#but like at the same time most looks never look complete without it so??

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 7 - ( c.s )

part six

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- cursing, smut (oral m!receiving)

a/n: part 7 bay beeeee let’s get it, they’re falling yall 😳

@fawnchives @teapartyprincess4two @55sturn @l9vesick @mattinside @sturnioloco @rootbeerworshiper @stonermattsgf @dazednmatthews @chrisactualwife @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @breeloveschris @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @sturnlvrs @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18

the following week and a half are a complete haze. between classes and schoolwork and hanging out with chris, it’s been a whirlwind of both pleasure and stress, but you’re not complaining about it.

it’s the most fun you’ve had with a guy in a minute, the most fun you’ve had with anyone in a minute period.

you catch yourself smiling at your phone in class when he texts you silly things throughout the day, or when he gives you a quick call to tell you something crazy. he’s always insisting that you spend the night at his, just so he can wake up with his chin nuzzled into neck and his arm wrapped around your waist.

after practices he’ll pick you up to go get food, or bring something back for you if he stops on the way home instead. you’ve also been to a few of his games since making up, which depending on the result will usually end in some type of fun new sexual escapade.

he never forgets to kiss you hello and goodbye, is constantly giving you his clothes to wear because they “look better” on you, and he even throws his arm around your shoulder in public without shame.

he’s doing the little things, and you have to admit that you really like it.

ramona and cass have caught on at this point, always shooting you sly grins when you say you’re heading out, or that you have plans. you never even mentioned chris by name in the beginning, but they knew.

and despite prior flukes, they both support you whole-heartedly and are always gushing about how different he’s acting. you try not to read into their theories too much, but sometimes you can’t help but wonder.

why would he be putting in effort on all of these extra gestures if he didn’t truly want something more?

he’s already got the sex, so what else does he need?

but one thing you still haven’t fully learned about chris is that he’s selfish. he needs and wants everything, in almost all aspects of his life aside from his romantic interests. that is, until he met you.

and now that he has you, finally, he wants it all. whenever you’re not with him, he’s thinking about you. sometimes it’s the dirtiest fantasies that he’s just waiting to fulfill, and other times it’s wondering what you had for lunch, or what you dreamed about, or what you’re up to with your friends.

when you are with him, he can’t get enough; your smell, the way your hair feels against his palm, the softness of your lips all over him. he adores when he makes you laugh, when you toss one leg around him before the two of you go to sleep, when you’re standing in the crowd supporting him in his jersey.

he even likes when you scrunch your nose in disgust at him after he hits you with yet another cheesy pickup line.

chris has no idea how to handle the intensity of his feelings, or how to identify them. unbeknownst to him, you’re feeling the exact same.

but everything is still normal as you two lounge on his bed, both enjoying the wind down after a long day. the sun is well below the horizon now and you’ve been watching hockey for the past two hours—shocker. but you can feel chris growing restless beside you, hand stroking your thigh lazily.

“alright, what’s your deal?” you ask after he huffs for the fifth time, even though you know he’s just bored.

he pauses to think about it for a moment, rolling his lips between his teeth. then his eyes go wide and a grin takes over his face as you watch an idea form in his mind.

“wanna play super smash brothers?” chris asks, and you feel your own expression light up at the suggestion.

“oh my god, seriously? i didn’t even know that game was still around.” you gush in excitement.

“lucky for you, i’ve got it on my switch.” he wiggles his eyebrows a few times before he leans over to grab the device off of his nightstand.

you stay silent while he props the screen up on top of the covers, sitting up straighter like he’s preparing for war as he hands you a controller.

though the console is a completely foreign thing to you, you used to be decent when you played on the wii several years ago. you have a feeling the skill will translate.

“are you sure you’re ready? i’m a known pro.” he warns you with a smirk as the game loads.

you shrug, deciding not to boast about your own ability just yet. better to leave it a mystery, just in case you do actually suck.

“your threats are unimpressive.”

“i’d hold the sass, princess. we haven’t even started yet. plus,” he drags the word out for effect as he stares at you with a devious look in his eye, “i have a dare for you.”

a snort escapes before you can help it. “so we’re back in middle school now?”

“c’mon, humor me.”

“alright, let me hear it.” you give in, because you are wondering what he has in store.

“every time i beat you, you have to take off a piece of clothing. and every time i lose, if i ever actually lose, i’ll do the same.” chris explains.

it’s an enticing offer. you pretend to contemplate the challenge, tapping on your chin lightly with your pointer finger as you furrow your brows.

“okay, i’ll take the bait.” you finally say.

you don’t plan on being defeated anyways. he’s underestimating you yet again, and you can also tell that he’s surprised by your answer.

but regardless, he gives you a nod of approval. “very daring, i’m impressed.”

“you'll be even more impressed when i kick your ass.” you tease with a smile, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before you refocus on the task at hand.

“sure i will, now pick your character already.” he prompts, pointing a finger at the screen.

you already know who you’re going to play as, because you used to choose the same fighter pretty much every time. so you use your controls to scroll and select quickly.

“so you’re a kirby girl.” chris notes with a grin, like it makes perfect sense.

“force of habit, i guess.” you respond as you glance down at the switch.

he just shakes his head, clicking on the default stage so that he can get the game ready to go. “that big pink fuck won’t save you now.”

“hey! don’t you dare talk about him like that, he can hear you.” you motion to the screen in offense.

this makes him chuckle, a delightful sound that you’ve come to know and love.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. are you ready?”

you square your shoulders. “prepare to die, chris sturniolo.”

the game begins a moment later, and neither of you are relaxed in his bed anymore. you’re both quite literally on the edge of your seats, fingers frantically jamming at the controllers.

you’re the first to hit him, watching his XP fade just a little bit as a result. he grunts beside you while he continues throwing aimless attacks your way, eyes narrowed in determination.

he’s next to land a big one, which knocks kirby on his ass for a solid few seconds as chris pummels your character. you’re at nearly half of your health before you escape his grasp, so you grit your teeth and keep battling.

but it’s no use. even though you knock him off of the little island, he delivers the final blow a moment later and pikachu wins the first round.

“shit!” you yell as you watch your own fighter die.

chris throws his arms up in victory, already beaming over the fact that you’ll have to be the first to start stripping. you stare at the screen incredulously before you hang your head in shame.

“i think you owe me something, baby.” he chirps happily.

your mind races, trying to find some loophole to save your dignity. then the sides of your mouth turn up just a bit. you reach down to peel your socks off and toss them to the floor, fully smirking now.

chris shakes a finger at you accusingly, though he’s smiling regardless. “that does not count, you little cheater.”

“it totally does. socks are essential to daily life.” you argue.

he licks his lips as he grips his controller once more. “fine, but you don’t have an excuse after this, and puppy eyes won’t get you out of it.”

“sure they won’t.” you reply innocently, giving him a knowing look.

the next round starts up and this time you come out swinging, sending quite a few damaging hits his way. you’re satisfied with the head start, avoiding him by jumping around on the obstacles in the arena.

every time he’s about to strike, you feel him tense up beside you, so you decide to use it to your advantage. you back up as he advances, once again steering clear of any harm.

then you switch up and go on offense again, sending pikachu up into the air with the last strike of the match.

chris groans in disappointment as you let out a brief cheer, nudging him with your shoulder suggestively.

“i think you owe me something, pretty boy.” you mock him, unable to hide how pleased you are.

he just rolls his eyes in response, reaching to grab the collar of his shirt so he can pull it over his head. you honestly weren’t fully prepared yet, and your mouth goes dry as you watch his muscles clench while he shifts to chuck it to the ground.

you can see some of the hickies you gave him scattered across his collarbones, and although you’re a little embarrassed, it’s also a bit of a turn on.

“distracted?” chris taunts.

you narrow your eyes and turn back to the switch. “never.”

the third round commences and you’re feeling far more confident now. he may have a big ego, but he’s not as good as he made himself out to be, so you’ve at least got a chance.

it’s dead even for a moment while you each go punch for punch, bringing your health down quite a bit. you’re completely zoned in until you feel his hand grip your thigh, inching higher and higher rather quickly.

it makes your stomach flip, and you’re forced to look over at him in surprise. in that moment, you know you lost, because chris removes his fingers just as quickly as they were there and goes for the final kill.

he meets your eyes after he’s secured the second win, pure amusement evident in his expression.

“who’s the cheater now, huh?” you shove him lightly, but he just laughs.

“hey, you never said touching was off limits. i was just using my resources.” chris says, clearly deciding to maintain his innocence.

“that’s total horseshit and you know it. you’re lucky i’m a good sport.”

so you tug your own sweatshirt up, throwing it toward the foot of the bed without a second thought. you’re left in your lacey red bra, though it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before anyways.

but when you glance over, there’s a hungry glint in chris’s eyes that lets you know he's just as excited as the first time. his gaze flicks down to your chest, tilting his head forward a bit so his face is closer to yours.

“jesus, that bra is fucking sexy.” his words sound more like a whine than anything else.

you can feel yourself beginning to shake ever so slightly in anticipation, trying to steady your hands by holding your controller.

“don’t say shit like that to me.” oh, but it sounds so delicious.

“i’m sorry.” chris lies breathlessly.

his lips ghost over your cheek, his teeth clamping down on that sweet spot behind your ear a moment later. you let out a small gasp, placing your hands on his warm chest to push him away.

“we’re supposed to be playing.” you remind him quietly.

everything in your body is screaming for him to pin you to the bed, to let him have his way with you, but you won’t let yourself get carried away that easily. not this time.

“damnit, i’m not going to be able to win with you looking like that right beside me.” chris complains.

“sounds like a you problem.” you brush him off and click the button to start the next round.

you can feel your hands sweating as you move kirby around the stage. you know exactly what you’re doing now, walking right into his attacks as if you’re practically begging to die.

the attention chris gave you after you lost last time was intense, and you can only imagine how it’ll go once you take off your pants too.

so, you let yourself lose. pikachu defeats kirby swiftly, and now it’s time to face the consequences.

“you suck at this.” he grins widely after your third loss, clearly content.

but you don’t say anything. you just lay back, lifting your hips up so you can wiggle your sweats down your legs. you kick them off at the foot of the mattress, enjoying the way chris’s eyes go wide as he watches you.

“you’re evil, you know?” his voice is dangerously low as you sit back up, confidence flooding through your veins.

you nod, biting down on your lip to keep yourself from smiling like a cheshire cat. “what are you gonna do about it?”

he opens his mouth like he’s going to tell you, and then changes his mind.

“nothing.”

not the answer you were expecting. you furrow your brows, completely thrown for a loop, when you get your own brilliant idea. an idea he won’t be able to resist, literally and figuratively.

“fine, then i have a game for you.” you say, trying to provoke him.

“i’m listening.” he sounds intrigued.

“let’s see how long you can go without touching me, because i bet you won’t last more than a minute. but i can do whatever i want.” your voice gets sultry at the end as you glance down at his mouth.

chris feels all of the blood rush to his dick just thinking about the dare, already turned on from seeing you in your tiny matching set. he knows he won’t be able to contain himself, but he doesn’t care.

“filthy girl.” he purrs, nodding his head yes.

you watch him situate himself against the pillows, laying so you can roll to your knees and straddle him. his eyes roam your body, lips tilted into a lopsided smile as he relishes the feeling of your silky skin on his.

your hands go to his bare shoulders, steadying yourself as you lean down to give him a brief kiss. you move to his jaw before he can get to into it, taking your time as you finally reach his neck. he spreads his hands out on the comforter, gripping it harshly to prevent himself from giving in.

your hips rock against him agonizingly slow, and you can feel his hard on as you grind your cunt into it. fingers trail down his stomach, raking at the skin lightly.

he’s choking on his breath underneath you, trying so hard not to buck into your movements even though he wants to so bad. you’re careful, leaving open-mouth kisses in new areas in the hopes of giving him more hickies.

chris’s eyes flutter closed, lips parted in bliss as a small whine escapes, and you can tell he’s just itching to truly feel you.

you move your face up so you’re right by his ear, whispering your next words without hesitation.

“come on baby, touch me. i know you want to.”

it’s your first time using the pet name with him, and you can tell by the groan he lets out that it’s enough to send him over the edge.

his hands reach to grip your ass, rocking you against him harder as he gives one side a little slap. chris tilts his head so he can capture your mouth with his for a real kiss, tongue and teeth meshing together beautifully.

when you pull away his lips are glossy and red, which you always love seeing. you shift yourself off of him so your hands can move toward his sweats, fingers dipping below the waistband just slightly as you look up at him for permission.

chris nods eagerly, biting down on his lip and squirming around for any kind of contact. you steady his hips with your hands, clicking your tongue once in distaste.

“you better be patient, or i won’t do a damn thing.” you chide.

“i’ll be good. so good.” he promises, practically pleading with you now.

the neediness ignites a fire in your stomach, so you slowly begin to work his pants and boxers down his legs. his erection bounces free, slapping against his stomach, and you feel your mouth watering just looking at it.

once you’ve officially discarded his clothes, you position yourself between his legs so that you’re eye-level with his cock. he’s already throbbing at the sight, waiting as you spit in your palm and wrap it around the base of his shaft.

chris lets out a moan as you start to move your hand up and down ever so slowly, making sure to tease as much as possible because you know how sensitive he is right now. your run your thumb over his slit, which is leaking with precum, and he trembles in your grasp.

after a moment like this, you finally bring your head down, wrapping your lips around him and swirling your tongue across his tip.

“fuckkk.” he hisses through his teeth, reaching to wrap a hand in your hair messily.

you take as much of him into your mouth as you can, using your hand on the part you can’t reach as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head slightly. your other palm rests on his thigh, steadying yourself as you suck his dick.

“feels amazing.” he praises through a whimper, involuntarily bucking into your throat now.

you can feel him pulling you by the hair, forcing you to take more of him as tears brim your eyes. you know he’s getting close just based on the way he’s beginning to shake, so you pick up your pace a bit.

“shit, baby, just like that.” chris groans, his body shuddering as you work your tongue.

he’s breathing heavy now, head thrown back with his eyes screwed shut, hair messy across his forehead. his grip on you tightens, a dead giveaway that he’s about to come.

“fuck, fuck, i’m—”

you feel him twitch in your mouth, body completely tense as his orgasm spills down your throat. his hand untangles from your hair so you can pull away to swallow, brushing stray strands from your face.

his chest rises and falls heavily as he lays there, riding out the high before he peels his eyes open to look at you through the bleariness.

“you’re incredible.” chris says as he reaches for your hand, pulling you down into bed beside him.

he presses a kiss to your forehead, a gentle touch that you’re not used to, and you feel your stupid little heart melt.

“and you’re getting soft on me, mister tough guy.” you joke, poking his side like you're making a point.

“for you, i think i can live with that.”

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #hockey!au #neighbor au #christopher sturniolo smut

[mo-aiki]

I now love you, is it too late? (Yandere Fiancé x F. Reader)

Summary: Heartbreak and romance are two sides of the same coin. They both deal with love between another. Your heart is broken but you are trying to move on, but someone is preventing you from doing so.

Notes: I never thought that the previous story would blow up like it did. You can read the first part here.

Warning: alcohol consumption, drugging someone, forced love, obsession, stalking, mentions of violence, I don't condone it, I just write it.

The days after his conversation with you, he should had been elated. For the first time in his life, he wasn't bothered by you and your antics. He could finally get work done without you bother him at every corner to come visit him or play with him. For the first few days, he was able to finish everything for once in his life instead of having a pile to do the next day. But overtime, somehow he was dreadfully bored.

His office felt quiet. Almost too quiet. The only sounds he could make out were the papers shuffling, the clock ticking, and the the voices that came in and out of his office.

Also, overtime he had completed work for the month. He was used to working more the next day and having work stacked up to the point that he needed to catch up, that now he has no idea what to do once he finished work for a month or two.

Alaric thought he could read. He has always enjoyed reading in his free time. But once he got to reading, he felt bored once again. He never realized that the books he read were nothing but boring. The books were full of political theory, history of the most boring topics, and informative information.

His lunches were quiet, his dinners were quiet, and his stomach often rumbled when he forgot to eat.

Life felt repetitive, boring, and dull. He was stuck in a routine of eat, work, and sleep. Nothing ever happened.

When (y/n) was here, she would always drag him somewhere, she had wanted to go to. To go shopping, a picnic, a play, an opera, to watch duals, or to eat. He always felt tired after those things, but at least it brought him excitment.

(y/n) often made sure he would eat flavorful foods and her favorite foods, to the point that he knows everything she likes.

(y/n) often made a ruckus in his home. Always talking, calling servant’s, squealing at her romance novels, and chatting with everyone.

'At least the manor was never deadly quiet whenever she was around...' he thought of as he smirked.

Wait. Why is he thinking about her?

He should be happy that she is no longer bugging him as often as she did.

He saw you outside. He was shopping for new cufflinks. His were "getting out of style" his secretary had told him. Maybe it was just a ploy to get him out of the manor, but he still went out nevertheless. He was in a jewelry shop. Unconsciously, he went to the one you often visited. The man knew who he was anyways, so might as well cut to the chase.

"Ah?! Your Grace!"

The man seemed to be looking for (y/n). "Where is Lady (l/n)? Doesn't she often accompany you?"

He just stood quiet for a moment before his secretary popped in. "His Grace is here to get cufflinks."

The man's eyes brighten. "Ah. Lady (l/n) has already thought of that for you. Please wait here Your Grace."

He brought out a box that he had gotten from a certain part of the store. He opened it, and there were square shaped, dark blue jewels, bordered with small diamonds, the metal gold. It looked like it suited him. Very well. She knew his taste well. She knew what he liked.

"If Your Grace does not like it, you can commission another..." said the man selling him the product.

Alaric shook his head. "No, it's perfect."

He signaled at his secretary to give him a generous check in his name as he left the shop, only to find you, looking at the ocean view from across the shop.

Why did it look like you were looking for something?

More importantly, why did it look like you were looking for someone?

You wore a bright dress, your favorite lace gloves, your prettiest sunhat and carried your favorite parasol.

He was confident that he was the only man who has ever had a very close relationship with you, other than acquaintanceship.

Wait, why was he thinking this?

Why should he care if you saw another man. This is an engagement of convenience anyways. There is no point in scrutinizing every man that either comes or came in your life.

But if you were going to be talking to men after him, they better be better than him. He was not going to be beaten by some half-rate man, who has never held a sword in his life, who has never had to train often to live up to your a standard(s), who has never had to deal with the responsibilities of being a duke from the moment he was born, who has not needed attention from you, and who has never lived up to your ideas of love.

He wasn't going to lose to a man who never even knew you like he did.

But he saw you were being accompanied by a maid after his thoughts had raged through his head. He walked closer towards you. He saw you.

Your eyes had seemed like the eyes that often looked his way when he greeted someone. Not like their lively selfs that he was so used to from you. Your eyes always shone brightly when he was in your presence.

Your smile, one of formality, not your genuine one. You smiled the brightest whenever he was around. Anyone could tell with that smile that you loved him.

You looked like any other person he had interacted with. Formal and in-line with etiquette.

Even your speech was formal. It was no longer bright and cheerful. It was no longer, "Alaric! What are you doing here?", it was now, "Pleased to see you, Duke Caius."

"It's pleasant to see you too, Lady (y/n)." he responded back.

You nodded you head while a wave of silence came through. He didn't talk, you didn't talk, both of you were looking at the distance of this port.

'She is rather quiet. Too quiet..." he thought in his head. Often she was the one who started up a conversation.

"I'm very sorry Duke Caius, but I must leave. I am shopping with a friend, and I wouldn't want them to keep on waiting for me, so, please excuse me."

You started walking off slowly, but then he spoke. "Would you like for me to escort you?"

You turned your head. He thought you would be smiling and agreeing to his suggestion immediately, holding his arm in a loving manner and chatting with him the entire way, like you used to do whenever he had brought out that idea.

But you had shook your head. "No, but thank you for your suggestion, Duke Caius. My guard is nearby here anyways."

You walked off as he could only look at you and your maid walking. He didn't even realize that his secretary had came back, as he only chased after you in the same direction.

He saw from a distance, you holding the arm of some man. A dull man. He was mad at that moment, but his anger wasn't towards you, it was towards the man you were with.

You had became more distant with him. Avoiding him at every moment, like he was the plague. Every time he noticed her, she had seem to always step away from him, with every step she had taken, walking away from him instead of towards him like they used to do.

At parties, you would often avoid him, while his arm was being stuck onto by Lady Thompson.

Social events had you talking to the ladies, sparring no time for him.

Outings with no small talk.

Every little thing you had done to distance yourself from him, almost drove him insane. His head now full of questions for your sudden change in personality. In the span of a few weeks, you had all of the sudden became the most formal person on earth, to the point people started questioning the legitimacy of the relationship.

"It seems like they will break up soon..."

"Are we sure they are engaged? Lady (l/n)'s sudden change in personality must mean something..."

"How sad this relationship had to come to. It feels like they are in a married’s quarrel!"

"I heard that Marquis (l/n) is planning on annulling their engagement..."

"Really?!"

These nobles and their chatty lips. These rumors meant nothing. (y/n) would never let something like an annulment happen to them.

He was bewildered. Shocked. Almost appalled with this letter.

He thought that she had delivered a letter to write to him once again, but this time, this letter was from Marquis (l/n).

Dear Duke Caius,

I regret to have informed you, that I am making a selfish and personal decision to annul this engagement between you and my daughter. I have came to this decision after her reaction and my bewilderment at the Royal Ball from 4 months ago, after you had escorted Lady Alina Thompson instead of my daughter.

I could see the heartbreak in her eyes, and as a father, it is painful to constantly see your daughter in constant heartbreak from the very boy you had known since he was young.

When your late father and I had planned this engagement for the both of you, I knew I would have to give up my precious daughter to a man I could trust, not a little boy who has yet to grown up.

You have yet to proven to me that you could be a man I could trust you with my only child, my daughter.

I wish you well and hope you will continue to collaborate and see the (l/n) house positively and as allies.

Sincerely,

Marquis (l/n)

The letter came with the annulment papers with it. He quickly looked through the papers too see your signature on them and your thumb print.

He stood quiet for a minute, before chuckling. "(y/n)...oh (y/n)..."

He felt like ripping the papers to shreds in the very moment.

You were happy for once in your life. You had met someone special to you. Arthur Johnson.

A stableman who engaged in conversation with you when he was working for your family. He always had a kind demeanor. soft spoken, and was often willing to hear you. Despite your age gap with him (being 10 years), his status as a commoner, and his rugged appearance, you felt like for the first time in your life, you had actually met your prince charming.

He took on dates to the crowded places like small festivals and the farmer markets. Your first present from him being a cheap pendent necklace from him.

His personality was well liked by everyone as he seemed to have a good relationship with everyone.

His voice was deep and attractive, smothering your ears and causing you to blush around him whenever he talked.

He always called you 'princess' or 'my lady' whenever out and about with you, causing you to be flustered at such comments.

He had introduced you to his ailing mother. You never felt so bad for anyone. You had offered to help him, but instead he rejected such offers from you. "My lady, you really don't need to help us..."

"Nonsense Arthur! Your mother is sick and-"

He always shook his head. "I do not want to rely on my lady to always help us. Thank you for the idea though."

Elliot was boring.

Gregory was pretentious.

Adonis was suspicious.

Adrian was paranoid.

But Arthur, was a gentleman.

Until you never heard back from him one day.

He had holed up in his manor until something had happened. He had gotten news of you being spotted on dates with other men.

Afterwards he had a reason to leave the manor from this point onwards. You were with a man after man often times. Talking, chatting, flirting, and being brought around with. He had his secretary look at the backgrounds of those men.

Low-ranking noblemen, and sometimes even commoners.

The perfect people to direct his anger at. After all, what are those families and people associated with them, are going to do against the wrath of Duke Caius and the Caius Duchy.

All of the sudden, these men had been riddled with debt and their families in financial ruins.

A son of a baron, tricked by a scammer he had paid for. He had fell for it, meaning he was too naive and not needed for (y/n), who was just as equally naive.

A son of a viscount, conned and arrested for the possession and the selling of forged art. The real artwork, costing millions, and in his own manor. He "might" had hired an artist to help him with it, paying off their own debt and giving them money. He was too irresponsible that he didn't even check to see if the artwork was genuine. (y/n) would had lived a life of cleaning up after him.

Another son of a baron, swallowed by loan debt after taking out loans to do his playboy schemes. He often bought expensive stuff in order to impress the women he was trying to bed with. Where did he get the loans from? He sure doesn't know, does he? He had troubles with infidelity. He will he constantly cheating on (y/n) if Alaric didn't catch it early enough.

A son of an earl, swallowed in gambling debt by him. He had seen him in the casino houses, and he thought why not taunt him. Plus, he paid off the casino house to always make him win no matter what. He was a gambling addict, spending his days holed up and gambling his money away. (y/n) would be left to die on the streets with nothing if she had been with him.

A stableman, in loan debt as well, after he had offered to help him with his ailing mother. But now his mother dead, and the loans still needed to be paid off. Otherwise, he could just kill him and sell his organs to the black market to get all the money back from him. Guess what option he did. He was poor, and poor men don't deserve her love if they cannot give her what she wanted. Plus, he might just brag often about his now, new lifestyle if she were to be with him.

The stableman was the most annoying in his eyes. His last words before he had slain him were, "Protect her for me, please, for this old bachelor..."

All of these men strengthen his point overtime. That he was the perfect man for her.

He is skeptical and less naive.

He is responsible.

He has never had issues with infidelity that he has known of.

He has never been financially irresponsible with money, nor has he gambled.

He has always had the ability to give her everything she has ever wanted.

He came to the eventual conclusion.

No man could replace him.

You felt trapped.

A rumor had spread around about Duke Caius's wedding day coming up. You thought he was just going to get married to Alina, but instead you and your father were summoned by His Majesty.

He was congratulating you and your soon to be wedding day. "Congratulations Lady (l/n)! You must be a happy bride. And you too Marquis (l/n)!"

You and your father were confused, but still acted like everything was normal, until you brought it up. "Excuse me Your Majesty, but who has told you about this. I thought I had wanted it to be a smaller event..."

His Majesty let out a gleeful laugh. "Duke Caius came to me last week, talking about how now he had decided to plan his wedding. I thought it was a splendid idea! And thus I had given him permission to use the chapel. He seemed elated at the idea, and thus was willing to plan the wedding himself."

Your eyes widen as you nodded. Your head blanking out the entire time. 'Isn't that impossible, unless...'

You went running out of the palace, finding a carriage to use to get to the Ducal Manor. You needed an explanation of what was going on.

Once you got there, you immediately asked the butler where he was, only to see Alaric, looking happy to see you as he came down the stairs to the front of the manor.

"(y/n), my bride! You are just in time for your dress fitting."

He snapped his fingers to have the servants taking you somewhere as he followed, you resisting. "Wha-? No! Alaric, I have to ask about something!"

He smiled in front of you. The previous you would had elated and been happy at his smile. But now it felt uncanny. Like something was off.

"You have finally called my name..."

You gasped as the servants kept on dragging you to your dress fitting. His hand over his heart as he looked like a sad puppy all of the sudden. "Do you know what it feels like to be called one name for my whole entire life with such endearment, only for it to be taken away?"

"No! That's why I'm not here! LET GO OF ME!"

He snapped his fingers as the servants let go of you. He walked towards you, as he placed his hand on your cheek. All you could feel was how cold it was. Like it was ice. You looked directly at him. "I am here to ask, why are we getting married?!"

His puppy face came back, as both of his hands cupped you face. "(y/n), I thought this is what you had wanted..."

Your eyes widen as he looked directly at you. "A big fairy tale wedding, your dream dress, your knight in shining armor sweeping you off your feet, true love's first kiss...isn't this what you had wanted all your life?"

This is what you had always wanted, but not like this. Not while Alaric had this sudden shift in personality and when he felt completely different form the Alaric you had knew.

But also, when your feelings for him had wavered like tides in an ocean. "But I thought the annulment had gone through..." you had said to him.

He chuckled, soon going onto full blown laughter. "(y/n), I know you still want to get married to me. So let's have the wedding of your dreams." he said while placing a kiss on your forehead, something you would had blush at, if everything about this wasn't sketchy.

"But! But!"

"No buts. We are getting married in 9 days anyways. Now, let's go to your dress fitting!"

Everything was too sketchy these past 7 days. Alaric had a sudden change in personality. An extreme one in fact. He all of the sudden became loving.

Following you everywhere.

Bringing you onto his lap while he works.

Having picnics with you.

Having tea with you.

Being your dance partner for practicing.

Locking you in his manor and giving you a splendid guest room while at it.

Coming into your room and reading you to sleep.

Increasing security around you.

Feeding you himself, personally.

Disciplining the male servants if they had touched you.

And the most weird one, not leaving your room, even while you slept.

He had changed, but for what? Now all you felt was creeped out by his sudden shift in behavior. Every single little thing done by him almost felt suffocating. Like he so desperately needed you to either be beside him or to in this manor.

You wanted to see your friends again. You wanted to talk to people again. You wanted to see your father again. You wanted to go shopping again. You wanted to see Arthur again. You wanted to do the things you did. You wanted to leave this suffocating manor for once and do something other than being restrained by him.

So you snooped. When he left, you went around his office. Previously, you had always barged into his office, always running your mouth in a tasteless way. But this time, you had avoided his office, unless he dragged you to it to be with him.

You looked around with something on your mind. "He must have the annulment papers somewhere..."

There was a family portrait of him and his father in his office. A portrait must mean that there's something behind it. Touching the frame, you opened up a secret compartment that was full of bank statements. "Elliot Lancaster, Gregory McClain, Adonis Lovesett, Adrian Hill, Arthur Johnson..."

All the men you had been with. The bank statements had shown how their wallets had gone empty in the span of a week or two.

Elliot and his family had gone bankrupt and sent to an island in the north.

Gregory had been charged with forgery and sentenced to 3 years in prison.

Adonis had been bankrupt and charged with assault against a Marquis for mingling with his wife.

Adrian had been cut off from his family due to his gambling addiction, and has now gone further in debt.

And Arthur. The nice man Arthur. His body was never founded when his mother reported him as missing.

Your eyes widened in horror as you looked at the other pages. He had planned it. From the financial debt to killing Arthur and selling his body parts on the black market. Each paper described the reports of the deeds he had done.

Especially for Arthur. His was the most gruesome one. Chopping him up into bits and selling his innards to the black market while dumping the rest to the ocean on Beckett's Beach, where you took your first date with him.

You couldn't help but squat out of fear immediately. Were you responsible for all of these mens' demise?

Would Elliot and his family still be living in the capital in peace if he never met you?

Would Gregory go back to being his artistic and art loving self if he didn't buy from that one painter you had told him to buy from?

Adonis was already kinda shitty.

Would Adrian change if you had stayed with him?

Would Arthur still be alive if you never noticed him?

You didn't know, and that's when you started crying. Your tears fell down rapidly like waterfalls. The papers, the bank statements, the pieces of news, the reports, all of them now wet with your tears on the paper. You couldn't help but feel for them, especially Arthur.

Arthur was now dead, and his mother soon meeting him.

And it felt like it was all your fault.

"We'll always be together, my lady, this old stableman promises."

Crying alone in Alaric's study, you thought about the moments you had with Arthur. They were all going to be a faded memory of the past. If only you weren't so naive and if only you knew.

"Why is my bride crying?"

Your head turned to see Alaric at the door of his study. You gulped as you got up, dusting your dress while at it. "I-it's nothing, Alaric..." you stuttered, trying to hold back your tears.

He came close towards you as he looked at all the papers on the ground and the portrait, open. He chuckled for a bit. "Did you read these?"

You shook your your head. "I just...found them, that’s all. I swear I didn't read them!"

He looked at the papers, then at you. You could tell he knew that you were lying. He always said you were an open book and how you wore your heart on your sleeve. "Don't bother lying (y/n)."

He pointed to the part on which you had stained with your tears. The paper transparent as he put the papers down on his desk, walking closer to you. Each step growing closer, each step he took feeling like he was mad. Each step felt like an eventual punishment for your actions. "Why were you snooping around in my office, (y/n)?"

You answered with the first thing on your mind. "B-because! I just...w-wanted to l-look around, Y-your Grace..."

"I told you..." He gently pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. "Call my Alaric once agin, (y/n)."

His words laced with anger. He was speaking almost like he was threatening you. He looked at the pendent around your neck. Almost like he never noticed it before. Taking the pendent in his fingers, he looked at it obsessively. "Who gave you this necklace, (y/n)?"

You gulped instead of speaking. His hands felt cold when he touched your cheek, looking at you with his angry eyes. "I said, who gave you this necklace, (y/n)?"

"A-Arthur..." you mumbled.

"Who?"

"ARTHUR!" you said even louder before he started laughing hysterically.

"That peasant? Why bother keeping something cheap around your neck. I thought you hated these things?"

You used to, but now this necklace represented Arthur. "I-it's none of your b-business, Alaric!" you yelled out.

"It is my business. Considering you are to be my wife soon, something like this is unacceptable for a Duchess..."

He slowly got closer to your ear. "Especially if it came out that a peasant gave you such a thing...I wonder what would happen to your father...for allowing you to be romantically involved with a man of dirty origins..."

Your eyes widen. "Arthur isn't like that! You don't know him!"

You tried to walk out, only for Alaric to hug you from behind, holding you in a tight grip. You felt like you were losing air by the second once he held onto you. "He's never told you? His mother was apart of a brothel..."

You breath stopped as he whispered more into your ear. "He was the illegitimate son of a noble...people like that deserve to be killed for grasping an ounce of your attention..."

You tried to get out of his grip, but instead he had ripped off the necklace on your neck, letting it fall onto the floor and walking off to his desk, letting you go. You cried as you turned back to look at him. "You-you monster!"

He opened a velvet box with a diamond and sapphire necklace, placing it around your neck, smiling. "My beautiful (y/n)..." He gripped you arms tight, dragging you to the mirror in the study while putting the necklace together, smiling.

"We will be together forever and this necklace, is to symbolize your new life as Duchess."

You only looked at yourself wearing the necklace as Alaric's hands kept you still.

"You can never leave me now..." he said, as he kissed your cheek.

You in your wedding dress as he went out into the hall.

Walking down the aisle with your father.

The flower petals dancing around you.

The songbirds singing their songs.

And your once dream husband at the alter.

"Do you take Duke Caius's hand, in sickness and in health, in wealth and or none, in forever lasting love?

"...I do..."

The final words of your previous life.

A/N: A part 3 for married life or not?

Taglist

@sirenetheblogger @wickedace12 @cyzvx @mel-vaz @blobbythebigblob @loucyberv @nikosovercoat @wintercloudyweather @insomniac1345 @a-living-person @kitcatfullmoon @happy-smiley @springkuinn @sunflower19561904 @hayatslife @oneandonlydice @nanaluvv @imnotabot28 @resident-cryptid @fluffyduckzy @starsdotalk @helloimamistake @pinkwitchdeservesbeingpraised @moyazami @whocaresimnothere @your-average-potato @runawaymf @redchocolate-bunny @sweet-flowering @droaxa @angie2rjebesttt @ersharyzst @lovley-valentine7 @maskedvoyance @xiaopleasecomehome @cynoswife @barbara-228 @uninhibitedsworld-18 @bea-ginner @imsamilol @lithespidy @grassclippingssss @reni502 @forgottendreamer02 @haileybb123 @nourrr123 @strawberrylips-1211 @usagikookiejams @blisyxx @twismare @despuyuh @majestichugs @ayatosneakylink @vivyolite

#yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere x reader #x f reader #yandere childhood friend #yandere duke #yandere duke x reader #yandere #tw yandere

[mrwavellswaps]

Hi, im a scrawny guy studing arts in college, can you make me a hulking lebanese stud with a more interesting life?

I most certainly can! 😏

You’ve just gotten home from a long and slightly boring day at college. I assume you enjoy studying arts but it can drag on at times and that leads to a lot clock watching. And you can’t help feeling the same about your life in general. That it’s just not interesting enough for you. Well that’s where I come in.

You’re sprawled out across your bed and scrolling your phone as you usually would when first arriving home. Only this time I’d be watching you silently. Invisible of course as I peered into your mind and search through it until I found what you desired most. My face twisting into a grin as I point a finger towards you and beam my magic directly into you so it may begin it’s work.

It felt like a bolt of lightning had struck you. A huge flood of energy surging through your entire being. Flowing up and down in rapid succession. You would sit up in confusion while looking down at yourself. You wouldn’t be able to put the strange sensation into words. However your train of thought would be completely smashed when that feeling began concentrating on your chest.

It happened almost instantly. Like an explosion inside your body. Your shirt immediately ripping down the middle as your chest heaved forwards with an unprecedented amount of muscle, forming two huge solid pecs. You could hardly believe your eyes. Never having imagined you’d be able to look down at yourself and see actual pecs! They really were huge! Though before you could even really comprehend what’d just happened, your arms and shoulders ballooned just as swiftly, making sure to destroy whatever was left of your shirt. Going from scrawny noodle arms to enormous bulging biceps and triceps that teemed with strength matched up with a set of cannon ball like shoulders. Even your hands grew bigger and meatier as a result. Yet still no time was wasted as your back proceeded to bulge and widen to compensate for the rest of your upper body.

You got about 20 seconds or so the breath and flex your new muscles curiously before the transformation continued. Unfortunately not even your pants were safe as your skinny stick legs exploded with instant muscle. Blowing your pants apart completely as your grew into massive meaty trunks of power. Gigantic thighs that a scrawny dude like his former self would’ve done anything to have his face smothered between as well as bulky calves that looked the size of footballs. Even your feet grew several sizes to be able to carry all that new size. But even that wasn’t enough as you let out a small grown while your ass ballooned into a perfectly bubbly muscle ass.

Amidst the chaos your body had certainly grown taller as well, but that wasn’t what concerned you. Rather it was the pinching pain in your face as your features began changing. Hair changing colour as your jaw widened. Eyes turning to that of a piercing teal while perfect scruff decorated your face and your lips proceeded to plump up slightly. Your entire heritage and DNA being reworked to become that of a hulking Lebanese stud.

The world around you was starting to blur as you began to feel somewhat light headed. But before you could pass out, there was one final change that had to happened. Suddenly your balls fattened without warning. But what really made you groan was the feeling of your once average cock engorging with newfound length and girth until it reached an almost monstrous size. Bucking and pulsing excitedly as it grew. And the last thing you could remember before passing your was blowing an enormous load all over your chest and stomach before everything faded…

When you awoke however you weren’t in your bedroom at all. Rather you were sat on a lawn chair by a pool you didn’t recognise. You blinked your eyes a little while looking around only to become startled as you looked down at yourself. Your body. You were fucking huge! You couldn’t believe your eyes your rational brain told you that it must’ve all been a dream and yet… it wasn’t. As you flexed your biceps and groped your pecs, all it confirmed was just how real it all felt. Even down to the fat anaconda you called a cock that was stealthily hidden in the large yet still tight shorts you didn’t remember owning. You didn’t know whether to feel afraid, ecstatic or just plain horny.

That when they hit you. The memories of your new life. All of it striking you at once. You were now a famous Lebanese model and actor that was huge on social media with millions of followers across different platforms. You frequently got to travel the world for rolls and fans you met would frequently express how much they looked up to you, adored you or even how much they wanted to be you. And how could you blame them? You were dashing manly hunk in every sense of the phrase. A walking embodiment of testosterone even. And better yet you were of course still openly gay and always helped to support the LGBT community with your extraordinary reach and influence. And as a side effect, other gay dudes practically threw themselves at you left and right.

And now you were sat by the pool at a 5 star Spa Hotel! One of the many you got to stay at while shooting for a new movie. So just sit back, relax and let that hulking body of yours absorb some rays from the sun. Enjoy your new life and status. Though I have a feeling you’d be far too excited by your new body to sit still for long. No doubt you’ll be heading back to your Hotel room soon enough so you can peel off those tight shirts and get a good long look at the new you. Exploring every last inch of muscle until you’ve bust so many loads you can hardly stand.

I can only hope I’ve fulfilled your wish in granting you a more interesting life.

#asks #male transformation #male muscle growth #musclegrowth #muscle worship #male tf #permanent #magic #jock #mr wavell #cock growth #ass growth #racial change #race change

[sstarmoon]

There were only three people that Regulus had let see the most vulnerable and weakest part of him; Sirius, James and Remus.

— Remus was his best friend, the person he trusts completely. With whom he could spend hours and hours reading in silence and would never get tired or feel uncomfortable. Regulus knew that he could tell Remus anything. That he was, in some way, his platonic soulmate. Remus was the person with whom he could be completely calm, the person with whom he understood without having to speak.

When he looked at Remus he couldn't help but see himself; a different version of him. And Regulus couldn't help but smile when thinking about that. He really loved Remus, he was a very important person in his life. He would risk anything for him.

— Sirius was his brother, the person he loves most in the world, the person who was there for him since he was born. Regulus loved Sirius in a way that no one could understand, only they knew how much they needed each other. If Sirius, for some reason, stopped being there for Regulus; a very large part of him would be empty, dead. It was a connection, a bond, a type of love that only brothers share.

By blood or heart, whatever; they were stars of the same constellation. Children of the same mother. Victims of a shared pain.

And Regulus needed his big brother so much. His care, his comfort. Cry in his arms and know that everything was going to be okay, that his big brother was there for him. Regulus could be small, weak child who cried and trembled in his older brother's arms, paralyzed with fear; or an lost, scared adult, fearing like a little child, and yet he would always feel protected in Sirius' arms. Because Sirius had seen the worst and the best of him, and he still was proud of his little brother.

And even if for a period of time he couldn't say it, even if for a period of his life was hard to admit it, Sirius would give his life for his baby brother. And Regulus loved Sirius so, so much. Regulus wouldn't be the person he is if it weren't for his big brother.

— James was the love of his life, his soulmate. Regulus lives for him and would die for him. James was his everything. He adored every part of James as if he were the most beautiful thing in the world, and he was.

Every time he looked into James' dark brown eyes he couldn't help but think about how the man in front of him had no idea how much he loved him.

It was cute to know that James thought exactly the same.

But even if James told him a thousand times that he loved him with all his being, Regulus would never believe him. Not completely, at least. Because Regulus would never believe that James could love him as much as he loved him, because what Regulus felt was so strong that it was almost painful.

There was no human way, no words enough, no actions possible that could show how much Regulus loved that man.

James was the sun to his star, the day to his night.

Regulus never knew what it was like to feel loved, complete, before he met James. And sometimes it was frustrating not having the words to say it. An I love you was not enough, an I love you was nothing compared to what Regulus felt.

Sometimes Regulus just wanted to grab James' face and scream, because jeez, he loved him so much that it crossed the line to the opposite side. He sometimes wanted to punch his stupid, handsome face for forcing him to love him more than anyone could love.

James was an idiot, and god, Regulus loved him so much that he cried once a month thinking about it. Regulus loved him so much he fucking hated him, because, how could an idiot like James Potter make his whole world his?

Everyone revolved around the sun, no one could avoid it. It was so bright and warm, gravity was pulling them towards it.

But Regulus was completely his.

James didn't know the power he had over Regulus and sometimes he scared himself thinking about how much control James had over his emotions.

James Fleamont Potter had no idea that he had next to him an idiot who would die and kill in each one of his lives to spend just one with him.

And Regulus had no idea that James would tear his heart out of his chest and hand it to his worst enemy if it meant he could see Regulus' beautiful eyes looking back at his one more day.

#damn #𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔⋆ #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #regulus black #regulus #regulus black headcanon #regulus black headcanons #regulus black hc #regulus headcanon #sirius and regulus #trans regulus black #james potter #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter headcanon #james fleamont potter #sirius black #sirius black headcanon #remus lupin #remus lupin headcanons #jegulus headcanons #jegulus headcanon #james loves regulus #marauders #marauders era #marauders headcanon #moonwater #platonic moonwater

[pinkpkmntrainer]

i did it. i fucking did it. abstragedy be upon you all. finally.

***********

Zooble watched from a distance as the ringmaster shoved everyone into the portal that had just appeared. They had decided to opt out of today’s adventure, so it was just them in the circus for today. Which they didn’t mind at all, in fact, they were happy to have alone time. It gave them a chance to think clearly without any interruption from any crazy people.

“Zooble, my dear!” Caine shouted as he teleported directly in front of them out of nowhere. Ugh. Speaking of crazy people…

“Don’t call me that.” they grumbled. “I’m not your dear.”

“Right, my apologies!” the dentures replied. “But since everyone else is over at the Candy Canyon Kingdom, I was thinking that maybe you, me, and Bubble could-”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“...Ooookay. That’s a no, then. So, um…in that case, I guess you can just do whatever you want.” And with that, he was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

Zooble rolled their eyes as they began to wander aimlessly. Why was it that they could never seem to catch a break? Oh well, at least now they had a bit of time to themselves. Hopefully Caine wouldn’t bother them again. It wasn’t long before their thoughts began to wander as well.

They recalled the events of the previous day, where they were kidnapped by the Gloinks and fed to their queen. They remembered the look of fear and worry on Gangle's face when they were carried off. And they remembered how, when Kinger had failed to grab them with his floating hands, they thought “If only Gangle was the one saving me”. She would've known what she was doing, plus they would've gotten to be held gently by her...

…Huh. Weird.

Brushing away those thoughts, they started to look around the giant main room. There wasn't really anything new to see, but there were things to notice. Like the dark red color of the curtains that hung over the stage, and how it reminded them of Gangle's red ribbon body. There was something so cute about the way it would wrap around you completely when she hugged you, and-

Zooble suddenly realized what they were doing, and patted their own face, bringing themselves back to reality. They just couldn't seem to focus today…

They tried to lean on one of the gigantic blocks in the room like it was a wall, but they unexpectedly slipped and hit the floor with a hard thud. Luckily there wasn't anyone around to see their embarrassing little tumble, but as they lay there shocked, they thought about all the times they saw Gangle trip and fall. Her body was so flimsy, it wasn't a surprise that it happened often. But no matter what, she always managed to get up again, which was something to be admired. And sometimes when they helped her up, she’d thank them and they’d feel all warm and fuzzy-

Zooble sat up in a panic and tapped the heel of their hand against their forehead, as if trying to shake the thoughts out of their brain. Why were they thinking like this? What was happening? 

They stood up frantically and began to walk in the direction of the hallway where everyone’s rooms were. They were supposed to go to their room, but their mind was so plagued with thoughts of Gangle, they accidentally walked to her room instead, which only made them feel worse. They slammed their forearms against the door and groaned in frustration. The door just swung open and they fell again. Zooble was feeling awful by this point, the thoughts were nice and all, but they had no idea why they were thinking these things and it was scaring the $&*! out of them. They eventually sat up and took in the sight of Gangle’s room. 

Most of the decor and furniture was in the same range of colors as Gangle herself; dark red and white shades, though things like the bedframe, wardrobe and vanity were all made of dark brown wood. Every surface was covered in craft supplies, plushies, manga, and other such things. Despite the clutter, the room was pleasant and cozy.

As if by instinct, Zooble stepped into the room and started to look around. They weren’t trying to snoop or anything, it was just that being in the room made them feel closer to the ribbon girl…if that made any sense. They eventually settled themselves into a corner, next to a box of art stuff. It was peaceful, sitting there in Gangle’s room. They sighed with relief, not feeling quite so lonely anymore. The mix-and-match toy felt like they might even fall asleep like this…

“ZOOBLE!!”

Zooble lept in place, startled by the sudden yell. Of course Caine had to ruin this for them.

“Caine, what the #&*%!?!?”

“Apologies, my mismatched pal! I simply wanted to check on you! And you had me worried for a while, I couldn’t find you anywhere!” He looked around the room with a puzzled expression. “...Why are you in Gangle’s room??”

Zooble felt their breath snag in their throat. He probably thought they were a creep or something. And they couldn’t blame him.

“...I don’t have a good answer to that question.”

Caine frowned at them. Or at least, they thought it was a frown. “What’s the matter? Are you feeling a little bit of FOMO about today’s adventure?” he inquired. Zooble would’ve laughed at his choice of words if they weren’t so lost in thought still.

“I’m fine, just lonely is all.”

“Lonely? Well, we simply can’t have that! Perhaps I could spawn in an NPC for you to talk to? Or you could hang out with me and Bubble! My offer still stands!”

Zooble drew in a sharp inhale, unsure of how to explain everything to the ringmaster.

“It's a bit more complicated than that. The truth is, I…miss someone.”

“Miss someone?” Caine was confused. His gaze wandered the room briefly, and when he looked at the portrait on the open door, it all suddenly made sense. A soft, sympathetic look faded onto his face, and he lowered himself to the ground, seating himself next to Zooble.

“…You miss Gangle?”

Zooble was surprised he got it so quickly, but nodded. They looked down at the box they were seated next to, their eyes falling on a roll of red satin ribbon. They picked it up and started to slowly wrap it around their hand. It felt almost exactly like they imagined it would feel to hold hands with Gangle…they felt their face grow warmer at the thought. They suddenly became aware of Caine mumbling something, but they couldn’t quite hear him. “What?”

“I’m sure she misses you too.”

Zooble blushed at the kind statement. “Oh…thanks.” They were silent for a long moment, then yawned and leaned on the box a little more. In their drowsy state, they didn’t even notice when Caine tiptoed out of the room and shut the door behind him. It only took a moment for them to fall into a deep sleep.

Gangle tumbled out of the portal back into the main room of the circus, clutching the shattered pieces of her comedy mask as tightly as she could. As she and everyone else stood up and grumbled, Caine appeared in front of them and did his usual greeting, with all the same sickly sweet enthusiasm.

“Welcome back, superstars! I trust you all had a fun time at the Candy Canyon Kingdom?”

The sound of groaning and complaining arose from the group, which the ringmaster ignored as usual. But after he presented the performers with their reward, his jaw curled into a grin as he drifted towards Gangle, and simply said:

“Someone’s waiting for you.”

Gangle had no idea what he meant by that. She allowed him to lead her to her room, where he swung the door open to reveal…Zooble? To her surprise, the mix-and-match character was sitting in the corner of her room, fast asleep, with a bunch of satin ribbon wrapped around their hand. Her initial look of shock quickly turned into a soft smile as she stepped closer and sat down next to them.

“Have they been waiting here the whole time?” she asked, her eyes still fixed on Zooble’s sleeping face. Caine grinned cheerfully as he answered her question. “Indeed they have! I must say, you have a good friend on your hands!”

“Yeah. A good friend.” she mumbled to herself. She leaned in and planted a kiss on the sharp corner of Zooble's triangular head, a faint pink blush appearing on her porcelain cheeks. Caine's jaw curled into another wide grin as he shut the door. It was just the two of them now. A girl made of ribbons and a mix-and-match toy…

Both of them, hopelessly in love.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #fanfic #fanfiction #gangle x zooble #zooble x gangle #abstragedy #tadc gangle #tadc zooble #tadc caine #zooble tadc #gangle tadc

[armpirate]

Soundleasure | Choi San || CH. 16

Pairings: Soft!San x fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, fake dating

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, online sex, ghosting

Warnings: inexperienced!San, fem!reader, masturbation, online sex, camboy, first times.

Summary: You can do whatever you please and be whoever you want on the Internet. And San knew that a little bit too well.

After finally following all the signs the universe was throwing at him, he started living a double life that no one was aware of. Everyone in his daily life knew him as Choi San, the reserved and quiet boy who wouldn't raise his voice, and would barely communicate with anyone outside of his comfort group. But only a few knew him as Soundleasure, the man with a sexy voice and a filthy mind that had their toes curling just with his narrations.

He never thought of the possibility of those two lives ever meeting, he had always tried for them to follow a parallel route and had always played safe to keep his friends from ever suspecting that side even existed. But his plans will start to crumble when he gets a little too close with one of his subscribers and she invades his real-self and altergo's universes without being able to stop it.

Y/n will not only help him to keep his secret from his circle, but will also show him there's more of Soundleasure in him than he'd like to admit. 

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 23 minutes

San brushed his hands together, trying to get himself ready as he walked a bit faster when the Maps app warned him that he was closer to his destination through his earphones. Superstar by Jamelia blasted his ears as he slowly pictured Y/n in his head. He listened casually to that song on the radio the other day and he couldn't help but think of her, because the lyrics just fitted her so well. She attracted everyone in a room so effortlessly, it was almost as if she was born with it.

The music seemed to fade-out slowly as he found that route familiar for some reason.

He recognized that old banner of one of the restaurants in the area, that he used to go to whenever he met up with his father close to his workplace. It only took him a few more steps to know why he thought he knew that street so well. Classic Cruise headquarters were at the other side of the street, with that wide three floor building taking most of the space in that block. He knew that restaurant because he usually went there when his father had to double his shift for some reason.

He could only hope Y/n wasn't working there, but the location she sent him marked exactly that place as he took his phone out of the belly pocket in his black sweater.

His steps turned slower as he tried to think of how his life turned a whole different turn after his father was dumped from that company, with no other explanation other than production requiring less people to work on certain projects. That company still stayed the same, while the rest of the people that were kicked out had to completely change their way of living, only because the man in power didn't know how to handle his own business properly. And relating it to one of the things that Y/n mentioned, that man didn't change a single bit.

He was about to turn on his tracks, and change his destination again, but he thought about her. Y/n was completely different from that. Of course she came from a rich family, of course she had enough money to cut up her salary to save someone else's position, but how many people in that same situation would've done the same?

He was there for her, he wanted to see her. She was a mere agent when all that blew out, and she had no fault in the way her father managed his business. She was better than all that, and she had proved it time and time again since they talked for the first time.

As he stepped inside the big building, he met up with a tall man with a nice haircut and a trimmed beard waiting behind the counter, looking up to him over his glasses.

—Hey, I'm here to meet Y/n —he nervously informed.

—Miss Y/s, you mean?

He held back that inner huff when the man felt like correcting him. He understood him, so what was exactly the point of calling her by her username?

—Yeah, miss Y/s —San confirmed.

—May I know who's looking for her?

—Choi San —he slowly introduced himself.

—Hold on a second.

The man left him waiting, with both of his hands hanging nervously over the edge of the white counter, while the suited receptionist grabbed the phone to confirm whether she was waiting for a visit or not.

—Her secretary said there's no one under the name of Choi San on her schedule. Would you like to arrange a meeting for tomorrow, instead?

—No, look...

While raising up his finger, the man interrupted him again, paying attention to the person he was talking to on the phone rather than what he had to say.

—Yes, miss Y/s. I'll give him a badge right now —his tone completely changed as he realized Y/n was the one speaking to him at that moment.

A few minutes went by while the receptionist tried to get the badge machine to start working, until the clacking sound of heels interrupted the silent noise of the machine. He looked up curiously, finding Y/n dressed in a black tight knitted dress. Her presence instantly made the receptionist turn to her and stand straight.

She genuinely didn't care about John not letting San walk through easily, because that was exactly the point of his job. He made the first filter that assured the security of the company and those inside. That was why she didn't think of saying anything to him when she saw San at the other side of the counter.

—You should've told me you were here —she said—. Did you make the badge already? —Y/n turned to John, who shook his head.

—The machine was getting started.

—Jennifer prepared a permanent badge half an hour ago, so it should be fine —she told him—. I think Charlotte saved it somewhere with a note with my name.

—Oh, yeah. Here it is.

His colleague had saved it under the computer monitor, without telling him what it was actually about. He handed it over to San, who hung it around his neck as he started walking towards Y/n.

—Also, a new task: any bucket coming for me, feel free to send them all back. Inform Charlotte as well about it. Let's see if that person takes the hint.

After talking, she turned again to San, moving her head to encourage him to walk with her towards the stairs.

—Do you have a secret fan? —he asked first.

—More like a secret creep —she sighed—. I don't know who it is, but I have enough with worrying about everything going on in my life and the company to worry about a clown trying to tease me.

—To tease you? —San asked, confused.

—If that person was dangerous, they'd have tried something else than sending flowers with weird notes —she tried to play it cool—. If those flowers don't ever get to me, they'll end up giving up. By the way —she stopped before reaching the last step—, were you busy when I texted you?

Other than lamenting his clumsy mouth, there was nothing more interesting going on with him that morning.

—No, no.

—You didn't go to class today? —her eyebrow raised.

Through all those late night conversations they had since they met, Y/n was sure he didn't mention a single time missing a class.

—Huh? —his eyes moved from the metallic railing to his shoes, going back to her— Well...

—Was it because of yesterday? —Y/n asked again.

Was he so easy to read? She only had to dedicate one look at him to be able to tell what was wrong with him?

—I shouldn't have asked you to go for that drink —the click of her tongue interrupted his thoughts—. I didn't remember you had to be in class today.

At least that's better than having her knowing he spent the whole morning in bed, whining because of the big idiot he was.

San was confused at how she acted like that kiss never happened. She was so chill and calm, talking to him like she hadn't left his text unanswered for a whole morning, until she felt forced to speak to him; it was almost as if she was confirming what he suspected. While Y/n was doing her best at keeping her doubts and thoughts to herself. Whether she wanted to discuss it or not, she wasn't going to be the one forcing a justification out of him. She was convinced dealing with all of it was already hard enough for him to be making it even more difficult.

—Let's go to my office.

The second they both entered the common area, most of the eyes instantly turned to them. It was like they had a big spotlight pointing at them, with a neon light announcing they'd be walking through the hallways towards the office she worked in.

From behind, and fighting his inner need to look at the way her hips swayed with grace, he managed to notice how her head was raised up, letting her neck adopt the perfect straight posture. And suddenly she felt so distant and intimidating, that he even wondered if it was right to follow her up -despite her inviting him inside.

In the middle of his own anxiety levels increasing, and the fog of judgment from those around him clouded his mind, San tried to focus on what it first pushed him to text Y/n and meet up with her.

He needed to let go of all those thoughts, he wanted Y/n to know that what he said wasn't exactly what he meant. And, for that, he tried to remember Wooyoung's advice earlier that morning.

—Okay, you don't want to talk about it, but I will —the door closing behind them seemed to hit a button, having him put an end to the silence as he tried to get an explanation out of her—. I know the kiss was awful. I bet you're trying to erase it from your memory, and I can't blame you.

Y/n was surprised by how sudden he sounded out of nowhere, focused on his discourse to the point of completely forgetting about his shy aura that usually kept him from discussing things like that.

—When I said I was sorry for kissing you, I meant that I was sorry for putting you through such an uncomfortable situation for a kiss that wasn't worth it. I didn't mean that I didn't like kissing you, because I did like kissing you. It was my first kiss, and possibly the best kiss I'll ever have. But I know it wasn't your first kiss, and possibly you've had way better kisses...

Y/n pressed her lips together, trying to hold back her smile as she listened to his rant, where he barely paused to breathe. She was worried he'd act like it never happened if she didn't mention it, only for San to blow it all out while deeply looking into her eyes.

The lack of air in his lungs started to show off on the marked veins of his neck, and the way his words sounded drowned and forced as his speech went on. She could only think of one way to keep him from passing out at any moment. Holding his cheeks, she took one step towards him and linked their lips together on a soft peck that kept all the remaining words stuck in his throat.

His eyes instantly closed at the gentle touch of her lips on his, letting himself go by how intimidating and warm it felt. He moved his lips first, sucking on her lower lip to deepen the kiss. Although his muscles didn't take long to tense, making his body stiff again, when he was drowned back to the reality that that wasn't the best place to do things like those.

She looked up at him confused as San moved back, breaking the kiss.

—What...?

As she looked down to one of his hands, she noticed his index finger pointing behind her to the people that were pretending to be back to work as soon as she moved to look over her shoulder.

Those damned glass walls.

When she looked back at San, she could notice a soft blush forming on the upper part of his cheeks.

—Why so red? —she giggled.

—I'm not —he shyly smiled, looking down as he touched his face to feel the warmer spots against the reverse of his digits.

—So you were actually worried about me not liking the kiss?

As she walked past him, she could feel his senses completely neutralized by the sweet scent that radiated from her. Her eyes were comprehensive as he followed her gaze, but her pose was so tempting while supporting the weight of her body on the edge of her desk.

—Yeah.

—Why?

—Why? —he frowned at her question, trying to think of an answer.

—Just be honest. I want to know why you thought like that —she shrugged.

—I was nervous, I let myself go with the impulse although I wasn't ready for it. I mean —he closed his eyes momentarily to settle his thoughts—, I was ready, but I wasn't ready to be at your level.

—My level? —she scoffed.

—You kiss so well, and I just... I just looked like a fish flopping around.

—San, it was your first kiss, what did you think I expected? —although she tried to hold back those giggles, all efforts were in vain— We aren't born and know how to do those things. It's something that needs practice. Like the way you express yourself through texts —she joked—. I thought all morning that you regretted it.

—No. Of course not. I just thought you were disappointed last night.

—Oh, you should also improve those body language readings as well —she mumbled, grimacing at his words—. Wait, is it because I kissed you on the cheek instead of the lips when I dropped you off?

And San finally saw some sense in the way he overreacted. Of course it was that. The first thought that crossed his mind as soon as he laid on the bed was that, if she had liked the kiss, she'd have kissed him back in the car, instead of going for his cheek.

—San —she whined, face palming her forehead—. Okay. Let's be direct with each other from now on, and I'll start by making it clear for you: I liked it, a lot. Because it was you. No disappointments, no regrets. I just kissed you on the cheek because it felt less invasive. I know you're shy, and I thought that maybe a goodbye kiss on the lips would've made you uncomfortable.

If she was already his ideal woman through texts, meeting her in real life made him believe he had won the lottery. She respected his space and rhythm, and she tried to adapt to his pace. She was clear and comprehensive with him, and it actually made him wonder how many others would be so lucky to meet someone like that.

—Is that so? —his lips puckered while the corners lifted slightly.

Y/n scoffed again, shaking her head in disbelief at how easily it was for Sun to get flustered at the same time his cheeks lighted up again.

—Quit that smile —she pointed at him—. Look at how fast we would've solved things out if you just had called me last night with this.

San nodded, but he still smiled through his efforts to keep a straight face.

—Was this why you wanted to meet up?

—Yeah. Also —he scratched his nape—, one of my friends' girlfriends is planning a trip to Cape Cod this weekend, and they wanted you to join. I know we said we wouldn't do it again —he tried to be careful with his words—, but Meghan, she's Yeosang's girlfriend by the way —he added, as if that extra information was needed—, thought it'd be a good idea to have you there, too.

—Yeah, about that... —Y/n started— I need a favor from you.

—Hmm?

—We're planning an event, and I kinda said you'd come with me —she shrugged as she innocently smiled.

—An event?

—I'm sorry, I just got carried on by the asshole of Tim, and said you'd attend with me. It's okay, you don't have to do that. I know last time was too much.

—No, I can do that —he nodded—. I can do that if you want me to be there.

—Are you sure?

Last time it was more lighthearted than what those events tended to be, and she knew the pressure that San already was on during that barbeque.

—I'll just prepare better for my role as an engineer in Vancouver. There will be no flaws this time —he chuckled—. Would you... I mean, just if you want... Do you want us to have dinner together?

Y/n then realized the time it was. It was still early to have dinner, but she didn't want him to go so early. He came all the way from his house to her office just because she told him to meet up.

—Can you hang on for thirty minutes? I need to finish up some documents.

When she first told him to meet up, her schedule was completely clear. But suddenly her email was flooded with requests of reports that needed to be handed before she left.

—Yeah, sure —he nodded, walking around nervously.

As she tapped on her computer, her eyes went up to him, smiling while he wandered around the room with his hands inside the pockets of his jeans. It was impressive how any style suited him, to the point of having her gushing over him. Until his clumsiness kicked in. His face grimaced, momentarily scared, when he almost dropped something from the shelf that was over the couch, making her silently laugh as she focused back on the screen.

San's eyes uncontrollably fell on her every few seconds, moving away quickly before she could notice it, but enough to appreciate how delicate her features seemed whenever she was concentrating on something.

They were playing tag with one another, until their eyes coincidentally moved to each other at the same time, ending with both of them moving their gazes away while smiling.

Two knocks on her door broke all that silly game, having her aiming her eyes at her father stepping inside her office.

—Am I bothering you?

—Hmm no —she shook her head.

—I'll be leaving earlier today, so just send those reports to the head of administration, and put me on cc —he explained—. Your mother prepared me roasted ribs.

And right when he was about to start salivating, he found San looking curiously at them after looking around his daughter's office.

—Oh, San. I didn't know you were here.

Harry walked over to him to greet him, but somehow it felt different to the other two times. Anxiety and nervousness were replaced by some type of distrust and discomfort that Y/n couldn't ignore. It was different from the other times, where he was visibly nervous by the situation itself. Now it clearly seemed like his discomfort was due to her father.

—Do you want to come over for dinner?

—Actually —Y/n interrupted, before San felt forced to reject the offer—, we already had plans.

—Okay, then —he greeted, heading to the door—. Have fun —he winked at his daughter one last time before stepping out of the office.

Y/n saw San sitting again on the couch, slowly going back to his calm and relaxed persona whenever he was around her. Although she wasn't going to ask him about it right in that moment, it was something to leave it better when they were in a more intimate space.

***

He took the bag with food from her hand so she'd be able to reach for her keys, earning a sweet smile from her before she started walking to her door again. He waited for her to step inside first, despite knowing the way inside her house after being there before.

—Do you mind if I get changed? —she turned to him, getting San to slowly shake his head— You can sit wherever you want: the dinner table, the couch... up to you.

And just like she told him, he did. San looked around first, trying to choose the right place, and ended up walking towards the coffee table in front of her long couch. Not shortly after she was back with him, wearing a pair of baggy pants and an oversized t-shirt, whose edge danced on her lap when she happily trotted to where he was.

—Are you hungry? —he chuckled.

—Very —she sat next to him—. I ate earlier today because I had a meeting at my usual lunch time. I could've gone later, but it sits wrong with my body whenever I do. It's weird.

—I've only had a plate of pasta before going to the gym —he commented, taking the food out of the bags.

—Oh, so you went to the gym —she asked, picking one of her french fries—. Did you do it on purpose before coming to see me?

San instantly had that nervous expression again, moving his lips to speak, but without a single word coming out of them.

—What did you do? —Y/n asked, smiling maliciously while ignoring her own teasing.

—It was back and arms day.

—I can't believe you don't get hit on there —Y/n mentioned, biting on her burger.

—I do —he nodded—. I mean, it's not something that happens every day, but it's happened. Let's just say you need a Doctorate in patience with me —he mumbled, unwrapping his burger.

—What are you talking about? It's not that bad —she assured him—. With a Bachelor's degree it's alright —Y/n stopped to change the tone again—. I don't think it's that bad.

—Because you're different —San reached for a napkin when he spotted the bit of mayonnaise in the corner of her lips—. You'd see the weirdest thing, and you'd still find its positive side.

While he was right, he was missing something important, and it was how powerful his aura was despite him not being aware of it. And it was there again, as he leaned over her a bit to clean off her mouth while looking directly at it, her whole body froze for him, and he still believed he didn't have that power.

—Maybe the one who doesn't have good eyesight it's you —he replied back —. I only pay attention to things that are worth it. So if that weird thing got my attention at first, it's good enough already. If I think it's cute, then it's over the top. So do with that information what you want —as she was to look out for ketchup, her tongue clicked when she didn't find any—. They didn't add ketchup.

—Do you have?

—Yeah, in the fridge.

She remembered it's one of the few things she had there specifically because of that.

Y/n was going to stop him, but San was already midway when she realized. She paid for the food, and made extra effort to make him feel comfortable. The least he could do was try hard to make her feel better.

As he opened the fridge, he first looked for the sauce, but his eyes got stuck in the small boxes he only managed to see from afar. It looked like some type of medication, although he couldn't really tell what it was by its name alone. He went back to her quickly though, trying to remember the name as he grabbed the bottle, with the thought of searching it up later.

—Thank you —she smiled widely at him—. I was thinking... Earlier this afternoon, you looked so serious when seeing my dad, did something happen?

Of course he was so obvious that Y/n could tell. He completely forgot she was an ace while reading people's body language.

—I was just nervous.

—Still?

—Because of a man that could end me with a snap of a finger? Yes —he lied.

—And you think I'd allow him to do that to you? —she challenged him, taking one french fry with ketchup on its tip to her lips.

—Are you my guardian? —he laughed.

—Of course I am! You look tough and big, and you're way taller, but I'll protect you.

Being around Y/n was always a good experience for San. Although he didn't know her for long, she always managed to make him feel in a safe place, like he was with anyone else from his group of friends.

It could be that they didn't have a lot of things in common, but they always managed to build a long conversation around those topics. And, even if it wasn't about one of their mutual interests, they both made it seem like it was. It was all so fluid and easy, that both of them felt like they were back to when they started speaking through long phone calls. It was all that again, but better because he was able to see the way her eyes lit up and she was able to appreciate the way his dimples deepened as his smile got wider.

—And I remember my dad told me to just stop taking taekwondo lessons. He was the one who encouraged me to go, until I broke someone's nose.

—I bet that little shit deserved it —she shook her head.

—A little bit, yeah.

Y/n found him attractive already, but nothing beated the way he looked when he was just being himself, completely relaxed and talkative. Not only because he radiated confidence like that, but it was also precious for her. He wasn't the type to be open like that with a lot of people, but he was like that with her. And it made her think how all that patience was completely worth it if she was going to see him like that.

—What? —he smiled shyly, noticing the way her eyes scanned all over his face.

—We said we would be honest and direct with each other, right?

San nodded, unsure of where that comment was coming from.

—I really want to kiss you right now —she admitted.

—I want to be really honest, too. I'm dying to kiss you, too.

Her fingers caressing the pecks on his neck, combined with that happy smile, made some part of his brain tickle, and he was ready to deal with that sensation increasing its feeling.

Her lips felt so addictive the two times she kissed him, but it didn't feel like that night. Something was urging him to hold her closer with his hands on her waist, and never let go until their lips were swollen and they both felt dizzy.

—Just follow me, okay? —she whispered, breaking the kiss just to link their lips together again after he nodded.

She controlled the way he moved by imposing her movements, moving her head to find the right angle, tasting each bit of skin, just getting him used to her. Some of the first times San found himself kissing blindly where he wasn't supposed to, aiming sometimes in the air, until he got used to her slow pace, feeling all of his hairs rising whenever he got a taste of her inner lip.

Y/n broke the kiss again, looking at him under her eyelashes, and noticing how thick and heavy his eyelids seemed as he tried to look at her.

—I'll add a bit of tongue, alright?

San waited for her lips to cover his again, but instead he only felt her slowly rubbing them against his. The tip of her tongue traced the line of his lower lip so gently that he thought his spine would melt at any moment. Instinctively, his lips parted and Y/n took that invitation freely, sliding the tip inside and rubbing it against his. His reaction was hidden behind the need to want more and focus on what she was doing to learn from it, and mirror it.

She took it slow, she was patient, Y/n just wanted him to feel comfortable before going on. She always waited for him to move, and imitate what she did, before she continued.

Their lips popped loudly when they broke apart for the first time, and that sound alone started waking up something in him. Blinded by her, he moved forward, feeling a perfectly marked pain in his frontal teeth as he moved way too fast, ending up hitting against hers.

—Oh my god, I'm sorry —he mumbled, seeing her forcibly moving back due to pain.

—It's okay —her hand covered his wrist, trying to help him take it easy—. Let's go for it again.

He did exactly what Y/n did, he imitated everything he felt, playing with his fingers on the fold on the side of her t-shirt. Her hand, still on his wrist, tried to appease him, while the hand on his neck moved up to his cheek to rub her thumb on his skin.

The kiss was still sloppy, despite being slow, but damn wasn't it making her go crazy every time his tongue rubbed on hers. She wasn't able to control her gasps, just like he gave up a few times by airing out some of his groans whenever her fingers digged on his scalp.

She wanted to kiss him until he got it perfect, and she genuinely didn't mind if they spent hours like that. But he stopped before she could even think of making it real, covering every corner of her mouth with small kisses before he looked at her.

Both of their lips were shiny, coated with each other's saliva, and parted as they tried to recover some of the air that left their lungs.

—Did I pass the test?

—Hmm, I won't mind giving you some extra classes —she joked, licking her lips.

—We should leave those extra classes for another day though. I think I should get home now.

And he was afraid that, if he kept falling into Y/n's trap, he'd fall into something that it'd be difficult for him to escape. And he didn't want to make her uncomfortable with the consequences of those kisses.

—Is everything okay?

—Yeah, just that... You kiss so well, and you're so tempting, that I doubt I'll be able to control my body if we keep on like this. And I don't mean it in the wrong way —he quickly corrected himself—. I'm not going to force you into anything, that's exactly why I'm leaving. Not —he sighed— not because of that.

Y/n snorted as she saw him struggling with his words, trying to explain to her what was going on, but being careful with his words so as not to hurt her.

—Are you laughing? —he tilted his head.

—No —she tried to lie—, just a bit. But not of you, I promise.

—I'm just trying to say that I was getting hard, but I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable.

—I guessed so —she nodded.

He was just looking at her surprised by the way those words just came out of his mouth.

The fact that he was so honest and straight to the point, with no fake excuses, made her laugh. But it was most definitely excitement over seeing him more comfortable around her than the words themselves. She probably would've just shrugged it off at a man being decent towards her -which wasn't exactly the case in her dating life, but with San she appreciated it a bit more because she knew where she was coming from.

Holding his cheeks, she planted a peck on his lips so he'd just stop overthinking and ranting until running out of air.

It was alright. Those things happened.

—I'll take the keys —she let him know.

—You always drive me home, I'll get there by myself —he assured her.

—You sure?

—Hmm —he nodded—. I'll send you a text when I get home.

It was like an impulse, something that got from his inner self and he wasn't able to control. He didn't kiss her lips or her cheek, his lips fell on her forehead. And Y/n was sure that certainly felt way more intimate and close than any other make out session. Such a small gesture had her cheeks burning up, and her smile drawing across her face.

And that smile was something he kept thinking of after he arrived home, that smile was the only thing in his head as he got changed and laid in his bed. And it only felt right that Y/n was the one taking control of each one of his thoughts after that evening, only clouded by one quick thought that made him frown.

Exiting their chat, he opened the navigator, typing each one of the letters that were written in those boxes.

Copaxone: is thought to modify immune processes believed to be responsible for activating MS.. It's not clear how glatiramer acetate (Copaxone or Brabio) works. It seems to kill the immune cells that attack the coating (myelin) around nerves in your brain and spinal cord. You inject it under your skin once a day or, at a higher dose, three times a week.

Y/n was sick?

#armpirate #choi san smut #choisansmut #ateez #ateezfanfic #ateezff #ateezimagines #ateezsmut #ateezxreader #atiny #choi #choisan #choisanateez #choisanfanfic #choisanxreader #ff #onlinesex #reader #readerinsert #san #sanateez #sanxreader #smut

[makoodles]

ミi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, size kink, inexperienced!reader, first time blow jobs, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, riding, jealous ghost, some communication issues!

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

The problem with sleeping with a man like Ghost, you’re coming to realise, is that now that you’ve experienced the reality of sex (and good sex) you can’t stop thinking about it.

In the week following the night you’d spent together, you swear you can feel his phantom touch on your hips, your thighs, your back. It feels like he’s carved a space for himself inside of you, something you’ll never get back – not that you want it back in the first place. 

Realistically, you know that the whole ‘loss of virginity’ thing doesn’t have as much to do with how you’re feeling as the fact that it was Ghost who had taken it. You had long bullied your hymen out of the way with your collection of silly dildos, but nothing could have prepared you for the scorching hot heat of Ghost’s massive cock splitting you open, or his clever tongue licking at you, or his thick calloused fingers rubbing torturous circles into your clit and fraying your nerves apart.

The worst part is, you don’t know if anything is ever going to live up to the way he made you feel again. You’ve tried to replicate his touches, his rhythm, the way he had split you open, but your fingers are too small and none of your dildos can imitate the way he had worked you stupid. To your immense dissatisfaction, you don’t even come close to coming again.

It feels like something inside of you has cracked open, and you don’t know how to stop all of this new yearning, how to stuff it all back inside and pretend that nothing has changed.

The problem is that while you feel as though you’ve been changed from the inside out, you don’t think Ghost feels the same way. Maybe the most infuriating thing is that Ghost seems entirely unaffected. Other than a couple of lingering glances and knowing stares, there’s no indication that he had done anything more intimate with you than grappling at training. 

All you can do is attempt to follow his lead, to be as casual as possible.

It’s harder than it sounds.

You find your whole body straining towards him when he’s close to you, though you try to keep cool. You fail miserably. You can’t even look in Ghost’s direction without thinking of his big fingers hooked inside you, rubbing at your clit, squeezing at your tits. You can hardly look him in the eye without thinking of the way he looked when he was squeezed between your thighs with his mouth on your cunt, the way those big brown eyes watched as you writhed on his tongue.

And yet, you can hardly tear your eyes away from him. You look at him in a completely different light now. He’s the first man to take you, the first one to touch you so intimately, the first one to make you come. He’s still your lieutenant, but it’s like all of a sudden your eyes have been opened to a new aspect of him. He’s no longer just your untouchable superior, the man who’s always so cold and distant behind that death mask – now he’s the man who was gentle with you, the man who kissed you sweetly when he took your virginity, the man who gave you the first, second, third orgasm of your life.

But despite the way you had been offered that new little glimpse into Ghost, he still remains an enigma to you. 

You can feel his eyes on you throughout the week, though it’s never at the same time as when you’re looking at him. And maybe you’re imagining it, but it seems as though he’s gotten freer with his touches, too. A big palm on the small of your back as he steps past you, a quick squeeze to the shoulder. It’s subtle, and you can’t be sure that he’s actually touching you anymore than usual.

But other than the subtle glances and the light touches, Ghost doesn’t make any genuine effort to approach you again. He still treats you like just another member of the squad, no different to Soap or Gaz. 

If anything, he gives them more attention than he gives you, delivering his deadpan jokes and exchanging quips during training. You end up standing to the side, sending infrequent glances their way in the hopes that he’ll give you something.

You’ve never been the fittest or the strongest, but your level of distraction in those few days following your night with Ghost is absolutely mortifying. You’re slow, you’re clumsy, you mess up everything. 

You don’t think you can be blamed when you’re working in the same space as Ghost. You can hardly bring yourself to look his way when he’s lifting weights, unable to handle looking at the flex and curl of his muscles under his long-sleeve black workout shirt. It clings to him, letting you see every little shift of muscle and tendon beneath that stupid top as he works, and your mind very unhelpfully provides a slideshow of memories of him between your spread thighs. 

You know it’s obvious. You glance at him, then glance away, then back again. Your eyes linger, bright and too interested, before you’re able to hide it. You wonder sometimes if your yearning is obvious on your face; you hope not.

But if Ghost sees it – any of it – he gives no indication. 

If you have to be honest with yourself, you’ll admit that you’re disappointed. You had hoped that– well. You’re not sure you can bear to admit what you’d hoped, even just to yourself. It feels silly to admit that maybe you had hoped that Ghost wouldn’t be content with just being your first, that maybe he’d want to be your second, your third. Silly. Almost blasphemous.

You don’t technically have to show up to training, so after only two days of your awkward and uncertain pining in the gym, you stop showing up. The role you fulfil as part of the 141 is a non-combat one, so you know you won’t be missed in their ongoing training. You’ve mostly been working in communications; maintaining secure communication channels and ensuring that information is transmitted accurately and securely. The boys rely on you in the field, and you feel like you owe them a certain level of physical fitness just in case things go frighteningly wrong when you’re out there with them. 

There’s just something so mortifying about the whole situation. It feels as though Ghost had peeled back the layers of you and taken a peek at your soft unprotected insides. You’d been vulnerable in front of him in a way you’d never been in front of anyone before, in a way that you can hardly stand. You had thought that you’d been okay with it being a one time thing, but you weren’t exactly doing a whole lot of thinking at the time.

So yeah, every time he glances away from you, or when he doesn’t even bother to look in your direction at all, it feels like you’re being rejected anew. It’s…. It’s not ideal. But you’re a big girl, and you’ve dealt with repressed desire and stifled yearning for years now. At least now you have a real experience to add to your reserve of imagination the next time you try to get yourself off.

It’s fine. You convince yourself that you were being ridiculous in the first place. He’s Ghost, after all. You feel a little foolish for even having the brief hope that something more might happen between the two of you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You manage to keep to yourself for most of the week, and the rest of the squad is kind enough not to say anything about it. But when Thursday comes around, you realise it’s not going to be possible to avoid Soap and his persistent insistence that you join them all in the moderately-sized cantina for drinks that night.

Truthfully, it doesn’t take too much persuading to convince you to go. Avoiding training with the squad had resulted in a week of isolation that had left you lonely and wishing for some social interaction. Besides, you’ve never quite been able to say no to Soap, and so you’re dragged to the little cantina for the second Thursday in a row.

To your absolute bewilderment, you find yourself in the exact same position as you had been in the last time you shared drinks with the squad, exactly one week ago. 

Despite hardly speaking to you all week, Ghost had so confidently taken a seat next to you on the same fucking squishy little couch that you had shared last week. You end up partially squashed into the arm of the sofa, with Ghost’s massive hulking body brushing against you with every slight movement. 

It’s galling to admit it, but you feel like you’re on fire. He doesn’t say much other than a soft murmur of a greeting when he first settles down beside you, but then he throws his arm around the back of the couch in a move that’s unexpectedly intimate. 

You try not to read too much into it. While Ghost may be fairly aloof and menacing to those that don’t know him well, to you and the squad he’s always been subtly territorial. His eyes flick around the room semi-regularly, never at ease even in the middle of base. When Gaz goes to get drinks, Ghost’s eyes follow him until he gets back as though he’s expecting something to happen in the few minutes and couple of feet that he’s gone. He does the same when Price steps out for a smoke, and when Soap steps out to the toilet.

So the arm behind you (technically resting on the back of the couch rather than your shoulders) doesn’t actually mean anything. The curious look that Soap sends you doesn’t mean anything either, and you studiously ignore it as you force yourself to relax at Ghost’s side.

You drink the vodka soda Gaz hands you a little quicker than you mean to – maybe it’s because your nerves are already set on edge, but the alcohol goes to your head. Quickly. 

It’s a pleasant floaty feeling, and it eases some of the anxiety that’s been bubbling thanks to the heat that sinks into your skin from his side pressed up against you. By the time you drain your glass, you’re leaning against his side. He doesn’t react, for better or worse; you wish he would give you some indication of where you stand, whether he likes you bundled up by his side or if he’s just tolerating it.

When Ghost’s eyes finally slide over to you from behind the dark pits of his mask, you nearly jolt. His gaze is lazy and half-lidded, but he reaches out to take the glass from you. His gloved fingers brush over yours, and you can’t stifle the embarrassing little judder that runs down your spine.

“Slow down.” He murmurs, setting the glass aside. “It’s still early.”

You had been hoping all damn evening that he would just look at you, but now that you finally have his eyes on you it feels as though you’re pinned down by them. You try not to squirm, once again remembering the way those dark eyes had watched you so darkly as he had hunched over you, rutting into you until the tears were streaming down your cheeks.

Your mind goes blank under his attention and his closeness, the ambient noise of glasses clinking and loud voices laughing and joking and muffled old eighties tunes fading to nothing until the sound of Soap’s loud voice brings you back to yourself.

“Let the lass drink, LT.” He crows, grinning, and you realise that he already has another couple of drinks in his hands. You hadn’t even noticed him leaving for the bar. “She deserves to have fun tonight. Don’t you, bonnie?”

“Sure.” You agree easily, relieved by the distraction and already reaching for the new drink. You’re still all fidgety and distracted, eager to drown yourself in it. “I deserve fun.”

It feels as though Ghost’s gaze is burning right into the side of your head, but you fixedly ignore him. He’s so intense, you’re pretty sure that you look like a dazed idiot under the weight of his attention. It’s the most he’s looked at you all week, and you attempt to hide your face behind your glass as you take a sip of your fresh drink.

He’s drinking too, though he’s foregone his usual whiskey in favour of a dark lager that he’s barely touched. The glass is sweating with condensation, and he swipes a thick gloved thumb over the fog on it absent-mindedly as he watches you.

You watch Gaz and Soap as they joke with each other, trading jibes and jabs and stories that you hardly even hear. It feels a little as though your ears have been filled with cotton wool, as though everything around you is just distinctly muffled. You feel like you’re on another planet, awareness tethered only by the hot, hard line of Ghost’s muscular body pressed against your side. 

Over the last week, you’ve tried very hard not to be a stereotype.

You’ve heard men laughing about girls they’ve slept with who’ve become too clingy, who’ve wanted too much, and wasted their time searching for something that those guys aren’t willing to give. Maybe it’s because you’re so conscious that Ghost has taken several of your firsts, but you’re so determined to not be that person. 

Ghost isn’t exactly a big talker anyway, unless it’s the odd sarcastic comment or ribbing with Soap, so it’s not like you’ve talked about the situation. You had just awoken the morning after with a deep ache in your core and a sore back, though the pain was soothed by the warm embrace you were all wrapped up in. You had been nervous, but you needn’t have been. Ghost had given you nothing. He just rubbed your back with one shovel-sized hand and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder (through the mask, so you don’t know what to make of that) before he rolled out of your bed to pull his trousers back on, grunting that he’d see you later.

So, you don’t talk about it. Not with him, and not with anybody. It feels like so much has changed, yet everything stays the same. The deja vu you’re experiencing from sitting on the couch drinking with him like this is overwhelming, and experiencing him staring at you like this after a full week of distance is making you feel hot and fuzzy and stupid.

While Soap is in the midst of a loud and enthusiastic retelling of a story from his basic training days, you build up the courage to glance up at Ghost. He’s already looking at you, as though anticipating your attention. 

“You’re staring at me.” You mumble, your fingers clenching compulsively around your chilled glass.

Ghost shifts, and you feel the thick muscle of his bicep roll behind your head. He grunts in quiet agreement. 

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything else, uninterested in justifying or explaining himself. It’s like he thinks that he doesn’t need to; he just keeps watching you, his light blond eyelashes drawing low over his eyes as his head tilts.

Self-conscious under his intensity, you glance away again. Soap is still talking, but you can’t focus. Despite the fact that Ghost is big and warm and so frustratingly attractive beside you, it’s hard to ignore the subtle prickle of irritation that’s growing under your skin. 

After all, he had taken your virginity and then proceeded to act as though nothing at all had changed between you for the rest of the week, and now he’s sat next to you with his gaze that heated? What the fuck?

The second drink goes down even easier than the first thanks to your awkwardness. You’re not sure what to make of his attention – you’ve spent the whole week keeping a sense of distance, determined to stay cool and casual. The last thing you want to do is freak him out by seeming like an over-eager idiot that’s gone and fallen in too deep with him, unwilling to lose whatever meagre respect Ghost has developed for you since you started working with the 141.

“I’ll get the next round.” You blurt suddenly, pushing yourself up off the couch.

It’s too abrupt to be casual, and you pointedly don’t look at the half-full glasses in your squad mates’ hands as you hurry away. You probably could have played that off better, but you need a moment to collect yourself away from Ghost’s relentless stare.

You take the opportunity to breathe at the bar, rubbing at your eyes and sighing. The bartender is busy, so you just stand there for a long moment, mentally chastising yourself.

God, this is just embarrassing. You’re a grown fucking woman, and here you are getting so ridiculously flustered over your lieutenant. You never thought that you’d be the type to turn into a silly little mess over the first man you ever sleep with, but maybe it was inevitable. The little embers of that crush you had been harbouring on Ghost since you joined the team have been fanned into a full on flame and you hardly know how to handle yourself.

It takes a significant effort to keep your attention away from the table; you can’t help but want to look, to see if Ghost is still looking your way, but you keep your eyes to yourself. 

When another body appears at your side, you jolt in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be followed, and your first thought is that it must be Soap. But when you glance to your side, you find a stranger standing closer to you than you expected.

Well, he’s not a total stranger. You know him to see around the base, sandy-haired with a too wide smile. You think he might be a second lieutenant, but you’ve never actually had any dealings with him and you can’t think of a name… Daniels, maybe?

“Hello there,” He says, and even with those two words his intentions are unmistakable. His tone is suggestive, as is the way his eyes scan over your body. “How you doing?”

It’s far from the first time you’ve been hit on by men; it comes with the territory of being a woman in a male-dominated environment. They look at you like they want to eat you sometimes, in a way that sets your teeth on edge. You’ve always danced around the subject of intimacy, embarrassed about your lack of experience and too anxious to actually seek out anyone to change that. What happened with Ghost was unexpected, and just about changed your entire outlook on sex and physical pleasure for life. 

Your first reaction, as always, is to shut him down or ignore him. But something makes you pause, and glance back at him. 

He’s sort of cute. A charming smile, at least. When he sees you looking back, he only smiles wider and steps closer.

“Let me get this next one for you,” He says, gesturing at the bartender to catch his attention. “What’re you having?”

“Uh..” You hesitate a moment, biting your lip. “Vodka soda.”

He orders, then leans against the bar and turns to face you fully. His gaze is appreciative, and for once you don’t shy away from it. You so rarely return male attention that you hardly know what to do, but you manage to muster up an awkward smile.

When the bartender returns with your drink, you feel a momentary pang of guilt. You had almost forgotten that you were meant to order drinks for the table, and you send a swift glance over your shoulder. 

The boys are still engrossed in their conversation, hardly even noticing your absence. All but Ghost.

The lieutenant has half-turned, his arm still slung over the couch where you had been sitting as he stares. The realisation that his eyes are still on you has your spine straightening, self-conscious now about your posture and your body language. 

You look away swiftly, and try not to feel guilty. You’re not doing anything wrong, after all. He hasn’t spoken to you all week despite the fact that he’d nearly done your back in fucking you.

Your experience with Ghost may have been a one-time thing, no matter what you might have been hoping for, but there’s no reason that it has to be a one-time thing for you with anyone else. Even with your stupid vibrators and dildos, you haven’t been able to come close to coming in the week following your night with your lieutenant. You’re starting to wonder if maybe you’re not capable of coming without someone else’s hands on you.

“I’ve seen you around, been meaning to talk to you,” Daniels is saying, and in your distraction you almost miss it. “But it’s, uh… it’s a little difficult to catch you alone.”

You almost scoff, but you manage to swallow it back down. You know exactly what he means; the 141 sticks together and looks out for each other, but it also sometimes feels like you have a couple of overprotective guard dogs. They take watching you seriously, probably due to your non-combat role on the team, and you’ve never discouraged it because you like the way they make you feel safe. 

“Yeah, the guys can be a little protective.” You laugh a little weakly. “But don’t mind them.”

Even now, you can feel Ghost’s dark eyes burning into you from across the room. You wonder how on earth Daniels remains so unaware of it.

“Mm,” Daniels leans in, his white teeth glinting. “Can’t blame them, I suppose. Why don’t you come and join me and some of the lads at our table for a bit? Spend some time with some new people.”

You shift on the balls of your feet, thinking. Admittedly, you’ve never been big on socialising when on base, other than the usual minor exchange of pleasantries. You hardly even know what to do in the face of a man’s interest in you now.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” You demur, reaching up to scratch absently behind your ear. “I don’t think the boys would appreciate me abandoning them for the night.”

Daniels’ smile widens, and you feel your cheeks heat. You feel clumsy with your socialising, as though you’re stretching muscles you’re not used to using. Since you had joined the 141, you hadn’t done too much mingling outside of the squad; they’ve been your only friends and confidantes, ribbing and supporting you in equal measure. In the face of a stranger in the on-base cantina, you find yourself floundering.

“I think they get enough of your time,” He murmurs, leaning against the bar in such a way that his body is angled towards you. “C’mon, I’ll buy you another few drinks and we can get to know each other, huh?”

Maybe the vodka was a bad idea. It’s lowering your inhibitions, making you actually consider his offer. You’re pent up from a week of unsuccessful touching yourself, and you crave physical intimacy. 

If you can’t get a repeat performance from Ghost, then maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if you looked elsewhere, with someone who might be interested in more than a one time thing.

You glance down at Daniel’s hands where they’re wrapped around his beer glass. They’re big, with strong slender fingers and calloused knuckles. Nice hands, you think, but you can’t help but compare to the enormous thick paws of your lieutenant. Still, you think they’d do the job.

“Well–” You start to say, your tone wavering and uncertain as you consider his officer.

But you don’t get to give him an answer before a massive hand settles on your shoulder. It makes you jolt, startled, recognising Ghost by touch alone. It feels as though it sears straight through your clothes, and your eyes widen.

For a moment, Ghost says nothing at all. He just stands at your shoulder, so close that you feel the muscle of his chest and stomach brush against your back, and stares at Daniels from over the top of your head. The glare isn’t even directed your way, and yet you find yourself wilting from it.

“On your way, Sergeant.” Ghost drawls, lifting his chin and gesturing at him dismissively.

Despite Ghost’s obvious intimidation factor, Daniels doesn’t immediately do as he’s told. He huffs out a short breathless laugh instead, as though he can hardly believe what he’s hearing.

“We’re only talking, Lieutenant–”

Ghost doesn’t even respond. His glower just intensifies, until Daniels trails off and his mouth snaps shut. You get the impression that if anyone else tried to intimidate him just by staring and posturing, Daniels might actually square up and fight. He seems like the type to make poor decisions while drinking – maybe you were going to be one of them. 

But as it is, Ghost has an intimidation factor unmatched by anyone else you’ve ever known. It goes beyond his giant hulking physique and skull mask and low gravelly voice that can sound like a clap of thunder when he’s angry. It’s like he has an aura, something that radiates off him in dark waves saying ‘Don’t fuck with me’. Any sensible person would back the fuck off when faced with his full, unwelcoming attention.

And sure enough, Daniels is no exception. He raises his arms to his shoulders and gives Ghost a mocking sort of smile before retreating backwards. To your mortification, he doesn’t so much as glance your way even as he turns his back on you.

Irritation settles over you like a blanket. It makes your skin itch and your teeth grind, and you turn to scowl at Ghost.

“What the hell was that?” You demand, and your voice comes out sharper than you had technically intended.

Ghost’s head tilts, and those sharp dark eyes find you from behind the mask. The eyeblack is beginning to fade in patches around the inner corners of his eyes – bizarrely, it serves as a reminder that Ghost is just a man, not just a massive wall of muscle with a terrifying glower.

“What was what?” He says. His voice has dropped a notch, deep and rumbling into you even as you step away and turn so that you’re facing him head on.

“You– I was just–” You flounder for a moment, searching for words as you gesture uselessly with your hands. 

You’re indignant over his interruption, and your frustration grows as you find yourself unable to articulate yourself. Where the hell does he get off interrupting you talking to another man? He hadn’t spoken to you all week, and now he feels confident enough to cockblock you?

“Mm.” Ghost grunts. “What were you doing?”

Your jaw clenches. “I was talking. Is that a crime now?”

Jesus, you sound like a brat. You don’t even know where this insubordination is coming from; he’s your lieutenant, regardless of that one night you had spent with him. You’re being too bold talking like this, but it’s like you just can’t help yourself.

His eyes darken, lashes blocking out his irises as his gaze narrows at you. You force yourself to maintain eye contact, to keep your spine straight and shoulders back despite your impulse to crumble.

“Watch that mouth, doll.” He warns, his voice low, and you feel your stomach tighten at both his words and his tone. 

But your self-preservation instincts are still missing.

“You can’t ignore me all week and then get annoyed at me when I–”

He cuts you off as though he’s not even listening to you. “Not here. Come on.”

And with that, he wraps one big hand around your upper arm and begins leading you out of the cantina. He’s not harsh, and he doesn’t drag you or anything, but judging by the tense set of his shoulders arguing with him would be a really bad idea right now. 

You’ve pissed him off, and you don’t want to make his mood worse so you allow your feet to move automatically as he leads you out of the room.

You can feel eyes on your back as you leave, and you feel yourself grow squirmy with embarrassment. No doubt the rest of the squad is watching you get hauled off by Ghost right now. 

Oh god, the Captain is watching you get hauled off — how mortifying. You pray they didn’t catch your little exchange with Ghost at the bar, but you have a feeling that hope is in vain. The 141 are close-knit and protective over each other, but they’re also terrible gossips.

“Let me– Sir, let me go–” You start to complain, testing his grip. His hold on you is iron-clad, and yet still somehow gentle enough to avoid bruising.

When you realise where he’s leading you to, you stop complaining very quickly. You had figured that he was just going to drag you into the corridor outside and give you a talking to, but he doesn’t stop there. He keeps going, until you realise that he’s leading you all the way back to your own damn room

“What are you doing?” You demand in a hiss. You’re so incensed that you swear your hair is standing on end. 

After all that, is Ghost seriously hauling you back to your room like you’re a bold child? Is he angry because of your insubordination at the bar? 

A cold trickle of anxiety enters your stomach, and you steal a worried glance at his face. The hard-shell mask he uses on missions has been traded for the softer black woven balaclava that he usually wears when he’s not in the field, but it doesn’t make him any easier to read.

He doesn’t answer until the two of you have crossed the threshold of your room, the door shutting behind you with a firm click.

Now that it’s the two of you, alone once again in your tiny shitty room, you find your indignant confidence waning rapidly. He’s just so big, the huge masculine frame of him making you feel more ridiculous than ever for your momentary flash of brattiness. Even worse, having him in your space like this is only making your brain go into overdrive, as though your body remembers what happened the last time he was here like this.

You decide that the best defence mechanism to prevent yourself from looking like a fool is to cling onto those last little dregs of anger.

“You’re unbelievable.” You snap, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. “You’ve been avoiding me all week! And then as soon as another guy speaks to me, you’re over to me like a light. I mean, what the fuck?” And then, remembering the chain of command, you add a very sullen, “Sir.” 

Throughout your mini little rant, Ghost has just watched you. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t know how to read, unable to get a feel for what he’s thinking through that inscrutable mask.

“‘S not true.” He grunts after a moment, and you realise that his eyes have creased in a way that suggests he’s frowning.

You feel like you’re going to explode. “Yes, it is! Daniels was barely speaking to me for two minutes before you scared him off–”

Bizarrely, your words make Ghost snort. You hadn’t even realised how tense his shoulders were until he relaxes, and you stare at him in confusion as he steps past you towards your bed. Your anger fizzles out, leaving behind self-conscious confusion as you watch your lieutenant settle down so that he’s sitting at the edge of your bed with his legs spread wide. 

“His name is Davidson.” He says, and his voice is missing the somewhat dangerous edge it had only moments earlier. “And that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

Embarrassment flares, though you try to stifle it. So you didn’t know the guy’s name – whatever. You would have learned it by the end of the night, you’re certain. You open your mouth, defensive and prickly, but Ghost speaks again before you get the chance to.

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” He says, watching you like he’s trying to figure you out. When you just blink at him, he sighs. “Jesus, sweetheart, just sit down for a second. Tell me what I did wrong, yeah?”

You’re left feeling a little wrong-footed, hesitating in the middle of the room. You had expected him to be a little angrier than this, to chide you for your behaviour. Or maybe you had expected him to be cold, or dismissive.

Slowly, you take a few steps towards the bed. He watches you approach, those dark eyes watchful and sharp, but says nothing as you nervously perch on the bed beside him. 

Despite the fact that this is your room, you’re stiff when you sit next to him. Your brain is in overdrive, providing you with very unhelpful memories of the last time Ghost was on your bed and flooding your body with mortifying heat.

“You’ve barely spoken to me since we–” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, averting your gaze and staring at some point past his shoulder. “Since last week. If you wanted to keep it professional, that’s– that’s fine–”

Ghost’s spine straightens, but he doesn’t speak yet. He just watches you, and lets you flounder awkwardly as you struggle to articulate yourself.

“I don’t want to make things awkward, I just–” You’re tripping over your words, wincing when they come out all clumsy. “I’ve never done this before, so I’ll follow your lead, but I don’t understand the point of sending Dan– Davidson, whatever, away like that if you’re clearly trying to keep things between us professional–”

Finally, Ghost speaks, though it seems like he’s suddenly developed incredibly selective hearing.

“He’s a wanker. Chases around any woman that stands still for too long in that damn cantina every time we’re in there.” His voice is a low earnest rumble, but you’re too agitated to properly hear him. “He didn’t have anything to offer that you’d be interested in.”

“That’s not–”

“Besides,” He cuts clean across you, but so gently, so much so that it surprises you. “I think we long surpassed professionalism when you asked if you could use my cock like a dildo.”

Blood rushes to your head so fast you feel a little light-headed. Right, so he’s decided to cut straight to the chase then. You swallow, and your dry throat clicks audibly.

“Right.” You say. “Yeah, that– um… that’s made things awkward, I suppose.” A brief pause, and then you sheepishly add, “Sorry, LT.”

Ghost just watches you, his brown eyes inscrutable beneath the fan of his pale eyelashes. Under the dark fabric of the mask you see his jaw flex, as though he’s considering his next words carefully.

“C’mere.” He says.

You had been expecting him to say more, and you hesitate a moment before reluctantly shuffling over a few inches. Though he had invited you to move closer to him, you’re suddenly so conscious of crossing any possible boundaries. 

You had never slept with anyone before, and you don’t understand what’s expected of you now. How are you supposed to act, now that you’ve had a one-night stand with your lieutenant? 

“Haven’t been ignoring you,” Ghost says, and he reaches out to place a hand on your knee. The touch makes your eyes widen, gaze darting down to stare at his thick fingers where they wrap around the underside of your knee. “You jokin’? Been watching you all week. Thinkin’ about you all the time.”

That’s a bold enough statement that all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You can’t deny that he’s been watching you – you had felt his eyes on you regularly, but always from a distance. But… 

“You never–” You start to say, before swallowing again so you don’t say something stupid. “You haven’t spoken to me.”

“Spoke to you during training, before you stopped showing up.”

That’s a little galling, and all you can do is scowl. 

“Stop that. You know what I mean.” You snap defensively. 

Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think Ghost might be confused behind that stupid mask. His head has tilted just slightly to the side in the same way as it usually does when he’s trying to figure something out.

“I was trying to give you space, doll.” He murmurs. “It was your first– I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Wanted you to make your own choices.”

The uncertainty in his voice is unexpectedly endearing, but you’re not ready to let go of your irritation with him just yet. Admittedly you’re losing steam, but you struggle to straighten your back and affect a scowl nonetheless.

“I didn’t want space.” You say, and it comes out a little more childish than you had intended it to. You try not to cringe at yourself. “You just– we never talked about anything, you just woke up the next morning and left and then all week you hardly spoke to me.”

You curse your inexperience even as you speak, feeling like a total idiot. You just wish you knew what was expected of you, what Ghost wants. Was he put off by the fact that he had to guide you, fumbling and clumsy, through an experience that was absolutely mind-blowing for you but probably sub-standard for him?

And oh, that thought makes dread curl in your belly. What if Ghost wasn’t impressed with your… performance? You had no idea what you were doing, only that the way Ghost had touched you felt so good, so much better than you’ve ever managed to make yourself feel with your fingers or toys. And when he had brought you to orgasm, you had lost yourself completely. You hadn’t made any attempt to return his attention, too lost in all the new pleasure you were experiencing.

There’s a pause, the silence between you stretching taut. Ghost doesn’t rush to reply, instead apparently thinking hard before he speaks. 

“I go for a run in the mornings.” He says at last, his voice low and rumbly. 

It takes you a moment to process that. 

“You– what?”

Ghost shifts, and the cheap standard issue mattress beneath the two of you squeaks. “That morning, I… went for a run.”

He must realise how that sounds – maybe the expression on your face tips him off – because he hurries to add on to it. “Creature of habit, love. I didn’t– I don’t do this often either. I stayed the night, we cuddled. I thought–”

He stops rather abruptly, and doesn’t finish so you don’t quite know what he thought. Your confusion has gotten the best of you, and you’re staring at him in agitated confusion. God, he’s bad at communicating.

“Should have stayed.” He says gruffly, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds a little chagrined. “Thought we were fine, until you started avoiding me. And then I thought you just needed time to yourself.” He gives a jerky shrug, clearly out of his comfort zone. “‘Cause it was your first time. Dunno.”

Oh. Well.

Now you’re the one blinking at him. That’s… not what you had been expecting. 

While you thought Ghost had been giving you the cold shoulder, he had thought that he was being considerate. Jesus. You’re not sure how to even begin processing that.

“I didn’t need time to myself.” You say, and you sound pathetic.

There’s a beat of silence during which you feel thoroughly examined. Ghost hardly even blinks as he watches you, his scrutiny making you sweat.

“No,” He rumbles after a moment. “Apparently you didn’t.”

You roll your eyes, honestly a little irritated with him. Even after it’s been made clear that your miscommunication has caused issues this whole week, he’s still so hesitant to just fucking talk to you. 

“Right, well–” You start to say, a little sharp. 

He grabs at you before you can retreat, his enormous hand comically large around your wrist. He’s not holding you harshly, his grip just loose enough that you could break out of it if you tried. But instead of pulling away, you allow him to tug you closer. His free hand reaches for your hip, and quicker than your tired mind is able to follow he’s tugged you up into his lap.

“Jesus–” You blurt, grabbing at his shoulders for balance.

Ghost is built like a brick house, all thick and sturdy with all that solid muscle. He’s broad too, and your legs are forced wide as he encourages you to settle in his lap. You try not to let your reaction show on your face, but Ghost is watching you so carefully that you’re certain he can read every micro-twitch anyway.

“Last week wasn’t enough?” He asks, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds hungry. Maybe you could even delude yourself into thinking there’s an undertone of hope, too.

But maybe that’s a step too far. This is the Ghost, after all. He’s veritably a human weapon, every inch of him battle-scarred and solid beneath the heavy clothes and thick mask. You’re pretty sure that any kind of yearning you hear has been prescribed by your own imagination. But you can’t help yourself.

You shake your head, your breath catching in your chest. No, last week wasn’t enough.

“Then why bother with that idiot at the bar?” Ghost asks, his big hands folding around your hips. “If you wanted to be fucked, you could have just asked me.”

You swallow thickly, your throat clicking audibly. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to speak so bluntly, but it’s typical of Ghost to get straight to the point without beating around the bush. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to do that with me again.” You say, your voice edged with insecurity. 

There’s a long moment of silence during which Ghost just stares at you. It’s borderline uncomfortable, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. Even with the mask acting as a barrier, he’s still so intense.

“What made you think that?” He asks, his voice low.

You find yourself quite abruptly aware of the position you’re in. You’re sitting perched in your lieutenant’s lap with your legs spread wide, after a week of pining after him like an embarrassing little puppy. You’ve been craving physical contact, yearning desperately for that same kind of pleasure he had introduced to you ever since your night together. 

“You’re difficult to read.” You whisper awkwardly, shifting. You’re hyper-aware of your weight in his lap; even though you know he’s strong, the thought of being too heavy for him is a little mortifying.

But his hands tighten around your hips, keeping you securely in place across his thighs.

“You think so?” His voice is low, a little rough, and the gravel of it causes a little frisson of heat to trickle down your spine. “You been trying to read me? Can’t have been doin’ a very good job, darling, since you’ve been avoiding me all fuckin’ week.”

Your breath comes out tremulously, and you pray he can’t hear the shake in your voice when you speak. Judging by his darkening gaze, he hears it loud and clear. 

“I just– Didn’t know if you would want me again.” You whisper, feeling foolish and inexperienced and clumsy.

Ghost watches you, his dark eyes flickering over your face, before he finally hums. Then his grip tightens around your hips and he pulls you so that your clothed crotch grinds against him. You gasp, your eyes widening when you feel the thick ridge of his cock in his tac trousers, unmistakably hard as your clothed cunt slides over him.

“Feel that?” He asks, his voice dropping into that deep, hungry register that you’ve been hearing in your dreams all fucking week.

“Yeah.” You choke, fighting the urge to grind on him like a fucking slut. If your hips twitch, just a little, you think you could be excused.

You are already intimately familiar with his cock, considering how eagerly he had fucked you open on it a week ago (several times, too), but the way it fills his trousers makes it seem ridiculously big and you wonder, a little wildly, how the fuck it ever fit in you in the first place. It presses against the seam of his trousers, right between your legs, and then Ghost grinds up into you and you swear your vision sparks out for a moment.

“Oh!” You blurt out in a wavering whisper, clutching at his shoulders. “Oh, god.”

“Still think I don’t want you?” He grunts. His hands are like fucking shovels, and he takes a grip of your ass and squeezes until you squeak.

Your head is swimming. Your trousers are too tight, the crotch of them pressing into your clit, and you feel like you can't get enough air in your lungs. 

“I don’t know.” You say stupidly. 

It’s like your cunt knows that Ghost is near, because you’re fucking drenched. You can feel your underwear stick uncomfortably to you beneath your clothes, slick and wet as you feel the shape of Ghost’s cock press into you.

He sighs beneath you, his big palm stroking over your ass affectionately. 

“You think too much, doll.” He mutters, his finder squeezing into the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a stress toy. “Way too fuckin’ much.”

He’s probably right. God, you want to stop thinking. Want to return to that stupid, dazed, fucked-out state of mind he had sent you to when he had stuffed you full.

Hesitantly, you grind yourself down onto the thick bulge beneath you. It feels good, that familiar pleasant little spark jolting up your spine as you hump yourself against him.

“Yeah,” Ghost grunts, his voice thick with unmistakable want. “That’s it. You’ve been wanting this, havent’cha?”

“Yeah.” You admit, so quietly that it’s almost inaudible. “Yeah, I want it.”

But Ghost hears. Of course he does. He lets out a low sound that has your thighs squishing closed around his hips, overwhelmed and running far too hot. 

He has you on your back so quickly that your head spins, and you end up staring at the ceiling for a moment in bewilderment, trying to figure out how you’d gotten there. Ghost is already leaning over you, his dark eyes intent on your face as he settles between your thighs.

You think you should probably be embarrassed about the ease with which you spread your legs, eager to feel his bulky body between your thighs. But you’re already running hot, your chest tightening with want, and you find yourself mercifully relieved that he’s here. The miscommunication between the two of you is going to be solved, Ghost wants you, and you’re about to get what you’ve been craving all week.

He pulls your own pants off effortlessly, leaving you in the underwear that you’ve fucking ruined. You try to shut your legs, face burning hot with embarrassment as you try to hide the sight, but Ghost doesn’t have any intention of letting you hide yourself.

He pushes your legs back open, then presses his masked face to the inside of your thigh. You’re not sure what he’s doing; you remember, with a little thrill, the feeling of his red hot mouth against your pussy, but you don’t think that’s what’s happening here because he’s still got his stupid fucking balaclava on.

“Did she miss me?” He asks, his words muffled by both the mask and the pudge of your thigh.

“What?” You ask breathlessly, thinking for a moment that Ghost is talking about you in the third person.

But then he nuzzles his masked face against the sodden seat of your knickers, and you realise that he’s talking about your fucking pussy.

“Oh my god, you weirdo–” You choke out, but you don’t get any further than that before Ghost is tugging impatiently at your underwear, trying to reveal your cunt. 

He hushes you, almost absent-mindedly, and you hear him take a breath when he finally manages to get your knickers off. He tosses them aside, his dark eyes focused intently on your bare cunt now that it’s been revealed. It’s embarrassing, but you can’t bring yourself to try and hide again. He’s touching you so reverently and looking at you so hungrily that you’re not brave enough to try to deprive him of the sight.

“My fussy girl,” He mutters, low enough that you almost don’t hear him. “Have you been touching yourself? Using your toys this week?”

You shiver, a little embarrassed. You have been using your stupid toys, but they haven’t been working. No matter what you do, you can’t replicate the feelings that Ghost had managed to elicit in you with such ease, and you have a sinking feeling that he knows that.

But the mention of your toys reminds you of something else, too. A recurring thought that’s been practically haunting you, that’s had you imagining Ghost up above you and around you as you’d sucked experimentally on your dildo, sliding it into your mouth just to see how much of it you could take.

“Wait–” You say, and though your voice wavers, Ghost sits back immediately, eyes on your face. It’s like he’s just waiting for your word, an order, a direction. Something in your belly warms, and you take a breath.

“I want to try something.” You tell him before you can lose your nerve. “Sit back down.”

He sits at the edge of your bed, his bulky frame moving far more gracefully than you’d expect for his size if you hadn’t already seen him in action. He’s almost patient, until you catch the way the fingers of his right hand drum against his thigh as he waits for you to do something.

Since you’re already stripped from the waist down, you see no point in remaining clothed on top too. When you pull your top and bra off, Ghost makes a low appreciative rumble deep in his chest that you swear you can feel run down your spine. 

“Promising start.” He says, and you want to smack him.

You shoot him a little scowl, before deciding to just ignore him. You’ve fancied him for an embarrassingly long time, probably since the very first time you had laid eyes on him upon joining the task force, and now he’s sitting on your bed, willing and hard and admitting that he wants you. It takes your breath away a little, especially the way that he doesn’t seem put off by your inexperience at all.

Slowly, you sink to your knees in front of him and watch his eyes widen beneath the balaclava. It’s somewhat gratifying to see his surprise; like you’ve finally got one over on your big bad lieutenant. 

“Very promising start.” He says, and this time he sounds a little husky. “D’you know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

The answer is, very obviously, no. You have no idea what you’re doing, you’re learning as you go along. But Ghost hasn’t judged you yet for your clumsy fumbling exploration, so you can only hope that he’s willing to put up with this too.

“Sort of.” You say evasively. “I’ve seen it in porn, and I’ve… I’ve been practicing.”

Ghost’s groan sounds like it’s been punched out of him, and it’s rough enough to have you glancing up in surprise from where you’re trying to get his stupid trousers unbuttoned. Your hands are unsteady and unsure, and it’s slow-going.

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding a little out of breath himself. “Which one?” “What?” You’re a little distracted, not paying full attention to his question as you tug at his trousers. You’ve finally got them unbuttoned, and you pull impatiently in an effort to get them off. Ghost lifts his hips to help, though your eager impatience seems to amuse him.

“Which one of your toys’ve you been practicing on?” He asks, the barest undertone of a groan in his voice. “The pretty little pink one?”

You feel embarrassed heat prickle in your face because yes, it had in fact been that one you had been practising with. You’re not quite sure what to make of the fact that you’re apparently so predictable that Ghost can guess which dildo you’ve been sucking at, imagining it was him.

“Maybe.” You mutter evasively.

Ghost lets out a low chuckle right as you manage to wrangle his cock out of his briefs, and then you have to pause for a moment because oh. You had known, of course, that he was big. You had felt him for days after that first time, like a fucking internal bruise that ached at you every time you moved. He was bigger than any toy that you owned, you know that, you’ve felt it, and yet now that it’s in front of your face it seems so much bigger than you remember.

You’ve watched porn with so-called ‘monster cocks’ and it isn’t like that. It’s just… bigger. Than average, that is. At least, as far as you can tell, because it’s not like you have enough experience with dicks in real life to have any idea of what average really is.

Ghost must recognise the momentary flash of panic that crosses your face, because he reaches out and strokes a gloved thumb over your cheek. The fabric is rough against your skin, but you relax at the feeling anyway.

“You don’t have to.” He says quietly.

“I want to.” You insist, swallowing that swell of nerves. 

Now that his cock is bobbing in front of your face, you have to fight the sinking feeling that you’re in over your head. But you’re not willing to back down; not when you’ve been thinking about this all damn week, and especially not when you’ve got the man that stars in all of your fantasies sitting on your bed with his legs spread.

You shuffle forward a little, and try not to feel intimidated at the fact that Ghost’s thick thighs twitch when you reach to take hold of his cock. He’s so big that it feels like he’s dwarfing you beneath him, his bulky form enveloping you in shadow when he leans forward to make sure he has a good view of what you’re doing.

You stroke experimentally over his cock, your fist a little clumsy. Despite your frenzied and very pleasurable tumble with him before, you had never actually gotten the chance to touch him in return. You had been too overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of sensation he had delivered upon you to even think about returning any favours, and the fact that you’re getting the opportunity now to reciprocate and explore fills your tummy with butterflies.

“Grip it harder, love.” He grunts, shifting his hips so that he can fuck his cock into your fist. “It ain’t gonna break.”

“Shh,” You admonish him, glancing up with a frown. “Let me do it myself.”

Ghost snorts quietly, probably finding your determination silly, but he still his hips and lets you go at your own pace. His dick is big, and you stare at it with some level of wonder as you stroke your fist over him. You can’t help but compare the feel of him to your dildos, only because they’re your only real point of reference; his skin is velvety soft and hot to the touch, yielding despite how hard he is, and you admire the slide of his foreskin pulling down over the crown. 

It’s not the size that really catches your attention though. No, what you really notice is how fucking perfect it is. Pretty and pink, flushed more red towards the tip, the head shiny with just a hint of smeared pre-come. It curves, slightly, to the left, and it feels nice in your hand. You feel a little light headed as your eyes dart over the pale blond downy hair that covers his thighs and the base of his cock. 

You gather your courage, then lean in and lick tentatively at the rosy pink crown of his cock. You had been a little worried about the taste, having no idea what to expect, but you needn’t have been. He‘s a little salty, but nothing inoffensive; he just tastes like skin, and you relax a little in relief.

He groans, his head tilting back to stare at the ceiling. You pause, hoping for some sort of direction, and as the moment stretches out he looks back to you and tilts his head.

“Thought you wanted to do it yourself?”

Bastard, you grumble in your head, before steeling yourself. You know that your grip on him is clumsy, that your stroking is unpracticed, and you can only pray that he doesn’t mind.

You take his cock into your mouth, jaw hinged wide as you try to avoid using your teeth, and attempt to suck with no finesse. You go too fast, try to take too much too quickly, because all of a sudden the head is tickling the back of your throat and you’re coughing, choking, and sputtering. 

You pull back, blinking rapidly as your eyes sting with tears and drool drips unattractively down your chin. You go to wipe your face, but Ghost catches your wrist before you can.

“Slow down,” He murmurs, pulling your hands away from your face so he can look at you. “You in a rush?”

“No.” You grumble, and your voice comes out a little hoarse from the choking. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Even though you’re quite certain that Ghost already knows that, it’s a little humiliating to admit.

Ghost just hums, his eyes tracking over your petulant expression and the stringy spit that’s trickling down your chin, falling in thick globs above your tits.

“Don’t matter, love.” He rumbles, reaching out to thumb at your chin. You think for a moment that he’s wiping you clean, but then he just ends up smearing your spit all around your mouth. “Play with it as much as you want to. Don’t think too much.”

You swallow, the sound a little too loud in the quiet of your room, before nodding. This is what you wanted – the chance to touch him, to explore his mouth with your hands and mouth just like he had done with you before.

You readjust your grip on his cock; it looks so stupidly big in your hand. You can tell that he notices too, because he lets out a gruff sort of groan before he reaches out, one hand winding around the back of your neck to cup at the base of your skull.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He breathes, his eyes locked onto you.

His eyes are dark, almost completely blacked out by the thickness of his pupil, and he stares down at you with an air of such anticipation that you couldn't dream of keeping him waiting. Gripping him in your hand, you give an exploratory sort of stroke — the skin is velvety soft and smooth, and he lets out a short groan of appreciation when your fingers caress the head of his cock.

You start moving your hand again, adjusting your grip and stroking him off. You wish you were better at it, or at least more confident, but Ghost doesn’t seem to have any complaints. He just grunts quietly, flexing his hips once before apparently remembering what you had said and going still.

It takes a moment before you work up the confidence to bring it anywhere near your mouth again, but finally you lean forward and press a gentle little kiss to the head of his cock. You’re rewarded with a quiet puff of laughter, and his thumb strokes a soothing circle into the back of your neck.

Encouraged, you dip your head and lick the tip of him properly. He tastes salty on your tongue as you take him carefully into your mouth. This time you just suckle at the head, not wanting to push yourself too fast. His taste isn’t nearly as strong as you had been expecting; you hardly notice, really, enjoying the weight of his cock on your tongue and the feeling of being encircled by his big thighs.

It sounds stupid and maybe a little paradoxical, but you feel safe like this; Ghost towers over you even sitting down, and when you’re on your knees for him like this with his thick thighs bracketing you and his clean musky smell in your nose, you swear you never want to leave this moment.

You let out the most pathetic little whisper ever when you suckle at his cock, your tongue licking insistently at the underside of his glans. Ghost is always fairly stoic beneath that mask (other than his occasional bursts of humour and arrogance), so managing to pull out the soft but heavy breaths from his mouth when you suck at him makes pride swell in your chest, warm and syrupy sweet. It also makes something else twist in your belly, tight and hot enough to have your thighs squeezing tight together.

You used to have so many stupid, virginal plans for what you’d do the day you got your hands on some real, non-plastic cock, but everything you’ve ever heard about dicks and oral sex immediately flies right out of your head. You have no technique, and all you do is suck, gracelessly, trying to get as much of Ghost in your mouth as you can. You’re making loud, embarrassing slurping noises, and you’re certain that you’re drooling.

Judging by the grunts above you, Ghost has got no complaints about your technique (or lack thereof). One of his big hands reaches down to cup your face, fingers probing, testing at your jawline as it works.

“Fuck,” He snarls, tilting your chin up so he can see the way your lips are wrapped around the tip of his massive cock, “Knew you’d be good at this. Look at you, messy little thing. Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

That makes you shiver, an electric jolt that shoots right to your clit. You’re not sure what feels better; whether it’s his fat cock in your mouth or the hot wanting intensity in his eyes or the low filthy praises he’s growling.

God, you want to be good at this. You’re definitely no natural, but you fight so hard to push past your uncertainty to make this feel good for Ghost. 

You’re pretty sure he’s lying about you looking gorgeous, though. You’ve never felt less sexy than you do in this moment. Your eyes are streaming over-stimulated tears, your brow is scrunched in concentration, you’re gripping onto Ghost’s thick thighs for both balance and emotional support, and it’s taking everything you have not to choke on him again.

Who the fuck gave him the right to have a cock like this? Complaining about it feels borderline blasphemous, especially when you have first hand experience of just how good he is at using it. You’re making a mess of yourself, slobbering all over him in a way that’s definitely a little gross, but you’re surprised by just how much you’re enjoying this. 

You get a little too eager, because you take him a little too far down your throat and gag. You pull off quickly, choking lightly and still gasping for breath. Maybe your brain is a little oxygen-deprived, because you feel stupidly hazy. 

You take a moment to recover, nuzzling dazedly into the curls of his pubic hair. Blond, of course. God, that shouldn’t be cute but it is.

The thick length of his dick might be intimidating (as proven by the ache in your throat right now), but the velvety balls nestled below seem almost paradoxically vulnerable. You’re fascinated by the sight of them; you might have been amateurishly familiar with cocks from your dildos alone, but his balls are entirely new to you.

You spend some time lavishing them with tiny licks and kisses. Ghost hums in surprised pleasure, the sound swelling to a rumbling purr when you start caressing his thighs and hips with a tender, shy touch. 

Encouraged by his reaction, you return to his cock. It’s jutting proudly up, flushed a lovely pink colour, as though it’s just waiting for your attention once more. It’s already covered in a lather of foamy spit from your attention before, and when you sink your mouth down on him once again you do so with a bit more confidence.

“Like a pro, baby.” Ghost grunts appreciatively. A calloused thumb rolls over your cheek, under the fan of your lashes, and wipes away the moisture that’s gathered there. 

You most certainly are not sucking his cock like a pro, but you appreciate the encouragement all the same. It’s nice to know that you’re not doing a horrific job, at least.

You spare a glance up, half-expecting Ghost’s eyes to be closed. Instead his gaze is avid, sharp, practically electric through that thin window of his balaclava. He’s watching you closely, taking in every detail like it all might be snatched away from him. It’s too intense, and you look back down, focusing on his dick again.

An outraged, possessive noise escapes you when Ghost forcibly tugs your head back, pulling his cock out of your mouth. It twitches a little once it’s been removed from the wet heat of your mouth, all shiny wet and pink, and you lick your lips. God, you want to get back on that, and you don’t understand why he’s taken it away from you.

Ghost lets out a low, breathy chuckle, reaching out to thumb at your spit-slick lower lip before reaching for your elbows and bodily hauling you back up onto the bed.

You practically bounce, falling back on the mattress and squirming to try and get your bearings again.

“No,” You say, and to your bewilderment it comes out on a sob. “I wanted you to come on my face–”

You can tell that Ghost’s expression does something strange beneath his mask because his eye twitches and he takes a deep breath. But he doesn’t put his cock back in your mouth. Instead he reaches back and pulls his shirt off, and you take a broken little inhale because last time he had fucked you, he’d hardly gotten undressed at all. But now you’re being blessed with the sight of scarred pale skin pulled taut over the thick swell of muscles that turn to a softer belly, that pale trail of curls starting just below his belly button. 

“Next time.” He says, and it comes out on the ghost of a groan. “Fuck, love, next time.”

He’s quick to hook his hands under your thighs and haul them apart. You just about have time to spread your legs before he’s muscling his way between them. He tugs impatiently at his balaclava, tugging it askew to reveal his mouth, then he presses his nose into your humiliatingly slick pussy and starts sucking at your clit like it’s a hard candy.

You shriek, your thighs clamping shut around his ears as you writhe, but he clearly has no intention of stopping. The muffled moans he lets out into your cushiony cunt vibrate in the best way, and he’s so brazen about it that it just about takes your breath away. You don’t even know if he can see anything, considering his mask is completely lopsided and his eyes aren’t lined up with the holes anymore, but he’s working with such enthusiasm that it doesn’t even matter.

And honestly, his enthusiastic pussy-eating combined with the sheer visual stimulation he’s providing is really doing it for you. 

You’re probably going to get a crick in your neck from the way you’re craning your head just to watch him hunch over you, that tongue of his peeking out from beneath the edge of his mask just to lick you. He’s built like a fucking god; thick muscles, soft tummy, and cushiony pecs. It might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh god, fuck–!” You choke out, your cunt clenching down hard as Ghost slides a finger into you.

Of course, Ghost’s fingers are also thicker than average. A single one of them feels like what would have been two of your own and you gasp a bit at the sudden stretch. You open up easily, your body welcoming him greedily and bearing down hard around his digits. Maybe it’s because you’re used to controlling the depth, speed and angle of penetration completely when you’re playing with your toys, but relying on Ghost for pleasure feels so damn exotic and exciting. Now you can only tilt your hips and go with Ghost’s pattern of movement; a bit harder, a bit deeper than what you would have done on your own.

He pushes another finger inside and it’s snug in your cunt, two fingers squished together nicely by your pulsing walls, hot and wet. It makes a sticky sound when he pushes them knuckle-deep, and then he sucks at your clit again, hard.

You’re honestly taken aback when your stomach tightens up and a wave of white-hot pleasure washes over you. Your back bows off the bed, you cover your mouth with a balled-up fist, your chest heaves. 

It’s exactly as good as you remember it being the first time, maybe even better, and the noises you make are broken and pathetic as you whine and cry.

Ghost licks you through it, big long laves of his tongue punctuated by sweet little suckles on your clit that feel almost fond. All you can do is lay there and take it, your head spinning a little as you catch your breath and try to figure out how the fuck he managed to make you come so damn quickly when you’ve been failing so spectacularly for a week.

You’ve barely finished coming, still shaking with the aftershocks, when he climbs up your body. At some point he’s shucked his trousers off, and the fact that he’s naked sends a little zing of excitement through your tired body. Or at least, as naked as Ghost tends to get. He’s still got the damn mask on.

He’s breathing heavily; his mouth is slightly ajar, mask tucked up around his crooked nose as he settles on his haunches between your thighs. He’s still staring hard at your cunt, his eyes glued to the way your clit is still twitching. He’s still so damn quiet, and you have no idea what he’s thinking.

When he reaches out to thumb at your clit again you whine. You’re sensitive, and his thumb is calloused and rough. You wiggle, lift up your leg and press your foot to his broad chest to stop him. You may as well be pushing against a brick wall for all the good it did.

Ghost just exhales a quiet laugh, capturing your ankle in his massive fist. He turns his head and kisses your ankle; the gesture is unexpectedly tender, and makes something in your chest tremble dangerously.

He uses his hold on your ankle as leverage to raise your leg, spreading your thighs out wide until your hips ache. You feel so exposed, the lips of your cunt parted ever so slightly, and he’s quick to press his cock against your still-twitching clit.

“Oh, look at her,” He breathes, low enough that you have to strain to hear. “Shite, she missed me, didn’t she?”

His hand is steady as he strokes his cock, dragging it through your sticky folds. The pretty pink head catches on your clit each time, and you let out a quiet whimper. Ghost doesn’t even notice; his eyes are zeroed in on your spread pussy, watching how you flutter around nothing.

“Fuck, she’s been waitin’ for me all week,” He coos, his cock notching at the entrance of your cunt and pressing in just enough for you to feel the stretch as his thumb rolls against your clit. “I know, baby, been waitin’ for you too.”

Jesus, you feel like you’re gonna die. You’re taking all these big deep shivering breaths, still trembling a little from your orgasm and eager for him to just fuck you already, but his filthy talk in your ear is sending you spiralling. You’re so wet it feels like you’ve sprung a leak; you can feel moisture running down your ass and under your thighs, and you burn with both mortification and desire.

Ghost presses his cock in a little further, and your back arches as you groan. Despite the orgasm and the fingering and the fact that you are so fucking aroused right now, the stretch is intense.

“Yeah, she’s beggin’ for me.” Ghost is still talking – at this point you think his words are meant just for himself, because they’re low and a little slurred, his eyes glassy as he stares at the way his cock spears through the slick folds of you. “Listen; it’s like she’s talking to me.”

For a second, you have no goddamn idea what he’s talking about. But then, in the silence, you hear the squelch of your drippy cunt as he squishes his cock against it in shallow little thrusts, barely even pressing the tip inside.

“Oh god,” You whine, high and needy. “Just– stop teasing.”

The bastard laughs, all low and gritty and a little breathless.

“It’s not teasing, lovie.” He says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jawline. “You’ve been avoiding me for a week straight. I’m just reacquainting myself.”

Then he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a move so sweet that it honestly takes you aback. Every complaint in your head flies out the window, and you turn eagerly in an attempt to deepen the kiss. His mouth is so hot, his lips plush and hungry and a little salty. It occurs to you that you’re tasting yourself in his mouth, and your body draws up tight and tense in response. 

“Simon,” You breathe, intending to tell him to get a move on and just fuck you already, but you don’t even get as far as finishing the order.

He groans as though the sound of his given name is a signal, and before you know it you’ve got a huge wall of muscle hunched over you and around you as Ghost holds himself up by his elbows on either side of your head. You feel his cock prodding at the entrance of your cunt and your legs fall even further open, until your hip joints ache.

When he starts to push in, the stretch burns in a way that makes your mouth fall open as you choke on the air in your lungs. You’re wet and pliable and eager, your pussy sucking hungrily at Ghost’s dick in an effort to take him deep quickly, but you had almost forgotten what this felt like. You can’t stop the way your cunt tightens eagerly as he rocks in an inch.

He laughs lowly in your ear, has to swallow back a groan when you clench tight around him, “C’mon, stop pushing me out, darling.”

“Wait,” You gasp, reaching down to place your hand over his belly. “Wait, oh my god, you’re too big–”

His stomach muscles are tensed with the effort he's putting in to keep from rocking into you all in one go, and you spare a moment to admire his patience and his sheer resolve to make things good for you. But even though he’s obediently paused to let you catch your breath, he chuckles quietly at your reaction.

“It’s only the tip, baby.” He murmurs, cooing softly to you like you’re something easily spooked. “You’ve taken it before. This pretty little cunt of yours is so hungry, gotta let her have it.”

You nod, hesitantly. He’s right; he may be big, but you’d taken him before. Only last week. And you had been a virgin then. Well, technically. Not physically, maybe, since you’d long stretched out your hymen on your dildos, but mentally. Though at least last week you had stretched yourself out on your vibrator, and then Ghost had spent so long opening you up with his mouth and fingers.

Ghost rocks forward another inch, and the stretch makes you squeal like a fucking stuck pig. It’s mortifying. How the hell did he ever manage to fit that fat cock inside you?

You slap at his belly hard, writhing away. 

“No, nope, not gonna fit.” You wheeze.

Ghost pulls back, and you can read the disappointed slant of his mouth and he reaches down to grip the base of his cock. Now that you get another look at it, you take a deep breath. It’s still well-lubed with your spit and the pink cockhead is shiny with your slick. 

It’s big, but you know you can take it. You just… you need better leverage.

Your jaw clenches in determination. “I need to be on top.”

There’s a moment of silence as those words settle between you, as though Ghost’s brain is buffering. Then his lips start curving up into that semi-familiar smug smile, and he rolls the two of you over so that he’s laying on his back in your bed with you perched clumsily atop his thighs.

His cock juts up proudly, practically bobbing as it leaks prespend down his length. He settles back, folding his arms behind his head as he watches you – the position makes his biceps bulge in a way that is very appealing and also most likely unintentional.

“Go on.” He encourages, as hungry and wanting as you’ve ever heard him. “All yours, gorgeous.”

All yours, your brain repeats, the words echoing around your skull until you’re certain that your head is empty but for that. You want him so much it makes you feel dizzy.

You shuffle forward until your pussy is hovering over the blood-flushed head of his cock. The cute pink blush has started to darken into a red that looks painful, and you take a little breath at the idea of helping him out with his little problem.

You lower yourself down so that the tip of Ghost’s cock is lined up with your entrance and begins pressing in, stretching you wide and slipping in inch by inch. You gasp desperately as you’re speared open inexorably slowly, tears pricking your eyes as your mouth drops open.

Though you’re the one controlling the pace, it still seems overwhelming, all-encompassing. You can feel your cunt stretching wide and taut around the width of him, fluttering as Ghost groans in dazed appreciation.

You glance up at him, to see that his eyes are a little unfocused, missing the intensity that they’ve had all night. His gaze is flickering from the way your cunt is sliding down on his cock to your breasts to your face, so fast as if he’s trying to take it all in before it disappears.

His oversized hands come to rest on your hips, and you half expect him to pull you down impatiently on his cock. But he doesn’t, they just rest there as though he needs to ground himself. His stomach is tensed so tight you know that his abs will be sore in the morning, and to your delight you can see a lovely pink flush climbing across his lightly-haired chest.

You keep your eyes on his half-masked face as you slowly rock your way down onto the length of him, your breath occasionally hitching. Though he doesn’t rush you, you can feel the way his fingers twitch on your hips and the way his jaw grinds, and all those little tells only increase your excitement.

You’re so full you feel like you’re about to break in half, and Ghost’s gaze on you feels like a physical weight, but you don’t stop. You wiggle clumsily, trying to take him deeper and unintentionally pulling gruff groans out of him every time your body tightens.

Then, finally, you take him to the hilt. He groans, his eyes half-lidded as he watches the way your body sits perched on his lap, little tremors rocking through you as you adjust to his size inside. 

“That’s my girl.” Ghost says, and the praise comes out on the edge of a growl. “Fuck, it’s like you were made for me.”

Tingling heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over him as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system – you’ve never heard Ghost sound so soft and wanting.

One of his hands reaches between you, one big thumb settling right over your swollen clit. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.

“Would you have gone back to his quarters?” He asks, and the seemingly non-sequitur is too much for your dazed, cock-stupid mind to keep with.

“Huh?” You breathe, tentatively rocking your hips and moaning softly as his cock hits just right inside.

“The guy at the bar.” Ghost clarifies, his voice deep and a little irritated. “The one who was all over you. Would you have gone back with him?”

Oh, you think a little wryly. You should have known that he’d be a big possessive bastard.

“I don’t know.” You say, but you’re barely paying attention. You’ve started to rock for real now, and it feels good. Your rhythm is barely more than a slow grind – you think, distantly, that you should be lifting yourself up and down and fucking yourself properly, but grinding so that he hits deep and your clit rubs up against his pubic bone just feels so fucking intense.

“Waste of your time.” He grunts, his grip tight on your hips as he watches you hump lazily. “Jesus, look at the way you’re sucking me in. Cunt’s so fussy, she was just waiting for me.”

The worst part is, you think he might be right. You had been touching yourself every night this week, trying and failing to recreate the high he had brought you to. The touch just wasn’t the same, and no matter how close you got you just couldn’t fall over that damn ledge.

“Yeah,” You whine, hardly even aware of what you’re agreeing to. The sweet ache of the stretch has almost disappeared now, and you hump back onto his cock with abandon. Your chest is heaving as you pant, and you can feel your own body trying to suck him in further but there’s nowhere else to go because he’s filling you up so completely. 

You tip forward, grabbing clumsily at his shoulders for balance as your face smushes against the cushiony softness of his pecs. God, he’s so strong, it’s like your body weight is nothing to him – he just accepts your whole body leaning into him, humming in satisfaction.

Tentatively, you lift yourself up a few inches so you can ease back down. You repeat the movement a few more times, and then you’ve established a steady pace of fucking yourself on his cock. 

“Simon,” You gasp, and it comes out in a whimper that’s far more pathetic than you had intended. “Am I– am I doing good?”

He’s gritting his teeth – you can see the tense line of his jaw as he tilts his head back, watching your face as you bounce stumblingly on his cock.

“Like I said, lovie, you’re a natural.” He says, exhaling harshly through his nose. “Gimme a kiss.”

When you lean forward to kiss him, the angle shifts and all of a sudden he's hitting the spot that makes your knees go weak. Your thighs are already burning from the exertion of riding him, but you whine desperately.

“There.” You moan into Ghost’s mouth, the two of you sharing air as you pant against each other’s lips. “Oh god, please–”

The muscles in his thighs ripple as he lifts his hips to meet yours as you bounce down, and then all of a sudden he’s fucking into you from below. The strength in his hips almost bodily lifts you every time he fucks up, though you almost thwart his every thrust as you try to grind on him again, trying to get his cock to hit just right again.

Fuck, your legs are tired and your knees are aching, but you can feel that glorious build up in your tummy again. Ghost has taken over most of the heavy lifting now too; instead of relying on you to bounce up and down, he’s drilling into that one spot inside you that sends liquid heat shooting up your spine.

Your mouth is hanging open and you’re pretty sure that you’re drooling all over his lovely, soft chest, but it just feels so good. You don’t understand how he does this, how he makes it feel so good for you. You think, a little wildly, that maybe your cunt was made for him.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight,” Ghost grunts, and his chest rumbles beneath your smushed cheek. “Gonna come again for me, sweetheart? Go on, cream on me.”

You didn’t actually think you were that close to another orgasm, despite how good it feels, but maybe Ghost knows you and your pussy better than you know yourself because you feel yourself go tight and gushy, nonsensical gasping and babbling spilling from your lips. The soft squelching noises your pussy makes as his cock fucks up into you is obscene, enough to make your nipples go tight and tingly.

Then his thumb rolls hard against the swollen bud of your clit and you’re gone. You think you might actually scream, but it’s muffled against the now drool-covered expanse of his thick, bulging pecs. 

You let out a choked out wail as your orgasm rips through you like an electric shock, leaving you trembling madly in its wake. You swear you come apart completely, unravelling at the edges as you writhe in his lap, grinding wildly even as he continues to fuck you through it. 

You don’t get even a moment of reprieve, because Ghost keeps going through the waves of your orgasm. He pulls you up to kiss you, sloppy and dirty, and then starts thrusting for all he’s worth. You’re put in mind of bull-riding, and your thighs clench hard as you try to stay seated as he bucks against you.

It's the most unravelled you’ve ever seen him. Ghost is always cool and in control, always meeting everything with smug, arrogant confidence. To see him glowing with sweat, his mouth lolled open under his rumpled balaclava as he snarls and grunts and fucks into you like an animal feels like a drug so heady you know you’re already addicted.

This is not the lazy rhythm of before; he’s uncoordinated and frantic, kissing you hard and messy as he shoves his cock up into you so hard that you’re sure it’s going to leave a permanent impression inside you. Maybe that’s what he’s aiming for. You take it easily, split open and pliant and soft and wet.

You’re oversensitive and shivery, breathing hard and whimpering on every other thrust, but you don’t complain. It only takes a handful of thrusts before Ghost finishes with a bitten off snarl, his jaw clenching and head tipping back as he pulls you off him just in time for his cock to spurt several thick ropes of creamy cum between you. Most of it lands on your belly, dripping down onto your pussy like icing on a cake, but some of it spurts onto Ghost’s own soft belly too.

It makes a mess, but you don’t care. You feel so dreamy-floaty happy right now, your limbs floppy and rubbery as you slump down onto his chest. He catches you easily, and lays you down gently onto the bed. 

You grumble when he moves, but you remember this part from last time. You don’t bother opening your eyes; you know he’ll come back.

Sure enough, he returns within moments, and you feel a warm, wet cloth wiping at your belly and inner thighs. You part your legs, pleased with the feeling of being looked after. When you blink your eyes open again, you see that he’s pulled the mask back down to cover his lovely, talented mouth. You try not to be too disappointed over that. His eyeblack is smeared too; it gives the impression of total debauchery. 

“You alright, love?” He asks, and you realise that you’ve just been staring blankly at him.

“Yeah.” You mumble, stretching your body out like a cat. Now that you’ve been given a moment, you can feel all those little aches flare to life between your legs, around your hips, and up the base of your spine. You wince, but don’t complain.

To your delight, Ghost climbs back into bed with you. He’s a little too big for the standard issue frame, but you’re more than happy to roll on top of him and cuddle close to conserve space. He seems similarly happy to have you all laid out on his chest, because he presses his masked face to the top of your head and inhales slowly.

“Are you staying, this time?” You ask quietly. You think you know the answer after your conversation earlier, but you can’t quite help the little pulse of insecurity.

“As long as you’ll have me.” He says, low in the quiet of the room. His tone is thick with significance, like he’s talking about more than just staying the night, and his fingers are sure and steady as he traces absent-minded little patterns down the length of your spine.

You swallow, heart racing, and rest your cheek against his chest. The steady thump, thump, thump of his own heart soothes you, and you bite your lip. He’s so solid, reliable. You’d trust him with your life, with anything. 

You glance down, your eyes curiously seeking out his now softening cock. It’s laying in a bed of his blond curls at his crotch, and it looks so unthreatening when it’s flaccid. You admire the shape of it absently, feeling a little thrill of excitement at the sight of it. You can’t lie to yourself and say you don’t feel a little possessive, either.

“Are we dating now?” You ask quietly. You’re not able to look him in the eye when you ask it, so you keep your face turned down. You don’t think you could handle seeing his expression if his answer is no.

There’s a pause. His hand halts the sweet patterns he’d been drawing on your back.

“Was that a question for me, or my cock?” He asks. He seems to be aiming for his usual sort of dry humour, but his tone comes out a little guarded, as though he’s actually not sure.

You raise your head, stifling your insecurity, and make eye contact with him. Those pretty brown eyes, so warm when they’re looking at you like this.

“You,” You say.

There’s another pause, and then his hand starts tracing its way over your bare back again.

“Yeah,” Ghost says, and the corners of eyes crinkle. “Stuck with me now, lovie.”

#okayyyy here we go! #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod smut

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’ve been one of sukuna’s many concubines for quite a while now. yet, you still cannot get rid of the jealousy in your system whenever he interacts with the other women in his harem.

wc. idk around 1 to 2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (hurt to comfort), fluff, suggestive at the end. heian era. you call sukuna ‘my lord’. reader gets called ‘brat, little girl’. size difference. no part2, don’t ask i beg. not beta read.

“get back here, brat,” sukuna raises his voice as he follows you. he isn’t one to care about others’ emotional outbursts, yet here he is, chasing you after you’ve poured out your heart to him.

you don’t know why you’re this upset. you do know, however, that it’s childish of you to walk away mid dinner. you should’ve just stayed seated and refuse to let the thoughts consume you.

now you’re speed walking down the hallways of the estate—your legs carrying you as fast as they can without actually making a run for it. your mind keeps replaying the ‘unsettling’ scene that caused you to flee.

you remember it vividly. the sound of sukuna’s low, amused chuckle. how intrigued it was because of something another concubine told him—how he stopped chewing to say something back to her. which he rarely does.

hell, you’ve never seen him laugh around his other concubines.

“i do not wish to talk to you right now, my lord,” you reply, voice raised so the distance wouldn’t make it a hassle for the king of curses to hear you. you know that feisty attitude of yours entertains sukuna to no end.

he raises an eyebrow once he’s heard your voice; how it’s dripping with envy and hurt. you’ve never reacted like that before—at least not in his presence. it made him want to figure out why and how.

though, he can easily guess the reasoning behind your sudden defiance.

“oh, that so?” sukuna hums. he’s lenient with you this time around. he could catch up to you in under a split second, but he decides to give you that sense of accomplishment first before completely destroying it. he walks after you slowly, your fast steps being the same tempo as his slow pace.

you don’t answer. you’re stubborn. you have no right to feel jealous. you are a fairly new concubine—only a couple months ago did you join sukuna’s harem. yet, the time spent with him was precious.

he treats you differently. everyone notices that. everyone tells you the same. you know he does by the way he lets you off the hook with most stuff you say and do.

you don’t know what you did to gain his favouritsm, but it’s addicting. his attention is addictive. real addictive.

you had sworn not to develop any unneccessary feelings for that ruthless sorcerer. but, with the way sukuna treated you so gently behind closed doors, it was impossible not to.

you eventually reach the doors to your chambers. you slide them open and wish to close them behind you, only for a big hand to halt those movements. you freeze in place and refuse to look up at the owner of that said hand.

“look up,” sukuna demands. his voice causes goosebumps to appear on your arms, but you still don't budge. he clicks his tongue. that’s your first warning. two more and your punishment will be carried out, “we can do this the hard way too if you want.”

you turn your head, your fingers curling around the material of your kimono. you really should not feel this way about a little interaction between sukuna and his other concubine. that is none of your concern. what he does with those other women is none of your concern.

and yet. . .

“i don't want to,” you retort. sukuna walks into your room with a sigh. each step he takes forwards, you take backwards. your back finally bumps against the wall next to your bed.

sukuna towers over you, his tall and big frame making you feel vulnerable. especially with the way those red eyes of his are staring down at you. he crosses all four of his arms before speaking.

“tell me what’s running through that head of yours,” sukuna inquires sternly. he isn’t playing around anymore, you can tell. you glance the other way—knowing that he will laugh at you the moment you tell him why you’re upset.

you have a feeling he knows the reason behind your tantrum anyway.

“it’s nothing of importance, my lord,” you shake your head and relax your tense shoulders to make you seem less upset. your words have some truth in them—you don’t think your feelings of envy hold any value to him.

sukuna sighs again. he’s trying his best not to be annoyed at you. you’re his favorite and he wishes not to sadden you any further. he steps forwards, one hand moving to cup the side of your face.

his rough fingers play with a string of your hair, “i’m not stupid, little girl. i don’t like it when my woman is in distress.”

your heart skips a beat. this is what confuses you—how he can go from stern to gentle and vice versa. it’s surprisingly unexpected, which makes you long for more. even if his behaviour is confusing.

you look up at sukuna. your eyes meet for the first time in a good couple minutes. the corner of sukuna’s lips curls up into a satisfied smirk. that’s one step closer to getting you to open up.

“now,” the king of curses lowers his head to your eye level, the proximity all the more nerve wracking. he holds your jaw super tightly out of the blue. it makes you whimper.

“spit it out.”

there it is. the duality of the man strikes once more. you swallow the spit that’s been building up in your mouth. you bite your bottom lip lightly, trying to gather and form the right words to explain yourself.

sukuna wouldn’t understand. he’s a cold-hearted man who doesn’t care about such ‘trivial’ matters. he’ll just call you stupid, pathetic or whatever other derogatory term.

you stop your thoughts for a moment.

“it’s really just a stupid thing,” you mutter. your fingers curl around sukuna’s wrist—the one hand he’s using to firmly hold your jaw. you take a deep breath in, “i did not like it when you, errr. . . when that woman talked to you at the dinner table.”

your voice is clearly dripping with jealousy. pure, pure jealousy. and for what? because he talked to his other concubine. you feel stupid. you thought you discarded your personal feelings for the sorcerer before you the moment you turned into one of his many women.

“that woman?” sukuna tilts his head, feigning ignorance. that little grin on his face tells you enough. he’s playing with you like some form of entertainment. well, technically you are.

he wants you to be specific. he’s forcing you to be by acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

in all honesty, sukuna’s already forgotten what that woman had said to him. it wasn’t and still isn’t worth remembering. all he can recall is your adorable facial expression when you saw him interact like that with his other concubine.

that little frown on your face was priceless. it makes him want to keep teasing you.

“you know who i am talking about, my lord,” you huff, trying to look away, but get stopped by sukuna readjusting his grip on your jaw. he firmly yet gently taps your cheek once and you know what it means.

“attitude,” sukuna warns with a quick hiss. he can let you say whatever you want to him, but you also have some limits regarding which tone you use with him. you apologise quietly under your breath.

the king of curses nods in satisfaction before releasing the grip on your jaw. his large hand trails down to your neck, thumb rubbing up and down your throat, “so, my little girl is mad at me because i talked to another concubine of mine, huh?”

you nod mindlessly. sukuna can easily get you to comply with him—to obey his every word, simply with his actions. the terms of endearment he uses are the cherry on top. they slip off his tongue so easily with you.

“tsk tsk,” sukuna shakes his head. his hand is now on the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair. he’s staring down at you with a smug expression. he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, “how childish of you.”

you knew that would be one of the things he’d say to you. what you didn’t expect is for him to go for a kiss right after. his lips land on yours firmly, and to no surprise, you instantly return the gesture.

your arms wrap around his neck—your chest pressing against his. sukuna wastes no time in picking you up and letting your legs encircle his waist. he’s not pulling away for air to breathe and you don’t either.

“you’re going to listen to me, yeah?” sukuna murmurs between passionate kisses. he’s holding onto you tightly with two arms, his free hands roaming over your body whilst he pins you against the wall.

when you whimper out a weak, high-pitched ‘yes, my lord’, he smirks against your mouth before turning to kiss your neck. he slightly bites the skin to make sure you’re paying attention to him.

“i don’t remember what that woman said,” sukuna continues, nearly out of breath because of the kisses he’s leaving all over you. he easily grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head on the wall, “i was too busy lookin’ at a much prettier concubine of mine.”

he pulls back a little so he can look you in the eyes. you’re panting and embarrassed by what he just said. one of his hands finds your face again, tracing the shape of your mouth.

“my favourite,” sukuna whispers whilst licking his lips. you can see it in his eyes: he’s silently planning out how he’s going to remind you of your place. your place as his favorite concubine.

he dips his head back down, aiming for the valley between your breasts. he closes his eyes before sucking on the surrounding flesh;

“guess i’ll be nice for once ‘nd show you just what it means to be my favorite so that you’ll never dare forget it again.”

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #jjk #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n

[ceilidho]

prompt: simon notices you in the stands (welder/amateur rugby player au). (nsfw, 1.9k)

-

She’s in the stands again, and he doesn’t know who for. 

The same bird as the time before, and the week before that. Always a few minutes into the match, like she snuck in through the backdoor. She always leaves in a hurry, up and out of her seat with her jacket already tugged on, her strides quick on her way out the main doors. 

In the years since joining this amateur league, Simon’s never been tempted to talk to any of the people in the stands. For the most part, they’re there for one of the other players anyway. Wives, girlfriends, sisters—the odd cousin or fuck buddy, those girls dipping in and out, replaced by newer, sparklier versions of each other, the older ones licked clean. 

His focus narrows when he steps onto the field anyway, shrinks like horse blinders sunk down over his skull. Hardly a reason for him to spare more than a glance towards the stands.

Rugby’s not a sport for spectators. At least, not such a low level league. Barely amateur—just some of the locals with a bit of built up stress and aggression to work off. It’s why he’s here after all. Simon spends the hours of his day hunched over sheets of metal and carbon steel, sweating into the metal mask pulled down over his face and staring without blinking into the heart of the flame just inches from his face. 

His nerves are a closed fist in his chest and it grows and grows until he steps out onto the field of the local rec centre and hears the timer overhead start to count down and feels someone’s chest cave in when he drives his shoulder into their solar plexus, hears the breath whoosh out of them, their next breath in thin and febrile. 

It sets his head right. Violence with no consequences. At the end of the game, he looks the man he just bruised and bloodied in the eye and shakes his hand. Puts the world to rights. 

And he needs nothing more than that. His bills are paid, bloodthirst sated, thirst quenched when the team hits up a pub after the match, after which he slinks off into the night to head home with his hood drawn over his head, the size of him rarely inviting more violence. Occasionally it happens that someone with the bad luck of choosing him to mug wants to prove that they have the bigger cock, but that never ends well. Not for them at least.

Simon would fight for a living if welding paid him less. As it is, he satiates that beast in him on the field or the occasional back alley, and it keeps him in check.

But now there’s a bird in the stands drawing his eye and distracting him from the match. It rubs him the wrong way. The blood pumps through his veins more viciously, and the pretty thing in the stands watches the game completely unaware, a serene smile on her face. His gaze keeps being pulled towards where she and a couple clusters of fans sit and nurse paper cups of tea.

She cups both hands around her tea and he wonders absently whether she’d have to hold his cock the same way. 

It’s Gaz who calls him out on it first, panting hard after the first period and frowning at the scoreboard. “Not to be a dick, but that was bollocks, Simon. Never seen you miss a pass like that.”

Few people could get away with speaking to him like that, but Gaz is right. He’s been playing like shit, too preoccupied by the bird watching him with wide, rapt eyes. 

He doesn’t know how to apologise though, so he doesn’t. “Graves is a useless twat. Can’t throw for shit.”

Gaz rolls his eyes. “Not saying he isn’t, but you’re distracted. Where’s your head at?”

“Stay out of it, Garrick,” he says, not even bothering to meet his gaze, the warning clear in his voice. 

“Sorry for caring,” Gaz shouts after him as Simon jogs away.

He asks around at first, trying to find out if she’s someone’s relative or girl, but all the guys just shrug, no answers. If she’s someone’s, they aren’t staking a claim on her. It’s good news for him. Bad news for anyone else taking an interest in the girl that comes to their every match to cheer them on.

His urges sit deeper than the abyssal plain.

She’d probably turn tail and run if she knew the hunger festering in his belly. She sits sweet and innocent in the stands cheering him on and all Simon can think about is pushing her knees up to her ears and feeding his fat cock into her pussy. Shoving his tongue into her cunt, licking her from hole to hole. Sucking each puffy lip into his mouth until her moans go garbled, eyes unfocused. 

No, Simon thinks when she jumps to her feet enthusiastically at the end of the match, she probably wouldn’t like that. Women rarely do. Objectifying them and all those other terms that Gaz likes to wax on about, Johnny nodding along like he isn’t the same kind of mutt as Simon. 

Even during the day, she troubles his thoughts. Troublemaker. He thinks of her when he cleans and buffs in between passes, mind not lulled into the rhythmic emptiness of usual. Even the sound of steel sizzling in his ears doesn’t clear her from his thoughts. Instead all he can think of is her walking into the shop in a little skirt and top, and dragging her to the back where he’d bend her over the closest desk and pull her panties to the side before sinking in to the hilt, mask still on. 

He’s never gotten his cock wet on the job—never been tempted to. For her though, he’d make an exception. 

By the next match, Simon’s made up his mind. When he sees her sneak in after the match has already started, he feels his blood pump harder, his tackles extra rough. His opponents walk away wincing and cursing him under their breath, but it only makes him preen when he glances over to find her watching him, hardly able to pull her eyes away. Price would call it peacocking. He wouldn’t be wrong. 

He approaches her himself at the end of the match before she’s had time to pack up and leave, leaning over the railing separating the field from the stands, covered in sweat and grass stains and bleeding from his right eyebrow.

She stares up at him wide eyed, looking a little lost for words. “Hi?”

“Got somewhere to be?” he asks, blunt. He’s never had it in him for pleasantries. Why waste time when he can see even now the way her eyes rove over his chest appreciatively? 

“…No,” she finally answers, shaking her head. “Just home for supper.”

“Look like you could use a good fuck. Come round back with me?”

The blatant proposition makes her eyes widen, but Simon doesn’t see the problem. Figures if she doesn’t have a man, there’s no issue with him trying out for the part. He waits her out though, vaguely admiring the pert shape of her mouth, lips round with shock. 

Finally they come back together and she chews on her lower lip nervously, caught off-guard but considering it. He doesn’t hold it against her. His bird’s pretty enough, but he doubts she ever puts herself in the position to be asked. He sees the yes in her eyes before she says it.

Still, he enjoys the way she stutters it out softly, eyes downcast. Simon doesn’t bother with his goodbyes to the guys still on the field before ushering her out of the arena and down the hall to the locker rooms with a hand on her back. He drags her into the first empty supply closet he finds, locking the door behind them. She breathes a bit heavily, almost stumbling over her feet, and that’s the eagerness he’s been looking for. Proof his bird’s just as hungry as him. 

She definitely is, Simon thinks, smug when he hoists her up and her legs wrap around his waist without a second thought, her eyes already glazed over. Like she’s been waiting for this for weeks, cunt already sopping wet when he nudges her panties to the side with his knuckles and buries his cock into her. She grips him like a vice, slack jawed and whimpering into the stretch. He likes that. He likes it more when she digs her nails deep into his back, leaving her mark behind. 

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me,” Simon huffs into her neck when she tries to grab his hair instead, what little of it she can. He stares with eyes half-lidded at the way her tits bounce with each thrust. “I like it rough.”

She clenches up at that, dripping wet. Almost a shame that he couldn’t get his mouth on her first. He’ll have to follow her back home like the mongrel he is, mess her pretty bedsheets up and make her scream until she can’t even face the neighbours the next day. 

He doesn’t need her to tell him to know that she’s a good girl, doesn’t do this ever. Only for him. He can tell by how tight of a screw she is, practically purring in his arms; it’s a fight to bully his cock into her. It’s nice when she stutters it out though, strokes his ego the right way. 

“D-didn’t think you’d notice me,” she says, all shy even with her legs spread. 

“Hard not to, pet,” Simon teases, endeared by her soft edges. His slot right in, if not a bit jaggedly. “Been panting after it for a while, haven’t ya?”

“I just wanted to get out of the flat for a bit,” she whispers.

That shifts his perception of her a bit. Infinitesimally so, but still. He didn’t expect the bird to have a lonely flame in her heart. 

“Well, I noticed,” he grunts, and then bends to suck at the salty skin at the crook of her neck before pumping a load into her.

She’s a real good girl. Comes nice on his cock and muffles her whine by biting into his shoulder. He can’t wait until he’s covered in her bites, until his nipples hurt from making her chew on them and his neck is littered with hickeys like a schoolboy. 

Taking her home is easy enough after that. She lets him drive them both back to her place, handing him the keys with a little yawn when he tucks her into the passenger seat of her own car all limp and pliant. 

And he’s right, of course. He makes a right mess of her bed come morning. 

When he leaves after a morning fuck in the shower and breakfast, the cold sinks into his stomach like a lead weight. The fist in his chest is clenched as ever; Simon hadn’t noticed it loosen in the bird’s presence, but he feels it now drawn tight again. Maybe he thought fucking her would finally shake her from his head, but instead it’s made it worse somehow. The lonely flame in his own chest flickers.

He stands in the middle of the sidewalk and thinks it over while angry nine-to-fivers snap at him before really taking him in and scurrying along. Then he turns back around, heading back the way he came.

The next time Simon sees her in the stands, he feels his smile like a phantom limb. He doesn’t have to ask to know she’s there for him.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #cod simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader

[aledmorningstar]

╰┈➤Misunderstood

Summary: How the gang finds out about Sukuna's girlfriend in a misunderstanding.

Relationship: Ryomen Sukuna/Reader

Word count: 3.0k

Note: I'm a liar, I know I said this would go up yesterday, in my defense we set very optimistic goals. Please comment and feel free to send me anything to my inbox

-‘๑’-: No curses au, uni au, sfw, humor, fluff, bad english

The house of the twins Yuji and Ryomen seemed more lively than normal, as every weekend they had planned a movie afternoon, the meetings began early after leaving school, buying snacks, preparing comfortable clothes and choosing some games of table.

Yuji's face wrinkled into a displeased grimace at seeing his twin dressing casually to go out for a walk down the street, while he and his friends were already prepared wearing their comical pajamas, it wasn't fair. This time it was Yuji's turn to choose the movie so as not to let his brother get away with it.

“What are you doing?”

Sukuna turned to look for a second indifferently at his brother while he finished fastening the buttons of his dark shirt. How could he take seriously his brother who maintained an irritated pout while wearing those ridiculous tiger-themed full-body pajamas?

"I'm going out, tell mom I'll be late"

Yuji's moan of annoyance echoed throughout the house, drawing the attention of Nobara and Megumi who were stealthily trying to spy on the conversation by hiding behind a wall.

"You said you would watch Human Worm 4 with us today!"

The one with the caramel eyes began to complain about the injustice that was occurring, a perfect time for his faithful friends to take action.

“We already prepared everything, you can't leave us stranded for an afternoon of movies!”

Nobara grumbled as she tried to fix the sleeves of her raccoon pajamas.

"We made a pact, you must suffer with us"

Megumi was supposed to be the most mature of the group, perhaps Sukuna had overestimated him because he never imagined seeing him share the same neuron as his friends while also wearing ridiculous beige dog pajamas.

“It's a shame brats, it'll have to be another day.”

The older twin's hands didn't stop moving trying to find the car keys; he had somehow managed to look appropriately with a hint of elegance, but without losing that menacing aura, a pair of black pants held up by an expensive belt that he had stolen from his father, a dark gray shirt with the first few buttons open showing his collarbones and the sleeves perfectly arranged at his elbows showing his tattooed arms.

"You look like a criminal"

“Who said I'm not?”

Itadori's intentions to plant some blame on his brother for abandoning them on a seemingly important night were noticeable for miles.

"At least have the decency to tell me where the hell you're going."

Sukuna took a while to respond, his eyes straying suspiciously and the trio could see a slight nervousness on his face. Wait, nerves? Sukuna? Those words were naturally contrary, it even seemed strange to put them together in one sentence. Here was definitely another shoe that was taking a while to drop.

"Mind your own business, don't be nosy"

Itadori instantly stood between his brother and the front door, blocking his way, he would get to the bottom of this matter at any cost.

"Are you planning something bad? Mom will be angry if you get into trouble again"

"Yes, yes, yes. I plan to do many bad and illegal things, in fact in this mood I plan to strangle the first person in front of me"

Itadori, Nobara, and Megumi looked at each other before leaving the hallway clear, letting Sukuna walk.

"Behave badly, take good care of yourself and if they discover you, deny everything"

“See you”

Once the so-called evil twin left the house, the hallway was completely silent for a few seconds.

“Don't you feel...? Curiosity?"

An excited Nobara looked at her friends with bright, gossip-hungry eyes.

"No not really"

Megumi's voice was ignored as Itadori pushed the Fushiguro boy's face away with his hand.

"I was hoping you'd ask, Nobara! In fact, my brother has been acting strange lately."

Itadori put on a thoughtful expression as he remembered his brother's unusual behavior in recent weeks.

"What do you mean he's been acting strange?"

At that moment Nobara had taken on a detective attitude, while the previously disinterested Megumi began to listen attentively to his friends.

“He's been coming home late, more than usual.”

“That doesn't seem strange for someone like him.”

An exalted Itadori raises his hands dramatically as he defends his argument.

“But when he is usually late it is always because he is causing problems in the streets and he is not at all careful with his arrival, now it is different!”

Sharing a room with Itadori, Sukuna didn't care how scandalous he could be when he showed up at home after curfew. He didn't pay attention to the fact that the noise of his shoes being thrown to any side of the room or that the sound of his swear words every time he tripped over something could disturb his brother's sleep.

Lately, however, the nights that Sukuna had spent late away from home had become more frequent, and Itadori couldn't help but notice even in the dead of night how messy his twin's clothes were every time he returned with silent footsteps and he also did not overlook the large number of marks that stood out on Sukuna's neck.

“Also, he has been trying hard in all his school subjects, he has turned in all his homework and sometimes he goes out to the library to study. Did you hear what I said? He goes to the library to study!”

“That's definitely not the Sukuna we know, something is happening to him.”

The three teenagers headed to the living room to sit down to discuss more calmly and solve that mystery.

“Do you think someone is bullying him?”

Itadori looked worried for a split second at Nobara's statement until Megumi gave him a strange, brief sarcastic smile.

“Are you serious right now? Do you think Sukuna, the most feared man on campus, could be bothered by someone? Jesus Christ even earned the nickname “The King of Curses”

They didn't need much time to agree with Megumi, it was impossible to imagine Sukuna being submissive to anyone.

“True, it would make more sense for him to be the one who bothered someone… It can't be possible”

“I told him clearly not to get into trouble, but he never listens to me!”

“Wait, Yuji, calm down. Don't you think that if that's the case, he's spending too much time on that person?”

Itadori seemed to think about it for a second and his face transformed into one of much more dramatic horror than before.

"So he really hates that person! Maybe he's planning a murder? Your brother isn't exactly known for being patient"

Nobara's words were the little push Itadori needed to panic.

"Sukuna definitely can't go to the correctional facility again!... Mom was very sad back then..."

Nobara and Megumi looked into each other's eyes, unable to abandon their friend in such a situation.

"Fine! Our mission today is to prevent your brother from becoming a criminal.”

"Are we allowed to use force? I still have to get revenge for the books I lent him."

The brown-haired girl, Kugisaki, was the first to stand up and was followed by Fushiguro. It seemed like a scene worthy of a movie, this was the motivational part because both friends extended their hands to the boy in tiger pajamas.

“Wait, wait, wait… What happened to your books?”

“I'll ask your brother when I see him.”

It had been approximately 30 minutes since the trio of friends had located and followed Sukuna, a difficult mission that had begun with the friends running after the older twin's car. The fatigue was overcome by surprise when seeing the target enter a flower shop.

“We're late, he's already planning the funeral!”

“Wait, give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe… Maybe he's going to visit a friend?”

“Impossible, my brother has no friends”

Nobara and Yuji's brief talk was interrupted when they saw Sukuna leaving that flower shop with a huge and pretty bouquet of yellow carnations.

"You see it? Maybe your brother is not as bad as he seems” Nobara's voice tried to be optimistic, and it also seemed strange to her that a man would buy flowers for no apparent reason.

“Now I'm quite confused” Itadori, for his part, narrowed his eyes, staring at Sukuna, trying to read his brother's mind.

Megumi spoke with a stiff voice drawing the attention of his friends.

"Don't be so surprised, in the language of flowers, carnations of that color mean contempt"

"Is he turning his assassination attempt into a performance? He's getting creative"

"Hey, he's leaving. Hurry up"

The gang quickly got into a taxi and like every chase scene, Itadori and Nobara yelled at the driver to follow the car in front of them, Megumi had to apologize to the driver at the end of the ride.

Sukuna drove his car until he reached the darkest and most dangerous neighborhood that anyone could imagine, clearly that place had an invisible sign indicating that it was better not to be there, there were few passers-by and the streets were cold with graffiti everywhere.

The older twin got out of his car after having entered the area a little, he walked as if that place was his territory, as if he felt at home, he adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, raising them to his elbows, with a bored look he observed the time on his watch and then leaned his back against the wall waiting patiently. Meanwhile, the trio had remained hidden behind a pile of boxes and seemingly useless objects, thinking about Ryomen's intentions.

"There isn't a soul in this place, what is he planning to do?"

Itadori's question was answered when Megumi held his jaw making him look to his right, his eyes widened as he saw a girl with a small frame, transmitting an aura of delicacy and fragility, she was the complete stereotype of a little princess wearing a pink dress and white sneakers, light makeup and a flower crown adorning her hair, she looked out of context walking with a smile and humming a song in that horrible alley.

"It can't be her... There's no way Sukuna..."

Nobara's words were cut off when the red-eyed man put out his cigarette and walked over to where the girl was with a proud smile on his face.

The fear that this small, fragile woman could be hurt by his violent brother made Itadori quickly get up from his hiding place and stand in front of his brother.

"Sukuna! Stop right there, don't do it!"

The sudden entrance of his nosy brother surprised Sukuna who maintained a displeased scowl at his twin's actions.

"What the fuck? Get out of the way brat, I'm on something important right now"

"Don't you dare take another step, don't do something you'll regret!"

Itadori's voice took a drastic change, sounding too threatening compared to his usual cheerful tone.

"What the hell are you talking about? Leave me alone, I don't have time for this."

Sukuna looked at the horrified girl who was just a few meters away from him, he pushed his brother away with one hand with the intention of walking towards where she was, however he was stopped and subdued on the ground by Megumi.

“Don't even try it, you disgusting scoundrel.”

“Leave me alone, you fucking bastards!”

While the three men argued and fought among themselves, Nobara also came out of her hiding place and walked towards the frightened woman, being careful not to exalt her even more, Kugisaki placed his hands on her shoulders trying to calm her down.

"Are you okay? “Did he do something to you?”

The girl's hands remained covering her mouth, completely surprised by the situation. She instantly left Nobara and ran quickly to where Sukuna was lying on the ground.

"What are you doing?! Get your hands off him!"

Megumi and Itadori's movements stopped, still holding Sukuna on the ground, they turned to look completely surprised at the owner of that little voice, their minds went blank as they watched her approach, she put her hands on Fushiguro's chest. making an attempt to push him away from the red-eyed twin.

"What are you doing to my boyfriend?! Leave him alone!"

Still bewildered, Itadori was the first to move away and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder for him to do the same, allowing Sukuna to stand up a little dazed.

"I don't know what 'Kuna did to you, but what you are doing is not right, it is not right to intimidate others, problems are solved by talking"

You stood in front of your boyfriend trying to be the one to defend him this time, you used to be a little shy when talking to strangers, but you weren't going to let your lover be the victim of such an unfair situation.

"Honey, calm down. They are—"

"No, love! They were very mean to you, no matter who they are!"

You knew that Sukuna had a special weakness for you that made him want to protect you from any danger, everyone told you that, obviously he would also want to take control of this situation in his hands. No, this time it was your turn to protect him, to be his knight in shining armor.

On the other hand, there were also the three idiots who had tried to play detective, watching the situation in astonishment.

"She... just called him love"

“Yes, she really did”

"I can't believe it"

Ryomen had tried to calm his girlfriend's little anger by taking her hands and caressing them, it worked for a few seconds until that trio spoke again.

Upon hearing the incredulous voices of those strangers, you let go of Sukuna's hands and walked a few steps close to those you thought were criminals.

"Listen, my parents are very important people, I will make sure you are punished appropriately"

Your acute and sweet angry voice was silenced by Sukuna's lips, one of his large hands finding a place on your waist while the other caressed your soft cheek.

"It's okay, princess"

"No, it's not okay-"

You tried to reply to his deep voice, you would be lying if you said it didn't make you shiver, his voice was only directed at you, only for you to hear, that made you calm down and also lowered the tone of your voice.

"Pretty, this is my stupid brother and his friends."

"...Impossible, it can't be…, they were subduing you"

"Don't worry, I'm sure they have a good explanation for doing all this, right?"

The affectionate look that Sukuna had given his supposed girlfriend had changed drastically when he turned to look at his friends, removed his touch from his beloved and walked towards the frightened trio, cracking the fingers of his fists.

"Last words?"

Approximately 10 minutes had passed after that disastrous encounter, Sukuna had considered himself generous that day so he decided to take his brother and his friends to the house where they should have stayed from the beginning, very kind, it had nothing to do with his girlfriend will look at those three idiots like abandoned puppies.

"How were we supposed to know you were visiting your girlfriend?"

"What kind of dates are you taking her on?"

"Yeah, you looked like you were about to commit a crime!"

Of course Itadori, Megumi and Nobara tested their patience throughout the car ride, complaining from the back seats and trying to alleviate the pain caused by the car owner's blows. Your curious little eyes turned to look at the trio with intrigue.

"Why do you say that?"

None of them knew how to answer your question, the answer was so obvious that they thought you were stupid or blind, of course none of them said that thought out loud, not when they felt Sukuna's psychopathic gaze in the rearview mirror. However, that didn't stop Yuji from continuing the conversation either.

"You were alone in that horrible and dangerous place, it is the perfect opportunity for a madman"

"Oh, that..."

Your calm reaction to that comment only confused them more, you were too sweet to be in those places and even worse to be there with Sukuna for no good reason.

"Her parents are renowned people and they do not agree with our relationship, that is why we must meet in the most discreet places possible"

"Sometimes dad hires people to watch me, so our meeting point for dates is that place."

The older twin's words left the dynamic trio thinking, especially Itadori and Nobara, Megumi didn't really care much, your complementation made them imagine a current version of Romeo and Juliet. The explanations of your strange relationship had clarified most of his doubts regarding the strange day.

"Wait, what about the flowers?"

Nobara's comment made all the attention focus on Ryomen who wrinkled his face in confusion until he remembered the detail that his friend was talking about at the same time that he stopped the car in front of his house.

"What flowers?"

"Oh right, I brought you something"

Sukuna got out of the car and went to the back taking something out of the trunk, a nice big bouquet of flowers appeared in front of you held by your handsome boyfriend.

"Oh, honey, you shouldn't have bothered."

"It's no bother when I can make you happy"

You received the beautiful flowers in your small hands, allowing yourself to smell them, such a fresh smell while you lovingly observed your loved one and he returned the same look, absorbed in that cloying atmosphere.

Of course that beautiful moment was not the most comfortable for everyone present, much less for Yuji Itadori imitating his twin with a shrill and annoying voice, since he had never seen his brother in that silly state.

"It's no bother when I can make you happy"

“I'm going to kick your ass”

Megumi couldn't stay silent for long either, because something kept echoing in her mind.

"But the meaning of flowers..."

"Excuse me?"

You looked at him with a smile so sweet and innocent that he hesitated for a second on his next words.

“Those flowers have a negative meaning…”

"It's funny you think my 'Kuna knows the meaning of flowers"

"We should have assumed that"

⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭 master list is here

#aledthinks #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jujustsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna #drabble #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #sukuna #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #fluff #ryoumen sukuna

[moonlesslights]

Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara smut #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv #peter b parker

[rinhaler]

ok but like nanami or geto fucking us in a room and gojo just goes in without knocking and sees. and it’s all awkward and he leaves but then ends up going into another room to jerk off cause it was kinda hot…

i would like to maintain that i am not a getou fucker but i hope u enjoy this nonnie :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, male masturbation, vaginal sex.

words: .9k

“O-Oh, shit, Suguru… should we stop?” you pant, your boyfriend still smothering your neck in soft kisses. It’s an answer in itself, but he still feels compelled to breathe the words softly against your skin.

“No, sweetheart, he’ll be fine.” he coos, nibbling on your earlobe. Ultimately distracting you completely from the awkward encounter of being walked in on while you’re naked with Suguru’s cock balls deep in your cunt.

Satoru leans against the wall for a moment while your bare form runs rampant through his mind. The way your swollen, bitten lip fell from your teeth as you moaned while riding Suguru’s thick length.

The way skin slapping against skin filled the room as he relentlessly pounded into you. How sweaty you both appeared to be. You must have been at it for a while. And Satoru has never been so jealous.

He’d always had a thing for you, but kept it to himself out of respect for his best friend. But, fuck, that’s a hard thing to ignore. And now he’s dealing with another hard thing to ignore.

He shouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

But he finds himself instinctively walking to his own dorm room and leaning against the wall that he shares with Suguru. He can still hear you going at it. And his heart flutters.

You know how thin the walls are, and yet you’re making no effort to conceal your salacious little moans. You’re doing it for him, aren’t you? That’s what he thinks, anyway. That’s how he reasons it as he pulls off his t-shirt and throws it to the ground. His sweats come down just enough for him to grab his aching cock.

And the little hiss he emits is pornographic as he makes contact with himself. He’s so turned on, so sensitive it’s almost sore to touch himself. But he can’t help it. He needs this.

He runs his hand over his drooling cockhead and is even taken aback himself by what a mess you’ve made of him. Without even trying. His head falls back against the wall with a gentle thump as he closes his eyes and imagines he is the one fucking you right now. The way you’re trying to be quiet but failing completely as Suguru continues to fuck up into you and viciously pound against your g-spot without remorse.

It should be him.

He looks down at his cock. It’s red and throbbing with a burning desire to be stuffed inside of your precious little cunt.

“Hhng, ah! Suguru! Don’t, d-don’t stop baby.. haaah~!”

Oh, you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you? Even if his hand wasn’t already blurring as he fucks into his fist, he’d have to after that. You want him to hear, he was right. You want him to get off to the idea of you. Of fucking you. Of being a seedy little witness to your filthy show.

You act so innocent, but you aren’t. He should have known.

It’s always precious little things like you that are the most depraved.

He doesn’t want to stop touching himself. He wants to enjoy the feeling of pleasuring himself with you at the same time forever. But he can hear your hitching breaths. The way you’re struggling to keep up with Suguru and how he has to help you even more.

He doesn’t want to stop.

But he has to cum with you.

The way Suguru tries to silence himself as he shoots his load inside of you makes him smile. Like it’s some secret that you’re fucking. It’s well past that, now. Gojo had already borne witness to your natural instincts consuming you both.

He fists his cock faster. Harder. Suguru doesn’t stop fucking you, rubbing your clit with his thumb all the while. He can hear it in your shaky breaths. You're close. You’re so fucking close.

And you’ll cum together.

How romantic.

He doesn’t hold back his own moans as he hears you succumb to your building orgasm. It’s only right that you know what you’ve done to him, he thinks. And for a moment, it goes silent, when you realise what is happening in the room next door.

You’re covering your mouth, much to Suguru’s dismay. He yanks your hand away and interlocks his fingers with yours. Still fucking his softening cock into you relentlessly.

“Don’t be shy,” he smirks, “We wanna hear your pretty moans.”

And Satoru’s cock spurts glob after glob of white, shimmering cum onto his stomach as he moans boisterously for you. Suguru really is the best friend he could ask for. He could have so easily stopped fucking you and started a fight over the fact he’s masturbating over you.

He’s generous. Sharing you and your gorgeous moans with him. He didn’t have to, of course. But Suguru knows how lucky he is to have you. He feels sorry for every other man on earth since he knows no one else can have you.

“Fuuuuuuck me.” Satoru sighs as he finishes, jerking every last drop of cum he possibly can.

“You’re welcome, Satoru,” Suguru laughs, knocking his knuckle against the wall behind him. You collapse above his body, resting your head on his shoulder as you come down from your high. “Don’t make a habit of it, though.”

“A habit?” he laughs, knowing it’s far too late for that. “Next time, I want to watch.”

© 2023 rinhaler

#💌 — luxe mail #📨 — requests #getou x reader #suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru getou x reader #suguru getou smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x fem!reader #anime smut #tw exhibitionism #tw voyeurism

[lixzey]

mine, forever mine.

one two

Timothée couldn't help but smile as he watched his girlfriend, Y/N, sleep peacefully. She had looked so tired that he hadn't had the heart to wake her up, even though they had planned to go stargazing tonight.

He sat beside her, taking in her beauty and breathing in the smell of her. Timothée's heart thundered in his chest as he watched her sleep, her gentle breaths like a soothing melody to his ears. In the darkness of the night, he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for the woman who lay beside him. She was like a delicate flower, beautiful yet strong, fragile yet resilient. As he traced his fingers over her skin, he wondered how he had been lucky enough to find her in the chaos of their world. Her laughter was contagious, and her smile could brighten up even the darkest of days. She had this way of making him feel like he was the only person in the world, and he loved her for that.

Timothée remembered how they met; fate had intervened in the most unexpected way, and he was grateful for that every single day. She was his best friend, his confidante, and his lover, all rolled into one. He couldn't imagine his life without her. When they first met five years ago, Timothée thought that she was way out of his league. Saoirse had convinced him to go out with one of her friends for lunch, and it was love at first sight. Timothée remembered that day vividly. He had been so nervous; his palms were sweating, but he was determined to make a good impression. He had put on his best outfit and made sure he was impeccably groomed. When she arrived, it was like the sun had suddenly come out and lit up the entire room. She was so beautiful and graceful, like an angel that fell from heaven, and he could hardly take his eyes off of her. Somehow, she had been able to see past his awkwardness and insecurity and accept him, no questions asked. She had quickly put him at ease with her warm personality and friendly smile.

It was like a spark of electricity that lit up his world, and he never looked back. He had never felt so alive before, and he knew that he was meant to spend his life with her. From their very first date, Timothée and Y/n had created the type of bond that most people spend their entire lives searching for. It was clear that they had a connection that would never be broken, no matter the circumstance.

Timothée admired how Y/n seemed to find happiness in the simplest things, always appreciating the beauty and little wonders that life offered. Y/n didn't deserve to get all of this hate, she was the purest soul. She taught him to slow down and accept life's imperfections, something he had struggled with in the past. Every time he looked at her, he thought the same thing: how lucky he was to have her in his life. For as long as he had known her, she was soft yet resilient. She had compassion and creativity.

Timothée was beyond grateful to Saoirse for setting them up in the most unexpected way. He couldn’t imagine his life without her. Y/n completed him in ways he never knew were possible. She knew his deepest fears and his darkest secrets, and yet she loved him unconditionally. She was his rock, his safe haven, and his home.

There were so many times that Timothée was certain she was going to walk out of his life. His career always got in the way of their time for each other. He always asked himself why she was still with him after all of the shit he'd put her through, like that one time when Y/n told him she was going to make dinner for him and completely forgot. But despite his shortcomings, Y/n stayed. She loved him because of who he was, and she assured him she was not going anywhere. Timothée was sure that his woman must have the patience of a saint, because sometimes it terrified him.

Timothée wanted to show her off and brag to the world about her. He wanted to tie the knot with her and spend the rest of his life with her. But his management stood in the way of that. He imagined them sitting on the porch of a cozy house, holding hands as they watched the sun set over the horizon while their children ran around, chasing each other through the yard. He couldn't imagine anyone else he'd spend the rest of his life with.

Suddenly, he had an idea.

I'm going to show her off, whether they like it or not.

Sighing, he leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Thank you for loving me, mon amour. I'm going to make it up to you. I love you.”

“Where are you taking me, baby?“ You asked as you fidgeted with the cloth that covered your eyes. “Is the blindfold really necessary?” 

Timothée chuckled. “Be patient, mon amour. We're almost there; just hang in here tight."

“Can you give me a clue where you're taking me? Come on, babyyy!” You whined, your nose scrunching in annoyance, making your boyfriend laugh.

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Fine, laugh.”

It's been a week since the article blew up. You didn't give it any more attention; instead, you focused on your boyfriend, giving him all the love he deserves. You spent the week cooking for him, which he highly appreciated after a long day of working on the go.

Now, your boyfriend is taking you somewhere blindfolded. You had no idea where he was taking you, but knowing your boyfriend, it was another one of his surprises.

Suddenly, the car stopped abruptly. You heard your boyfriend get out of the driver's seat before opening the door on the passenger side.

"You ready, mon amour?"

“I can't see a thing; I'm absolutely ready.” You rolled your eyes at him—not that he could see it, though.

“There's my sarcastic girl.” Timothée chuckled, taking your hand in his and leading you out of the car.

Timothée slowly led you from behind, telling you when to turn and when to walk straight. After what felt like hours, Timothée finally instructed you to stop. You felt the soft grass beneath your feet and heard the faint background hum of a crowd of people. Finally, someone removed the blindfold, and you blink several times, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness. When your eyes finally adjusted, your breath caught in your throat.

The entire gazebo was lit up with twinkling lights, like thousands of stars had been scattered across the ground. Rose petals decorated the entire path leading to the middle. Timothée's family stood beside yours with huge grins plastered on their faces. Both yours and Timothée's friends were also there, smiling brightly. Bystanders stood around with cameras everywhere, trying to capture the moment. Suddenly, your eyes widened when your eyes landed on a familiar brunette; Kylie Jenner was smiling at you from the sidelines, giving you a thumbs up and silently urging you to go to your boyfriend.

You slowly walked towards your boyfriend, tears shining in your eyes as you realized what was happening. Timothée grabbed your hands, and life began to blur out around you as he began to speak.

“The very first time I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one. You looked like an angel that fell from heaven, and I could hardly take his eyes off of you. You have this way of making me feel like I'm the only guy in the world. How have I been so lucky to find you amidst the chaos of the world? Your smile could brighten up even the darkest of days. You were like a spark of electricity that lit up my world. You taught me to slow down and accept life's imperfections. I can't imagine a life without you, mon amour. You are my rock, my safe haven, and my home.” His voice was shaky, but his words were clear and true.

Timothée fell on a bent knee, a beautiful diamond ring in his hand. His eyes were full of love and admiration. “So what do you say, my beautiful angel? Will you marry me? ” 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you gazed into Timothée's green eyes. “Yes,“ you whispered, your voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd around you.

“Yes, I will marry you!” You threw your arms around him, feeling his warmth and the beat of his heart against your chest. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, and you felt as if you were floating on cloud nine. You leaned in close to Timothée and whispered, “I love you, Timothée Chalamet,” and you meant it with all your heart and more.

Timothée slipped the ring onto your finger, and the two of you shared a kiss that felt like forever.

You couldn't believe that you were engaged to the man of your dreams, the man who had swept you off your feet and made her believe in true love. You looked around at the smiling faces surrounding the two of you, feeling overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude.

“I hope you get used to my fans looking at you, mon amour.” Timothée chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I want to take you around the world. They don't have to understand. I'm going to rub it in their face that I put a ring on your hand.”

You giggled, kissing his nose. “That'll take a bit of getting used to.”

“I'm going to show you off, whether they like it or not.”

“You're the one.” You whispered, before capturing his lips in yours. “Mine, forever mine.”

You couldn't wait to spend the rest of your life with him, the man you love, your soon-to-be husband.

Your fiancé, your future, your Timothée, yours. 

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @tchalamss @ashlynnmalfoy @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @imnotoverlyobsessive @mel-vaz @elsagreeer @lovely-maryj @meowmeowmau @bobthe-turmpetman29 @saintcosette @this-is-me-lolol

#timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timmy #timmy chalamet #timothee #lil timmy tim #timothée chalamalabingbong #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee fanfic #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fic #timothée chalamet fanfiction #timothée x reader #timothée chalamet x you #timothée chalamet fanfic #timothée x you #timothée hal chalamet #iil timmy tim #timmy tim #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #insert reader #self insert

[bedoballoons]

Yandere Tighnari, Venti, lyney, Freminet and Aether finding out Reader isn't really into short guys They're into someone bigger and taller {{Itto For Aether, Alhaitham for Tighnari, Nevillete for both Lyney and Freminet and Zhongli for Venti}}

I READ THIS AND WAS LIKE YESSSSSS!!! (As a short person I find this hilarious and your idea is literally genius!) I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your request!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Just not that into short bois~༺}

CW: Yandere themes!, characters are obsessive to the point of wanting to harm others so they can't take you, unrequited love, intense jealousy, mild angst! Lyney makes Neuvillette disappear! Also this is much longer than I meant it to be...what can I say, I like yanderes!

(Includes: Lyney, Tighnari, Venti, Freminet, and Aether!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney had been told no many times in his life,in fact he couldn't even count how many people said he could never be a famous magician...and yet he'd proved every single one of them wrong. He simply couldn't stand not working towards something everyone else claimed was impossible, because in his eyes anything was possible, so when you confided in him about your feelings towards Neuvillette and stated that you found him more charming because of his height, even going so far as to mention you didn't really like short men as much...he just couldn't give up so easily.

He was madly in love with you, to the point it had become more than obsession, he'd seek you out anytime he'd left his home and any show he'd make sure to wink at you the moment his eyes met yours, he was so head over heels for you that he was physically unable to think about anyone or anything else. This also meant he wouldn't let anyone take you...especially just because they were taller...absolutely not.

So for his next show he planned something extra special, a magic trick truly wonderful in everyway...and as the crowd cheered, watching in awe when the box that had contained the chief of justice disappeared before their very eyes...none of them were aware he wouldn't show back up again...at least not for along while. Not until Lyney had found a way to make you love him, not until you...the most precious beautiful thing in all the world...was his.

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari stood next to you, his ears drooping with regret as he watched you flirt away with Alhaitham, his tall muscular figure drawing you to him like a moth to a flame...making you completely forget about the one who'd brought you together in the first place. It was like some cruel trick of fate...especially considering Tighnari had planned to confess his feelings for you that same day...and now it seemed like it would do no good..

He tapped your shoulder, not waiting for your response as he intertwined his hand with yours, pulling you away from Alhaitham as quickly as possible...and silently hoping you'd leave the whole situation at that. You on the other hand were not so happy with him, wanting desperately to continue your conversation with the handsome scribe..., "Tighnari what was that about? I was really getting along with-" He put a gloved finger to your lips, making you go quiet, his heart racing as he looked deep into your eyes.

"I love you...so much. I can't even really wrap my head around my feelings because they are so intense...it's like I need you just to keep going...like you're the thing I simply cannot live without. Even the air I breathe isn't as important as you are...." His confession was a bit much to say the least and adding to it was the kiss he placed on your forehead, causing you to jerk away from him.

"I'm sorry...but I don't feel that way for you..." Your words spilled out before you could stop them, your heart racing with fear at the change in his mannerisms...he didn't even respond...he just stood there...like he was plotting something and you...were about to find out just how crazy his love for you actually was.

𑁍༄Venti:

"I actually do have feelings for someone."

The second those words left your lips Ventis heart began to race, his mind clouded over with thoughts of you confessing to him and telling him you loved him...it was all he wanted. No, it was all he needed! He tried his best to calm himself down, taking a sip of wine before responding like someone who was completely clueless of the others feelings would, "Oh ho ho and who would that lucky person be hmm?"

A blush coated your cheeks followed by a sweet flustered smile that could make even Lord Barbatos swoon and boy was he...until you answered, "I like Mr. Zhongli~" You giggled nervously, not noticing how pale Venti went the second he heard the name...how the part of the wine bottle he'd been holding had shattered, much like his heart...you didn't even notice the hurt tone of his voice when he asked, "What does that old blockhead have that I don't?"

The question definitely took you by surprise, but you assumed he wasn't being serious and decided to answer truthfully, "Well he's a bit more refined...and I like his voice, but most of all he's so tall! I'm sorry Venti but I just can't imagine myself with someone...so tiny." The anemo archon was speechless...hatred seeping into his very being and jealousy getting the better of him. He stood up without another word and left, leaving you wondering what had happened...

𑁍༄Freminet:

Freminet was completely silent, his face bright red and burning with a rage he'd never felt before, his hands barely able to keep steady as jealousy ate away at his once calm heart heart. All he wanted was you...your love, that sweet smile that he craved to see everyday, but here you were, sitting Infront of him with this doe eyed look on your face as you fawned all over none other than the chief of justice. Mentioning more than once how tall and handsome he was, how incredible it would to have a man like him around.

"Enough."

You paused mid sentence, caught off guard by the amount of malice in his once kind sweet voice, watching as he stood up from his seat, your mouth slightly agape. You'd never seen him like this before...so angry and confident, it was scary...yet also a little exciting. After a moment of silence you'd worked up the courage to say something...but you didn't even manage to get a single word out as he grabbed the front of your shirt and pulled you harshly towards him, making you let out nothing more than a sharp gasp.

Your face went red, pure shock displaying itself on your features as he leaned in closer, his light purple eyes seemingly staring into your soul as his whispers grazed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, "Hush now my love...you don't need him...I promise~"

𑁍༄Aether:

Aether was always there to help someone, so reliable in fact, that everyone called on him whenever there was a issue and including you, after all he'd saved you from many close calls...even saving your life a few times in the process and for that you were incredibly grateful, but alas you were still not in love with him. He on the other hand couldn't get enough of you, he just wanted to be near you all the time...be your hero and love you like nobody else ever could.

He...however wasn't the only person who could save someone and when the friendly neighborhood oni stepped in to save you, Aether was anything but pleased... especially when he saw the difference in how you acted. Yes your gratitude was the same...but you'd gotten all flustered at the onis impressive figure, touching the large man's chest while your face heated with such a strong blush and everyone around you cheered him on.

Aether was more than a little upset, suddenly understanding that he clearly wasn't your type and that he probably would never be, he just couldn't stand it! How could you, the person he'd do absolutely anything for...be so enraptured by someone else...just because they were bigger than him. No, he wouldn't let it stand, he'd fight for you, even if it meant doing things he could regret later on...it didn't matter, not anymore. You were all he cared about...all that mattered.

Just. You.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin yandere #lyney x reader #lyney x you #yandere lyney #lyney headcanons #lyney genshin #tighnari x reader #tighnari x you #yandere tighnari x reader #tighnari genshin #tighnari headcanons #venti genshin x reader #venti headcanons #venti x you #yandere venti #venti fanfic #freminet x reader #freminet x you #freminetheadcanons #yandere freminet #freminet genshin #aether x reader #aether x you #aether genshin impact #yandere aether

[thecharacterchronicler]

There Will Come A Ruler (1) || Coriolanus Snow x Reader (+18)

Outline: You agreed to a marriage of convenience with Coriolanus Snow to please your parents and be an asset in his campaign to become the new president of Panem. On your first wedding anniversary, the man who you barely spend time with and hardly know, tells you that he wants you to give him a heir.

Word count: 3’938

Warnings: pregnancy (TTC), marriage of convenience, explicit smut (+18)

(( Part 2 - Snow Lands On Top )) - ((Part 3 - Insatiable ))

You sat at your vanity, adjusting the necklace of pearls around your neck. The reflection in the mirror showed such an elegant woman, with the poise and grace expected of a future First Lady. You had even managed to master the art of making your fake smiles appear real, leading on everyone to believe that you were living a dream, even though things were nothing like what you’d let on in front of the people of Panem.

You repowdered your face, and brushed your hair to make sure you looked flawless before taking a deep breath and leaving the intimacy of your bedroom, the one only you slept in, to go downstairs and join your husband for dinner.

Tonight was one of the few nights he wasn’t working late or had a business dinner or event to attend. Those nights dining in your manor, just the two of you without any guests always felt strange since they were so unusual. You had a cook and a waiter, employees hired to serve you and care for everything so that the only thing expected from you was to show up, dressed and polished for the occasion. Not that Coriolanus would have noticed if you had showed up for this dinner in your pajamas and messy hair, he’d usually be too busy reading the newspaper or writing his next speech to even look at you during the meal. Then, you’d retire back to your bedroom and he would stay working late in his office until he too, would go back to his room, at the far opposite of yours in the opulent manor you resided in.

It had been a year of this routine, ignoring each other unless there were some peering eyes to scrutinize you or some important people to impress. You couldn’t say you were unhappy because what was there to complain about ? You lived in a gorgeous house, you had the privileges associated with being a powerful man’s wife and you were free to spend your days and money as you pleased, the only rule being to never, ever, do anything that could reflect badly on your politician of a husband. Days were sweet and easy. A lot more than what you had imagined when you were told that your parents had agreed for you to marry a complete stranger, just because it was an honor and a wonderful opportunity to be chosen as the fiancée of one of the most important people in Panem. The fact that you had never talked to Coriolanus Snow once before didn’t matter, the papers were signed and three days later, you found yourself walking down the aisle to a blond man, dressed in white as you were, to vow each other love and support until death brought you apart in front of a crowd of cameras, reporters and nosy onlookers.

You made your way to the dining room. With its large windows, it offered one of the best views on the garden and greenhouse, which were always well taken care of, not a single strand of grass out of line or a single rose withering without being cut off of its branch. The furnitures were simple, yet luxurious and the long table was perfect for you to sit at opposite ends from your husband. It was much easier for you to ignore each other, separated by two rows of empty seats and various dishes and platters scattered across the table.

The cook always made five courses meals , with refined food and expensive wine , and although it was only the two of you, tonight was no exception. The hors d’œuvres and entrees had been served already, red wine filling the crystal glasses on each end of the glass table. However, one thing wasn’t right…

“Mrs Snow.” Your husband greeted you, with the same politically warm smile you had mastered to do too by taking example on him.

You stopped on your way to your seat, unsure of what to expect. Despite the few meals you had shared in privacy, he had never been waiting for you standing by the window, with a glass in hand and a gorgeous rose in the other . Nor had he been so perfectly dressed and groomed for such an occasion. Usually, you could tell he had spent a long day working or attending events, his clothes always classy but his light hair frequently tousled and light purple lines under his eyes. This time though, it looked like he had dressed and prepared himself just for you, wearing his best suit and his blond locks perfectly combed back.

“Mister Snow.” You replied, observing him with a sucpicious expression.

“Happy anniversary.” He said, taking the few steps that still separated him from you to hand you the white rose he held. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, something definitely wasn’t right as he never had such caring gestures towards you if they weren’t witnessed by others. But you took the rose, politely thanking him. And surveyed the room carefully in search of a camera or an important guest you might have missed… But you didn’t find anything to justify his odd behavior. “I asked the chef to make your favorite dish for the occasion.”

You knew Coriolanus had no idea what it was, but the fact that he had been so thoughtful to ask should have been enough.

He pulled your chair for you, like the perfect gentleman he was but never bothered to be if it didn’t benefit his image, and you sat at the table, taking in the carefully presented trays of all the things you liked to eat in front of you.

The waiter entered to serve both of you, because since you became Mrs Snow, you apparently weren’t required to do the most basic things, such as filling your own plate with food yourself anymore.

Coriolanus raised his glass of wine to you, proposing to toast to the first of many years together before drinking a long sip out of his beverage. You knew you didn’t have a choice but to do the same, as etiquette dictated it, but his sudden acknowledgment of your existence was enough to make you want to throw your glass at his face and demand he told you what he was up to. But of course, you knew better than to cause a scene, even in privacy.

“I’m sure you’ll be glad to know sixty percent of the voters are favoring me for presidency.” He stated, with a proud smile you couldnt quite tell if real or forced. “Gaul says that with a few more efforts, I should be able to gain the majority, and then I’ll unquestionably win the elections.”

“That’s wonderful.” You replied, truly hoping Coriolanus will be elected to rule over Panem. It was the only thing he wanted and cared about, you didn’t want to imagine the depth of his misery if he didn’t make it. You also might have not known your husband intimately at all but, since you often had to accompany him for official duties, you had learned a thing or two about the way he’d address important business. “Is there anything I can do to help ?”

You saw him smile at your question. A genuine smile, letting you know you were asking exactly what he was hoping you would.

“Well, according to the surveys, I seem to have convinced most of the older electors . However, one part of the population seems to still have doubts about my program.” He explained, while the waiter refilled his glass of wine. “Apparently, families don’t believe I have their best interest at heart.”

“A few more events centered around children and education and I’m sure they’ll be acquired to your cause.” You said, understanding that he probably meant to ask you to accompany him more often to those, as a proof that he cared enough.

“Surely, but Gaul also suggested we start a family of our own to appear more relatable.”

You swallowed your wine with difficulty, the bitterness burning down your throat at his words. Your chest tightened, your heart pounding wildly.

“We agreed on having our first child after five years of marriage.” You reminded him, and by the way his pale eyes focused on you, you knew you were about to start an important business negotiation with him.

“Unfortunately, I need the support of these voters now, not in five years.”

“We signed a contract that detailed this topic very clearly.”

“And in that contract, you vowed to support me in my endeavors and give me two heirs at minimum. I don’t think getting started on our family now instead of later will make much of a difference to you.”

“You are asking me to carry and birth a baby but it won’t make much of a difference to me ?!” You snapped, raising your voice louder than you should have.

“What I meant to say is that you’re going to have to do it sooner or later. Might as well be now so you’re done with this part of your duty. It would benefit me greatly, and you too.”

You bit your lip to keep yourself from shouting at him. The way he was so detached about it all made you unreasonably angry. You had agreed to give him children and he was right, you knew that sooner or later you’d have to get it over with but in all honesty, it wasn’t the idea of being pregnant that gave you anxiety but the thought of what you had to do in order to achieve that.

You were good at putting up a show for the public, pretending to be perfectly in love and happy together but in truth, you didn’t even know this man. He was a stranger, living in the same house as you and that was about it. Imagining anything more intimate with him seemed preposterous.

“I’ll need to think about it.” You told him, and he nodded quietly. He was gracious enough to accept that answer for now but you knew he’d have things his way, wether you agreed or not.

●○●○●○●○●○●

You spent a sleepless night tossing and turning in your satin sheets, mulling over Coriolanus’ request. Damn Dr. Gaul and her bright ideas ! It already was her fault if you had been chosen to be Mister Snow’s perfect wife, an honor in the eyes of most but it felt oddly similar to being picked as a tribute and sent into the arena to you. You didn’t have much say in what you wanted then, you knew you didn’t have anymore to say now. You really were faced with only two choices; either agree and conceive a child, either take the risk of being replaced by a more willing - and less opiniated - new wife.

It took you until the next evening to finally accept that you only had one resonable answer to give him. Unfortunately, the hours seemed to pass by way too slowly since Coriolanus wasn’t home for supper that night, leaving you alone in the empty dining room with your thoughts. You had waited for him for a while, enjoying the cosy living room as night fell over the Capitol until you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore and fell asleep on the teal sofa by the chimney.

When you woke up, the flames that had kept you warm were merly embers. You hadn’t noticed the difference in temperature, thanks to one of the house employees who had been thoughtful enough to cover you with a warm wool blanket. You rose up and stretched, deciding to finish your night in the comfort of your bed but when you walked passed your husband’s office, you noticed a light seeping from underneath the door.

After a gentle knock, you tentatively turned the knob to enter the room you had never been in before. Just like his bedroom, his office usually was a place you avoided in order to keep the distances between the two of you when you didn’t have to fake a happy marriage for others.

You weren’t too surprised by the luxurious items that decorated the room, the white couch and the very large desk in the center of the room were very much in Coriolanus’s style; classic and elegant. But what really caught your attention in this unknown territory was the man behind the desk, dishelved, with his tie undone and the first few buttons of his shirt opened. In a year of living together, you had never seen your husband look so… common.

“You’re awake.” He remarked, leaning back in his armchair and rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“And so are you.”

“I usually don’t go to bed before three or four o’clock.”

You glanced at the clock on the mantel of his fireplace, indicating three twenty five. You quickly did the math, realizing how little sleep he got since most days, when you got up and had breakfast at seven in the morning, he always already was off to his other office in town.

“Don’t you think you might be overworking yourself ?” You asked him, finally daring to fully step inside the room and approach his desk.

“It’s better than having nightmares.” He confessed, matter of factly before looking away from you, as if he hadn’t meant to say something so personal to you. “Did you need something ?”

You stopped in front of the white desk, standing with your thighs pressed against the edge. Even sitting, he still looked quite taller than you.

“I’d like a whole new wardrobe designed by Fabricia Whatnot, a pond in the greenhouse with koi fishes and to add some shelves to the library with more up to date books, mostly romance.”

Coriolanus’ intrigued pale blue eyes observed you, the ghost of an amused smile on his lips.

“And what will I get in exchange of all of this ?” He asked, although his smirk showed he already knew the answer.

“A heir.” You replied, with the satisfaction of at least gaining the most you could ask for out of the deal. His smile grew wider, and you wondered if it was a genuine one. It had to be. It seemed so much warmer than his other ones…

“Then you’ll get everything you want, sweetheart.” You smiled at him, genuinely happy with this outcome although the perspective of what was meant to happen next still terrified you.

He stood from his chair, eyes remaining fixed on you as he walked around his desk to join you on the other side. You felt a shiver run up your spine once he was close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his skin onto yours.

With a hand on each of your hips, he lifted you up to sit you down on the edge of his desk. He looked down at you, his face so close to yours and even if it caused your heartbeat to go wild, you knew he wouldn’t kiss you. He never did.

Instead, he finished unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, revealing his unexpectedly muscular chest, a vague testament left of his previous life as a peacekeeper in the districts.

He placed his white shirt on the desk next to you, careful to fold it neatly enough to avoid creasing before focusing his attention back on you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his hands on you again, first against the bare skin of your legs and slowly but unmistakably making their way up to your thighs, bringing your skirt up in their wake. A ragged breath escape your lips when his fingers trailed the elastic of your underwear, exploring the shape of it by following its lines until suddenly, the warmth and roughness of his fingers had slipped under the fabric and pressed directly on your skin.

He reached between your legs rather gently, a finger slipping between your folds and softly tracing a few lines connecting your entrance to your clit He was being considerate enough to take things slow and prepare you for him, which was something you strangely didn’t expect him to do. Well to be fair, in all twelve months you had been Coriolanus Snow’s wife, you hadn’t given much thoughts to what intimacy might be like with him. Of course, you knew it would have to happen eventually, you had signed a contract after all but you usually avoided fantasizing about it.

You knew Coriolanus probably had an abundance of mistresses to please him whenever he wanted - or needed - them. He was a very good looking man. You knew that already, but seeing him as he was tonight, without much care to his appearance, was yet another proof of how devastatingly handsome he could be.

You liked the way he caressed you, it was the most intimate touch you had ever shared together, and it somehow felt nice to connect with him. But it also was pretty obvious that, even in a situation such as this one, he still was very much in control of himself and of every aspect of what was happening. It was unfair. If he was asking you to let go and was slowly but surely awakening your desire for him with the way his finger still circled your center, he might as well abandon his pretenses and enjoy it too.

Determined to help, you reached out for his pants, unbuttoning them before he could protest and pulling out the hardened length of his cock out of his underwear. It was so rigid and warm in your hand, dark veins running all along his shaft up to his pale tip, which was slightly glistening already. You looked back at him unable to conceal your surprise at how ready he was for you already. You hadn’t done anything to get him in the mood, nor had you removed a single piece of clothing yet but he already seemed to be throbbing with desire with the simple anticipation of what was about to happen.

You ran your thumb over his tip, collecting a drop of his precum with a blush creeping to your cheeks. He stared at you as you did, refusing to let any emotions show on his face but unable to stop himself from shuddering. It helped you feel more confident. With a soft smile for him, you used your other hand to undo the bow around your waist, which held your dress together. It came undone by itself, revealing your chest to him which caused his eyes to darken slightly.

A silent struggle seemed to take place in his mind, hesitating between following his plan as he had imagined it, methodically proceeding in order to procreate or giving in to the violent pulsion of pure lust he felt at the sight of your gorgeous body , taking you like a wild animal rather than pretending to be a gentleman.

You huffed in surprise when you felt his finger slip once more into your wetness before he pushed it inside you, as deeply as it could go. In return, you pumped his cock a few times, enjoying the sight of him trying to resist the pleasure it instantly gave him. He moved his finger in and out of you in synch with your own movements along his shaft before deciding that you were stretched enough to add another one and try to expand you a bit more. You moaned and immediately bite your lip to silence yourself, if he was being careful to not lose control over any of this then you were determined to do the same. But the way he smirked with satisfaction as the sound of your whimper of exctasy when he added a third finger inside you almost caused you to climax already.

You lifted your hips up, trying to move your body and get him to hit even deeper inside you which seemed to amuse him. He liked the way you were slowly starting to lose your mind over the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you.

You gently tugged on his erection still firmly squeezed in your fist, attempting to bring him closer so that he would understand that you were more than ready to take him, as big as he was.

His fingers left you, your walls pulsing with a need for more but instead of his cock pushing past your entrance, it’s his lips savagely crashing against yours that you felt. It was a messy kiss, full of unspoken words and concealed passion finally pouring out. A kiss that was nothing like the chaste, picture perfect, kiss you had shared on your wedding day.

The next moment, his lips were gone and he yanked you to the edge of his desk by a tight grip on your wet panties. They teared under the pressure of his movement and, with the fabric out of his way, all he had left to do was press his hips between your legs spread opened and slam his cock inside you. It was so sudden, your eyes rolled back with the intensity of it all for a moment.

A panted breath escaped his lips, letting you know you felt as good to him as he felt to you. He was trying to stay focused on you, trying to keep his first few thrusts slow and long but as soon as you moaned, the last of his restrain dissolved and he slammed himself back in, shoving his entire length inside you and hitting deep where you so desperately needed to feel him.

With one hand on your hip and the other reaching for your bra, he rocked you in rythym with his blunt thrusts and you definitely gave up on staying silent, letting your loud noises fill his office and probably resonate in the entire manor.

Your body tensed, clenching his cock so hard that you felt it even deeper and it sent you off the edge. Your legs trembled and your vision blurred as a wave of exceptional pleasure took hold of your entire being, making you feel dizzy and satisfied all at once. No matter the strength of the orgasm shaking your body, your husband kept thrusting abruptly in and out of you at the same pace for a bit longer until you felt his warm release filling you up and he collapsed in your arms, panting.

You brought your hands to his soft blond hair, gently playing with his curls as you kept your eyes shut and tried to regain your senses, your legs still shaking and your core still pulsating around him.

A moment went by during which you almost felt close to the stranger you had married, like you finally knew a very intimate part of him but as soon as he had managed to catch his breath, he pulled out of you and regained his flawless, controlled composure.

“Do you think it worked ?” You asked him, still lightly panting.

He put his softening erection back in his pants and reached for his shirt before taking back his place behind his desk.

“I think we should keep trying, just to be sure.” He replied, with a glance at you that clearly betrayed the excitement he felt at the idea of doing it all again with you.

Next in this series:

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #corio snow #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus snow smut #tbosas #smut #smutty fanfiction #coryo snow #president snow #snow smut #tbosas smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x female!reader #spicy content

[mirohlayo]

THE ONLY ONE | LN4

( lando and you are on a break because of an argument. but he needs you back. )

warning : angst, fluff, some jealousy, happy ending ofc

word count : 5.1k

note : the longest thing i have ever written with 5k words 😭 pretty proud of it, hope it's not too long lol

!! english not my first language !!

lando sighs as he watches for around the 30th time your instagram story. it was a picture of your outfit of the day, but the little detail - or big detail for him - was the unknown man standing next to you and his clothes matching with yours. lando can't help but rewatch again and again your story throughout all the day. of course, he loves your outfit. he thinks everything suits you, either an elegant dress or just a big hoodie. it was not the problem. but why the fuck your outfit matched with the one of an other man than him ? he just don't understand. usually, he would be and was the only one to match with your outfit. it was kind of your love language, and lando loves it. every time you asked him to wear the same clothes as you, he never refused the offer and even lend you one of his hoodie. it is something very special for him, so when he saw you doing this with an other man than him, he really didn't like it. actually, he hated it.

and the worse ? he is once again looking at your story, laying in your shared bed in his monaco apartment, clinging to your pillow. oh poor him. there is still the scent of you and your shampoo filled in the pillow you used to sleep on when you passed the nights with your loved one. he's holding onto it anytime he's missing you, which is basically every minutes. he smells your fragrance, finding so much comfort in it. and he would also imagines you next to him, cuddling his body and playing with his hair. but these are just memories now. it seems long time ago for him, when the last time you saw each other was actually around 3 weeks now. but it was not a good last time. completely the opposite. and he curses himself when he remembers what happened that day.

"fuck, who is this... thing ? guy ?" he says, throwing his phone over the blankets. for real, who was this man next to you ? have you already forget him and moved on ? but no, you guys are still together. theoretically. yes, the last time you talked to each other was during an argument, but when you left him all alone in his apartment, you didn't say you broke up with him. you just left, furious and mostly hurt. you were on a break. you didn't talk together since the argument, didn't send any text messages that you both would always send every hours because of how much you missed each other. 3 weeks without any contacts. but the thing you don't know is lando still looking at your social medias accounts everyday, missing you dearly. sometimes he hesitates, if he should like or not your stories.

every days, every hours, every minutes, every seconds are hurtful without you. he's still playing again and again in his head the last smile he captured of you. he is missing you so fucking bad. and the only person he can blame is himself. yes, he is the one to blame at. he was the one who started the argument and the one to say the most rude and hurtful words. and he feels so much guilty about it. he can't stand the fact he was the one who hurt and upset the most precious person to his eyes. everything is his fault. and now he thinks he's just a fool who don't deserve you. it pains so much his heart, and he's getting sick of it. he needs you again. he needs to see you again. he needs to kiss and hug you again.

he let a scream out, overthinking about the situation. he grabs his phone and opens the text app. he clicks on your name, and starts typing something. but what ? hello ? hi ? can we talk together ? no. he just can't send you some stupid messages and thinks everything will be perfect again like 3 weeks ago. what was he thinking ? he sighs longly and decides to take a shower to stop thinking about you. but he damn knows that's impossible because every single thing reminds him of you.

like taking showers. you would often showered with him because he loves showering together. washing your hair and hugging you to warm your freezing body meanwhile the cold water was turning hot. and then after you doing his haircare routine, styling his damp curls while he was just looking at you with adoration. or when you guys would spend your evenings together, cuddling close under a woolen plaid on the couch, watching a movie until one of you two would fall asleep. or when you cooked some recipes and it ended up in a food battle. god he's craving of those moments again. he really needs to do something...

-

race day. it is sunday today and of course lando have to race. he don't know it, but you are in the paddock club. yes, even if you're on a break in your relationship, you couldn't miss a race and decided to attend it. those last 3 weeks, you didn't miss a single one races. you didn't attend them, because you were still hurt by lando's words and you didn't want his fans to see you present there, so you just watched the races and your papaya driver on the tv. but you missed so much seeing him in reality, so you attend today's race. of course, you are wearing glasses and a cap to not be recognizable. and you're also sitting in a hidden corner.

lando has no clue that you are here, watching his car moving around. and you have no clue that he is thinking about you and the way he's going to apologize to you. so as the race passes, you keep an eye on his car. your heart and your being feels weird. the amount of love you have for him is still here, and it never shaded away for the past 3 weeks. not a single bit. but of course you are still upset and hurt. the words he said to you broke you into tears. you love him so much, never you loved someone like that. so when he told you those mean things, you felt weak. and very very sad.

in a blink, the race is already finished. fans wave at the drivers who are celebrating the podium with their race team. you smile, admiring the place. you would be lying if you said you didn't missed races. you were always happy to attend one. maybe for the race, or maybe just to spend more time with lando. by the way, he didn't finish on the podium but still get p4. and despite the fact you are still gloomy, you are proud of him, like usually. because he's just the best after all.

now you have to leave the track. of course, you would have love to stay and join your favorite driver, but he don't know you are here and you don't want him to see you. because nobody has already apologize. and it's been 3 weeks since you haven't seen and spoken to him. it would be awkwardly embarrassing. so you have to take precautions and be prudent to not be seen by any mclaren team member. you go down the balcony's stairs, lowering your head and hiding your face with the cap. of course it has to be an orange cap, because it is the only hat you have. an other way to be even more discreet, huh. but it works well. you are now in the paddock area, just in front of the mclaren one. you recognize a lot of engineers and people who work with your boyfriend and you hope deep inside you they don't see and recognize you. but it seems like you failed it.

"y/n ?" oh. oh... it's not just anyone. it's not just a random maclaren team member. no. it is him. it's his voice. his voice that you missed hearing. it's lando norris. you stop, and don't know what to do. and don't know how to react. so you stay like this, turning your back on him. "y/n ? is it you ?" you close your eyes and exhale, you're not really in the mood to talk to him. the only person you shouldn't meet is now facing you. you turn around and keep your head low, you don't have the force to look at him.

you just remove your glasses and put them in your pocket. "why are you here ?" he asks confused, but you can tell he's concerned about it. "to... support you, i guess ?". you finally give up and cross his gaze. and it aches your heart. he looks tired, i mean of course he just finished a 2 hours race but still he looks even tired than usually. his face is pale, doesn't have much color. and his eyes are so tiny, so many emotions in them. "oh ok. huhh thank you...". he answers awkwardly. you bite your lower lip, the atmosphere is, well, very awkward yes. "so, how are you?" you ask to get rid of this tension.

how he is ? fuck this question. he doesn't even want to answer. does he really need to say that he blames himself every day, that he can't sleep because of how much he cries thinking about you, that he skips dinners because of how bad he's feeling ? he never felt like that with any person. it is the first time his whole being aches that much. but he can't tell you that, he knows you will not forgive him that easily. "good. and you ?" he says, avoiding your gaze. "good too" you hum sotfly. he knows damn well that's a lie, because even your tone betrayed you. he tries to take a look at you. his heart squeezes in pain, the view in front of him is heartbreaking. you look as tired as him. and as pale as him too. where is the smile he loves so much gone ? the shining sparkles in your pretty eyes ?

he fights the urge to pull you in his arms. but he's the one at fault, he can only blame himself. "hum, i'll go now" "no." he answers back to back and you look at him confused and surprised. "i-i mean you're going back to monaco ?" he stutters. "no, i'll join a friend of mine" you says coldly. "oh... ok..." god he sounds so sad, it pains you. you struggles to not hug him. because yes, you're hurt, but you still love him like crazy. "well... oh and good job today" you quickly say and starts to leave, not wanting to stay more here. you don't turn back, but lando is now smiling softly, watching you fade away in the crowd. "thank you, love" he whisper to himself.

he sighs, blinking slowly. now memories are coming back, and he remembers what happened that night, when everything went wrong in only one second.

- -

you were very tired. a hard day of work. so when you came home, in your lover's apartment in monaco, all you wanted was to follow him around like a puppy and cuddle him. you were so clingy and so needy. it was rare, very very rare for you to be like that, all clingy and needy, so when that night you doubled it, it was kind of surprising and shocking. usually, lando loves when you get clingy, when you want him all for yourself. because it not happens often, so of course he cherishes these moments. but that night, it was different. he didn't like the way you acted with him. you kept following him around the apartment, touching him gently and innocently. like grabbing his hand, placing soft kisses on his cheeks, back hugs. you just wanted his attention. you just wanted your lover. but he didn't seems he felt the same about you. first, he didn't care much. he just didn't returned back your affection. but the more you were getting clingy, the more he was getting angry. he started to hate it.

you tried to kiss him on the lips and instead of kissing you back roughly, he turned his head and your lips pressed against his cheek. you paused for a second, confused. you frowned and tried to understand why he did that. why your lover didn't return back your hugs ? your kisses ? why he acted like you didn't even exist ? you placed your hand on his forearm but he shifted. your heart squeezed, why was he like this ? usually, he was the neediest one and the one getting even clingier. you were lost.

"baby, why you don't kiss me back ?" you asked softly. lando sighed and he seemed annoyed. he didn't even dare to reply. which hurt you. you moved and stopped before him. "something is wrong ? something bothers you ?" you tried to understand why he was in this mood, you wanted to help him talk about whatever bothered his thoughts. but you didn't expect to hear that. "yes, you." he hissed. your face deformed. did you hear well ? "w-what ?" you stuttered. "you. it's you. you fucking annoy me". you blinked and took some few steps back. your being hurt, your heart was broken. "what do you mean ?"

"you're so clingy and needy and i fucking hate it. stop being like that and stop touching me. you're so annoying" he threw these words at you, giving you a death look as his furrowed his brows. oh pain was real. you felt weak, you thought it was all a dream. but no, your lover was here, saying harsh words to you and kept hurting your poor little heart. and while you tried to understand his behavior - because he would never talk bad to you like that - a bulb lighted in your head.

it was qualifying. you remembered lando's week went bad and hard for him. bad practices, no luck, his slow car, his poor performance... nothing went right. and you knew how much f1 had an important impact on him and his mental health. he was so hard on himself and sometimes he would overthink about why he sucks at racing. this explains why he was acting like a shit with you. you knew it was that. he didn't want to do a bad race tomorrow. so instead of calm down and talk about it with you, he let out all his anger on you. it was like he took you as a punching ball and kept punching you, until you broke in pieces. you understand how he felt, racing is his job, he has to be the best. but let out his anger on your poor person even though you did nothing wrong, you couldn't take that. yes, he had the right to be angry and annoyed and whatever, but being harsh towards you won't make his performance better. so you tried to talk with him. or maybe argue with him.

"lando, please. i know you don't mean what you say." he stared at you and then walk closer to you. his gaze get through yours, and a storm appeared in it. "yes, i mean it y/n. you're getting on my nerves and i don't like that. maybe i don't like you too". wow. it was harsh. it was like getting stabbed again and again. he don't like you ? he really meant it ? now you were about to cry. tears filled your eyes, and you breathed harder to not let them run. and of course lando noticed it. "what, really ? are you going to cry ? you're the one who started it all and you think you can cry ? gosh you're so pathetic y/n". you shook your head and looked away because you knew soon your tears will drop. was he saying bullshit now ? "oh, you're really crying" he made fun of you and your statement. but you couldn't stand here and just cry. you had to speak up, to explain how you felt and explain that letting out his anger on you was not the solution. "please lando stop. i know it's because of racing that you're acting like that. you can be upset and annoyed but it can't justify the fact you burst your emotions on me. i did nothing wrong, i just want to help yo-" "it's not about racing !!!!" he yelled at you.

you almost jumped because of how much he scared you. he never yelled at you. never ever. he was so different from the lando you knew. lando was the perfect, caring, kindness boyfriend. who was so in love with you. not someone who yell and hurt you. "you can't even see it's you the problem. i don't need your shitty cuddles and hugs and everything. i never wanted you and i don't even need you. you sucks". "lando pleas-" "i wish i had never met you". and then he passed you to crawl on the couch, turning on the tv. he looked like he didn't even care about you anymore. your heart cried as your being hurt. the best thing that have ever came into your life just said he wish he had never met you. how hurtful it is. and you thought it was the race who made him angry like that, but it seemed like it's not the reason anymore. just him speaking maybe the truth and what he thinks about you. and you wished you were dreaming. but no, it was not.

you never had an argument with him. or when something was wrong, you would always talk about it. but it was so different. the person you loved the most broke you. pain, yeah, pain filled your body. it ached badly. you just wanted to leave. run far far away. so he couldn't hurt you anymore. "i'm leaving. i can't stay with you anymore so i'll go" "then go. get out of my apartment. i would be better off without you". it was one sentence too many. your tears ran down your cheeks, your face. you couldn't stop them. so you just leave, shutting the door behind you, as the one who broke you started to realize little by little what happened. and it was when guilt started to kick him.

-

"so fucking dumb you are" max says again, cursing at his friend's behavior towards you. "i know. don't remind me. i'm such an idiot" lando says again, cursing at himself. he is laying on his bed, re-watching your new instagram stories while max is sitting on the other side of the bed. "and for the fucking 40th time please stop looking at her stories. you've been doing this since this morning." max states, and try to grab his friend's phone who dodge it effortlessly. f1 driver reflexes yes. "then you stop sitting on this side of the bed. y/n's perfume will disappear because of you and your stinky scent". max rolls his eyes and finally stand up. "you're miserable".

lando sighs, and throws his phone over the blankets. "max help me... i'm so fucking lost without her." "but it's your own fault. you're the one to blame at". he shrugs and shake his head. "i know it's my fault max. don't you know i'm literally dying every single day because of how much i miss her ? that i'm crying because i will never find someone like her ? i'm in a shitty situation and i don't feel well because she's not with me. look, i'm in a pitiful state even though we did not even broken. what will i be like if we break up for real ? i don't even want to imagine it because i already know it will be awful." he passes his hand in his hair, ruffling them. "i've never felt like that about any exes, anyone. it's the first time i suffer like this, i don't know what to do...". max looks at his friend and his gaze softens. he hates seeing his best friend suffer, he can't stand it. "lando i can help you. and i will help you. but you have to promise me that you-" "SHE TEXTED ME !!!" lando suddenly screams.

"what ??" max jumps on the bed and sit next to him. "MAX !! SHE SENT ME A MESSAGE" lando is going crazy, he is just shocked. he don't even realizes what happens, he thinks he's dreaming. his heart is beating faster now. but max sighs as he reads the text you just sent, a simple "i'm coming to pick up some things in the evening". it is more a negative message because it means you're not staying in your boyfriend's apartment, but still lando is relieved by this one text. "lando, she's not staying. she's coming to pick up things because she don't want to live with you" "but it's her first text since 3 weeks ago ! she thinks about me too!"

max shakes his head and closes his eyes because he's getting a headache. "mate you don't get it" he says. but his friend don't listen, he is too focused on his phone. because he knows he's going to see her girlfriend soon, and he knows it will be the moment to apologize, to show her how much he cares about her. "max, help me. give me advices please. i'm listening". and then the two would spend the whole afternoon together, the streamer giving advices to the driver. lando is prepared, he don't want to loose his chance.

and then someone knocks on the door. he knows it is you because it's now around 6pm. max left 30 minutes ago. so it means you two will be alone together. lando almost tumbles because he ran towards the door at the speed of his mclaren livery. he takes a breath and opens the door.

oh.

your pretty face. the first thing he saw. his heart squeezes at the sight of you. your eyes, scanning his face and his body while he does the same for you. he can't believes you're standing in from of him, even though he saw you last week on sunday. but he's feeling worried now. you look super tired. dark circles under your tired eyes, your cheekbones more visible. you are as terrible as him. nobody dare to talk, and you start to feel awkward. "can i enter or maybe i just stay here until tomorrow ?" you say. "o-oh yes, come..." he shifts and you walk inside the apartment. and a weird feeling seizes you. every rooms of the apartment holds a memory from you and your boyfriend. the kitchen where he would cooks your breakfast, the living room where you would play karaokes. you feel nostalgic. and remember these memories makes you want to stay, to forgive lando, to be back together like before. but you put yourself together and fight this urge. you came for your things, not for him. or maybe it was also your intention. "how are you ?" he asks cautiously. "good. what about you ?" you reply. "good too". no, lies. from both of you.

you make your way to the bedroom. the first thing you see is your pillow above lando's one, as is he was sleeping on it. and the fact is that he was truly sleeping on it, your scent lulled him every nights. you put your suitcase on the bed and open it, you don't want to waste time. but there is a problem. and it's a big one. you have to sleep with lando tonight. not maybe in the same bed, but still you have to pass the night in his, well your shared apartment. those past 3 weeks, you were hosting at one of your friend's house. when lando asked you to moved in with him, you sold your old apartment. that's why you had nowhere to go, and lando was so worried about it but you weren't aware of it of course.

but your friend's parents were passing through and decided to pay a visit to your friend's house. you didn't want to intrude, so instead of worrying your friend you said you will buy an hotel room. what a coincidence you are now in your boyfriend apartment, sweating because you are scared to ask him to stay. so waiting for the fateful moment, you keep packing up things. you can also feel lando staring at you and his intense look burns your cheeks. "do you need anything ? you want something to eat ?" he asks sudenly, and you can hear he's caring about you by his tone. "no i'm okay, thank you" you simply answer.

your heart start pounding faster, and you sweat even more. god why were you so shy and scared ? he is your boyfriend after all, why would he refuse ? you play nervously with your necklace, the one lando gave you for your first date. you never took it off since now. "are you... okay ?" your boyfriend gives you a concerned look, he noticed you stopped packing your clothes. you take a deep breath and move to face him. "hum... can i..." your words don't want to leave your mouth. "can i stay here ? does it bothers you if i sleep here tonight ? if so then it's okay i will fin-" "no stay please." he rushes back. you look at him surprised. "i-i mean it doesn't bother me at all. you can sleep here". you give him a small smile and a little thank you. he smiles back, but unlike you it is a big, happy smile. the exact smile you love seeing from him. "huh, you can sleep on the bed, i'll go with the couch". he adds and you just nod.

lando just keep staring at you. of course, it disturbs you because sometimes you are putting useless things in your suitcase. he takes advantage of it to admire you. your body's silhouette he loved hugging, your shiny and soft hair he loved styling, your presence and its hold on him. you truly are precious to him. he knows he can't live without you in his life, it's just impossible. he needs you. not tomorrow, not in the next few hours. no. he needs you now. right now. he just can't stand the fact you're right here and can't kiss him or push him on the bed to cuddle him. he approaches you, and gently grabs your hand. surprisingly, you don't remove it and he melts down in the touch. "y/n... please listen to me". you sigh longly and turn your face to cross his eyes. you are also tired of it. even if he hurts you so bad, you can't stay far away from him because you need him as he needs you. "i'm listening". he strokes the back of your hand and takes your chin in his fingers to lift up your head, forcing you to look at him.

"i'm so fucking sorry y/n. so so sorry. you have no idea how much i blame myself and i feel so guilty every day. i'm the worst boyfriend ever, i don't even deserve you. every single minutes i keep thinking about what i said that day and if i could i would go back in time. because i regret so much those hurtful and cruel words i said to you. and you have to believe me, i didn't meant not a single word. i can't stand the fact that i'm the one who hurt you when i said i would punch the person who would did it". you try to reply back but he's so into it now. "please let me finish. i love you. i'm so madly and deeply in love with you. if you ever ask me to bring down the stars and the moon for you i'll do it. i would do anything for you. i love you. i have never loved someone like that. even with my exes, i never felt like that before, i never wanted someone so bad than you. you're the only one for me. nobody can replace you y/n. you're the best thing that ever happened to me, and i'll never let anything and anyone taking you from me. i need you in my life and i want you in my life because i can't imagine it without you. when i said i would be better without you, i so fucking lay. it's completely the opposite, i'm nothing without you. i would do anything for you to forgive me. because you're the only one, and you'll always be the only one."

tears are now running down his cheeks. and yours too. gosh he just let everything out, he has never been so desperate over someone. you can't stand it anymore and hug him tightly. he melts down in your hug and squeezes you. oh he missed you so much. he hides his wet face in the crook of your neck and keeps crying like a baby. you rub his back slowly and place a soft kiss on his hair. "i love you too lando. i'm so in love with you and i also need you." you simply say, because you know he already knows you're infatuated with him. and you guys stayed like that for fifteen minutes, lando keeping his arms around you. he don't want to let you go. he's so afraid of it now. "let's go cuddle in the bed. or maybe you still hate it" you tease him gently. "no. please. cuddle me. be clingy and needy, i'm only asking for it. don't go away from me." you two crumble into the bed and put the blankets over your bodies. lando curls up against you, his grip tight on you that you can barely breathe. he hides once again his head in the crook of your neck and one of his hand slips under your shirt, stroking your back. you start playing with his curls, something he loves and craves very much.

"i love you so much my baby" he suddenly says. you smile and peck his side profile. "me too lan". he lift up his head and your looks cross. he can't help it and a silly smile takes place on his lips. and he leans in, kissing you softly, your warm lips against his. he missed kissing you, so he really struggles to pull back. "besides i was such a liar. i'm the most needy and clingy one." you laugh hard and kiss him once again. he returns back the kiss and traces his way to your neck, planting soft kisses on it. "no for real, i would literally die without your cuddles. and just without you actually". you giggle and, you spend the rest of the night together. showering together again, cooking together again, playing karaokes together again. and of course, he didn't slept on the couch. but in your warm embrace which he's sure he'll never leave.

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