faced and the odds stacked against you, Ghost never wavered in his commitment to completing the mission.

His unwavering dedication inspired me to do the same, and together we forged ahead, determined to succeed no matter what.

You got to the house, just the two of you, hiding behind trees as you assessed the situation.

"You take the back door, I take the front." he said.

"With all due respect, Sir, I believe Captain was clear, you get me here, I get in and them out. I'm called Shadow for a reason." you smirked and put your gun down.

Your time to shine.

You were a specialist in kidnapping and hostage situations. They always got you as you were quiet on your feet and you always got to the point fast.

You always rescued the person or people and no one ever saw you coming.

In the end, your mission was a success.

As always.

The happy family was back together as you and Ghost walked back into base.

"That was impressive." you heard him say.

"Thank you, Sir. I do live to impress." you said with a smile.

As you celebrated our victory, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to work alongside such a remarkable man.

And as you parted ways, you knew that you would always carry with you the lessons from your time together on that unforgettable mission.

Or so you thought.

You would say you were tipsy, others would call it drunk.

Ghost called it sexy.

You loved to see how his scary mask fell from his face. How his walls crumbled as you climbed into his lap and kissed him.

It was dark in the alley you followed him for a smoke.

He sat down on the steps and you followed suit.

"How did you do that? How did you get in and out without anyone seeing you?"

"The same way you got us through that block on the road or how you made me crawl on my stomach under a car so they wouldn't see us enter the woods. Skills, Sir. Years of training and skill."

It might have been your fault that you leaned in too close.

It might have been him when he looked at your lips. You weren't sure. But you were sure about one thing.

The way he kissed you spoke volumes.

He was touch starved and scared at the same time.

But you did like the thrill of it.

And also because you were the same.

You two fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Taglist:

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum

@asgards-princess-of-mischief @fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, OR TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

145 notes · View notes

cutiecusp · 4 months

Text

Daisy.

A 141 regency oneshot series, all the girlies have floral names, and according to an Austen blog, Daisy means innocence. So who better to partner her with that our Simon Riley?

TW. Kissing, oral (f), virgin reader, first times, p in v, smut, dirty talk. (And a LOT of fan fluttering.) Simon Riley X Reader.

🎀

You hated these balls, all you wanted to do was go home and curl up with a book, preferably one with a rake and a bosom ripping romance.

Instead, you were dressed up to the nines, pearls delicately strung around your neck, and dripping from your ears. You felt like a prize animal on display, and from the looks you were getting, you were worried your dance card would overflow with unsuitable suitors.

You were polite, and danced with them, smiling prettily where you needed to, and you were waiting for a previous partner to get lemonade when you noticed the breeze of several fans, meaning there was some excitement coming from the ballroom. Interest peaked, your gaze follows the others, and your heart jumped into your mouth.

Standing in the entranceway to the ballroom, Earl Riley was a formidable man, standing tall, and his arms crossed over broad shoulders. His face was partially hidden by a black mask, and the rumour, being his face, was disfigured in the war.

His steely gaze raked over all the ladies, who chittered like chicken behind their feathery fans, seemingly looking for something.

His gaze landed on you, and you blushed and looked away. While he looked like one of the stars of your books, and you were not confident enough to hold his eyes.

You turn away, accepting the glass of lemonade, but you wish your eyes kept flitting to the Earl, who was making his way around the circles.

"There room on your card f' me?" You hear a gruff voice from over your shoulder.

You turn and are met with a broad chest, your eyes taking in the details on his jacket, before your eyes lift to his.

E-earl Riley." You nod, presenting your card dutifully. He marks two x's down, takes the glass out of your hand, and gives it to your previous dance partner.

Taking his arm, you allow him to lead you to the dance floor, ignoring the looks you were both receiving.

"What brings you here, my lord?" You ask, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

"I've come to take a wife, and you were the only one not simpering over me. So I thought I'd see if you were as intriguing up close." Comes his reply.

You feel lightweight as he leads you around the room, his hands delicately on your wrists, shoulders and hands as you go through the motions, a juxtaposition of the dangerous man society thought he was.

Your eyes meet his, and you see a steely resolve, as if he was taking you all in, and searching for something. The lighting of the ballroom makes your jewels sparkle, but that's nothing compared to the light in your eyes when you return his stare.

You two barely notice the music stopping, Simons eyes snapping away from you, as if you've trapped him under a spell.

"Might I ask for walk in the garden?" You hear him ask, blood rushing around your brain as you nod a reply. You find your maid, and you all walk out into the night, the cool breeze doing nothing to dampen the heat in your cheeks.

He takes your elbow and leads you down some steps and onto a bench, his thighs brushing yours as you both sit.

"Make no mistake, I'm here with one intention tonight." He rasps, his hands in his lap, as if he's fighting the urge to touch you.

"I'm looking for a wife, and eventually a heir, but I'm aware I'm not like the other suitors." He admits.

You turn to face him, holding your fan, you gently fan your face, hoping to hide a little behind it.

"Why do you think that, my lord?" You ask softly. As far as you could tell, he was an ideal candidate. Handsome, gentle, kind.

"I'm not winning any prizes for best looking Earl." He scoffs, before his body turns to you.

"I understand the mysteriousness of the mask and the attention it draws, but I'd rather be at home with my dogs and a book than advertising for a wife at a silly little ball." He continues.

You stifle a giggle. "I thought the same tonight, m'lord." You admit, watching his eyes light up.

"May I call on you tomorrow?" He asks.

Your face floods with heat, and you look at him in earnest.

"I would like that, my lord."

"Please, call me Simon." He urges, taking your soft hand into his calloused one, and presses his covered lips against your glove.

You smile softly, and blush, Simon picked up on it and raises an eyebrow.

"May I ask something personal, sweetheart?" He asks, his hand still holding onto yours.

"Have you ever been courted before?"

Your blush spreads over your cheeks, down your neck and chest as you shake your head dumbly.

"So you've never..." He leads off, watching your eyes widen in shock.

"Fair enough, my lady." He stands, pulling your hand up with him, your body flush with his. His hand cups your face, and his finger tucks under your chin, pulling your face up to meet his.

"When I come to the house tomorrow. I want you to wear pink if you want this to continue at this speed, or blue if you want to take things slow." He rumbles in your ear.

"I intend to make you mine either way."

🎀

The next morning, as you dress, you pull out the fabric of the dress you want to wear today, allowing your maid to pin your hair out of your face, your curls cascading over one shoulder.

You look at yourself in the mirror, and a faint pink blush appears over your face as you remember Simons words from last night.

You knew of pleasures of the flesh, but you had only read about it, and heard giggles from the maids.

You nod to the maid as she helps you fasten your gown, the fabric soft against your skin, before slipping on your slippers and heading for the drawing room.

🎀

You didn't have to wait long before you are met the sound of the front door opening and the sound of a new arrival. You stand, as Simon is announced to you, a bouquet of daisies in his hands. You nod to your staff, who kindly walk out of the room, leaving the doors open as not to allow you to be completely unchaperoned. You feel his gaze burning through you, as he pauses. Taking in the colour of your outfit.

"M'lady. You look radiant today." Simon says, his footsteps closing the distance between you both. You smile in thanks and take the daisies from him, placing them in a nearby vase.

You take him in, he looks entirely different from last night, less brooding, almost human.

You two talk for a few minutes, until your gaze is drawn to his face.

"May I ask, if I'm to be so bold. Are you.. are you." You pause, a little embarrassed

"Are you scarred under your mask?" You ask.

You see his eyebrows furrow, and immediately you put your arm on his forearm, leaning forward with an apology on your lips.

"Are you asking me because of some rumours, or are you interested in my visage?" He asks genuinely.

"Close your eyes, and hold out your hands."

You comply almost immediately, curiousity getting the better of you.

You feel his hands in yours, stretching out your fingers, and bringing them up to his face.

"Keep them closed, love." He rasps.

Your fingers explore his face, and the scarring along his nose and upper cheek, his full top lip, his strong jawline. They trace over his stubble, and along to his ears.

"M'lord-" you begin.

"Simon." He corrects as he gently takes your hands in his, and holds them.

"I dared to allow myself to dream about you last night, bare and underneath me" He admits, his voice thick with lust.

"You weren't afraid of me." He adds. "My face, my history."

"Now, if you truly intend to be mine, you can open your eyes."

Your eyelashes flutter open, and the sight takes your breath away. Where his mask was, was a face full of character and integrity. His scars were deep, and an angry pink, but they didn't distract from how handsome he was.

"M'lady. I didn't mean to spook you-" he starts, worry furrowing his brow at your silence.

You look up at him, and meet his gaze. Standing on tiptoes, you press your hands softly over his scars, littering love letters with your fingertips over the damaged skin.

"You are beautiful." You whisper.

Simon stares at you, before lowering his head to yours, and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

"Marry me, love. Allow me to make you mine."

You nod, as your hands fold against your pink dress.

"Yes. Simon. I'll accept your proposal."

🎀

A few weeks and stolen kisses later, you were Countess Riley.

You stood before your husband, in your wedding gown in the bedroom. Nervously, you bring your hand to his chest, exploring the silk of his jacket.

"I'm ready, Simon. Make me yours." You plead softly.

Simon smiles as he takes your hand in his, and presses a passionate kiss to your lips, before trailing kisses along your jawline and neck.

His fingers made quick work of your dress, leaving you in your shift. Goosebumps ran up and down your arms as his touch. Setting you down on the bed, he tugs off his jacket and shirt before kneeling before you.

His hands made light designs over your thighs as he gently spread your legs open, collecting the slick that gathered there with one finger.

"Wet f'me already, sweetheart? He asks softly, a smile breaking the seriousness of the room. All you can do is offer a nod and a whimper as he explores your soft skin, and finds the most sensitive parts of you. Your head falls back, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel kisses spread along your inner thighs.

Propping your legs open with his shoulder, Simon licks a stripe from top to bottom, leaving you reeling.

"Yes, Simon, please..." You beg, your hands reaching for his hair.

Simon chuckled, the vibrations adding to the pleasure as he seals his mouth over your clit, alternating between gently sucking, and lapping at your core.

You find yourself coming undone rather quickly. Your hips rocking against Simons mouth, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

"Simon, please.." You plead, your body tensing as you feel pressure build up in your stomach.

"It's okay love, I'll get you there. I'll give you what you need." He smiles, as he adds a finger gently into your warmth, matching the tempo of his tongue.

You fall apart, your vision going blurry around the edges, stars flashing behind your eyes.

You feel him pull away and you watch as he removes the rest of his clothes. Your jaw drops, as your face turns scarlet.

"That.. that goes..." You ask, throughly embarrassed.

Simon only nods as he gathers the hem of your shift and pulls it over your head, baring yourself to him.

"It's alright, I'll be as gentle as I can." He assures you as he fits between his body between your legs.

You nod, and wrap your arms around his neck, his eyes darken as he approaches your entrance.

"Breathe for me darling." He urges, as he presses inside you, making you his completely.

You gasp at the unfamiliar intrusion, the stretch equal parts uncomfortable and delicious as he pulls back and thrusts in a little deeper, each time until you are completely full.

"Simon, it feels so good." You exclaim, your heels digging into his back, urging more.

With every stroke, he peppers kisses all over you, where he can. He picks up the pace and it isn't long before your legs are held up on his shoulders as he devours you, mind, body and soul.

You feel yourself tightening down on his cock, and hear Simon stifle a moan into the crook of your neck, the familiar heat licking deep into your stomach, as he takes you deeply, over and over until you are both chasing the same high.

"Simon, I'm going to-"

"Me too." He cuts you off, his pace slightly sloppy as he uses his free hand to rub circles between your already sensitive folds.

"Come for me, love. Please." You hear him beg as the pleasure takes over you, taking your breath away. You feel ropes of warmth inside you, as Simon holds your hips in place.

"That ball was the best choice I've ever made." You sigh afterwards, your bodies interwoven under the sheets.

Simon laughs, and cups your face in his hands.

"Forever. Dearest."

A/n I am so sorry it's so long! I rambled, then fell in love, then scrapped half of it. Apologies for any inaccuracies! Tagging you beauts, and the next part of Vegas is coming soon!

@xoxunhinged @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @enjisbf @frudoo @muneca-lemon-steppa @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #call of duty mw2 #fanfiction #call of duty modern warfare 2 #fanfic #regency!ghost #regency simon riley

183 notes · View notes

the-cat-and-the-birdie · 8 months

Text

You know what really gets me about ATSV

ATSV: How to do a face reveal right

[A SHORT essay on why I think Miguel and Hobie are Hot On Purpose.]

Jessica's face is completely uncovered. Ben's face is shown right away. Pavitr appears in his mask but immediately shows his face in his own intro. Margo is always unmasked too.

CMIIW but: Miguel and Hobie are the only new characters whose faces were hidden until WAY after their first lines.

You mean to tell me, two of the finest characters in the movie. The characters who look like THIS

Are shown first as this:

- for a reason!! The writers knew what they were doing 😭

They - knowing the two would receive the most fan attention - deliberately delayed their face reveals simply for the sake of the drama.

When we first meet Miguel - it's as Spider-man

He's playing the cool, cold, heroic leader (despite Gwen's teasing). We come close to seeing his face, but like him, we stop short.

They give us a taste of Miguel before we actually meet him, or see his face and full design.

The opening scenes of ATSV leaves us holding our breath.

The end of ITSV sets Miguel up to a big problem in ATSV, but he's abscent for the majority of the movie, working behind the scenes.

We spend the majority of the movie holding our breath, knowing that eventually Miles will have to meet him, we'll have to meet him, and it leaves the viewer even more excited - or anxious - for Miguel.

When we meet Hobie - it's as Spider-Punk

Just the same as Miguel, we're given a HUGE dose of Hobie before he even hits the screen.

Hobie is the talk of the town. Miles has an imagined problem with him - so we have a problem with him: We don't know who he is!

ATSV sets us up for Hobie. We know we'll meet him, but unlike Miguel - as so very in character for Hobie - we don't know where, or when, or how.

Even after his first appearance - he kicks it up a notch.

And although he could've remained masked for the entirety of his intro, instead - the animators choose to have fun with it.

They highlight the fact. Hobie outright taunts the viewer; He KNOWS you want to see his face. Sure, he'll demask himself - but he doesn't give you the satisfaction.

But Hobies face is an intentional mystery. He wants to keep you guessing, revealing in the anticipation.

He's already told you his name - but it's his character design that we're left dying for.

I know as soon as they got in the elevator I was like 👀 - he not gonna keep that mask on right. cause I know he fine

I find it so funny that the two characters that are thirsted after on the highest level are the only ones that reveal their faces in later scenes.

Like even when they walk into Miguels lair

Like bro what the fuck are you posing for? Dramatic effect 😐

It goes to show that writers genuinely know who will be fan-favorites.

The ATSV design and animation team made a ridiculous amount of content for Hobie - going so far as to design his house, and make detailed imagery of his world.

They knew it'd never be included in ATSV. But they didn't care.

They made it anyway cause they knew people would want more of him. They knew that either in BTSV - or a solo entry of his own - people would really like Hobie, and really want to know more about him.

The knew that people would go NUTS over Miguel's redesign - because it's such a stark difference and upgrade from his teaser seen in ITSV.

In the beginning of ATSV, the design changes aren't that apparent. But as ATSV goes on, and we see Miguel's behavior, we immediately understand why they chose to make Miguel SO MUCH LARGER than what they were planning in ITSV.

They knew that you'd hear Oscar Issac's voice and it'd be a wrap. The way he looks is just ICING on the cake. They don't need to show you Miguel right away, they're going to make you thirst the whole movie before you actually get to see him.

They knew you'd see Hobie kick through that force field and be shook over him.

Gwen and Pavitr yell out 'Hobie!' when he arrives - because that's what we're all screaming in our heads.

'Oh shit - he's HERE.'

His face reveal is just the final nail in the coffin of 'yeah, im down bad for this dude. it's a wrap.'

I just LOVE IT i LOVE IT it SO CLEVER

the writers being like 'nah make them thirsty hoes wait'. Im watching Mumbattan fall apart in front of my very eyes and I'm still like... 'So about that Hobie bloke.... what's his deal'

We are all so predictable. They're laughing at us. They made Miguel dummy thicc because they knew. They just knew.

#spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderpunk #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #spider-man 2099

395 notes · View notes

natailiatulls07 · 1 year

Text

Masked Drivers

Lando Norris x Driver!Female!reader

Summary - Every year, there is a formula one masquerade ball for halloween and hooking up with a mystery man who also is your teammate isn’t something you expect this year

Warning - alcohol, hooking up, swearing, mention of Christian Horner??

A/n - I absolutely loved writing this one but I just really want to give him a hug rn, he’s really hard on himself 😕

Reader drives for McLaren

The 23 Halloween Season

I always loved this time of year. The warm shades of colours littering the ground, the spooky aura and most of all, the annual formula one masquerade. Every driver, engineer, team and principal was invited. Invited to spend the night hidden behind a mask with no identity until midnight, but for now just mingling with no worry for your identity.

Arriving at the venue, I was dressed in a satin blackless white mini dress matching my lace white masquerade mask. The room was filled with the loud music, currently playing 'somebody's watching me' by Rockwell.

After making my way to the bar, I noticed someone across the room. A man, half of his face covered in a black laced mask which matched his black shirt with three to four buttons undone. He was looking over my way, our eyes caught eachother but neither backed away.

"Hey Miss, what would you like?"

One of the bartenders brought my eyes away from the mystery man. "I'll have a cosmopolitan" He nodded before moving to start making the drink. I looked over back to where mystery man was sat, but he was no longer there. My eyes traveled around the crowd filled darkened room looking for him in any surrounding areas but nothing.

"Looking for me?" A husky voice called from just beside me. Only for a second, my mind thought his voice was Landos but was quick vanished when I turned. Now facing mystery man, a smirk on his face. My mouth soon replicated that smile onto myself.

"Maybe..." Unknowingly my body morphed to his, our chests facing eachother. My heeled feet between his. "So mystery man, are you having a good time?" Asking, I wanted to start up a casual converstation with him.

"Just got better...I left my friends, needed better company and I think you can provide that for me..." He pointed over to his original area, which sat around multiple people who looked to be messing around.

"I'll try my best, only for you..." My hair had moved itself forwards from behind my ears, to which he reached over to move it back. I was forever thankful that I had a mask on and that the lights were creating a purple glow on us or he would of seen the deep blushed that coated my cheeks.

"Ma'am that will be €14 please" The same bartender came back with my drink. But before I could set up a tab, the mystery man had interjected.

"Put it on my tab please" It seemed the bartender knew who this was as he didn't ask any further questions. Taking my drink from the bar, I looked up at mystery man once again.

"Thank you..." I knew I could afford the drink but if this was his form of flirting then so be it. The music soon transitioned into 'I put a spell on you' which so happened to be the fifty shades of grey version. Ironic.

"Of course gorgeous...” His large hand glazed over my waist, looking at me for consent. Nodding my head, I could feel the hand claim its spot.

“You know I don’t usually go for men I don’t know…today seems to be your lucky day” I speak, my eyes flickering between his lips and deep eyes.

“Well I can reassure you, I feel lucky…” His lips curved into a cheeky smirk. “You know white suits you especially with those red lips..." His eyes were flickering from my lips to my eyes and back to my lips. I had completely forgotten the red lipstick I had put on.

"Is that so?" Tilting my head to the side, a smirk still on both of our faces. "I think they need fixing...coming with?" I had an idea and I was hoping it would work out. Taking his hand in mine, I had the cosmo in my other hand. Leading him through to one of the secluded hallways.

"I gladly help you darling..." He was willing to be lead through the large crowds. Once we arrived to a hidden hallway, my back came in contact with the cold walls. Pulling his shirt towards me, our lips crashed into eachother, a passionate kiss being enlighted.

After a few seconds we pulled apart to breath, I took this chance to place my drink on a nearby sidetable before my hands started to play with the hairs at the back of his neck. And once again, our lips collided. This time though became a full blown makeout.

His lips tasted like peppermint, it was fresh. Every time we would pull apart, I would be craving and fighting for more, it was just like a force pulling me in.

We had no clue how long we had been enjoying the comfort of eachothers lips, before we heard someone speak over the music.

"Everyone! It is almost time for the reveal, the reveal of identities of each and everyone of you!" Looking up at the mystery man, I saw him looking back up at me. Only then did I notice the blues of his eyes, quickly becoming captivated by them once again.

He took my hand, leading us back to the main room. I was sure that my lips were swollen and the red lipstick had been smeared. His lips were swollen and also had traces of my lipstick here and there.

We had arrived back to the main room when they all started the countdown from five.

"5"

"4"

"3"

"2"

"1!"

Just like everyone else, I untied the ribbon on my mask. Peeling the lace from my eyes, before looking over at mystery man. The thing is when I turned I came face to face with Lando Norris. Speechless, we were both speechless. We were teammates, never had we ever entertained the idea of romance between eachother. Yet we had spent the most part of our evening enjoying the company of each others lips.

"Oh shit! I think the two McLaren drivers been hooking up!" A voice shouted over the music, Daniel Ricciardo's voice to be exact. However, we both struggled to look away from eachother or even speak at all.

From what I could see around Lando, everyone had turned to look at what Daniel was on about. Many audible gasps could be heard over the music which had now quieten down.

Not long after Daniels remark another voice piped up. “Yoo Christian! Pay up! I said two drivers would hook up!” It was the Mercedes team principal, Toto Wolff.

"Oh shit!" I manged out before Lando could reply.

"Oh shit indeed..." He nodded in agreement.

Tag list - @ilovechickenwings @carlossainzwho @ipab @erikasurfer @soph1644

#formula one #formula one x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #daniel ricciardo #mclaren racing #mclaren #formula one x y/n #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

434 notes · View notes

bakugoushotwife · 1 year

Text

kinktober day two: blindfold kink

>>> day two has arrived! i hope everyone loved our debut piece with nanami yesterday! so i thought this section could be me explaining why i chose the character for the piece, but i feel like today is self-explanatory.

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!fem!reader >>>cw: blindfolding duh, pervy and obsessive gojo, oral (fem receiving), pet names, begging, doggy. pining, friends to fuckers hehe >>>wc: 2.8k >>>event masterlist

it may have started out as an innocent act–something playful and charming. but unfortunately, satoru could never tolerate such innocence. not without wanting to bend it to his will, anyway, and you and your frisky antics were no exception. he’s been wanting to taint your virtue and unyielding reputation for years at this point. you’re the picture of righteousness, kind and forgiving, and oh so malleable. gojo knows you’ve been this way for years, since school, just angelic by nature. it gets on his nerves.

you banter with him, though, and he enjoys the little bit of wit you show, a sly mind cloaked behind a doll-like face, porcelain and made up to mask the little devil lurking beneath. he sees the real you, the cheeky teenager who accidentally flashed him your panties every time he complimented your hair, the cunning sorceress that uses her air of innocence and ethereal looks to manipulate your way through this wretched society. you impress him, you intrigue and confuse him. maybe he’s just another man under your spell, maybe this was your way of manipulating him, but he can’t help but think that you’ve remained close to him–or more so, kept him close to you, because he means more than anyone else. perhaps that’s just gojo’s ego acting up again, but most people agree that your continual spotlight on him had something more to it than simple friendship.

you hinted and toyed at crossing that line all the time, letting him hold your hand and buy you lunch and other gifts satoru deemed worthy of your ownership. he was powerless, simply praying for the day that you would finally release him from your spell or let him demolish this front you keep shielding the real you.

today was that day, when you stopped by his place to check on him after a mission. you frequent his home often enough that it’s no big deal, and you knew with his ability, he was unscathed as always. but still, it gave you a reason to go over. you were shocked that he hadn’t cornered you yet, pouncing on you in the confines and comfort of his own home. you enjoyed toying with him, giving him all the signs that you were interested and then feigning shock when he was overly forward. you could tell you were confusing him, and seeing the smartest and strongest and most arrogant man alive confounded by your mind games was intoxicating. but even you were getting tired of this song and dance, growing sick of only teasing. satoru was the most desirable man ever made, in your mind, and you were ready to push him so far that he couldn’t possibly keep his chivalrous and cordial facade up any longer. you knew the real him too, of course. the pervert lurking beneath the surface of the respectable sensei—the hungry eyes hidden behind the black fabric leashing that side of him to avoid detection.

the two of you were alone now, however, where the masks could come off. so when you lean up from your position on the couch a courteous distance away, folding your knees under yourself to reach for his blindfold, he lets it happen. you hear his infinity deactivate, allowing your graceful fingers to tug the black fabric loose with a giggle.

“you can really see through this with those six-eyes of yours, hm?” you hum with intrigue, dangling the eye protection from your thumb and forefinger. he smirks a bit, leaned against the arm of the couch, facing you now with his distracting gaze revealed to you. since his power wasn’t active, his eyes were a deep ocean of mysterious thoughts and emotions, swirling you around and dragging you to the dark bottom. you were lost at sea, his glossy lips pulled back in a grin. he knows you’re staring, and so do you, but he takes the opportunity to stare at you, your eyes just as bewildering to him.

he juts his chin to the blindfold, and reaches for it unceremoniously. you made it easier by sitting like that on the cushion next to him, really. he chuckles, and grabs your chin with a commanding yet gentle cup of his hand, fingers splayed across your jaw.

“sure can, lets me save some energy. i wanna see what you can see through it, yeah?” his smile is predatory, and you’re sure even total blindness would allow you to see that, but you had practically hand-crafted his feral need, succeeding in your mission to push him over the edge. he notices the way the corners of your lips twitch up in anticipation, and it only makes his grin stretch dimples in his cheeks. you nod, and his hands move quickly.

he secures the fabric around your head, and all you can see is pitch black. you reach up to feel the soft cloth, noting the scent of satoru’s lavender and cedarwood shampoo. you hear him chuckle fondly, and then you feel the cushions dip and shift, the presence of satoru gojo’s frame looming large above you, even on your knees. his breath fans across your face, and you can tell he’s still looking at you like a wolf eyes an unsuspecting deer. except he knows you’re no frail doe—no you’re a fellow wolf, playing amongst the rest of them. he can tell by your outfit that you’ve thrown in the towel, surrendering to his advances and finally letting him warp that shallow image of girlish innocence you show everyone else. a skimpy little dress, the fabric no thicker than the one wrapped around your face and definitely not enough to conceal your hardened nipples. he wonders where to start with you—admiring your anxious squirms of anticipation, the way your head is cocked up towards his, awaiting his touch.

he has half the mind to toy with you the way you’ve played with him over the years, but try as he might, he knows you hold all the power. you always have, and this is his only chance to prove that he deserves a promotion. you feel his cool fingers scrape against the skin of your shoulders, sliding the straps of your dress to dangle across your biceps. he hums pleasantly, tugging the front down. you hiss at the brisk air rushing across your chest, feeling your nipples tighten almost painfully so. you can hear the smile in his voice as his hands cup your tits, everything feeling so much more intense with one of your senses taken away from you.

“oh how sad it makes me to know you’ve kept these locked up this long…” he sighs, squeezing the mounds in his hands. he enjoys the way they fill his palms, jiggling so prettily he rewards you by brushing his calloused thumbs over your pebbled buds. he earns a whine from you in response, making him grin devilishly. he figured you were sensitive, even the slightest of touches resulted in the needy jolts of your body. it made his cock jump in his pants, painfully pressing against the zipper. he stares at you, groaning aloud just from the sight of your perky boobs. he doesn’t know if he can make it through this, countless loads have been blown in your honor over the years—he has millions of fantasies and no clue how to keep from cumming in his pants. he leans over, caressing his large hands down your sides as his mouth sucks a taut nipple into his warm mouth. his eyes momentarily flutter shut at the sweet gasp you give him, your hands feebly feeling around for something to hold onto. he guides your hands to his hair, humming against your chest to encourage you in pulling it.

you didn’t need to be told twice, tugging at the silky locks and arching your way deeper in his mouth. he chuckles at you, grazing your cute sensitive skin and letting his hands fall even further. you nod your approval at his new grip, his hands spanning the entire width of your ass. he loves the way the fat feels in his hold, and the way you desperately push yourself forward for more of him has him releasing your tit in favor of sucking a deep bruise in the skin, dick aching at the lewd squeals you make at the feeling of his teeth sinking into your flesh. you slide your hands down his back, huffing your displeasure at feeling his shirt under your fingertips. he chuckles at your neediness, releasing you to take his shirt off. you hear it fall to the floor, and then you feel a weight—satoru’s weight— shift off the couch. his chuckle seems far away, and you realize he’s walking away.

“i figure we’ll need more space, no? i can’t fuck you over the couch like i want, ‘s too low. follow me.” he smirks, leaning against the door of his bedroom down the hallway. even from here, he could see your features screw up in displeasure, and he doesn’t repress the laugh that follows. he knows if he could see those captivating eyes of yours, they’d be ripping him apart. he shoved the coffee table out of your way, making sure you had a straight shot to him, for whatever points that earns him. “just follow the sound of my voice.” he sings.

you huff your frustration, but push yourself off the couch. your dress falls to your waist, the shelf of your curves keeping it from dropping completely. he smirks at the way you swing your hips, stomping towards him with the clear confidence that he wouldn’t allow you to hurt yourself. you’re stopped by the brick wall that is satoru, and he takes your hands. “good girl. do you trust me?”

it was a little late for that, but you nod. he squeezes your hands, dropping them to pull your dress over your hips and into the floor with a woosh. “fuck, you are so beautiful,” he groans, running his hands over the dips of your body, stare locked on your leaking pussy. he smiles at this, he had hardly touched you. “dripping already, baby?” he teases, dropping to his knees to taste you. he just couldn’t help himself, not with your dopey unsuspecting grin and your arousal for him so obviously running down your thighs.

he could do anything he wanted to you, and you’d have no choice but to allow it. you’re lucky he worships you, or he’d leave you in the room by yourself, only coming in to use you as a cocksleeve and leave again, rendering you a sloppy cum-filled mess. maybe another time, you do look sexy in the blindfold after all.

“of course, sato. been waiting for you to make a move for years.” you giggle softly, teasing him still. you know you’ve dangled the promised fruit and taken it away before he had the chance to take a bite. so he does that now, grabbing the thick sides of your thighs to pull them apart. he scrapes his teeth against your plush skin, groaning at the scent of your sopping pussy so close. you gasp softly, back colliding against the wood paneling of his door. he doesn’t give you time to adjust, sliding his tongue through your cute lower lips, sighing contently at the taste of you. he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself past this, never again would he be able to play the perfect gentleman. you stabilize yourself with a grip on his shoulders, the room filled with slurps and moans from a man receiving his own type of pleasure from giving you yours. he grips himself over his pants, willing himself to be strong enough to wait for your sweet cunt. he licks and nibbles on the sensitive bundle hidden by your hood, relishing in how easy it is to make your legs shake around his face. he moans happily, wanting you to know how much he enjoys feasting on your box. you’re clawing at his freckled shoulders, unable to resist mewling and panting, grinding your hips down on his nose as his tongue slips in your hole. it’s the perfect storm, making your legs feel so wobbly you trust only his grip on your dimpled thighs to hold you upright.

“oh wow–gon’ cum soon, sato, can i?” you whimper, hands cupping your chest to try to replicate the sensation his mouth gave you there. he hums his approval, squeezing your thighs so tightly he knows there will be gojo sized handprints there tomorrow. your moan is so sweet when you release on his face, he has to fight cumming in his jeans again. it’s so like him to not give you any recovery time, picking you up over his shoulder and carrying you to the bed.

“apologies for the roughness, sweetheart. just fighting a losing battle here, you have no idea what you do to me.” he growls, laying you over the mattress and turning you to your stomach. he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, dragging you to all fours before you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. you’re shaking with anticipation, arching your back to make it as easy as possible. your cunt is glistening, making him drool with excitement as he steps out of his pants. his length is pressing through your folds, sliding through your wetness to bump his tip against your clit. you cry out your impatience, to which he chuckles his amusement. “need something, gorgeous?” he pouts on your behalf.

you nod eagerly, reduced to begging as your eyes sting with tears. his cock sliding against you told you he was huge, like you suspected, the strokes of lightning coursing through your body just from his tip nudging your clit was borderline pathetic, you needed more before you lost your mind, already feeling the torture of not being able to see him take you for the first time. “please, fuck, satoru—i need you so bad im gonna start cryin’ soon! pleasepleaseplease–”

he shoves in with a mischievous giggle, another bruising handle made of your hips. your messy cunt sucked him in greedily, satin walls hugging him so tight his mouth dropped open. “fuck, angel, you feel so good—better ‘n i imagined.” he sighs out, his hips flush against the fat of your ass—filling you to the brim. you’re on your tiptoes as he starts to slam into you flat footed, nothing but his own force plowing into your cunt, his curved cock bumping against your womb with every slap of his balls.

you’re a lost cause, your brain scrambled as your fist the covers below you. you wish you could respond with something more than wails of pleasure, but you can’t gather any thoughts to speak of. all you could feel was his dick rearranging your guts, his hands searing their brand on your body. he loves the way you crumble, unable to see and now speak. it makes his cock jump against your spongy need. he knew he couldn’t last much longer, especially at this punishing pace, but it was worth it to see you rendered dumb on his bed, spread wide with your ass rippling on his shaft. it was glorious, the pride he felt in claiming you as his spread warmth through his body, and his release was near.

“gonna make me cum, princess. gonna let me cum in you? make you mine for good, yeah?” he purrs, his hands reaching up to fist your hair so he could get some sort of response from you. he pulls you into a prettier arch, your pliable body too jelly to hold the position yourself. “hm? answer please.”

you do your best to nod, making some strangled sound of approval. you clench down around him, keeping him trapped in you anyway. it sends him reeling, with a high-pitched grunt he paints your walls with his seed, letting himself cover your body with his. he kisses your shoulder blade, the two of you in sync as you heave for breath. you’re smiling softly, and he pulls the blindfold off you to reveal his beaming and sweaty form looking down on you with such fondness your heart and pussy throb. he leans up to give you a proper kiss now, looking absolutely heaven-sent. some of the longer pieces of his hair stuck to his forehead and cheekbones and his lower lip was swollen and red, where he had no doubt been gnawing at it. you kiss him hungrily, and you feel him harden within you again.

“you did so good, baby girl.” he says once he pulls away, grinning at the softness of your kisses. he wanted to spoil you too, praise your body for the pleasure you bring him—now that you’ve finally let yourself be his. “now that was fucking…let me make love to you this time.” he coos, making you both giggle as he turns you to your back for yet another demonstration of his undying love–and insatiable desire.

#kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #kyleewritesjjk #satoru gojo #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #blindfolding kink #gojo x blindfolding

543 notes · View notes

deakyjoe · 2 years

Text

Somebody’s Watching Me Part 7

Paring: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (“Sarge”, she/her pronouns, British, backstory)

Category: slowburn coworkers to friends to lovers with grumpy x sunshine dynamic/idiots in love

Summary: You and Simon take the next step towards happiness.

Warnings: smut (18+), f receiving oral, handjobs, vaginal fingering, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, praise kink, slightly sub!ghost, slightly dom!reader, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, swearing/cursing, British terminology/slang, the mask is off, domestic Ghost, brief mention of scars and stretch marks, this is just smut and fluff, *** to indicate where smut starts and ends

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: EJ doesn’t write and publish smut. EJ is a virgin who doesn’t know what sex is like in real life. EJ is nervous about posting this. Please be nice to EJ.

Part 8 here!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

The first time you met Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley you were rather disappointed. You'd heard tales of the mysterious killing machine who showed no mercy. But then, when you finally did come face to face with him, you discovered he was just a regular guy in a mask who complained when his tea was too hot to drink and when the chocolate digestive biscuits had run out. Hardly the legend everyone cracked him up to be.

And then you saw him in the field and your perception changed slightly. He was damn good at what he did. You'd be mildly impressed if you weren't already surrounded by the best of the best, yourself included. You weren't entirely convinced he was the scariest man ever to have lived, as everybody told you, but you could appreciate his skills. Sure, you were fearful of him in the way that he was your superior and you didn't want to make a bad first impression or have him kick you off the team. But you didn't think he was going to kill you in your sleep or anything as your new friend Sergeant MacTavish, better known as Soap, liked to joke.

However, your view of him changed again when he caught you and Soap in the rec room one evening. It was totally innocent. The two of you were unwinding from a long day by eating snacks, listening to music and sharing stories. You were in the middle of listening to a particularly good one from your fellow sergeant when your lieutenant walked in and his mouth snapped shut.

Ghost barely glanced at the two of you, face hidden by his infamous mask. It looked rather silly when he didn't have the rest of his tactical gear on.

"Carry on, Soap." You encouraged him, not put off by the presence of another person in the room. "What happened next?"

The Scot's eyes snapped back to yours and he cleared his throat. "Right, right uuhhh..."

He was cut off by Lieutenant Riley suddenly standing over the two of you behind the sofa, cup of tea clutched in his gloved hand. He was very sneaky. "No drinking on base."

You looked up to him, confused by what he was talking about before realising he was looking at the drink clasped in your hand. "It's apple juice, sir."

He said nothing, eyes burning through his mask into yours. You wouldn't back down from a stare off if that's what he wanted. If his game was intimidation then you wouldn't let him win. You'd grown used to men trying to put you down and you weren't going to let a man who hid his face behind a mask try to do the same.

"This music is inappropriate. Flirting between members of the team is forbidden." He really was trying to get you in trouble. But why? Did he already not like you?

You snorted at him. "I hardly think Sir Mix-a-Lot is the pinnacle of romance, lieutenant."

Soap's jaw hung open opposite you. He couldn't believe you were arguing with Ghost Riley. Especially as a new member of the team. It was risky. He respected it.

"Don't answer back, sergeant." He snapped, fist clenching at his side.

You just held your chin higher despite him towering over you. "I'm not, sir. I'm sure Sergeant MacTavish is a lovely man but, believe me, I have no interest in pursuing anyone on the team. And Sir Mix-a-Lot is certainly not my main means of seduction. I'm here to work. Nothing else."

If only you knew.

***

The kiss was feverish as Simon stumbled into your flat, not letting you go for a single second as he kicked the door shut harshly behind him and pushed his jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor. There was a passionate clash of teeth and tongues as you slammed him back against the wood, needing to be as close to him as possible. You were not going to let him go full Ghost on you in this situation and take complete control of it. You wanted Simon. And you wanted some power.

But Simon was kissing you.

Simon was kissing you.

It finally dawned what was happening.

He tasted like the bourbon he'd been drinking earlier, not that you were complaining, and you wondered if you tasted of the apple martini he'd made for you. The apple martini he hated.

You pulled back suddenly. "Oh, god. Do I taste like the apple martini? I'm sor-"

He chuckled lowly, leaning back into you. "Stop talking for once, Sarge."

The kiss resumed and his hands roamed every inch of you that he could reach, not neglecting any point of your body. You clung to him desperately, never wanting to let go. You wanted to consume him. And let him consume you.

He was too tall, always too fucking tall. So you grabbed at his shirt and dragged him down to meet you halfway, legs sliding up the outside of his almost as if you were trying to climb him. And maybe you were.

Simon groaned lowly into your mouth, breaking away for a mere second to catch his breath and stare longingly down at you before diving straight back in. As your arms snaked around the back of his neck, he turned the two of you around so you were up against the door. And you needed the support as he started to pepper kisses along your jawline and down your neck. He found your weak spot as you whined and began to lick and suckle there repeatedly for good measure.

As much as it felt good, you needed more of him so you threaded your fingers through the back of his hair and guided his lips back to yours. "More kissing, Simon."

He obliged happily.

You'd never get enough. There would never be enough Simon Riley in this world to satisfy you. And he had a sneaking suspicion of that so he was going to do his damn best to give you as much as he could.

When he broke away again, you huffed in protest but quickly stopped when he sank down to the floor.

Having Lieutenant Simon Riley on his knees in front of you was the most exciting, and unexpected, moment of your life.

You'd store away the image in your memory forever.

He looked up at you with his wide, dark eyes and started unbuttoning your jeans. When he glanced back up at you again for permission to take them off you just nodded. They were pulled off and discarded, his stare fixing on the underwear you were wearing. It wasn't your nicest pair but Simon didn't seem to care much as he parted your thighs with his hands and stuck his head between them, inhaling deeply.

Before you knew it, they were torn off and Simon's mouth was latched onto your clit. The man did know his targets well.

"Oh, my- fuck!" You slapped your hand across your mouth, head thrown back and slamming against the door, as he sucked and flicked at it in utter desperation.

When you dared to look down at him, even more arousal stirred in you to see his eyes - his pretty, pretty eyes - were fixed on you and your reactions. He seemed to be concentrating on what felt good for you. People pleaser.

Moans and other pleasured sounds tumbled from your lips as he lifted one of your legs and manoeuvred it over his shoulder so you were spread wide for him, hand planted on your thigh to knead the flesh there. He changed positions after that, moving so his mouth was closer to your opening and his nose bumped against your clit for stimulation instead.

And you couldn't help yourself when your hips started grinding against his face of their own accord, pure lust powering you forward.

"Simon." A gasp of his name left your mouth as he lapped up everything you were giving him, hands laced in his hair to pull him impossibly closer to you.

The thought that you were doing this against your front door and that any of your neighbours could hear you if they simply walked past was long gone as the burning feeling of your impending orgasm built up within you. But, then again, it was past midnight on New Years. Any of your neighbours still awake would probably be partying and having too much of their own fun to take any notice of loud noises coming from your flat.

"So good." You said, chest heaving and face glistening with sweat. "So, so good, Simon."

He groaned into you, eyes closing for just a second making his fair eyelashes flutter, and went harder. He devoured you like a man starved.

And with a final buck of your hips that had the tip of his nose hitting your clit just right, you were speeding over the edge into blissful oblivion. It took every ounce of willpower for you not to scream as your legs turned to jelly. He kept you upright with his hands on your hips as he slid back up to his full height.

"You. Taste. Heavenly." Every word was punctuated by a kiss to your lips, each one tasting distinctly of you.

Your voice was ragged as your eyelids became hooded and you grabbed his hand. "Bedroom."

"Yes, ma'am." He had no ounce of protest in him as he allowed you to drag him through your flat and to your room. Now things were started he wasn't going to hold back at all. He'd been denying himself of this for too long. He felt like it was deserved. Both for him and for you.

What he didn't expect was for you to take complete control as soon as you got there, pushing him onto the bed and demanding him to sit up against the headboard as he kicked his shoes off.

And when you crawled over to him and straddled his lap, lips immediately landing on his to kiss him even more, he felt a tingling inside of himself. It was a kind of buzz, almost like he was drunk but not quite. Maybe drunk on you. And the feeling of you against him.

You were underwear-less now, only a bra and shirt covering you, so when you started to softly grind against him Simon thought his brain might explode. Or other parts of him.

But you didn't give up, even as he grew painfully hard underneath you, you just kept going. You just kissed and kissed and kissed at his swollen lips, not being able to stop yourself.

But then you suddenly pulled back and looked down at him, head tilting to the side slightly. Your hands tapped along the hem of his shirt, barely grazing the skin of his stomach. "You're wearing too many clothes. May I?" You asked and he nodded, breathless. "Out loud."

"Yes." He was never going to say no to you. Especially not now. He'd lost the ability to deny you of anything a long time ago.

You tugged the shirt off of him and over his head, eyes immediately landing on his bare torso that was only very partially obscured by his dog tags. He was toned, that was for sure, but you knew that already and you admired the tattoos dispersed up and down his arms, encroaching onto his chest. However, you were more focused on the subtle things. The small freckles scattered in various places, scars marking the pale tone of his skin, a patch of hair on his lower abdomen that trailed off in a little path underneath his belt. Even the faded stretch marks dotted across the plains of his body.

You sighed happily. "You're so gorgeous it's unfair, Simon. Blond and pretty."

He flushed at that, blaming the heat in his cheeks on being turned on, and pulled you back in to kiss him to distract himself from it.

Your nails raked down his chest, arms lifting up when he pulled your own shirt off of you. His large hands explored the expanse of your skin, trailing up and down your sides before going to your back, undoing your bra and tossing it to the side. Like him, only your dog tags were left to cover the bare skin of your chest.

His eyes were drawn to the dog tags hanging around your neck, the chain settled in the valley of your breasts, and you both knew what you were thinking. The fantasy Simon had confided in you. But, silently, you agreed it was for another time.

His hands were warm when they landed on your chest, which you were thankful for, as they kneaded, pulled, tugged and tweaked. It felt good but you wanted to give him more.

"Can I touch you, Simon?" You asked, smiling when he nodded eagerly.

Your hands fumbled with his belt buckle, no patience left within you, and you pulled his trousers and underwear down just enough to release him once the belt was undone.

You stared at him.

Simon felt self-conscious.

He had no reason to.

He was long and thick, your mouth watering at the sight. Oh, how you longed for him. To have him in your mouth. To taste him. To feel him inside you. But that was for another time.

As soon as your hand wrapped around him his eyes screwed shut and his head was thrown back against the wall, soft sounds leaving his mouth.

"Mm-mm. Eyes open and on me, Simon." You said quietly, watching his chest heave and his breaths come out raggedly.

His eyes shot open at the mention of his name, cheeks pink and rosy as he made eye contact with you.

"So pretty..." You trailed off, smiling at him. He really was beautiful. Especially like this. "Come on, pretty boy. Keep making those pretty, little noises for me."

He whimpered, actually whimpered.

"Oh-ho-ho! Do you like praise, Simon?"

He nodded frantically, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. "Please."

"You like to hear how well you're doing for me? How beautiful you look? Hm?"

Your hand tightened around his tip before you sunk it back down again to the base, twisting your wrist to give him more friction.

A garbled sentence left his mouth, something incoherent he was saying to himself.

"Speak up, Riley. I need to hear you." You looked away from his face for a moment to where your hand was pumping him, speeding up the action slightly.

"Fuck, so close. I'm gonna- gonna-"

"Already?" You raised your brows at him. You weren’t disappointed, just surprised and rather flattered.

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry." He apologised profusely, face scrunched and hands clawing at the bedsheets on either side of him. "So, so sorry. Fuck-"

"It's okay. Come for me." And all it took was a swipe of your thumb over his tip.

He groaned lowly as hot ropes of cum spurted from him, coating your hand and his stomach. More laboured breathing from him had you placing your clean hand on his chest to calm him down.

***

"Breathe, Simon. Inhale... Exhale... Good." You leant forward and kissed his cheek before looking down at the mess beneath you. "Umm..."

"Shit, uh..." He reached for the tissues next to your bed and frantically wiped away what he could. "You might need to wash your hands."

"Probably." You smiled at him.

"I'm sorry that I... so fast." He panted, face scrunched in... embarrassment?

"Don't apologise. If I'm sitting here calling you pretty and encouraging it, then I want you to come." You revelled in the way his cheeks flushed and his eyes widened a fraction.

"But we didn't- you didn't-"

You shook your head, crawling off of him to go to the bathroom. "You already made me come."

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts." You tutted and called over your shoulder one last time before disappearing out of the room. "I'll be back in a minute."

You could feel his stare on the back of you as you left, smiling at the idea of him watching you. When you returned a couple of minutes later with a damp cloth in your hand to clean him up, you found him staring at the wall opposite and twiddling his thumbs together. He looked anxious.

"What's wrong?" You asked softly as you sat down next to him and wiped his stomach.

"Nothing." He answered too quickly for your liking.

"C'mon, Simon. I know you now. Don't lie to me. Please. You can tell me." You glanced back up at him as you finished, turning slightly to throw the cloth into your laundry hamper in the corner of your room. You managed to get it in, you did have impeccable aim.

He didn't answer as he watched you crawl over him to the unoccupied side of the bed and get under the duvet.

"At least take off your jeans and get in here with me." You sighed, propping yourself up on your elbow. And when he still did nothing, you had a sudden realisation. "Unless you want to leave. Because you were leaving before you came back..."

The idea broke your heart. Maybe he wanted this to be a one time thing to let off some steam, to alleviate the tension that had been growing between you. What if this wasn't what you hoped it would be?

He snapped out of his daze at that, standing and pushing off the rest of his clothes before diving in next to you and sidling up close. "No, no. Don't say that. I don't want to leave."

"Okay, good." You smiled at him, getting slightly closer. "Tell me what's wrong."

He chewed absentmindedly on his inner cheek. "Overthinking."

It was a simple answer that didn't explain much. But you understood him.

"Okay." Your hand lifted to his face, thumb swiping over cheek softly as you kissed him gently. "You can tell me whatever you need to whenever you need to."

He nodded, kissing you again.

Your fingers moved to the back of his head, carding through the blond strands. His eyes fluttered shut, a relieved breath leaving his mouth.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I overthink. Especially with this."

"Don't apologise, Simon." You chuckled, wanting to lighten the mood. "Thought you told me you were more dominant in bed."

"Nuh-uh. I told you it depends." He smiled back, one of his proper smiles that was reserved only for you to see as his eyes snapped back open.

"Lucky me then."

There was a short moment of silence before you approached the topic that was eating away at you.

"Why now?" You asked, shifting so your noses grazed against one another.

"Because I've wanted to for a while." He kissed you quickly, hand tracing over your hip. "And because I'm selfish."

Curious. "Selfish?"

"Too selfish to think about the consequences because I want you too much."

Huh. "Meaning?"

He paused, thinking about his words carefully. "I'm prioritising my wants, pleasures, needs over logical arguments."

"You make no sense, Riley. But I'll take it if it means this." You sighed into his mouth as you kissed him again. "I wish you'd done it sooner. We've been spending time together for months."

"I wouldn't let myself. It's not allowed. Technically." He added the last bit on hastily. "And I wasn't going to allow it to happen."

"You were going to ignore your feelings?" You couldn't judge him exactly. You'd been doing the same.

"Have been for months. Unsuccessfully." He grunted, winding his hand around your waist and tugging you closer so you were chest to chest. "But you wouldn't leave me alone."

"Hey! I offered you an out." You protested weakly, smiling widely at him still.

"Didn't mean literally." He huffed. "Just constantly on my fucking mind."

Your eyes brightened at that and Simon felt himself fall just that little bit farther. You, on the other hand, were trying to control yourself. There were three options: jump him again, confess your undying love or just stay quiet in the hopes he'd say a little more.

Option three was the safest.

He kissed you again, lingering for a moment this time. "Couldn't get you off my bloody mind. Always ticking around in there."

"I'm flattered, Riley." You whispered. "Does that mean I'm the last thing you masturbated to which is why you refused to answer during Truth or Drink?"

"Classified." He paused. "But yes."

You giggled and pressed your lips against his, moaning quietly when he rolled the two of you over so you were underneath him.

He pulled away for a moment, mumbling into your mouth. "Definitely worth any consequences."

You were wildly inquisitive about the whole thing, unable to stop yourself from inquiring. "What are the potential consequences?"

"Dishonourably discharged."

"Wait, really?" You pushed slightly on his chest, suddenly panicked at the idea.

"Nah." Dickhead. "Could be reassigned."

You whined quietly. "That's shit."

"Mhm, don't think Price would let it happen though." He lowered himself down again and planted an open mouthed kiss on your jaw, grazing his teeth against your skin. "I wouldn't let him let it happen."

You sighed contently, arms snaking around his back. "Hmm, and why's that?"

"I'm rather fond of you."

"Rather fond of me... what are you? Eighty?" You cackled, chest rumbling against his.

He rolled his eyes at you. "Ever the charmer, Sarge."

"I'm sorry." You mock pouted. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

"Shut up." He silenced you with his own mouth, tongue curling against yours, and revelled in the sigh you let out against him.

But you weren't done with your interrogation, forever wanting to know more. "Why did you tell me happy new year before you kissed me?"

"Because I wanted to kiss you at midnight." He said it like it was obvious. It wasn't.

"Why didn't you?" Your nose scrunched so Simon smoothed it out with his thumb.

"Didn't think it'd be a good idea." The warm brown of his eyes flickered as his gaze roamed your face, finally taking in how lucky he was being able to look at you so close up.

"But you changed your mind." You offered, assuming that was right.

It was. "I did."

"Why?"

He chuckled. "So many questions."

You cowered slightly. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Sarge." He bumped his nose against yours. "You looked sad when I didn't."

Oh, bollocks. "You noticed that?"

He nodded, looking as if he pitied you. "You're not very good at hiding your emotions. Your face speaks volumes."

Double bollocks. "Then you must've known how I felt for ages."

"Suspected. Thought it was wishful thinking."

There were a whole array of words to express how stupid he was. You refrained from using all of them and stayed silent.

Unlucky for you, Simon could read it on your face. "I can tell you're itching to insult me."

"But I'm not going to." You shook your head, readjusting on the pillow beneath you. "All I'll say is... you're so pretty, Simon."

"Oh, bugger off." He moved to push away from you completely.

But you had other plans as you tightened your hold around his back. "Never!"

***

He landed on top of you with a groan and a mumbled apology. It was fine. You were trained to drag about three fully grown men out of a burning if you had to. He felt like nothing on top of you despite being six foot four and muscly as hell. It was rather nice actually, feeling all of him pressed up against you. And yes, that meant all of him.

Skin heating up at that, you hoped he didn't notice how you were suddenly burning as he lifted himself back onto his elbows and looked down at you. Nothing was said on the matter, which you were glad about. What you were even more glad about was him mumbling something about wanting more orgasms out of you and then proceeding to lower himself down your body, trailing tender kisses across your skin as he went.

When he got far enough down, Simon situated himself between your legs. It seemed to be his favourite place in recent times. Secretly, he'd admit it was. You didn't protest when he placed a large hand on either thigh and opened you up for him again, just let him do what he wanted. And he seemed very happy to spend his time pleasuring you and making sure you felt good even though he appeared to care very little about himself.

So, that's how you spent god knows how long. You writhing underneath his firm grip and him spending a countless amount of time between your legs as he drew out orgasm after orgasm. Even when you became sensitive and the overstimulation was getting to be too much, he just cooed and encouraged you further.

"Come on, Sarge. I know you can do one more for me. Just one more." He comforted you, fingers of one hand stroking the soft flesh of your inner thigh and the fingers of the other hand inside you. "Good girl. Come on."

Maybe he wasn't the only one with a thing for praise.

And after what seemed like hours of pure delight for you, he was finally satisfied with what he'd done and tentatively returned to his space next to you in bed.

He fell asleep quickly after that, you wrapped in his arms, with a relaxed expression on his face. And when you finally joined him in his state of unconsciousness after watching him breathe deeply for a while, you dreamt only of him. His face, his touch, his eyes roaming your mind. It was peaceful. And you were happy.

When you awoke to Simon placing lazy kisses along your shoulder you thought maybe you'd died and gone to heaven. The only reminder that this was still reality was the soreness between your legs and the dull ache you still had for him, craving him.

He was behind you, spooning you, and you could feel he was already hard against your back. "Good morning, Sarge."

Morning voice. Husky. Deep. Delectable. You could drown in it.

"Good morning." You returned, pressing back against him and loving the hiss he let out.

And before you knew it, your head was angled awkwardly to look over your shoulder so you could kiss him and he was sliding into you. Finally. You gasped into his mouth when he did, immediately urging him to move. His hands gripped your hips tightly, using you to help the friction.

You rocked against each other, the position not being one of your favourites as you couldn't see his face or reactions properly, but he made up for it with the sounds he was letting out right next to your ear. And it was intimate, you were still practically cuddling.

"Fuck, Sarge." He groaned into your shoulder, biting down slightly to muffle himself.

That only set you off further, grinding yourself back harder against him. You could do this forever, never wanted him to stop. No, you needed him to never stop. This was perfect. The two of you alone forever in your bed, not a care in the world. Just rounds and rounds of sex and the occasional conversation here and there.

You were caught off guard by his hand snaking around to your front and his fingers suddenly circling your clit.

You gasped and bucked against his hand. "Simo-" His name was cut off by another choked sound leaving your mouth. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

It didn't need to be said, the promise of not stopping was silent. But he gave you verbal confirmation anyway. "Never, Sarge. Come on. Come for me. That's it, good girl.”

The climax was approaching rapidly and he knew that from the way you were beginning to spasm around him, his own also crawling up on him. But you were priority.

So he held off until you were spent, head thrown back against him and eyes screwed shut as you let out breathless pants in a mixture of soft sounds.

He didn't stop, just quickened his pace as he hips began to falter. "Where, Sarge?"

You knew what he meant. "In me. Please, in me."

So he did. His warmth filled you up as he came inside you, immediately relaxing behind you with more kisses scattered along the skin of your shoulder.

After he pulled out of you, it took a few moments before you managed to catch your breath again. God, you'd never get enough of this.

***

There was suddenly heavy breathing behind you. Simon had fallen asleep again. Typical man.

With the remnants of him dripping out of you, you rushed off to the toilet to clean up and get partially ready for the day - you brushed your teeth and put on some clean clothes. When you were done, you returned to your bedroom to find him still fast asleep. You could leave him for a while longer. He always looked tired.

You trotted to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea, getting out a second mug and teabag for Simon when he finally woke up for good.

With your cup of tea in one hand and your phone in the other as you checked all your messages from friends wishing you a happy new year, you leant against the counter and failed to notice a certain someone waking up in your room some time later.

Simon awoke to a cold bed, his arm stretching out to find you only for you not to be there. He felt disappointed for a moment before remembering the events of earlier in the morning. Shit, had he really fallen back to sleep instantly?

A sense of embarrassment flooding through him, he sat up quickly and looked around. His clothes were tossed to various places around the room, as were yours. You really hadn't bothered to clean up. He liked that for some reason.

He had nothing else with him so just pulled his t-shirt and boxer briefs back on from the day before, hoping they weren't too crinkled. But he doubted you'd care if they were.

Then, before leaving your bedroom, he thought of you. And what had finally happened between the two of you. Even though he probably should've, he didn't regret it one bit.

Simon Riley had been torturing himself for weeks over you. The feelings had started growing as soon as you smiled at him in the goddamn cheese aisle, before you even knew who he was. And whilst they hadn't solidified until a little more down the line, he knew he wouldn't be able to let you go after that. And when you actually seemed to like him - him, not Ghost, not Lieutenant Riley, just Simon - he knew he was inevitably screwed.

It didn't help that you looked at him so adoringly, never a glimpse of hostility in your sparkling eyes, with an ever permanent smile on your lips. It's like you were daring him to try not being head over heels for you. And he'd hate himself for breaking every rule ever laid out to him by Price and other higher ups if you didn't make him feel so good, so warm inside.

And that's exactly what he felt as he walked in on you in your kitchen, humming to yourself as you rifled through your fridge for something to eat. The usual tingling sensation you set off in him was in full power as you turned to him, smiling spreading at the sight of him and eyes twinkling. It didn't help that you looked flushed and glowing with your slightly messed up hair and shaky legs. Freshly fucked, he'd describe it as. And he was the cause.

He approached you without a moment of hesitation, cupped your face in his hands and kissed you. "Good morning, Sarge."

You smiled against his mouth. "Second good morning, actually. We already did this once."

"Mhm, and what an amazing first good morning it was." He hummed against you, kissing you again. And again. And again.

Reluctantly you broke away, not fully out of his grasp though. "Do you want tea?"

"I'd love tea." He replied, still not letting you go.

"Simon, I need my body to make you tea." You chortled.

"And I need your body for other things." He whispered into your ear.

"Cheeky." You scoffed and pushed him away. "I will make you tea. Go sit down."

He agreed only after planting another lingering kiss on you and left for the living room. This was surreal to him. He was with someone he liked. Who liked him back. And you were... happy together. There was no underlying venom or bitterness fuelling the feelings, specifically the lust, between you. This kind of thing didn't happen for Simon Riley. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he'd wake up in some cold safe house a million miles away from here only to find out this was some sick fantasy his mind conjured to play cruel tricks on him. But you were so warm and so good, so everything Simon didn't deserve. Which is why he'd selfishly keep you for as long as he could.

And when you emerged out of the kitchen, precariously balancing two cups of tea, with a look towards him full of adoration, he knew he was so screwed that it was almost funny. Simon decided then that if you thought about him half as often as he thought about you, with just a pinch of the infatuation he felt for you, that he was a very lucky man.

"I haven't got much for breakfast, I'm afraid. Probably got a box of Cheerios or something in a cupboard. Or we could go out to eat. If you'd like." You suggested, stood in front of him with your hands twisting together in embarrassment. You weren't used to hosting company in the mornings and having him here was so strange after him leaving before daybreak all the previous times he'd slept on your sofa. This was different though. This time he'd slept in your bed.

Simon stared up at you, intensity gone from his gaze to leave only affection. "I don't care." He really didn't.

He didn't need some fancy breakfast cooked up for him. He didn't need the probably stale cereal you offered. He didn't need anything aside from one thing.

All he needed, for now, was you.

A/N: I’ll let them be happy… for now. Please don’t comment on the smut if it’s bad. And full disclosure: Sarge and Soap were listening to Baby Got Back.

Thanks to @ramadiiiisme for consulting with me on the smut 🙏🥰

1K notes · View notes

hazyange1s · 3 months

Text

Enshrouded

Summary: (abbreviated from the ao3 version because this baby is long enough 😂) MC is an Auror seeking refuge from the arduous nature of her everyday life, and finds it in a secret wizarding club hidden in London; where she has an unforgettable encounter with a strangely familiar, masked man.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC / Reader

Warnings: EXPLICIT 18+ MINORS DNI. — p in v, oral (f and m receiving), drug/alcohol use, semi-public, anonymous, little bit rough but nothing too crazy, mentions of violence/blood (mc just really LOVES her job lmao), lots of adult language oop, aged up characters (everyone is in their early 20’s)

Word count: 7.3k

A/N: this idea came to me in a dream… nah jk it came to me while watching Bridgerton (go figure). Started writing it months ago and after much self-doubt I present baby’s first published filth 💀

read here on Ao3 🌹

It was the mystery. She had long suspected that was what kept her going back for more, time and time again.

The risk of it all was enticing too, of course, but more than anything, she loved a damn good mystery. One complex and intricate, one that took time and effort to unravel. As an Auror, well, her life was chock full of such simple delights.

Regrettably, there wasn’t much joy to be had in solving the cases slapped on her desk by the Chief Auror - any satisfaction in making an arrest was often muddied by the names of the victims left behind. So she often sought out milder (but just as potent) forms of that heady adrenaline rush in order to scratch the itch - and her absolute favorite was Reverie. Unassuming enough as names go, and the facade would lead you to think so, too: its uniform brick painted a dingy gray just like every other shopfront along the shadowed, misty cobblestone of Knockturn Alley.

If any of her coworkers found out she frequented such a spot …oh, she’d never hear the end of it. Worse than that, her Chief might even believe such behavior warranted suspension; as wanton impropriety from a well known Ministry employee would bring her morals into question. Likely, she’d get an earful about the utter shame it would bring upon the Ministry itself if she were spotted.

But that was the glorious thing about Reverie: the moment you stepped through its doors, you became somebody else.

Or, rather, no one at all.

Attendance was by invitation only; delivered anonymously while the recipient slept soundly in their bed (certainly disconcerting, but how could she complain?). No letter, just a silken black mask.

Donning the disguise allowed its wearer to see past the heavy glamor placed on the building and step inside - without being apprehended by one of the black-clad guards on watch. Yet the mask’s hidden talents didn’t end there. It was the club’s signature secret: while it was true they merely framed the eyes, each mask contained a glamor of their own that completely concealed one’s identity - whether or not someone would recognize them without it.

(You could be staring into the face of your best friend and would never know it.)

Which, incidentally, was expressly forbidden inside the club’s boundaries (one of very few rules, mind); as strict anonymity was what kept the underground facility running, despite the fact that the Ministry remained attuned to the whispers of a taboo venue boasting all manners of rampant debauchery right under their noses.

Still, the sorcery that offered Reverie protection had held true for well over five years, and its owners were more than dedicated to ensuring it was always so.

Most well-versed and connected members of English wizarding society had at least indulged in rumors of an alternative establishment hidden in the city. They traded whispers of what horrors may lurk behind those gray walls - dark magic and blatant impropriety and dangerous indulgences…

They couldn’t be more right.

The air was already thick with the tang of whiskey and rank with perspiration by the time she arrived an hour after its Friday opening. With each step she took through the meandering crowd, heels clicking on the marble floors, curling smoke in every shade imaginable wafted around the room and blissfully chased away the odor with frankincense and mallowsweet.

But she hadn’t come for the medicinals tonight, tempting as they were after a week that had left her emptier than the glasses long ago abandoned by drunken patrons. Not even a goblet of Merlot or a shot of coffee liqueur (with a splash of cream) could chase away what ailed her.

No, tonight she sought only one means of release, and needed nothing but the tension simmering in her blood as fuel for the fire driving her to desperation.

Nights at Reverie were not for the faint of heart (or stomach), nor the chaste and mild. While technically not allowed in open spaces, more than half of the attendees usually found themselves with a partner by dawn; in one of the many private back rooms or curtained-off alcoves - or dark corners, even.

After all, what did they have to lose when the strings of your identity weren’t a factor?

Usually she’d been content to let the men and women come to her, and admittedly there hadn’t been a shortage of such… entanglements in the three months since she’d received her own mask.

But the time for coy shyness and drawn out flirtation was long gone. Leaning against one of the wall-to-floor Grecian columns at the edge of the room, she simply tossed back her hair and began to scan it for potential prey.

There was a generous sample size, it was true. A tall, lithe gentleman whose hair shone like spun gold, a flawlessly curved woman with rich brown skin, a broad redhead sporting a wide grin…

No, no, and no… none of them are just right.

She huffed with restrained frustration, tapping her foot to the string music playing a haunting melody that seemed to fill every space in the curved underground.

You know there’s only one person you wanted to find here tonight.

Perhaps she’d have to lower her standards - beggars can’t be choosers, and all that.

“There you are.”

Gasping, she pressed a palm to her satin covered chest, which heaved beneath the boning of her - possibly too tight - corset at the unexpected greeting. But what truly robbed her of breath until she was penniless… oh, gods.

They’d answered her prayers after all: the man standing behind her with a luminous grin was precisely the one she’d been hoping to see.

A regular, as luck would have it. She’d spotted him in attendance more often than not, but had never had the courage to approach (mainly due to the slew of witches and wizards who got to him first).

With her attraction being largely from afar, she’d assumed that his lack of…well, anything - other than a single dance lasting no more than five minutes - had meant he was uninterested. Though the smile he wore was genuine, not like the mask framing his dark eyes, and it sparked in the dim lighting cast from candelabras around the wide room.

“Here I am…?” She quirked a brow questioningly, hand lowering to her hip. “But, er, you must be mistaken. I’m not sure I’m the person you’re looking for.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure you are.” His chuckle was somehow more musical than the quartet filling the air and more rough than smooth, but exquisitely rich - as was the material of his dark vest and the deep gray collared shirt rolled above his elbows.

“On account of the fact that I’d know that particular dress anywhere. We’ve never been properly introduced, as I recall.”

“You recall correctly.” She smiled - maybe coy was still in the cards, if only to spend more time with this handsome stranger.

“I suppose that’s frowned upon here really, so…I believe there’s a better way we could become acquainted, if you’d be amenable.”

She had to be impressed with his wanton confidence, if nothing else…though she got the sense there were many rather impressive things about him. Even more arresting was the boldness of his touch; broad hands reaching for hers to bring to his supple lips, where they lingered for a moment before releasing her gently.

Alright. He knew what he was doing.

But she had to play just a touch hard to get - if only to give him a taste of what he’d been dishing out for months (intentionally or otherwise). He’d been playing coy after their first and only real interaction; shooting her little winks and whispered hellos on random nights - only to disappear again amongst the all-black crowd without giving her a chance to respond.

Likely, he’d been going off to find some other witch or wizard for entertainment.

“I’m sorry,” she said sweetly, a knowing smile playing on her own red-painted lips. “I don’t recall meeting you at all. Your face has a similar quality to many men here, you see.”

“Ah, somehow I doubt that.” Darkness collected in his dimples (how had she not noticed them before?)

“Saturday, precisely two months ago to the day, you were dancing in my arms wearing a red dress like you have on right now.” His voice was like honey and velvet as he spoke. With each word, he seemed to get closer.

And yes, of course she remembered. She was just surprised he still did.

It’s why she’d been stuck with a ridiculous, schoolgirl infatuation for weeks now; why she’d worn red each and every night in the hopes of catching his attention once more.

The brief escapades she’d busied herself with in the meantime had done in a pinch, but there was something about him she was positively dying to unravel. Perhaps it was the spark in those deep brown eyes - like the dark liquor she favored- that spoke of depths hidden far below the playful, self-assured surface.

Or maybe it was how he smelled from mere inches away, as he was now: pine, sandalwood, and a spicy scent akin to the smoke furling around him like a haze of fog.

“You’ve got quite the memory.” She mused, unable to stop her smile from bursting into full bloom. “I suppose that does ring a bell— you trodded on my foot.”

He groaned. “I’d had a lot of whiskey that night. I’m usually much more coordinated when sober. In fact…”

His fingers slid up her wrist, moving with slow caresses up her arm and shoulder until they came to rest beneath her jaw, angling it up to align with his gaze.

“Is it too presumptuous of me to ask…if you’d let me make it up to you?”

For a moment - just a breath, she hesitated. And why? This was exactly what she’d come for tonight, and with the man she’d lusted over for ages now falling right into her lap… what sort of woman would refuse?

It was something unidentifiable, intangible. A tug on her gut. Something that flashed in the white of his smile as it caught the candlelight. Like a sense of deja vu; there one second and gone the next, leaving her with nothing but the old itch crawling beneath her flushed skin.

“Presumptuous, certainly. But not unwelcome. Everyone deserves a second chance.” She purred, squaring her shoulders and allowing him to guide her to the edge of the room with one palm flat on her lower back.

What she’d expected was to be whisked away to one of the rooms tucked away in the back; filled with four poster beds and velvet curtains and enough firelight to be a safety hazard. Instead, he brought her up to the bar, catching the attention of its immaculately suited (and masked) tender with a wave of his finger. The movement distracted her while he ordered Merlin-even-knew what. She found herself watching the way his fingers curled and wrist turned with each gesture made, his palms visibly calloused - perhaps he had seen his fair share of combat, too - and the backs of his knuckles covered in freckles.

She had to wonder what constellations might be found if she dared to uncover the rest of him.

A glint of gold caught the light, mercifully returning her attention on the smiling eyes of the man who had taken to slipping a glass of red wine between her fingers.

“Shall we toast?” He asked, tilting his chin up in the direction of the raised goblet.

“What are we toasting to?”

“To…” his lips pursed thoughtfully. (Another startlingly distracting body part.) How pink and supple they looked, and how good they would taste when stained with burgundy…

“Liberation.“

Fitting, indeed.

“Santé.” She touched her chalice to his without breaking the meeting of their eyes.

“Slainte.”

The cloying bitterness of Merlot coated her tongue, filling her stomach with warmth - a taste she hadn’t encountered for years. One she missed dearly.

“How’d you know I’d like Merlot?” She licked wine from her bottom lip.

He spoke at the same time; thick brows arched high. “You’re French?”

They laughed, the sounds winding together into a hypnotic sort of harmony.

“You first.” He inclined his head.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m simply fluent in the language.” She couldn’t give away any secrets, not even the place of her birth.

“That accent was flawless. Nobody but a native could articulate like that.”

She shook her head coyly, though not without amusement.

“Fine.” A sigh that seemed almost long-suffering stirred the smoke coiling around them. “I prefer my women with a bit of mystery, anyway. As for your question, darling…”

Oh, he was a rogue through and through. His eyes greedily swept over every inch of her gown to settle on the curves and shapes he seemed to appreciate most before he even deigned to finish.

“It’s… bold. Much like you, if you don’t think me too audacious for saying so.”

He paused to take another sip, savoring the act of licking his lips as she had moments ago, and almost smugly noting her obvious interest. “And I’ve obviously noticed you enjoy the color red, even if that part’s a bit on the nose.”

“You could say that.” Her heart fluttered traitorously into her throat. His undivided and enthusiastic attention was not only a welcome surprise, but a conflicting one. It wouldn’t do to fall for a masked man - in the end, they could never truly know each other beyond the four walls that brought them together.

Reverie. A dream - that’s all. You’ll wake up in the morning.

She straightened her shoulders, resolved and refortified. “And do you? Enjoy the color, that is?”

Her voice was low, only audible due to the minute distance between them, the man tilting his head down towards her as one finger grazed the dip of her neckline.

“What’s not to love?” He mused. “Red represents… vitality. Danger. Passion…”

Her skin prickled in the wake of the trail he drew from collar to shoulder and down her arm, and when it found her free hand, their fingers threaded together with such ease that they could have done it a thousand times before.

He could hear her heart, couldn’t he? With that amount of surety behind his stare, there was no doubt she was being read like an open book.

“That’s why we keep coming back here, isn’t it?” He was near enough now that every word was felt as a cloud of heat gracing her wine-flushed cheeks.

“Because we relish danger, and need passion like air. We all come to feel… alive.”

“Hmm. It’s almost as if you prepared that line beforehand.” She laughed.

His was such a beautiful sound, bubbling like champagne and leaving her with a warm feeling as if she’d tasted it herself.

“Let’s say I did… is it working?”

”Absolutely.”

Whatever spell had allowed them to maintain a sense of decorum shattered after that confirmation, which said so much more than was spoken aloud. The look exchanged between them was another conversation in itself; a volley of traded questions and answers that sent pure lightning skittering up her spine.

“Come with me.” He said abruptly (though not without a dutiful incline of his head; dark hair shining with veins of red in the candlelight) before tugging her away from the bar, where their drinks were hastily abandoned.

It seemed he was just as content to curse restraint, pulling her along with such haste that she tripped on her skirts (more than once) - evidently forgetting his longer legs and her tall heels as she bumped into a distracted patron that was left with a spilled drink, a scowl, and a breathless apology she didn’t quite mean.

They paused at the mouth of the corridor tucked in the back. It was lined with nothing but identical doors of deepest mahogany: some tightly shut, some cracked, and others yet wide open.

The meaning behind each was simple enough: shut meant “do not disturb”, cracked meant “listen or join, if you dare”, and wide open meant “vacant”. The wizard gave her a boyish grin as they all but stumbled to a stop in front of one that remained ajar and beckoned with soft golden light from the candles within.

“What are you waiting for?” She panted.

Without waiting on so much as a blink, her hand fisted in the crisp white of his button down, guiding him through the threshold before the slam of wood against the frame echoed in the empty chamber.

“A witch who knows what she wants, I see.” He chuckled, his hands needing no invitation to wind around her waist until their bodies molded at each curve.

“Well, you’ve been taunting me for a while, haven’t you?”

She took advantage of her hold on his clothes, forgoing the ease of simply waving her wand when she could take the opportunity to feel every inch of skin she revealed by releasing the buttons on his shirt.

Freckled - just as she’d suspected, and with a neat nest of dark hair over the swell of his pectorals that her palms begged to rest on.

“Wait, wait.” He huffed, hands coming to halt hers before they had time to slide the heavy coat from his shoulders.

“No - not wait as in stop -“ he’d seen the crease between her brows. “Wait, as in… slow down.”

”You seemed rather impatient a minute ago when you were dragging me through the place.” She said wryly.

“Impatient to get you alone, yes.” His knuckle grazed her cheek gently, reverently studying what little of her face he was able to see.

“But…” It was as transient as a ghost, at first. A phantom of touch over the swell of her lip, and then firmer as his thumb outlined the shape. “I’d very much like to kiss you first. May I?”

That he even asked such a question - let alone made his intentions to savor the night clear - was enough to poke another hole in her notions of a one-night affair. What if she couldn’t stand to never have this man again when it was over?

Well… there was always the luxury of dreams.

“Yes, of course.” She whispered.

She’d been right earlier - the taste of wine clung to the corners of his mouth, somehow even sweeter when combined with a hint of peppermint cooling the sharp breath he took the moment their lips fit together effortlessly. Her tongue sought to part them in search of the buzz that the alcohol couldn’t take credit for; finding his and groaning with delight as he melted into her.

A soft tug on her scalp announced the presence of his fingers as they threaded through strands of hair with the sole purpose of eliminating any and all space between them. Eagerly he rolled their tongues together, smearing the red painted on her lips across his chin.

They only paused to share a breath that left her dizzy. The sight of his skin stained with rouge was more beautiful than any art piece hanging on the tapestried walls - and there would be more colors adorning it by the end of the night, if she had anything to say about it.

“Now…” The brunet exhaled when they broke apart, lips brushing with each word. “Now, you can take off my clothes.”

No need to tell her twice.

His vest slumped to the floor, giving her leave to continue her work on that long trail of buttons ending at the waist of his trousers. Before long it, too, was little more than a rag at their feet. When she was privy to every square inch of his bare torso, her hands took liberties to caress the panes of his chest, marveling without shame.

“If you’ll allow me the honor, I’d like to even the score.” His voice was near a husk as he watched her intently.

No complaints arose (alright, perhaps one — when he spun her around; effectively depriving her of the ability to keep touching him) as the skilled wizard sought the eye hooks at the back of her bodice, dexterous fingers releasing each one with a snap that seemed to echo. All the while his mouth found her skin - tongue laving over her throat, teeth nipping where it met her shoulder to plant a bloom of deepest red.

“Mmm… keep doing that.” She hummed appreciatively, head lolling to the side.

“You don’t mind if I leave you a few reminders to find in the morning?” He chuckled. By then, he’d succeeded in freeing her of the constricting garment, tossing it to the carpet by the fire before he started to untie her skirt.

“Not at all.”

”Good,” another kiss, just below her ear this time. “Because I want to be able to see that it’s still there next time we meet.”

If he wasn’t careful, she’d start to think he already had plans to do this again.

She didn’t wait for him to move her this time; taking control back once she was only clad in her underthings by going for the buttons holding up his bottoms. Oddly enough, her fingers took on a tremulous quality - one she’d rarely (if ever) experienced in an intimate moment since her very first.

He seemed to adopt a similar growing impatience that made him forgo the back and forth to slip the sleeves of her chemise down, guiding the garment over her figure.

”Gods, you’re a vision.” He groaned and reached for the curve of her waist, feeling out the shape only to travel upwards until he could cup a breast in each hand, thumbs teasing the peaks hardened against the air.

Even as she shivered when he leaned down to bestow a kiss on either one, she managed to get him out of everything but the long undergarments concealing that which she craved most. But when she went for them, he stopped her yet again - catching her wrist only to sweep the startled witch into his awaiting arms with a self-satisfied grin.

The mattress depressed beneath her weight, bouncing back as she blew away a stray lock of hair to look up at him. Watching the way his arms — corded with thick veins — flexed and his eyes narrowed. With barely concealed impatience he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his hands around her thighs.

“Quite the man handler, you are.” She giggled once he’d yanked her towards him so her legs fell open on either side of his knees.

That drew the attention of his wandering eyes.

“Somehow I doubt that was a complaint.” His mouth quirked in earnest. ”Nor do I envision you’ll have any after I’m done with you.”

He began to toy with the idea of removing her drawers - the last thing preventing her from losing her mind, potentially - by sliding his fingers beneath their frilly hems, nails prickling the skin of her thighs as they scratched up and down in a taunting rhythm.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he whispered out of the clear blue. “Anything. The only things I know about you are that you’re French, love the color red and Merlot… oh, and you’re a much better dancer than me.”

Sharing random factoids wasn’t necessarily the foreplay she’d been expecting, nor the kind she was used to, but she couldn’t say she minded when his voice alone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Uhmm…” She had to think of something vague; a throwaway tidbit useless to anyone else.

While he watched, waited with wide and patient eyes, she sighed, “I can’t go a day without coffee. Never quite developed a taste for tea. And I drink it with three sugars.”

He blinked twice in quick succession. All the while he had yet to stop playing with the edges of her knickers, though he gradually let one hand inch up her covered thigh, as if testing the waters. But, she wondered… what was there to test? He had been so self-assured outside this room, yet now there was a hint of nerves beneath the cool exterior.

”So dark and sweet is the way you like it, huh?” He simply couldn’t help himself, it seemed.

The smirk she donned was enough of an answer. “Tell me something about you, then.”

”Me… well.” His mouth quirked before he shifted on the bed - lying on his stomach to greet the center of hers with a kiss. Then each of her hips with a gentle nip.“I love to read. Anything I can get my hands on, really. Fiction, nonfiction, magical and otherwise… I’ll devour it all.”

A slight pinch followed by the softness of his lips alerted her to another cluster of marks he began working onto her lower stomach, covering as much ground as he could on her thighs. His breath, heating her core as it came in little pants, was beginning to become a significant problem - one made her feel warm and heavy. Like sinking into a hot bath, if it were near-boiling.

“In fact, if I had to pick my favorite place in the world, it would be sitting in front of a fire with a good book.” His fingertip ever so slightly grazed the inner curve of her thigh.

“A man of charm and intelligence…how ever did I get so fortunate?”

He chuckled at her teasing lilt, the sound tickling her sensitive skin while he began to make way for the kisses left up the length of her thigh — bunching her drawers up until his fingers just brushed the soft nest of curls at the top.

“Although right now I have to say; I’m very much enjoying this spot, as well.” The wicked man smiled up at her.

“Well, if you’re waiting for an invitation, you’ve got it.” She tried to sound casual about it all, but truth be told, she was fighting every urge to rip his underwear off and throw him onto the bed herself like some sort of madwoman.

He might make her into one before the sun rose, anyway.

She was sure of it when he began pressing tortuously chaste kisses to her other thigh, and when his fingers slid lower to deliver a gentle stroke down the center of her slit had her shuddering with anticipation.

“And how long have you been this wet, love?” His deep rasp was muffled by the fabric of her underwear.

She chuckled. “Hmm…since the moment you took me to the bar, probably.”

He sat up with a distinctly prideful grin, slipping the soft cotton undergarments down her legs, his eyes alight as he settled back between them.

She could almost see the words hanging off his lips as he gazed up at her (that sight was enough to make her hips shift needily), but for whatever reason, they weren’t cut loose. No, he busied his mouth with far more important pursuits. After pausing briefly to indulge his eyes in an appreciative sweep of her naked body, he at last found the perfect spot to make her whine (and on the first try, too) with naught but a languorous sweep of his tongue.

It wasn’t nearly enough to quell any bit of the ache driving her into inevitable madness, but he showed her mercy by flattening the wet muscle against her folds and following a slow trail up until the tip of it lightly flicked her clit.

“Oh, please do that again.” She pleaded (had she been reduced to begging so quickly?), one hand inching towards her breast — seeking any more stimulation she could find — as the other slid through the silken waves atop his head.

He obliged. But with more pressure this time, and so, so slow, observing her reaction as if she were the most scintillating thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

It really was something about those eyes. With such unfairly long lashes that fanned over russet cheeks, and the way the candlelight flickering off the walls would touch them just so to light the near-black irises with a rich gold. His lips stretched against her skin, noticing her attention and giving her an approving hum that was met by the push of her hips towards his tongue.

“Mmmph —“ he grunted when her thighs pressed to his ears, entrapping him between them greedily. “Like that, do you?”

Her answering moan earned another grin followed by a gentle suck on her clit that only brought out another breathy, low sound.

“But gods, you taste so sweet…decadent, just as I’d said.”

Merlin, his voice…the way it rumbled with barely contained desire and pulled obscenities from her own throat was sinful.

Drowning in sin didn’t seem such a bad way to go, at present.

The possibility became reality once he re-added a finger to the mix; curling it beneath his tongue to trace the folds before sinking gradually into her awaiting heat.

“Oh, f—“

One of her own fingers rolled her nipple atop the breast she’d been playing with as she shivered. If he kept this up much longer, she would surely come undone right on his tongue; wrapped around that rough digit gliding in and out of her as it stroked her upper walls.

But that didn’t feel right. As wonderful as the softness of his lips enclosing around her clit was, she couldn’t imagine a proper substitute for the stretch his cock would provide instead.

“I need…” she had been about to voice her request when the tip of his tongue prodded her entrance. Both of her hands now gripped his auburn waves like they were keeping her tethered to earth, legs trembling with the effort to fight off the warmth swelling in her core.

“Need what?” He took an eager breath in, only to release it through pursed lips over the throbbing bud he seemed to adore. “I want to hear it loud and clear, lovely.”

An impatient groan parted her bitten lips. “I need more. I need you inside me when you make me come.”

“There you go. Gods, you sound so pretty when you ask to be fucked…” It took one last excruciating pump of his finger inside of her before he withdrew to push himself up onto his knees with a mess of her own making shining on his clean-shaven chin.

“First, though…” The finger coated with her fluids was sucked between his reddened lips. When it was pulled out with a slick, slow draw, he crooked it in her direction. “Come here. I want you to get a little taste, too.”

Don’t mind if I do.

On trembling hands she raised herself up on wobbly knees pressed into the soft mattress, sucking in a breath when she curled her fingers over the band of his underwear and waited for approval.

“Don’t be shy.” He coaxed gently.

It was difficult not to be at least a little intimidated by the proud shape outlined through his bottoms (and leaving a very telltale wet spot in the light fabric), but she pushed past it with a firm swallow.

Her breath whooshed out without prompting as she rolled them over his hips and the rather shapely swell of his backside. And, as it had before taking a sip of the wine he’d offered earlier, her mouth watered when she was rewarded with the view of his cock as it twitched at the first rush of air over the leaking tip.

Personally, she wasn’t much of an artist. She preferred a wand to a brush and blood over red paint, but there was something about him that begged to be immortalized on canvas. How satisfying it would be to perfectly capture the artful tapering from wide shoulders to a slimmer waist, or even to carve from marble the thickness of his thighs.

She doubted it would do him justice.

“Are you going to paint a portrait?” He teased, as if ripping those very thoughts from her mind.

“Just might. And could you blame me?” She answered with a bite of her lip. But there was too much bloody talk going on. In the spirit of action, she lowered her mouth to meet the curve of his hipbone and began marking a wet trail downwards.

The light scrape of his fingernail over her cheekbone made her lashes flutter as he tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, his breathing growing more labored when her palm slipped over the softness of his length — only to fold her fingers around it with gentle pressure. By the time she brushed her lips over the head — then her tongue to collect the salty fluid now leaking down the shaft — he was keening under his breath.

“Mmhmm…keep going, please.” he murmured.

As if she would stop. On the contrary, she wrapped her mouth around him, making a circle around the ridge of his cockhead with the tip of her tongue only to trace the length of him by following a thick vein. He was thick — stretching her lips wide when she took him in inch by inch, allowing him to prod the back of her throat to moisten her mouth.

“Just like that. You’re doing brilliantly, love; just perfect.” He said breathlessly, scraping her hair back into a haphazard updo with a broad hand.

Spurred on by the praise, she hollowed her cheeks for a better seal, dragged her mouth along his shaft until he rewarded her with a broken, guttural moan. She kept it up until finding a rhythm that his hips desperately pushed forward to match.

“I won’t… fuck, you’re going to make me embarrass myself…” he chuckled weakly.

Well that wouldn’t do at all. As much as the idea of swallowing his seed enticed her, there was a far better option in her mind. Which is why, despite his immediate protest in the form of a low grunt and a harsh tug on her hair, she gave one last slow lick before pulling away.

The increasingly flustered wizard tracked her movements with lust-glazed eyes. “I was hoping to drag this out, but I think you’re proper ready for me, aren’t you?”

Her enthusiastic nod spurred a laugh as he unfolded her legs from beneath her, wasting no time in hooking one around his hips and propping the other up to rest on his shoulder. The view was… magnificent, and he seemed to agree as his tongue darted out to taste her essence on his lips.

She’d expected another round of teasing. How relieved she was when instead, the blunt head of his cock parted her readily, sweeping through the slickness there with a stuttered, needy groan.

And just when she was about to insist —

A gasp tore through her dry throat as he pushed himself inside of her with little resistance. She was suddenly so full; though it wasn’t until he was fully sheathed that she let out a long, breathy sigh.

“Good? You alright?” He murmured, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing circles on the inside of her thighs. When she nodded, his mouth curled into a smile that she felt amidst the kisses left along her calf.

Oh, it was more than good — by the time he dragged his length out just to drive himself forward again, she was positively keening for more; her hands blindly reaching for some part to grab and managing to splay them flat on his lower back to force him deeper. He could hardly fight her, and it seemed like he didn’t want to anyway. The wizard’s eyes had grown hooded with lust, those sumptuous lips parting to make way for a moan that sent a shock down her spine. Her own eyes fluttered shut as he began to glide in and out of her in languid, practiced thrusts.

“Mm mmm,” he hummed chastingly. “I’d like to see those pretty eyes.”

His boldness — so wildly sexy.

Looking at him was almost a taboo in itself. Nine times out of then, her trysts had involved a lot of pleasure-filled sounds and heavy breathing; but conversation? Not so much. Some people didn’t even like to be kissed — and others found a prolonged gaze entirely too intimate.

This man didn’t just fuck. It was a different experience altogether, and it was bloody incredible. So, like the hopelessly besotted witch she was, she met his gaze and responded with a wanton moan at the sight of his head thrown back in pleasure while his hips made wide circles against hers.

“Gods, you fit like a glove,” his body shuddered with a stuttered exhale. “Feel so good…”

She canted her hips up to meet his in protest of his lazy pace, earning a broken chuckle before being rewarded with the head of his cock roughly probing her to its absolute limit.

“Godric…” she whined pathetically. “Again — right there.”

“Is Godric Gryffindor the one providing your pleasure right now?” He mocked. “No, I don’t think so.”

”Well, then tell me your name, and I’ll scream it as much as you want.”

Locks of mussed hair fell over his forehead as the man shook his head, ignoring her small pout, but soothing the disappointment by giving her something else she’d wanted.

Again, he speared himself nice and deep. And again; and again, until her nails were carving crescents into the muscle of his back and he was whispering streams of filth into her ears between husky groans. Just when she was about to warn him of her rapidly approaching release, he had to go and stop — worst of all, he dragged his length out of her.

“You must be joking,” she panted.

A wicked grin told her she was in for it, and her thighs squeezed together in anticipation as he twirled his finger midair. “Oh, we’re not done. Sit up for me, love, and turn around. That’s it… now put your hands on the headboard.”

When her fingers curled around the solid chunk of wood, the bed dipped and creaked as he came up behind her, chest to spine and fingers curling over hers.

“Make sure you’re holding on tight.” Without warning, he ripped a sharp cry from her throat by driving back into her lonely heat until his hip bones dug into her ass and she swore she could see the night sky in that very room.

“Buggering hell —“ she blurted. This new angle was sure to be the end of her, and he was well aware of it from the delighted chuckle he huffed in her ear.

”You’ve got such a mouth on you for a lady… damned if I don’t love it.” The wizard panted with pride.

He wasn’t taking it easy on her any longer. The sheer force of his thrusts was enough to rock the bed frame against the wall; the thuds as the headboard struck exposed brick likely heard by everyone in the surrounding rooms (not that she had any room to care in her sex addled brain). It was enough to wring every last coherent thought from her, rendering her a shaking, mewling mess and unable to do anything but meet each snap of his hips with her own — while holding on for dear life.

“Oh, yes…” he was on his way to leaving bruises on her hip from the force of his steadying grip, but the sparks of pain only led her to greater pleasure.

Well-attuned to the signs of her mounting release as it threatened to overwhelm her for the third time, he released her hand to reach around and find her clit, abandoning the precision and prowess from before. Those dexterous fingers worked tirelessly, and coupled with the uneven little pants warming her neck between his kisses…

“I know you’re close, love,” he shuddered. “Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

He threw every last bit of his energy into shoving her over the edge; and as his cock prodded that spot inside of her once more, she gave in and fell apart under his hands. Every unbridled, broken sound that tumbled out as she rode through her orgasm was met with an encouraging whimper from the wizard. Just when the last bit of pleasure was wrung from her body, he pulled out with a groan, releasing ropes of warm seed over her backside and spine.

There he rested for a moment. While he caught his breath, the man’s hands traced the shape of her body, slipping in the essence coating her with a proud chuckle. “Evanesco.” he murmured, restoring her skin to its unmarred state.

“Are you…” he gulped in a lungful of sex-scented air. “Are you alright?”

“Brilliant.” She panted, letting go of the headboard to turn and rest her back against it instead. “You?”

It was an understatement, really: all that stress pounding between her temples and tension in her shoulders had disappeared. She felt spectacular.

“Never better.”

He sank back to his knees, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he admired her with a lazy grin. How she wished she could peel the satin from his cheeks to see that smile reach his dark eyes…

“Only wanted to make sure. You were getting quite loud.” The question seemed more taunt than anything.

Walking might prove difficult for the next couple of hours (at the least), and her hair was likely in a right state (along with her marked-up skin), but none of that mattered when the lingering rush instilled her with a rare lightness.

“Is that a complaint?”

“Not at all. I was very much enjoying the sounds you made. Means I did my job well.”

She gave him a playful eye roll, rolling onto her side with the intention of returning to the solace of his arms before she realized — pillow talk and cuddling were sort of an unspoken faux pas when it came to casual encounters. Usually, her or her partners would leave the bed before the sweat had dried on their skin, and for once the expectation felt…lonely.

It truly struck her when he cleared his throat a moment later, gingerly untangling their weakened limbs to climb out of the bed seeking the various items of clothing discarded across the room.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, eyes darting to her before he located his pants. “Water, food..? Anything.”

Though appreciative, she waved his offer away with a quiet laugh. “I’ll be just fine. Though I’m sure I’ll need a hot bath at home.”

Sitting idly in bed while he already had a foot out the door picked at her pride, and so the Auror dragged herself out of it on trembling fawn’s legs. She managed to locate her underthings and slip them on before plucking her gown up from the floor.

“Oh,” a flash of gold caught her eye, and she bent to retrieve his trousers — as well as the shiny pocket watch that had evidently fallen out while they were distracted earlier. “Here, you don’t want to lose this.”

He was dragging his shirt over his bed head when she walked over to return it. She couldn’t help but admire the piece’s subtle artistry; the metal so perfectly preserved with intricate curling ivy etched into the rim of the case. Such a unique design…

So unique that she could easily recall seeing one just like it before.

And it, too, had been monogrammed with the letter S.

If he hadn’t snatched the watch out of her hand before the shock hit, she might have dropped and broken one of the last artifacts of the Sallow family.

Merlin, the irony of her asking for his name to say it in bed when she wanted to scream it in outrage now. And of course he had the audacity to take a step towards her, to soften his wide brown eyes (how had she looked into them and not known) and adopt an innocent frown; the one he had always used before begging for forgiveness.

She took a step back in turn and fixed him with a look that could have frozen the fire in the hearth. It was enough to confirm for him exactly what conclusion she’d reached.

“Blast it all, it is you.” He breathed.

“Sebastian?”

#the fear that just struck me #running away now #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow

85 notes · View notes

whispersofalostsoul · 2 months

Text

RUNAWAY

Summary: Image if Lando Norris has follen in love for the first time….with a woman that he never thought he could fall for… and when his whole world turns upside down, he finds himself alone…once more...

_______________

Chapter2 - Belgium ---https://www.tumblr.com/whispersofalostsoul/757021516150030336/runaway?source=share

Chapter 3- Dinner --- https://www.tumblr.com/whispersofalostsoul/757096323375824896/runaway?source=share

--------------------

Chapter 1 - The encounter

Dalia has always been dreaming of living a beautiful love story since she was a little girl. She believed that finding a man who would truly love her seemed out of reach, thinking she wasn't the type of woman men desired. On the contrary, her sister Sara, who shared her age, mocked the idea of love and indulged in short-lived romances until she met her perfect match effortlessly. Despite not having the same luck in love, Dalia was dedicated to her studies and just secured a prestigious job in London. She chose to focus on her exciting new chapter in life and leave behind the worries of being alone.

"Watch out !" a man on a bicycle shouted as he zoomed past her, struggling to maintain his balance in the heavy rain. Dalia flashed an apologetic smile in response as she made her way to the coffee shop. The London sky had looked promising when she woke up, prompting her to explore the nearby town. However, the sudden downpour had caught her off guard. "I finally understand why English people always complain about the weather," she thought to herself as she entered the deserted coffee shop. The young waiter welcomed her warmly and led her to a cozy table by the window.

Dalia couldn't help but feel a sense of peace as she sat down, watching the raindrops race down the window pane. The cozy atmosphere of the coffee shop was a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of the city. She took a deep breath, savoring the moment of solitude. As she gazed out at the rain-soaked streets, she couldn't help but feel grateful for this unexpected moment of tranquility. Maybe, just maybe, this new chapter in London would bring her more than she had ever hoped for.

As the doorbell chimed for the second time, a new customer entered the room. Dalia's attention shifted back to the menu, where she found herself pleasantly surprised by the array of options available. The choices somehow lifted her spirits, putting her in a cheerful mood. After a brief perusal of the menu, she gestured for the waiter's attention. It was then that she realized the customer was seated at the table across from her. Despite the mask covering his face, his eyes seemed captivated by the rainy town view outside the window. Slowly, he turned his head, almost as if waking from a trance, and locked eyes with Dalia. Caught off guard, she nervously smiled, only to be met with an inscrutable gaze. His reaction remained a mystery, hidden behind the mask that covered his lower face and the dark brown wet curls that partially obscured his upper face.

In that perfect moment, the waiter arrived, saving Dalia from the uncomfortable staring contest. As she opened the menu to place her order, she couldn't shake the feeling of the stranger's eyes on her, heightening her nerves. "Alright, ma'am," the waiter said with a smile, walking away. Suddenly, the stranger stopped the waiter and started ordering from the menu as well. Dalia felt relieved and foolish for thinking the man's gaze was focused on her; he was simply waiting his turn to order. This realization was quickly followed by familiar thoughts that Dalia had struggled with for years. Thoughts like "Why would anyone look at me? I'm not even attractive," or "You're ugly and undesirable, no one would ever want you..." Ironically, the more she listened to these thoughts, the more her nervousness faded, and she found herself becoming more relaxed around men, allowing her to speak without stuttering or feeling anxious, simply because she believed, in that moment, that no man would ever be interested in her. As she nurtured that belief, her anxiety diminished, replaced by a sense of calm.

"Em..Excuse me" She called out politely to the man across from her. With a slight raise of his eyebrows, he looked up, clearly taken aback. "I have something to propose, sir... if it's alright with you, of course." English wasn't her first language, and she was almost in a panic, trying to be as polite as possible. Leaning forward slightly, he seemed to be giving his approval for her to continue. "Um... I was thinking, since we're the only ones in the coffee shop... maybe we could have a meal together. I mean, only if you don't mind..." The idea sounded friendly and endearing in her mind, but as she heard the words leave her mouth, she panicked at how it might sound creepy, like she was trying to flirt with him. He paused, his eyebrows still lifted. During the tense silence, Dalia panicked. Frantically gesturing with her hands, she struggled to explain herself, stumbling over her words, her face flushed as she nearly knocked over the salt and pepper in front of her. As she fidgeted like a startled cat, the stranger rose from his seat, clutching his small black hat, and made his way towards her table.

Dalia was doing her best to compose herself, knowing that she had been the one to invite him over. She couldn't afford for this encounter to become any more awkward. As the stranger took a seat across from her at the small table, Dalia began to notice things about him as if she were seeing him for the first time. The first thing that struck her was his scent - a blend of strong musky male fragrance and a soft sweetness, like the perfect combination of fire and ice. Next, she noticed his physique. Despite his hoodie, she could tell that he was a well-built man. Then, she was captivated by his eyes. They were a mysterious color that seemed to change depending on his movements, the light, or his mood. At that moment, they were a beautiful blend of green and blue. As his cheeks lifted , Dalia realized that he was smiling behind his mask. "I'm sorry," she said, leaning back in her chair, trying to recover from her awkward introduction. "I'm Dalia, nice to meet you," she extended her hand. "Nice to meet you, Dalia," he chuckled and reached for his mask, slowly removing it. "My name is Lando..." his amused laugh became clearer as the cloth finally let his voice breathe. In that moment, nervousness crashed over her like a sudden storm. Her heart raced as she realized who was sitting in front of her. "...Norris," he finished with an amused smile.

Observing her response was a familiar sight for him, accustomed to catching people off guard. Despite not enjoying the constant exposure, he maintained a positive image for his fans. However, the unique reaction of this woman intrigued him. Her embarrassment brought a smile to his face, indicating she was not the typical fan seeking autographs or slipping phone numbers into his pocket. She simply intrigued him. "I assume you're aware of who I am," he chuckled in his well-known playful tone. "You can go back to your table", she exhaled, "excuse me?" he inquired with a mix of laughter and astonishment. "I didn't mean it like that," she gestured disapprovingly, "I just didn't intend to interrupt you..." she finally expressed, despite feeling starstruck. "It's fine, you're not bothering me," he chuckled as the waiter set the food on the table."So you ordered three kinds of cake slices ?" he noticed, " Is this why you called me over ? to help you eat all of this ?" he laughed attempting to ease her into a casual conversation. Dalia's face flushed and responded "I...I was feeling cozy because of the rain, and craved some homemade cake", he shook his head in approval as he was reaching for the first bite.

After a brief pause, Lando broke the silence, "So, what is your profession, Dalia?" "I work in sports content creation." "Interesting," he mused between bites, "Which sports do you create content for?" His eyes showed genuine curiosity as he looked at her. Caught off guard, she hesitated for a moment before admitting quietly, "Formula 1." This confession elicited laughter from Lando, who playfully teased her, "Were you stalking me?" Dalia's flustered reaction only amused him further, causing her to fidget nervously as she tried to explain herself. "I'm curious", he said between bites, " who is your favorite driver?" As he leaned forward. Dalia paused, looking a bit uncomfortable. So he decided to ask another question "Okay, how about your favorite team?" he grinned. She hesitated, looking out the window, before admitting softly, "Mclaren." Lando couldn't help but chuckle, "Ah, so you're definitely keeping tabs on me then!". "I swear I'm not ! This was pure coincidence" she pleaded. Lando realized that his teasing had gone too far and he felt a pang of guilt as he saw the distress in the girl's eyes. He quickly changed the subject and turned his attention to the delicious carrot cake in front of him, hoping to lighten the mood. Dalia, on the other hand, took the opportunity to run her fingers through her hair, a calming gesture to collect herself and regain her composure. After taking a deep breath, she finally allowed herself to relax and enjoy her long-awaited hot chocolate, savoring every sip as she let go of the tension that had built up inside her.

"Have you watched the last weekend Gp ?" He inquired still looking down at the desert.Dalia was well aware of what he was referring to - the Hungarian Grand Prix and all the team drama that unfolded. She responded with a short yes, choosing not to elaborate further. However, Lando persisted, "Do you think I should continue driving for McLaren?". The clinking of a fork interrupted the silence, catching Dalia off guard with his question. She met his gaze, noticing a mix of seriousness and frustration in his expression. "My opinion doesn't matter," she replied, hoping to avoid the conversation. He simply shrugged and leaned back in his chair, "I still want to hear it," he said, softening his tone as he realized he may have unintentionally made her uncomfortable. "well.." she started "In my view, driving for McLaren is definitely the right move." she confidently responded meeting his unmoved expression. The silence from him begged for more details, so she continued, "Your team took a bold yet promising approach a few years back by hiring young staff. While their experience may not be as extensive as other teams, like what happened in the Hungarian GP, there's undeniable progress being made." Lando listened closely, but he couldn't resist glancing out the window to avoid getting too involved in the discussion. Dalia hesitated to speak further, fearing she might upset him. "You know the switch cost me points for my championship," he muttered, unable to contain his frustration. He looked at her, waiting for a response. She apologized, silently agreeing with him. Before he could say anything else, Dalia felt compelled to interject, "You don't have to be ruthless and selfish to become a champion," she blurted out, capturing his attention once again. "I know you think the only way to beat Max is to do it his way," she said in a calm yet slightly doubtful tone. "It's the only way," he responded. "Says who?" she challenged. "Says all the champions before... Max, Lewis, Seb..." he explained, his voice tinged with irritation. "Lewis learned the hard way that losing a teammate isn't worth the championship... it's not the only way," she pleaded. "Maybe you'll be the first one to prove that it's not".

Lando couldn't look away from her, taking a moment to process her words. This wasn't the first time he had encountered such opinion, whether online or in conversations with colleagues. However, what truly captivated him was the sincerity, purity, and optimism reflected in her plea for him to reconsider his beliefs. It was as though she, despite being a stranger, genuinely cared about his well-being. The sudden ring of the phone snapped him out of his thoughts and he glanced at the screen with a chuckle, "Speaking of the devil." It was Oscar on the line, and from their brief exchange, Dalia understood that his teammate was concerned. All she could gather was that Lando had stormed out of a team meeting at the factory, leaving Oscar in a bit of a fix. Despite Lando's attempt to appear calm, it was evident that he didn't want his friend to worry. After wrapping up the call, he put on his black hat, saying, "Well, I should probably get going now." With a smile, he stood up and expressed his gratitude for the lovely meal. Dalia returned the smile, wishing him good luck as he headed towards the door. Just before leaving, he paused and inquired, "By the way, where do you work?" Dalia was taken aback by the question but answered, "Racesports." "Ah, I see," he replied casually, making a mental note. "Cheers," he bid farewell before leaving the coffee shop.

74 notes · View notes