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#he was close enough to in character that at first I brushed it off as hes still finding his purpose
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The Man 5
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen
Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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You double check the lock on your apartment door. Your paranoia buzzes like a broken radio. You pace around the cramped bachelor, thoughts strewn all around. One moment, you’re desperately trying to figure out what to do next; find a job, go home, call Bre and beg her to take you back. The next, you’re looking out the window, expecting a villain to be waiting outside. Every worry you have strings back to that man... 
You manage to settle down enough to browse the scant offerings on Indeed. The work from home opportunities are questionable as you tap more information. Commission based... that’s not going to get you much. You send off a few applications for fast food joints, a quick solution just to you through, but you need something quick. Something today. 
You give up and throw your phone. You stare at it as it lays screen down on the other end of the couch. You see it in that man’s hand as he flicks his thumb. Who does he think he is? The real question is, who is he? 
You sigh and close your eyes, dragging your hands over your face. The more you think about it, the more it feels you were set up for failure. Why couldn’t Bre just warn you? Why couldn’t she tell you who he was? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? 
The stale smell of espresso urges you from the couch. You shuffle into the bathroom and start the shower. You strip off your clothes, slightly stiff from the dried coffee. Your skin is sticky too in places and there’s a particularly crusty patch on your chest somehow. 
You wash away the caffeine-laced christening. You linger beneath the water and let it slake over you. You lean forward, hands flat on the tile as hot rivulets wash over your back. Your muscles are coiled tightly. The stress of the day and those to come have you tied up like a knot. 
When you emerge, you yawn, too exhausted to keep up the existential despair. You stagger into the front room and over to your double bed. You trade the towel for a loose tee and sprawl across the futon. You melt into it and close your eyes. 
You’ll figure it all out tomorrow. Maybe. Hopefully. 
Or maybe tomorrow will be even worse. 
You wake up to the creak of your mail slot and the metallic clunk of it biting down on an paper. You gurgle and roll onto your side, coughing dryly as you rub your forehead. Your head is thick and foggy from sleep. A slightly thrum pulses in your temple. 
You hover at the edge of the bed, staring at the door, weighing the distance. You yawn and roll onto your feet. You pad across the apartment and pull the paper free of the flap. You open the trifold letter and your vision clears as the font comes into view. 
The building’s letterhead makes you think it’s another notice for the fire alarm test but the bold captials across the top send your heart into panic. NOTICE TO VACATE. What? How? Your rent for the month is paid, plus first and last. How can they evict you? You didn’t do anything. 
You look through the peephole. The hallway is empty. Dang. 
You rinse your face and brush your teeth hurriedly. You pull on a pair of sweatpants and your slip-on shoes. You check the mirror and shrug. Good enough. You don’t really care right now. You need to figure this out. 
You stomp down the flight of stairs to the building office and knock frantically until the door opens. The squat woman inside gives you a death glare. You wave the letter at her. 
“I think there’s a mistake,” you say. 
She grunts and stares back at you. 
“I paid my rent, but this says I have to leave.” 
“Lease violation,” she shrugs. 
“But what-- I’ve been here only a few weeks? What did I do?” 
“Read the letter,” she sniffs. 
You furrow your brow and unfold it again. You skim over the words; ‘landlord requires unit for personal use’. Huh? They can do that? 
“Personal use? But—But you leased it to me. My deposit--” 
“Take it up with a lawyer. All there,” she taps the top of the paper before she swings the door shut in your face. 
What the hell? This can’t be real. You’re in a nightmare. You’re not really awake. This is just one of those really deep dreams where you can’t throw a punch. Too bad you can’t throw one in real life either. Hard to test the theory. 
You frown and make your way back up to your apartment. You leave the paper on the counter and brew a coffee from the single-serve machine. You hold your head in your hands, elbows on the linoleum, as you try to sort through it all. 
The machine grinds and you stand up straight. You take your cup and go to the fridge. You pull out the carton of milk and tip some into your coffee. The chunks that roll out of the spout make you gag. Frig, expired. You dump the whole mug and leave it empty in the sink. Nothing is going right. 
You pour out the sour milk and rinse away the putrid scent. You need to get food. You’re out of eggs too. Just a few small things for now. You have to count your pennies. 
You put a bra on and pull on a hoodie. You make yourself decent enough to face the public but keep your sweatpants on. You’re just running to the corner store. You grab your wallet, phone, and keys and head out. 
Your stroll down to the store is distracted. You should ask a lawyer but you can’t really afford that. You’ll have to try the housing board, see if they offer public services. You don’t really know about all that stuff. 
You grab your staples without much attention. Eggs, milk, a loaf of bread, and some sliced cheddar. Grilled cheese for life.  
You go to the counter and wait for the cashier to scan the items. You try to tap your card but it declines. You insert instead and put in your pin. Pin accepted, transaction declined. You grimace, face burning with embarrassment. 
“Sorry, one sec, I’m gonna just check my account.” You back out of the way of the next customer and pull out your phone.  
You sign-in to your banking app. You see the balance you expected. More than enough for your lot but there’s a little red exclamation mark next to the account number. You tap it and a new page opens. 
‘Account locked for security purposes. Contact Bank Services.’ 
Oh my god! What more can go wrong? You tap on the little chat icon in the corner. The automated responses lead you in a circle and tell you to call the toll-free or go into the local branch. Ugh! But you need milk now. 
A message blips across the top of your screen. It fades before you can read it. You pull down the menu and stare dumbly at the text sent from a private number, ‘morning, sweet lips.’ 
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csmtmra · 2 days
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carve me to make me yours
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character: keigo takami warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, dacryphillia, toxic yandere relationship, branding, blood, blood drinking, jealousy words: 1.1K
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he had always liked to show off what was his. keeping an arm around you anytime you went out. always showing up next to you when you were with friends. he liked making it known you were his.
he had made it known you were his and only his. so why are you laughing with friends and ignoring his calls?
at first he was just going to show up and make sure you were okay, but when he saw a boy draped over your shoulder, pointing to things on your phone, a little too close for comfort, he walked over and pulled you aside. “why the hell were you not answering me??” he’d be looking around pulling you further into town and further away from your friends while he asked the question. “were you texting? i’ve had my phone on do not disturb all morning..” you’d breathe out pulling your phone out and checking the messages you’ve missed from him. “we’re going home.” he said not paying you much mind as he dragged you to his apartment. ignoring all of your questions of ‘what’s wrong’ and if he was ‘okay’.
pulling you through the door of his apartment, he mumbles out words you don’t catch while shaking his head, and locks it. “keigo what is going on?” you ask starting to get upset, giving him a slight glare and frown.
“who was that boy. why was he all over my girlfriend??”he’d ask giving a slight snarl back and breathing heavily out through his nose. “who, shun? he meant no harm, i don’t even think he knew i had a boyfriend. we just met him..” you would say watching as he narrows his eyes before grabbing your arm and pulling towards his room with him. “it’s time everyone knows then.”
pushing open his door, he walks you to his bed before pushing you lightly onto it and unbuckling his belt, grabbing both of your arms and tying them to the top of it. tears are starting to well up in your eyes as you ask him what he’s doing.
“well if there’s nothing on you that will let people know you have a loving boyfriend, then i’ll have to make one.” keigo would say while taking his shirt off and throwing it across the room, moving his hands to the top of yours before ripping it and pushing it away from your skin, moving the remnants of it to the floor and plucking one of his beautiful red feathers.
he lays down with his chest in between your legs and his chin resting on your rib cage. elbows propping him up slightly as you stare in horror and intrigue of what he’s about to do next, tears falling from your eyes, down your cheeks and causing your lip quiver. he uses one of his hands to cup your cheek and brush the tears falling away with his thumb.
“don’t worry sweetheart i’m going to make it so, so pretty” he’d say, holding down your body with his own, whispering a soft little “it’s going to be so beautiful” as he carves the sharp part of the feather into your skin. your cries only more encouragement for him to move onto the next letter. only taking short breaks to wipe tears from your cheeks and pressing kisses to your bloody skin.
“everyone will know..” he says, glancing up at your eyes as more tears start to fall out of them. “no more..” you cry out, trying to get your hands freed so you can get out of his grasp. “stop struggling. you don’t want me to accidentally make a bigger cut do you?” keigo draws the feather closer to your heart, not putting enough pressure to cut the skin but enough to let you know he’s serious.
“behave.” his voice is stern, moving his hand back to your shoulder to finish the last letters, he takes his other hand and pushes his hair out of his face, letting a breath out and tilting his head. “perfect.” he mutters, lowering his face closer to the new wound on your shoulder before slowly licking the blood away.
soft moans would leave his lips as whimpers and cries would pass yours. he would bring his tongue out to lick the blood that started seeping past your skin again, leaving his lips a cherry red. moving his hands, he would put one on your hip and the other on your thigh, pulling it up next to him and scooting closer into your body. “you know i had to do this..right?” pressing kisses to your chest and leaving bruises on your skin, he would mutter a “please forgive me….you will won’t you?”
“won’t you.” he would say again, not questioning this time though. bringing his face close to yours, you nod your head, not being able to muster words back to him. he would let a small smile grace his face and bring his lips to yours.
you can taste the remnants of your blood on his lips and tongue, making you push your mouth on to his more roughly, trying to taste more of him.
you wanted to taste his very essence. you wanted to have his blood on your lips, mixing together with your own into a twisted concoction of desire and need.
pulling your lips a centimeter away from his, you bite his bottom lip, making the red substance spill into both of your mouths and resulting in a hiss from him.
“be nice.”he says before interlocking your lips together again for a quick second before pulling away and moving his lips to the cut again. you start to pull on the belt that was keeping your arms above your head and whine. “keigo..”
“oh here sweetheart..” he says with a hushed voice, while pushing himself up to untie your hands. once freed, they immediately shoot towards his neck, pulling him down to your face again and finding his lips once again.
keigos hand fumbles with something on the nightstand while his mouth is locked to yours, before pulling the object towards him and pulling back from you. it was a polaroid camera. “i want you to see my work” he mutters as he gets up slightly, both knees on either side of you, and bringing the camera to his face to look into it. the bright flash as he takes the camera makes you flinch.
grabbing the picture out of the slot, he shakes it a bit to help the photo develop faster before looking at it and smiling a cruel twisted smile before giving it to you. “look doll….maybe we can do your name on me now..” he said, grabbing the same feather with your now drying blood on the end of it, he lays next to you, taking the polaroid and placing it on his nightstand, and moving you on top of him while handing you the feather. “make it pretty baby.”
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spiderwing-nightman · 9 months
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good omens season 2 spoilers
I've seen the coffee theory and I've seen a bunch of people explain why they don't like it and I mostly agree with them (I do believe that Aziraphale is being heavily manipulated and what we saw of the coffee shop scene isn't the whole story), and one of the main reasons I don't enjoy the coffee theory is because of the agency it takes away from Aziraphale, but also things this season were off and odd. I've been rewatching and I keep pointing out moments that should have had more payoff or just don't add up, especially if you watch interviews with David Tennant and Michael Sheen because they say things that just Didn't happen. I think the coffee theory doesn't fit tonally with the season, and it wouldn't give us the proper pay off for all the questions we're left with and all the oddities of the season. Don't get me wrong there are a lot of Strange things about this show in general but this season went beyond them straight into something is off territory. From the first episode I knew something was wrong, possibly with every character, and rewatching I'm only noticing more moments (of course some of those things, like how I thought something was up with Beelzebub, get resolved, but for the most part). It speaks of something bigger happening all throughout the season, rather than just right at the end. Gabriel tells us something big is coming from the beginning and I think his arrival wasn't the start of the something big coming. I don't know I just see too many things that don't add up for it to be just that last scene, I think Heaven has been actively manipulating Aziraphale for a long time (and it has something to do with the minisodes) and that end was the first step to their end goal.
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pucksandpower · 2 months
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Brake Balance
Charles Leclerc x mafiosa!Reader
Summary: something about the brake issues that Charles had to deal with in Bahrain just seems off … so you take matters into your own hands while your boyfriend is none the wiser
Warnings: depictions of violence and minor-character murder
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You make your way through the paddock of the Bahrain International Circuit, weaving between team members and mechanics as they go about their pre-race routines. The energy in the air is electric, everyone buzzing with anticipation for the first race of the season later tonight.
You flash your paddock pass at security and head into the Ferrari garage, eyes scanning the organized chaos for the familiar mop of brown hair.
There he is, sitting in his red race suit that matches the iconic color of the Ferrari he drives, focused intently as his mechanics make some last minute adjustments. You walk up behind Charles and place your hands over his eyes.
“Guess who?” You say playfully.
Charles reaches up and removes your hands, a smile breaking across his face as he turns in his seat. “Ah, mon cœur! My favorite surprise.”
You lean down and kiss him softly. “How are things looking for today?”
“Good, good,” he nods. “The team had to change the left front brake duct exit deflector earlier, just as a precaution. But I’m feeling optimistic, the car has been solid all weekend. I think I might even be able to challenge Max for the win if everything goes to plan.”
His confidence makes you smile. Charles has been working so hard, both physically and mentally, to start this season strong. You know a win today would mean the world to him.
“I’ll be cheering the loudest when I see you on that top step today,” you say.
Charles grins. “We’ll see. Still have a race to get through first.”
You lean in to give him a quick kiss and head to the back of the garage so you’re out of the way. The mechanics are in full focus mode now, choreographing their dance around Charles’ car with practiced precision.
Charles goes through his usual pre-race routine — sips of water, reviewing data on the screens, and loosening up his muscles. He’s the picture of calm, but you know him well enough to see the coiled adrenaline thrumming just under the surface, ready to be unleashed once he settles into the cockpit.
The time comes to head out to the grid. Charles pauses before he puts his helmet on, meeting your gaze. You close the distance between you and cup his face in your hands, kissing his lips sweetly. Then you take the helmet from him and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips over the smooth surface where his would be.
“Be safe out there,” you say softly.
He nods, face disappearing behind the tinted visor, and climbs into the Ferrari. You watch as the car pulls away, weaving between other vehicles making their way to the starting grid. With a deep breath, you head deeper into the garage and take a seat next to Charles’ performance coach, Andrea. He hands you a headset so you can listen to Charles’ radio during the race.
“Let’s hope for a good one today,” Andrea says.
You nod, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fit the headset over your ears. On the monitors, you see Charles lining up on the grid in P2 after the formation lap, Max Verstappen’s Red Bull beside him on the front row in P1. The lights go out and the cars leap forward, engines roaring to life. Charles gets a good start, but Max keeps the lead through the first few turns.
The pack of cars higher up on the starting grid stays bunched up through the first few turns, but then you notice Charles starting to fall back little by little. His lap time slows as Max opens up a gap in front.
“The car doesn’t feel right, something with the front end,” Charles says. Your brow furrows in concern.
Only a lap later, George Russell in the Mercedes overtakes Charles on turn 4. Then Perez in the other Red Bull breezes past not long after.
“Come on Charles, stay focused,” you murmur under your breath. But things only seem to be getting worse. Carlos battles with Charles and eventually gets by, which frustrates you to no end. Charles fighting his own teammate for position is the last thing you want to see.
“Something felt very wrong with this set, the fronts were locking up like crazy,” Charles reports over the radio. Your heart sinks. Andrea shakes his head, equally perplexed.
The issues continue to persist. “What’s going on with my front left?” Charles asks, audible tension in his voice. “I just cannot get out of front locking. Everywhere ...”
Xavi, his race engineer, replies calmly, “We have temperature imbalance, higher front left.”
“How much is the imbalance?” Charles asks.
“Around 100 degrees.”
You grimace. That kind of discrepancy could make the car undriveable. Sure enough, Charles continues to struggle. It’s clear he’s fighting with the car now rather than racing the drivers around him.
“My car is fully going to the right when I am braking. With this I cannot fight, it’s dangerous,” Charles says, frustration seeping into his tone. You chew your lip anxiously. The rational part of you wishes Charles would just retire the car before he gets himself hurt trying to wrestle with it. But you also know that’s never been in Charles’ nature — he’ll keep fighting until the very last lap, no matter what.
Lap after lap, Charles battles to keep the car under control. “I think we can forget about driving now. It’s pulling everywhere,” he finally concedes. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’ll pull into the pits and call it a day. But no, your boyfriend is never one to simply give up. After the radio, through sheer force of will, Charles somehow overtakes George to reclaim P4. You can only imagine how hard he must be having to fight to keep the car in the track.
In the end, it’s a disappointing P4 for Charles while his teammate makes it on the podium in P3. As Carlos is lead to the cooldown room with Max and Checo, you watch Charles, frustration etched across his face as he tugs off his helmet and balaclava. He doesn’t even glance your way before the mechanics descend on him to start looking over the car.
Clearly the brake issues have cost him any chance at challenging for the win today. Most other drivers would have given up even trying to reclaim P4. But not your Charles. Never your Charles. Your heart aches for him.
Charles gets led away swiftly for the usual post-race weighing and interviews. You know from his body language that he’s utterly deflated by today’s results.
While the reporters pepper him with questions, you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts. Enough is enough — something is clearly not right with Charles’ car and you want answers.
Your finger hovers over the call button as you contemplate who to reach out to. The last thing you want is for Charles to have to fight against his own machine again. A solution needs to be found immediately, and you know just the person who can help.
With a determined nod, you press call and lift the phone to your ear, ready to get to the bottom of these brake issues once and for all.
***
The phone only rings once before a gruff voice answers. “Boss?”
“Hello, Gianluca,” you say. “I need you to do something for me.”
You go on to explain in detail the brake issues Charles faced during the race, how the problems started right after they replaced the left front brake duct exit deflector.
“I don’t think it was just bad luck,” you say. “Something seems off about the whole situation. I want you to look into it, see if anyone on Charles’ side of the garage could have tampered with his car.”
Gianluca is quiet for a moment. “Sabotage, you think?”
“Possibly. I just … I can’t shake this feeling that someone meant for this to happen to Charles’ car. He truly thought he could at least try to challenge Max for the win, then suddenly it’s like he’s driving an entirely different machine. Too much of a coincidence for my liking.”
“I’ll look into it boss, don’t you worry,” Gianluca says. “I’ll go through the team with a fine tooth comb, see if anything seems out of the ordinary. If someone did intentionally compromise Charles’ car, I’ll find out who and how.”
You let out a breath. “Thank you, Gianluca. Let me know as soon as you learn anything. Charles can’t afford issues like this again.”
“You got it. I’ll be in touch.”
The call ends and you lean back against the garage wall, gaze fixed unseeingly out across the pit lane. Your mind turns over the events of the race, Charles’ baffled frustration over the radio. He’s worked too hard for too long to have valuable points stolen away by something like this. If there is sabotage afoot within the team, you’ll get to the bottom of it.
A few days later you’re back in your study after flying home from Bahrain. A knock at the door interrupts your work and you call for them to enter. Gianluca steps in, an uncharacteristically grim look on his face.
“Boss,” he greets you. Wordlessly, he steps forward and places a thick manila folder on your desk. You flip it open, eyes scanning over photos, documents, even what looks like stills of CCTV footage. Gianluca remains silent, allowing you to take it all in.
“I went over every inch of security camera video from the Bahrain paddock and garage,” Gianluca finally says. “And I found something.”
He leans over your desk and flips to a page in the folder, tapping a finger on a freeze frame showing one of Charles’ mechanics.
“This is Tomaso, one of the brake technicians,” Gianluca explains. “I noticed him acting strange all race day. Fidgety. Nervous. He was trying to hide it but his body language gave it away.”
Your eyes narrow as you study the photo. There is a shifty, almost guilty look about the man as he glances over his shoulder.
“I watched him like a hawk after that,” Gianluca continues. “When the team went to change the brake duct exit deflector, that’s when I saw it happen.”
He flips to another page, this one showing screen captures of CCTV footage in the Ferrari garage a few hours before the race start. You can make out Tomaso slipping the replacement deflector into his pocket before taking out another piece and installing it in Charles’ car. Your blood turns cold.
“He tampered with the part,” Gianluca confirms grimly. “There’s no doubt in my mind he switched that deflector with a compromised one. Sabotage, just like you suspected.”
You sit back, shaking your head in disgusted disbelief. “Why? Why would he do this?”
Gianluca shrugs. “Hard to say for sure. Could be someone paid him off, wants to see Charles fail. But what I know for certain is that he meant to damage Charles’ car.”
You drum your fingers on your desk, thinking hard. This level of betrayal from someone Charles trusts, it’s unthinkable. An affront you won’t let stand.
“You’ve done excellent work, Gianluca,” you finally say, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for getting to the bottom of this. I’ll handle it from here.”
Gianluca nods. “Of course, boss. Let me know if you need anything else.”
He turns and leaves your study, closing the door quietly behind him. You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled under your chin. Your expression is stone, but internally your thoughts roil with anger. Tomaso will pay for this, you’ll see to that.
Charles has enough challenges to face without sabotage from his own team. Your resolve hardens — you won’t stop until justice is served and he can race with full confidence again. The treachery ends now.
***
After Gianluca leaves, your mind turns over what to do about Tomaso. The team flew straight from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia to prepare for the next race, so he’s out of your reach for now. Still, you won’t let him slip away that easily. You pick up your phone and call a trusted associate, instructing him to organize a surveillance team to keep constant eyes on Tomaso until you arrive in Jeddah yourself.
The days crawl by painfully slow as you wait to confront the saboteur. You resist the urge to call Fred Vasseur and have Tomaso removed from the team immediately — better to handle this yourself. Finally, it’s time to fly out for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Upon landing, your associate meets you at the airport.
“We have eyes on the target,” he reports. “He’s currently at the hotel bar, quite intoxicated.”
You nod curtly. “Good. Let’s pay him a visit.”
You’re led to the hotel and pointed towards the bar. Sure enough, there’s Tomaso, stumbling drunkenly out the door into the night. Now is your chance. You follow him down the street, waiting until he turns into a shadowy alley to make your move. In a flash you have him by the collar, shoving him against the brick wall.
“What the hell, let me go!” Tomaso slurs, trying to shove you off. But drinking has made him clumsy and weak.
“I don’t think so, Tomaso,” you reply coldly. “We need to have a little chat.”
His eyes widen in fear and confusion. You press on before he can respond.
“Let’s see, Tomaso Barbieri, born May 5th, 1992 in Turin. Moved to Maranello in 2021 to begin work as a mechanic with Scuderia Ferrari. Parents Lucia and Giacomo Barbieri, both schoolteachers. Sister Cecilia studying abroad in London.”
As you rattle off details about his personal life, Tomaso’s eyes grow wider and wider.
“What the hell, how do you know all that?” He stammers. “Who are you? Does Charles know the ugly truth about his girlfriend?”
You fix him with an icy stare. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know exactly who you are, Tomaso. A mechanic for Ferrari … and apparently a master of espionage and sabotage in your spare time.”
Tomaso’s eyes dart wildly, still trying to make sense of the situation in his inebriated state. He attempts an unconvincing laugh.
“What are you talking about man? Sabotage? I think you’ve had too much to drink ...”
Your response is to slam him hard against the wall, causing him to grunt in pain. You lean in close, anger simmering in your eyes.
“Let’s cut the bullshit, Tomaso. I know what you did in Bahrain, switching out the brake duct deflector to sabotage Charles’ car. Did you think you could get away with it? That there wouldn’t be consequences?”
Up close, you can see the color drain from his face, eyes wide with fear. He tries to retain some composure.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats weakly. “I would never sabotage Charles’ car, I want him to win ...”
You slam him against the wall again, cutting off his lies.
“I said, enough bullshit!” you snarl. “We have you on video. We saw everything. We know you pocketed the real deflector and installed a defective one instead.”
He is trembling now, any hint of drunkenness replaced by sobering fear.
“Please,” he whimpers pathetically. “I’ll do anything, just please let me go. I made a mistake ...”
You shake your head in disgust. “A mistake? You betrayed Charles’ trust and tried to ruin his race out of what? Jealousy? Greed?”
Tomaso says nothing, eyes downcast in shame. You take a breath and continue in a low, menacing tone.
“Here are your options. One: you go directly to Vasseur first thing in the morning and resign from Ferrari immediately. You will leave the team and ensure you are never so much as in the same country as Charles again. Two: I deal with you myself, in a much less pleasant manner. The choice is yours, Tomaso. What’s it going to be?”
He meets your steely gaze again, jaw clenched. “I can’t just quit,” he says hoarsely. “My job is my life. You might as well just kill me.”
You purse your lips and shake your head. “I was afraid you’d say that. Very well.”
In one swift motion you draw your gun from its concealed holster and press the barrel firmly under Tomaso’s chin. He recoils in terror, plastered back against the wall.
“Last chance,” you say calmly. “Walk away from Ferrari and never look back, or your days end tonight in this alley.”
Sweat drips down his brow as the gun digs harder into his throat. His eyes are saucers of fear, flitting between your steely gaze and the weapon poised to end his life.
“Well?” You ask after a long silence. “What’s it going to be?”
Tomaso swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing against the gun barrel. When he speaks, his voice is a terrified croak.
“I … I won’t quit. I can’t.” He closes his eyes in resignation, awaiting his fate.
You click your tongue in disappointment. “That’s unfortunate. I wish it hadn’t come to this.”
Your finger tightens almost imperceptibly on the trigger …
“Wait, wait!” Tomaso cries out, hands raised in desperation. “I’ll do it, I’ll quit! Just please, don’t hurt me!”
You pause, gun still aimed steadily at his throat. “And why should I believe you now?”
He swallows hard, eyes brimming with tears. “I swear, I’ll resign first thing tomorrow. You’ll never see me near the team again. Just let me go, I’m begging you!”
You consider him coldly for a moment before lowering the gun. Tomaso sags back against the wall in relief. But you’re not done with him yet.
“Who paid you?” You demand. “Who put you up to sabotaging Charles’ car?”
The blood drains from his face again. “I can’t tell you that. They’ll kill me, and my family ...”
In a flash the gun is back at his throat, your grip like iron on his shirt collar.
“I assure you, I can do much worse than they ever could,” you say menacingly. “Now give me a name, or you can say goodbye.”
Tomaso shakes uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. You can see the internal struggle, debating which is the lesser evil — defying you or those he conspired with. Finally, he slumps in defeat and leans in close, voice barely a whisper.
“It was ...”
He utters a name directly into your ear. Your eyes widen briefly in surprise before narrowing again. You release Tomaso and take a step back, processing this new information.
“I see,” you say slowly. You nod over your shoulder and two of your associates emerge from the shadows.
“Get him out of my sight,” you order. They grab Tomaso roughly by the arms. He sags between them, the fight gone out of him completely. You fix him with an icy stare.
“My men will escort you to the airport,” you inform him. “You will be on the first flight out of this hemisphere. And you are never to go near Ferrari or Charles again — don’t even think about trying to contact the team to explain yourself. As far as they will be concerned, you simply resigned. Am I clear?”
Tomaso nods wordlessly, defeated. The men begin dragging him away towards a waiting black SUV.
“Oh, and Tomaso?” You call after him. He glances back warily. “If I ever see or hear of you so much as setting foot in a paddock again, you won’t get a second chance. You’ll simply disappear. Permanently.”
The color drains from his face one final time. Then he is shoved into the back of the SUV, the door slamming shut behind him. You watch impassively as the vehicle drives off into the night, carrying the saboteur away for good.
Or so he thinks.
Unbeknownst to Tomaso, you have contacts everywhere, including at his destination. The second he steps off the plane, thinking he’s escaped your wrath, your local associates will be waiting. And his life will be ended swiftly and permanently, as promised. You don't make idle threats after all.
Betrayal of this magnitude must be punished, no matter how far Tomaso runs. The message will be clear — cross you, and nowhere on Earth will be safe. You've given the order, and your associates are nothing if not ruthlessly efficient. By the time the sun rises, there will be one less threat to Charles’ success. The sabotage ends here and now. You'll see to that personally, no matter the cost.
For a moment you simply stand alone in the dark alley, processing everything. This is bigger than you initially realized. Tomaso was clearly just a pawn, the sabotage orchestrated by someone higher up the chain — someone with enough power and influence to scare a man into risking his career and life.
Your jaw clenches as you think about Charles being targeted like this, not only being robbed of a deserved finish but also put in danger as collateral. Well, it ends now. The shadowy orchestrator thinks they can get away with playing games in the dark? They’re about to realize just how big of a mistake they’ve made.
Now that you have a name, you can start unraveling the web, tracing every thread back to find where it leads. And when you do find the spider at the center? You’ll make sure they can never endanger Charles again. For good.
Satisfied with this plan, you straighten your dress and exit the alley onto the brighter streets. Time to put your considerable resources to work. Phone records, financials, travel records — you’ll dig through it all, leave no stone unturned.
And you have a feeling the name Tomaso gave you is only the first thread. This goes deeper. But it doesn’t matter. You’ve dealt with far more dangerous criminal elements before. These shadow games don’t scare you. You’ll keep following the threads until you reach the source, uprooting the entire enterprise in the process.
By the time you reach your car, your phone is already buzzing with incoming calls and updates from your associates. They know the drill by now — when you give the word, they mobilize into action immediately, utilizing the full extent of your influence and power.
For you, they’ll tap every resource, call in every favor owed. Because you protect what’s yours at all costs. And Charles? He’s under your protection now, whether he knows it or not. So for his sake, you’re going to find the ones trying to undermine him, and you’re going to tear out the threat root and stem. Permanently.
Let them keep playing their games for now, oblivious to the axe hanging over their heads. They’ll find out soon enough that nobody crosses you and gets away with it. And when that time comes, no mercy will be shown. No loose ends left to unravel.
Time to remind them exactly why your reputation precedes you in certain circles, why your name is uttered only in hushed whispers. They’ll regret the day they dared threaten someone you care about. You’ll see to that personally.
With your jaw set in determination, you climb into the idling car. Time to go hunting.
***
Two days after dealing with Tomaso, you make your way through the Jeddah Corniche Circuit paddock towards the Ferrari motorhome.
Your stiletto heels click along the pavement and you glance down, frowning slightly at the flecks of blood still staining the pointed toes of your red soles. Such a shame about these Louboutins, you really love this pair. But a bit of blood is a small price to pay for protecting Charles, especially after personally dealing with the orchestrator who had been paying Tomaso off.
You had tracked them down and made sure they could never threaten Charles’ success again. Subtly, you crouch down and wipe at the stains, managing to remove the worst of it.
Satisfied, you straighten and continue on your way. The familiar bright red motorhome comes into view and you sweep inside, immediately spotting Charles standing with some team members. His face lights up when he sees you, excusing himself to rush over.
“Mon amour, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You melt against him, breathing in his familiar scent.
“Of course, I wouldn’t miss seeing you race for anything,” you reply, pecking his lips sweetly.
Charles takes your hand, leading you to a quiet corner where you can talk. “I missed you so much while you were away,” he says. “But I’m so glad you’re here now.”
You smile and stroke his cheek. “Me too, darling. But I’m here now and I’ll be cheering the loudest for you all race.”
Charles’ grin falters a bit. “It’s been a strange few days actually. Tomaso, one of my mechanics, just up and quit in the middle of the week. No explanation or anything.”
You school your features into a look of surprise. “Really? That’s so odd.”
Charles nods. “Very weird timing to just resign like that. But maybe it’s for the best if his heart wasn’t fully in it anymore.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” you agree. “The team is better off without any negativity.”
Before Charles can reply, Andrea enters the motorhome. “Charles, time for some quick physio before the race.”
Charles sighs but nods, giving you a swift kiss before following Andrea out. You watch him go fondly before making your way trackside to the Ferrari garage. The mechanics are in race mode, voices terse and movements precise as they make final adjustments on Charles’ car.
You stay back, letting them work, thoughts drifting back to everything you did to get to this point. A small price to pay to ensure Charles can race with a fair chance again.
Finally it’s time for Charles to get in the car. You approach as he’s putting on his helmet and balaclava, stealing a tender kiss that he returns happily. Then you lift the helmet and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips softly over the smooth surface where his lips would be. Your ritual.
“Be safe out there,” you murmur. Charles squeezes your hand, then lowers himself into the cockpit. You watch tensely as the car pulls away, the lights of the circuit glittering against the dark night sky.
In the garage you pace anxiously throughout the race, listening to the radio chatter. Again Charles qualified P2, behind Max Verstappen’s Red Bull. But this time, you have no sabotage to worry about. The Ferrari proves fast and consistent all race, not quite keeping pace with the Red Bull but allowing Charles to maintain P2 smoothly.
The SF-24 doesn’t have the speed to challenge Max, but there’s no issues, no sudden grip loss or components failing. Your shoulders finally uncoil with relief as Charles crosses the line to take P2, securing a podium finish.
The garage explodes into cheers and applause as Charles pulls into parc fermé. He’s beaming as he climbs from the car, pulling off his gloves and balaclava. You run over to the barriers and throw your arms around him ecstatically as soon as he nears.
“I’m so proud of you!” You exclaim. Charles hugs you back tightly.
“Thank you, mon cœur,” he says warmly. “It felt good to finally have a clean race again.”
You just smile knowingly, heart bursting with joy at seeing Charles on the podium where he belongs. During the celebrations, he keeps meeting your gaze in the crowd, smiling and pointing down to you in the crowd of red. As he sprays champagne with Max and Checo, he looks utterly elated and at peace. No frustration or disappointment, just the satisfaction of a hard fought race with the result he deserved.
Afterwards, in the privacy of Charles’ room, he takes you into his arms again. “I don’t know what changed or why, but the car just felt right this weekend,” he says. “It makes me so optimistic for the rest of the season.”
You stroke his face gently. “You deserve it. All your hard work is paying off.” Inside, you allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. Charles doesn’t need to know just how much work went on behind the scenes to get here. He only needs to focus on driving his heart out, and securing the championships you know he’s destined for. The rest is simply details.
“Thank you again for being here,” Charles murmurs, pulling you close. “Having your support means everything to me.”
You rest your head on his shoulder contentedly. “Always, my love. I’ll be right by your side.” And you mean that with every fiber of your being. No matter what happens going forward, whoever tries to interfere or stand in Charles’ way, they’ll have to go through you first.
You won’t let anyone toy with Charles’ performance and safety again. The lesson has been sent — Charles is untouchable now. Dare to threaten the success that is his, and you’ll come for what’s theirs.
But Charles doesn’t need to carry that burden. He just needs to keep his head held high and drive his heart out. You’ll handle the rest. It’s the least you can do for the man you love more than life itself.
So as Charles holds you close, you silently promise to always shield him from the ugly underbelly that lurks beneath the glitz and glamour of Formula 1.
He gives so much of himself already in pursuit of greatness. Let others vie for power and influence through dirty tricks and mind games. That’s not Charles’ way, which is why you’ll ensure he remains untainted. For him, you’d walk through fire without a second thought.
So really, what’s a little blood on your Louboutins in the grand scheme of things? A man like Charles Leclerc deserves that and so much more. And you’re going to give it to him, no matter the cost.
Let them keep playing their games in the shadows. Little do they know, you’ve already checkmated them all.
1K notes · View notes
b1rds3ye · 9 months
Text
Mask On
How the boys react to their new ally who is more adamant on wearing their mask than Ghost himself.
Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick
GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except shorter than Ghost)
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 3.1 (~0.8 each)
Warning: Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of Reader potentially having insecurities, Not Proof Read
A/N: You know what maybe I want to be the badass masked character 😤
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Captain John Price
The captain is thorough, and he immediately knew something was up when he looked up your file only to be greeted with no photo. He’s honestly a little peeved that his rank doesn’t grant him this confidential information, he’s known Simon before he took up the mask so this is the first time he’s genuinely had a faceless ally
But ultimately, as long as he can trust that you’ll be following orders, he doesn’t care if you have a mask or not. But his concern is only that for a fellow soldier
It takes a little longer for him to warm up to you - facial expressions tell a lot about someone’s character. He’s a bit prickly around you, he learns about you indirectly with how you interact with the rest of the 141
But over time there’s a shift. He can’t pinpoint when exactly but the sight of your mask relaxes him. After days separated on a mission, high stakes and adrenaline has Price snapping his head at the faintest of foreign sounds. But upon the familiar sight of your signature mask, he feels at ease
Price is fiercely protective of you and your mask. He likens it to his hat, only far more important - that mask is part of your identity and he knows just how important a soldier’s psyche is. If the enemy manages to take off your mask, he’ll stop at nothing to get it back on your behalf, even if you reluctantly tell him to abandon it
If he can’t salvage your mask, Price has now made it a habit to carry a balaclava for you in one of his pockets. If that’s not available, he’ll even offer you his hat, tipping it down far enough to obscure your eyes
Off duty he finds himself staring at your visage more these days. Looking at how the mask curves over your features, or the small slivers of skin that reveal themselves. He catches himself before you notice but he’s still disappointed in himself, he feels like a Victorian-era prude hyperventilating at the sight of an ankle
“Looking fresh, sergeant.”
You let out an audible chortle at Price’s words. The last mission was a success but at great costs, one of them being your mask damaged beyond repair during melee combat. Your face still wasn’t revealed, but slashes against fabric embedded with dirt and ash have made your signature mask look unrecognisable. Immediately upon returning to base and after debriefing, you were out of commission until you could don a new mask.
Price would be lying if said he didn’t miss your presence for the last few days, hiding away from the rest of the soldiers in base. He has no doubt you’ve still maintained your training and visiting the infirmary for mandatory checkups, but he’s gotten far too used to you being at his beck and call. The famed sight of your mask is no longer in his periphery, giving a nod of approval (not that he ever needed your approval, but he does enjoy your attention).
And now here you are with a new mask, the highlights glowing under the overhead lights and the darks swallowing up the lightwaves like an animal starved. Your updated look had you noticeably confident, shoulders square and head tall.
“Thanks, Captain.”
He can hear your smile and he ends up sitting next to you. Did he need to sit so close? No, but he acts as though his thigh brushing against yours was pure coincidence.
“What are you going to do with the old one?”
“I don’t know,” you shrug, giving a light pat to a pocket in your cargo pants that your past mask currently resides in. “I know there’s a lot of memories in this… it’s my first mask… but I don’t know what to do with it.”
“I’ll keep it.”
You look at him. Price now has the uncanny ability to read your mood purely through your body language. From the speed at which you turn your head, the inclination of the neck, how your shoulders slant, he’s surprised that such a vicious soldier can act so endearingly in these moments.
“For what?”
“Safekeeping,” he says simply. “I’m proud of my soldiers, sergeant - want to remember their accomplishments.”
You shrug in agreement and fish your mask out of your pocket. You don’t need to know how much Price truly values you, how having your mask will be like having a part of you by his side to motivate him when he’s working alone.
Simon “Ghost” Riley
You’ve got a mask? Cool, so does he. Simon really doesn’t care when he first met you. He offers a simple nod of acknowledgement to you and then it’s all mission talk. If anything, the mask makes him respect you more, like him it’s always the masked ones who’ve seen shit and can get shit done
Even before you two became friends, you two were often paired together for operations. Perhaps it was just assumed the two masked people were on the same wavelength and to be fair, they were right. It didn’t take long for Ghost to admire your prowess on the battlefield
However as the two of you start to get closer, Simon gets a bit of a eureka moment. So this is how all his allies feel when trying to get along with a masked figure, unable to see any of their expressions. Oh how the tables have turned. It’s not daunting for him, more just amusing
He knows the struggles of having a mask so he helps out where he can. He reminds you if it’s been some time since you last washed your mask (advice he does not follow himself) and he’ll offer you some of his obsidian powder he uses to obscure any uncovered patches of skin
Price often has the two of you accompany him for interrogations, he calls it “mask pressure”. There’s nothing more terrifying to a target than having two imposing faceless figures standing on either side of them, unreadable and unpredictable
It’s clear you don’t want to show your face to anyone and Simon doesn’t question it. His natural curiosity is not worth your discomfort and he makes that abundantly clear. If on the rare occasion you catch him without a mask, he’ll sometimes put it back on so that you don’t have to be the only one with their face covered
If your mask is ever compromised, Simon covers you with his hulking figure. No one dares get on the bad side of Ghost who shoots the most terrifying glares towards anyone looking in his - and consequently your - way. He stands in front of you, back rigid and shoulders square, his posture only slacking if he feels you hold onto his back, seeking comfort
A few weeks ago, when left in a briefing, you finally noticed Simon was staring at you from across the room. He had been staring for a good while now, but you - ever the diligent soldier - were distracted discussing tactics with a corporal. So there he was, standing and observing in the corner of the room - his “observing” being drinking the sight of you. And that was when he noticed, among all the glory that was you, that your mask was slightly off alignment. Cue his eyes being trained on your head for you to get the idea that something was wrong.
When your head stayed still - probably challenging his gaze - he tried to change tactics. He added the occasional upward jerk of the head - miming an attempt to shake the mask back in place - but your head only tilted in confusion. You still could not figure out what he was doing.
Eventually he gave up and walked up to you. He lifted a tentative hand, silently asking for permission and you nodded. He pinched at the fabric on the side of your face.
“Your mask’s slippin’,” he said gruffly. It wasn’t the end of the world, only a small adjustment that only someone as observant as him could notice. Still, he felt satisfied at your heavy exhale, you must’ve noticed it’s a little easier to breathe with everything in alignment now.
“Thanks.”
Today, Simon finds your gaze trained on him, head following whenever he moves across the room. You used to stare when you first met, you probably found him intimidating and he doesn’t blame you. He thought you’d be over that though, you two were closer than that. At least he hoped.
“Penny for your thoughts?” He eventually asks and that spurs you into action.
Standing in front of him, you reach up, your hand grabbing the top half of the skull that overlays his balaclava. Your thumb lightly hooks into the skull’s eye socket - a little close to Simon’s actual eye but he trusts you. He feels you tug upwards, and Simon now realises that the skull had been sinking down his face, the peripheral around his brow no longer obscured. He’ll need to reapply the glue for the mask later.
“We really need a hand sign for this,” you mutter.
And so you two make one. It’s discreet, a closed fist with a thumb poking out, dragged from the jawline up to the hairline. The rest of the 141 just look at the two of you in confusion whenever you use it though, your little secret.
Johnny “Soap” MacTavish
Johnny’s generally a good judge of character. Although it’s a little uncanny being unable to see your features, he’s used to it because of Simon. One conversation is all he needs to reach a conclusion as to what type of person you are and now he treats you as if you’re good friends
Yes, he is curious about what you look like under the mask. He used to make comments about it occasionally until he caught you on a bad day
“C’mon Sarge, just a peek.” “Not happening, Johnny.” “What, you ugly?” “… that’s not for you to speculate, MacTavish.” “Shit, sorry. I- I’d never think that of you, or care. I know you’re a looker.”
And Johnny stands by his statement. Even if he’s never seen your face he quickly developed a little crush on you. How you conduct yourself in battle has him watching you with stars in his eyes and he just knows you’ll take his breath away if you ever show your face
When Johnny’s bored, he likes doodling your mask and potential alternative designs in his journal which he’ll show you sometimes. He’s not an artist but he gets the idea across. He’s created a “happy” design, an “angry” one, and the “when I see Soap” design which is just your standard mask with a whole lot of shoddily drawn love hearts on it (you haven't seen that design yet)
He’s genuinely surprised at how determined you are at keeping your mask on in all circumstances - you’re worse than Simon at this point - but he’ll never ask because he doesn’t want to potentially open up old wounds. Despite his curiosity for what you could look like, Johnny will never invade your privacy and ensures no one else does either. If you’re in your room he’ll knock once, twice, thrice, until he’s absolutely sure you’re ready for him to enter
If something goes wrong and your mask falls off he’s looking away and shoving everyone else to look away as well. He’s like a guard dog, shouting and name-shaming anyone who dares look in your direction. No one except other members of the 141 will be able to approach you until you’re covered
Was it smart to have you and Soap - combined to be the most disruptive and obnoxious soldiers on the field - alone to handle a stealth mission that was off the books? No, but you sure as hell weren’t going to disappoint Price or Laswell. The objective was clear and the rules of engagement were even clearer; under no circumstance can the enemy know you’re from 141.
“We’re gonna need to cover our faces,” Johnny mutters absentmindedly beside you. You pull your binoculars down to send him an incredulous look and he chuckles. “I need to cover my face.”
“You got a mask?”
There’s a pause and Johnny’s looking at you, eyes glinting in that familiar mischief. That was never good news.
“You bet.”
You offer a tentative nod of encouragement before lifting your binoculars back up to observe the target site. You hear the repeated shuffles of fabric against fabric and clothes sliding against skin. It’s prolonged, you swear it’s enough time for Johnny to change his entire uniform. His breaths become muted, mouth now covered until it eventually falls to complete silence. It’s unnerving, the designated demolitions expert is not known for his silence, and you have to look back at him yet again.
Of course you expected Johnny to be wearing a mask, but it was the mask itself that took you by surprise.
“Is that… mine?”
“Was yours.”
You squint and somewhere in the depths of your mind, you vaguely recall Soap asking if he could have one of your spare masks back at the base. You humoured him, and said your wardrobe was his.
That was your first mistake.
You figured he was just going to take the piss, wear your mask to scare some privates around the base. You didn’t think he’d actually wear it on a mission. It was unexpected, but it felt like an honour. How he was so willing to identify with you in some of the most dangerous of situations.
But your silence has Johnny getting fidgety. He’s already reaching up to pull the mask off.
“I have a normal balaclava. If you don’t like this I can-”
“Wear it.”
You can’t see Johnny’s face but you see him pull his head back in surprise. Then he smiles, one so wide, expanding his cheeks you can see it stretch your mask. In that moment you’re glad your mask obscures your features as you feel yourself grin at his own joy.
“We’re a team, aye?”
“You bet.”
Kyle “Gaz” Garrick
Kyle’s may be close to Simon but he's not entirely used to masked allies. When you first arrived he shot Captain Price a cautious look, a silent conversation between them finished by Price’s definitive nod. Eventually he relents and puts up with you
Subconsciously, without seeing your face he ends up reducing you to a weapon. He respects you like a soldier, a robot. His language is restrained, only issuing orders and you recite them back
It’s only when another soldier cracks a joke on the mission and you laugh does it flick a switch in Kyle’s mind. You weren’t all orders, you weren’t a machine, you were a human (with a damn nice voice might he add). He feels terrible for reducing you to a tool simply because he can’t see your face but he’ll make up for it now
He becomes a bit of a menace in the sparse quiet moments of a mission. He makes the occasional one liner about how you wear the mask so others aren’t distracted by your good looks, but then changes the topic so quickly you’re not even sure he said it
Yes, Kyle’s a little obsessed with your voice. He can’t see you and he doesn’t have the experience like Price or Simon to read body language accurately. Instead, he can read your mood near perfectly with the inflections in your voice (which is arguably more impressive). While he doesn’t want you to ever be upset or angry, sometimes how you taunt the enemy has a shiver running down his spine
Because your mouth is blocked by a mask, many allies don’t offer you food or drinks. Not Kyle though, if he’s grabbed refreshments, he always ensures he has extra for you. At first he just gives them to you and then leaves. But when you said it was okay for him to stay - trusting him enough to just look away when you lift you mask - Kyle’s heart soared
If anything happens to reveal your face, Kyle is immediately by your side. He pulls you close to provide comfort, while also guiding your head into his neck or shoulder to block anyone from seeing you. Another member of the 141 will find a solution to cover your face, you are Kyle’s first priority and he’ll gladly hold you all day
After a long mission, you and Kyle are finally safe upon reaching exfil. Sitting on a helicopter Kyle slumps against his seat, and you do the same beside him. Although he could finally relax, he feels absolutely filthy, swamped in his own sweat under multiple layers. Dirt and mud caked his boots and crept all the way up to his thighs. Some even sneaked up into under his tactical vest.
He spares a look and sometimes he thinks you can’t possibly be human. The heat is suffocating enough without a mask, Kyle has long forgone his signature cap to let his head breathe. If your body language was any indicator, you weren’t handling the sweltering heat of the helicopter engine or Al Mazrah’s temperament. Your chest notably heaving under the weight of your tactical gear, breaths so laboured it sent the fabric around your mouth pulling and billowing with each inhale and exhale.
There isn’t much Kyle can do for comfort, but he tries. He shifts a little closer to you. Your head shifts to look at him, the movement was far too slow, like your head was too heavy and his heart tugs a little.
With one hand, Kyle gently tilts your face up to him. With the other he lightly pinches the fabric of your mask at the junction between your jawline and ear. Teasing it between his fingers, when he pulls his hand away there’s gunk on his fingertips. Dust, dirt and as he squints at your mask he realises that some of the stains are likely the dried blood of an unidentified enemy.
The hand he’s resting on your chin is about to pull away until he notices how you’re resting your head on it. He can’t see your face but he has no doubt that your eyes are near shut, almost drifting off to dreamland. He occupies himself by gently brushing away loose debris off your mask which has you relaxing further into his touch.
“We gotta wash this,” he murmurs defeatedly.
“... yeah, we do,” you grumble, voice thick with fatigue. Kyle does not stop his ministrations - even pulling some fluff off of the cotton of your mask. It does little to actually clean your mask - at this rate it’s going to need pure bleach to clean it - but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you trust him this much, leaning into his touch, entrusting him to be the respite from your mission.
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Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist
5K notes · View notes
temiizpalace · 3 months
Text
☆┆TEND TO MY WOUNDS !
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SUMMARY: red alert! he’s injured! it’s alright, for the prefect of ramshackle is here to save the day.
CHARACTERS: leona, jade, jamil, rook, idia
(i spun a wheel to try and write other characters.. jamil and leona just love me teehee)
GENRE: fluff
WARNINGS: the boys get injured, but nothing is life threatening. — cursing — MENTIONS OF BLEEDING (not fatal)
ROMANTIC, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP
reader is g/n, reader is yuu
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🦁┆LEONA KINGSCHOLAR
“shit! ow—“
leona groans, feeling the stinging pain of alcohol rubbed onto his forehead. spelldrive didn’t go as it usually did.
everything was normal. practice was going well, and everybody was doing the proper training regiments. it was all fun watching leona and everybody practice by a nearby tree. except leona wasn’t practicing this afternoon.
today, he felt like napping right beside you. he laid his head in your lap, sound asleep. this all goes south when some freshmen decide to mess around, sending the disc flying in your direction.
typically leona would’ve been able to divert it with magic, but feeling a little hazy from barely awakening, it hit him straight on the forehead.
now here you both are, present in the infirmary, leona sitting on the cot, and you being his own personal doctor. “i can’t believe the great leona kingscholar got hit by a spelldrive disc. it is truly an honor to witness it first hand.” you joke, causing him to roll his eyes.
“tch.. whatever— FUCK.” it’s funny to see leona in such a state. one where his tough guy act isn’t all the way up. you thought he’d brush off the pain like a man, but surprise! we learn something new everyday.
“haha.. wait here. i need to find bandages.” you walk over to the cabinet, only to find all the boxes of bandages empty. except for one. a bandaid box. you snicker at the sight of them and take a couple out of the box. leona raises a brow as he heard your giggling in the back til you made your way back towards him.
you stood in front of him and placed the bandaids on his forehead. he liked the close proximity. he likes being by your side. you caring for him like this is actually one of his deepest desires. he won’t ever say it aloud of course, but he hopes you take the hints.
“you are now officially cured.” you grin, finally applying the last bandaid. he stood up, looking you in the eyes. he wanted to thank you. wanted to thank you for helping him. wanted to thank you for caring enough about him to do this. to help him.
but leona being leona cannot say thank you. “..I don’t wanna owe you any favors so,” he pulls out his wallet from his pocket and throws it to you. you catch it, nearly dropping all the thaumarks inside on the floor. “go buy somethin’ while you’re at it.”
he ruffles your hair, walking out of the infirmary. you flip through the wallet, it barely closing due to the amount of cards and thaumarks inside. rich boy privileges go crazy. ruggie wasn’t kidding when he said leona was stinkin rich. all you could do was stand there, shocked.
leona walks back out to the field, hearing the team laugh as he approaches. he looks at them with a puzzled look, the laughing becoming unbearable. “oi, what’s so funny? mind tellin’?”
“cute bandaids ya got there, boss. shishishishi..” ruggie chuckles, looking at leona’s super cute and silly unicorn bandaids on his forehead. at first, he’s confused. then he rips a bandaid off and looks at the patterns.
start running <3
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🐬┆JADE LEECH
“jade, stop moving!”
you sigh, trying to place a bandaid on jade’s cut. you wanted to help him cook today since mostro lounge has been extremely busy lately. azul had been working him to the bone, so he used his time off as a way to spend time with you.
only to end up back in the kitchen, but whatever. since you’re there, it’s all good. while chopping a mysterious vegetable, (it’s a mushroom..) he accidentally cut his finger. he wasn’t paying attention to where he was cutting. cause he was looking at you.
normally somebody would wince in pain, but jade is jade. so. “oh my, this is unexpected.” he says, as his blood gets on his gloves and contaminates the mushrooms. “oh my what— OH MY GOSH, JADE.” you yell, as he’s abnormally calm about the fact blood was all over the mushrooms.
so now he’s sitting at one of the barstools in mostro lounge as you try to patch up his finger. anytime the bandaid gets remotely close to the cut, he squirms and jerks his hand away. you can’t tell if he’s messing with you or if he’s just sensitive to touch because he still has his dumb polite smile.
“jade. stop. moving.” you grunt, trying to grab his wrist to hold his hand still. “fufu..” his stupid chuckle is usually very nice but it’s just growing irritating.
for some reason he still has the impulse to tease you. even when injured. all you want to do is care for him, so why is he making this so difficult?! is he waiting for something?
oh. that’s an idea.
“jade, may i see your hand?” you ask, putting the bandaid on the counter. he raises a brow, but complies nonetheless. “of course. do be gentle though, im wounded.” well no shit.
you held his hand gently, raising a finger up to your lips. you place a gentle kiss on his finger. not on the wound exactly, but near it. his eyes slightly widened and his cheeks tinted slightly red. he loses his composure for just a moment, giving you time to apply the bandaid onto his cut.
you smile in victory, standing up from your seat. “there, all better!” you winked at him before making your way back to the kitchen. he sat there, dumbfounded. how curious.. if that’s a way to get free kisses..
“oh dear, it appears i had just cut my lower lip. what a shame. it appears i am in need of some assistance.” this wasn’t even five minutes later.
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🐍┆JAMIL VIPER
“you scream like a girl.”
you laugh as jamil looks away from you. he couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes. a little earlier, the both of you were sitting in the lounge of ramshackle as comfortable silence filled the air.
he was flipping through pages of a book while you leaned onto his shoulder, playing a game of some sort on your phone.
“..AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”
that silence was interrupted as you heard a high pitched scream next to you, turning your head to see jamil absolutely mortified and panicked.
“JAMIL?! WHAT IS—“ then you spotted it. the wretched cockroach crawling on the table. he shut his book and threw it at the table, missing. now he’s grabbing all nearby objects to kill the insect.
“JAMIL PLEASE CALM DOWN, PLEASE! FUCK, JAMIL—” he ended up using his magic, but used a lil too much. as you held him back, his leg bumped against the table, causing him to scurry back to the couch.
confirming that the roach had cleared the premises, you sat next to him and checked the bump on his leg. his breaths were heavy and a sweat was across his brow. you would’ve thought he looked insanely attractive if it weren’t for the incident just before.
now he’s embarrassed, his hood is pulled over, and he’s pouting as he looks away from you. “i think you got a small cut, but it should be fine. i’ll go get some bandaids!” you hum, getting up from the cushions to find the box of bandages.
he completely humiliated himself in front of you. he was weak in front of you. and he hates that. “im back and here to repair your boo-boo.” you came back with the box, sitting back down and opening it. you remove a bandaid and slowly apply it til you hear him mutter something.
“sorry.”
“hm? sorry, couldn’t hear ya. mind speaking up for me?” you heard him perfectly fine. he irks before speaking up, his tone hinted with annoyance. “sorry.”
“all is forgiven, my love.” you smile, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a hug. he sighs, reciprocating the hug and leaning onto you. “please forget you saw that..” he mumbles, his face practically burning.
you chuckle, playing with loose strands of his hair as the both of you now lied on the couch. “no promises..” he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, but placed a quick kiss on your cheek. he shuts his eyes, needing to recharge.
“mhm. love you too, jamil.” you whisper, allowing him to rest on your chest. he fell asleep in no time flat. let him rest. or even better yet, join him!
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🏹┆ROOK HUNT
“how’d you fall?”
you ask, seeing as rook lied on the ground. i don’t know how to explain his pose, he’s just a theatre kid.
“never mind the details, ma chère. all that matters is that you had rushed to my rescue!” he smiles as you stood there. the most deadpan expression on your face. “i’ll just go get you bandages and not question it.” “merci!”
you rush to the infirmary, grabbing the bandages and rushing out. if nobody knew better, they’d all have assumed that rook was dead. he hasn’t moved an inch.
“where’d you injure yourself?” you ask, crouching down and inspecting his arms. “non, non. you must guess!” he laughs, sitting up right away. you groan as he initiated such an idea. “rook. im not going to guess—“
“if that is the case, ill be stuck in everlasting pain! it’d be unbearable.” he sighs dramatically, causing you to furrow your brow. “fine. did you injure your leg?” you grumble, checking each limb.
he shook his head, smiling like an absolute idiot. “here, allow me to give you a hint.” he grabs your hand guiding it to the place of the wound. of course he can’t do it without teasing you a little.
he places your hand on his shoulder, his hand, his neck, til eventually he stopped on his cheek. “my injury can be found around here.”
you look at his cheek, but there is no cut, scratch, or bruise to be seen. you raise a brow at him, but he has no shift in reaction. “rook, are you lying to me?” rook shook his head, looking you in the eyes. “I wouldn’t lie to you, mon amour. perhaps you need a closer look.”
before he could even explain what that meant, he pulled you towards him. causing you to fall onto him. “can you see it now?” he asks, staring at you lovingly.
you sigh, pulling a bandage out and placing it onto his lips. his eyes widened, but he wasn’t mad. not in the slightest! he wrapped his arms around you. taking this opportunity for a cuddle session.
despite your “annoyance,” you smiled and laughed slightly. “you’re impossible, rook.”
he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, humming happily as you spoke. his fingers intertwined with yours as the sun hit both of your figures. creating a scene resembling one of a fairytale.
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💀┆IDIA SHROUD
“you can’t lock yourself into your room because of this.”
you slightly chuckle as you patch up idia’s knee. moments before, his PE class had to do the sprints. looks like he went to class on the wrong day.
while he was running, he tripped on a conveniently placed rock and fell on his knee. ortho quickly went to find you and bring you to idia so that you can comfort him.
he had tears coming from his eyes, which caused ortho to panic. you both carried him to the infirmary since he had an inability to walk. you situated him onto the cot and grabbed some bandages from the cabinets. “don’t worry niisan! the prefect will take good care of you!”
ortho chimed, trying his best to comfort his brother. idia felt his stress lessen, but that doesn’t change the immense pain he was in. “thank you, ortho. but i don’t im ever gonna to go outside again.”
he mumbles, causing ortho to pout. you come back with the bandages, smiling as you sat to the side of the cot. “im gonna have to go explain to coach vargas why you’re not here! hang tight, niisan!”
you waved to ortho, leaving just you and idia in the infirmary. “idia, you’re not going to die because of this.” you smile, placing the bandage onto his knee. idia groans, picking at his fingers. “i looked so cringe just now. definitely not my moment.”
“you didn’t look cringe, idia. you got hurt.” you grabbed his hand and held it in yours. he smiles slightly as you tried to reassure him. it was endearing to him. “thanks.. but i want to lock myself in my room for like ever after this..” he quickly mutters, hoping you wouldn’t hear that. surprise! you heard him.
“no idia, you can’t lock yourself in your room forever after this.” you sigh, realizing this was the man you fell in love with. “what? you can come too. you’d be free from all the normies surrounding you.” he stated bluntly.
“..no.” you hesitantly said, squeezing his hand slightly. you both sat in the infirmary for a few more moments before you sat up and let go of his hand. “can you stand?”
“no.” he quickly replies, not even bothering to try. you stare at him before exhaling deeply. “i’ll bring your switch then. wait here.” he smiled as he watched you exit the room. he appreciated how understanding you were. how you knew what he wanted before he even had to ask. ..well, most of the time anyway.
when you came back, you sat next to him on the cot. you both played smash bros together, playing until the console runs out of batteries. lucky for him, his console lasts for almost an entire week before it runs out of power.
let me just say, he beat your ass in smash bros.
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A/N: this sat in my drafts for a very long time. i had to brainstorm A LOT to see how idia could get injured.
date published: 1/27/24
© temiizpalce — don’t steal or copy my work!
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thexsilentxwordsmith · 4 months
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Pussydrunk!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Cockdrunk!Fem!Reader
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Fandom: Call of Duty
Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader
Summary: Simon comes home from deployment, hungry to have his pretty girl all to himself. Things get heated quick and before long you are both drunk off the feeling of the other. From this ask here.
Word Count: 5.4 k
Warnings:
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The moment those heavy boots hit the threshold of the apartment, brown eyes are searching for you as Simon’s heart pounds in his ears the same as it had the entire drive over. He’s been gnawing at the bit since even before he returned to base a day ago, aching to get back to the gorgeous being living in his flat. The last month of his deployment he’s been on edge, counting down the days in agonizing fashion as the craving growing in the pit of his stomach gets worse and worse. Fuck, he’s missing you - all of you - something fierce. 
Simon has missed those sweet moans of yours, the way you make his name sound so perfect through the stuttered gasps as you reach that level of incoherence that renders you completely useless; he has missed all the ways your body moves against and underneath him, writhing and back arching as his larger form overwhelms you; he has missed the way you fuck him, body begging for more even as you struggle to fit him all in and how beautiful it is to be inside you. 
It is enough to drive the man insane.
From the bedroom you can hear the door opening and closing and rush to the living room as quick as your legs can move, carried by giddy nerves to see your lover again after so long. You knew he was meant to be in today, but not the time and so you’ve been on edge waiting and listening; as soon as you see him a deepening ache situates itself in your chest. 
Simon clocks you as you come into the living room and he can’t find enough air to fill his lungs; by the way your cheeks instantly glow with warmth and your eyes sparkle he’s sure you are feeling the same tension fill the air around you the moment you two are in sight of one another. You are the one to close the distance as Simon’s limbs feel too heavy to move at first, blood being drawn to other places along his body that need it more now that he is near to the object of his desire. 
“Hey there stranger,” you smile up into those familiar balaclava- clad features as your heartbeat steadily becomes more erratic from your body flooding with that desperate longing to be against him once again. It is always the same: when you two are apart for long periods when he has to be away the moment you are in front of one another again it is like striking a match in a room filled with gasoline. “Long time no see.” 
He stares back down at you, light chocolate eyes taking in the face he hasn’t seen properly in too damn long. “Well ‘ello there yerself, pretty girl,” he returns, gravely tone sending chills down your spine as he drops the gear on his shoulder to the floor so that he has free range of motion to cup his calloused hand along your soft, delicate cheek. “It’s been a hot fuckin’ minute. Did ya miss me, luv?”
Before his brain can register what’s happening he senses something brush up against him in the small space still between your bodies and as his eyes travel down he sees that your hand is grabbing at his belt buckle, silky digits lacing themselves around the metal clasp. His eyes jump back up to yours instantly.
You aren’t wasting any time, are you? Fucking hell.
“Missed you a whole fucking lot, Simon,” you say under your breath as you give his belt a firm tug forward so that he has to take a step into you. Your thighs are already being rubbed together where you stand; it’s instant the way he can turn you on just by his presence alone. “Didn’t know when you’d be in; been waiting as patiently as I could, but I gotta say it hasn’t been easy. Got my nerves all flustered. How about you? Are you flustered, baby?”
You just have to do it, don’t you? That one damned gesture that always sends him reeling.
It isn’t a secret how the time apart makes him pine for you as if he is a man dying of thirst: for those hot, breathless moments spent between your thighs, for the way your bodies seem created only for the other, for the intense sensations of euphoria that only you can give him. So when your fingers hook into his belt to pull him in closer, you know what effect it will have on making him crumble, don’t you? 
Eight months is far too fucking long not to have any piece of you and any little touch would have done the trick to do him in, but you know the exact combination that will have him throwing you on your back in a heartbeat. He is a man starved of his addiction and it’s about goddamn time he had another hit. As you tug at the leather with a smirk across your lips, doe-eyed stare not so innocent anymore, all that yearning that had been bubbling right under the calm surface of those autumn-colored eyes for eight long, agonizing months explodes with force. 
No words, not a goddamn sound as that skull mask is ripped up off of Simon’s face in a flash quicker than your eyes can catch. Your body is moved by two strong arms more than capable of manhandling those curves with ease and find yourself slammed into the wall while he clasps your chin securely in his grip so that hungry lips can scramble to aggressively capture your own. While your lips dance, his free hand roams up under your clothes to grab ahold of any piece of available flesh as all that pent up desire surges through his veins like liquid fire. His fingertips tremble as they brush across all that soft, balmy skin along your abdomen and around your hips, making him produce a guttural moan into your open mouth that you are forced to swallow down. 
That huge, hulking body of his with its prominent muscles bulging everywhere even through his clothing overwhelms your own as he pins you harder against the wall while his grip descends to around your ass so that he can bring your hips forward, clothed pelvis rutting into you to catch any extra bit of friction he can as that tenting at the crotch of his pants swells the longer he grinds against you. His mouth is insatiable, stealing sloppy, frantic kisses one after another until your lips burn from the abrasion… and yet you still aren’t satisfied. 
Simon feels your nipples through your t-shirt stiffening as his chest rubs against them, a reminder to his numbing brain that there is even more of a feast for him waiting just beneath your clothes if he can just get them off you; the couple of nudes he keeps in his phone that you send him while he’s away are only a pale comparison to the real fucking thing and he’s been dying see it in person.
You’re close to one another, but not fucking close enough. 
He needs skin on skin, curves molded into curves, cock buried in you deep. That’s the crux of it all - he needs to be reminded of what you feel like wrapped around him, lose his mind as your cunt gives him the sensation he can get nowhere else from no one else. It consumes him in that moment until his thoughts are filled with nothing but the oncoming ecstasy that will soon be his. 
Feverish fingers slip themselves into the waistband at the back of your pants as he continues to rut against you, the few layers of fabric between you about to be reduced as he shoves down taking your pants over the arch of your ass until they fall around your ankles and you can step out of them. Your own fingers are already undoing the buckle of his belt before your clothes can hit the floor; thank fuck that Simon likes to keep his wardrobe uncomplicated when on leave. 
“Christ, I’m so fuckin’ hard for ya, sweetheart,” he breathes the heated, desperate words against your raw lips as hips continue to grind on you and make your work that much more difficult, “it’s been hell being away for so long. I’ve been fuckin’ starved, baby. That sweet little pussy of yours is callin’ my fuckin’ name. I need it, I need ya…fuckin’ can’t wait another goddamn second.” 
The muscles along his abdomen tense through his shirt as you brush against them until finally his belt comes loose and you can move onto the button securing his pants. You finish undoing everything just in time for him to tear that fucking shirt clean off your top half before doing exactly the same to his own. 
The middle of his chest is flushed pink and hastily you lean in to press your lips to it, through the tingle against your mouth from tiny hairs brushing over the delicate skin you can feel he is so warm it’s like he’s heated from the inside out. That broad chest heaves up and down heavily with the weight of his lust-filled breaths as you dot tender pecks along the center before he can’t take anymore and picks you up, throws you over his shoulder, and hurriedly drags you off to the bedroom hungry and ready to indulge.  
“That’s it,” Simon says in that brash tone that lets you know he’s reached his limit. “Can’t take this ache ‘nother goddamn second. You and that sweet thing between your legs are mine now.”  
He’s able to make it across the apartment in no time and throws open the bedroom door so that it hits the wall behind it with a booming thud as he stalks to the bed and sets you down on the surface, making sure to remove the pants hanging loosely around his hips as quick as he can along with his boxers. The moment he’s free of the clothing binding him that thick, meaty appendage springs to life, bobbing at attention as the vein along it pulses, and your breath hitches as your eyes are drawn to it; he’s not the only one who’s hungry and its been a hot fucking minute since you’ve laid eyes on all he has to offer.
You barely have time to scramble up towards the pillows at the head of the bed before he is crawling up towards you, a predator’s gaze making his iris’ flash and sparkle with an internal fire in the scant bit of light from the bedside lamp that illuminates the room. 
Simon’s shoulder muscles tense as he moves on all fours until he’s over you, his cock dangling down as he gets between your legs so that it drags over the petals of your pussy. You can feel it throb as it becomes even more engorged with blood at the stimulation and it makes your mouth salivate. A strained grunt echoes through his closed lips as the tip grazes over that silky, heated skin between your thighs; he’s already vibrating with pleasure… what the fuck is gonna happen when he gets inside?
Only one way to find out…
Simon pulls your legs up high around his waist, wide torso keeping you nice and spread for him. You claw at his shoulder blades with your nails as you shove your hips into him, body practically begging for him to get inside already. Screw any foreplay, you can’t afford to wait and let this frantic moment slip by. There is only one thing you want in you and it is already throbbing at its destination. 
“Fuck, please Simon, just get inside me,” your plea sends a shiver down his spine. “I don’t want to fucking wait…waited long enough.”
Spitting into his hand he applies the moisture to your entrance, lubricating the opening with hard presses of his fingertips along your cunt to help get things moving in the right direction. “Been a while, baby,” he returns as he aligns the tip and presses it against you while trying not to fall apart at the seams, “ya sure ya can still fuckin’ take it all?”
You nod aggressively, the need to be filled out by him overwhelming your every sense. You’ve waited patiently all this time, chomping at the bit for him to get back to you and now that he is here between your legs it’s all you can think about. “Give it to me,” you demand. “I need it baby, please, I’m aching something terrible. I need to feel you inside me again.”
How could he ever deny a request like that from you? 
The world falls away as the tip slips through the threshold of your body and inside and he has to stop as just the head alone stretching you wide sends him spiraling. Your back arches off of the bed as you squirm under him, mouth falling open with half-formed moans that get caught in the back of your throat as the tight space is beginning to fill. Simon shudders with ecstasy, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth to bite down in hopes that the sharp pain will force him to stay sane.  
Another thrust shoves him in a bit more so that now he’s more than halfway there, but still has just a bit to go. Your body doesn’t stand a chance as you lay under him at his mercy. His fingernails graze your waist as his hands hold on tight; he has to fit it in, get to the base, completely surround himself within you. Taking a deep breath he gathers another burst of energy to thrust all the way until he bottoms out and you release a cry into the silence of the room. 
“Goddamn ya feel so fuckin’ good princess, like a goddamn dream,” he gasps out as his head snaps down against your chest. “Pretty girl, my pretty fuckin’ girl, wanna keep ya fuckin’ full ‘a me all the time.”
Simon’s brain is quickly becoming mush as the warmness and growing wetness of your pussy makes his large form quiver at the bliss. You are no better, sanity slipping away as his hefty cock practically molds your walls to his specific shape as it rests inside. Hips begin to rock and are immediately punctuated by a deep-throated groan with each snap as he settles into a steady rhythm.   
Thrust after thrust each one harder than the last pushes your body until it is shoved up and your head hits the wall behind the bed. Simon’s nose nuzzles into your neck as feeble whimpers leave the confines of your mouth and pack his head full. “Missed your sounds too,” he says, amidst another thrust. “Keep this up and it’s gonna be my fuckin’ end, sweetheart.” Another strong thrust follows and then another.  
A yearning need to see himself fuck your gorgeous body suddenly engulfs his mind and so he slow sits himself up on his knees, making sure to keep himself inside you, so that he can get the perfect birdseye view of the beautiful way your body takes him in. It’s perfection and he cannot help but become absorbed in watching as each thrust in and out makes his cock disappear inside that narrow passage only to slip back out covered in more of your juices with each pass. 
Over and over his hips rock into you, the muscles along his abdomen clenching, fingertips digging into your sides to hold you still as his speed steadily increases the longer he goes. Your music fills his head, whimpers of pleasure as he strikes against your g-spot from the angle he’s positioned in, and that is the only thing that is floating in there now as everything else becomes a blur. 
The stoic and collected military officer is reduced to a glorious mess the longer he thrusts, drooling over you, going blind and delirious at the feeling of those tight, silky walls sucking him all in as they flutter around his cock. It’s been too long, too many nights spent alone without your company stuck half-way across the world with only his hand to keep him occupied when he can get a free moment, which those were few and far between. But nothing, nothing ever could compare to the feeling of you.
“Can’t get enough,” he stammers with a groan, so wrapped up in the moment that speech is near impossible to produce. “Fuckin’ desperate for ya, need more…need fuckin’ more…”
Simon is deep inside you and yet that ache is still monstrous, eating him alive so that anything outside of the ecstasy of your flesh is just fucking gone. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, he’s obsessed with your body. It isn’t enough though, never enough. You have completely consumed him; he is under your spell and nothing can break the charm.
His head is spinning, thoughts vacant like he is wasted; fuck, he’s high off the sensation of your pussy clenching around him. Now that he is inside you, there is no way he can leave anytime soon. There’s no goddamn way he’s going to let either of you come yet, not after how long you two have gone without each other. 
That hot coil tensing in the pit of his stomach pulls tighter and tighter, but he will not let it snap… not yet. No, he needs this to last as long as he physically can keep it up and so he knows what he has to do and with all his strength he does it; that once intense pounding slows down until he stops amongst your whimpered mewling. 
“What’re you doing?” you stutter, hips desperately trying to buck against him, but he pins them down for a bit. 
“Uh, uh,” he shakes his head, “don’t ya fuckin’ dare think you’re gonna come yet. Ya feel too fuckin’ good to let go of.”
Oh shit… You were in for it now, but just how much you could have never guessed. 
“No…no, please… I need you to keep going,” you plead as your throat strains to release the words, water rimming the whites of your eyes. That consuming ache is so deep in your bones it threatens to devour you whole, causing you to rip at the very seams as it permeates every fiber of your being until your entire form is primed like an explosive ready to combust. You can’t breathe, you can’t fucking think; everything is focused on how much the feeling of him is consuming all of you like a fire burning through dry tinder.
A shuddering breath escapes his lips; even stopping doesn’t help much, your body just feels too good and so he has to at least rut carefully against it. “I know, baby, I know,” he groans as his fingers dig into your hip to now force you to grind your clit into the base of his shaft. “But ya want this to fuckin’ last, yeah? Ya don’t wanna be done with me just yet, do ya?”
That thick, veiny appendage lay inside you, its girth stretching out the walls of your cunt to capacity as it simply rests there throbbing with the beat of his rapid heart rate, stewing in the filthy mess of juices he’s already made between your legs. You choke on a whimper as the stimulation to your clit sends a shockwave through to your toes and you clench them together, gathering some of the sheets into their grip. 
“No,” you shake your head wildly. “You just feel so fucking good, I can’t help it… feels so good… I just wanna keep feeling good with you, Simon.”
“I know, sweet girl,” he praises as he leans forward and presses his burning lips to the skin on your stomach, knowing that no matter what you would have said he wasn’t going to let you tap out yet; he needs your pussy like he needs air to survive. “It’s been too fuckin’ long since we’ve been able ta do this…need ta make up for all the lost time.” 
Simon’s dreamt about this the entire time you’ve been apart; insatiable, desperate, carnal fantasies about fucking your tight hole to within an inch of your sanity, making you come so hard that you can’t move for hours after. His cock has been throbbing for months with nothing but his fucking hand to take the edge off as he pictures filling out every inch of your hole until there is nowhere left for his cock to go.
Another couple of minutes of simply breathing, grinding, and focusing on the way the skin of your torso is so soft against his lips and he’s far enough from that ledge that he wants to start thrusting full force again. He leans down and wraps his arms around your body and you take it as a sign that he’s going to start up again, only for him to roll you both until you are the one on top now. The movement is unexpected, but you are more than willing to go along with it if it means you can take control of your own pleasure. 
As he situates himself under you, his hands roam up and down your sides while he takes a second to enjoy how you look perched over him: full tits directly in his face, hair cascading around your cheeks as you peer down into his face, eyes rolling back in your head every time a sensitive point gets stimulated. You are his fucking fantasy when you get on top. 
“I wanna have ya ride me for a bit,” he breathes. “Show me how good ya ride it, pretty girl. Make my cock your toy.”
As long as he stays inside you, you’ll do whatever the hell he wants.    
Placing your hands on his hard chest for support while his hand moves back to your hips, Simon guides you up and down until you are bouncing in rhythm to match his racing heartbeat. Harder and harder he shoves you forcefully down to get as deep into you as possible until you can feel bruises rising where his hands have a hold of you, yet that doesn’t matter at all as you can only comprehend the way his cock is rendering you too fucking dumb to think of anything else.  
Pushing down against his chest you bob up and down on your knees as best as you can, trying to keep up with his relentless pace. He told you to use him, but all you want is for him to make you his living fleshlight as you are forced to take it all. Your movements start to get sloppy after a time as you can hardly keep yourself focused anymore with how good it feels and Simon takes notice, though he is ready with the solution.
His hips start to strike up into your pussy as even though he is beneath you he is more than capable of taking control, not wanting to move into a new position just yet. You whimper and whine with your mouth hung open as each percussive hit sends shockwaves of euphoria ripping through you just like you want. This is too much for anyone to handle: you being entirely ravaged by him until you are so desperately lost in the pleasure of it all that you are in a complete state of full body bliss. 
You can only sit and take every last delectable inch that he gives you as his massive girth stretches your walls with every thrust of his pelvis upward. The room fills with the wet, sticky music of your bodies slapping against each other as he works your hole as if this is the last chance he will ever get to fuck you and he needs to make it count.
Minute after minute, his full attention being focused solely on you, each stroke along that incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves inside your core drives you increasingly closer to that razor’s edge and threatens to violently throw you off at any point without notice. He must be feeling it too, for again his thrusting slows until he is simply grinding against you once again and that building pressure falls away. 
Over and over again this happens, Simon edging you both closer and closer before struggling to back off and changing positions in a constant rotation, each position just as mind-numbing as the last now that you are cockdrunk. You find yourself on your knees with your head shoved into the mattress  and then on your side with him pressed up against your back, bouncing on top with his hand desperately cupping at your tits and then returning to where it all started on your back, all the while the constant humping during the calmer moments keeps you primed and yet just far enough off the edge that each new round keeps building towards that desperate end. 
Goddamn his stamina is something of legend, but when he wants something bad enough he will make it work no matter how hard he must push himself. And right now he cannot get enough of you no matter how he tries. 
Fuck, your clit is throbbing so hard you think you might pass out, the room so warm your hair sticks to the sides of your face, the scent of sex pungent with each ragged breath shared between your close mouths; every single sense overstimulated to the point of barely being able to process it all. You are perched on his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, foreheads pressed together tight with eyes shut. 
Simon leans in to kiss your raw mouth, but even the contact from your lips makes him gasp from the sensitivity. Your legs are shaking violently now as he’s slowed once more, every muscle pushed to its limit as he rocks his hips into you just because it feels too good to ever stop completely. Both of you are sparkling from head to toe, coated with the speckled dew of perspiration to match the absolute mess Simon has made between your legs. 
Smooth thighs glisten with that warm, moist, natural lubrication of your cunt as it dribbles out of you and onto the sheets beneath to leave a noticeable dark spot on the bed that’s still warm to the touch. Simon’s mouth waters as the taste buds along his tongue prick to life at the sight, begging to savor all your sweet nectar, but he tells himself to not get ahead of things. 
The rest of the night you are going to be his and he will get everything he wants of it all before the end.
Just like you, Simon is out of his goddamn mind with pleasure. The sensation consumes everything inside him until there is nothing left; the only way he can communicate is through breathy groans and staggered grunts as if he is only an animal now. He craves to be the blood in your veins, the air in your lungs, the only goddamn thing you need. And that is when he knows that he cannot hold off another second. 
Without warning he pulls out of you only briefly so that he can aggressively flip you over onto your back, getting into position by kneeling in front of you as he throws your legs onto his broad, sculpted shoulders before he grips your hips and instantly re-enters you. This is it, though he can’t barely speak, it’s gonna happen whether he is ready or not so he is going to be damned sure to make it go off with a fucking bang.
Again Simon picks up his desperate pace, his abs dripping with sweat as they contract and release after each desperate thrust. Those brown eyes close off to the rest of the world, just absorbing every last second of that mind-numbing goodness that he can before he blows.
“F-fuck, Simon...mmmm…” you whine your plea as you can feel that warmth rising harshly in the pit of your stomach, “p-please… d-d-don’t stop.”
Your mind is all static, so lost on Simon’s cock that you cannot stand it; it’s overwhelming in its intensity that you actually aren’t entirely sure you want to come yet. If you could just stay suspended in this moment forever, you’d die happy. All that edging has done its job just as intended though and with a few more strong thrusts of him deep in your core, that is it: like a hot flash of white light you squeal out in unsteady whimpers as your orgasm rips through you with such force you nearly bolt off the bed as your back arches and your hips buck harshly against him. 
A roar is released from within his chest, his body writhing as he holds on to your waist for dear life while he milks his cock inside you, coating your walls in his cum until he has no more left in him to give. He sounds like a wild animal and it makes your body vibrate with exhilaration; you are the one to make him come with such force he is reduced to more basic instincts. 
You fall back against the bed as your body shakes violently with the force of your orgasm. Never has such intense pleasure overwhelmed you so thoroughly that your limbs tremble uncontrollably before and though the exhaustion overtakes you, it is euphoric. Simon slowly slips himself out of your pussy as he sits back, his overstimulated cock twitching with sensitivity as he removes it from your tightness.
You whimper a little, instantly missing the feeling of him stretching you out and honestly wishing he would have just stayed inside even longer, but you know if you don’t have even a small break that you are not going to survive.
His strong hands hold your vibrating legs apart as he sits back on the mattress exhausted and a million miles away as he watches as his cum dribbles out of your pussy like honey; goddamn did he stuff you to the brim. All you can do is lay there with your eyes shut tight, heart thudding against your ribs as you focus all your remaining brain power on breathing. From your head to the tips of your toes you sparkle with perspiration as if you are decked out in diamonds that shimmer in the low light of the room.
“Christ Simon…gonna kill me,” you chuckle lightly as your mouth finally is able to do something other than hang open. 
Eyes still closed, the sensation of his lips brushing against your inner thigh catches your attention. “Not…yet,” his low, gruff voice hits your ears from between your legs, accent heavy with his fatigue. Why did that sound like a promise?
Your mouth is already forming the question when it instantly dies on your tongue as you become aware of a firm grip from those strong hands spreading your legs open even further as his body slides off the edge of the mattress and onto the floor to sit on his knees with his face at optimal level with your pussy.
“Simon?” you ask hastily as you struggle up to your elbow to see those dark eyes peer up at you just over the mound of your sex. 
The corner of his mouth is barely visible, but you can see it upturn. He may have come, but he is nowhere near finished yet. “Still fuckin’ hungry for ya,” he growls before descending down into the ecstasy of the space in between your thighs. 
Simon just needs to buy time until he can get it up again…good thing his tongue is always ready to go. Sharp features are instantly soaked as he dives in without hesitation, the scent of your arousal instantly clinging to his cheeks and making his cock begin to twitch. His mouth is filled with a combination of both of your flavors as his tongue does what it does best: find your clit like a pleasure-seeking missile. He is ready to get completely lost in you all over again, this time with his first favorite activity and all you can do is hold on as he straps you to his face.
Let the feast on your pussy continue…it’s gonna be a long fucking while until he’s done with you.
Tagging: @llelannie @thicksexxualtension @cheolsblkwife @cum-tea-and-towels @sillylittlereader @mesyakee
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rainyyynightssss · 21 days
Text
Twisted Wonderland
Reacting to you having trouble with other students
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Characters: Trey, Jade, Floyd, Rook
Notes: Some violence
Trey Clover
You sit next to Trey at a library table, shoulders brushing up against each other as you both look at the textbooks splayed across the surface. You had been having trouble some of your classwork and it seemed harder than usual since you come from a world without magic. Trey, noticing your struggles, offered to help you study which was a compromise since you first asked to copy his notes.
You've been trying to focus on the notes and tips he's giving you instead of the lingering touches as he directs your hand to the next page, or the small praises he gives you after getting a question right, or his soft breath on your cheek as he leans close to check your work. No, you've been diligently studying and not feeling any kind of heat in your face.
"And what about this one?" Trey asks as he taps his finger on the open page in the textbook. You look down at the words and think for a moment.
"Um..so sublimation is...turning solids into gas...without having to go through the liquid phase?" You half-guess. Trey smiles and hands you another chocolate covered candy that he had called 'motivation'.
"Right again. You're better at this than you think." He says as he flips the pages over to the next question. You sigh and rest your face on your hand.
"I really should be compensated for all this trouble." You mention.
"The trouble of doing your work?" Trey chuckles, "I can whip something up for you later. Your favorite, of course." He winks.
Just as you're about to launch into a discussion about your favorite dessert, something hard is knocked into the back of your head. You whip around and find a couple of Heartslabyul boys passing behind you. One of them is holding a heavy book and smirking while the other two try to hide their snickers behind their hands.
You have no idea what you could have done to these boys. Sometimes just breathing was enough to piss off students at Night Raven College.
"Whoops. Wasn't paying attention." One of the boys says flippantly as he shifts the book to his other arm, nearly smacking you again. You rub the back of your head, ready to tell them off when one of them eyes the bag of candies on the table.
"Oh, Trey! Can we have some? Please!" The boy begs and his friends follow suit. Trey stares at them with a blank look for a few moments before smiling.
"Sure. Here you go," He hands them a handful of the chocolate candies each, "They taste better if you eat them all at once."
The Heartslabyul boys run off after receiving the candy without a thank you or an apology. You narrow your eyes at Trey.
"Awfully kind of you to give candy to my assailants." You sigh dramatically but Trey shakes his head.
"Something tells me they won't be enjoying this treat." He smiles again.
Suddenly, across the room, you can hear a chorus of "ewwww"'s followed by some coughing and gagging. You gape and turn back towards Trey.
"What did you change the taste to?" You ask in interest but he merely winks at you.
"I have no clue. It's just supposed to be chocolate." He responds innocently. His smile turns into a frown as he gently rubs the back of your head where you were hit.
"I'm sorry I couldn't do more. Though if it's any consolation, Riddle will probably deal with them after he finds out just how severe their lack of manners are." Trey offers.
You think his caresses on your head like you're something that needs care is consolation enough. But you don't say that, instead leaving your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. Trey closes the textbooks and wraps an arm around your waist, done with studying for today but he didn't need an excuse to want to hang out with you.
Jade Leech
You finish taking a couple's order down on the notepad Azul provided to you and walk back towards the kitchen. You've been taking a couple shifts at the Mostro Lounge in order to pay off some of the damage Grim has caused by being...everywhere. Azul was benevolent enough to take you in and you just managed to slip through signing a contract with him, much to his chagrin.
Jade took on the responsibility of showing you the ropes, a little too eagerly which you found suspicious. He did tell you everything there is to know about serving and walked you through it. He didn't get irritated after you accidentally dropped a dish or forgot to add an appetizer a table ordered. Or at least you assumed he didn't since his smile never changed. Though you did notice that waiters who messed up one too many times were taken to the back by Jade. You hope that'll never happen to you.
You pass by Jade as he carries an abnormal amount of plates on his arms towards a table. He nods at you with his smile, not a hint of strain on his face.
"You have a new group at table 13. They can get a bit unruly so I'll-" Jade starts but you take the plates containing drinks off his hand.
"No, I got it! Thanks, Jade!" You tell him before dashing off to table 13. While you are definitely in this for the money, you also couldn't help but want to impress Jade and show him that his training was not in vain.
As you approach the table, you can already hear the group of boys chatting and laughing. You set the drinks down and give them a smile, readying your notepad.
"Are you guys ready to order or do you need more time?" You ask.
"What does it look like?" A blondie responds dryly. The rest of the boys stare at you like they're wondering if you passed elementary school.
"That you're...ready?" You guess awkwardly. The blondie rolls his eyes and the rest scoff, their assumptions about your schooling seemingly confirmed.
"Obviously we need more time." Another says and you nod, turning around to leave.
"I'll be back soon then-"
"Where are you going? We're ready to order." You turn back around to find the blondie smirking. Your hands tighten on your notepad and you fight to keep your smile. How did Jade do this all the time?
"What can I get for you?" You keep your eyes focused on the notepad, hoping that will lower your irritation.
"Can I get...uh..." You listen to one of them mumbling before a loud yelp is heard. You look over to see Jade gripping the wrist of the blondie who is frozen in fear and wincing. His grip is so tight that the boy's hand is turning white. You also find that the hand being gripped is dangerously close to touching your bottom.
"Harassing waiters in our lounge is strictly against our policy. I'll have to ask you to leave." Jade says, still smiling as ever. Though this time, you could see the strain in him, not from fatigue but something more lethal.
"I-I wasn't-" The boy tries to plead but Jade only tightens his grip.
"Wasn't trying to touch them? Well, security cameras will be the judge of that." Jade responds and the boy breathes a little easier.
"And so will I." Jade adds before snapping the wrist of the blondie, causing him to scream in pain. The boy flies out of the booth and stumbles towards the exit, crying as he holds his flailing wrist. Jade turns back towards the group.
He doesn't have to say a word since the other boys quickly sprint out of the lounge. You look between the exit and Jade in shock.
"Uh, well, thanks, I think. That might've been a bit excessive..." You trail off and Jade merely wipes a spot on your shoulder one of the fleeing boys must have brushed past.
"Are you alright? You can take a break in the back. Azul does time them though." He tells you and you shake your head with a smile.
"I'm alright. I only have half an hour left anyways. Hopefully those guys won't be back." You eye the exit but Jade takes your arm and leads you to you next table.
"They have an incentive not to. And if they do," He leans down close enough so that you could see the sharp edges of his teeth, "You'll tell me, won't you?"
Floyd Leech
You sit at your desk in Professor Trein's class, listening to him drone on as you take down notes. You always tried hard to pay focus in classes, which annoyed a certain eel sitting right behind you. He often pestered you in this class and you wondered why he didn't have anything better to do, like pay attention.
As Trein turns around to write something on the board, something soft and crinkly hits the back of your head. You look behind you to see Floyd grinning and pointing at the floor. You roll your eyes as you see a crumpled up paper on the ground. Curiosity got the best of you and you open up the paper.
Bored??? I am! Let's ditch!
You write a big, fat NO over his words on the paper and throw it back at him. Trein faces the class again to lecture and you can practically feel Floyd's dramatic sigh as he flops back in his chair.
"Can I see your notes?" Your seatmate asks you as he peers over at your notebook. You scoot your notes closer to you. Just last week, your seatmate had 'accidentally' tripped you while you were walking up to the board.
"Haven't you been taking your own?" You mutter.
"Yeah, but I wanna see yours." The boy starts tugging on your notebook and you try to pull it back.
"No, would you let go?" You hiss as you try to keep hold of your notes. The boy grabs your wrist to try and pull your hand off but he freezes as a looming shadow falls behind him.
"Wanna use my notes? I've got plenty." Floyd grins, all teeth.
The boy stammers, unable to say anything. Floyd grabs his hair and yanks his head back, staring straight down at him.
"Can't hear me? Should I talk louder?" Floyd asks with a giggle as he pulls on the boy's hair harder.
"Leech!" Trein reprimands. Floyd huffs and lets the boy's hair go, sending him reeling into his desk. You glance back at Floyd.
"You didn't actually take any notes, did you?" You ask.
"Sure I did." Floyd hands you his notebook. There's a couple of bullet points about a new takoyaki recipe he wants to try. He also added some doodles of an eel and a tiny shrimp.
Rook Hunt
You sigh as you write your woes down into a journal you started keeping a couple months ago. A group of Pomefiore boys have been bothering you for a while. They constantly put down your looks, calling it critique without giving any helpful tips nor was any of it even asked for. Even when you tried to avoid them on your way to see the vice housewarden, they still managed to corner you every now and then.
You finish writing and toss your notebook on your desk that sits right under your window. You think things may be better tomorrow as you rest your head on your pillow.
***
You head down the path towards the illustrious path that houses the Pomefiore students. Rook had messaged you in the morning, urging you to come by and see a "most beauté activity". You have no idea what this entails but it might be worth checking out.
You find Rook in a grass clearing just behind the dorms. He has his fingers in a square shape as he gazes at something in the distance. He sees you and gasps in surprise, grabbing both of your hands in his.
"Mon lumière! I'm overjoyed that you've accepted my invitation!" Rook spins you around.
"I can tell," You laugh a little, "What's this activity though?"
"I'm glad you asked! You see, I've been wanting to sharpen up my archery skills. The art of the bow and arrow is simply dur mais juste." Rook tells you.
"And you remember I mentioned wanting to watch?" You guess.
"Exactement! I already have the targets set up and all you have to do for now is watch." Rook takes you further down the clearing and your eyes widen in horror. The Pomefiore boys that have been bothering you were tied up to a row of trees, their mouths gagged and a juicy, red apple sits precariously on each of their heads.
"...What is this?" You ask hesitantly.
"Like I said, mon lumière, target practice! Now stand behind me and watch as I pull the drawstring..." Rook's eyes are hyper focused as he points an arrow at one of the boys whose screams are muffled behind the rope.
"Rook, there is something very wrong here!" You shout in concern. He releases the tension in the bow and points the arrow at the ground. He stares at you for a moment before lighting up again.
"You're right! You should be the one pulling the arrow. Such an eye for beauty you have." Rook sighs happily as he stands behind you and places the bow and arrow in your hands. They shake unsteadily as you hold them. There was no way you were going to be able to hit the apples.
"Rook, this isn't-" You gasp as he uses your hands to pull the drawstring and the arrow shoots forward. You squeeze your eyes shut and hear the sound of four consecutive hits.
You slowly open your eyes and see four arrows perfectly shot in the middle of each apple, no doubt due to magical intervention. The group of boys sob in fear, not realizing it wasn't their heads that got hit.
You take a deep breath and look behind you at Rook who seems as pleased as ever.
"Did you know those guys have been bothering me?" You ask with narrowed eyes.
"How would I know that?" Rook responds with a smile.
"So you just happened to pick them out?"
"I needed targets. Who better than those who can't appreciate true beauté?"
You'll be moving your journal to a more secure location.
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naughtyjjk · 6 months
Text
jjk men when they're turned on in public
characters: gojo, geto, nanami, toji | fem reader warnings: smut, dry humping, teasing, dirty talk, blowjob they just can't help themselves sometimes... and it doesn't matter that they're in public
GOJO... the first sign is that he gets really clingy. it happens slowly throughout the day until he’s basically leaning onto you and whining nonstop about how much he wants you, how badly he needs it. if you try to ignore him, he moves to stand close to you and starts humping you over his clothes, doing anything to relieve himself­ even a little bit. “come on, baby,” he practically begs. “let me fuck you… i’m so hard for you already. you know i can make you feel good.” and of course you know; he’s good at sex, just like he’s good at everything else. still, you try to tell him not here, not in public, but he’s relentless and it’s so tempting. he kisses your neck, licks your ear, fondles your chest, and—eventually, you can't help but give in. it’s so fucking hard to resist when you can feel his cock twitching in his pants, rubbing against you. the two of you find a nearby hotel and he doesn’t waste any time in taking off your clothes and pinning you down on the bed. “mm, finally… i've wanted this all day…”
GETO… it’s obvious when he’s turned on because he starts touching you everywhere, hands roaming all over your body and getting more daring as time passes. he hugs you from behind. he "accidently" brushes against your breasts. he grabs your ass as he walks next to you. whenever this happens, you want to tell him to stop, but his touches are always so warm, and they feel so good. he knows every one of your most sensitive spots and he’s not afraid to put this knowledge to use. secretly, you love when he gets all touchy, like he can’t get enough of your body. eventually, when he can’t take it anymore, he leads the two of you into an empty alleyway and makes you bend over, pulling his pants down and thrusting his cock into you. one hand cups your breasts, pinching the nipple, and the other hand covers your mouth. “shh,” he says when your moaning becomes too loud. “i know, baby. it feels good, but you have to be quiet, otherwise people will hear. or do you want everyone to know how well you take my cock?”
NANAMI… he’s usually a private person and keeps these things in the bedroom, but when he does get all hot and bothered in public, it’s because of you. while the two of you spend a day out together, you keep teasing him and pushing his limits simply because you love watching him try to hold himself back—it’s fucking hot. so you dress in revealing clothing, you hint at the dirty things you want to do with him. he maintains a pretty good poker face most of the time, but you can tell that he’s not immune to your seductive tactics by the way he looks at you, gaze darkening with desire over time. it’s not long before he gives in. when the two of you move to sit down, he pulls you onto his lap and grinds against your ass, letting you feel how hard he’s become. he whispers in your ear, “you’re such a naughty girl, aren’t you? it’s like you’re just asking to be punished…” and you know that he’s going to get his revenge by the time you get home.
TOJI… oh boy, he’s completely shameless. he won’t be subtle about it at all, and he wants you to know exactly how horny he is. it doesn’t matter where you are—in line to get food, at the movie theatre, walking around. he won’t hesitate to take your hand and guide it down his body to feel his hard dick over his pants, smirking at you. he makes a point to moan and whisper dirty fantasies to you any chance he gets, watching you get more and more riled up. his goal is to make you turned on too, so aroused that you forget where you are and make the first move. at a restaurant, you’re supposed to be sharing a nice meal together, but you somehow find yourself crawling under the table and unzipping his pants, pulling out his cock to suck him off. you can hear him talking to the waitress as if nothing’s wrong, far too composed. but when he finally stutters, breath hitching and holding back a moan, satisfaction settles in you. he pushes you away before it gets too dangerous and you return to your seat. he tells you, “as much as i would love to spill into your mouth, i want to come inside you today. how about you meet me in the bathroom?” he doesn’t wait for you to answer, getting up and heading toward the back of the restaurant. you follow him, of course. in the end, he returns the favour and fucks you hard in one of the stalls.
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he-calls-me-kitten · 6 months
Text
Show Me How (Pt. 1)
Poly GN! MC x OM! Characters
(TW: Gangbang, Poly, Messy, Orgy??? MDNI - some people requested and I had to try :P, but if y'all want a one on one HC's I can do that seperately)
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Intro
You trembled in excitement as Diavolo got off his seat to talk to the manager. You barely caught the words "special room" from the conversation and looked around you.
All of them looked at you like hawks about to feast. You weren't expecting your body count to go from 0 to 11 in one night.
"They're ready for us." Diavolo held out his hand and you readily took it. You felt them all follow close behind as you walked, hot and bothered before you had even taken your clothes off. Some of them, you were too nervous to notice who, brushed their palms and knuckles against your hips and thighs.
The room was dimly lit and the bed looked big and cushy enough for atleast 6 of you. There were couches placed next to big tinted windows showcasing the glowing city lights.
"Don't worry MC, I'll fuck you against those windows so we can see the pretty sights together. And we can be there as long as you like." Asmo whispered, casually caressing your behind before letting you go.
Taking your seat in the middle of the bed, you looked up at them like a innocent little lamb. "So...what happens now?"
Solomon was the first one on the bed, tilting your chin to look up at his towering form. "Since it's your first time, maybe you should start with a human before going up against the supernaturals?"
You nodded. You could hear Mammon grunt in annoyance. "Unfair!" Asmo whined. "Damn your advantage, Solomon!" Satan scowled.
All other protests drowned out as he pressed his lips against your parted ones, slipping his tongue in with ease. You reached out to hold him by the shoulders as he pulled you onto his lap.
"You can be the first to take MC, but I don't think they'll mind us lending a hand, would you, MC?" Barbatos joined you on the bed and so did Diavolo. Lucifer turned towards the windows but he knew he was watching you intently in the reflections.
"You're so... beautiful..." Solomon whispered as he undid the buttons on your school uniform. Barbatos and Diavolo pulled down the sleeves so you were only left in your undershirt.
"Indeed. Even your scent is divine." Barbatos latched his mouth on your neck right beneath your ear. Solomon proceeded to suckle your nipples through the thin cloth while undoing your pants. Diavolo kneaded the other side of your chest while stealing kisses off your cheek.
You were soaked faster than you expected, dripping and ready. "Hold on MC, we need to make sure you're stretched out enough to take him. To make sure it hurts less." You watched Barbatos take his glove off with his teeth and coat fingers with your precum and Diavolo followed suit.
"Ah- AHHHHH!" You moaned out load at the introduction of one finger right after the other. As small as you were compared to them, it took them no time at all to find where it pleasures you most.
Beel inched dangerously close to the bed. "Could I have a little taste?" His eyes were trained on your slick and glistening beads of sweat on your back. You nodded lightly. You felt the bed shift with his weight as fell onto Solomon's chest, your ass hoisted up against Beel's mouth.
"Beel! Wait!" The his warm tongue on your cold skin was already too much and you were still so sensitive from the last act. And it took him seconds to go from gentle to feral animal.
"MC...you taste so good...please just a little more." He pleaded. You had tears of overstimulation by the time Solomon pulled you away from him.
"Alright, alright I think my adorable apprentice is more than ready for me now." He huffed annoyed as he pumped his dick against your stomach. You gasped at the sheer size of it. Your head spun knowing that it's only going to get bigger from here on.
He rubbed the tip against your hole before thrusting. You felt full but he wasn't even half way. "So tight for me...don't worry I'll be gentle." He went deeper with every thrust, slowly splitting you open.
"Breathe...don't tense up, relax your muscles. Just like that." It was almost like Solomon was in his room teaching you magic. You whined as he finally fit in all of himself and you whimpered at his size. "That's it. There's my perfect little apprentice."
"Hurry it up already!" You could hear Mammon growl, impatient. You tried to look back at him only to see him undoing his belt, the tent in his pants huge and uncomfortable. In fact, almost everyone had the same problem.
Levi was facing the wall, trying to jerk himself off discreetly. Belphie was sitting down gently rutting against his pillow. Satan was staring intently with crossed arms, sizing you up to imagine everything he wanted to do with you.
Solomon and you came at the same time, gasping and clutching to each other for support. You marked him with your nails and he marked you with his cum pouring out of your hole. "I'm so sorry I couldn't pull out, MC...you felt too good."
"That's it! My turn!" Mammon's patience ran out as he grabbed you by the arms and flipped you over. The sight of Solomon's essence inside you fueled his anger. He was about to fuck you like a dog.
"You need to learn to share, Mammon. MC belongs to all of us, after all." Asmo slithered his way under you somehow, running his dainty fingers up and down your chest, his manicured nails lightly grazing your nipples. "So cute."
"Asmo n-not there!" You trembled at his lips leaving lipstick marks over your tummy and to the sound of Mammon furiously unbuckling his pants. You felt both their erections on your thighs before Mammon shoved two fingers inside you, just to see if you could take him. "You belong to me now. Don't you dare scream anyone else's name but mine."
Latching his lips on yours, he thrust himself inside like a brute. You screamed his name into his mouth through his rough thrusts and tightening grip on your waist. "M-Mammon please not so rough!" You pulled away from his mouth to breathe.
You were barely registering the stretch of Mammon's length when Belphie appeared in front of you sheepishly. "Could you...let me use your mouth?" He ran his fingers over your lips tenderly. You parted your lips for him, half dazed and felt his tip trace your lips before putting it in.
"Couldn't wait his fucking turn. Why ya gotta be so pretty, MC? Hah...fuck you're still so tight.." Mammon hissed at Belphie lazily thrusting inside your mouth. Mammon's rough pace coupled with Belphie's slow one was so overwhelming you came again before long. "So good...so so good for me, MC..." The sleepy demon praised through gasps.
You were crying again as you came on Mammon's dick. He spilled out on your hips, dripping down your thighs. "I can't anymore...not right now...please..." You begged. Asmo cooed and hugged you. You fell asleep on his shoulder.
You woke up to Satan cradling your head on his lap, and Simeon running his fingers through your hair. "Let yourself relax, MC. The rest of us can wait patiently for our turn."
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romantichomicide95 · 3 months
Text
I THINK IM READY ⨾
pairing: virgin!megumi x virgin!reader
notes: mutual virginity loss, characters are over 18.
->minors dni
“I think I’m ready.” The words echoed in Megumi’s mind all through dinner. He was trying with everything in him to focus on what you were saying but it was almost impossible. Those words spoken just the other day were now becoming a reality, and he couldn’t get them out of his head. The anticipation that was bubbling within him made it incredibly difficult to focus on anything besides your pretty plump lips and the way your breasts seems to pop out of the top you were wearing.
Megumi didn’t think himself a pervert, or the type of guy that got distracted by such things. Sure, he’d thought about having sex with you…numerous times in fact. It’s not that he didn’t want you. Of course he did…He just, wasn’t the type to rush such things. He lacked experience, as did you and he’d never brought it up because he wanted you to feel comfortable.
But right now….it seemed as though his body had taken control of itself. Every little movement you made sent shivers right down to the spot between his legs; every glance he caught of those luscious curves filled him with an undeniable heat. As much as he tried to reign it back in, he couldn't deny the way you made him feel.
And it didn’t end. Not when he paid for the check, and not on the drive to the hotel he had booked for your special night. Despite the nervous energy that seemed to linger in the spaces between you, the words still echoed in his head.
“Are you okay Megs? You’ve been quiet?” you ask and he’s brought back to reality by those words. He gives you a mumbled “Yeah, I’m fine.” in response as you make your way into the hotel room.
You sit on the bed and Megumi can’t take his eyes off of you. You’d dressed up tonight, which was another distraction he didn’t think he needed in his head. You always looked pretty, there was no doubt in his mind about that. But the tight little number you’d decided upon for tonight left just enough to the imagination that it drove him crazy.
He watches you, his eyes trailing down your body before snapping back up to meet your gaze. He swallows hard, feeling a mixture of desire and nervousness washing over him. There’s an awkward tension in the air as Megumi sits next to you, and you both take a deep breathe simultaneously trying to calm your racing hearts.
“Are you sure you’re ready, I don’t want to rush you.” Megumi asks as he moves closer, closing the gap between you. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his fingers softly brushing across your skin.
You nod, leaning into his touch and your eyes flicker to his and you give him a slight smile. “Mhm. Promise.”
Without another word, Megumi leans in and presses his lips against yours. It’s a gentle kiss at first, as you explore each other's mouths tentatively. His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you closer to him, while yours wrap around his neck, fingers intertwining with his raven locks.
As the kiss continues, Megumi's tongue slides past your lips. This wasn’t new, this was the easy part. Kissing, you’d done it so many times before. Your tongues dancing together in familiarity as you lost yourselves in the moment. Your hands fall from his hair to the buttons of his dress shirt, slowly unbuttoning each button until you hastily rip the fabric off his toned frame.
Megumi's heartbeat picks up as he feels your fingers brush against his skin. As you pull away, he opens his eyes, looking down at your hands on his chest. He swallows hard, his voice low. “C-Can I take yours off?”
You nod and attempt to give him a smile through your nerves. With shaky hands Megumi finds the hem of your top pulling it off over your head and his eyes widen slightly at the sight of your perfect tits clad in a lacy bra. He swallows hard, his heart racing so fast he thinks it might burst out of his chest. He lays you down on the bed and hovers over you, one muscular arm on either side of you. You look up in to his pretty blue eyes, and you feel safe. Especially with the way he’s looking at you, like you’re so delicate.
“Is this okay?” He asks as you look up at him through pretty lashes. You feel yourself grow hot in embarrassment but you try to push past it as you smile and nod. “Mhm.”
Megumi leans down, his lips brushing softly against your neck as he kisses down to your collarbone. Groaning softly as he starts to fondle your breasts through your bra. His fingers move behind you to unclasp it and leans up to admire you as the fabric falls off your perfect breasts. His eyes darken slightly at the sight, and now he really thinks he might be a pervert with the way his cock strains against his pants at the sight. He reaches down to unfasten his belt with trembling hands, pulling his pants and boxers down in one swift movement. His cock springs forward against his stomach and your eyes widen slightly at the size.
He hovers over you for a second before kissing down your neck again, and then down to your breasts. He takes a hardened nipple in between his lips and softly flicks his tongue around the sensitive bud.
You arch your back slightly at the sensation and as he continues suckling at your nipple. He reaches down between your legs and slides his fingers into your panties swiping them along your wet folds. He growls against your flesh as he slides two fingers inside your wet heat, in an attempt to prepare you for him. You wriggle beneath him, your breathing picking up as little moans start to leave you.
He kisses his way back up to your lips as he continues to thrust his fingers inside you, his thumb pressing softly against your clit. You reach down between your bodies to start stroking his cock and Megumi can’t help but groan against your lips as he bucks his hips against your hand and you feel the pre-cum drip on your fingers.
He deepens the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he thrusts his fingers harder inside you. “Does this feel good?” He asks in between kisses and you answer him with a soft moan, bucking your hips up.
He finally pulls away from the kiss, panting heavily. “Are you ready?” He asks, and when you nod and smile he takes the chance to pull your panties completely off.
His breath hitches when he sees your bare pussy for the first time, and it takes everything in him not to let himself go at the sight. He pushes your legs apart slightly and positions himself between them, his hardened cock rubbing against your wet folds.
You let out a ragged breath as he slides his cock inside your tight heat, and your fingernails dig into his arms as you feel him stretch you out.
Megumi groans as he feels you tighten around him. He looks down at you. “Fuck…”He grunts his breath hitching as a low guttural groan escapes his lips. He closes his eyes as he feels your pussy grip his cock, the sensation like nothing he’s ever felt. He lets out a low moan, as his breathing starts to pick up. He hasn’t even started to move but the way you feel wrapped around his cock has his head spinning.
“You okay?” He opens his eyes, leaning down to nudge his nose against your cheek when he sees the way you bite your lip, fingers still digging into him. “Does it hurt?” He looks down at you, brushing a sweaty piece of hair from your face.
“A little. It’s okay though…promise.” You say, leaning up to give him a soft reassuring kiss. “I love you.”
He gives you a half smile “I love you to…I’m gunna move now.” He says before he leans down to kiss you softly. “Tell me if it hurts.” He says as his hands move to your hips and he starts to thrust slowly, his cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy. He groans softly with each thrust, his eyes closing as he focuses on the sensation of you sucking him in. He leans down and you feel his warm breath against your neck. The bed creaks softly underneath you as he takes you slowly.
Megumi moves one hand to yours, his fingers ghosting across your palm before intertwining with yours, pushing your hands into the bed as he picks up his pace.
His movements become faster, his breath coming in short gasps. Your walls begin to clamp down on his cock, milking him with each thrust. He bites his lip, trying to keep quiet as pleasure courses through his veins. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your jawline. "Doing okay pretty girl?”
You nod, your eyes squeezing shut as his cock starts to hit that spot inside you. "Mmm-hmm..." You moan softly, arching your back to meet his thrusts. He groans in response, squeezing your hand reassuringly as his hips slam into you harder. His free hand comes up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple. You gasp at the sensation, your hand gripping his tightly. "Fuck, Megumi..." You pant, as the pain starts to mix with pleasure. “Don’t stop.”
He leans down again, leaving a sloppy kiss at the side of your mouth before another grunt leaves his pretty lips. He’s balls deep inside you now, and his hips roll against yours reaching down to draw circles on your sensitive clit. Your one hand is still laced with his and your free hand grips his shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh as his cock stretches you out.
He admires the way you’re squirming beneath him as your walls clamp down on his cock. He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "You feel so good." His breathing is ragged, his eyes closed tightly as he focuses on the sensation of being inside you. He burys his face in your shoulder and he doesn’t think he can hold on anymore. “I’m gunna cum…fuck, let me cum inside you.”
“Mmm…” You nod. Your eyes squeezing shut as your wrap your arm around him. His hand squeezes yours and you hear him grunt in your ear, his lips brushing across the skin of your neck as he shoots his cum inside you.
Megumi collapses on top of you. You both try to catch your breath as you lace your fingers in his hair. He presses his lips to yours in a soft kiss before nudging his nose against you. “Was that okay?”
“Yeah Megumi, it was perfect.”
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nightmare-niko · 5 months
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Welcome Home [Childhoodbestfriend!Coryo x reader]
Warnings: TBOSAS spoilers, angst, two idiots in love, too cute for your own good tbh, no use of Y/n
A/n: Im still getting back in the swing of fanfic writing but if you have any other characters from The Hunger Games universe you want me to write for just lmk!!!!
Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.
Childhoodbestfriend!coryo who searches for your face in the crowded train station, and when he finally sees you, his knees almost gave in.
The two of you didn’t leave off on the best of terms (he blew you off the second he met Lucy Gray) and Coriolanus didn’t think you’d show up to welcome him home.
But there you were.
There in the crowd you stood, nervously playing with the end of your hair just like you always did. You looked through the sea of faces for your best friend, at first you couldn’t see him. Perhaps you missed him? Surely not… But then, there he was. Coriolanus Snow, Your Coryo.
Before you could register what was happening you were barreling towards him. Engulfing him in a bone crushing hug that he doesn’t hesitate to return.
“Oh Coryo!” You exclaim, pulling back from the hug to get a better look at him. “Oh my goodness! Your hair! What did they do to your hair? You’re bald!” You rub your hands in his head, savoring the strange new sensation.
He laughs gently, taking your wrists in his hands and holding them close. “I am not bald! it’ll grow back before you even realize, a swear.” He pauses for a moment, staring deeply into your eyes. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you more than you can know, Coryo”
“I’m sure i missed you more,” he paused again. “Where’s Tigris?”
“Don’t worry, she’s at work, she wishes she could be here but you know how her boss is.” Coryo hums in acknowledgment, “and I talked to grandma’am earlier today and she gave me strict instructions to keep you away from your house tonight.” You take his hand and start walking your way through the platform.
“What? Why?” The grip on your hand tight, as if he’s scared to lose you.
“Oh she wouldn’t tell me, she knew I was just gonna end up telling you anyway.” Your arms brush together as you walk, to anyone else, the two of you look like the loveliest couple. “But that just means you get to spend your first day back your favorite person!”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way~”
“Are you sure your parents are going to be okay with me staying over?" Your parents were never the biggest fan of Coriolanus Snow, they werent fans of the Snow family at all, and when they saw him on to with that District girl they deemed him no good.
"Oh they moved out, I have the place all to myself,” as you approach us your penthouse door you pat at your pockets for the key. "I Prepared the spare room for you for. When you come over, even though you always insist on taking up my whole bed...”
"Your bed is just the most comfortable bed, ever." He raises his hands in defeate. "Your bed is big enough for the both of us."
“It’s only big enough when you sleep normally which you never do. Ever,” the two of laugh as you enter your home.
When he walks through the door of your lavish capitol penthouse, he couldn’t stop himself from crying. The house didnt look the same from when he was last here. When he was last in your penthouse, it was right after his and Clemensia Dovecoats run in with Dr. Gaul. The once colourless decor of your house was now full of life, full of you.
As the tears fell down his pale check, you turned back to look at him. You were at his side in a second, "Coryo, what’s wrong?" You wipe his tears away with the cuff of your Sleeve.
"Nothing - It's nothing really, I just missed this, You." His voice just above a whisper.
“I missed you too, more than you can know.” You smush his cheeks in between your hand.
He swats your hand away, “I’m not a kid anymore, you can’t treat me like it,” a light pink flush blooms on his ears.
“Oh nonsense! I’m your best friend, and I’m older than you so I’ll always treat you like a kid!”
“You can’t treat me like a kid when I’m president,” he jokes through quiet sobs.
"I’m never going to stop, Coryo, I’m your best friend, it’s my job to annoy you," You run your fingers through his hair.
"You’re never annoying...”
As the two of you make your way into your room. It was the same as he remembered.
"It's the same," he points out.
"What is?" you question,
"The room, you didnt change it...”
"Why would I change it? I love my room, and when my parents moved away and left me the house, I figured: Why not just make the whole place my own?"
You take off your sweater and shoes before climbing into your bed. Your eyes follow Coryo as he walks around your room, making himself at home. After taking off his shoes he joins you on your bed, tackling you in a hug, knocking you over.
“Woah!”
You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, basking in his warmth. Neither of you feel the need to say anything. Sure you were curious about his time away, but you knew Coryo was tired and all you wanted was for him to be comfortable.
Oh how you’ve missed this.
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Tag list: @nallasstuff @chmpgneprblem
(If you wanna be tagged when I post hunger games stuff just lmk and I’ll add u to a tag list!!!)
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kisses4choso · 7 months
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#DAD?
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SYNOPSIS: when you first meet their adoptive kids CHARACTERS: s. gojo & s. geto WARNINGS: mildly suggestive (geto), ages 19/18 [according to the manga] NOTE: pretend geto didn't commit genocide... he brought the girls back to jujutsu tech and lived happily ever after!
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when GOJO first introduces megumi and tsumiki to you, you're a bit conflicted. the first thing you think? yeah, gojo was right in being scared of a kid that's a third of his age; poor megumi looked identical to his father. the second? they're so young, they're actual kids. gojo is so young. you are so young.
"nice to meet you. i've heard lots about you," is the only thing you can offer to the children other than a warm smile. the boy stares at you before looking off to the side, and his sister nudges him, smiling at you politely.
"us too," the little girl says, "professor gojo says you're pretty a lot," she stumbles over her words a bit before deciding on something, "and you make really good cup ramen."
"professor gojo said that?" you look up at him from where you're squatting on the ground, tickled by the funny nickname, and you're happy to see a cute smile dancing across his face. "then i'll have to treat you to some ramen soon."
she nods, still flashing her smile, although it's missing a few teeth, and megumi remains looking off to the side.
"are you gonna be in charge of us too?" he suddenly asks, his blunt words a contrast to his little voice.
satoru answers for you, squatting down to meet the boy's eyes (probably, it's hard to see where he's looking with those glasses), "we're still figuring that out, kid. are ya tryna get rid of me or somethin'?"
megumi mumbles something under his breath, and whatever it is, it earns him a pointed sideways glance from his sister.
"wanna say that louder?" he challenges the boy, but megumi responds by sticking his tongue out at him. gojo mimics his actions, just like a boy would. because that's exactly what he is, a teenage boy.
"thought so! alright, you two, can you give us adults a second to talk? we gotta talk about..." he trails off, turning his head to face you directly, "taxes, or somethin'. we'll be in my room. be on your best behavior please, we have a guest."
"pinky promise," tsumiki says, kissing her thumb and holding out her hand. surprise washes over gojo's features, but he quickly composes himself, mirroring tsumiki and allowing her to link her pinky to his. she presses her thumb to his, effectively sealing the promise.
cute, he thinks, how hard would it be for megumi to be like that?
gojo then decisively sticks his pinky out to megumi, but the boy gives him a weary look, and he frowns. "well, holler if ya need me!"
and with that, he's rushing you off to his room, closing his door behind him, lowering his voice, and tugging off his glasses, "so? whaddya think?"
"about?" you stall, finding comfort in his bed as if it were your own. you feel his eyes on you, you always do, but this time it's that look. he's analyzing your every move, your flow of energy, your darting eyes; you're not sure if it would be more effective to acknowledge it or let it go. he stands in front of you, so it's hard to ignore, but you persist.
he hesitates before speaking, a rare occasion, "remember how i said i wanna be a teacher at tech?" he doesn't wait for your answer, "i think, if i try hard enough, i can start teaching right now. the boy has lots of potential, and i want to develop that. can't let it be wasted with the z'enins."
you move your lips, but he anticipates your words, "i know, i'm not even twenty yet," he brushes a hand through his hair, "i don't want his power to be a burden to him. he wants to protect his sister. i can help him."
"i know you can, satoru. it's what you want to do, and i know above everything else, you're stubborn," you finally meet his gaze, and you find the troubled twist of his lips. "but will you have time?"
"i've got enough money..." he says, deflating at your unconvinced sigh, "i'll find a way."
seeing him so caught up in this tugs on your heartstrings a little, and the slight pout on his lips doesn't do much to help your heartache. you say what you were scared to from the moment he mentioned the two children, "i can help."
for the second time that evening, shock laces itself onto his face. you look a little startled by your own words. the reality of being responsible for raising two children on top of developing megumi's cursed technique against the wishes of arguably the most powerful sorcerer clan... it was heavy.
"ya don't gotta, i just wanted to know if i'm crazy or not for adopting two young kids at my age."
"you're always a little crazy, no? and i want to," you say, and a beat of silence passes between the two of you, the six eyes user taking a particularly sharp breath.
"you're okay with raising those two brats? with me?" he dismisses your first comment, the last question a little quieter.
he takes a step closer to you and crosses his fingers in hopes you'd say yes. a selfish thought, but it means another reason to convince you to move in with him. another reason to spend nights and days together. yet another reason to love you.
"yes, professor, but with all these missions, you'll practically be an absent father... figure," you reach out to him, pulling him closer by his waistband.
he smiles, slumping his weight in the spot right next to you as if his king bed couldn't hold him anywhere else, "not much different than what they're used to."
"satoru," you bat his shoulder, and he laughs, dimples on display. you don't miss the questions hidden in his eyes, and you wish he'd lean over just a little for you, maybe let him steal a kiss or two as a remedy. you continue, "we turned out all right, i'm sure they'll be okay with you."
"with us," he corrects, "and i turned out amazing, by the way."
he turns to you, attention completely fixed on the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, at his expense, but the laugh is for him. uncharacteristic emotion comes over him for a moment, but his gaze is as steady as always, and in the moment he's sure he'd done something in his past life right, "but i hope they learn more from you."
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"mimiko, nanako, come say hi," GETO calls to the girls as he opens his door for you. you were at his house as a 'surprise' he said, so you felt the necessity to get the two girls a few gifts.
he moves aside to allow you in, and immediately you're aware of the unusual mess in his living room. the building blocks, dolls, hair bows, plushies, toy cars, and puzzles make it look like a daycare.
his lips meet your forehead, "hey, you didn't have to get them anything. they're spoiled."
"i see that," you laugh, grabbing onto his freshly manicured hand as he leads you to set your things down on the coffee table.
his hair is messily braided as well, and you take out your phone to get a picture, but your attention is caught by two pairs of thundering steps coming toward you.
"mister geto! look what we drew for..." nanako quickly stops herself, her feet screeching to a halt, her sister bumps into her back.
mimiko yelps, not expecting the blonde to halt so suddenly. she peeks over her, searching the living room and finding you sitting on the couch. her part of the couch.
"what a cute," geto hesitates, turning away from you and toward the hall, "cat?"
nanako pouts, casting her gaze toward her feet, "it's supposed to be you with kitty ears."
geto quickly clears his throat, "i know, i was just kiddin'."
he glances back at you, the remenants of a smile in his eyes. he definitely did not know.
"who the heck's that?" the blonde says, leaning to the side to get a good look at you. "i thought you were gonna bring the guy with the weird eyes."
"nanako," geto's sharp eyes are not visible to you, but you know he's giving her a disapproving look with how she tenses. "come here, please. this is who i was talking about earlier when you weren't paying attention."
the two girls share eye contact (although the meaning of it is known only to them) and reluctantly step forward, the brunette behind the blonde.
the dynamic was obvious to you, nanako was the loud one, and mimiko was the shy one. it was cute, the way they held each other's hand upon coming closer from where they stood in the hall.
suguru attempts to push the two little girls toward you once they reach him, but they both hide behind him. your heart warms at the sight; nanako's looking up at geto, hugging his leg while mimiko squishes the side of her face against his other leg and looks at you.
you break the ice by introducing yourself, a little discouraged when they simply blink at you.
time for the trick up your sleeve.
"i brought these here for you. they're from kyoto, and i heard you wanted to try them."
their eyes instantly brighten, and they both look up at geto, waiting for his permission. he smiles at them, giving them both a quick nod, and they run toward the long couch.
"excuse me, can we open them?" mimiko asks, and you think that even if you tried, you couldn't find it in your heart to deny the girl anything.
you hand each of them a sparkly gift bag, "of course, hon. they're for you."
geto follows closely behind them as they wander over to the couch, opting to sit down on the floor right in front of you, between both of the girls.
mimiko opens her bag carefully, removes the tissue papers one by one, and gasps when she sees what's at the bottom. she turns to nanako and her mess, holding up her snacks. "look!"
they were giggling, trading a few of their gifts, and having fun with the extra plushies you had thrown in there.
"what do we say?" geto interrupts them while they're lost in their own world, but they don't seem bothered in the least.
"thank you so much!" they both exclaim at the same time, mimiko a little louder than normal.
you turn to geto as they wander into the kitchen to excitedly eat their snacks, "they're great girls. i can't believe those people would..."
geto winces, holding your hand delicately, "i know. but they're doing good so far. i think you made a good impression, they're not so quick to trust people."
you smile, a newfound hope inside you, "i can tell they adore you. you'd make a good dad, suguru."
you lean down to give him a quick kiss, but something changes in his expression, and he holds your chin in his hand, stopping you from meeting his lips. he smiles at your frown, a teasing lilt in his voice when he speaks, "don't say things like that."
"or what?" you know just how to get under his skin, and although your original comment wasn't meant to bother him, it's given you an opening.
his pupils are dilated; you can almost guess what he's about to say, or perhaps do, and--
"hi, do you wanna try?" nanako suddenly speaks, and you both jump, so caught up in your own world, that you hadn't noticed the girls' presence.
"thank you," you say, taking a chip from the bag she held to you, and geto does the same. mimiko offers you gummy bears, and you take one as well.
still a little startled, geto mouths a 'sorry' to you, and you merely shake your head, enjoying the sweet gummy.
he'd no longer have the benefit of having you all to himself in his house anymore; having no privacy was almost guaranteed with kids like mimiko and nanako.
but he thinks it might be worth it, seeing the way the girls smile as you compliment their hairdos, and watching you laugh as they take credit for his. he glances at your hands as you cover your eyes for a game of hide and seek, eyes caught on the glint of the promise ring on your index finger.
no, he didn't mind it one bit.
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haruta's better than me, if nanami was that close to me...
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solarisfortuneia · 2 months
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— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.
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and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.
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✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)
✦ featuring: alhaitham.
✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.
✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)
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he didn’t know that it was your last day together. 
he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.
he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.
he didn’t think he’d lose you like this. 
he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow. 
“please, please,”  he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.” 
the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.
“wake up, please,”  he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—”  his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain. 
desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray. 
please, please tell me it’ll be okay. 
please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time. 
please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.  
“— just wake up, beloved.” 
by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere. 
no. no. this can’t be happening.
he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.
“alhaitham—” 
his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?  
“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.” 
those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.
i love you. 
he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.
until he can’t smell camphor anymore.
every person has their curiosities. 
they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.
for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.
after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?
alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things. 
number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person. 
he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.
and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away. 
you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.
you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.
‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”
alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.
and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’ 
“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.” 
“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”
“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”
those five more minutes were never five minutes long. 
but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.
alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play. 
“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,
i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!
oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,
wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”
you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.
loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.
but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones. 
a wish that you’d come back, somehow. 
he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did.  but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you. 
a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.
 he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.
“alhaitham, it's time to go.”  kaveh calls his name softly.
 alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,”  he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.” 
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✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?
that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this
when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.
thanks for reading.
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520 notes · View notes
puhmpken · 2 months
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Author’s Note: This one is a filler since I am still working on “Dairy of the Obsessed” ..this one was spontaneous lmfaoo! Also requests are open feel free to give me story ideas
This has BEEN edited 🥳🎉
Warning ⚠️-> If you’re under the age of 18+ DONT interact with this post, this is your only & final warning! I do not & will not take responsibility for anything further!
You have been warned
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Title: A Shape-Shifter’s Dilemma
Alastor x Reader Oneshot
written + edited by @puhmpkins-blog 🎃
W/C: 5.1K 😀 oops maybe too much lol my imagination got the better of me but please enjoy!
You always questioned where Alastor your husband would go. Most of the time you would brush it off and not think of it—Overlord stuff.
But one night while Al and you slept in the same bed he tossed and turned in his sleep you could assume he was having a nightmare
“honey..?” You said in a low ruff voice as you gently placed a hand on Alastor who stops his moving before the word he mutters out was
“charlie..”
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...Now that is odd. Why would a overlord like Alastor be saying the princess of hells name in the middle of his sleep?
It made you raise a eyebrow, and questioned him.
The day following did not seem to ease your nerves one bit, he again in rather ..a rush to leave the manor
Standing next to the front doors door you watched as he moved back and forth through the living room looking for whatever he was desiring
“What's rushing for darling? This is rather out of character” You said as your eyes watched him move throughout the room
“Oh nothing to concern yourself with dearie!~ Just overlord business”
You hummed back at his bland cryptic response not wanting to pick it apart–you just decided not to question it and save yourself the energy
“Right. Just don’t go get yourself in trouble” You said smiling at Alastor standing infront of you, slightly towering over you as you fixed and cleaned off any dirt or lent that got caught on his suit as he was in your words rushing around
Moving your hands away from him, your eyes locked with his as Alastor’s reddish brown eyes, a flicker of amusement dancing within them. His lips curved from a small smile into a sly smirk, revealing his pointy teeth.
“Trouble?,” he questioned, making his one of his eyebrows raise in a cocky way , “Why..thats my middle name, my dear.” He said clasping and holding both your hands as he stared at you, before shrugging “But perhaps maybe I’ll make an exception—for you.”
You rolled your eyes to your husband's playful antics, before giving Alastor his goodbye kiss and waving him bye as he sinks into his shadow disappearing leaving you alone in the manor.
A moment of silent filling the air before
“Now, let me figure out WHAT’S actually happening.”
And that’s how this whole shenanigan began with you.
You see, while Alastor might have been expected to marry some ordinary demon, you in your case, were far from ordinary. As a shape-shifting demon, you possessed the ability to transform your identity at will, becoming a whole new demon or a manifestation of whatever your imagination desired.
The only limitations were those of your own imagination or..if Alastor was able to sniff you out, thanks to his keen sense of smell. HOWEVER, avoiding detection was usually easy enough… for the most part.
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Weeks to months you’ve been keeping up on this “routine” of cat and mouse but all was paying off.
You found out Al has been to much of your dismay harboring rather a couple of secrets hidden and tucked from you. Other than your known overlord stuff he was a suppose helper at a hotel called the “Hazbin Hotel” that princess charlie owns and works at with a couple of other people almost made you drop with laughter when you first seen Alastor helping out with the hotel, you had to tell Rosie about this later.
It was easy to stay undercover and even easier to get close to him without him realizing and knowing it was you.
You made up your mind weeks ago that his territory would be fine, if you step away here and there to follow Alastor to the hotel
And that’s how you end up to the present day you.
You weren’t satisfied with knowing Alastor helps at a hotel. Yes indeed it was a shocker but that’s all? You were still puzzled on why Al said Charile name to began with
Alastor hasn’t suspected a thing yet due to him kinda being busy at the hotel or up in his office.
On the rare times you would see him, he was up in the upper balcony with nifty laughing with her, you couldn’t hear what they were talking about but knowing the both of them.. it was rather something strange or gruesome
As another shifted ended, the day ended with you back at the manor seating in your comfortable loveseat, reading a book before mere minutes Al got back, making it seem as normal as possible to not raise suspicions
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The next day as things moved along you wished Alastor a goodbye as you watched him shift into the shadows and disappear off.
Waiting a few minutes after he left you then began to get ready for your shift at the hotel, that first started with showering to rid yourself of your natural scents–you didn’t want to be tackled down by your husband as soon as you walk in through the door.
Finishing up with your shower you stepped out spraying some random cheap perfume you had bought to scramble Al scents.
As you began styling yourself from being a lady of the 1920s with elegant beauty and designer dresses to a ripped petite coat, old bleach stained black skirt with a hole at the bottom with a finish messy down hairstyle
You laughed at your reflection
Seeing what you looked like in your normal form made you laugh. Alastor would probably gasp and dropped to his knees at the things you wore.
You walked out the house being sure to not be seen
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Successfully making it past the fenced gates and out of the woods you came to the main roads of hell shifting yourself into a hell creature you have been using for this whole little “spying game”
A lengthy white fur being that stood, 6ft having two red stripes covering both arms and legs. Your (h/c) just reached the middle of your back and on your head sat two cream colored pointy horns, you kept your sharp teeth to still be able to scare off unwanted demons if the occasion was to rise
Checking yourself out in the reflection of the glass windows, you made sure everything was correct: your look, your attire and your scent.
You started to walk to the hotel, the sidewalk you have taken at least more than ten times.
As you inched closer to the hotel you for safe measures stopped and sprayed yourself down one more time in cheap perfume emptying the bottle before tossing it off in the distances and kept walking
Getting inside the hotel was an easy task,
You said hello to everyone vaggie, angeldust, sir pentious and his eggo children, huskier and nifty.
‘Everyone is down here practically–well almost everyone’ looking around furrowing your eyebrows together
“Where Charlie? She's usually with you, Vag?” You said to Vaggie who was sitting on the couch next to Angel looking at the TV
“She should be in her office right now Lucy. I think she also wanted to talk to you” Vaggie said kinda nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders towards the end as she looked up from the tv to you as you nodded your head
Making a hum noise you turned on your heel and began walking to Charlie office
Knocking before you entered, Charlie sat at her desk looking at papers
“Helluva morning Charlie. Vaggie was telling me you were looking for me, I just wanted to speak to you about what you wanted” You said as you walked towards her desk and seating down in one of the chairs across from it
Charlie still having her go lucky smile on her face nodded putting down a couple of papers “Yes Vaggie was right! I was looking for you Lucy!” She said pausing as she slide over a little stack of paperwork, “It’s nothing serious promise! I just wanted you to run these up to Al~!”
You nodded silently thanking hell for the opportunity to be closer to Al
“Yeah of course I can do that” You said standing up taking the paperwork in your black gloved hands “Consider it done Charlie!” You said walking out of her office as she screamed a thank you from behind a closed office door
You hummed quietly to yourself as you walked up the flights of stairs to get to Alastor’s door
Minutes passed before you got to the door that read in bold letter
“Alastor, Radio Demon”
Knocking lightly on the door, ‘he should be in there?’
“…”
‘No response..hm that weird’ You thought as you looked over both your shoulders before you placed a gloved hand on your door handle twisting the knob before it opened slowly
!!!CREAAAK!!!
Your body mentally cringed at the noise as you pushed the door more open glancing around one more time you slipped in the crack of his door, gently shutting it closed once you entered
‘Wow’ Was the first word that escaped your mouth looking into his room now, it's his office yes, but what was beyond it that made it almost feel like you were..alive it was the bayou swamp/forest it was just how you remembered before you died all those years ago..breathtaking
Scanning the dimly lit area with the only light being a moonless night and the few fireflies that infested the air, you didn’t see Alastor anywhere in sight, just a table with a chair on it in the middle of the grassy forest.
You bite your lip gently as you looked between the paper work and the forest before groaning knowing your mind was made up, as soon as you laid your eyes on the bayou. Leaving the paperwork for Alastor sitting on his wooden desk before you walked passed it and too the bayou landscape filling as it was almost a dream
Walking slowly into the grassy area with a smile as you breathed in the smell of forest closing your eyes and taking in the sound
It was a wonderful moment of quiet before the light noise of static in the forest made you snap your eyes open,.. that’s Alastor getting closer into range of where you were standing.
Being lucky and hopeful you HOPE he didn’t see you in the clearing just standing their with your eyes closed
You ran and hide behind some bushes and trees that were away from the table and chair you were standing near–and just in the nick of time
You could hear and see him from where you were hiding the full static sound of a certain radio demon as he hummed a tune with a deer slumped dead over on his shoulder, carrying it with ease as he slammed it down on the table, you examined as he sat down making a fork appear out of thin air as he leaned his staff against his chair, before disappearing into air as he began to eat the deer raw pulling at its meat–made you want to gag in disgust
‘He could’ve cooked it’ you thought watching him munch down on his hunt you can assume. Licking his lips after a couple of bites he wiped his mouth with a napkin like a true unhinged gentleman
Before he cleared his throat his eyes shutting but his smile spreading wider, causing you to get goosebumps
“I know your there” He said making you do a double take ‘he knows i am here?’ you thought blinking as you didn’t buy his bluff
“I can sense your presence,” he drawled, his voice dripping with a sinister charm.
“You can’t hide from me.” He opened his crimson eyes as they began scanning the area. You kept your movement still as he scanned over the area you were hiding. You saw how he squinted his eyes almost immediately at the bush you were in
“Come out, come out wherever you are” He sang out in a haunting tone
“You do know as a predator.”He started in a cheery tone before his voice dropped to a dual and deep one “ I can smell you out.” His voice ringing of no radio filter
Your heart began to sped up
‘fffuck’ Is what you thought before you seen Alastor disappear into thin air—it wasn’t a surprise you were accustomed to that but you couldn’t help your heart starting to speed up as he vanished into the air
“Run,” a disembodied whisper breathed against your nape
Took you no time of convincing as you ran not looking behind you as you kept your eyes forward only hearing the sound of something chasing behind,
You hit left and right, hoping to get Alastor off of you
As you take another right you ran behind a tree, hiding behind its figure as you heard and felt Alastor run pass you
You have never done something like this, it was rather fun but dangering
Peaking your head from behind the tree after what felt like entirety you didn’t see Alastor for safe measures you transformed yourself to a small forest animal, just in case Alastor wants to sneak behind you..again
Following near your foot trail from the tree branches, you jumped from branch to branch with ease as you stopped once more hearing static noise come from nowhere, you smirked in your creature form as Alastor wouldn’t suspect a thing
Watching from above, his form essentially appeared from thin air as he had a wide smirk and a look of hunger in his eyes as he looked at the spot you were suppose to be standing
“Where are you~?” He said
“…”
After a moment of looking in all the places he would expect and assume for someone to hide, he stood in the middle of the forest arms crossed as his ears flickered now and then
“Now where did they go? I was rather hungrier for something other than deer” He said you can tell by his voice he was almost dumb struck how could he still be able to smell you but your nowhere near..weird?
You slowly shifted yourself backwards away from Alastor as you didn’t want to alarm him nor give away your hiding, you were almost clear before a vibration was felt throughout the branch and in one second the branch snapped as you land ontop of Alastor head
“...”
“...”
It was quiet not either one of you dared to move before you felt your body being picked up fully by his hand and now..the jig was up
“What do we have here..” He said looking at you “A small diversion from the person thats in here?”Alastor’s gaze bore into you, dissecting your very essence.
A wicked glint in his eyes began to take place, “Well I guess since I couldn't catch my actual food, I shall eat you little one” Pausing to smug smile before continuing “Bad luck for you?~” He said as he lifted you above his mouth
You squirmed in his hands, heart racing.
‘This can’t be how (y/n)'s story ends’, you thought desperately.
Just as he was about to drop you into his abyssal maw, you shifted—your disguise falling away
You landed on top of Alastor, who staggered back, utterly unprepared.
“Don’t eat me,” you blurted out, adrenaline surging. Alastor stood, bemusement etching his features.
“Lucy?!” Alastor’s voice crackled through the air, a radio filter distorting his words. The static hummed, raising the hairs on your arms.
“Why are you in here?” His step was deliberate, menacing. You retreated, heart pounding.
“How did you make yourself appear small? Then big?” His eyes narrowed, dissecting you. Each step he took, you mirrored, until your back pressed against a tree—literally.
Your mind raced for a lie, an escape. But then it happened—the slip up, the unraveling.
You shifted into your true form, the one Alastor would recognized.
“(Y/N)?!” His voice lost the radio filter, and you met his gaze. Confusion etched his features. You bit your bottom lip, a awkward laugh escaping.
“Erm, surprise…?” You said as you watched him back up a little from you a smile now spreading wider by the minute as the static was the buzz in the air
As it was overtook by the applause he started to emitted as he turned the other way starting to laugh
“A surprise indeed dearie who would’ve know my wife could pull such a thing off” He started.. you didn’t like how this was sounding as you moved away from the tree watching him as he created slight distances between him and yourself
You watched as a nagging feeling was telling you to start running but ignoring that you spoke up “Alastor I-” He cut you off with his words
As he appeared behind you—the Radio Demon, with crimson eyes and a dangerous smile. His arm encircled your waist, pulling you closer. “You had the entire hotel convinced of this Lucy woman,” he murmured, his voice devoid of filters. “Bravo, dearie. Truly bravo.”
You didn’t like how he was taking the situation as what he said to you in a flare voice on confirmed how much you actually DID piss off Alastor with this little disguise
“You should run now.”
Those four words holding a threat of the unknown and you wanting to at least talk for yourself turned to face Alastor his crimson eyes only reflecting the pure chaos he was about to inflict on this game of catch with you, as you shook your head
“Please let me explain” You urged, desperation coloring your voice.
“5” Alastor your dear husband replied, holding out his hand. The air crackled with tension
“Al please—…”
“4..” He sung out as he closed his eyes, standing tall. One hand rested behind his back, the other poised like a pendulum. The smile of him showing his sharp teeth made you swallow harshly
“3” He warned out to you knowing your still there as he opened one eye to look at you breathing out short “Hmm..a shame your going to let me catch you so easy” He said shutting his open eye closed
“2 dearie” He warned out now holding two fingers as he began to shift in his stances his neck elongated he was slowly shifting into his demon form, and that’s when you finally decide to run
You huffed and panted as you switched your form a couple of times to give you longer distances away from Alastor as you made it deeper into the Bayou the ground under you turning slightly squishy as you kept running not interested to turn around
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You ran for what felt like hours before you stopped down near a swamp bank hunched on you knees as you gain your second wind, taking a few more breathes you stood up, the air was quiet you couldn’t hear the static of Al, so you have to be far from him? or he just turned off that noise so he could stalk and pounce on you
Whatever the case maybe you took a breathe in and out as you looked ahead of the lake, nothing but more forest—
You thought different ideas like turning into a winged creature and flying back towards the rooms door to get out of here, but you didn’t know how high you could fly and since Alastor can’t fly nor has wings, you doubt that celling is high enough to get high enough where he couldn’t hit you out of air
Best option was to keep running or go into the swamp water, it would give you better opportunity, reflecting your options about it you heard the ground beneath you move with vibrations ‘fuck he already found me’ you thought coming to the defeat you were going to let yourself be caught but that was until you seen that fucken demon form mere seconds before he seen you, you bailed out dipping yourself slowly in the cold water taking a big breathe before dunking yourself under
Seconds stretched into eternity as you held your breath, your lungs screaming for release. The vibrations in the ground intensified, and you knew he was near. What was Alastor going to do when he catched you? He wouldn’t actually hurt his wife? You thought of as your heart hammered against your ribs, and you wondered if you should be actually concerned
Alastor scanned the area, seeking his dear wife. You pressed deeper into the water, your head submerged further, only the top part of your head concealed by a stray lilypad.
Minutes passed—or perhaps it was mere seconds—before you surfaced. Gasping for air, you wiped water from your eyes. Alastor wasn’t in sight.
You continued walk towards the edge of the pond before crawling out of the pond, lying down on the edge of it your knees still submerged as you sighed out in relief, shutting your eyes for what felt like a second
Before you heard, the clearing of a throat—a sound that sent shivers down your spine. Opening your eyes standing above you was the oh-so-familiar radio demon. You smiled, but before you could vanish into the water, Alastor’s grip closed around your arms. His purr was a velvet blade against your skin.
“Come now, darling,” he drawled, his tone deceiving. “We don’t want you to get wet. Let me assist you in this rather…exchange.” His strength pulled you back, and you squirmed, defiance flaring. But Alastor was stronger, and you found yourself pressed against his chest, dripping and caught.
“Let go,” you demanded, but he only laughed—a predator savoring its prey
“Now, dear, this is part of the game.” His eyes bore into yours, crimson flames dancing. “I’ve caught you, and now you’ll be the prize I win.” His tongue flicked across his lips
As Alastor carried you through the forest he hummed a simple tone, making you more on edge
You both arrived at another clearing?
“This isn’t where we started Al” You said as he set you down, gently helping you get up, as your eyes shifted from the scenery to him
Alastor’s gaze was going up and down on you, as you caught little symbols manifesting themselves around him as he was now a step or two away from you
“Come here” He said in a commanding tone, a chain manifesting around your neck as your eyes widen to metal chain outline with the color of green. Your hands immediately shot to your neck trying to grip and claw at it. You felt a tug come towards Al before you leaned your body away from it trying to keep space, digging your feet lightly in the ground
One real yank got you to move forward unprepared, the earth meant your face very quick and you instantly felt blood in your mouth
“Ah, be good for me, Y/N, and just obey,” he murmured, his grip unyielding. You crawled on your knees and hands, inching closer to him. The chain around your neck tightened, lifting you off the ground. Alastor’s crimson eyes bore into yours.
“My dear sweet little wife, Y/N,” he drawled, his voice devoid of filters. Each word carried weight, punctuated by his southern accent. “You, dearie, violated our little agreement.” His fingers traced the chain. “We had an understanding, did we not?”
Your breaths came in ragged gasps. “I didn’t mean to Al” you whispered
His chuckle echoed through the clearing as he lowered you gently to the ground, ensuring the fall didn’t harm you.
“So, my doe,” he began, his voice a velvet blade, “please give me an explanation. Why has my wife been running around disguised as a Lucy person, working—” His fingers closed around your hands, the chain that had bound you vanishing into thin air. “Her dear, softly delicate hands at a hotel that deserves none of her attention?” His words hung in the air, a question wrapped in menace. “Rather than be in a manor that belongs to her and her husband? Have I done something wrong?”
You sighed out as you nodded taking your hands out of his, to his displeasure “All this started because i heard you mumble in your sleep rather a month or so ago..princess name Charlie” You said with embarrassment flaming your checks as you looked away from Alastor not wanting to know what expression he held
The air was quiet between the both of you, not a word was spoken—You felt like you were holding your breathe with the tension in the air before you felt the touch of your husband on your hands again
“Mon cher~” He purred out making you look at him, his face of course held a wide smile but the look in his eyes held anger with something else glimmering around it “Nothing could replace you”
“No hotel” He said his hand holding out your arm as he kissed at the palm before saying, “No demon” Alastor continued raising his head kissing you at the center of your arm, looking at you in the eyes before kissing more up your arm while saying “And certainly no Lucifer daughter could take my eye off of something as ravishing as you my doe~” Al kissing up you between each pause as he at your neck slowly peaking at it having you basically in his lap with your back towards him, as you moved your head to side to let him continue as he only chuckle at the gesture
Al with his free hand grabbing at your chin to make you look at him as he stared into your (e/c) “But my dear mon cher, you agree at my words as if you understand, but it seems as though you forgotten who I belong too” He said letting go of your chin as both of his hands traveled down to your hips resting there “You forget who's name causes thrill of different emotions within me, so let me remind you~”
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Alastor leaned into you, as you meant him half way kissing him
A passionate kiss with some underline aggression made the kiss much more thrilling as Alastor fought for dominance with you trying to dominate over him
With a deep chuckle he pulled away from the kiss, “You being defiant won’t end well for you dear” You looked up too him as you bite your lower lip holding on too his bow tie slowly undoing it as his hands trailed up and down your legs
“No words so be it” He shrugged before pushing you down to the ground, your back laying on the grass as he spread your legs open wide, everything on full display for him to see
He leaned his head down as his ears pushed back towards his head as his eyes half lidded looking up to a red face you “Mm~Darling your so intoxicating with that look on your face” He said before plunging his head down open his mouth before eating your pussy
Your eyes shut closed as your hands went immediately to his hair gripping and pulling at it, as you mumbled out moans holding onto Alastor head down as he kept eating you out
“Al~!” You said in low moan as you felt yourself starting to come undone down there “Alastor..I..I am going to—”
Before you could muster and get out the words to warn your husband, the sensation of Alastor mouth moved away from you leaving you in almost blank state, so close to clarity but yet so far …
You whimpered as you looked down to Alastor who’s face was smirking as he shook his head licking his lips slightly “You think after the charade you pulled your going to get to cum that quick and easily?” He said and laughed “Dearie we are just starting.”
Alastor in a instances flipped you over making you rise to all fours with help of his shadows tendrils you were now ass up face down, with your arms being held down by the shadows tendrils, you whimpered trying to move against them as you felt a burning sensation on your bottom causing you to move it from side to side
Alastor watched in trans like state as you moved your ass after he smacked it only making his boner go harder, as he rub on it through his pants
“Al, let me out of this! I don’t want to be—Ahh~!”You said feeling a familiar feeling slide in you as your eyes rolled behind you, you clawed at the grass alastor pushed all himself in you
“Mmm~There you go Mon Cher~” Alastor said rolling his hips as his head tilted backwards, both of his hands gripping on your hips keeping them in place as he began slowly pumping in and out of you
You moaned as you moved with his thrusts, arching your back as Al grunts and low moans could be heard
Alastor started to pick up in speed as you could only speak out the simple word “Al~” Which was music to the radio demons ears
“Oh (Y/n)~” He said as he kept up fast with his thrusts moving one his hand to your hair, gripping at it pulling you backwards as your head flung back
“Open your eyes.” He said making you slowly open your eyes as meant with the eyes of crimson red ones as his smile was deceiving as his eyes showed pure lust that was feeling “Fuck.” He said as gripped tighter on your hair yanking almost at the root as you moaned with each thrust
“I am going to finish in you.” He said in not a question but as a command as you tighten around him bring him closer as he shut his eyes letting go of your hair before opening his mouth and bitting at the back of your neck as you moaned closing your eyes feeling yourself reaching edge as you reached climax sametime as Alastor
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Couple months later drawed by quick before you knew it you were back at the manor, watching over Al’s territory sipping tea as you smiled mindlessly, yeah there was really nothing to worry about.
FIN!!!
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Extra! Extra!
(Y/n) and Al strolling through the park. hand in hand as Al hums a tune
Al: “I do say mon cher, I think I never told you why I was saying Charlie's name”
Y/n: “Yeah you haven’t, do share”
Al: “You wouldn’t believe it! Charlie in my dream was trying to paint my Radio Studio, it was all going to be rainbows with fluffy pink unicorns if I didn’t say her name”
Y/n: deadpans
Al: Only telling you the truth dearie~!sings out
Y/n: Your truth is utter dogshit sometimes
Al: gasp Darling!
527 notes · View notes
hells-wasabii · 1 month
Note
hello :33
Could i request a drabble with Alastor x reader who can break deals made by demons
He meets the reader, who comes into the hotel, and they make a deal that is totally bad on their end (like to let them touch his ears once and in return they will do his bidding forever and ever).
But then after getting Alastor to do his part, they break the deal, and Alastor and everyone else is dumbfounded. (he is equally pissed and intrigued)
I looooooove your writing and congratulations on 200 followers!! :3
A/N: Hey wait I know you! You were one of my first followers! Thanks for sending this in, it’s seriously a cool concept and was pretty fun to work on! I actually hadn’t planned on it being so long, but I hope you enjoy!
Character: Alastor
Type: Fic (Alastor x reader with a deal breaking ability, Fluff, Angst)
Alastor knew when he was being watched, he could practically feel your eyes on him from across the room. His smile turned tense as he narrowed his eyes at the little display that Niffty was attempting to show him. Though, she really couldn’t be bothered whether he was paying attention or not. Alastor couldn’t help but wonder: why was it you were staring at him so intently?
You were an enigma to Alastor. You were a guest of the hotel, and yet of you he knew next to nothing other than a name and a knack for mischief. As far as he could tell, you were ordinary. A specimen that did little to pique his interest. The radio demon turned his attention from Niffty’s insect display to look at you from the corner of his eyes. He watched with unease as you smiled knowingly at him, almost as if you knew something that he didn’t and he was the last to be left in the dark.
“I want to make a deal with you.”
Now that, that got his attention. The words had left your mouth so effortlessly. It was barely a whisper and yet it was enough to make his shadow move across the room to tower over you. If you noticed, you didn’t let it show. Perhaps that should have been his first sign that something was amiss.
In moments Alastor was mere inches away, a grin that couldn’t be described as anything else but plotting splitting his lips. “And what is it that I can do for you, my dear?” Behind him, his shadow waited impatiently, hungry for a meal, a soul. And Alastor planned to feed it.
“I want to touch your ears,” You said it with such confidence, so much so that it nearly took him aback. In fact, there was hardly a pause or even a moment of consideration. It sounded more like an impulse than anything else.
Surely he was hearing things. His… Ears? What kind of preposterous request is that? And to offer your soul for such a thing? Preposterous. Surely you had lost your mind before or since your arrival. But perhaps it was an even trade-off, considering his aversion to touch. Truly, he couldn’t see himself losing to a fool’s deal like this.
It was all standard, really. The matter was settled in a shake of the hand, markings and sigils appearing in the air and lining the walls around the both of you. And of course the rest of the Hotel’s residents, guests and staff alike came along to see what the fuss and light show was about. Alastor didn’t make deals every day after all? When had been the last time he had struck a deal for a soul? He could hardly remember as your hand left his.
“Well, let’s get this over with, shall we?” As if you needed any more invitation than that. Stepping closer, you reached up. Had it not been for the fact that the radio demon had no choice but to hold up his end of the bargain, you were sure that getting this close would either reward you with a stern warning or the loss of a limb. Anyone else would have hesitated, but not you. Not when you had an ace up your sleeve the way you did.
The moment that your fingers brushed the appendages on the top of the radio demon’s head, your mouth opened into a fine ‘o’ shape. They were unbelievably soft. Usually, the pelt of a deer is coarse, the hair only smooth when you go with the grain, and prickly when against. But with Alastor, it felt more like fur than the usual coarse hair of a buck. Interesting.
The radio demon did his best to steel himself, unwilling to show any sort of reaction, especially with an audience present. His expression nearly fell as he realized that the rest of the Hotel’s residents were bearing witness to such an embarrassing situation. He made a note to attempt to save face later.
When it was finally over, his smile turned sinister. He relished the feeling of a new leash, a new bond, forming in the palm of his hand. The radio demon couldn’t help but love the way a new wave of power coursed through him He watched with glee as the chain began to form, link by link until it came to an end at the binding around your neck. But you merely smiled. This was his second clue that something was a miss.
He lifted his gaze to follow your hand, as you raised it up to grasp the glowing green bond. He watched as it strained, the shackle and the chain before it shattered in a manner that was not unlike glass. He could feel it, the broken bond. He could feel the power that had just coursed through his veins leave his body.
His lips twitched. His smile nearly fell, in fact, the overlord was certain that if it hadn’t been for the green stitches that appeared as he slipped into his demonic form, he was sure that he would have bared his teeth in a ferocious snarl. Instead, Alastor lost his composure. He reached out to grab ahold of you, but you were already two steps ahead and three out of range of the radio demon.
“What is the meaning of this.” The radio in Alastor’s voice crackled, a grating sound that nearly made you falter.
But you merely grinned, continuing to back away towards the others. “Deals are always meant to be broken.” With this, you turned on your heels and were out the door before more could be said.
You. You were exactly what he needed. But how could he possibly have you do anything in his favor without some sort of leverage or contract? It had been quite some time since someone had provoked his ire like this, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be bested like this. Not by a long shot. Alastor stood tall, dusting off his tattered coat, as if it had been sullied in some form or fashion as he watched you make your leave. It would seem that the radio demon had quite a bit of work to do.
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